#Eddie x photographer!reader

[urhoneycombwitch]

Heyyy! Just a quick little request that has been TAKING over my mind. GN!Reader that LOVESSSSS photography x Rockstar!eddie. LIKE Reader will be taking photos of him whenever because he’s just so goddamn pretty playing his guitar. And Eddie will snatch film and shit for them. I’d like to think that they both have Polaroid pictures of each other. Bonus points if reader doesn’t like taking pictures of themselves but LOVES taking pictures of Eddie. I DONT KNOW I JUST THINKS ITS CUTE AHHHHH. if it’s fluff, smut, whatever, you do you! :D Byeeeeeeeee

as a film photographer myself i feel uniquely qualified to add to this tysm anon 💖

gn!reader, +18 mdni

Eddie absolutely gets you the good shit. he makes it a habit to visit the local camera stores at every city when he’s on the road, shells out for high-quality film cuz you taught him right and he actually listens when you talk about your interests!!

constantly surprising you with new gear. he’s never had money like this before and the fact that he can actually buy his partner things is so fucking thrilling. if his baby wants a vintage Rolleiflex with Planar lens that’s what’s getting boxed up for ‘em.

once you and Eddie settle on a house, he sets up a whole darkroom on the lower floor- lets you pick out all the details, hires a plumbing guy to hook up water so that you can do your own film baths. Jonathan Byers is equal parts green with envy and grateful that you’re willing to share the space w/him whenever he comes out for a visit 😇

before you, Eddie never really liked his picture taken, tolerated the ordeal at best- Wayne showed you an old photo book one time, groused about his nephew making odd faces and being squirmy in front of the lens even as young as 4 years old. you’ve made up for it a hundred times over, tho- Eddie learned quick that you wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to your new muse.

you’ve got probably over a thousand pictures of him by now, in different states across the country, some on stage in full makeup shredding on guitar, a few that are widely recognized as Corroded’s album covers- but most are quiet, intimate. there’s this one you keep in your wallet, makes your heart flutter every time: Eddie leaned back in the grass on his elbows, soft sunlight filtered through the magnolia tree in your backyard, eyes crinkled at the corners and fixed on you behind the camera.

he’s got a bunch of you, too, of course- mostly Polaroids that are decidedly not for public eye. keeps those like a true gentleman safe in a shoebox under your bed at home: images burned into his brain by this point to take with him in memory while on the road. the soft shape of your thigh against a downy duvet, gleaming pearlescent with his cum. another of his hand wrapped around your throat, rings digging into gentle flesh under the blissed-out smile of your mouth that makes him ache somethin’ fierce just thinking about it.

there are others that he does keep in his wallet, more tame but just as searingly intimate, ones he’s taken after cajoling you in front of the lens or having won a tussle over whose turn it was to shoot whom. one of you with guitar cables looped neatly around either arm after a gig, nose crunched and mouth halfway to telling him off, irritation and fondness captured in bright flash. another of you stretched out in the front yard, one hand at your forehead to block the afternoon sun, the other resting placid on your stomach as you looked up at him.

“This one’s mine,” Eddie always says when asked about you, showing off the latest picture with a deep well of love and pride. he may as well start carrying an album for all the photos he carries of you.

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ eddie discovers he is shy!photographer’s muse

secret pictures. developing film. confident eddie. flirting. blushing and stuttering. two loners in love. heart shaped eyes. sharing lighters. tucking hair behind ears. enjoying each other’s company. reading sci-fi. shy smiles. hand holding. pinky promises. sharing all comfortable silences. tasm!peter parker taking secret photos of gwen stacy vibes.

[vapekingg]

Muse

Eddie x Fem!Reader TW: P in V, feminine pet names

There's nothing Eddie loves more than catching you at your most vulnerable — permanently — on film. He's an amazing photographer. That instant camera stays on his nightstand with the evidence of his skills tucked away inside the bottom drawer.

"Tongue out, baby. Just like that," he cooes while thumbing your lips apart, cradling your spit-soaked chin in his large palm.

In his other hand sits that fucking camera. Face half obscured by it, but you can still see the pleasure on his face. The tip of your tongue meets the dripping head of his cock, and then there's a flash.

You see him for just a second, Eddie in his entirety. The flex of his biceps kept lean by rigorous guitar practice. The small patch of hair on his chest that leads down into a happy trail beneath his waist. The grit of his teeth, the flex of his jaw.

The mechanical whirring of the camera cuts through labored breaths and rustling sheets, and then a square photograph is spat out. Eddie holds it up to the light while it develops, smile widening with each passing moment.

"Arch that back for me." He says later, "Good girl."

Your wrists are fixed behind your back, pinned together with his one hand while his other is preoccupied.

"Yeah, that's my girl. Keep still for me."

Another flash of light in the dark brings to life the crimson handprint that glows on your ass. Oh, Eddie's happy to see how well that photograph develops.

And hours later, with photographs scattered around you, sweat drying to your skin and midnight air blowing in through the open window, Eddie pulls your wobbly leg over his shoulder.

"Play with it, angel. One more good shot." He begs, knowing you love this just as much as he does.

You move your hand between your thighs, fingers trailing against your slick folds, fluttering over your clit and spreading yourself open. A gush of warmth follows after and you catch it on your fingertips, dragging Eddie's cum up over your clit and fingering it back into your hole.

Another flash of light. Perfectly timed. Perfectly angled. Eddie is the perfect photographer, and you are his perfect muse.

[munsonson]

Blurb

Sunshine!Reader x Eddie Angst

She finds him eventually, leaned up against his locker with something crinkled in his hands. His hair, unkempt as it always was, drowned him in its essence, hiding his face from her. She smiles, running up to him with her familiar smile.

“Hey, Eds,” she greets, “did you want to go to that milkshake place after all?”

He doesn’t answer. In fact, he doesn’t move at all. Her eyebrows knit together in concern. She hesitantly brings up a hand to tap him on the shoulder.

“Eds? Hey, you okay?” she asks.

He looks up at her at last. He’s smiling, too, but there’s something strange about it. It was like he was forcing it. Those dimples that she always admired weren’t there. His eyes were still brown, but they didn’t crinkle at the ends. He crumples the paper in his hands even more.

“Can I ask you something, Y/N?”

It startles her when he uses her actual name instead of ‘princess’. She decides not to question it.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you trying to hard to be my friend?”

She was confused. “Huh?”

“Why are you trying so hard to be my friend?”

She was sure he was upset now, if his tone was any indication. He couldn’t possible be angry with her, could he? Did she do something wrong? Did Jonathan tip him off that she was going to ask him out tonight? Maybe she was overstepping her boundaries.

“Um, well I…I don’t really understand the question. I thought we were friends,” she says at last. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Now he was balling up the paper and he actually tossed it at her. It hits her forehead unceremoniously before falling to her feet. It was such a silly moment she nearly laughed. But he wasn’t. He was still forcing a smile.

“You know what I think? I think it’s time we put everything out on the table, really…examine what’s been going on here, you know?” he said. “See, I’ve made it pretty alarmingly clear that most people tend to avoid me, to the point I’m essentially Moses parting the goddam sea of jocks, cheerleaders, and even the burnouts. But for some reason…you won’t budge.”

She tilts her head. “Because I’m your friend.”

“No, it’s because I’m your charity case.” Eddie sneers. He’s not smiling anymore. “It all makes sense, I guess. Can’t find any friends outside of the pervy photographer, so you run off to take your chance with the freak, the super senior.”

“Hey,” she says, offended now. “Please don’t talk about Jonathan like that. And I don’t think you’re a freak, Eddie, what are you talking about?”

“Do you not see the people you surround yourself with?” he asks, incredulous. “Jonathan Byers, the alleged murderer turned non murderer who likes to take pictures of naked unaware chicks. And myself, who’s too stupid for graduation and too stupid to realize he’s been wasting his time on someone who wants to wipe the notion of witchy bitch off her back she’ll find two objectively worse guys just to feel better about herself.”

She had tears gathering in her eyes.

“Why are you saying all of this, Eddie? What is wrong with you?” she asks. Her voice cracks.

“Because I’m done with people using me. Alright? So do me a favor, come next year, put me in your rearview mirror. Just leave me alone,” he snaps, brushing by her.

She watches him. Her heart felt sore and heavy, her stomach nauseated and prepared to empty itself from how upset she was. Did Eddie really think she’d only befriended him to make herself look better by comparison? How could he do that? How could he throw what Jonathan did in her face? She’d told him that in confidence, not for him to weaponize it against her.

She fell into the lockers, the echoing slam not enough to deafen the sounds of her cries as she slid down onto the tiled floor. What could she do now? Should she tell Jonathan what happened, ask what she should do next?

She spots the tiny crumpled piece of paper beside her and picks it up. He’d been reading this when she approached.

Unraveling it and trying her best to smooth out the page, she reads it over. Startled, she quickly rereads it again.

It was for the parent or guardian of Eddie, explaining he’d have to repeat this term over again. He wasn’t graduating. That was why he was so upset.

Despite the words and insults he threw at her, she was still tempted to find him again and hug him. This was clearly what had him so depressed, not her. He was just letting his anger out. Even if that wasn’t right, she found it easier to forgive him now.

But she didn’t want to make him more mad. If avoiding her next year made him feel better about the whole ordeal, she’d oblige him.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

NFWMB (Nothing Fucks With My Baby)

Pairing: Reader x Venom

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: you get kidnapped, there's some cannon level violence, nothing to write home about <3

Genre: idk if I should really classify this as angst fr but the ending is fluffy!

Summary: Carnage returns, his mission remains the same; kill Venom. And he plans to use you to do it.

Based on this ask by @weebnotheree (thank you so much for the request, I know it took a while so I appreciate your patience, I hope you like it <3)

***

"Hey y/n!" Your coworker skirts over to your desk with curious excitement.

"Yes?" You glance up from your computer at her.

"Your boyfriend is a reporter isn't he?"

"Correct. Where is this going exactly?"

"Well do you think he'd be able to come cover the charity gala this weekend?" She asks.

"He doesn't really- cover this sort of thing? He'd need to get assigned to it. But I can check with him, he can ask his boss and maybe they'll send someone else down." You concede. It can't hurt, after all, you do need the exposure for the event anyway.

Hours later, after you've both gotten home from work and eaten dinner. You're winding down for the day with Eddie by watching a show together when you propose the question from your coworker.

"Eddie quick question." You say, not lifting your head from his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He's been tracing patterns against your leg for the past ten minutes.

"Do you think you could come cover the charity gala this weekend? My coworker Dani thought it'd be a good idea." You tell him.

"I don't usually write those sorts of pieces." He hums.

"I know I told her, but I also told her I'd ask anyway. It doesn't have to be you, if your boss sends someone else that's fine. We're just aiming to get more eyes on the event." You shrug.

"I'll talk to my boss. He'll probably send someone. Not me though."

"Yeah that's fine, I know these aren't your thing, you don't have to come." You say.

"Say what?" You feel him shift to look at you.

"I drag you to enough work functions. I'll let you skip out on this one." You pat his chest lightly.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Eddie snorts turning back to the TV.

"Technically I already did tell you twice." You chuckle.

"Smartass." He pinches your thigh.

"Always." You sit up just to wink at him.

The following day, you are accosted by Dani pretty much as soon as she walks into the office.

"Did you ask him?"

"Ask who, what Dani?" You ask though you know exactly what she's talking about. "Also have you forgotten that the proper way to start a conversation is with a greeting? What happened to hi? What happened to how are you?"

"Hi, how are you? Did you ask your boyfriend about covering the gala?" She says.

"Hi Dani, I'm doin' alright. How are you?" You ask her.

"Y/n!" She huffs.

"Yes Dani I asked. He said he'd talk to his boss. Knowing Eddie, someone will probably be at the gala. It's handled." You finally cave and give her the answers she came for.

"You're the best!" She tells you.

"I know, thanks." You chuckle. You shrug.

The day of the gala is chaos from the minute preparations start. It's not really anything that surprises you and you've been handling everything that comes your way with ease.

"Y/n!" Your coworker Wendy grabs your attention when you're sorting out something with one of the photographers.

"Yes Wendy?" You aks.

"The uh catering staff is here do you know where they're supposed to-"

"They just got here?! They were supposed to be here an hour ago! Who was on that? They should've been checking for- oh never mind! Their tables are over there on that wall and tell them to hurry Wen the event is literally starting." You sigh pointing her in the right direction. The event is just gaining momentum, doors opened about twenty minutes ago and aside from the catering situation that has just been taken care of, as far as you know, everything is precisely as it should be. At least you hope so since you did come here a couple of hours in advance to make sure things were ready. You aren't technically in charge of this event but you are naturally better at organizing chaos and these events tend to be a bit of a frenzy on the day no matter how prepared you are in advance.

Tonight is your company's annual charity gala. Every year the board votes on a cause to raise money for by hosting a huge party. This year's cause is a charity that supports kids getting involved in the arts. There are a bunch of art projects on display, some of which will be up for auction at the end of the evening, but the goal is to shmooze with the community members effectively enough that they want to support the charity. You spend most of these galas working optics; talking to reporters, setting up pictures, and just generally organizing things throughout the night. As part of the company's public relations department events like these are your specialty. Carefully curating the perception of everything that goes on here tonight with the help of the other members of the department here tonight.

You're pleased to say that a couple of hours in, the event is going off without a hitch. Once it's in full swing, you have your hands full giving statements to different press outlets and sending photographers to snap the board of directors with guests of the event. Just as you're preparing the host for his introductory speech, you notice a small crowd gathering by one of the large glass windows overlooking the city.

"What's going on over there?" The host frowns at you.

"I'm- not sure. Probably just some nightlife chaos got people's attention." You shrug but before you can walk up the stage there's a shout from a few of the guests followed by the sound of shattered glass as something crashes through that large window. The room erupts into chaos as red goop shoots out at people. It only takes you a couple of moments to realize the thing currently ruining your gala is Carnage. You didn't meet him or anything last time they faced off, but Eddie gave you enough of a description to come to that conclusion when you spot the bright red tentacles and eyes so like Venom's but different at the same time.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." You huff quietly from where you're crouched behind a curtain with the gala host.

"What is that thing?!" He hisses.

"Doesn't matter. Find the nearest exit and run like hell." You tell him.

"What?! You want me to go out there?! What if it sees me?" He shakes his head. You poke your head out just enough to see Carnage. Weirdly enough he just seems to be picking up people and dropping them on the ground again.

"You ever seen that thing before?" You ask.

"God no!"

"He's looking for something. Unless you think it's you, I'd suggest taking the risk before he starts getting snackish!"

"W-what?!"

"We know you're here! We did our RESEARCH!" The man beside you is practically shaking as Carnage's deep voice rings through the room.

"He's coming this way, you have to move now." You say.

"What about you?"

"He's more likely to notice two of us. I'll be out after you." You're so busy directing the guy you don't realize how close Carnage is to you all until the curtain you're behind is ripped off its bar.

"AHA! THERE YOU ARE!"

"GO! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" You shout to the guy as Carnage reaches for- you. He's reaching for you, you realize only when one spindly spider-like appendage wraps around your waist.

"How noble of you. We weren't after him- but if you must be the hero-" Carnage easily reaches the scrambling host before he can get to the door and all you can do is shut your eyes tight when Carnage lifts him up. It's only when his screams stop suddenly and something warm drips onto your arm that you're sure is blood. You don't dare to check what Carnage has done, but if you had to guess, he bit his head off; much like Venom does when you or Eddie allows him to. Your eyes only shoot open when Carnage starts to move again, swinging back out the hole he came in through and taking you through the city. You're in the air for quite some time before eventually, Carnage drops you, rather gently for a kidnapper, on the ground inside a dusty building.

"Hello, little thing." Carnage says to you.

"I could have sworn Venom dealt with you already." You cross your arms.

"Almost. I was lucky to escape."

"Unfortunate for the rest of us." You muse.

"Rude!"

"Let me remind you that you did kidnap me so excuse me if I'm not kind." You roll your eyes. "I take it my role is to lure Venom to you? Right?"

"Correct. He cares for you. So he will come."

"Of course, he will. Though, disrupting my work event was an unnecessary scene just to lure him out to- where are we?"

"An old firehouse!"

"Wow you really are a baby." You scoff realizing he's chosen another location where loud noise is common.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing nothing. I presume you have a different host now right? That other guy, the serial killer, died the last time, didn't he?"

"I am bonded to his blood! I can regenerate!"

"I'm sorry- so you regenerated… an entire head for your last host?"

"Yes!"

"That is- very strange." You frown. "Still, this place doesn't hold sentimental value to Cletus so- how will they find you?"

"Oh just call them." Cletus makes an appearance, finally, and rolls his eyes as he makes his request.

"Call them? You want me to call them and lead them to where you plan to kill them?"

"Yes. Or I'll kill you."

"That would be stupid. Killing me won't get you what you want." You scoff.

"CARNAGE! YOU TOOK MY CHOCOLATE DROP! I'M GOING TO RIP YOU TO SHREDS!!"

"Guess we don't need to call him." Carnage says pushing you into the fire engine that's collecting dust in the unused building.

"WAS DYING ONCE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" Venom stomps towards Carnage.

"Father. I'm not that easy to get rid of!"

"EVIDENTLY!" Venom charges at Carnage and the two of them are quickly destroying the old brick firehouse you're occupying. From inside the fire truck you're in, it's hard to tell who's winning for most of the fight. It's all too quick and too fluid the way they're throwing each other around. By the time you've gotten a handle on what's going on between the duo, Carnage has Venom pinned to one of the walls that they haven't totally ruined already. Frantically you turn towards the control panel of the fire engine, you can't imagine it's still fully operational but there's a chance you can find some way to make noise with this thing. You need to give Venom the upper hand somehow.

"V!" You shout and cover your ears for only a moment before pressing as much of your weight as you can into the horn of the truck and hoping for the best. You can't explain the relief that you feel when that horrid loud noise fills the small space and Carnage screeches. You let up on the horn once he stumbles away from Venom, his attention on you now that you've gotten involved.

"You!" Carnage snarls. You lay into the horn again before he can get to you and the sound seems to disrupt him enough to almost completely separate him from Cletus. You let up when Eddie has crept up behind them and Venom takes over to fully rip Carnage from Cletus by force. You didn't think that was possible and it is extremely strange to watch. Venom grabs Cletus with an extra appendage and holds him far in the air as he eats the angry red goop that is Carnage.

"EVEN WORSE THE SECOND TIME." Venom grumbles and you can't help but giggle a little. The noise makes Venom wink at you before turning his attention to Cletus. "THIS TIME STAY DEAD!" Venom says before biting his head off, out of your line of sight. You come out of the fire truck just in time to catch him dropping the body.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Venom runs over to you and lifts you into his arms so you're eye level with him as he looks over you for injuries.

"I'm fine V. He didn't actually hurt me. You got here so quickly." You muse.

"EDDIE WAS WATCHING COVERAGE OF YOUR GALA." Venom explains.

"It was going so well until he crashed it." You pout. "You don't have any other errant children we should know about right Venom?"

"NO. NOT THAT I KNOW OF." Venom shrugs lowering you back to the ground.

"Good because this kidnapping thing is very inconvenient." You say. Eddie chooses that moment to reappear and he quickly wraps his arms around you.

"Y/n, baby, thank fuck you're okay. I am so sorry." He breathes out.

"You're sorry? What for?" You frown as you hug him back.

"If I had just come to the damn gala in the first place-" You pull back and hold Eddie's face in your hands to make sure he hears what you say next.

"No. It wouldn't have changed anything. In fact, it would actually have been worse I think. There were hundreds of people in that building and we were on one of the higher floors. The casualties if you had fought him there would have been so not worth it. This was the best outcome. I'm sure there were several injuries but I think there was only one death besides him so- don't apologize. Especially because there was no way you could've predicted him crashing my event. Don't blame yourself because other than a ruined charity gala and the inconveniences that come with a kidnapping, I've barely got some scrapes. You two did well." You tell him.

"We couldn't have done it without you. The fire horn was a great idea."

"Yeah well, you were going to die. And I didn't have any fire." You shrug. "We should get out of here though, I can't imagine it'll take much longer for authorities to get here in search of the red monster that crashed a charity event." You add.

"True. The party looked beautiful by the way. You know, before Carnage trashed it." Eddie says scooping you into his arms.

"Thank you baby." You kiss his cheek just before Venom appears again to take you all home.

"I WANT A KISS TOO! I DID ALL THE WORK."

"You can have as many kisses as you want V." You say kissing his cheek too as he walks out of the trashed fire station with you in his hold.

"I WANT ALL THE KISSES THEN!" He declares as he swings you both up into the air.

"Once we get home I'll kiss you til my lips fall off if you so wish my love." You giggle.

"NOT THAT MANY! IF THEY FALL OFF I WON'T GET ANY MORE IN THE FUTURE!"

"Okay okay. Reasonable amount of kisses, once we get home. Deal?"

"DEAL!" Venom says before taking off from building to building to get you home. There's no such thing as normal when your boyfriend is sharing his body with an alien you suppose, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

***

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces (Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Part 1 of who knows how many parts :)

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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

The heavy sound of rain flood the streets of Nueva York. The dim street lights felt faded as the mist blocked their glow. Despite the downpour that washed the streets, the stench of blood still lingered. A foul odor that could never truly be cleaned from this city.

Nueva York was riddled with crime. Each part of the city was owned and govern by their own mafia. Drugs, alcohol and fights were always a topic and always a cause to stay indoors. Only the smart stayed away from the mafia. They were the ones to survive this city unscathed. They were the ones to avoid trouble.

You had just moved into the city, unaware of its true face, nor did you really have a choice. You were desperate to get away from your old life. Despite for a fresh start. So much so, that you landed in one of the worst parts of the city. The place you rented was small, but it was enough to keep you hidden.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you near cried at the sight of a roach. Tears threaten to spill as you sprayed the roach spray against the foul creature for dear life. You had just moved into the place. You were warned by your friends and family of the filth of the city, but they didn't know anything. They didn't know the pain you were in.

"Ew, ew!" You whined as you grabbed the broom, throwing the roach away.

Once you were freed from that horrid task, you continued to clean and unpack. You double checked everything for roaches and mice, wanting to sleep soundly for once. You shuddered at the thought as you pulled out old photographs of your high school days. Within those pictures was the cause of your depature.

Your ex.

You had fled your hometown due to your abusive ex-boyfriend, Eddie Brock. The man was so kind to you at first, treating you well until you officially started dating. Your college life was cut short due to his beatings and yelling. You were always at fault. You could never be good enough for him. You were always the problem.

The thought made you sob. You moved to this city on a whim thanks to your small job. You just wanted to stop living in that hell. Everyone loved your ex. They never truly saw what he was. They never even asked how you were.

"I-I need to s-stop crying." You whispered to yourself as you looked out the window, "I-I have work tomorrow. I...I need to be ready."

-----------

Meanwhile, a few blocks over, Miguel was sitting before his large patio, watching the rain. He held a glass of vodka in his hand, watching the lightening brighten the sky more than the city lights itself. He inhaled to the loud roar of thunder before being interrupted by a knock at his door.

"Que? (What)" He hissed lowly. Lyla smiled as she walked over with a folder, placing them on his desk,

"Just something for the morning." She chirped and approached the door, "There's another one waiting outside. Shall I send her in?"

"Ha, and get some fake praises. She can only come in if she wants a quick fuck. I won't deal with gold diggers." Miguel grumbled.

Lyla just hummed in response before shutting the door. Miguel could only groan in annoyance as he placed his glass down. His night would have been better off alone. Closing the blinds to his patio, Miguel approached his desk to the file. It was going to be another long day tomorrow.

---------

There was a scurry to your step as you tried to please your new boss. It was your first day working in the chain supermarket, and you were stressed. This version of your old job was far busier, louder and ruder than what you were used to. You were a shy and quiet person, so having so many people yell and pull you around was breaking you.

"(Y/N)! Deli needs a hand, you ever did that?" One of your coworkers asked. You flinched at the sudden yell,

"I-I have helped packaged an-"

"Good enough, go help and put a kick in it!"

You just agreed and hurried to the deli. You grabbed a hair net and gasped lowly at your fellow coworkers there. They were all so tall and mean looking. You were like a deer in headlights the moment they saw you enter their kitchen. You just bowed your head slightly and quietly made your way to the meat wrapping station.

"Why'd they put her here? She don't know anything yet," One of the taller men whispered. You're ears perked up since whispers weren't exactly in their volcabulary,

"She's a scaredy cat. Ain't nothing comin' outta her mouth. Same like the rest of us,"

You wanted to ask them what they were talking about, but you were too scared to find out. That, and you learned the harsh lesson of minding your own business. Dear ol' Eddie gave you that cruel lesson. Shaking your head at the thought, you didn't want to be known as the employee who cried on their first day.

"Hey, new kid," One of your coworkers called out, approaching you, "Yer new here, so let me warn you. We got three freezers in the deli. One is full of the fresh meat we get. Leave that to us big guys. You can enter the second freezer with the small cuts for the customers. The third freezer, you never enter. Don't ask questions about it. Don't peak into it. Just pretend it never exists. Oh, and don't make eye contact with those who enter it."

"Okay,"

Hell fucking no. You were going to stay far away from dear freezer number three. That was a lot more information than you even wanted to hear. Hell, you weren't a fan of entering freezer number two. Once your coworkers were reassured by your understanding, they returned to work.

Your hands trembled over your station as you tried to focus on your job with the seven men yelling around you. This was your sad new life. You had to get used to this. You were either going to make it in the city or die trying.

--------

Miguel lazily glanced out his window seat, spotting the upcoming supermarket. There was a rumble in his throat as he leaned back in his seat. His men tailing behind him in different cars. Miguel told his driver to stop, wanting to walk the rest of the way while his men parked around back.

"Peter, take our guest into the freezer. I'm going to make a pit stop at the deli," Miguel said over the phone.

"Miguel, we talked about this. You're the boss, let us handle the work." Peter tried reasoning over the phone.

Miguel wasn't even paying attention. He hung up and proceeded to enter the supermarket. His presence alone made the managers cower and the workers silent. Of course, none of the regular customers knew anything. None of them suspected that he, Miguel O'Hara, CEO of Alchemax, was the leader of the Spider Mafia. One of the biggest and ruthless mafia in town.

"The usual?" One of the deli men questioned. Miguel glanced over his shoulder, noticing you shaking like a leaf while avoiding your coworkers,

"And they say I'm cruel. New hire?"

"Transfer from out of town," The man replied.

Miguel raised a brow towards you. You were pale in the face as you apologized for getting in people's way. Miguel couldn't help but snort. It was cute. Something he was not used too. Returning his attention to the deli worker, Miguel could only smirk as he watched his men drag their guest into freezer number three.

"The bird needs to be plucked." Was all Miguel said for the man to understand.

-------

You whimpered softly as you moved away from everyone's path. It had gotten far too busy for your liking. Once you caught a break, you noticed the deli supervisor talking to a handsome man. You tilted your head, stealing a glance. The man was tall and gorgeous. He wore a slick all black suit. Something very fancy for this part of town.

The man took notice of you and smiled. Your cheeks immediately started to heat up as you quickly returned to your job. As you did, you noticed some men enter the third freezer. You paled instantly. It was your first day! Biting you lower lip, you tried to focus on your work. Right as you did, you noticed the handsome man from earlier walk by you and towards the freezer,

"Keep up the good work, conejita (bunny)." He whispered.

You felt your heart race as the door shut. His voice was so deep and low. If only he hadn't entered the freezer. Perhaps, you would have gotten to know him as a regular.

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

Next Chapter!

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath (Steddie X Plus Size You)

"She's got a secret underneath (she's got a secret underneath) Yeah, she's his naughty little freak (yeah, she's his naughty, little freak) She likes to put on a show (she likes to put on a show) She likes when he takes control (she likes when he takes control)"

A/N: This came from utter annoyance at men online and just desperately trying to find a confident man who cares.

ENJOY!

Warnings: Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, daddy kink (cause im me), blindfold, toys, voyeurism (I guess. They watch her pleasure herself on cam), dirty talk. Sub/dom dynamics, oh um age difference even though its not mentioned (guys are about mid to late 30s and Reader is in her mid to late 20s)

ANGST, Reader is assaulted by an ex (mentioned but not expanded on) boys comfort her, mentions of her wanting to be held and tired of feeling lonely, guys online try to flirt in the beginning but she shuts them down. I think that's it. Cliffhanger ending because again...Im me.

Word Count: 5555 (ooooo :P)

“I can take care of a young little thing like you. You’re perfect”

“If I’m perfect why do I need someone to take care of me?”

“Do you want to help Daddy finish, baby? My big hard cock needs some help.”

“Oof a real Daddy doesn’t need to announce how big his cock is. Try again, little boy.”

“I bet a little girl like you needs to be put in her fucking place, you stupid fucking slut. Now get naked and send me nudes or else.”

You role your eyes as you promptly block the person who sent you the message. When you signed up for this sugar baby website you were hopeful to find someone who wasn’t like the “men” you had talked to on regular dating apps. You wanted someone who knew what they were doing, confident, and could handle your sass without running. 

You had met a few who could live up to the title but none you wanted to keep around long term. 

Sliding your mouse through the images, you found a profile that intrigued you. The image attached wasn’t of one man but two and it didn’t show their faces. It wasn’t odd for the Babies to want anonymity like yourself but your profile picture at least showed all of you in your curvy glory with a mask blocking your eyes and lingerie blocking everything else. Daddies always felt the need to show off so usually their profile images accentuated their faces and/or their money.

These two, with an account named Mogul/Rockstar, were only photographed from the neck down and it was definitely a picture they took, not some professional or anything like that. The man on the left had a black, well fitted suit with his admittedly gorgeous hands holding a glass of whiskey. The man on the right was a bit less put together with torn jeans and a blue jean vest over his bare chest just barely blocking the tattoos that peaked out. You assume he must have long hair because the ends of wavy locks rested on his shoulders.

When most men reached out to you it was with some silly pick-up line or innuendo. This profile, however, simply sent you one word; “Hello.”

(8:45pm) “Hey there. Not much for words?”

(8:47pm) “We imagine you’ve heard them all. : ). “

(8:48pm) “Are you really two people? Or do you just have an extra ego?”

(8:48pm) “Oh or let me guess! Your dick is so big it counts as another person.

(8:50pm) “I mean my friend IS a big dick but lol”

(8:51pm) “Yeah, honey, it’s really two people. We like to be clear about that. Any Baby that becomes ours would be just that; ours. 

(8:53pm) “We’ve learned pretty quickly not many women feel comfortable with two Daddies which is absolutely fine and why we are up front.”

(8:54pm) “How up front are you being really when you don’t show your face?”

(8:55pm) “Hm. Not a yes girl. I like that. It’s good to ask questions. 

(8:57pm) “We do that for a couple of reasons. One being we are well known faces so we don’t want a Baby to choose us solely on that.”

(8:57pm) “Because you don’t want to be embarrassed?”

(9:00pm) “Asking questions is good. Interrupting isn’t. Don’t do it again.”

(9:01pm) “Or what?”

…

(9:08pm) “Or what, huh?”

(9:15pm) “Fuck you! Ignoring isn’t very Daddy like!”

(9:16pm) “Oh? Did little baby get her feelings hurt? We don’t ignore as punishments but you aren’t ours yet, sweetheart. If you don’t want to follow any rules that’s fine. We can just continue looking and you can be a brat with someone else.”

(9:18pm) “I’m sorry.”

(9:19pm) “What’s the other reason?”

(9:22pm) “Actually, that’s the biggest reason. Our fame gets in the way of a lot of things if you can believe it. Expectations are ruined and certain ideals are put in place.”

(9:23pm) “My reputation as a rockstar makes some ladies think I can’t be soft and I definitely can. Our image isn’t solely who we are.”

(9:25pm) “I can understand that. Being a bigger girl people think I’m either desperate or my weight becomes a fetish to them. Which, I mean, fetishes are fine but men make me feel like…it’s the ONLY reason they are sexually attracted to me.”

(9:26pm) “And not because of your personality. Yeah…”

(9:28pm) “Is that why you’re a bit of a brat? Lol need to weed out the idiots?”

(9:30pm) “Something like that. Lol.”

(9:32pm) “Baby, I think my friend and I are in agreement that we’d like to try this out if you’re willing. You don’t have to see us or do anything you don’t want. Per the anonymity that was mentioned, we aren’t going to give our names so you don’t have too either. We also won’t be showing our faces so, again, you don’t have to.”

(9:33pm) “More than anything, we just want someone to look out for and talk to. Maybe make you feel good from time to time if you let us.”

(9:35pm) “Ok, Daddy.”

(9:36pm) “Good. Good girl. : ). We can talk on here until the three of us get more comfortable and then we can give you our numbers so you can talk to us there or individually. As you can imagine, rockstar travels a lot and so do I for deals so we aren’t always together 24/7.”

(9:40pm) “Are you both friends or partners?”

(9:42pm) “Friends for sure.”

(9:43pm) “Ok, baby girl, we’ll let you go but we’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

(9:45pm) “Good night, Daddy.”

(9:46pm) “*Daddies”

(9:48pm) “Good night, honey.”

(9:48pm) “Sweet dreams, princess.”

As you laid in bed that night, you couldn’t help but wonder who they could be. You did some quick googling of businessmen who were friends with rockstars but that was stupid because that was a very common friendship found within industries. Rolling over, you plugged in your phone to charge it, pausing when you heard it ding.

Mogul/Rockstar deposited $300 into your account!!

Wow. No man had ever sent you that much just for an introductory conversation. Maybe because it was two of them they felt the need? As you drifted off to sleep, you found yourself getting more and more curious about them, dreaming of possibilities that may come to be.

############

That first month went by a lot smoother than you expected it to when it came to this account. They were incredibly kind and genuinely seemed to care about your day and what you were up to. Any time you voiced any kind of concern, they listened and did what they could. For example, you wished you could tell who was responding when since at the moment they replied as one. A few minutes later Rockstar changed his text to be red so you knew you were talking to him. 

When it came to finances, they were more than generous, giving you a set amount of $500 at the end of each day. They never once asked for anything sexual or made innuendos about their bodies or yours. 

As the second month began however you found yourself getting antsy.

(6:42pm) “May I ask a question?”

(6:43pm) “Yeah, of course, anything, honey.”

(6:45pm) “Can we do something…I mean can you help me…”

(6:46pm) “We can help with anything, princess. You just have to ask like a big girl.”

(6:47pm) “Can you…help me cum…”

(6:47pm) “Please, Daddy.”

(6:48pm) “We can do that for you, pretty girl. If you want. You remember the rules?”

(6:48pm) “Yes, Daddy.”

(6:49pm) “You don’t even have to turn on your camera or mic or anything. You can just…watch me.”

(6:50pm) “We never do anything we don’t want to do.”

(6:51pm) “But we would love to watch you cum. Do you have toys or were you just going to use your fingers?”

(6:53pm) “I have toys, Daddy.”

(6:54pm) “I actually just got this rabbit vibrator but I have no idea how to use it.”

(6:57pm) Mogul/ Rockstar has invited you for a video chat.

Biting your bottom lip, you grab your mask and pull it over your eyes, checking your appearance in the camera box before clicking their link. The camera box was still just their image from the site which you expected but was pleasantly surprised when a husky voice flowed through your speakers. 

“Hey, honey. You don’t have to turn your mic on if you don’t want to. We just thought it would be fair since you’re about to vulnerable with us.”

You smiled as you turned on your microphone. 

“Is it vulnerable? It’s just…masturbating right?”

“I mean, are you playing with yourself on the internet for just anyone?”

The second voice that followed through sounded extremely familiar as if you heard it somewhere before. It was incredibly sexy none the less. 

“No.”

“Then I would say you’re being vulnerable, babe. Jesus, you are really beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”, you beam.

“Can we ask why shorts and an oversized shirt? Most women wear the lingerie or a bra and panties.”

“Or are totally naked.”

“I just want to be comfortable. I’m not roaming around my house in a bra and panties.”, you giggle. “I take those off as soon as I get home from work.”

“Very fair. We’ve never asked what you do. Do you feel comfortable telling us?”

“I’m a teacher. Another reason for said anonymity.”

“Again fair.”

“Um, may I ask, whose voice is whose?”

“Yeah, pretty girl. I’m the Mogul.”

“I’m the rockstar.”

Smiling, you nod but you find yourself completely unsure of how to proceed. Usually, you could play innocent and do what you needed in the bedroom but something about these men were making you…

“Honey, are we making you a little nervous?”, Mogul asked in a sweet tone. 

“Yeah a little bit. I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, sweetheart. Can you do your Daddies a favor and show us the toy you got?”

Like a little kid in a store, your smile grew as you opened the box by your feet and produced the pink vibrator, displaying it for them to see.

“Is that your favorite kind of toy?”

“Usually men are but—” You quickly covered your mouth with your palm not meaning to let your sass slip out like that. Again, you were surprised when you heard both men laugh.

“I like that sassy attitude.”

“The confidence to.”, Mogul adds. “Don’t cover up that personality for us, baby girl. We’re big boys. We can handle it.”

“Most men can’t.”

“Most men aren’t us.”

“That’s for damn sure.”, you smirk as your thighs rub together. 

“Why don’t you take off those short for us, sweetheart?”, Rockstar suggests as you nod, rising from your chair to bring them down and toss them aside. “Good girl. Can you open your legs for us so we can see that pretty pussy?”

Licking your lips, you close your eyes as your open your legs giving them a good view. 

“Open your eyes, baby girl, and don’t move them from the camera.”, Mogul commands in a firm tone. “Jesus, man. I bet she tastes really fucking sweet.”

“And is really fucking tight. That toy is going to stretch you out I bet.”

You moan at their words as you tease your slit with the end of the vibrator.

“I wish you both were here to help me.”, you whine as you palm slides under your shirt to massage your breast. 

“Go ahead, honey. Push it into your cunt and tell us how it feels.”

Mewling, you easily guide it inside of you, the subtle vibration against your clit driving you crazy.

“Fuck, it feels so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah, princess? Fuck, I’ve never wanted to eat a pussy so bad in my life. Look at her. I just want her to ride my face till she cums over and over.”

“Fuck…yes.”

“You’d like that, baby? Make a mess all over Rockstar’s face.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Such a dirty little girl. Can you say it for us?”

“I’m…I’m a dirty girl. Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good inside of me.”

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re so fucking sexy. Make yourself cum.”

“Can I, Daddy? Please. I’m so close.”

“Yeah, sweetheart. You have our permission.”

Your body shook as you came, your hips grinding against the toy as you elongated your high. 

“Good girl, honey. Very good. Come back to us.”

“Th-thank you. Thank you.”, you grin as you bite your lip. “Wait, did you guys cum? I wanna hear it.”

“This was about you, babe. We didn’t touch ourselves.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we’re really fucking hard though after that display.”, Rockstar laughed.

“Are you serious? You guys didn’t…at all. Most men do.”

The image in their camera box suddenly changes and their laps from the waist down come into your view. Both men were wearing shorts and you could vaguely see their bulges poking through. Their hands were gorgeous, one littered with rings that you assumed belonged to the rockstar. 

“Again…we aren’t most men.”

“Don’t make us have to remind you again.”

Nodding, you softly apologize as you lean back in your chair.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you pouting?”, Mogul asks in a tone that makes you smile. 

“Not really. I just…I wish you could hold me.”

“Yeah…yeah, princess, we wish we could to.”

“Will you ever trust me enough to show me your faces?”

You listen as they heavily sigh.

“Maybe. Let’s just take this one step at a time, ok?”

After your good nights and lying in bed alone, you don’t know why but you begin to cry. You had been alone for so long, broken hearted from the bullshit your ex put you through. You loved what the site offered but you wondered if that momentary high would be enough to sustain you. You just wanted someone who would hold you and tell you everything was alright. Someone who would take care of you and make you feel safe so you didn’t have to worry anymore about…everything. 

As your phone dinged, you glanced at the notification that illuminated your screen. 

Mogul/Rockstar deposited $2000 into your account!!

Hardening your heart, you reminded yourself that you were strong, squeezing your eyes tightly shut as you forced yourself to sleep. 

##############

(6:15pm) “Hey beautiful. What are your plans tonight? Rockstar and I were thinking maybe the three of us could have a camera date and just talk. Nothing sexual.”

(6:17pm) “You don’t have to of course.”

(6:20pm) “Sweetheart, you know how we feel about you not answering.”

(6:25pm) “Shit, you guys. I’m so sorry. I was charging my phone while I was getting ready! I actually have plans tonight.”

(6:27pm) “Ooo that sounds like fun. Spending some time with friends?”

(6:29pm) “Not exactly lol My ex actually invited me to dinner so we could talk about some things.”

(6:30pm) “You’re going on a date?”

(6:32pm) “Um, I guess you can call it that.”

(6:32pm) “Is that a problem?”

(6:33pm) “We made it clear that if you agreed to be our Baby you would be ours.”

(6:34pm) “Virtually, yes, but the information and rules you gave me didn’t say I couldn’t go out on a date. 

(6:35pm) “What. Did you think I was just going to be ok with not knowing who you two were and never having you two fuck me or hold me. 

(6:35pm) “To not go on actual dates and feel wanted.

(6:36pm) “Needed.”

(6:38pm) “Didn’t realize you needed everything spelled out for you. Relationships take time. Like you we imagine, we’ve been burned before. We don’t want another whore who’s only dating us for our money or status. We deal with fake people enough!”

(6:39pm) “We like talking to you and you’re so beautiful. We WANT to see where this goes but if you’re in that much of a rush maybe this was a bad idea.”

This Baby is currently offline. You may leave messages for her and she will get this when she logs back in!!

***

(9:32pm) CurvyBabyWAttitude has invited you for a video chat!!

(9:34pm) Mogul/Rockstar declined your invitation for a video chat.

(9: 35pm) “Please…I need you…”

(9:38pm) “Now you need us? After your date I’m thinking didn’t go well since it’s 9:30.”

(9:39pm) “Try again, little girl. We aren’t the kind of men you use whenever you feel like.”

(9:41pm) “We have feelings to.”

(9:45pm) “What? No sassy come back? Nothing sarcastic you want to say?”

(9:50pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!!

“Jesus Christ. What happened, baby?!”

When you illuminated their screen, you were a complete mess. Your hair was frayed every which way and even under the mask covering your eyes they could tell your make up was smeared from tears. Your black dress that you had worn was torn at the sleeve, hanging down as you held it together with your hand. 

“Did that fucker hurt you?”, Rockstar growled. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who to call. I’m so sorry, Daddy. I should have stayed here with you. I’m just so tired of feeling lonely. As soon as that fucker showed me even a little bit of attention I just…”

You listened as they mumbled to each other, unable to make out what they were saying as you dried your tears with your fist. 

“We’re in New York right now. Are you close to that state?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Do you trust us? Say it.”, Mogul replies sternly when you nod.

“Yes, I trust you.”

“There’s a hotel outside of the city. I’ll message you the address and room number. You follow the instructions we give you to the letter. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

***

“Hi, um, I’m checking into a room…under, um, Baby Girl.”

You cringe as you relay the information but all the young lady does behind the hotel counter is beam over at you as she types on her computer. 

“Ah and here’s your key. Do you need an escort or anything?”

“Oh, uh, no, ma’am, thank you.”

“No problem! The gentleman said he would be right there.”

You glanced around you nervously as you rode the glass elevator up to the floor your room was at. You appreciated that they didn’t make you go to some run-down Bates Motel but you were still a bit on edge. 

Heading for the door, you paused taking a deep breath before putting in the key and slowly entering the room. It was a modest little room but lived up to its five-star rating just on looks alone. Shifting your gaze, you realized quickly you were alone but noticed a note with the words “Baby Girl” on the mattress. 

Lifting it up, you found a black silk eye mask one would use for sleeping folded underneath. 

“Please place this mask over your eyes and we will be right in. 

We know it took a lot of trust for you to drive out here so we’re trying to meet you halfway.”

Taking a seat, you sighed as you tried to put the thing over your head, struggling a bit as a bruise had begun to form where your ex tugged at your dress. 

The sound of the door clicking and swinging slowly open caught your attention as you froze in place. 

“Um, f-full disclosure, my eyes are closed as well. I couldn’t get this thing further down and I could see under the—” You point at the bottom of the mask as the door closed. 

Cologne filled your nostrils as footsteps walked closer to you. 

“Is it ok if I touch you so I can fix it?”

Your head tilted to the side at the sultry, smooth voice just above you.

“Yeah…who-who is this?”

“I’m the mogul in our name. Rockstar is on his way.”

“Were you two not together?”

You feel the atmosphere shift as he kneels in front of you and his fingers gently hold your head as he adjusts the mask to be more comfortable.

“We were but he wanted to stop and grab some things in the lobby. How does that feel?”

“Better, thank you.”

He withdrawals his hands but he doesn’t move as you feel his eyes scanning you over. Braving crossing a boundary, your hands carefully reach out and find his cheeks. Taking a hold of your wrists, Mogul helps guide your movement over his fluffy hair making you smile at how soft it is. When your thumb finds his lips, he exhales heavily and his warm breath has your pussy clenching around nothing. 

Abruptly, the door beeps and opens again as the smell of cigarettes fills the room.

“Do you know how hard it is to find ice in this goddamn palace!?”

Your head tilts again as you try to follow the new voice as he moves about the room. 

“And that would be the rockstar.”, the man in front of you assures as he pats your thigh and sits beside you. As he goes to release your hand, you immediately reach for him again, afraid of being in the dark now that they were here.

“Next building you buy should be a fucking hotel so you can put things where us humans can find them.”

You hear what sounds like someone being lightly hit as everything becomes silent again. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry. My mouth tends to move before my brain does.”, he replies in your direction at a bit of a calmer register as he bounces on to the bed beside you. “God, asshole got you good, huh? Ok, this is going to be cold.”

You yelp and wince when something freezing lands on your arm. 

“I searched for like an actual icepack but I guess the 5 stars don’t include first aid.”

“Ok! I get it. You’re not used to fancy places, dude. Jesus.”

Rockstar laughs through his teeth making you smile again as your free hand reaches towards where you assume he is. Your fingers touch hair first and your eyebrows scrunch together as you realize you found the ends just above his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I, uh, wouldn’t run my fingers through that. It’s all tangled. You may get stuck and have to stay with us forever.”, he chuckles before it trails off. 

You can feel them both watching you as your palm finds his cheek and like with his friend your thumb moves along his bottom lip. They were a bit more chapped but based on the smell you assumed that was due to the cigarettes. As your hand began to travel down his neck, you paused and pulled away not wanted to make either man uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry.”, you mumble.

“What are you sorry for, honey?”

“I don’t mean to be…that much of a brat, you know. I like talking to you both to and I want to see where this goes but…I guess I’m like him sometimes.” You pause as you gesture towards the rockstar. “My mouth moves before my brain. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be my Daddies anymore.”

Both men were silent for what felt like an eternity before the ice was removed from your skin and replaced by lips. A pleasant sigh escaped you as he tenderly kissed your bruises.

“Why did you ex hurt you?”, Mogul asked.

“Because he’s a fucker.”

“Yeah, we gathered that.”, Rockstar teased as he leaned away from you but intertwined your fingers with his. 

“He, uh, took me on a date to this tacky little restaurant that I told him a million times I hate and then on the drive home he insinuated because he took me out I’d want to…you know.”, you exhale as your head hangs. “I’m just so tired of being lonely. I just want someone to take care of me. ME. Not the supposed ‘whore who needs to be put in her place’ or ‘the desperate big girl’. I’m strong and I can take care of myself. I’m just…tired.”

Fingers tenderly moved your hair behind on of your ears. 

“God, I love your attitude.”

“It’s not uncommon for us to constantly run into ‘yes’ people. It’s one of the problems we have with Babies. Always ‘Yes, Daddy.’ Or ‘Of course, Daddy.’ Sometimes we can’t tell if it’s them being genuine or pandering to us to get what they want. Which…I guess is fine but…”

“Not what we’re looking for.”

Your hands search for Mogul’s face and he grins as he leans in allowing you to touch him. When your lips find his, however, he hastily pulls back and rises to his feet. 

“Hey, no, honey. You don’t have to do that. That’s not why we came down here.”

You feel yourself start to panic, losing your bearings since you can’t see. You had gotten used to them both being next to you and when he stood up you suddenly felt lost. 

“I’m right here, princess. You’re ok. Everything’s ok.”, Rockstar murmurs in your ear as he squeezes your thigh.

“You don’t want to fuck me?”, you ask to the void, unsure of exactly where the other man may be. 

A deep, guttural groan echoes in front of you as you turn your head towards it.

“I’ve never wanted something or someone so bad in my life, baby, but… that’s not why we came here.”

“He doesn’t want you to feel used. Your ex tried to do that and he doesn’t want you to feel like we’re the same.”

“I don’t. I don’t feel that way at all, Daddy.” Your voice had dropped into that little girl tone as you fully allowed yourself to be vulnerable for them. “Please…”

Lips connected to yours again but the taste was different. The nicotine that lingered on his tongue mixed with the slight taste of mint toothpaste set your body on fire as it fully came to life and you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck as he gently tilted you onto your back.

The bed dipped on your other side and you disconnected from one set of lips to another. You became lost in his kisses as his tongue danced with yours and their hands roamed your skin. 

“We’re going to be gentle tonight, baby girl. Let us take care of you.”

You allowed them to undress you and waited patiently as they removed their own clothes. Lying on either side of you, they each lifted one of your legs over their hips as their lips and tongues sucked on your neck.

Rockstar’s fingers glided through your folds and you groaned loudly as he massaged circles into your clit. While running your hand through his hair, Mogul licked and sucked on one of your nipples making your hips buck as you searched for more friction. 

“Please.”

“What do you want, sweetheart? You want my fingers?”

“Yes, Daddy, please.”

His nose presses against your cheek, his mouth opening in a silent moan as he effortlessly guides two of his digits inside of your core. 

“Fuck. I was right. You are tight. Jesus, sweetheart, our cocks are going to stretch you open, baby.”

“Can…Can I have you both?”

“Can you handle that?”, Mogul asked with a slight whine of want. 

“Yeah, Daddy. I can, I promise.”

“Baby girl, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking for.”, he chuckles and you listen as he sucks on what you assume is his fingers. “You may think we’re cocky but trust us we’ve earned the right to be.”

You suck in a breath as you twist your hips and feel two long thick fingers pushed into your ass as both men thrust their digits into you. 

“Oh…my…”

“Can a little girl like you handle your Daddy’s big cocks inside of you at the same time?”

Your hands cling to the man in front of you as you passionately kiss him, his tongue catching your moans as you tremble and trench his fingers as you cum. 

“Y-Yes, I can…I can handle it.”

They abruptly sit up and manhandle you around the bed, Mogul’s arms holding you tightly as he places himself on the edge of the mattress with his legs hanging off the side. Just as you had, his palm comes up to caress your face as his thumb traces your lips. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” You softly smile at the sincerity in his voice while he circles your arms around his neck. “Just hang on to Daddy, ok? We got you.”

His hair tickles your nose as he tilts his head and grips his cock between your bodies. 

“Shit, um, I almost forgot. Is it ok…I don’t think we have condoms.”

“It’s ok. I’m protected and I’m clean. You can cum inside me…if you want to…”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re going to kill us. Ok, go ahead and baby let me know when you’re ready for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

You feel his mushroom tip tease your entrance making you both moan. 

“Take your time, honey. I got you.”

As you slowly descend onto him, he sucks in a breath as your fingers thread through his hair. 

“So big. Fuck, Daddy.”

“How does she feel, man?”

“Mmpf, tight. That’s it. You’re almost there.”

When you’re fully seated on top of him, his forehead leans to rest on yours as his humid breath fans your face. The action causes you to clench around him and he grunts in pleasure.

“Hang on to me.”, he whispers as he tips back onto his hands tilting you with him. 

Rockstar spits in his palm behind you and you mewl as he rubs it between your cheeks.

“Are you ready, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m ready.”

Holding your ass open, he gradually slides into you.

“Oh fuck. I wasn’t expecting… goddamn baby girl.”

Ringed fingers take hold of your bicep as both men thrust into you at the same time hitting every spot inside of you that has you melting into them. 

“Oh my God. Yes!”

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, dude. I don’t know how—mmm—how long I’m gonna last. Her ass feels so good.” A hand slaps your behind making you moan as another strong palm grips the back of your thigh guiding your movements as you bounce back into theirs. 

Lips in front of you open mouth kiss your chest up to your neck as you push them closer to your skin. 

“Please. Fuck, Daddy! M’gonna cum.”

Slamming their hips up to meet yours, your body quivers as the coil snaps.

“Atta girl, honey! Making a mess all over our cocks and coming hard like that. So fucking sexy.”

Clinging to them tightly, you allowed them to use you to chase their highs. The man behind you warms your insides first, grunting as his rhythm falters. The man in front of you soon follows thrusting his spend deep inside of you.

“We’re going to pull out, sweetheart, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy.”

After carefully removing themselves, you feel yourself being lifted into the air and spun around before being placed on soft pillows. A wet rag cleans you and you pleasantly sigh as you curl under the covers that were placed over your body. 

“Are you both going to stay?”

Cool metal touches your skin as a hand pets your head. 

“Do you want us to?”

“I promise I won’t look.”

Warmth encases you as they lay on either side, murmuring praises as you steadily fall asleep. 

#################

When you woke up the next morning you were alone, finding a note on the nightstand that said they thought it best to leave before you woke up but that the room was yours for as long as you need and to message them when you made it home. 

You did what they requested but decided to utilize the rest of your Sunday for yourself thinking about everything that happened. You heard your phone pinging but you didn’t want to talk to anyone wishing you could call in that following Monday. Unfortunately, you made a promise to a friend, you couldn’t break. 

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?”, your colleague asks as she lightly elbows your side. 

“I’m fine. Just an interesting weekend.”

“Alright, guys so this where all the important decisions are made.”, the building tour guide obnoxiously smiled as she guided the class around the office space. “Let’s see if the boss is available.”

“Well thank you for chaperoning with me. When Mrs. Ludwig cancelled I thought I would have to reschedule.”

“No problem. I know nothing about business and economics but…”, you giggle. 

“Holy shit!”

“Mark!”, your friend shouts. “Watch your mouth! Jesus!”

“Mrs. Raymond, it’s Eddie Munson. The guitarist from Corroded Coffin!”

Turning your head in that direction, you realize two men are staring your way, one of them indeed the famous rockstar. 

Rockstar…

Blinking you tilt your head as you notice the rings on his fingers.

That voice. I knew that voice.

“It’s not uncommon for us to see Mr. Munson around here. Him and Mr. Harrington have been friends for a long time. Right, sir?”, the tour guide asks.

“Steve Harrington? The business mogul?”

Mogul…

“See, Y/N. You know some things about the business world.”, your friend grins. 

As the world around you seems to slow down to a halt, you three continue to stare at each other as you figure out where to go from here.

[eddiesxangel]

Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x f!reader ~ 1/6

AN: Hello! This is a very overdue, completely revised version of one of the first Eddie fics I ever wrote. Hopefully I fixed all of the issues and things I didn’t like. Fingers crossed I didn’t miss anything… hope you enjoy!!

Master list

Summery: This summer was suppose to be the summer to work at your favourite place in the world with your best friend. But things take a turn when it isn’t your best friend you end up working with.

CW: camp AU, counsellor!eddie x f!camp counsellor reader, popular!reader, 18+ content, drinking, weed consumption, angst, eventual smut, fluff, reader and Eddie are in their 20’s. Part 1/?

wc: 13.4k

Finally, your last freshman year of college exam was behind you. Summer was at your fingertips, and you couldn't wait to get it started. Summer was when you could escape the pressures of college life and the expectations of the people in your hometown of Hawkins. Growing up, you were incredibly popular. You were on the student council, a competitive dancer and co-captain of the cheer team in high school. Dancing was your passion; you enjoyed all styles, from jazz and contemporary to ballet and hip-hop. Cheerleading was also important to you; you made the team in your first year of high school. Although you never set out to become part of the popular crowd, your involvement in these extracurricular activities naturally led you to that status.

“Hey! Wait up!” You turn and see your best friend Ashley running towards you as you exit the university campus doors. “I can’t believe you’re trying to sneak out on me before you’re gone for the whole summer!” She exasperated. “It’s not my fault you didn’t send your resume in time! I put a good word for you and everything.” You huffed back with an eye roll. You and Ashely were supposed to work at the sleepover camp where you’ve been a counsellor for the past two summers. Yet Ashley conveniently forgot to submit her application in time.

When you started working at Camp Murdock, nobody knew who you were. It was a fresh start, a clean slate. The camp is located about four hours north of your hometown, and people from all over come to work there for two months during the summer season. Maybe it was the natural surroundings, but you broke out of your shell during your first summer there.

You were no longer labelled as the prude-popular-teacher’s pet cheerleader; you were just you, the loud, outgoing, funny, and goofy camp counsellor. The campers loved learning silly dances to camp songs with you, and you truly felt like yourself at that camp. This summer, you were looking forward to spending time with Ashley, the one person from back home with whom you feel comfortable being yourself. Unlike yourself, Ashley is a confident and independent girl who never adhered to societal norms or cared much about what others thought of her. She was always the one to speak her mind, dress the way she wanted, and hang out with whomever she pleased. Her free-spirited nature and carefree attitude were a breath of fresh air for you, especially since you've always worried about fitting in and what others thought of you. You had hoped that this summer, you could let your guard down and be yourself, only this time with your partner in crime.

You and Ashley were like two individuals from different worlds. While you were more inclined towards mainstream activities, Ashley had a unique taste in hobbies and interests. She was a passionate photographer who loved capturing the world through her lens. Ashley was also a big fan of the Dungeons and Dragons fantasy game and punk music, and she didn't care much about conforming to social norms. Then there was Ashley's style. She was equally distinctive and rebellious. She had short hair, which was always styled in an edgy way. She loved to wear dark, smokey makeup with lots of eyeliner, which matched her punk-inspired wardrobe. She often wore baggy flannel shirts, big jeans and combat boots – a look very different from your own.

Walking together, you two were like a study in contrasts. You attracted many curious glances from the people around you, especially freshmen not used to seeing such different styles. However, over time, people got used to your strikingly different looks and learned to appreciate the uniqueness of your friendship.

“Ash, why couldn’t you submit your application on time?!” You groan as someone catches your eye, walking out of the parking lot.

Him. The guy you’ve been crushing on since the tenth grade. The upper-class man who was supposed to graduate the year you discovered who he was but was held back a few years. When he finally graduated, you saw him around town occasionally, but now you watched as he exited the corner store across the street from the school.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me; you couldn’t have—” she cut herself off, noticing you were practically drooling at who caught your eye. “You know you could just talk to him? I always talk you up when we play DND.” she raises her brow. “And say what? Hi Eddie, I’ve been in love with you for three years now. Would you please go out with me?” Ash rolls her eyes in response. “Babe, you know you’re one of the most popular girls in Hawkins. You can have any guy you want! You need to try. Start with a ‘hello,” she said, pushing your shoulder toward his van. “Ashley Joanna Thompson, stop!”Just because you’ll never have boy problems…” you frown at her. “You’re right. I only have girl problems. Men are simple creatures, ” she states as a matter of fact. You once again roll your eyes and glance over one more time in Eddie’s direction, seeing him light up a cigarette as he drives off the lot, blasting his heavy metal. You sigh as you get into your car and drive you and Ashley back to your shared apartment.

After returning home, you took a moment to relax and celebrate your successful day with a refreshing drink. You then continued to pack your duffle bag, carefully considering which items you would need for your upcoming trip. As you packed your last-minute essentials into the bag, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia and sadness thinking about Eddie Munson. You remembered the brief encounter with him in the parking lot and realized that this would be the last time you would see him for the rest of the summer.

As the clock strikes 10:00 pm, you try to calm yourself and get some rest for the long trip tomorrow. However, your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Eddie, and you can't seem to shake this crush off your mind. You've only had the chance to speak to him three times, and they were all brief and awkward "Heys" when you picked up Ash from the DND club. Despite the limited interactions, you find yourself constantly thinking about him and wondering what it would be like to get to know him better. The more you try to push him out of your mind, the more persistent the thoughts become, making it difficult to focus on anything else. You wonder if it's just a fleeting crush or if there could be something more to it.

When you settle into bed, you let your mind drift off to when you first saw him…. As you made your way through the labyrinthine halls of the school, your mind was preoccupied with the task of finding the drama room. You had promised Ashley that you would pick her up after cheer practice and didn't want to be late. After a few twists and turns, you finally saw the door you sought. Glancing at your watch, you realized you were already 15 minutes behind schedule, thanks to the practice running over its allotted time. Without hesitation, you reached for the door handle and pushed it open. “Hey Ash, I'm so sorry I’m late! Practice—“You stop dead, looking at the group of eyes staring up at you. Your cheeks burned, and you felt embarrassed when you realized they weren’t done yet and had interrupted. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought I was late.” Giving Ash a knowing look to say, “Help me.” “It’s ok, babe. We will be done in 15 minutes. Right guys?” She looks around at the rest of the club to confirm; your eyes watch each face to ensure they all nod. “Sit with me,” she smiles. You walk around the group of guys, plus Ashley, smiling meekly as they all stare with mouths open but one. As you saunter towards Ash, you notice all eyes follow your every move. When your gaze meets his, you feel a sudden and unexpected surge of fluttering in your stomach. His eyes are big, beautiful, and the colour of warm chocolate. They exude a softness and warmth that make you feel safe and secure.

His hair is longer than any other guy's at school. It falls in soft waves around his face, giving him an air of mystery and intrigue. You can't help but wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. You notice the leather belt he's wearing, with handcuffs as the buckle. It's both alluring and dangerous at the same time.

His shirt is cut off at the elbow, revealing his forearm tattoos. On his upper arm, you see a group of bats, their wings spread wide as if ready to take flight. But it's the tattoo on his inside forearm that really catches your attention. It's a marionette puppet of a monster, but it was being controlled by a hand. It’s a strange and eerie tattoo, but it only adds to his mystique.

“What’s with pompoms?” One of the other guys asks, jerking you out of your trance. “Don’t be such a jerk, Jered. This is my best friend,” Ashley scowls back. Suddenly, you’re very self-conscious about the cheer practice uniform you had on. “I’m sorry to interrupt again; please continue.” You squeak, trying to keep the peace. The group of them roll their eyes, all but him.

You basically run out of there as soon as Ash is finished. “Who was that?!” You nod your head in his direction as you watch the group if them walk away. “Who? Eddie? He’s our Dungeon Master. He's really theatrical, and he makes you picture the scene,” she laughs. “Eddie,” You sigh. “Oh no, you’re joking, right? You’re a cheerleader, and you’re telling me Eddie Munson is your type?” she almost yells while they’re still in earshot. Clasping your hand over her mouth, you look at Eddie, hoping he didn’t hear anything. “Would you shut up? Why don’t you announce it to the whole town?” You spit through your teeth. “Besides, he didn’t even look at me. I’m some scrawny 10th grander. I’m probably not even his type! You see his tattoos, leather, and chains… he’s probably into rocker chics, and he’s what?” “12th grade,” she confirms, and you groan. “I’ll put in a good word,” she teased. “Would you?” You bite my fingers, giving her the best puppy eyes. “You owe me.” She rolled her eyes.

That was three years ago, and Ashley's “good word” clearly wasn’t doing anything. So you roll over in bed and finally doze off.

—

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Your alarm clock jolts you awake, and as you groggily reach over to turn it off, you notice the bright red digits displaying 6:30 am. Your first summer day has finally arrived, but you don't get to savour it with a lazy morning. You stretch your arms and rub the sleep out of your eyes while taking a moment to appreciate the soft light filtering through your window.

As you start your day, you decide to wear your favourite camp clothes—a pair of well-worn jean shorts and last year's Camp Murdock heather grey tank top. Camp Murdock is printed in green to match the forest-green spaghetti straps. You slip on your trusty white Keds and take a moment to admire how perfectly the outfit fits you in the mirror.

Before saying goodbye to Ashley, you pack your food and prepare yourself for the long journey ahead. You have four hours of driving before you reach the camp, but you can't wait to get there. The day is filled with excitement, counsellor bonding, and cabin preparation - all in preparation for the campers' arrival in three days.

As you hit the road, you let your mind wander, thinking about all the camp activities you'll enjoy. The warm sun streams through the car window, and you can feel the anticipation building up inside you. You know the journey ahead won't be quick, but you're ready. You take a deep breath and let the adventure begin. The sweet smell of the nearby lake is in the air, adding to the excitement of being up north. It's so strong that you can almost taste the cool, refreshing water on your tongue. You can't help but feel excited as you imagine the adventures that await you at Camp Murdock.

The camp is 20 minutes from the main road, providing a sense of seclusion from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. As you inch closer, the aroma of the surrounding Birch trees fills your senses, as does the sweet scent of freshly cut grass and wildflowers. After an arduous 4.5-hour journey, you finally arrive at Camp Murdock.

Your blissful thoughts were rudely interrupted by a big van cutting in front of you, nearly hitting your front bumper. “Asshole!” You yell out the window while giving the finger. The driver gave a mocking wave as they sped off. This road only goes to one place. You’ll give them a piece of your mind. Minutes later, you arrive and pull up beside the van that had cut you off. You slammed the door as you exited your small red Ford sedan, still feeling furious. This was definitely not how you wanted to start your day. As you huffed and puffed, you noticed the van looked familiar… but no, it couldn't be the same. It was different; it had to be.

You look around the parking lot and notice other cars from past employees, but you don’t see anyone yet. You feel a small butterfly in your stomach, thinking, what if it is the van you think it is? As you take a moment to absorb your surroundings, you notice the quaint cabins, the inviting mess hall, and the mesmerizing beauty of the lake. You can't help but feel a sense of peace and tranquillity as you stand in your happy place.

The gentle waves of the lake, the rustling of the trees, and the chirping of the birds create a serene atmosphere you never want to leave. Every time you come here, you feel refreshed and renewed, ready to face whatever life throws.

“Bambi! you made it!” You whip my head around to see Robin, your best camp friend, whom you’ve worked with for the past two summers. Every year, counsellors are assigned nicknames a few days before the kids come. “Birdie!” You embrace her in a big hug, forgetting about the van and the possibility of who it belongs to. “How are you?! How did you get hotter? I didn’t think that was possible. Come, everyone’s already here! And you have to meet the newbies.” She smiles. You leave your belongings in the car and rush to the mess hall with all the other staff. “So, see any cuties so far?” You jokingly giggle. “Oh, just you wait,” she blushes, making her cheeks the same shade of pink as her tank top. Glancing around, you see our other alumni. “Hey, guys!” You wave enthusiastically. Your best camp friends, Steve, a.k.a. Moose, Nancy, a.k.a. Scout, and Billy, a.k.a. Coyote. They all embrace you in welcome hugs, and you cannot wait to catch up.

You stood scanning the vast wooden mess hall, taking in the rustic ambiance of the place. As you gazed down the rows of brightly coloured picnic tables, a sense of excitement and anticipation began to build up inside you. You were looking for new faces, hoping to meet someone interesting. But deep down, you knew that there was one particular face you were subconsciously seeking out - one that held a special place in your heart.

As you walk around up to greet more of your fellow coworkers, the memory of the van still lingers in the back of your mind. You can't shake off the ‘what if’ feeling you've been carrying since you saw it earlier. You try to push it to the back of your mind and focus on the task at hand—socializing with your colleagues.

As you make your rounds, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces, your eyes quickly dart across the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure — a guy with long, curly brown hair dressed in all black. He seems to be in a hurry and is quickly exiting the building from the opposite side of the room.

You can't help but wonder who and what he's up to. You try to catch another glimpse of him, but he's already gone. Curiosity catches up to you, and you excuse yourself from the conversation. You ungracefully maneuver your way through the sea of people, weaving in and out of the throngs until you finally reach the red saloon doors to exit the mess hall. Taking a moment to pause and assess your surroundings, you are struck by the lake's serene beauty. The water is calm and placid; you know it will no longer remain this still for the next three months. The sun shines brightly overhead, casting a brilliant glow across the water's surface. The light is so intense that it almost blinds you, but you can't help but be awed by the breathtaking view before you. You quickly look over to the cabins and see no one. Then, looking to the left, you can see the sports field, not a soul. Where could they have gone? You think. “Bambi, where did you go?” You hear Coyote, a.k.a Billy, behind you. “I thought I saw someone… guess not.” You shrugged. “Don’t worry, you’ll meet everyone. We’re about to start introductions by the pit.” He smiles. “Ok, let’s get going!” You jump onto his back, and he piggybacks you to the fire pit. You met Billy last summer, and he became a very close friend. He and Steve were your go-to guys for anything.

As you and Billy approach the fire pit to greet the other counsellors, you can hear them chatting and catching up before sitting on the bleacher benches around the pit. “OKAY, CAMP, MURDOCK STAFF, TAKE A SEAT AND LISTEN UP!” The camp director, Carol’s voice echoed from the megaphone. You all listen, and you sit between Billy and Robin. “All right, councillors and staff. Let's review some ground rules before we get to the good stuff.” It's good to know Carol’s megaphone still works. “I know some of you are vets here at Camp Murdock, but we have some new faces, so we need a refresher.” You watch Steve roll his eyes as he sits across from you, and you stifle a giggle. Carol continues, “Basic ground rules: Staff are not to be out of their cabins after 11:30 pm, and staff are not to be in the lake alone or unsupervised by another staff member. Staff are NOT allowed to have a romantic or physical relationship with a camper... That said, staff can be with each other if it is consensual, just not during camp hours.” Carol’s eyes graze the crowd as the groans for the guys all come out in sync. This was not a new rule per se, but it was heavily enforced. Last year, Angela and Connor were caught making out in the barn while they were supposed to be on field duty, and both were fired on the spot. “We, here at Camp Murdock, value the experience of the campers and our staff; we know you want to have fun, and you can do whatever you like after camp hours, as long as it’s legal.” That got some giggles from the crowd. The staff were known to sneak in alcohol and pot from time to time on your off days between camper rotations or just in the evenings to blow off some steam. “What are camp hours? I’m so happy you asked! Breakfast is 8:00 am to Bonfire at 8:30 pm. Campers are in cabins by 9:25 pm. That allows councillors to do what they like before we all have to be in our cabins by 11:30 pm on the dot! Do I make myself clear?” Again, her gaze scans the crowd of young adults in front of her, and you see the crowd nod simultaneously. “Good,” she sighs. “Now, Each cabin will be assigned a bit differently this year. Four councillors per staff cabin instead of our usual 6, and camper cabins will be assigned with 2 councillors for 8 campers. Our ages of campers this year remain the same, eight to sixteen years of age. All cabins will be assigned randomly, and you cannot ask to switch with someone… I will assign that later, before the campers arrive, so you and your partner can set up the cabins as you see fit. Next onto the good stuff!” Carol explained the games and how she would divide the staff into six teams.

Those who had attended the event knew that having Steve and you on their team guaranteed victory. Due to your petite stature, you were small enough to blend in and navigate through the trees without being detected, while Moose, a.k.a. Steve, was the fastest kid in the state for three consecutive years. Together, the two of you were an unbeatable team.

“ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP!” Carol’s voice booms in the megaphone again. “Listen for your names to be called! First, we have the Green team…" your name is not called, “and Next is Purple…” still not called. “Okay, Red Team…” still nothing. “Fourth up, we have the Yellow team…” you hadn’t heard your name yet… “Ok Blue… Edward Munson…” At first, you don't realize it because no one at home calls him Edward, but then you lift your head abruptly when it hits you. Your eyes darted back and forth, scanning the area for a man whose name had been called.

Finally, you spotted him descending the bleachers two rows behind you. He had his brown curls tied back in a low bun, wearing a Black Sabbath shirt with the sleeves cut off, revealing his muscular arms, and his signature black skinny jeans hugged his lean legs. A cigarette dangled from his lips, adding to his rugged, rebellious appearance. You watched, transfixed, as he made his way down towards Carol. He flashed her his charming smile as he approached her and accepted his new counsellor shirt. “Edward, no smoking.” She grabs the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out with her foot. “Whatever you say, boss lady,” he smirks at her and walks to the rest of his team. You looked over to Robin, who was being called next, “Oh my god, it’s him!” You half-whisper to her as she gets up. “What?” she looks confused. “Robin Buckley,” you hear Carol call again. “From school! That’s the guy I’ve been talking to you about since last summer!” You glance in his direction. She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows as she went down so Carol would never call her again. “Miss. Buckley,” for the third time, sounding irritated. “Sorry Carol, I’m coming!” she grabbed her shirt and smiled. “OK! Last, we have the Pink team… Rebecca Dawson, Jason Adams, Connie Tilbury, Christopher Jenkins, Ashton Richards, and last but not least, Y/N.” She smiles, finishing the roll call. As you get up and walk over to Carol to collect your camp shirt, you look over to see if Eddie hears your name being called. As you stare over, he doesn’t even glance. He is too busy listening to Robin talking his ear off, pointing in your direction while standing next to Steve and the others on the Blue team.

As the day progressed, you took a lunch break and caught up with Steve and Robin in the line for food.

“That new guy is pretty badass,” Steve exclaims. “Oh, Bambi would know.” Robin winked. Your cheeks suddenly felt flush. “What am I missing?” Steve looks between the two of you. “Bambi looooooves him.” Robin smiles. “Bird, remember how we talked about you sharing too much? You’re doing it again,” you said in a singing voice to avoid sounding mean. However, your face was a dead giveaway as Steve looked down at you. “Edward? That guy is your type?” His voice was loud a little too loud “Would you shut up? Announce it to the whole camp, why don’t you?” You huffed. “No wonder Billy couldn’t get in your pants last summer,” he said half under his breath. “Hey!” you smack his chest with your empty cafeteria tray.

"Jeez Bambi, chill!" Steve defends himself.

“Coyote is just a friend, and there is no way he flirted with me last summer?” You watch, and Robin and Steve look at each other and then back at you, shaking their heads like you’re the crazy one.

“So tell us more about this, Edward.” Steve raises his eyebrows. “He likes being called Eddie.” You mumbled. You didn't enjoy discussing school and home when you were here. This was your escape, but Steve was a trusted friend. “He’s two years older, and he’s really good friends with Ashley. You know, my best friend from home? and I don’t know; I’ve had a big fat crush on him since the tenth grade.” “Billy’s not going to like this; he has competition.” Steve laughed. “No, he doesn’t because I don’t like Billy like that; now I’m not sure I even like him anymore, knowing he was only trying to sleep with me last summer.” You crossed my arms.

As you were about to continue, Billy and Nancy joined the group, and the subject changed. After finishing lunch and the last two activities, we were all called to the sports field to split into our capture-the-flag teams.

“ALRIGHT PEOPLE, LISTEN UP!” The megaphone was more ear-piercing than ever. “Remind me to bury that thing tomorrow.” You hear Eddie mumble to Steve, and you cannot help but giggle. “The teams will consist of Yellow, Red and Green as one and Blue, Pink, and Purple as the next team. However! I will split up Steve and Y/N to make things an even playing field this year.” Your head whips to Steve, and he mimics you before you both yell, “WHAT?!” in unison. “Common Carol, that’s so not fair!” Steve yells out. “Too bad, Moose. You’ll be with the Yellow, Red, and Green side this year; it's the final decision.” Your shoulders sink with disappointment as you watch Steve walk to the other team, cheering and greeting him with open arms. “Alright, I’ll give you 20 minutes to strategize, hide your flag, and devise a game plan. We meet back here at 3:00 p.m. on the dot!” She blows her whistle, and you move to our headquarters, the lifejacket shed. The group moves as one, and you notice who else is on the team. Birdie, Scout, and, most importantly, Eddie. The rest of your friends move to the front, taking on team captain rolls, while you linger behind, trying to summon the courage to speak to Eddie. This was your chance to get friendly; the universe gave you an opportunity, and you had to seize it.

Eddie lingered at the back of the group, and you slowed down just enough, pretending to tie your shoe so he could catch up with you.

“Hey, Eddie.” You smile at him. Eddie looked at you curiously and was a little caught off guard as if he wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to him. “Oh, uh, hi.” He was curious as to how you knew his name. “I didn’t think I would see you here this summer.” You giggle. “Uhh… yea…?” Eddie had no idea who you were, but he did know one thing: you sure were pretty.

Your facial expression betrays you as you attempt to force a smile, revealing the true emotions bubbling beneath the surface. He didn’t know who you were. You are only with Ashley twenty-four-seven back at home, attached at the hip, and he still has no clue. You feel a rush of heat creeping up your neck and spreading to your cheeks, a tell-tale sign of embarrassment. So you choose to give a slight nod, try to laugh it off and turn back so you can catch up to Robin and Nancy.

How could you be so stupid to think he would know who you are?! Of course, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t care about cheerleading, pep rallies, or anything else. You reach up to touch the messy bun atop your head and yank out the white scrunchy so you can hide behind your hair, trying to make yourself feel better. As you catch up with your friends, they can see on your face that something is up.

“Oh, don’t get too upset. Bambi, we can still beat them even if Moose was forced to abandon us this year.” Nancy encourages, oblivious to the real reason as to why you’re flustered. “We saw you talking to him; how’d it go?!” Robin smiled. “I’m such an embarrassment; he didn’t even know who I was.” You bury your face in your hands. “I thought you said he’s mutual friends with your BFF,” Nancy, always the observant one, asked. “Ugh, he is! That’s why I’m so embarrassed.” You let out a groan and gazed up at the clear, blue sky. “I’m sure if you reminded him that you are friends with Ashley, he would remember?” Nancy reassured you. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s focus on the game." You and the girls round up the team. “Ok, we take this game very seriously here at Camp Murdock.” Nancy huddles you in. “We can still win this thing because Bambi is our secret weapon. Bambi wave so everyone knows who you are.�� She smiles. You put on a fake smile and wave at everyone, avoiding one person’s set of eyes in particular. Robin then takes over, “I say we make a diversion. Everyone splits up into two, throwing off the other team. Scout and I will stand guard for our flag.” She points to herself and Nancy. “Now we need someone really fast,” you chime in. No one raises their hand but one. Oh god. “Okay, Edward, you and Bambi will be together, and we will use the same strategy she and Steve used last year.” “She can fill you in. The rest will be split into pairs, and we will point you where to go,” she finishes. “Uh, you can call me Eddie; no one calls me Edward.” He politely corrects.

After the instructions, Eddie makes his way over to your side of the huddle while the rest group off to their side on their own. You're going to kill your friends. They know what they’re doing… “Hey, Bambi? Right?” he smiles. “Uh, um. Yeah, obviously not my real name… but Bambi is fine.” Your mouth was dry, and you felt you had forgotten how to speak. “Sorry about earlier. It’s, um, you look familiar, but I’m not sure where I have seen you before… ” He scratches the back of his head, his bicep flexing as he reaches up, and you can’t help but gawk at him. “Yea!” You say a little too enthusiastically. “I’m y/n, you know…Ash’s best friend…” Suddenly it clicks, and you can see the realization in his eyes. How could he have not known? Maybe its because you’re in your natural state. You have no makeup on, and your hair isn’t all done up either. “I guess I’m not used to seeing you out of your cheer uniform or attached at the hip with Ash,” he chuckles. “So, what are you doing here anyway? I didn’t think anyone else from home would show up here.” You ask. “Well, you know, I had my side business as a dealer at school… that got me by, but after my little run-in with chief Jim Hopper a few weeks back, I decided to take a break for the summer, lay low.” He smirked as you listened. “ I thought Ash would also be working here this summer since she wouldn’t stop talking about it in Hellfire, which gave me the idea. I thought it couldn’t be that hard looking after the little twerps, it’s good money.” “Yea, she really screwed me over with that one,” You scoffed. “Same… we should get her back.” He smirks. “Yeah, totally.” “So, Bambi, huh?” He raises a brow. “Oh yeah, it’s um, just a camp thing. Don’t worry you’ll get an assigned nickname soon enough.”

A moment of more awkward silence fills the air before Eddie decides to speak again. “So, what is the master plan everyone talked about back there?” He asks. “Oh umm, uh, so, usually, uh, what happens, is um, that because I’m um smaller, I uh, hide in the tree line once one of the… uh, other team members finds where the flags are hidden, I sneak off to grab it, and then uh, I’d pass it off Moose—Steve, who’s like the fastest kid in the state, but he’s not here so I’ll be passing it to you and all you have to do is to our zone then we win.” You catch your breath. You’re totally rambling and sounding like an idiot. Why can’t you speak in front of him? “Oh…ok, sounds good.” he looks confused, like he is trying to process the jumble of words that fell out of your mouth, but he gives a reassuring smile. When he looks at you like that, your legs feel like Jello, your heart feels like it will fall into your stomach, and you hardly look him in the eyes. His smile is soft and tender compared to his rough and tough exterior.

So far, things seem to be going according to plan. You both have taken cover behind a fallen tree that has become a makeshift shelter. The tree is old and decaying, and the bark peels off in places. The silence between you and Eddie is palpable, and you can feel the tension building up. You want to break the silence and talk to him, but every time you try, your words get stuck in your throat. You can't help but feel slightly envious of Eddie's calm demeanour, which contrasts sharply with your nervousness. You wish you could be as composed as him, but your mind is racing a mile a minute. The longest ten minutes pass, and finally, you can see Robin running towards the two of you. Thank God. “Ok, the flag is by the infirmary; we just need to distract them.” You walked closely behind Robin as you both made your way through the field, with tall grass tickling your ankles as you walked. You could see the lake's shimmering waters in the distance, and the sounds of laughter and chatter from the mess hall carried towards you on the gentle breeze.

Despite the distance, Robin seemed to know exactly where she was going, her steps confident and sure. You walked closely behind Robin as you both made your way through the field, with tall grass tickling your ankles as you walked. You could see the lake's shimmering waters in the distance, and the sounds of laughter and chatter from the mess hall carried towards you on the gentle breeze.

As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder if Eddie was really as fast as he claimed. After all, if he weren't, it would be quite a defeat. In all your years at school with him, you’d never seen him doing anything physical. He was more of the theatrical, misunderstood musician type. “I hope you’re not lying about being fast.” You whisper to him, not thinking about anything else but the game. “What the freak can’t be quick?” He scoffs. “That’s not what I—” “There it is!” Robin cuts you off, but you can’t help but think about what Eddie said…Freak.

The thing about Eddie Munson is that he stood out from the crowd. He was unlike anyone you had ever met. He had a unique personality that not everyone could comprehend. He was always edgy and outspoken, and he never cared about the status quo. One day, during lunchtime, he even stood on the cafeteria table and screamed at one of the basketball players sitting at your table. It was a shocking event that left everyone in the cafeteria stunned.

However, despite his eccentricities, you always admired Eddie's courage to be himself. You didn't like how everyone at school called him a freak, and you always tried to defend him. You stood up for him whenever your so-called friends made fun of him, but they never listened to you. They would mock you for "sympathizing with the freak," and it made you feel isolated.

Despite all of this, you never gave up on Eddie… your attraction to him was too strong. You always knew that he was a kind and genuine person, and you appreciated his unique perspective on life. You hoped that one day, others would see him for who he truly was and accept him for his differences.

The neon yellow flag was posted beside the infirmary door, and you could see the guards on the lookout. Ashton was rounding the corner, and Robin approached the other side as a decoy. “Follow me,” you whisper to Eddie. You could feel his gaze on your back, burning a hole through the thin material of your shirt. “On the count of three, I’ll run over, grab it and bring it back here for you. One… two… three.” You scurry as fast as your legs can take you. You grabbed it easily, but getting back was the hard part. On the way back, you made sure to hide behind objects, making sure the coast was clear until you heard a “Hey!” Steve’s voice came from behind you, and you ran. “Eddie here!” You yell to get his attention. You should have worn your sports bra today. The straps of your tank top and bra are slipping down your shoulders. You totally forgot that you would be doing this when you got dressed this morning.

As you rush towards Eddie, you notice his eyes widen as he watched you run towards him. You hand him the flag, and he takes it from you, holding it tightly in his hands. You can tell that he is not sure what to do as he stares at you, unable to move. You watch him for a moment as he continues to gaze down at you, his wide eyes focused on your chest. “What are you doing? Go!” You give him a little shove, taking him out of his trance, and then he runs like you have never seen anyone run in your life. The guy was right; he was fast.

You can hear cheering from across the field as you try to keep up with him while running away from Steve, trying not to get tagged. “Eddie, run! He’s coming!” You yell to warn him and he looks back. His long hair getting in his eyes, but he can still see Steve on his tail. “Come on, Eddie, you can do it!” You cheer, hoping he can still hear you. You watch as he touches the team's safety zone! You did it! Your team won! “Sorry, Moosey, maybe next year.” You give him a mock pout as he bends over to catch his breath. “Congrats to the winning team!” Carol cheers. “Now you can make your way to the pit. I’ll give you your cabins, and you can set them up.”

“Hey, you were right. You are fast.” You hear Becca say as the group of you return to the pit. She batted her eyes and smiled at him. Was she flirting with him? The pit of jealousy that was forming felt like a rock in your stomach. You could not let this happen, so you marched over to them. “Hey, we make a pretty good team.” Bumping Becca out of your way. “Hey, yeah, we do.” Eddie spoke and you noticed the glint in his eye when he raised his hand for a high five. A playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips, inviting you to join in on the fun. You mirrored his action, raising your own hand to meet his. When both of your palms touched, a jolt of electricity ran through your body, making your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but smile back at him as he beamed with delight. “I liked having you cheer for me; I finally get why those jocks have you around all the time.” He smirked, and your cheeks burned once again… maybe you can blame it on the sun. “Oh,” you giggled. Thanks…Um, you know, I don’t like it when you say you’re a freak…” The end of your sentence was hardly a whisper. “Oh, well, it was your friends who started it.” You wince at his words. You hate who he thinks you are, and it is all your fault for letting him believe that you are just like the rest of them. “I ask them not to, but they never listen.” You tuck your messy hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry, Princess. You don’t have to worry about that high school bullshit anymore. “Princess?” You scoff. “Well, you were the Princess of Hawkins High.” He says it is a matter of fact. “No, wasn't, you know nothing about me,” “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to offend you.” he raised his hands in defence. “What’s going on?” Billy, out of all people, comes running up. “Nothing,” you say simultaneously. “Back off, man.” Billy was getting in Eddie’s face. Why was he acting so weird? “What the hell, Billy? Get away from him.” You tried to shove him, but Billy was a foot taller than you and much stronger. “Look, man, nothing happened.” Eddie backed away. “I’ll see you around, Princess.” He winked and walked off to the pit with everyone else. “That guy is-” “Billy, not now.” You huff, trying to walk away. “Come on, Bambi, what’s going on…” “Nothing, let’s get going.” You pull on his arm to get to the pit.

Eddie never meant to hurt your feelings or make you uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help himself; there was just something about you that he couldn’t resist egging you on. You were so cute when your face would scrunch up and think you looked all mean and scary, but in reality, he could compare you to the mouse from Tom and Jerry. His need to push your buttons was strong. Your perfect, cute, irresistible buttons. Eddie had an urge and wanted to see how far he could go. From the moment you first got flustered, he enjoyed it; he liked making you flustered.

At the pit, you were all lined up to get your assigned cabins. Every cabin was assigned by gender, so girl councillors were assigned with girl campers, and boy councillors were assigned with boy campers. Thankfully, you were assigned to cabin 8 with Robin, Nancy, and Cassie, a.k.a. Clover, one of the nicest girls you know. “I'm so happy we are all back together again this year!” Nancy jumped up and down. The three of you have been inseparable the past two summers. “You guys are so lucky you're bunked together; we’re with the two newbies, Eddie and Ashton,” Billy said while walking beside Steve. “At least we’re cabin neighbours!” Nancy observes, seeing that they were assigned to cabin 7. “Bambi, this is great; you have your own little spy squad,” Robin winked, and you rolled your eyes. “What are you talking about Bams?” Billy asks. “Bambi knows Eddie from home and—” You clasped your hand over Robin’s mouth, not wanting to make anything weird since Steve shared the information about Billy liking you last summer. “And nothing.” You finished her sentence. The boys looked at you confused, but you were sure Steve would tell Billy later, seeing as they’re best friends. You didn’t want anyone overhearing since Eddie and Ashton were coming your way. “Hey guys, what are we talking about?” Ashton approached the group with Eddie by his side. “Bambi was telling us how she and Eddie are from the same hometown,” Billy piped up. “Yea, Princess of Hawkins High here,” Eddie smirked. “Please don’t,” you begged. You hadn’t shared your home life with your camp friends, and you didn’t want that to follow you here. “What’s he talking about, Bams?” Nancy asked. “What? You haven’t told them about how you’re Hawkins it girl? Popular cheerleader, homecoming queen, or ringing any bells?” Eddie questioned. “So you do know who she is!” Robin gasped. “I’m more than a cheerleader.” Your eyes stinging, holding back tears. Was that how Eddie only saw you? You guess that’s the persona you were trying to give off; you cannot blame him. But that will all change; you will make it your mission to have Eddie Munson know the real you. Your friends look at you with puzzled faces. “I mean, that makes sense. Of course, you’re popular; you’re one of the best people we know.” Nancy piped up. “Thanks, Scout.” You gave a small smile.

—

Setting up Cabin 8 was a piece of cake. You took the bottom bunk, and Cassie took the top. Robin took the other bottom bunk across from you on the other bed, and Nancy took the top bunk. You got along great with your bunkmates; you were really lucky. If anything, you could have been bunked with Sarina and her group, and that would not have gone over well.

As you helped the girls unpack their bags after arriving at your cabin, you looked out of the window and noticed that you had a perfect view of cabin 7.

You took a moment to admire the lush greenery and the serene surroundings, but your attention was quickly diverted when you noticed Eddie walking in and settling down on his bunk. You could see that he had his guitar with him, and he placed it right across from your own bunk.

After helping others with their tasks, you suddenly realize you have left all your belongings in your car. You decide to inform the girls that you needed to run to the car and retrieve your duffle.

As you step outside, you hear the sound of another cabin door being opened, but you ignore it and focus on getting your stuff. You walk briskly towards the parking lot, scanning for your car. Once you locate it, you quickly unlock the door and retrieve your duffle bag. As you are bent over in the back seat of my car, grabbing your things, a voice startles you. “Could get used to the view,” Eddie smirked. “Ahhh!” You jerk up “fuck!” You turn to see Eddie getting his things out of his van parked beside your car. “Excuse me?” “The lake, God, you’re not that full of yourself, are you?” He chuckled. “Oh, right,” you say, rubbing the back of your head, knowing you will soon have a headache. “You know, I wasn’t going to say anything… but you cut me off,” you say, pointing at his van. “Wouldn’t have to if you drove faster.” “I was going 20 over as it was!” “You know, Princess, I see why Coyote likes you,” he smirked. “What? I, huh? Don’t call me that,” He just smiled and walked away carrying his duffle. His arms showed the curve of his bicep, straining to hold up the big bag, the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, the tattoos being showed off. You bite your lip, watching him walk away. You really needed to get laid this summer.

—

After dinner, you and the girls had drinks to loosen us up before going to the bonfire. It had been a while since the last time you drank; with finals and studying the past month and a half, no one was partying.

The booze made you feel warm next to the fire, and you could see Eddie sitting on the other side of the bonfire. You couldn’t help but stare until he caught you, and you tried quickly to look away. The second time he catches you staring that night, it didn’t bother you as much as it would have if sober. That was until, the third time within half an hour, he got up. Oh god, you made him uncomfortable.

“Like what you see?” Eddie sneaks up behind you, and you jump at the sudden closeness. “I can’t see much; there's too much smoke in my eyes.” You try to play it off. “Oh, too bad, Princess, because my view was quite clear, had a great view.” he winks. “What did I tell you about calling me that?” You groan. “You’re not helping yourself by acting that way, Prince—” he stops mid-sentence, seeing that you’re giving him a side eye, but he continues on, “Princess,” “I’m not acting like a Princess.” You rolled your eyes, only further proving Eddie’s point. “Could have fooled me, ” He shrugs. “Obviously, you’re not very good on judgment of character.” “No? Enlighten me.”

“Is there a problem here?” Billy somehow appeared again out of thin air and wrapped a protective arm around you. Oh god. “No, Coyote, we’re fine.” You debated whether to take his arm off your shoulder, but you wanted to make Eddie jealous. “I’ll see you around, Princess.” Eddie turned and walked back to the newbies he was befriending. After Eddie leaves your sight, you exhale and shake off Billy, noticing that Eddie is no longer paying attention. “Next time he bothers you, you can come and tell me.” Billy was stern, serious; he had a look in his eye like he’d knock the shit out of him. “Seriously, I’m fine… I gotta go, have an early morning choreography to do.”

—

The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the campgrounds. The excitement of the upcoming campers filled the air, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the day ahead. As the camp's dance teacher, this was your favourite part of the summer. You loved watching the kids grow and improve their skills while helping those starting out.

As you made your way to the dance hall, you could feel the excitement building within you. The hall was empty, as expected, but you could already picture the kids dancing and laughing within its walls. You walked over to the stereo, put down your towel and water bottle, and tied your hair into a high ponytail, ready for the day ahead.

The room was stuffy and hot, with no airflow to speak of. You could feel the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, so you opened up all the windows, letting a refreshing breeze fill the air, and walked over to the standing fan, turning it up to the highest setting.

As you prepared to start your day, you reached for the mixtape you had created earlier to warm up. The tape was filled with various tracks that you thought would help get you in the right mood. You walked over to the boombox and inserted the tape, pressing play. The boombox was filled with all of your favourite songs, both new and old, from various genres. Your taste in music was eclectic, and you didn't like to limit yourself to a particular genre. You enjoyed everything from classic rock to pop, sometimes metal. If a song appealed to you, you liked it, regardless of its genre.

As the music filled the room, you felt yourself beginning to relax and get into the right mindset for the day ahead. The sweet lyrics of Whitney Huston filled the empty room, and you began getting into the movements but not really warming up anymore because the heat alone did that for you. The next song came on and you made a mental note not to use this tape when the kids came to class. The song that came on wasn’t the most appropriate.

You swayed your hips slowly, getting into it. You don’t dance like this in front of anyone unless you’re in class with friends or on stage. You typically hid your sensuality for only the dance floor or when you were having sex. You know that back at home, you are labelled as a prude, but if they only knew…

As the song progressed, so did your movments. You continued down to the floor, snaking your body before popping your hips up and down quickly before sliding back up sensually. As the music moved, you felt the need to let your hair down so you would incorporate some hair-ogropy. Deciding to get off the floor, you went to stand up but slid your hands up your inner thighs, grazing over your pussy lips, hardly being covered by your dance shorts, and continued to trail your hands up past your hips to your breasts.

You turned and swayed until you caught Eddie gawking at you in the mirror. He quickly shut his mouth when he realized you'd seen him. Honestly, if it were anyone else, you would have stopped immediately being embarrassed to expose yourself like this, but you were in your element, and this wasn’t just anyone watching. You wanted him to watch, so you continued as the song went on. Thinking of the sexiest moves you could come up with. The music suddenly stopped, and you felt thirsty. You hurried towards the sound system to turn down the volume and grabbed your water bottle. You sprinkled some water on your face and took a sip before realizing that Eddie was present in the room.

“Are you just going to continue undressing me with your eyes, or are you going to say something?” You smirked. Dance really brought out the confidence in you that normally you didn’t have. He was speechless, but you finally had the upper hand. “Uh..I…um… I thought this was the music hall.” Eddie gulped, but his mouth was dry. “No, it’s the next door over.” You smiled up at him taking one step closer so your bodies were almost touching. “You uh… you’re going to teach that to the kids?” He tried to joke, but he still sounded out of breath. “No, that’s usually reserved for a special audience.” You bite your lip. “Oh, who’s that?” His confidence coming back. You. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You took another step closer, so close you could smell his aftershave mixed with his mint toothpaste.

His lips were plump and bright pink, probably from biting them, and his eyes were locked on your chest. You were sweating, and you could feel a bead trickle down between your breasts. He quickly looked back up to your eyes when you cleared your throat.

“I guess I was wrong about you, Princess.” He licked his bottom lip. “You don’t know the half of it.” You turn and walk back to the stereo to turn on the music again. You looked back as you turned the dial. “I’d love to continue this conversation, but I have some choreography to complete before they arrive tomorrow.” You nodded your head to the door, signalling him to leave. “Oh, uh…ok yea, I’ll just um. Thanks.” He picked up his guitar case and ran out.

-

After all the dances were complete, you headed to the communal showers. The water was always freezing, so you never wanted to stay there for long, but that cold water felt nice on your hot, sticky skin. You started to hum a random song as you ran the soap along your body.

You didn’t even realize that you actually started singing instead of humming. You must have felt comfortable enough because you only sing when you’re alone.

You're done showering by the time you’ve finished the one song; camp showers really were the quickest. You reach for your bath towel and dry off inside the stall before reaching for your clothes, but then remember that you didn’t bring clean ones. All you had was your sweaty shorts and sports bra… You quickly leave the stall, praying not too many people will see you walking back to the cabin in just your towel.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was walking by the communal showers when he suddenly halted because he heard one of the most beautiful voices he had ever heard singing an Ozzy Osbourne song. He couldn't resist stopping to investigate. He needed to know who was on the other side. Eddie had been hypnotized, so he didn’t notice that he had been creeping closer and closer to the door to try to hear better over the running water. He was mesmerized by that voice.

When the water turned off, the singing stopped, bringing Eddie back to reality. He realized where he was and what he was doing. Tripping over his feet, he quickly stumbled back, leaving enough space between him and the fire to not look like an absolute creep. But he decided to hang around for a minute or two, pretending to fix his guitar just so he could find out who the mysterious voice was.

As you walk out of the showers, you see Eddie looking just as surprised as you were. Just your luck; the one person you did not want to see while you looked like a wet dog was standing there as if he was waiting for you. You wrap the towel around you tighter, seeing as though you are naked, and you try to avoid him, but he starts speaking. “You know, Ozzy?” He asked, dumbfounded. Oh god, did he hear you? “Uh… yea.” “You have a beautiful voice,” he says without thinking. Of course, it was you. Was there anything you couldn’t do? Eddie thought. You’re extremely smart, athletic, kind to everyone, and you fuck with metal? Why had Eddie never noticed you before?

When you locked eyes with him, his stomach felt like a thousand butterflies had awoken simultaneously. Everything suddenly made sense when he looked at you. The feeling was foreign to Eddie; he didn’t like it. Sure, he had liked girls and had a girlfriend or two, but nothing serious; never had he experienced this strong of a crush develop in such a short amount of time. He tried to swallow it; he wanted to eliminate this feeling, especially because it was you; he was unworthy of it. You deserved someone better. Before Eddie could think his legs were bringing him close to you, he wanted to be near you.

“What?! You heard me?” “I didn’t mean to. You were loud, and I couldn’t help but listen… but not in a bad way!” he said, waving his arms in defence. Was he spying on you? “Fuck! I’m sorry you’re naked, oh god, I mean, I wasn’t looking or anything, I swear! I just needed to know who that voice belonged to! Im sorry, I'll let you go get dressed; I’m not a freak who creeps on girls, I swear!” Eddie was rambling; Eddie didn’t ramble, not like this. Eddie was cool and confident, especially with girls. Eddie was in trouble.

“Eddie, I don’t think you’re a freak. Maybe a perv if you keep walking in on me in these situations.” you giggled. “But this is Murdock, not Hawkins, clean slate for the both of us.” You gave a reassuring smile. “For the both of us?” He questioned “I’m not who you think I am back at home,” you smirked as you began to walk away.

“What does that mean?” He yelled before you were out of earshot. You looked over your shoulder and gave a wink, letting the towel slowly slip as you approached the Cabin door, but you didn’t let him see anything before you walked inside. “God, this girl is going to be my death this summer,” Eddie mumbled to himself.

—

You called Ashley as soon as you were dressed. You had to walk to the office swing as there was only one phone for the staff and campers to use.

Ring, Ring, Rong, Ri-

“Hello, Thompson residence,” Ash answered “You son of a bitch!” You laughed. “Well, hello to you too,” you can hear the smirk in her voice. “You just so happened to leave out the fact that Eddie Munson has also applied for a job here?!” “Oh yeah, did I not tell you?” “Is this why you didn’t apply?! because you knew I’d be alone with him?” You questioned. “No! I genuinely forgot! But happy accident, no?” she laughed. You twisted the cord around your finger and crossed your legs thinking about it. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me this vital piece of information.” “I thought it would be more fun this way, ya know? I get the theatrics to keep me entertained while you’re gone.” She was such a little shit “Oh, I’m so glad that my infinite crush on Eddie entertains you,” you chuckled. “Babe, come on, you’re in such a good spot! You’re the it girl, you’ve always been; you gotta loosen up, show him the real you. You’re made for one another he doesn’t know it yet because you don’t talk to him.” she emphasized. “Don’t worry. I’ve talked to him more these past three days than I have in the past three years.” You smile. “Details now!” she screamed. “I think he flirted with me while I got my stuff from my car? And he keeps calling me Princess? He said I’m the Princess of Hawkins High. You know anything about that?” There was a clear silence. “Ash!” The slice told you everything. “Ashley” “What do you want me to say? I’m surprised you didn’t know. Everyone loves you; it’s not a bad thing…” “Whatever, I haven’t gotten to the best part!” “Finally,” she sighed, and you could picture her rolling her eyes. “So I was making my dance routines before the kids come, and I had my mixtape on, so you know I was doing my thing because I was alone, or thought I was alone…” “Stop! he walked in on you?!” She gasped. Of course, your best friend has seen the types of dance you do; she is one of the most supportive people you’ve ever met. “His jaw was on the floor! and I didn’t stop, I don’t know what came over me. I just kept going; it was like my body was on fire but in a good way, not sure how else to describe it.” “Babe, oh my god, you’re going to have him in the palm of your hand before you know it.” She reassured. “And to top it all off, he bumped into me after I got out of the shower just now and told me I have, and I quote a beautiful voice.” You sighed like a lovesick teenager. “Bitch! I repeat, you’ll have him in the palm of your hand. I know what he’s like; he’s one of my best friends.” she exclaimed. “Hey! I’m your best friend.” “What I mean is one of my best guy friends… I know how he is, what he likes; trust me, he’s going to like you.” Ash really was an amazing friend. “I just don’t know if I’m his type. That nagging feeling is in the back of my head again.” “He told me once that you’re pretty,” she said nonchalantly. “What?! You’ve never told me anything before?!” “eh, guess I forgot?” Ash shrugged her shoulders. “Forgot? Ashley, come on! Im dying here. I like him so much I feel like I’m going to explode, and that is vital information.” Why would she not tell you? Maybe you’re too annoying, always talking about your crush on Eddie? “Forget Princess of Hawkins, let’s crown you as Drama Queen,” she laughed. “Shut up, enough about me. How have you been?”

— As the new day dawned, the campers eagerly anticipated their arrival at the campsite. After settling into their cabins, they were introduced to their surroundings and felt a sense of excitement in the air. Each camper was eager to make new friends and start their adventure at the camp.

The first day was filled with the joys of getting to know one another, playing games, and indulging in meals that were prepared for them. As the dance instructor, you were given the task of planning your activities for the first week. While dance was your specialty, the campers would be exposed to other activities throughout the week to keep them engaged.

Mondays were dedicated to dance, with Tuesdays offering swimming and other water-related activities. Wednesdays were all about music, Thursdays for sports and nature, and Fridays for arts and crafts. Campers could expect to rotate these activities throughout the week to avoid getting bored with any one thing for too long.

The highlight of the week was undoubtedly Tuesdays, the day when campers could take a refreshing dip in the lake. Even though swimming was designated for Tuesdays, there was free time every day for campers to explore their interests and engage in other activities, individually and with their new friends. As the summer sun beat down, the opportunity to cool off in the lake was a welcome respite for all campers. The schedule ensured that everyone could try out different activities and make the most of their time at camp.

Nighttime was an all-around favourite. After everyone was settled in their bunks, tummy full of S’mores and smelling of bonfire smoke, you, Nancy and Robin walked together towards the mess hall to find the guys playing cards. “What are we playing, and what do I get when I win?” You asked as you opened the doors. Steve, Billy, Eddie and Ashton all turned their heads to see the three of you walking through the red saloon doors. “Don’t you have campers to look after?” Steve joked. “Could say the same to you,” Robin retorted back “Touché.” He smirked. “Well, now that you girls are here, we’re playing strip poker,” Billy laughed. “Always the charmer,” You winced. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He raised his hands up in defence. “Fine, I know I’ll be able to stay warm while you freeze your balls off because I’m going to win.” You stare him down. Billy seemingly always had a new way of getting on your last nerve this summer. After finding out he wanted to sleep with you, all of your fond memories of him have been tainted.

“Yeah, like some girl will beat us at poker? Right guys?” Billy chuffed. The other guys knew better than to start with you or the girls. They weren’t so blockheaded as Billy was. “Not that we are excited to see your tiny dick, but shut up and deal.” You sit down, and you hear Steve, Eddie and Ashton chuckle. Yes, you are competitive, and after that exchange, you were more than ready to beat his ass.

The game went on; Nancy, unfortunately, not the best poker face, was out first, forfeiting before she was naked. Steve, Ashton, and Billy were in their boxers, and Eddie and you were still somewhat modest. All you had left was your hoodie, bra, and underwear, where Eddie had his jeans, socks, and underwear still on.

When his shirt came off, you almost lost your cool. Never had you seen him shirtless before, and it was just as good as you pictured him. He was toned, more than you had imagined, and he had more tattoos than you knew about previously. You had only seen what was on his arms before, but now you got to see a spider tattoo under his left collarbone and a zombie head under that. He has another small heart right above his right hip bone, directly beside when his happy trial started… Robin has to nudge you to break your stare before he notices.

Billy’s comment still burned in the back of your mind. You had to get it together; you couldn’t falter, and you only had fifteen minutes before you had to get back to the cabins. “So you want to call it a night, or are you ready to show me some more skin?” you asked, biting your lip. There were audible “ooooohs” coming from the other's mouths. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Princess?” The game was getting too close until you picked up on his tell. His tongue would peek out of the side of his mouth when he was bluffing. You caught it just in time; you were about to fold when you noticed. “I raised you 15… and my bra.” You run your hand under your hoodie to unclasp it and place it on the table. Thankfully, you wore the nice red lacy one and not the boring brown one.

Eddie's big brown eyes doubled in size, which you didn’t think possible when he saw what you had been hiding under the oversized sweatshirt that hit your entire figure.

“Come on, we could have seen her like that all night if one of you were better at poker.” Billy some showing his true colours of being a total douche. You try to ignore his comment. “Nancy, do me a favour and kill Coyote for me, will ya?” You asked while staring into Eddie’s eyes. You knew you had him. “I gotta hand it to your Princess. You sure know how to keep a guy on his toes.” He folds, not showing you his hand. You breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t know you were holding. “That, boys, is how it’s done.” You clap, and the girls cheer

The rest clear out, talking about the day tomorrow and their plans. You go to reach for your winnings bra, but Eddie's fingers clap around your wrist, not hard but firm enough for you to stop. He grabs the bra by the strap and twirls it around his finger before you comprehend what is going on. “I think I’ll keep this.” He admires it. “Uh, no, I won, I get it back. You scoff. “But did you win, Princess?” He pouts down at you. “You folded.” You say, standing up to reach for your bra. “Uh-huh, not so fast.” He lifts it higher over his head so it’s out of reach. “Come on, Eds, give it back.” You jump up to grab it, but obviously miss. Eddie liked it when you got visibly flustered, especially when you called him ‘Eds’ for the first time. “I couldn’t let those guys see you topless; what kind of gentleman would I be? Especially after you took your bra off? You heard what Billy said; he’s disgusting; how do you even like him?” Eddie shows you his cards, full house; he wasn’t bluffing. “You let me win? But I caught your tell?” you said with disbelief. “And no, I do not like Billy. He likes me, that’s it. I thought he was my friend last summer, but it turns out he was only doing it to get in my pants.” Eddie was glad and relieved to hear you don’t like Billy but also annoyed and angered that he would treat you like that. “Good to know.” He smirks. “So, my bra?” You try to give him your best puppy dog eyes, but he beats you in that department. “My winning token. I think I’ll hang this trophy over my bed and have the campers see what a real woman’s bra looks like.” He winked and turned around. Eddie couldn’t wait to rub in Billy’s face that he kept it. “Hey! I better get that back by the end of the week! You don’t know how much that cost!”

Sure, you were annoyed, but you were also a little exhilarating that Eddie wanted to keep it.

—

The next morning, you thought if you could bribe Eddie, he would give back what belonged to you. You got up early to get some coffee and bring it to his cabin to negotiate.

As you returned from the mess hall, you could see three little heads peeping into the window where Eddie’s bed was. “Hey! What are you creeps looking at?” You can’t help but giggle as you watch three petrified faces turn around. “N-n-nothing, BYE!” The tallest one stuttered, and the three of them ran. By that reaction, you had a feeling it was your bra they were gawking at. You knocked on the door three times and slowly opened it up. “Hey, it’s just me. Is it safe to come in?” you asked, not looking into the cabin in case they had been changing. “All clear, Princess, just me in here,” Eddie replied. You opened the door further and almost dropped the coffee you were holding.

Eddie stood there in all his glory, in a beach towel wrapped low on his hips. He must have just showered. His hair was wet and pushed back off his face. Water droplets still ran down to his happy trail. He had more tattoos on his legs and abdomen, but you didn’t catch what they were as he pulled his forest green Camp Murdock shirt over his head.

“Take a picture; it will last longer, Princess.” He laughed, and you snapped out of it. “I uh, um, sorry, here.” You stuck out your arm out to hand him his coffee. “You trying to poison me, Princess? That’s not very regal of you.” He smirked and took the cup. “It’s a piece offering… for my bra,” you stated. “Oh, I don’t think so; you can’t just bribe me with this sad excuse they call coffee. I have my standards.” He stepped closer to the bra hanging exactly where he said it would be. “I think I won this fair and square. I’ll need something much bigger than coffee, Princess.” he tilted his head, raising his eyebrows at you. “Fine, what do you want? A pack of Camels? Weed? Beer?” “You know I already have all those things, but I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll ask for a favour? I’ll cash it in soon, but until then, it stays with me.” He took a step closer. “You know, a real gentleman would have walked me back to my cabin last night; I was defenceless, not even my bra to support me if I was being chased.” You mimicked him, taking another step closer.

Eddie had no clue what to think. Were you filtering back? No way. Girls like you didn’t go for guys like him?

Eddie had been around the block a few times regarding dating. He was no novice in the game of love, but he had a particular type that he usually went for. The girls he pursued were nothing like you. Unlike you, they were bold and unafraid of getting down and dirty. They were rocker chicks who were not intimidated by Eddie's tough exterior. However, as much as he enjoyed the company of these girls, he knew deep down that they could never be the ones he truly desired.

“You, Sir Lancelot, are no gentleman.”You laughed, unable to keep up the act.

"Lancelot, huh? Is that name anointed camp name?" He smirks, and you nod.

“My sincerest apologies, Princess.” Eddie bowed to you and you laughed again. Eddie swore he could listen to that laugh on repeat. “I’ll consider your apology if you give me my bra back. It’s my best one.” You bat your lashes and give the biggest puppy dog eyes. Eddie didn’t know how, but you broke him with that look. Your eye colour memorized him; it was quickly turning into his favourite colour. “I-I-I” what was happening to him? Why was he blubbering like a preteen asking out his crush for the first time? Pull yourself together, Munson. “Fine, I will because you are the Princess, and I am your knight in shining armour.” Nice. “Knight in shining armour, you say? I think you’ll have to prove yourself more before I believe you.” You brave another step closer, and the tips of your toes touch. “How can I do that, M’Lady?” “I have an idea.” You slowly raise your toes until your head is up and close your eyes. “Princess? What are y—“ “Oh hey guys, oh sorry, was I interrupting something?” Stevewalked in. You let out an annoyed huff. You were so close that you were sure he was about to lean in. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” You gave Steve a death stare that Eddie had never seen grace your face before. “What did I do?” Steve looks at Eddie. “Beats me.” Eddie shrugged before he took the first sip of the coffee you got him. To his surprise, it was exactly Eddie’s coffee order.

Next chapter

Tags: @littlexdeaths @siriuslysmoking @peachysink @nailbatanddungeon @leelei1980 @daisy-munson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @strangerstilinski @bl0ssomanddie @seb-buckybarnes @chickenandsheep-blog @lokis-army-77 @ali-r3n @erinekc @impmunson @snowflowersstars246 @micheledawn1975 @princesatracionera @bells-28

[oneforthemunny]

light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

[ghost-proofbaby]

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

HOUR TWENTY ONE

in which you try everything you can to make eddie feel better after his encounter with chrissy - to make him forget, to make him feel cherished, to make him feel worthy.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, a single use of Y/N, smut (p in v), oral (m receiving), voyeurism, edging, good old fashioned ball worship if you squint, maybe some sub!eddie if you squint even harder, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.3k+

→ a/n: shout out to @hellfire--cult for the balcony idea. i knew i'd get them there at some point, little freaks. and everyone say thank you to @icallhimjoey for the early post 😏

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

21:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

HOUR TWENTY ONE - 12:00 PM

STEVE-O: why do you guys suck so much at providing photographic proof of being alive? seriously

You’ve been staring at Steve’s text ever since the two of you arrived back at the apartment. You’d reply soon enough, but for now, the message was a distraction.

Eddie wasn’t speaking to you.

Not in a brooding sense, but in a way that let you know he was too far gone in his own head right now for you to reach him. When you’d said those words to him, when you’d admitted that you found him worth it, you saw his eyes glaze over slowly. You’d watched in real time as he slipped away from you. It might be that he doesn’t believe you, it might be guilt that continues to gnaw at him for a past that can’t be changed — whatever it is, you hate it.

The easy solution would be to send Steve the photos from the cafe, but you’d already tried that. Your thumb had hovered over that photo of Eddie with a mouthful of croissant, still bright and brilliant before all his waves of self-hatred had gotten ahold of him, and you just couldn’t. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t share that piece of him with others. Some small, childish, hopeless bit of you needed to cling to the man in that photo and keep him safely inside your chest. It wasn’t a new version to your friends, they’ve always tried to defend Eddie and convince you he wasn’t all bad, but it was new to you. It was all so unexpected and unforeseen, the look behind his golden eyes as he seemingly looked right past the camera and right into you. 

No, you couldn’t send that photo. It was for your eyes only. A souvenir you had greedily stolen. 

Eddie had excused himself to the bathroom when you two arrived at the apartment, and this time, there was no dirty intentions behind it. You left well enough alone — he needed a moment to be by himself and that was fine. You could entertain yourself until he was ready to come back to you, back down to Earth. Right now, you were currently picking apart an almond croissant as if it were the most interesting thing you’d ever laid eyes on. 

Croissant dissection — see? You absolutely could distract yourself in order to give him space. Absolutely no sarcasm there.

You finally sigh when you see a message bubble pop up with three little dots, signifying Steve is typing again. You don’t give him the time to properly finish out his message before you click on your camera icon, snap a shot of the picked apart croissant in front of you, and send a message with the image attached.

YOU: we were eating breakfast, eddie’s been in the bathroom. happy, mom?

STEVE-O: he’s been in the bathroom for an entire hour? 

YOU: oh, you know how you men get with toilet time. 

Despite the playful tone of your texts, your face is completely flat, chest still heavy as you think about Eddie behind the wooden door. Should you be giving Eddie this amount of space? What if it’s doing more damage than good?

You’re about to stand from the stool you’ve occupied for nearly ten minutes now and go try your hand at knocking, try and remind Eddie that you’re still here, when Steve’s next text comes through. 

STEVE-O: stop bullshitting me. what happened? 

You swear you taste metallic blood from how hard you bite down on your bottom lip, staring at the mocking message. You can’t even begin to explain to Steve what has transpired, not just this last hour, but the entirety of the time. The parking garage, the joking marriage, Chrissy showing up, Eddie’s painful vulnerability – you can’t find the words to tell him about any of it. The same as you can’t find it in you to send the photo of Eddie in Betty’s. 

YOU: nothing happened. do you need any more proof than that?

He only reacts to your message with a thumbs up. You assume that means you’re in the clear, for now. 

When you exit your thread of messages with Steve, a new thread that has been started catches your eye. It’s a new number, no contact on it. The only message sent is from you – the photo of you with your coffee, head thrown back and eyes shut with a wide smile boosting your cheeks. 

Eddie’s phone number. 

You look at the photo of yourself for a while, trying to not cringe at your appearance. To you, you just looked ridiculous. You don’t understand why Eddie wanted this photo preserved so badly. Your smile is too wide, your eyes are mere slits from the way your cheeks were squishing up with joy, most of your makeup you’d started the night with has long since faded due to a multitude of activities. You don’t feel like anything special in this photo.

But Eddie had wanted it. He had deemed this moment in time of you as picture-worthy, had gone so far as to send it to himself so that he’d have this memory even if you deleted it from your phone. 

Before you think too hard on it, you tap on that line of numbers and add a proper contact profile to it. 

EDDIE. You keep the contact name simple, eager to get it out of the way as you move onto the next step. A contact photo. You don’t even have to ponder on it – in a flash, you’ve selected the picture of him with the croissant. 

You’re back on the thread of messages – or, at least, the singular message – and don’t stop yourself as your thumbs begin to fly over your keyboard.

YOU: why were the almond croissants almost sold out? 

To be fair, you didn’t even know if Eddie had his phone on him. That green message stares back at you for a few moments before you get your answer. 

EDDIE: Excuse me? 

He has his phone. You lift your head, looking at the closed door of the bathroom before glancing back down at your phone. 

YOU: because everyone went NUTS over them. 

You perk your ears and listen for any sign of life from down the hall. Anything. A scoff, a pitiful laugh, him calling you stupid aloud. You’ll take whatever he offers. 

It takes a moment, and you truly have to strain to hear it, but you can hear the laugh that would better pass as a sigh. 

EDDIE: Is that supposed to be a joke? 

YOU: ‘supposed to be’. excuse me, it was definitely a joke. and a very good one, at that. 

EDDIE: Debatable. 

You find yourself smiling down at the phone. Your neck aches from the way you keep glancing up suddenly at the door, silently pleading for him to come back out. To come out and fight with you, come out and bicker with you, come out and ignore you. Anything, for him to leave the bathroom and do anything but keep that door shut between you two. 

He doesn’t, so you send another bad joke. 

YOU: what did the customer say when they looked at the croissant? 

This time, he plays along. 

EDDIE: I don't know, what? 

YOU: what a BREADtaking sight. 

This time, you hear a more proper scoff come from within the bathroom. 

YOU: i heard that. don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t funny. 

EDDIE: I’m not laughing because they’re funny. I’m laughing because they’re BAD. 

YOU: bet you wouldn’t say that to my face. 

Immediately, you discard the phone, facedown on the counter as you look up to the door with unbridled hope. He could always ignore the comment, choose to not respond and continue to sulk away from you. It’s entirely possible – but you pray to every star in the sky that that isn’t what he’s going to do. 

Please come back out. Please, even if just to sit in silence with me. 

Your prayers are answered.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and await for the click of the door unlocking. It never comes, though – the door was never locked in the first place. He opens it, and you realize that the entire time, you could have stormed into the small room with him and demanded that he not hide away.

But you didn’t. You gave him space, gave him patience, and it’s clear he knows this as he comes out. 

His eyes are red. As if he’s been crying. 

“Hi,” you meekly say, taking in his face past those red-rimmed eyes. The tip of his nose is a fading shade of pink, as if he’s been rubbing it incessantly, and he sniffs for good measure as he turns the bathroom light off and walks to where you are. 

“Hi,” his voice is rough around the edges as he greets you back. He won’t look you in the eye once he’s within reach – his gaze remains downcast, and you catch him fiddling with a few of his rings. 

You hadn’t considered what you would do if you got this far. In every carefully considered scenario, you’d assumed he’d shut you out. You never expected him to come straight to you, as if seeking out comfort from you, without you having to beg it of him. 

His eyes catch the croissants on the counter, torn apart and lazily picked at. He’s about to open his mouth and say something about it, probably questioning what you had done to the poor pastry, but you don’t give him a chance. You’re quick to snatch up one of the pieces you’d been picking apart to snack on for yourself and hold it out to him. An olive branch, an offering – a reason for him to sit and stay for a while with you. 

He takes it tentatively, finally looking you in your eye again as he takes a small bite. It’s nothing compared to the bite he had taken when you’d snapped the photo of him, mere crumbs compared to that mouthful. 

“Did you just… massacre our croissants?” he questions, squinting his eyes down at the crime scene. 

You shift your body jokingly, failing at blocking him from seeing the mess you made, “Absolutely not. I have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

He almost cracks a grin, “Right. Of course. I must be imagining things.” 

“Wanna hear another pun?” you blurt out, suddenly nervous as he continues to stand before you. You hate the incessant need inside of your chest that calls for you to comfort him, to make this all better for him. 

“I feel like you’ll tell me one even if I say no,” he raises an eyebrow at you, “So, sure.” 

“Why did the croissant go to the doctor?”

He hums, trying to peer over your shoulder again at the croissants you were badly hiding, “Let me guess. Is it because you tore it apart mercilessly?” 

“No,” you scoff, reaching behind you to grab another piece to offer to him as well as one of your own, “It was because he was feeling crummy, dumb ass.” 

A crack of a smile. It’s miniscule but there. It makes that terrible pun worth it, just to see him not looking quite as defeated is worth all the stars in the sky at this point for you. 

You’d certainly been the reason for his unhappiness in the past, and you surely would be again at some point. It all feels so inevitable; just as he believes that he can only bring you misery, you can’t imagine yourself bringing him joy. A belief that strikes something in your chest, something albeit more painful than you’d care to admit, but it’s true. You’ve crossed a line, you’ve changed everything, but the past still remains. 

You aren’t perfect. Neither is Eddie.

Heartbreak is imminent, but for this brief moment, you can make him smile. You don’t need to worry about the next time you’ll piss him off or upset him, you just need to focus on making that twitch on his lips more permanent. 

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” you decide to rip off the bandaid as he moves as if to sit beside you. Quickly, your words make him freeze. A bad sign, but you push through, because he needs to hear these things, “You deserve good things, Eddie. Good people, good things- you just… you deserve those things in your life.” 

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He’s turning away from you. Turning and heading to the living room, walking away from you.

You don’t let him. In an instant, you get onto your feet and follow him, continuing despite him acting as if he’s finished with the conversation. You’re not.

“You’re a good person, Eddie,” you insist, reaching out for him before he makes it to the couch, “Don’t walk away from me.”

He spins easily in your grip. “Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true, sweetheart.”

He’s back to saying it like a curse. Like it’s a harmful title. As if it’s not a privilege to you and all your metaphors to hear that nickname fall from his lips. 

Right before your eyes, his defenses are on the rise. Brick by brick, he’s slowly reforming those walls to separate the two of you. Instead of defeat, instead of acceptance, it just makes you angry.

“Stop doing that,” you say quietly, carefully, firmly.

“Stop doing what?”

“That. Pushing me away. Locking me out,”  you tighten your hand on his bicep and watch the way his nostrils flare, “I fucking hate it.”

“Despite what you believe,” he takes a step closer to you, “Not everything I do is meant to piss you off.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying, and we both know it,” you can feel his muscles tense beneath your touch.

This time, his smile that emerges is cold. But you can still see the rubbage left by his tears — pink water lines and a new puffiness around his eyes. His words and his sudden cool demeanor can’t hurt you when you see it for what it is.

“Clearly we both don’t know it,” he chastised you, “We are very rarely on the same page. This isn’t a damn exception. You don’t have to prove your point, it doesn’t matter.”

He’s a wounded animal, striking out. He’s letting Chrissy’s words get to him.

“You’re worth i-“

“Don’t,” One of his hands shoot out to grip your waist, “Don’t fucking say that. Please. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” 

He didn’t believe you. 

“I meant it,” you whisper, anger shaking out of your grasp inch by inch as you realize that your words can’t break through to him, “I mean it. You’re worth it, to me, to St-“

“This isn’t about Steve,” he cuts you off, “It’s not about Steve, or Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Argyle. No need to play dumb anymore.” 

It’s about you.

You both know it. For once, contradictory to what he’d just claimed, you’re both on the same page. And like he said, no need to play dumb. 

“You’re worth it to me,” you say it with more confidence this time, “You’re a good person to me.” 

“How can you say that?” he laughs out, void of amusement, “How can you say shit like that after everything we’ve been through?”

How can you not?

You only squeeze his bicep tighter, and he returns the action by gripping your hip harsher. “Because I mean it. I believe it. Whether you do or not.” 

For a moment, the cracks in his armor expose themselves. 

“You shouldn’t,” his voice should waver, “You shouldn’t believe those things, Y/N. You should hate me.” 

“But I don’t,” And I never did.

“But you don’t,” he echoes.

You’ve done the opposite of what you had wanted. His smile is gone, that sadness creeping back up. You hate that. You don’t hate him — you hate that world of mourning behind his eyes, that defeat that brings his shoulders down and makes his grip on you falter. So you do the only thing you can think of to distract him. Make him forget.

“Make me hate you.” 

His eyes widen briefly, “Excuse me?”

“Make me hate you,” you practically beg of him, “Show me why you’re such a bad person and I’ll let this go. I’ll drop the conversation, we can- Fuck, we can forget this entire morning happened. Make me hate you, Eddie, and I’ll stop reminding you that I don’t.” 

His fingers curl back into you, slowly and gently, as his brows furrow. He’s considering what you’ve just said — more than that, you can see him trying to untangle all the hidden meanings behind it.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” his voice is low and calculated. 

You shrug, stepping forward, letting your lips get even closer to his, “Not my problem. Just make me.” 

The fingers are no longer gentle as he pulls you into him, finally catching onto the emphasis you place on those two little words.

Make me.

When his lips meet yours, they’re rough and brutal, taking greedily what they want from you. The only thing on your mind is making him forget. Make him forget, carry the load for him — they’re both more important than making him smile for now. Both these driving needs burn brighter in your chest because it’s clear that’s what he needs. 

You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now.

“You want me to make you hate me, baby?” he mumbled against your lip, practically drinking in the way you gasp as he starts to pull back, “Is that really what you want?”

It’s what you want. “Yes.” 

And maybe you do too, when he leans back in to bite your lip. There will be another time for you to convince him with words that you find him to be worth it. Both hands from wrap around you and rough start to guide you back towards that fucking couch.

“Not the couch,” you suddenly protest, digging your heels into the carpet at the center of his living room, “Anywhere but the couch.” 

And oh, the way he’s looking at you in that moment might be your new favorite thing. Your new favorite color is his eyes as they sparkle with a bit of life that had been missing since the coffee shops encounter. Your new favorite sound is the silence that encases the little breath he lets out. Your new favorite movie is watching him move in slow motion as his eyes dart behind you, towards the door to his balcony, before his lips finally curl up with a hint of the genuine warmth that had been hidden behind his walls.

“Anywhere?” he teases, beginning to walk you backwards.

You nod, grinning right back at him.

“I think I have an idea.” 

If you had known twenty one hours ago that Eddie Munson, your sworn enemy, would have you out on his public balcony and on your knees for him in only a matter of time, past you would have….

Well, you don’t really care what past you would have done or thought anymore. You’re making him forget, yes, all while making yourself forget. You don’t care what you, twenty one hours ago, would or wouldn’t do as you let the past slip through your fingers so eagerly. All you can focus on is the dig of concrete against your knees, the way Eddie’s hands grip the railing as he leans against it, and the way the early afternoon sun forms a halo around him as you look up through fluttering lashes.

You just want to make him feel good. Every action is intentional, doing everything in your power to erase whatever storming thoughts had been haunting him so cruelly since Chrissy had so carelessly said what she had. You want to make him feel worthy. You want to make him feel loved.

Loved. You certainly didn’t love him — you couldn’t possibly, could you? He wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself. But for now, you could play pretend; you could worship his body, drag his shirt out of the way and place playful kisses across his hips, and you could pretend that only this moment exists. 

“You wanna know what makes me such a bad person?” he sighs out as you let your teeth graze his skin, shoulders rolling to shake off that shiver you elicit from him, “This. The fact that this is all I can fucking think about.”

“Hm,” you can only hum in response, nails taking over the denim of the jeans he currently wore. You walk your fingers up his thighs, moving closer and closer to his zipper. Your mouth is nearly watering at the prospect of worshiping him. 

And the fact that any neighbor could walk out at any given moment and catch the two of you. You should probably insist on it being fast, on him being quiet, but the thought sends a thrill through the pit of your stomach. Your thighs clench and your cunt aches at the thought of being caught. 

You want to do more than make him bite back mere moans of your name. You want to make him scream.

Suddenly, a hand tangles into the roots of your hair, pulling back and making you focus on him again.

“Eyes on me,” he instructs. Once you focus on him and only him, he continues, loosening his grip and letting those fingertips rub at your scalp soothingly, “You know why you should hate me? For all the nights I pictured this.”

“Yeah?” you smile innocently, playing along. He can talk all he wants, you know once you get your mouth on him, he’ll be lucky to remember his own name. “How many nights, hm? Tell me all about them, pretty boy.”

You catch the wobble in his knees, the way his breathing picks up, the brilliant shade of ivory his knuckles stretch to. You lean back on your haunches, and the hand in your hair slips as he glowers down at you. 

“What are you-”

“Take off your shirt,” you calmly command.

“Excuse me?” 

“Your shirt. I want it off.”

His hand that was once tangled against your scalp now comes down to your face, movement slow but not hesitant as he pinches your chin. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, and you let out, even making a show of letting your tongue peek out to tap at it. “And who said you were calling the shots?” 

“I did,” you put it simply, completely removing your hands from him now, “Take off the shirt, or I’ll leave you out here with blue balls.” 

You close your lips around the end of his thumb and his knuckles dig in deeper to the skin below your chin as you suck subtly. He chuckles, but you can hear just how breathless he goes at the small action, even as he keeps up the act with a hard press of his thumb on your lower lip. Your mouth hangs open for him, waiting patiently for his next move. 

A game of chess, an exchange of power, a fight for dominance. All the lines of who is and isn’t in control are blurred. 

“Have you always been so mean, baby?” he taunts, trailing what spit you’d left behind on his thumb along your lip. 

His movement stops when your lips spread into a provocative smile, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?” 

The retort had potential to backfire. You wait for smoke and glory, for him to pull away from you further. He’d slam down a brick right in front of your face, lay the mortar to leave you high and dry. He’d push you away, and you’d have to retreat, tail tucked between your legs in the shame of trying when it came to him. 

No smoke, no glory. He secedes, but makes no move to add to his walls, only removing his hand from your face and taking off the shirt. Just as you had told him to. 

“Better?” he asks as he makes a show of tossing the shirt to the other side of the balcony. It could have even flown over the railing, for all you paid attention to the scrap of clothing. Maybe some innocent bystander is on the streets below, confused to all Hell as to why it’s raining obscure band t-shirts. 

You’re just a bit too distracted to consider that right now. 

With Eddie’s torso revealed, all words seem to evade you. You catch the sweat beginning to gather across his sternum, watching the way he’s flushing beneath your gaze, reveling in the pink chest exposed to you as the blush crawls wider. Instantly, your original purpose is forgotten, the primal urge to pepper kisses and bites alike across his skin almost lifting you up off your sore knees. You want to leave bruises – you want to make him scream, you want to mark him up, you want to make him feel worthy. 

You stay on your knees, but compromise with all your wants as you lift up and stretch a bit. Your lips start their trail a bit lower than you (or Eddie) would have liked, taking their time to get familiar with the spanse of his rib cage first. You don’t nip with teeth, not yet. Just chaste kisses, lining each bone you can hardly feel residing beneath the skin, feeling his lungs expanding against your affection. Your tongue swipes alongside one of his side tattoos, a large and detailed dragon you hadn’t paid much mind to before. Every time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d been a bit distracted.

Not now. Now, you’re focused, determined to learn every curve and dip there is to explore on Eddie. You want to know him better than the back of your hands, memorize him more intricately than your own palms. After all, in order to worship a deity, you must know them. 

You return back to the center line of his abdomen, kisses chasing after one another, even taking the time to suck his skin between your teeth but never bite down. You pause once your lips rest right beneath his navel, the tip of your nose brushing that rough patch of hair that leads down to your end destination. Your hands reach for his belt, toying with the buckle.

Through heavy lashes, you look up at him, staring down at you in awe, “You know, you’re not doing a very good job at making me hate you, pretty boy. Think I might just have to worship you instead.”

A deity of your own making. A deity for your own taking. 

With skill, your hands undo the buckle effortlessly. You unbutton and unzip his jeans as if you’ve done this part a million times, as if you’d spent every single Sunday of the last year right here and doing exactly this. On your knees, worshiping him. This balcony, for all its exposure, certainly knows how to serve as a holy place. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re impatient. You still haven’t left him speechless, meaning you still hadn’t made your point, clearly. 

His jeans hang loosely as they creep down his thighs, abandoned for a moment as you occupy your mouth against his hips. The hips you once thought would look so pretty properly decorated. You decide you were wrong – they don’t need ink burying into the skin, they need your teeth digging in. 

You cover that skin with mirroring images of bursts of purple and pink, flowering bruises that you take your time to mark onto him. With each suck and bite, Eddie rolls his hips into you, head leaned back and throat straining with each moan he swallows down. 

With the last hickey finished, you finally lean back, proud of your masterpiece as Eddie whimpers above you. Blooms in the shape of your lips mingle with faint and quickly fading teeth marks. 

“Fuck,” he gasps out when your fingertip stops trailing over your markings and comes down to apply the softest pressure over the straining bulge in his boxers. 

“What was it that you said earlier?” your finger traces over where you know a vein is – you know it because you’ve felt it, been driven insane by it – before circling around the wet patch now forming. He’s desperate, hips bucking again and a moan finally escaping. You think he’s bitten his lips hard enough in an attempt at self-restraint that they might be bleeding, “You said I’m not calling the shots, right?” 

“You’re not,” he pathetically grits out, hands forming tighter fists on metal railing, as if the moment he lets go of it they’ll find their way home to you. 

You lean forward, breath washing over his crotch before you place a feathery kiss to his clothed tip, “I’m not?” 

You are. You both know you are. A constant battle of control, an ever-growing fight for dominance. 

He lets out something crossed between a sigh of relief and a whine of protest when you remove your lips and hand from him completely, only to let out a sharp yelp when your finger curls into the waistband of his boxers and pulls back the elastic, letting it snap back into place sharply. 

“Say I am,” you barter, “Say I’m in control right now, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is.” 

You don’t expect him to break so easily. You’ve underestimated just how tightly you’ve caught him beneath your thumb.

“You’re in control,” he gasps out, head hanging low to meet your gaze fully, “You’re in complete and utter fucking control of me. You’re calling all the shots, baby. You always are.” 

He didn’t have to sweeten it up with baby, but it spurs you on. 

You shove his boxers down, watching his cock spring out for the taking. And you do as you promised; you put your money where your mouth is.

You start softly, taking your time as you gingerly suck on his pretty pink tip as you had his thumb. Hardly hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue circle his slit to gather up the precum. You let the taste of him completely cover your tongue, even hum in satisfaction when he lets out a loud groan. It motivates you, feeds your fervor as you let his tip fall from your mouth and trail the tip of your tongue down the underside of his cock. That vein you’d traced with your fingertip, yours for the taking, covered in a faint line of saliva as you let it rest on your forehead and graze your lips against his ballsack. 

He can’t hide his shiver, even as his fist flies to his mouth to bite down on. 

“Have I ever told you how cute you are?” you say low enough for just him. You can hear the sounds of traffic, a dog barking, birds singing — all reminders of the outside world and the looming threat of being caught. Warmth floods you again at the reminder of that threat, thighs clenching closer together in a desperate search of friction, “Just falling apart for me, acting so tough for so long until I got you alone.” 

He whimpers your name. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You wrap your lips around the sensitive skin, sucking and pecking away on one side before moving to the next. His reaction throttles your movements. When his hand loses the fight of resistance, coming down to the back of your head, you laugh breathlessly against the now wet skin. 

“Let me make you feel just how worthy you are to me,” you praise, pulling back finally, letting your nose brush against his sack as you do so. The hand that was once merely resting now tangles up in your hair — a warning. 

You let the velvet skin of his cock drag down your cheek as each movement is deliberate, taking your time and in no rush. You want to savor him like this. Imprint him to memory. 

You want to make him forget while making yourself remember. 

You want to remember the way his hand flexes at the base of your skull when you finally kiss his tip once more, remember the way his abdomen tenses as you sink him further into your mouth. You want to remember every little sound that escapes him as he hits the back of your throat, as you constrict around him, as you moan around his base and the vibrations have him slipping out of control. 

Your nails dig into his thighs to balance yourself, eyes watering as you look up at him. One subtle nod. He doesn’t need more than that.

Your jaw goes slack, trying to steady your breathing through your nose as you let him take control. His hips thrust at their own pace, gentle enough that he only grazes the back of your throat rather than bruise it. The issue is you want him to bruise it. You want him to mark you from the inside out. Until there’s no part of you left untouched by him. 

You gag again, and he slows. Your fingers that grip his thighs immediately tap against him, and he mistakes it as a signal to pull back completely before you chase after him, pressing him onto your tongue until your lips are snug around his cock a mere inch from the base. Your nose is grazing those pubes in the dead center of all your love marks. Shapes of semi-permanent scars that whisper, you’re worth it to me. I want this. I want you. 

The last thing on his mind was Chrissy Cunningham and her words alluding to him not being worth it. 

You make sure of it when you finally release him from your mouth and begin to pump with an eager fist, ducking down and returning to pay attention to his balls once more. You nuzzle the soft skin, let the tips of your canines graze them before you suck them onto your tongue as you’d done his cock. He’s no longer containing his moans – they flow freely along with curse words, chants of your name, sounds you’d love to capture and play on repeat until the end of your days. 

“Oh my God,” he groans out particularly loudly, “Fuck, baby. J-Just like that, please- Fuck. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl, just for me.” 

Your hand is still wrapped around him, slowly coming up to squeeze hard around the tip as you whisper up to him, “Only for you.” 

“Yeah? Only for me?” 

You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s true: you’re only ever that mean for him, you’re only ever this eager for him, you’re only ever this desperate for him. 

You don’t answer him with words. There are none. Instead, you take him back in your mouth, and you solely focus on bringing your deity to climax. The man you were worshiping, the man who was worth the ache in your knees that surely told you they would be left bruised, if not skinned. 

“Is it just like you imagined?” you question as you break your lips off him. He’s close, leaking precum excessively and entire body taut, “Was it worth it? To picture this, to want this so badly?” 

He almost can’t answer you, but somehow manages between pants, “It was. It is. You’re- fuck, you’re worth it.” 

“Good,” you drop your hand from him, leaving him right on the edge as you rest both sticky palms on the tops of your thighs. You look up at him with relinquished control – the perfect image of submission, for him. “Then you get it. When I say you’re worth it, you get it.” 

He’s clearly still reeling from you bringing him so close only to leave him hanging, teetering on a cliff as he stares you down. 

His chest heaves as he questions, “What was it you wanted me to do earlier?” A deceiving hand comes down, tucking any baby hairs behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. One moment, his thumb is stroking a soft arch beneath your eye, the next that hand is pulling you up, “Make you?”

You know that if you hadn’t been so eager to follow his touch, you’d still be on your knees. Even as you watch him take the reins, you know you will always call the shots – just like he had said. 

“You really think you can make me hate you?” you whisper once you’re standing tall in front of him, leaning your cheek into his touch.

“I shouldn’t have to make you hate me,” he corrects, the thumb back to gentle strokes, loosening the touch to be more tender once again, “You should already hate me.” 

“Why?” 

He flips positions immediately, your lower back now curving into the railing as he presses himself up against you, his achingly hard cock between your bodies, “Because of this. Because I always want you on your knees for me. Because of all the fucking filth I want to do to you. I want to bend you over, right here, and take you where anyone could see. I want to have you screaming my name loud enough that every single person on the streets of this city hears you.”

With each word, a knot ties inside of you, desperate for release. 

“Because you’re fucking right,” he leans down, lips going straight for your neck, not looking you in the eyes, “All it fucking took was for you to get me alone for one night, and now? I’ll never get enough of you, I’ll never get clean of you,” he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, his lips latch onto you, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting hard. You can’t stop your fingers from latching onto his curls, tugging hard, body rolling into his. It hurts, it stings, you need more, “Everything changes. And that includes me.” 

His face finally leaves the crook of your neck, pulling back to look you in your eyes. Doe brown eyes search yours, wide and honest and pleading. You let everything else melt away; for a moment, it’s only him and only you. The tension, the last twenty one hours, the last year — you let it disintegrate and focus on him.

It never mattered if everything changed. 

It only matters that he’s changed, irreversibly, and so are you.

“How can I hate you for those things?” you press into him again, this time less desperate and more consciously, “Do it.” 

“Do what?”

“All of it,” you trail a hand up his chest, “Every single thing you just said. Fucking- Do them. Bend me over, make me scream, change me,” your voice breaks, shaking with anticipation and need. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs.

Every single thing he wanted, he craved, he does. A flurry of him properly discarding his jeans as he unbuttons yours to shove them down, spinning you and shoving you hard enough into the railing that it digs into your abdomen and leaves you breathless. You’re hardly aware of the way you step out of your pants and kick them to the side, looking out to the city skyline but not seeing it. It’s all a blur as you focus on the way your shirt rides up and he grabs your hips, bruising you finally as you have desperately needed. 

You wanted to be left haunted by the end of these last few hours. You wanted to see him every time you looked in the mirror for the next week, to remember the map of where his body molded to yours. You want to dream of the way he stretches you as your underwear is ripped to the side. You want to be followed by the sounds of his skin slapping against yours as he snaps forward with intention.

Changing you. He has no idea that he’s already ripped you open from the inside out, has already rewired your entire chest and set flames to your brain. 

Everything changes, and sometimes, everything is only two people. Just you. Just him. New versions that would have never met had it not been for this stupid fucking bet.

“Eddie,” you nearly sob, nearly choke on, his name burning in your throat like kindling embers. 

His hand walks up your spine, trailing wildfire even with a layer of cotton between you two. Burning and singing away all you’d assumed for far too long. When he reaches the nape of your neck, he takes care in wrapping your hair around his wrist, tugging back hard and forcing you to stand from where the railing had been bending you in two.

“Say it again,” his lips brush you ear with every gasping breathing, timing with the way his cock is sliding in and out of your warmth, “Say it louder.” 

“Fu-“ you start to moan, cut off by him pulling even harder on your hair, making his point so that you cry out, “Eddie!” 

He thrusts harder. You swear you could feel him in your throat. 

“Scream for me, baby,” an arm wraps around your torso, firm and solid for you to cling to rather than the warming metal of the railing, “Tell them who’s making you feel so good. Let them know. Be a good girl.”

Even when he claims to have control, it’s your actions, your reactions, that call the shots.

It’s the echo of your voice that spurs him on as you chant his name over and over, as if he were your only God. Primal worship dripping from every syllable. It’s the tremble in your thighs that has him pressing deeper into you, chest glued to your back as if he could never get you close enough. It’s the clench of your cunt around him, a vice that sucks him in as you drag him closer to the high he’s been dizzily chasing since you first dropped to your knees in front of him. 

It’s you. You’ve changed him, as he’s changed you.

He pulls your hair until you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, back arching and feet still spread as he only maintains his quick and brutal pace, leaning down to whisper in your ear one last time.

“You know the real reason why you should hate me?” he grits out between to particularly forceful thrusts, “It’s not just because I don’t deserve you. It’s because I’ve wanted you for so long,” you’re right on the edge, fluttering around his cock as his movements stutter. A tell tale sign. “I- fuck, fuck. It’s- God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.” 

You shatter around him in waves. Your entire body tenses as the words dig claws into you, piercing through vines and blooms. His body stills, warmth flooding you deep within as you continue to see stars. You can’t make a single sound, fingerprints surely left behind on where you clasp onto his forearm. 

I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.

When the waves recede, when the high has passed its peak, you both freeze. Your body tensed in his hold, struggling to process what he’d just said. 

Loved you. 

He’s frozen in place, scrambling to figure out how to undo the damage just done. 

I’ve loved you for so long.

He slips out of you, his spent dripping down your thighs. His forearm drops from you. Your hands don’t even try to stop him.

I’ll never be fucking worthy.

You should be worried of neighbors coming out to see the two of you on his balcony. If not worried, you should be embarrassed, or aching at the thought once again. Anything. You should feel something.

You turn slowly to him, entirely numb as you catch his rueful expression.

Loved you. He loved you.

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

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taglist is now closed.

[urhoneycombwitch]

just thinking of artist!eddie x muse!reader meet cute. cw reader dresses femme in this

“um… excuse me? pardon me. you can’t be touching that.”

Eddie spins to see someone walking across the room towards him (a very hot someone. in clicky heels and a tight black skirt that shows off a gorgeous slip of thigh.)

holding a clipboard against one waist, you point at him with your work-supplied ballpoint pen, sounding lightly flustered but firm all the same- “sorry, it’s just- you can’t touch the art. I know there’s no red rope around here, but not touching the artwork at a gallery, that’s kinda… just courtesy.”

Eddie takes his hand from the now-straightened framed photograph, then spreads his hands in a placating gesture, sheepish and charming smile fixed on you. “sorry-“ his eyes flick down to your name badge, and he says your name in that husky voice, “-must’ve gotten mixed up, thought this was the petting zoo area.”

You snort, intending to let him off the hook with just a warning. then you tap your pen against your clipboard, trying to maintain a professional composure without drooling.

flicking up and down his frame, you take in the tight black ripped jeans, black vine tattoos curling out from a cut-off tank, over the milky expanse of his broad shoulders, alongside the veins running up and down his forearms. smattered with hair.

Eddie’s looking at you the same way. like he’s hungry. the attention calls to you, makes your spine perk up, a little flare of excitement kicking at your heart rate.

you take the bait. turn to the wall of art, point at one of the other frames just to fill the charged silence. “so! um. do you like this body of work? I think it’s the best in the series so far.”

Eddie crosses his arms, gives you a look that you can’t quite decipher- amusement? suspicion? hard to say. you’re tracing the ridge of his ear with your gaze, sunlight streaming through the main entrance windows glinting off the multitude of rings nestled there.

under your attention, Eddie’s preening, and also hoping you keep talking to him as long as possible so he can memorize the way your tits look in that blouse and paint ‘em from memory (😵‍💫) “fancy yourself an art critic? go on, sweetheart- I’d love to hear your take.”

and those doey eyes almost drive you to distraction !!! but you give a very genuine review of Eddie’s newest work (having no idea you’re flattering the artist in person), and he’s smiling by the end of your impassioned response.

“wow. sounds like you really like this artist.”

“I really do!”

“…and if this artist asked you for your number, you’d say yes, right? ‘cuz you like him so much?”

and he’s got that same sweet and silly smile from earlier, eyebrows raised. and when you realize, you’re mortified. bringing up the clipboard in front of your face to hide like “oh my god. you’re Eddie Munson. the artist. and I yelled at you for touching your own art!! why did you let me do that!!”

he laughs, hand over his heart, earnest- “no, don’t apologize! it was a huge ego boost for me, didn’t know they’d have such a beautiful personal bodyguard for my stuff. you gotta let me take you out for a drink as thanks for your service.”

and he does this dorky off balance bow low to the ground and you’re looking over the top of your board giggling. his humor is just your type and you fall for each other before round two of drinks after your shift that night (and fall into each others BEDS. ayooooo.)

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter three) - In the Modern World

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I knew I wanted to do a fun bonus chapter after part seven, but I wasn't sure what about. Then came this music video, with this feral slimey cat, and the rest is history. Not to mention this brilliant anon further fueled the idea for the plot!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Seems so hard just to be If it matters You complete me 🦎

This is set between part two and part three of the story. Right after the rumours of the reader with Jacob surface and she clarifies to Ewan that it's all just PR, and before he gets boozy and sends the voicemail.

Ewan

Martin’s room is typical of any unemployed and aimless outcast in their late 20s. Particularly, one with a penchant for conspiracy theories, reptilian critters, diorama building, and surface-level anarchy. 

“So he’s just like a regular guy,” Ewan jokes, making the director Luna laugh. 

“Sure, I bet this is how your own room is like back in… Derby, was it?”

“Yeah,” Ewan nods. “I actually have a place here in London now, too. The room is the same. But I’ve got more than one lizard.”

“Good one, mate,” she claps him on the back, before walking further into the room. She stops in front of the craggly stands that Martin passes off a workstation. “Here is where he keeps his pets. As you know, he’s got spiders, iguanas, and the rogue chinchilla.”

“Look at that little guy,” Ewan stoops down to inspect the grey rodent. “You lost there, buddy?”

“That one is our cameraman Eddie’s,” she remarks. “The bugs - we borrowed from the local habitat. All under code, of course.”

“Mmm,” he looks around the room. Maroon sheets, used up art supplies like glue and various unclean brushes, pieces of silver wire, old cables, duct tape, painted figurines, a scattering of old tickets for an underground fighting ring. Propped up on the headboard of his bed is a stolen street sign. On the wall is an assortment of posters - some of bands, some of comic strips, but mainly just scraps of art Martin finds from the internet. A rabid dog with its teeth bared. Grotesque humanoid figures. 

Standard, regular pictures. 

“You like the posters?” Luna notices him perusing the wall. “You know, I had the idea of incorporating something you like here. Maybe a band or… you like Metallica, I heard?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I love them. So I get to choose a poster that would fit Martin?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “Something that represents both yourself and Martin, why not? Make up a backstory for it. It can be anything you set your mind to, really. Let’s start with - what would you have on your wall?”

He considers just taking her up on her suggestion of Metallica, maybe a live image of the band in their 2009 Mexico show. But he didn’t want to settle on that idea just yet. What is he fixated on at the moment? What film, what song, what popular character…

Then it strikes him, causing the blood to rise to the surface of his pale cheeks. Of course. There is you. 

But if he props up a full-blown image of you, just you, maybe from a photoshoot or a candid photograph, would that be too much? Would he be crossing the line?

Last he heard from you, he found out that the supposed relationship you have with Jacob Elordi is but a ruse for the sake of publicity. Thank the gods, as Aegon screamed before Aemond set him ablaze. 

But in this instance, Ewan’s relief is not entirely unfounded. You aren’t with anyone. He knows he should make a move, a proper one, and not just drop hints of his admiration in interviews like the one he just did for Vanity Fair. But what can he do? You’re all the way across the Atlantic, far from his desperate reach. 

As selfish as it sounds, he couldn’t bear the thought of hearing you’re with someone else and knowing it’s true. The confession is yet to stumble out of him, but he knew he was already yours. 

He calls you whenever he can, whenever he misses you, which is quite often, as evidenced by the lengthy log of long-distance calls on his phone, from England to America. 

“What about something House of the Dragon related?” he asks. “Could serve as a nice easter egg for the fans, if they see this.” 

“I don’t see why not? If you can convince us of Martin’s motivation for it, of why he would put that poster on his wall, then we can add it right away.”

He smiles shyly, glancing down at his sneakers. He knows his own motivation for putting your image up on his wall, but what about Martin’s? He tests some ideas out, gauging Luna’s reaction, “What if he’s a sci-fi, fantasy fanatic? If he’s a devout follower of George RR Martin, and so… naturally, he had a look at House of the Dragon as well?”

She purses her lips, tilting her head in thought. “That’s something right there, yeah. But we kind of saw him as being against television, you know? Against popular media in general, and he's a guy with an affinity for obscure dark video games and comic books.”

“Hmm, yeah, yeah,” he does his best to form the proposition in his mind. How does he offer the suggestion without being too obvious? “So what if, you know, he happened to see this one character in the show, and he’s just enamoured with them for some reason? This makes it remarkable, because he does admire her, but as an act of rebellion, he still doesn’t watch the show and only bothers himself with her scenes and the art style to her character, and - ”

“Wait, her?” Luna smiles, her confusion dwindling. She’s heard the rumours. Or fan theories. Or whatever the kids call it nowadays. She hasn’t been living under a rock, and Ewan definitely hasn’t kept mum about his crush either. 

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, unable to look her directly in the eye, “I was thinking of having a poster for a character from the show.”

“I thought you wanted a poster of a dragon or something,” she jokes. “So, which character? Apologies, I’m not too familiar with a lot of them.” Ewan would recognise the knowing glint in her gaze, if he wasn’t too busy pretending to inspect a scrap of faux moldy wallpaper sticking out of the wall. Set design really outdid themselves in the details, all to give the impression that Martin is a negligent slob.

“Uhhm,” he dithers, a crooked smile breaking out despite him chewing on his bottom lip, “she’s, uhhh, one of the new characters this season.”

“Oh?” she plays along, nodding, “Which one? From what I saw, there’s two camps, right? And your camp is green, is she in that?”

“No, actually,” he shakes his head, “she’s in the opposing team, you could say.”

“That’s interesting,” she nods, slowly, trying to encourage him to simply spit it out. “You know, Ewan, mate, if you don’t actually tell me which character you want to put up, then this poster idea isn’t going to work out.”

His gaze snaps back to her, and he awkwardly titters under his breath. “Right, right. Uhhm, she’s called Alyna… Alyna Rivers.”

Luna’s mouth forms an O, as if she’s enjoying this little gotcha moment. She realises that Ewan, while reserved, wears his heart on his sleeve. What a lucky girl you are. 

“And… why would Martin want her specifically up on his wall?” 

The emphasis on Martin came off as superficial, her tone humorous, leading Ewan to believe that she actually pertains to him and not the character.

“He might see her as some sort of muse, you know… she’s a fighter, she’s got a fire in her…”

“And he’s got a crush on her.”

“Oh… well…”

“He likes her.”

“Uhhh… yeah I guess…”

“You guess?” she raises her eyebrows, grinning, “come on Ewan, what does Martin feel about her?”

“She’s his… his ray of light,” he decides. “His world is a mess. He’s lost. His one release entails getting beat up bloody every other day. But the idea of her is his beacon of hope. Untainted, you know. She’s… she’s perfect. She wouldn’t hurt him like the rest of the world already has.”

Luna nods in understanding, satisfied. She casually slings an arm over his shoulder, then says, “You know something, mate? That sounds a lot more than a crush to me.”

“Mmm,” he smiles, agreeing, the welcome image of you flooding his mind like always, “it sure does.”

The entire cast and crew for In the Modern World have the subsequent three days to accomplish filming.

Ewan sits in the makeup trailer, awaiting his cue, his vision now impaired by the unkempt strands of his long black wig. Spiky grunge cuffs decorate his wrists. He wears an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the costume for the first scene to be filmed. 

He has already gone through the process of trying to get in Martin’s head, seeing what makes him tick, what drives his actions, priming himself to jump inside his skin. He’s ready. At this point during filming, he has the habit of eliminating any distraction to maintain focus, and his phone is tucked inside his backpack on airplane mode. 

Defying his routine, he retrieves his phone, nervous fingers clicking away until they land on your contact. He hovers over the voice call option, opting at the last second to do a video call instead. 

The front camera turns on, catching him off guard with how messy he appears. Maybe this was not the best idea, he falters, what am I doing? I’m gonna scare her off.

“Ewan?” It’s too late to change his mind when your cheerful voice answers, your expression curious and inviting. His ray of light. “Is that you?”

He timidly brushes his hair - his wig - away from his face. “Hello, darling. I thought I’d ring you for a second.”

You laugh openly, drawing your face closer to your phone to get a better look at him, “Are you shooting the music video right now? Oh my god, look at you!”

He smiles sheepishly, teeth clamping over his bottom lip. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” you shake your head, the sunlight reflecting on your face from wherever you are. Likely walking around outside the studio, as he spots the white buildings in the background. “You look so… cool. This is like Aemond in the modern world, rebelling against his mother with the help of cheap hair dye.”

He appreciates your clever assessment, feeling much better about himself. “Don’t I look shabby?”

“Ewan,” you click your tongue, “judging by what you told me about your character, I think you’re supposed to look shabby.”

You’re right. He shakes his head, mostly at himself, for being so concerned if you still find him attractive even in this get-up.

“I feel like Kirk Hammett. Very rock n’ roll.”

You smirk, “I’d say this is your hottest look yet.”

He blushes profusely. You think he looks hot. It may just be a passing quip, a casual thing to say, but it has him in a grip. His reaction would nearly rival that of Martin’s, who would probably jump right on to making a mini-figurine of Alyna. After just a single interaction with you, Martin would probably spend the next few weeks occupied with objectionable fantasies. You and him, rolling around in the car. Only, car jitsu wouldn’t be the physical activity at play. 

Ewan shifts in his seat, adjusting his trousers. In the end, he’s no better than Martin after all. 

“Ewan?”

“Oh sorry, darling, I was just - ”

“I said that I have to go back inside,” you say, “I do appreciate your call, though.”

His face falls, despite the fact that he has to be on set soon anyway. “Of course, darling, go ahead.”

“Kick some ass for me?”

For you? Anything. “You got it, baby.” The name jumps out of him before he can stop himself, and he justifies it as a ‘Martin’ reaction. He’s in character, isn’t he?

You roll your eyes. It is your turn to blush and fail at hiding it, and you do. “Okay, rockstar. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then adds, “Wait!”

You raise your phone again. “Oh, what is it?”

“I, uhhh, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you smile, and he commits the image to memory. This moment is his, just his; Martin can bloody wait. 

Martin

Martin throws himself down on his bed, limbs limp and flailing about. It must have been the hundredth time for that afternoon -  getting up, rolling back on the mattress, prodding his pets, jumping around the room to incoherent punk music, cigarettes burning out between his chapped lips. 

He has nothing to do today, not until it’s time. Just like every other day, every other week, in this drudgery of an existence. Everything means nothing, and the twisted truth of it is that he thinks himself free. 

Free of the cycle. Free of meaningless friendships. Free of love. Free of her.

The ghost of his ex-lover still haunts him, golden haired and rosy-cheeked, bundled up in her puffy coat like some cheap caricature of an angel. But she was no angel. Angels would not abandon someone they claim to love, with a mere snap of their manicured fingers. 

But she haunts him. What they had, and what they could have had. Was it even his? Would it have come out with a thin sprig of dark curls? He did not care to know now. 

She was his everything once. But isn’t that overrated? Falling in love is so overrated. 

His fingers clumsily mess with the controls for his toy helicopter as he lays down. The apparatus hovers above head, filling the room with a buzzing noise. His lit cigarette stumbles from his lips, and the noise is joined with his frantic, fuck, fuck, fuck, as he tries to shake it out of his hair. He succeeds, but the helicopter teeters in the air, until it slams against the poster of Alyna Rivers displayed over his headboard.

He lets it fall, becoming distracted with her image. It’s a promotional still of her in her complete hunting attire - a fitted leather jerkin over a dark red tunic, tight breeches tucked into knee-high boots, a dagger sheathed in her belt. But his favourite addition is the longbow she grips in her hand, her fierce expression making it known that she is prepared to draw it back at a moment’s notice. 

Martin gets on his knees on the bed. He kisses two fingers, then gently touches them to her poster in a gesture of reverence. 

If only…

“Good morrow, my lady,” he says in a sing-song voice, “always a pleasure to come upon your visage.”

He leans closer, tracing her figure with precision, “I bet you can fix me. I bet you can make me feel alive.” 

He chases after euphoria that night, over and over, fucked up and depraved and empty. But it hits different this time. It’s better.

As white spots flicker and dance in his vision, and the fog in his mind threatens to swallow everything, it’s not the vision of his ex that flashes before him - it’s Alyna he sees. 

Her face is sharp and real, cutting through the haze like a beacon. She holds him together as exhaustion takes over him and the oxygen is slowly cut off from his windpipe. She anchors him, even on the precipice of oblivion.

The opponent is alarmed by Martin’s eyes rolling back revealing the whites of his eyes. He loosens his hold, letting go even if Martin refuses to tap out. 

“Fuck, you alright?” he rasps. 

Martin doesn’t hear him. His bloodstained, cracked lips curl into a ghost of a smile as his hand trembles, reaching out to press against the fogged-up windshield. 

With a fragile sense of peace, he murmurs, “You fixed me.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I know I said I would include the reader's reaction to the music video, but I decided to use the time to work on part eight... I still might get to writing this idea as a drabble though 🤷🏻‍♀️

Not Ewan having beef with his own character HAHAHA this lad I swear

Part eight out very, very soon! It'll be a wild ride. Oh, I'm not even kidding :)

[madelynraemunson]

Married au with Rockstar!Eddie where he's just a man STARVED when he goes home from tour. LIKEEEE, he's just a needy husband in need of reader's loving and he's been lacking just that for months now ☹️☹️☹️ (please the Eddie brainrot is consuming my every being.)

☆ The Crawl ☆

rockstar!eddie munson x housewife!afab!reader

CW: 18+ obvs, needy, pathetic sub eddie, dom-ish afab reader, dick riding, cum eating, dirty talkin’ nasty goodness, eddie literally crawling towards us 🫠🫠, facial, implied unprotected p in v sex, dribbler!eddie

author's note: this is my first time writing sub!dribbler!eddie hehehe eds is usually a dom!shooter in my universe. i hope you all enjoy!!! 💌

WC: 686 words

“Need you to have your way with me, sweetheart…need you to use me…Can’t take it anymore. Please."

You meet your husband's desperate gaze as he brushes his stiff cock against your thighs, prodding you for the sensual loving you had promised him when he was to come back from tour.

Craving every inch of your touch, the man is at your mercy. And that damn polaroid picture you sent him a few days ago? The damn polaroid of that pretty pussy of yours, your glistening folds spread apart by your perfectly manicured fingers, the white border holding space for the title, “all for you” signed by your rouge red lipstick? Eddie damn near kicked the tour bus driver out his seat to turn the vehicle back around himself.

But, of course, the show had to go on. And as stoked as Eddie was for Corroded Coffin's Rise of Kas Tour, nothing compares to being with you, wrapped up in your intimacy in the comfort of the home you two share.

And now 385 days later, you two are here.

“Need you to ride me dry…” he pleads. “Need both lips on my cock baby, he’s missed you so much…”

“Nuh uh,” you smirk, enjoying yourself just a little. “Not gonna do away with the flatteries just yet.”

“Fucking please, princess,” Eddie begs. “Been blue-balled all tour, you can’t do this to me.”

“Oh but I can.”

Hellbent and greedy, your smitten, pussy starved husband treads hopelessly towards you on all fours as you guide him to the bedroom.

Too many press photos and interviews. Too many groupies lining up outside the tour bus to claim their spots with Gareth, Grant, and Jeff. And far too many titties to sign, but Eddie knows he shouldn’t refuse, cuz since he built his brand off being a sex-crazed rockstar, rejecting the ladies would mark the end of his — very successful — career.

Too much of tour life on repeat. And never enough of you. And when he finally gets you, the whining only seems to intensify.

Your twinkling, cum-coated tits bounce in Eddie's face as you frantically taunt your clit with his wide, veiny cock. The sight of you tossing your head back, a mewling mess as he splits you open is enough to tug orgasms out of Eddie’s blissfully aching body. And as you clench around him, screams getting louder by the pump, his spewing tip begins to twitch with every jab into your guts.

“Oh baby…shit, mmfuck, ‘m so fucking sensitive baby, you have no idea.”

Your excitement pools at the base of his naval. Knowing he's not going to last all that long, Eddie whimpers at the sight, his photographic conscious saving the episodic eye-sore for a midday work flashback.

“I love you so much,” he moans. Your orgasm begins to splash around him with every bounce. "Missed your beautiful face. Missed your tight fucking pussy."

“I love you, sweet boy,” you hum. “Your dick makes me feel so good, Eddie, fuck. You’re not going anywhere.”

Eddie releases one strained groan before he loses control. Now completely shifting the roles, Eddie pins you into place as he probes for his finish, thrusting into you as the sweat rushes down his body, his full sack beating at your skin as you ride out your last together.

“Fuck baby, yes baby, yes baby,” he pants. “Gonna be the death of me baby, oh fuck…”

And before he completely empties himself in you, Eddie retreats and finishes on your face. He beams down at you in awe as he glazes the hollows of your cheeks, glosses your lips, and caters to the tip of your cum-quenched tongue. Eddie then swoops down to collect his own eager laps, before thanking you with a kiss.

And, to your surprise, when all is said and done, and you’re all wiped down with a nice warm washcloth from the dryer, your husband books it to his office as if there were something else waiting for him behind that door.

“Eds,” you wonder. “What are you doing?”

“I need to write a song.”

[curiositydooropened]

Hell Hound • Part One

Being FWBs with metal rockstar, Eddie Munson, is all fun and games until a dozen red roses show up at your door with a warning: Stay Away from The Devil or you will die. Despite your protests, Eddie appoints his personal bodyguard to keep an eye out for you.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 10, 712

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *This chapter also contains allusions of voyeurism, sex, drinking, recreational drug use, religious elements

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

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Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

The interior of the L never looked that beautiful, at least not through Steve’s eyes. Every experience he’d had was tainted by Bears fans or teenagers filming videos on their phone, or God, don’t remind him about St. Patty’s Day. No, the seats were too small for his shoulders, the windows too short, and the whole thing smelled like plastic bags.

Your perspective was vastly different. You were just the right height to catch the sunlight as it filled the train car with that golden glow. The city whirred by, a kaleidoscope of bright lights and reflections off the glass. You positioned poles and handholds just so with satisfying symmetry.

No, the city had never looked as beautiful to him as it had through your lens. 

Steve said that to Robin once, and she wretched over the line and made him promise he’d never repeat it to you. He hadn’t, but he’d also never let one of your photos go un-complimented.

He enjoyed the roll of your eyes, the sink of your teeth into your bottom lip as you soaked in the praise and pretended to be shy, to be embarrassed, that you hated your craft. 

He’d seen that look dozens of times tonight, timid gratitude that poured out of you and onto every surface in this little gallery space. You’d caught his gaze a handful of times, reassured him with a smile that you were okay, great even, oozing with sheepish pride. He’d just nod and go back to admiring another of your photos.

“You know, we used to live in that apartment…” An elderly woman told you, bony hand clung to your forearm. 

“Really? Which one?” You humored her.

“That one, just there, our first year of marriage,” the woman nodded. “Fifth floor.” 

“Fourth floor!” Her husband corrected from your other side.

“It was the fifth floor, now don’t argue with me.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the man winked at you, and your eyes lit with mischievous delight. You nodded along, conspiratorially while the woman rambled on about the neighbors’ cat meowing and another neighbor practicing saxophone into the wee hours. 

“It was so romantic,” she clutched your hand to her chest.

“It was so annoying,” the husband grinned back at you.

Fed up with her husband’s antics, the woman shot him a rueful look. Then, she patted your hand and told you how lovely your work was before asking for the powder room. 

When she’d been properly directed, her husband leaned to your ear and asked how much for the photo. 

Steve lingered nearby, waiting for the transactional handshake before he stepped in. “Mind if I inquire about this piece?” 

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth and sidled up beside him. His bicep tingled where your skin brushed. “What questions do you have about this one?” 

“Where was it taken?”

You shot him a look, and he tried not to let the smile split his face. The photo you were currently staring at was a portrait of a mom and daughter looking at their reflection in The Bean.

“How’s it going?” He elbowed you, glancing once more around the room at the patrons to your first gallery showing. He’d agreed to come run point for your opening, soft-pitching the idea for Munson to hit out of the park.

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach. 

“Told you.” He grinned, and you swatted his arm and told him to shut up. He really could watch you for hours, the micro-expressions on your face prettier than any photo you could take, though your talent came up a close second. 

“I thought he couldn’t make it,” you gasped, staring just past Steve’s shoulder and out the gallery’s front window.

Steve blinked once, twice. The rapid flash of headlights cast your cheekbones in shadow. He spun on his heel to find his employer and friend, Eddie Munson, slipping out of the backseat of a tinted-windowed SUV. He cursed under his breath and excused himself, shouldering through a confused crowd to meet the rockstar at the door. 

“Harrington,” Eddie pushed his sunglasses through his curls, pupils blown, and flashed a wolfish grin.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” Steve responded, glancing down alleyways for any paparazzi. He knew once Eddie was spotted in public, they’d come in droves. 

“And miss this? Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, Sugar.” 

You’d followed Steve out into the rain, slipping through party guests to greet Eddie. The rockstar wrapped studded-leather arms around your slender waist and greeted you with something salacious whispered into your ear. Steve knew because of the shocked look stretched over beautiful features, and the way you’d swatted at Eddie’s shoulder as if he’d said something bad enough to curl your toes. 

“We should get inside,” Steve grit his teeth. “Don’t want to alert the paps.” 

“Come on, Sugar,” Eddie dipped into a low bow to let you enter first. “Give me the grand tour.” 

—

“I think I’ll buy all the ones left,” Munson quipped with a lazy arm tugging you back into his chest. 

You snorted, and shook your head. “Then no one else will be able to buy them, which is kind of the point of a gallery.” You gestured around at the carefully placed frames on carefully designed walls. 

“Well, good. Maybe I want you all to myself.” 

Steve’s eyes ached to roll. He collected plastic flutes and discarded trays of half-eaten vegetables and tossed them into large, black garbage sacks. 

“Are you coming over tonight?” 

“I just had my gallery opening,” you barked a laugh, pulling away to help Steve with the table you were leaning on. “I need to sleep.”

“You need to celebrate,” Eddie rationed, tugging you back into him. You yelped, your thumb going into a rogue slice of cake. With waggled brows, Eddie pulled your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

Steve thought he might be sick. He turned his back and held open the bag in front of him, just in case. Unfortunately, he could still make out your reflection in the windows out front. Your meticulously picked-out slacks hugged your curves, and Munson’s ringed fingers slipped over the breadth of your backside to squeeze you closer to him. 

“Anything else you need help with?” Steve’s voice tasted awkward, a little too loud, too scratchy. 

You separated from Eddie and dumped your haul into Steve’s bag. “I think that’s it. Thank you for everything, Steve. Really. And I’m serious about paying you.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” He said, twisting the bag closed with a knot. 

You shot him another look and said, “Eddie, tell Steve to let me pay him.” 

“You don’t take money from her, you don’t take money from me, pal.” 

Steve did roll his eyes this time, and glared over your shoulder at the rockstar zipping and unzipping his leather jacket. “Yeah, we have a contract, dumb ass.” 

“I’ll have my lawyer sue your lawyer.” 

“Your lawyer is my lawyer.” 

Eddie grinned. “He’s got me there, Sug.” 

You scoffed and snatched the bag from Steve’s hand. “Fine, I’ll have to come up with some other way to repay you.” 

Steve was thankful for mood lighting and the late hour. His face heated another twenty or so degrees, and he scratched at the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. “Eds, you need me to call you a car?” 

“Would you mind, Stevie-dearest? Sugar, I gotta take a piss. Care to show me the can in this place?” Eddie stood up and adjusted the crotch of his tight jeans for show. 

“You’re a class act, Eddie Munson. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You gripped the hefty garbage bag in one hand and took Eddie’s hand in your other as you led him back into the office space of the warehouse. Before the heavy door closed, both of you made eyes at Steve, one friendly, the other randy.

Steve’s stomach churned, and he pulled out his phone to call a car. 

Working with Eddie had been tedious, but simple. Call him a car, shield him from paparazzi and groping fans alike, bring him his hangover cure breakfast, ask beautiful women to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement before his plethora of one-night stands. 

You were the toughest pill to swallow, a beautiful girl at a hometown gig. 

Hometown gigs meant rowdy afterparties, venue-catered alcohol and executive-catered drugs. It meant too-lax security checkpoints and easily-bribed security detail, and after months on the road, Steve wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s bullshit. So he posted himself at the Green Room door, one eye on the metal detector, one eye on the front man who’d hired him, and prayed the ache between his shoulders would go away soon. Eight more hours and he’d be at home in bed for a long awaited and much needed vacation.

Eddie was two water bottles in, and his hand still trembled when he introduced himself to some recording mogul.

Steve snapped his fingers at some kid and told him quickly to hand Munson another bottle of water and get him a towel. 

When the items had been delivered to a thankful rockstar, Steve turned back to the collection of items being tossed into plastic trays on the outside of the metal detector: a cell phone, keys with a neon carabiner, a leather wallet, a DSLR.

“Whoa, whoa,” he stopped the attendant from picking up the camera. “There’s no press on the guest list.” 

“No press, just freelance,” you said from across the metal threshold. You wore a well-loved leather jacket, softened and faded with time and an expression that toed the line between compliance and try me.

Steve swallowed, shook the stars from his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry, this is a camera-free zone.”

You narrowed your eyes for a moment before stepping back over the threshold and against the current of waiting party-goers to fiddle with the camera.

“Here,” you cupped something in an outstretched hand, waiting patiently for Steve to accept whatever gift you had to offer.

With caution, he accepted the tiniest of SD cards, bright blue.

“Call it insurance?” You smiled, tongue behind your canine in a way that made him itch under the collar. “Find me before I leave and give it back?”

Munson had found you first, dragging Steve with clammy hands to meet his “dream girl”. He gave the signal for Steve to start pulling up the contract on his phone as he made his way down a long, concrete hallway.

You hadn’t flinched, just cocked a brow and signed your name on the dotted line with a, “Thanks, Steve. Have a great night.”

He kept your SD card. He didn’t even tell Robin that it rested on the corner of his dresser next to a picture of Dustin on his graduation day. 

He assumed he’d never see you again, but Munson had grown a fondness for you, and soon you were a regular part of Chicago meet-ups. Every hometown gig became a room full of you. 

Steve heard giggling from the office, that soft melodic bounce of your laugh against the bass of Eddie’s voice. This was the worst of it, catching you two in compromising positions around parties or Eddie’s ornate penthouse, and pretending like it didn’t kill him inside that it wasn’t him with his hands on you, making you laugh, smelling the warmth of your throat.

His phone buzzed in his hand. 

Robin: How was the gallery opening? Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet? We on for our FaceTime date tonight?

Steve: Eddie showed up. Yup. See you in 10 hours.

Robin: Shit. I just sent you money. Buy yourself a fifth and we’ll drink it together.

A car rolled up outside, blinding him with strong headlights.

“Munson, car’s here!” He called, praying you could both hear him.

There was the shuffle of a few things in the back, and with the clack of Eddie’s boots, you both returned. You looked a little more windswept than before, and Eddie’s sunglasses has been pulled back over his eyes, despite it being nearly midnight. 

“Steve,” you breathed, approaching him with arms outstretched for a friendly embrace. “Thanks again for all of your help tonight. You have no idea how much it means to me.” 

He gave the tightest squeeze he could under supervision and let your hand fall into his to give you one more gentle squeeze. “Anytime. It was really no problem. Do you need a ride home?” 

You shook your head, smile wedged between your teeth. “I guess Eddie wore me down.” 

“Yeah I will.” He snorted, and you shushed him. 

Steve nodded and started for the door. “Cool. Well, have fun, you two. Be safe.” 

“Thanks, man,” Eddie knocked knuckles with his friend, rings sharp against Steve’s scarred fists. “I’ll call tomorrow.” 

Steve swallowed and glanced over his shoulder to bid you one last, weak smile. 

You waggled you fingers, and he stepped out into the cool night air. 

—

“You are the most embarrassing person I know in real life.” Even Robin in lag was brutal. 

Steve sipped his coffee and rubbed at tired eyes. He hadn’t slept much. Mostly, he scrolled and wondered exactly what you and Eddie were getting up to, wondered why it wasn’t him. 

“You asked if she needed a ride home?” 

“I was being polite,” he grumbled. He took a banana off its tree and began to peel. They had all begun to brown. 

“You’re so sweet, Stevie. Like a little lost puppy dog.” 

“Oh fuck off, Robin. Remember you and that girl in Buchapest?” 

“Bucharest,” she corrected his pronunciation. “And she was merely a fleeting crush.” 

“You cried over her for like three weeks.” He shot his best friend a look over the screen. 

The lighting was horrible in her Istanbul flat, internet connection worse. Steve told her he’d pay for anything better, but she argued that he needed to quit babying her and let her live the nomadic experienced she’d always dreamed of. 

“Okay, okay,” her connection stuttered in and out, face pixelated as she ducked out of frame and back. “So you’re going to be alone forever. That’s not so bad.” 

“At least I have you.” Steve nodded, mouth full of squishy sweet banana. 

He nearly choked when his phone began to ring in his hand, your name and photo popping up on the display screen. “Robin, it’s her.” 

“What?” 

“She’s calling me.” He held his phone to the camera on his laptop to prove a point. 

“Speaker phone!” Robin squeaked. 

With a sigh, he answered, phone pressed to his ear to respect your privacy. Robin glared. 

“Hello?”

“Steve?” The worry in your voice had his heart kicking up in his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Robin echoed his sentiments until he snapped his fingers and put his finger to his lips to quiet her.

“Nothing, it’s um… could you… are you busy?” 

“Nope. Not busy at all,” he said. Robin threw a silent fit on her end. “What’s going on?”

“Could you just… come down to the gallery? I need your help with something.”

“Yeah,” he frowned, walked the rest of his banana to the garbage can. “Like, later today?”

“Or right now. Could you come right now? As soon as possible?”

His stomach dropped to his feet. “Yes. Yes, I will be right there. Keep the door locked until I get there.”

“Okay. Thank you.” 

He hung up and rushed to the door to get his shoes on. His keys and wallet were in his pocket before he heard another voice echo throughout his kitchen. 

“Harrington!? Hello!? Earth to Dingus!”

“Shit,” he sidled up to his laptop. “Robin, I am so sorry.” 

She managed a knowing smirk and a laggy nod. “Yeah, you owe me, big time Harrington. Text me everything that happens.”

“I love you,” he agreed. 

“See you next week!” 

“In real life!” He hung up before she had a chance to blabber on, and he was out the door.

—

The worry etched across your beautiful features was devastating. 

Steve yearned to wrap you into his arms and promise he’d protect you, to kiss the frown lines from between your brows, to tickle at your ribs until you smiled again. 

Instead, he stood three feet away, inspecting a bouquet of three dozen red roses that had been delivered to the gallery that morning with a note attached.

Roses are Red

Beauty is You

Stay away from the Devil

Before he kills you

A printed photograph was pinned to the card, a pap photo from a gala you and Eddie had attended together a few weeks ago. Eddie’s shoulders were squeezed into a rhinestoned blazer, flash reflecting off his sunglasses. Devil horns and a tale had been crudely drawn over his features in red ball point pen. You stood beside him, hand-in-hand, curves standing out in a black silk dress. One small strap was dangling off your shoulder. The same pen was used to etch slash marks through your exposed throat, so hard it had ripped through the page.

“Is this… like Eddie wouldn’t do this, right?” Your voice shook, hand trembling against your cheekbone. You balled a tissue into your fist.

“No! God no,” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, Jesus, I hope not.” He muttered under his breath. “Have you called him?”

You shrugged, nodded. “I tried, and texted. He was still asleep when I left.”

Steve cleared his throat with a nod, remembering you’d gone home with the rockstar. You probably slipped out of black silk sheets and into the black and grey marbled shower. You probably toed around in front of the massive high-rise window, searching for various garments that had been removed on every inch of the house. Maybe you’d made yourself a latte, with a splash of lavender like you like it, wearing an oversized black hoodie that smelled of weed and cigarettes and some cologne Steve couldn’t afford.

“I can try again,” you fished your phone from your back pocket and dialed.

Steve plucked the card from the roses for any indication of a delivery service or floral company, but the card was blank, ivory, high-quality. “Who delivered these?”

“Old guy, balding, green vest,” you shrugged. 

Steve nodded.

“Hey, Sugar,” Eddie’s voice rasped over speaker. “S’matter. Did you leave something here, or d’you just miss me?”

“No, um…” You changed your balance from one foot to the other. “Eds, did you send me roses?”

“Fuck, you want me to eat you out and send you roses?” The rockstar chuckled.

Steve swallowed and didn’t dare look at you directly. He felt the heat radiating off of you as you frantically turned off speaker-phone and held the device to your ear, covering your face with a hand.

“No, babe, Jesus. I got a delivery of roses today with a um…” Your voice trembled again.

Steve brushed delicate fingers to your arm and held out his hand to take the phone.

You gave it willingly.

“Eddie, hey,” Steve sighed. 

“Harrington? What is going on? Am I still asleep?”

“No, dude, she called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you. Listen, there’s this big bouquet of roses here with a death threat attached. You didn’t have anything to do with this, right? It’s not some kind of prank?”

“A death threat? What do you mean? A prank? Jesus, how shitty of a person do you think I am? Is she okay? I’m coming down there.”

Steve winced around the shuffle of bedsheets and the sound of Eddie clomping around his bedroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dude. Here, let me send you a picture.”

Steve took his own phone out to take and send a photo, rifling past a barrage of text messages from Robin. 

You’d propped yourself on the reception desk, eyes darting between the flowers and outside. The morning light poured in, hollowing your cheekbones and painting your walls pink. 

Steve reached for your elbow, running his thumb over the bit of skin there to pull your focus back.

You offered a sheepish smile and squeezed his wrist.

“Oh what the fuck?” Eddie yelled through the phone, startling you both. 

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Steve agreed, rubbing at tired eyes.

“Is she okay? Let me talk to her. Wait, Harrington, do you think it’s Carver?”

Steve’s blood ran cold. 

Jason Carver was a religious zealot from a small town with a vendetta for Eddie Munson and “demons like him”. Two years ago, his army of his cronies marched to a Corroded Coffin show in Milwaukee and set the place on fire. They managed to get everyone out of the bar before the roof collapsed. More Molotovs were thrown before the cops arrived.

Since Carver wasn’t in attendance and denied any involvement in inciting the riot, he received a slap on the wrist and no jail time. The band did manage an airtight restraining order, but Steve doubted that looped in contact with Munson’s hook-ups.

He cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, fuck is right. Let me talk to her. Don’t let her leave your sight. I’ll pay you triple if I have to. Twenty-four hour surveillance. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry about the cash, man,” Steve shook his head. “I won’t leave her. I’m going to call the delivery company and see if they can give me any more information on the purchase, and then I’ll call Joyce and see if she can’t get her written into the restraining order.” 

“Thank you, man. I want you to take her home to get her stuff and then bring her over here. If it is him, he can’t get to her here.”

Steve hated that he was right.

“Put her on for me. Thanks again, bro.”

With a resigned sigh, Steve slipped the phone back into your trembling hands.

He overheard Eddie’s tone slip into something softer, “Sugar, how’re you doing? Are you alright? I’m so so sorry this happened to you, my sweet girl.”

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze before you wandered off across the gallery for some privacy in your phone call. 

Steve opened his browser to began searching for the delivery company’s number with a pit in his stomach and an unfillable ache in his chest.

—

Robin: OMFG that’s so scary. Is she ok? Are you ok? Is Eddie ok? I’m going to be there in a week, plz don’t get murdered.

—

Your keys clicked in the lock, and you toed open the door to your little apartment. Light poured in through large windows, casting warmth on the small space that the dark hallway hid. You stepped in first, and Steve followed with trepidation. 

He’d never been to your house, and when he walked over the threshold, he was overpowered by how you it felt. The whole place smelled of you, of your shampoo and the perfume you spritz on special nights. Your little kitchen table was scattered with stacks of old mail and rolls of film. A laptop sat open on a squishy futon sofa. Beneath your television were a handful of films he knew you loved. 

“How long um… how much should I pack?” You squinted, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “This is a lot, and I don’t know how to handle it.” 

Once again, he felt the ache to pull you into him, to whisper sweet words into your hair. Instead he gestured to a bar stool. “Take a seat. Take a breath. I’m going to check the house, if that’s alright.” 

He winced as your face flooded with realization, and fear. 

“It’s probably fine. I just want to be safe.” He tried to sound nonchalant, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed, nodded, gestured for him to go ahead. “Sorry it’s a mess.” 

He waved you off with a knowing smile and started down the hallway, relieved when he turned to see you sitting as instructed. You’d been on your feet all day, making arrangements with the gallery owners to have someone take your shift for the evening and tomorrow. When you weren’t on the phone or emailing buyers, you were staring out the windows, a far-off gaze in your eye. You held that now, looking down your living room windows at the busy downtown street below.

Steve took the first door to the left and found a small bathroom. Some tiles in the corner were cracked, and the sink was scattered with the remnants of a makeup bag, a toothbrush. The bathtub’s curtain was pulled back to reveal a loofah dangling from the faucet. 

Your bedroom waited at the end of the hall. His fingertips pushed the door open, breath shallow, face warm.

Sage green linens were crumpled on your bed with three overstuffed pillows. Dirty clothes littered your floor in piles leading to and from the closet. That black satin dress topped an armchair, the strap snapped.

Steve swallowed.

A hefty dresser sat to the right of the door, the top scattered with trinkets and photographs. He was surprised to find his own image scowling back at him, arms crossed, black t-shirt on, leaning against a concrete wall. The sun hit him just so, framing his eyes like a superhero mask, the rest of him cast in shadow. God, all of the world really was better through your lens.

“All clear?” Your soft voice startled him.

He cleared his throat, cheeks warm, to find you at the doorway, hugging your arms to yourself. He smiled. “Clear. I’ll just wait in the front room.” He gestured to slip past you.

“Actually, do you mind hanging out? It’ll only take a second.” You gestured for him to sit on the bed before you scampered about your room, picking up the dirty clothes and depositing them into the hamper.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed like they were in the photo. “Get enough for a couple of days if you want, but we’re going to get this figured out.”

You wore your anxiety like a jacket, hunched shoulders and furrowed brow, a shell of the vibrant woman he knew. 

He took a few steps forward, halting your frantic shoving of clothes in a backpack.

You blinked back up at him, eyes wide, hands trembling.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You laughed then, a manically sound that didn’t meet your eyes. “Steve, am I just insane? Or stupid? Am I the dumbest person in the entire world?” 

“What?” He tried not to focus on the way your hair haloed around your face, light pouring in through gossamer curtains.

“I knew the novelty of sleeping with a rockstar would wear off eventually, but I was thinking like he’d cheat on me with a super model or maybe I’d get a curable STD, but not this.” It was the most you’d spoken all day, your old self sinking back into your voice.

Steve smiled, itched at the back of his neck, shrugged. “Eddie’s a very charming man.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I mean, okay, Eddie’s good, but he’s not death-threats good.”

Steve felt a little surge of excitement at this knowledge, maybe a bit of competition sparking in him again. “Sure, but he’s a good guy. He really likes you.”

“I think he calls me ‘Sugar’ because he forgot my real name and got too embarrassed to ask.” 

Your confession had Steve’s jaw on the floor, and when you laughed, he felt light as air. This time your laugh met your eyes, met your mouth, your cheeks. You swatted at his chest.

“Steve, you were supposed to tell me that’s not true.” 

Steve snickered and merely shrugged.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You pushed past him and to the bathroom to start collecting your toiletries. The anxiety was temporarily snuffed and replaced with the ease of routine, of being in your space surrounded by your things, and Steve felt himself relax a bit knowing you were comfortable.

—

Joyce: Got it taken care of, sweetheart. Hop says he’ll file a report and to let him know if you need an extra hand. Dinner next weekend? Steak and potatoes? Take care of yourself.

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—

Munson pulled his ragged hair up into a bun with a hair tie he kept around his wrist. Steve often wondered if it was yours, or if the rockstar pulled it from the locks of some groupie on the road, long nights spent in truck stops and blues houses. The tie had lost some elasticity over the years, and tendrils managed to fall into the man’s eyes, and even still, he looked cool, casual, calm.

He was anything but calm. His knee bounced as he took a glass of water from Steve filled for him. “What did I do wrong, man?” 

Steve sighed and sat across from him, back to massive windows overlooking the city lights. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this tiff you were having. 

“I mean, I just want to keep her safe. I’m the one that got her in this mess in the first place.” Eddie extended an inked arm toward his bedroom door. You’d been in there for over an hour now, having excused yourself to bed for the night. 

You’d made a point that you were going to bed alone.

“Should I not have told her how I feel?”

Steve pinched at this bridge of his nose, eyes tired and struggling to focus in a room of black velour upholstery and gold trim. 

The spat started when Eddie informed you he’d booked your ticket to join him in England for the next few months while Corroded Coffin records their next album. It ended when Eddie, on bended knees, hands gripping your ribcage, told you he loved you.

Steve watched the entire exchange awkwardly from the kitchen, trying to blend in with white marble countertops.

Apparently, today was a day for firsts. He’d never seen you as nervous as he had in the gallery that morning, and he’d never seen you as angry. You were the silent type, but he felt the rage radiating off of your frame, the clench of your jaw, the subtle brush of Eddie’s hands from your waist.

He caught your gaze when you exited the room, and your demeanor shifted to apologetic, embarrassed maybe. He managed a tight-lipped smile and a wave. 

“Harrington,” Eddie snapped his fingers. “Come on, you’re good with women, right? Help me out.” 

Steve snorted. He’d been good with women, sure, but not since you waltzed into his life with your SD card and that smirk.

“How do we make up?” Munson’s shoulders were hunched, face fraught with worry.

With another drawn out sigh, Steve shrugged. “Give her space, man. She had a really scary day. You remember your first death threat, right? She needs time to process and not for you to demand she be shipped off to another country for two months.” 

Eddie nodded, too much, too exuberantly. “Okay, okay. You’re right. That makes sense. I just…” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t want to lose her.” 

That emotion, Steve understood. It was a fear that prickled at the base of his neck anytime Eddie winked at another girl in the front row, anytime he had his arms looped over two women backstage, anytime his phone sat on the coffee table between them with Sugar blowing up the notifications, neglected. Didn’t Eddie know what he had in you?

“We won’t.” He shook his head. 

Eddie nodded. “You’re a good man, Steve Harrington. I’m sure going to miss you.” 

Steve frowned at that, arms crossed over his chest. “Miss me? The hell are you talking about?” 

“When I’m in England,” Eddie explained, reaching forward for the tin lunch box he kept tucked under the coffee table. The lid hid the glass with a clang, and he reached in for rolling papers, a lighter, and a ziplock bag full of weed.

“Are you firing me?” Steve wasn’t following.

Munson snorted, rolled a neat joint, licked it closed. “Harrington, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” 

Steve warmed, as he often did when someone complimented him, and frowned. “Cut the crap. What’re you talking about?”

“You’re going to stay here, with her.” He nodded your direction and lit up, flame glowing in big, brown eyes while he took a drag. He held onto it for a minute, shoulders going slack, knee stopping its bounce. He tilted his head against the back of the couch and released a large billow of smoke skyward, casting the room in a sickly sweet haze.

“She’s right, man,” he continued. “It’s not fair of me to take her from her gallery. She worked too hard for this.”

He sat up, offered the joint to his friend. Steve declined, head already starting to spin.

Eddie shrugged and took another hit. “I need you to protect her.” 

Steve nodded. That was the easiest thing his friend had ever asked him to do.

“While I’m away, think you could do me another favor?

More smoke billowed from the man’s pink lips, that familiar Munson charm tugging at the corners of his mouth until his teeth were bared in that irresistible grin he was so famous for. He leaned forward then, gesturing for Steve to meet him at the center of the coffee table.

Steve leaned forward, and then a little more when the gesturing didn’t stop, rolling his eyes. “What now?”

Eddie’s smile fell to something far more serious, concern etched in his features, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes big like a baby deer in the headlights. Steve had only seen him this scared a handful of times. “I need you to use those killer wingman skills of yours to make her fall in love with me.” 

Steve’s mouth almost fell open. He had to clench his jaw to keep from doing so, blinking across the six-inch gap at his friend. He could taste the weed on the other boy’s lips, the sweat off his brow. 

“Please, man. I can’t lose her.” 

—

Robin: You said yes!? How much do you actually hate yourself, Harrington?

Steve: You don’t want me to answer that, do you?

Robin: Was it the baby deer eyes?

Steve: Obviously.

Steve thanked Becky at the front desk with a wink, desperate the ego stroke he got every time she smiled at him like he hung the moon on a string. 

Mood boosted, he balanced the coffee order in one hand and his phone in the other and ducked into the nearest elevator that would take him to the penthouse. 

Steve: What do we think of Front Desk Becky?

Robin: You leave that sweet girl out of this. 

Sufficiently deflated by his wise best friend, Steve keyed in the code to Eddie’s penthouse and let himself back in. Your sneakers remained on the entry rug, camera bag discarded on a nearby table. 

Eddie’s bedroom door was open, satin sheets crumpled and pillows stacked to accommodate one. Upon quick glance, the ceiling mirror reveled the room to be empty. 

Steve frowned. He hoped he hadn’t woken you. 

He pressed forward down the hall and into the open living space, setting the cardboard coffee carrier on the kitchen island before turning to find you pressed against the glass, silhouetted in pink morning sunlight. Eddie’s face was buried into your neck, hands unseen, and your eyelids were heavy, pink lips bowed in ecstasy.

Steve froze. He knew he should look away, leave the room, make a noise, but his gaze lingered on the soft skin of your thigh hitched up Eddie’s leg, the curve of your calf, the point of your toe. 

He could hear his heartbeat thundering, breath held, desperate not to make a sound or to scream and run. 

Eddie dipped to his knees, mouth finding purchase lower on your chest.

Steve caught your gaze. Your eyes widened, and you shoved Eddie away from you and scrambled to cover bare skin with an oversized black hoodie. 

“Steve,” you breathed, and Jesus it was dizzying. “I’m so sorry. I thought you left.” You pulled the hoodie down in a vain attempt at covering your thighs, looking everywhere but at the bodyguard in the kitchen.

He felt his own face warm, tapping fingertips to the countertops. His throat felt tight, a loss for words. His pants felt tighter.

“I ordered us coffee, Sugar,” Munson recovered the quickest, taking your hand to help himself off the floor and lead you into the kitchen.

You resisted his pull, taking a few steps back to say, “I’m going to get ready.”

“Need help?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows, grinning like a dog. Steve tried to ignore how wet the man’s lips looked.

You shook your head, venturing a glance Steve’s direction and looking immediately away when you were caught. Then you slunk off back to the bedroom from whence you came.

When he finally heard the click of the door, Steve frowned at his employer. “Guess I should’ve knocked.” 

Eddie waggled his brows at Steve, too, taking his cup from the carrier and managing a sip. 

Steve was ready with an ice water to cool the man’s burned tongue. “Does this mean you made up?”

Eddie shook his head fervently, tonguing at his water like a dog. “Hell no. She told me she’s going to the gallery today because, and I quote, she ‘can’t be held hostage in this velvet prison forever’.”

Steve grinned over his own steaming coffee and shrugged in commiseration to his friend.

Eddie nodded, took a gentler sip of his own coffee this time. “Had to shut her up when she started telling me to ‘have fun in the UK’ and maybe I should look up some old friends while I’m there.” 

Steve swallowed and nodded. “I mean, Lizzie.” 

“Don’t make me pin you to that window, Harrington,” the rockstar warned, inked finger extended with a scowl. 

Steve followed his point to the window, wherein he could just make out the smudges of four distinct handprints, two much smaller than the others. There was also the faintest of smudges where your ass had been pressed against the glass. Steve coughed at the saliva gathering in his mouth.

“Eds?” You called upon reentry, voice echoing off concrete floors. “I’m leaving. I’ll… call you or something.” You were dressed and you had a tube of lipgloss in your hand, uncorked. 

Eddie scrambled for you, scooping you up in his arms. 

You stiffened, glancing up at the bodyguard keeping watch in the corner. 

Steve swallowed, made himself look busy. 

“Sugar, Steve’s going to keep an eye on you, just until we figure this death threat thing out, okay?” Eddie cleared the hair from your face.

Steve glanced back up to see you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need a babysitter. No offense, Steve.” You held a hand up to him. 

“He’s not a babysitter,” Eddie snapped, “and he’s going to keep you safe. I can’t lose you. You hear me?” He pulled your gaze back to him, cupping your small jaw in large hands. “I love you.” 

“Eddie,” you winced, tugging at his wrists.

The rockstar dropped his hands, shoulders hunched in defeat, and he turned to give Steve a pleading look before he turned back to you. “Alright, Sug. I’ll see you in two months. I’ll call as often as I can.” 

“Okay,” you nodded and allowed him to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

—

Your lipstick stained the lid of your lavender latte, peachy pink. Your nails were freshly manicured for the gallery opening, and you always wore that delicate gold ring on your middle finger. 

You set your cup on the countertop and didn’t look up from your laptop to say, “If you’re bored, you don’t have to stay here. I promise I’ll tell Eddie I never left your sight.” 

Steve smiled over his own cup. “I’m not bored.” To appear occupied, he settled onto the desk behind yours and pulled out his phone.

The first image on his feed was yours, something you’d managed to snap of the old woman and her husband from the opening. They stared at the portrait of their apartment building, hand-in-hand, and you’d taken it at just the right instant, when the husband was smiling down at his wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Jones • Chicago

The gallery opening was everything I’d ever hoped for. Thank you to all sponsors and patrons who attended and to everyone who helped pull this together. If you’d like to check out my work, please drop by the gallery and say hello.

Steve hummed to himself, double-tapping, and typed a comment.

sharrington: Best gallery opening I’ve been to.

“Steve,” you scolded, “quit commenting on my shit. I’m standing right here.” It was the first smile he’d seen since yesterday. 

“Oh, sorry,” he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest again to say, “Yours was the best gallery opening I’ve been to.”

That beautiful smile tugged even higher on your cheeks, despite your eye roll. “It was the only gallery opening you’ve been to.”

“You don’t know that,” he feigned offense.

You cocked a brow, bursting his facade until you were both snickering a laugh.

“Okay, but come on,” he pushed himself off the desk and strolled out into the open gallery. Egg shell white walls were naturally lit by skylights and the fourth glass wall of the small space. “This place was packed with people obsessed with your work, myself included.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, but remained behind the shelter of your desk. “Which one’s your favorite?”

A bubble of giddy excitement kicked in his chest, and he turned to face your artwork. The sunlight reflecting off the lake was good, the streak of streetlights in the rain, a collection of big, red brick buildings: all of these were his favorite. You’d managed to capture his city in unique and beautiful ways.

He pointed at each one and glanced back to see you shaking your head, eyes brightening and mouth failing to hide that smile.

Finally, he found that photo of the L he was admiring that night and wrapped his knuckles near it. “This one. You managed to capture no plastic bags.”

You rolled your eyes, but let his gesture pull you from your desk. “You can’t see it, but there was one caught around my ankle when I took the shot.”

Steve laughed. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.” 

You sucked your cheeks in a pout and glanced down the row at all of your photos, your accomplishments on display. “Steve,” you muttered. “Can I… vent for a second?”

“Of course,” he nodded, turning to face you, giving you his undivided attention.

You turned your body toward him as well, hands tucked under your arms. “It’s about Eddie.”

Steve felt his brow raise, but he nodded, miming the zip of his lips and extending you the key.

You chewed around another smile and extended your hand for him to place the invisible key into and wrapped your beautiful fingers around it. Then, you looked back at your photograph and chewed on your words.

Steve leaned forward to catch your gaze, pull your focus back on him.

You sighed, shrugged. “It’s just… Eddie’s used to having women fall at his feet and do whatever he says, isn’t he?”

Steve tried to keep his expression stoic, but it was hard when he thought of all the bras he’d kicked off of a stage, all of the groupies Eddie fingered in the wings, all of the women he’d had to call a ride share for to ensure they got home safely, too wobbly on their legs to drive.

You barked a laugh. “I know he is because I’m one of them.” You didn’t seem amused.

Steve frowned, shook his head. You deserve more credit than that. You weren’t like the others, not by a long shot.

“He came to my opening, right? He saw how important this was to me. Hell, he told you to help me run it because he had faith in me that it was going to be big.” You gestured around wildly as you spoke, frustration building in your tone. “And yet, he expects me to just pack up everything and fly to England for two months?”

Steve swallowed, chewing on his own words now.

“I know, it’s because he’s worried about me, and I do appreciate that, but it’s also like… I feel like he didn’t know what he had in me until he saw me get spooked, and now he’s trying to lock me down.” You frowned. “I can’t be broken. I’m not a horse.”

Steve nodded.

You paused a moment longer before looking into his eyes again. “If I ask you something, you promise to be honest with me?”

He nodded again, slowly. He’d do anything for you.

“Do you think he’s really in love with me?”

Steve’s heart shattered at the hope that lingered in your voice. He swallowed, remembered his promise to Eddie, and nodded.

You let out another strained laugh, as though you couldn’t believe it, and centered yourself before asking another. “Do you think he’s going to sleep with other women while he’s away?”

Again, Steve steeled himself with a deep breath, and shook his head. Eddie wouldn’t if he knew what was good for him, and what was good for him was you.

You cocked a brow, unbelieving of this answer, and toyed with another question in your mind for a moment. “Do you think I should go with him to England?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, gesturing around at your beautiful gallery. Two months with Eddie Munson wasn’t worth giving all of this up. If he was serious, and he really did love you, he’d prove it to you when he got back. 

Your lips ticked upwards at that answer. “Hey, this zipped-lip Steve thing is kind of fun. I should have made you shut up a long time ago.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and snorted at your delight.

You reached your hands out to grab his, swinging them back and forth between the two of you. Your hands were warm and and small and soft. “Hey, Steve, is there something you really, really want to tell me, but can’t? Because you can, you know.” You smirked. “This is a safe space. We’re all friends here.”

Sunlight poured in through the windows, casting your face in a golden glow. Your eyes sparkled, cheeks round, lips that soft, peachy pink.

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, he didn’t know where to start. So he caressed the backs of your hands with his thumbs and nudged you ever-closer.

The toes of your sneakers touched. Your eyelashes batted. You tilted your face skyward to look up at him. You licked your lips.

God, he wished he could kiss you. He wished he could taste the lavender of your latte and the length of your throat. He wished he could press you to the glass and let the world know you were his. He wished he could tell you every day for the rest of his life how beautiful you are, how talented you are, how perfect you are. 

The smile fell from your face. You released one of his hands to brush hair from his forehead. 

He held his breath. 

You searched his gaze for something, your own features filled with worry, and you nodded. “You’re really scared about this Jason Carver guy, huh?”

Steve blinked. He’d forgotten entirely about the roses, the death threat, the reason he’d been paid to spend time with you, to watch over you, to protect you. 

He cleared his throat and looked down at your hand in his. He brushed the back of it again with his thumb. His throat was tight, voice raw. “I just want to keep you safe.”

A bell rang, putting a few feet between you. You adjusted your hair and straightened your top before shooting him a ‘wish me luck’ look and stepping away to greet your newest buyer.

—

Hopper: No leads on that delivery. I’ve got Callahan asking around. Powell’s looking into Carver. Keep me posted on other developments.

Steve tapped nervous fingers to the deli’s glass countertops, craning his neck for a vantage on your gallery windows. 

You’d practically forced him out, insisting this was your favorite sandwich place in town and nothing else would suffice. When he offered to pay for delivery, you reminded him how uncomfortable you felt with deliverers right now and promised you’d lock the door behind him. He wished he could have convinced you to join him.

“Dude, we’re going as fast as we can,” the sandwich artist snapped, cutting pastrami into thin slices. 

Steve frowned back at him, confused for a moment, before taking his hand from the glass and shoving it into his jeans pocket. “Oh, sorry.” His foot tapped instead.

An 80s love ballad played over the speakers, and the whole place smelled of cold cuts. A small line had formed behind the counter of people going about their day-to-day. 

Steve looked at each one of them as a suspect. Though, he was pretty sure Babushka in the headscarf wasn’t eliciting death threats to beautiful girls via three dozen red roses. She felt more like the cast-a-spell type. 

He snorted and glanced back out the window just in time to see a black car pull up to the gallery. A man stepped out. 

“Forty-five?” The deli employee called out.

Steve took a few steps toward the window, squinting against the glare to see a tall man with white hair approach the glass. He wrapped two knuckles on the front door. You met him there.

“Dude, your sandwiches!” The guy behind the counter called, and Steve cursed, grabbing them with a thanks and a nod.

He glanced up just in time to see you unlocking and opening the gallery door, and he began to run your direction.

“Hey, man! You forgot your pickles! Asshole…” 

The wind whipped at his ears, and he nearly ran out in front of a moving vehicle. The driver honked and flipped him off, and Steve waited for him to pass before checking both ways and crossing to get to you again. 

He made a mental note of the black car’s license plate: GCCF and swung open the gallery door with a ring of the bell. 

The man stood beside you, tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and a haircut that hadn’t changed since the early 70s. He wore a grey suit, and a black tie, and a smile as he admired your photos.

You smiled at Steve from across the space and waved.

Relief warmed Steve’s spine, and he toed to the desktop to place the sandwich bag, careful not to make any noise so he could overhear bits of your conversation.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you said, even-keeled, though Steve knew you were bursting inside. “I’m honored for the invitation.” 

“I’m glad you agree,” the man chuckled. “Your talent really is a gift to this city, and we’ll be proud to display your work in our halls.” 

You were beaming. Steve’s stomach flipped.

“Now, our guests usually love to speak with the artists featured in the auction. Are you free Friday evening? Could I coax you to attend?” The man turned to face you now, reaching into his inside pocket for something.

Steve took two steps forward. 

The man extended you a small, white slip of paper. 

You read it over with a tight-lipped nod. Then you smiled. “I would love to go.” 

“Excellent,” the man nodded. “It is black tie. Could I give my assistant the name of a plus-one?” 

You swallowed before answering. “Sure, Steve Harrington.” 

Steve felt his face warm, and he nearly tripped over a power cord stepping back behind the desk. 

The man you were speaking to nodded with a knowing smile and glanced down at his watch. “Well, unfortunately I must be going. I have a lunch meeting to attend. Good timing too, it seems as if your lunch has arrived, and it smells delicious.” He ventured a glance Steve’s direction, and the bodyguard squared his shoulders. 

“Thank you so much for dropping by, and for your business. I look forward to the event.” You smiled, extending a hand for the stranger to shake.

He reciprocated your gesture. “Thank you for your work, my dear. It is breathtaking. Expect that deposit by end of day, and we’ll see you Friday evening. Have a great day.” 

“You too.” 

Steve watched you watch the man walk to the door and get into his car. Your chest was still, breath held until the black car was started and began to drive. 

Then, you began to jump up and down, screaming, like a teenaged girl who had just been asked to prom. 

Steve frowned, shaking his t-shirt to dry the sweat that clung to his back. “What’s going on?”

You grinned and did an adorable little skip and hop back to your desk, sliding two pieces of paper across for him to read. Then, you broke into the sandwich bag.

Steve peered down at a stark white business card with grey lettering, and a matching invitation. 

Martin Brenner

Founder and CEO

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Annual Gala and Live Auction

“So, this guy, Brenner or whatever,” you explained, peeling the parchment paper from your bread, “just came in and bought my entire playground collection. Can you believe it? All nine photos. He said he’s going to hang them in the halls of his school.” The sound that came from your lips exceeded dogs’ hearing in pitch.

Steve bit back a smile to let you continue.

You took a huge bite of your sandwich first, olive oil clinging to the corner of your lips and dripping down the back of your hand. 

Steve shook a napkin from the paper bag and handed it to you.

You thanked him, mouth full, and swallowed before mopping your face. “Then he says he wants to offer up another one of my pieces in their annual live auction.”

Steve snapped a photo of the two cards and sent them to his contacts in the police force for some background information, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“Do you own a tuxedo, by the way?” You asked, cheek chipmunked.

Steve frowned back at you. He’d been head of security for Corroded Coffin for upwards of six years. He’d been to more award shows than he could count. Of course he had a tuxedo. 

“What?” You feigned innocence, cracking into one of the sodas you’d pulled from the vending machine while you waited for Steve to return. “If you have to be my new bodyguard, I can’t go to this gala alone.”

He sighed and began to neatly unfold his own sandwich, lettuce falling every which way. “Yes, I have a tuxedo.” 

“Really?” You grinned. “I should bring my camera.” 

He shot you a look. “You going to tell me why you unlocked the door for a random stranger while I was picking up your lunch?” 

You swallowed. “He sent me an email?”

Steve maintained eye contact while he popped the tab on his own soda, shoulders squared. He felt like a dad every time he interrogated Eddie for late nights out with no correspondence. The stance didn’t translate well to Robin over text. 

“I figured I could take an old man,” you shrugged.

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Satisfied, for now, Steve took a bite into his sandwich and stared back down at the business card on the tabletop, hoping this guy didn’t have any ties to Carver or whoever it was that sent you that note.

“No pickles?” You frowned, peeking into the mostly empty paper sack.

—

1 Voicemail

Hey, kid. It’s Hopper. Brenner’s one of Chicago elites, but as far as we know he’s harmless. He runs that school for gifted kids. Real pillar of the community type. Could be mob ties, but who the hell in this city doesn’t have mob ties? 

Couldn’t find anything on the delivery company, and no florists in town filled orders that big. Something’s definitely off. Powell spoke to Carver’s assistant, but he was out of the office. Keep an eye out.

Joyce wanted me to invite you and the girl to dinner. Stay safe, kid. Let me know if anything else comes up.

Lucas: All safely on the plane and ready for take off. England won’t be the same without you, man. Take care.

Eddie: Ready for take off. Thanks for taking care of my girl, big man. See you in two months.

Robin: You’re sitting in your car watching her apartment? You’re a creep, Harrington. Please tell me you don’t know the color of her bra tonight.

Steve groaned and rubbed at tired eyes.

He hated that he knew your bra was a soft, stone grey. He’d seen the strap slip down your arm. You’d caught it and pushed it back up, mid-conversation with a browser this afternoon. 

He glanced up from the glare of his phone at your open front window. He couldn’t see anything substantial from this vantage, just the shadows cast on dimly lit ceilings as you moved around your home. 

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should go home and rest. No more threats had been issued today, that he knew of. You seemed to be less afraid than you were the day before, and with Eddie gone, maybe you weren’t in as much harm as you had been. Still, something gnawed at him. 

Steve startled when his phone began vibrating in his hand. Your name, and a photo of you grinning back at him, filled his little car with light. He answered. “Hello?”

“I can see you.”

Steve gulped and shifted to look back up at your window. You stood there in an oversized sweatshirt, waggling your fingers.

“Come inside, please.”

“What?”

“Bring your fedora and binoculars and come on up. I’ll buzz you in.”

You met him at the door in baggy clothes with two glasses of wine in your hand. You waited for him to step out of his shoes and shrug off his jacket before handing him one glass, and then you led him to the little futon propped up into a sofa near a loved coffee table.

A few candles burned, casting everything in flickered shadows. The place smelled of lavender and honey and smoky amber. 

“So,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping from your glass. You pulled your legs up to be crossed and tilted yourself to face him. “Tell me about this Carver guy.” 

Steve frowned, stretching an arm across the back of the couch to appear comfortable.

“Well, if it’s serious enough that Eddie’s got you staking out my apartment, I need to know who I’m up against.” You frowned, taking another sip from your glass, the legs spilling from your sweet lips and back into the liquid. 

Charity events attracted a diverse crowd, metal bands and church groups converging for the greater cause, their own positive PR. Knocked elbows at the start of the night often led to knockouts once the open bar started flowing. The mob made connections and burned bridges and somehow, the world kept turning.

One such event, Steve had eyes on Munson from across the room. The rockstar was flirting with some senator-to-be or another, a good friend of the Obamas, if he remembered correctly. Sinclair had eyes on the other band members at other tables. They all seemed happy, buzzed, low-key despite studded tuxedos.

Steve clocked the approach before Eddie had. A blonde man in a white suit caught sight and B-lined from near the stage.

Steve crossed to intercept him, stopping the young man with two fingers to his chest before he could get around the final linen-covered table. “Can I help you?”

The stranger’s face split in a menacing grin that sent chills down his spine. Never in his life had Steve felt something so cold. All his instincts went on high alert, fight or flight. One fist clenched at his side.

“I was just hoping for a little tête-á-tête with Mr. Munson,” the man gestured a hand out.

Steve dropped his hand, noticing the steel tie pin in the shape of a cross. “He’s busy at the moment, but let me take down your information, and we’ll see if we could find time for you at a later function.” 

“Are you his secretary or his babysitter?” Still with the grin, dead between the eyes.

“Why? You looking for a playdate?” Steve squared his shoulders, inches taller than the other man. 

“I’m just looking to ask one question.” 

“Shoot,” Eddie approached from behind Steve, shoulders squared in the same manner as his bodyguard. 

The other man tucked his hand into white jacket, and Steve stuck his hand in front of Eddie, just in case, until Carver retrieved his business card and handed it over. Sleek, white, with grey lettering.

Reverend Jason Carver

Faithful Servant of Christ

“Do you, Mr. Munson, take responsibility for casting yourself and all of your followers to the very depths of Hell to burn for an eternity?” 

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Carver, but he could feel Eddie’s grin growing beside him. 

“You’re damn right I do.”

Carver seemed just as pleased with this answer as the rockstar had been. He nodded, an odd twinkle in his eye, and said, “Thank you so much, Mr. Munson. I hope you and your hell hound have a lovely evening.” 

That was the one and only time Steve had met the man, and he’ll never forget the weight of his presence. 

You’d set your wine glass on the coffee table beside his, and you were curled closer now, frown creasing your sweet brow. “And then he burned that place down in Milwaukee?” 

Steve sighed, playing with a loose thread on the futon, fingertips dangerously close to your shoulder. He wished he could sweep your hair back, kiss the crease from your forehead, reassure you he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

“Well, first, he had all of the funding pulled from that almost-senator, set her up for public exposure, basically ruined her entire life. When asked to comment, he said ‘jezebels and harlots get what they deserve’. Fucking asshole.” Steve scoffed.

There was a far-off look in your eye, like you were considering the weight of those words when compared to you.

Without a second thought, Steve brushed his knuckles against your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. “Hey, you know I’ll never let anyone hurt you, right?”

You surprised him by leaning into his touch, nodding. You released a shaky laugh, your voice caught in your throat. “I was really trying to be brave.”

Steve smiled, and opened his mouth to tell you you were, to tell you you were beautiful, to tell you he’s been in love with you from the moment he met you because you were all of those things.

Your phone began ringing, loud and incessant, a vibration from the coffee table that lit up the room with a photo of Eddie’s face. 

You ducked away from Steve’s touch and patted at warmed cheeks, reaching for your phone. “I should probably get this.”

Steve nodded, cleared his throat, reached forward to take a long swig of alcohol. It went down dry. 

“I actually think I’ll go to bed.” You silenced your phone and stood up, backing slowly from the living room. “You don’t mind the futon, right? Here are some extra blankets and a pillow.” You gestured toward a little wicker basket beside the sofa. “Use whatever you’d like in the bathroom.”

Steve stood to mirror you, hoping his smile seemed more reassuring than he felt. “Sleep tight. If you need anything…”

You nodded, smiled. “Thank you. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.” 

Halfway down the hallway, you answered your phone, sweet nothings murmured for someone else.

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

[A/N: So yeah, this just kind of... came out of me. It's been cooking since February, but I've sat down like three times over the last week and spewed out 10k. And I got too excited to wait to post it, so here you are. Please give me all your thoughts and feelings. Is bodyguard!Steve my new favorite Steve? Is rockstar!Eddie my new favorite Eddie? Maybe so. xoxoxo]

[hippiegoth97]

Hangman's Joke: An Eddie Munson x Reader Halloween Special (The Crow AU) Part One

Collage by me :)

Masterlist

A/N: It's finally here, guys! I hope you all enjoy, I worked very hard on this one! And I have to thank @keikoraven for being the best beta reader in the world! I still have two parts to write, but I am ecstatic to get spooky season going!

Tag List: @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

@cxrrodedcoffin @queenimmadolla @kellsck @keeksandgigz

If anyone wants added/removed from tags please let me know <3

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, fem!reader, brief mentions of sex, mentions of sexual abuse/ritual abuse/child abuse, violence, blood, character death, murder, smoking, alcohol use, use of homophobic language, grief, angst, mentions of dead animals, mentions of threats, subjects concerning satanic panic

Word Count: 8.2k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part One

“People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.”

October 30th, 1991

Hopper steps out into the crisp fall night, the air biting its way under the collar of his windbreaker. He shoves the door to his vehicle closed, flicking the ash of his cigarette with his other hand. “How bad is it?” He asks as Callahan and Powell approach him. There’s four other police vehicles parked out front of the Crystal Ridge apartment complex, the berries and cherries flashing across every surface in a choppy swirl of light and dark. Unmasked disgust reads on every officer’s face, though Hopper isn’t sure if it’s regarding the scene, or who the victims are inside. 

“Well, it’s not good. And it’s certainly not going to ease any of the tension in town.” Powell replies with a sigh, shaking his head. 

“No shit.” Hopper says flatly, tossing his half-smoked cig away. He walks toward the building, going up the front steps and down the hall until he finds the unit cordoned off with police tape. A few more officers are inside, snapping photos of the carnage, as well as snickering amongst themselves about ‘amusing’ items they find in the residence. All nudging elbows and scrutinizing fingers pointed at books and figurines on nearby shelves or tables, nevermind the bodies lying in the middle of the living room floor. “Something funny here, boys? Last I checked, murder isn't a goddamn joke.” Hopper barks, the mouths of his lower officers clapping shut all at the same time, their eyes widening at being caught in such an immature display. They resume their work in silence, snapping photographs of blood splatters and discarded weapons. 

Hopper takes in the scene, focusing his attention on the victims first, as one should in these situations. Eddie and Y/N Munson, aged twenty-five and twenty-three, respectively. Married for two years, hopelessly in love since Hopper first caught them necking in Roane County Cemetery back in the fall of ‘82. Eddie, known to the Chief as the town’s resident metalhead and small-time drug dealer. Despite his intimidating exterior, Hopper knew he was a good kid who just happened to get into a bit of trouble every now and again. It made him rather proud to see Munson turn it around once he graduated in ‘86, becoming a mentor for troubled Hawkins youth with his Hellfire D&D Club. 

And then there was Y/N, the Bonnie to Eddie’s Clyde. Dressed from head to toe in black leather seemingly since birth, paired with the sweetest, most welcoming smile. Hopper recalls the times she’d cover for Eddie whenever he got busted, and how easily he let them both go. A small twinge of reminiscence tugs the corner of his lip up, but only for a moment. Y/N became a librarian, encouraging the youngsters of the town to embrace literature and expand their developing minds. The kids absolutely adored her, like a spooky big sister who always had their back. There’s sure to be thousands of tiny tears when the news breaks tomorrow.

To see what’s now become of possibly the kindest people in Hawkins he’s ever known, it truly makes Hopper’s heart ache. He gazes upon their bodies, an unwelcome sting coming to his eyes. His pupils dart from place to place, unable to settle on any singular gruesome detail for too long. Their clothes are torn to shreds. Their limbs are splayed about in an eerily doll-like fashion, though their hands meet in the middle, as if to hold one another one last time. Thick, angry slashes and stabs puncture their skin. Clotting blood soaks the remnants of fabric and pools into the carpet below. Their eyes haven’t clouded over just yet, looking as if they’ll spring to life with a hearty laugh any moment now. Surely, they’ll sit up and shout ‘GOTCHA!’, revealing that this was all some twisted Halloween prank. Hopper hopes for it, even prays for it a moment. But the relief he wants never comes. There’s no bright blinking eyes, or smiling mouths, or their matching infectious laughter. It’s all been snuffed out of them completely. 

A sudden choked gasp breaks the monotonous click and whirr of crime scene cameras, and a bloodied arm snatches at Hopper’s ankle. “Holy shit!” Jim yelps, wondering if his wish actually came true. His eyes snap to where the sound came from, finding Eddie gasping for air on the floor as a small trickle of blood flows from his mouth.

“H-Hop?” Eddie wheezes, his features frightened and confused. His thick curls stick to his cheeks in nests of coagulated crimson. Numerous cuts are visible on his chin, forehead, and just below his eyes. 

“I’m here, kid. It’s gonna be okay.” Hopper replies, kneeling beside the young man. Eddie’s in real bad shape, so this promise is probably a lie. “We got a live one, boys! Get a medic in here!” Jim yells, snapping the other officers, who have been watching on in horror, into action. “We’re gonna get you outta here, kid.” Hopper takes hold of Eddie’s shaking hand, doing his best to comfort him.

“Where’s Y/N?” Eddie gargles out, trying to turn his head. Just as Hopper is about to lie to the young man again, the EMTs come in with a stretcher to wheel him out of here. 

“She’ll be right behind you, Eddie. You’re both gonna be fine.” Jim reassures him, squeezing his hand, noticing the rapidly weakening grip of it. Not much longer now, he thinks. At least his pain will be over soon. The medics roll Eddie away, disappearing down the hall of the complex to reach the ambulance.

“You lied to him, didn’t you?” A redheaded girl says in the doorway, tears streaming down her cheeks. Max Mayfield, another familiar face. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Hopper replies, stepping to the right to shield her young eyes from Y/N’s corpse. He remembers seeing Max with the Munsons quite often, having formed a special relationship with them. Her own home life hasn’t exactly been peachy since she moved to Hawkins with her parents and stepbrother. Said inherited sibling has always been bad news, causing Hopper nothing but trouble for the last few years. 

“I know. I saw the cars outside, and I know what people in town have said about the Munsons. But they aren’t like that…devil worshippers, or whatever.” Max states, rolling her eyes at the baseless accusation she’s heard thrown their way hundreds of times. 

“I know that, kid.” Hopper sighs, stepping closer to her.

“She’s dead, right?” Max asks, looking down at her feet. Tears drip onto the tips of her converse, though she keeps the sobs inside. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Jim answers, no need for polite truth-twisting now. 

“Can I…say goodbye?” Max lifts her head up again, brushing a stray hair that’s escaped her ponytail behind her ear. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Hopper shakes his head, stepping closer to lead the girl away from the bloody mess. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home.” He offers.

“Okay. Thanks.” She nods, not bothering to sneak a morbid glance behind her as they walk down the hallway. They make their way outside, bypassing the other officers.

“Where you off to, Chief?” Callahan pipes up.

“I’ll be back, just dropping Ms. Mayfield at home first.” Jim answers without turning back, opening the passenger door to let the child hop inside. He closes it after her, going over to his side. “Maybe secure the perimeter properly before I get back, hm?” He suggests gruffly to his subordinate. 

“You got it, sir.” Callahan chuckles dryly, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “Hey.” He lightly smacks Powell on the chest as Hopper pulls out of the lot of the complex. “Secure the perimeter.” He orders unseriously, earning a scoff from his fellow officer.

“Give me orders again, and you can secure my foot in your ass.” Powell laughs, going about his business.

The drive to the Mayfield-Hargrove household is a quiet one, almost painfully so. Max is slumped in her seat, staring out the window at all the places her surrogate parents will no longer be able to visit or ride past on their motorcycle. The record store where they bought every piece of their extensive metal collection, of which they let Max borrow from whenever she liked. The ice cream shop they’d take her to after a nasty day at school or big fight at home. The cemetery where Y/N taught her how to do grave rubbings. She supposes they’ll both be buried there within a few days. At least I’ll be able to visit them again, she thinks, cursing herself for such a selfish thought. More tears pour from her eyes, hot and stinging. She sniffles, trying to hide the evidence on the sleeve of her hoodie.

“Here.” Hopper reaches over, popping open the glove compartment to reveal a collection of napkins from various fast food joints. 

“Thanks.” Max says softly, reaches for a few of the napkins, closing the compartment afterwards. She wipes her eyes, blowing her nose. “I’m sorry for sneaking in. I just had to be sure.” 

“Sure of what?” Jim asks, finding her phrasing rather odd. Like she knows something.

“Well, you know how this town’s treated them. The comments they got, the threats.” Max fiddles with her crumpled tissue.

“Sure do.” Hopper agrees.

“I’ve heard Billy talking about them a lot. The same satanic crap everyone else does, at first.” She pauses, further drawing Hopper’s attention. He glances at her, finding the napkin becoming shredded to pieces in her hands now. “But lately, I’d been hearing him talk with his friends about…’taking care’ of them. You know what I mean?” She looks at him now, appearing far more afraid than she did when Eddie was being carted away in his near-dead state. 

“I do.” He nods, and her shoulders relax a little, as if she’s relieved to have someone believe her. It certainly isn’t outside of the realm of possibility that Billy had something to do with this, though Hopper highly doubts the little fucker acted alone. He almost never does when it comes to starting trouble. His shithead entourage is usually right on his heels at every wrong turn. Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan, and Jason Carver. The four of them have spent their entire collective time in Hawkins wreaking all sorts of havoc. Drunken parties, even drunker fights, vandalizing police vehicles, getting frisky with nearly every young lady in town in various public venues. You name it, and those four have been busted doing it. Unfortunately, their status in town almost guarantees they never see as much as a few scant hours of community service. Hopper worries that brutal murder may soon be added to that list.

“Do you think he…did it?” Max asks, a mix of disbelief and realized terror in her voice.

“I don’t know, kid.” He replies as he pulls up to her house. “But, it’s my job to find out. Don’t you worry, I’m gonna catch whoever did this.” He says with resolve, hoping to bring the girl some comfort. 

“I hope so. Doesn’t seem like anybody else wants to.” She says sadly, recalling how uncaring the other cops looked when she snuck past them in her quest to confirm the worst.

“Well, they don’t have much choice, since I’m in charge.” He laughs, earning a small giggle from Max as well. “Now, get inside. I’m sure your mom’s worried sick.” 

“Probably.” She rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the ride, Hop. And for helping the Munsons.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Max hops out of the car, and Hopper waits for her to make it inside before pulling away. He catches a small glimpse of Billy in the window, who’s wearing a far more smug smirk than usual. 

“I’ve got my work cut out for me.” He sighs, pulling out a fresh smoke as he drives back to the crime scene. 

“Where the hell were you?” Billy asks as Max comes into the house, shedding her damp jacket and setting her skateboard by the door.

“Nowhere.” She answers softly, hoping to avoid an altercation.

“Bullshit. Why the fuck was the pig Chief dropping you off?” He snarls, more than ready to take out the reaming he received from his father earlier tonight on Max.

“I was just…out. It started to rain, so Hop offered me a ride.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs, beginning to walk away towards her room.

“You went to see if those freaks were dead, didn’t you?” He asks cruelly, following her.

“They weren’t freaks! They were my friends!” Max snaps, turning to face her brother in the doorway. 

“You know what they did, Max! They hurt that kid Pete Howell, made him do all sorts of fucked up satanic shit! Everyone in town knows about it!” Billy yells, stalking over to get in her face.

“That’s a lie and you know it! The Munsons would never do that! To anyone!” She shrieks back, taking a step forward. Billy looms over her, fury in his eyes.

“We all saw the bruises, Maxine! And other kids came forward, too! Eddie made all those Hellfire kids drink his blood and touch each other for his rituals! And don’t even get me started on that bitch, Y/N!” He continues to spew lies in a fervent rant, spit flying from his lips. “She gave kids books about witchcraft, encouraging them to put evil spells on each other and sacrifice their pets! I can’t even imagine what messed up shit those two got up to when they were together! Hell, they were probably just waiting for the right kid to come along so they could kill ‘em! It could’ve even been you!”

“Shut up!” Max screams, slapping Billy across the face with all her might to make him stop. He grunts in surprise at the pain, and a throbbing sting spreads through Max’s hand. Before Billy has time to react to what’s just happened, Max runs into her room and slams the door, locking it tight.

“Open this fucking door, Max! You know I’m right about them! You just don’t wanna see it! But you will! Once the cops go through all their shit, you’ll see how evil they really were!” Billy keeps it up, pounding his fist into the door. Max climbs onto her bed, pulling the covers over her head as fresh tears spring free. “You’ll see! And I’ll be right there to say ‘I told you so’! You’ll see them for what they were, just like everybody else has! Fucking freaks who needed to be put down! Savage animals who worshiped Satan! Do you hear me, Max? Do you?! You’ll fucking see!”

“Shut up. Shut up. It’s not true. It’s not. Shut up. It’s not true…” Max murmurs to herself over and over, covering her ears to block out the noise. She refuses to listen, she can’t let Billy’s words get to her. She can’t let the memories of Eddie and Y/N be soiled. Not by him, not by anyone. 

Jim spends the rest of the evening overseeing the processing of the scene, ensuring every piece of evidence is bagged and labeled, leaving no stone unturned in the entire apartment. He can’t leave anything to chance if he’s going to catch these sick fucks. Looking over every detail more closely has made it very clear that no singular person could be responsible for this level of carnage. Y/N’s body has been wheeled away by the coroner, but the bloody outline of her remains on the floor. Eddie’s own became a little muddied when he was taken to the hospital, smudges and smears leading where they ought not to. Disconnection, a word that rings in Hopper’s mind as he studies it.

He receives the call a short time before things wrap up for the night, Eddie didn’t make it. He barely made it into an operating room before the blood loss took him out. Hopper supposes it’s better that way. Rather than Eddie get all cut open and stitched up again, only to find out his wife is gone. He doubts the young man would’ve been able to cope with the loss, or anyone, for that matter. Jim certainly didn’t take the death of his own daughter very well, it’s one of many reasons why he ended up back in this podunk town. At least now, (Hopper hopes, anyway), the Munsons will be able to rest peacefully with one another, no longer subject to the unbridled hatred they faced from their so-called neighbors. He imagines them in a far happier place, speeding around on their motorcycle, blasting heavy metal from the portable stereo strapped to Y/N’s hip, riding down a long, winding road to that great big D&D campaign in the sky. If Jim hadn’t become rather disillusioned with religion, he could almost believe it. 

After Hopper has dismissed everyone, he stops by the corner store to pick up a six-pack to indulge in once he arrives home. He spends the short drive struggling to hold the anger and tears in, he’s already spent hours keeping up the stoic act that’s required of him. Add on top of  that the immense frustration that came from his lower officers besmirching the badge with their careless conduct tonight, and he’s about ready to punch a damn hole in the wall. The moment he makes it through the door to his place, tosses his hat and jacket to a chair in the corner, and sinks down onto his sofa, he can’t hold it back any longer. A choked sob escapes his trembling lips, a harsh breath sucked in right after it. His shaking hands fumble with one of the beers, struggling to push the tab open. When his finger slips a couple times too many, he drops the can onto the floor in defeat, his head falling forward into his hands. He cries softly, still hanging onto the idea that his manhood might be in jeopardy if he lets out the wails he’s got chained up inside. He just sits, eyes scrunched closed tight as tears spill from them, his chest heaving in thick, noiseless bellows as he mourns. 

In an odd way, he had become a bit of a father figure to the Munsons over the years. Neither of them had much in the way of loving homes, except for Eddie’s uncle Wayne. But the poor man worked a lot, leaving Eddie to fend for himself most of the time, though it wasn’t really his fault. Wayne provided everything he could for the boy, until cancer took him unexpectedly in ‘88. Shit, that day was sunshine and lollipops compared to this one. The preceding funeral was small, only attended by Eddie and Y/N, himself, and a few of Wayne’s coworkers from the plant. Eddie kept things short and sweet, just the way his uncle liked it. Afterwards, the three of them went to the Hideaway for a couple drinks. Hopper ignored Y/N’s use of a fake ID, given the circumstances, as well as being off-duty. There wasn’t a dry eye between them, though warm smiles graced their lips regardless as they recalled happy stories of Wayne through the years.

Hopper slowly wipes his hands down along his face once he gets ahold of himself. He picks up the dropped beer, surely it can’t blow up on him after sitting for so long. He cracks it open despite his tear-blurred vision, and chugs it down like bitter medicine to drown his sorrows. It warms his belly instantly, foaming up into a loud belch once he’s swallowed. He sighs, feeling just a little bit better. He supposes the rest of the pack should finish the job, at least for tonight. He sits back on the sofa, clicking the remote to the TV and hopes something is on this late. He grabs a second beer from the bundle. The hiss of the seal breaking seems to hush his thoughts, like a kind woman comforting his uneasy mind. The first sip is like a tender kiss, dizzying his head and warming his body up from the inside out. “Shit, I really need to get laid.” Hopper thinks aloud to himself, not exactly intending to put much effort into such a task. Oh well, nothing another sip couldn’t fix.

A few months earlier…

“We’ve got another one.” You say as you pick up what must be the fiftieth dead animal that’s been left outside the door to your apartment. It’s a pigeon this time. But you’ve found mice, squirrels, rats, frogs, a couple cats, and even a raccoon laid out for you in this very spot before. It’s been happening for months, both before the accusations leveled against you and Eddie, and even more so after.

“Shit, again?” Eddie sighs, scrunching his nose as you hold the pigeon by its feet. Its neck has been snapped, a dribble of blood coming from its beak. “That’s the third one this week.” He leaves you alone with it for a moment, retrieving a plastic bag from the kitchen. “And we’re the ones accused of hurting little critters like this one.” Eddie scoffs in frustration on his journey back to you. “Maybe we should call Hop again.” He offers as he holds the bag open for you to put the poor animal inside it.

“There’s no point, Eds. Even if they catch whoever is doing this, someone else will surely take their place.” You reply in resignation, letting the bird plop into the bag with a dull rustle. Eddie ties it off, the two of you going back to the kitchen. He tosses the pigeon in the trash, and you both wash your hands. You would bury the animals, out of respect, but living in an apartment doesn’t exactly allow for burial sites. Not to mention said animal cemetery would fill up pretty fucking quickly with how many new additions show up on your welcome mat.

“It would be better than doing nothing.” Eddie huffs, drying his hands with a towel.

“Let’s face it, love. This town hates us. Always has. Always will. If we get Hop involved, all it will do is show them that they’re getting to us. Then they win.” You reason, though it would be  untruthful to say the ongoing torture you’ve both endured isn’t getting to you. But the narrow-minded people of this town don’t need to know that. If anything, the intense urge to carry on out of spite drives you to keep the discomfort to yourself. Outside the walls of your own home, that is. 

Neither you or Eddie are strangers to torment. Even back in your school days, all kinds of nasty names would be thrown your way in the halls of Hawkins High. You’d found refuge in each other pretty quickly back then. You were a budding little freshman, and Eddie was a junior barely skating by in all his classes. From the moment your eyes met, you were both total goners. Eddie’s wild curls and boisterous attitude sent you careening head over heels, and your dark style dragged him down the same road right alongside you. Your shared love for metal music and all things nerdy deepened your connection, further weaving you together as a gleaming example of true love, soulmates. You got each other, when no one else did. 

Your bond has only grown stronger over the years, sturdy roots set in your hearts. You helped Eddie study when ‘86 was his last chance to graduate, which was quite a task in itself. Despite your rebellious style and interests, you’re quite the bookworm. You were patient with him, keeping him on track with sweet kisses and touches as ‘rewards’ for doing so well, among other things. In turn, he spoiled you to no end, taking you on sweet dates and presenting you with whatever new book you’d been eyeing lately. And you always had each other’s backs when bullies came your way. Silver tongues have served your mouths well, and a defensive punch on one another’s behalf didn’t hurt, either. 

And, until recently, your shared adult lives have been better than you ever imagined. You moved in together right after graduation, finally free from unfair curfews and sneaking in through bedroom windows. Eddie got himself straightened up, ending his dealing days and getting a job as a mechanic, while still mentoring the Hellfire club on the side. Meanwhile, you have quickly established yourself as the coolest librarian Hawkins has ever seen. The library has never had  such a wide selection of horror and fantasy, everything the kiddos love, despite their parents’ protests. They also happen to love you, for encouraging their curiosity and creativity.

When Eddie popped the question a couple years ago, you were over the moon. It was a beautiful Halloween Wedding, with you in a black gown as you stood at the altar with Eddie in a field littered with colorful leaves. Hopper was kind enough to officiate, and Wayne and all the kids you care so much about were in attendance. Your own parents refused their invite, having long-since rejected you for your ‘un-Christian ways’. So, Wayne did the honor of giving you away, which meant the world to you. The ceremony was short and sweet, and after some simple sandwiches and cake in the park, Eddie whisked you off in his arms to enjoy the perfect honeymoon at home. Nothing but fucking for a solid week straight, all of which was the ultimate mix of affectionate and wild. Neither of you would’ve had it any other way. Every single second of your entire relationship has felt like the easiest thing in the entire world, bringing you nothing but happiness.

What you’ve been subjected to lately, though, is far from easy. As has been said, you’re no stranger to mistreatment. You don’t get through life looking the way you do, liking the things you like, without earning a few dirty looks and unseemly comments. It comes with the territory. But the last few months are nothing you’d ever expected.The stares and verbal jabs are there, alright. But then there’s the graffiti on your front door, poorly drawn pentagrams and misspelled swears. The dead animals, delivered to your door numerous times a week. Broken mirrors on your shared motorcycle if it’s parked on the street a little too long. Books stolen from the library that you later find burned by the dumpsters out back. Calls for books to be outright banned and removed from the library due to ‘satanic or inappropriate material’, all of which have thankfully been dismissed by the Mayor and any other officials involved. Freedom of speech wins out, for once. Although it doesn’t mean much, when everything has only escalated since the Pete Howell incident.

Pete Howell was a freshman member of Eddie’s Hellfire Club, a sweet young kid who has a similar homelife to your own. Unloving parents, who usually don’t pay much attention to him…unless he’s in trouble. They’re far more attentive then, so to speak. That’s how this whole thing started. Pete came to school last month with far more bruises than usual, ones he couldn’t write off as clumsy mishaps. When questioned by teachers, and Eddie, he vehemently denied anyone did anything to him. He said he ‘fell going down the stairs’ and would be fine. Knowing that was clearly bullshit, Eddie did the right thing and asked Hopper to look into it. 

Someone must’ve tipped off Mr. and Mrs. Howell that he was coming, because by the time he knocked on their door, they had the whole story cooked up for him. They claimed that Eddie had brought him to your apartment after a D&D session, and the two of you made him engage in all sorts of vile acts. Ritual sacrifice, spellcasting, and various sexual activities as a means to summon the devil. Hopper didn’t buy a word of it, he knows you both far too well to think you’d ever be capable of such a thing. 

To be properly thorough, he had a doctor check Pete out, ask him more questions. While there was no evidence of sexual abuse, Pete started singing a far more zealous tune than he was before. He screamed bloody murder about all the evil things you’d done to him, how scared he was, how much you hurt him. It made you sick to your stomach when Hopper came around to warn you that he had no choice in searching your place for evidence. To think that anyone would accuse you or Eddie of doing such disgusting things, it sent your heart sinking like a stone in your chest. In order to clear up this ridiculous matter, you allowed the police to go through all your belongings, and answered every single question they asked. Hopper thankfully kept the reporters at bay, but it didn’t take long for the populace at large to spread the rumors like wildfire. 

The couple of weeks during the investigation were absolute hell. You could barely leave the apartment without a police escort, and whichever officer you were assigned at the time seemed less than enthused to assist you. When you did dare to step outside, cameras were on you immediately, as well as a sea of recognizable faces shouting and screaming at you. Calling you a whore of the devil, a witch, a monster, saying similar things to Eddie as well. These were people you’d known your entire life, and they turned on you with very little resistance. The fanatical preachers, trashy tabloids and exaggerated news stories breaking out across the country certainly didn’t help. 

When you and Eddie were finally cleared of any wrongdoing, things only got worse. There were demands for Hopper’s badge, or his head, as well as yours. What they did get was Eddie’s banishment from school property. ‘To be on the safe side’, as Principal Higgins put it. Pete has stuck to his story since then, you imagine under threat of being beaten even harder next time. You don’t blame him, he’s just a scared, hurt child. His parents have garnered mountains of support from the community, who have come together in an effort to drive you and Eddie out of town, by any means necessary. Threatening phone calls at all hours and vulgar letters slipped under your door have joined the mix now, to a point where you’ve left the phone unplugged, and taped the bottom of your front door to prevent the letters from fitting under it. You often have nightmares of people breaking into the apartment, and hurting you or Eddie. It’s become difficult to get much sleep, without Eddie having to hold you close and coo sweet nothings as you cry. It makes you feel like you’re going insane at times, your mind left searching as to how people who once seemed rational could act in such a way. Satan is on everyone’s mind these days, and their devil detectors are now permanently poised directly at you. 

“I’m just so tired of being scared all the time. I worry about you every time you walk out that door, or when I do. I'm afraid that one day, one of us might not make it back at night.” You find yourself breaking down again, tears welling and lips trembling. You turn away, frustrated with losing what little control you have left. You ball your fists at your sides as you choke on anguished sobs. Eddie’s arms wrap around your middle as your eyes squeeze shut, his chest meeting your back with a welcome warmth.

“I’m scared too, sweetheart. Every time I drop you off at work, I spend every second hoping I don’t get a call or visit from Hop at the shop.” Eddie says softly, holding back his own tears. His hands find yours, loosening the knotted knuckles. He slowly makes you face him, his heart breaking at the redness of your face, the hopeless expression it carries. It kills him that he can’t do more for you, to protect you. He’s suggested buying a gun a couple of times, but you always refuse. He’s not exactly a fan either, but what else can he do? He intertwines his fingers with your own, keeping you close. “All we can hope for is that this will all blow over soon. Then we won’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know, love. I just wonder how long they’ll keep it up.” You reply, sounding utterly defeated.

“They’re bound to get tired of it eventually. Until then, we’ve got each other. We’ll be okay, angel.” Eddie assures you, pulling you further into his arms.

You sigh, welcoming his embrace. “I really hope you’re right, babe. Not sure how much more of this I can take.” You press your cheek into his chest, unable to quell the ever-growing uneasiness brewing inside you.

October 31, 1991

“We’ve got them all set up for you, Chief. Whenever you’re ready.” Powell says as Hopper steps out of his office, having sent the cavalry to pick up a certain group of young men who sit at the top of his suspect list.

“Perfect. I’ll start with Hargrove.” Hopper smiles, chugging the rest of his black coffee, handing the mug off to Callahan. I’m gonna enjoy this, he thinks to himself as Powell leads him to the interrogation room. Their footsteps land on the linoleum with purpose, closing the distance between him and where the suspected ringleader in all this is being held. Jim sincerely hopes Billy gives him a good reason to manhandle him a little bit, some well-earned payback for what he’s done. His fist balls up of its own volition at the thought, his fingernails nearly drawing blood as they press into his palm. He closes his eyes and takes a very deep breath once he and Powell reach the door, letting it out nice and slow like his officially-mandated therapist showed him. 

“You good, Chief?” Powell asks, his hand trained on the doorknob as he awaits Hopper’s go-ahead.

“Never better.” Jim opens his eyes again, nodding to the officer. “Let’s do it.” With that, Powell opens the door, stepping inside with Hopper right behind him. “Know why you’re here, kid?” He asks Billy, not wasting any time. The young man is sitting in a stiff chair on one side of the table in the room, legs spread wide in tight blue jeans. A matching jacket rests over the back of the chair, leaving him in a ratty old t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscles and tattoos.

“Not a clue.” Billy bites, crossing his thick arms. “Mind filling me in?” He asks with a smirk, adjusting in his seat. There’s not a lick of fear struck within him, only annoyance. As if being questioned about a serious crime is only a minor inconvenience to his day. Hopper has brought him in here many times before, but usually for far more petty things. He’d like to think any normal person would be at least a little bit nervous in this scenario. The completely unbothered demeanor Hargrove holds sends a chill scurrying up his spine.

“No problem.” Hopper grins back, already forgetting all the anger management techniques Linda has shown him. He drops a manila folder onto the table, opening it to face Billy. “As you know, Eddie and Y/N Munson were murdered last night in their apartment. Pretty gruesomely, if I might add.” Jim spreads the crime scene photos out across the table, letting the kid have a good long look, searching for a reaction. But Billy’s eyes barely flick down for a glance, deepening the unsettling feeling in Hopper’s stomach. 

“What’s that gotta do with me?” Billy asks, shrugging his shoulders. His lip is fixed stiff, eyebrows drawn downward to evoke confusion. But Hopper isn’t buying it.

“Why don’t you tell me? Where were you last night?” Jim asks.

“I was out with friends.” Billy answers coldly.

“Which friends?” Hopper continues, hoping to make the kid slip up in his quick succession of questions. The method usually works out pretty well for him.

“Tommy, Steve, and Jason.” Billy answers just as quickly, his eyes barely blinking as he keeps up just fine. 

“And what were the four of you doing?” Hopper questions.

“Drinking beers, hanging out.” The young man responds.

“And what time was this?” 

“I dunno, man. All night, probably?” There it is, a flash of uncertainty. Hopper can use that.

“Probably? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.” Jim smiles, hoping whatever lies Billy’s got lined up will start to crumble.

“Do I look like I wear a watch? I don’t know how long it went on for. But we stayed at Steve’s all night, our girls were there, too. You can ask them.” Billy snaps, losing that cool, calculating exterior.

“Oh, you bet I will.” Hopper chuckles, feeling a little too much satisfaction at making the kid crack just a bit. It’s the small victories that matter in life, after all. If he keeps at it, with the other boys, too, he’s almost certain he can nail them for this. “You wanna know what I think?” Jim asks, hoping to goad a few more mistakes out of Billy before taking a run at the other three.

“What?” Billy scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Hopper stands up, leaning as far over the table as he can reach. His face sits centimeters away from Billy’s, and the proximity seems to shake the kid up just the tiniest bit more. “I think you and your psychopathic little friends were real upset when I found no evidence of the Munsons doing what everyone claims they did. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. They certainly suffered enough harassment and threats. Someone was bound to get fed up pussy-footin’ around and do what everybody in this town has wanted to. I think you rounded up your boys, and finished the job. I think you broke into the Munson’s home, you tortured them, and then you killed them. That’s what I think.” Jim resists the urge to spit in the young man’s face, backing off and sitting down in his chair.

Billy sits with the accusation for a moment, before bursting out laughing. It’s certainly not the reaction Hopper was expecting. “That’s quite a theory you got there, Chief!” He hollers, pounding his fist on the table as if he’s just been told the funniest joke in the entire world. “You’ve got a real sick sense of humor, I like it.” He chuckles as he calms himself down. Deep red amusement colors his cheeks and throat. “Too bad you can never prove it.” He sighs loudly, pretending to be disappointed. “Like I said, I was with my boys, and my lady, havin’ some drinks. I’d tell ya more, but I doubt you wanna hear the details of my sex life.” He laughs callously, before continuing. “Now, even if I did kill those freaks, I doubt anyone will miss them.” His smile grows a little, revealing the joy in his words. “We all know what they were, what they were capable of.” He speaks slowly, baiting Hopper into losing his cool. 

“And what would that be?” Jim asks, daring the little fucker to say another word about them.

“They were a couple of evil devil worshippers, posing a threat to this community! A community you’re meant to be protecting, Hopper!” Billy shouts as he stands, his chair sliding back. “You know what that witch bitch and her faggot husband did to Pete Howell! And you did nothing about it!”

“I did my job.” Hopper bellows back, getting to his feet. “I searched their apartment, I made them feel like criminals to put this ignorant town at ease! I had Pete checked out! I did everything I was supposed to, you insolent fuck! I couldn’t find a damn thing to back up this bullshit you and everybody else continue to spew all over the place!” His voice raises more and more with every sentence. 

“Chief.” Powell says quietly, hoping to get his boss’s attention. But Hopper pays him no mind. In fact, he goes around the table to get at Billy, quickly leading him backwards by the collar to slam into the wall.

“They were good people! They never hurt anyone! Even in the face of all this hatred you hurled at them, they still managed to be kind! Which is more than I can say for you, or anyone else in this godforsaken town!” Jim shouts in the young man’s face, earning no reaction besides that same stupidly smug smirk. He breathes heavily, still gripping Billy’s shirt in his hands.

“I’d like my lawyer now.” Billy says coolly, having lured Hopper right into his trap. He’s aware of the close relationship the Chief had with the Munsons, so it was easy enough to exploit. No way a judge will convict him now, not after the investigating officers have gotten physical with him. Add on his rock-solid alibi, and he probably won’t even see any charges. 

“Fuck.” Hopper sighs, his head falling to look at the floor once he realizes what he’s done. He can kiss justice for Eddie and Y/N goodbye. His hands slowly release Billy’s shirt, and he turns away to have a fucking breather before he goes for his next opponent. 

The other young men provide the same story to Hopper, asking for lawyers shortly after their almost identical retellings. Things were already not looking good after his outburst earlier, and it’s only getting worse as the night wears on. As predicted, the ‘girls’ in question for the alibi 一Nancy Wheeler, Carol Perkins, Vicki Carmichael, and Tina Johnson一 all corroborate Billy’s tale. The lawyers and parents give him an earful or two, and he’s left with four empty interrogation rooms and no arrests by the end of his shift. He goes home feeling even worse than he did yesterday, picking up two six-packs on the way home this time. Time will tell if he’s ever able to recover from this, but as one of Y/N’s gag oracles would say: ‘outlook not so good’.

October 30th, 1992

Inky clouds flood the night sky as the hour grows late, small blooms of light from the full moon willfully piercing the thick blanket in defiance. Max sits cross-legged before Y/N’s grave in Roane County Cemetery, scrubbing red spray-painted graffiti from it with a soapy sponge. She dips the sponge in a bucket beside her to refresh it, ignoring the knot tied up inside her at what the defacement says. ‘Burn in Hell Bitch’. An accompanying message still sits untainted on Eddie’s, ‘Burn in Hell Fag’.

“They could’ve at least bothered to put the commas in.” A low voice speaks from behind Max, startling her. She turns around, finding Hopper standing a couple feet away. He wears a sad smile beneath his wide-brimmed hat, coming closer to her. “Want some help?” He asks, groaning slightly as he joins her on the moist grass.

“Yeah.” Max replies, nodding. “Thanks.” She reaches into the bucket, handing him the sopping piece of foam. “I swear, every time I clean this shit off, someone comes along and puts something else in its place. I’m sick of it.” She expresses her frustration, feeling free to do so in Hopper’s presence.

“You and me both, kid. But I’m sure the Munsons appreciate you lookin’ after them.” Jim says, rubbing away at the ‘F’ on Eddie’s headstone. 

“I can’t believe it’s already been a year.” Max says sadly, low roars of thunder rumbling through the clouds above.

“Me either.” Hopper sighs, scraping a little harder now. It’s the least he can do, given how miserably he failed at catching the killers. He’s barely been by to visit since the funeral, too twisted up with guilt to bear looking at these very stones. The epitaphs are simple, yet capture exactly who the Munsons were. ‘Loving Wife (or Husband), Caring Friend, and Free Spirit’. 

Hopper remembers being tasked with handling their final arrangements, no living kin of theirs was interested in doing so. He allowed Max to help a little, choosing flowers and program designs. Small stuff, so Hopper himself could handle the hard part. Like selecting coffins, and deciding what these very graves would say to whoever may visit them. Max picked black dahlias, Y/N’s favorite. Jim also let her inside the apartment once the mess was cleaned up to find clothes for them to be buried in. He initially worried if it would’ve been too morbid for such a young girl, but she knew them well enough to select exactly what they would’ve wanted. A sleek black leather dress for Y/N, and a nice black shirt and clean matching jeans for Eddie. Hopper even made sure their wedding bands were released from evidence, and any other significant pieces Max could think of. He didn’t want to leave them incomplete before they were laid to rest. No one at the station seemed to mind, having already washed their hands of the case before the ground could break to bury the Munsons.

The funeral itself was a small affair. Only Hopper, Max, a non-denominational minister, and the few kids in town who weren’t banned from going were in attendance. The proceedings were peaceful, though, thankfully free from any protesters. Everything was kept short and sweet, the way the Munsons would have wanted it. Jim doubts they would’ve cared for a drawn-out sobfest, quite the opposite. They would’ve wanted whoever cared to show up to remember them as they were. Two sweet, loving, hilarious, eccentric, beautiful people who made the world so much brighter just by existing in it. So, that’s what he did. When the bodies were lowered into the ground, Hopper walked the kids to the ice cream shop, and everyone took turns telling their favorite memories of their lost friends. There were lots of laughs and tears, leaving the day feeling unbearably bittersweet. Just the way Y/N and Eddie wanted it to be.

“Is it weird that I talk to them sometimes?” Max asks, breaking the silence. She doesn’t look at Jim, worried he may judge her.

“Not at all. I used to talk to my Sarah sometimes.” Hopper says, dipping his sponge in the bucket. “She was my little girl…” He trails off, wondering how much he should tell her. “She got sick, and we did everything we could for her. But it wasn’t enough.” He adds, letting out a low sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Max says, looking at him now. 

“Don’t be, it was a long time ago.” He shakes his head, forcing a smile as he returns to scrubbing. 

The two of them keep going until all the offending red is washed away, leaving Y/N and Eddie looking spotless once again. They speak casually, passing the time in one another’s company, ignoring the flashes of lightning that periodically screech across the sky. Max dumps the bucket out once the work is done, wringing the sponges out thoroughly. “Mind giving me a ride home? Looks like it’s gonna rain.” She asks, peering up uneasily at the stormclouds. 

“Sure, kid. I’ll even get you some grub on the way.” Hopper agrees, taking hold of the bucket to carry it for her.

“BK?” She asks hopefully, pouting her lower lip out.

“You got it.” Hopper chuckles, finding a smidge of Sarah in Max’s feigned puppy eyes. “C’mon, we’d better beat this rain.” He takes her hand in his free one, and they walk together out of the cemetery just as the first drops start to fall.

The clouds grow thicker, claps of thunder and strikes of lightning clashing in the sky like a raging battle of the gods is taking place. A lone crow flies overhead the newly cleaned headstones, its caw barely audible over the storm. It lands on Y/N’s grave as the rain begins to pour in curtains, ruffling its shiny feathers, pecking at the newly-washed stone with its obsidian beak. It lets out another caw, tilting its head side to side in curiosity as it peers at the ground. A booming rumble breaks through the air, followed by a bright white streak of lightning piercing the earth where the woman lies resting. The crow caws again, and the ground begins to groan and wheeze as it shifts. Bulging rolls form beneath the green grass, rippling in thick waves. 

The bird makes its call one final time, a crack suddenly splitting the earth open in a tangled mess of dirt and roots. A puddle quickly pools in the hole, mud sliding down inwards. And a twitching hand springs up out of the grave, clawing for purchase on the slick edge of the rift with black painted fingernails.

To Be Continued…

[munsonsmixtapes]

Sew Far, Sew Good

model!Eddie x fem!fashion designer!reader

summary: your designs are finally being showcased in a magazine, but it turns out that you slept with the model the night before

cw: MDNI (18+) backseat make out session, Eddie sucks on readers tits, reader receives a hickey

Not proofread!

You entered the building, nerves building up in your stomach. You were so excited but nervous to finally see your designs on someone who wasn’t yourself or one of your friends. The rumor was that they had actually gotten Eddie Munson to do it and you couldn’t have been more honored to have the biggest male model wear your clothes.

You greeted everyone you passed and they all returned warm smiles as you headed towards where you needed to be. The place was packed and it seemed like they all had a job to do which made you feel better than everything that was being done was for you and your photo shoot.

After looping around in a circle and asking for multiple directions, you finally got where you had been instructed to go and Wren, the photographer rushed towards you with open arms. Thank god, someone who was a hugger.

“There she is!” She smiled and pulled you into a tight hug has if you had been old friends and you took it, grateful for the gesture.

“Hey!” You greeted, pulling away. “I’m not late am I?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?” How could it be both?

“Yes, technically, but no because the model isn’t even here.” Of course.

“He’s not?” You didn’t know why you were surprised. He had a very bad reputation including being late to everything including thing like being late to his job where he was getting paid.

“No, he’s not. He’s in his way, but I heard that he was out late last night.” Another thing was that he was almost always getting drunk, even the night before a shoot. What a walking stereotype.

You were about to panic when someone bumped into you, causing you to spill the coffee you were holding. The brown liquid spread all over the floor and you just stood there, making no move to clean it up. You were moved out of the way as someone came with a roll of paper towels to clean up the mess.

You turned around to see who you had run into and you gasped. It was the guy who you had hooked up with the night before. He was the model?? He was Eddie Munson? You couldn’t blame yourself for not recognizing him since both the bar and his apartment had very low lighting. And the beard he had been sporting had been shaved, making him look much younger than he was.

“What are you doing here?” You asked at the same time.

“You’re wearing my designs,” you answered.

“And I’m the model.” Right, of course. You knew that. But everything was starting to feel like something out of a movie. Of course the one time you intend on having a one night stand, it turned out that you were going to be working together.

“You lied to me.” You crossed your arms over your chest and he mimicked your actions, forming his eyes into a glare.

“How?”

“You said your name was Ed.” You felt ridiculous for calling him for something as silly as that, but you just felt like you should have been upset.

“It’s a nickname for Eddie so it wasn’t a lie. And you’re one to talk, you said your name was Daisy.” You supposed you couldn’t blame him for that one, but you only did that for your safety.

“Because I’ve learned to not give people my real name because they get a little crazy.” Eddie only scoffed at that.

“I’d hate to break up this reunion, but we’re running behind, so can we get this started?” Wren interrupted. You turned to her, suddenly remembering why you were there. This was way more important than some stupid spat with someone you didn’t even know.

Eddie was pulled off to wardrobe and you just stood there, seeing that Wren was talking to you, but not hearing the words that were coming out of her mouth. You were too in shock. You didn’t know why, but it was surprising. Out of all the losers you had been with, you had finally gotten someone who had made a name for himself.

All of a sudden, you were being led to wardrobe because they wanted your input on the outfits Eddie was going to be put in and you put on a smile, trying your best to forget the events of the night before. You could still hear Eddie’s moans, his mouth licking and sucking on your cunt, the way he fucked you senseless until you were sure that you couldn’t walk.

The head of the department showed you the rack and let you pick what you wanted Eddie to wear for the first set of photos. You settled on your favorite. It was a black suit covered in black sequins that took you fucking hours to do and it made everyone who had tried it on look like a dream.

You turned away as the woman helped Eddie into the suit even though you were sure that he wouldn’t have minded and the fact that you had seen all of him only hours before. But this was a professional setting and you both needed to be as such even though it was not professional in the slightest to sleep with people you were working with.

Once Eddie was dressed, you turned back around and your eyes lit up. You were convinced that he was able to pull off anything and it was almost unfair. The suit fit like a glove, almost as if he was made for him. It looked so good and you were eager to see what it looked like with the hair and makeup that had yet to be done.

You headed back to the shoot area and waited for Eddie to be ready. Over time, your anger at each other had dissipated and your attraction had only grown. There was something about seeing him in the stuff that you designed made you wet.

He emerged from hair and makeup and you were sure that your underwear couldn’t get any more damp. His hair was teased in a messy look and black eyeshadow was packed into his eyelids with eyeliner lining his waterline.

He moved to the backdrop and Wren headed over to the camera to get things started. Watching Eddie pose, it was clear why he had become such a big name in the industry. He was a natural and it was obvious that the camera loved him.

And he was so complimentary, letting you know exactly how much he loved every single article of clothing. You didn’t even care if he was just trying to flatter you, you were so close to letting him take everything home. It had been collecting dust in your closet anyway.

No wonder everyone was so impressed by him. Maybe the rumors were all untrue. Sure, he had been late, but he had more than made up for it for his behavior. He was so nice to everyone working on the shoot, thanking them for their work and making them laugh.

After a long day and multiple outfits later, the shoot was over and you and Eddie gushed over the photos. His hand rested on your back as he whispered in your ear, being nothing but sweet, telling how much he liked the outfits. So, that was how he ended up taking them all home, promising to wear them any chance he got.

So, the two of you left the building hand in hand, feeling good with the results of the shoot and you lingered at his car, neither one of you wanting to be the one to say goodbye first. You couldn’t. Not when he looked so fucking hot in his makeup, the red lipstick and gloss making his lips so much more inviting. Not when he had a perfectly good backseat that both of you could fit in.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pressed your lips to his roughly, Eddie taking no time to respond to it, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulders while the other rested against your back. You were both so desperate for each other, wanting to take whatever you could. Your hands went to his jaw, moving his head so you could have more access to his mouth as you licked into it.

He pushed you against the car and brought your tongue between his lips and gave it a suck which caused you to let out a whimper which caused a tent to form in his pants. He had wanted to hear that sound since you had made it the night before, the exact noise had been ringing in his ears ever since.

Eddie gave your tongue one more suck which elicited a moan from you, causing him to pull away before opening the door to the backseat. You nodded and slid across the seat, him following you before slamming the door closed. You both kicked off your socks and shoes and Eddie unbuttoned your shirt as he laid you down in the backseat.

“No bra, hm? How scandalous.”

“Left it at your place remember?” He did remember. The lacy thing was still on the floor of his room. “It doesn’t matter, though anyway. It’ll just slow it down.”His lips immediately went to your chest as he gave your tits some love, licking and sucking your nipples, just as he did the night before.

“God, I love your tits,” he said, his breathing labored and his voice raspy. He was so hot that it was almost unfair. He mouth was on your nipple again as he licked and sucked again, warming you up before he brought the thing between his teeth giving it a pull.

“Oh, my god,” you moaned and he bit down harder, loving to hear the sounds that escaped your lips. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing.”

“I remember what you like,” he winked and move onto your other nipple, pulling it between his teeth and biting down the hardest that he could without actually hurting you. He kissed his way down to your stomach and you thought he was going to pull off your pants, but he didn’t. He just moved his way back before attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

He licked into your mouth and you wrapped your mouth around it, giving it a suck. He whimpered at the sensation then quickly pulled away, giving you a glare.

“Hey,” he whined. “That’s my move.”

“You’re just mad that I do it better than you.” You did, you really did. He’d let you steal his moves any time.

“Oh, honey, you do everything better than me,” he winked and pulled off his shirt before pressing his lips to yours again, softer this time.

He put his full weight on top of you, his hands grabbing onto yours, intertwining your fingers together. His lips were so soft despite them being chapped and they tasted just as good as they did the night before with the mixture of tobacco and mint. How that combination tasted so good, you had no idea.

Eddie kissed you until you both were breathless and his lips moved down to your neck and he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the skin before giving it a gentle suck, just light enough for you to let out a gasp. Eddie then sucked a little harder and you moaned, maybe a little too loudly, but he was eating it up.

He loved your moans. They were always an indicator that he was doing things right. He has slept with more women he could count, but none of them had ever been as enthusiastic as you had, not even with making out with him. They were all just eager for his dick, but he had admired that you were different from them.

His teeth grazed the sensitive spot and you moaned even louder, his dick getting even harder at the sound. You felt it against you and your pussy got even more wet at the thought of him getting inside you, but you didn’t have it in you at the moment.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned and he took that as an invitation to continue, letting his teeth slide against the sensitive spot even harder. “So good.”

He gave the spot another suck, this one, the hardest hi could manage and your hands moved to his back, digging your fingers into the skin. As he licked and sucked, you continued to moan, eventually scratching up and down his back and he was loving it.

Once he felt like he marked you up enough, he pulled you into another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than all of the others. His lips moved against yours, as if he had all the time in the word as his head moved this way and that, wanting to reach every part of your lips that he could.

Eddie then pulled away, the two of you breathing heavily and looked down at you, still loving the way you looked with his lipstick smeared all over you. He’d definitely have to do that more often. That was, if you’d give him another chance. Maybe he’d take you on a date. And maybe if that date went well, he’d be able to call you his girlfriend. He would’ve liked that. He would have liked that a lot.

He laid his head on your chest and your hands moved up to his hair, scratching his head. Maybe if you had played your card right, he’d give you another chance. Maybe he’d take you on a date. And maybe if that date went well, you’d be able to call him your boyfriend. You would’ve liked that. You would have liked that a lot.