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boogiewrites · 2 years ago

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I loved this. I love reading angsty hurt tragic romance moments. You upped the stakes. I look forward to every chapter of this. I check for updates. This is still such a favorite story of mine.

eddie x Fem! Reader

honey I’m home masterlist

TW: 18+ hospitals, trauma, crying, etc

A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.

The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal.

The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly.

He fought with the first responders.

Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance.

He refused to leave you.

He didn’t need to be cared for.

He didn’t care about anything.

Only you.

Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand.

Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet.

And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours.

His promise pressed delicately to your lips.

—

“What have we got?”

“According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..”

I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her!

“…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”

“Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”

“Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.”

—-

Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore.

When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room.

“So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,”

Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.”

His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”

“Stolen costume,”

“Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot.

—

“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?”

Sterile.

Chemical.

You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t.

Is this death?

Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening.

The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face.

Oblivious to your surroundings.

“Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?”

“CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”

“Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,”

“they both did.”

You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body.

—

He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described.

“I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”

He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out.

Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him.

“What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

And maybe your love for him was always there.

Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed.

Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it.

Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.

The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face.

The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.

A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury.

“Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles.

Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”

But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!”

The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”

“Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”

She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”

“Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown.

“Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.”

Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.”

Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission.

“Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!”

Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”

“Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.”

“Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”

He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip.

“Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?”

“In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.

“Not exactly…”

“Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”

“Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.”

Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head.

Oh my God

…Tooty

Holy shit.

“That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”

Eddie.

Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall?

“…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace.

“No, Mr. Munson..”

This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.

“…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.”

A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.

Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie.

His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion.

REWIND

PLAY

The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole.

REWIND

PLAY

PAUSE

Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe.

STOP

EJECT

The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here.

You were alone.

He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once.

But not fear.

He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep.

He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands.

You were experiencing this pain all by yourself.

He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous.

Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?

Why didn’t anyone tell him?

His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed.

“How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard.

“Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!”

Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.”

“Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them.

In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.

The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone?

There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave.

Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man.

He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket.

———

It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck.

Surely not their son? Their angel?

But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground.

Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles.

Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes.

Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare.

The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes.

He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed.

4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain.

Eddie never left.

Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable.

Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent.

One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him.

The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else… maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?

But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about.

The one you cried for.

The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.

His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue.

It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard.

His girl. His whole world. Awake.

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boogiewrites · 2 years ago

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pairing: steve harrington x female reader warnings and contents: 18+ ONLY, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, slapping, breeding kink, housewife kink, dirty talk, implied that reader works in childcare of some sort??? author’s note: happy 4th, everyone!!! nothing is more american than giving steve harrington your body to use how he pleases 🫡

minors and blank blogs dni - do not repost - thank u

steve was sweet. loving, doting, careful and considerate. he knew when to reassure and how to do it well. he opened car doors, pulled out chairs, bought flowers just because. not a day went by where he didn’t let his lips linger just a second longer than what others would consider normal, purely because he wanted to let the touch express what words didn’t always seem to capture.

yes, steve was sweet. because he’d convinced himself that’s all he was allowed to be.

no room for error, no room for complaints. displeasure, anger, sadness, grief... it didn’t matter. shelf it and deal with it once it made him physically sick.

but she knew it was in there. this wild, wounded animal frothing at the mouth and hissing at each sound it heard beyond the corner it had holed up in. licking injuries that would never heal without seeing the light of day.

it slipped through in small doses. the slam of a cabinet door, fist clenched in his hair and up to his forehead after. his voice raising and falling into an apology just as quickly. agonizing pound of his cock right against her cervix on friday nights when most neighbors were out and the week had torn him to shreds. always with a still in his hips and ragged breaths before he settled himself further from her womb.

she just worried he’d hurt himself carrying on in such a way. and if letting it out could possibly benefit her, too... well, then everyone wins.

“i don’t bottle anything!” glancing at his girlfriend’s face, steve rolled his eyes. she was still sitting there with slightly raised eyebrows and a knowing lift to the corners of her lips. “look at me like that all you want, it’s not going to change anything. shit happens, i deal with it, i move on.”

“so you’re just that cool, huh? mr. cucumber?”

there was a set to his jaw while he swished his hand under the kitchen faucet to wash away remnants of suds. “put me in the freezer, and i’ll melt.”

“hm,” she hummed, couch groaning under her as she stood, causing him to glance over his shoulder to see her padding toward him. “even when you have to drive dustin to the arcade after a long day at the office?”

water dripped down from his fingertips where they gripped the counter, back still to her as she stepped onto the linoleum. “i don’t have to do anything.”

“no, no,” she smirked, “you just do that because you’re so nice. right?”

“right.”

“and when robin spilled beer all over your suit the other night, that didn’t bother you even a little?” she could see the dress shirt pulling tighter across his back, biceps straining against the cotton.

“it was an accident.”

“of course. so understanding.”

without facing her, he nodded, ripping the towel from off the handle of the oven before wiping his hands on it roughly. she watched him carefully put it back in its place, taking an extra second to make sure it was hanging evenly. once perfect, he cleared his throat and started pulling out the bag of coffee grinds from the cabinet. she could be nice, too. that’s why she waited until he was finished filling the machine for the morning before speaking up again.

“me leaving all my dishes in the sink even though i didn’t have to work and basically just sat around on my ass all day... no biggie?”

“had to wash out my thermos anyway,” he stated, “you packed me soup, remember?”

finally, he looked over at her, eyes sharp and lips thin. an ache welled in her core from the reaction. and partly because the mention of her packing his lunch for him just did something to her.

“and how was it?”

steve hesitated, shaking his head as a breathy laugh left him, almost as if he knew exactly what she would say to his answer.

“cold. i forgot you’d said there was soup in the box and put it in the fridge. microwave is busted, too.”

“really?” she drawled, trying to keep the amusement off her face. “that must’ve really put a damper on your day.”

“not at all.” he took a step toward her, smiling as he cupped both hands on her cheeks. “just knowing i was eating delicious food my girlfriend had made for me was enough to keep me warm.”

her expression fell flat, unamused and fighting against the ever-growing fondness for the boy before her. he pressed his lips to hers, humming in satisfaction as he pulled back. but she wouldn’t let him go, hand catching his forearm.

“steve,” she started, running soft fingertips down and around to his massive palm. “i’m just trying to... i don’t want you to think you have to be... always on with me.”

thick brows furrowed, steve’s eyes twinkling as he tilted his head like a puppy. “babe, i know that.” she seemed dissatisfied with his response, forcing him to squeeze her hand. “okay, what is this? why do i get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something without really telling me something?”

shoulders shrugging, she sighed, stepping forward to bump their chests together. “you can take it out on me.”

“what?”

“no more slamming cabinets and, like... stomping through the apartment huffing and puffing.” steve’s face soured. “use me. use my body-”

“jesus!” he spat, “i’m not gonna do that! i would never raise a hand to you.”

“no, no, steve, it’s not like that.” her mind raced for a way to try and make it make sense to him, get him to let that final rope snap within him. “i want it. i want you to… be rough. if you’ve had a hard day, or if you’re mad over something… everything you’ve gone through…”

steve stood frozen, thoughts spiraling and heart pounding. his slacks suddenly felt tight around his hips, and it terrified him. he could never, would never hurt her. no matter how fucked up his life had been. no matter how much it all bothered him despite his façade. but her pupils were big, eyes pleading beneath a film of embarrassment and concern.

“put your hands on me,” she breathed, “i can take it.”

testing the waters, he flipped his hand, taking hold of her wrist. she said nothing, giving only a sign in the quickening of her breathing. it felt... good, having her bones grind under the pressure of his grasp, watching the lust flood her features. but his instincts kicked in, and he was dropping his hold, beelining for the hall as she stood in confusion.

“i’m getting in the shower.”

it was dark in the living room when she got home on friday, not even a light in the kitchen on. which was weird, especially given she saw steve’s car parked in his spot when she pulled in. and he hadn’t mentioned anything to her about going out. maybe he’d had just as long a day as she did and was already in bed. the appeal of kicking off her shoes and joining him under their warm covers was strong, only overpowered by the rumble in her stomach.

the fridge was stocked with leftovers from throughout the week, bits and pieces from whole meals coming together to form another as she stood at the counter to pick at them. she sighed after finishing off the container of cold pasta, placing it in the sink with the others to get drowned in water. they could sit overnight, it was fine.

she’d just shut the faucet off and begun to turn around when she saw him.

“christ!” she gasped, “what are you auditioning for the next halloween movie?”

“you’re home late.”

it was all steve said, shoulder propped up against the wall and eyes fixed on the floor. he was still in his work clothes, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, forearms tight across his chest.

going to put the towel back over the oven handle, she glanced at him, catching him watching her hands. “looks like i wasn’t too far behind you. overtime?”

“yeah. closing out that deal with chicago.”

she hummed, biting the inside of her cheek as she watched him silently pad across the floor to straighten the towel, gaze still not meeting hers. the pang in her chest started to grow, worry that she’d done something more offensive than hanging their dish towel slightly off kilter eating away the longer he stayed stoic.

the urge to ask him as much almost took over before he finally locked eyes with her, one hand pushing her softly into the counter, other settling against her cheek.

“you trust me?”

“what? of course, steve, what’s-”

slowly, he dragged his hand down and under her chin, thumb digging into one cheek, fingers in the other. he could see it in her eyes still, the uncertainty, worry. the question of if he was okay ready to drip off the tip of her tongue. and if she’d asked, he might’ve caved and finally said no. not today. not for a while. not beneath the surface. but she remained quiet, waiting for his next move, watching his mind turn over on itself like a film reel.

put your hands on me.

“you can take it?” he breathed, eyes gentle unlike his bruising grip.

all at once, she caught up, the pang in her chest fluttering its way down to her center. blinking slowly, she whispered, “yes.”

a weight fell off steve’s shoulders, hands on her tightening and then dropping away. “on the bed. strip first.”

it took everything in her to stay upright, knees buckling as she stepped around him and started for their bedroom, already pulling her sweater up and over her head. her panties got caught around her ankles, body tumbling onto their mattress with a quiet thud. finally pulling them off, she glanced toward the door, expecting steve to be right behind her, but the room and the hall beyond it were empty, leaving her to squirm in anticipation of footsteps.

time dragged on, the longer he took to follow, the more her heart started to race. pounding mixture of nerves and excitement thrumming through her veins, into each patch of skin that craved his touch. it was almost too much, her lips parting to call out for him just as he began to make his way to her.

“what can’t i do?” he rasped, stepping up to her legs where they hung over the foot of their bed, knees brushing.

“don’t worry about it. i’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

nodding, steve rubbed his hand over his chin. his two control centers were raging against one another, one processing the girl in front of him eagerly encouraging him to let loose, the other twisting at the thoughts, the images conjuring at the back of his brain. just beyond the darker, red-tinted ones that had him dragging across pavement and gritting his teeth through punches. tied to chairs and pumped with drugs. laughed at, looked down on. watching hands he’d once held with such care entwine with ones that had beat into his face in an alley. scaling brick to see the same hands soothing across shaking shoulders.

the crack that sounded was quick but sharp, his palm stinging how he imagined her cheek must have been. it was deafening, the silence in the room as he watched her process what had just happened. her head returned to center, tilting back to look up at him. and steve waited. waited for the pinch to her face, the shout of disapproval. waited to swallow down all those images and get back to his usual routine.

he watched her eyes, staring intently at her pupils as they doubled in size instead of tears welling up.

“you can take it, huh?” he tried again.

“a-anything, steve. whatever you need to give me.”

“yeah,” he strained, leaning forward to plant a hand on the bed beside her, other digging into her thighs until she parted them. “need to give you a lot.” their faces were hardly an inch apart, breath ghosting over each other’s lips as his fingers slid between her folds. “already this wet? then i’m not wasting time getting you off first.”

her head shook like a novelty toy, eyes so hooded he could barely see them past the black line of her lashes. “don’t. just use me...”

any other instruction she could give died in her throat at the press of his hand to it, webbing between his thumb and fingers digging into her windpipe. steve pushed, guided until she was flat on her back and he was hovering over her.

“don’t guide me. just lay there and take it like you said you could.”

attempting to swallow, she choked under the pressure of his hold, his fingers easing up for only a second while he reached down to undo his belt with his free hand. unable to give any verbal sign of understanding, she nodded, shivering when his knuckles brushed over her core in his haste to free himself. the heat of it all had a thought crossing her mind, confirmed when he never left his place over her, simply began dragging his bare head up and down her slit.

“wanna hear this...” he mumbled, letting go of her throat just as he pushed into her. all the way, up to the hilt, balls flush with her ass.

the noise she made was just what he wanted. broken and desperate, slightly raw from the vise that had been cupped around her vocal cords.

“bring your legs up,” steve bit, huffing out breaths from the exertion of being so snug inside her. she placed her heels on the edge of the bed, thighs brushing his hips. “no, bring them up. hold them if you have to.”

“here?” she whined, gripping the backs of her knees to pull them up toward her chest.

“fuck, yeah...” no further warning, his hips reared back, slamming home once more to rip another moan from her. he set them in that pace, not letting up even when her own bucked away to instinctively ease the pressure. “so fuckin’ tight right now... dripping onto the sheets... gonna have to do some laundry this weekend, huh?”

“y-yeah.”

“so hot...” his voice cracked, balls tensing at the picture in his mind. “love watching you bend over into the machine to dig everything out. get me hard when you sit on the couch next to me and fold everything. you know that?”

it was pointless hoping for a response, that’s why he didn’t. he just stared at the way her eyes rolled back, groaned at the clench of her channel around him. they were both plagued with the same burning desires. it’s why he had to adjust himself when she nudged his legs off the coffee table so she could run the vacuum over the spot between it and the couch. why her hand grabbed his off the wheel to place it on her thigh after he’d scraped ice off the windshield while she sat comfortably inside the car.

“shit... i love you, baby...”

“i love you, too, steve... so much.”

he couldn’t take it, crashing their lips together as his hips clapped against her ass, paying no mind to how they moved and allowing himself to get lost in the spit smearing across their chin and cheeks. giant palm finding her neck again, he gave a squeeze just to feel the way her lips vibrated with a silent moan. their noses were bumping and digging into one another, so hard when he ducked in closer that she flinched at the jolt to her bone. a rumble under his hold followed it, her legs shaking from the way the pain shot through her muscles.

“you mine? hm? belong to me?” his lips and hand didn’t let up, leaving her no chance to try and respond until he reeled himself in, hovering over her to get that assurance he so desperately craved.

her eyes were unfocused, bleary when she tried to meet his. all she could manage was a nod, pressure in her head building up until it faded, his hand falling away to slap at her cheek again.

“answer me.”

“y-yes, steve... ’m yours... all yours.”

“ah, fuck... yeah? yeah, you are. proving it to me.” he watched her nod, already slipping back into oblivion, further into it with each stab of his cock against her deepest point. one final cry left her before his hand was back around her throat, thumb prodding into the juncture of her neck, holding her head in place for him to bring their foreheads together. “happy?” he teased, “happy to finally have my cock in you like this? nothing keeping me from knocking you up now.”

her eyebrows knitted, gaze attempting to fix on his through the tremors of his unrelenting hips.

“yeah, don’t gimme that.” steve slowed his pace, letting the room fill with sounds of her soaked walls clinging to him. “like i haven’t noticed you frowning, pouting every time i open a condom.” keeping their faces close, he loosened his grip on her, letting her suck in air that was filled with his own exhales. a needy whine left her each time he thrusted in, still hitting that achy opening. “like it doesn’t kill me too. like i don’t wanna blow my load in you all the fuckin’ time...”

“please...”

the plea had his gaze going dark, fingers once again closing in around her jugular, this time pushing until her head formed a sizable dent in the comforter. air wheezed out of her lungs, the grip around his cock bearing down, fluttering. she was close.

“shit... holy shit...” his teeth were gritted, steve trying to add tension elsewhere to keep his own release from exploding just yet. “when i get this next promotion,” he sneered, “you’re done. fuckin’ done.” snorting, he shoved her hand away, taking hold of her thigh to bring it down and wrap it around his waist. her skin was soft under his touch, pebbled with goosebumps once his palm began trailing further down, settling on her hip. he gripped and squeezed at her flesh, feeling the potential within her bones. “sick of having you come home fried all the fuckin’ time. if you’re gonna melt your brains watching kids all day, they’re gonna be my kids.”

steve felt what would have been a moan rip up her throat, caught beneath the weight of his hand that was teetering so close to too much. the edges of her vision were getting fuzzy, picture clearing when he adjusted for a moment but only to relieve the strain on his knuckles.

“put in your two weeks’ first thing monday. understand?”

the hand he’d slapped away let go of their duvet to grab at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away so her gaping mouth could actually form an answer.

“n-no... fuck. you can nod, i don’t need words.”

so she did, crown of her head digging in until her scalp burned against cotton, hand giving up its attempt to pry him off and grabbing hold of his shirt as it stretched across his bicep. something so filthy and demeaning about having him pin her and use her while she was completely nude and he was completely clothed.

“probably tell them you’re going on maternity leave... ’cause i’m not letting you out of this bed ’til it takes...” she tensed around him again, hip stuttering in his hold as her eyes squeezed shut. “sh-it, shit.”

her orgasm ripped through her like an earthquake, starting on the other side of her world as the snap of a tree branch before it rippled out and shook her entire body. she couldn’t hold it, letting out a moan loud enough to wake everyone in the state when he pulled his hand away. it grabbed hold of her other hip, anchoring her against his so he could fuck into her forcefully.

“cumming from the thought of me keeping you barefoot and pregnant?” he groaned, “jesus, we’re sick.”

normally, she’d laugh with him. make some joke about a white picket fence, or tease him about a caravan. but in the aftermath of her climax, with his head still beating against her womb... she was ready to grovel at his feet for the reality of all that he’d promised.

“i-i don’t care,” she sobbed, “need it, steve. i need it so badly...”

“need what? need me to fuck a baby into you? that what you wanted all along?” he watched as a murky tear ran down her temple, stained with mascara. his balls were tensing, ready to burst at any given moment. “this whole thing about- fuck- about me bottling, just some excuse to get me to fuck you raw?”

“god, please!”

“gonna carry my kids? let me take care of all of you?”

“yes!”

“not gonna complain when... when i- christ, i’m close...” just to torment him, she clamped her walls around him, ready to take the full volume of his load. “gonna leave you every morning... one on your hip after i’ve just pumped another one in you.”

“please, steve, please...”

“yeah?” he whined, unable to catch himself. “want it now?”

“yes!” she was bordering angry, lightheaded from how badly she wanted him to fill her already.

steve went silent, fingertips biting into her skin as he let the words replay over and over in his head. thoughts of her swollen, waddling through the apartment, waiting at the door for him each night... he didn’t realize how bad he wanted it all until it was offered right up for him. all because he doesn’t like letting himself blow off steam. well, didn’t. he was definitely converted now.

“gonna cum,” he gritted, pinning her hips in place so he could get right up against that spot he wanted to.

“cum in me, steve, please let me have your babies.”

“fuck...”

everything in him went stiff, vision blurring white before he shut his eyes altogether, letting his head fall down beside hers. it felt so good, so unbelievably good to let his spend coat her insides. not some stupid fucking condom, not her back, not her chest, or face, or throat. just her silken walls, full to the brim with his seed.

“i love you,” he croaked, kissing at her shoulder. “thank you...”

“i love you, too.” she could tell just from the weight of him on top of her that the release had done more for him than just get him off. the week was over, the day was over. he was just there, melted onto her comfortably. safely.

“keep your legs up,” he groaned, pulling back despite her protests. “’m gonna get us food and stuff.”

“no cuddles? for the future mother of your child?”

shaking out his hair, steve smirked down at her, finally starting to unbutton his shirt to reveal the drenched tank top beneath it. “children, you mean. and we can cuddle when i’m actually finished with you.”

she’d have to give her two weeks’ notice on tuesday, maybe wednesday. because there was no way she was making it anywhere after the weekend with him.

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boogiewrites · 2 years ago

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Some feedback might help me write?

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson X reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson ff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au

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boogiewrites · 2 years ago

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I feel like every writer has created whole stories before around just that one specific scene that they thought of and really wanted to write. Sometimes I wonder what those scenes were for my favourite stories.

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boogiewrites · 2 years ago

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HOW DID I MISS A VIDEO OF JOE QUINN CALLING JOE KEERY A DIRTY OLD WRINKLY FILTHY BOY

HOW

#he's so british for this

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boogiewrites · 2 years ago

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Hope you’re doing well, haven’t seen you around Ao3 or Tumblr lately and you are definitely missed! <3 - Shayeddie aka EddieMunsonsGuitarStrings

Thank you very much, darling.

I have been doing exceptionally well. I haven't had to write as a form of escapism due to being stuck in a bad relationship.

I've been living outside my computer for the first time in 13 years and going out and making friends and going to concerts and enjoying myself as much as possible. I've been redecorating and cleaning since my ex moved out. I've been busy.

But I miss writing. A lot. I have a few WIP's I've been slowly chipping away at. But I seem to get to the point of smut and I just CAN'T write it for some reason. I can't find that natural groove for it and tap into that part of my brain. I'm not sure what it is. Getting into the writing headspace has been exceptionally hard since I've been out in the world more. I have like 5-6 things I've started and some have thousands of words and I get to the point of sex and just...crickets.

I do lurk and try to make time to read others' fics when I can. It makes me want to write, that's for sure. I miss the interactions.

In short, I'm doing really well, but when it comes to writing I'm stuck and can't write sex.

It means a lot I'm not forgotten and you care though. Genuinely.

#asks

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boogiewrites · 2 years ago

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I love you and I hate you.

I suppose this is karma for writing things like this and putting readers through it.

Oh how the turn tables!

master list

Eddie x fem! reader

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️

Absolutely no minors, gtfo. Hopefully everyone has read the warning post from earlier this week regarding this chapter. it is extremely dark themed.

Heavy violence

References to past rape/ assault

Blood, gore

Domestic violence

Somnaphilia

Character death etc

A/N: please know your limits. I love you and let’s get into this chapter so we can move on.

The brown popcorn bag spun lazily in the microwave like an oily inflating balloon. The steady hum of the appliance kept you company as the countdown to the sad supper ticked to an end. The cheerful ding springing you from the staring contest you were having with the counter top.

The small radio you had purchased was sitting on the counter, the soft belt of Linger by The Cranberries was playing for what seemed like the tenth time today and you couldn’t help but feel the lyrics in your blood.

Unaware of anything out of the ordinary. A typical night after working at the bar. Showering and throwing on a pair of pajama shorts, tucked next to the pair of Eddie’s boxer briefs you had found last week.

After investigating why the washer banged all to hell when even the smallest of loads were in it, wedged tight under the plastic agitator were his underwear.

And you’d be a fool to say you hadn’t broken down and sobbed in the basement on the discovery.

You dried them and folded them neatly next to your delicates. The same drawer that held the worn and tarnished pig ring he gave you as a Christmas gift, and the envelope full of cash.

The water works started again.

Hot tears flooding your eyes, the simple act made you feel like he was home with you. But the nightmare always continued.

You missed him so much.

“But you always really knew

I just want to be with you

If you were a tiny bit more awake you might have caught that the door to the garage was locked even though you had no memory of locking it yourself.

..And I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Rustling the steaming bag from the microwave with burnt finger tips, you toss it on the counter hastily. Sucking your fingers into your mouth to dull the stinging redness away.

Do you have to let it linger?

And maybe it was then that if you weren’t busy nursing the premature burns, you would have noticed the odd set of keys on the counter next to the mail, pushed to the side by the buttery bag of popcorn.

Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?

Bending at the waist to the lower cabinet you reach around for the smooth plastic of the yellow popcorn bowl. Upon standing you feel dizzy. You hear it before you feel it, the loud thwap of something heavy against the back of your head. The pain is searing and turns your vision to black. You’re passed out before your head even hits the floor.

(1987)

The November air whipped into reddened skin, striking out any heat you had left in the confinements of the peach sweater you borrowed from Nancy on your frozen walk to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

It happened again.

And this time it wasn’t an accident, no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he said he was sorry.

He hit you with a closed fist.

You weren’t flirting with Dustin. He was your friend. Way before Chad had taken any interest in you. Most of your friends were guys, besides El and Max, and even though Nancy Wheeler was older and more popular— you considered her a friend too.

When she left for college this past fall, she insisted on making her room more stylish to your liking. And she never once minded the twin beds you both slept in, a night stand between them.

But when Mike sat next to you at lunch and was going over notes from Kensington’s class, Chad’s mind twisted it into Mike hitting on you. Which led to Chad hitting on you, but instead of compliments and doting behavior— he drug you out to his car, a bony grip on the back of your neck.

He screamed at you with every vein protruding from his tan skin. Voice hoarse and throat stretched tight.

Apparently you were fucking people behind his back. Even though you were a virgin. The town whore! He had yelled loud for even some of the teachers to hear, all turning a blind eye to the obvious domestic abuse happening on school grounds.

Explaining yourself only made it worse.

He slapped your face hard when you opened your mouth to interrupt him. And when you stood your ground and raised your chin to him, calm and steadily telling him to go fuck himself, he swung a fist into your eye.

And that’s when you left.

His apologies trailing behind you and caught in the gut of wind to travel far away from your ears. He wouldn’t follow you, he had appearances at school to keep up.

Much easier to tell Aaron and Sean that you got your period and were being crazy then explain why he had left school.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet, frozen from the last winter storm and holding pockets of ice amongst the rocks.

Pale blue and still holding the old television lawn ornament, you sighed audible when Eddie’s van was parked outside of the aluminum sided trailer.

You hadn’t seen him since graduation last May. The night Chrissy’s extra curricular activities with Rick finally came out when they were caught fucking in the shower upstairs, at Steve’s house. Both sporting pricked arms with needle marks.

A broken hearted Eddie drank all night long and puked into the hot tub.

Your quickened steps up to the concrete stairs and a shaky broken knock on the screen door have you stepping back waiting for the door to open, awaiting Eddie’s stupid grin waiting on the other side.

Living with Eddie you had no reason to be afraid. Many nights the front door was left unlocked. And maybe it was out of habit. Maybe you had left it unlatched tonight too.

It would explain how he was there now.

Hovering over you, his blond hair coined perfectly slicked to the side, slightly feathered back with thick styling gel. A Ralph Lauren polo with the logo on the left chest. His cologne reeked of some designer brand, making your stomach queasy.

The only difference between those years ago and now was that he had a small dusting of a flesh colored mustache wiggled on his sweaty lip. Same maniacal inky blacks to his blown pupils, laced with the piercing blue.

The realization ices your veins and stings your eyes with angry tears.

Chad Cunningham was in your home, his body over yours as you're pinned beneath him, the smell of iron invading your nose. Looking around with wild eyes you see the crimson streaks from the linoleum in the kitchen to the carpet where you are laying. Your head thumping with the rhythm of bloody drops against the fibers of the worm carpet.

“Been a long time hasn’t it, honey bun?”

An eternity wouldn’t have been enough.

Pressing his body into yours, you can feel the stiffness of his starched shirt as you try to will your arms to fight him away. He chuckles at your feeble attempts to push him off.

His weight presses deeper into you as he lowers his mouth to your lips, squeezing your face he almost sings, “Told you I’d see you soon.”

His lips are harshly planted into yours, feeling like jagged rocks against your soft waters.

“Fuck,” he groans, hard against your thigh. “just like I remember. I’ve missed you.”

The clink of his belt unthreading from the loops of his khakis finally renders your senses. But you wait with calculated timing.

Leaning back, he stares into your face with a quizzical expression burrowed deep on his brow. “What’s the frown for? Don’t you miss me? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Evident that his delusions still ran deep, it’s showtime. You would survive this. One good hit, that's all it would take.

Pushing yourself up gently, your head is swimming with nausea and the steady dripping tick of blood down the back of your neck.

Placing a shaky hand to his cheek he moves into your hand, the same way Eddie had that night, your stomach somersaults at the memory.

When his eyes shut, you turn your fingers into a clawed position, and scrape the flesh from the corner of his eye down to his lip.

It happens quickly and with your blurred vision and pounding head it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He wasn’t expecting it.

A kick to his ribs hurt your bare feet probably more than it injured him but you needed the extra time to escape into your room.

The phone feels cool against your cheek, and weighs heavy on your shoulder when you realize it’s dead. The plan of you running in here, dialing 9-1-1 and holding him off until they came was foiled.

“BITCH! You can’t hide from me!”

Knowing you only have seconds before he finds you, you

frantically look around for something to defend yourself with. Searching eyes land on the window.

Just need to get out and run to Mr. Griffin’s house.

Fingers on the frame you yank upwards, palms digging into the wired screen, pushing it out.

Throwing your leg out into the darkness of the night, you’re one step closer to being safe. One step closer to ending this night of horrors before it could begin.

The noise of splintering wood and the crack of a door being snapped from its hinges join your erratic breath and piercing screams— a monstrous reel of symphonic sound.

Chad twists a thick fist into your scalp, freeing the hair from its follicles in a sickening pop as you scratch your nails into the window sill, trying to hold on.

He’s stronger than you, no different than years before. And when your body crumbles onto the floor with a squelching thud, splinters of lacquered wood and nails that once held the door in place, pierce into your exposed skin.

But that is minor league compared to the shattering pain delivered from his fist into your face as he straddles you.

“Think you can hide away with that freak from me?!” He rocks his closed hand into your other cheek, this time clipping your eye with a gold wedding band.

Your cries fall on deaf ears. Tears stinging and trying to drip from your swelling eyelids.

“Honey bun,” he purrs into your ear, “don’t tell me you’re that fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t find you.”

His fingers move to brush your hair from your face, and he holds your head in place when you try to bite at his fingers.

His wicked smile could make the devil’s scaly skin crawl.

“Such a dumb whore, forgetting I have eyes and ears all over this town.” Placing his grabby fingers on his breasts, he continues, “Aaron and Sean may not be the brightest candles on the cake but they are loyal.”

Aaron…Sean.

You rack your brain for any recollection of those names. and it finally clicks. Chad’s friends in high school, following him around like he was the King. A snap of his fingers and they’d move like henchmen. Fighting anyone who got in his way, putting themselves at risk just to say they had a friend from a rich family.

The realization swims in your eyes and scares your tears dry.

“No.”

“Pieced it together huh?” Chad laughs wildly. “They work..” he grunts, hips rutting against you, pinching your perked nipples in his tight grasp, his fingernails digging through your shirt around the delicate skin, making you squeal, “..with the freak!”

His deranged cackle doubles when you yell out in pain.

“Small town bosses don’t lock their offices, and it was too easy for Aaron to find your address, even easier to find out that Eddie had left your ass here, unguarded, alone, waiting for someone to save you, and honey bun here I am!”

His sick twisted smile oozes fear further into your gut, brooding and feeding on any small amount of joy you had left.

“You need a fucking psychiatrist.”

“Such harsh words for that sweet mouth, but don’t worry!” he reassures, eyes wide with delight and a psychotic expression on his face as he brings his voice low and secret-like, “I won’t kill you yet, the boys are looking for Munson and when they find him…” he lowers himself to kiss your lips, sliding his tongue against the split flesh.

“Fuck!” He bellows, licking his lips savoring your taste on his tongue, “when they find him they’re gonna bring him here, and it’ll be arranged to look like the freak killed you and then himself.. a lover’s quarrel gone bad.”

He rubs his face and grunts again at the warbled wails you let out, squeezing your breasts and bucking into your clothed crotch. “Goddamn,” he groans, his eyes rolling into his head at the sound of your cries, getting off on your distorted face, “I just couldn’t help myself, had to come here and do this first. One last goodbye.”

You’d rather be dead at this point. You wish he’d kill you now and get it over with. But the thought of Eddie seeing your lifeless body haunted you. And you stop crying when his hands close around the hollow of your throat.

“Gonna be mine, one last time honeybun?”

“Fuck you,” you croak beneath his hands on your throat.

You’re weak and running out of time. Rolling your tongue against your teeth and cheeks, harboring a mixture of saliva and blood you wait until Chad is leaning over you, and when he’s close enough you spit the concoction into his face.

Chad bellers out, letting go of your throat and standing abruptly to wipe his face. The split second he’s distracted you try to crawl away, but he kicks you down.

Delivering several soccer styled strikes into your stomach, his voice spewing insults with every jab of his white Nikes into your body.

A raging shock of fury paints his face.

“What did I tell you hmm? If I can’t have you— no one can!” You scream loud when his shoe propels into your crotch, shocking your pelvis with burning heat.

All noise is void when he rolls you over and crashes down on your beaten body, clobbering your tear and blood streaked face, blow after blow. Your eyes are swelling shut and you’re surprised when you see Eddie’s face, before your eyes shut.

It feels like home.

-1987-

The warm smile you missed so much was not there to greet you. A cold calloused “what?” finds you instead.

“Eddie?” you ask with a scratchy throat, clearing it once, twice, to answer him against the wind.

Grumbling and stomping in the trailer is heard. Along with two separate giggles.

The door is yanked hard inward revealing a version of Eddie Munson you’d never seen before. His skin was sunken in on his cheeks, dark circles rimmed his eyes. His once soft features were sharp and lackluster, brooding with ashy shadows and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in months.

He looked gaunt and hallowed out, his ribs poking against the cindery color of his skin. The warm whiskey eyes that once danced when he laughed were now gaping blacked marbled, polar and dull.

He speaks but you are too busy holding your breath from the stench of rotting clothes and unwashed bodies.

Stumbling over an apology for not hearing him, you are startled when he barks back, “I said, what the fuck are you doing here, Tooty?”

You look to the floor and notice he’s wearing a heavily stained sock with a hole in the toe, the other foot bare, next to a pair of work boots are three pairs of women’s shoes:, heels, keds, and pink reeboks. Your toes wiggle in your worn converse.

“I’m.. I uh..”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “oh for fucks sake spit it out! You selling raffle tickets or something for school? Pep team need new Pom-poms? Or maybe the chess club is looking for a new board?”

Shock stealing your speech you stand on frigid feet digging your fingers into the yarn on the Nancy’s sweater. Tears bite your lashes and fall on cold cheeks.

Eddie! Where’s your lighter? A sultry voice coos, padding feet getting closer to the threshold.

“Listen kid, I’m fucking busy, I don’t have time to haul you around because twiddle dick and dum forgot you at the gas station again.”

He has barely looked at you since you got there. The guy who held more merit to you than your own brother was gone.

When you wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your sweater he lets out an exaggerated groan.

He thrusts dirty fingers into his sweatpants pockets. Pulling out a perfectly rolled twenty dollar bill, he flattens it smooth. He smears his finger along the length of the bill, collecting remnants of a fine white powder, which is quickly shoved into his greedy mouth and rubbed on his gums like he’s brushing his teeth.

“Here,” he grunts, shoving the drugged money into your pocket, avoiding your eyes at all cost, “now get lost.”

The blinds on the door are still swinging as you stand there dumbstruck and watery eyed. Low voices are murmured through the thin walls as a lighter flicks and sizzles.

Who was that baby?

Nobody.

And that’s exactly who you were to everyone you knew, nobody.

And ironically enough— that’s exactly who you could rely on.

One thing was for certain: Eddie Munson was a stranger to you.

The tears fell harder on the shameful walk back to Chad. But you weren’t sure if you were crying harder because of the sudden loss you felt from an old friend or because of the pain in your eye.

Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie jiggles the door handle, it’s locked and he panics and realizes he still has his key. Fumbling with the key ring, Eddie finds the short brass one and unlocks the door.

The sight of the mostly empty house is jarring, causing his stomach to drop , a small recliner rests in the living room where his couch once sat. Wine is spilled from the kitchen to the living room, smeared like it was swept poorly with a mop.

You never drank wine.

Maybe you started drinking heavily after he left. He did. It only made sense.

But a second glance at the claret colored stain embedded into the carpet and his worst fear was realized.

Blood.

The sound of something wet and thwacking settles into his bones and shakes his spine. Someone was hurting you.

Heavy docs lead him to the corner of the house, your room and his old room. Where his door was intact, yours was shattered. Like Jack Torrance took his ax to it in The Shining. Stepping on cracked wood, Eddie sees the most horrific thing he’s ever been a witness too.

And suddenly he’s six years old again, helpless. Watching a woman he loved lose a battle she didn’t even know she was in. But instead of his mother’s lifeless body crumbled by his father’s feet, instead of her dark curly hair matted with pooling blood and a gaping bullet hole— It’s you underneath a guy he doesn’t recognize.

Your face is battered and covered in blood, the once plush lips he held so warmly between his own were split and slack. Your eyes were swollen, lacking any shine to them they normally held.

His eyes connect with yours for a brief second, and when they close he doesn’t know if they will open again.

Fury radiates through his entire body, masking the pain of heartache at the sight of you slipping from him.

Before he can acknowledge the thought of you being gone, he lunges at the catalog Dad dressed asshole. Knocking him off your body and landing on top of him, colliding into your dresser. The tangle of body parts wrestling for purchase tumble into the hall. Ringed fists land home on every surface of this guy's face, and when he stops to take a breath— he realizes the face he is hitting is Chad Cunningham’s.

How did he find you? Had he been stalking you both since that day at the grocery store?

Didn’t matter all that he cared about was throwing this mother fucker the biggest ass kicking of his life, and he wouldn’t stop until either Chad or himself was dead.

“I’ve waited years for this day,” Chad spit, after getting a punch in when Eddie was in his own head, knocking Eddie’s jaw to bite down on his tongue, filling his mouth with blood immediately. “Trailer trash Munson finally came to play.”

Taken by surprise, Chad shoves Eddie from him and stands up, looking through the doorway at your limp body.

Eddie stands slow, using the bathroom doorknob to help, he reaches for the knife kept in his back pocket.

Chad spins to face Eddie, his hair sweaty and face ballooning out from Eddie’s rings. “You should have left my girl alone Munson, would have saved your uncle the heartache.”

Eddie flicks the blade open on the knife, grip tight around it, he breathes through his nose his throat tight and stretching around his words, his leather jacket creaking when he moves his neck around in a stretch, confident in his delivery, “she’s not yours.”

The hysterical laugh that leaves Chad’s lungs could resemble bats screeching in the night, he’d make a great clown in a haunted house.

“Dead or alive whether I’m married or not— she’ll always be mine.”

Like alley cats, they stare each other down, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

Chad licks his lips and looks your way again, “listen, I get it, she’s hot. And that tight little pussy..” he licks his lips and grabs himself over his denim jeans, stained with your blood.

Eddie’s blood is boiling, he’s seconds away from snapping but trying to hold it together long enough to make a perfect attack.

Chad leans forward, gesturing a mockery secret with his hand held around his mouth, “It’s even better when she’s fighting you,” he inhales deep, like he’s wishing he was in a past memory, “screaming really tightens her right up.”

Knife out, Eddie charges forward. And is struck dumb when the knife is kicked from his hand. Another kick this time to the chest that he wasn’t expecting sends him stumbling into the living room, air gone from his lungs. Chad follows and swings into his diaphragm making Eddie choke out on nothing, gasping for air.

“Oh come on, Munson,” Chad taunted, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s cheek, “Thought you would have some trailer park moves to throw at me.”

Raising a heavy boot, Eddie stomps on Chad’s toes, and mule kicks his kneecaps. A ringed fist meets his cheek, adding another forming bruise to his winter tan skin. Shoving him backwards into the counter in the kitchen, the cabinet doors bust on the impact.

The punches Eddie is landing have his knuckles bloody and swelling but he doesn’t care. Each punch is a testament for the years you held yourself together, acted like nothing bad was going on, when in reality you were experiencing hell on Earth and he never knew.

This was his payback. His way of righting a wrong. A wrong that should have never even began.

He doesn’t know what he was hit with just that he was stumbling backwards again. Temple throbbing and without reaching up he knows he’s bleeding. His back hitting the corner of the fridge he slides down onto the linoleum.

His head is heavy and his vision blinded with hazy clouds of black and white. He hears Chad but doesn’t see him, just feels his head being slammed in the fridge and a grip in his hair.

“Could have saved your uncle funeral costs you stupid bastard… clearly you don’t care about him, or Tooty for that matter, leaving her all alone like that,” Chad sucks through his teeth, splitting blood onto Eddie’s shirt, “thought the raccoons usually stuck together.”

He chuckles low and slams Eddie’s head one more time with such force it leaves a dent in the fridge. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, straightening his shirt, walking towards your room , “my girl is waiting.”

“Don’t touch her!” Eddie roars, pushing himself up to stand with all his might. Pounding head and nausea thick in his mouth. Raising his head he looks at Chad with blurry sight, trying to see clearly. His voice is low, catching his breath and taking all of his strength to utter out the words. Balancing around the mark of deranged, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Chad swivels on his heels, head cocked at Eddie, he grabs under his chin holding it firmly in place. His breath fanning over Eddie’s cheeks and he smiles maniacally, blood painting his teeth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” A heavy fist to the gut has Eddie doubled over. Gripping the counter with white knuckles and wet blood smeared fingertips.

He had failed again. He wasn’t able to stop his own father from killing his mother. And now Chad was on his way to desecrate your lifeless body. He’s a fuck up and a failure.

Always.

A low guttural choking sound breeches Eddie’s ears. And he turns to see you covered in your own blood, barely standing and wielding a bat with nails protruding from every which way.

The nails are claret colored and dripping thick drops onto the carpet, fibers of Chad’s jeans hang in shreds from the sharp edges. A scant look towards Eddie and your eyes swim with relief and mourning.

He’s here. Blood is smeared down his lips and his hands look tight and swollen.

But he’s alive. And so are you.

Eddie’s vision is doubled and he blinks rapidly unaware if he is seeing you or not. He swallows hard and almost chokes on tears.

But that is short lived.

And it happens fast.

The yelling rage from Chad’s lungs over power your screams. His hands are tight around your throat before you can blink, your spine snapping into the nearest wall, feet dangling off the ground.

Haziness bleeds into your eyes and your breath is expelled from screaming— now gone when your windpipe is crushing like a pixie stick under Chad’s grip.

Desperate to fight back you jam your thumbs into his eyes. Victor Creel style like the Urban Legends passed down that you were told as kids.

If you were going to die, at least he would be blind, a forever reminder of this day etched, literally, into his face.

You prayed Eddie would know how much you loved him.

Should have’s taking over the last puffs of oxygen in your brain, popping like bubbles.

Should have told him sooner.

Should have said it every day.

Should have kissed him more.

Should have let him love you.

The guilt wraps around your mind as the cold hands of death welcome you. But you’re not afraid. Knowing Chad always kept good on his word, Eddie would join you in the afterlife.

Hand in hand.

Strolling along the pinked cotton candy clouds and the pearly gates.

You are his and he is yours.

Lovers together finally at last.

The last breath on your lips is a silent devotion to him.

I love you, Eddie.

a/n: my asks are always open ♥️

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