#amber writes

[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

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fics #ghostface eddie #amber writes

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Crazy Forever

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie’s been acting weird all day and Reader’s determined to figure out why!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Jason Carver sucks but that’s nothing new, mild self doubt/criticism.

A/N: Expect grammatical/spelling errors! I’ve proofread as best as I can but this is my first time writing exclusively on my phone since my laptop is bust. I hate it so much! I hope you like this though! I think it’s cute!

Please don’t copy my work!

The cafeteria was packed. Lunchtime saw the entire school crammed into one space, queueing for food, jostling through crowds and yelling to be heard above the din. Jocks and band geeks, preps and losers alike.

In one corner sat the basketball team. They took up three tables on their own, prattling and jeering. Their cheerleader girlfriends perched on their laps, laughing hysterically at whatever pathetic joke had just been told.

In the opposite corner, across the sea of students, sat you and the rest of the infamous Hellfire bunch. Their discourse was no less lively but infinitely more substantial. At least, you assumed so. You weren’t really listening.

Your attention was fixed on the curly haired metalhead sitting next to you. Eddie hadn’t spoken since he sat down. He picked at his food, ignoring the conversation and your questioning gaze.

Your eyes narrowed. Something had to be wrong; Eddie was never this quiet.

In fact, your boyfriend had been acting weird all day!

*

Everything had seemed normal this morning.

You didn’t have first period together so Eddie hugged you tight outside your classroom just as he always did on Thursdays. He squeezed you within an inch of your life, lamenting your imminent separation. How, oh how, could he hope to survive without you?

‘You’re literally gonna see me again in an hour!’ You let out a giggle as he started peppering kisses all over your face and neck. His featherlight lips tickled as they grazed your skin again and again, until your cheeks ached from smiling.

‘Maybe,’ Eddie relented, pulling back so he could take you in, ‘But that’s forever!’

He gazed down at you with his best puppy dog eyes, a childish pout tugging at his mouth. You couldn’t help kissing him. Up on tiptoe, hands on his shoulders, you pressed your lips to his and almost immediately, you felt the frown break and smile against you.

He squeezed his arms around your middle one last time before stepping back and sweeping a deep bow. ‘I shall count the seconds, my lady!’

With a kiss to your hand, he walked backwards down the hall, not wanting to take his eyes off you. You blew a final kiss as the bell rang. He mimed catching it before he turned and bucked it round the corner. Out of sight.

*

Eddie was right. That class did last an eternity.

You pushed through the crowded hallways anxious to see him again. You spotted your boyfriend a few meters away and yelled his name. Without giving him time to reply, you ducked through the throng and threw your arms around him.

That was the first time things had seemed odd.

He didn’t shrug you off exactly. In fact, he hugged you just as tight as before. Almost. His heart just wasn’t in it.

You broke and a confused frown flitted across your face. Where was the boy who, only an hour ago, made himself late to his own class for just a few more seconds with you?

You decided not to take it personally. Eddie’s mind was so vast he often ended up lost inside it, chasing thoughts along their labyrinthine courses. No doubt he’d been distracted by an inkling of an idea for a campaign or a melody for a new song.

Nosing affectionately at his shoulder, you walked hand in hand. You made a mental point to make your notes extra detailed this lesson.

Eddie wasn’t going to be paying attention.

*

‘Hey! Hey Eddie! Wait!’

The next time things felt strange was when Gareth started hollering down the hall. You spotted him, fighting through the bustling crowd and squeezed Eddie’s hand to make him stop.

‘Huh?’

He was still lost in a dreamworld.

You nodded; he followed your gaze. Gareth pushed through the last wall of people, all but collapsing at your feet. He was bent double, catching his breath.

‘What happened?’

Gareth looked up with a wicked grin, ‘I just got off the phone!’ He straightened, ‘Remember that guy we met last week? The one who runs that club the next town over? The Sunrise?’ Gareth was practically tap-dancing with excitement. ‘He said he wants us to open Wednesday night!’ He threw his hands out, anticipating his friends reaction.

It never came.

‘Oh, that’s awesome, man!’ Eddie’s voice was little more than a monotone. His features pulled into an imitation of enthusiasm but both you and Gareth could tell it wasn’t genuine.

Gareth visibly deflated but before he could probe any further, Eddie shouldered his bag and kept on walking to class. He looked at you instead.

‘What was that?’

You smiled apologetically, ‘He’s probably just in shock,’ you offered, ‘It’ll hit him in half an hour, I’m sure!’

He shrugged managing a half-hearted laugh. ‘That’s so exciting though Gareth! Do you know if it’s a regular slot?’

He shook his head, ‘No, but if we do good…’ he trailed off, thinking what it could mean for the band. By all accounts the Sunrise over in Clivesdale wasn’t much bigger than the Hideout but still, it was progress. Exposure!

‘I can’t wait to come see you guys there!’

He grinned, ‘Thanks… you’ll talk to Eddie?’

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, ‘I’ll talk some sense into him!’

With a smile, you turned and hurried to catch up with your boyfriend, wondering what could have gotten into him?

*

Whatever it was still hadn’t gone away by fourth period!

O’Donnell was blabbering on about the celestial symbolism in Romeo and Juliet, a topic dull enough the second time round, you didn’t know how Eddie could cope on the third.

He had his head in his hands. Maybe he was tired? You though, maybe that was it?

But Eddie wasn’t asleep.

Between glances, you saw him shifting, dragging his pen over a page in swooping, sloping curves, outlining nothing in particular.

‘Mr Munson!’ O’Donnell snapped. You both flinched at the loud noise. Eddie looked up, not even bothering to make a sarcastic comment. ‘How does Mercutio’s introductory scene foreshadow his demise in Act Three?’ She demanded, arms crossed and a look of contempt on her face.

He took a second to focus then mumbled a garbled answer that seemed to satisfy. She hummed, rolling her eyes and turned back to the board. Eddie looked even more dejected than before. You weren’t having it.

Tearing a page from your notebook, you scribbled down the most ridiculous joke you could think of. When your teacher’s back was turned, you slid the paper onto your boyfriends desk and watched him in your peripheral.

He unfolded it and you saw his eyes comb over your handwriting, ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes?’ before he looked over at you with a raised eyebrow.

Grinning like an idiot, your pen scrawled the answer and passed it over. ‘A fsh!’

It was awful, you knew, but just the kind of thing that would normally send Eddie into hysterics. You waited for his face to turn red and tears to prick in his eyes but he barely even cracked a smile. Just rolled his eyes and sent back the note with a scribbled, ‘Ha Ha!’

You slumped in your seat, glaring at his spiky penmanship.

Something was definitely wrong.

*

That brought you to lunchtime. You were at a loss.

If he was this tired, he’d have skipped class and napped in his van, probably insisted you come with him.

If it was a story or a song he was concocting, he wouldn’t look so miserable!

Jeff and Gareth had just sat down and Dustin started regaling everyone with teasers for his campaign.

This Friday was his first time DM’ing for Hellfire. He was giddy with nerves and desperate for some brotherly advice from his idol. When none came, his face fell.

‘That sounds amazing Dustin!’ You said, ‘Don’t you think so Eds?’ You nudged him pointedly, hoping to elicit a response.

‘Mmm,’ was all you got.

You sighed, ‘I reckon Henderson’s gonna give you a run for your money!’ Perhaps riling him up would work, but Dustin’s modest protests gave him plenty of cover. You weren’t giving up that easily!

‘I bet you’ll even let him sit on the throne!’

The table fell silent.

Eddie’s throne was notoriously a touchy subject. Rumour had it, he’d once cancelled a session because the drama club had stolen it for their show. It was sacrilegious to suggest such a thing. The party watched with bated breath.

‘Whatever,’ Eddie mumbled, still refusing to meet your eye.

They gaped.

That was the last straw. You seized his hand, ignoring his complaints, and dragged him out of the cafeteria.

‘What’s with them?’ Dustin watched you go.

Jeff chuckled, poking his pasta with his fork, ‘You know,’ He shrugged, ‘Couple stuff!’

‘What?’

‘They’ve probably gone to make out or something!’

The three freshmen looked perplexed. Gareth snickered, ‘Henderson, my dear boy, when a man and a woman love each other very much…’

‘Ew!’

‘Gross!’

‘Shut up!’

*

You pulled Eddie down the corridors, leaving his questions unanswered.

‘Where are we going?’ He whined, trailing behind you and almost tripping over his own feet. You didn’t speak until you were almost outside. The parking lot was visible through the double doors at the end of the hall. You stopped short, turning to face him.

Eddie looked frustrated. His chocolate brown eyes confused under his furrowed brow. Yours searched him a last ditch effort to figure out the problem on your own.

You stepped closer. Before he could open his mouth, you jabbed him in the shoulder and darted away. ‘Tag! You’re it!’

Eddie let out a huff, taken by surprise. ‘What?’

You’d run the length of the hall, he was still standing there. ‘Can’t catch me!’ You teased.

‘Baby, I’m really not in the mood!’ He trudged after you. His steps were slow and laboured but you kept skipping backward, maintaining the space between you.

‘Yeah, coz you’re too slow!’ You goaded before pushing through the doors and running out into the sunlight.

Eddie cursed under his breath. He took off after you.

You were halfway across the parking lot by the time he got outside. Your laughter echoed back, spurring him on. Wind whistled in his ears, raked its fingers through his hair and clothes as he raced to catch you. Blood pumping through his veins, the ground thudding beneath his feet, Eddie heard his own laughter mingle with yours.

He was gaining on you.

Tarmac turned to earth, muffling your footfalls as you ran through the woods. You darted between trees like a wood nymph, laughing at the wide open sky as your lover chased after you.

Out of nowhere, arms closed around your waist, making you shriek as you fell tumbling into a heap. Somehow, Eddie managed to land beneath you, bearing the brunt of impact but just as quickly, he rolled you onto your back, pinning you to the ground by your forearms.

‘Got you!’ He declared.

You squirmed, still giggling. A tree root was digging into your back but you didn’t care.

Your plan had worked.

Eddie’s face was flushed, chest heaving. His eyes were sparkling and, framed by his soft curls, a dazzling smile had taken up residence on his lips.

‘That’s better!’ You wriggled an arm free to cup his jaw.

Eddie pulled back, ‘What is?’ Confusion dimmed the glow a little.

‘You!’ You laughed, ‘You haven’t smiled since this morning!’

He looked surprised, ‘Yes I have!’

‘Have not!’

‘How would you know?’ He retorted, climbing off of you and folding his arms. You sat up, an incredulous look spreading over your face.

‘Do you really think I wouldn’t have noticed you smiling?’

That caught him off guard. He ducked his head but you saw him blush. ‘So!’ Inching closer, you tucked your legs up and nosed against his shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’

‘What? Nothing!’

He flinched and looked away, like he was trying to shrink himself to the size of a mouse.

‘Must be a whole lot of nothing!’

‘What’s that s’posed to mean?’

Was he serious right now?

‘You didn’t say anything when Gareth told you you’ve got a new gig! You didn’t get excited about Dustin’s campaign-‘

Eddie tried to interrupt but you barrelled on, listing the incidents on your fingers, ‘You didn’t freak out when I said he could sit on the throne, and you didn’t laugh at my joke in O’Donnell’s’

‘I didn’t laugh at the joke,’ he cut in,’ because it was terrible!’

‘Hmm?’ You nodded sarcastically, ‘Try again Munson! You always laugh at my jokes!’

It took every bit of willpower he possessed to keep a straight face.

In school it was easy. He’d been wearing the mask for so long, but out here, alone with you, it was impossible. With you he couldn’t hide. With you, he couldn’t be anything but honest.

‘Watch out!’ You dug an elbow into his ribs, ‘that was almost a smile! You be careful!’

He ducked away again, pulling his hair across his face to conceal his ever widening grin.

‘Seriously!’ You moved closer, a softer tone taking over as you wound your arms around his and leant your cheek against his shoulder, ‘What’s going on?’

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. A small insignificant sound but it meant the world to hear it. Eddie didn’t answer for a while but he wasn’t deflecting anymore. You could see the wheels turning, words writing themselves in his mind before he spoke them. You waited patiently.

‘Jason said something,’ he muttered, ‘I let him get under my skin.’

He felt you stiffen, ‘What did he say?’ The tension in your voice was thinly veiled. Eddie shrugged, hoping to calm you down,

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters if it upset you!’

He felt your eyes trained on him. You weren’t going to let this go. He let out another sigh, hands picking at the earth, absentmindedly tearing up blades of grass and crumpled leaves. ‘He saw me saying goodbye to you before Click’s,’ a slight pause, your gaze didn’t waver, ‘Asked how long I thought I had until you came to your senses and broke up with me.’

Eddie scrunched up his nose, a bitter taste in his mouth from the poisonous memory. He still didn’t look up.

‘And I know! It’s stupid! I know what you’re gonna say, I shouldn’t let him get to me, but it’s just… I started wondering what would happen if one day you did… wake up and realise all the worst parts of me and I just-!’

‘I’m gonna kill him!’

‘Baby-!’ Eddie reached for your hand when you started to stand.

‘If he thinks he can go around talking to you like that!’ You were furious but stopped when you saw the look on Eddie’s face. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, his mouth half open in a silent plea.

You sat back down and threw your arms around him instead. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck. It fit like it had always been meant to. You cradled his head in your hand.

The tears didn’t fall. Your warm embrace softened the sting, but he sniffed a few times, knowing he was safe if they did.

‘Eddie, I’m sorry!’ You murmured, stroking his hair gently. He just held on tighter.

You weren’t the only one who loved him, he knew that. He had Hellfire and the band and before them, Uncle Wayne, but you were the first time person he’d experienced who was ready to fight the bullies yourself. You didn’t settle for their disdain, refused to be complicit in their disgust. You were ready to fight for him.

He let out a shaky sigh as you leant back to look at him, cupping his cheeks in your palms. ‘If loving you means I’ve lost my senses, I hope I stay crazy forever!’

His red rimmed eyes welled up at the conviction in your eyes, in your voice. You pressed a tender kiss to his mouth, sealing your words as a promise.

Eddie melted against you, relishing your touch. When you broke, his cheeks were wet but his eyes a little brighter than before.

‘There you are!’ You beamed, thumbing away a stray tear and watching the soft upward curve on your boyfriends mouth. ‘There’s my smiley boy!’

You kissed him again and instantly felt the smile widen against you. Eddie kissed back, wrapping you in a deep embrace, filled with all the enthusiasm you’d missed before.

You giggled as your noses bumped together and before long, he was laughing too.

*

The school bell rang in the distance but neither of you had any intention of going back to class. You stayed outside among the trees for the whole of fifth period, laughing and joking until your sides hurt and you were certain Eddie had forgotten the cruel words.

He gushed about the band and their new opportunity, agonised over the Setlist while you teased him about what you might wear to see them play.

As you wandered in the vague direction of school, you talked through the hints Dustin had dropped about his storyline and the worries he expressed.

‘Kid’s got nothing to worry about! He learnt from the best!’

‘Oh did he now?’

‘Of course he did!’ Eddie mocked offence, then frowned. ‘But you are gonna have to tell him you were kidding about the throne!’

‘No way! You know I couldn’t bear to see his little face fall!’

‘You shouldn’t have got his hopes up then!’

*

The school building came into view. You stopped, lingering hand in hand on the edge of the tree line. The familiar green and orange stripes looked cold and foreboding. Instead of a beacon for school spirit, the tiger motif on the side of the wall seemed menacing.

Eddie squeezed your hand, ‘Back into the fray, my lady?’

You nodded, ‘I meant it, you know? I’m gonna kill Jason!’

Eddie laughed, ‘You’d better not! I don’t have enough money to bail you out of jail!’ He shoved you playfully but you wouldn’t relent.

‘Nobody takes away my baby’s smile!’

Eddie caught your other hand, grazing his lips over your knuckles, a reassuring gesture and a pledge of gratitude. You hugged his arm all the way back to class.

*

This time, when you passed him another terrible joke, Eddie nearly had to excuse himself. His cheeks were bright red. Tears of restrained laughter streaming down his face with a hand clamped over a Cheshire Cat grin as his curls shook ever so slightly.

You snickered quietly, watching him in the corner of your eye. You wondered what you wouldn’t do just to see that smile.

Jason Carver went home with a black eye that night!

***

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please reblog or comment and let me know what you thought!

Masterlist

Taglist: @neewtmas @sadbitchfangirl

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #joseph quinn #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #stranger things x reader #amber writes

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twenty-Five: Heart Felt Truths

Summary: 4.7k Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. While still dealing with the power outage, you get to spend more time with Curtis's family and Curtis takes you out with Sophia to show you something special.

Warnings- None.

A/N- Wow it's been a while but I hope you all are still here for the ride. @what-is-your-plan-today edited this chapter for me ages ago, so I have to thank you for doing, I always appreciate your input with these two. @mumbles411 ... This is for you! You have been asking for this moment for a while. Again, THANK YOU EVERYONE for reading and sharing. Dividers made by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Chapter Twenty-Four / Masterlist

There was a soft patter of feet across the old creaky floor and a giggle at the end of the bed. Curtis knew it was coming, had warned you that Sophia would probably crawl in with you both first thing in the morning. He let his gaze slit open to see her at the foot of the bed, grabbing onto the blankets to pull herself up. 

The room was still gray, the hues of dawn barely coming, not quite arriving fully yet and of course, his niece was wide awake right now. He was going to need coffee, coffee would require more work than usual with the power out. 

Maybe if he waited long enough Ella or Lisa would make coffee, that sounded like a better plan. 

Next to him, you stirred, lifting your head enough to see what was moving at the end of the bed, before you burrowed back into your pillows, making Curtis snort softly in amusement. You weren’t a morning person, not unless you had to be. 

“Uncle Curtis.” Sophia whispered, crawling up the middle of the bed. Curtis lifted an arm for her to come snuggle in against his chest, Sophia tumbling under the blankets while both you and Curtis shifted to give her space. “Momma is snoring.” 

“Does she sound like the train at work?” Curtis muttered sleepily. 

“Louder!” Sophia said with some enthusiasm and Curtis pressed a finger to his lips, pointing at you next to them. 

“Quiet voices, Y/N and I are still sleeping.” 

You were quick to fall back asleep while Sophia tucked herself up under her uncle's chin.

“Can I have your phone?” She whispered and without opening his eyes, he reached behind him on the nightstand, feeling around for the device. When he handed it to her, she expertly unlocked it and picked her favorite app he had downloaded for her. 

“Volume off Soph.” He whispered against the crown of her head, which Sophia compiled while she started her game. 

Curtis knew he wasn’t going to be falling back to sleep, but he could just enjoy this moment of peace before the day came blaring full force, requiring him to participate. Now very grateful that he had insisted the two of you get fully dressed again just in case this happened. He let his mind wander, recalling how good a day yesterday was for all of you. The house was full of laughter and games, Sophia keeping all of you busy while the cold weather and loss of power kept you all together. 

He knew Lillian and WIlford would have wanted their house like this, full of family and friends and no longer an empty shell of what was once a home. 

Finally, Sophia got bored and announced she was leaving, so Curtis let her back out into the cool air and he pulled in closer to you, hugging around your waist to press his hand under your shirt to rest just under your breasts, making you wiggle back into him. 

“Your hand is still cold.” You muttered, pulling the blankets further over them. 

“Hmm sorry, do you want me to stop?” He nuzzled the back of your neck as he slipped further into the bed, spooning you from behind. 

“No, it's warming up now.” Your hand rubbed against his arm around you and settled over the top of it. “It’s cold out there, isn't it?” 

“Yeah Honey, I should go check that fire.” Curtis made no move to get up, just letting himself not leave his little warm bubble for a few more moments. “I was hoping Lisa or Ella would start coffee.” 

“Oh god…” You half twisted to face him, your eyes hopeful. “What are the chances?” 

He grinned, pushing up to lean over and kiss you, morning breath be damned, he was feeling good and wanted you to feel just as good. “Give me ten minutes and I will be back, with coffee.” 

You squealed in laughter as he flushed more kisses across your nose and then pulled away while you flipped all the blankets back over yourself. 

Curtis hummed as he went down the stairs, his bare feet cold on the floor when he landed on at the bottom, making him hop from one foot to the other till he got to one of the runner rugs he had scattered around the downstairs. He glanced around to see the bedroom where Lisa had the door eased open enough to let heat in but she must still be in bed. The pullout couch where Ella had slept with Sophia was back to being folded up in place, meaning his cousin must be awake. Curtis assumed Sophia was in Lisa’s bedroom by the sounds of a tablet playing a cartoon.

“I already got the fire going.” Ella said from the kitchen as she stepped into view, a steaming mug in her hands as she sipped from it. “It was chilly.” 

“Thanks, I should have gotten up and checked it earlier.” Curtis bypassed her, stealing her cup to sip from. When she smacked at his back, he flashed her a grin and took another before handing it back to her with a grimace on his face. “Too much sugar.” 

“Heathen.” Ella sputtered as she claimed her mug once more, scowling at him. “I need it to sweeten me up. Mom’s here, but you mind watching Soph for a while? I gotta get to the aquarium, check in on what the upcoming plan is and help feed. Cole already sent me a message saying he was there all night.” Ella sputtered to herself as she glanced once more at her phone. “Idiot never told me he actually needed help keeping everything functioning.”  

Curtis was busy at the stove to make you both a mug, giving a nod. “Of course, you know I’m never gonna say no to watching my favorite niece.” He motioned with his hand that she should go. 

“Your only niece and this is why I keep you around. You are useful.” Ella teased as she savored more of her coffee. 

“Glad to be useful.” Curtis pipped up as he mixed everything together. “Want me to take you over? I don’t think it snowed or anything last night. But you never know what the wind kicked onto the roads.” He peered out his back window over the sink, but it looked like yesterday, his backyard knee deep in snow.

“Nah, I’m good. Stop trying to take care of all of us.” Ella scolded him while draining the last of her cup, Curtis mimicking her with a roll of his eyes. “Have more fun today, chill out. You are just getting the hang of it.” She winked as she set her mug in the sink. “Even Mom noticed how much you have changed.” 

“What do you mean changed?” His brows arched in surprise. 

Ella continued getting ready to leave, sliding on a jacket and stuffing a scarf around her neck. “Yeah, she said you hadn’t laughed like that since you were a kid.” Ella gave a wave. “And yes, if I need anything, I will call. See you later!”

Curtis mused a moment at what Ella said. She was right though just as she had been before Christmas, he was happier. Life has been better since the beginning of September. It made him smile, a content feeling settling in his chest. 

His thoughts drifted to last night and how different even that was for him. Last night he was overcome with just needing to feel you and make you feel good. He didn’t even have his own pleasure in mind when he was with you. It was all about making you feel beautiful and appreciated. It wasn’t sex, it didn’t feel like sex. 

Sex was always good, but that wasn't it. He never was that kind of intimate with someone, rarely did he bring anyone home before and the times he was dating, sex was always just for fun. Now you lived here part time and it was still for fun, but he craved that connection it built each time as well. 

This was more and the tingles of realization tickled his mind. Love, that was love and it settled like he was wrapped in a blanket around him. 

He really loved you. 

Curtis inhaled deeply in a calming manner as he let this knowledge take hold, in the silence of his kitchen with the morning sun shining bright to light up the room, he glanced up, looking around the old kitchen, swearing he felt someone with him. 

“Is this what it's like? You two would know.” 

As he picked up the mugs to bring back upstairs, Curtis could have sworn he felt a hand on his shoulder like it was confirming that it was a yes. 

You rolled to your back, still wrapped up in clothes and blankets, the sun warming your face. A soft smile played on your lips. Last night had been incredible, you never felt such passion and connection with anyone before. It made flutters fill your belly, excited at what overcame the two of you last night. Whatever it was, you wanted more of that feeling, that feeling that it was just the two of you in the world.

Curtis had always been an affectionate man with his loved ones and that attention was what you felt last night. His complete devotion. You wanted to think of it as love, but you just weren’t quite sure that’s what it was. You thought Jake loved you, he said it early on to you and you were sure that's what it was for you too. Towards the end, he said it less and less, only when he was trying to persuade you to do something you didn’t want to. It was always the nudge to push you to do what he wanted till that last night. The memories that you had yet to talk about out loud with anyone made you shudder for a second, pushing it away. 

That was something you still weren’t ready to deal with. 

Instead, you went back to thinking about last night, your connection with Curtis, how it felt so absolute for you. Curtis never said anything beyond needing you, but it felt like so much more than just a quickie for you two. 

But you didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

You were still mulling over the sensation when Curtis came in, two mugs carefully balanced. You pushed up to a sit, taking a steaming mug gratefully to take a sip. 

He knew you well, having your coffee made just the way you liked it. “Ella is already out the door, I told her I didn’t mind watching Sophia today.” 

“Mmmh.” Your eyes closed peacefully as the caffeine worked its magic. “Anything you wanted to do? Or anything you had to do away from the house? I don’t mind sticking around with Sophia while you go out.” You offered and peeked at him while you took another sip, sensing his surprise at your offer. “What?” 

“You would do that?” Curtis asked incredulously, like you were offering the world. 

“Well yeah? Why wouldn’t I? I love hanging out with Sophia, she is such a great kid to be around.” You shrugged it off, still not seeing why he was so surprised. 

Curtis blew on his coffee before taking a rather large swallow, getting as much of the hot liquid in him as possible to prepare for his niece's energy before answering. “Not many jump at a chance to babysit, especially someone else’s kid in my experience.” He shrugged back, a grin forming on his face as he leaned forward to peck your lips affectionately. “So thank you, I know Ella would let you take Sophia anytime. But today you are stuck with me. I don’t have to go anywhere.” He set his mug down and rubbed at his head, waking himself up further. “I wish the power would come back on so I could trim this down.” His fingers tugged at the slightly longer strands, making your gaze lift. 

He might not like the longer strands, but you did. You bit at your lip and set your mug aside to shift to a kneel before him, running your hands through his hair and marveling at how soft it felt against your palm. “Not gonna lie stud, I like it.” 

A wicked gleam formed in his eyes as he watched the way you enjoyed touching him. “Do you now… I might have to keep it.” Your fingers tightened in the short hair, barely able to tug on it a bit. 

“Will you? Not for long, I just really want to…” Your fingers gave another slight pull to drag his head back to expose his neck, making you lean into it, nipping playful kisses along his bobbing adam’s apple. Your tongue darted out, another playful seduction that made Curtis groan in your hands. 

“Anything for you.” He muttered, letting himself enjoy the change in the room, both of you edging on staying in bed just like this. 

“You spoil me Curtis.” You let your hands smooth through his hair and lean into him while he wrapped you into his arms, pulling you in against him while stealing a coffee laced kiss from you. 

“As long as you will let me.” He winked and the bedroom door creaked open to show Sophia poking her head in, staring at the two of them. “What's up Sophia Bear?” Curtis questioned while you moved back for your mug on your nightstand. 

“I’m hungry!” 

Curtis pushed up and swiftly grabbed a giggling Sophia in his arms. “Alright, let's go feed you, what do you say? Brussel sprouts? Last I knew that's what little cubs like you eat.” 

You give him a look and snort into your coffee, Sophia mimicking you with utter repulsion. “Ice cream!” 

“No way kid, it's cold out already and you want ice cream? How about…. A chicken leg?” He wrapped his hand around her ankle giving it a shake and lifting like he was gonna take a bite out of it. 

“NO!” Sophia squealed, squirming till he dropped her on the bed, making her roll into you to protect her from her uncle. When she was snuggled in your side, she contemplated what he could make her. “Tater tots.” 

“Where am I supposed to get tater tots, Soph? Powers out.” Curtis flopped back on the bed next to you two. “I can make you some toast.” He started and she gave a sigh and rolled her eyes. 

“Boring.” 

You pipped up just as Curtis was gearing up with another hopeless suggestion. “Have you ever had cinnamon sugar toast?” 

“What’s that?” Sophia asked and Curtis smacked his palm against his forehead. 

“Oh I forgot all about that. Sophia wouldn't want that though… it's too good.” 

“No, I want it.” Sophia started and you shrugged, sipping from your coffee. 

“You sure, I mean… It's pretty special. Much more special then tater tots and ice cream.”

You said in all seriousness and Sophia’s eyes got huge. 

“I want it.” 

You looked at Curtis, his eyes showed relief that you were able to bring Sophia around to the suggestion of something easy. “Alright kiddo, let's go make it together.” He held his arms out and the bouncing child leaped at him, clinging around his neck while Curtis moved to a stand. “My grammy used to make this for me and your mom so I got the super-secret recipe.” He glanced over at you still curled up on the bed, savoring more of your coffee. “Take your time coming down Honey.” He dropped earnestly and you nodded with a smile, watching as the two of them headed for the stairs, Sophia now asking questions about the super secret recipe. 

You sighed in pure happiness at where you were right that moment. 

The morning went quickly, Ella sent a message saying that she was going to be at the aquarium for the day helping out, which Curtis told her to take her time. Sophia loved the cinnamon toast, which you also diced up an apple with some yogurt you had in the fridge, luckily still cold. Lisa came out later in the morning, looking bleary-eyed and angling for some hot water that you heated on the stovetop. 

You were able to keep Sophia entertained with coloring at the table while you read through some manuscripts looking for the next drama club play. Curtis was back and forth between hanging at the kitchen table, coloring with Sophia and out in his shed out behind the house, a motor once in a while sputtering to life before it would die out. Lisa spent her time in the living room, back to her crochet project. 

When you sank in the couch next to her, Sophia cuddling up under some blankets next to you to watch her tablet, you took a few more lessons from Lisa, listening to her talk about more of Curtis’s past as a kid and her own memories of her childhood in the house. 

It was late afternoon when Curtis triumphantly came inside, Sophia having just woken up from a nap in her grandmother's bed, all bundled up back in the blankets on the couch watching some other cartoon Ella had saved for her.

“How would you two feel about going for a ride?” 

“What kind of ride?” You asked, knowing he wouldn't ever consider taking the vintage Camaro out in the snow. However, Sophia jumped right up as if she knew what he was talking about. 

“Yeah!” She bolted down the hall off the kitchen for where the coat closet was. Lisa tucked the blanket over her leg all that much more. 

“Have fun and be safe.” Clearly she had no interest in going. 

“Snow machine.” Curtis grabbed your coat to hold it up, enticing you to join them. Sophia already was trying to wriggle into her snow pants. 

“Oh no way, you have one?” You asked excitedly while going to stuff your arms into the jacket sleeves. 

“Yeah, an old junker, but with some tweaking she works just fine.” Curtis admitted while you zipped up your coat. 

“It’s not gonna break down on us, is it?” You asked with a tease, but the worried hint was still there, questioning if he had to work on it.” 

“It’s fine, trust me.” He turned to help Sophia, who was almost dressed now while you were also pulling on more clothes for the wintery ride. “Right Sophia Bear?” 

“Yeah! Uncle Curtis goes fast.” 

“Not too fast!” Lisa called from the living room and Curtis huffed.

“Of course not.” Then he ushered you two out the door before any more questions could be asked. Out in the backyard, you three crossed to an older modeled two-seater. You stalled a bit, noticing it was just the one. 

“Are you sure Curtis? It might be too much with both of us on it.” 

Curtis tugged you closer, easily lifting you by your waist which you yelped in surprise and he perched you up on the back seat, making you sit slightly higher than his. “Honey, I swear this thing can easily handle more then the two of us.” Sophia was already climbing on, grabbing at the handles like she was going to drive. You fidgeted a bit while Curtis leaned forward, hands braced on the machine's seat as his forehead dipped with yours. “I also have something I really want to share with you. Please?” 

When he asked like that, how could you continue to question it? With a nod, you smiled and Curtis dipped his head enough to kiss you, making you giggle as he disappeared into the shed to go grab some helmets. You fit yours on while Curtis made sure Sophia’s was on correctly. Eventually, he swung himself onto the sled and settled with you as you wrapped your arms around his waist to press up behind him. Sophia sat in front of him, protected in his arms, excited to go. He turned the key, and the sound of the machine filled the snowy area and you lurched off into the woods, on a well-worn path Curtis had made over the years. 

It was exhilarating, watching the trees zip by as Curtis took turns on occasion, leading you further away from the house. He was sure to slow at the curves, having you all lean just right to keep the sled from tipping on the uneven ground. Eventually, you guys made your way towards the snowy covered lake, severely frozen over in the late winter months, all across it were tracks where other people enjoyed the freedom the lake provided. Sophia squealed excitedly from the front, loving the rush of the machine with all the speed it gave. Curtis revved the motor several times, making her all that more excited. 

He took you along the lake’s edge, letting you all see the quiet expanse of the town, just the occasional lights and hums from someone’s generators making a disturbance in the quickening approaching evening. The sky was turning all hues of color, stars quickly dotting the landscape's edge of the lake. The wind howled across, making you feel the bite of it escaping under the helmet and you would hide your face against Curtis’s shoulder when he turned the machine towards the middle of the lake, opening it up fully to zip further away from the shore. It wasn't far though before he started slowing back down, the ice far ahead was giving way to choppy water where the lake was to wild to freeze over.

You lifted your head to admire the way the snow glinted off the bit of light coming from the stars and moon above where twilight finally gave way to the night sky. The frozen crystals started putting on a show, once the motor quieted, the water could be heard even from quite a distance away. You leaned off Curtis’s strong back to sit up straight again, tugging off the helmet to let the cool air wash over your face. Curtis swung off onto the ice and helped Sophia off. 

“Soph, what are the rules when we are on the lake?” 

“No going past Mater.” She patted the snow machine and Curtis gave a nod before letting her go. 

Sophia pushed herself across like she was ice skating on her boots, back towards the shore. He popped his helmet off and held out his hands to help you off as well. Swinging your leg over the seat, you slipped off, sliding into his arms, which he held you up with a grin. “Watch out, it's slick Honey.” 

“We need ice skates.” You clutched at his jacket till you were steady.

“Next time we can grab some. I have a bunch stored in the shed I kept the snow machine in. The snow is kept just shallow enough here by the wind to easily skate.” Curtis backed up slowly, taking your hands and bringing you with him while Sophia shot around you two, giggling and dancing to some music she was imagining.

“Is your snowmobile named Mater, after the Disney truck?” You asked as he suddenly swung you closer, making you two grip at each other.

“Last winter she was obsessed with Cars. She named the Camaro Lightning McQueen.” 

You laughed with a tilt of your head. “Perfect name. You know, I used to skate all the time with Jade when we both lived in Lake George together. When she moved to Florida, no one was interested.” You shared while you two slipped on the ice, using each other for balance. “What did you want to show me?” 

“Look up Honey.” His head tilted back and you followed suit to see a night sky as brilliant as your first date. Only here the Milky Way took over, stretching overhead in a light-colored streak, dappled with so many stars it was impossible to count them all. “Do you know what mythology says that is?” 

You gave a slight shake of your head, still in awe of the miracle above you. Curtis turned you around so you were tucked under his chin, your back pressed to his chest. “That’s the bifrost or birost depending on what you're reading. A rainbow bridge from earth to Asgard, where the Norse gods live.” 

“Did Wilford tell you that?” You questioned as you admired the sky, appreciating all that much more, you could tell from Curtis’s tone that it was a thing of beauty and wonder for him too. 

“He did, he would bring me out here on nights like this. Usually ice fishing, we had to hike out here. But I always looked forward to it, when you get to see something like this…” His tone drifted off, tucking his face in closer to your neck, you could feel the warmth of him seeping into you. Around you Sophia plopped in the snow, singing Frosty the Snowman although it was the very beginning of March. “Honey, I gotta tell you something. I’ve been waiting all day, for this moment really..” 

You tore your gaze away from the wonder above you, trepidation seeping into your pores. Curtis sounded so serious what you turned in his hold, to face him. Whatever he was going to say, you wanted it to your face, so that there was no mistaking what it was.

“Honey…” His hands came up to your cool face, the touch warming you as calloused fingers slid against the softness of your full cheeks. “I love you, I have for a while and right now, when I get to show you some of my favorite wonders in this world that I have never wanted to share with anyone else, you have to know.”

You let out a huff of surprise at his words, not at all what you were expecting. Your lips parted, unsure of what you were about to say because so much was filling your mind in this moment, standing before Curtis, someone who treated you better then anyone ever has before.

“Before you say it Honey, mean it. I don’t want you feeling like you need to say it because I did… do it when you are ready to, if you ever are.” 

That was it, you literally couldn't fall more in love with him anymore and you shook your gloves off to fall at your snow-covered boots. You placed your warm hands over his on your cheeks, to feel his hold in your own and luck would have it warm up his fingers with yours as you weaved your touch into his, tucking his hands down and closer to your heart, your warmth able to fill him. 

“Curtis of course I love you! You showed me what I wanted in this life, what being with someone should be like. You have so much to give to everyone in your life and every day I count myself lucky to be yours, to be able to love you back.”

His blue eyes were soft in the small bit of light the Milky Way provided. Around you Sophia was still entertaining herself, flinging herself across the ice and smacking into Curtis’s legs, making the two of you tumble on the ice into the snow, laughter ringing out from you. A very shocked Curtis rolled off you enough to make sure you were okay while Sophia pulled herself up off the ground. Curtis gave a quick glance at his niece, who was happily back to skating on the patch of ice before turning back to you. 

“Are you okay?” He leaned over as you lay in the snow under him, looking up once more at the Milky Way streaking across the night sky, so clear without the light pollution from the nearby city. 

“More than okay Curtis.” You pushed yourself up on your elbows, facing him. “I'm the happiest I have ever been and that is because I am with you.” You felt his arm slip under you, pulling you up enough to share the most passionate kiss you have ever experienced. 

The stars shine as your witness.

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis and honey #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett and honey #curtis everett x honey #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett and plus sized reader #curtis everett x plus sized reader #curtis everett and you #curtis everett x you #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans #amber writes #sweater writes

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

comfort and chamomile

my first finished bg3 fic! Astarion x f!Tav, just something a lil fluffy with some comfort! really hope you enjoy it! also on ao3! tagging the amazing @spokir hope you enjoy getting to finally have some Tav fic!

It’s been hours since they’ve made camp for the night but Tav’s been annoyingly absent, disappearing into her tent the moment she finished pitching it, never to re-emerge that day. Astarion can’t help the way he finds himself frowning as he lounges outside of his own tent, taking advantage of the afternoon sunshine to read. His eyes occasionally flicker over to Tav’s tent, as though willing her to emerge and come sit by his side as she usually does during evenings at camp. 

Alas, apparently the tadpole wriggling around the recesses of his mind doesn’t grant him the ability to summon his lover through sheer force of will. Shame, that.

The rest of their party is clustered around the fire blazing in the center of camp as Gale works on preparing dinner, looking more witch than wizard as he stirs a large pot of simmering soup. The savory scent of sauteed venison and wild carrot and potato seasoned with rosemary and thyme wafts throughout camp, appetizing enough it’s a wonder Tav hasn’t slipped out of her tent to gather with the others in anticipation of their meal. Astarion’s frown deepens.

It had been yet another long day, hours of hiking overhill through the wilderness as they edged ever closer to Baldur’s Gate, up at the very crack of dawn just to immediately hit the road, barely taking time for a quick breakfast. Fortunately, they hadn’t run into any trouble along the way, no fiends offering deals or bloodthirsty worgs ambushing them, but it was a draining day nonetheless. Now, with Tav holed up in her tent, Astarion can’t help but be rather annoyed by her uncharacteristic absence, so accustomed to Tav being by his side as they laze around camp. 

Even if they weren’t actively conversing, focused on their own diversions and self-appointed chores, they always seemed to gravitate towards each other, Astarion reading while she sewed ripped tunics and trousers or had her nose buried in her sketchbook. Other times, they talked about whatever came to mind, Astarion regaling her with tidbits of tawdry city gossip or continuing to teach her how to embroider. 

There were often evenings spent sipping wine while reading together or playing with each other’s hair, Tav playing with his meticulously maintained curls while he attempted to tame her riotous mass of curls into a thick braid so she could sleep without her hair becoming a bird’s nest overnight. It was all very domestic. Sickeningly so, truly.

Never did Astarion think he would enjoy something so banal, let alone actually miss it when he was suddenly without it for an evening, but now with Tav nowhere to be found, he finds himself aching with the absence of it. He can’t stand it, the niggling dissatisfaction left by Tav’s truancy, the irrational worry that he had somehow done something wrong, something that would keep her away. Feeling inexplicably neglected and more than a bit petty, wrestling with the maelstrom of confused emotion roiling inside him, Astarion abruptly stands from his nest of cushions, snapping his book shut and carelessly tossing it aside.

It’s a rather short walk to Tav’s tent, the two of them typically setting up their tents across from or directly beside one another. It simply makes sense considering how often he slips into her tent for a little midnight snack, as well as some other nocturnal extracurricular activities.

Walking only a stone’s throw away, Astarion strides over to the entrance of Tav’s tent, poking his head inside, a snarky comment already on the tip of his tongue. But the words wither and die before he can so much as open his mouth as soon as he catches sight of Tav.

He had expected to find her absorbed in something mundane like darning a pair of Wyll’s socks or filling the pages of her thick sketchbook, reorganizing her pack or sharpening one of her many, many knives. Something innocuous that had managed to distract her enough to keep her from following her usual routine.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he finds her lying in the middle of her small tent on her bedroll, dressed down in her modest camp clothes. She’s lying on her side, curled up in a tight ball, practically hugging her knees to her chest. Her arms are loosely crossed on her pillow, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her hands are curled so tightly in the threadbare fabric of her pillowcase that her knuckles are bone white. Very softly, he can hear her let out a small sniff, followed by a faint, but pained, groan.

Immediately, all of Astarion’s annoyance vanishes as he looks at her, clearly uncomfortable and in terrible pain. It must be one of her migraines. This one must be especially bad. It’s perfectly obvious now that he’s belatedly recognizing the obvious signs; the way she’s sequestered herself in her tent, entry flaps closed to block out the intense afternoon sunlight, keeping her distance from the lively conversation around the fire.

Astarion’s chest aches as he looks down at Tav curled up in so much pain, wishing he could do something to help, that he could just take it all away, magically make it all better. He considers lying down beside her and pulling her into his arm, wants to stroke her messy hair and rub circles onto her back, anything he can think of to try to soothe her the way she does when he wakes in the middle of the night because of night terrors full of Cazador’s face and the echoing voices of his previous victims.

But he hesitates, not sure if Tav would welcome the touch or company in her current state, not wanting to exacerbate her pain or amplify her discomfort. Frown returning in full force, Astarion reluctantly retreats, carefully closing the tent flap to shut out the sunlight.

He lingers just outside Tav’s tent for a moment, gears turning in his mind as he tries to formulate a plan of attack. It doesn’t exactly come naturally, caring about another person, anticipating their needs, especially outside of the bedroom.

He’s not exactly a dutiful, generous friend like Karlach or Wyll, isn’t a healer like Shadowheart or Halsin, isn’t even dogged or determined enough to even attempt to be either like Lae’zel. But he does have plenty of experience with pain. He knows Tav does, as well, tight-lipped though she is about the exact details. The mere thought lights a proverbial fire beneath his feet and not a heartbeat later he’s hurrying back over to his own tent to rifle through his things, random bits and bobs he’s collected on their journey, either for their potential resale value or simply because he’d been able to get away with nicking them.

He combs through his bags until he finds the small copper tea kettle he’d swiped from the last village they’d passed through, humming in triumph when he does. Tea kettle and mismatched teacup in hand, he ventures back over to the fire and their gathered companions. He ignores Gale’s squawk of indignation as he helps himself to one of the large burlap sacks the wizard keeps their food supplies in. Rolling his eyes, Astarion snaps, “Oh, relax! I’m just looking for some tea. And some honey. Maybe a lemon. Do we have any ginger?”

“Is soldier okay?” Karlach asks, face pinched with genuine concern for her friend, nearly pouting. On either side of her, Halsin and Wyll mirror her expression, frowning in worry, Tav’s absence as glaringly obvious to the rest of camp as it was to Astarion.

“Just fine, darling. Nasty migraine,” Astarion dismisses, thumbing through the large tin of various tea bags Gale keeps on hand — one of the only benefits of keeping the wizard around in Astarion’s less-than-humble opinion — hoping they have some of the herbal blend Tav prefers when her head aches. “Thought I’d bring her some tea. Set aside some dinner for her.”

So absorbed in his single-minded search, Astarion misses the look Shadowheart and Karlach exchange, pursing their lips and smiling at each other almost conspiratorially. Clearing her throat, Shadowheart offers, “I have some more of those ginger chews if you’d like to bring her some.”

“And I’ve some honey for her tea,” Halsin adds with one of his unfalteringly friendly smiles, already reaching for his nearby bag.

“Oh!” Astarion blinks owlishly as he looks up from where he’s kneeling, Shadowheart and Halsin already passing him their contributions. He glances down at the offerings, not quite sure what to say, a bit stunned by their earnest eagerness to help relieve Tav’s pain, their willingness to help him with no questions asked or insults hurled. He swallowed thickly. “Well. I’m certain she’ll thank you both profusely, sweetheart that she is.”

He’s spared from trying to formulate a straightforward thank you of his own, the authenticity making him squirm, when Gale starts ladling out bowls of hearty stew, dutifully handing them out. Carefully balancing his bowl on his knee, Wyll passes Astarion their enchanted thermos for Tav’s portion of dinner, ensuring it’ll stay hot until she’s feeling well enough to eat, her migraines often accompanied by terrible nausea. With the cooking pot set aside to be washed later, Astarion sets up the kettle over the fire, setting aside the teacup with a bag of tea at the ready.

While the water boils, Astarion busies himself with bustling around the camp while their companions eagerly tuck into their supper. He slips the small bag of ginger chews into his pocket and retrieves his discarded book, occupying himself by fiddling with the cracked spine of the book and the wooden lid of the jar of honey, willing the water to heat quicker. The tadpole doesn’t offer him any help in that regard, either. Once the water’s finally boiled, Astarion rushes over to pour it into the prepared teacup, drizzling a generous dollop of honey into it before tossing the jar back to Halsin, the druid’s heightened reflexes on display as he effortlessly snags it out of the air without missing a beat. With everything prepared, Astarion gathers it all up: thermos tucked under his arm, his book in one hand, steaming cup of tea in the other. Turning on his heel with a grateful nod to their companions, he starts back towards Tav’s tent, pausing for a moment as another thought occurs to him, clicking his dog and calling over his shoulder, “Dog!”

Scratch tips his head to the side where he sits by Halsin, looking up at the druid with baleful eyes while begging for scraps. After a split second of hesitation, Scratch stands and jogs over to follow Astarion, the owlbear cub toddling after him in turn, the two of them a nigh inseparable pair.

Quietly as possible, Astarion pulls aside one of the entry flaps of Tav’s tent, wincing when Tav whines again from her bedroll, the pain clearly not abating on its own. Scratch immediately pads into the tent, making a beeline to Tav’s side. He plops down beside her with a soft sympathetic whine, his cold nose pressed against her elbow. The owlbear cub waddles after him with a low trilling churr, curling up on Tav’s other side, pressing its back to hers as it curls into a tight fluffy ball.

Astarion slips into the tent as well, closing the flap behind him. He remains by the entrance of the tent, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he just watches Tav. She sluggishly relaxes a bit, stretching out her legs with a sigh and shifting closer to Scratch. She uncrosses her arms with another sigh, throwing an arm around Scratch’s shoulders, fingers lazily brushing through the thick fur at his nape. Scratch responds in kind, sniffing at her face before dragging his tongue over her cheek in an affectionate doggy kiss. Astarion wrinkles his nose but Tav breathes a soft laugh, her voice a bit rough as she asks, “Hey, Scratch, what’re you doing in here?”

Smile returning, Astarion clears his throat as he steps father into the tent, stepping around the owlbear cub. There’s a spare cushion by the cub’s head, a tufted circular pillow in a creamy shade of white, one of the many Astarion’s collected during their journey. Astarion helps himself to it, carefully setting the tea and thermos down, reaching into his pocket to fish out the bag of ginger chews before lowering himself onto the cushion to sit.

Tav hums as she awkwardly rolls over, having to gracelessly wriggle around now that she’s sandwiched between her four-legged darlings. Once she’s gotten comfortable in her new position, burying a hand in the cub’s downy neck feathers, she opens her eyes with a wince and raises her head to squint up at Astarion.

She looks exhausted when Astarion finally sees her face, her smile weak and shaky, exhaustion evident in her eyes and the furrow of her forehead, fly-away curls falling in her face. But her voice is sweet as ever, if not a bit reedy, as she breathes, “Astarion… Hi…”

“Hello, darling,” Astarion greets with his usual near purr of a drawl, keeping his voice low in deference to her pounding head. He can’t resist reaching out to brush a wayward curl off the curve of her cheek, his fingers lingering on her skin to bask in the simple delight of just touching her. His chest aches at the way she leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she hums. He smiles at her fondly, adoringly, sure his infatuation is writ across his face.

“Brought you a little something,” he tells her, voice low. “Aside from your adoring furry fans.”

He moves the cup of tea closer until it’s within arm’s reach but not close enough to the owlbear cub to arouse its insatiable curiosity. Tav makes a soft sound of acknowledgment, eyes flitting closed for a long moment as she inhales the herbal bouquet of the tea. “Mmm, chamomile?”

“With wildflower honey,” Astarion confirms, preening to himself at how well he’s remembered her preferences when her smile deepens. He motions at the thermos and bag of candied ginger. “And there’s some stew for whenever you’re ready for supper. And Shadowheart gave me some of those ginger chews you like so much.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tav says softly, lowering her head back down to press her cheek against the thick plumage of the cub’s shoulder, smiling up at Astarion so sweetly it makes his chest ache, an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach.

His tongue feels thick and awkward in his mouth, all of his practiced lines evaporating into thin air in the face of her guileless sincerity. He has to lick his suddenly dry lips before he can manage what he hopes is an effortlessly charming, “Of course, darling! Anything for my favorite little treat.”

Tav lets out a low sigh, her soft smile persisting. As much as he hungers for her presence, the simple pleasure of her quiet company, enough to send him into such a tizzy earlier, he doesn’t want to disturb her. She’s earned her rest a hundred times over, deserves some time to herself to recuperate and relax. Stroking his knuckles over her cheek, he offers, “I’ll leave you be now, love. I trust you’ll be safe and comfortable with your loyal bodyguards in attendance but if you need anything, just call for me, I won’t be far.”

He begins to rise from his seat but Tav lets out a displeased noise, clumsily reaching out towards him, her fingertips only just grazing the cool skin of his wrist. He immediately freezes, eyes meeting hers, worried something’s terribly wrong. Her voice is a bit hesitant as she entreats, “Wait. Don’t go.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my love?” He asks, watching the way her brows furrow, always so very reluctant to ask for anything for herself she deemed selfish or too indulgent, no matter how important it was to her. Never had Astarion ever imagined himself playing nursemaid, especially not willingly, but for Tav… Hells, for Tav, brewing her tea and spoon-feeding her soup was the least of what he would do. For Tav, he would wait on hand and foot, attend to all her needs and all of her seldom expressed needs. And all with only minor complaining.

“Just… Could you just stay?” She asks quietly, absently stroking her hand down the owlbear cub’s back where downy feathers give way to thick brown fur. Her cheeks pinken rather adorably as she adds, “ Maybe you could read to me? Or just talk? I… You know I like your voice. I, uh, I might end up falling asleep but… I’d like you to stay. If you want.”

If Astarion’s heart wasn’t the cold dead thing it was, he was sure it would be bursting at her words. Such a simple request, spoken with all the gravity of a solemn confession, a plea for absolution. It’s humbling. Something he’s determined to never take for granted.

“Well, when you put it like that! It’d be rather cruel of me to leave now, wouldn’t it?” He drawls, flashing his fangs as he sends her a haughty, flirtatious smile. He’s already cracking open his book as he shifts on his cushion, getting more comfortable. He notices the way her smile falters for a moment, quick to reassure her, “And yes, before you ask, I want to stay, I’m not just playing pity the sick girl.”

His chest fills with warmth even sweeter than sunshine as she smiles up at him as though he had just lassoed the moon and all the stars down from the sky just to present them to her. He’s rather tempted to do just that if it made her keep smiling at him like that.

Feeling as though he’s been set alight by her affection, he reaches down to gently card his fingers through her long curls as he begins to read, trying his damnedest not to feel like a complete lovesick fool as he reads nothing but love poem after love poem until the sun has long since set and Tav’s migraine is no more than a rather unpleasant memory.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 fic #bg3 fic #tavstarion #fic #my fic #amber writes

[wqterlillypdfs]

👀 jeremiah x reader fluff please ? like a beach picnic sorta thing ?

lyla, omg this request!!! i'm always up to writing for my favourite book boyfriend <333

summer love, beneath the sun

pairing: jeremiah fisher x fem!reader (can be read as gn) summary: upon your long awaited return to Cousins, your long-distance boyfriend Jeremiah Fisher has a special surprise planned for you... word count: 1.5k warnings: pure fluff! none other than that i think a/n: i had such a strong vision for this fic but idk if i did it proper justice! i kinda hate the ending though uhfvdjskm...

Jeremiah Fisher is nothing short of a romantic. He takes special care in absolutely spoiling you with his tooth-rotting sweetness, and today is no different. It had been a long and busy first week back in Cousins meaning you barely had any time at all to catch up with your boyfriend. Jeremiah had promised you a special evening today, just the two of you, and when you had asked him what he was planning, he simply winked at you and told you to wait and see.

So now you’re sitting on the curbside in front of your house, both your hands firmly planted on the harsh pavement below you. The sun was already starting to set and the late summer day’s humidity was making the air stick to your skin. 

You heard the familiar hum of Jeremiah’s big red jeep before you saw it, you smiled to yourself as you watched the jeep roll up next to the curb just a few feet from where you were sitting. Quickly, you pushed yourself to your feet as Jere got out of his car. His arms immediately enveloped you in a tight hug, and you left no time to hesitate before you hugged him back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he swayed you side to side. 

His hands slip away from your torso to grab you softly by the shoulders. “I have missed you so much,” He states, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling you away from him to look you in the eyes properly. 

He hums, as his features take on a more quizzical look, soft fingers come up to cup your face as he tilts it from side to side, “did you get prettier? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Stop teasing!” you protest, but your words come out through a fit of laughter, reaching a hand up to tousle his dirty blonde curls, “and actually, I missed you more.”

He nods his head to the side like he’s thinking before saying, “unlikely, and also impossible.”

With a defeated sigh, you give into his antics and let him win this one time. “Okay, fine. But can you please, please, tell me where we’re going? This suspense is killing me!”

Jeremiah laughs heartily, before taking your hand and twirling you around, “it’s a surprise,” he reminds you, “and I hope you’ll love it.” He takes that same hand - and in a show of his usual over-the-top-gentleman-ly behaviour - ushers you to the door which he opened smoothly with his other hand.

You stepped up into his Jeep, relishing in the familiar scent. The leather seats and the smell of the ocean. Jere shut your door before walking around and sliding into the driver's seat. You grabbed the aux cord as he shifted into drive, scrolling through your music library until you found your shared playlist.

The car ride had you feeling like you were on cloud nine, absolutely enamoured in the presence of Jeremiah after being away from him for so, so long. The two of you scream-shouting to your favourite songs and laughing at how horribly out of tune you both sounded. There was no higher form of bliss than what you were feeling now. By the time Jeremiah had stopped the car, you were parked just next to the beach, across the road from you was a small street of local food shops, including your most favourite ice creamery. A sudden thought entered your head and it made you swoon, was this Jeremiah’s special surprise? Was he planning on taking you to a sweet ice cream date?

You reach across the centre console to quickly grab Jeremiah’s forearm before he unlocks the car to get out. “Wait, is your special surprise an ice cream date?”

Suddenly, Jeremiah feels like he’s fucked up. Looking down at your big doe-eyes while he contemplates what he’s about to say next. No, the surprise was not in fact a date to the ice creamery. He had something else in mind and now he wasn’t even sure if you’d like it. And he was more than one-hundred-percent against letting you down, “well, no…” he starts, watching your expression carefully to note any sign of change or disappointment, “but we can do both if you want?”

Jeremiah looks like he’s walking on eggshells to try not to disappoint you, and while you feel guilty you also find it a bit endearing that he’d willingly change the plans he’d made for you to do something that would make you happy. “No! It’s okay,” you quickly counter, “I’m sure whatever you have planned will be just as great.”

He nods, and at first it seems unsure, but then he smirks and says, “oh trust me, it will be.”

You roll your eyes playfully as you shove his shoulder. He sends a wink your way before getting out of the Jeep and helping you out of your side, but before you can get very far on the hard deck that meets the sandy edge of the beach, Jeremiah pulls something out of his pocket. An old red bandana hangs from between his fingertips as a sly smirk forms on his lips. “First, you need to put this on.”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you scoff to yourself, “you’ve put a lot of effort into this.”

“Yes, well you're worth it all, my love,” he says in an awfully cheesy tone, paired with batting his big ocean blue eyes.

“Eugh.”

“Eugh,” he agrees, before gently wrapping the bandana around your face, covering your eyes. “Can you see?” he asks for confirmation to which you shake your head.

“I’m a blind man, Jeremiah,” you tell him. He chuckles in response before placing a hand on each of your shoulders and slowly guiding you away from the pavement of the road, and onto the hardwood deck.

You weren’t joking though, with the blindfold on you really did feel blind, your walk was stiff and unsure, and your hands occasionally shot up to brace for impact whenever your shoes caught in a particularly large gap in the deck. But nonetheless, Jere’s grip on you never loosened, and he was so careful to make sure you were safe.

"Just a little bit further," he whispered into your ear, and all but a few minutes later, he made you turn and led you down a set of stairs until your sneakers hit the sandy floor of the beach. A few more steps later, Jeremiah pulled the blindfold off your head. You squinted as your eyes struggled to adjust to the light, blinking a few times before you registered the sun just starting to set over the horizon, splitting the sky into beautiful shades of blue, purple, and pink, the reflection shimmering across the water.

It took you a few seconds (which were painstakingly long for Jeremiah) to notice the real surprise he had set up for you. On the sandy shore of the beach laid a blue plaid picnic blanket which you recognised as Sussanah’s, accompanied by a picnic basket, as well as a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

The staggering rocks that were a few metres away to your left and the tall green reeds that blended into a thicket of trees on your right made the section of the beach that Jeremiah had taken you to feel somewhat secluded; a private section of the beach just for you two.

Honestly, you couldn't believe your eyes, “all this for me?” you gasped, turning to face Jeremiah who had the audacity to look shy.

He was quick to put on his confident front, pulling you in by the waist and craning his head down until your noses were almost touching.  “Who else would it be for?” he teased, brushing a few stray hands of your hair out of your face.

You felt the blush creep onto your cheeks and you instinctively diverted your gaze back down to the sand. You had no idea how to respond.

A breathy laugh escapes his lips and he pulls away, grabbing your hand and leading you to the picnic blanket. He sits down on the soft fabric before beckoning you to do so as well. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you lift the flap of the picnic basket to take a peek inside, and you're pleasantly surprised to see that it’s filled with some of your most favourite snacks and foods.

“So.. what do you think?” He asks, as he leans on his side to face you.

“This is so much better than ice cream.”

He laughed again, before pushing himself off the blanket and reaching over the basket to place a hand on your cheek. He caught your lips in a sweet kiss that smeared your glittery cherry lip gloss over your chin. When both of you finally pulled away, Jeremiah tugged your waist down so you were lying next to him, your head resting on his chest. 

This summer had only just begun, and yet you felt as if you could stay like this forever.

tagging: @thatfangirl42

if u wanna be added to my general taglist, or a specific fandom taglist just let me know!

#jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah x reader #tsitp fic #tsitp x reader #jeremiah fisher blurb #jeremiah fisher fic #jeremiah fisher drabble #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher fluff #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah fisher x you #my writing #amber writes #jeremiah fisher #conrad fisher #belly conklin #steven conklin #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty blurb #the summer i turned pretty drabble #tsitp drabble #tsitp blurb #tsitp x you #tsitp x y/n

[j-nightingalesb1tch]

Dorian flinched as a small... something was dropped on the table beside him. He had been so lost in the book he was reading that he hadn't noticed Cole spawn in like he often did. He placed his book to the side and reached out, grasping the small item in his hand.

"Now whatever could this be for?"

"You're sad." Cole offered, in way of explanation.

Dorian snorted. "Stellar observation."

"Their bodies move, sweaty and safe. He pushes in, the space tight, unused. He calls out a name that nobody hears, both too lost in euphoria."

Dorian leveled him with a stare.

"I haven't had any action in a long while, which means you are currently reading someone else's thoughts. Would they be pleased that you're sharing with the class?"

Cole ignored him, taking a step closer. "You dreamed of them that night. Fingers dancing down honey skin, a fist gripping the part of you that yearned. They didn't want you and that made you want them more."

Dorian's face began to heat up. "Ah. You're talking about the Inquisitor, aren't you?"

"Not just. You gave your whole heart to him, but he wasn't the only one who owned it. Strong, tense muscles. Pale skin. A warmth you hadn't felt since your mother held you close. 'Take me'. He thought you'd break."

Dorian sighed, pushing the item back into the spirit's grip.

"Cole, I appreciate whatever this was but that isn't a hurt you can fix. Please drop it."

Cole frowned. "Is it the wrong color?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The woman with your eyes. A beautiful sunny day. It was all about you. Everyone smiled as she handed it over. It was well made and beautiful, just like you. You wanted to keep it forever. It was blue, wasn't it?"

Dorian took another look at the item, breath hitching in his throat as his eyes roamed the stellar craftsmanship of the toy in his hand.

"This is... where did you find this?"

"In your memories. You hold them all so tightly. I often catch a happy one while trying to untangle the bad."

"I see. And what does this have to do with the Inquisitor and Iron Bull?"

"You lost your haven. A safety net that held you together like glue. They chose each other and pushed you away. Shadows of a past where things felt the same. He did it too. 'Please don't send me away, mummy. I'll be better.' The toy left behind as they shipped you away. I wanted to give it you back."

A deep breath. Dorian blinked away the tears.

"Thank you, Cole. Really."

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dorian pavus #cole dragon age #the iron bull #dragon age inquisitor #dorian x inquisitor #adoribull #amber writes

[theamberwriter]

I'm not SUPER great at settings n backgrounds n shit - but here! Another for the Perfect Blend, lmao Also, I'm working on a lil project behind the scenes!

#writeblr #writing #fan fiction #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x reader #captain levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi fluff #levi x you #amber writes #amberwriter #my art #digital fanart #digital drawing #snk levi #levi fanfiction #levi fanart #omegaverse headcanons #omegaverse au #omegaverse #alpha levi ackerman #alpha levi #levi x y/n #writers #writers on tumblr #digital art #fan art

[thehoax]

out of context lines

The Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post and share one or two sentences (or lines for artists) from your most recent unposted WIP with zero context.

I was tagged by @bybdolan (thank you so much🎀! <3)

"It is my fifteenth birthday and I am playing God in my room, listening to the terrible silence of the world outside, passing through me like a dog whistle. I’m hungry as if I've been forsaken in the sea all my life."

tagging anyone who wants to do this

#games #this is so corny. gulity #amber writes

[herrscher-of-yuri]

Shoutout to my boyfriend for posting about sexy vampires and reminding me to work on my fic.

That said, go read my fic.

#hi3 #kiamei #vampire #yuri #amber writes

[sc0tters]

looking at this Sidney Crosby smut and I’m gonna warn you guys that she’s gonna be a long one!

#amber writes

[blossomdriver]

Title: A toast to lonely souls Author: Blossomdriver Characters/Pairings: Genki, Kei Warnings: None Fandom: Getter Robo Summary:  Kei doesn’t see herself in that photo. Authors Note: I have a HC about Kei having DID

[AO3]

Kei doesn’t see herself in that photo. The one her dad - Benkei - no, her dad (she refuses to see Dr. Saotome as her actual father) kept. The one she has now, resting like a heavyweight in her breast pocket.

It’s not because she’s not that little boy. She isn’t a boy and hasn’t been one in a long time. When she looks at it, she does not see that as her.

“It’s someone else,” Kei’s brain tells her - a disconnect.

It’s been a long time since she learned the truth about what happened. They had locked away memories in her brain to keep her safe. Now she had the closure she needed.

Yet, someone hadn’t got that treatment. Someone who needs it as much as she did.

There is a little boy here with her in the white void. He doesn’t smile like the boy in the photo. His eyes are cloudy and distant. Keeping his attention on the drawing as Kei approaches with caution. Worried that any wrong move would startle him into running off.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Kei asked, pointing to the spot next to Genki. It makes him stop drawing for a moment. Watch the involuntary twitch of his fingers.

Kei doesn't want to rush the boy on the decision.

It’s a few seconds (minutes? Time moves weirdly here) as Genki gives a short, firm nod as a reply.

A minor victory, getting farther than expected. She looks at the paper as she moves to sit by Genki. He resumed scribbling away.

It might be the way her brain works in a place like this. Since she is finding it difficult to conceptualize the picture. Even now, sitting cross-legged next to it, Kei can’t quite figure out what it is.

Takes a deep breath to steel her nerves and begins.

“I know it’s hard for you,” she starts, voice already betraying her emotions out the gate. The way they waver unsettling from her mouth. “What you went through,”

She had rehearsed this speech. But to have this conversation. It was proving to be a much tougher battle on par with fighting Invaders.

“A child didn’t deserve to see what we did.” Even if she’d laid those memories to rest for good, accepted them, and moved on. The subject still felt like poking a raw nerve. What they had seen. The feeling of absolute helplessness, freezing her in place. How things went black afterward.

Was that when she formed? Or was she first and Genki second? Both or neither and all at the same time? What matters now is that she is here and now, and so is he.

Kei’s lip trembles, but she shakes it off. She doesn’t want to break down in front of Genki. He deserves better than that.

“But know that. You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”

She knows Genki won’t be that same smiling child again. Eyes once full of innocence and wonderment, all lost to the horror they experienced.

Kei feels the hot tears roll down her cheeks, and the breath in her throat hitches. She had hoped to get through this conversation without crying, but the emotion was too strong.

Too real.

Then something tugs at her clothes and she pauses. Kei wipes her face with her palm and glances down.

Small fingers clutch onto the fabric of her jumpsuit, clinging tight. A small body shivers and Genki is staring up at Kei. 

This is the first time she’d seen his face. There is still that hazy glossing over his eyes, but behind that, a set determination.

It cuts into a smile on Kei’s face. “It will be okay.” She means it.

Genki gives a smile in return, not as bright and full as the one in the photo. But it’s a smile. One that says he believes her.

#getter robo #getter robo armageddon #Genki Saotome #Kei #amber writes

[munsons-curls]

Flight | Eddie Munson

description: the four times eddie runs and the one time he doesn’t.

warnings: explicit DV, violence, gore, drug mentions and implied dealing/use, bullying, parental death, parental abuse, brief mentions of p*rn. sad as fuck, really, no happy ending, just sadness, Eddie deserved better.

a/n: this has not been beta’d, and it’s also my first time writing for eddie, so be kind and lemme know what you think!! this has also been retconned so if things are canon-divergent, you know why! enjoy <333

The first time he runs away, he’s four years old. 

Wide eyed and blissfully unaware of his father’s furious gaze when he drunkenly stumbles home on a fateful Thursday night, slurring his words and looking for a fight.

He finds one.

His mother is worse for wear most days, working three jobs just to keep the lights on in their dilapidated little trailer. Four year old eddie sees how thin and frail she’s becoming, how the light has disappeared from her eyes and strangely enough, how she never eats dinner with him anymore. 

In fact, he can’t remember the last time he saw her eat at all. 

That’s the thought he ruminates on before the trailer door swings open, and his menacing father strolls in, smelling like a brewery and with rage in his eyes. Eddie remembers feeling shaken; can’t recall ever having seen his father look at him so hatefully. 

Disinterested, yes. Annoyed - most of the time. 

But this is new. 

His father takes two bounding steps towards Eddie before his mother blocks him, standing in front of Eddie with her arms crossed. Eddie can see her legs shaking from his spot on the floor. 

She tips her chin defiantly, 

Not my boy. Not here. Not ever. 

His father sucks in a deep breath through flared nostrils, raises his arm and backhands his mother with enough force that the sound splinters through the tiny trailer, and ends with her on the floor with a split lip. 

Eddie’s little heart races, palms sweating and legs shaking as he stands to valiantly defend his mother - who holds up her hand and through blood stained teeth - tells him, No. 

He freezes.

“No, Eddie. Run.” She presses. 

So he does. 

He dodges his father’s grabbing hands, too quick for his drunken reflexes and runs out of the door, sparing his mother a look that says ’I’m sorry’ before his father’s frame blocks the view, closing in on his mother again. 

He runs until his lungs burn, until his body hurts so much that he can temporarily forget the image of his mother lying bloody and beaten on the carpeted floor of their trailer. 

After a few hours of solitude by the lake, he returns home with a heavy heart. Tiptoes to reach the sink so he can wet a rag and places the cool material over his mother’s swelling eye.

That night, he sleeps curled into her chest, his breathing matching hers eventually, his conscience screaming at him. 

Why did you run? 

———

His reflexes get sharper after that night. He gets used to dodging his father swinging arms and legs, and he gets used to running. 

The second time he runs is after he buries his mother. 

Vision blurry with tears and a heart that feels like it’s been shattered with a hammer, he cries silently behind a tree in the cemetery while the small crowd of people from the trailer park filter out and back home. 

His suit feels too big and suffocating, his world shifted completely and an ache that he feels will never go away engulfs him completely. Wayne had tried to comfort him, smoothed out his unruly curly hair and let him cry into his body despite not having seen eddie since he was in diapers. 

His own father on the other hand, had struggled to stand straight and string a sentence together. 

He’ll never be the same again. 

He’s suddenly yanked back by the collar of his suit jacket, the movement temporarily cutting off his air and choking him. 

“Pull yourself together, you little shit.” His father sneers, shaking him with every word. “Be. A. Man.” 

Five year old Eddie blubbers, his bottom lip trembling, tears falling like a stream as reality sinks in.

He’s alone in this world. Unprotected. Unloved in the arms of an unfeeling man, when all he wants is his mother’s warm embrace again. 

He tries to get away, but his fathers loveless hands yanks him back, tighten around his shoulders. “What? You gonna run away? Good at that, aren’t you?” 

“You get your hands off that boy ‘fore I break ‘em, Jimmy.” A voice booms. 

Eddie’s head snaps to see his uncle Wayne scowling at his father, his hands balled into fists. He takes the opportunity to push his father away with all the might his tiny body can muster and he takes off running. 

He doesn’t know where he’s going, what he’s going to do when he gets there, but he lets his legs carry him all the way to the lake again, where he sits and mourns the loss of his beloved mother. 

He returns home again that night, but his mother doesn’t. 

Neither does his father. 

The next time he sees him is behind a glass screen. 

———

He miraculously makes it to middle school. 

Early morning study sessions with uncle Wayne after his night shifts at the plant seem to pay off. He still doesn’t grasp conjugated verbs and the difference between an adjective and a noun, but his maths genius takes everybody by surprise. 

He doesn’t have many friends, a small group of three, plus Eddie makes an innocent, hyperactive foursome with a developing fixation on heavy metal and Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie would never vocalise it, but he’s glad to see the back of his father - his life has gotten so much better since he was put behind bars. 

Living with Wayne takes adjusting and Eddie still misses his mother with every breath he takes, but Wayne fosters a sense of individuality for Eddie - even if Eddie can’t quite understand what that means. It’s why Wayne actively watches Eddie draw tattoo ideas for when he’s older, and listens to him rave about Black Sabbath - narrows his eyes in concern at how he may be a little young - but scrounges enough money together to get Eddie a pre-used guitar. 

Eddie’s fast, a quick learner when he wants to be. 

Wayne worries though. Worries about Eddie fitting in, about his naivety, about his too-good heart. It’s why he’s almost brought to tears for the first time in years when Eddie comes home with scratch marks and bruises, dejectedly whispering, “I really thought she liked me, Wayne.” 

It starts with a girl who sits next to him in Mr Clarke’s Physics class, throws him an offhand smile with the cutest dimples Eddie thinks he’s ever seen and he blushes horribly. 

A few weeks later, he gets a note passed to him. 

[Meet me by the bleachers after fifth period.]

Eddie, in his naive vindication spends the rest of the day with a pep in his step and sure enough marches down to the bleachers to meet this girl with childlike butterflies in his stomach. Instead of being greeted by brown pigtails and two dimples, he’s met with a mob of boys, sneering and yelling - all of them much bigger and taller than he is. 

He hasn’t had a growth spurt yet, he’s gangly and short, curly hair almost to his neck now. 

“Hey! Check out the freak.” The ringleader says and they all laugh. 

They laugh at his scuffed sneakers, hole ridden t-shirt, too-big jeans and ripped backpack. 

Eddie feels his vision blur and panic overtake him, but more distinctly - he feels his heart break for the second time. He’s quick, but not quick enough, soon brought to his knees by the group of bigger boys pulling his hair, hurling insults at him, nails scratching the skin of his neck and arms, blows landing to his stomach. 

He uses his size to his advantage and manages to scurry away, doing what he does best - and he runs deep into the woods bordering the school. 

Wayne buzzes his hair that night. 

One day, Eddie thinks. One day, I’ll prove Jimmy wrong. One day, I’ll stand my ground. 

———

Wayne knows but he says nothing. 

Eddie knows that Wayne knows. He also says nothing. 

Neither of them ever make a move to address Eddie’s extracurricular money making activities, simply choosing to repress and move forward in a complicit understanding. 

Wayne knows he’s a good kid. He credits Eddie for having come out of the other end of his middle school experience as his own man, despite the bullying getting so bad, he had to repeat 8th grade. He found his people and surprisingly enough, forged a way by taking in other strays. Wayne’s heard Eddie talk about a group of freshmen, ‘lost little sheep’ he calls them, and Wayne smiles fondly; can’t help but think he’s becoming to them, what he wished someone could’ve been for him. 

In hindsight, Wayne wishes he’d said something about the dealing. If he had, Eddie may still be here today. 

He saunters into Mrs Gardener’s biology lab ten minutes late on a Tuesday, gives her a lazy salute and takes his seat at the back of the classroom. He feels a pair of eyes on him, whips his head around to see Chrissy Cunningham on the next table watching him shyly. 

He swallows, fighting the slight shiver that travels down his body at being acknowledged by his middle school crush. After being jumped all those years ago, he swore he’d never so much as look at another girl, but a cheer routine with green pom poms derailed that. 

She smiles, scribbling something down on a piece of paper and throwing it over as discreetly as she can. Against his better judgement, he agrees to her proposition, offering to meet her in the woods. 

She’s tense, skittish. Jumpy. He reigns in his own feelings of inadequacy, immediately jumping to the conclusion that her demeanour is because she wouldn’t want to be caught dead with him. 

She’s nothing of the sort. 

She’s sweet, albeit a little shy. 

And she remembers him. 

After begrudgingly reassuring her that she’s safe, they fall into a comfortable rhythm of flowing conversation and lingering smiles - he has to remind himself that he’s here to conduct business. 

Fifteen for a half-ounce? You’re such a fucking idiot, he thinks to himself, but he offers it nonetheless, wanting her to say yes. 

“Do you… do you maybe….have anything stronger?” She asks with a small voice. 

His brows pull into a frown, trying to gauge her position, and for somebody who prides himself on reading people, he’s struggling. He can tell something’s bothering her, but when her eyes start to well and her lip trembles, and she says - no - pleads with him that she just needs a break; he’s hard pressed to say deny her. 

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot after the game.” He tells her, packing away his box. 

Her brows quirk. “You’re going to the game?”

“No. It’s uh…” he pauses, preparing himself for what always comes next. A judgy look or a pitiful acknowledgment. “It’s campaign night. For DND.” 

“Oh! Oh, awesome!” She says, and he oddly thinks she means it. “Okay, well, I can meet you out front once everybody’s cleared out?” 

He nods, pulling his jackets on, giving her the grace to leave first. 

If he’d known it was the beginning of the end for him, he’d have gone straight home. 

“So… this is my castle.” He jokes, kicking his leg through the dry mud on the floor as Chrissy walks next to him. 

She spares him a laugh, but he’s vibrating with self consciousness, opening the door to his trailer for her, because, while Wayne may pretend not to know of his illicit activities, he raised a gentleman. She ducks inside with a polite smile, taking in the surroundings; the stained carpet, rows of hats and random mugs that line the wall, dirty laundry and the dank smell of damp and weed in the air, mixing with a lemon car freshener. 

Shit.

If she notices it, she’s gracious enough not to say anything. 

“You don’t have it?” She asks, pulling on her cardigan sleeves as he rummages through the drawers. 

“No…. I have it.” He reassures her. “Somewhere.” 

Disappearing to his room, he makes a mental note to clean up, subtly kicking the porn mag on the floor under his unmade bed, and rummages through another set of broken drawers before he finds it. 

He doesn’t register Chrissy’s vacant expression until he gets closer, the smile on his face dropping. Her eyes move rapidly from side to side, pupils drained of colour. He cautiously approaches her at first, claps his hands in front of her in an attempt to scare her awake but she doesn’t move. 

Stays like that, stock still while her eyes roll back in her head. 

He doesn’t know what he’s saying, only that he’s panicking now, and screaming at her to wake up, shaking her by the shoulders and lightly slapping her face. 

Nothing. 

His heart races, fear overtaking him as the lights start to flicker, and when she starts to levitate, he jumps backwards, hands shaking, baggie of ketamine long gone. She rises slowly, still in her trance before her body slams against the trailer roof, and her bones begin to crack. 

He lets out a guttural, terrified scream, falling to the floor and crawling back for purchase, eyes wide, unable to look away from the horror. Her arms and fingers snap, crack, then her legs; her knees and ankles contorting. Her jaw drops, dislocates completely, her eyes white, before blood seeps from the sockets.

Her eyes. There one second and gone the next. Like something inside her brain pulled them from the inside out. He screams again, struggles to his feet and for the last time, runs away. 

He books it out of the door, leaving Chrissy’s lifeless, mutilated body there, gets in his van and floors it to the first place he can think of. 

A voice in his mind - Jimmy’s voice - taunts him though, taunts him for running away, for leaving Chrissy, for not helping her. For being a coward. 

But it’s what he does best. 

So he keeps running. 

———

He’s fighting to keep his body above water, literally and figuratively. 

In the space of a week, his entire world has shifted, things that he only knew possible in movies and fantasy games have become very, very real, and somehow the fate of Hawkins rests partly in his hands. 

He’s been battered, beaten, drowned and hunted, and he’s exhausted, reaching the end of tether but now isn’t the time. Seeing his newfound friends go to lengths for one another he’d be too afraid to, he’s galvanised and now he has an opportunity to make things right. 

To avenge Chrissy and to save the town that hates him. 

Dustin counts down the seconds until the demobats approach while he shreds on his guitar, putting every ounce of energy and dedication into the solo that he can, a reminder that he’s doing this for his friends, for a chance to finally be a hero - to matter for once. 

They manage to make it back inside his trailer while the bats fly into the door, creating a cacophony of shrieking noises and banging. Eddie and Dustin clutch each other with excitement and vindication, jumping up and down in the midst of the chaos. 

It all goes to shit after that. 

He’s got two feet on the makeshift rope made out of bed sheets, crawling his way up to reach the gate and Dustin on the other side. 

He’s almost home safe. He’s almost there. 

But then the door starts to creak and shake from the pressure of the bats, and he has a sobering, heartbreaking realisation in the midst of all the panic. 

He’s a dead man. 

Any way he slices it, he’s a dead man. 

If he stays here and fights, he’s a dead man.

If he climbs up to the gate and makes it home safe, the demobats break through the door and enter the real world. 

He’s still a dead man and he’s putting Dustin at risk. 

And after the lengths Dustin has gone to to protect him and defend him, he’d rather die than let anything happen to him. 

This way, he gets to buy his friends time. 

Dustin screams for him to climb, pleads with him to hurry but Eddie lets go of the rope, reaches for his spear and cuts the line with a shout. 

“I’m sorry, man.”

He doesn’t know how he makes it outside, just knows that he does, gets on his bike and pedals like absolute hell, the bats in stride behind him. They screech and flap as he pedals, his heart pounding with adrenaline. He resorts to running soon after his bike is thrown to the wayside, when Jimmy’s taunting voice echoes in his mind again. 

‘You gonna run again? You were always good at that.’

It’s so visceral, it makes him stop dead in his tracks to double check if he’s actually there. For a split second, dread overtakes him at the prospect that he may be there, but it’s worse that he’s not. Because in that moment, Eddie realises Jimmy was right. He’s gotten good at running. 

He’s still running. 

And if he keeps running today, he’ll never stop. 

The concert may have been for Chrissy, but this - his ultimate sacrifice - is to prove that voice in his head wrong. 

He’s done running. 

He reaches for his nailed-in shield and manages to fend off a decent number of bats in the initial onslaught, piercing them with little effort as they fall to his feet. He manages to keep going, spear here, shield there, guttural screams erupting from inside of him but the sheer number of bats mean he can’t hold them off. 

They swarm him, and in the commotion, something wraps around his neck. He tries to scramble to free himself, but he’s dragged to the ground with a harsh thud, tendrils wrapping around his arms and legs. 

He has about five seconds of fight left in him before it begins. 

He’s about to die. 

He feels sharp fangs and nails ripping and puncturing his skin; tearing him apart, drawing blood and sending searing hot pain through his body. He screams - screams until his throat is raw and the animals are done feeding on him, left all alone, mauled to certain death. 

When a limping Dustin finds him, Eddie’s barely breathing. 

That’s my fault, he thinks. The kid probably injured himself trying to get here after I cut the line. 

“Oh God. Eddie.” Dustin cries, trying to maneuver him into his lap. 

“Bad, huh?” Eddie chokes, blood seeping from his mouth. 

“No, no, no, no. You’re going to be fine, okay. We’re going to get you to a hospital.” 

He feels warm tears on his face, realises they’re not his, but Dustin’s as he tries to choke back sobs. Something punctures his heart at the idea that Dustin’s hurt, that he’s going to carry this image with him. 

He knows he did, and he sees himself in Dustin. A young boy, a little lost, a little vulnerable. 

Will he be okay?

He smiles through a bloodied mouth, and it occurs to him how he probably looks like his mother right now. He always had her eyes. 

“I didn’t run away this time, man.” He laughs laboriously. He’s reassuring himself as much as he is Dustin. The words come out jagged though as he tries to keep his breathing steady, slowly choking to death on his own blood. 

“No.” Dustin shakes his head, wiping Eddie’s tears. “No. You didn’t run.” He reassures Eddie proudly through a mess of tears. 

Eddie nods, trying desperately to hold on just a little while longer, to reassure Dustin, maybe until somebody can come back and take him with them. He knows he’s not making it out of this dark, spore-filled hell, but he needs to know Dustin will be okay. 

“You’re going to have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?” Eddie winces. 

Dustin’s face immediately contorts, and he breaks into sobs. “No, you’re gonna do that yourself.” He cries, determination coating his tone but they’re both lying to themselves, Eddie knows. 

“Nah, man.” Eddie chuckles, breathing getting shallow. His own tears are falling now, warm and wet, his body burning from the excruciating pain. “Say it. Say, ‘I’m gonna look after them.” Dustin weeps, tenderly brushing Eddie’s matted hair from his face. “Say it.” 

“I’m gonna look after…” he breaks down, sobs racking his entire body. Eddie can feel it, he’s shaking. 

“Good.” Eddie nods, trying desperately to find a foothold for just a little while longer. But he can feel his breathing shallowing, he’s dizzy and his own voice seems far away. “Cause I’m actually gonna graduate.” He chuckles weakly. 

Dustin nods eagerly, ignoring the pool of blood under them. 

“I think it’s my year, Henderson.” Eddie chokes, coughing through blood. “I think it’s… it’s finally… my year.”

Eddie knows. He’s dying. He’ll never graduate. Never get to see Wayne sit in the crowd beaming with pride. Never get to have a life outside of the shitty little town that tossed him aside like trash. 

He knows he’s close to the end. He can’t hold on much longer and in the interests of at least trying to mitigate Dustin’s trauma; he leaves him with a tender, heartfelt message. 

“I love you, man.” He chokes. 

Dustin weakly punches Eddie’s chest in resignation, shaking his head. His voice trembles when he responds.

“I love you too.” 

His last moments are agonising, terrifying, as fluid and blood fill his lungs, drowning him. He didn't want to die this young, this afraid, worried about his little sheep and his aging uncle Wayne - but death enveloped him anyway. 

Dustin wails over his now lifeless body, wiping stray tears from Eddie’s eyes and allows his cries to come loud and heavy, grief overtaking him. 

But in the midst of his dying moments, Jimmy's taunting voice, the one that had accosted him his entire life, finally quiets down. 

He didn’t run this time. 

Maybe he should have. 

———

Tagging: @arsonhotchner (bc u said u wanted one so sorry hope this is okay wife xx )

#eddie munson #eddie munson fics #eddie munson angst #eddie munson ff #amber writes

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

If you wanted me, you really should've showed

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie is head over heels for Reader but there’s one slight problem. Her boyfriend, Adam. Despite this, Eddie tries to settle for being a good friend instead but when Adam gets possessive, Reader has to figure out what she really wants out of a relationship.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Bullying, insecurity, controlling mildly threatening boyfriend.

A/N - Inspired by this scene from the Princess Diaries II, and a song my dad listens to that I don’t know the name of. I had fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it!

Please don’t steal my work

It was no secret. Eddie Munson was in love with you!

He wasn't shy about showing it either. Many a weekly rant on social conformity was interrupted to proclaim you the prettiest, cleverest girl in Hawkins, always accompanied by a deep bow and a dazzling smile. He held every door for you with that same love-sick smile plastered across his face. Handwritten notes and slightly crumpled flowers were a common occurrence but never failed to bring a rosy blush to your cheeks. Head over heels was an understatement.

There was just one small problem.

'Hey- I uh… I was thinking… maybe we could go out tonight?' Having run the length of the hall to catch up with you, Eddie struggled to keep his breathing steady. At least he told himself that was why. His arms were folded to keep his hands from shaking. He’d been psyching himself up for this all week! 'There's this new milkshake place opened at mall and then I thought we could watch a movie together or something. Kind of like a date? But it doesn't have to be if you don't want!' He garbled the rest, cheeks bright red and his voice quavering slightly.

Your face fell, heart aching with the answer you had to give him. 'Oh Eddie,' the least you could do was make it easy for him, 'I'm so sorry, but I-'

'Hey babe!'

An arm slung around your shoulders and your boyfriend pulled you in for a kiss. He shot a dirty look at Eddie when you broke. 'I was coming Adam,’ you reassured. 'I was just...' you looked back at Eddie with apology written in your expression.

His eyes flicked between you, taking in the green jacket emblazoned with a tiger Adam wore. It didn’t take long to put two and two together. 'You know what? Don't worry about it!' he tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes and he stumbled over his words. 'I'll see you round!' And with that, he spun on his heel and walked quickly away.

'Was that freak bothering you?' Adam demanded. He didn’t care that Eddie was still within earshot.

'Don’t call him that!' you frowned, an awkward sensation twisting in your tummy. 'We were just talking!'

Adam shrugged, ignoring your reproach and steering you in the opposite direction. He chattered on about the next big game and the huge afterparty that was planned. You nodded and agreed at intervals but his words washed over you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the heartbroken look Eddie had been unable to hide.

*

You didn’t stop thinking about it all weekend!

He'd looked so crushed. There wasn’t anything else you could have said but still, you'd have liked to let him down a little more gently.

Walking into school on Monday, you were greeted by cheerleaders coming out of practice, a novel experience for you. Since Adam had asked you out, the cheerleaders had started paying you more attention than you liked. They were friendly, you supposed, but it didn’t feel genuine. Before Adam noticed you, you were a nobody. You belonged to no particular group and didn’t have many friends. Now all of a sudden, they cared? They treated you more like a pet. The poor, ill-fated girl lucky enough to be made holy by the hands of the basketball team. Still, you couldn’t help but feel obliged to them.

You made your way to your locker as they trailed behind, gossiping amongst themselves. You fiddled with the combination and felt a pang of disappointment. There would be no note from Eddie this morning. Until they were gone, you hadn’t realised how much you relied on them. Perhaps it was selfish but those few scribbled words of encouragement had always brightened an otherwise cloudy day.

It was to your surprise then, as you opened it, a carefully folded piece of paper tumbled out and fluttered to the floor. You recognised the familiar spiky scrawl instantly. Eddie's handwriting traumatised his teachers but you could read it like a second language.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie watched from across the hall. He smiled to himself as your lips curved softly upwards. Of course, you had a boyfriend! He'd been stupid to think you wouldn’t! At least he knew he hadn’t screwed things up between you by being foolish.

'The world is lucky to have someone as tender hearted as you!'

You folded the note carefully, moving to tuck into your bag when a sharp, shrill voice startled you.

'That freak isn’t still harassing you, is he?'

Jessica Vaughn, captain of the cheer squad and self-proclaimed Queen of Hawkins High sported a look of pure disgust, 'Doesn’t he know you have a boyfriend?'

Your skin crawled at the cruel insult uttered so casually. 'He knows,' you mumbled, ducking your head and clenching the note protectively in your fist.

'Oh honey!' a fit of giggled ensued, 'He must think he can win you over or something!'

A few of her friends joined in, their voices dripping with faux sympathy and disgust interchangeably.

'Oh, you poor thing!'

'As if you'd ever choose him over a member of the basketball team!'

'You shouldn’t lead him on,' one advised, 'He might get the wrong idea!'

'Yes, you shouldn’t let him think he's got a chance!' Jessica giggled at the thought as the bell rung. Nobody saw you wince at their words.

You made your way to homeroom in silence, letting the crowd pull you along while you tried to make sense of your predicament. Sure, you weren’t about to dump Adam, but for all their cruelty and arrogance, they were right about one thing. You shouldn’t lead him on.

It wasn’t fair.

You made up your mind to talk to him in English. The two of you sat next to each other in the back, but how to say it consumed your thoughts all day.

'Hey, Eddie?' you whispered, keeping an eye on Mr Boushebel so as not to get caught. Eddie looked over the moment he heard your voice, his adoring smile unknowingly twisting the knot in your stomach tighter.

'Yeah?'

'I want to say thanks... for the note this morning! Thank you for all of them really...'

'You're welcome!' he beamed like nothing had changed.

You sighed and grimaced. Why did he have to make this harder? 'It's just, I'm with Adam and that's probably not gonna change anytime soon... and I don't want you to think I'm leading you on or anything-!'

'I don’t think that!' the swiftness of his reply caught you by surprise, and so did the honest reassurance in his eyes. 'Look,' he leaned closer, keeping his voice low as he fiddled with the silver rings adorning his fingers, 'I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable the other day. I'd really like to stay friends if that's okay with you?'

'Oh no! You didn’t...'

'Mr Munson!' Mr Boushebel’s nasal voice rang clear through the room, 'Kindly refrain from distracting your peers and focus on the lesson at hand!'

Eddie made a show of apologising earning a disapproving eyeroll as the teacher turned back to the board. You couldn’t help but laugh as he rolled his own eyes, slumping back in his seat, but behind his antics, he was still waiting for an answer.

'Yes,' you whispered and Eddie's smile softened. ‘It’s okay!’

*

More or less, things went on as they had.

Maybe it was selfish, the relief you felt? You weren't infallible; the attention was nice. A nice change. You contented yourself with the fact you'd been honest with him. He knew where he stood, if he still wanted to be kind to you, who were you to stop him?

Whether you admitted it or not though, things were different now. You hadn’t exactly bandied it about before, but now you found yourself taking care the girls you were supposed to call friends didn’t know about the continued affections you received from Eddie. You took to pressing the flowers he gave in the back of your notebook instead of threading them through your hair or the buttonholes of your cardigan. Instead of drinking in the thoughtful compliments he wrote, you stuffed them into your pocket, waiting until you were alone to read them and feel your heart lift.

If Eddie noticed these small deceptions, it didn’t deter him. Every morning, without fail, you were met with a posy of handpicked wildflowers and a few heartfelt lines observing some hidden jewel of your character.

Some of them bordered on poetry.

*

Things weren't exactly unhappy with Adam. Unsure perhaps? Indefinite?

To tell the truth, he was your first real relationship; you were still getting to grips with exactly what that meant. Everyone else seemed to understand. Why couldn’t you?

Most of the jocks and cheerleaders you sat alongside were paired up together. It was rare for them to venture outside of their group for a partner; you were an exception so you tried to follow their example.

Frankie was always perched on Chase’s lap, her arms around his neck, fingers trailing along his collarbone while his rested on her waist. That felt a little bold for you but you tried to sit as close as possible, opting to rest your cheek on his shoulder but he didn’t seem to notice.

Every time you saw Becky, she and Ryan were locked in conversation. What they spoke about was a mystery to you but both seemed to be consumed. As the general chatter lulled, you took the chance to try the new approach.

‘I’ve been reading this really lovely book Adam! It’s called Little Women and-!’

‘Wow, boring much?’ Jimmy Davis cut you off without a second thought. ‘You aren’t gonna bring all that nerd stuff over here, are you?’

You couldn’t speak. With a simple look, all the confidence was knocked out of you. He turned to Adam and laughed, ‘Next thing you know, she’ll be bringing her homework to lunch!’

Tears pricked in your eyes as Adam laughed along with him. Their discourse resumed like nothing had happened. You blinked them away. No one saw.

Jessica and Tony were all over each other. Making out in the hallways, feet touching in the aisles of the classroom. His hand always seemed to be somewhere near the hem of her skirt. It was still early in your relationship and you weren’t completely sure you wanted that yet, but it was worth a try. You tried to reach out, to shower him in affection the way the other girls did but almost every time he brushed you off. Pulled away and scowled as though you were inconveniencing him.

So instead, you fell silent. Ate your lunch with your head down and gave affirmative answers when a question was asked. They took no notice.

Your eyes tended to wander over the other tables; people-watching had become a habit during lonely lunchtimes. More and more often, you gaze came to rest on Hellfire. They were always animated and lively, often talking over each other in their excitement but never leaving any member out.

Unconsciously, your attention was drawn to their leader. He was no stranger to conversing loudly himself but you noticed how quickly he stopped to listen. The way a brotherly fondness fell over his features whenever one of the younger ones spoke and he sat forward to hang onto their words.

Perhaps that day a kindly angel was looking out for you. As you stared over at them, your head propped up in your hands, something made Eddie turn his head and his eyes met yours. Under anyone else’s gaze, you would have looked away quickly, pretending to find interest in the floor but you didn’t. He offered a soft smile and, in that moment the world blurred around you. It was like there was no one else in the room. Instantly you felt better, heart lighter. You couldn’t help but smile back at the silent reminder you weren’t alone.

‘Helloo?’ Jessica waved her hand in front of your face, breaking the spell and bringing you crashing back down to earth. The whole table was staring at you, teasing smirks warping at many mouths. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

You tried to brush them off, forcing yourself to shrug despite the heat burning in your cheeks. ‘Nothing, sorry, what were you saying?’

Frankie was looking behind her, craning her neck to see what you’d been staring at then leaned in close with an expression of sordid delight on her face, ‘You aren’t sweet on the freak are you?’

‘What? No!’ you protested as they erupted into giggles. ‘I was just daydreaming that’s all!’

‘Is he still sending you love letters?’ Jessica asked through hysterical tears.

Adam pricked up at this, ‘What?’ His expression turned from confusion to anger in a matter of seconds. Jessica stopped laughing.

‘You didn’t know?’

‘It’s nothing, I promise!’ you hurried to explain, guilt nagging in your tummy as you downplayed your interactions to reassure him. Your account seemed to assuage him and soon he too fell to teasing you while you tried to laugh along.

*

After lunch, you walked with Adam to class. His arm seemed tighter around your shoulders than normal; it was probably just your imagination. As he dropped you off at your classroom, one of his friends piped up, ‘We’re still on for extra practice tonight, right?’

The boys all replied to the affirmative and surprise hit you when Adam joined them. ‘I’ll be there!’

‘But I thought we were going out tonight? We planned it a week ago!’ you’d caught his hand but he only shrugged, pulling out of your reach.

‘Sorry babe! We can do it next week or whatever!’

‘Adam, you said you’d take me home tonight!’ Your house was an hour’s walk away.

He was losing patience now, ‘Just wait around!’ he snapped, ‘I’ll take you after practice! It’s not that big of a deal!’

And then he walked away.

*

You sat in the hall, back against the lockers and long since abandoned homework laid out in front of you as your eyes devoured the pages of ‘Little Women’ searching for solace. School had ended almost two hours ago. The lights were starting to hurt your head.

Somewhere down the corridor, a door opened and a flurry of excited voices broke the silence.

‘No way did you include a secret passageway!’

‘I did not see that goblin hoard coming!’

‘Can’t wait to see what happens next week Eds!’

The small gaggle passed by and Eddie caught sight of you alone. He quickly excused himself, promising more plot-twists and epic battles before making his way over.

‘Hey! How come you’re still here?’

You brightened instinctively at the sound of his voice. ‘Adam had extra practice,’ you explained. A look of impatience flashed across his face. Just for a moment, then it was gone. Eddie stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled.

‘Well, Hellfire’s done now; do you want a lift home?’

You hesitated. You did, you really did, but Adam would go ballistic if he found out. ‘It’s okay, he won’t be too long!’ You hoped.

Eddie nodded, sitting down beside you, ‘Can I wait with you then? Far be it from me to abandon a fair damsel to solitude!’

You nodded, laughing along at the funny voice he put on. You had no idea how glad Eddie was to make you smile; his eyes never left your face. Sunshine seemed to spill from every pour.

‘Tell me about your book!’ he requested, tucking his legs up and settling back against the lockers.

Forty minutes later, the doors to the gym swung open. Perhaps practice had gone badly. Perhaps he’d missed the last shot or coach had been especially tough that night. Adam had forgotten all about the teasing at lunchtime but when he rounded the corner and saw you sitting with Eddie Munson, when he saw him making you laugh and smile, it all came flooding back. Harmless jokes transformed to threat and trespass. You never smiled like that for him. Pride gave way to rage.

‘Back off Munson!’

His voice made you flinch. Eddie jumped up, taking a step back as Adam barrelled down the hall, spitting venom. He was angrier than you’d ever seen him. You stumbled to your feet, stepping in front of your boyfriend, hands stretched out, hoping to calm him down.

‘Adam, what are you-?’ he caught you, his hand sealing around your upper arm and jabbing a finger at Eddie.

‘She’s my girlfriend, freak! You stay the hell away from her!’ His fingers were so tight they began to bruise your arm. You tried in vain to subdue his fury but that only seemed to rile him more. ‘Crawl back to your trailer where you belong, trash!’

Eddie stood silent; his mouth half open like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. He glanced at you, a wordless apology heavy in his eyes, then walked away without a fight.

You breathed out.

Adam glared after him ‘til he was out of sight before he released you and stormed off in the other direction. For a split second, your heart was torn. Then you scrambled to pick up your things, stuffing them into your bag and running after him.

‘What the hell was that?’ The cold night air hit your face as the double doors swung shut behind you. Adam scoffed at the question but didn’t stop. ‘Why are you being so mean?’

‘What was he doing near you!’ the fury in his tone made you falter. He’d never sounded so cross.

‘Nothing!’ you were nearing the car. Clutching the bag on your shoulder, you stumbled over to the passenger side. ‘He just asked if I needed a ride and we were talking! That’s all!’

‘No! He’s trying to get it on with you!’ Adam jabbed a finger in your direction as he yanked the door open.

You almost laughed at the accusation, following suite and throwing your bag in the footwell, ‘Don’t be ridiculous! He was just being nice!’ He pulled his own door closed with a slam. ‘You don’t have to get so jealous!’

‘Jealous?’ That was the wrong thing to say! Adam was seething, ‘Of him? Of that freak?’

‘Look, Adam, I’m with you! It’s harmless, I promise!’ your own anger sparked, ‘Why don’t you trust me?’

He wasn’t listening. ‘You tell him to knock it off or I will!’

You hesitated. The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen before. Something like fear stirred in your chest. No, not fear! You pushed that thought away, he was your boyfriend, he wasn’t going to hurt you! But in the same second, you realised who he would hurt.

You swallowed, as he backed out of the parking lot faster than normal. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight they turned white.

Neither of you said a word on the way home.

*

‘I’m sorry Eddie-!’

‘You don’t have to be sorry!’

The sounds of the cafeteria echoed down the deserted hall. Eddie sighed deeply, ‘I’m sorry!’

He knew this would happen eventually. He should have left you alone the moment he found out you had a boyfriend. Sure, it would have hurt, been unbearable even, but now you were mixed up in it all too. Now you would have to untangle the mess he’d made; manage the tempers he had riled.

‘It’s okay,’ you gave him a small smile, ‘You’ve been so kind. I’m grateful, really!’ You paused, ‘I just… I know what he’s like and I really don’t want you to get hurt!’

He smiled wryly. Eddie knew what the basketball team were like too and while he’d gladly withstand any punishment they decided to inflict, he didn’t want to cause you more pain than he already had. The time for dreaming was done. He nodded and left with all the grace and pleasantries he’d always afforded you.

He hoped you didn’t see the heartbreak in his eyes.

*

Life went on.

Gone were the notes and trinkets in your locker. No longer brightened by secret smiles and whispered compliments, the world turned grey.

You tried to pretend as if nothing had happened. As if clouds hadn’t blocked out the sun, as if all its warmth hadn’t drained away. He was never uncivil, never unkind, but now the two of you existed on different plains. Without Eddie, a gaping hole had been left behind and now you had to find something to fill it with.

Constant surveillance became the norm. It seemed Adam was always watching you somehow. From the corner of his eye at lunch, one of his teammates moving next to you in a lesson, or a cheerleader looping her arm through yours.

Try as you might, in the beginning you couldn’t help looking up when Eddie walked in. He hardly ever ate in the cafeteria anymore and when he did, he was silent. Picking at his food while his friends tried to pick up the pieces on their own.

Adam was quick to notice and settle an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer and shooting a look which told you his patience was wearing thin.

You tried instead to listen to the conversations at your own table. The cycle was endless. Gossip and sports and who was going out with who. Whose social suicide would make the headlines today. It was mind-numbing.

You ought to be grateful really. People dreamed about this life. Popularity, fame, and all the rest of it. You sat among kings and queens, had earned the honour of their interest. Adam had given you all this. Most girls would kill to be in your place. You were indebted to him.

Time went on, each day more soulless than the last.

Adam began to be more affectionate, or at least put on a convincing performance for everyone else. He must have sensed people thought there was trouble in paradise. Doubt would not be tolerated.

It started out as small things. His arm dropped to rest around your waist for instance, holding you snugly against him. Things you might have enjoyed in the beginning, but now you couldn’t shake the idea that he had some ulterior motive.

One day, you were walking down the hallways. Arm in arm, and actually talking for once, only about Adam’s hopes for the basketball season, but it was a start, when out of nowhere, he pushed you up against the lockers and started kissing you with a force. One hand on the side of your neck, tangling itself in your hair and manoeuvring you with ease.

After the shock, you tried to kiss back. Maybe this meant things were alright again? Maybe this meant you were forgiven?

His other hand trailed down your ribs, slipping deftly under the hem of your shirt. ‘Adam, stop!’ You broke away in surprise, pushing on his arm, ‘We’re in school! You protested.

And just like that, he stopped. Turned and carried on walking without explanation. Without a word.

Confusion flooded your mind as you smoothed your shirt and glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed his strange behaviour. Searching for an answer to such violent yet fleeting passion, you felt your stomach drop at the sight of a familiar leather jacket disappearing around the corner.

‘Oh,’ you thought, guilt and shame burning in your cheeks.

That was why.

*

It was late one Saturday night. Lamplight enveloped your room as you sat alone in the warm, comforting glow. A tangle of emotions weighed on your heart.

You and Adam had argued earlier. These days, it seemed all you did was argue. He’d insisted you come to some big party this evening.

‘I just don’t feel up to it!’

Everyone would be there, but you were tired and really didn’t feel like being around a bunch of drunk teens groping each other while Adam tried to convince you to go and make out upstairs.

‘Why do you have to be so boring?’ he’d complained, ‘It’s just a party!’

‘I’m not going! You go ahead if you want to!’

He’d left in a huff, muttering under his breath and you biked home by yourself. Were relationships supposed to feel like this? You wondered all the way home. You didn’t exactly have a wealth of experience to draw on. Somehow you didn’t think Jessica or the other cheerleaders would give the advice you needed.

Love was hard. So many people had told you that. It’s not like the movies. You sighed; was that all that was wrong? Were your expectations too high?

A tap on the window roused you from your thoughts. You jumped, half thinking you imagined it but there it was again. A sharp, swift tap like something hitting the glass.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you crept over and pulled back the curtain just in time for a third pebble to hit the pane a few inches from your face.

You flinched, then leaned forward, searching the darkened street for the attacker. Shadows and streetlights outlined a figure wincing at the indignation on your face. ‘Sorry!’ they mouthed.

Fond astonishment bubbled up and you pushed the window open. ‘Eddie?’ you whisper-yelled. Were you dreaming?

He beamed up at you, dropping a handful of pebbles and throwing up his hands in defence, ‘I know! I know you said to knock it off, but I have to show you something!’

‘What?’

He motioned, ‘Come down!’

You leaned back into your room and glanced at the clock by your bedside, ‘It’s eleven fifty-one, Eddie!’

‘I know!’ he nodded impatiently, ‘We’re gonna be late!’

You sighed. You really shouldn’t, but one look at his hopeful expression made the decision for you. ‘Alright!’

With many complaints and a few close calls, you climbed down from your window. They definitely made this look easier in the movies! You jumped the last few feet and Eddie grabbed your hand. He’d parked his van a block over and held the door as he helped you in.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked, but he only laughed.

‘You’ll like it! Trust me!’

So, you did.

Eddie drove quickly down the deserted streets, constantly checking his watch. He was expert at maintaining an air of mystery. For once the radio sat silent, limited conversation between the two of you filling the space.

He pulled up on the outskirts of town, stopping at the base of the hill. Weathertop, as it was affectionately nicknamed by the nerds. Eddie hopped out, getting your door. Once you’d jumped down, he rummaged in the back and pulled out a blanket and what looked like three couch cushions. At your obvious confusion, he flashed a smile, shifting the bundle in his arms so he could offer his hand.

‘Come on!’

The climb was steep, almost pitch black away from the houses and streetlights. Your only guide was the vague silhouette in front of you, hiking with a spring in his step and leading with the warmth of his touch. Nervous excitement mingled with curiosity.

What was his game?

‘There!’ Eddie flapped the blanket, spreading it on the summit and arranging the cushions with meticulous care. He nodded his head expectantly.

‘What?’ a bemused smirk preceded a hesitant giggle at his antics.

‘Sit down!’

You sat, tucking your legs and waiting eagerly. Eddie’s eyes were fixed on his watch, his fingers crossed behind his back as you stared at him.

‘Three… Two… Look up! Now!’

Your head jerked upward; adrenaline triggered by his frantic tone.

But nothing happened.

Puzzlement seeped in. It was a pretty night, beautiful even. Away from civilisation, the stars were a little brighter than normal, the moon full and ghostly full but that was all.

‘Come on… Come on!’ Eddie bounced on his heels, praying silently and trying not to lose hope. Just this once! Let me have this one!

You sighed, gaze falling back to him, ‘Edward Munson, if you’ve brought me out here for nothing-!’

‘No, look! Look now!’

He pointed.

You followed.

And all the breath left your lungs.

Out of the darkness, out of the midnight sky came streaks of bursting light. First one, then another, and another. Then a thousand!

Slicing through the firmament like papercuts, drawing bright white blood then fading to nothing.

You shot to your feet, craning your neck as far as you could and laughing in pure, open-mouthed delight!

They kept on coming! Daubing the night with silver and pearl for almost five minutes before the flow stemmed as suddenly as it had begun. Starlight faded leaving you in darkness, breathless with awe.

You looked back at Eddie. A crescent smile stretched over his face, ‘Did you like it?’

‘Like it?’

You laughed, giddy and weak at the knees. You stumbled closer and threw your arms around him, ‘Eddie, that was wonderful! Wonderful!’

He laughed with you, hugging you as the sound reverberated through his chest. Then as if a switch had been flipped, he pulled back, suddenly apprehensive. ‘There uh… There might be some more,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck, ‘… If you wanna wait, I know it’s late!’

You beamed, ‘I want to stay out here all night!’

He smiled.

Side by side, in the comfort of the cushions and each other’s company, you watched the night sky as its contents danced and glittered. Between showers of falling stars, you laughed and talked with ease, cutting each other off with a yelp of excitement when more appeared.

Somewhere around two am, you glanced back at Eddie. It took everything in you not to gasp.

The bright stars sparkled in the reflection of his eyes. Twinkling and shining an endless brown nebula with some with some ethereal power. There was a whole universe inside of him and you got to catch a glimpse!

You stopped watching the sky after that.

*

As the night turned chilly, Eddie’s jacket found itself draped around your shoulders. The conversation turned deeper and more meaningful than anything you’d experienced in months.

Over the course of the night, you’d moved closer. Mere inches existed between you now but it wasn’t until, on the verge of sleep and against your better judgement, you laid your head on his shoulder that his arm settled around you.

Gently. Loosely so you could pull away whenever you chose.

The veil of tiredness thinned as you observed that it was always like that with Eddie. Always making sure you were perfectly comfortable before he made a move.

Not like Adam, the admission tasted bitter. Adam whose hands wandered every chance they got. Who kissed you when he liked then shunned you with no explanation. Who brushed you off with ease. Who cared more about keeping up appearances than resolving actual problems between you.

The familiar churn in your stomach resurfaced. You pulled away from Eddie feeling suddenly guilty. He was your boyfriend! You shouldn’t be making comparisons like that…

Shouldn’t you?

‘Why are you doing this?’ the question was unprompted, but you needed to know, ‘All these nice things, why are you still doing it?’

Eddie gave a crooked smile, trying to hide how much he missed the closeness. ‘I think I’ve made it pretty clear it’s because I’m in love with you!’ You didn’t look away, so he had to. Your searching eyes and the late hour threatening to pry the truth from his lips. ‘And because…’

‘Because what?’

Eddie fought a battle in his heart. He shouldn’t interfere, he had no right! It wasn’t his place. If he did, he could lose even the fleeting moments he was allowed with you. He couldn’t risk ruining what was left by opening his big mouth.

But you wanted to know… and he couldn’t deny you anything.

‘Can I say something?’ he managed, struggling to find the words. He laughed a little, ‘And you can totally slap me and tell me to get lost if you want!’

You breathed a smile. He never missed a chance to put you at ease. You nodded.

He paused, breathing deep. He had to get this right. When the words came, they were plain and simple.

‘I don’t think he’s good for you!’

Silence. Eddie thought his heart might beat right out of his chest.

‘Oh?’ your voice came out thin. You didn’t sound surprised. Maybe you shouldn’t have said the next words. Maybe you should have turned around and gone straight home. Or maybe, more than anything, you needed to hear his answer. ‘Why not?’

Eddie let out a breath, wetting his lips nervously. ‘You don’t smile when you’re with him… Not really! And he doesn’t notice when you’re faking it.’ Once he’d begun it was hard to stop. Until now, he hadn’t realised just how much he’d pent up. ‘He doesn’t do the things a boyfriend should! He doesn’t listen to you. He doesn’t even think about you unless you’re standing right in front of him! Unless he thinks he might lose you…’

He stopped himself. You hadn’t moved, your eyes staring through him as you listened. The words stung but you knew in your heart they were true. Tears began to blur your vision.

‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-,’ he reached for you hand then dropped it with a sigh, ‘This isn’t a ‘dump him and date me instead’, I swear, I just…’

It was maddening. He wanted to hold you. The sight of your pretty eyes glistening with unshed tears was too much to bear. He wanted so badly to draw you close and comfort you properly but he knew he couldn’t.

‘I just think you deserve someone who knows you deserve the world!’

There it was. Out in the open.

Your breath hitched slightly. No one had ever said anything like that before. It was like you were seeing him for the first time. Away from the insults and expectations at high school, away from the cruelty and the caricatures. All this time, he’d been right here in front of you. Out here in the twinkling starlight everything was clearer. Why hadn’t you noticed before? You wanted to say something though where to start, you didn’t know. Before you could open your mouth, Eddie spoke.

‘Come on,’ he dropped his gaze nodding to the sky. ‘I think that’s the last of them.’

Eddie got to his feet and collected the cushions. You rolled up the blanket, a sense of reluctance tugging on your heartstrings. Neither of you spoke as you wandered down the hill. Eddie helped you into the passenger side and started the van. The ride home was silent. The sky above beginning to lighten.

He drew up to your house, hopping out to open your door one last time. He held your hand as you stepped down. You didn’t want him to let go.

As you looked up at him, a thousand thoughts revolved in your mind. A million questions you needed answered, a million more things you needed him to know, but a whispered, ‘Thank you!’ was all that came out.

Eddie looked at the ground, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, ‘Thank you!’ he echoed.

You shrugged off his jacket, handing it back as the early morning air bit at your bare arms. He took it and for a moment you stood together. Neither of you wanted to go first.

‘I’ll see you Monday?’ he asked tentatively, looking at you through his eyelashes.

You nodded, a shy smile gracing your lips,

‘See you Monday!’

The walk to your front door was lonely and cold but hope’s bright spark flickered in your heart. You weren’t afraid anymore. You knew what you wanted and you had the strength to go after it.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t see Eddie watch you all the way up the path then slowly raise the jacket to his cheek. The fabric brushed against his skin. You didn’t see him sigh and smile as he breathed in your scent.

*

Your heart was pounding; palms sweating. You made your way through the crowded hallways, silently hoping your resolve wouldn’t crumble.

You caught sight of him crowded around his locker with his friends. With a deep breath, you started toward him. You couldn’t change your mind now.

‘Adam, I think we should talk!’

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes, reluctantly pulling his attention from the conversation he was immersed in, ‘What now?’

You bit the inside of your cheek, praying for the strength to stand your ground. ‘I mean in private.’

‘Oh, come on babe! It can’t be that important!’

Just like that. Like you were a nuisance. A mild inconvenience he was forced to live with. Well, who were you to burden him?

‘Fine!’ you retorted, tact and empathy worn thin, ‘I’m not happy! This isn’t working; I want to break up!’

The group fell silent. Shock and horror covered every face but you couldn’t care less. Adam’s expression morphed from amusement to surprise, then outrage. ‘What?’

You folded your arms, forcing yourself not to quail under his gaze. ‘You heard me! I’m breaking up with you!’

In one swift movement, he seized your arm, pulling you away from the others into an alcove. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

‘I’m not happy!’ you repeated, shaking yourself free from his grasp, ‘You don’t care about me! You won’t even talk to me unless it’s about sports or parties! You ignore me and then get mad when I make friends with someone else! You don’t want me, you just like the idea of having someone on your arm! Well, I don’t want that! I’m done!’

Adam was seething. ‘This is because of him, isn’t it? That freak, Munson!’

‘No, you aren’t listening!’

‘I’ll kill him, I swear!’

‘You won’t go anywhere near him!’ a surge of anger flooded your voice when he threatened Eddie, ‘He has nothing to do with this! All he did was make me see what was standing right in front of me!’

Fury tensed his every muscle. Fists clenched, all but frothing at the mouth. Suddenly, he looked nothing like the person you’d been in a relationship with.

‘You were nothing before me!’ his voice was low and shaking with barely restrained anger, ‘A pretty face and nothing more! If we break up, that’s exactly what you’ll go back to!’

Once upon a time, that thought would have terrified you. Perhaps then you’d have reconsidered, grovelled for his forgiveness and been content to live in misery. Not anymore.

With that threat, he confirmed every doubt you’d ever had about him.

‘I’m done Adam.’

He swallowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He could hardly comprehend your words. ‘Have fun being a nobody again!’ he spat, knocking your shoulder as he stalked away.

Relief hit you in the chest, forcing tears while your knees shook. There would be consequences for this, of that you had no doubt.

But for the first time in months, you could breathe easy.

*

With no one to sit with at lunch, you ate in the music room. You really weren’t up to facing the flying rumours and disapproving stares so your fingers teased a familiar tune from the old piano between bites. A tear or two slid down your cheeks every now and then, landing on the keys as you sniffed and tried to wipe them away.

You knew you’d done the right thing but somehow it still hurt. Who knew what they were saying about you in the cafeteria. You’d slapped a great big target on your back and probably Eddie’s as well!’

‘Oh, sorry! I didn’t think anyone else would be in here!’

Speak of the devil.

You stopped playing abruptly turning to find Eddie Munson standing in the doorway. He caught sight of your red-rimmed eyes and stepped closer, pulling over a chair.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ he asked in that gentle, caring tone only ever reserved for you.

You sniffed, giving him a rueful smile and gesturing vaguely, ‘We broke up!’

Eddie’s face fell. He cursed under his breath, ‘I’m sorry! I shouldn’t’ve… I didn’t mean you had to-!’

‘It’s not your fault!’ you shook you head and sighed. Closing the piano lid, you leaned an elbow on top, head in your hand. ‘I guess you just made me realise…’ you trailed off.

Silence fell once more and Eddie didn’t disturb it. He wished he could comfort you, banish the storm clouds and shadows but he couldn’t shake the guilt of being their conjurer. He couldn’t ignore how glad he was that you were away from Adam, and the selfish inkling that now he might finally have a chance with you.

As if sensing his torment, you managed a small chuckle, ‘I’ll be okay!’ you nodded to yourself, ‘I’m gonna need some time… a few weeks, a month maybe, I don’t know,’ you shrugged.

Eddie nodded quietly. His eyes fixed on the floor. Yours never left him. ‘But someone told me there’s a new milkshake place at the mall… I still haven’t been!’

Eddie looked up, a hesitant smile tugging at his mouth, ‘Yeah? Me either.’

You nodded and shrugged again nonchalantly, ‘We should probably go check it out… If you still want to…’

‘I’d love to!’ Perhaps he replied too fast. Perhaps he smiled to wide and looked too eager but you didn’t seem to mind.

You opened your mouth to say something but the school bell rang. It’s harsh tone signifying the end of lunch. Stuffing your things back into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder as you both stood. Now, face to face, you appreciated the warmth of those brown eyes more than ever before.

‘I’ll call you?’ you asked, suddenly unsure if you were worthy of such patient kindness as his.

Eddie fought every urge to lean forward and kiss you right then and there.

‘When you’re ready!’ He smiled. Sunshine through the clouds.

‘Maybe everything would be okay?’ you thought. ‘Maybe everything would be wonderful!’

***

Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it! Please reblog and leave a comment if you did! It gives me such a boost and encourages me to keep writing when people do leave feedback!

Check out my masterlist for more of my stuff

Taglist: @sadbitchfangirl, @neewtmas, @idathereader, @ladymunson

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader angst #amber writes #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Dear, sweet Amber. Could I please request prompt 7: “Is there some space left in that bathtub?” ❤️‍🔥

Of course babes! thank you for sending the ask!

Ari Levinson x Reader

"Is there some space left in that bathtub?"

That was how it all started, you were taking a end of the long work day soak when your boyfriend asked to join.

How could you possibly say no when Ari was right there, hovering with eyes that spoke a thousand different words other then the ones he first said.

He didn't need the bathtub, he needed you.

Wanted to hold you and talk about his day with you, laugh and be affectionate with you. He missed you.

And you missed him too.

But this time you turned in the tub once he settled in behind you, rearranging yourself to perch on his lap, face to face, able to steal kisses from one another. First they were affectionate, then playful. More and more till your wet body pressing against his started to grind.

A lift of his thigh was enough to get your hips moving, your kisses now turning pleading for more. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub as his hands grabbed on your ass, pushing you harder against him, rubbing your clit just right.

"Ari please." You whimpered against his mouth, digging your nails into his shoulder to hold on.

"You wanna come baby, make you feel good?"

You gave Ari exactly what he needed in the moment, to be able to take care of you.

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #amber writes #amber answers #ask game

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

@roughentumble I attempted drabble, sticking to 100 words is so fucking hard

"How do we always wind up in such wretched places?" Jaskier hisses. The boat lurches beneath them and he's nearly sick.

Beside him in the dark, Geralt huffs a laugh, oiling his sword with, well, with some kind of oil, Jaskier has no idea exactly which. "It's the best way to hunt a siren, catch them unawares."

"You'll be careful though, won't you? You won't get swayed by their songs?"

Again Geralt laughs, this time reeling him in close. "The only one swaying me with their songs is you."

Jaskier supposes he can live with that. Definitely worth the seasickness.

#The Witcher #my fic #amber writes #Geraskier #geraskier fic

[wqterlillypdfs]

NAVIGATION

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WELCOME! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

masterlist | guidelines + requesting rules | characters i write for

currently working on: ???

latest: summer blues - j.f x reader

requests suggestions are currently open!

© wqterlillypdfs — don't steal, redistribute or translate my work please!

#my writing #amber writes