#i love this leather vest actually

[barbedwirechain]

[acecroft]

Cosplay: Lara Croft's Doppelgänger TOMB RAIDER: UNDERWORLD (2008) 🎮 

[my IG with more cosplay]

[blusandbirds]

you know what i really do enjoy a jason suit design that gives him a hood over the helmet, but then let’s triple down and continue to have a domino mask underneath all that. love a boy who knows how to layer.

[izzy-b-hands]

Izzy Hands cosplay is far from perfect (my grey hairs are still too few and don't show well, and I need actual leathers someday that eventually I'm gonna be able to save for dang it) but! It is v comfy and it's nice to dress up for the holiday

Bonus Izzy pumpkin that Housemate helped me carve bc they Get It re: characters that live in your bones after the first time you see them and when something frustrating/sad/etc happens to them. They helped get the lil tattoo looking much better!

[todayisafridaynight]

tumblr might not respect the alligator print but i do

[love-bitesx]

okay but imagine pavitr trying to play wingman for hobie to get with the reader and how funny/cute it would be

longer requests will be out this week, thank u all for the amazing support!! love you guys sm

: ̗̀➛ WINGMAN. hobie brown x reader headcanons

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

oh, he would be so annoying. in the best way.

you’d joined the spider society not long after the others, immediately clicking within the dynamic and it wasn’t uncommon for you all to just hang out in each others dimensions after a mission.

at first, hobie thought you’d simply peaked his interest because of your unspoken nature. constantly standing up for yourself and other spider people, putting people in their place if need be, just your general backbone intrigued him. you felt different to the others. that’s all he thought.

that was, until one afternoon, you were all packed into your apartment, music playing from the stereos and pavitr talking everybody’s ear off about god knows what. hobie had been silent for a while, no reason in particular, he’d been fiddling with the badges on his leather vest, in his own little world. well, until he felt a hand on his knee.

“hobie,” your voice was low, subtle, hanging just below the decibels of the melodies booming through the room, “are you alright? you’ve been quite quiet.”

“oh, uh,” he was taken aback, possibly by your hand that still lingered on his jeans, or how close he suddenly realised you were, seeing the soft details of your face and pigment in your cheeks for the first time, “yeah, no, i’m fine.” he cleared his throat.

smiling back at him, you took your hand away, moving back to get involved in the conversation again, not thinking much of it. regretfully, hobie looked up and saw pavitr staring at him, clearly having watched the ordeal and the excited smirk on his face told him that he’d definitely seen hobie flustered. he sighed.

after pavitr worked out that hobie had a thing for you, it was over for him.

he couldn’t even LOOK in your direction, without the shorter man hopping into his personal space, nudging him hard in the ribs, singing something about kissing in a tree.

constant comments about you to hobie

“y/n, i love your shirt! hobie, doesn’t it look so cool?”

“y/n! hobie told me to tell you he loves your shoes.”

“doesn’t y/n look sooo nice today! huh? hobie? what do you think?”

he was in hell, actually.

there was only so many "yeah, nice" he could say to you before he started to sound like a prick

on missions, he was insufferable

constantly making you guys work together somehow

“miguel, i think me and gwen work best as a team, don’t you think? y/n and hobie should do this one together”

swinging through the streets of whichever earth you were sent to, hearing distant yells of pavitr calling after you both “aren’t they cute together?!”

“good morning, hobie,” you grinned, sleep still evident in your voice as you wandered into the headquarters, beckoning to miguel’s very early morning mission call.

god, he was so thankful to have you alone for once. relief settled itself on his shoulders at the absence of his best friends’ watchful eye, happy to interact with you comfortably.

“mornin’,” he spoke, stretching his legs mindlessly out across the length of the desk, leaning back onto his arms, “how’d you sleep?”

“oh my god, i had the weirdest dream—” you begun, hopping up onto the adjoining surface, eyes lit up with passion as you ranted about the dream you had just resurfaced from.

he watched you the whole time, lips curling into a smile at the way you threw your hands around in the air as you spoke, reeling into every detail about your nonsensical experience. nodding every so often, he was almost enthralled by you – taking this peaceful moment as an advantage to see you properly. you were tired, sleep still evident in your eyes, hair a little chaotic in places, but the soft glow that it gave you made his heart skip.

he’d totally lost himself in speaking to you, listening to the excitement lacing your voice, that he didn’t realise other people had arrived.

well, until he felt a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“you guys are so cute together!” pavitr’s sing-song voice pierced hobie’s ears, shocked at the newcomers, “i saw the way you looked at them, loverboy.”

the nickname stuck

he’d been addressed more by “loverboy” than his own name, and his insides churned every single time

even gwen started calling him it, to which hobie would send a threatening glare

when you eventually did end up seeing each other, whether that be dating or other stuff, you both swore to keep it a secret

hobie refused to give pavitr the satisfaction of knowing he was right

so you would sneak around together, kissing in places you shouldn’t, stealing knowing glances in meetings, secret touches when no one was looking

he loved the risk of it all

but it was one afternoon, you’d both slipped away into an empty lab at the spider society headquarters, giggling to each other like kids as he dragged you into the vacant room

his hands were all over you, lips brushing whatever skin he could see, your arms slung around his neck as you kissed him

“did you lock the door?” you asked

“i thought you did.”

“OH. MY. GOD.” a third voice yelled.

you yelped, jumping away from hobie as a last ditch effort to maybe save some face

it was too late, pavitr stood there, mouth agape

hobie sighed, hanging his head

“GWEN! THEY DID IT!”

pavitr stepped back into the hallway and ran down towards where you’d both left them, his voice carrying through the metal walls

“LOVERBOY DID IT!”

you stood there, unsure whether if you just remained still, you could avoid whatever consequences you both faced

that was, until you felt hobie’s arm slide around your waist, pulling you back into him, an unintelligible look on his face

“we can’t keep it a secret anymore, i guess.” you spoke first, he let out a laugh

“i don’t think that’s such a bad thing,” he kissed you, softly.

a/n: hope this was okay!! currently got a bunch of requests in the works, so keep an eye out for more!!! also anymore headcanon ideas would be so fun!! thank u

[lovebugism]

“I’m not the easiest person to talk to, or be around. It’s… hard for other people to love me. I get that.” with Eddie? Maybe he and reader are sorta rivals or frenemies?

here's an unsolicited part 2 to this fic! hope you like it :D — eddie knows you like him now, so you find it extremely hard to be normal around him accordingly (enemies to lovers, grumpy!reader, more succession references, 2.3k)

You walk into the Hideout behind Steve and Robin, hands trembling and sticky with sweat. 

The humid air of the overcrowded bar and the overwhelming stench of cheap beer do little to quell your swirling stomach. The too-loud music and bustling bodies are hardly more than a harsh reminder of the last time you were here — pouring your heart out to Eddie Munson in the form of anxious word vomit, only to be hopelessly turned away. 

Not quite rejected but hardly embraced, which is somehow more embarrassing. 

“You alright?” Steve asks once you’ve ducked into the dim hallway of the backstage area. 

The music and muddled chatter are mostly stifled now, but the walls continue to pulse with life — riddled with chipping paint and dubious stains that only add to your unease. You try to swallow down your distant ennui, hoping it isn’t as obvious as it feels. (It is). Your loud feelings are too big for your body, and it’s got your face softly screwed together like you’ve tasted something sour.

The concerned glint in Steve’s eyes makes you cower. “Yeah. I’m peachy,” you deadpan with an unconvincing shrug. “Why?”

“‘Cause you look like we’re leading you to slaughter,” Robin scoffs.

“You’re asking me to be nice to Eddie Munson for two hours,” you grouse. “So, excuse me if I’m not the most chipper.”

The brunette girl flashes you a look over her shoulder, ocean eyes smudged with dark liner. “Scared you’ll spontaneously combust?” she jokes with her hand wrapped around the rusted knob of the faux greenroom. It feels more like her chipped maroon nails have grabbed your heart and twisted.

“Terrified,” you monotone just before she swings the door open.

The tiny, windowless room smells like sweat and grocery store cologne. It’s crowded with vanity mirrors, plastic folding chairs, and suitcases — hardly big enough for a heavy metal band. 

The three of you run into Gareth and Jeff on your way in. The two look nothing like themselves as you shuffle past them in the doorway, sharing fleeting glances and awkward greetings as you go. A couple of D&D nerds in leather and eyeliner feels almost uncanny.

It’s the same with Eddie, sort of. Curls drenched with sweat, eyes smudged black, tanktop damp around the neckline — a total rockstar. You’re not sure if it’s the raucous outfit stirring your stomach or the body wearing it.

“Oh, shit— You assholes actually showed!” Eddie beams at the sight of you. “And you dressed for the occasion, too.”

The boy in all black and silver stands before the three of you, still dressed in corporate attire after working late shifts. Steve and Robin look at least mostly normal without the Family Video vests and branded name tags. You, however, look like one of those businesswear catalogs brought to life — glaringly out of place. 

“You sayin’ The Gap isn’t proper Hideout attire, Munson?” Steve quips, holding his arm out for a friendly (only slightly awkward) side embrace.

Eddie slaps the back of the boy’s collared shirt with a ringed hand. “Claire’s is more metal than The Gap,” he teases, then turns to hug Robin. “At least Buckley looks halfway normal.”

“And by normal, you mean hot, right?” she jokes, voice deep and gritty and effortlessly sultry.

He scoffs. “Obviously.”

Eddie has no trouble greeting Steve and Robin but loses most of his cool when he turns to you.

The not-so confession at Benny’s Burgers seemed to change more things between you than the heart-felt one you shared here not too long ago. He feels a bit weird, knowing now that you meant what you said — that you actuallyliked him, and that it wasn’t just some cruel joke. 

He feels like he’s got cool points to win with you now. And it makes him achingly aware of when he inevitably loses them.

“Look at you,” Eddie grins, tossing his chin back to shake wild curls from his face. A few chestnut strands cling stubbornly to his sticky forehead. The milky white tendons of his neck shine with sweat, too. “You look like an actual human person.”

“Wow. Thanks, Eds,” you monotone, unsure of whether or not to take his words as a compliment. You cross your arms over the chest of your fitted turtle neck and joke, “I’d say that same, but… you look like a poodle that just washed up on shore.”

Robin mumbles your name through gritted teeth, flashing you a look and poking you on the shoulder. She scolds you like a parent, as though to say be nice without actually saying the words out loud.

“What?” you shrug.

Eddie only chuckles — a low and honeyed sound he presses to your ear when he brings you suddenly in for a hug. His lean body meets yours, soft and strong and slightly clammy. His skin smells like deep cologne, minty aftershave, and very faintly of boy. You tense when his hands cradle your back.

“Oh,” you mumble in surprise, floundering at the affection as you attempt to hold him back. “Okay.”

“How’s the nine-to-five?” Eddie asks after he parts from you, sounding almost like he cares. “Boring the absolute shit outta you?”

You shrug with an air of nonchalance and hope you don’t look as flustered by his attention as you feel. “Oh, you know… Burying the bodies, counting the cash.”

“Gotta picture of me in your little cubicle?”

“Tons,” you answer. “It’s basically an Eddie Munson shrine.”

His smile widens to show all his teeth. His chocolate eyes glitter with mischief, too, like he knows what he’s doing to you. 

Eddie gives you a break from his suffocating stare and looks to Steve and Robin standing on his other side. You feel like you can finally breathe. “I told Greg at the bar to give my friends free beer tonight— just show him your ID or whatever,” the boy tells them.

“Oh, my god— I could kiss you right now,” Robin mumbles.

Eddie’s plush pink lips curl into a half-smirk when he turns to you again. “So try not to run up your tab tonight, alright, sweetheart?” he quips and pats you on the arm. It’s easier to joke that he hadn’t mentioned you at all when your name was first from his lips. Which is totally a joke you would’ve made.

You flash Steve and Robin a wide-eyed look of annoyance, jaw clenched to contain all the insults you instinctively want to spew. “He got us free beers,” the former cautions with a sympathetic shrug. “Don’t ruin it.”

You roll your eyes and hear them leave behind you — not even trying to pretend like they didn’t swing byfor the beers. Eddie’s stupid grin widens when you stay. “You heard the man. Means you gotta be nice to be all night.”

“Right,” you scoff like it’s funny. Steve The Hair Harrington doesn’t exactly scream figure of authority to you. Robin Buckley, maybe. But definitely not Steve.

“Think you can do it without spontaneously combusting?” he quips.

You hate that he knows you so well. “Not particularly,” you deadpan.

Eddie tilts his wild head to the side and sends you a pretty, tight-lipped smile. “Well, you’re doing a great job already.”

His praise is sarcastic. You know this already, so you’re not sure why it has your stomach doing backflips. “Thanks…” you mumble, inherently shrinking inside yourself as you attempt to make small talk. “How, uh— How was the show?”

“Fine,” the boy hums, shrugging his pale shoulders. “Same set from last time. Same crowd of drunks.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

“Eh. Don’t be. You’ve actually got important shit going on— Don’t worry about me.”

“Your shit’s important, too,” you argue without thinking, perhaps more shocked by your sincerity than the boy ahead of you. You follow quickly and much more harshly, “I guess.”

Eddie smiles wordlessly. You start to squirm in place. He watches you grow suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin as you seem to look everywhere but back at him. The pink expression ebbs into a more concerned one. “You okay?”

You hate the question more the second time. 

“Fine,” you monotone, hardly convincing.

He squints. “Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

“I am looking at you,” you argue just to argue, giving him a measly glance before turning away a moment later.

“No, seriously,” Eddie chuckles, reaching out to touch you. “What’s going on?”

His ringed hand caresses the outside of your elbow. You jerk back on instinct, more aggressive than you mean to be. 

“Nothing!” you huff, looking so far away from him that he can only see your profile. You grumble like a storm cloud, “You just— You make me go all weird. As you know. And fully intend.”

“That’s what this is all about?” Eddie chuckles. “You got a little crush on me?”

He reaches out for you again, this time digging his fingers into the junction of your neck. You swat him away with a harsh hand. You hate the way his touch makes your skin buzz. 

“You’re such a dick,” you groan before spinning on your heel. Your slacks swish around your ankles as you walk the very short distance to the door. Eddie’s footsteps sound much heavier in comparison as he rushes behind you. 

“Hey, hey, hey! C’mon. I’m just kidding,” he assures, still laughing as he slides his body between you and the exit. He meets your glare with a crooked smile. “It’s okay. I got a crush on you back— you know that.”

You hate how easily the words spill from his mouth, how cool he is about all of it compared to the time bomb you’ve become — tick tick ticking away as your anxiety builds. You figure this stupid crush (or whatever he wants to call it) must mean more to you than it does to him. So again, you turn away.

Eddie knocks his worn sneaker against the toe of your pleather boot. “Just because you don’t believe me doesn’t make it any less true, you know?” he tells you, quiet and suddenly serious as he tilts his cheek to his shoulder. “Doesn’t make me like you any less, either.”

His confession makes you feel funny. It makes you giddy and fills you with dread all at once. “It’s just… It’s weird,” is all you can think to say, after several long moments of silence.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I— I’m not— I don’t know,” you groan, bringing your hands to your face to hide behind your palms. “God, I did not intend to talk about this today.”

“Well, too late. We’re talking about it.”

Eddie takes a step away from the door, moving impossibly closer to you. He ducks his chin to meet your sheepish gaze, dark eyes sparkling with visible concern. 

You step back from him on instinct and talk wildly with your hands. “No! Tonight was supposed to be about you— about you’re fucking show— not about me!”

Brows raised and hidden behind his sweat-drenched bangs, he monotones. “Say it.”

A stubborn sigh puffs out your lips. “I just… I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to. Or to be around. I know that,” you confess. “I know it’s hard for people to like me, but… you do, and I really don’t fucking get it, okay? It just feels like you’re playing a big, dumb prank on me.”

Eddie stays silent for a moment, chocolate gaze unwavering as he ponders your words. 

“Wait, so…” the boy trails off, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “You’re mean to me, but I like you anyway, and because I can see through all the— faux bitchiness or whatever— You have a hard time… being around me?”

Your eyes flit to the ceiling for a moment. You look back at him and nod. “Yeah, that’s… That’s pretty much the gist of it, yeah.”

Eddie beams before he can help it, filling the dingy room with golden sunshine. “Well, you know how we get past that, right?” he wonders and scrunches the bridge of his nose.

You get the feeling he’s teasing you still, but you entertain him anyway. “What?”

“Us being boyfriend-girlfriend—”

“Eddie,” you groan with your head tilted back, only partly pretending to be annoyed. You don’t step back from him when he inches closer to you this time, though. You don’t jerk away from his touch when his hands caress your forearms, either. 

“I know you wanna…” he lilts, pulling you closer with ringed fingers wrapped gently around your wrists. Your shoes scuff the carpet as you stumble into his chest. “It’s why I make you go all funny, right?”

You squint up at him, with hate in your eyes and your heart in your throat. “You’re so annoying,” you deadpan.

“Okay, how about this? We can just go on one date, alright?” Eddie offers, smoothing his guitar-string calloused fingers up your shoulders. “Nothin’ fancy, I promise. Just bottomless breadsticks at Enzo’s at seven. And you, bottom-less at my place at eight.”

Your knotted stomach does a backflip at his words, but you keep glaring at him anyway. “And who says you don’t know how to flirt?” you squint.

Another chuckle spills from his plush, pink lips. His tongue darts out to wet them a second later — mouth desperate to be kissed. “‘Kay. Fine. How about we just makeout in my van after closing? And I try not to be a total idiot and ruin it like last time?”

He’s much more serious now. You can see it in his very expressive button eyes. He’s borderline pleading now, for a second chance he never needed to ask for. 

You cave, far quicker and with a lot less fight than he expected. “Fine,” you shrug with an unenthusiastic huff.

Eddie smiles so big, it’s like you’ve just told him you loved him or something — all his teeth on display — so wide and full of adoration it almost hurts. 

[kitmon]

Get Into The Groove | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you dancing while you’re home alone and, unsurprisingly, the sight has him careening into the bottomless gorge that is loving you all over again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: allusions to sexy times 18+ only, no actual smut, FLUFF cuz I’m a sucka for it, established relationship, reader is explicitly referred to as “girl” and “woman”

Author’s Note: Just an itty bitty thing that came to me a while ago that I jotted down in between work and school :P hope you like it! And if you’d like to enhance the experience listen to Into the Groove by Madonna and Wango Tango by Ted Nugent!

There are few things that Eddie Munson looks forward to in life: a well-planned D&D campaign, a perfectly rolled joint— the premium shit— and getting home to you.

He whistles to himself as he skips up the steps of his trailer, chains and leather creaking with each step he takes and every key he flips in his hand. The entire day he had been anticipating this moment, just as he does every weekday, where he can come home to a warm and secluded trailer, see you and kiss you the same way he did before he left to work— deep and passionate and long enough to make you dizzy— and sink into his worn-in spot on the couch with you under his arm. He smiles at the comforting thought as he pushes the door in, humming under his breath as he steps inside. 

He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl near the door with a clink before he begins peeling his jacket and vest off. His arm is halfway in and out of his jacket as his ears perk at the music trailing down the hall from his room. He finishes shrugging his jacket off, tossing it over the La-Z-Boy before he stalks towards his room, taking care to cushion his steps. As he gets closer he can make out the faint synth and the clap of the drum machine; it’s Madonna, he realizes.

He dips his head to peek through the slit between the door and the frame, eyes glowing with mirth as a wide grin consumes his face.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free…

He hadn't expected to find this upon coming home. You’re usually stretched out across the sofa or his bed, mentally marking the bubbles of a quiz inside a Cosmo that Nancy let you borrow or smiling to yourself as you flip through the pages of one of your bodice ripper romances. Instead, from his vantage point, he can see you singing along to the tape that you’ve popped into his stereo, sipping a black cherry Tab as you skip around his room tidying up the cluttered space. You pick up discarded clothes from his floor, pinching that lacy number he stripped off of you that morning and dangling it over your pointer finger as you absentmindedly twirl it around before tossing it into the hamper.

Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else…

As the song builds to its chorus you drop the clothes you're working with, take one more gulp of your soda and start bobbing your head and shaking your hips. With the way you sway, he can't help but admire how your frame fits under one of his ragged sleep shirts. Your legs are bare and enticing as you prance around with only your underwear on underneath, the reliable lilac pair that you wear flashing at him with every punctuated glide you make down your legs before flipping your hair back. 

Get into the groove,

Boy you’ve got to prove,

Your love to me…

Your voice picks up in confidence and volume. Even if you're not classically trained, you make up for the wavering notes and shifting keys with your enthusiasm as you stomp about his room, shaking your head and shifting your hair as you swivel and cock your hips in a way that has Eddie swooning against the door frame. The door kicks open wider as he watches you, tongue licking at his canine in amusement and adoration.

Your singing subdues into little mumbled harmonies and a few enunciated riffs as you drag your hands from your thighs up your rocking body, your fingers catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your ass to offer just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse. You writhe like a charmed snake in a wicker basket, your hands meeting over your head as you slither in mesmerizing forms.

You fall away from your dance but maintain the skip in your step and the nod in your head as you bend over and snatch a pair of Eddie's boxers from the floor. You twirl in place, boxers held to your chest as you get lost in the music, shifting your feet to twist you around, eyes closed blissfully.

“At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see— AH!”

You scream, chucking the boxers at Eddie’s head as you’re startled. He ducks as the garment soars over his head and he laughs at your reaction.

“Jesus, sweetheart! You almost took me out with my own drawers!”

“Eddie!” You scold, with wide eyes and a small crinkle between your brows, “You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re clutching your chest with one hand as your breath relaxes but your eyes screw up in mild anger at the fact that he snuck up on you.

“M’sorry! Didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

You groan, your hands crawling over your face as you wince, “You saw that?”

Eddie steps towards you, soothing your embarrassment by rubbing at your arms.

“Mm-hmm, and, if I may say so,” he leans in to whisper into your ear, “it was very sexy.”

You sputter out a giggle at him before taking your hands and pulling at the loose thread along the collar of his t-shirt— perhaps you’re the reason all of his shirts have holes along the collar.

“Of course you would find it sexy,” you tease as your fingers migrate upwards to play with the ends of his hair. “You could watch me floss my teeth and get a semi.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer. “With a girl as smokin’ as you, it’s impossible to keep the little guy down.”

You snort, letting your head fall into his chest as he strokes your hair.

You bask in the silence for a moment, the two of you shuffling your feet and breathing each other in. The song’s ended by now and moved on to another poppy dance number that fades into the background.

“Think you can teach me some of those moves?” He questions into your hairline.

You hum, a smile coating the sound as you lean back to look into his eyes.

“I dunno, don’t think you’re limber enough to pull off some of these crazed gyrations of this rock generation.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close enough to nip at your lips, “I’ll have you know I’m a proper Johnny Castle, baby.” His smile gives way to a contemplative yet amused shape, “And did you just quote Ted Nugent to me?”

You nod your head as a wide grin splits across your face.

“Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman!”

You squeal as he hoists you up and throws you onto his bed, your head falling back against his pillows as you laugh from the excitement of it. You fall into soft hums of laughter that slip past your throat as Eddie follows you down and climbs up your body, nipping at your calves and thighs, pushing his nose against the hem of your— well, his shirt— to reveal that worn lilac cotton that you make look like a whole Victoria’s Secret set.

“And I’ll show you dancing, I’m quite skilled at Zee Wango, Zee Tango.”

[munsons-curls]

Black Dahlias

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

Contains: 18+!! Heavy, graphic smut. Rough, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral sex (M/F receiving), praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink if you squint, possessive!eddie, mean!eddie, slight innocence kink. Minor ghostface!steve. CANON DIVERGENT.

Trigger warnings: DUBCON, knife play, stalking, panty theft, drinking and drug consumption, emetophobia, allusions to sexual assault and child abuse, graphic depictions of murder, violence and gore. <-PLEASE HEED THESE TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!

A/N: happy All Hallows’ Eve!! 🎃 thank you so so so much to T @hotchs-bitch for leaving me 112 comments on this Google doc despite having her own 17k word WIP. I love u.

Somebody’s watching you. 

Your eyes dart around the open courtyard, scanning the area for anything, anybody that stands out, but the unease rolling in your stomach dissipates as quickly as it arrives. 

In the distance, you spot a tall figure lighting a cigarette under the awning of the drama block. His dark, curly hair sits at his leather and denim clad shoulders, ringed fingers bringing a cigarette to his mouth. He’s initially a cutting figure, intimidating and looming but you find yourself drawn to him in a magnetic way. 

You meet his eyes briefly, your attention ripped away when a girl with short, dirty blonde hair rushes past you, splashing you with her converse. She windmills to a stop and begins apologising profusely, running back to you. 

You meet his eyes briefly, your attention ripped away when a girl with short, dirty blonde hair rushes past you, splashing you with her converse. She windmills to a stop and begins apologising profusely, running back to you. 

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, I’m so sorry.” She rasps. “I totally didn’t even see that stupid puddle and now you’re soaking!” 

“No harm done.” You smile, downcast. “I was already wet.” 

She looks you up and down, her eyes widening at you soaking through your clothes. “I’m so sorry. Do you have, like. A ride or something? How long have you been waiting here?” 

“Since class let out. I’m just waiting for the rain to clear to walk home.” You smile.

“Okay. Forget it. C’mon. You’re coming with me.” You’re being dragged away by a well-meaning hand before you can protest, leading you to a dark red BMW. “C’mon!” She insists when you drag your heels, pulling you down the hilly path to the car. 

You curiously look back for the figure in the distance, but he’s gone by the time you manage to pull free of your new friend. 

“I’m Robin. And that head of hair you see is Steve.” She says, motioning to the driver in a green uniform vest.

You greet Steve quickly and he mock-salutes you with two fingers, offering you a tight smile as Robin ferries you into the back of the car, quickly taking her place in the passenger side. She shakes out her hair, water droplets splattering Steve. 

He squirms and wipes his face before starting the car. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes, Robin. I’ve told you—if you want rides from me, the least you can do is be on time.” 

Evidently, Robin bringing in strays isn’t new to Steve, he doesn’t seem at all irritated by an unknown girl dripping rainwater in the back of his BMW. He’s more irritated by the wait. 

“Vickie needed help with a special project! Besides, class actually let out fifteen minutes ago, so technically we’re both late.” 

You stifle a laugh in the backseat, and your driver’s eyes flit up to yours through the rear view mirror. “Who’s your friend?” 

“That. Is actually a great question.” She muses. “We just met and I couldn’t stand to leave her out in the rain. I didn’t get your name.” She turns around to face you. “Did I?” 

She seems harmless enough, a little frazzled and chaotic, but rumours about this town put you on edge. The cult-like unsolved murder of Chrissy Cunningham two months ago still sits like a layer of smog over the town, a simultaneous refusal of the townspeople to acknowledge it—or let it go. 

You know the guy accused was cleared. How or why—you’re not privy to yet. 

You will be soon enough. 

You smile and tell Robin your name. 

“Are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Steve asks. 

“Yeah, my dad took a job at that new state lab, so I transferred in.”

“I see. And where am I taking you lovely ladies today?” 

Robin’s face crinkles and she rolls her eyes, a silent plea to ignore her friend and his overt-chivalry. “Do you have the video for Nance’s?” Steve nods. “Then we can go straight there.” 

Your brows furrow. “I’m sorry. Where are we going?”

“Our friend Nancy hosts a movie marathon every Friday with a few other friends of ours.” She adds proudly, “Courtesy of Steve and I — we work at Family Video, over at the strip mall on Franklin and Marsh.” 

“Ah.”

“Yeah. You’re gonna love it, it’s great!”

“Oh, no. No, I really appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want to intrude, I don’t think your friend would be too happy about somebody just, y’know. Waltzing in.” You chuckle. 

“Oh, trust me. You don’t know Nancy. She loves playing hostess, and she’ll love you. Don’t worry.” Robin reassures you, pulling down her visor mirror. 

Steve hums, agreeing with Robin. “She’s right. Half of Hawkins practically has a key to the Wheeler’s. Just, y’know. Don’t tell Ted.”

You smile awkwardly, settling in a little better in the backseat. You don’t interject in the conversation much, Robin thankfully takes care of that for you as she rambles to Steve about Vickie and her new boyfriend. 

You’re content to let the heaters warm your skin, and to watch the rows of houses go by, cautiously relieved at the possibility of some new friends after two months of loneliness. 

At the Wheeler’s, you introduce yourself politely to Mrs Wheeler, offering a smile to the distracted man in front of the TV. Steve looks at you, mouths, “Ted.” And you nod in understanding, suppressing a laugh. 

Mrs Wheeler hands you a warm towel and ushers the three of you down into the basement. 

“Nothing too scary.” She says pointedly, looking at Steve. “If I have to sleep in the same bed as my twelve year old son again, there will be hell to pay, Steven.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I promise. Nothing too scary.” 

You follow Robin and Steve down into the basement; cozily decorated with throw blankets, cushy rugs, a sofa and a loveseat bracketing a TV on the far edge. Sconces and low lamps light the space, illuminating the group huddled in front of the TV. 

“Who’s ready for Halloween II?” Steve exclaims, fishing out a VHS from under his windbreaker. 

“Ah, so he lives!” Says a theatric, but deep voice behind you. “You’re twenty minutes late, Harrington.” 

You let the voice wash over you before you turn around. Your breath hitches when you match the voice to the same figure who was lighting a cigarette under the gym awning just a little while ago. 

You study him now, up close. Shoulder length, curly hair, sharp bone structure. High cheekbones and an angular jawline, a strong neck, full, red lips and most disarmingly, big, brown eyes. He’s intense up close, but it’s not an intensity you necessarily have a desire to run from. 

His brow raises at your inquisitive gaze—you’ve been staring. “This one of your strays, Harrington? Or is this Buck’s doing?” 

Steve gestures vaguely before walking away, leaving Robin—Buck—to make your introduction before joining Steve too. You pull your towel closer to your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin under an intense gaze. 

He extends a large hand, chain link bracelet falling around his wrist. “Hey. Eddie.” 

You take his hand, warm and large, in yours, letting his fingers wrap around the back of your palm firmly. Your voice is hoarse when you tell him your name and he laughs. A throaty sound that emanates from his chest, a grin taking over his face.

He has dimples.  

“Yeah, I know.”

Your heart skids to a stop. “You do?”

“Yeah? Buck just told me.” He replies, looking at you quizzically. He wraps his hands around your upper arms, manoeuvring you so he can slide past, his chest pressing against your back. His leathery, piney scent drifts to your nose. “You comin’?” 

You nod meekly, watching him take a seat on the couch, legs spread apart as he adjusts his hips and sinks down in his seat. Fondness spreads through you at the awkward, oddly charismatic way he carries himself. He lays an arm over the back of the couch leisurely, opening himself up as Nancy winds the VHS. 

Magnetic as he may be, there’s a shroud of something around him, something dark that extends past his appearance. 

You make a resolution not to find out, to get through this year without mishap, but when Nancy takes the last viable seat, you’re left to take a seat next to the guy you promised to swear off. 

Eddie stiffens when you take the seat next to him, awkwardly tensing and stealing looks. Robin offers you a comforting smile as the movie starts, and while you stay firm on wanting as much distance between you and Eddie as you can manage, the heat between you slowly builds, and the distance becomes smaller. The pull towards each other becomes heady until you’re pressed up against one another, your shoulder tucked into Eddie’s arm, your head under his chin. 

You feel his heart rate spike at the jumpscares, matching yours, but where you wear fear and apprehension on your face—Eddie wears excitement. 

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you. 

It’s a thought that crosses your mind multiple times a day, every day for around ten months now. It starts as a fleeting occurrence, something you can chalk up to anxiety, but as the days pass, the rolling unease in your stomach, and the pressure on the back of your neck becomes more insistent. 

Somebody’s watching you. 

It’s near constant; following you at home, through the school hallways, free periods, the mall. It’s worse at night. With fall on the horizon, the days are shorter, and in the dead of night, you feel as though there are eyes on you, crawling up your body like little fire ants. 

Curtains and blinds don’t help. The feeling is heavier when you can’t see what lurks outside. 

A heavy thump from downstairs tears you from a deep sleep, the sound grabbing you by the chest and slamming you into consciousness. You sit idly for a few seconds, allowing your brain to catch up and your heart to settle down before you brave breaching your covers. 

You glance at the clock. 

02:22. 

It’s not until you’re several shaky steps towards your bedroom door that you realise what the sound was. 

Somebody closed your front door. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins, making sure you’re wide awake. You reach for the door with trembling hands and step outside into the lit hallway—you can’t sleep in a dark home when you’re alone. 

“Dad?” You call out. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing for his voice to call back so badly, you almost imagine it. He’s not due back for another five days, and when you lean over the bannister to look at the entryway, and don’t miraculously see his shoes—your blood runs ice cold. 

Somebody was in your house. 

There’s an idiom associated with horror movies. 

When you hear a strange noise, going to investigate is an almost sure fire way to get yourself killed and have your face plastered on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. But your feet carry you downstairs anyway, curiosity outweighing rational thought. You at least want to know if you need to get the hell out of your house, and with no escape upstairs, you’re safer downstairs. 

The floorboards under the stairs creak with your weight as you pad down to the front door, double checking the lock. You slowly check the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen when a chilling thought occurs to you. 

You freeze. 

The door closing could have been a person going out. 

Or a person coming in. 

Ice freezes down your spine, cracking your resolve as your heart jumps to your mouth. Suddenly, the kitchen phone rings and you yelp, body recoiling at the sound. 

“Hello?” 

“You want to play a game?” A voice leers. 

“What?” 

“I’m just messin’,” replies a more familiar voice. “What are you doin’ up this late?” 

“Eddie?”

“No, the fuckin’ Grim Reaper.” He deadpans. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. What are you doin’ up’?” 

“Nothing. Just needed some water.” You reply absent-mindedly, filling up your glass. 

You’re here, you might as well. 

The water replenishing your dehydrated body kicks your brain into gear, a thought occurring to you. “Wait. Why did you call me if you didn’t know I’d be awake?” 

“I saw your lights on.” 

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean, you ‘saw my lights on’?”

“Relax, 21 Questions. I’m doin’ a run for one of my regulars and I was in your neighbourhood. Thought I’d drive by and see if you were all good since you were so tetchy about a week alone. Saw your lights on—gave you a call. That okay?” 

You smile at his gruff gesture. 

You’ve learned that about Eddie in the past ten months. He’s well-meaning, but every sweet gesture is undercut by a layer of sarcasm and gruffness. You don’t blame him for his coldness. 

Despite moving to town two months after Chrissy’s death, you were quickly made privy to everything that happened, and the aftermath, you saw for yourself. Eddie, despite being cleared, still subjected to whispers and dirty looks, branded a devil worshipper and a cult worshipper and a murderer. 

Graffiti on his locker, snide comments in the halls, even his business took a hit. His only saving graces were Hopper, who’d cleared him, his Uncle Wayne and your group of your friends—and to a lesser degree—you. 

“Of course that’s okay.” You reply. 

He makes a non-committal noise. “You doing okay, though?”

A part of you wants to tell him you’re scared, maybe have him blow off his weed run and come keep you company. There’s a safeness with Eddie, but you decide against it. 

Your voice pinches when you speak. “Yeah. All good.” 

A moment of silence stretches between you, almost like he doesn’t believe you. He breaks the silence finally. 

“You sure?”

“Mhm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow.” You finish and slide the phone back into the hook. 

You replenish your glass of water, content to explain the slamming sound away as yet another coincidence—maybe as a dream your brain confused with reality when you were coming to. 

As you set the glass on the kitchen island, your eyes catch a glimpse of something behind the roll of tissue. You slowly reach forward, moving the tissue out of the way to reveal a single flower with thin, dark maroon petals and a pink centre. 

A black dahlia. 

You pluck it from the countertop with a shaky breath, examining it under the light, and drop it when you feel a pull at the back of your neck, the feeling of somebody’s eyes on you returning again, making you feel uneasy.

You don’t spare the flower, nor the window behind you a second look, the glass of water left on the marble as you grab a knife and walk firmly to the couch in the living room. You draw the curtains and switch on the TV, flick through until a rerun of a movie plays on mute in the background, lulling you into as deep of a sleep as you can manage in the circumstances. 

But somebody’s watching you. 

——————————————————————————

You drag your body through the hallways the next morning, eyes weighed down like dumbbells and head fuzzy from the lack of sleep. You let your head rest against the cool metal of your locker to offer you some relief as your eyes close, succumbing to your exhaustion. 

“Hey!” Nancy’s voice chirps. She looks at you perplexed when you jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You blink heavily and pull your locker open. “No, it’s fine. Just tired, that’s all.” 

“Did you stay up late studying for Mr Haskell’s?” She asks, propping her hardback textbooks against her hip. 

Shit. 

“God, I wish. I actually forgot.” You sigh, grabbing your binders. 

Your peripheral registers something falling out of your locker and drifting to the floor as you take out your things. Nancy’s quicker than you, balances her books on her hip and bends to pick up the item, your heart skidding to a halt when you see it in her hand.

Another black dahlia. 

You feel the blood drain from your face, your stomach dropping and fingers going numb. 

He was here. You’re being followed. 

You feel that ominous feeling return, the feeling that you’re being watched, the crowd in the hallways offering you no solace. It feels like walking through a group of people with an invisible stab wound, nobody any the wiser of your impending doom except for you. 

Nancy spins the flower from the stem, a smile taking over her face as she extends it to you. “A dahlia… nice. Who’s the guy?” She asks in a sing-song voice. 

Your voice feels far away when you answer her. “There’s no guy.”

“Sure. She says sardonically. “You have flowers in your locker but no secret admirer. I want details.” As she walks away, she nods as an acknowledgement to somebody behind you.

You squeeze the flower between your hand just as a strong pair of hands pat, or rather, jostle your shoulders. 

“What’s this I hear about a secret admirer?” 

“Christ, Eddie. You almost gave me a heart attack.” You mutter, stuffing the flower into your pocket. 

His eyes narrow as he scans your face. His gaze is intense, but it offers you an odd kind of relief— his exuberance oddly cancelling out the nauseating fear clouding you. 

Leaning against Nancy’s locker with his hands in his pockets, he asks, “Why so tetchy? You okay?” 

“I’m fine.”

He leans in, looks down at you with a gaze that makes your skin prickle, a feeling you’ve had often during your friendship. 

He taps your shin with his foot. “You know, you’re cute when you lie.”

Your breath hitches. He smells like leather and pine, and he’s tall and broad and warm, and if you leaned into him just a little, you know that some of your tension would at least melt away. 

“Really, Eddie. I’m okay.” You smile, squeezing his hand. 

You retract it quickly, Eddie stiffening when Carol saunters past you, accidentally tripping over Tina’s leg to bump into you with a sickeningly sweet, “sorry, honey.” 

Your first instinct is to push her right back. You’d love nothing more than to pull out a chunk of her hair after what she and her asshole friends did to you. You’re smarter than that, though—she’d paint herself as the victim and you’d end up in detention with a serious mark in your permanent record. 

You roll your eyes, muttering a defiant, ‘bitch’, under your breath. 

“What was that about?” Eddie asks, jerking his chin towards Carol and Tommy. 

“Nothing.” You clip. 

He narrows his eyes expectantly, giving you yet another opportunity to reveal to him what he already knows. 

Around a month ago, after a fight at a party, Steve had ended up crashing at Eddie’s for a few days after being arrested—courtesy of his ex best friend Tommy crying over a busted lip. Hopper had reassured Steve it was for appearances, that he’d be free to go as soon as his dad picked him up, secretly knowing that Tommy had most likely deserved the right hook. 

Mr. Harrington though, had kicked Steve out after making his bail. It was then Steve had told Eddie about the incident at the party, about how Robin had called him absolutely furious after Tommy had tried to force himself on you. 

He’d gotten a knee to the balls from you, Robin and Nancy piling on, and a right hook from Steve, but the damage had been done. By the next morning, Tina and Carol had worked their magic, branding you as the whore who tried to steal Carol’s boyfriend. 

Eddie watches Tommy and Carol keenly now, an expression on his face that you’ve come to see more often recently. It’s as though the warmth drains from his eyes, leaving behind an unfeeling presence before he snaps back. 

The warmth returns to his eyes as quickly as it disappears, working its way to you as if by an invisible line. “You can tell me.” He says softly. “You know you can tell me anything.” 

Your chest constricts. “Eh. Apparently, I’m a whore. It’s whatever.” 

His jaw ticks again. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re about as pure as they come.” He marvels, gaze lingering on your lips. His hand absently brushes some hair behind your ear, and he freezes, letting it hang awkwardly. 

You huff, slapping his wrist away. “Okay. Yoda? You sound like an idiot. This isn’t the 1800’s—women have and enjoy sex, you know?” 

He snaps back into his detached ruse, leaning against the locker to play with his rings. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, suggestive lilt to his voice. 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?” 

“Dude, you’re nasty.” 

“Maybe.” His eyes darken before he inhales deeply. “Listen, I got a free period, so I’m gonna run. I have a business meeting that is most urgent and requires my utmost attention.” 

“Eddie-“

He’s already walking away, his broad back heading for the doors at the end of the hall. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll be back by lunch, Sweetheart.” 

You smile to yourself and reach back into your pocket, having temporarily forgotten about your present. You wish you could hold onto that feeling of safety and happiness that Eddie gives you a little longer, bottle it up and use it for when your anxiety reaches its peaks. 

Being around Eddie always has that effect on you, try as you might to push it down. 

——————————————————————————

“Turn on the news.” Nancy hisses through the crackly phone. “Now!”

“Christ, Nance. Do you even know what time it is? It’s barely light outside.” You grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Forget about the time, just turn on your TV!” 

“Okay! Okay, gimme a second.” You groan. 

You rush downstairs for the TV remote and flick through the channels until you get to the news. On the screen, police and ambulance sirens paint the scene red and blue, police tape cordoning off a house just a few blocks from yours. You turn the volume up and catch the last few words from the reporter.

“—Tragedy rocks Hawkins once again, as the bodies of two teenagers, Carol Perkins, and her boyfriend Thomas Hagan were found butchered in the early hours of this morning.”

The words go off like a bomb in your ear, the floor giving out from under your feet as you slump down on the sofa, shakily clutching the remote. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit, holy fucking shit.” You murmur. 

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” 

Your voice sounds tinny when you speak. “They were murdered?”

“Butchered.”

“God, I know I said I wanted to see her head on a spike but this is awful. I can’t believe somebody would do that.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at your proximity to the victims—despite your vitriolic hatred for the both of them, Carol and Tommy are—were—people you saw everyday. You can’t say anybody deserves to be butchered. 

“Can you meet Robin, Jonathan and me at my place in an hour? We’re gonna go get some answers.” Nancy asks. 

“Isn’t that a reporter’s job? Or the PD?” You ask, alarmed. 

“I wanna major in journalism, that basically makes me half a reporter already. Just meet at my place in an hour. Bring sensible shoes.” 

Any room for negotiation goes out of the window as the line goes dead. You set the now clammy phone down on the hook and stay rooted in spot, staring blankly at the TV as the news reel plays out in the background.

“—Police and Fire were called to the scene at around 3:00am when Perkins’ parents arrived home to a fire. Upon their arrival, they found their home in disarray and the two teenagers dead. Hawkins PD are still combing the scene for evidence and are expected to make an announcement later this evening. One thing is for sure though, it seems that death and tragedy are never too far where Hawkins is concerned.” 

You’d completely forgotten about the dark cloud that had been looming over Hawkins this past year. These new killings seem especially insidious with the anniversary of Chrissy Cunningham’s death approaching in just a few days. 

Becoming cognizant of Chrissy, you want to reach out to Eddie to ask him how he’s doing following this news. You’ve no doubt that this time of year is likely to dredge up some horrific memories for him—it’s only been a year since he was labelled as the town pariah—ostracised through no fault of his own.

This won’t help. 

He’ll be subjected to looks in the street again and whispers as he walks by, as though he’s a stain on the town. He’ll be scapegoated. Again. 

You want to reach out to Eddie for him, sure. But there’s also a selfish undercurrent to your thoughts; Eddie’s an increasingly comforting figure in your life and you need him to knock you back on track, especially if Nancy’s going to be critiquing your journalism skills this morning. 

A hit of something to get your head right. 

You hit three on your speed dial, put the coffee on while the line rings and make your way upstairs.

His voice crackles through the phone and has the strangest effect by offering you almost-immediate relief. “Who the hell is this?” He grumbles, voice thick with sleep. 

It makes your heart pick up pace. 

You stifle a laugh. “Eddie, it’s me.” 

He moans, and you picture him with mussed hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His voice is still thick when he talks; though, much less irritable this time. “Mornin’, sunshine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t see the news?” 

“Nah. Not yet at least. Late night. What’s going on?” 

“It’s Carol and Tommy. They found their bodies this morning, they were killed.” You whisper the last part in a hushed tone, like verbalising it will somehow bring the curse to you. 

“Wait, what did you just say? They were murdered?” You hear rustling on the other end and assume Eddie’s making a mad dash to the living room in his boxers to turn on the TV. “Do they know who did it?” 

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet—“

“—Hey, man. Turn that up?” 

You pause in your doorway, brows furrowing. “Who are you talking to?”

“Harrington—he got into another pissing match with his dad a few nights ago, told him he could have the couch while Wayne was at work.” 

“Christ, dude. They’re saying they were butchered.” Steve says, muffled in the background. 

You straighten the edges of your bedsheets and start to pick out the sensible shoes Nancy requested, zoning in on another pair you’ll inevitably have to loan to Robin. 

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, I thought you already knew. I just…wanted to check in.” 

Eddie pauses before he speaks hesitantly. “Check in?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s coming up to a year since all of that stuff happened, and I can’t imagine this is gonna be easy for you, y’know? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

A surge of warmth spreads inside him. Rarely does he feel truly content or peaceful, especially as of late; he has enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime. But he does feel blessed to have sporadic moments of lightness—short—but always with you. 

“You sayin’ you care about me or something?” He murmurs, no doubt careful to avoid Steve’s ears but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

You snicker, your eyes falling to your slightly open underwear drawer. You go to close it with an absent-minded push of your hips when your eyes catch something. 

Your heart plummets like a lead weight, a shot of dread piercing your chest. 

“Hello? You there?” Eddie calls out, but your hands are trembling. 

Stuffed in your underwear drawer, deliberately wrapped inside a pair of white cotton panties, is another black dahlia. 

“Eddie, I’m gonna have to call you back.” You squeak.

His voice shifts. “You okay? Something wrong?” 

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” You clip, the phone landing with a thud against your mattress. 

You reach for the flower, gingerly unwrapping it from the white cotton only to reveal a small note tucked under the stem. Nausea claws at your stomach and invades your throat, leaving your head tingly and eyes spotty. 

Black sharpie against red paper reads;

“The things we do for love. Be seeing you soon, my flower. I have some business to take care of first.” 

It's as direct a threat to you as you’ve had so far, but there’s an insinuation there too. An icy thought sends chills through your veins. You may be responsible for Carol and Tommy’s deaths which is in itself a steel weight, but this note doesn’t indicate any sign of the violence stopping. 

If anything, it connotes the opposite. 

You can’t explain the paranoia and the flowers away, can’t live in the content grey safety of denial anymore. He was here. 

In your room. Rifling through your underwear drawer. Watching you sleep. 

Could he have touched you? 

Are you the business he has to take care of? 

Your stomach rolls, and you run to the bathroom to empty your guts into the toilet, gagging until the remnants of last night’s barely-there-dinner are gone and you’re shivering and cold on the tiled floor. 

You’re hit with the feeling of somebody watching you again, pressure tugging at the back of your neck like tiny threads under your skin. Your eyes dart out of the window but you don’t see anything. 

Or anybody. 

You never do. 

——————————————————————————

Your investigation with Robin and Nancy turns up nothing except more disturbing information, which you grimly conclude could well predict your own demise. You’re running on fumes, paranoid and scared for your life, the walk up the stairs to get into school seeming like a chore. 

“Tommy went first.” Robin tells Eddie the following morning. 

“What?” He asks, dodging Robin’s attempt to snatch the cigarette out of his mouth. She tries again, but he dodges again, manoeuvring you to walk between them. 

“Yeah. We overheard Hopper and Callahan over the radio. He was shot in both knees first, tied to a chair, gagged, then stabbed. His insides…on the outside.” 

Eddie’s face contorts, not so much in horror, but in mild disgust as he exhales a cloud of smoke. It seems Tommy had enemies in just about every circle except for his own; and despite your best intentions not to think it, you conclude that somebody finally decided to take matters into their own hands. 

“And Carol? Stabbed in the back, chest, and neck. Gutted and tied to a tree. Can you believe that shit? This guy is serious.” Robin continues. 

She’s managed to dig up a rubber band from inside her pocket and snaps it against her wrist, each slap against her skin housing a migraine deeper in your temple. 

You wince. 

“Careful, Buck. Almost sounds like you admire him. Besides, how do you know it’s a guy?” Eddie asks, taking a drag of his cigarette. 

“Statistics.” Nancy interjects, clicking her locker shut. “Violent kills are almost always executed by men. That, and the fact that it would take a pretty huge guy to hog-tie Tommy, and then string Carol’s dead body up on a tree.” 

“Alright.” You feel nausea rising in your stomach again. Slamming your locker shut, you squeeze your eyes closed. “Can we not? I feel sick.” 

“You look it.” Robin deadpans, raising her hands in defence when you, Nancy and Eddie cut her a look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a you-look-awful way, I’m just saying you look like you haven’t been sleeping.” 

Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, gently turning your face to his. “Yeah. Have you been sleeping?” He asks, cigarette tucked between his lips. His thumb runs over the delicate skin under your eyes. “You look so tired.” 

You tense up at the sudden contact from Eddie, who, despite being notoriously tactile, isn't somebody you’d ever describe as affectionate except maybe with Dustin and the kids. 

You allow yourself a moment of weakness to melt into his touch, his warm skin and icy rings, but your eyes dart to Robin and Nancy who share a wry look. You become aware of the droves of people staring and whispering as they go by too, and suddenly your throat feels tight. 

“I’m fine.” You clip, prying yourself away from his tender touch and he reacts by awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets, hurt by the sudden change. 

He knows it’s because people are staring, he just hadn’t expected you to care. You can’t handle the eyes on you—not when there’s somebody breathing down your neck. 

The rational part of you knows that it’s because you’re in such close proximity to Eddie, who’s been re-subjected to dirty looks and hostile whispers since Tommy and Carol died yesterday. It seems that despite his name being cleared in good faith last year, the people of Hawkins merely needed a reason to scapegoat Eddie again, all too quick to spit the words devil worshipper and cult leader his way.   

Eddie brushes the looks off, his jaw tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing, shoulders tight like a coil as he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. 

“Fuckin’ morons.” He mutters under his breath. “A serial killer walks the streets of Hawkins but sure…” He mock lunges at a group of lowerclassmen who flinch and disperse down the hallway, earning more looks from passersby. “Let's all gather around to stare at the freak.” 

“Mr. Munson,” Higgins’ voice booms, his eyes falling to the cigarette in Eddie’s mouth. “You can either put that out, or I can put it out for you—and while I do relish in giving you detention—I no longer wish to see you roam these halls for yet another year. I’m frankly sick of seeing your face.” 

“Oh believe me. The feeling’s mutual, asshole.” Eddie grumbles, a begrudging appeasement on his face. He theatrically plucks the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out against the metal rim of the bin behind you. “Guy’s a pain in my sack.” 

Robin’s cackle is cut short when a sudden buzz crawls over the student body. It takes over like a swarm of bees, students yelling and clamouring in the direction of the football field. In the distance, you see Argyle and a pale Jonathan cut through the crowd, right as Mr Higgins receives a radio transmission and pushes through the horde himself. 

You narrow your eyes, your group pulling Jonathan and Argyle to the side of the stampede. “What’s going on?” 

“Dudes, they found another body.” Argyle tells the group. 

The news hits you with the subtlety of a crashing train, leaving the words ricocheting in your ear. You fight to keep your composure, doing the maths in your head to figure out where on your shadow’s roster you fall. 

“What? Who? Where? How? How do you guys know?” Nancy asks in rapid succession, grabbing Jonathan and Argyle with a hand each. 

“I was walking down to take pictures out on the football field for the yearbook, and saw what I thought was a doll or a scarecrow or something. Just hanging from the goalpost.” Jonathan pants weakly. 

“Yeah. Got closer and realised it was a real person. A lady.” Argyle adds, shaking his head. 

Eddie huffs, leaning against his locker. “A lady?” 

“Tina.” Jonathan corrects. “Somebody already tipped off the cops—Hopper pulled up right as we saw her body. She was in her pyjamas, you guys. All covered in blood.” He runs a stressed hand through his hair, bending to put his hands on his knees. “I think I’m gonna throw up.” He wheezes. 

Argyle rubs his back sympathetically, while Nancy kicks herself into high gear. Rifling through her locker, she grabs her school newspaper notebook and best ballpoint pen—the kind she reserves for sleuthing and writing speeches—and turns heel. 

“I swear, if you want something done right…” she mutters and she’s a flash of a perm as she scurries away, joining the now well-informed student body of the attraction outside. 

The gaggle eventually dies down and gets filtered into the gym, squashed together like sardines in a can; some taking up the bleachers, some using the benches, the lowerclassmen claiming the floor as their sitting space. 

Eddie tucks you into his arm on the sidelines where the rest of your friends sit in an effort to conserve space. He balances his copy of Lord of The Rings on his knee, the spine snapped, edges frayed and tattered, various motor oil stains soaked into the paper with rows and rows of annotations littering the page. 

At best, it's well-loved—at worst, it’s unreadable—but it’s one of Eddie’s prized possessions and it shows. 

Higgins’ voice through the speaker silences the hustle of whispering students, rumours and gossip dying down almost immediately. 

“All classes are henceforth suspended until further notice. When prompted, please collect all important belongings from your lockers and proceed to leave in an orderly fashion. Police Chief Hopper also has an announcement to make—please remain where you are for now.” 

Cheers for class suspension are cut short when Hopper swiftly implements a strict citywide 9:00pm curfew. 

“Any citizens reported to be out after this time will be brought in by an officer and questioned before release. It is vital you heed this curfew as it has been put in place for your own safety. Please report any concerns directly to the Police Department or call 9-1-1. Thank you.” 

A resigned groan makes its way through the crowd as students filter out, Tommy’s old friend group uncharacteristically quiet; haunted by the news. It tracks—the only discernible pattern so far is that the killer has a vendetta against their group of friends. 

It’s your own entanglement that doesn't track. 

“So. What’s the rundown?” Robin asks Nancy as you make your way down to the parking lot. 

Nancy looks pale. “Tina was cut from chin to stomach through her nightgown.” She says, shakily. “But there’s more.”

Your blood runs cold. “More?”

“Yeah. It’s not confirmed yet, but I overheard Hopper telling Higgins they found another body this morning on the other side of town. They said the description matched Fred Benson.”

“The guy who did the student paper with you?” Eddie asks. 

Nancy bristles. Her relationship with Fred had soured last year after he insisted on covering Chrissy’s murder, putting Eddie at the forefront. Nancy had refused—then fired him. 

“Yeah.” She goes on. “Parents didn’t even know he was missing.” 

Nancy’s words only stand to remind you that you too could be murdered and strung up like a carcass for the town to see—and nobody would be any the wiser until it was too late. 

You should tell somebody. Anybody. But your mind stops you, a terrifying thought crossing your mind. Telling your friends could put them in danger too. Taking out entire friendship groups seems like a day’s work for this killer, and if anything happened to your friends, you’d never forgive yourself. 

“I’m gonna wait for Will and the rest of those guys, make sure they’re okay, but we’ll reconvene at Nance’s?” Jonathan asks. 

“Wait—you heard Hopper. There’s a curfew.” You say.

Nancy shrugs. “Safety in numbers. C’mon.”

Eddie pats your shoulder as he lights another cigarette. “I’ll catch up with you guys later—I left my briefcase inside. I’ll bring the beer to Nance’s.” 

“Somebody’s gotta tell Steve, does he even know what’s going on?” You ask.

“I’ll take care of it.” Eddie says, voice thick with smoke. “I gotta swing by Family Video anyhow, it appears Keith is in the market for my recreational sleeping aids.” 

Argyle gestures to Eddie who gives him the affirmative—and you shake your head. A serial killer walks the streets and your friends are making sure there’s enough weed at an unmandated ‘gathering’. 

“Be safe?” You call out to Eddie.

He kicks his leg, gives you a mock salute. “Always am. You too.” 

——————————————————————————

“Well. I’m just saying, y’know. There are certain rules when it comes to slashers.” Jonathan mumbles through a mouthful of chips. 

“Is that what this is? A slasher?” Steve asks, adjusting in his seat. 

The basement air smells like weed and cheap beer, the sourness of the salsa that Robin opened twenty minutes ago cutting through the stench. Your stomach is already in pieces with worry, talk of a slasher movie and the dank air does little to quell your nerves. 

“Yeah. I mean. Think about it.” He munches. “You got a guy in a mask goin’ around, killing a bunch of teenagers, hanging them up on goalposts?”

Argyle’s content to listen, offering a grunt of agreement here and there, but he pipes up. “Yeah. Plus, y’know the whole haunted past in a small town thing. No offence, my dude.” He says to Eddie. 

Eddie raises his brows, shakes his head. No harm done. 

“So, these rules then. Let’s have ‘em.” Steve says. “What do you got?”

“Well. The first is that everybody’s a suspect. Everybody. That’s a given.” 

“Yeah. No shit.” Steve nods, huffing a laugh.

Jonathan stands up, his eyes wide. “Now the rules to surviving a slasher movie—well. That’s a whole different ball game.” 

“Go on.”

“Rule number one: never have sex.” 

You catch Eddie’s eye from across the room. It’s something you’d noticed pretty much the day you met; oftentimes you’d be engrossed in something, or just happen to look up at Eddie to find him already watching you. His gaze makes your skin prickle with intensity, blood warming under your skin. 

Despite being in a room full of people, your looks always seem like they’re reserved just for the two of you, an invisible string tying you to him and pulling you closer despite the physical distance remaining the same. 

“—Big no.” Jonathan continues. “Sex equals death. Slasher and horror symbolism in general relies heavily on the innocent virgin as a survivor trope. Promiscuity guarantees death.” 

Eddie’s gaze lingers on yours, his elbows perched on his knees, chin tucked into his chest. He looks good in this light, full lips casting a shadow, his eyes transfixed on you. You lose your nerve and look away, but can’t fight the desire to glance at him again. 

He’s still watching you with almost drunken eyes that you attribute to the beer, though you know he can handle his alcohol.

“Number two: no drinking or doing drugs. It’s an extension of number one—the sin factor. It’s a sin!” 

“Oh great. Guess we’re all fucked.” Steve mutters, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s bullshit, man. This isn’t a slasher and no serial killer is going to know if you’re a boring, sober, virgin.” 

Eddie finally averts his gaze, picking at the frayed denim on his jeans. “Byers, you know I make my living supplying recreational substances to those in need.” 

“—And Steve has deflowered every legal girl who likes men, all the way up to like, Fort Wayne.” Robin snorts, raising her drink. 

“Well—not exactly.” Steve squints. “But they both make a good point. By your so-called rules, Byers; Eddie and I would’ve been the first ones to go.” 

You shake your head, feeling a massive tangent coming and decide to cut out while you can. The thought of going home to an empty house fills you with dread, especially with the recent uptick in dead bodies. You can’t sleep, not when your ears pick up the smallest noises and twist them into sinister scenarios. 

The wind howling through the gaps in your windows sounds eerily like somebody screaming, the floorboards settling make you see an intruder out of the corner of your eye. 

You’re exhausted. 

Nancy follows you upstairs, turning you by your arm. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Yeah. It’s a little much down there.” You inhale deeply now that the air is thinner and fresher. 

“You know what they get like when they drink.” Nancy laughs. “Do you wanna stay over tonight? Robin was thinking about crashing and I don’t love the idea of you at home by yourself with everything going on. Just stay with me until your dad gets back.” 

You feel a wave of relief wash over you. “Actually, would you mind? I don’t really wanna be by myself.”

“Yeah!” She laughs. “Of course. I can take you to grab your stuff in the morning.”

“Thanks, Nance. I gotta double check the alarm and locks anyway, so I’ll go grab my things now.” You smile, turning to grab your keys from the bowl on the credenza. 

“You sure? It’s late.” 

‘Rule number 3,’ Jonathan continues downstairs out of earshot, ’never, ever, under any circumstances, say you’ll be right back.’ 

“It’s a few blocks away.” You reassure her. “I’ll be right back.” 

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you. 

You feel a tug on the back of your neck when you get to the top of the Wheeler’s cul-de-sac. It becomes more insistent as you turn left on to a densely tree-lined street, which, dimly lit as usual, is eerily silent. With the exception of you and your friends, it seems the residents of Hawkins are abiding by Hopper’s mandate. 

You brush the feeling off and slide your keys between your fingers, picking up pace. By the time you get to your driveway, your heart is in your mouth and you’re almost at a full sprint, nearly slipping on the corner of a flowerbed. 

You’d devised a plan on the way home. 

Check the alarms, downstairs windows, upstairs windows, grab your bag from the closet in the hallway and pack as you go. Simple enough.

But somebody’s watching you. 

Your trembling hands make you fumble and miss the lock a few times, the key bluntly jamming against the metal. You’re finally in, about to twist the lock when a hand aggressively swipes at your arm and drags you backwards. 

You yelp, stomach swooping in pure terror, blood pounding in your ears. 

He’s here. 

You come face to face with a bloodshot Jason, whiskey heavy on his breath. He looks desperate and frenzied in just a pair of chinos and a white polo—it’s freezing out. His presence offers you an odd sense of relief, you can tell from his appearance he’s not about to hurt you and he doesn’t pose any immediate danger. 

He seems scared. 

He pulls you in close, his vice grip making your skin pinch. 

“Let go, Jason. What the hell is wrong with you, why are you outside my house?”

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? About what?!” You snap.

“About the company you keep.” He slurs darkly. “You’re not new anymore, but you weren’t here when it went down. When Chrissy died.” 

You squirm, attempting to free your arm, but Jason’s grip is vicious in his trance-like state. “What the hell does that have to do with me?” 

He’s here physically, but his mind is elsewhere. “It’ll be a year tomorrow. And it’s like she was never here. Like she never existed.” 

Your heart sinks for him, a loss so large, so young is sure to rock anybody. But you know the other side of him—the side that radicalised half the town into hunting down Eddie. That almost killed Lucas and Erica when they tried to help. 

“Look. Jason. I’m sorry about what happened, but that doesn’t explain why you’re grabbing my arm.” You grunt, trying to break free. “What does this have to do with me?”

He jostles you, shaking you hard enough that the pain radiates up your arm like a vine. “Everything! This has everything to do with you! Your friend? Eddie? I know they cleared him, said that he had nothing to do with it, but I know the truth. I know what he is.” He says, words dripping with disdain. 

In a surge of defensiveness, you drag the serrated edge of your keys across his skin, drawing a little blood. 

“You bitch!” He sneers, snatching his hand away. “You’ll regret that. You’ll regret not listening to me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you; don’t say I didn’t tell you what he was!” He angrily stalks off, disappearing into the tree line.

When you’d first moved to Hawkins, rumours of golden girl Chrissy dying at the hands of a satanic cult had intrigued you. Dustin had filled you in on the rest and after meeting Eddie and the rest of his innocent D&D group, you knew those rumours were a work of fiction.  

“Hey!” Eddie shouts from a few feet away. He gestures in the direction of the tree line. “Was that Jason?” 

“Yeah.” You mutter, gingerly touching your arm. 

Eddie closes the last few feet between you, jogging to you as you open your door. “What did he want?”  

“Said he saw me walking home, wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Eddie looks at you incredulously as he steps inside. “Looked intense, you okay?” 

“Yeah. All good.” 

Eddie’s eyes fall to the raised welts on your forearm, your hands paler from the lack of blood flow. He gently holds your wrist and brings it up to the hallway light to examine the marks. 

“Did Jason do that?” He asks. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No.” You sigh resignedly. “He was drinking, and he said some stuff about Chrissy’s death anniversary, I think he was just… a little out of it. Got a little overzealous.” 

“Overzealous?” Eddie asks, getting closer to you. “He left a paw print. Y’know I swear, guys like him think they can get away with anything—“

“—Yeah. But I’m fine, Eddie. It looks worse than it is.” You place your hand around his and squeeze reassuringly. “Really. I’m okay.” 

“You sure?“

“I swear, Eddie. I’m all good.” 

Your peripheral suddenly plays a cruel trick on you, making you jump at the impression of somebody in the kitchen. 

Eddie finally lets go of your hand, laughing at your reaction. “You okay? You’re really jumpy.” He asks, rubbing your shoulders as you walk into the kitchen. 

“There’s a serial killer in town, Eddie. Why aren’t you jumpy?” You deadpan. “Is that why you’re here?” 

He chuckles self-effacingly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. Nancy told me you took off to grab your things and I didn’t want you to have to walk by yourself with all that stuff.” He stops you from reaching for the window with a hand on your hips, walking around you instead. “Here, I got it.” 

He extends his lean body to twist the window handle, his t-shirt riding up to reveal his toned abs. Red welts—scratches—mark his stomach and a twinge of jealousy creeps up your chest when you think about how he may have gotten those marks. 

“Hey!” Eddie says, snapping his fingers. “Where do you keep goin’, you good?” 

Embarrassment warms your cheeks, snapping you back into reality. “Of course. I have my knight in shining armour, don’t I?” You say sardonically, rounding the island to go upstairs. 

You’re halfway through the hallway before you realise you’re not being followed by Eddie; he’s since taken to standing in the doorway with a look that you can’t read. 

“What is it?” You ask.

He slowly steps towards you. “I know you’re kidding, but for what it’s worth—you never have to worry about that stuff when you’re with me.” He says softly, his voice thick. “You’re always safe with me. I hope you know that.” 

You share a look in the dimly lit hallway, and you don’t know what this thing is between you—the thing where you know each other best, and look out for one another, and make one another feel safe, but where touches and looks linger for longer than they should. 

You don’t have a shadow of a doubt colouring your answer when you reply, knowing wholeheartedly that you believe it. 

“I know.” 

When you get back to Nancy’s though, the night has taken a turn for the worse. The kids sit in the living room with the rest of your friends, everybody huddled up together around the TV as the breaking news reel plays.

“What’s going on?” You ask, setting your bag by the door. 

“They found another body.” Steve tells you in a hushed voice, mindful of the kids but it’s useless—they’re watching the same thing you all are. 

“Higgins.” Nancy explains, approaching you and Eddie. Out of earshot of the kids, she says, “they found him tied to the same goal post they unhooked Tina off of today. His eyes were gouged out and he was stabbed in the neck. He bled to death.” 

Three victims. Three victims in one day. 

Nancy mirrors that thought, but all you can think about now is how much longer you can outrun the shadow breathing down your neck, seemingly getting closer every day. 

——————————————————————————

Breakfast is a bleak affair. 

Mrs. Wheeler does everything to make sure you eat, encouragingly puts out a spread that most people dream of, while Mr Wheeler grumbles under his breath. You watch the boys, El and Max stuff their faces with pancakes, syrup dripping down their chins, but after the morning news, you can barely stomach anything. 

Youre realising after watching the morning news, that it’s becoming a twisted kind of routine to wake up and expect the news of another murder. 

Today’s victim: Andy Clayton. 

Jason’s best friend and yes-man; found hacked to pieces, fibres of his letterman jacket found in his stab wounds from the brutal kill. You stick close to Nancy and Robin for the rest of the day, but when you come back from investigating, you find a chilling surprise on the Wheeler’s doorstep. 

Nancy giggles and ducks inside with Robin, leaving you with your gift. Four black dahlias tied together with a length of twine, a note folded in half between the stems. 

“I promise it won’t be much longer until we’re together, my flower. See you soon.” 

Your head instinctually whips around, your eyes scanning the street, but it’s dead silent save for the occasional passing car. You turn back to the house, ice flowing into your veins as you realise you’re a sitting duck, and staying here would put everybody else in danger too. 

The Wheelers, the kids, Robin. 

You tuck the note into your pocket along with the four flowers and grab your bags, lying to Nancy that you’ll be back. Your first stop is going to see Eddie to ask for some company at the police station. You make the walk to your house, drop your bags in the trunk of your car and make the seven mile journey to Eddie’s trailer. 

The sun sets on your way there, casting the sky in blooms of oranges and pinks, the landscape so much more vibrant in Hawkins than anywhere else you’ve lived. Eddie’s beat up van isn’t anywhere to be seen, but the lights inside his trailer are on, you knock once out of politeness and come in anyway after finding the door unlocked. 

Not that Eddie ever remembers to lock his doors. 

Inside, he’s still nowhere to be seen, the only thing interrupting the silence is the hum of the energy saver light bulb in the background and the sound of a dog barking outside. 

“Eddie?” You call out, clicking the door shut behind you. “You home?”

You’re met with more silence. 

You glance at the small clock above the hat-lined wall. 

5:30pm.

Tentatively, you take a seat on the pull out couch that Steve and Wayne have taken to sharing by now, using the time you have to contemplate how best to broach the subject of your stalker with Eddie; where to start, how much to say. 

Your legs start to tingle from nerves and pent up anxiety, forcing you to your feet. 

You pace the length of the living room and to the kitchen and back again. Your stomach knots and unknots, a surge of nervous energy lodging in your throat and dissipating throughout your chest. 

Absently, you walk into Eddie’s room—a bomb site on a good day. As you close the door behind you, something large and black swooshes against the hook, a large coat or a cloak of some kind, probably for his Hellfire Club meetings. 

You should talk to Eddie about rebranding that soon. 

You smile fondly as your eyes travel over his poster lined walls, the acoustic guitar perched in the corner, the magazines on top of his nightstand. The second drawer of his nightstand catches your eye, ajar slightly because of something caught between the drawer and the frame. 

You look closer, eyes narrowing when you pull a length of twine out from the drawer. You examine it curiously, holding it up to the light when a thought occurs to you. 

With a hesitant hand, you reach into your back pocket to pull out the dahlias you’d received earlier that day, comparing the twine to the one in your hand. Your brows furrow as you bring both pieces of twine together, joining the two diagonal edges to fit perfectly. 

It’s a dead match. 

You pull out his drawer in a daze, head growing fuzzy as you rummage through his things. It’s a coincidence—it has to be. There has to be an explanation. 

Ice flows into your veins when you find five black dahlias tucked neatly into a roll of newspaper, red square note paper next to it. Your head rushes with blood, the room spinning as you try to somehow refute what’s in front of you. 

This can’t be what you think it is. It can’t be.

You gag and run to the kitchen to empty your stomach in the sink. It’s fruitless, your stomach turning up nothing, leaving you to dry heave and clutch the counter. 

No. No, no, no. 

Your hands tremble, blood rushing in your ears and pumping through your body to drive you into high gear, to get the hell out. 

You dart for the door, grabbing your bag and keys, and slam face first into a black wall, your hands taking the brunt of the impact, the shock forcing you back a few steps. Your bags and keys fall on the floor, the blood draining from your body when you look up at a cloaked figure with a white mask. 

You tense up, making peace with the fact that this may be your end but still hold out a small amount of hope that it isn’t who you think it is behind the mask. 

Then the figure speaks, says your name in that familiar way that sends shivers up your spine. 

Eddie. 

Your knees buckle and you trip backwards, the pressure inside your head increasing until you can hear a high-pitched whine. Shakily holding out your hands in front of you, you see them stained crimson, an unknown person’s blood licking your skin. 

It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to darkness. 

——————————————————————————

A horrible weight surrounds your head and there’s a ringing in your ears when you come to. It takes a few seconds for your mind to catch up, but when it does, you jolt in your seat, your movement restricted by something binding your hands and mouth. 

You start to hyperventilate. 

“Hey. Hey. Calm down.” Eddie says, crouching in front of your chair, sporting a busted lip, a bruised eye and bloody knuckles. “Fuck—Calm down, I need you to breathe, okay?” He rips the tape off your mouth and you struggle against the ties, but he pulls the chair in by its arms.“Hey! Breathe. C’mon—just match my pace, alright, you’re gonna pass out again. Fucking breathe.”

He exaggerates his own breathing rhythm now that you can see his chest in just his t-shirt to let your breathing fall into tandem with his. You let yourself breathe, focusing on the air expanding in your lungs, but terror still grips you.  

Eddie watches you carefully, like you’re a cornered animal, his mask pulled up, hair matted to his forehead. “I’m going to cut you loose so we can talk, okay? M’gonna explain everything, but you can’t run. Can you do that?”

Images of Carol and Tommy, Tina, and the rest of his victims flash before your eyes. Eviscerated. Bludgeoned. Gutted. 

You nod, not daring to look down knowing that the rope, the chair and your skin are stained with fresh blood. 

“Good.” He breathes. 

He brings a bloody hunting knife to your wrists, lodges the flat edge between you and the rope, and cuts upwards, slicing you free. You plant your shaky feet to test the waters, and launch yourself forward into Eddie’s chest, knocking him out of the way to start running. 

“Goddamnit!” He grunts. 

You make it a grand total of two paces before Eddie easily whips you around, pinning you against the wall. His nostrils flared, he reaches into his back pocket, brandishing the knife again. A scream dies in your throat as he places the glinting silver’s blunt edge against your neck. 

“I didn’t want to use this. But I told you not to run, didn’t I? Didn’t I?!” His voice thunders inside the trailer, and you flinch backwards, hyper-aware of the knife at your throat. 

The change in his demeanour makes you feel insignificant, like you never mattered to him. That realisation makes a lump catch in your throat. “You’re… you’re—“

He nods slowly, wide grin splitting his face. “Yeah. I am.” He replies mockingly, flipping the mask back on. “What did Jonathan say? Ghostface?” 

A part of you thought—hoped—that he would try to deny it. You’d believe any explanation he’d give you if you tried hard enough, because accepting anything else would be easier than this. 

Than accepting that your best friend is a serial killer. 

“Jason… man, the bastard knows how to fight,” Eddie laments, licking his busted lip behind the mask. He clenches and unclenches his bruised hands, silver rings stained with blood. “Pulled my fucking cloak off and everything—but what are you gonna do? I had a knife. He didn’t. Bled out on my clothes but he knew it was me.” 

You don’t want to hear this. You can’t hear this.

You look desperately for an escape, eyes darting until you spot something that makes your stomach swoop violently, grief ripping through you at the prospect. 

Steve’s white Nikes, covered in blood. 

You turn to Eddie shakily, eyes wide. “Did you kill Steve?” 

He softens, trailing the knife over your cheek. You’re as still as you can be despite your body feeling like it’s vibrating, knowing too well that the smallest of movements could kill you. 

“So sweet. So naive. My flower.” He whispers. “You think I strung Tina and Higgins’ big ass up on those goalposts myself?” 

“No…. He—Steve?” You blubber, another wave of grief washing over you. You’ve just lost two of your best friends in the space of five minutes and you don’t have the time to think about the implications. You just need to make it out alive. “Why? Why did you do this? Why did you kill those people, Eddie?” 

“Because there’s only so much a person can take. I mean, a year passed since Jason sicced his merry brigade of uptight Catholics on me. They all got to move on, get college scholarships, access to trust funds and opportunities to get out of this shithole. Me? I was gonna stay here and rot.” He seethes. “I tried my best to keep it under control. To push my urges down. But then I saw Carol bump you in that hallway, and I remembered what Tommy did to you at that party. That’s when I decided to end it.”

“How do you know about that?” You shudder. 

“Harrington told me everything. Y’know for someone who secretly loves killing, he protested far too much in the beginning. Though, in his defence, I think he was a little cooked after the whole Russian torture thing. It was a perfect plan, really. I killed the people on his list—he killed the people on mine. Solid alibis. No connection.” 

“I never asked for this. For any of it. You don’t get to pin your sick little indulgences on me, Eddie.”  

He flinches, recoils at your words. “But I did it for you. To keep you safe. Why don’t you get that?!” 

Salt falls from your eyes, trails down your face until your cheeks and neck are wet, a lump in your throat. “Are you going to kill me?”

He stares in awe at the pulse visible under your neck, lightly traces his knife over it. He may not even dignify your question with a response; all he would have to do is press in and you’d bleed out right on Mr. Munson’s orange carpet. 

“I told you that you’re always safe with me, do you remember that?” When you ignore his question, he uses the knife to tip your chin up and takes the mask off. “Answer me.”

His eyes soften when he waits for you to answer, as though hanging onto your words for desperate validation. You get a glimpse of the Eddie you know—knew. 

Your Eddie. 

“Yes.” You reply truthfully. 

“So how can you ask that? How could you possibly think I’d kill you?” 

“Then why stalk me? Why send me the flowers—the letters—if I wasn’t next on your list?” You sob. “You must’ve known what I’d think, that I was scared. Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you.” He whispers reverently, closing in on you. His eyes soften, and when he says those four words, it’s Eddie. Eddie, despite the blood spatter on his neck and arms. It’s why it takes your breath away, because you can’t disregard it as the ramblings of a madman. 

There’s some truth to it—even if it is sick. 

And you hate yourself more for wanting him. 

He sheaths the knife in his back pocket, closing the distance between you. “Do you have any idea…how long I’ve wanted you? How I’ve had to keep tabs on you from afar because I was afraid of what you’d think about me? I’ve wanted you since the day you moved here, way before we ever even met.” 

You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this. 

Your palm makes a cracking sound against his cheek, leaving a blooming red mark on his face. “I hate you.”

His lips brush against yours. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I fucking hate you, Eddie. You broke my trust.” 

“I know.”

Your fists beat down on his chest and arms, throwing punches against a solid chest. He grunts and takes the brunt of your beat down silently, your palms picking up the blood from his soaked t-shirt. It’s only once you’re reduced to tears that he stops you, encircling both of your blood-stained wrists and pulls you close to his chest. 

“I hate you.” You repeat in a small voice. 

“Yeah?” He asks, looking down at you. 

He looks more like himself now, the version that makes you laugh, and loves to read, and has a rich imagination. The Eddie who makes your breath catch in your throat. His gaze is heated, loaded with the challenge of your hatred for him, as though he’s waiting for you to prove it. 

His lips are plump and red, the divot on his chin pronounced. 

“You really hate me?” He whispers. “Because I’ll let you go. You can go to the police, have me arrested, I don’t care. I just want you.” 

You launch yourself at him, crushing your lips against his for a burning, all-consuming kiss. Your knees buckle at the long-awaited contact, his lips full and soft, yet demanding when they slide over yours, capturing your mouth with a bruising intensity. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him so forcefully that it makes you mewl, the soft contours of your body moulding against his harder ones, blood soaking into your pale pink dress. 

You pull away, panting for breath. “I hate you.” You chant. “I hate you. I hate you.” 

He kisses you harder. 

Your hands tangle in his hair as his lips devour you, hungry tongue meshing with yours. He moans in pain when you suckle his bruised bottom lip, the sound going straight to your core. He frantically reaches to touch as much of you as he can, presses his body against yours to make your chest heave with pleasure.

You pull away, looking at him hesitantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” He pleads, voice cracking. “Don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.”

“I am scared, Eddie.” You whisper, a tear escaping your eye. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I meant it when I said I’d never hurt you. I just wanna take care of you. Make you feel good the way you deserve. Will you let me do that? Can I show you? Please?” 

Despite your fear, you’re warming to the idea that he’s still the Eddie that checks on you in the middle of the night, the Eddie that once drove an hour at 3:00am to pick you up from a party. 

You swallow. “Yes.”

His warm eyes sparkle, capture your lips in another heated kiss. He moans desperately into your mouth as your lips slide over one another, panting as he firmly runs his hands up your hips, trailing up your ribcage and to your arms. He pins your hands above your head, stretching your body out and shoves his knee between your legs.

You break away from his mouth in pleasure, the coarse denim of his jeans rubbing against your panties. Your mouth falls open, head lolling back against the wall. 

“Oh, you needed this, huh?” He says darkly, rocking his knee between your legs. “You like me. And you hate yourself for it.” 

You chase his mouth but he dodges, a wicked look on his face. You fist your hands in his shirt collar and pull him down to capture his full lips between yours again, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Eddie groans, his mind immediately jumping to how you’re capable of drawing blood for him too, even if it is his own. His cock twiches. “That’s my fucking girl.” He murmurs, dragging his thumb against his lip to wipe the blood. “You’re not as innocent as you look, huh?” 

You wrap your hand around his large wrist, bring his hand to your own mouth to smear his blood on your lips. His eyes gleam, cock painfully hard. Your gaze falls to his lips, bruised and bleeding, blood in his mouth and on his chin. 

“Go ahead.” He smiles knowingly.

You let the tip of your tongue trace the blood on his chin and lick upward until you trace the seam of his lips. He swallows your next breath with a bruising kiss, your lips coming together in a frenzied, sick heat, the taste of copper and warm blood coating your tongue. 

He squeezes your hip with a large hand, brings you down to grind against his knee, the act debasing but you don’t care. Eddie makes you crazy, his broad build, his possessiveness; his dark side. 

“C’mon. Let me see that pretty face when you cum. Go ahead. Cum on my thigh like the sick little thing you are.” He murmurs, looking down at the mess you’re leaving on his jeans. He roughly forces you to look down, his hands framing your face. “Look at that. Look at the mess you’re leaving. Soaking fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet, do I make that cunt leak, baby? That all for me?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. For you. For you.” You chant.

“Atta girl. Cum for me now. Cum on my thigh.” He coos, rocking his leg up into you. “Let go, c’mon.” 

The coil in your stomach wraps tighter around itself, Eddie’s rough words making you throw your head back in a silent moan as you finally come undone. He holds you close to him, an arm around your waist to help you ride out your orgasm, your arms around his shoulders, held in a tight embrace as he continues to grind his knee into your pussy.

“Oh that’s it, that’s my pretty fucking girl. So good for me, doing exactly as I ask you. So fucking good, baby. Just breathe—you got it. Good girl.” 

His words somehow prolong your orgasm, your pussy convulsing around nothing, until all you can do is dig your nails into Eddie’s shoulders and cry. 

When you come down, you’re languid, but renewed, wanting more. Both of your eyes are blown, heady with lust, and Eddie brings your mouth back to his, unable to stay away. 

Cradling the back of your head, he licks into your mouth and you angle your head to kiss him deeper, hungry for more as you mewl into his mouth, scrambling against the wall. You tug at his t-shirt, pull him closer by his belt loops, and he moans at your show of control. 

Sinking to your knees, you keep your eyes up and on Eddie as you watch him register your movement, his brows furrowing with exertion. He plucks his blood-soaked t-shirt off his body, drops of crimson staining his abdomen and his hands now. 

You look up at him with wide eyes. He’s intimidating from this angle, tall and broad, but still lithe; ink and blood covering his pale chest and arms. You trace the scratches on his lower abdomen, shivers erupting on your skin at the realisation of how he really got them.

You kiss the still-red marks, tonguing over his v-line and lower abdomen, bluntly scratching at the smattering of hair that leads below his jeans. 

He cups your chin tenderly, leaving behind blood. “Tommy begged for his life. Begged me not to kill him, but I did anyway. Made him bleed out right by the pool while Carol watched. For what he did to you.” 

You should hate this. You should get off your knees and leave. But you can’t. Not when you’re one orgasm deep and you’re wet between the legs. Not when you’re about to worship this man. 

You kiss his hand, then his stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses over his abs, tracing the tip of your tongue over the red scratches. You move over, scratching your nails down his stomach to mirror the other side, leaving angry red marks. 

Why should Carol be the only one to get to mark him? 

He hisses through his teeth, hands hovering over your head hesitantly as you lick over the fresh marks with more kisses. “What? You jealous?” He laughs.

You answer him with another swipe at his v-line, red claw marks imprinting on his skin. The tent in his pants begs to be touched, and when you rub over his hard cock through his jeans, his thighs tremble. 

“Can I suck your cock, Eddie?” You ask innocently. “Please?” 

“Jesus fuckin—“ He grits out, bracing against the wall in front of him. “Go ahead, baby. Take my cock out, lemme feel your mouth.” 

You bite back a smile at his eagerness as you undo his belt, shakily pulling down his jeans and boxers together to free his cock. You swallow, your skin heating at the sight of his cock; average length but the girth takes you off guard, his tip red and leaking pre cum. 

He looks at you knowingly, like he knows he’s going to destroy you when the time comes, but until then, he’s going to bide his time with your mouth. He groans breathily when you stroke the length of him, using both hands to twist and pull, goosebumps erupting on his skin. 

“Shit, shit, shit. That’s it. Squeeze a little tighter there—ah—fuck. Oh, that’s it, baby.” 

You sweetly suck on his tip, licking up his pre cum. Eddie’s abs twitch when your tongue swipes over the vein on the underside of his cock, and you make a mental note to tease him with that. His hips jerk forward on instinct, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth, his hands hovering over your head.

“Like that, Eddie? Am I doing a good job?” You ask, kissing his tip. 

“Yeah, baby. Such a good job like I knew you would. Need a little more.” 

You work way down the shaft, laying wet, open mouthed kisses on his heavy cock, languidly slapping his tip against your tongue. Eddie’s chest flushes with exertion. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, his expression darkening when you take his hands and direct them to your head, silently asking him to take control. 

“Show me what you want, Ed. Do it exactly how you wanna.” You murmur letting his cock slap your tongue. 

You stay like that; mouth wide and tongue out for him to take the lead. A splitting grin takes over his face as he nods, gently gathering your hair on top of your head. 

“My best girl.” He whispers.

He thrusts into your mouth slowly at first, tentatively testing the waters, but as your warm, wet mouth invites him in for more, his thrusts get deeper and more aggressive. Tears prick your eyes as his thick cock reaches the back of your throat with each rough thrust, his hands pulling your head forward. 

“Fucking Christ, your mouth. So pretty with your lips stretched out around my cock, on your knees for me.” 

You nod as he punctuates his sentence with a harsh thrust that makes you gag around him, and you feel him twitch in your mouth, spit and precum messily trailing down your chin, covering his balls and thighs in a slick sheen. 

He wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah… you’re my filthy little girl, aren’t you? Love taking my cock any way I’ll give it to you, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, feels the vibration against his cock and throws his head back in pleasure, his hair a halo around his head. 

“So pretty, so fucking pretty—my angel. My pretty little angel. A little wider—shit—just like that.” Eddie whines incoherently when you reach up and massage his balls, slick with your saliva while he holds you in place and fucks your mouth. “Thank you, baby—fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Tears stream down your face, but you’re drunk on the taste of him, your pussy throbbing with his words and needy voice. You’re galvanised knowing that on your knees, you’re capable of reducing a man as powerful and terrifying as Eddie to this. 

A whining, whimpering, mess. 

He withdraws from your mouth with a drawn out groan, his cock twitching in front of your face. You glance up at him, a flush spreading from the centre of his chest to his neck, his ears and cheeks bright red, lips swollen from biting them. 

“C’mere.” He murmurs, dragging you up by your throat—not even with enough force to reduce your airflow—but as a possessive gesture, a means of control. 

He disregards the mess on your face and kisses you in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues and heavy breaths, his cock pressing against your tummy. He swallows your moans and whimpers with a light grip on your throat as he takes the breath from your lungs. 

  “Let's get you off your feet, what do you say?” He rasps. 

You nod, hooking your arms around his neck as he sweeps you off your feet, dark gaze burning yours. He throws you on his creaky mattress, leaving you to crawl upward as he stalks towards you like you’re his prey. 

Shoving your knees apart, he strokes your calves, laying gentle kisses on your now sore knees. “You trust me?” 

You take a beat, making sure to run the scenarios through in your head. “Yes.”

He reaches for a knife from his bedside table, and your skin turns red hot, equal parts desire and terror mixing like a cocktail under your skin. 

“Eyes on me, okay? Just relax.” He coos, kissing your forehead. “Not gonna hurt you.” 

He settles between your legs, and despite you being the one fully clothed out of the two of you, you feel vulnerable but safely kept. He scrapes the blunt edge of the knife gently down your neck, circling your pulse point. It scratches against your collarbone as he continues its descent down in your skin. 

You close your eyes as he hooks it around the neckline of your dress, and you feel him stall, remember his words.

Eyes on me. 

“Good girl.” He breathes when you force yourself to look at him. 

With a sharp tug of the knife, he cuts a jagged line down the centre of your dress, starting at your neckline and ending just above your belly button. You startle at the sudden movement and jump slightly but a hand on your hip holds you down. Slowly, he takes the two halves of the dress and rips with his bare hands all the way down until it falls open at your sides. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re perfect.” Eddie rasps, trailing the knife back upwards. 

“Don’t tease, Eddie.” You whine, shivering at the cold. 

“Patience, my flower. I like to draw things out.”  

You stiffen, the reminder of his extra curricular activities reminding you of who he is. He dips down and places a sweet kiss on your lips to absolve you of your worries, then with a tattooed hand, drags the knife between your breasts, then to the left. The sheets in your hands are the only traction you have as he circles your nipple with the knife, flicking the bud with the metal. 

“One wrong move…” he reminds you. “One wrong move, and this could end terribly for you, couldn’t it?” 

You whimper, nodding. 

“Good thing you trust me. Better thing that I love you.”

He trails it down your stomach, watching the goosebumps appear on your skin as he travels south, the muscles under your skin jumping at the touch. The cold metal reaches your panties, scraping over your covered mound, and despite the imminent danger, you feel yourself dripping for him. 

“You’re doing really good, baby. Proud of you.” 

He goes further still, careful to always use the blunt edge of the knife, but with the weapon out of sight, you’re forced to hyper focus on the sensation, figure out which part is where. You cry out when the cold metal bumps against your puffy clit through your panties, your hips bucking. 

Eddie laughs throatily, a wide grin on his face. “Oh, was that good? You liked that, didn’t you? My depraved little angel.” 

“Yes, Eddie. Please, I need more.” 

“That’s right, you do. Well done.” 

You feel tension against the waistband of your panties before it snaps, your panties cut off at the legs. Eddie pulls you up roughly, dragging your panties off you and leaving you fully exposed and open to him. Gathering them in his hand, he brings them to his face, inhales deeply as his eyes roll back into his head. 

”Fucked my hand over n’ over again with the panties I took from you. Wrapped around my cock pretending it was you, whispered your name when I came. You know that?” 

His words make you squirm and he laughs knowingly. Gripping your chin gently, he tells you to open up so he can slip your panties into your mouth. The salty sweet taste of you floods your mouth, your slick coating your tongue and the cotton. 

“You keep nice and quiet for me, I swear I’ll make it worth your while, baby. Can you be good for me?” 

He’s in control and he knows it and it makes you writhe in pleasure. You nod eagerly, pussy fluttering at the prospect of what he has planned for you. 

He slaps your cheek lightly again. “Good girl. Nice and quiet, yeah?” 

He yanks you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and brings your legs to wrap around his waist, turning you as he lays on his back, moving up the bed. 

“C’mon, baby. Come sit on my face, gimme that pretty pussy.” 

You hesitate, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but he takes your hands in his, pulls you forward until you're straddling his waist. “C’mon. Let me taste you, baby. Please?” He coos.

Hooking two arms around you, he moves you up until you’re hovering above his face, the change in dynamic making your insides clench. 

“Please, baby. Just wanna taste you. Please? Let me kiss that pretty pussy?” He whines, tugging on his cock. 

You tentatively lower yourself onto his face, the only thing visible to you now, his upper face. He latches onto your pussy immediately, sucks your clit between his plump lips and your hips buck, trying to put some distance between you and the source of your pleasure. He moans loudly into your pussy, thick tongue and full mouth messily kissing your cunt, strong jaw anchoring you.  

“Such a sweet fucking pussy, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me… could get drunk on the taste of you, so fucking wet, dripping down my face—my God.” He whines, hooking his arms around your legs to keep you flush to him.

Your legs tremble around his face—his face—blissed out and so full of concentration. You lean down and push the hair off his forehead, and he moans in pleasure, sucking your clit harder as you pull slightly on his scalp. 

“That’s it, baby. Grind on my face, use my tongue. Make yourself cum for me, baby. Grind on me.” 

Your heart beats erratically as you slowly work your hips in circles on Eddie’s face, moans and whimpers muffled by the panties in your mouth. His hands reach up to squeeze your tits, pinching your nipples almost painfully and pleasure sparks at the base of your spine. 

“C’mon, pretty girl. Make me proud. Cum for me.” He encourages, flicking your clit with his tongue. The sound of Eddie’s mouth and your wet pussy fill the room as you chase your release, melting into him while pleasure washes over you in waves. 

You cum with a silent scream, head thrown back and focus on the feeling of Eddie’s hands on your tits and mouth lapping at you. You come crashing down, electricity crackling at the base of your spine as you pull on Eddie’s hair. 

You fall onto your hands with blood thrumming in every single nerve ending, your hair sticking to your neck with exertion. Eddie lays a messy kiss on your clit before lifting you off him and gathers you in his arms. 

He checks your face for signs of concern, but you’re utterly blissed out. Unpicking the panties from your mouth, he wipes the saliva from your chin to kiss you. You’re boneless in his arms, trusting him to hold you up, sweaty body flush against his as his mouth moves over yours. He consumes your being, wanting you from the inside out, your entire body vibrating with need, more so when you feel his cock jump between your legs. 

“You’re so hard, Eddie. So thick.” 

He swears under his breath as you tug at his cock, heavy and warm in your hand. He grips your throat, a smile making its way onto your lips as he regards you with a knowing look. 

A look that he knows you’re his. That you’re just as twisted as he is. 

He spins you around, your back flush to his tattooed chest and grips your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror in front of you. You stroke him languidly, feeling his sticky precum coat the tips of your fingers while his fingers spread your pussy lips. 

“Look at yourself.” He urges, kissing your cheek. “Look at how wrecked you are, spread out and naked for me. Look at how good we look together, my flower. Look.” 

The sight in front of you makes your knees buckle. Next to Eddie’s guitar, is your reflection, blissed out with your hair matted to your face, legs spread wide while Eddie’s ringed fingers rub your clit. Behind you, Eddie watches the reflection, his tattooed chest and abdomen littered with scratches and bruises. 

Both of you are stained with blood, handprints marking your throat, your hips, your tits, actual remnants of a crime on your bodies, mixing with sex. 

“Keep your eyes on that mirror, baby. Whatever you do, do not take your eyes off that mirror. You got that?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. Anything you want.” 

He lays a kiss under your ear to soothe the sting of two thick fingers plunging into your pussy, your head lolling back. The slick coating your thighs and pussy makes it easy for him to slide in, the sting soothed by the pleasure of him hooking his fingers inside you. 

“Ohh, I know you like that, don’t you, my girl? That feels good inside my pretty baby’s pussy, huh? You wanna close your eyes but you can’t, can you?” He coos mockingly, lightly slapping your cheek. “No, you can’t. Because you said you’d do anything I want. So you’re gonna stay right here…and I’m gonna finger this pretty little cunt to get you ready for my cock.” 

“Eddie…” you whine, palming his cock. “That feels so good, your fingers… so thick.” 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

He withdraws his fingers and plunges them deep inside you with each word, drawing out your pleasure like a length of elastic; tension building and building precariously close to a snap. The heel of his palm rubs against your clit as his pace increases, a furious work of his wrist leaving you hanging onto his arm for dear life. 

“Cum, baby. Come on, gimme another one, I know you can do it. Do it for me, baby, let me feel you squeeze my fingers.” 

“Gonna cum, Eddie…so close.” You whimper. 

You watch his biceps flex and his shiny, slick covered fingers as you come undone. You’re decidedly full, but not full enough, fluttering around his fingers wildly as he talks you through your release. Your eyes go hazy with ecstasy as you fight to keep them open, to watch his onslaught like you promised you would. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl. Pretty eyes on me, yeah? Just breathe baby, you’re doing so good. So fucking good squeezing me like that. So pretty.” 

When your heartbeat comes down, he kisses your cheek, holding his ring and middle fingers up to the light, your slick stretching between his fingers. 

He brings them to your mouth. “Suck.” He says simply, gasping when your tongue presses against his fingers to lick the taste of yourself off him. 

“Sweet?” He asks. 

You nod around his fingers. 

“Well done, baby. We’re not finished yet, though.” 

With a large hand on your upper back, he pushes you down into his pillows, the smell of him surrounding you like a haze. His sheets are rumpled, but a welcome reprieve, they smell like him and in a way, it’s like laying on him. 

Eddie’s large hands angle your hips upwards just slightly, the rest of you still face down on the mattress. You feel the blunt head of his cock slide up and down your slit, your sloppy cunt making him slip. 

A sharp crack lands on your ass, making you jump, the pain soothed by a cool relief as Eddie massages the skin, pulling at it posessively. He squeezes you hard enough to leave bruises but it only spurs you on, the sick thought of Eddie possessing you, marking you—owning you—makes you drip onto his sheets. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” He rasps from the exertion of controlling himself. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

He braces himself over you with toned arms, his legs bracketing yours as he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you, agonisingly slow. His broad chest flushes a deep crimson. 

You feel him slide right back out of you, and try again, his lips between his teeth. “God fuckin’ damn it, you’re so tight, pushing me right back out.” He pushes in again, and you watch him mesmerised. “Let me in, angel, c’mon. Let me inside you, gimme that sweet cunt. C’mon.” He grunts. 

Every inch stretches you out, punching the air from between your lungs. You’re completely immobilised and at Eddie's mercy, trembling as he sheathes himself inside you. 

You gasp when he buries himself to the hilt, impossibly full and dizzy with pleasure. “Oh my God, Eddie, that’s deep. You’re so fucking deep inside me—so fucking big.” You sob, fluttering around his cock. 

He drops his entire body weight on you, pushing you further into the mattress, deliciously constricting your airflow. He pulls your arms out in front of you and interlocks his fingers with yours. 

You feel his chest vibrate when he speaks, a deep, quiet rumble that kisses the shell of your ear. “Yeah? That deep enough for my baby’s pussy, hm? Stretch you nice and good?”

You watch the carnal expression on his face as he slowly starts to grind into you, the angle bumping that spot deep inside you that makes your clit jump. You’re sensitive and pliant under him but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in close and snapping his hips, muttering filthy words into your ear. 

He pushes a thumb into your mouth. “Such a warm, wet, perfect cunt. The things I did for this pussy, to make you mine—God.” He grits. “You make me fucking crazy you know that? This pussy makes me crazy.” 

Every inch of his body presses against yours, your skin moulding to his, sweat slicked and sticky, both of your thighs covered in your slick. 

“Love your cock, Eddie. Love how you fuck me. Please, Eddie. Want more, please.” You whine, pulling his hair above you. 

He builds his pace steadily, his hips snapping into your while he sets a brutal rhythm, pressing you further into the mattress. The hot friction of your nipples rubbing against his sheets and his cock set your skin on fire. 

You barely register Eddie angle your hips up all the way before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you up—flush against him. 

“That’s better. Look at you—fucking ruined on my cock, aren’t you? Who else can fuck you like this? Who else makes you this fucking pathetic and desperate?” 

“Nobody, Eddie. Nobody. Just you, only you fuck me like this.” You choke out, legs trembling. 

With an arm around your waist to keep you steady, he hooks the other around your neck, effectively putting you in a light headlock. You’re so close to your release, so dizzy with pleasure that you’re on the verge of passing out. Your head lolls against Eddie’s shoulder and your eyes roll back, your face a sight with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. 

The lack of airflow increases the pressure inside of your body, fire pooling low in your stomach, making you drip . 

“That’s it, that’s it, there you go, there you fucking go. You like it when I choke you don’t you, my filthy little girl. Gonna make you cream all over my cock, want it soaking my thighs and balls, baby. Give it to me.” 

You can barely form words, settling for a litany of, “Yes, yes, yes. Right there, Eddie, don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop. Not until you’re crying. Now c’mon, gimme another one, let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, c’mon. Make me proud, pretty girl, cum for me.” 

You hang on for dear life as he fucks you right into another orgasm, your legs trembling and pussy convulsing around him, but he doesn’t let up. Pounds you right through your orgasm, skin slapping against skin, finally letting go of your throat so you can breathe again. 

“Good girl, good girl, good fucking girl, that’s it. There you go, just breathe—you got it. Just feel it, you got it, c’mon, keep going, keep going.”

White spots your vision as you ride out your orgasm and Eddie finally allows you to fall forward, draping his body over yours immediately. You pull at his hair to bring him closer, slowly grinding yourself against his cock as you come down, a panting, sweaty mess, drowning in bliss. 

You angle your head to kiss him lazily, his lips leaving your mouth tingling, tongue licking into your mouth. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re really fucking intense, Ed?” You tease against his lips. 

“Why? You hear somethin’?” He chuckles, kissing you deeply. 

He pulls out of you, tugging at his slick cock as he turns you over onto your back. You’re both dishevelled, and desperate, chasing a higher and higher release. 

You spread your legs and invite him to use your puffy, sensitive pussy, your thighs and hips covered in juices. He slides in easier this time, grinding all the way into the hilt so his pelvis bumps your clit, while his pick chain dangles in your face. 

You whine, gripping the sheets for an anchor as he starts to drive into you with a rough snap of his hips. 

“Eddie…” you whine. “Feel so good, so deep.” You whimper. 

“Yeah?” He grins, dimple splitting his cheek. He presses his hand into your stomach, withdrawing his cock almost all the way out and slamming back inside again. “Right here? You feel me there? Nice and deep inside this pretty angel cunt, made for me to fuck, isn’t it?” 

“Just for you, Eddie. Just for you.” You chant. 

Your slick smears everywhere, coating Eddie’s lower stomach and happy trail, his pelvis and balls, everything a filthy, sticky mess and you’re in heaven. 

You fist your hands into the pillow next to you, spot a flash of black and white. Pulling on the material, you reveal another mask, and your heart swoops nervously, your body stiffening. 

“You’re okay, baby. Nothin’ to be scared of—here.” He reassures you, slipping the hood on. It takes your breath away, having to reconcile Eddie’s body with the mask, but when he grinds his cock deep inside you, you snap back. “Just me. Just Eddie.” 

You reach for his shoulders and spread your legs to invite him closer, wanting to feel more of him. Eddie smiles behind the mask, knows the reaction you have to it—to him—to the implications. He hisses at the feel of your fingernails digging into his back, cock twitching at your possessiveness.

“You like that don’t you, baby? I know you like seeing me with the mask on, I can feel you fucking creaming on my cock. Makes you horny doesn’t it, knowing I killed for you? You’re twisted. Filthy.” 

You whine for him incoherently, feeling the muscles in his back flex and contract as he fucks you deep and fast, his creaky bed matching his rhythm. The mask cuts off Eddie’s breathing, makes it hard to inhale properly but finally having you under him, writhing and moaning his name the way he’s dreamed of makes him whimper. 

“Wanna see you, Eddie. Please. Wanna see your face.” You cry, reaching for his mask. 

He dodges your hands, pins them above your head with his stronger ones. “Tell me you’re mine first.” He grunts. “Tell me you’re fucking mine.”

“I’m yours, Eddie. I’m fucking yours, I’m all yours.” You offer freely, squeezing his hands. 

He slides the hood off, forehead shiny with sweat, bangs matted to his face as he drops his entire body weight on you, pinning your hands again. 

“That’s right. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to fuck. All mine.”

You’re dizzy with pleasure, taking whatever he gives you, your pussy squelching with each brutal pass of Eddie’s thick cock. “All yours, Eddie.”

“Tell me I’m yours.” He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward. 

“You’re mine, Eddie.” You sob, raking your nails violently down his back to prove it. “You’re mine. You’re mine, Eddie.” 

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. “That’s right. You could try to forget any of this happened. But we both know, baby. You love this too much.” 

“God—Eddie. Please. Please, please…”

“Please what? You losin’ your words, now? So drunk on my cock filling you up, you can’t think straight?” He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive. 

He grips your throat, making your head fall back and tongue loll out of your mouth uselessly. In a moment of pure possession, he lets a trail of his saliva drip into your mouth, kisses you deeply and thoroughly until you’re seeing stars and on the precipice. 

“Good thing I can think for the both of us, huh? Dunno what you’d do without me, my dumb little angel. Need me to protect you, don’t you? I know, baby, I know. I can give you what you need, don’t worry.” 

You’re reduced to blissful silence as Eddie bridges the gap between you and your release, his own, right on the edge as well. 

“Gonna come, Eddie. So close, please, please, make me cum. I love it, I love you. I love you. I love you—Eddie, fuck.” You sob, hanging onto his back, crescent shaped welts marking his skin. 

“Gonna make you mine, baby. Gonna make all this worth it. All of it, just a little more, yeah?” He pants, rhythm turning sloppy. 

“Yeah. Make me yours, Eddie. Please. Wanna be yours.” 

He drops his entire body weight against you, your stomachs pressing together as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy, baby. Make you mine forever, yeah?” 

You nod, biting down on Eddie’s shoulder as you cum, locking your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. You convulse around his cock, pulling him impossibly close. Eddie moans into your neck as he reaches his release, teeth sinking into the skin below your ear as he cums deep inside you, his balls nestled against your ass.  

He thrusts shallowly inside you, shuddering as you both come down, sweating and entirely ruined. Brushing the sweaty hair off your face, he kisses you deeply, pulling away with dopey eyes. 

“Proud of you, baby. You did really good. Thank you.” 

Your eyes grow heavy, and you’re content to lean on him on the way to the cramped bathroom, have him wash the blood off both of your bodies. You register it against the white porcelain of the bathtub as it circles the drain. 

It takes a few weeks and slowly but surely, Hawkins returns back to normal. A week-long procession of back-to-back funerals are grim, your guilty conscience making you sick, but the sicker part of you wonders what else you could have Eddie do. 

Two weeks after Andy Clayton’s funeral, you sit in the backseat of Steve’s BMW and watch the houses go by. You narrow your eyes, tapping Eddie on the shoulder once the white house comes into view.

“That’s the house, Eddie.” 

“You sure, Sweetheart?” He asks, squeezing your hand. 

“Positive. Jenny told me she saw it happen, Father Elijah with that little boy.” 

“Alright. You heard her, Harrington. Let’s go.” He inhales sharply, getting out of the car. 

You join them outside, tugging on Eddie’s hands, stopping him as he goes to put his mask on. “You’ll be careful, won’t you, baby?” 

“Always am.” He smiles, bending down to kiss you.

——————————————————————————

tags: @fezcoismypimp @urlocaltwink @cottoncandywings @stardancerluv @hoe-for-fictional-men @momsaysimpunkrock @southside-serpent-bae @umm-megan @cozyyellowcardigan @binanas @imasimptoowth @adamdrivershairfluffer @a-laura @rosecolorgardens

[lewdmommie]

No Expectations

Summary: y/n now has to navigate new complex feelings with König she didn’t have before.

Jealouskönigxreader💗

🎀Warning🎀:18+NSFW, Rough sex, raw sex, oral sex, language, angst, size kink, praise/degradation etc

Word count: 4.k

(Comment, reblog and follow)

This is part 2 of One night stand

Part 3

“No.” Ghost doesn’t even bother looking up from whatever document he’s scribbling on.

“Please, I’ll do any other cruel and unusual punishment you have lined up for me.” You plead.

“You don’t get to argue the terms of your probation. König is who you’re training with, no questions asked.” He says through clenched teeth.

“Why can’t I just work with someone else. There’s plenty of people on base.” You reach over snagging a mint from the decorative bowl at the corner of his desk. His eyes follow your movements. It wasn’t like you to not get along with someone, everyone on base either loved you or felt indifferent. Of course there was a handful that weren’t the nicest because of your popularity but König wouldn’t fall into that category. “Why do you want to switch partners? Did something happen between you two?” His question makes your eyes widen remembering how König was balls deep inside you just a few nights ago. Luckily ghost's eyes are locked on the paperwork in front of him. You stand turning your back to him, hiding the hot flush that creeps onto your cheeks.

“It’s nothing like that.” You say with false confidence. The small crack in your voice catches his attention. What was this feeling at the pit of his stomach, a feeling that made his jaw tense and heart pound. He finally looks away from the paper, capturing your gaze with an intensity that makes goosebumps prickle at your skin. He rises to his feet, palms planted firmly on the surface of the desk. “Fine. I won’t pry…I don’t have any other expendable men.” He rasps.

“What about you? It’s just three hours and it’s after work hours. We both know you don’t have a life serg.” You chuckle. If you had X-ray vision you would see the irritated expression under the mask.

“I am your superior. That means I have actual work to do unlike you sorry excuses for soldiers.” He flips through the piles of paperwork.

“That isn’t very nice sergeant, you’ve got to be more pleasant in the workplace.” You tease walking around the office space, touching things as you go.

There is a tall bookcase in the corner that catches your eye. Thick spined books with elegant writing line the shelves. Along with a small cactus and tank figurines, a picture frame stands out. A beautiful brunette woman holding a baby wrapped in a tiny blue blanket , smiles at the camera in a dated looking room. A shadow cast behind you, turning around, you're faced with a huge vest covered chest. He takes the frame lifting it over your head to sit on the top shelf. He smells of gunpowder and a Smokey musk, your back bumps the case as he steps closer. Naturally your eyes close not sure what exactly you were waiting on to happen. His arm retracts holding a black leather covered book with silver embroidery.

“Who was that woman?” You exhale as he steps away walking back to his desk.

“No one.” He flips through the pages, nodding to himself as if he’d found what he was looking for.

“Who was that baby? I didn’t know you had a kid, that must mean you’re married…who would marry you serg you’re so serious all the time.” You plop your butt onto the desk. He shakes his head fighting the urge to add another week to your probation for sitting on his desk. His gaze sharpens.

“The child is not mine.” He says.

“Oh a scandal, who’s child is it? I can’t believe your wife would do that to you sergeant, need a hug?” You open your arms beckoning him forward.

“I am not married. Don’t you have toilets to clean. Get out.” He pushes your hip off his desk.

“We haven’t even come to an agreement yet!” You exclaim, feet hitting the ground.

“Fine. I will train with you just for today if it’ll get you out of my office.” He offers.

“The rest of the week.” You barter.

“Two days.” He responds.

“Four.” You fold your arms.

“Three. Final offer rookie.” He shakes his head.

“Fine, three days is better than one.”

“You’ll be the one to inform König you’re switching partners.” The computer keyboard clicks as he enters something into the database. At this point he had to be getting off to your embarrassment, if looks could kill he’d be a goner. Ghost didn’t tolerate taking the easy way out, if two people had issues on base they would be addressed and resolved quickly. He always said there wouldn’t be war within our army.

“I-fine i'll tell him.” You sigh knowing he wouldn’t budge.

“Good,now leave, I’m busy.” He waves you off without glancing up.

~

Three days. That should be enough time for things to cool down between you and König, you think, grabbing a lunch tray. The line moves steadily as the staff ladles today's lunch onto each plate.

You smile at the older lady behind the table, holding out your tray.

“y/n, I’ve got your lunch packed up right here for you.” She bends down grabbing a brown paper bag with your name scribbled on it. She nods apologetically, placing the bag on your plate, peanut butter and jelly again…yum.

“Y/n! Over here!” A cute brown skinned woman with luscious dreadlocks waves you over. Maya. You and Maya enlisted at the same time, basically going through the whole process together. Without her, you don’t know how long you would have lasted here. when you two found out you’d be stationed at the same base it felt like fate intended for you to stay with each other, She’s the entire reason you planned to reenlist. Unfortunately your closeness meant she could see right through you, so you had to find a way to keep her off your trail.

“Hey May thanks for holding my seat.” You sit across from her.

“No problem you’d do the same for me.” She jokes biting into her apple. You unroll the wrinkled paper bag that looked like it could have something illegal inside of it. You pull out a poorly wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich along with a juice box and an orange. Your nose scrunches at the thought of tasting sticky peanut butter and sickly sweet grape jelly again. You look longingly at Maya’s lunch, your stomach growls in envy.

“Peanut butter and jelly again I can’t believe ghost, do you want to trade lunches?” She pushes her tray towards you. You shake your head unwrapping the plastic and taking a bite of your sandwich.

“I like the pain.” You say in a playful tone.

“You’re such a freak.” She laughs rolling her eyes.

The mess hall echoed with chatter from various conversations, every table for lack of a better word, had their own cliques. It wasn’t like some cheesy highschool movie but everyone had their own friend groups they’d break off with during lunch. Guys like Ghost and König didn’t dine in the mess hall so when you see König leaned up against the wall watching you, it completely catches you off guard.

“What’s his deal?” Maya asks not even trying to hide the fact that she was staring back.

“We had a disagreement.” You sip your juice box averting your gaze from him.

“No way, you’ve been telling me how you two were getting along so well. Did something happen? I’ll kick his ass right now.” She says in a serious tone. König stood at 6ft 6inches tall with the body of a tank but Maya was statuesque at 5’11 inches tall with an extremely toned physique. He was strong but so is Maya, she trains with the men for fun. After long days of them making sexist jokes, She loved beating the shit out of them. She can squat 250+ pounds easily so you definitely don’t take her threat lightly.

“It wasn’t like that Maya, this one might be on me. I’ve been avoiding the issue instead of talking it out with him…” you trail biting the sandwich.

“Well then it sounds like you know what to do.” She touches your hand, nodding in his direction.

“Yeah…you’re right. I am a part of the special military forces. I’m not afraid of a conversation.” You shoot up ready to deliver the news of your new partnership with ghost.

Your legs wobble as you walk to the trash, throwing away your tray. You can feel his eyes follow your every move as you snake through the cafeteria full of people. He’s leaning against the wall with one leg, arms folded, peering down at you. His body language was reserved, there was an invisible wall stacked between you two.

“König I-“ you start.

“-We will not be speaking during work hours rookie.” He says coldly.

“König please I-“ he interrupts you again.

“Colonel König.”

“Colonel König. I need to talk to you about something.” You whisper.

“You’ll have to schedule an appointment during my office hours.” His voice is flat.

“You know what, fine, fuck this.” You storm off, fed up with his distance. His hand twitches fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back. Instead he watches as you slip further away from him. Truth is…he was scared. Scared that you’d reject him and that you’d felt everything that happened was just a mistake. He found himself pulling back before you could deliver the final blow. Your departure in the middle of the night showed him what he needed to know about your feelings for him. It was just a one night stand, nothing more…Right? If that was the case why was his chest tight at the idea that he’d just hurt you.

~

“You’re slow!” Ghost barks as your body hits the mat. You cough, holding your side. He stares down at you with impatient eyes, waiting for you to reset.

“Again.” He orders as you stand rubbing your ribs.

If he was holding back, you’d hate to feel his full power, he could toss you around like it was nothing. With your feet planted firmly on the ground, you step one foot back allowing more range for your dominant hand. Your fists are raised, just as König taught you, protecting your jaw. Ghost swings left punching the barrier of your forearms, it hurts, but your guard doesn’t break. You duck his right hook taking the advantage and hitting him with a quick body shot to the gut. He stumbles crashing into one of the wooden pillars in the training room. You advance keeping your guard up, to his surprise you rush him jabbing the hard material of his mask. One of your weak points was the inability to strike someone when they’re down. If he didn’t have military grade training, the mask would have shattered from the force of your blows. Before that can happen he attacks low, swiping your knees from under you. Your back crashes onto the mat, knocking the wind out of you. You wheeze from the impact trying to catch your breath. Ghost towers over you with both wrists locked in his iron grip. You can hear him breathing heavily, his chest pressing against your with every exhale. Your legs wrap around him in an attempt to get the upper hand, he doesn’t budge as you try to flip his body. He chuckles at your struggle lifting your arms above your head to show off his strength. “Give up.” He pants as you wiggle beneath him.

“That isn’t what you taught me now is it?” Your hips buck against his waist. A tiny whimper escapes his lips, his hand lets your wrist loose to replace it on your leg. His cock strains in the tight confines of his cargos, if not for the thick material, you’d have felt him poking your inner thigh. Utilizing your center gravity, you rock your body using his weight to roll completely over, landing on top of him. Your legs straddle his thighs. without thinking, his big hands grab your waist balancing you.

“Who was that woman in the picture?” He struggles under you, your knees tense, locking him in place. Now he quite literally couldn’t run from the question.

“No one.” He doesn’t budge.

“She must be important if you won’t talk about her.” You implore.

“Since when are we worried about each other's personal lives?” He relaxes, no longer fighting back.

“Whenever I bring it up, you get this pained look in your eye…like something changed you. Like a piece of you is still hurting.” Your voice softens. His heart thumps at your words, he can no longer look you in the eyes. He wanted to fight the urge to let you in, to have you truly know him. No one knew him and that’s the way he likes it . If no one gets attached, then no one would be put in danger because of him. He didn’t trust himself to protect the ones he cared for after what happened.

“She was my mother.” He says finally.

“Was? What happened to her?” You lean down to hear him better, your face inches from his.

“I couldn’t protect her.” his voice was barely a whisper. You both jump as the training room door creaks open.

“Sorry I’m late y/n-“ König freezes with a tense jaw and clenched fist. After the heated moment earlier he planned to apologize for his behavior at practice today. He had decided to conquer his fears and give you guys a real shot. He wanted to confess his true feelings today when you two had some alone time but things just changed. You scramble off of ghost’s lap standing to your feet clumsily. König takes a step back as you approach him.

“This is what I was trying to tell you earlier…me and ghost will be training together for the next three days…” you ramble.

“Right. Then I’ll just leave you two to do your ‘training’.” He backs into the doorway turning on his heels. He wanted to go back there and beat Sergeant Ghost’s face in, break every finger he laid on you. He wanted to throw you over his shoulder, take you back home and pound every ounce of anger he had into you. He wanted everyone to know you were his…but you weren’t and he had to accept that. He couldn’t stop you from exploring other options but he wouldn’t sit back and watch either. Ghost sits up watching the whole thing play out, he could see the anger seething off of König. He got the exact same feelings right before a mission, that sense of imminent danger. This was more than some silly fight between the two of you, he realized that now. He realized what you meant to König and now what you meant to him. His heart drops as he watches you run after König, he thinks about calling after you but chokes back the words.

“König please wait!” You yell running behind him. You grunt as he stops suddenly, making you slam into his back.

“What is there to talk about y/n? You don’t owe me anything.” He mutters.

“I know this sounds like bullshit but that wasn’t what it looked like.”

“You’re right it does sound like bullshit.” He says.

“I just needed a break from this…from us. Just for a few days.” You explain.

“You’ve made it painfully clear there is no us.” He snaps. His head shakes as if he wanted to say more but instead he walks away leaving you alone in the hall.

~

“How was your day” Maya asks, slipping on her purple bonnet.

“Horrible. May, do you think I’m a good person?” You ask, climbing in her bunk. She welcomes you with open arms, stroking your head gently. You nessel into her embrace, finding comfort in her touch. Maya always knew the right things to say, you could count on her to make you feel better after hard days.

“Of course I think you’re a good person y/n. What makes you ask something like that?” She strokes your hair, looking down at you with concerned eyes.

“I just needed to hear it.” she pulls you close, kissing your forehead.

“You know you can talk to me about anything.” She states seriously.

“I know.” You sigh.

“Well you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.” She assures.

“Thank you may I love you.” You kiss her cheek before throwing your legs over the bunk and walking to your bed.

“I love you too weirdo, goodnight.” She rolls over pulling the cover up to her neck.

~

“Wider.” Ghost orders, slipping two fingers in your open mouth. You suck desperately, wiggling your ass in anticipation. A large warm hand pushes your thighs apart exposing your dripping slit, your back arches as they flick your beating bud. Who? You turn your body and behind you is a half lidded König looking back. His green eyes stare into your soul as he slides a thick finger inside you, pulling it out achingly slow before pumping it back inside again. Your gaze is snatched away by ghost and met with a stiff twitching cock. Clear pre-cum oozes from his flustered tip, using his thumb he gently opens your mouth, sliding his head over the plush of your lower lip. He hisses as you take him in fully, hollowing your cheeks to take him even deeper. You gasp as König stretches you with another finger, stroking the deepest parts of you. Wet squelching fills the space as your pussy drools with arousal. Saliva dribbles down your chin as your head bobs, swallowing as much of him as your body allowed. His head falls back as his tip is met with the back of your warm velvet throat. You gag, making your throat quiver around him, his hips rock sporadically , fingers tangled in your hair. “S’fucking good baby…that’s it you’re making me feel so good-“ Ghost whimpers, head lolling back.

“Ahhh uhn…” You groan, mouth full, as König runs the flat of his tongue up your split, licking away your slippery nectar. His tongue pets your stiff clit, sucking and licking every inch of your inner sex. His five O’clock shadow rubs against your sensitive lips as he pushes deeper, snaking his tongue inside your tight hole. Your jaw goes slack as he tastes you from the inside fucking you with his wriggling tongue.

“Focus on me.” Ghost growls tilting your face to meet his fuck drunk eyes. His hips move aggressively, pounding the back of your throat without mercy. He pulls out admiring the long glistening trail of spit connecting the two of you before thrusting back in.

“Are you ready to take me Prinzessin?(princess)” König calls, planting soft kisses down your back. You nod your head attempting to say yes but all he hears are small moans and gags. He lines himself between your plush thighs, his tip pushes past the barrier of soft skin. You can feel his dick pulsing so close to your needy cunt you begin to whine, you shake your ass hoping to inch him closer. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.” He grunts, stroking your inner thighs with his cock. Your womanhood is soaking wet at the idea that these two monsters were using your body to get off too. “Your thighs feel just as good as that pretty pussy between your legs” he moans fucking your thighs. Ghost pulls back, slapping the curved underside of his dick on your swollen blushed lips.

“Are you tired baby, do you want me to cum?” He teases rubbing his head over your smooth skin.

“She doesn’t deserve to cum yet sergeant.” König slams into you with one long stroke. Ghost follows suit, ramming the back of your throat and trapping your screams inside. König grips your waist holding you still as he absolutely rails you, your pussy flutters with each stroke. His curved dick kisses your sweet spot with every thrust, your walls clench around him when he pulls back. Your entrance squeezes his tip, trying to suck him deeper. With short frustrating thrusts, he fucks you using just the tip of his cock.

“You’re so greedy, you already have a cock in your mouth…and you’re telling me you want more?” He flicks his hips rutting deep inside you. His fingers dig into your hips so hard you knew it’d leave a bruise. They rock your body between them using every piece of you to make themselves cum. You hear an audible ‘pop’ as König uses his spit to lubricate his finger before teasing the only hole that wasn’t full. Slapping sounds fill the air as he pounds into you, massaging your tight little hole. Ghost starts moving faster, making tears fall down your cheeks from overstimulation.

“That slutty mouth is begging for my cum isn’t it?” He chokes, his dick spasming in your mouth.

He makes an inhuman noise as he slams into you one final time before shooting thick salty cum down your throat. König’s nails dig into your hips as he fucks you so hard, your stomach aches. He reached around grabbing your throat as his pace picks up…he was close.

“Can’t take anymore p-please König I’m so close” you cry, eyes rolling back.

“I love the way you beg.” He impales you one last time going as deep as your pussy allowed him. His cock trembles inside you as hot cum shoots from his pulsing tip. You fall to the bed in exhaustion, shaking like a leaf.

~

You wake up to the nagging sound of your alarm. Oh no you think pulling the covers up to your chest.

The sheets were soaking wet, if you didn’t remember last night's dream you’d have sworn you had an accident. Honestly you’d prefer if the infamous toilet dream was the culprit but that wasn’t the case here. This was a good old fashioned wet dream. You’ve had your fair share of wet dreams but König and Ghost…you had to be out of your mind. your brain probably used yesterday's events to generate some random dream sequence, it couldn’t mean anything. You stand, quickly stripping the sheets and making your way to the showers to wash off last night’s dream-like fun.

You get dressed and book it to the janitors closet to get a head start on your chores…something you never did. You couldn’t face either of them now, you decide to just bury yourself in your work. How could you talk This out? What would you say “hey I had a dream you two completely dominated me so we can’t chat right now?”. You’d rather die than ever admit something like that. Maybe this was a sign it was time to really think about your feelings. You need to truly understand how your heart works so nobody else would get hurt. You wondered where König was and what he was doing. Was he thinking about you the way you were thinking of him? You move the mop absentmindedly along the tile floor. You felt so safe with König, his laugh could light up a room, he was beautiful inside and out. But something about Ghost intrigued you and left you wanting more. You had to come up with a fair way to get to know both of them without anyone getting hurt.

~

“Maya, what if I wanted to date two people at once?” You lean over the lunch table so no one else would hear you. She’s quiet for a second, waiting for you to laugh but she sees how serious you are.

“What the hell are you talking about y/n?” She plops an orange slice in her mouth.

“Just hypothetically, how would you go about that?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Well…communication. Both parties would have to have a mutual understanding. Consent is key.” She explains.

“So just show your interest in the idea and inform them of the terms?”

“Right, but the real question is why would you want to do something like that?” She tilts her head.

“First of all it’s hypothetical, and second why should someone have to choose between two people they barely know. Shouldn’t they get the chance to atleast get to know each person.” You take a disgusting bite of your sandwich.

“Well…the person can try being friends with them first. That way there are no expectations.”

“What if they are stubborn and expect an answer right away?” You ask doe eyed. Maya pats your head supportively.

“Then they aren’t the ones for you.” You nod, shooting from your chair.

“God you’re so smart. I gotta go! See you later!” You yell back running out of the mess hall leaving your half eaten lunch.

~

You burst through ghosts office door without knocking as usual and as usual he gives you an annoyed look. To your surprise König sits at the opposite side of the desk, your guess is he’s being briefed on the next mission. His legs are wide as he leans back in his chair staring back at you silently.

“Great, you're both here.” You start.

“What do you want Rookie?” Ghost asks.

“We need to talk…” König stands, not wanting to hear whatever conversation you had to have with ghost.

“All of us.” he turns back to face you.

To be continued?…

[itstheghostofmypast]

His Little Cowboy

(College AU) Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: It turns out that beards aren't as bad as misinterpreting a text, especially when you want to introduce your lover to your friends. Or maybe don't plan on doing that in a themed college party?

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Word Count: 2.8K

Est. Read Time: 15 min

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Rating: PG-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Linked With: 22.59

A/N: Shout out to @yessa-vie straight up digging up the cowboy pics for me. The number of times I listened to this song- @edenesth , is to be blamed.

Moving past the sweaty bodies she groaned, inwardly grimacing at the stench of alcohol, cheap perfume and oh god please don't let that be puke. This is not how she wanted to spend her weekend, but ever since that dinner where the two had confessed to each other, San had been persistent about them making a public appearance together, slight problem though- he was popular, Mr. Charming, Mr. Optimism, Mr- WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE!?

With a scoff she jumped over some knocked-out dude, really leave it to Choi San to call her to a party and then not answer his phone- even so, he had wanted her to meet his friends, a very...very intimidating group of loud, popular, good looking guys, truth be told most of them already were in a relationship, which would explain why San was more persistent in giving them an official label, not that she would mind that, she loved him unconditionally, a feeling that had blossomed ever so slowly but hit her like a truck once it began to flow over, which is why...she had agreed to this stupid idea...which is why she had agreed to this...to coming here...to wearing such an outfit. 

Standing on her toes she tried to spot her lover, who was supposed to be dressed as a cowboy in black; leave it to college parties to have the weirdest theme- it wasn't even Wild West, well, it was, but they called it 'Outlaw themed'. The theme itself was off-putting due to several historical events but who was she to say no when he had asked her so politely, so quietly, with his face buried in the crook of her neck in the late hours of the night as her fingers played with his short locks, humming when he mumbled against her skin, squeezing her closer as he asked her to attend this party with him, he'd even tell her what to wear, which was odd for when she had read the text the next morning really did confuse her, but agreed anyway- God her face was so itchy- OH SAN!

"SAN!" She called out, smiling when he turned around, eyes scanning the sea of bodies for her. Waving her arm in the air she walked closer to the man in the black cowboy hat, though his eyes never landed on her, instead, he was still looking around. With a huff she squeezed past a couple and almost tripped, only to collide with his chest- bare chest? Her eyes widened at the man, hands instinctively gripping onto the attire- a cropped leather waistcoat? Staring up at him she licked her chapped lips, tugging on the coat gently as he frowned down at her, why did he look...confused? Was he...upset she actually showed up? To be honest, she didn't have time to divulge her insecurities because the vest was distracting, the tussles were caressing her face and the bandana just made her Sannie look like-

"You lost there, buddy?"

Buddy?

"We thought you were dating someone? What are you collecting little boys for- oh wait the beard means you're a big boy right, partner?" Her head whipped in the direction of the voice, is that Wooyoung? Wait, little boy...my god.

"Sannie! It's me!" She squeaked cupping his face as he stiffened, before she felt him gently squeeze her waist, moving closer to her face before his expression morphed into pure disgust- "What the hell are you supposed to be!?" He whined, ignoring the way Wooyoung had burst out laughing, not stopping when his own partner slapped his shoulder, asking him not to embarrass San and his girlfriend even more.

"Like you said! A cowboy!"

.

They had moved to a quieter area of the house, one with proper lighting and- kitchen, all of them had crowded the kitchen, with her sitting on a counter as San glared at her, arms crossed over his chest.... how could someone look so nice in such poor lighting.

"Well?"

"Huh?" 

"What are you supposed to be?" He asked in a low tone, ignoring how his friends were still snickering behind him. It amazed her how he was still towering over her, like that, kind of making her feel smaller than usual, twiddling her thumbs she mumbled "A cowboy...Sannie...you said let's go as a cowboy couple."

A deep laugh resonated from behind the man as she peaked up to find one of them, Seonghwa, who chuckled when their eyes met, only for him to give her a gentle smile, though she could see the glint in his eyes, a little teasing swirling within his orbs, but the angel, his angel, sitting next to him squeezed his hand, begging him to not make it worse.

"What- I? What!?" He gasped, arms flailing around to emphasize whatever the hell he was trying to say as she shrugged, "I SAID A COWBOY COUPLE!?"

"Yeah, and I am one."

"That usually means a guy and his girl!"

 "You realise the actual number of cowgirls was less, if not nonexistent, and usually they did all the work but got little to no credit. This is exactly why these parties confuse me, are we glorifying misogyny?" She deadpanned, pointing to her fake beard causing him to facepalm, never had he met someone so smart yet so stupid- and to think he loved her? Who's the bigger fool here?

"I love how both of you are majoring in communication but aren't able to communicate with each other."

Her lips quirked downwards at that statement, feeling the weight of it hanging in the air- oh- so he wanted her to dress up like those sexy cowgirls...well he should've just said that! Even though she would want to say no, she would have done it anyway because it was for him. That's when it hit her, he wanted to introduce her to his friends too, and while all their significant others were dressed for the occasion, she looked like a hobo, with her baggy cowboy outfit, giant hat and well...the beard. Shit. This was not good, this was not good at all, she misread the situation again- what kind of girlfriend chooses to look unpresentable? What if he thinks she did this to embarrass him- hell he has every right to be upset with her-

"What?"

The sharp tone of his caused her eyes to flicker up from her lap to his face, gut twisting at the way he had turned back to stare at Wooyoung, his cold glare making the other one let out a nervous chuckle, wait no, he shouldn’t take the anger out on his friend, especially when it is her fault for just assuming what he meant- man this beard was itchy.

“I’m just saying…” Wooyoung shrugged, before looking around at everyone, most of whom were now engaged in talking to each other or on their phones, then back at San, who was still glaring at him. Sure, he wanted them to meet his girlfriend, and sure he was upset that she chose the wrong time to misread the situation, but that did not give anyone the right to humiliate her more than she already had done to herself-

“San-ah…” she whispered, gently nudging his leg with her foot, trying to talk to him, whispering, “I can go back and change…” Nah, she was just gonna dip and not come back, probably telling him how she got abducted by aliens by leaving him a note and disappearing because this was a moment of peak embarrassment-

“Your beard’s really cool, what did you use?”

“Huh?” moving to the right her eyes met a certain blonde man’s- she’d never heard Hongjoong speak before, well that’s because in any class the two shared he’d be sitting quietly at the back, “Oh um…facial glue.”

“Woah, you glued it?” He asked, moving closer to inspect it then hummed, “Dedication.”

“I mean she did fool Sannie here,” Seonghwa added, his angel sitting next to him nodding as she hummed in agreement, “It's an A for effort, I kind of wished I went for something similar.”

“I know right!” the girl who had been glaring at her idiotic boyfriend- the idiot was Wooyoung- for upsetting San added, “I was impressed- we should’ve done this, would’ve been so cool.”

She only smiled at their kind words, a bit upset about how she let him down, but hey, at least they were enjoying it. That was all it took for the awkwardness to fade though, perhaps with the help of the other women involved, the conversation had begun to flow smoothly, each one slowly introducing themselves, most men did constantly talk about the beard, but when it came to Jongho, San’s gym buddy – who she wanted to thank because, lord bless, the way her man had beefed up, she’d make sure Jongho and San never quit being friends- he did point out how “They’re all jealous they can’t grow beards as thick as yours- you pulled it off better than most of them could too.”

The causal chatter thus turned into loud, yet fun banter, her laughter causing San, who had been quietly standing next to her, back leaning against the counter she was sitting on, to look at her, chatting with the rest of them like they had been friends for years. Truth be told he found it amusing, no he loved it, how even at this point, knowing she made a mistake she was honest enough to tell him her opinion, about how she felt about the whole theme parties- communication was never really the problem if you ask him, perhaps it was the intent to make the other happy, that would cause problems, the fear of disappointing the other. No one really said that the girls should come dressed as sexy cowgirls or cowgirls at all, and the effort she had put into the outfit made him realise how this was the first party she had ever attended. He remembers how in the earlier days of their relationship, she had mentioned how she’d never been invited to a party, themed or not, not that she would ever go to one- though he had shushed her and promised to take her to one, but for almost four years she had been avoiding it- well perhaps she said yes, this time because they were an official item now, and not just a fling. That made him feel worse, he had spent 20 minutes of her ‘partying time’, arguing with her over something so stupid. He could only sigh at the way he ended up with someone who was only book smart but an idiot otherwise, someone who was so stubborn yet so caring, someone who would try their best to meet his expectations- even if it meant glueing a beard-

“Ow! San!” she hissed, rubbing her cheek before slapping his hand away, causing everyone else to stop talking and look at their friend, who held a tuft of black synthetic hair pinched between his fingers.

“You okay, dude?” Wooyoung asked as San frowned at the hair and then back at her, mumbling, “My god, this really is glued isn’t it?”

“YAH THINK?” she yelled before snatching the torn piece from his hand as she pouted at it, “What is wrong with you~” she whined only to be cut off by Mingi, who she had learnt was one of the noisiest and nosiest friends, spoke up, “The real question is, is San going to kiss her with the beard on?”

She looked up at him eagerly, batting her eyelashes at him, his eyes widening at the realization of how she was still able to look so cute; this was the exact same look she’d give him every time she knew she was winning, when she knew he’d give into her every whim, the look that would make him feel like he was the most important thing to her in the entire universe- maybe he really was- and for this very reason his head jerked to the side as he broke eye contact, knowing if he kept looking at her for a second longer, maybe he would’ve kissed her right there and then, in front of everyone, even though he knew how public display of affection was not her cup of tea. Even if touch was his love language, he knew she’d bask in it and ask for it behind closed doors, so the kiss right now was more of a way of satisfying the people around them, a way of satisfying him, as if she were trying to make it up to him, for misinterpreting the situation, for which she would choose to come out of her comfort zone just for, just to let him know how much he meant to her- god, he really did love her. The group broke out in laughter, causing San’s face to turn red, almost the same colour as her shirt.

She reached for him, fingertips brushing against his arm, causing him to stand up straight clearing his throat as he mumbled, “I’m gonna get you something to drink, stay with them,” as he left the kitchen, ignoring the ‘boo’s’ he was receiving from his friends- he was desperate to introduce her to his circle of friends, but he also forgot how bloody annoying they could be, teasing him at any moment given, hell they had even made a big deal out of his outfit for today, claiming how he ‘was trying so hard to impress her’, adding the ‘Sannie, you know she likes smart guys- oh wait, no maybe that’s not true since you’re in the picture’.

Sighing he looked at himself in the mirror, why was his face so pink? He had been washing his face for God knows how long, trying to calm down, trying to not think about how now everyone knew about his secret little lover, how they’d steal her attention, how they’d make sure she’d be involved in every activity, which was a good thing, but he was her Sannie! How could be her Sannie with them always around- oh my god, get a grip-did he turn redder? All he did was drink apple juice- shit, he had to get her something to drink!

Slamming open the door he stumbled out only to halt at the sight of the bearded cowboy- oh his bearded cowboy who was frowning up at him, causing him to pout at her, somewhat guilty for leaving her hanging and-

“Is the beard really bothering you this much?”

“No, they’re bothering me.”

“Huh?” she looked up at him as if he had spoken French, “What do you mean? I thought they liked me?”

“They do like you.” He sighed, reaching for her hand as he began to walk towards the nearby terrace, knowing it would be empty since the party was downstairs, sliding open the door he slipped outside pulling her out with him as he made her sit on one of the outdoor chairs, kneeling in front of her on the ground as he held her hands, looking up at her, “I’m afraid they like you so much that I won’t get to be myself around you, you know?” he mumbled before placing her hands on his cheeks, causing her to giggle and squeeze his face.

“Aww, Sannie, you don’t have to worry about that, I’m just glad they don’t think I’m weird.”

“They definitely think you are weird.” He mumbled out, only for her to squish his cheeks harder, leaning down to peck his puckered lips before letting go, though he pulled her back, his hand resting at the back of her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, holding her still as he brushed his lips against hers, “This beard is really annoying.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t kiss me with it glued to my face.” She whispered, grateful to finally have a moment of peace with him, a moment where they could just be themselves, “Next time, just come over and tell me what to wear.”

“Nah, I think I like this look on you,” He perked up, pecking her lips once more, causing her to let out a giggle, arms wrapping around his neck, about to ask him about the reason behind his choice of clothes when she was cut off, by a very noisy Mingi who’s hollering could be heard as he ran away,

“FOUND THEM! YA’LL OWE ME! HE’S TOTALLY INTO THE BEARD!”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she stood up, helping him up as well as she squeezed his hand, causing him to look at her, a pout already present on his face, dreading what was to come next, “Ready for a shit ton of teasing?”

“Not really.” He mumbled as he sighed, causing her to let out a chuckle as she dragged him back downstairs to the noisy group who was oh so ready to tease the hell out of their ‘Sannie’ and his little cowboy.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @spooo00oky @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp

[louloulemons-posts]

Jealousy

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie likes you, but you’re with Harrington, right?

Word Count : 1.9k

Warnings : Not Proofread, fluff, stoners, use of weed and alcohol, the stranger things teens actually acting like teens lol, swears, cuteness, ft Nancy, Robin, Jonathan and Steve, jealous eds this was wrote a 3am so the spelling is probably atrocious.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Every time I tell you to bring a jacket and every time you’re like, ‘No Steve I won’t get cold’,” he spoke, mocking you as he did.

“I’m not cold, you’re the one freaking out!”

“You have goosebumps, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he said, throwing his blue jacket at your head. Smacking you straight in the face. “I honestly question why we’re still friends sometimes.”

“Guys let’s go,” Robin moaned, stood waiting for you. “We’re coming,” you said, jogging up to her, linking arms. “It’s fine just abandon me. Don’t worry about it,” Steve shouted.

“Okay,” you said in sync, laughing to yourselves. “Hey guys!” a familiar voice spoke. Eddie walked over to you, dressed in his normal attire of denim vest, jeans and leather jacket. Cute.

“Munson, you made it,” Steve said happily, “Now I won’t have to spend the night being bullied by these two demons.” You linked your free arm through Eddies, “You’re right! You can be bullied by the three of us.”

“I hate you all,” Steve groaned.

“You know you love us,” Robin said, grabbing Steve’s arm. “So are Wheeler and Byers meeting us there?” Eddie asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, Nance had work so they’re coming a little later.” He hummed in acknowledgement. You began chatting with Robin as you walked, the four of you still linked together.

You didn’t notice the curly haired boys eyes on you, well actually what you were wearing to be specific. Harringtons jacket. Just like a few days ago, you stole his yellow jumper, untying it from his waist.

It broke his heart, he’d always liked you, never got round to telling you. He couldn’t. He was Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You were everything. Your friendship was enough for him, but seeing you, watching you and Steve.

“You good?” you asked him.

“Oh yeah I’m fine, you?”

“Peachy!” you smiled up at him, making his heart flutter. “How’s your uncle Wayne?”

“He’s doing well. He told me to tell you he’s willing to pay you to make him more of that banana loaf.”

You laughed at that, “I’ll make sure too, no payment necessary though. He’s a nice man.” Humming again in agreement.

Robin spoke up, “This looks like a good spot, clear enough to see the fireworks.”

There was some huge celebration for Hawkins happening tonight. Fireworks, a party, the whole big sha-bang. You guys decided to have your own little party, some food, snacks, pot, and good company.

Steve threw a blanket down on the floor, “Nance said she’s bringing another with her,” he explained. You were sat by Lovers lake, it was so peaceful this time of year.

The orange skies reflecting off the still water. “Y/N.”

“Hm?” you asked turning towards Robin.

“Smile!” She said, pointing her camera towards you. You did as she said smiling and posing.

“Perfect!” She grabbed the photo and began shaking it so it would develop. Eddie smiled at you as you mimicked her shaking, the pair of you ended up dancing as she did.

Finally the picture was clear enough to see, “It looks great, you look pretty.”

“Aw thanks Robs,” you smiled, kissing her cheek.

“Anyone want a drink?” Steve asked, pulling out a few beers. “Throw one,” Eddie spoke, catching the can in one hand with ease. He sat down one the blanket, stretching out his long legs.

“Hey you, leave some room for the rest of us,” you spoke, plopping down next to him.

“You’ve got plenty of room, I’m a big guy, let me be comfy.”

“Okay big boy you take all the room you need.” You looked to your can, pulling the tab to open it, not realising how Eddies face flushed.

“Hey Eddie did you bring the good stuff?” Robin asked. “Obviously, I’m not gonna bring gross shit. I’m smoking too.”

“Oh so if you weren’t you’d give us weed that tastes like ass?” Steve asked.

“You know what ass tastes like Harrington?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the boy smirked.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Hey guys!” Nancys voice came from behind you. You scrambled up to hug her, “Hi!” she smiled to you.

“Hey Nance, Jonathan how are you?” you smiled at him.

The pair of you began quiet conversation, you’d always liked him. Just like Will, they were sweet kids, not surprising with a mom like Joyce. That woman had a heart of gold.

But later on you stood by the waters edge, watching it ripple as the breeze blew. You rubbed your arms, it was a bit cool, and getting colder as the sun disappeared.

“If you say ‘I told you so’ I’ll throw you in the fucking lake,” you said aloud.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Could smell the hairspray.”

“You’re horrible.”

“But you love me.”

You wrapped your arms around Steve’s middle, his going around your shoulders. “You good?”

“Mhm, stealing your warm.”

“Great so you’ve stole my jacket and warm,” he sighed, but didn’t let go.

“You guys ready to smoke?” Eddie asked, making you look up from Steve’s neck. He almost sounded annoyed? “Yeah!” You smiled at him, walking over to re-join the group.

Plonking yourself down between Robin and Eddie, you hummed in contentment. Eddie pulled out 2 pre-rolled blunts, handing one to Jonathan and keeping one himself.

The pair lit them and took the first inhales, smoke coming out of their noses. “Steves definitely gonna pull a whitey, he’s already drunk!” Robin laughed.

“Why am I friends with any of you?”

“Cause you love us,” you said in a sing-song voice.

The metal head offered you the blunt, not meeting your eyes as you thanked him. Taking a drag you, feeling the tickle of the smoke against your lungs.

The blunts were passed between the six of you and soon enough the first pop and boom was heard in the sky. Red and blue danced against the darkness, leaving you all in awe.

More and more fireworks began to appear, in the starry sky. They were so beautiful. You sighed, resting your head on someone’s shoulder, too stoned to really care who.

He cared though, knowing he’d need something a lot stronger to not care about you. To not feel like his heart would burst out of his chest as you laid there, smiling at the sky.

He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t keep falling for you. Keep loving you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair on him. Or Steve. God you had a boyfriend and you were here with him like this.

Nudging your head with his shoulder slightly, he stood up, brushing down his jeans. Excusing himself and walking away from the five of you.

Cocking you head your eyes followed after the dark haired boy. Wondering what was wrong. After a few minutes you decided to follow after him.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Eddie~” you called out for him. “You okay? Why’d you go away?” You giggled at your rhyme. Soon enough you found him, his back to you.

“Hi,” you spoke, walking closer to him. He was stood at the waters edge. “You okay? You wandered off.”

“Yeah I’m good.”

“Thought you were just taking a leak, but you were gone agesss. Got worried.”

“Why?” he asked genuinely, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. “Uh cause you’re my friend, and I like you duh.” He hummed at you, and you bumped his shoulder.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it Munson, I’m an open book right now, so this may be your only chance.”

“How long have you and Harrington been a thing?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw slack, you were stunned. “You don’t have to tell me, just curious. You suit each ot-” You put your hand on his mouth, “Edward Munson you finish that sentence and I will projectile vomit.”

He looked concerned, worried you were about to pull a whitey. “Shit we should get you home.”

“No! I’m fine it’s just,” you laughed, “Eddie, Steve’s my cousin.”

He was now the stunned one, “What?”

“He’s my cousin.”

“But your … your last names.”

“Our moms are sisters,” you explained.

“But I thought, he’s so protective of you, and you’re always wearing your clothes.”

“He nags me like a big brother. He’s only a few months older than me, but god he’s annoying.”

Eddie couldn’t believe it. You were cousins. Which made so much sense. So much fucking sense.

You were laughing, “Have I lost you?”

“W-what no! I’m right here.”

“Can I ask you a question now?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you ask me if I’m dating him?”

“Oh I um … you know. Curious friend.”

“Mhm, sure. Well,” you began to walk back towards the others, “Just in case your curiosity gets the better of you, I should probably just tell you,

“I like you too. I think we should go on a date.” Eddie looked at you in awe.

“How did you know?”

“Kinda obvious. I was waiting for you to ask me out, been dropping hints all the time. It really went over your head.”

You smiled at him. “You dropped hints?”

“All the time. Always asking to hang out, linking arms, laughing so loud at all your jokes, calling you, baking for you, coming to see your band. The list goes on. I like you Eddie.”

“I like you too.”

“I know,” you laughed.

“Take off the jacket.”

“What?”

“The jacket. Take it off.”

You did as he said, pulling off the blue material. Goosebumps instantly covering your skin. It was soon disturbed as Eddie put his leather jacket over your shoulders.

“Suits you,” he smiled, you matched it.

“It’s cosy.” It smelt like him, weed and his woody aftershave. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I hope you know you’re not having it back.”

“That’s fine by me. You look pretty in it.” You cheeks flushed at that, “Thanks Eds. So umm we should get back to the others.”

“Sure, but first, I need to do something.”

Before you had time to ask what he had cupped your cheeks in his ring decorated hands. Connecting your lips to his own. They were soft against yours, you couldn’t stop the grin forming on your face.

Kissing him back you deepened it, pulling him closer by his curls, making his groan slightly. Tongues dancing and bodies on one another, you didn’t hear the twig crack behind you.

“My eyes! Oh my god my fucking eyes!” You heard a shout, breaking away from Eddie. Steve was rubbing his face, doubled over. “Here I was thinking you were in danger but no you’re sucking face!”

“Oh my god Steve shut up,” dropping your face into Eddies chest in embarrassment, he hugged you and chuckled into your hair. “No! I’ve just seen my baby cousin, BABY cousin with a tongue down her throat. Gross!”

“Sorry Harrington, we’ll keep it PG around you.”

“You better Munson,” he said walking away from the pair of you. Breaking into laughter, Eddie brushed hair out of your face.

“Well he’s gone now so,” he leaned back down to kiss you. “Nope! Nope nope nope,” Steve ran back, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from Eddie, taking his jacket back too.

The curly haired boy cackled as he heard your whining as Steve dragged you, and his own complaints at how gross you were. Following behind, grin on his face, this may have been one of the best nights of his life.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[asbealthgn]

“Tonight is the night,” Nancy says.

She says it with so much gravity that it makes Eddie look up from his spot on the couch, drawing his attention away from the email he’s reading (lyrics from Jeff that he wants input on). He whistles.

“Damn, Nance, you look good,” he says. She has her hair and makeup done and she’s wearing her favorite dress, the one that looks black until the right light hits it and reveals it’s actually purple. Eddie may be as gay as they come, but he can recognize that she looks sexy as hell. “The night for what?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to ask Robin to be my girlfriend.”

“Hell yeah!” Eddie says, putting his hand out for a high-five. She returns it before sitting on the couch next to him. “You have a date tonight?”

“No, remember? It’s the party.”

Right. Nancy spent twenty minutes the other day trying to convince Eddie to come with her to the party that Robin and her housemates are throwing. He refused. He’s met Robin a few times and really likes her—and he knows Nancy is completely head over heels for her—but he’s not big on house parties where he doesn’t know anyone. Especially because it’s a guarantee that Nancy will abandon him immediately to be with Robin.

“Do you think that’s a terrible place to do it?” Nancy asks, “And do you think it’s too soon?”

Eddie shrugs. He’s shit at relationships, so he doesn’t know the rules. “I think you’re fine,” he says, “You guys are clearly crazy about each other. I think you could take her to, like, a sewage plant and ask her to be your girlfriend and she’d still be over the moon.”

She gives him a tiny smile. “Will you please come?” she asks. “I’m just so nervous about it and it would really help to have my best friend there.”

Unfair. She’s giving him her biggest doe eyes. It shouldn’t work on him because he knows she only makes that face when she’s trying to manipulate him. But even though he knows what she’s doing, she’s just so adorable. He can’t say no to her.

He sighs. “God, fine,” he says. He looks down at his worn out t-shirt and hole-riddled sweatpants. “I probably have to change, huh?”

Forty-five minutes later, Eddie is circling the block looking for a spot to park. Normally Nancy drives when they go somewhere together because she hates his driving, but he insisted tonight because he has a feeling that she’s going to end up staying the night and he doesn’t want to be trapped. As they drive, Nancy has been giving Eddie the rundown on Robin’s housemates. There’s Max and Lucas, the couple who are Nancy’s brother Mike’s age. She’s convinced that they would get along really well with Mike and his boyfriend Will, so she keeps trying to figure out an organic way for them to meet. She tells Eddie that she invited them to the party but never heard if they’ll actually be there. Then there’s Steve, Robin’s best friend who works with her at the same library where Robin and Nancy originally met (because Nancy was doing research for a story and had to access the archives for some records that were never digitized). Nancy keeps telling Eddie that she thinks he’s either going to fall madly in love with Steve or hate his guts. So Eddie guesses he’s about to find out which one it’ll be.

He finally finds a spot on the street around the corner. He squeezes his van into the tiny space and puts it in park before glancing over at Nancy. She looks nervous, taking slow, even breaths to steady herself while her hands shake.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand out. She puts her hand in his and he squeezes it tight. “You’ve got this. Robin’ll be a goddamn idiot if she says no.”

She gives him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says, then tosses her shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

They get out of the van, where Nancy makes him stop so she can fix the collar of his battle vest that’s standing up. It’s a pretty warm night, so he’s had to forgo his favorite leather jacket plus vest combo. Instead, it’s just the vest over top of a Nekrogoblikon t-shirt paired with his favorite black jeans. He feels really underdressed next to Nancy, but she told him it was fine when he showed her the outfit for approval.

Inside, the house is pretty packed. Right away, Eddie sees that Mike and Will made it after all, along with Will’s sister El. They’re all sitting side by side on a couch talking to three people who are sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of them. 

“That’s Max and Lucas,” Nancy tells Eddie, pointing out two of the kids on the ground. “Not sure who the other one is.”

As they get closer, Mike glances up and waves. But the group seems pretty engrossed in their conversation, so Eddie and Nancy move deeper into the house. 

Eddie feels Nancy clench his wrist. “That’s Steve,” she hisses, nodding significantly in the direction of the kitchen. His eyes find the guy she’s pointing out, ladling punch into a red Solo cup and—

Fuck.

He’s the most beautiful guy Eddie’s ever seen. Nancy way undersold him. He gets that there’s a certain amount of leeway he needs to grant to her as a lesbian since she can’t really tell, but come on. Eddie could be full on blind and still recognize that Steve is unreal. His swooping brown hair catches the last of the setting sun coming in through the window and turns it all shades of honey. His eyes are the same, amber in the dying light. And it’s like his face has been sculpted from stone—not marble—something better than that. Some stone they haven’t invented yet because nothing else currently on this earth could capture him.

Belatedly, he becomes aware of Nancy laughing at him. Somehow, she can always follow his thoughts. Always knows when he’s composing terrible sonnets in his mind. But just as she’s opening her mouth (definitely to make fun of him), Robin appears in front of them. Eddie watches her cheeks flame as she looks Nancy up and down. 

“Hi, Nancy!” she says, “Glad you made it!”

“Of course I did!” Nancy says, eyes practically turning into hearts and popping out of her head. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Robin reaches her hands out to grasp Nancy’s. “You look gorgeous,” she says, “I love that dress.”

Eddie can tell this is going to veer into territory where he can’t follow very quickly, so he cuts in. “Hey, Robin, nice to see you.”

Robin blinks at him. “Oh, hey!” she says, “I didn’t see you.”

That was apparent. Not that Eddie’s upset about it. He loves seeing the two girls like this, loves that Nancy has found someone who matches her intensity. 

They get through the bare minimum small talk (work is good, yes they all watched that new episode of that show, yes it was crazy), but Eddie can see that Nancy and Robin want to be alone. So he lets Robin drag Nancy away, presumably to her bedroom. And now he just needs to figure out what he’s going to do now that the only two people he knows here are preoccupied. 

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. He knows Mike, Will, and El. He looks over, but they’re no longer sitting in the living room. He scans the crowd for them and sees Mike and Will have moved to the kitchen (apparently Steve has moved on—that’s unfortunate) where they’re talking to Lucas and the other guy Eddie doesn’t know. Eddie makes his way over to them, stopping by the punch bowl on his way.

“Eddie!” Mike says as soon as he sees him. “Lucas and Dustin here play D&D. Can we invite them to Hellfire?”

Eddie crosses his arms and surveys the two guys, sizing them up. Dustin looks like the type, with a Star Wars shirt and a goofy grin. Lucas looks way too athletic to be into D&D though. Not nearly enough of a loser.

“I don’t know,” he says, “Are you guys any good?”

That causes both boys to launch into tales of their various past exploits on campaigns, apparently not giving a shit that they’re yelling over each other so Eddie can’t tell anything they’re saying. He feels the passion, though. 

“Alright,” he concedes, “You can sit in for a session. If you’re good, we’ll let you stick around.”

Whooping, Mike and Will high-five each other, then Lucas and Dustin. 

“Where’s your sister?” Eddie asks Will. 

Will nods over to an adjacent wall. “Over there talking to Max and Steve,” he says. Eddie follows his gaze and sees the trio. More specifically, his eyes are drawn to Steve. He’s so goddamn beautiful, even in the artificial light now that the sun has disappeared below the horizon. 

Well, isn’t this a perfect opportunity? “I’m gonna go say hi,” Eddie says casually, nodding in farewell to Will, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. Then, red Solo cup in hand, he starts heading in the direction of El, Steve, and Max. 

In a way, it’s just too damn predictable. 

Eddie is walking toward the group, feeling pretty good, doing his best to look cool and nonchalant. He’s about five feet away and Steve glances up, eyes flicking over him. And Eddie’s so caught up in the euphoria of being seen (and maybe admired?) by Steve that he completely misses someone’s purse on the ground. He trips over it, doesn’t manage to right himself, and goes sprawling. To add insult to injury, he doesn’t manage to keep hold of his cup of punch and manages to spill it all over himself and Steve.

Great.

“Fuck, man, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, hopping to his feet and putting his hands out like he can—what? Wipe away the bright red punch from Steve’s white shirt? God, he’s so stupid. 

Steve is looking down at himself in surprise, then back up at Eddie. “It’s cool,” he says. Fuck, his voice is so sexy. Eddie can’t believe that the first thing he did when trying to approach this guy was spill punch all over him. When did he become such a mess?

Max laughs. “I told you not to wear white, dingus,” she says. Steve scowls at her. 

“Only Robin gets to call me dingus,” he says. “And you told me not to wear white because you think I look ugly in it, not because you thought I would spill on it.”

Max shrugs. “Different reasoning, same end result,” she says breezily. 

Alright, Eddie is definitely gonna need to befriend this girl as soon as he stops wanting to die of mortification. If that happens. 

“Seriously, man, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, “I can, like, buy you a new shirt, or—”

Steve waves him off. “Seriously, it’s cool,” he says, “Honestly, I got this shirt in a pack of five from Target so it’s not a big loss.” He looks over Eddie again. His all black ensemble probably doesn’t reveal the punch as much, but Eddie can feel the wet patches sticking to his skin. “C’mon, I’ll lend you something to change into.”

Not about to complain about the prospect of seeing the inside of Steve’s room, Eddie follows him down the hall and through a door. It’s a nice bedroom, tidy without feeling sterile. There are posters for bands on the wall that Eddie doesn’t listen to but doesn’t disrespect either. An acoustic guitar is leaning against a desk that’s stacked with neat piles of books. There are twinkle lights along the bedframe, giving the room a cheerful glow. And it’s a comfy looking bed, with a thick white comforter and fluffy pillows. 

Stop staring at his bed, you absolute creep.

“I’m Eddie by the way,” Eddie says, looking back over at Steve. Who is very shirtless. Apparently having peeled his wet shirt off, he’s now standing facing the closet. Goddamn. The smooth expanse of his back is on display, toned and freckled. Eddie wants to bite it. 

Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie. “Yeah, I know,” he says. 

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Steve grins, turning more fully around. Don’t stare at his chest don’t stare at his chest don’t stare at his— “After Robin met Nancy she made a whole ass PowerPoint of her Instagram photos. You’re in some of ‘em.”

Eddie feels a little flustered that Steve knew who he was before Eddie knew him. What did he think? Did Steve think he was good looking? Or was he even paying attention? Then Eddie wrinkles his nose, the rest of the context registering. 

“A whole PowerPoint, huh?” Eddie asks. 

Steve shrugs (his shoulders are so pretty, fuck). “Yeah, it’s kinda what we do,” he says, “Anything significant happens, we share it with each other in excruciating detail. And Robbie knows I’m a visual learner so slideshows work pretty well.”

“Fair enough.”

Steve turns back to the closet and rifles through the hangers. “Good news is I think we’re about the same size,” he says. He produces a plain black t-shirt. “Does this work?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” Eddie says (God, he hopes that comes off less horny than it sounds to his ears). “I’m the one who spilled punch all over us.”

Eyes fixed on Eddie’s chest, Steve comes back over. Eddie resists the urge to cross his arms over himself. But obviously, Steve’s just looking at the stains, not him. “Your vest was mostly saved,” Steve says. He touches a spot below one of the buttons on Eddie’s chest, making Eddie’s heart leap into his throat. “There’s a bit, but I think Max has some stuff for stains we can borrow.”

“Cool,” Eddie says. His voice definitely sounds unnatural, and he thinks Steve notices, eyes flicking up to his. Those pretty, pretty eyes. Up close, his eyelashes are so long. And his face is dotted with moles. Eddie wants to touch every one of them. “I’m not really that worried about it,” he chokes out. 

Shrugging, Steve hands him the black shirt. And then he just stands there, watching. “Um,” Eddie says. Does Steve really expect him to just strip down right in front of him? He can’t present his incredibly mediocre shirtless self to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. 

Steve lifts his eyebrows. “What’re you waiting for?” 

“Uh, nothing,” Eddie says. 

This isn’t weird. Right? It’s only weird if he keeps acting all weird about it. But he can be all cool and casual about this like Steve was. So he shrugs out of his battle vest, draping it over the desk chair along with the borrowed shirt, and then tugs his own shirt over his head. Steve’s standing a little closer than Eddie realized, so his arms bump against him as he untangles them from the shirt. Totally fine, totally normal. Totally not gonna obsess about the feeling of Steve’s skin against his for the next 3-5 business days. 

As soon as Eddie has laid his shirt over his battle vest, he feels featherlight fingers brushing over the demon tattoo on his chest. He sucks in a breath, frozen to the spot. What is happening right now?

He risks a glance at Steve, whose eyes are trained on Eddie’s tattoos. “I was curious what these looked like up close,” Steve says, “I should admit I actually have seen you shirtless before. I kind of stalked your Instagram.”

What? That’s not computing. First of all, Steve, most gorgeous man to ever exist, stalked Eddie’s Instagram? Second of all, Eddie has shirtless pics on his Instagram? He doesn’t have the confidence to post that kind of thing. Except no, there is a picture on there from when he went to the beach with Gareth and Jeff a month or two ago. But what? Steve has seen it? And it was significant enough for him to remember?

Steve looks at Eddie, eyebrows furrowing. “Is that creepy?”

“No, but—” Eddie shakes his head. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Steve grins. “I think you’re pretty.”

Maybe Eddie hit his head when he fell. Maybe he’s hallucinating this. Maybe he’s gonna wake up on the floor out there, and Steve calling him pretty will all have been a delicious, far-fetched dream. Because there’s just no way. 

“You think I’m pretty,” Eddie says. When Steve nods, Eddie almost laughs. “And have you happened to look in a mirror recently?”

Steve laughs. “Yeah,” he says, “But somehow, I’m not my own type.”

He keeps leaning in closer and it’s making it very hard for Eddie to come up with something intelligent to say. He should make a joke or something to prove that he’s very cool and collected, but his brain turns more and more to static the longer he stares into Steve’s eyes. 

“Um,” Eddie says. Clever. What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t usually get this flustered. But then, he doesn’t usually talk to guys who look like Steve. 

Steve’s smile is very self-satisfied as those gossamer fingers of his trail down past Eddie’s tattoos and brush over his nipple. Eddie takes in a sharp breath. “You often invite strangers who you’ve been stalking into your room to get ‘em shirtless and feel ‘em up?” he asks, aiming for aloof and entirely missing the mark. 

“Hmm, just the ones that spill punch on me,” Steve says, pinching Eddie’s nipple slightly. “And just the ones that I catch staring at me.” He leans in, putting his mouth inches away from Eddie’s ear. “I don’t think you’re as subtle as you think you are.”

Unable to resist any longer, Eddie slides his hands around Steve’s waist. His skin is so smooth, so velvety. “Who says I’m trying to be subtle?” he asks. 

Grinning, Steve wraps his free arm around Eddie’s neck and pulls him in. Eddie kisses Steve eagerly. His lips are heavenly, so much softer than most guys Eddie has kissed. He tastes like strawberry lipgloss and punch. And he kisses like they have all the time in the world, which maybe they do. Nancy’s off with Robin somewhere, so there’s no reason Eddie needs to rejoin the party any time soon.

They wind up on Steve’s bed, Steve on his back under Eddie. Eddie gets the fingers of one hand tangled in Steve’s hair. So silky, just like everything else about him. The man defines the word soft. It makes Eddie a little crazy, makes him want to dig his teeth and fingers in, ruin the undisturbed perfection. He goes after Steve hungrily, attacking his jaw and throat and collarbones like he’s starving. Steve seems happy to let him, pulling Eddie’s hips down flush with his and rolling his own hips gently up.

Eddie’s just thinking that he’d be happy to never stop kissing Steve exactly like this when there’s a knock at the door. He pulls away and looks at it while Steve sighs. 

“I have to answer that,” he says, sounding resigned. 

“You sure you have to?” Eddie asks, brushing the hair back off Steve’s forehead. He looks sort of wrecked, red marks already starting to form on his neck.

Steve nods. “If it’s Robin or Max they’ll just let themselves in after thirty seconds.” 

He edges out from under Eddie and crosses over to the door. Eddie feels vindicated that he has to adjust himself in his jeans before opening the door a crack. 

“Hey, Robbie,” he says, “What’s up?”

“Steve! I have huge news!” Robin says from just out of sight. “Nancy asked me to be her—wait, why don’t you have a shirt on?”

Steve is forced back as Robin pushes the door open farther and pokes her head in. She looks over at the bed, sees Eddie, and grins. “Oh, that’s why,” she says, mischief in her voice.

“Hey, what’s up?” Eddie says, trying to sound casual. 

“Eddie?” He hears Nancy’s voice from the hall, and then her head is appearing in the doorway next to Robin’s. As soon as she sees him, she gives a triumphant laugh. “I knew it!”

Eddie buries his face in his hands, sure it’s burning. 

“Alright that’s enough,” he hears Steve say. Then there’s the overlapping protests from the girls before the door clicks shut again. 

Removing his hands, Eddie risks another glance and sees Steve coming back over to the bed, shaking his head. He slides onto the mattress next to Eddie and puts his arms around him. “Can you believe them?” he asks, not quite managing to hide his smile. 

Smiling back, Eddie pinches Steve in the side. “You sure you should have closed the door on them?” he asks, “Sounds like they had big news.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, “They can tell us in the morning.”

“Morning, huh? Think we’re gonna be occupied until then?”

Smile turning devious, Steve kisses Eddie once before rolling him onto his back. “I think I can come up with a couple things to keep us busy,” he says. 

And as Steve kisses him again, Eddie’s pretty sure he agrees.

[steviewashere]

Sugar Lips

Rating: Teen and Up CW: None Apply! Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has an Oral Fixation, Suckers as Both a Plot Point and a Character, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington's Mouth, Spit Kink, (I'm Like 99% Sure That's Half of What This Is), Eddie Munson is a Cringe Fail, Eddie Munson is Good at Flirting (Sort of), First Kiss, Innuendos, Steve Harrington is a Tease, Neurodivergent Eddie Munson (Implied), Neurodivergent Steve Harrington (Implied)

🍭—————🍭

Steve has this little thing he does and Eddie isn’t sure he realizes what it is. Or that he’s doing it. Or that it’s driving him absolutely insane.

Now, Eddie’s no stranger to fidgeting. That is definitely something he engages in as constantly as possible. He often shifts the guitar pick on his necklace. And he absentmindedly picks the threads on his jeans or he’ll plunge his finger back and forth in the button holes of his vest. Sometimes, he’ll use his index finger to trace the zipper teeth on the sleeves of his leather jacket. He’s just a texture guy, likes being able to feel things constantly. Shift them around. Give his fingers something to do in a moment of much needed distraction.

It’s just how his brain works. And he’s ninety-nine percent sure that Steve’s brain works similarly.

He puts things in his mouth. Yup. That’s what Steve does. That’s his thing. Sometimes it’s just his fingers. Nibbling away at his fingernails or tearing at hangnails, which can’t ever feel good. If he gets sauce on his fingers, he licks it off instead of using a napkin. (That one in particular has made Eddie flee to the bathroom several times. Can you blame a guy?)

The thing that’s going to kill Eddie, though, is this stupid cotton candy flavored Dum-Dum sucker Steve packed with his lunch. He’d come in to find a movie for him and Wayne to watch later that night, wanted to invite Steve over and that’s when he saw it. The sucker.

It began normally. “Hey, Stevie!” He had greeted. The door chimed above him. And Steve gave him a half-hearted wave from behind the counter. He was sitting on a metal stool, back towards the door, face down at the counter, sketching out things on the inventory list. A wobbling stack of—what appeared to be—horror tapes beside him. Fresh from delivery, most likely. Eddie paid no mind. Waltzed towards the westerns, standing idle in front of the movies momentarily as his eyes took in the sheer amount of Chuck Norris films, and found one he hoped Wayne hadn’t seen before. (Which, now that he thinks about it, is highly unlikely. He wouldn’t be surprised if Wayne went to him one day to say he was gay for Chuck Norris. He’s like an absent husband at the Munson’s.)

He rang the little service bell to get Steve’s help checking out. And nearly buckled at the knees. Steve’s lips were spit slick and lightly stained pink. It popped from out of his mouth, his lips a perfect ‘O’ shape. And his tongue was also a delicious bright pink. Eddie was so distracted by the whole display, he didn’t even realize that Steve was actually speaking. That his spit was more interesting than whatever bullshit Family Video regime he was mumbling.

“Huh?” Eddie dumbly said while blinking back to existence.

Steve chuckled. “I asked if that was all you needed today, Eds.”

I could think of something else, Eddie thought, still staring at Steve’s mouth. He shook his head, curls whipping about, hopefully covering the embarrassing flush on his cheeks. “No—I—This—Wayne wanted to kiss—I mean watch—“ Eddie stopped himself with a heaving sigh. “Yeah, this is all I need.”

He swallowed down the rest of what he wanted to say. Tried to cover for himself. But he was weak in the knees once more. The sucker went back into Steve’s mouth, lolling over his teeth, clinking. His tongue was probably doing gymnastics trying to savor the flavor of that stupid thing. Probably suckling around it. Mouth pooling with spit. Eddie forced himself to lean against the counter, palms spread and flat against the surface, head dipped down so that he couldn’t see his demise anymore. But that still didn’t stop his mind from wandering. Thinking about what Steve’s mouth probably tastes like, sugar sweet and oddly fruity. Didn’t stop the sudden flashes of make out sessions they could be having, hiding behind the ‘Adults Only’ curtain, pinned up against—

“Dude!” Steve suddenly shouted. And Eddie found his eyes back on Steve’s face, dipping low to his lips. That sucker was still in his mouth. And he was right, there’s so much spit. He wishes that was his tongue in—“Eddie, are you alright, man? Why do you keep looking at me like that?” He sounded nervous. Even a little…embarrassed.

Fuck, that’s not how he wants Steve to feel around him. He scolds himself mentally, again. Stop being a perv, he tells himself. But his musings are futile.

He sighed once more. “I’m fine,” he muttered, “tired, that’s all.” Gave his best smile, but completely shattered once more when Steve pulled the lollipop out of his mouth. A thin string of saliva connecting it to his lips. His tongue darting out to break it. He couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop himself from yearning. Couldn’t help the way he leaned further over the counter, completely in Steve’s warm orbit, nearly nose to nose.

Steve nervously giggled, but he didn’t step away. In fact, he licked his lips, darted his eyes, and for some odd reason…his cheeks grew bright pink. “I—Eds, you’re really—“

“Why are you so pretty?” Bursted from Eddie. He groaned. “It’s really not fair. And you’re single? What the fuck is wrong with people?”

“Eddie, what are you—“

“You fucking lick a stupid sucker and now I’m losing my mind. What the hell,” Eddie murmured. “Like I just wanna—“ He quickly looked over his shoulder, the parking lot desolate through the windows, the aisles completely clean, and turned his gaze back at Steve. His hands jumped up from on the counter, grabbed the lapels of Steve’s stupidly cute pink polo, and pulled him in. “I’m gonna kiss you,” he whispered, “and you can kill me later for it.”

As Steve began to nod, Eddie surged forward. It wasn’t a pretty kiss. And it wasn’t a neat one, either. Steve’s lips were moist, sticky with sugar, and stupidly soft. He slipped his tongue out, licking between his lips, tasting cotton candy. And was slightly shocked when Steve let him in. Letting him taste inside his mouth. Trace his teeth, connect their spit, share that sucker.

When he pulled back, popping off of Steve’s bottom lip, he immediately dropped his hands. Horrible realization dawned on him. His eyes widened. Mouth dropping open. Cheeks flushing. “Fuck,” he spat. “I’m sorry, I don’t—That was—You’re my friend, I shouldn’t have done that.”

But as their eyes met, he let himself relax slightly. Steve’s eyes were wide, but glistening. Something soft about them. He was smiling, teeth, spit, pink stains and all. “I have been waiting months for you to do that,” he said simply.

“What,” Eddie could only muster, his voice distant with disbelief.

“I have been waiting months for you to do that,” Steve repeated. “You’re not a very subtle looker. But that was—Jesus Christ, I could like taste your yearning.” Eddie began to crumple. This was a bad idea, he briefly thought. Though Steve whispered, flirtatiously and in awe, “That was so fucking hot.”

Eddie hummed. He relaxed completely. Placing his hands back on the lapels of Steve’s shirt. Thumbs rubbing in circles over the fabric. It was scratchy under his fingertips, it felt good. He sighed through his nose. Smirked something teasing. “I was going to invite you over tonight for that movie,” Eddie began, voice low and husky. “But maybe we could leave Wayne to it and…I’ve got some room in my van. Go out to the quarry. Show me what else your mouth can do.”

For how much of a ladies man Steve Harrington supposedly is, he’s too easy to fluster. Going warm and bright red under Eddie’s gaze. Melting positively into the slight hold Eddie still has on him. “Okay,” he murmured, “What time?”

“As soon as your shift is over, come to mine. Bring yourself, this cute little polo, and your pretty mouth. I’ve got plans with you, sugar.”

Kissing Steve Harrington’s sucker sweet mouth is probably Eddie’s new favorite way of fidgeting. And he finds, much much later, that it fulfills needs for the both of them.

🍭—————🍭

[fbfh]

thinking about making eddie munson a daddy. specifically loud simp!eddie, just fuckin living the dream with you after high school. it's the early 90s, corroded coffin just finished their first world tour and are working on their fourth album. Eddie's a little older now, maybe mid/late 20s. His hair is still wild, it's even a little longer now, and he has a little stubble that tickles when he kisses you. or yk. does other stuff. anyway you're running some errands with Eddie and your 2 year old daughter Rose. He has even more sweet ol' tatties now, too. tucked right in next to the demon on his chest, he has a rose for your daughter, and your birth flower right over his heart so he can always keep you close to him. You're nearing your third trimester and your second baby is growing beautifully inside you. Eddie is so obsessed with your bump, always holding it for you, playing metal hits in headphones and kissing it. He tells it stories every night, too, right out of his dnd books. Rosie sits in on all of them, of course. She can't stand normal bedtime stories and only wants to hear about how the tieflings and orcs settled their age old dispute over the kryptgarden forest I don't play dnd don't come for me if this is inacurrate- Baby number two's nursery is almost done, you just need to pick up a few more cans of paint and some last minute decorations and additions. You're wearing a snug little maternity cami that shows off your bump and gorgeous figure, the one that drives Eddie crazy, and a pair of loose overalls with paint smudged on the side and cuffs. Rosie is wearing her favorite sundress, and Eddie has regretably left his leather jacket at home in an attempt to combat the hazy summer heat - but his vest isn't going anywhere. His hair is tied up all messy and a few stray curls have fallen out, brushing the neck of his cut off corrorded coffin shirt. He still can't believe his band actually has shirts, even though he sees you sleep in them every night. Rose wants to look at a music box for the baby, and since you're not allowed to pick up any more than 15 pounds on doctor's orders, Eddie scoops her up to take a look while you flip through paint swatches.

You're rudley interrupted by a grating voice you thought you'd heard the last of at your high school graduation. You look up as your name is called again at one of the bitchy girls you went to school with. You never thought you'd see her or any of her rude, cliquey, mean girl friends again, and you know exactly what you need to do.

You look at her blankly.

She keeps saying your name and introducing herself until finally mentioning you went to school together.

"Oh," you nod, ensuring no lightbulb of recognition goes off in your eyes. "Right."

You've only just started to take the wind out of her sails, and you look through paint swatches as she talks, and you remain completly bored and uninterested.

"You look... different!" She says with a fake kindness that she mircaulously hasn't grown out of yet. You hum in response. Right as you're about to exit as gracefully as possible, Eddie walks up the aisle behind you, Rosie on his hip. He's playing some little game with her, making her giggle like he always does. To this day, it astounds you how good he is with kids. You look back up at your former classmate, and have to bite back a laugh. She is totally checking him out. The irony of the situation - the exact type of girl who made your life hell and absolutely would have terrorized Eddie if they'd known each other back then - is now pushing up her boobs in her shirt and putting on the same pick me flirting face she apparently still uses.

"Hey there, sweetheart." Eddie says, gazing at you so warmly that his love for you is palpable. One look, and anyone can tell how head over heels crazy he is about you. He kisses you in a way that makes your stomach flip - and hers, both with longing and jealousy - then crouches down to your belly.

"And hello to you too, little dragon." Eddie chuckles, kissing your bump. Baby number two had earned the nickname from all your intense cravings for spicy food early on in your pregnancy, along with jokes about how Eddie wouldn't be surprised if the little guy can breathe fire when they pop out. He puts Rose in the baby seat of your shopping cart and reaches down to hold up your belly, swaying and kissing your cheek - and maybe nibbling your ear a little, just enough to make you laugh. He rests his head on your shoulder when he finally notices your former classmate.

"Oh," you say, like you just remembered she was there too. "How rude of me, Eddie, this is..."

You trail off, gesturing to her with the hand not on your cart for Rose to hold. She definitley takes after her dad, her love language has been physical touch since day one. The silence grows awkward as you're unable to recall her name, and after a painfully long wait, she finally relents, introducing herself.

"Right." You nod, chuckling. "Pregnancy brain. Anyway, we went to... high school... together." You say, like you're unsure if that's right. She nods, growing agetated that her status as popular girl and runner up prom queen doesn't extend into the real world.

"And this is Eddie. My husband." You look up at him lovingly as you say it, a warm gaze he returns. He takes your hand and kisses it.

"The luckiest husband in the world." He says sincerely, pressing another kiss to your temple. Her face sinks as she realizes you got married before she did.

"Oh," She nods, then tries to recover quickly. "Okay. Well, let's see the ring."

She says it playfully, but you know she's committing every detail to memory, looking for anything to scrutinize, and you're sure you'll hear about her gossiping about you from one of the kids you went to school with - you know, the nice, non-shitty ones. You extend your left hand despite the tacky nature of her question, and you wish you could have gotten a picture of the look on her face.

The ring and wedding band you wear are actually the second set of wedding rings from Eddie. The first one, the ring he proposed with, is actually one of his. You still wear it on a chain around your neck - it was always way too big for you, but you never wanted to resize it. When corroded coffin signed their first recording contract six months after you'd eloped, the first thing Eddie did with his signing bonus was buy you the biggest diamond he could find. The way you reacted with such genuine surprise, and still loved the old one too much to stop wearing told Eddie with more certainty than ever that he could not have made a better choice in handing over his heart to someone.

"Wow..." she says, trying to keep her face neutral. "Looks like you're ready to pop any day now too, huh?"

the backhanded comment rolls right off you as Rosie speaks up in her endearing toddler babble.

"I- I'm- mommy's making me a- a baby brother for us!" She says excitedly, "Or- she maybe baking a baby sister. Maybe." She emphasizes, repeating what you and Eddie told her about being surprised if it's going to be a baby brother or baby sister. You chuckle at your daughter, and Eddie looks down at her.

"That's right sweet girl. You're gonna have to teach baby how to fight dragons and be a big strong paladin, just like you!" He pokes her playfully and she starts giggling her head off again. You can't get over how much they look alike, she really could be Eddie's twin. Before you can find a graceful exit out of the conversation, a group of a few people freeze a few feet away. You're used to this sort of reaction by now, you have people from 12 to 45 shaking and crying at the sight of Eddie - dubbed the number one guitarist in the last decade by Rolling Stone - much less getting to meet him and take a picture, which Eddie always loves to do.

Your former classmate watches in shock as the guys walk over nervously, asking if he's really Eddie Munson, like the Eddie Munson. He confirms playfully, and you accept their cameras to take a few pictures for them. He offers to autograph their arms or notebooks and starts patting his pockets down for a pen. You beat him to it, pulling out a perminant marker from your purse. He chuckles sweetly, caressing your face.

"You really are always one step ahead, aren't you sweetheart?"

He signs some pages and shirts and even a forehead before they go, thanking him profusely the whole time.

"I'm sorry-" Your classmate interrupts. "What exactly is it that you do?"

One of the guys, still straggling to get a few more glances at Eddie scoffs, personally offended by her question.

"You don't know who that is?" he demands. Thankfully, you manage to slip away to finish your errands while he lectures her on the genius of corroded coffin. Once out of ear shot, Eddie says softly, intimately close to you, "Was she the one from the prom dress story?"

"Oh yeah," you nod. "She was a real bubhosh." Eddie laughs at your middle earth insult - roughly translating to dung heap - that the two of you used to substitute any words you don't want Rosie picking up yet. Eddie is glad you pulled him away when you did, cause if he was around her much longer, he probably wouldn't have been able to resist roasting her to a crisp. Then again, with someone as incredible as you it's pretty easy to make anyone else look bad in comparison.

[lovebugism]

for your fall prompts! what about “why are your hands so cold?” with the love of my life, steve harrington?

autumn, my love! ty for requesting! i hope you like it!! — steve makes fun of your cold hands but only as an excuse to hold them (mutual pining, friends to lovers, 2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Family Video always smells like Robin’s morning coffee, crisp autumn air, and warm nostalgia this time of year. It’s quiet and homey and liminal — as orange as early autumn itself. 

The empty store is filled with the sound of your rushed scribbling as you jot down a load of cursive nothingness in your journal. Your hand smears the wet ink across the page. It stains the paper as much as the side of your wrist. 

Your other hand is curled into a fist to prop up your lolling head. Expelling your racing thoughts into the leather-back book is the only thing keeping you awake.

The stale air glows suddenly with a newfound life when a cozier, more familiar scent engulfs you — like pine, musk, and vanilla. You feel Steve’s visceral warmth surrounding you. Before you can blush about the unexpected proximity, he snatches your journal out from under you.

“Hey!” you shout before you mean to, perhaps the loudest he’s ever heard you.

“What’s this?” this beautiful boy muses, honey eyes sparkling. The dull store blooms with its radiance. You can’t believe he’s looking at you with it and with his rosy, lopsided grin.

“Give it back,” you demand, quieter now and smiling wider.

Steve meets your playfully arched brow with a sunny grin. He thumbs through your journal with golden hands from a leftover summer tan. His biceps are all but bursting from his vest and too-tight polo.

“Keith said you’re not allowed to write in your diary on the clock, you know?” he reminds with a feigned seriousness, scrunching his nose when his twinkling eyes flit back to yours.

Keith did actually say that. A few days ago now. He also said he’d dock your pay if he caught you doing it again, the absolute asshole.

“It’s not a diary!” you argue with a beam on your face.

You briefly wonder if you’re smiling a little too wide, and the fleeting thought makes the bright expression flicker. 

You cross your arms over your chest and pretend to be more serious. Something about Steve stirs a deep sensuality in you, though — like a wolf innately drawn to a full moon. The corners of your lips quirk with an emotion you couldn’t conceal if you tried.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he singsongs with raised brows. 

Strands of honey hair hang over his wrinkled forehead when he turns to the book in his hands. He swipes his fingers through them to push them back again, but they fall into place a second later.

You’re too enamored by the boy in front of you to stop him when he starts flipping through your notebook. You know he knows it isn’t a diary. You also know he wouldn’t be going through it if it were. He’s too nice for that. Too sweet on you, anyway.

He finds a random page and lingers there. His eyes flit over every inch of the ink you’ve scribbled inside — miscellaneous lists, doodles, and song lyrics. He figures it must be the music you’re humming all the time, tunes you can’t get out of your head.

Every time I see you, all the rays of the sun are streaming through the waves of your hair, the words read in clumsy cursive. And every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight. The beating of my heart is a drum, and it’s lost, and it’s looking for a rhythm like you—

Steve’s heart flutters. He feels like a kid again. His stomach swirls with the thought that you might’ve been thinking about him in between the lyrics. It’s as unlikely as it is childish. He knows this, so he frowns.

“Oh,” he monotones playfully, brows pinching and lips jutting. “That’s boring.”

“Exactly. So give it back—” You reach for the book, but Steve’s too quick. He jerks it out of your reach and leaves your hand grabbing at air.

“Ooh, sorry, sunshine,” Steve lilts. “Looks like you’re not tall enough for this ride.”

Your cheeks speckle with heat. You wonder if he’s flirting or if he’s just being friendly, and you’re too in love to know the difference. Your terribly hidden smile is wide and impossibly giddy, anyway.

“Steve,” you bite, though it comes out much happier than you intended it to. “Give it back.”

He purses his lips to the side and furrows his brows. “Hmm… No.”

Your smile broadens, and your eyes widen at his blatant defiance. You giggle like a child as you walk the short distance towards him. “Give it back,” you laugh and stand on the tips of your toes in front of him. 

He chuckles boyishly in return and lifts it further out of your reach.

You jump slightly off the ground to grab it. You fail the first time and try harder the second. You just narrowly miss it. The tips of your fingers brush his wrist as your torso presses too intently against his ribcage. 

Your chest scrapes his vest and jostles his Hi, I’m Steve name tag. You stumble back in mortification. 

With a red-hot face and a gaping gaze, you try to stammer out an apology. Nothing comes out. Your mouth opens and shuts like a fish as you pull the hem of your sweater down from where it had ridden up.

Steve has his own look of bewilderment. His honey eyes are aglow with something short of amusement. You’re briefly worried he’s about to mock you until he starts to laugh. “Why are your hands so cold?” he wonders with squinted eyes.

Your stutter hasn’t quite left you. “I— I don’t know. My hands are always cold.” 

You curl your fists into the sleeves of your sweater on instinct. If only to hide how they shake for him.

“But that’s like… ice cold,” Steve insists, crooked smile widening. “Like, we live in Antarctica cold.”

Less embarrassed and more playful, you roll your eyes and turn away from him. “Okay…” you mumble under your breath as you sit back down in your chair. Steve can’t stand you being too far away, so he follows you.

“Like, you just got done shoveling snow with your bare hands cold. Like—”

“I get it, Steve. I’m a freak of nature,” you concede, spinning in your swivel chair to face him again. 

He’s much closer than you expect him to be. His long legs are all but inches from your knees as he stands before you. You flush but smirk up at him in attempts to keep cool about how fervently he makes you tremble.

“I’m just teasing,” he assures with a pretty laugh.

You already knew that, though. He’s too kind to be mean. He’s a dumbass sometimes, but he always means well.

“Here, look,” he starts, laying your journal back on the counter with a quiet thud. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

Your brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

You find out a second later when he turns back to you and takes your hands in his larger ones. 

His fingers are long and golden as they curl around your knuckles. His palms aren’t soft, but they aren’t rough either — like they’ve been used, but not too ardently. And he’s warm. He’s oh, so warm.

You tense at the sudden action but relax a second later, melting into him like you’ve always been destined to. 

“Oh…”

“Right?” Steve nods with raised brows and quirked lips. “I’m practically a space heater.”

Your heart’s fluttering too aggressively to stutter out an intelligible sentence, so you just nod back at him. “Yeah…”

It makes a little too much sense that the ray of sunlight that always calls you Sunshine feels so golden warm.

Steve gives your hands a squeeze. “See? You’re getting warmer already.”

He doesn’t know it’s because you’re blushing so intensely you feel like your entire body has been set on fire. You’re happy to let him keep on not knowing.

“Thanks, Stevie…” you murmur quietly, gaze trained on your entwined hands.

“Stevie?” he chuckles.

Your eyes dart up to his sparkling ones, and you freeze. You hadn’t meant to call him that. That nickname was usually reserved for your too-elaborate daydreams. “Oh. Shit. Sorry. It just— It just slipped. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s okay,” Steve assures with the shake of his head, giving you another reassuring squeeze. “Seriously. I liked it.”

You exhale a nervous laugh through your nose, ducking your gaze away from his. “You always hate when Robin calls you that…”

“Well, yeah. ‘Cause she’s Robin.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time.

“And it sounds a lot prettier when you say it, anyway.”

He must notice how hard he’s making you blush with how warm your hands have gotten — from frozen solid to fiery hot. But he holds them, anyway. Even when they get all clammy. You want it to mean more than it probably does.

“Yeah?” you press, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he nods like it’s obvious, then gets as sheepish as you a moment later. He tries to act cool through his shyness, tilting his head and shrugging as he smirks. “How about you call me that tonight?”

Your eyes go wide at the unintended insinuation.

His gape matches your own when his own words dawn on him. “I meant at dinner!” he follows quickly. “At Enzo’s. Seven o’clock. You know, if— if you wanna go with me or whatever.”

You do. Most desperately so. In fact, you’re pretty sure you dreamt about it one time. Maybe you’ll tell him that if you’re brave enough — over pasta and breadsticks.

“I don’t have a car,” you confess with a forced laugh. “Or a pretty dress…”

“I can pick you up!” Steve assures immediately, then grows visibly shier. He shifts his weight on his feet but doesn’t try to let go of your hands. It feels too right to hold them. “And, you know, I’m sure you’ll look nice in whatever you decide to wear, sunshine.”

You purse your lips to the side as you nod, lest your beam blinds him and makes your cheeks burst.

“Okay… Enzo’s. Seven o’clock,” you repeat quietly.

“I pick you up,” he says, squeezing your hands.

You squeeze him back. “You pick me up.”

“And we spend an hour eating breadsticks and making fun of all the wine snobs.”

The imagery makes your stomach swirl, a dream so real you can taste it — red wine and garlic and cherry chapstick. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you affirm with a sheepish giggle.

He nods, having no idea he’s grinning like a lovesick idiot down at you. “Cool.”

“Cool,” you repeat.

You watch his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip. For a fleeting moment, you think he might kiss you. You want him to kiss you. You might melt at his feet if he did, but you need it like you need air.

Ding! 

The door chimes at the front of the store. 

Autumn air rushes in, leaving you bitterly cold all over again. Or maybe that’s just because Steve’s stepping away from you. Both of you know that Keith will have a fit if a customer complains about PDA.

“Hi! Welcome in! Can I help you find anything?” Steve greets as kindly as always, smiling just the same. 

He only says it because he has to say it. He’s secretly hoping for a negative response, just so he can keep on talking to you.

The man in big work boots and a thick canvas jacket squints around the store. He rubs his scruffy face with a hardened hand and turns to Steve. “Yeah, actually,” he says in a gruff, gravely voice. “I was looking for this movie for my wife. It’s her birthday and…”

He rambles on about her favorite movie, a cartoon from her childhood he’s gone two towns over to find. It’s sweet enough to give you butterflies, though it doesn’t match the zoo that erupts in your stomach when Steve turns to look at you again.

He departs from you with a honey gaze. You smile back at him as he goes, watching him intently as he helps the customer with a pretty pink smile.

Your hands are cold again. So much that they ache with you curl them into fists. 

You can’t wait for Steve to hold you again tonight. Over a white-clothed table, warm yellow candlelight, and wine-slicked lips. 

Enzo’s. Seven o’clock.