#Amber x Eddie

[buddiesource]

EDDIE & BUCK → 5.14 'Dumb Luck'

[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

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[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!

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👀👀👀 lol that kiss clearly stirred up sumn in him as well 

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Charlie Spring (gn, male)

Nick Nelson (fem, gn, male)

Elle Argent (fem, gn, male)

Darcy Olsson (fem, gn)

Tara Jones (fem, gn)

Tao Xu (fem, gn)

Imogen Heaney (gn, male)

Isaac Henderson (fem, gn, male)

Anne with an E

Gilbert Blythe (fem, gn)

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert (fem, gn, male)

Diana Barry (gn, male)

Jerry Baynard (fem, gn)

Cole Mackenzie (fem, gn, male)

Sebastian Lacroix (fem, gn)

Billy Andrews (fem, gn)

Charlie Sloane (fem, gn)

Nate (fem, gn)

Prissy Andrews (fem, gn, male)

To All the Boys I've Loved Before

John Ambrose (fem, gn)

Josh (fem, gn)

Peter Kavinsky (fem, gn)

Lucas (gn, male)

Gen (fem, gn, male)

Chris *Christine* (fem, gn, male)

Julie and the Phantoms

Julie (fem, gn, male)

Luke Patterson (fem, gn)

Alex (gn, male)

Reggie (fem, gn)

Nick (fem, gn)

Flynn (fem, gn, male)

Willie (gn, male)

IT (Chapter 1 + 2)

Stanley Uris (fem, gn, male)

Richie Tozier (fem, gn, male)

Eddie Kaspbrak (fem, gn, male)

Beverly Marsh (fem, gn, male)

Ben Hanscom (fem, gn)

Mike Hanlon (fem, gn)

Bill Denbrough (fem, gn, male)

Henry Bowers (fem, gn)

Belch Huggins *Reggie* (fem, gn)

Patrick Hockstetter (fem, gn)

Victor Criss (fem, gn)

I Am Not Okay With This

Sydney Novak (fem, gn, male)

Stanley Barber (fem, gn, male)

Enola Holmes

Enola Holmes (fem, gn, male)

Tewksbury (fem, gn)

Sherlock Holmes (fem, gn)

The Kissing Booth

Noah Flynn (fem, gn)

Lee Flynn (fem, gn)

Marco Peña (fem, gn)

The Imperfects

Tilda Webber (fem, gn, male)

Abbi Singh (fem, gn, male)

Juan Ruiz (fem, gn)

Sydney Burke (fem, gn, male)

P.J. (fem, gn)

Malibu Rescue

Tyler (fem, gn)

Dylan (fem, gn, male)

Lizzy (fem, gn, male)

Gina (fem, gn, male)

Eric (fem, gn)

The Package

Sean Floyd (fem, gn, male)

Sarah (fem, gn, male)

Becky Abelar (fem, gn, male)

Purple Hearts

Cassie Salazar (fem, gn, male)

Luke Morrow (fem, gn)

Frankie (fem, gn)

Armando (fem, gn)

Riley (fem, gn, male)

Wednesday

Wednesday Adams (fem, gn, male)

Xavier Thorpe (fem, gn)

Enid Sinclair (fem, gn, male)

Tyler Galpin (fem, gn)

Rowan Laslow (fem, gn, male)

Lucas Walker (fem, gn)

Ajax Petropolus (fem, gn)

Heartbreak High

Spencer White *Spider* (fem, gn)

Anthony Vaughn *Ant* (fem, gn, male)

Darren Rivers (gn, male)

Amerie Wadia (gn, male)

Quinn Gallagher-Jones *Quinni* (fem, gn)

Dustin Reid *Dusty* (fem, gn)

Harper McLean (fem, gn, male)

Douglas Piggott *Ca$h* (fem, gn, male)

Malakai Mitchell (fem, gn, male)

Hype House (All time)

Vinnie Hacker (fem, gn)

Taylor Holder (fem, gn)

Jack Wright (fem, gn, male)

Jett (fem, gn, male)

Barron Sho (fem, gn)

Ryland (fem, gn)

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger (fem, gn, male)

Harry Potter (fem, gn)

Ron Weasley (fem, gn)

George Weasley (fem, gn)

Fred Weasley (fem, gn)

Bill Weasley (fem, gn)

Charlie Weasley (fem, gn)

Percy Weasley (fem, gn)

Ginny Weasley (fem, gn, male)

Mattheo Riddle (fem, gn)

Theodore Nott (fem, gn)

Dean Thomas (fem, gn)

Lee Jordan ( fem, gn, male)

Seamas Finnigan (fem, gn, male)

Pansy Parkinson (fem, gn, male)

Lorenzo Berkshire (fem, gn)

Tom Riddle *not Voldemort* (fem, gn)

Blaise Zabini (fem, gn)

Luna Lovegood (fem, gn, male)

Regulus Black *young* (fem, gn, male)

Sirius Black *young* (fem, gn, male)

Remus Lupin *young* (fem, gn, male)

James Potter *young* (fem, gn, male)

Lily Potter *young* (fem, gn, male)

Nymphadora Tonks (fem, gn, male)

Narcissa Malfoy *young and old* (fem, gn, male)

Fantastic Beasts

Newt Scammander (fem, gn)

Queenie Goldstein (fem, gn, male)

Credence Barebone (fem, gn, male)

Theseus Scammander (fem, gn)

The Black Phone

Vance Hopper (fem, gn)

Finney Blake (fem, gn)

Gwenny Blake *aged up* (fem, gn, male)

Robin Arellano (fem, gn)

Bruce Yamada (fem, gn)

Billy Showalter (fem, gn)

10 Things I Hate About You

Kat Stratford (fem, gn, male)

Cameron James (fem, gn)

Bianca Stratford (fem, gn, male)

Patrick Verona (fem, gn)

Michael (fem, gn, male)

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

Jacob Portman (fem, gn, male)

Emma Bloom (fem, gn, male)

Alma Peregrine (fem, gn, male)

Enoch O'Connor (fem, gn)

Victor Bruntley *alive* (fem, gn)

Olive Abroholos Elephanta (fem, gn, male)

Millard Nullings (fem, gn, male)

Horace (fem, gn male)

Fiona *aged up* (fem, gn, male)

Bronwyn Bruntley *aged up* (fem, gn, male)

Hugh (fem, gn, male)

Sturniolo Triplets

Matt Sturniolo (fem, gn)

Chris Sturniolo (fem, gn)

Nick Sturniolo (gn, male)

Titanic

Rose Dewitt Bukater (fem, gn, male)

Jack Dawson (fem, gn, male)

A Quiet Place

Marcus (fem, gn, male)

Evelyn (fem, gn, male)

Regan (fem, gn, male)

Lee (fem, gn)

The Office

Jim Halpert (fem, gn)

Dwight Shrute (fem, gn, male)

Pam Beesley (fem, gn, male)

Five Feet Apart

Stella (fem, gn, male)

Poe Ramirez (gn, male)

Will (fem, gn)

Celebs/Influencers

That I don't already have as characters (cuz I write for the haracter and the actor)

Nils Kuesel (fem, gn, male)

Jack Harlow (fem, gn)

Dua Lipa (fem, gn, male)

Olivia Rodrigo (fem, gn, male)

Jenna Ortega (fem, gn, male)

Dove Cameron (fem, gn, male)

Benjamin Wadsworth (fem, gn)

Girl Meets World

Farkle Minkus (fem, gn, male)

Riley Matthews (fem, gn, male)

Maya Hart (fem, gn, male)

Lucas Friar (fem, gn)

Isaiah Babineaux (fem, gn)

Isadora Smackle (fem, gn, male)

Auggie Matthews *aged up* (fem, gn)

Josh Matthews (fem, gn)

Boy Meets World

Shawn Hunter (fem, gn)

Eric Matthews (fem, gn, male)

Cory Matthews (fem, gn)

Topanga Lawrance (fem, gn, male)

Jack (fem, gn, male)

The Notebook

The Breakfast Club

Barbie

She's the Man

Duke Orsino (fem, gn)

Hazbin Hotel

How to Request :

Make sure to state what you would like in the imagine/story and what genre (?) Like angst, fluff, smut (sometimes). Also what character or person you would want in the imagine. 🙃

*Disclaimer*

I write for all of these characters and their actors and if you have someone else you would want me to write for be sure to put that in your request these are just the characters I could think of off the top of my head

P.S. I also do some ship imagines like Nick x Charlie (heartstopper), etc. So if you want ship imagines be sure to send them in and I will try and get to them.

[ourladyofeternity]

Papi Hades is in da house! 😎

[flamingfalcon3]

Some art for the House of Anubis AU I’m making. The gist of it is that Nina gets her body stolen by an evil entity while she was staying at school over the summer after s2 to make up for all the classes she missed. The possession was supposed to destroy her soul, but the Eye of Horus manages to save her soul and gives her a body in the form of a falcon. Unfortunately, no one saw what happened, so when they discover her, they assume that something must have happened to Nina and somehow a random bird got ahold of her locket.

[callisto00]

They're two big gays!

[lesbianmaxevans]

Gregory & Amber || Teacher Conference

[Image Description: Eight stacked gifs from Abbott Elementary.

Gregory: I can’t wait to show you what I have planned. He looks at his mini notebook. Amber looks excited as she silently claps her hands. Gregory: We have snowshoeing, a coal jewelry workshop, and tree-ventures just to start. Amber: I thought we were gonna be, like, relaxing. In a hot tub. Gregory: We are, after the firewood harvesting forum. Amber: Seems like you have a lot planned. Gregory: That’s the best way to relax. On a strict schedule. Amber: Okay, oh boy. Okay. So, um, I don’t think we’re on the same page. Again. Gregory: Well, I’m on page 9. Where you at? Amber: Gregory, put the book away.]

[non-cannon]

I had what I thought was a great idea, Sibuna as a polycule. They're all friends with each other, and Nina is dating Fabian, Amber, and Patricia, Amber is also dating Alfie, and Patricia is also dating Eddie.

Then I realized a flaw with this idea: Nina doesn't have enough hands. Fabian can hold hands with just Nina, no problem. Amber can hold hands with both Nina and Alfie. Patricia can hold hands with both Nina and Eddie. But Nina cannot hold hands with all three of them at the same time!

I don't know how to fix this!

[randomjreader]

Why is Gregory dating every woman that shows him the slightest bit of interest in the show (minus Ava) BUT JANINE when he is so clearly down bad for her pls 😭

[haox]

HEY!!!! I made a quiz ab my fictional crushes, y’all should take it!!!!

Characters include Leo valdez, caspian x, amber freeman, rosa diaz, warren rojas, eddie munson

[ruewrote]

my inbox is so empty and im bored rn so send in requests for any of the characters i write for :)