#Steve Bundy

[pookiestheoneliveson]

Steve Bundy

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Taos, NM following the season's first significant snow fall. Photo: Steve Bundy (Nov 5, 2022)  :: [Scott Horton]

HanShan Monk Flute Melody (寒山僧踪)

"The mountains are so cold not just now but every year crowded ridges breathe in snow sunless forests breathe out mist nothing grows until Grain Ears leaves fall before Autumn Begins a lost traveler here looks in vain for the sky" 

- Zen Hermit Hanshan (9th Century AD), The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain (by Red Pine, 2000), p39)

[Red Pine (translator) :: Bill Porter (author)]

[doctorpandorica]

I had to post this because, when I saw this my immediate reaction was,

"Why the fuck are Steve Carrell and Jon Stewart taking a picture with Ted Bundy?"

And I didn't know where else to post this. I mean, Holy Shit

[gemstarstarlight]

If I have learned anything in life, it’s that the Single Handsome Boy who does Bad Things will be adored.

Regardless of morality or level of Bad Things.

I think I want to call it The Ted Bundy Precedent.

[rastgelebiadam]

The way Married with children fandom is infested with, I hate to say the word but, boomers who hate their wife and life really kills the discourse. There is like ten people here anyway, seven of them are boomers.

[classicprowrestling]

King Kong Bundy & One Man Gang vs Dr. Death Steve Williams & Jim Duggan - 1983

[justmeinadaze]

Inescapable: Letters (Steddie X You)

A/N: I give you treat my dear friends. A glimpse into inmate Steddie. I'm going to write a full story but for some reason the idea of them writing back and forth burned into my brain. Think of this as a prequel so to speak.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Older (Early 30s) Prisoner Steddie & Young (Early 20s) Fem college student Y/N, Everything is in letter format. Mentions of smut, some dirty talk, angst (because I'm me), both men were convicted even though they are innocent, near the end we get some glimpses of toxic behavior, Jealous Steddie <3, cliffhanger esc ending.

Word Count: 2918

"You can build a prison of stone and steel, but you merely present the prisoner with a challenge. Any truly determined man will find a way out but love, love is the perfect prison. Inescapable."-- Wilson Fisk (Daredevil)

July 1996

Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington, 

I know you don’t know me but my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a student here at Hawkins University. I’m supposed to be doing a project for my criminal justice class and with your permission I’d like to do it on you. 

I’m working towards getting my law degree and so many kids in my class are doing theirs on people like Bundy or Gacy. How does that help teach them? I’ve done research on your case and I feel like you both are innocent. Add in the fact that the judge wanted to make “an example” out of you two… it’s ridiculous. 

Neither of you had a prior history of violence and Mr. Harrington, your parents are prominent members of Hawkins! UGH! I just don’t get it. 

Sorry. I went off on a bit of a tangent there… I just hate how you both were treated. 

If you don’t want me to utilize your case for my class I’ll completely understand. If you don’t respond I’ll take that as a no as well. 

Thank you,

--Y/N.

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

July 1996,

Sweetheart,

You have no idea how good it made us feel to have someone reach out to us, let alone agree that we are innocent. Society forgot about us a while ago but thankfully Steve and I have each other. 

And now you we hope : ). 

We have no problem with you doing your project on our case. What do you need from us? Details I imagine but what else? Are we allowed to know more about you? We know your name is Y/N, you’re a law student, and judging by the intoxicating scent that wafted when we opened your letter you smell really fucking good. 

Please feel free to be open with us.  We’re nice guys we swear.

-Eddie

Y/N,

I hope Eddie didn’t come off too strong with his letter. I told him we need to be respectful but like he said people kind of forgot about us. It’s nice to feel appreciated. 

We have no problem with you using us on your project and you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. I understand that talking to someone in our circumstances can be a bit scary especially for a young lady like you. 

Are you only going to be speaking with us or do you need to talk to our families to? My parents gave up on me after I was found guilty so they probably won’t be much help. Eddie’s uncle Wayne Munson is a nice guy. You can tell him we sent you and he’ll answer your questions. We also have some friends people who were around the time we were arrested who can help to. 

We look forward to hearing from you, 

-Steve

P.S. You can call us Steve and Eddie. We already feel old enough : )

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

July 1996

Eddie & Steve, 

Thank you so much! You have no idea how important this is to me. I don’t just want to do this for my class but I’d like to use this case for my graduation project as well. But we don’t have to think about that now. I barely like to think that far ahead so I use the excuse of that is two years away. 

Eddie didn’t come on too strong : ).

I AM a law student and a sophomore at Hawkins U. I’ll be 21 in a few months so I can finally move up to being a bartender at the restaurant I work at. College is expensive but soon it will be worth it. I’m attaching a picture with the letter just so you have an image of who you’re talking to. 

Growing up I heard all about you two. Hawkins High used to have your Hellfire Club, Eddie, but they disbanded it a couple of years before I graduated. The parents said they didn’t think it was right for their kids to belong to a club created by someone such as yourself. Since Dustin Henderson wasn’t there to advocate for you guys anymore…

I don’t have to reach out or talk to anyone you don’t want me to. I know most of the people involved in your case aren’t even in Hawkins anymore. 

I’m so sorry. It must be hard having everyone you know disappear. 

My parents aren’t exactly fans of my chosen profession. My mom hates lawyers since her divorce lawyer wasn’t able to get her more alimony from my father and my dad is cop so enough said hahaha!

I’ve been with my boyfriend for a few months. He’s a film major and keeps begging me to allow him to do an interview with you two. I keep telling him no. You’re people not circus animals. 

Let’s start with you two telling me whatever makes you comfortable in regard to your case!

-Y/N

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

December 1996,

Sweetheart,

Merry Christmas! 

Did Wayne give you the presents we bought you? My uncle said it’s important for college girls especially soon to be lawyers to have tape recorders. I’d love to hear if you liked it and if you can use it in your classes. 

It’s been a couple of days since you called. I hope everything is alright. We miss the sound of your voice…

Y/N, I know I can come off a bit forward but I hope I didn’t scare you away by talking to you the way I did during our last conversation. I can’t help it, you know? You’re just so gorgeous and you’ve been so good to us that my brain promptly goes into flirtation mode. 

Anyway, yeah, I want to hear how your Christmas went and if Derek’s family was good to you.

-Eddie

Honey, 

Merry Christmas! 

Ed forgot to mention that we did get your gifts and are incredibly thankful for the books. Since I was arrested I’ve opened my mind when it comes to reading and Munson’s fantasy books at least take me away mentally to a different world. 

He’s right by the way… you are incredibly beautiful. 

Would you be open to seeing us in person? 

Just a nice friendly visit where we can talk about your project and get to know you more. 

If not we completely understand.

-Steve

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

February 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

I’m sorry I haven’t come by or answered the phone. After our last visit, I just…

I love Derek but I care about you both so much. When you kissed me We have to keep this professional. Not just because of my boyfriend but because I’m studying to be a lawyer. How would it look if I fell in love started a relationship with inmates I’m working with?

Please understand.

-Y/N

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

February 1997

Sweetheart,

We understand but you have to also understand that we’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so kind and beautiful. You listen to what we have to say and actually care about us. I can still feel your lips against mine and nothing in my life has ever tasted as sweet. 

Can you still feel me, princess?

For the first time in almost 11 years, I actually have some hope. 

Does he make you feel like we do, honey? Your heavy breath against my mouth when I kissed you tells me no. I know we’re trapped here for the next 14 years but, baby, we can still take care of you. We just have to be a bit imaginative with certain things but….

No one has to know, baby, not even Derek. 

-Steve & Eddie

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

February 1997

Baby, 

Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how hearing you touch yourself over the phone got us going. If we could have private phones we would have stroked our cocks for you so you could hear how much you turn us on.

I can still hear your heavy pants in my ear while you fucked your fingers. 

I’m playing with myself right now at the thought of how tight that young little pussy is. Fuck… picturing those sexy hips slam against me as you ride my dick. Do you like it rough or nice and slow? Delicate, just like you, pretty girl. 

Shit. I just came so hard. 

Would you let Steve and I fill you up? Make you really ours?

I wish we could fall asleep with you between us. I’d give anything to hold you in my arms and play with your hair. 

Can’t wait to see you again, princess. 

-Eddie.

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

April 1997

Honey, 

How did your test go for your class? I’m sorry we weren’t more helpful but I’m glad you brought your stuff to show us what you’ve been working on. It makes us so happy to see you working so hard and achieving your dreams. You deserve all the good things in this world. 

I’ve been thinking about you since we last saw you. Aren’t you glad now you wore that sexy skirt?

God, I can still smell you on my fingers. I loved feeling you cling to my arm as I thrust them into your tight little cunt. We have to work on silencing those moans a bit more : ).

I keep having dreams about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock just looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes while I fuck your throat. 

Do you think about us? Tell us all your fantasies, baby. 

We love you. 

-Steve

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

April 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

You are such bad boys, you know that? I like it though…

Sometimes when I’m writing to you, Derek will walk by and I feel naughty but giddy. I’m doing something I definitely shouldn’t be doing. When we have sex, I don’t see him anymore. 

I just see you two. 

I wish I could take care of you the way you do me. I want to feel you both inside of me, stretching me open. I want to choke on Steve’s cock and ride Eddie till I can’t walk. I want to feel you both cum inside me and make me yours. 

I love you to…so much… 

I hate to ask this after everything but Derek would like to film you guys for his project. I’ll be there to so you won’t be alone with him and I can use the footage when I start working on my graduation project later down the line. 

After everything, if you don’t want to I completely understand. 

I’ll call you both tomorrow. 

-Y/N

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

May 1997

Please, 

I’m so sorry! The prison said you aren’t allow visits for the next month after what happened and you aren’t taking my calls. 

I didn’t know those were the questions he was going to ask you, I swear. 

After the stupid bullshit he pulled, I broke up with him and kicked him out of our apartment. 

I know you both are innocent and I don’t feel the same way he does. 

I love you so much. 

-Y/N

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

May 1997,

Don’t break up with him. He’s right. We’re fucking criminals and—

Y/N,

Eddie is still upset but we do believe that you didn’t know he was going to blind side us. We just needed some time to compose ourselves. The questions Derek asked about those kids, Nancy, and then seeing him kissing you when we walked in just fucking… It was too much. 

Add in the fact that he made some points, you know?

By the time, we get out of here we’ll be in our late 40’s essentially starting over. It’s going to be so hard for us to get a job and other things like a house or a car. People will always look down on us for something we didn’t do but they believe we did. 

You’re going to be this badass attorney with men your age groveling at your high heeled feet to give you the world. 

We’re scared about dragging you down with us. You deserve the world, baby girl.

Just give us a bit more time, ok? During this time, I want you to think about if being with us is the life you really want. Really think about it, Y/N. 

We love you to… no matter what.

--Steve & Eddie

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

August 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

I’m sitting in my first class this semester and I am already exhausted. I started my new job at The Hideout and I left at like 3am. I got some good tips though so that will help with tuition. I can also send you guys anything if you need something. 

I heard your appeal was denied again. 

I’m so sorry.

With cases like yours, it’s so hard to get those pushed through and approved. 

I’m thinking about you two every minute. When I crashed, I kept wishing I had your arms around me. 

I’ll call you tonight before my shift. 

I love you!

-Y/N

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

August 1997, 

Baby, 

Yeah, we’re kind of over it now. After so many denials, you just kind of give up trying. It was like that with my dad and his case. Then again he was just a repeat offender and I’m a murderer so.

You didn’t tell us you were working at The Hideout. I used to play my guitar there with my band when I thought I would be a rockstar. I’m not gonna be anything now.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess we’re just a bit low right now. 

I wish we could be there with you to. I want to fall asleep to your voice talking to me about everything. I could listen to you talk for hours, babe. 

Don’t overwork yourself. 

Love you,

--Eddie 

Honey, 

You never have to worry about sending us anything in here. We make enough money and then Wayne gives Eddie some to get by. 

My mom was there at our appeal. It was nice seeing her face again after all this time even though she didn’t talk to me or stick around to meet with me at the prison. 

I imagine my father didn’t know she was there. 

I agree with Munson, don’t over work yourself. 

We miss you. 

--Steve

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

October 1997,

Y/N, 

We didn’t mean to scare you, baby, when you came to visit. We just… you were supposed to come visit us last week and you didn’t. You don’t answer when we call. 

We get worried. 

Please, sweetheart, answer the phone so we can talk. 

We love you, pretty girl. 

--Eddie

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

October 1997,

FUCK YOU! 

You don’t get to treat me the way you did when I took time out of my day to come to see you! Steve, you have no right shouting at me and degrading me in front of all your cell block friends. Eddie, you don’t get to grab my wrist and command that I “Lower my voice” when you both are sitting there talking down to me. 

The three of us know you weren’t worried about me but fucking jealous I’ve been brushing you off for someone else! 

I have shown you both nothing but respect and opened my heart to you from day one!

I’m sorry your both in the situation you are in. I genuinely am but I have given you no reason to think I’d ever hurt you by fucking cheating on you. 

I wouldn’t put my career and heart on the line like I have just to fucking throw it away that way. 

--Y/N

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

October 1997

Little girl, 

I know you get off on being a bad girl but we swear to God, Y/N. You don’t get to talk to us the way you did during our visit. We understand that you have a busy life but that doesn’t give you the right to not show up or not answer the phone when you say you will. 

We may be convicts but we still have feelings. 

Telling us to “fuck off” or saying that bratty shit you said like “I’m sorry I’m busy” is not ok. 

Respect is earned. 

Let’s also not forget, Y/N, that you cheated on your boyfriend with us. It’s not farfetched for us to think you may spread your legs for more tips at the bar you work at. 

Don’t play this game with us, princess. You won’t win. 

Eddie & Steve

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

October 1997

Edward Munson & Steven Harrington, 

I always win and I have more self-respect than you both seem to think I do. 

We’re done. 

--Y/N

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

October 1997

Ed and Stev, 

I hate you sooooooo much. I fell in love wit you and did things with u I’ve never done with ANYONE! Except fucking obviously : ). I never did get to feel those “big cocks” streting��tearing me open. Why is that? Oh yeah…because youre in jail!

I was willing to wait bcause I loved you. I didn’t care if you’d be 40 someting when you got out. You will NEVER find someone like me again. 

I’ll move on though. Always do.

Hey check out this cute boy I met. I took a picture of him sucking my neck. I’m not drunk enough to send a video but you can use your imagination. 

You’re good at that especially when u r imagining me cheating on you with men like him. 

Assholes…

--Y/N

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

October 30th, 1997

Trick or treat, little girl.

See you tonight. 

--Steve & Eddie

##########

Donate to me

@nailbatanddungeon @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart @thwippyparker @micheledawn1975 @utterlyinsanity

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 3, Unbidden - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, minor discussions of sex, drunk!Bucky, minor violence, FloRida's Low (that song slaps, okay?), minor anti-Winter Soldier sentiment, an unnecessary Ted Bundy reference just because. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart after you came back from your mission with Steve, and Bucky asked a very interesting question about the nature of your relationship with the Star Spangled Man.

A/N: I just finished writing Chapter 9 ahead of schedule, so here is Chapter 3 a little bit earlier than I planned on posting it! Consider it in honor of Sergeant Barnes' 107th Birthday! This is my favorite chapter; I had so much fun writing it, this part in particular (even though it took me a million tries before I got it to where I wanted it). Sam is finally given some page time, and I adore him, so I hope I've captured his essence sufficiently. I sort of love writing drunk!Bucky. Part three is where things are going to take an interesting turn for Bucky and Pocket so I'm looking forward to posting that soon!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @jmeelee @cazellen

Slapping your American Express Black Card onto the polished mahogany bar, you made sure the bartender was giving you his full attention. "Everything my group orders tonight goes on my tab, got it?" you told him. "If Tony Stark tries to pay for a single thing, tell him it's already covered and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The bartender nodded, taking your card and depositing it with the other open tabs behind the bar. It was going to be a very lucrative night for the bar.

You'd all come to Gino's, a downtown dive of place you all loved, to celebrate Bucky's clearance for missions. As a part of his presidential pardon for the Winter Soldier's crimes (completely unnecessary, in your opinion, because Bucky hadn’t been the one to commit them), he had been required to undertake 12 months of court-mandated therapy, and now that he had ten months under his belt, his therapist had signed her approval for Bucky to engage in real Avenger work, provided he was accompanied by another member of the team at all times for supervision. He'd be leaving tomorrow for a classified location with Steve and Sam; they'd be gone for about a week, so you'd wanted to commemorate the event and leave him with some positive memories before he left.

You rejoined your group in the far back, where you'd commandeered the largest corner booth and the surrounding tables. "Tonight's on me," you declared as you approached, "so drink up and eat well." Your friends cheered their thanks; Thor even banged his giant fist against the table in appreciation. You did a mock curtsey before coming to stand behind Bucky where he sat, draping your arms around his neck and shoulders and bringing your head down alongside his.

"Having a good time?" you asked him.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into your touch. "With you by my side? Always," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "But you didn't have to do this, doll. Pay for everything, I mean. We could have all gotten our own."

Letting go of his shoulders, you moved around to sit next to him. "Bullshit. My best friend is going on his first Avengers mission, this is the least I can do."

"Listen, man," said Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon and, if you were being completely honest, one of your favorite teammates after Bucky, "I know things might have been different when you were younger, but in the 21st Century, when a lady offers to buy you drinks, the polite thing to do is just say 'thank you' and get hammered."

Bucky laughed and chugged down the beer he'd been previously nursing and took the bourbon you'd brought over for him from the bar. "Thank you, Pocket. Though, I don't think I'll be getting... hammered on anything here."

"You're most welcome, Buck," you said, patting his cheek, the stubble tickling at your palm. "But if you are looking to get hammered, I believe our resident God of Thunder has brought a little something extra you could sip on in between beers." You nodded your head toward Thor, who sat a few seats down, pouring a splash of Asgardian something from a flask into Steve's tumbler.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take him up on that." The super soldier got up and, squeezing your hand, made his way over to Thor, who gladly poured a generous splash of spirits into Bucky's glass of bourbon.

You watched him for a moment as he sat and drank with Steve and Thor, a warm feeling building in your chest at the sight of him looking and doing so well. He'd made so much progress since he first arrived at the Tower and you were unbelievably proud of him.

"You've been good for him, Pocket," Sam offered with a raise of his glass. "But I gotta know, when are you two gonna stop tip-toeing around each other and make things official?"

You let out an agonized groan. "Not you, too, Sam. Why don't you and Natty get together and write some fanfic about it? That's about as close to reality as it'll get."

"What are Wilson and I collaborating to write smutty fanfiction about?" Natasha asked as she sat down in Bucky's vacated seat, passing you a shot glass.

"Za nashu druzhbu!" You toasted in unison before downing the sweet liquid. To our friendship!

"A Redheaded Slut shot? How very Natasha," you teased.

"Don't try to change the subject," Sam interjected. "Romanoff: (Y/L/N) and Barnes. They go together like Netflix and chill or what?"

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Oh my God; I'm so glad you see it, too. They're just screaming 'Let's fuck already,' right?!"

"I don't know that they haven't started already," Sam said, obviously pleased to finally have someone to talk about this with. "I've never seen Metalhead as content as when he's with Pocket. Figure she's gotta be doing something to keep a smile on his face, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows, setting Natasha off into a barking laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" you sputtered. "I'm sitting right fucking here!"

Sam gave you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Baby Girl. 'M just calling it like I see it. And with you and Barnes, I see it."

"She's going to stick to the story that nothing's going on between them," Nat began.

"Because there is nothing going on between us," you interrupted.

"But I think we all know something is brewing between those two," she continued, as if you hadn't said a thing. "I mean, do you really think they're just sleeping in the same bed every night?"

"Hold up, hold up." Sam raised his hand to stop Nat. "You're telling me those two share a bed? How long has this been going on and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Oh my god," you said, putting your head in your hands and wishing the floor would open up and suck you into a hell dimension. It had to be better than sitting here listening to the two of them talk as if weren't in the room.

"You didn't know?!" Nat's expression was incredulous. "Essentially since the moment Barnes moved into the Tower. They alternate whose bed they sleep in, but it's literally every. single. night."

"That's it," you murmured, though you were sure they weren't paying you any attention, "I am never telling you another thing, ever, Natalia." They weren't embarrassing you, per se. You felt no shame about your closeness with Bucky. It was more that you hated that they were making assumptions about him. You could take ones made about you; you'd been doing that your entire life, but Bucky was different. He was... fragile wasn't the right word, but it came close. You wanted to protect him from everything negative, including your friends gossiping about his alleged sex life.

"Guys, please," you said, loud enough to catch their attention. "I know that, whatever I say, it's not going to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, but I don't want Bucky to hear it, okay? You're just going to make him uncomfortable and he'll retreat into himself, close up. So, save it for when you're by yourselves, alright?"

The sincerity in your words caused Sam and Nat's gazes to soften as they looked at you. You hoped that, despite their ribbing, they understood that your concern for your shared friend was genuine, and that, of the three of you sitting at the table, you knew Bucky best.

"Alright," said Sam, "I'll drop it. For now. But know I've got my eye on you, Pocket." He gave you a shrewd look. "Don't think you can keep your secret from Ole Sammy forever."

You shook your head, annoyingly amused.

The evening moved on pleasantly: conversation and alcohol flowed, and you felt yourself loosening up as the shots you'd drank with Natasha worked their way through your system until you were sporting a pleasant buzz. Bucky eventually came back to join you at your table, eyes glassy and with a giant, dopey grin plastered across his face.

"How's that Asgardian liquor treating you, Buckaroo?" you asked him with a grin of your own, knowing full well he was sauced.

"'s real good, Pocket," he slurred, propping his head on his fist and gazing at you with a dreamy expression. "'s nice and tingly, like the sun is shining on my insides."

"I'm happy for you, Buck," you said with a laugh, shooting an amused glance over Bucky's head to Nat, who responded with a smirk of her own. "That's real good."

He put his arms around you and pulled you into him, almost tugging you off of your chair in the process. "No! You're real good. Sho good to me, all warm and fuzzy and pretty. Just wanna keep touchin' you, you know? 'Cause you make me think of happy things." He paused to nuzzle his face into your hair. "You're m'favorite person."

"You're my favorite person, too, Buck," you said, stifling a giggle, amused by this new soft, silly side of him.

"Me?" he squeaked--actually squeaked. You nodded and then let out a surprised squeal as he pulled you into his lap, holding you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable, his metal arm clinging you to his chest. But then he pulled his head back to look you in the eye, his face suddenly serious.

He slurred, leaning in closer. You could smell the sweet scent of the Asgardian liquor on his breath. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll" he hiccupped, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite."

"Well, then we won't tell him," you assured him, casting a bewildered glance to Nat. She subtly shook her head, as if to say she was just as confused as you as to why Steve would care if Bucky was your favorite person.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Good. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." He began petting your hair in long strokes, seemingly distracted by the feel of it and losing his original train of thought. "Mmmm, you're so pretty. M'pretty little Pocket."

"Why, thank you, my handsome soldier," you replied, tapping him playfully on the nose while wondering what the hell he had been going on about concerning Steve. You hoped he wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember this conversation in the morning, because you were going to press the shit out of him for details.

Oh, but then... the next song from the jukebox caught your attention, and you looked up as the opening bars of Flo Rida's Low filled the air.

"Oh no," moaned Nat with a trace of laughter. "You're gonna dance, aren't you?"

A broad grin broke across your face. You loved dancing to anything, but this song was your kryptonite. "I can't help it," you told her, "it calls me, I come. Let's go!" You stood up, taking Bucky's hand and trying to pull him along with you, but the super soldier just shook his head and refused to move. Apparently he wasn't that drunk. "Fine. Sam, Nat, dance with me."

"I'm coming, Baby Girl," Sam said, taking Nat's hand and dragging her to meet you.

As soon as you had the space, you began to move, the music pulsing through your veins, syncing perfectly with your heartbeat. You swayed your hips in time with the infectious rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat.

You felt Sam come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he began to dance with you, bass thumping in your chests. You and Sam had danced together countless times before; he was one of the only ones in the Tower who enjoyed dancing as much as you did, so the two of you had had plenty of practice moving together. Your movements may have been completely innocent, but they gave the appearance of something much more intimate-- it was just the nature of the dance. You could feel the heat of Sam's body pressed against your back, the way his hands gripped your hips protectively. It was all in good fun, a playful dance between friends, until you felt Sam's hands fly from your waist as you were about to get low.

You spun around, finding Bucky standing where Sam had been just a few seconds before, Sam now several feet away, anger wearing heavy on his face.

"What the hell, man?" Sam barked at Bucky. "What'd you shove me for?"

Bucky, his face flushed and eyes narrowed with a combination of intoxication and something dark, took a step towards Sam. "Didn't shove ya, Wilson," he slurred, his words blending together. "Ya just...got in the way."

"Got in the way? Man, we were just dancing. How was I in your way?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, his metal arm flexing by his side. The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as if the air in the room had suddenly turned molasses-slow.

"Okay, boys." You stepped between them, hands down and palms open, trying to create as much distance between the two as possible. The last thing you wanted was a drunken argument devolving into some kind of brawl. "It's getting late, and we've all had a good amount to drink." You gave Sam a pointed glance. "Bucky, will you take me home to the Tower? I'm pretty tired and I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Sam nodded in understanding-- it would be a hell of a lot easier to get Bucky home in his current state if he thought he was escorting you, instead of the other way around.

"Yeah, 'course, Pocket," Bucky said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You were able to call out your goodnights to the rest of the team and, leaving instructions with Nat to close out your tab at the end of the night, began making your way to the door. Bucky stumbled a bit, his balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. You wrapped an arm around him, steadying him as you both made your way outside.

Outside the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the noisy atmosphere inside. Bucky leaned heavily against you, his arm draped around your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Barnes. You're heavy," you groaned under his weight.

"Fuck me, Pocket," he slurred, head tilting to the side. There was that look in his eyes again. The same one you'd seen the day he'd gotten his new arm. You couldn't identify it, but it made the hair on your arms stand up straight.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." You could feel his warmth seeping through your clothes, his presence comforting even in his intoxicated state.

"You good to stand on your own for a second, soldier?" you asked him. "I need to hail us a cab."

Bucky nodded and you carefully eased yourself out from under his arm, scanning the street for a taxi. The bustling city night was alive with lights and sounds, creating a tapestry of urban energy that seemed to match the frequency of the electricity that ran through your brain.

God, did you love this city.

As you raised your hand to flag down a cab, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bucky, his hair in disarray, falling into his eyes and his lips slightly parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Even drunk and disheveled, he still looked so handsome. There was a softness to him in the moment that made him look younger, and for a second, you could imagine that beautiful, carefree young man who had been drafted to cross the sea to fight someone else's war, and had paid for it with even more than his life.

A taxi screeched to a stop in front of you, interrupting your reverie. You hurriedly opened the door and helped Bucky inside, sliding in beside him. The cab driver gave you both a curious glance before pulling away from the curb. Once you gave him the address to Avengers Tower, that look got more and more frequent as he kept checking his rear view mirror.

"Hey, eyes on the road, buddy," you snapped at him, probably putting more aggression into your voice than you had intended, but the way the cab driver was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

The ride back to the Tower was quiet, the low hum of the taxi's engine serving as a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Bucky slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your skin. The city lights blurred past outside the window, casting a hazy glow over both of you.

"Listen," the cabbie eventually began in his thick New Jersey accent, "sweetheart, ya seem like a nice girl, but I don't think ya know what you're dealin' with, here. That man right there's the Winter Soldier. He's a murderer, a nasty one. The kind that likes to take a sweet thing like you and do horrible things."

You rolled your eyes. If they were going to keep telling stories about the Winter Soldier, the least they could do was get the details right instead of making him sound like Ted Fucking Bundy.

"This nasty murderer is my best friend," you said, each word clipped and infused with the anger you felt on Bucky's behalf. "So, maybe you should stick with getting us to our destination instead of trying to lecture me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

The cabbie fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. You could tell that he was regretting his decision to say anything, realizing that he had struck a nerve. Or, you thought with an amused chuckle, afraid that you were just as nasty as the Winter Soldier. But you couldn't blame him entirely. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was notorious, and it was only natural for people to be cautious. You just wished they knew the name Bucky Barnes, and the actual man, himself, just as well.

You sighed and shifted your gaze to Bucky, still unconscious against your shoulder. It wasn't fair, you thought, how people judged him solely based on his past. Yes, there were dark chapters in his history, but he had fought tooth and nail to regain control over his life. He had redeemed himself in countless ways even before he had officially joined the Avengers.

As the taxi approached Avengers Tower, you leaned over and gently shook Bucky awake. His eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his features for a brief moment before recognition set in.

"We're home, Buck," you whispered softly, trying to soothe away any lingering unease from your brief conversation with the cab driver. "Let's get you upstairs." You threw a handful of bills in the cabbie's direction, not even bothering to wait for him to give you your change; you just wanted out of his cab and away from his prejudice.

Bucky nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With your help, he stumbled out of the taxi and leaned on you for support as you made your way into the building.

"'m sorry 'bout that, doll," he drawled as you passed the security desk, sending a quick wave to the night guard.

"Sorry for what, Buck?" you asked him. He was silent as you made your way to the elevator bay, waiting until you had pressed the button to summon the elevator car.

"'bout the cabbie." He avoided looking at you while you waited, and it was like a punch to your gut-- he'd heard everything that ignorant man had said. The elevator doors dinged open and you helped usher him inside.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button for your floor, the retinal scanner making quick work to prove your identity and verify your security clearance. "Buck," you exhaled, "you have nothing to apologize for. That man was an asshole and an idiot."

Bucky leaned back against the elevator wall, his head thumping against the cool metal. "But he was right. I am a nasty murderer."

You could scream. You could strangle that cabbie with your bare hands. Bucky had been doing so well, had been having such a good night, and one person's careless remark had ruined all of it.

"Barnes," you said, turning to face him. "Look at me. Do you think I'm stupid?"

His eyes grew wide at the insinuation, even in his drunk state, he was with it enough to be taken aback by your question. "'bsolutely not, doll. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than Stark, even, 'cause you can admit when your wrong." The compliment left you trying to hide a smile.

"Okay. Do you trust my judgment?"

"With my life," he breathed. The elevator opened to your floor, and you helped Bucky out into the hall and down the corridor toward his room. The soft glow of the hallway lights illuminated his features, casting a warm, intimate aura around the two of you.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you trust my judgment, trust me when I tell you are not what that man says you are. You are a good man who had too many horrible things happen to him. And despite all those horrible things, you are still the kindest, funniest, most gentle man that I know."

As you reached his door, Bucky turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Pocket. Thank you for taking care of me, and for being my friend," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

A small smile played on your lips. "Always, Buck," you replied softly. "Now let's get you inside."

With a gentle push, you opened the door to his room and guided him over to his bed. Bucky collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the softness beneath him. Once you'd pulled off his boots, you knelt down beside him, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

As you straightened up, Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his intoxicated state. His gaze locked with yours, a mix of vulnerability and longing flickering in his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

"I'm just going to hop over to my room to change into pajamas," you assured him. "I'll be right back. Promise." You smoothed his hair, trying to tame it from where it stood up in all directions.

"'kay," he said through a yawn, "but don't take too long. I got somethin' I need to tell ya. 's important."

"Okay," you told him, planting a kiss on his head. "I'll be just a minute." You hurried across the hall to your own room, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth in record time.

Re-entering Bucky's room, you were extremely curious as to what he'd wanted to say to you. "Alright, Buckaroo, I'm back. What did you--"

You smiled to yourself. Bucky was fast asleep, light snores emanating from him as he lay sprawled across the bed. You couldn't help but find him adorable in his slumber, especially with his hair sticking up in all directions.

With a soft sigh, you walked over to the side of the bed and gently sat down, watching Bucky's peaceful face. It was moments like these that reminded you of how much he had been through, how much pain and loss he had experienced. Despite his tough exterior, there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at your heartstrings.

You leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The desire to protect and comfort him overwhelmed you, making your heart ache with affection, and something else that you couldn't quite identify.

Pulling down the covers, you climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up to his body for warmth. He grunted and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you drifted off into a slumber of your own.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[lovebugism]

YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID | the beginning.

summary: a year after the end of the world, you and steve share one cigarette and two confessions. (6k)

listen to: "as the world falls down" by david bowie

tags: f!reader, roadtrip fic, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst & comfort, post st4, selective canon divergence (some things happen, some things don't), reader goes by the nickname "scout" TW panic attacks, conversations about grief, steve harrington smokes but he's still hot, outfit inspo (not indicative of what r's body type/skin color/etc.)

a/n: kinda surreal that i'm posting this because it's something i've been working on/thinking about for Months. i put so much time and effort and tears into this series so pleasepleaseplease enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think! let's watch these two (sort of) friends run away and fall in love with each other, shall we? <3

JOURNALS | MASTERLIST | SPOTIFY

★。＼ ｜ ／。★

The beginning of the rest of your life starts in the murky alleyway outside The Velvet Lounge.

It’s pretty fitting, actually. You feel like you’re close to dying anyway.

The lightning strike of a panic attack comes first as a cold hand around your throat. The clawed talon of a long-gone monster strangles you — sucks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you gasping for a breath you know won’t come. 

A second later and the light-up dance floor beneath your feet begins to sway. You blink, and it becomes the desiccated terrain of the Upside Down — again, and the glowing rainbow tiles return. Eventually, it becomes impossible to discern the real from the imaginary.

You feel a bit like the world’s caving in on itself as you stumble through the bustling crowd. The thumping of the heady bass strums throughout your body as you squeeze between a mob of sweatier ones. The merciless pounding makes you forget that your heart’s no longer beating.

The heavy breeze of a summer night smacks you in the face. There is no fresh air outside the buzzing nightclub, just more emptiness. 

You lean against the brick wall, clutching desperately onto your chest as you stumble from the exit. The world around you starts to spin on its side, going blurry like you’re being pulled underwater.

You’re drowning, but none’s coming to save you.

To everyone else, you’re just a girl that’s had too many. The girl that’s lost too much.

You duck into the dark alley with the intention of withering away there.

A warm hand brings you back to life.

“Shit, Scout,” Steve Harrington curses behind you. “Are you— Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard the nickname leave his mouth so gently. You don’t think he’s ever touched you so softly, either. It’s all so foreignly tender compared to the war raging inside your skull — you think it would’ve made you weep if you were capable of catching your breath.

His presence is only startling in the sense that you hadn’t expected to find him there.

It was pretty much the reason you’d slinked through the dimly lit passageway in the first place — to die completely and utterly alone. The flickering orange lamplight and damp brick made this place more adequate for puking college kids, canoodling couples, and conniving Ted Bundy’s of the world. Not pretty Steve and his pretty clothes and his pretty hair.

You’re more humiliated at having been caught than you are alarmed by it.

You figure you really shouldn’t be. He’s already seen you at your worst. On your deathbed, crying so hard you puke, so far gone from the world that you’re practically a ghost — that kind of worst. 

But for some reason, his wide palm on your shoulder makes you feel fragile. Small. He stands fathoms above you and you’re nothing but an ant under his sneaker — a little delicate thing he could crush completely if he wanted.

Instead, Steve holds you.

His long fingers cradle your trembling shoulder in a steady embrace. A warm reminder that you’re not alone in this gloomy alleyway that still thrums with life. That, in some ways, you’ve never really been alone at all.

“Yeah,” you answer finally, nodding but not looking over at him. You swallow through a tightening throat. “I just… I just need to, uh… to catch my breath.”

Steve eyes you with a gaze swimming with apprehension.

Your shoulder presses into the rough brick while your other hand clings desperately to your chest. Your fingers dig into the soft cotton of your shirt like you’re reaching for your thundering heart. Each of your breaths is ragged, forced, worked for. You grunt your way through every impossible inhale.

Facing away from him under the dim amber streetlight, he can barely make out your profile. He only gets glimpses of your scrunched face and the tear that glimmers gold on your cheek. But with his hand on your arm, he can feel the rapid up-and-down motion of your heavy breaths. Panic sizzles off of you and onto him like static shock.

“Yeah, it was getting kinda crazy in there, huh?” he says within a halfhearted laugh. “I didn’t know people like Duran Duran so much.”

It’s nothing more than a feeble attempt to get you to laugh. 

And it works. Sort of.

You’d lost sight of Steve somewhere around the time “Girls on Film” came on. Nancy’s drunken hand pulled you to the dance floor, and every other tipsy woman followed right behind you. He hadn’t seemed to care much about dancing, though. He just sat in the corner booth with Robin until Vickie came by and stole her away. The last you saw him, he was sitting alone at the bar with a basket of chicken wings before disappearing entirely.

But he hadn’t disappeared, you figured. He was just here, in this eerily empty alleyway, trying to get away from it all just as much as you were.

Steve sees the corners of your mouth quirk upward in a grimacing sort of smile. A scoff sounds from your throat a moment later. He thinks that might be the sort of laugh you get from a girl who doesn’t have much to find humor in anymore.

Your newfound relief is his own.

“You okay now?” he asks once you’ve caught your breath.

You nod and settle back against the brick. The fabric of your shirt sticks to the prickly clay. “Yeah,” you repeat, more truthfully this time. “Thanks— Thank you.”

You’re forced to mourn the warmth of the broad hand on your shoulder when he pulls away from you. 

He doesn’t stray far, though. He remains at your side with his back to the brick —�� his frame much taller than your own, broader too. His woody cologne swirls with the purer scent of a summer night and the distant smell of beer. He holds within him an air that can only be described as all-consuming. He’s exactly the feeling of everything warm despite the several inches that separate you. 

Steve offers you the lit cigarette in his left hand, and for a reason you can’t name, his kindness takes you by surprise. You’ve fought a monster with the guy, but he still feels like a total stranger to you sometimes.

He sees you hesitate and thinks that this might be the first time either of you have been alone together. You don’t have anything in common except for the party. Without one of the members to accompany you, the fact becomes a heavier weight to bear.

It’s sort of like a peace offering — this half-gone cigarette. A ‘hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but maybe we could be.’

You take it. “Thanks…”

Steve watches you puff from the stick. You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it as you bring it up to your mouth. The huff you take isn’t a deep one, probably the fault of your still staggering breaths, but your eyes flutter shut on the exhale like you’re grateful for the nicotine fix.

He realizes then that he’s never looked at you before. Like, really looked.

Like a ghost, you tend to blend easily into the background, floating around in the shadows without ever being seen. You’re only out tonight because Robin and Nancy forced your hand, but in your darkened outfit — cropped tee, plain skirt, worn boots, all varying shades of black — you threaten to blend in with the night. You do it all with the finesse of a girl who’s all but disconnected herself from the world.

You catch him staring when you hand the cigarette back.

You don’t look weirded out by his prying gaze — quite the opposite, really. You cower under the attention, chin tilting toward your chest and a sheepish smile hinting at your lips. Embarrassed without any actual reason to be.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you came out here?” Steve asks you, covering the serious inquiry with a joking lilt.

Your brows furrow as you watch him bring the cigarette to his own mouth. He’s got this look on his face — raised brows, wide eyes, and quirked lips — almost like he’s teasing you.

You breathe out an awkward laugh.

“What do you mean? I just told you.” You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It looks more like you’re wincing as you shift your weight on your feet. “I just needed to—”

“To catch your breath,” Steve finishes for you, smoke billowing from his pink lips. The grey lingers between you for a moment before disappearing entirely. He nods with a lopsided grin before handing you back the cigarette. “Yeah. I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

Your eyes go wide. He can’t tell if you’re shocked by his bluntness or if you’re embarrassed at having been caught so quickly. Maybe a healthy mixture of both.

Your throat tightens all over again. You swallow thickly as you turn away from him and it feels like you’re forcing down a too big pill. The back of your eyes burn with unshed tears, so many stinging needles that you force yourself to blink away.

And even though you’re just trying not to cry at the reality of the situation you’ve spent a year hiding from, to Steve it looks like you’re searching for a way out. Your gaze snaps to the opening of the alley where nicely dressed people bustle on the other side, their conversations far away and muffled.

He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. He just thought you could use a friend, considering you were only just recovering from the windswept panic spell.

“Look. You— You tell me why you’re out here, and I’ll tell you why I am,” he offers, partly to make you feel better.

The other half of it, which he finds it startling to admit, is that he doesn’t want you to leave.

He’d spent fifteen minutes by himself in the dark — half comforted by it, half frightened. Despite his distant unfamiliarity with you, he’s weirdly comforted by your presence. Steve’s seen enough people walk away from him to know he doesn’t want you to join them.

You look at him again, more glassy-eyed than you’d been before. Your sniffle is nearly inaudible. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You know… A you-show-me-yours, I’ll-show-you-mine kinda thing.”

It sounds a lot weirder coming out of his mouth than he expected it to. It makes you laugh, though, so it feels sort of worth it.

“That sounds really pervy,” you tease with a more sincere smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just— Maybe just ignore that last part, yeah?” he stammers stiffly, laughing softly at himself shortly after.

You finally take a hit from the cig between your fingers. Your gaze falls to your boots.

They were a gift from someone you knew a long time ago — someone you don’t know anymore because they’re gone.

It was a well-loved anniversary present you’ve worn every day since you got them. They’re a bit tattered now, obviously worn on the platformed bottoms. You don’t know how many times you’ve glued the soles back together now — or how many times you’ve tried to wash away the faded bloodstain by the laces that refuses to come out.

It’s as stuck there as the memories in your head are.

And even though you’ve never talked about it out loud, you think you could write a million words about how looking at the stain makes you feel — about all the thoughts that swirl within you at the sight of it and why you can’t throw them out despite it all. You’d write about the boy who bought them for you, whose name it’s still so hard to say — the boy who you loved who was gone.

It was just easier to shove it all down.

You kept your grief horribly discreet, like a poorly stitched-together wound.

If you couldn’t even burden yourself with it, why should you expect anyone else to?

But here Steve goes, offering to let that raging wound breathe. 

Something about the ultimatum makes it more comforting. It’s a lot easier to tell a kept secret when you know another hidden confession is coming right after it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again — to shield your grief with someone else’s. 

“Okay,” you answer suddenly before exhaling the gray from your lungs. You outstretch your hand to give him the cigarette back. You try to smile. “You first, though.”

Steve puffs from the stick before he answers you. For a moment, it’s nothing but muffled conversations and a stifled bass that rattles the brick. The quiet is noticeably less suffocating than all the quiets you’ve known before — less lonely now that you’ve got someone to share them with.

“I hate parties,” he summarizes with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you joke.

He flicks the end of the cigarette to dispel the ash. Grey specks fall to the damp concrete. When he hands it off to you again, your fingers brush his own. Your skin is much cooler than the humid summer air surrounding you.

“I mean, I used to like parties. I think,” Steve explains, still rather vague, gesturing with wild hands like you’re used to. “Really, I just liked to drink, you know? ‘Cause everyone liked me when I was drunk. I was the popular guy — Mr. Funny, Mr. Cool. But, uh… I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot how to have fun like that.”

“Forgot how to have fun?” you repeat with a sad sort of laugh. Your brows scrunch and your swim with sympathy. The streetlamp casts sharp shadows on his chiseled features, but he still looks at you so soft — eyes sweet with the tenderness he holds there and smiling just the same.

It’s hard to believe that the King of Hawkins High could’ve ever felt anything other than total elation when he had a whole ocean outside his front door on Fairview Lane.

“I think they have a name for that these days, Harrington.”

He laughs and turns to press his shoulder into the brick. He’s facing you now, and it feels much more like he’s looming over you. 

You remain against the wall, still a bit overwhelmed by the presence of a boy who never would’ve looked your way a year or more ago. It takes everything in you not to duck away from him completely.

“Well, I was only having fun because I was drunk, right?” he elaborates, brown eyes a golden amber beneath the flickering light. They twinkle looking down at you.

“Sure…” you shrug to humor him.

“And, like, I can deal with the hangovers and everything no problem, you know, but the… The waking up the next morning. The remembering, I guess. Remembering everything I was trying to forget when I was drinking. That’s… That’s the worst part.”

You don’t realize how intently you’re looking at him at first. Every quirk of his rosy mouth, every twitch of his bushy brow, every glint of his chocolate eyes as he divulges a deeply held secret doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Behind all the pretty hair and expensive clothes is a boy much sadder than you could’ve imagined. 

Something bigger had done a number on him. Something more than the end of the world.

His upturned gaze returns to you and you realize you haven’t blinked once.

You do a rather shit job of pretending you weren’t just staring. You haphazardly turn away again, handing him the cigarette despite not having put your mouth to it.

“Yeah, I— I get what you mean…”

Your words seem to surprise him. His brows pinch like he was more prepared to be made fun of than empathized. He takes the cig from you with an absentminded hand. It goes quickly forgotten.

“You do?”

“Well, not so much with drinking, but… It happens to me in the morning sometimes,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, and trying not to seem like it’s a phenomenon you’ve experienced every day for a year and a half. “It’s, like, that split second of bliss right before the grief comes back, right?”

Steve blinks owlishly. Then nods.

“That half a moment where nothing bad’s ever happened to you, and it’s just the sun shining on you before the… the bad shit comes back again. Like it never even left.”

And Steve, who’s never met another person who could so easily understand him and that otherwise indescribable feeling so perfectly, is stunned into silence.

Maybe it’s his fault for keeping it all to himself, like a love letter he can’t bring himself to unfold. It’s entirely likely that he could find a million people in the world who’ve felt all the same feelings he’s garnered over the past couple of years. It still wouldn’t hold the same weight as being understood now — being understood by someone who’s been through the end of the world with him.

Being understood without all the empty words.

“Yeah,” he nods finally, clearing his throat. His cheeks glow red when he realizes he’d forgotten to speak because he was too busy looking at you. “Yeah, exactly— Shit!”

The sides of his fingers sting with a sharp ache. The cig in his hand drops to the ground, half the size of his pinky. There isn’t much left of it now, and that’s why it burns him so. It hits the concrete, more ash than stick. The skin of Steve’s finger blackens as it blazes.

“Oh— Are you okay?” you grimace.

Steve snuffs out the burning cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.

“Yeah, I— I just wasn’t paying attention,” he dismisses with the shake of his head, more so at himself than anything else. It’s the first time he’s had an actual conversation with you, and he’s already embarrassed himself twice. He’ll count himself lucky if you care enough to talk to him again.

“Your go, Scout,” he offers suddenly in a measly attempt to get the attention off of him and his blunder. He wipes the ash from his pointer and middle finger on his jeans. “See if you can out-miserable me.”

You roll your eyes at him, still smiling. “What is this? The trauma olympics?”

“C’mon. I’m kidding,” he assures with a lilt. He reaches out to nudge your arm with his knuckles and, like before, his touch is almost too soft for you to feel it. The act of platonic intimacy takes you momentarily by surprise.

His smile is crooked. His eyes glimmer with honey. “I was kidding,” he repeats.

“It was just that, um— that song,” you answer. It comes out more choked than you expected it to. “They started playing that song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What song?” he asks. Not pressing. Only curious.

“That one that… that Eddie played when I…”

“Oh.”

“I used to love that stupid song— I mean, obviously. It sorta saved me from what should’ve been an unavoidable death, so…” You manage to laugh at yourself as you ramble.

Steve can’t find it in himself to do the same.

He’d been terrified when it happened to Max — when the kid he was involuntarily babysitting started to float in midair, nearly succumbing to the curse of a monster that should’ve been make-believe. He was relieved when she fell back down again, but you? He was certain you were a goner. 

You were too high up and Eddie’s guitar was too far away. The beginning notes of I Was Made For Lovin’ You were too grim and Vecna’s claws were in too deep. You were too distant, too banished.

For several agonizing seconds, you were destined to remain a stranger to him.

But here you are now, sharing cigarettes and secrets.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you shake your head at yourself. “But, um, anyway. Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes things will happen, you know? Like I’ll— I’ll hear a song or… I’ll see something that reminds me of him— of Eddie. And it’s just like…”

“…Like you’re in the Upside Down again?” Steve finishes gently for you when he sees that you can’t.

You nod, wordlessly for a moment, until the words catch up with you.

“Like nightmares, but when I’m awake,” you force through a closing throat. “And they’re so real. Like… I can— I can hear him. I can hear him talking to me, and I’m— I’m holding him, and I can feel him breathing, you know? He’s still breathing, but—”

You take a staggering breath in. For a moment, Steve’s scared you’re tumbling headfirst into another panic attack.

His attentive eyes flit between your scrunched up face and the trembling hands you hold out in front of you. You’re cradling something that isn’t there anymore. You look down at your palms with a horror that tells him you understand that, too — that the person you used to hold isn’t able to be held anymore.

“I can feel the… the blood. And it’s just… It’s all over me. And I’m losing him. I’m losing him all over again—”

You hiccup a measly sob when your lungs force you to take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It puts an end to your rambling. You’re grateful enough for it. You’d already said more than you were planning to — more than you thought you’d say in a lifetime. 

You think you must sound deranged, talking about a corpse like it’s still a warm body you hold every night.

In some ways, it is.

You sniffle and blink back burning tears. Your smile edges on sincerity. “So, what do you think, Harrington? Did I out-miserable you?”

Steve scoffs in the place of a real laugh. “I didn’t have a dog in that fight, did I? What you went through… I mean, I shouldn’t even be complaining.”

“Hey, c’mon,” you scold gently. “We both went through shit. It was all bad, no matter how you look at it. Just because we didn’t go through the same stuff doesn’t mean what happened to you is any less important.”

You just barely catch his cinnamon eyes going glassy before he turns away from you entirely. His stubbled cheeks blotch with varying shades of pink, glowing with an emotion he can’t keep hidden. He looks down at his dirty sneakers because he can’t bare to look at you now.

Understanding, that’s what this is. Understanding without all the empty words.

It’s still hard for him to believe them, though.

In the grand scheme of things, what happened to him wasn’t so terrible. 

He wasn’t under any sort of curse. No one he cared about was irrevocably hurt, either. And he didn’t have to hold someone he loved in his arms while they bled to death — doesn’t have to feel like he’s still holding onto them a year after it all.

Despite the marred scars on his mind and body, Steve convinces himself that he has no reason to be sad — even though that’s not really how sadness works. Grief isn’t the kind of thing you can just will away, but he beats himself up when he can’t — when the heartache wins.

It’s a never-ending cycle. A loop he’s been stuck in since he was seventeen. A portal he was terrified would never close. 

Now, at least, it feels sort of possible.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Scout,” he jokes after the urge to weep has passed. He tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles a crooked grin. “I’m gonna start to think you like me.”

Without missing a beat, you retort: “Please, never ever think that. That would completely shatter my reputation.”

You both laugh with the knowing that it’s all just a joke.

You never had much of a reputation because you spent your whole life being invisible. You liked it best that way because never being seen meant nothing was ever expected of you. You’ll happily take someone you went to school with your entire life never knowing your name than any bogus Hawkins High royalty status any day.

Steve, better known by his title of King, wishes now that he’d taken a page out of your book. He learned the power of invisibility far too late.

“Who woulda thought, huh?” the boy sighs, chocolate eyes turned up to the velvet blue sky. “You and me… being friends.”

You arch a brow at him. “Oh, is that what we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffs like it’s obvious. “They didn’t tell you? You fight monsters together, and you’re bonded for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, why do you think me and Henderson are so close?”

“So you’re saying you would’ve never been friends if it wasn’t for the end of the world?” you reiterate with a challenging squint.

“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying. Yeah,” he nods with his pink lips jutted softly out. “If none of that shit ever happened, I’d still be that raging douchebag I used to be. My life would be… so much different.”

“Worse?” you press.

He thinks for a moment.

Without the whole end-of-the-world thing, he never would’ve met Dustin. He never would’ve gotten closer to Robin. Nancy never would’ve had a reason to break up with him, and he figures he’d have long settled down with her by now. They’d be that miserable couple that somehow manages to make it.

He’d probably still be friends with Tommy Hagan, too, getting drunk at parties he’s too old to be at. He’d still be the King Steve everyone loved and hating every second of it.

Fighting monster after monster changed him for the better. Even with its horror, how could he ever take that back?

He winces at the realization. “Yeah…”

“So you’d do it all over again?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“I think so, yeah.” Steve’s smile is shy as he ducks his gaze, peering at you through his lashes. “I’m a total idiot, right?”

Your brows pinch together as you shake your head. “No. I don’t think so… Actually, I think the end of the world looks pretty good on you, Harrington.”

He knows you don’t mean it how it sounds. He gets the feeling you’re talking less about his appearance and more about why he’s standing out here in the first place — talking to a girl he’s halfway known all his life whose name he didn’t know until she almost died.

For the same reason — the one that’s brought you to him and this alley — he jokes back: “It looks good on you, too, Scout.”

Again, you laugh with the understanding that you’re joking. For the most part, at least. 

You’re both so weathered with grief, looking much older than your years, forced to wear your woe all over. For whatever transformation the trauma might’ve done internally, it hadn’t done anything on the outside than leave scars that won’t fade.

When the laughter subsides, a silence roars to life. 

Not a total one. You can still hear the pounding bass from inside The Velvet Lounge and the muddled chatter of people coming in and out of it. It’s not a totally uncomfortable one either, which is far more than you thought you could ever say about talking to Steve The Hair Harrington. 

But it’s still sort of heavy in its way. Likely with the idea of what the both of you know and of everything you’ve confessed out loud.

Now that it’s all out in the open, Steve’s got no idea how to move on. How is he supposed to joke around now? How does he say anything but sorry to the girl who holds all her grief in her eyes?

“Hey, Scout?” he calls quietly.

Your leftover grin hasn’t yet faded. “Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

The smile ebbs entirely.

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask with the shake of your head, almost flinching at the sudden condolence. “You didn’t… You’re not the one that killed Eddie.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I should— like I should say it, you know?”

“That’s the worst part about all of this, I think. Like… you lose someone, and no one knows how to talk to you anymore,” you confess, a sad smile hinting at the very corners of your lips — so soft it’s barely there. Your gaze falls to your boots again. “Everyone just feels so sorry for you all the time. All anyone ever wants to do is talk about what happened like I don’t have to think about it enough, you know? It just… It makes it impossible to move on.”

Steve winces. He can’t ever say the right thing. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” you tell him, laughing. “I’m not saying that— I’m just… I’m just saying. I think it’d be easier if I didn’t have to stay here. You know, where everything happened. If I could… Like, if I could just go, I think that maybe I could get better.”

“You could,” Steve affirms with a nod.

Your brows furrow. “Get better?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, amber gaze flitting between your glittering eyes and his dirty sneakers. “And… And leave. You know, if you wanted to.” 

The thought alone makes you laugh. “By myself? With no car? Barely any money?”

“You wouldn’t have to go alone,” he promises.

“Yeah?” you scoff, still grinning like it’s all a joke to you. “And who would want to run away with a girl with a broken heart?”

He answers without thinking and with a lopsided smile. “The boy with nothing to lose.”

Your smile fades with the heavy weight of his offer.

It isn’t just about running away. It’s about running away together — two people with nothing in common besides a mutual hatred for a dark wizard from the underworld, ditching a town that hasn’t done shit for them, and pretending like nothing’s ever hurt them.

And at first, you’re shocked. Who wouldn’t be with such an offer thrown at their feet? But then, and more than anything else, you’re confused. Why would Steve want to run away? you think to yourself. Why would he want to run away with you? 

When the bolt blue finally dissipates, you’re left with a simmering feeling of disbelief.

Steve shouldn’t want this, and he shouldn’t want it with you.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, smiling because it’s a joke again.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his gaze pointed to the sky. The stars are hidden beneath layers of light and pollution. They’re out there somewhere, but he can’t see them — not from where he is now. He looks back to you, a sheepish smile playing on his pink mouth. “But… I’m not.”

“Would you seriously want to leave?” you squint. With me, you keep to yourself, unsaid.

“I’ve, uh— I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually. Even before all of… this,” he confesses, waving his hand out into the ether. He grins in reminiscence, but not the fond kind. “My dad— he’s just been dogging me about work and college and everything, you know? I think he wants me to be the same big shot business douchebag that he is, and I get it, but…”

You lean closer to him, brows furrowed. “But what?” you press.

Steve exhales a sad laugh. “I really don’t wanna end up like my dad,” he admits — a thought he kept like a thorn in his side finally said out loud. “And I’m scared that, if I stay here, I will.”

“So you’ve just been looking for a way out. All this time?” you wonder aloud. While I thought you were on top of the world, you were wanting out of it.

Steve shrugs, then nods.

“And a girl with nothing to lose?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly to himself. “That, too.”

You turn away from him again, deep in thought. Steve mourns your gaze — its attentiveness more than anything, the way you look at him and seem to understand him without saying a goddamn word. He didn’t think that was possible before now.

You think to yourself for a moment. Mostly because it’s something you know you should think about before you do it.

How will you pay your way? Where will you go? What will you do when you get there? 

What will your parents say when they notice you’re gone? How long will it take before they do? 

Who’ll feed the stray cats outside the trailer park? 

Who’ll leave flowers at Eddie’s grave once a month and clean it when it’s ultimately vandalized by assholes who still think he was a mass murderer sent from Hell to do Satan’s bidding?

There’s a lot of questions you don’t have answers for.

What little you do know, though, you’re certain of.

You know there’s nothing left for you in Hawkins.

You don’t have much family — especially not since Eddie — and your friends aren’t really your friends. Sure, Nancy invites you out from time to time, but she’d never call you to dish about secrets and shared trauma in this way. Sometimes you think they only include you because your boyfriend died, and they all saw what it did to you.

And you also know that there’s nothing holding you back but grief. To absolve yourself from it all, to finally move the fuck on, you’re going to have to leave it all behind. It’s not like you’d be missing much anyway. 

You’re still a ghost because you live in a soul-sucking town full of people who only want to talk to you when it’s to remind you that the only person you’ve ever loved is dead.

Nothing has brought you back to life quite like this boy and his secrets and offer to run away.

You think you’d been an idiot to walk away from it. From him.

“Fuck it.”

Steve almost flinches at how feverishly you turn to face him again. 

His brows raise to his hairline, honey eyes going wide at the abrupt nature of your sudden reply. “…Fuck it?” he echoes, not nearly as confident as you’d said it — just grateful that you’d said it at all.

For a boy who always expects rejection, your innate acceptance of him and his previously kept secrets makes his chest swell with so much warmth that it’s started to burn him. He can feel his ribcage turning to ash and his heart melting as he speaks.

“Fuck it,” you nod, more serious than he’s ever seen you.

You turn to face him fully, something you’d been too timid to do just minutes ago. You’re more sure now — of him, of this. The proximity between your bodies forces you to tilt your head up to look at him. Similarly, his chin falls to his chest to peer at you.

Tucked away in this alley, you’re made of shadows and shades of gold. The lamplight still flickers over your heads. The brick still shakes with the drumming, muffled bass. You don’t realize until now that you can feel your heart beating again.

“Let’s do it,” you shrug with a blast of hopeful anticipation swelling in your chest, more optimistic than you’ve been in a year. “Nothing to lose, right?”

Steve grins.

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats, reminding himself of the fact when reality starts to set in on him. Even if he fails, even if it all goes wrong and he’s waking up in his childhood bed a week from now, he can’t get any lower than rock bottom. Besides, now he’s got you to fall back on, right?

“Fuck it.”

★。／ ｜ ＼。★

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Masterlist

Hi, I'm impale-me-radio-daddy, otherwise known as Big Antler Steve, The Antlers Guy, a pun or play on words, alright mate, and, in exceptional circumstances, oh no. Contrary to popular belief, I am not the acclaimed self-insert author cocksleeve4deerman69- we are in fact entirely different entities.

But enough about me, here's a list of things I've written, for your amusement and elucidation.

The Lookalike (completed series)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, then into the arms of the Radio Demon himself.

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, reader is in Hell for a reason, reader x Alastor, reader x Vox, Valentino, canon typical scenarios, Vox-based voyeurism, minor use of aphrodisiacs, tentacle sex, Vox in a cuck chair, erotic cannibalism, Alastor x reader x Vox threesome in the finale.

☒ Length: 43k words total

☒ Series links: Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

☒ Bonus vignettes: Hoof trimming, Lucifer seducing (slight AU)

Reddest Flags, Longest Nights (one-shot)

⩙ Summary: The year is 1989. The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Nintendo have just overseen the release of the Game Boy. The first ever episode of Baywatch has just aired, and Ted Bundy has just been executed by electric chair. Vox's relationship with the Radio Demon is on the rocks. Their solution? To add a third person to their bedroom: you

⩙ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vox X reader X Alastor, Radiostatic is a committed relationship (well, they're trying), Reader is a girl and she has a pussy, tentacle sex

⩙ Length: 5.5k words

⩙ Other notes: This is set in a sexy alternate universe for the characters in @bapple117's Bluest Monday

Return to Radio Hall (one-shot)

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an alternate universe, once conceptualised, must be in want of a fic.

⚜Summary: Having made his fortune in the New World, Vox Vee returns to visit his former benefactor, Lord Alastor.

⚜Pairings: Vox/Alastor

⚜Length: 2.1k words

⚜Content Notes: Unrequited love, Regency era AU, depiction of illness

The Alibi (I have a couple ideas for continuation, but stand-alone for now)

⚜ Pairing: human!Alastor X reader

⚜ Content notes: Reader is a sex worker, Alastor is a serial killer, brief reference to domestic abuse and injury, explicit sexual content, reader is a woman, reader has a pussy, bathtime, cum pooling in the collarbones, the sex is transactional but not like that.

⚜ Wordcount: 4.5k words

In Your Dreams, Old Pal (4-part story with an epilogue in the comments)

⛃ Pairing: Alastor/Vox

⛃ Summary: Alastor had never wanted to murder anyone as badly as he wanted to murder the version of Alastor that Vox dreamed of. The creature was, put simply, a simpering, effete idiot.

They were in a high class restaurant in some part of the states Alastor didn’t recognize, all art deco paneling and chandeliers that glowed a soft gold, the kind of lighting that made every patron look like they were being filmed through a Vaseline smeared lens; good skin, bright eyes. Even Alastor was pressed to admit it was a classy joint. Why Vox was dreaming of taking Alastor here was anyone's guess.

Alastor intrudes on the dreams of his friend and assistant, Vox.

⛃ Content notes: Explicit sexual content, dream sex, wet dreams, jizz in their pants, extremely dubious consent, virginity??, church sex, creampie, bottom Alastor, bottom Vox, incidental cannibalism, not much antler stuff.

⛃ Word count: 18k

Nothing Above the Knee (one-shot)

⪫ Pairing: Alastor/Vox (Radiostatic)

⪫ Wordcount: 4k

⪫ Summary: Alastor wants something from Vox. All Vox asks in return is a few hours with Alastor's hooves.

⪫ Content notes: Explicit sexual content, hoof stuff, contractual obligation, interdigital scent gland play, hoof licking, hoof fucking, electrostimulation, Vox is very much on top here, did I mention this is about hooves?

Heaven Spent (Part 1/2)

℣ Pairing: Vox X angelic!reader

℣ Summary: A naïve angel descends to Hell looking for her best friend Vagina. Finds Vox instead.

℣ Content notes: Voyeurism, first time for everything, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, guided masturbation, Vox being Vox, pet names: mostly sweetheart, babydoll and baby, reader is a girl, reader has a pussy and tits, reader has a name and it's a fucking stupid one.

℣ Word count: 6.5k

[chelseeebe]

pick a side or i’ll pick you both.

ghostface!eddie x ghostface!femreader x steve

oh there is murder, there is adultery, there is smut. there’s just about every major sin. (oh and will byers is dead :/)

she nods frantically, eyes wide with fear. it’s like fucking crack. you’d love to see how much you could get her to squirm. beg for your forgiveness. but you were aware the more you prolonged this, the more you risked getting caught.

or you and eddie become partners in crime. how wrong could it go?

a/n: cooking up a part two to this already, i really could’ve just gone on and on but it was already rather long so thought i’d split it.

part one. | part two. | epilogue.

‘i want to wrap my hands around her fucking neck,’ you spit, narrowed eyes on the image of your boyfriend and nancy wheeler giggling, awfully close. to one another.

eddie let’s out a maniacal laugh, leaning over towards you, ‘why don’t you?’

you break your glare and look at him, ‘because it’s illegal, dumbass.’

‘and?’ he dips his head, suddenly straight faced, fortunately it was only the pair of you on the table.

‘don’t tempt me,’ you push back, tilting your head at him, still not taking him entirely seriously.

‘you’ve seen those movies, right? psycho killer.. kills all the teens.. that sorta shit.’

‘yeah.. and they always get caught at the end of it.. not really selling it for me, munson,’ you look back at nancy and steve, still batting her sickly doll eyes at him.

eddie follows your eyes, ‘that’s the thing.. we wouldn’t, it’s basically the perfect crime, mask up.. leave no trace, unbeatable.’

you relent, giving him the benefit of the doubt, ‘okay.. say we do this, then what? just go on to the live the rest of our lives? live with the thought of what we’ve done?’

‘yeah,’ he nods enthusiastically, ‘or.. you might find you enjoy it.. and we go on a crazy killing spree.’

‘i don’t think so.. you really think we could do this? and be fucking serious eddie.’

‘deathly serious,’ he chuckles, ‘you’re actually down?’

‘i’m not saying i’m down.. i’d just like to hear more of this amazing plan, and then i’ll decide,’ you nod, was killing nancy really an option?

knowing eddie he was one hundred percent joking, some elaborate prank to embarrass you or to get you in on some weird drug peddling scheme.

though, the thought of nancy just permanently being gone was incredibly tempting, and say that eddie was being serious.. why would you not do it?

‘come by my trailer later, we can talk about it properly,’ his eyes shoot up, ‘heads up.. your communal boyfriend is coming.’

he sits back in his sit properly as steve joins the table, sliding into the seat next to you, ‘hey baby,’ his arm coming to rest around your waist.

you’re oddly quiet for the rest of lunch, contemplating whether to follow eddie into this insane plan. spending the rest of your life in jail wasn’t exactly how you’d planned but on the flip side, not having a third wheel for the entirety of your relationship sounded just heavenly.

-

turns out, eddie’s plan wasn’t totally shit. he’d ran through the entire thing, detailed plans on how it would go down. complete anonymity thanks to his cheap silicone halloween masks and the large black robe that would cover your entire body.

you’d had to bring him back down to earth a couple times, reminding him that neither of you were exactly a reincarnation of bundy.

‘so you wanna do it?’ he cocks his head, looking down at you perched on the earth sofa.

he’d jumped up halfway through his pitch, gesturing wildly and getting over excited, practically shaking as he walked you through his steps.

you bite down on your bottom lip, could you really kill someone? was it even possible to live with that guilt for the rest of your life?

the image of nancy batting her long eyelashes at steve flashes through your mind. and the urge to strangle her comes flooding back, previous thoughts drowned out with the new picture of your hands wrapped around her neck as she squirms beneath you.

‘let’s do it,’ you affirm, eddie nearly jumps for joy at the confirmation.

‘now?’ he asks, resuming his position on the couch.

‘no.. don’t be stupid,’ you ponder, you weren’t all too familiar with nancy’s schedule but you could most definitely find out, ‘nancy’s mom is in the pta.. they meet on wednesday’s.. so we know she’s out then..’

‘okay.. that’s good, i say we strike on wednesday.. mommy will be out, her dad’s a fucking loser, drinks in the same bar as my uncle and he’s always going on about how much he hates his life.’

you nod, formulating the perfect plan. how and when you would strike. it wasn’t going to easy of course, but you knew it would be worth it.

steve had accidentally let slip that he used to climb through her bedroom window, complaining that he couldn’t do that at your house. he caught a well deserved attitude for that one.

‘the window.. we go through the window,’ you grimace, ‘that’s how steve used to get in.’

eddie makes a whistling sound but doesn’t elaborate. you sit in his trailer for the rest of the night, working out timings, weapons and whatever other tiny, seemingly meaningless details that you could not fuck up.

-

you were nervous, unsure if you were about to commit to the worst decision of your life. but on the ride over, eddie makes sure to remind you of her disgusting pout, the small, seemingly innocent touches to steve’s arm and that stupid baby voice she put on in every conversation.

you’re angry all over again. sick to your stomach that she’d even have the audacity to act like that with your boyfriend. especially when her own boyfriend looked on in sad despair.

fucking cunt.

you’d taken your moms car, as to not draw suspicions in eddie’s ratty van. parking just down the street with all the other fancy cars.

eddie runs through the plan once more, ensuring that you understood. go in through the window, muzzle her and then you could do whatever the hell you’d wanted.

the masks smelt disgusting, like rubber and plastic and it was particularly hot under the extra layers.

eddie hoists himself up first, reaching down to grab onto your hand, landing on the slanted side roof.

he slinks over to the window, looking in before motioning for you to join him. she wasn’t in there. perfect opportunity to get in and hide somewhere.

‘open the window then, jackass,’ you hiss, nudging him.

it doesn’t open at first and you peer around hoping no nosy neighbours had decided to stick their nose out. you were pretty much hidden in the darkness but you couldn’t be too sure.

he finally gets it open, not without a struggle and hops in, turning to help you get through.

you glance around her room, all perfect and quaint. there’s a photo booth reel of her and steve still tucked into her mirror and you roll your eyes at the images of them grinning and laughing. the last one of him kissing her on the cheek particularly infuriates you.

‘fucking hide,’ eddie spits, taking position behind her door.

you flip him the finger, lingering on the photo and debating whether to rip it into pieces on her floor. perhaps that was too obvious.

you perch on all fours behind her bed, cursing under your breath as the synthetic material of the robe itches your arms.

you’re unsure how long you sit there waiting. it had to have been a good twenty minutes before you hear the stairs creak and you look at eddie one last time before ducking down properly.

the door opens and promptly shuts, a muffled high pitch squeal comes from that direction and you assume eddie had done his part.

you stand up finally, watching as nancy struggles with eddie’s hand clamped over her mouth, the other arm keeping her arms contained behind her back.

she can’t see it but you’re smirking, slowly walking over to the pair. eddie had had the common sense to lock her door before attacking.

‘shut up,’ you bark as she thrashes around, obviously trying to scream through his hand.

no where near loud enough for anyone else to hear, thankfully.

her eyes widen at the obvious recognition of your voice and she subdues for a second, chest heaving.

‘i know what you are nancy wheeler,’ pointing the knife edge to her throat, not enough pressure to really hurt her, but she starts panting, tears leaking out of her eyes.

you’re close enough to see every last expression on her face.

‘you’re a slut,’ you snarl, ‘you should’ve just listened when i told you to fuck off,’ tilting your head.

the sight of her so panicked only fuelling your rage. her tears drenching eddie’s gloved hand.

‘fucking do it,’ he snaps, almost struggling to contain her.

she must have gotten out of his grip slightly, her hand reaching around to claw at your arm. causing a hushed fuck out of your mouth. you return the knife to her throat, pushing harder than before as eddie reclaims full control of her arms.

‘you wanna apologise nancy?’ you glower through the mask, jaw tense, ‘apologise for being so obsessed with my boyfriend?’

she nods frantically, eyes wide with fear. it’s like fucking crack. you’d love to see how much you could get her to squirm. beg for your forgiveness. but you were aware the more you prolonged this, the more you risked getting caught.

‘too late,’ you hiss, slashing the knife across her throat, spurts of red blood come pouring out and eddie let’s go, her body falling to the floor.

‘holy shit,’ he breathes, watching as the life drains from her face, helpless gasps of her last breaths come out of her mouth.

you don’t move. frozen in place as the carpet slowly turns a dark shade of red. she eventually stops moving, eyes still wide and no longer blinking.

‘we need to go, now,’ eddie tugs on your hand.

but your eyes don’t move from her body, watching even as you climb out of the window. in a state of shock as you sprint back to your mom’a abandoned car.

eddie gets in, discarding the mask on the back seat and putting his foot to the floor to get out of there.

you don’t say a word. mouth open as you blankly watch the moving road.

‘you okay over there?’ he questions, slightly worried at your lack of response, ‘give me something here,’ his eyes dart between you and the road, flashing you a worried look.

but it wasn’t regret. no. you’d liked it. the feeling of being so powerful that you could take a life.

you catch your breath, throwing your mask into the back with his, looking over at eddie at last.

‘that was.. insane,’ you shudder, a large grin overtaking your face.

eddie bangs on the steering wheel, matching your smile, ‘holy shit, i thought you were freaking out on me.’

you reel for a second, fully taking in the entire event. how good it felt to see the blood gushing out of nancy. the colour draining from her face. knowing that she could no longer get in the way of your relationship.

-

you’d heard through steve that jonathan byers had been in questioning all night. as nancy’s current past boyfriend it was the obvious place to turn to.

you’re sat in the courtyard with steve, eddie and robin, consoling your boyfriend and trying your hardest to appear condoling.

there were cop cars littered outside of the school, slowly making their way through the register and interviewing each and every student. it’s a horrible feeling but you can’t help it. the swelling feeling of pride in your chest. satisfied that not a single person had suspected you.

steve had already been interviewed, fast tracked due to his previous relationship, ‘they said she didn’t fight back..’ he sighs and your hand comes up to rub his back, ‘i just hope she wasn’t in pain.’

the still stinging scratch down your forearm would suggest differently, but you just pull your shirtsleeve further down, nodding at his pathetic pining.

‘it was probably some psycho,’ robin shakes her head, ‘targeting lone women.. maybe we’re next,’ she looks at you, wide-eyed.

‘don’t say that shit,’ steve spits, scowling at her.

‘i’m just saying.. it’s a very real possibility,’ she replies, although she admits defeat and hangs her head, picking at her nails.

‘i don’t think so.. it was probably just a freak event.. we’ll be okay,’ you nod, glancing at eddie who was uncharacteristically quiet.

‘man, i just can’t believe it..’ steve mopes, clutching onto your hand.

if you’d known he was going to be such a sad sack of shit maybe you wouldn’t have done it. you’d done this for him. for your relationship. he needed to realise that this was for the better. though, now you could at least be the one to make him feel better. eventually he’d get over it.

maybe you’d have to kill him next if he couldn’t get a damn grip.

a group of girls walk past, talking loudly about jonathan being released, he’d been at work at the movie theatre all night. for a second you’re disappointed, now they were definitely still on the hunt for the killer.

accusations turn to sympathetic voices, pitying the poor boy. you hadn’t really thought of this aspect. gotta be shit to lose your brother and girlfriend and be accused of killing them both.

‘did you hear that? byer’s has been released.. that means they’re still out there,’ eddie speaks up, raising his eyebrows.

‘they’ll find him, they have to. it can’t be that hard in this tiny town,’ steve frowns.

‘him? how’d you know it’s a him?’ eddie adds and if looks could kill, he’d have been keeled over on the floor in an instant.

‘i don’t, asshole.. just assuming,’ your boyfriend sniffs, now being the one to glare at eddie.

the bell rings and you snap to attention, standing from the small bench you’d all been gathered on, ‘i’ll see you at lunch?’ standing on your tiptoes to reach steve’s face.

he nods, giving you a small smile. you take it because it is a hell of a lot better than that sad pout he’d had plastered on his face.

‘try not to think about it,’ leaving a soft kiss on his cheek and breaking away from the group, heading towards your class.

there’s loud footsteps following behind and then suddenly eddie is right next to you, smirking.

‘you’re a fucking idiot, how’d you know it’s a him,’ you mimic in hushed tones.

‘oh c’mon.. your blessed boyfriend is not that smart,’ eddie snarks, baring his teeth with that psychotic smile.

‘wipe that fucking grin off your face.. you look guilty as fuck,’ you hit back, looking at the surrounding students and just praying none of them noticed.

‘hey..’ he reaches out to touch your arm, ‘we did it, didn’t we? stop worrying, no one suspects a thing,’ he whispers, following you into the building.

‘yeah we hope,’ you snap, ‘you better pray your plan worked.. i’m too fucking pretty to go to jail,’ storming away from him and into the classroom.

he watches you leave, a small smirk on his lips before skulking into his own classroom.

-

‘you gonna protect me from the big scary murderer stevie?’ you breathe, leaving soft kisses along his jaw.

you’d gone over to steve’s house under the guise of keeping him company, and maybe to get laid. and after a feeble attempt to do homework, you’d found yourself on his lap, lazily making out.

he pauses for a second, internally debating whether being so horny just days after his ex-girlfriend was brutally murdered was perhaps too far.

it doesn’t take much convincing though as your hips grind against his, sucking the skin on his neck. soft groans tumbling out of his parting lips.

he pulls his head back before kissing you, his hands finally grip onto your exposed thighs. a low moan rumbles into your mouth, his hands slide under your skirt.

your fingers tangle into his hair, continuing to move your hips against him, ‘y’want me to make you feel better baby?’

‘mmhmm,’ he whines, pushing your skirt up and exposing your ass, ‘please baby,’ practically begging as you reach down to feel his growing erection.

just as you were about to unzip his bulging jeans, there’s a bang from somewhere outside, he freezes, ‘did you hear that?’ mumbling against your cheek.

‘it’s just the wind, steve,’ you moan back, still palming him through his jeans.

‘no.. no, that wasn’t.. wait,’ he gently pushes you away from him, ‘someone’s outside,’ he sits up from the couch, still holding onto your thighs.

‘there’s no one outside.. c’mon steve,’ you pout, grasping his shoulders.

you knew damn well that the murderer wasn’t outside, she was sat right on his lap for christ’s sake.

before you can regain his attention, another bang happens, right on his living room window.

his head snaps to you, ‘i fucking told you..’ his eyes are wide, full of worry that he was about to meet a similar fate to nancy, ‘he’s here.’

you’re pushed off of his lap, landing in the spot next to him on the couch, desperately trying to pull your skirt back down.

‘i’m telling you.. there’s no one here,’ well, there could be, but you definitely had nothing to do with it this time.

steve stands, panicked, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a rather large knife. he looked quite comical really, wielding a kitchen knife accompanying his raging boner.

you roll your eyes, not impressed by his heroic stance against the wind.

something knocks at the back door and steve spins on his heel, ‘i’ve got a knife! i’m not afraid to use it!’ screeching at the glass.

he gingerly walks over to the door, knuckles white as he grips onto the handle. it’s at that point you hear the all too familiar cackle.

fucking eddie.

he finally makes his appearance, waving at him from the glass. steve drops the knife, cussing eddie out as he unlocks the door for him.

‘dude, what the fuck?’ he screams as eddie saunters in, grinning.

‘oh come on.. you weren’t really scared?’ he looks at the discarded knife, and then to your boyfriends semi, ‘that’s kinda weird, dude.. but whatever you’re into i guess.’

‘fuck off, what are you even doing here?’ steve grills him, and you join him in the kitchen, holding onto steve’s arm.

‘i came to teach you kids about the first rule of horror.. never have sex, how fucking stupid are you?’ eddie chuckles, you stare daggers into him.

steve sighs, leaning back against the counter, ‘you’re an asshole man, i thought we were about to be next! where’d you learn comedy? psycho school?’

‘yeah, eddie. so not funny,’ you frown, attempting to signal for him to leave.

‘hey, i couldn’t let you guys get killed, could i? y’know there’s a scary killer out there,’ he smirks, opening the fridge and retrieving one of steve’s dads beers, promptly cracking it open on his teeth.

‘jesus- i’m gonna get changed.. make yourself at home,’ steve grumbles, slinking off from the kitchen.

‘what’d you cum in your pants or something?’ eddie bellows, watching as you check steve had actually gone upstairs.

you rush over to him, punching his arm and causing a tidal wave of beer to flow out of the bottle, ‘you’re a fucking asshole,’ you hiss, quiet enough.

‘sorry princess, guess you’ll have to get your rocks off some other time,’ he smirks, taking another large swig.

you huff, ‘i’ll fucking kill you next.. don’t think i won’t,’ warning him with wide eyes, retrieving the knife and waving it about vaguely in his direction.

‘yeah yeah.. nice panties by the way, really enjoyed the show,’ licking his bottom lip.

you slide the knife back into the wooden block, spinning to glare at him again. before you can insult his entire family line, you’re interrupted by steve coming back into the kitchen, now in a pair of grey sweatpants.

‘you’re a real asshole, dude.. i could’ve stabbed you,’ he mumbles, getting himself a beer.

‘yeah yeah, i’ve just had an earful from her.. don’t need another one,’ eddie replies, scouring steve’s cupboards.

it’s enraging you. the indistinguishable fury rising in your stomach. if steve hadn’t come and saved his life, you might have just killed him then and there.

‘what’re we doing then? movie?’ eddie laughs, walking past you and into the living, settling right into the spot where you and steve had just disgraced his sofa.

steve follows, flashing you a small smile and a sarcastic eye roll. that pisses you off too.

why couldn’t he just tell him to get the fuck out? be a man. i’m fucking my girlfriend here man. time to go. but he doesn’t. he sits on the other loveseat, gesturing for you to join him.

eddie picks some god awful slasher film to watch, making sure to point out exactly where you and steve had gone wrong.

you’re seething with rage every time his mouth opens, not even bothering to pay attention to the film and instead willing him to blow up with your mind.

when the movie finishes, eddie stands and dramatically yawns, looking at his watch, ‘it’s getting late.. i’ll give you a ride home,’ he nods at you, if you hadn’t seen it before you would’ve missed his sarcastic smirk.

steve nods in agreement, ‘it’s on the way.. i’ll see you at school tomorrow?’ hand sliding down your back.

you grin and bare it. gritting your teeth as you get your bag. feeling both of their eyes on your thighs and you bend down to collect your belongings.

you’re sure to practically make out with steve on the doorstep, leaving a solemn last kiss to his neck as you trundle over to eddie’s rusty old van.

it’s only when you’re halfway down the road that you explode, ‘what the actual fuck is wrong with you?’

eddie responds with that same maniacal laughter, ‘banging his hand onto the steering wheel, ‘awh, did someone get cockblocked? sucks.’

‘i don’t think you understand, i will fucking kill you.. you’ve seen the goddamn proof,’ you grit, turned to face him.

‘good, keep that rage!’ he balls his hand into a fist, ‘we’re gonna need it.’

‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

‘carver. it’s happening, tonight,’ he grins, going the complete opposite way to your house.

‘no the fuck it is not, are you crazy? there’s not- we don’t even have a plan! you just gonna walk in there and gut him?’ you scream, flabbergasted at his frankly insane suggestion.

‘’hmm, basically,’ he nods, ‘calm down sweetheart.. shit’s in the back.. perfect alibi.. what could go wrong?’

-

a lot. apparently.

first of all, eddie had neglected to mention you’d be going to jason’s mansion to off him. or that his parents would be home.

he’d had to park miles away and you’d skulked through the forest backing onto his property for what seemed like hours before you reached the gigantic house.

secondly, eddie had planned to slip through his window and just slash his throat in his sleep. not taking into account that he might not be asleep and still sat at his desk, stressing over some math problem.

‘now what do we do? huh, genius?’ you spat, watching the illuminated window.

‘just.. fuck, just follow me,’ he hissed, leading the way across the large garden.

perhaps wearing your shortest, sluttiest skirt to a murder was the wrong idea. but, in your defence this was definitely not supposed to happen tonight.

eddie gestured for you to clamber up first, but you aren’t stupid, slapping his arm, ‘not a chance, pervert,’ you hissed, met with a smug smile as he reluctantly climbed up onto the awning.

you were supposed to serve as distraction, knock on the window, get him to let you inside and then eddie would swoop in and finish him off.

mumbling something about the killer. his light was on. no- no parents. and you were in.

solid plan. if it weren’t for the fact that eddie is a fucking idiot. he tumbles through the window, landing on jason’s floor with a thud. he looked like a damn goof with the mask on, now crooked and quite comical.

‘wha- what the fuck is going on?’ jason stammers, backing away from you.

‘jesus christ, can you do anything right?’ you sigh, dragging eddie from the floor, already making your way back to the window.

there’s a muffled scream and a horrid squelching sound, jason’s body crashing to the ground and then you’re hurried back through the window. scraping your knee on the brickwork on the way down.

you can’t stifle the laugh as eddie pulls you back through the trees, tripping over branches in the barely lit forest.

one would say that you were addicted. the thrill. the excitement of knowing exactly what you’d just done and subsequently gotten away with. there was not a chance in hell anyone would ever suspect the two of you.

after the initial glow had worn off and you’d come back down to earth sat in eddie’s van, you turn to look at him, ‘i really am done now.. we can’t do this again.’

‘whaaat?’ he glances at you, ‘the fun’s just starting sweetheart, plenty more assholes to off in this town,’ his eyes are wide, dark.

‘no.. that’s it, count me out of whatever you have planned next,’ you assert, running fingers through your hair in an attempt to look slightly more presentable.

he scoffs, ‘i don’t believe you, you love it,’ his eyes are back on you, ‘i saw you back there.. fucking grinning like a cheshire cat, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it.’

‘i’m not saying i didn’t enjoy it.. we just, we’re not off the hook yet, i don’t wanna go to prison because you got too stab happy,’ you jab back, applying another layer of lipgloss in the small visor mirror.

‘we’re not going to prison, no one has a fucking clue it’s us,’ he grins, pulling into your street.

‘you don’t know that,’ you sigh, grabbing your handbag from the floor, ‘i think we should just.. slow down a little.. y’know, do it when it’s necessary.’

‘where’s the fun in that?’ he says, stopping outside of your house.

before you can get out he reaches over, stopping the door from fully opening, ‘one more.. and then we can stop.. do it on your terms.’

you pause, glaring at him and the little optimistic grin on his face, ‘fine,’ you huff, ‘who’s the unfortunate guy?’

‘principal higgins.. that wrinkly fuck is the only reason i’m still in high school, i think he’s more than deserving.’

‘right, you got an actual plan this time or are we just going in fucking bareback?’

‘oh no, i’ve got the perfect plan,’ he taps the side of his head, ‘up here.. we can talk more tomorrow.. i just needed you on my side.’

‘well, i am, can i go now?’ you glance down at his hand still holding onto the plastic handle.

he sits back in his seat, ‘yeah, meet me before school.. i’ll run you through it.’

‘right, goodnight psycho,’ you call as you hop down from the van, slamming the door shut.

he watches from the window as you disappear through the door and then speeds off into the night.

-

higgins went off without a hitch. kind of. it had been a friday night and eddie already knew he’d still be at the school doing god knows what.

he’d wanted to really torture him. make him beg for forgiveness, draw it out for as long as possible but you’d reminded him that the small town was absolutely crawling with cops and news crews and perhaps it wasn’t the best idea.

he has his fun though. receiving a personal apology for all the times he’d fucked eddie over. for making him retake all those years.

you suppose it was a little satisfying. that prick had given you enough detentions and notes home for inappropriate clothing choices so you enjoyed watching him squirm for a while.

but eddie does what eddie does and got far too cocky, taking off his mask and having higgins perform this whole boot kissing ritual and you’d just about had enough. getting ready to dip as soon as he’d done it.

there was a faint vacuuming sound from the hall and you realise the janitor was also probably still here, hissing for eddie to just hurry the fuck up.

he does. eventually. the most evil laugh erupting from his throat as he plunges the knife into his back, a horrid sputtering sound as he chokes for his last few breaths.

eddie gets the last few kicks in, slamming his head into desk. and then starts rooting around the large filing cabinet.

‘what are you doing?’ you asked, itching to just get the fuck out of there.

‘i want my file, i wanna see all the shit he’s put in there,’ he replied, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

‘are you thick? and when they go through the files and yours is missing, you think they’ll just ignore that?’

‘ahh shit,’ he frowned, looking at you and nodding before slamming the metal drawer closed.

you shake your head before opening his office door, ‘put your mask back on before anyone sees us.’

and thank fuck you did. you were almost out of the school when the very janitor you’d heard cleaning earlier turns the corner, spotting the pair of you before you dash out of the doors. pulling eddie behind you and into the car.

you had definitely broken the speed limit on the drive back to eddie’s trailer, chest heaving. you were becoming far too accustomed to this feeling. finding too much joy in taking away someone else’s life.

the added thrill of almost being caught not helping your pounding heart. knowing that you were just this close to being seen.

eddie’s rambling on in the passenger seat, gloating about the look the old man’s face, the sheer terror he had instilled in the grown man. killing him in the very office where he had told eddie that he was being held back once again.

you pull up on the gravel outside his trailer, the trailer park was always a ghost town, the residents always at work or sleeping for their night shift. there was no worry anyone would catch you here.

you follow him into the metal building, head fuzzy with excitement, that dizzy feeling ringing through your entire body.

‘holy fuck,’ you exhale, almost vibrating with excitement.

his pupils are blown out, staring straight into yours. and in a swift motion, before you can even think about what was happening, his lips are pressed to yours, fingers digging into your hip as you’re pushed back into the long cabinet.

you weren’t even really aware that you were kissing him back, a mess of teeth and tongues, your arms snake around his neck, using his body for balance as you’re walked back into the tiny kitchen area.

there’s a loud clattering as the counter top is cleared, kitchen appliances crash to the ground in one fell swoop of eddie’s arm and then you’re being hoisted onto the counter, still making sloppy contact with his lips.

you’re not even thinking. there’s no time to as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, skirt hiked up over your thighs by his ringed hands. one arm is still hooked around his shoulder while the other grips onto the marble surface, giving some stability.

he burrows his face into the crook of your neck, just barely yanking his jeans and in turn, his boxers down before pulling your red panties to the side.

‘you wanna?’ he pants into your neck, and you nod quickly in response.

he wastes no time before slipping into your already soaked entrance, groaning as his fingernails dig into the skin of your thighs.

‘jesus fuck,’ he grunts, setting a steady pace, the cold feeling of his ringed fingers sliding up your thighs.

your legs hold him in place, face pressed into the shoulder of his denim jacket, the knob of the cabinet behind digs into your spine but the pleasure overrides the ache.

it’s animalistic, his thrusts are hard and deep, a plethora of hoarse grunts fall from his lips. one hand creeps up, thumb circling your clit, eliciting the most disgusting pornographic sound to rise from your throat.

this only encourages him, filthy sounds of his skin against yours fill the trailer. you were sure anyone outside could see the damn thing rocking.

‘fuuck,’ you moan through gritted teeth as his thumb continues to draw patterns on your clit. the familiar tight feeling in your core begins to rise.

the rhythmic sound of his knee banging into the cabinet door below you as he mumbles incoherent curse words into the air. his nails begin to sting, making indentations in your thighs as he bears his own high.

‘i’m gonna- fuck,’ you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the coil snaps, clenching around him as your legs tremble.

‘jesus,’ he pants, a solid few final thrusts as he reaches his own orgasm, sweaty forehead stuck in the curve of your neck.

you stay in that position for a moment, panting together. as you both come back down to earth, he pulls away, fiddling with the zip on his jeans.

you hop down from the counter, readjusting your own underwear, staring at the ugly tiles on the floor.

‘i have a boyfriend,’ you remark, as if you’d only just remembered. as if you hadn’t literally killed for him.

eddie scoffs, wiping a hand down his face, ‘pretty stupid thing to say when my cum is running down your leg.’

you squeeze your legs together in response, smoothing down your skirt and screwing up your face at him, ‘this stays between us.. no one ever has to know, okay?’

‘calm down, darlin’, i was hardly about to go running to tell steve that i’ve just fucked his girlfriend,’ he laughs, fixing the waistband of his boxers and walking into the hallway to his room.

you stare blankly, wondering what the hell he was up to now. you’d just defamed his kitchen and he’s just walked off?

he re-emerges, holding a small bag of weed, ‘you wanna smoke?’

‘no,’ you reply flatly, ‘i’m gonna go.’

‘suit yourself,’ he raises his eyebrows before collapsing on the couch, beginning to roll up.

you walk over to the door, swinging it half open before pausing, ‘i mean it, eddie.. don’t say a thing,’ you spit before exiting, his reaction not necessary.

what the fuck is wrong with you?

-

‘you knew nancy, didn’t you?’ jonathan asks, looking up at you from across the table.

robin had graciously asked him to join you guys for lunch. you’d been a bit antsy about it, not sure how much you could lie to him about what you knew. you felt bad for him, after all, he’d lost both his brother and now his girlfriend.

she should’ve stayed the fuck out of your relationship then.

‘kinda i guess.. we weren’t really friends or anything,’ you shrug, brushing him off.

but his eyes don’t move, narrowed and glaring at you, ‘oh.. i thought you two spoke, nancy said you did,’ he continues.

you swallow, trying your hardest not to look nervous although you weren’t sure how well that was working.

‘a few times.. we were in a few classes together,’ giving a small smile, throw him off whatever scent he thinks he’s picked up.

he hums, ‘right.. i always thought it was a little strange.. you never seemed like you liked her,’ beady eyes on you.

‘of course i did- sorry, i don’t understand what you’re trying to say,’ frowning slightly, eternally grateful that robin was the only other person at the table and she wasn’t really paying attention.

‘i’m not saying anything, just trying to make some sense of it all,’ he glowers, dipping his head and finally taking the hint to stop talking.

he was onto you. you knew it. he knew it. actually, what the fuck does he know? nancy sure as hell never spoke about you, especially not in a positive light. you could guarantee that.

the others eventually join you, gossiping about higgins and the apparent horrific state he’d been found in. jonathan’s eyes do not relent. anytime you’d look up, it was a given that he would be staring. it’s like he’s trying to figure you out.

before he walks off to his next class, you pull eddie to the side, under the guise of some maths homework bull shit.

‘jonathan fucking knows,’ you say through gritted teeth, ensuring no one could hear you.

‘what are you talking about?’ he replies, shoving miscellaneous scraps of paper into his bag.

‘he fucking knows eddie,’ you eye the surrounding students, none of them interested in what you were saying.

‘i can guarantee you he doesn’t, how would he?’

‘i don’t know! he was asking me all these.. weird questions about nancy.. can you just trust me on this?’ you hiss, grabbing his sleeve as he turns to walk to his class.

he stops, looking down at you with questioning eyes, ‘you’re sure?’

‘like.. sixty percent.’

he sighs and your grip tightens, holding him in place, ‘that’s not very sure.’

‘i need you to find out what he knows.. please eddie,’ you plead, turning on your pouty face and jutting out your bottom lip.

‘what d’you want me to do? i’m not exactly friends with him.’

you pause for a moment, ‘tomorrow, at steve’s memorial party thing, get him drunk.. give him some of your fucking crack for all i care, i need you to find out,’ batting your wide eyes at him.

‘i don’t sell crack for starters..’ he exhales, ‘but fine.. i’ll try and get him to talk.’

the hallways had emptied at this point and you were late for your class, but you’d gotten what you wanted. without using plan b of a blowie everyday, thank god.

‘thank you,’ you breathe, releasing your grip on his hoodie sleeve, starting to slink off before he can say anything else.

the sicky feeling in your stomach only worsens, knowing what was inevitably had to come next.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 6

Hey, this story is back too! I know I was supposed to be working on it all of October, but that kinda went to hell as October was an unusually busy month for me.

So have a long chapter as an apology.

Here we have Wayne rocking Jason and Patrick's world and Josh just casually dropping a bomb on Steve.

Also I was noticing that engagement to my stories have dropped off again. I'mma gonna blame Tumblr and the holidays. In all seriousness if my tags aren't tag you let me know. I'll try to find a different way to tag again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Jason and Patrick showed up at Wayne’s trailer at dawn. The old vampire sat on the porch with a large sun hat and every other part of his skin covered.

Both boys came to an abrupt stop.

“I didn’t know vampires could walk in daylight,” Patrick said, getting his voice back sooner than Jason.

Wayne was on them in an instant. Not as fast as he was at night, but still quicker than a human. He grabbed Patrick’s wrist and yanked it to eye level. A patch of skin showed between Wayne’s sleeve and his weathered work glove. The skin reddened but didn’t blister or catch fire.

Wayne dropped Patrick’s hand. “Our skin is merely more sensitive than yours. I moved slower to make sure none of my skin became exposed.”

Both boys gulped. They thought they were going to have an easier time during the day, but Wayne had put that to bed right quick.

“Get in the truck,” Wayne growled and the boys hurried to obey.

He got into the driver’s seat and drove out past city limits. They pulled up to an old church.

“I’m about to blow another stupid superstition out of the water,” he chuckled. “Follow me.”

He hopped out the truck and they scrambled to follow him. He walked right up to a big wrought iron gate that read: HAWKINS CITY CEMETERY and pulled out a set of keys. After he rifled through them a moment, he unlocked the gate.

He stepped onto hallowed ground and Jason and Patrick gulped audibly as they watched him cross himself.

“Follow me,” Wayne said gruffly.

The two boys hurried to obey.

They strolled through the cemetery to a relatively new part of the grounds. It had roughly ten or so headstones all about the same age, dirty and overgrown.

“You’ll start with scrubbing each of these headstones,” he told them. “I will teach you how to clean them properly and that is what you will do until I say otherwise.”

“Sir?” Patrick asked, raising his hand timidly.

Wayne huffed and cocked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Why are they like that?” he asked a little more sure. “Doesn’t anyone come to mourn them?”

Wayne licked his lip slowly. “This is the old Harrington pack. These are all those that sided with alpha Jack Sullivan when he chose to hunt humans in my town.”

“So they are monsters,” Jason sneered.

Wayne was on him in a second, hand wrapped around his throat. “Let me make it clear, boy. Ted Bundy was human. H.H. Holmes was human. Adolf Hitler was human. Fucking Caligula was human. Nasty people do all sorts of nasty ass shit. Monsters don’t exist. Just bad people doing horrible things to others.”

Jason’s eyes were wide. He could feel Wayne’s hand on his throat but it was so feather light he could almost trick his mind that it wasn’t there. That he could escape.

But that part of his brain that lit up when there was a predator nearby wouldn’t let him. It would take all of a single heartbeat for Wayne Munson to crush his windpipe. He would be dead before he even hit the ground.

“Steve Harrington could call you two monsters, after all,” Wayne growled. “Do you think he’d be right for it?”

Patrick refused to look at Jason or Wayne, just stared at the ground, worrying his bottom lip.

Jason’s eyes went wide as he looked into dark pools of Wayne’s eyes. What he found there weren’t the eyes of a beast or a monster, but of man granted the abilities to protect those he loved better than most.

If death was a suitable punishment for hunting and then attempted rape and murder of a woman, than why were they granted a boon when those laying there in the dirt did not.

“Why spare us?” Jason breathed. “Why not do us like you did them?”

“The mayor wanted me to,” Wayne explained. “Tearing you two apart would be as easy as ripping up a newspaper for kindling.”

“So why didn’t you?” Patrick asked, looking up at them.

“Because to me you are but infants in the grand scheme of things,” he said. “Killing you would have sent a message to the town, to the nation that hunting people like animals is not to be tolerated.”

He let go of Jason’s neck. “But do you want to know what else it would have done?”

The two boys shared a glance.

“It would have galvanized all the hunters in the country,” Wayne informed them. “They would have turned you two into martyrs. You would become their rallying cry. Hunters would have invaded our small town, killed anyone they thought was a vampire or werewolf. They wouldn’t have stopped to check either. No trials. No tests with silver. Anyone they thought was a supe, they’d be dead. This place would be in ruins in days.”

Jason and Patrick’s jaws dropped.

“And before you get any bright ideas,” he warned them, “all I have to do is turn you over to the law. Two months of a trial plus the automatic death sentence for hunting and you two are dead without the fuss.”

Patrick had started to believe him, but he knew Jason was going to a hard sell. But he had time.

“Now that’s all been cleared up,” Wayne said. “Let me show you how to clean these headstones and then you’ll be doing it all yourselves.”

They nodded and Wayne got to work. Once he was sure they had it, he perched on a nearby tree stump and watched.

*

“That boy shouldn’t be here,” Murray growled.

Steve sighed heavily. “So you have several times since sun up. The point of this is to teach him that werewolves aren’t the monsters from their fiction.”

They were standing in front of the compound entrance for Josh Bentley to arrive. Josh would work his first six weeks with the pack and his second six weeks with the coven. Chance would do the reverse.

Josh showed up on time, his parents trailing behind like frightened deer in the headlights.

Steve stepped forward. “Hey, Josh. Mr and Mrs Bentley. It’s nice to see you.”

Mr Bentley gripped Josh’s shoulders from behind tightly as Mrs Bentley held Josh’s hand tightly. They nodded mutely.

“So here’s how it’s going to go,” Steve continued as if they had greeted him back. “On the weekends he is here from sun up to sun down and then every day after school. He can tell you what he does here. Nothing he’ll see is a secret. However there will be areas that are off limits for his protection…” He cocked his head to side. “Mainly due to not having the strength to get there.”

They stared at him blankly and he laughed. “He’ll see what I mean later.” He held out his hand. “Come on, it’s time to show you around.”

Josh looked back at his dad, who nodded. He let go of his mom’s hand and walked toward Steve.

“This is Murray Bauman,” Steve explained. “He’s the sentry right now.”

“Why do you need a sentry if it’s not secret?” Josh asked.

Murray’s grin was slimy. “Yes, Steve, why do you need a sentry if it isn’t secret?”

“It not a secret what’s in a museum or art gallery either,” Steve said with a shrug, “but they still have people protecting it.”

“So it’s valuable?” Josh asked, eyes wide.

He ruffled the kid’s hair. “Not in the way you mean. It’s valuable because all life is valuable. One of our pups was a test subject of the last Dominus and we don’t want our own taken like that again.”

Josh nodded. They started walking through the woods, leaving a disgruntled Murray behind.

“That makes sense,” Josh said. “If someone hurt my family like that, I’m not sure I wouldn’t want to lock them to keep them safe, too.”

Steve nodded back. “Right. All the wolves are free to come and go as they will, but we screen outsiders now because it’s been scary for us.”

Josh ducked his head. “Like what we did.”

Steve stopped their trek through the woods and turned to him. “Very like. But that’s why you’re here and not Andy or Patrick or Jason. Because you realized on some level what they were doing was wrong, but went along with it because you wanted to be cool like you thought they were.”

Josh nodded. “I like basketball. It’s fun and Jason was the captain, you know. I thought it was going to be a little hazing thing. Because you were on the team, too. They made it sound like you knew it was coming and was in on it.”

Steve felt a cold sliver of dread down slip his spine. “What?”

Josh bit his lip.

“Yeah, they told us that the trap was fake and that it wasn’t real silver. Things started to get bad when they kept taking it farther and farther. The cross, the beatings...I don’t know what would have happened if that vampire had come and chased us off.”

Steve grabbed the boy’s shoulders. “Their plan was to kill me. The only reason Andy got off so lightly is that he ran when Eddie...” Josh frowned in confusion, “the vampire, swooped in to rescue me.”

Josh’s eyes went wide. “Shit, man! I swear I had no idea.”

“That’s what Sheriff Powell reported to Mayor Roberts,” Steve said. “That you and Chase had no idea what was going on. Both of you seemed to think it was a prank gone wrong.”

Josh nodded. “Honest, we did! We thought the hunter thing was just pretend. A macho club. I thought that it was a way to air out grievances. Talk about how wrong it was for them to be ruling our town.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “But Powell and Roberts are both human. Until the attempt on my life this town was run by humans.”

Josh’s eyes went wider than Steve thought was possible on a human. “But I thought werewolves were traditionally the sheriff and vampires were the mayor!”

Steve stepped back. “Who told you that?”

Josh furrowed his brow. “It’s what they taught us in history, man.”

Steve raised his chin and heaved out a heavy sigh. “And this history lesson it wouldn’t happen to take place on a day most supernatural beings were out of class, say...the day after a full moon?”

Josh frowned as he thought back to all the times in history he heard about vampires and werewolves taking over the running of the town. “I don’t really remember, but I guess so.”

Steve’s second sigh was no less heavy. It looked like he was going to have to join the PTA.

“Come on,” he said. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the pack.”

Hopper and Joyce stayed back, but the rest rushed to meet Josh. Well, everyone but Lucas.

Lucas he already knew from basketball. The young man stood off to the side. Not hanging back like Joyce and Hopper, but not rushing to meet him either.

Lucas didn’t know how to act so he was waiting for a signal from his alpha. From his friend. From Steve.

Steve introduced the pack. The Wheelers, the Byers brothers, the Hendersons, the rest of the Sinclairs, and even Jane.

The remaining three, Joyce, Hopper, and Lucas waited to see what their alpha would do.

“In an unprecedented turn of events,” Steve said with a lopsided smile, “we have the previous alpha male and female, Jim Hopper, you know, and Joyce Byers.”

Josh cocked his head to the side. “Awk-ward.”

Steve laughed. And even Joyce couldn’t quite hide her smile.

Josh looked around. “I don’t see anything that I could do for you guys,” he said honestly.

Steve turned to three members of the pack that he hadn’t introduced yet. “This Tommy Hagen, Carol Perkins, and Robin Buckley. They’re keepers. What they do for the pack is what you’ll be learning how to do the time you’re here.”

Josh looked at the three older teenagers skeptically. “What can they do?”

Steve grinned. “Mortal families looking for prestige will send their sons or daughters to the pack to become keepers. They aren’t werewolves, they can’t change at will or in the light of the full moon, but they are stronger, faster, and more agile then your average human.”

“More durable too!” Robin said excitedly. “I haven’t broken a single bone since I became a keeper. It’s so cool!”

Josh frowned. “Do you guys remain keepers until you die or what happens?”

Tommy and Carol shared a glance, before Carol said, “You can stay a keeper all your life, you live longer than the average human, but not as long as a werewolf. Or you can go back to being human when you leave the pack to go to college or whatever. It looks killer on any resumé or application.”

“Or...” Tommy said, “you can ask to be made a werewolf. The alpha can always say no, but you can always ask. And even if the alpha does say yes, it doesn’t mean that it’ll take. But it’s not as though you’ll be maimed or killed if it doesn’t. So some people take the risk.”

“Today,” Steve said, gently steering the conversation away from transformations, “you’ll help Carol get supplies and she’ll show you where they’re put.”

“Shopping run?” Josh asked. Carol nodded. “Hell yeah. Count me in.”

Steve laughed at his enthusiasm. “Don’t say that or you’ll become her shopping buddy for life.”

Carol grinned wolfishly, but Josh just grinned back.

Josh ran off with Carol and they were chatting like old friends.

Nancy came up behind Steve and put her arm around his waist. “This was a really good idea. He gets to see how much we are the same and how special we are without all the negative mind dump the general public feeds him.”

Steve hummed. “I’m concerned about some of the things he was telling me on the way in about how negative the portrayal of us is. I need to talk to Wayne, but since he’s busy with Jason and Patrick, Eddie will have to do.”

Nancy poked his ribs and he squirmed.

“You just want to see your boyfriend,” she teased.

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Guilty as charged. But it is important I talk to him and Wayne about what Josh said. Hold down the fort for me?”

“Always.”

He gave her a hug and shifted, running for the direction of Forest Hills Trailer Park.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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[seths-rogens]

lil hc that just came to me,,,

Eddie’s already a pro at the guitar and since Corroded Coffin split up (all his friends remaining in contact but spreading across the country for college) he’s been desperate to get back into the live music scene.

He encourages Steve to take up drums when he notices how often he taps his hands - a nervous tic left over from years of Upside Down related trauma. The energy of playing the drums helps Steve let out all of his pent up energy and anxiety.

Robin - feeling just a little left out - channels her language learning prowess into the language of music, and starts to learn the bass because “Chicks dig bass players, Steve!”

But they’re missing a key piece. None of them are too confident in their singing abilities.

Enter Max Mayfield.

Her eyesight worse and not as physically strong as she used to be, she takes after Eddie and lets out her pent up anger listening to metal music.

It’s Eddie who recruits her, after walking past her trailer and hearing her singing (screaming) along to one of the many tapes he lent her.

It’s like a lightbulb goes off.

She’s in the band only three days later.

Anyway, this is just a very long winded way of me saying I think a Max lead metal/heavy rock band would be insanely good and that I think her singing Bundy by Animal Alpha and Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless would be very cool :)

[talanashta]

Happy early Halloween! I have been inspired. What was the inspiration, you may ask? An Undertale x Stranger Things crossover fic! What happens when Steve and Robin fall into the Underground during a hike while on vacation?

Set in a canon-esque universe for both fandoms (not a fusion or AU), and taking place in the early 90s!

Chapter 1 should be posted within a week, and then updates will be regular after that. (I just haven't decided yet on an exact posting schedule.)

Enjoy!

“Why did we think this was a good idea again?” Robin asked, holding her jacket above her head as best she could to block out the rain.

Steve gave her a look as they headed further up the trail, saying, “You’re the one who heard the mountain might be haunted and wanted to check it out.” He shook his head. “You’d think with everything we’ve been through, you’d want to avoid that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, but the locals were so weird about it!” she exclaimed, flapping her jacket around in lieu of being able to gesture with her hands. “Weren’t you curious too?”

“I don’t think it’s anything, Robs. I mean, people talk about Bigfoot all the time, and there’s not any proof about him.”

“Then why’d you bring your bat?” she asked with a smirk on her face. “You know, if we come across anyone else, they’re gonna think you’re a serial killer. A real Ted Bundy.”

Steve flipped her off before jogging up the trail, passing her. “C’mon. The rain doesn’t seem like it’s letting up, so we should try and find some shelter.”

“I think I overheard one of the park rangers say something about some caves.”

He started scanning their surroundings, but the rain was coming down heavy, even through the canopy, so it was hard to see too far. However… “Like that?” he asked, pointing at a dark spot against the mountain-face, just a little ways off the trail.

“Oh, thank God!” Robin said, heading off towards the cave opening immediately.

Steve followed after. “Wait, Robs, slow down! You’re not going to die if you don’t get out of the rain right this second! What if there’s bats?”

They’d reached the entrance to the cave now, and Robin turned to face him but didn’t really meet his eyes. She was busy looking around at their surroundings. “Oh, yeah. Ew. I really don’t want to have to get a rabies shot.” Slowly, she was stepping backwards, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve looked to the ceiling too, wandering around, looking for bats. “I’m not seeing any right now, but they might be deeper in the cave.”

“Yeah. We should just-” He heard her get cut off with a scream, shooting around to look as she fell backwards into a hole.

“Robin!” he yelled and lunged after her. The rocks were slick from the rain, and then, he was falling in too.

[classicprowrestling]

King Kong Bundy & One Man Gang vs Hacksaw Jim Duggan & Dr Death Steve Williams - 1983