#like i watched the trailer yesterday and it was like all i could think about the rest of the day

[kingofpopmj]

Something About You Baby

Summary: You watched behind the scenes as filming for In The Closet began. Michael in work mode was one of your favorite things, but there was something different about this time.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader!

Warning: AWKWARD TENSION, ARGUING AND CURSING

Requested: yes

*Y/N’s POV*

It was hot. Everything. The weather. The onscreen couple. The wardrobe. Everything. It felt like only yesterday Michael jumped out of bed and began scribbling notes in the notebook I’d put in his nightstand for moments like this. I laid on my side watching him hum and beatbox until he found the right melody. His process was incredible to witness. It was so damn sexy when he lost himself in the music.

“What do you think?” Michael smiled, standing still as I eyed him up and down— taking my sweet time of course.

“Very handsome.” I leaned in, my lips molding to the curve of his cheek. “Aren’t you going to be hot in those jeans?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have many other options.”

“You could wear a speedo.” I teased.

“I think that would negate the subtly I was going for.”

“Boo. You’re no fun.” I giggled, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and twirling my fingers through the strands of his ponytail.

“Plus, those don’t seem very comfortable or supportive for that matter.”

“Must you always overthink my jokes?”

“How about… I give you a private show later. I’ll pull out all my best moves and definitely no speedos.” I could feel his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, tracing my hipbone.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Only the best for my lady.”

“We should get out there… the longer you look at me like that the closer we are to getting this trailer rockin’. I only have so much self control.” I pouted, dragging the pads of my fingers along the details of his shoulder muscles.

“I love the hell out of you. You know that?”

“I had an inkling.”

“Come on. They’re waiting for us.”

Michael held out his arm for me to take before guiding me with him to where everyone was waiting. After quick pleasantries, I looked on silently as they begun talking business. Michael spoke with the director about some last minute ideas. I took the moment to look around, it was a simple set and I was looking forward to seeing how they’d utilize everything.

“This is Y/N, my better half.” Michael’s voice brought me back into the conversation. When I turned my head I was face to face with his love interest for the day.

“Hello, it’s great to meet you.” I smiled, trying to hide how utterly intimidated I’d felt. The more I looked at her the more I felt myself shrink— she’s like a fucking goddess.

“Hi, I’m Naomi, it’s exciting to finally meet you. Michael talks about you constantly. I feel like I already know you.” She was tall with long hair and a costume which showed off her toned physique. She was absolutely beautiful.

Michael whispered in my ear about needing to take care of something and left me alone with the supermodel. We continued talking and laughing together. She was actually pretty easy to talk to. It wasn’t long until I didn’t feel so insecure anymore. I mean she’s still stunning, but she also seemed kind. She’s Michaels friend— good friend. He doesn’t have many of those, people he can trust, so that’s another plus in my book.

“Mike should’ve just had you in the video.” She nudged me with her elbow. “I think that would’ve really brought the shock value. No one would expect it, since he’s so protective of you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’d go for that at all. Plus, I couldn’t— I get a little camera shy.”

“Don’t be shy. Own it, I know I would. You’re with the most successful man in the world. He chose you, don’t be shy, don’t hide. Who gives a shit what they say. If you ask me, you’ve already won.”

“I’ve won? Won what?”

“Seriously?” She laughed, shaking her head and gesturing with her head in the direction of where Michael was. “Happiness.” She stated simply. “People would do anything for true happiness. You’ve got it. It brings out the envy in most.” I stared at her for a moment, my eyes searching hers for understanding. She didn’t smile this time. She looked at me with this expression that sent a shiver through my body. By the time I’d figured out what to say to her, we were interrupted before I could get the words out.

“Excuse me, Naomi, we need you.” She excused herself and walked off to the makeshift church, posing in front of it as they checked the lighting.

She’s really fitting for the role. There’s no way I could’ve done that— the outfit alone. She looked more comfortable in it— in front of all these people more than I ever could.

I was left with this uneasy feeling. Nonetheless, I watched on as they got in position. She smiled, batting her eyes when Michael emerged from his trailer. I recognized the excitement, the hitch in her breathing, but the real give away was the way her face fell when he made his way to me. She had no idea how to mask her emotions, which made it difficult to brush off.

“Y/N, baby.” His sweet voice sounded from beside as I felt his embrace.

“Hi.” I said simply, pulling my focus away from her and the anger I felt— it wasn’t important. It’s not worth it. Michael has had many admirers. This won’t be any different. Like she said, I shouldn’t hide. I should own it.

“We’re about to start. I need for you to stay right here, okay?”

“Here? Okay. I can do that.” I crossed my legs and sat back in my chair. “Oh, I love it when you give me orders.”

“Stop it.” He jumped towards me, covering my lips. “You really want me to break your back in the middle of a desert?”

“I mean if you’re offering.” I couldn’t help myself I loved the look on his face when I flirted with him, especially in public.

“You’ve gotta stop getting me started when there’s people around.” He muttered under his breath, adjusting his jeans discreetly. “Naughty.”

“Fine. I’ll be good.”

“I’ll be right over there.” He pointed over to where a dusty old car was parked. “I need to have you in my eye line, so I can sing to you. I need you there. It’ll help my nerves— seeing you will help me.”

“I won’t move.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I did exactly as I was told. I didn’t move.

Every time they took breaks in between filming, Michael was right by my side acting a fool. He was so amped up, everything I said only added to his craziness.

“Put ‘em up!” Michael yelled from behind me.

“You scared the shit out of me!” When I turned around he had a bright green water gun pointing at me and a brown cowboy hat on.

“Hands in the air fine lady!”

“You don’t have to yell—” That’s when I felt cold liquid hit me in the forehead. “What is that? It’s burning my eye.”

“I’m Sheriff Jackson and you are under arrest. Put your hands in the air.”

“Sprite?” I asked as the substance dripped down onto my lips. “You goon, did you really fill that water gun with soda?”

“Stop resisting arrest, ma’am. Don’t make me handcuff you.”

“Where’d you get that from?” I laughed, poking the shiny badge clipped to his chest. “You’re silly. So, you’re the Sheriff?”

“Yes ma’am and I suggest you start cooperating.”

“Can I ask what I’m being charged with?” I teased, tilting my chin up with my hands in front of me— cooperating.

“Being sexy.”

“That’s not a crime. It seems to me like an abuse of power on your part.”

“Yes, I use this badge to get near beautiful women. You caught me.” He grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of the chair and into his chest. “If you give me some lovin’. I’ll let you go— charges dropped.”

“You’re so damn annoying.” I kissed him roughly, sinking my hands slipping through the strands of his hair. “You’re lucky you’re so scrumptious, Sheriff.”

“Having fun?”

“I would be if I wasn’t all sticky from being shot at with sprite.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll lick it off of you later.” He winked, dancing around me and pinching my butt. “I’ll have an hour for lunch, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll go pick up your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite.” He walked me over to the car and kissed me. “I can’t believe I’m helping a fugitive escape.” He murmured against my lips.

“Sheriff, the only thing I’m guilty of is having dirty thoughts about you.” I kissed his cheek, his jawline then his neck as I felt his heart begin to race. I pulled away, smiling up at him. “I should get going.”

“Tease.” He huffed, smacking my butt as I turned to get into the car. “Drive safe. I love you.”

“I love you.” He shut the door softly, leaning through the open window to kiss me one last time before I drove off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I pulled up to set, paper bags in hand everything felt the same. It wasn’t until my eyes landed on Michael that I realized I was wrong. He jumped slightly when I greeted him and was painfully quiet.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks for getting food.” He sounded genuine in his tone, but the way he was pushing food around his plate with a fork told me there was more.

“Michael, you can—”

“Please!” He jumped up, dodging my hand as I tried to reach out to him. “Just drop it.”

There was so much I wanted to say. I had so many questions, but I stayed silent. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror I immediately felt sick, I looked like a scared kid who’d just been grounded. I felt so damn confused.

“I gotta get back.” I watched as he left the trailer, his head hanging forward and his steps small but steady.

“Okay.” I said after the door shut. I felt helpless. I had no idea what the hell was going on. I thought about how clear he’d been about me taking my spot behind the camera, but right now it felt like he didn’t want me there.

Yet, my feet still carried me outside where the atmosphere had dramatically changed.

“3… 2… Action!”

I stared at my hands, resting in my lap, trying to think over the events of today. I had no idea what could be bothering Michael, but it was serious. I could feel it. When I finally built up the courage to look at him he spun around quickly avoiding my eyes. I don’t think I ever felt more devastated than in this moment.

“How was that?” I heard a voice speak near me. I looked up in time to see the crew walking towards the equipment. This meant they were taking a break— yet Michael was— I didn’t know where he was.

Great. He’s hiding from me now. What’s going on?

The crew had huddled around one of the monitors as they viewed the scene they’d just filmed. They were cheering and applauding at the performance Michael and Naomi were putting on. Even I had to admit, they were doing a great job, very convincing— almost uncomfortable to watch since they were having so much fun groping each other. Truly every girlfriend’s dream to witness her man dry hump in the open desert for a dozen cameras. I’m a lucky girl.

“Look at them. This is going to be hot!”

“That’s a star couple if I ever saw one.”

“People are going to go crazy over this video.”

“They’d be absolutely stunning together. Imagine their babies. Oh, they’d have beautiful babies.”

What the fuck. They’re having babies now? I can’t take much more of this. It’s getting difficult to keep up the supportive girlfriend act. It was easy to tell myself it’s just a job and Michael deserves to have me here cheering him on, but now it felt like I was intruding.

“Naomi, can we get you on the floor?” She flipped her hair and nodded enthusiastically. “Michael, just climb on top of her, do whatever comes to you.”

Yeah, I’m gonna need a break. I hopped out of my chair, walking off before taking one last glance at my boyfriend— that was a big mistake. His hand on Naomi’s chin, guiding her to look up at him from where she was on the floor— in front of him— on her knees.

That’s awesome.

I’m totally okay with this.

I’m not upset. They’re just acting.

And, they just so happened to be great actors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Michael’s POV*

As I danced along to the music, something had shifted and I could feel it deep in my soul. I tried to continue, but I was too focused on the empty chair a few yards in front of me. This isn’t right. She wouldn’t just wander off without telling me. I took a deep breath, shaking my head and when the music stopped my feet took off. This felt— it all felt wrong.

“Babe?” I found her stood behind the trailer, her back pushed up against it. “Why’d you leave?”

“It didn’t feel like I was needed anymore.”

“Of course you are. I panicked— I was worried when I didn’t see you.”

“I’m not stupid.” Her eyes were glossy when she finally spoke and her lips stuck in a frown.

“Of course you’re not. I never said you were.” I reached out to her, but she pushed my hand away.

“Well, then, why are you treating me like I am?”

“Babe, what’s going on? What’s this about?”

“This is humiliating.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can cut the tension with a knife. Why did you even bring me here?”

“Because I need you.”

“It doesn’t— I don’t think you do.”

“Come on. Let’s go inside.” I tried to reach out for her again, but she stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself. She was shielding her from me and it hurt like hell. “Let’s talk. We should talk.”

“It’s in your eyes. They always tell me what you can’t say. I can see it.”

“Honey, see what?”

“Michael, you’re into her.”

“What?”

“You’ve been acting— you haven’t been yourself off camera— with me. I don’t know why, but ever since lunch you’ve been avoiding me. It seems like you rather be over there with her… you’re not being yourself. And, the only explanation I can come up with is that you’re into her.”

“No. No. That’s not true.”

“That’s what it feels like— like you want to be with her. You’re acting different.”

“Baby, no. I promise that’s not it.”

“When they yell cut you practically hide from me, but I can tell. I can see it in your eyes— it’s— there’s something wrong and it looks like when the camera is rolling you’re loving every minute. I can feel it— there’s something going on with her.”

“No, Y/N, no— I don’t want her. This is work and I’m just playing a part.”

“You guys are all over each other—”

“It’s for the film. We’re acting. I’m acting. That’s all.”

“It seems like you’re both really enjoying it. Why are you avoiding me? Like you don’t want to be near me—”

“No, that’s not it! I’m so sorry… I didn’t intend to make you feel that way.”

“What is it then! Am I imagining it?”

“Y/N! No!”

“All you can say is no?”

“No! I mean— shit, not no.”

“You’ve gotta get back out there. I’ll just stay here or I can leave.” She took in a deep breath like she was trying to appear unfazed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. Y/N, listen...” I drifted off, feeling helpless. I had no idea what to say— how to say this.

“Just say it.”

“I don’t know…”

“Then, say something, say anything.”

“I was avoiding you because I can’t keep things from you. I’m not a good liar.”

“A good liar? Oh my god. What did you do?”

“Babe.”

“What did you do with her that you need to lie to me about?” Her voice was weak and she started crying profusely at the thought of me betraying her.

“No. Please listen to me.” She still wouldn’t let me touch her, so I settled for placing my hands on the metal exterior of the trailer, on either side of her, blocking her in so she couldn’t run away from me.

“I’m listening.” She muttered, staring off into the distance.

“I’d never do something like that. I didn’t mean— I meant I’m not good at keeping things from you. I hate it actually. And, I thought it was best to not tell you this while we’re still here because I didn’t want you to kill Naomi.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I love you. Do you hear me? I fucking love you. I didn’t want— I thought I was protecting you.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Shit. Okay, please don’t be mad.”

“Michael, you’re scaring me.”

“When you left to get us lunch. She came into my trailer—”

“Who?” Her eyes squinted, focusing on my every word and I knew immediately this wasn’t going to end well.

“Naomi, she came onto me.”

“She what!” Y/N yelled, taking me by surprise.

“Oh, you’re already mad. That was quick.” I nervously bit my lip, stalling because I didn’t want to tell her everything. She was going to lose it.

“What did she do Michael?”

“I need you to promise me that you won’t run over there and go all Balboa, okay? There can’t be— you can’t make a scene.”

“Michael, tell me, now.”

“You didn’t promise.”

“Fine. I promise. I won’t make a scene.” Her voice was calm when she said it, showing me a tight lipped smile to reassure me. I didn’t have much time to study that smile before she spoke again. “Now, tell me.”

“Naomi came onto me. She threw herself at me. I didn’t think she’d— it came out of nowhere. I—It made me so uncomfortable. I was kind of embarrassed— but still— honey, I— I should’ve told you. I— S— She grabbed me— like— down there and said things— offered some things I’m not very comfortable repeating—” I didn’t get to finish before she dipped her head under my arm, escaping my makeshift barrier. “Babe!” She didn’t stop and she didn’t look back.

I took a deep breath before chasing after her, but she’d vanished. Damn, I forgot how quick she is. The only hint of her whereabouts was the sound of Naomi’s trailer door being ripped open. I scanned the area anxiously, but nothing seemed off. No one was suspicious of anything. There were no eyes on me. Everyone was going on about their business as usual and that’s when I really noticed how quiet it was. It was too quiet. I couldn’t hear any sounds of a fight which made me curious and a little afraid. Carefully, I walked towards the open door of Naomi’s trailer, peeking inside and nothing. I didn’t see Y/N or Naomi anywhere. I really didn’t want to go inside, but knowing my girl, I’d definitely have to carry her out of here.

“Babe! Are you in here?” There was a slight creaking sound and it was only then I noticed the trailer shaking.

No answer.

“Babe?”

Still nothing.

I placed my foot on the first step, counting to five before going any further, but thankfully that was as far as I had to go. Y/N appeared from the back room with a toothy grin on her face this time, fixing her shirt and dusting herself off.

“Hey baby! There you are.” She chuckled, walking over to me, intertwining our hands and dragging me back outside— away from what she’d done. My gut told me she left behind a crime scene. The way she smiled at me— I had no doubt she took care of business.

“What did you do?” I whispered, studying her body for any visible wounds. I paused, inspecting her hands, specifically her bright red knuckles.

“Nothing.” She shrugged innocently. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t see anything, did you?”

“Y/N, you have to tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Did you hit her? Yell at her? I didn’t hear any yelling. What happened in there?”

“I didn’t hear anything. Did you?” She tilted her head, waiting for my answer. There was something about the way she was looking at me. I wanted to laugh, but I was genuinely curious what she was capable of.

“Babe—”

Before I could finish, Naomi emerged from her trailer, looking— very different. She looked like she’d been to hell and back. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were trained on the floor as she walked by us. She had her hand on her forehead, acting like she was blocking the sun, but I could tell there was more. She was covering something, maybe a scratch or bruise.

“I didn’t cause a scene.” Y/N whispered to me as she brought her lips to mine.

“I’m not sure whether to be scared of you or really turned on right now.” I wasn’t scared of her. I was impressed, maybe that was wrong, but I was.

“You’ll figure it out.” She winked, cupping my face and rubbing her thumb across my cheek.

“Thank you. Thank you so—”

“No need. I’m always going to have your back. I know I promised, but I couldn’t— I couldn’t just let someone get away with doing that to you.”

“Thank you for standing up for me. No one has ever done anything like that for me.”

“And, I always will. You’ll always have me.”

I stared at her in awe for what felt like hours, the way I love her is unlike anything I’ve ever known to exist. She defends me with her whole heart. No matter how low I feel she brings me back up. When I feel like I’m drowning she keeps my head above water. I don’t know how she does it— I don’t know why she does it, but damn would I be lost without it— without her. Fuck, I knew it the first time I laid eyes on her. I knew it the first time I heard her voice. I needed her. My girl.

There’s something about her.

“I love you.” It came out as an exhale, but shit did I put my soul into those three words. I felt a tug at my lips, admiring how she looked at me, like I was her world— the same way I looked at her.

“You should.”

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[lovebugism]

Ok but what about Eddie dating a reader who snores and the gang is like wtf but he finds it cute.

ty for requesting anon! this is dedicated to everyone who gets sleepy at 5pm like i do hahah — eddie's girlfriend falls asleep during movie night and it's a big deal in the sweetest way (sleepy gf!reader, established relationship, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

A masked serial killer slaughters a group of pretty teenage girls. Their screams are high-pitched and painfully artificial. The murderer’s chainsaw is way too loud and far too dramatic a weapon. The bright red blood splatters across the baby pink bedroom in several obnoxiously vivid splotches. 

Eddie Munson has never been more grateful to be alive in the golden age of slasher films — the absolute peak of godawful cinema.

He turns to the pretty little thing dozing on his shoulder and grins quietly to himself. 

You’re the purest essence of beauty in all forms, but especially compared to the barbaric horror flashing across the television screen across the room. In the darkness, the neon glow paints you in varying shades of blue, green, and dark red. 

You’re so pretty it hurts.

Eddie didn’t think he could love anything more than dumb slasher movies. Not until he met you, anyway.

“Tired?” he whispers to you when your lashes flutter across the apples of your cheeks.

It’s hardly seven o’clock — the sun has just barely set over the horizon — and more than anything, the tiny trailer is filled with fake screams and faker blood. Most people would be too horrified to be so drowsy. Not you, though.

Everyone’s always admired your relationship with sleep, but maybe just a little extra now.

Your features are blurry with the longing of slumber. They scrunch in refusal when you shake your head, cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of Eddie’s thrifted tee. “No,” you hum with a softness that says otherwise. “‘M just cozy…”

Everyone knows what that’s code for.

All the gang was over for movie night — some more begrudgingly than others (Steve, namely). The brunette boy shares a side eye with Robin on the other side of the couch before both of them turn to look at you. 

Lucas sits on the floor and stuffs his face with popcorn, which he almost chokes on when he laughs. Max giggles at the boy in response from where she’s sandwiched between him and Dustin.

Each of them can practically count down the seconds until you’re fully asleep.

You inhale once — deeply, sharply. The curly-haired boy turns his wrist to check his watch. 

“7 p.m…” Dustin observes with raised brows. He nods to himself like he’s impressed. “That’s gotta be some kinda record, right?”

“I’m pretty sure she was out by six when we were at Steve’s yesterday,” Robin tells him as she leans over Lucas’ shoulder for the popcorn bowl he’s holding hostage.

“Full on snoring by six-thirty,” Steve concurs through a mouthful of candy. “And her legs were on my lap, too, so I couldn’t move for, like, two hours.”

“What about last movie night?” Max questions with pinched brows. “I’m pretty sure she was asleep before it even started.”

Lucas shakes his head. “She was just napping, right? I’m pretty sure she woke up, like, halfway through.”

Dustin nods — the official connoisseur of you and all your sleepiness. You had been asleep by the time Steve turned The Outsiders on, but your internalized love for Dallas Winston had woken you part of the way through. 

“It had to be scrubbed from the records,” the boy explains like it’s something a whole lot more official than you just being tired. “It only counts if she stays asleep.”

“What if her eyes are closed, and she’s using your arm as a pillow, and you don’t have any feeling left in your fingers?” Robin questions with narrowed eyes, recounting the events from the last movie night in question. “What about that?”

“Still doesn’t count,” Dustin shakes his head with a feigned sympathy.

Eddie listens to them with a distant smile on his face. They’re not making fun of you exactly, just noticing all your little idiosyncrasies that he loves so much. It’s what makes you you — the quiet, sleepy girl that’s all but the glue of the group. 

If you’re somewhere else when everyone’s all hanging out together, and not snoozing on someone’s shoulder, something just doesn’t feel right.

“Isn’t she the fuckin’ cutest?” the boy muses amidst the light-hearted banter, the horror movie long forgotten. 

His bright smile and twinkling eyes are met with a group of deadpanned stares. 

It isn’t because you aren’t cute, because you are. Why else would Robin and Steve let you use them as pillows even after their appendages have long gone numb? You’re like a cat sleeping on their stomach — it’s too much of an honor to wake you. 

Their dumbfounded gapes are more so a result of Eddie’s adoration for you. Because you’re you, and Eddie’s… Eddie. 

You’re polar opposites. 

You’re quiet and sweet and gentle, and Eddie’s never been any of those things once in his life. 

You’ve brought out a softer side of him — one that none of them thought a brash metalhead like him could ever have. He talks to you far sweeter and far more gently than he’d ever speak to the rest of them. Mostly because he knows you get spooked too easily and that you always wince whenever people yell. And his PDA is an innocent kind, full of held hands and forehead kisses and boops to the tip of your nose. 

Eddie Munson is so soft for you that he lets you drool on his shoulder and unknowingly steal all the covers from him when you fall asleep during movie night. 

He’s so far gone for you that he’ll let you drag him to bed when most people his age are heading out to party for the night — just so you can drool on him and take all the covers from him in his bedroom, where you can sleep more comfortably than on the couch.

It’s all so sweet, it’s downright disgusting.

“It’s gross how in love the two of you are,” Steve monotones, the only one brave enough to say it out loud even though they’re all thinking it.

“I know,” Eddie affirms with a wide grin. “It’s amazing, huh?”

They all grumble under their breaths about it, obviously not as mushy with adoration as he is. 

It isn’t his fault they’re miserable because they don’t have their own soulmate who gets tired at 5 p.m. and snoozes on their shoulder accordingly. They’d be a lot less crabby if they had someone like you to gush about. 

Not you, though. ‘Cause you’re his and everything. But someone just like you, maybe.

Everyone dissipates when the credits of the movie start to roll — either to get more food, or use the bathroom, or stretch their aching limbs. 

Eddie stays unmoving. He doesn’t want to wake you up.

You begin to rouse on his shoulder, shifting as you wake with a deep inhale-exhale. Your eyes flutter slowly open, and through the haze of sleep, you notice the empty living room and the scrolling names on the television screen.

“’S the movie over?” you question, slurred with the heaviness of slumber.

Eddie nods lazily against the couch. 

He’s about as tired as you are now, with his legs cocked up on the coffee table and his head lolled back against the cushions. “Yeah. It’s okay, though. You didn’t really miss anything,” he assures with a crooked smile.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep…” you murmur, like you’re embarrassed to have slept so soundly.

“I know,” the boy hums softly to you. “’S okay…”

Your temple rests against his shoulder once more. “Wake me up before you start the next movie?” you ask when Eddie presses a lingering kiss to your hair. Your eyes are already fluttered shut again.

“Sure,” he answers, despite lacking any real intention to wake you. 

He’d much rather let you sleep. He knows you need it. He doesn’t mind that you get tired before the sun has set, even though he knows how much you hate it. He couldn’t love it more, personally.

So, he lets you fall back asleep on his shoulder and tries to ignore how much it makes his heart swell. His ribcage shakes with the intensity of how much he loves you — how privileged he feels that you trust him enough to drool on his shoulder and not be embarrassed about any of it. You know he loves you too much for any of that.

“She still asleep?” Steve questions when the gang settles back in the living room. He rattles M&Ms in his palms before chucking a handful into his mouth. When Eddie nods, the boy snorts. “I’m glad it’s your arm falling asleep this time and not mine.”

Eddie’s glad for it, too.

[josephquinnswhore]

Her Sanctuary

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you start pulling away from Joel, he’s scared he’s going to lose you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: mentions of anxiety, bad mental health. Joel talking about Sarah!!! 😭 soft Joel!!!!! Hurt/comfort.

Note: kinda just wrote this on a whim after rewatching the last of us. I miss joel. @cool-iguana ily.

You were an outspoken person. About everything. There wasn’t a single topic you didn’t have an opinion on. Always a snarky reply, a joke, or following pun. That’s just who you were.

Joel spent months wishing you weren’t like that. That you’d just shut up so he could have a few moments of silence between you. His limited replies included a scowl, raised eyebrow or an annoyed grunt. He spent months travelling across the country with you, refusing to open up and reluctantly teaching you how to shoot his rifle.

He didn’t like how you made him feel. How he had started looking at you romantically. The sound of your laugh stirred something in him. Your bright eyes lightened the darkness in his own.

He never allowed himself to let you in; as much as a fight he put up. You wormed yourself into the cracks in the walls around his heart and started to mend him. He doesn’t know when it happened exactly, all he can remember is wanting to hear more of her laugh, he even found her a joke book in an old RV he scouted one evening at the trailer park they posted in overnight.

He had learned how to accept your brightness, for all its worth. Your dorky comments, crooked grin and boisterous laugh. Even those small touches to his back and arm when you would pass by, excusing yourself. Always followed by a mumbled, “sorry.”

But this.. this he didn’t know what to do. He was tearing himself up inside for not knowing what to do. You were quiet today, something bubbling inside of you that radiated off and in between them in a depressing aura that had Joel feeling breathless.

He even found himself staring at you, from the corner of his eyes, turning his head to watch you, making sure you kept up as you lingered a few steps behind him, completely silent. Not laughing, not crying. Silent.

It was heart wrenching and he couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces together to finish the puzzle. Nothing extreme had happened that they hadn’t faced before. They’d fought off some infected yesterday but—it couldn’t have possibly been that. They were fine. They survived.

Maybe you just wasn’t coping as well as he thought you were.

He tried to think of things to cheer you up, and the guilt consumed him when he realised he didn’t really know much about you. He had never asked. It was always you asking about him, pestering to know more about him. He cursed himself for being so selfish.

The harsh reality of their one sided dynamic hit Joel hard, he had always protected her, with his physical strength and ability to kill. That primal instinct that kept them both alive and for what? He couldn’t help her when she actually needed.

He felt utterly useless.

Until. He had an idea. That stupid fucking joke book that she treasured, had to cheer her up right? It had to draw out one of those loud laughs that made his insides flip, the smile that made your eyes squint that his heart craved to see.

He reached into his pack, pulling it out. She’d stashed it in there, insisting that her pack had no more room. He didn’t argue, he knew she struggled carrying the weight. He decided that day that he could carry the extra burden for things that she decided she couldn’t bare.

This baggage however, was tricker. He would take it if he could. He hoped this would work.

He turns around to look at you and what he saw made him feel like there was a metal vice around his heart, your slumped shoulders and black eye bags complimented a vacant look in your eyes, you were unrecognisable in comparison to your default sunshine personality.

“Hey, I was thinkin’ about that algae-bra joke you told me the other day.” He tried to make his voice as soft as he could when he spoke to you, trying to nudge a reaction.

Nothing, she barely looks at him. “Hm?”

“Anyways, I was thinkin’ we could pass the time with this.” He held the joke book in his hand, swinging his pack back over his shoulder, adjusting his rifle strap as he shuffles on his feet.

You felt a spark of something, something that was quickly put out by the fear and darkness that felt so consuming.

“Maybe later?” You offer quietly, walking past him. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Joel felt defeated. How had he failed so badly. How did he let this fester inside of her like a fucking disease that he didn’t know how to get rid of.

This was an infection in your mind; that he figured on his own. This kind of infection he didn’t know how to cure. He had always pushed his own anxiety and panic attacks down burying them, until he learnt to live with it.

But you; the one fucking good thing in his life that brought him life, hope. He wouldn’t allow you to ignore it, to let it consume you.

He wasn’t going to let you fall victim. He would do whatever it took.

He set up camp in silence, stuck in his head about how the fuck he was going to help you, a feeling of shame overwhelmed him as he sits by the fire, rubbing his hands together as you sit in your sleeping bag, across from him.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, legs pulled to your chest. It made you look smaller, the way you held yourself protectively. A reflection of the flames flicking in her eyes only made the mood more somber.

He can’t say something came over him, possessed him to say what he felt bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to lose her. To him, you were too important, you disarmed him and weaselled your way into his heart. He wasn’t going to let you leave, not ever.

“When my little girl used to get upset, she always shut me out like this, like what you’re doin’, I always told myself she’ll come around.” He nods to himself, as if reminiscing the memory.

You stay silent, watching him. Watching his expression soften.

“An’ now she’s gone it’s all I regret. Not doin’ more. Not making more of an effort with shit like that. Fuckin’ haunts me.”

Not once in the months they’ve travelled he had mentioned having children, a daughter, let alone a decreased one. He had mumbled a few times in his sleep, incoherently a name. Serine, Sari, Sarah? You could never figure it out, and never pried.

But here he was, sitting across from her looking on with longing eyes and his features the most relaxed she’d ever seen.

“I ain’t makin’ that same mistake again, seein’ you like this, pullin’ away. Feels like I’m failin’ all over again.” His admission shocks you, enough to stun a quiet confession from your own lips before you could think.

“I thought you were going to die.” He seems surprised to hear you talking, but stays silent, wanting you to talk more, wanting to hear more.

“I know we’ve dealt with plenty of infected.. we’ve had some close calls even, sure.” Your heart clenched as you recall.

Joel lying on the ground with that infected on top of him, Joel’s gun inches away as he fumbles, fingertips desperately grasping the hairs of grass as he searched for his weapon.

Holding the infected away with one arm, grunting in a struggle that he was bound to lose. It’s rotten teeth and fleshy stench was so close to grazing Joel’s neck. Inches away from sealing his fate.

You had somehow mustered some courage inside of you to tackle the infected, throwing it off Joel and giving him a split second to reach for his gun and put a bullet in the back of the infected’s head.

Your jeans still stunk, of gunpowder and blood. A stench so vile you couldn’t help but relive the moment, it was on your mind every second, unable to process it all.

You almost lost Joel. Joel almost fucking died. It was a breath away.

“I thought if I just—shut down maybe you’d get tired and ditch me.. worse yet I’d stop caring about you so damn much.” Joel’s ears perked at her soft admission.

“And I know you think I’m just—some annoying fucking girl that you have to protect and feed and I’m sorry..“ Joel wouldn’t allow another word.

“Hey. Look at me, now.” His tone was soft, but held a firmness, there was no doubt he wasn’t asking you. He needed you to look at him.

His face looked so soft beyond the flames of the fire, his expression was tender and kind; as no one had ever seen before. He looked beautiful, fuck, he was handsome. You’d always thought so.

“I know it was a close call, we’ve learnt from it, yeah? We won’t make the same mistake.” You nod, Joel continues.

“Don’t pull away from me sweetheart. Please.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel interrupts by patting the space beside him.

“C’mere sweetheart. C’mon.” You don’t waste a moment to plop beside him. He wraps his sleeping bag around you and his big hands grip around your torso to pull you into his.

“Tell me you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

For the first time since you’ve known Joel. He was the one asking for comfort, reassurance.

“Promise I’m not going anywhere Joel.” You nuzzle into him, his natural musk strung a desire out of her that all she could do was lean into him.

“You get some rest now. I’ll keep ya safe.” He murmurs into her ear, a promise.

All you could do was obey him. Closing your eyes as your body and mind revelled in the intimacy and vulnerability of this moment.

His head rested on top of yours, your hair gets stuck in the rugged coarse hairs of his beard. He finds himself nuzzling into you, allowing himself to get lost in you. After months of fighting you; he lets go. He lets you in.

You were his. And he wasn’t going to let anything fucking hurt you. Not even yourself. He would be your sanctuary. No matter what it took.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hot N Cold

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: you and Tom can’t stop teasing each other in interviews

Masterlist

“You three have spent a lot of time together making this movie. And you all seem to get along so great. Is it going to be hard to go back to making movies when you aren’t working with your best friends?” A journalist asked you, Tom, and Jacob one day on the press tour for your upcoming movie.

“No. I can’t wait for that.” Jacob answered. “I hate working with these two. They’re always arguing.”

“What? No we are not.” You insisted.

“We kinda are.” Tom said out of the corner of his mouth.

“No we are not. Why do you always have to disagree with me?” You asked and playfully smacked Tom’s arm.

“That’s a good point. You’re right. I do always disagree with you.” Tom said sincerely. “But maybe it’s because you’re always wrong?”

“You wish.” You scoffed. “Name one time I was wrong.”

“Yesterday, when you drove on the wrong side of the road.” He said immediately.

“That couldn’t happened to anyone, okay? It was not clearly marked.”

“It was clearly marked but you flew past the several giant “wrong way” signs because you’re a speed demon on the road.”

“That’s sexist.” You pointed at him. “You’re saying all women are bad drivers?”

“No. I’m saying this woman is a bad driver.” Tom said and pointed back at you. “You really don’t help the stereotype, darling.”

“Whatever. Fake news.” You rolled your eyes. “Ask us the next question please before I kill him.”

“All righty then. So, you’re all a few years out of high school now. How did you prepare for getting back into the mindset of a teenager?” The journalist asked.

“It was a really fun process actually. The director wanted to emulate a kinda 80s high school movie feel so he asked us to watch a few old movies so we could get the vibe he was going for. Like Breakfast Club, Back to the Future, stuff like that.” You explained.

“Yeah. We watched a few of them together.” Tom smiled as he looked over at you.

“Yeah, we did.” You smiled back at him.

“On your little movie dates in Tom’s trailer. That I was never invited to.” Jacob added. Tom blushed and looked down at his lap while you playfully rolled your eyes.

“They weren’t dates.” Tom insisted. “We were just watching the films we were told to watch.”

“You didn’t think those were dates?” You asked him, sounding hurt. Tom went bright red and scrambled to come up with something to say to explain himself.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No. I mean, I never thought of it like that but-“

“I’m messing with you.” You cut him off when you saw how flustered he got.

“Oh. You scared me so much just then. I didn’t know what to say.” He laughed and touched a cold hand to his hot face.

“I knew it would scare you. You’re so easy to make flustered.” You teased him, making him blush again.

“Hey.” He pouted. “I am not.”

“Yeah, okay.” You said sarcastically.

“Okay.” He mimicked you by sounding as dumb as possible.

“That actually brings me to my next question which was to ask you all to do an impression of each other.” The journalist said, making you and Tom remember that you were in an interview.

“If you want to impersonate Y/n, just whine and complain a bunch.” Tom said. “And leave your jumper on every plane you go on.”

“Okay, I’ve lost like three sweatshirts around you. That’s hardly anything.” You defended yourself.

“Imagine losing your jumper every time your travel.” Tom said to the camera.

“Imagine losing 13 colonies at once.” You snapped back.”

“Stop. You know I’m sensitive about that.” Tom jokingly whined, making you laugh.

“I can do a Tom impression. Um I want to ask Y/n to go to dinner with me um tonight but um what if I ask her and she says no?” Jacob said in a whiny voice coupled with a bad British accent.

“What?” Tom sputtered. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“Yes it is.” Jacob insisted. “I heard that every night during filming. In fact, I still hear it.”

“Aw. Wait, that’s so cute. Did you actually do that?” You asked Tom.

“Only in the beginning, okay? It wasn’t as pathetic as Jacob made it sound. I wanted to hang out with you but we didn’t really know each other yet so I was worried you’d say no.”

“Aw, honey.” You chuckled. “I would’ve never said no. I wanted to get to know you too.”

“I’ll never understand you two. You were fighting two seconds ago. Now you’re all nice and friendly?” Jacob pointed out.

“That’s just how we work.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” Tom agreed. “We run hot and cold.”

“Exactly. But we’re friends most of the time. I don’t think we fight that much.” You replied.

“You kinda do, though.” Jacob insisted. “I’m expecting at least two more fights before the end of this interview.”

“We’ll see.” You shrugged but knew he was probably right.

“So, the press schedule is obviously very rigorous for a movie this size. Do you guys ever get a day off to do your own thing?” The journalist asked.

“We actually had a day off a little while ago. For Washington’s Birthday.” Tom answered.

“George?” You asked him.

“What other Washington is there?” He turned in his seat to ask you.

“You were just talking about one the other day. When we were asked what historical figure we’d have dinner with.” You reminded him.

“I remember the question but I didn’t say Washington.” Tom frowned on confusion.

“Yes you did. You said that Washington guy and then said it was a super British answer or something.” You insisted.

“Who are you talking about?” Tom shook his head and laughed endearing at you.

“That guy. Don’t you remember? You just said it yesterday.” You whined a little and pushed his arm. Tom looked at the camera in confusion before he connected the dots in his head.

“Wait, do you mean Winston Churchill?”

“Oh God.” Jacob groaned. “Here we go.”

“Oh yeah. Him.” You nodded and pointed at Tom.

“You thought his name was Washington Churchill?” Tom laughed incredulously.

“Well I don’t know who he is. It sounded right in my head.” You defended yourself.

“You don’t know who Winston Churchill is? He’s super important to history.”

“Oh yeah? So who is he?” You challenged Tom, knowing damn well he didn’t know the answer.

“He…” Tom started to answer and then trailed off.

“See!” You clapped your hands. “You don’t even know. I knew you were bullshitting yesterday. You have no idea what Washington Churchill-“

“Winston.” He corrected you.

“Whatever. You have no idea what he did. And yet you said you wanted to have dinner with him just to sound smart. Ugh. So pretentious.” You groaned and playfully rolled your eyes.

“All right, smart ass. Who was your answer?” Tom leaned on his chair and asked you. You were both in your own little worlds now and fully ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Jonbenet Ramsey.” You said like it was obvious.

“Are you kidding me? You’re making fun of my answer but you would pick Gordon Ramsey’s daughter out of anyone in the world to have dinner with?”

“First of all, dingbat, Jonbenet Ramsey is a little pageant girl who was murdered in 1996 and they still haven’t solved the case. I want to have dinner with her because I want to know who did it. It’s a very famous true crime case but I guess they didn’t teach you that in college. Oh wait. You didn’t go. You were too busy making movies nobody ever saw.” You said and poked his chest.

“Don’t even go there.” Tom warned. “If I pull up your IMDB right now, I’d have to scroll through dozens of commercials and straight to DVD films before I got to any substantial roles. Don’t think I forgot about all the time you spent on the Hallmark channel, darling.”

“Do it. Pull up my IMDB right now. I dare you. You know what, I’ll do it for you.” You said and pulled out your phone. Jacob immediately snatched your phone and put it in his pocket.

“No. Please, no more. We’re not doing this again. I can’t hear the IMDB argument again. You said you weren’t gonna fight anymore.” Jacob pointed out.

“All right. Fine. I’m disengaging.” You said and held your hands up in defense.

“Finally, some silence.” Tom sighed in relief. You gave him an icy stare and his smile immediately dropped.

When you sat down to do press the next day, you thought about what Tom had said about running hot and cold. You liked the playful fights you got into but you didn’t want him to start to think you actually disliked him. So when he came into the room and sat next to you, you got an idea.

“Good morning, darling.” He said politely.

“You know what Tom, why don’t we make a point to not fight today?” You suggested.

“Well darling, that’s the first good idea you’ve ever had.” He said with a smug smile. You smiled sarcastically at him as you narrowed your eyes.

“You’re so funny.” You said sarcastically. “How come you’re perpetually single?”

“Because I haven’t worn you down yet and gotten you to go out with me.” He quipped.

“Aw. You want to wear me down? So romantic. I can feel it working already.” You gushed and winked at him. Even though you were kidding, he felt himself blush and had to look away. The interviewer came in then and started to ask you a few questions. You managed to get through most of the interview before any fighting broke out.

“Okay. Now we’re gonna play a game called kiss, marry, kill. Your choices are Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr, and miss Y/n L/n.” The interview said.

“Oh God. That last actress is the worst.” Tom mumbled under his breath. You gave him a look and he faked an innocent smile.

“I mean I love her.” He corrected.

“Well Tom’s answer for kiss is obviously me.” You said simply.

“What? Obviously?” He scoffed.

“Yeah. Obviously.” You scoffed back to mock him.

“Excuse you. How is it obvious?” He asked and turned in his chair to face you. He mostly did this to keep the camera from seeing how much he was blushing.

“Please. You want to kiss me so bad. And marry me and kill me. So Tom’s answer to all of them is me.”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Tom smiled and leaned on his chair to be closer to you.

“That’s what I know. I can tell you’re dying to get with me. There is no use hiding it.” You shrugged, making Tom grow redder.

“Do you hear how conceited she is? What a diva you are. I’m gonna spread a rumor that you’re difficult to work with.” Tom teased you right back.

“Maybe you find it difficult to work with me because of how bad you want me.” You shrugged.

“Oh please. You’re just projecting because you have a big fat crush on me.” Tom replied.

“What?” You laughed. “In your dreams, maybe. I only go for guys over 5’9. You just missed the cut off, buddy.”

“Not just in my dreams. In my reality.” Tom insisted. “And I’m the average height of a woman so now you’re the one being sexist. But come on, we said no fighting. What would your answer be?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about the question. Okay, let me think.” You tapped your chin. “I would kiss Bradley Cooper-“

“What? He wasn’t even an option.” Tom laughed in surprised.

“Oh shit. My bad.” You covered your mouth with your hand.

“How did his name even come up?” Tom asked you, feeling a little jealousy bubble up.

“Because.” You smiled coyly. “Have you seen him? He’s double handsome. He looks like a sexy UPS truck driver. I’d sign for that package I’ll tell you that right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re cheating on your husband with Bradley Cooper.” Tom shook his head.

“My husband?”

“Me.” Tom said like it was obvious, making you laugh.

“I know you’re kidding but you kinda are though. I was just saying that to Jacob the other day.”

“About me? You said I was your husband?” Tom smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. You’re my work husband. That’s why we’re so hot and cold. Because we’re like an old married couple.” You smiled and patted his arm.

“Aw. We are.” He gushed. “But you still never answered the question.”

“Oh my God. Who were the choices again?”

“Johansson, Downey, and yourself.”

“Okay. I think my answer is kill Johansson, sorry Scarlett, I love you. I’d marry Downey for that Iron Man money and then kiss myself.”

“You’d kiss yourself? Why?” Tom wondered.

“Because no one else will.” You groaned. “When I woke up this morning and I tallied in my head how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date and once I reached a conclusion, I started to cry.”

“Oh God. Has it really been that long?” Tom laughed.

“It’s been so long. We can’t talk about this right now. I’m gonna start crying again.” You said and pretended to wipe your eyes.

“Wow. I didn’t realize this game would bring out so many emotions.” The journalist laughed.

“Me either. God. I need a date.” You sighed in exasperation.

“All right. I got the hint. I’ll go out with you.” Tom rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh, please. You wish I’d go out with you.”

“On every eye lash and 11:11, yeah.” He replied. You laughed and playfully smacked his arm as you wondered if he was telling the truth or not. The interview went on but you were barely paying attention as you were too busy wondering if you relationship with Tom was part of the reason you had been single for so long. No matter how nice or funny a guy was, you always ended up comparing them to Tom. If they couldn’t make you laugh as much or keep up with you the way he could, they just didn’t interest you. It didn’t help that In between your arguing and teasing, Tom always managed to slip some flirting in there. The more you thought about it, you realized he hadn’t been in a relationship since meeting you either. And maybe that had something to do with you.

“What do you think?” The journalist asked you. You blinked a few times and came back into the conversation.

“Sorry, what?”

“What was going on in there? You seemed so deep in thought.” Tom smiled fondly and poked your head.

“Don’t touch me, nail biter.” You said and swatted his hand away.

“At least I don’t stink up the whole hotel room by painting my nails every single day.” He shot back in a playful manner.

“Excuse me for wanting polished nails for these interviews. I just happen to chip them a lot. And if you don’t like the smell, go back to your own room. Stop always hanging out in mine.”

“But then how would I get to see you?” He asked with his stupid charming smile.

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “We literally spend all day together in these interviews. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“With you, darling, there’s never enough time together.” He said with a sarcastic suaveness.

“Shut up.” You laughed again and looked down at your lap so he couldn’t see how that made you blush. He saw it anyway since he couldn’t never seem to take his eyes off you.

The next day, your relationship with Tom was heavy on your mind as you sat in your glam chair. You were spaced out all during hair and makeup as you thought about the possibility of becoming more than friends. You were more than ready to see him but when you walked into the press junket room, you only saw two chairs and Jacob occupying one of them.

“Oh. We’re paired together today?” You asked without realizing how disappointed you sounded.

“I’m sorry. I know you’d rather be with your boyfriend.” Jacob chuckled. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and hugged him hello.

“He’s not my boyfriend. But I do miss him.” You admitted as you sat in your chair.

“You know nobody believes that, right? You guys are clearly together.” Jacob snorted.

“We’re really not. I know how it looks but we’re just friends.” You insisted.

“Come on. There’s no way you two haven’t made out or something.”

“Maybe we have, maybe we have.” You shrugged, making Jacob gasp.

“Oh my God. I knew it. He wouldn’t admit it but I knew you two were hooking up.” He clapped his hands.

“We’re actually not.” You laughed. “It’s just funny to see people fight for their lives to prove that we’re together. I like to feed the flame sometimes with these interviews. You know, keep them all on their toes.”

“Really? Because I could’ve sworn you two were hooking up on set. You were always sneaking off together and no one could find you.”

“That’s just because we liked to spend time together. But we would never hook up. If we ever get together, it’s gonna be the real thing. I’m talking marriage and kids and a picket fence. And whatever the British equivalent of the American Dream is. Beans and toast maybe? I don’t know. But definitely not a hook up.”

“So what’s stopping you guys from being in a relationship now? You like him, don’t you? Why not just date?” Jacob wondered.

“I don’t know. We’ve gotten really close the past few months. I know we tease each other a lot, but I’ve never had that kind of banter with anybody. Talking with him and going back and forth is the best at part of my day. And of course I like him, but what if I say something but he doesn’t feel the same? That’ll make our friendship super awkward and don’t forget- we signed on for another movie. I don’t want to make things weird by suggesting we go out.”

“Oh my God.” Jacob laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What?” You wondered.

“You can’t be this oblivious. Why do you think he’s always starting fights with you?”

“Because he’s irritating?”

“Well, yes. But also because he’s crazy about you.”

“What? No he’s not.” You scoffed. “He just likes to push my buttons.”

“Y/n, seriously, I’m telling you-“

Before Jacob could finish his sentence, the interviewer walked in with the camera crew. You and Jacob quickly dropped the conversation and turned to shake the interviewers hand. Your interview began and you had to force yourself to listen instead of thinking about what Jacob was about to say before he was interrupted.

Later that day, you went back to your hotel room and collapsed on your bed. It had been a long, long day of press and you weren’t with Tom for any of it. You saw him briefly at lunch but barely got a word in before getting shuffled to the next interview. You had just kicked your shoes off when there was a hasty knock at your door. You groaned and went over to it before opening it up.

“What?” You whined like a little kid. Tom put his hands on his waist and pushed you into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“If you’re gonna stay here I’m warning you right now that I chipped my thumb and I’m two seconds away from pulling out my nail polish-“

“I heard what you said.” He blurted to cut you off.

“Um, can you be more a little more specific?” You laughed. “You know I try to talk to you as little as possible.”

“Can we be serious for one minute?” Tom said hastily. You frowned in confusion but nodded your head and sat down. You’d never heard him sound so serious before so you dropped your usual mocking banter. You patted the spot next to you and he nervously sat down.

“What’s up?” You asked him. Tom scratched the back of his head before nervously cracking his knuckles.

“I just gotta talk to you about something.”

“Tom, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?” You asked and put a hand on his back. He took a deep breath and looked at you.

“I heard you when you were talking to Jacob. I was walking by and I heard my name so I stopped and I listened.” He admitted.

“Oh, shit. You heard all that?” You grimaced. Tom was unphased and kept looking into your eyes.

“Did you mean what you said? Do you really think we’re gonna do the real thing one day? House and kids and-“

“-And beans and toast.” You cut in.

“Yeah. And that.” He chuckled softly. “Did you mean all that? Do you really see a future with us?”

“I mean, I did before I found out you were an eavesdropper.” You mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“Are you kidding me? I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you for once in our lives but you can’t be serious for one minute.” Tom huffed and sat on the bed next to you.

“This is who is am.” You shrugged. “You came to the silly lake and you found a silly goose. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Tom let out a dry laugh before looking at you. You looked into his eyes and saw that for once, he looked completely serious. You frowned at the unexpected candor in his eyes and gave him your full attention.

“Tell me you want me.” He said. “As much as I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

“You do?” You asked doubtfully.

“Why do you think I invited you to watch all those movies with me? Or hang out in your hotel room every night? I want to be around you all the time. I just didn’t know how to say that since we’re never…” He trailed off as he searched for the right word.

“Serious.” You finished his sentence for him with a knowing smile.

“Exactly. I love joking around with you. I love how much you challenge me to come up with a better insult. I even love being teased for my nationality. But I also love when we just get to talk. I love to hear your perspective on things. I just like being near you.”

“Is this a practical joke?” You asked skeptically.

“Bitch, do I look like four lifelong best friends who compete to embarrass each other to you?” Tom sassed you. You gave him a warning look and he mumbled an apology.

“So you’re telling me you actually like me? For my personality?” You asked him.

“No, darling. I like you in spite of your terrible, garbage personality.” Tom teased you. You rolled your eyes at him but found yourself leaning in closer.

“I hate you.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I hate you too. See how much we can agree on?” Tom replied and smoothly put his arm around you. You looked over at the arm that was on your shoulders as you thought about what he was saying.

“You do realize if you were my boyfriend, we’d be fighting all the time.” You pointed out.

“We do that anyway.” He shrugged. “Why not throw some kissing and domestic partnership in there?”

“Oh, so I was right? You do want to kiss me, huh?” You raised your eyebrows as you teased him.

“Well, I have lips, you have lips, why not put them to use?”

“You have lips?” You pretended to gasp. “Where have you been hiding them this whole time?”

“Oh my God. You are such a little-“

You cut him off by cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. He insulted left his head immediately as he wrapped his arms around you to kiss you back.

“I want you too.” You told him once you pulled away. He smiled in surprise and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Even though we can’t agree on anything?” He joked.

“Even though your hairline is receding, yes.” You replied.

“That wasn’t what I-“

“Shh.” You hushed him and kissed him again. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

[munsonsmixtapes]

Okay but a vanless eddie walks across hawkins to cuddle his best girl while she recovers from a leg injury.

Basically, she can't come to him, but he'll be damned if he's kept from her.

Toootally not because my busted leg is taking too long to heal and i am frustrated.

Hey! Thanks so much for the request! So sorry to hear about your leg and I wish you a speedy recovery!

Word count: 1k

Eddie x fem!reader

Eddie stood in front of his van, trying his hardest to make the damn thing work, but after hours and hours of trying to fix it, he decided to throw in the towel. He slammed the hood closed and turned to face his trailer, throwing his wrench to the side and running his hands over his face in frustration, causing the soot from under the hood to get all over it.

He just wanted to see you and now he was without a vehicle. He was sure that he could ask Steve for a ride but there was no way he was going to do that. First of all, he hated being in the passenger seat, and he also hated how Steve drove. He was too careful and Eddie liked to drive fast.

Eddie couldn’t help how anxious he was to see you. He had gotten the call that you had broken your leg and needed to be there with you. He needed to give you cuddles and all the kisses you wanted because you deserved them.

So, Eddie did the only thing he could think of. He walked. He took the teddy bear he had gotten for you and he walked all the way across town to get to you.

He was tired and he wasn’t wearing the right shoes and it was hot in the direct sunlight, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was seeing your bright smile when he showed up at your door.

Eddie wiped the sweat off of his forehead as he got to Family Video, trying not to look like a mess when he stepped inside. The hadn’t realized how hot it was until he stepped into the nice air conditioned building.

Steve was at the counter, sorting through some VHS tapes while Robin was on the phone with a customer. The place was pretty empty for a Friday and Eddie was grateful he wouldn’t have to wait in line after he got what he needed.

He headed towards the romantic comedy section, looking for your favorite one. He didn’t care what people thought, he liked watching the genre with you. The whole idea of watching people’s love stories always warmed his heart. Maybe it was because he was happy with you. So happy that he didn’t mind walking across town just to see you.

He grabbed the movie and a few of your favorite snacks along with a bottle of water for himself. He put everything on the counter, clutching the bear to his chest so he wouldn’t lose it and watched Steve ring him up. Steve eyed the bear and Eddie didn’t miss the look he gave. It wasn’t quite judgmental, but he was definitely suspicious.

“Who’s your friend,” Steve asked as he scanned the items, an amused smirk on his face.

“It’s for y/n,” Eddie told him, clutching the bear tighter to his chest.

“Right,” Steve nodded, putting the items into a paper bag. Steve had always been rooting for you and Eddie to get together and he’d have been lying if he said he didn’t play a little part in your getting together. “I saw her yesterday. She’s doing really good. She misses you, though.”

Eddie tried his best to fight off the smile on his face. He loved hearing those kinds of things, especially when they came from your own mouth. The words sounding so pretty when they fell from your lips.

“She does?” He bit his lip to hold back a a stupid smile.

“Of course she does,” Steve gave Eddie a pointed look. “You’re her boyfriend.”

“That’s right,” Eddie replied, holding his head high. Eddie wasn’t proud about most things but being your boyfriend was definitely one of them. He’d tell anyone who was listen, especially after a few drinks.

Steve told Eddie his total and he threw some crumpled up bills onto the counter that were put in the register. Steve eyed the metal head and couldn’t help but notice now sweaty and out of breath he was.

“Why are you all sweaty?” He tried his best to not sound judgmental since he genuinely cared.

“My car broke down.” Steve couldn’t believe Eddie had walked all the way to Family Video and had every intention of walking to your house. That had to be miles.

“Ah, so that explains the soot on your face.”

Eddie took the bottom of his shirt and rubbed it on his face to wipe away the soot. He couldn’t see you looking like that.

“You’re good,” Steve told him, holding his thumb up.

Eddie took his things and exited the store, just ready to finally get to you. He was hot and uncomfortable since the sweat was making his clothes stick to him, but that was the least of his worries.

You looked around your bedroom at all of the get well soon cards and other gifts that had been given to you when you had broken your leg and maybe too many had been from your boyfriend. He had been there for you every step of the way. He had even driven you home from the hospital and carried you up the stairs to your room.

You felt so lucky to have someone like him. Someone who was so sweet and cared for you in a way that no one ever had before. He’d bring you flowers and your favorite takeout after a long day and you’d eat it together, nothing but smiles as you talked about your days.

He’d drive you anywhere you asked him to despite the fact that you had your bike, which had been the whole reason why your leg was broken. You had fallen off it while trying to get Eddie’s and thankfully someone had seen you on the side of the road and had called an ambulance. You were grateful that it hadn’t been more serious.

Your bedroom door had burst open and there was Eddie, all sweaty, clutching a teddy bear to his chest with one hand and holding a brown paper bag in the other. He dropped both things to the floor and threw himself onto your bed, making sure not to hurt you.

He grabbed onto you, burying his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to you. One of your hands ran through his hair and the other went to his back, rubbing circles along it.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your neck, giving it one more kiss before pulling back to look at you. You always somehow got prettier every time he saw you and he almost thought it was unfair. He didn’t care if you had just woken up or if you had been wearing a full face of makeup, he still thought you were the prettiest girl in Hawkins.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your hand still messing with his hair. “Missed your cuddles.”

“Well, what do you think I’m here for?” He laid next to you, pulling you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Well, you took long enough,” you rolled your eyes, your words having no actually heat. “You called me at almost noon and it’s now,” you paused, looking at the digital clock on the desk next to you. “Almost four.”

“Sorry, honey,” he looked up at you. “My van broke down so I walked.” Your eyes widened at his words and he knew exactly what you were going to say. You were always worrying too much about him.

“You walked here?” You sat up a little more, Eddie not moving as you did so. “Eddie that’s at least five miles.” He thought it was cute that you were concerned. He was fine but he wasn’t opposed to letting you baby him. He loved when you took care of him.

“So?” He needed the exercise and wanted to see you. He was just killing two birds with one stone.

“First of all, you’re not wearing the correct clothing or the right shoes. And you should have at least put your hair up.”

“I love when you worry about me.” He pressed his lips to yours in a lingering kiss. He was hoping that it would make you forget about being mad at him. It always did when you were having your little arguments like this.

“At least take your jacket off,” you told him and you didn’t miss the smirk forming on his lips. “You have to be burning up.”

“Oh, trying to undress me, hm?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you pushed him off you. He took off his jacket like you asked but did it slowly to catch your eye.

You couldn’t help but be hypnotized by watching him, your eyes moving to his shirt. He had cut the sleeves off it so it showed off his arms. You admired them, the tattoos and the muscles that he had been a product of him getting a job at the mechanic.

As soon as his jacket was off, it was thrown to the side and he pressed his lips to yours, longer this time. Just as you were getting into it, he pulled away and pulled you right back into his arms, smothering your face in soft kisses. You let out a bunch of giggles and that was music to his ears. His favorite sound in the whole world.

“Eds,” you managed to get out through your giggles.

“Yes, honey?” That name always made you melt. The way it just rolled off his tongue Ike it was second nature. He favored that nickname over your actual one and you loved it. Eating up the term of endearment every time he said.

“Please.” More giggles escaped you and you could feel hiccups coming on so you had to put the fun to a halt.

“Sorry. Just love to hear your laugh, sweetheart. You’ve been so sad and I’m just trying to cheer you up.” He had seen how not yourself you had been since you had gotten your cast on and he just wanted to do whatever he could to make you feel better.

“Then do something that won’t give the hiccups.”

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” he smirked and dove in for another kiss.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 28: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him. @starryeyedjanai

"Steve!" Robin clicked her fingers in front of Steve's face, Steve turned towards her, "Have you heard a thing I said?"

"Sure, I was listening."

"No you weren't you weren't looking at me, I wasn't born yesterday, Evie."

Steve smiled slyly, "Fine what were you saying about your date with Nancy," he replied pointedly looking at her lips this time.

Robin cracked a giddy grin, "The rollerskating was a great idea she held my hand all night cause you know I'm a klutz!"

Steve laughed turning to continue stacking the tapes. Robin poked her head round him at the sound of the front bell.

"Eddie!" She said tapping Steve and pointing. Steve grinned at the metalhead wiggling his fingers in a wave.

"Stevie! How's my favourite future cyborg, you ready to go?" Steve liked watching Eddie talk, the way his lips moved.

"Thanks for driving him, Ed, it was hard enough convincing him to go to the first appointment, wanna make sure he actually gets them."

"Course, Bucks, happy to babysit our favourite babysitter."

Steve punched out his card and gathered his things from the back. The drive to the doctor's office was quick, the thrum of Eddie's mixtapes vibrating the van. Steve always liked hanging out with Eddie, he liked loud.

He really wanted to hold Eddie's hand once they were sat in the bright white office. The cold walls were a little too similar to the bunker, but he'd promised Robin.

"It'll be a little weird when we first turn them on but you should adjust within a week." The doctor explained before fiddling with the device. A few seconds later the tune of the radio flooded his ears, Steve perked up a smile gracing his face. He looked over at Eddie, "I can hear the radio!" Eddie grinned widely in return.

Later, back at the trailer Steve was enjoying hearing the movie playing, happy to not have to rely on the limited subtitled movies Hawkins had to offer. He could hear Eddie finishing dinner in the background, it warmed his heart feeling somewhat normal again.

"Hear you go, sweetheart," Eddie said passing Steve a bowl of spaghetti, plopping down beside him, it was nice, hearing Eddie's voice more clearly now.

He paused the movie as Eddie started monologuing about something that had happened at the garage that morning. Steve wasn't really paying attention, too busy watching Eddie's lips. He wanted to tell Eddie how he felt but he didn't want to lose this.

"Stevie?"

"Hmm?" He replied not looking away from Eddie's mouth.

"Your hearing aids stop working? You've been reading my lips."

Steve blushed, "Um no, I heard you just fine."

Eddie paused before smirking, "See something you like then, sweetheart?"

Steve smiled in return, "Maybe, maybe I just need you to come closer to hear better."

Eddie leaned forward, glancing down at Steve's lips, "Better?"

"Hmm, little closer, don't want to miss anything you say, very important."

Eddie was barely a breath away, all Steve had to do was close the gap, "Stevie." Eddie said Steve's name like a promise and Steve couldn't help moving forward, brushing his lips against Eddie's.

He's glad he listened to Robin and got the hearing aides, he wanted to memorise the sound of Eddie's gasps and moans forever.

[cheeseyberg]

Part 3 of this fic Part 4

Steve is shrugging on his vest and getting ready to clock in when Robin comes into the store and makes a beeline for him, "Are you and Nancy back together?"

"Good morning to you too, Robin. I slept fine last night. My morning was also pleasant. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Steven Elizabeth Harrington-"

"Not my name." Steve rests his forearms on the counter facing Robin.

"-I walked into the kitchen yesterday to you twirling her around in your arms and goddamn giggling! Don't get smart with me."

"Wouldn't dream of it Bobby."

Robin leans across from Steve, mirroring his posture, "Seriously, if you're back together you have to tell me, it's best friend law. Are you a criminal Steven? Are you breaking best friend laws?"

"Stop government naming me! No, we are not back together. We're friends again and she was teasing me about my stupidly embarrassing crush on Eddie Munson. She said she thinks he likes me back Rob. But you're friends with him, you would know if he liked me, wouldn't you?"

"I... In theory, yes that is probably information I would know." Robin straightens up and tilts her head to the side like she's considering the possibility.

"And you're my best friend, and best friend law would mean you're obligated to tell me, right?"

Robin steps back from the counter putting space between her and Steve and glances behind her towards the door. "I'm not sure that best friend case law covers that particular area."

Steve stands straight up and smacks his hand against the counter and then points at Robin, "YOU DO KNOW SOMETHING!"

"I don't know anything or even if there is anything to know and even if I did know something, which I definitely do not, it wouldn't be my secret to tell. Okay bye Steve, see you later!" Robin yells over her shoulder as she runs out the door, saying it all so fast that Steve is impressed that she didn't pause for breath.

"Well, that was weirder than usual, even for her." Steve mutters as he watches her mount her bike and take off down the street.

"It definitely was." A voice says from Steve's right side, making him jump.

"Where the hell did you come from!?" Steve looks wildly around and past Max, scanning for any more of his children sneaking up on him.

"I've been here since before you, Keith let me in when he opened. And for the record, Robin definitely knows more than she's saying."

"How do you know?" Steve is suspicious but still desperate for information, "Wait, how much of that did you hear?"

"All of it. But your 'stupidly embarrassing crush on Eddie Munson' isn't exactly a secret, Steven. You're always looking at him like a lost puppy dog. Like you want to wrap him up and take him home to-"

"Okay! Enough Maxine-"

"Now who's government naming?"

"You started it."

"Actually, Robin started it, but do you want to know how I know she's keeping secrets or not?"

"You're right Max, Robin is the villain here, please tell me what she's hiding."

"Don't try to butter me up. And I never said I knew what she was hiding, just that she is hiding something. I can guess at what it is, but I think you already know. After we left your house yesterday Eddie dropped off Dustin, but Robin came back to the trailer park with Eddie and me. I went home and Robin went with Eddie. About an hour later, I heard the van leave and when it came back Eddie was alone, so he must have been dropping her off."

"So, they were alone for about an hour and that's your proof?"

"No, that's circumstantial. My proof is that when Eddie came home, he knocked on my door and asked me for help running errands today. He said he would give me $5 to return some movies for him. He dropped me off 20 minutes ago and he's picking me up," Max looks towards the front of the store where Eddie's van is pulling into the lot, "right about now. Combined with whatever that was that Robin just did, I think that smells like a plan."

Steve could see it. It made sense. If Eddie did like him then that would explain why Robin ran in here asking about Nancy and why Max was here, giving Eddie a chance to come in and see Steve. Robin knew he would be working right now, and he could just bet that Eddie had been waiting off on a side street for Robin to report back about Nancy. Max had clearly already put all that together and he could see in her face that she was watching him fit the pieces together as well.

"You know, you're a lot smarter than we give you credit for Steve," Max smirked at him and then turned towards the door as Eddie walked in.

@charliechaplintheawesome @flwerkitty @dbquills @zerokrox-blog @bidisastersworld @respect-snails @estrellami-1 @4nemo1egend

[theemporium]

[REQUEST OPEN]

[9.6k] local murders, amateur sleuthing and unconventional phone calls catch the attention of wednesday!reader. little does she realise the mastermind behind it all is none other than hawkins’ golden boy. (smut)

. 

“LOCAL TEEN FOUND MURDERED IN HIS CAR EARLIER THIS MORNING AFTER WHAT LOOKS LIKE TO BE BRUTAL STRUGGLE. THIS IS THE THIRD MURDER AFTER THE DEATH OF—” 

The volume dial on the radio was instantly turned down, the drawling voice of the presenter quickly dying down to a whisper after blaring through the store like it had been doing for the last hour. 

But no matter what channel or radio show they turned to, each and every one was covering the latest discovery in the Hawkins’ murders. 

Murders that started during the annual 4th of July celebrations where a local jock had been found stabbed and murdered just after the firework display, his body slumped into one of the ferris wheel carriages before anyone could notice the killer. 

The screams of the young carnival worker who found the body was one no one in Hawkins would forget for a while. 

The second murder followed less that two weeks later, when a cheerleader was found brutally stabbed and stashed in the back of her car at Lover’s Lake. 

And now, the whole of Hawkins had been sent into a frenzy as the police department worked aimlessly to find the culprit behind the recent murders. Only to come up short when they couldn’t find a single clue against the murderer. Not a single fucking idea. 

The whole town was left waiting for the next attack, set on edge and second guessing everyone around them as they waited for the killer to attack again. 

The killer was playing with their prey, setting everyone on edge and making them go crazy as they waited for a single clue that this wasn’t over. The killer gave them hope that the worst was over, that they moved on or skipped town. The killer made them think they could be safe again.

And then they struck—just yesterday, after a whole month of silence. 

“God, don’t they have anything better to talk about,” Eddie grumbled under his breath, nose scrunching up as he focused on the pile of tapes in front of him that he had been sorting out for the last twenty minutes. 

You shifted your eyes from the book you were reading, raising a single brow. “And here I thought you’d love something like this.” 

“Not all of us are as morbid as you,” Eddie retorted with a lazy grin sent your way. “It’s all anyone’s been talking about the last two months. There’s only so much small talk I can handle over the counter about my ‘crazy theories on Hawkins’ biggest criminal since Johnny the bike thief’.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgment. 

“I swear some of them think it’s me,” Eddie muttered with a light scoff. He paused for a moment before his eyes narrowed on you. “They probably think it’s both of us. Probably doesn’t help that you’re always lingering here.” 

“You invite me, Edward,” you stated simply as you flicked to the next page of your book. 

“And you come every time,” Eddie retorted with a grin on his face, like he was proud of the fact he somehow managed to have you coming back. 

“I didn’t have anything on today,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“Geez, way to make a man feel special.” 

Your friendship—if you could even call it that—with the local metalhead wasn’t something you ever planned or considered. As it turns out, wandering around the woods beside the trailer park will leave you with a curly-haired, restless twenty-something who attaches himself to you and continues to call you his friend regardless of whatever you tell him. 

Eddie Munson just seemed to work like that. 

Not that you minded him all that much, most of the time at least. You could tolerate him and sometimes coming to the music store he worked at provided amusement in the form of watching the general public. If you had to deal with Eddie calling you a friend during that time, then so be it. 

“Got any wild theories in that morbid head of yours?” Eddie asked casually like you weren’t discussing murders in the middle of a very public store, the boy more concerned about the price tags he was currently trying to stick on the tapes laid across the counter with a contraption he wasn’t totally sure how to use. 

“What makes you think I have been theorising about it at all?” you asked, eyes focused on the words on the page. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie said with a shrug. “Because you’re you? And you like all those weird horror books and movies and shit.” 

“They are comforting,” you stated simply.

“That…is terrifying, actually,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, shooting you a wary look though it really shouldn’t have surprised him. He still had flashbacks to the biology classes he shared with you in school where everyone had taken three steps back from the lab counters whilst you had cut open the poor frog they had been assigned to dissect with familiar ease. The scalpel in your hand almost looked as belonging as a pen. 

“You let yourself get too easily scared, Edward,” you told him, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were scolding him. 

The boy paused, raising his brows. “You’re telling me you’re not the least bit scared that we have a homicidal maniac on the loose right now?” 

“Everybody dies anyways,” you replied. 

Eddie blinked. “Yeah because nothing says circle of life like being brutally stabbed twenty times in the gut.” 

“Twenty-four,” you corrected. 

Eddie furrowed his brows. “What?” 

“Each victim had been stabbed at least twenty-four times,” you said as you lifted your gaze to meet his own. “If you’re going to be scared, at least be scared by the right facts.” 

“Maybe you are the murderer,” Eddie grumbled with a huff, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the tapes. 

“Would you like me to fast-track you to the top of my list?” you deadpanned, though there was something quite like amusement glimmering in your eyes. 

“Aw, you’d change up your master plan for lil’ ol’ me? I knew you liked me, sweetheart,” Eddie said with a grin. “Make sure they write that on my tombstone, yeah? ‘Eddie the Freak: changer of small, emo serial killers’.” 

You let out a huff but Eddie swore it was a laugh. 

“Why the hell are you guys hanging out without me?!” 

Both heads turned towards the entrance of the store where a very angry, curly-haired nuisance was making his way towards the cashier counter, the redhead behind him simply shrugging and giving the two adults a ‘what can you do?’ look. 

“I’m working, Henderson,” Eddie retorted, gesturing to the store around him. “I hardly consider that hanging out.” 

“She’s here!” Dustin said, exasperated as he pointed a finger at you before quickly dropping it when he noted the look you gave him. 

“She was invited,” you said to him as you said to Eddie earlier.

“So it is a hangout!” Dustin exclaimed. “Did you invite Max too?” 

Eddie remained silent.

“Oh my god.” 

“I give her a ride back home after my shift,” Eddie said with a heavy sigh, knowing the boy wouldn’t shut up about this for a while. “I hardly count that as hanging out. Plus, her mum doesn’t want her skating back alone with all the…murdering going around.”

“Who cares about murders when your own friends stab you in the back,” Dustin muttered with narrowing eyes glancing between the three of you.

“Listen, you’re here now, can’t you just…get over it?” Max grumbled, making her way towards the counter where she pushed a handful of tapes to the side before jumping up to take a seat. She pointedly ignored the glare Eddie was sending her way. “I’d rather hear you talk about conspiracy theories for another hour.” 

“Conspiracy theories?” Eddie questioned. 

“Dustin here thinks he knows who the killer is,” Max snorted. 

Eddie narrowed his eyes, glancing between you and Max. “Neither of you sound as worried about a killer on the loose as you should be.” 

You didn’t bother with a reply but Max shrugged as she replied.

“She’s rubbing off on me.” 

“Are you kidding me? This is freaking awesome!” Dustin exclaimed, catching all three of you off guard as the boy began to pace around the store, arms moving around animatedly as he spoke. “We are living in a real life horror movie! The mysterious killer, local victims, town paranoia—” 

“Let me guess,” you interrupted with a raised brow. “Are you deeming yourself the protagonist?” 

“Me? Pfft, no, I’m the movie expert,” Dustin said with an oddly proud look on his face. “The protagonist is the final girl.”

Max frowned. “Final girl?” 

“Yeah,” Dustin stared at the group like it was obvious. “The girl that is always left at the end of the horror movie. The one who survived after facing off with the killer when their identity is revealed and is the one to tell the story.” 

Eddie snorted. “You, Henderson, have quite the imagination.” 

“He’s not wrong,” you stated as three pairs of eyes focused on you, all equally shocked. “It’s a common trope in the horror genre.” 

“HA!” Dustin grinned. 

“Just because you know a bunch about horror movies doesn’t mean you know who the killer is,” Max pointed out, legs swinging back and forth. “It could be anyone. Hell, it could be someone from out of town.” 

Dustin shook his head. “Unlikely, each victim seems like a personal choice. And they are linked, it can’t be random at all.”

“Oh, now he’s a professional,” Max muttered, rolling her eyes.

“So who’s your guess, detective?” Eddie asked, entertaining the boy’s delusions. 

Dustin brightened. “Well—“ 

“HENDERSON! THERE YOU ARE!” 

The bell above the door rang through the store, accompanied by the sound of quick footsteps as Steve made his way to the group, still clad in the Family Video vest—most likely having just come from his own shift at the shop down the road. 

“Way to ruin my dramatic moment, Steve,” the younger boy muttered but didn’t look shocked at his arrival. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can cry about it in the car,” Steve murmured with a sigh as he slapped the boy on the back. “Get your stuff, your mum wanted you home by six.” 

“It’s only five thirty!” 

“Yeah, and I have other shit to do other than drive you about.” 

Dustin turned to you. “Tell him to give me five more minutes.” 

You raised your brows. “And why would he listen to me?” 

“Because he’s obsessed—“ But Steve’s hand was slapped over his mouth before he could finish his sentence. 

“Car. Now.” Steve stated simply, avoiding your gaze as a light blush appeared on his cheeks. 

Dustin let out a heavy sigh before grabbing his backpack that he had dumped on the floor at some point during his rant before he waved the group goodbye. “This isn’t over. I am gonna prove I know what I’m talking about.” 

“Whatever you say,” Max called out, sarcasm dripping from her words. 

“I’ll, uh, catch you later, yeah?” Steve said as he followed Dustin to the door, though his eyes lingered on you. Maybe waiting for an answer, maybe hoping you’d say yes. 

“See ya later, Harrington!” Eddie waved him off with a shit-eating grin, waiting until both boys were gone before he turned to you. “When are you gonna put him out of his misery?” 

You frowned. “What misery?” 

“Steve has the biggest crush on you,” Max stated matter-of-factly. “Everybody knows.” 

“I didn’t know,” you retorted. 

“Yeah, because you’re just as stupid,” Max snapped back and your lips twitched a little at her words. 

“You sound just as delusional as Dustin,” you muttered before your eyes focused back on the book on your lap, the one you had been trying to read since you arrived at the store but had only managed two chapters of. 

“Say what you wanna say, but when he comes standing outside your house with a boombox and starts confessing his love to you, we will be taking full bragging rights,” Eddie said, a grin matching the redhead’s on his face as you simply rolled your eyes. 

“Like I said, delusional.” 

…

You were alone in your house on a Tuesday night when you received the first phone call. 

Unassuming and unaware, you had spent most of the day out of your house doing simple errands and runs that you had been putting off. You got back home around five and had been loitering around, enjoying the peace that came with an empty home with both parents out of town for the week. 

Dinner had been uneventful and the shower you had taken afterwards had been uninterrupted. The phone didn’t ring until around half an hour later, when your hair was still soaking the pyjama shirt you had slipped on and your mirror was still steamy from the hot water. 

“Hello?” 

“What’s your favourite scary movie?” 

You paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other side of the phone. It didn’t take long for you to piece things together, the articles and radio warnings that had been blasted around town for the last few weeks giving you a clear idea who was on the other side of the phone. 

After all, the mysterious number on the phone bill was the one common factor linking the murders together.  

“Do you give all your victims the same icebreaker or am I just special?” you asked the killer on the other side of the phone, hand firmly gripping the handset like you were scared to miss his response. 

“Who said you were my victim?” 

You paused for a moment. “Is that statement meant to bring me a false sense of security?”

“Do you want me to make you feel safe, sweetheart?” 

“Not sure that’s a part of your job description,” you deadpanned, hearing the killer on the other side of the phone let out a huff of amusement. “I thought the point of these phone calls was to heighten your prey’s paranoia.” 

“Telling me how to do my job now, are you?”

“Just curious how you play the game,” you admitted, the prickling sensation in the back of your neck a telltale sign that you felt like you were being watched. But you found that you didn’t mind it all that much—for now, at least. “Tell me when I should start begging for my life.” 

“I would never wanna hear you beg for your life, sweetheart. I would never hurt you.” 

“Are you sure you’re the killer?” you asked bluntly, wondering if this was just some prank call of someone impersonating the Hawkins’ killer in hopes of getting a few laughs from their friends. “You don’t sound very scary to me.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to scare you.” 

“Then what do you want?” 

“Maybe I just wanna talk, sweetheart.” 

“How wholesome,” you muttered, swinging your legs over the end of your bed and letting your feet touch the cold, wood floor as you stood up from your bed and started making your way downstairs. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

“Just wanna know why you left your room.” 

You froze for a moment, half way down the stairs and your eyes instantly fell on your front door where you could see the lock was still secure in place. “How do you know I just left my room?” 

“I like to see the people I talk to.” 

“Not social enough for face to face conversations?”

“It’s more fun when they can’t see you.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

The irony wasn’t lost on you about how stupid you were currently being. You had watched a plethora of horror movies from a young age, a lot of them had been watched multiple times and you knew the trope of the dumb girl very well. The one who would keep talking on the phone, who would never go for the weapon that could save her life, that would fall when being chased. 

You knew the longer you stayed on the phone to the killer, the higher the chance that you could very well become that same character in Dustin’s little horror movie fantasy. That your body would be the next one found, another victim that would lead up to whatever finale this killer had. 

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hang up the phone. 

The killer was intriguing, not at all what you expected them to be like and—though it would kill you to admit it—Eddie was right, you did have a morbid curiosity for these kinds of things. 

You entertained the conversation, picking apart the things they said and the phrases they used. They were careful, they never gave anything away that could even hint to you who they were but there was a knack at the back of your head that told you you knew this person—which was incredibly stupid knowing you couldn’t see anybody out your windows and their voice was disguised. 

“Looking for me, sweetheart?” 

“Maybe I’m just trying to help you break that social barrier you’ve built. I heard eye contact improves conversation flow.” 

“Never thought you’d be the kinda girl to help someone out.” 

Your lips twitched a little. “And I never thought you’d want to sit about for an hour talking about nonsense from a random bush across the street.” 

“Guess we surprised each other, huh, doll?”

You raised your brows. “Bored of sweetheart already?” 

“Just testing the waters.”

You weren’t sure at what point the line went dead. You couldn’t really remember if you were the one to hang up, or if maybe it was them. The memories of the night before were fuzzier than you would have liked them to be, but certain things were vivid and clear in your head. 

One of them was the fact that you knew each door and window had been locked. You knew that there wasn’t a single point of entrance in the house from outside. And yet, laying on your bedroom desk, you found a series of polaroids. 

One of you in your room, laying on your bed with a book in hand. One of you in the kitchen, hovering by the stove as you cooked. One of you in the bathroom, the silhouette of your body just noticeable in the steamy mirror.

And a note scrawled on the back of the last one: 

Thank you for the conversation, sweetheart. Until next time.

The mastermind behind the Hawkins’ murders wasn’t what you expected them to be like. But they had caught your attention now, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted to know more. 

…

“Five!”

“Yes, Henderson, we heard you the first time.” 

“Five murders!”

“And we heard the radio announce it too.” 

“He has killed five people!” 

“How do you know it’s a he?” 

This conversation had been going on for the better part of the last hour. Just that morning, the police department announced another victim in the Hawkins’ murders—one of the wannabe journalists in the school newspaper that often bothered Nancy with his deadbeat stories and flakey behaviour. 

He was found just by Lovers Lake, his camera smashed to pieces beside him and his torso torn open by multiple stab wounds, more than any other victim. And of course, Dustin hadn’t shut up about it since it had been announced. 

“It’s a feeling, ya know?” Dustin said with a pondering look on his face. “Like a gut feeling.” 

Max raised her brows. “Sure that’s not just acid reflux?”

“Shut up,” Dustin huffed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s escalating, he’s killed two people in the space of ten days. He’s getting more frequent.” 

“Ambitious,” you commented. 

Dustin gaped. “No, not ambitious! Dangerous!” 

“He’s gone off his victim profile though,” Eddie noted as he took a large bite out of the pretzel he was eating. “I thought he was just going for jocks and shit. But a journalist and a band geek? Rogue choices.” 

“Or they are connected in a way we don’t realise,” Dustin countered. 

“Or this is all bullshit and he’s nothing more than a murderous maniac who’s just killing anyone he can get his hands on,” Max stated bluntly, shooting her curly-haired friend a look. “Stop reading into it so much. He’s probably just going for younger victims because teenagers are dumb and would probably follow a strange man into the woods if he offered them beer.” 

“Is that what you’d do, Red?” Eddie joked as he nudged her shoulder. 

“Yeah, and Henderson would be my first victim,” Max continued, biting back the smile that was growing on her face. 

“Not funny, guys, not funny,” Dustin grumbled with a crease between his eyebrows. 

“It’s a little funny,” Eddie grinned, playfully patting the boy on the back. 

“Am I the only one taking this seriously?” Dustin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “There’s a murderer on the loose!” 

“Really? You didn’t mention,” Max deadpanned. 

“Look, kid, let the professionals solve the case, okay?” Eddie’s voice turned a little more serious as he placed a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “I don’t want you getting mixed up in this and end up getting hurt.” 

Dustin’s shoulders sagged. “I just feel like—“ 

“I know, I get it, you wanna work it out,” Eddie said, his features softening. “But it’s not up to you to solve.” 

“But if you help—“ 

“I’ll help you,” you spoke up and the room quickly fell silent. 

“Uh,” Eddie cleared his throat. “Are you doing alright?” 

“Yes. Why?” 

Eddie frowned. “Because you just willingly offered help to someone? To Dustin of all people?” 

“If it’s any consolation, it’s for personal gain,” you stated as the three of them continued to stare at her. 

Dustin’s eyes narrowed. “What are you gaining?” 

“Answers.”

“That’s…that’s insanely cryptic,” Eddie murmured, his frown deepening as he flashed you a concerned glance. 

Not that you owed any of them answers, but you hadn’t told them about the phone calls from the killer. You didn’t tell them about the phone calls or the photographs or the promises the killer made to not harm you. And you certainly didn’t tell them the phone calls had become an almost daily occurrence. 

You didn’t tell them because you knew they would worry. Dustin would hound you with questions, Max would question your sanity and Eddie would be throwing you into the back of his van before beeling towards the sheriff’s department. All valid reactions in the grand scheme of things but would be nothing but a nuisance to you. 

You were playing a game with this psycho killer and you couldn’t deny that you wanted to know how it ended.

“Well…beggars can’t be choosers!” Dustin smiled at you and you had the odd feeling that this boy saw this as a branch of friendship. 

As it turns out, the boy was more obsessed with the case though you had to give him credit for his passion. He had all but set up a murder board for the killings, complete with pictures of the victims, string linking in pieces of information pinned to the board and a map of Hawkins where each murder had taken place. He had even gone as far as getting transcripts of each phone call the victim received (something about his genius girlfriend being able to retrieve the information). 

And that was where your interest piqued the most, unable to deny the way your eyes read over the transcripts multiple times as you analysed the phone calls. 

Noting how different they were to your own phone calls with the killer. 

“I think the answers are in the phone calls,” Dustin confessed to you as you both stood in front of the board. His hands were on his hips and he stared at the board with such intensity like the answer would appear before him at any moment. 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I mean, they are a part of his game, no? They gotta be the answer to why he is doing everything.”

Yet, the idea of you just being another pawn in the killer’s game settled bitterly in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t like that. You didn’t like it at all.

…

“You stalking me, sweetheart?” 

“Thought I would return the favour.” 

“I’m flattered, baby.” 

… 

“They have to be connected,” Dustin sighed heavily, staring at the pictures of the victims he had pinned on the board. 

“They are connected,” you said, sitting back on the couch with your feet planted up on the coffee table and an array of sheets of papers sprawled around you. They were a mix of missing persons flyers, police reports and articles that had been written since the very first murder on 4th July.

Dustin frowned. “They are?” 

“They are all from the same year in school,” you pointed out, using the pen in your hand to point at the first victim. “Jamie Anderson, complete narcissist with an ego the size of Indiana.” 

“Kinda comes with the jersey,” he muttered under his breath. 

You pointed to the second photo. “Samantha Ricks—spent more time swiping daddy’s card and picking on people who wouldn’t talk back.” 

“So they were every basic teen targets in a horror movie,” he pointed out with a blank face. “This isn’t really shedding light on why they were chosen.”

“Third victim: Charlie Hughes,” you continued, pointedly ignoring the boy’s pessimistic comments though they did gain a few points of respect from you. “I shared a chemistry class with him in senior year. He always held a grudge after I sabotaged his experiment.” 

Dustin raised his brows. “Decent guy?” 

“No, an absolute moron,” you stated bluntly before you pointed at the fourth victim. “Kennedy Jenson. A bitter mind in a pretty body, it’s sad to see her go.” 

“Were you friends with her?” 

You shot the boy a blank look.

“Okay, not friends, but…acquaintances?” 

“She wasn’t all that remarkable though she was quite the ass kisser,” you pondered for a moment before you pointed at the final victim. “Katie Adams: extraordinarily self-absorbed and a copycat. I can respect many crimes but lack of originality is not one of them.”

“I’ll remember that,” Dustin murmured, a wary glance sent your way before he looked back at the victims. “So what? That’s our connection? They went to school together and were all unremarkable?”

“It’s too coincidental to be random,” you commented. 

“You think he has chosen them on purpose?” 

“Yes, but his purpose is the thing I can’t quite work out.”

…

“Do you have a reason you picked your victims?”

“Interested in my job, sweetheart?” 

“Curious, really.” 

“They all deserved it, I can promise you that.”

“And why did they deserve it?” 

“Because they couldn’t appreciate perfection, sweetheart, and I can’t let that shit slide.”

…

“Maybe he has a motivator.” 

You raised your brow. “A what?” 

“A motivator,” Dustin repeated as though you’d suddenly understand him a second time round. But when your face remained blank, he let out a sigh and continued. “Like, maybe he is doing this all for someone.” 

You pondered the thought for a moment. “You think he is just some lackey?” 

“Maybe,” Dustin shrugged his shoulders. “Or maybe he is doing it for attention. Maybe he is doing this for someone so they can see it, so they can see his work. Like, a gift or something.” 

“Interesting,” you murmured, keeping your face neutral as the boy continued to ramble.

“I mean, if that is the case, he would probably want to gloat to his motivator,” Dustin commented as his eyes flickered over the papers in front of him, fingers fiddling with the ball of string in his hand. “Or at least reach out to them so they know he exists.” 

“Like a stalker?” 

“Or, in a twisted way, an admirer.” 

…

“Do you always watch me when you call?”

“I told you, I like to see who I am talking to.” 

“Is there a point of watching me if you’re not going to kill me?”

“Maybe I just like watching you, sweetheart. Is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s a bit creepy.”

“Says the girl talking to Hawkins’ most wanted.” 

“That still makes you the creepier one.” 

“Because I’m talking to Hawkins’ biggest loner?” 

“That was almost funny.” 

“Maybe next time you’ll let me hear your laugh. But the smile you are trying to hide will do for now.”

… 

“Delivery for—holy shit, it looks like a fucking murder scene in here.”

“Pass the pizza, Munson.” 

“Kid’s got claws,” Eddie muttered as he passed the pizza boxes he collected into the boy’s awaiting hands before manoeuvring over the mess that had been sprawled over the living room floor to take a seat next to you. “What’s going on here?” 

“Dustin thinks he is on the edge of a discovery,” you informed him. 

“I am!” Dustin exclaimed. “I think you were right about the school year being connected.” 

“Geez, wonder who saw that one coming,” you deadpanned.

“So I grabbed a copy of the yearbook and started making my way through it, seeing who matches the possible description the police have for the killer and—”

You started to drown the boy’s ramblings out, attention focused on the yearbook you had snatched from his hand as you began to flick through it. Dustin had crossed off people with a large, red ‘X’ on who he thought didn’t fit the killer image, along with question marks surrounding potential suspects. 

But as you flicked through the yearbook—something you hadn’t even owned yourself, simply rolling your eyes when one of the committee members tried to hand you a copy on the last day of school—you found yourself taking in the pictures that were dotted throughout the book. Pictures that were taken throughout the four years of high school, of different friend groups and clubs and squads. 

Pictures of the unsuspecting victims who didn’t know they would be dead less than two years later. 

“You really think you’ll be able to find them in that book?” 

“I’ll know a murderer when I see them, Eddie.” 

Your eyes aimlessly travelled over each photo as you flicked through the pages before you paused. It was a double page feature on some of the sports clubs in Hawkins High School. There were pictures of different teams and meets and games and matches. There were pictures of the groups mingling and mixing. But the one that caught your eye was one of a jock and cheerleader, smiling and grinning at the camera like their future was full and bright ahead of them. 

Jaime and Samantha—the first two victims.

But it wasn’t the happy faces or the arms thrown over each other’s shoulders that caught your eye, not when you knew long ago they had been friends in high school. No, the thing that caught your attention was the figure standing in the background, hidden in the shadows almost out of sight. 

The figure was glaring at the couple, a glare full of hatred and pure spite. It was a look that went beyond typical teenage jealousy or testosterone rage. This was something deeper, something more primal. This look was wild and cardinal and animalistic. 

This look was the look of a killer. 

“It could be anybody in that year, Henderson,” Eddie said with a sigh. “It could be someone you would never suspect, it could be someone you’ve already crossed off.” 

“Have faith, Eddie, the people I have crossed off are people who I definitely know could never be the killer,” Dustin assured the older man. 

And the person behind the look was none other than Steve Harrington. 

“Yeah, Edward,” you spoke up, unable to tear your eyes away from the photo. “None of these people could be killers. Never in a million years.” 

…

You didn’t tell Dustin or Eddie your revelation. 

You didn’t tell anybody and, to be completely honest, you had no reason to keep his secret. You didn’t have any evidence against the boy to actually take to the police, but you were sure with a little digging you probably would have been able to find what you needed—the confirmation any sane person would need to make sure they were 100% sure. 

But you weren’t sane and you didn’t need evidence—you knew. 

You knew the killer was Steve. You knew the voice behind the phone calls was Steve. You knew without a fucking shadow of a doubt that it was Steve fucking Harrington.

But the truth was that you liked that you were the only one that knew. Something quite like pride prickled inside you in knowing that the whole town was going crazy but you knew the man beneath the mask—and you liked that he had no idea either. 

There was a dark sense of satisfaction in knowing that Steve Harrington had this whole other side to him. The boy next door, the heartthrob and the fucking king of high school—but you knew another side of him, the real side of him. 

It was a heavy secret but the weight laid comfortably on your shoulders as the hours passed, Dustin and Eddie throwing theories around that you knew were nothing more than trash until you eventually packed up for the night and left. 

You knew the second Eddie dropped you off and you stepped into your house that he was watching you, just like every other night. And something sick and twisted in you hummed in delight as you went about your routine, as you made dinner and walked around your house with those eyes glued to you. 

And you waited and bided your time until the phone rang just like it always did, just like you knew it would because Steve himself was a sucker for routine and this was his favourite one. 

“Let’s play a game.” 

You raised your brows, the greeting a small change from his usual ones and yet the change was welcomed as you felt a thrill wrack through your body. 

“What kind of game?” 

“Hide and seek.” 

“I thought your brain was a little more developed than that,” you said, wondering just which window he was watching you from. “Or you were at least a bit more imaginative.” 

“There’s a catch.” 

“Of course there is,” you hummed and leaned your head back against the wall, closing your eyes as his gaze washed over you like a welcoming wave.

“Aren’t you going to ask what it is?” 

“Why should I when I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” 

“You never fail to make me smile, sweetheart.” 

“It’s my life’s mission,” you deadpanned before biting what he was baiting. “What’s the catch?” 

“If you can hide from me, I’ll tell you a secret.” 

“And if you find me?” 

“Then you tell me a secret. Do we have a deal?” 

You paused for a moment, the weight of his offer laying on you as you contemplated the game. A million different ways this game could go, and for all you know, maybe this was the night he decided he wanted to kill you. Maybe you were no longer a motivator to him or he knew that you were aware of his secret. 

Or maybe Steve was just sick and tired watching you from the window and now he wanted the real thing. 

“How long is my headstart?” You asked, only to hear his laugh crackling on the other end of the phone. 

“Oh sweetheart, I’m already in your house.” 

The line had barely been cut off before your feet were moving, your head pounding with a million different thoughts as you wondered just where in the house he currently was—if he was anywhere close to you now. 

You knew it was planned. Steve was probably aware your parents were out of town again. And he knew you were home alone. Hell, Steve knew everything about you because despite what he said, he was a little stalker to you. 

A little stalker who had five murders under his belt and was now currently chasing you through your own house. 

If you were sane, that thought would terrify you. If you were sane, you would be dialling nine-one-one and screaming everything you could to the dispatcher before your life ended. If you were sane, you wouldn’t be running through your house, high on the thrill of a serial killer chasing you. 

But you weren’t sane, not in the slightest. 

Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, your body buzzing with an adrenaline rush you had never felt before and, in some crazy way, you had never felt more alive as you did right now. With floorboards around your house creaking and doors slamming, this was the biggest high you could ever imagine.

The only advantage you had was that this was your house, and yet even that fell short when you knew Steve knew this house as well as you did. He had spent days watching you in this house. He had spent nights sneaking in to leave you gifts. He probably knew this house like the back of his hand. 

Another fact that should have terrified you but once again, you weren’t sane. 

The irony wasn’t lost on you that he managed to find you just as you made it to your bedroom, his hand grasping your arm before you could escape and your body pressed against the edge of the vanity table. Your chest was heaving with light pants but it was nothing to do with the chase and everything to do with the boy in front of you. 

He was towering over you, the mask covering his face and the black robe hiding his body, but the lack of distance between your bodies let you feel his broad shoulders and built torso well enough. 

Your eyes took in the sight, taking in the small details of the mask and the ghost figurine it depicted. Maybe to others it would be a terrifying sight, not even his eyes visible through the fabric but you could only let your curiosity grow. 

He raised a gloved hand, the fabric rubbing against your skin as he ran a finger down the side of your face before tilting his head to the side, and you knew exactly what he wanted. 

“A deal is a deal, right?” you said through soft pants, the blood rushing through your ears almost distracting if it weren’t for the fact the boy in front of you had your full attention. “I guess you want my secret now.” 

He nodded slowly. 

Your eyes never left his masked face as you spoke. “My secret is that I know it’s you under the mask, Steve.” 

The silence settled between you, neither one of you looking away or even reacting, and for a small moment you wondered if the reveal shocked him that much. You wondered if he was trying to work out how you knew, or how to keep you silent. You wondered if you had rendered him speechless. 

Then, he slowly raised his hand that had previously been tracing your jaw and pulled at the back of his mask, the fabric bunching up in his fist as he pulled the mask over his face. And what you weren’t expecting to see was his grinning face staring right back at you. 

“I knew my girl would figure it out,” he spoke, voice low and huskier than the times you had heard him speak before. “You were always the smartest one in the room, sweetheart.”

And his amusement only seemed to grow tenfold when he noticed the shifted look of confusion grow on your face. 

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry, did I ruin your surprise?” he murmured, his hands dropping to your waist as the weight of his body trapped you against the vanity. “I didn’t mean to, sweetheart. Just couldn't help myself, gets me all excited when you get that look on your face.” 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to reply. Not quite yet, not when you hadn’t stopped staring at his face and the way his eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t quite read yet. Not when Steve Harrington had just revealed himself as the Hawkins’ murderer before you and all you could think about was the way his smile made your insides twist in a way you had never really experienced before. 

“Why?” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, almost as surprised as you were by the single word that left your lips. “Why?” 

You nodded and repeated, “Why?” 

“Why, sweetheart?” Steve repeated, almost mockingly as he let out a laugh—a twisted, bitter laugh and it wasn’t directed at you. No, you knew it wasn’t when the lightness in his eyes disappeared, replaced with the same dark look you saw on his face in the yearbook photo. “I did this for you, baby. All for you.” 

A crease formed between your brows and the boy softly cooed as he ran his gloved thumb over your skin. 

“You didn’t hear them, baby, you don’t get it,” the boy murmured in a soft voice despite the acidic tone lacing his words. “I…I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t just hear them talk…fucking nonsense. Not about you. Not when you’re so…” 

His eyes fell back to meet yours and they instantly softened as he pulled his gloves off, his fingers hesitantly reaching to trace your cheek. “Not when you’re so perfect. My sweetheart, so fucking perfect for this world.” 

“Perfect?” you repeated, almost offended by the word.

But Steve only flashed you a goofy grin. “You don’t get it, baby. You don’t see what I see.” 

You barely choked out a gasp as his hands spun you around, the warmth of his chest pressed closely against your back as you found yourself staring at your own complexion in the vanity mirror. Your eyes shifted to Steve as he stood behind you, towering over you, only to find his attention was already on you.

“Everything about you…it’s fucking perfect,” he murmured, eyes darkening as he tucked his body further against yours, his head dropping so his lips were brushing against your ear. “They called you names. They called you a freak…a loner…a fucking psycho, but they don’t get it. They never could understand utter fucking perfection.” 

“That’s noble of you,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed when you felt his warm breath fan across your skin as he chuckled.

“They needed to know, sweetheart,” he whispered to you, the hands that had dropped to your waist tightening their grip. “They needed to know who the real psycho was.” 

“So you killed them?” 

“I gave them what they deserved,” Steve gritted out through clenched teeth. “The bastards had it coming.” 

“You know, you’ve just given me a full confession,” you told him, watching the way his eyes fell shut as he lightly nudged your ear with his nose, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I could run along to the police and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.” There was a small pause. “Nothing except kill me.” 

His grip tightened and his head fell to your shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you that I would never hurt you, sweetheart?” 

“You don’t seem scared about the threat to throw you in prison,” you noted, fighting to keep your eyes on him and not the way his hands were sliding up and down your sides, the action almost comforting.

He huffed out a laugh against your shoulder. “You wouldn’t give me in to the police.” 

“You sound so sure about that.” 

“If you wanted to, you would’ve done it already,” he stated simply as he lifted his head enough for your eyes to catch his, noting the way his lips twitched upwards in a smirk that was all too smug for your liking. “But we both know why you haven’t told them shit.” 

You cocked an eyebrow at the boy. “Oh?”

“The same reason you haven’t told Dustin or Eddie or anyone about my secret,” Steve continued, his voice was soft and calming like he had no care or worries in the world. “You like it, sweetheart. You like it just as much as I do.”

“Presumptuous,” you snided. 

“Is it?” Steve tilted his head, eyes watching your expression closely as his hands slid past the black skirt you had been wearing, his hands a heavy warmth on your tight-clad thighs. “I know you, sweetheart. I know you liked knowing my little secret. I know you liked everything I did…reading those reports…imagining what it felt like when I stabbed those assholes again and again and again…” 

His words trailed off, his words like a soft lullaby as you fought to keep your eyes open. 

“You like that I killed people for you, baby. It fucking excites you to think about the way they bled and begged for their lives,” he whispered in your ear. “Because you’re sick and fucking twisted…just like me, just like those movies you always rent out. And I fucking love it, baby. I know you do too.” 

“Because I’m morbid?” you murmured, breath caught in your throat when you felt his hands squeezing your thighs and his nails digging into the fabric of your tights.

“Because you’re perfect, sweetheart,” he said in such a final tone, his chest pressed against your back to the point you swore you could feel his racing heart. But it was hard to tell over the sound of your own pounding heart and his hands ripping through your tights. 

“Steve,” you breathed his name out, unsure what you wanted to say but the boy just grinned at you.

“The way you say my name sounds like fucking heaven,” he murmured as his palms were pressed against your inner thighs, slowly moving upwards. “You gonna let me return the favour, sweetheart?”

Your chest was heaving with soft pants, his darkened gaze hard to look away from.

“I just wanna make you feel good, sweetheart, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. All of this is for you, I just wanna please you,” he murmured, analysing every inch of your face as he waited, as he bided his time. 

The small nod of your head was a soft, almost invisible action but Steve didn’t miss it. He never missed anything when it came to you.

“Thank you, baby, gonna make you feel like the queen of the fucking world,” he murmured in between the soft kisses he placed along your shoulder, his hands moving to the apex of your thighs as he cupped your clothed cunt and let out a soft chuckle. “I fucking knew it.” 

Your body slumped back against Steve. 

“I knew this fucking excited you,” Steve grinned boyishly, his fingers running along the wet fabric as he basked in the way you sighed in pleasure. “My perfect girl.”

“Do something,” you breathed out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you urged them to move, to keep touching you.

“Anything you want,” Steve murmured against your neck, sliding his hand past the waistband of your panties as his fingers ran along your slit. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re so wet f’me.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about your ripped tights or the panties tucked to the side, not when you had the perfect view of Steve holding you against his chest as he circled your clit. It was soft, slow circles at first like he was testing the waters. But one moan from you and the boy was insatiable. He wanted to hear more, he wanted to be the cause of those moans. 

He wanted to be the only one that could make you feel that good. 

His eyes were locked on your face as he slid a finger inside you, whispered curses muttered under his breath as he felt your walls clench around him. Because you felt perfect, you were fucking perfect and you were all his. Just as he was all yours. You belonged to each other and nobody else and Steve would make sure of that. 

“Do you like this?” he murmured, unable to stop the way his chest heaved with heavy breaths as he watched you squirm around his fingers as they slowly pumped in and out of you. The same hands that murdered five people, that killed just for you. “Do I make you feel good, baby?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out, soft moans leaving your lips and despite the fact he was the one holding you against his body, fucking you with his fingers and whispering in your ear, you knew that you were in control. You knew that if you told him to stop then he would stop. If you told him to go faster then he would go faster. 

And fuck, if that didn’t make the coil in your stomach tighten more than his thumb circling your clit. 

“Just like that, Steve,” you moaned, eyes falling shut as you rested your head against his shoulder, as you let him nuzzle his face against your neck. “Don’t stop.”

“Never, sweetheart,” he murmured as he pressed kisses along your heated skin. “Wanna see you come all over me.” 

Your nails dug into his forearm but Steve relished in the pain as he held your body tighter, as he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure through the mirror. He couldn’t even bring himself to blink as your lips parted, his name leaving your lips in a breathless moan as he felt your walls clench around his fingers. 

And he didn’t stop. 

Not until you let out a small whine, muttering his name as you tried to pull his hands away from between your legs—your shaking legs, Steve noted. 

But he never stopped touching you and kissing you. His hands running up and down your sides, his lips pressing soft kisses onto any inch of skin he could. Steve had spent so many nights watching you from a distance, he needed to make up for lost time now that he had you in his arms.

“I knew you would understand,” he murmured, his nose pressed against your pulse point as he listened to your thundering heart. “I knew you were perfect for me.” 

“Yeah, I can feel just how happy you are,” you commented, feeling his hard bulge press against your lower back and yet, it was almost endearing the way his puppy dog eyes found yours in the mirror. 

This was the boy who had brutally murdered five teenagers, who knew you’d look at the reports and revel in his work. This was the boy who teased and taunted and played with his prey like a true, bloodthirsty killer. This was the boy who watched and waited and bided his time with you until he knew you knew. 

And, now looking at the mirror, this was the same boy who was begging to make you feel good despite his raging hard-on pressing against the confinements on whatever he was wearing beneath the black robe he currently wore. This was the same boy who looked at you like you hung the moon, who would probably kill for you if you asked him. 

This boy was Steve Harrington and you, without a fucking shadow of a doubt, owned him. 

“Take your clothes off,” you told him, borderline ordered him as you kept your eyes on his lust-blown gaze. 

He blinked. “Huh?” 

“Take off your clothes, Steve,” you repeated, voice remaining steady despite the orgasm that had rocked your body minutes ago. “Or have you changed your mind?” 

“I—no!” He said quickly as he shook his head, taking a step back so he had enough space to pull the robe over his head, leaving him in black jeans and a tight-fitting white shirt. You were almost disappointed it was clean, that it wasn’t covered in the blood of the victims he had brutally stabbed. 

You watched as he pulled the shirt over his head, eyes darting over his broad shoulders and toned chest, lingering for a few seconds before his hands moved down to his belt buckle. You didn’t say a word as he continued to strip down, his clothes abandoned on your bedroom floor until he was left in his boxers. 

And Steve stood there, clad in his underwear, watching as you stepped away from the vanity table. He watched as you reached for your shirt, pulling it over your head and he watched as you unzipped the little black skirt you were wearing. He watched as you ditched the ripped tights and ruined panties, watched as you unclipped your bra before you settled yourself on your bed. 

“You look…” he trailed off, hooded eyes taking in every inch of you now that he had you up close. He would never get enough of you. “Fuck.”

“That’s reassuring,” you said, the hint of a smirk on your lips as Steve slowly walked to the edge of the bed, his hands clenched in tight fists at his side and he looked torn. “You okay there, Steve?” 

“Mhmm,” he hummed, a little higher pitched than normal.

“Say it, Steve,” you said to him, leaning back on your elbows as you basked in the boy’s attention. 

“Can I…” Steve cleared his throat, a blush covering his cheeks. “Fuck, can I fuck you? Make you feel good?”

“You wanna make me feel good, Steve?” 

“Please, baby,” his voice slightly whiny as he crawled over your body, kissing from your ankle to your knee. He continued to kiss up your thighs and stomach, up the valley between your tits and just every single fucking inch of you because he needed to. He needed to feel all of you. “Just wanna show my girl how fucking good I can be.” 

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Steve?”

“So good.” 

Your lips were ghosting his as you pulled him towards you, a soft noise escaping the back of his throat as he tried to lean down to kiss you but you pulled him back as your fingers threaded through his hair with a gentle tug. 

“Then fuck me, Steve. Fuck me like you mean it.”

The boy let out a groan before his lips finally met yours, his body almost sagging in relief like that single point of contact was what he needed. His hands squeezed your sides, his body fitting between your legs as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip until it was red and begging for him to kiss. 

Your fingers tugged his head closer, moans muffled amongst the sound of your lips smacking and his soft whines as he reached down to push his boxers down, kicking them off the rest of the way when they reached his knees. 

He pulled away for a few short seconds, panting heavily as he reached down to stroke himself, letting out a small wince as he teased the head of his cock before sliding it up and down your soaked cunt. 

“Shit,” he hissed as he tapped his tip against your swollen clit, almost grinning at the way your nails digged into his skin in response. “You’re so wet, sweetheart. You look so fucking pretty.” 

“Do you always talk this much?” you commented, a little breathless as you watched him slowly slide the tip of his cock in.

“Can’t help it, baby,” he sighed as he reached for you, one of his hands intertwining with yours and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from the touch. “I can’t control myself when I’m around you.” 

“You should work on that,” you muttered, only to be cut off by your own gasp as he pushed himself inside you completely. “Shit.”

“Fucking made f’me,” Steve groaned, forehead pressed against yours as he felt your walls squeeze around him. “Perfect fit.”

“Don’t tell me you believe in fate,” you spoke, a little choked up when he started to slowly pull out before thrusting back in.

“I believe in a lot of things when it comes to you,” Steve confessed, eyes glued on the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. 

Steve revelled in the way you clung onto him, the way it was his name leaving your lips like a fucking mantra as he thrusted in and out of you. Steve revelled in the way your nails dug into his skin, the way they raked down his back leaving scratches he hoped lasted for days after. Steve revelled in the way your lips met his in a messy, sloppy kiss so unlike you and yet, he fucking thrived in knowing he brought you to this point. 

Steve revelled in knowing that he fucked you up just as much as you fucked with him.

“Shit,” he groaned, head resting on your chest as he tried to catch his breath, but it was impossible. It was always impossible when he was this close to you, when he was still inside you. “Did I make you feel good, sweetheart?” 

You let out a small huff that almost sounded like a laugh, but Steve grinned regardless. 

“Maybe you’re not totally hopeless, Steve,” you murmured softly, and against your better judgement you ran your fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back so you could see his wide eyes looking up at you from where he laid on your chest. 

“Is that just about the sex or everything?” he asked, unable to keep his hands to himself as he gripped your sides.

“The sex,” you said, so blunt and deadpanned and you that Steve couldn’t help but love the way you said it. “Your knife skills were admirable, but clearly the work of an amateur.”

His grin widened. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that sounded like an offer to learn from someone more well-versed with knives.”

“Maybe I will.” 

“Interested in joining the business, sweetheart?”

And Steve fucking Harrington revelled in the way a smile broke out on your face.

“I can show you how it’s really done, Steve.”

.

[steddieas-shegoes]

didn't even need a plan

THIS IS A BIG BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY FOR @messessentialist WHO I HAVE HAD IN MY LIFE FOR TWO MINUTES AND IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO HER I WOULD DIE. Short Queens rise up (on a stepladder because that's what we need to reach things)!!! I am kissin you on the mouth rn.

Rated T | 1,315 words | tags: meddling, good uncle Wayne, secret established relationship

“How do they not see it?” Dustin asked, turning away from the scene in front of them to look at Wayne.

“I don’t know, son. Sometimes smart people are dumb,” Wayne shrugged.

Their plan was in place for weeks: get Steve and Eddie in the trailer alone together, cut the power, and hope they don’t leave.

Step one was easy. All they had to do was lie to Steve about Dustin needing a ride.

Step two was a little more difficult, but only because they forgot the trailer next door was on the same breaker. Wayne bribed the owners with enough cash to go get dinner somewhere, glad that they didn’t even ask for an explanation when money was being shoved into their hands.

Step three was the problem.

Steve and Eddie hung out all the time. The problem was they never hung out alone.

Dustin watched as they walked from the living room to the kitchen, then Eddie walked down the hall to his room before rejoining Steve by the couch.

“It’s just us I think,” Eddie said.

Dustin had rigged the walkie talkie so it stayed on, his own sitting between him and Wayne on the lowest possible volume so they could hear.

“So not Upside Down, then,” Steve said, sounding relieved.

“Nope, just good old fashioned unreliable power,” Eddie sighed. “We could probably try to flip the breaker. Maybe it was just a short.”

“Yeah. Maybe we give it a few minutes first?”

Dustin smacked at Wayne’s arm, smiling.

“They’re gonna sit down!” Dustin whispered excitedly.

“Calm down. Could be that nothin’ happens,” Wayne whispered back, though he could feel his own hopes rising.

It was hard to see them through the window, but they could see shadows moving to sit on the couch.

“Something will happen. There’s no way it won’t. They almost kissed yesterday and that was with all of us around,” Dustin insisted.

“That’s what you keep sayin’,” Wayne squinted to watch.

“I really can’t believe Dustin didn’t radio to let me know he found another ride,” Steve didn’t sound angry, but he definitely didn’t sound happy.

“I didn’t even know he needed a ride.”

“Do you know who picked him up?”

“Shit,” Dustin said.

“Didn’t think that through did ya?” Wayne asked, smirk audible.

“Nah, he just left. Didn’t really question it. He does a lot of crazy shit,” Eddie explained.

“Right.”

A minute of somewhat awkward silence followed and then someone slapped their knees.

“I’ll go check the breaker? It’s the one right outside to the left?” Steve asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Dammit,” Wayne said, slowly moving away from the window and sitting down against the side of the trailer.

“Maybe he won’t be able to figure it out,” Dustin said, joining him on the ground.

“He’s definitely gonna figure it out. He’s a smart guy.”

“Who? Steve?”

Wayne looked over at Dustin, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, Steve. Why’re you surprised?”

Dustin shrugged.

“Gonna be honest, it doesn’t sound like you think much of Steve’s intelligence, son.”

Dustin’s eyes widened.

“It’s not that! He just isn’t usually quick to fix stuff.”

Wayne’s brow raised, waiting for Dustin to realize how that sounded.

They were interrupted by Eddie’s voice on the walkie.

“No luck?”

“Nope. Maybe we should try to call someone at one of the neighbor’s?” Steve responded, the sound of him sitting back on the couch barely audible.

“Maybe in a bit. Kind of nice just sitting here,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. Kinda tired,” Steve admitted, the sound of cloth shifting on the couch.

Wayne stood and looked through the window, small smile taking over his face before he sat back down.

“What is it?” Dustin asked, just a bit louder than he probably should have.

“Might get what we wanted after all,” Wayne replied with a smirk.

“Really?”

“Take a look,” Wayne waved up at the window.

Dustin looked in, barely containing a childish squeal when he saw what was happening.

Steve was leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm around him, running his fingers up and down his bicep, rings glinting off the little bit of light shining through the window.

“Wayne’s out for the night if you wanna stick around,” Eddie said, softer than he had been all night, softer than he’d been to anyone else maybe ever.

“Are you asking if I’ll stay the night, Eds?” Steve’s voice filtered through the walkie, a bit crackly as if he was barely speaking above a whisper.

Dustin turned to Wayne, eyes comically wide.

Wayne just shook his head.

He had an idea of where this was going.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Been too long,” Eddie just managed to say before Wayne snapped the walkie off.

“Why’d you do that?” Dustin hissed.

“Because we’ve been played and you’re too young to be listening to what’s about to happen,” Wayne said as he stood up. “C’mon, I’ll drive ya home.”

“What?! No! We had a plan!”

“We didn’t even need the plan, bud. C’mon.”

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and started to argue when the window above them opened and Eddie spoke.

“Mind turning on the power before you go?” He asked, teeth bright white in the darkness surrounding them as he grinned.

“How did you know we were out here?” Dustin asked.

“I could hear the echo of the walkie. Plus, you think Steve didn’t already see you when he walked outside?”

“Don’t sound so smug, Ed,” Wayne laughed.

“What exactly was the grand plan?” Eddie crossed his arms over the sill. “Hope we got bored enough to make out on the couch? Maybe if we thought it was dark enough, we wouldn’t think about who we were kissing?”

“Yes!” Dustin exclaimed, though Wayne remained completely silent.

“And you didn’t think that we do that with the lights on already? Like, for months?”

Dustin sputtered out his best attempt at words, but failed miserably.

“You broke him,” Steve said from behind Eddie, smiling over his shoulder at Dustin and Wayne.

“So. Months?” Wayne asked as Dustin continued muttering incoherently to himself.

“Officially only two. But we first kissed when I was still in the hospital,” Eddie admitted, turning his head to place a kiss on Steve’s cheek.

“But. But. That was five months ago!” Dustin was pacing, kicking up dirt under his feet as he tried to figure out the timing of everything and how he could have missed the most obvious signs. “You’re never even alone that much!”

“We find ways,” Eddie said.

“I work a lot of nights still,” Wayne said to Dustin. “Why didn’t ya say anything?”

“We just wanted something for ourselves for a bit. We’re in this for the long haul and if everyone knew, we’d never find peace to just be together,” Steve said.

“But-”

“Alright, son, let’s get the power on and I’ll take ya home. These two probably want some privacy,” Wayne interrupted, squeezing his shoulder once to get his attention.

Dustin sighed.

“Fine. But you have to tell everyone soon. I can’t keep this a secret for that long.”

“Sure thing, bud,” Steve agreed before turning away from the window.

“You sure you can take him home?” Eddie asked Wayne.

“That’s the only part of the plan that’s workin’ so far, so yeah,” Wayne laughed.

Eddie nodded and waved before closing the window and following Steve.

Wayne walked over to the breaker box and flipped the switch, turning to Dustin and waving him over.

“C’mon. Don’t think we wanna be here in the next five minutes.”

“Gross. They’re like…my dads or something. That’s disgusting,” Dustin gagged as he walked to Wayne’s truck.

“Yeah, well. Maybe you’ll get a new sibling.”

“That isn’t how science works.”

“Yeah, well. We got a whole other world under our feet, kid. I think science is far out of our understanding.”

Dustin didn’t respond.

He didn’t want to even consider Wayne being right.

[vivwritescrappythings]

twenty-five

eddie munson x gn!reader

A self indulgent fic for my birthday today. I always cry on my birthday, no matter what, and this was inspired by my own boyfriend who is so lovely and sweet and Eddie reminds me of him all the time. But, nevertheless, treated this one like a diary entry more than a fic.

or

You always cry on your birthday, and this is the year Eddie finds out.

tw: crying, talks about death, panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader but also heavily girl coded bc this is a self indulgent fic about my own life and I identify as a girl, not proofread

Word count: 2.8k

masterlist

-

There’s something horrible about the way that time just keeps going no matter what. No stops, no returns. There’s no warning that something just happened for the last time, no flashing signs that say: Stop! You’ll never get to experience this again so savor it!

Everything just moves on and moves on and moves on.

Your thoughts are cyclical in nature, it takes you give or take 365 days to get to the same spot: crumpled somewhere private, crying. When you were young it used to be your parents’ walk-in closet, you would curl where your mother’s skirts met your father’s jeans and sob until you could hardly breathe. In your teen years the big meltdown would take place in your car, the beat up SUV felt like your own box of privacy to cry into the palms of your hands after school. You had to hide under the cover of your comforter in your dorm room, praying you were silent enough that your roommate didn’t notice.

This year is the same as any other, you feel like an anvil has been placed on your chest the second you open your eyes. Sunlight diffuses through the sheer lilac curtains over your bedroom window, tinging the morning with an eerie, dreamlike quality. Normally you find the color to be pleasant, mystical rather than gloomy.

Eddie is still asleep next to you, your gaze pulled to the gentle peace that has settled on his face. He’s never still and calm like this, you like to take your opportunities to absorb him in this state when possible. You resist the urge to press a kiss to his pink lips, deciding to let him catch these last few hours of sleep that you yourself have been deprived of.

He’s always been better at sleeping than you, the beginning few hours of most mornings spent on your own reading or watching some show in the other room. It doesn’t matter if you’re at his trailer or your apartment, you always wake up when the first dregs of sunlight hit your eyelids.

You pull yourself from bed with a soft groan, stretching and blinking in an attempt to ground yourself. Of course, it isn’t sufficient, the dizzy feeling of dread curling around your shoulders like a blanket as you emerge from your room into the modest kitchen of your single-room apartment. The bedroom door closes with a soft click behind you, just enough to shield Eddie and let him rest.

There are still a million tasks that you need to accomplish today. You’d made progress yesterday evening, dusting and scrubbing and rearranging every corner of your apartment in an attempt to make it look like no one had ever lived there. It was mostly accomplished, dishes still in the sink and pillows on the couch rumpled where you had been watching television.

While the coffee brews you set on your first task of the day, pulling the mixer out of a cupboard along with a large bowl you’d gotten from the thrift store. Baking while Eddie is asleep will be easier, his fingers no longer poking into the bowl for a taste or his puppy-dog eyes set on you like a weapon in an attempt to convince you to let him lick the spoon. The bowl you used to mix the cake batter yesterday sat in the sink, licked so clean that if you didn’t know any better you would have put it away.

It’s a miracle he didn’t make himself sick.

You put a record on to fill the emptiness, trying to keep your mind busy with tasks and noise so you don’t have a moment to sit down and think too much. By the time you flip to the B side, the red velvet cake you made was decorated in a thick layer of cream cheese frosting. You haphazardly press sprinkles onto its surface as decoration, not trusting your ability to pipe lettering on it.

It’s decent enough, you remind yourself to set your perfectionism aside as you return it to the cake stand in the corner of the kitchen and set about fussing with the rest of your apartment.

It’s easy enough to distract yourself while you have things to do. You don’t rest, jumping from one thing to the next in a journey that leads you from washing the dishes in the sink to straightening up the couch cushions to folding every blanket strewn across your living room.

But you can only keep going so long.

Eventually you run out of tasks, or out of steam. You’re not sure which hit first as you allowed yourself to fall onto the couch with a huff. The dread comes rushing back all at once, nearly paralyzing you as you gather up one of the meticulously folded blankets and cover yourself with it.

No matter what, no matter how many birthdays come and go, you always feel the same devastation of the years going by. With a start you realize that this is your first birthday that you no longer consider your parent’s house your home. It startles you, making you think back in an attempt to identify when the last time you referred to it as your home was.

What are they doing now? Surely they are awake by now, but they haven’t called. Probably giving you privacy, not wanting to wake you up in case you had a wild night to kick off your birthday weekend. It was rare, but it could have happened.

You should call them, but the thought of even talking to your mom right now is making your throat close. It’s all too much, everything is going too fast. You still remember your fourth birthday party, the one with the fairies and the cheap wings made of coathangers and your mother’s old stockings that all the little kids decorated. It gets you thinking about how you used to make crowns with her out of construction paper, emblazoned with crayon butterflies.

A sob wrenches from you before you even realize you are crying, it’s a horrible strangled sound that you hardly recognize as your own. Tears blur your vision as you check the bedroom door, praying that Eddie hadn’t heard.

After a few moments without movement, you let the tears fall and the misery engulf you.

It’s confusingly irrational and rational at the same time, the contradiction eating you up inside as you consider having an annual crisis over the inevitable death of your parents while still actively having the crisis. Your hysterics feel ridiculous, you’re twenty-five now, your frontal cortex is fully developed and you should be able to move on with the idea that someday they will be gone.

Gone.

Jesus. You wonder if every child feels this way or if you are the only one. The soft cushions of the couch welcome you as you slouch onto them, shoulders shaking as your face wedges into the corner of the sofa. Once the floodgates are open you can’t stop them, thinking about how there will eventually be a day that it's the last time you speak with them and you’ll never know it until it already happens.

You helplessly remind yourself that you always tell them you love them before you hang up phone calls, before you leave their home after weekend get-togethers and holidays and family dinners. But will you regret not spending more time with them? Will you look back someday and wish that you had spent more of your fleeting moments with people that were all too temporary despite the fact that they meant everything to you?

Do people with siblings feel like this? The solitude that comes with the idea of the death of a parent? You don’t know, doomed to be an only child and always carrying the burden of it on your shoulders and your shoulders alone.

You don’t know how long this meltdown lasts, crying and crying and crying about grief that is yet to happen, regrets you don’t even know you will have. No matter how hard you try to be rational and firmly rooted in the present, you find yourself mourning people who are still alive every year on the day that should be a celebration.

A gentle hand on your spine startles you from the spiral of your thoughts, shame and grief and guilt fraying your nerves as you choke on a sob. You stiffen like you are electrocuted, your shoulders curling in as you compress closer to the back of the couch.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s voice is still groggy from sleep, raspy and soft in all your favorite ways.

You can only imagine his confusion, he probably woke up expecting you to be reading a book or finishing up your birthday cake instead of burrowing into your couch in a fit of tears.

Eddie has never been around for the quiet parts of your birthday, the moments where you hide yourself away and wallow. You’ve been friends for ten years now, dating for two of them, but you’ve still managed to keep this secret in the hollow of your heart and bear your misery alone.

“It’s okay,” you exhale, the simple words a staccato as you try to catch your breath. Your face is soaked with tears, you keep it mashed against the couch as you try to stuff everything you’re feeling back into the neat little box it sprung from.

He lets out a soft breath, his fingertips start to move up and down from the base of your skull to where your ratty and holey pajama bottoms hug your hips. “If it’s okay then what are you doing out here crying?”

You know the second you face him the temporary dam you have managed to build will come crashing loose. Eddie nevertheless manages to squeeze his long fingers into the space between your shoulder and the fabric of the couch, slowly turning you on your back to face him.

He looks so sweet, his hair gathered in a loose bun at the nape of his neck and his brown eyes round with concern as he looks down at you. Instead of sitting on the couch he’s kneeling next to it, his face closer to yours than you anticipated. You’re sure you look like a disaster, skin red and splotchy and eyes bloodshot. No matter how many times you rub the back of your hand across it you can’t stop your nose from running like a faucet and your lips are so swollen.

Eddie cups your cheek with a calloused hand, rubbing your tears away with his thumb as his brows furrow. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

The plea is so genuine that you immediately whine despite your attempts to steel yourself against your emotions. You burst into an additional round of tears, crying so hard that you are nearly choking. Despite your attempt to explain, your words are unintelligible, distorted by your sobs.

Eddie’s arms curl around you, warm even through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. With no help on your part, he manages to pry you off the couch and into his lap, cradling you against the seat of the couch. As always, he just knows what to do.

He coaxes your head to find the curve of his neck, his fingers caressing the back of your skull as he remains silent. Rather than try to understand what’s going on right now, he just lets you cry it out.

Your tears soak into the back fabric of his cut off Metallica shirt, your arms winding around his torso as you cling to him. Eddie is so solid, he always has been when it comes to you. After knowing one another for a decade, he knows how to handle your storms, how to bring them down to a manageable size and get the gray clouds to go away.

Eventually the sobs slow, you take greedy pulls of air as your fingers twist in the fraying bottom edge of the shirt Eddie is wearing. He claimed there was something he found overstimulating about where the hem originally landed on his lanky frame, cutting it so slivers of his pale stomach were visible any time he moved. Your fingers pressed along the line of skin just above where the elastic of his boxers hung low.

“Do you, uh, just ever think about how everyone is gonna die?” In retrospect, you’re not sure if that’s how you’d phrase the question. It comes out mumbled and wet-sounding against his shoulder, your eyes squeezed shut as you attempt to explain.

He hums his acknowledgment, leaving you empty space to fill. It’s the telltale way he pulls things from you, knowing that if he doesn’t say anything you will babble to fill that silence.

“It’s stupid.” You squish yourself closer, briefly wishing that you could just sit inside his skin. “I just, uh, always think about how, like, when I get older on my birthday that everyone else gets older too?” The way you say it makes it sound like a question rather than a statement.

Again, just a sound of acknowledgement.

“It just is so shitty that everything goes so fast and my parents are getting older and someday I won’t have them and even though I’m older now I don’t even know anything and I have no idea how to do anything without them,” you babble, your gasping breaths interrupting the stream of consciousness spilling from you.

Now that you’ve started you can’t stop. “It’s like my birthday is a marker for how much time is changing and it feels so fast and I’m not ready to be by myself and get even older.” A few tears squeeze out of your eyes, your fingertips pressing into his torso.

“Why am I like this?” you whisper, the question defeated and soft.

“Because you are the most caring person I know, baby,” he murmurs in response, his arms winding around you completely as his hands rub up and down your arms. His cheek squishes into the crown of your head, his warm breath against your scalp. “But nothing is happening yet, and I know the way your brain works makes it feel so real to you even though it’s not real. It will be someday, but you can’t think about it like this right now.”

You nod slowly, trying to take deep breaths. The years of anxiety and guilt and paralyzing fear seem to melt away under his reassurance. “Never talked about this with anyone before,” you mumble into him, feeling deflated.

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, baby,” Eddie says, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you are in a tangle of limbs on the floor of your living room, holding each other close.

You nod against him, the simmering pot of emotions finally slowing down. “I love you,” you say, your words sounding thick and wet and so small.

“I love you too.” The way Eddie says it, you can hear his smile.

You don’t know why you keep this all to yourself, why you let everything bottle up and the emotions consume you. But you’re so thankful that it’s Eddie you have to talk to.

You finally lift your head, lip wobbling as you look up at him with wet eyes. His pink mouth is twisted into a smile, a kiss stamped against your forehead. “There you are,” he murmurs, a tinge of excitement in his tone like he just won a game of hide and seek. A hand comes up to wipe away the tears slicked across your cheeks, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Eddie says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The cliff you were teetering on feels so far away now, your ribs no longer cracking apart under the weight of your guilt.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a sheepish smile settling on your face as you tilt your head up toward his. Eddie presses his lips to yours without hesitation, a hand caressing your jaw as he kisses you with such a fervor that you don’t think you can ever deny the fact that this boy loves you.

His brown eyes are soft as you pull apart, flicking over your face before settling on your gaze. “Now, how about we get dressed and go get some birthday waffles from the diner,” Eddie suggests, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Your mom told me she always makes you waffles for your birthday, but with my luck I’d probably burn your kitchen down.”

You laugh, Eddie’s expression coloring with pride as the sound rattles from you. “Yeah, okay, let’s go,” you murmur, nodding as you start to stand.

Eddie joins you, looping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you to the bedroom of your apartment. He keeps pressing kisses to your forehead, whispering little quips to you that keep earning peals of laughter.

He’d bend over backwards or lasso the sun just to make you smile, and you realize that Eddie is your favorite present this year.

[bruisedboys]

shy!reader being embarrassed to ask eddie if he wants to make-out😭and he’s just completely in awe when she whispers under her breath what she wants… because OF COURSE he does how could he not kiss the sweetest girl in the world

this is such a cute idea pls I love him. not proofread!! & def too long to be a blurb lol

shy!fem!reader 1.3k words

Eddie always kisses you when he picks you up from work. Always. He waits for you to get in, grins at you like you’re the best thing in his life, says something along the lines of “hi, pretty girl,” and then leans across his seat to give you a sweet kiss, seatbelt pulled taut across his chest.

So you should be used to it. Used to his smiling mouth on yours and his hand on your shoulder or cupping your jaw. You aren’t.

As expected, you slide in the passenger seat and Eddie’s beaming.

“Hey, pretty,” he says.

You smile back, much more shy than him but no less fond. “Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie’s smile grows somehow wider and, as always, leans across to kiss you. One hand cups your face while the other spreads over your thigh. His hand placement results in you being a flustered mess before he’s even kissed you. It gets worse when he does kiss you, when it feels longer than usual, more firm. Something about the whole thing sets your skin on fire and has your stomach rolling.

Eddie seems no less affected than usual. He pulls back with his charming smile and starts the van. Meanwhile, you’re trying not to stare too hard at his hands, their weight having left what feels like scorch marks on your skin, or his mouth, all kiss-bitten. You want him to kiss you again so badly it makes your heart race.

“Y/N? Did you hear what I said?”

You blink. Eddie’s talking to you, you realise. “Sorry, what?”

Eddie chuckles softly. “I asked how your day was,” He says patiently, thankfully forgoing any teasing related to your daydreaming.

“Oh.” You smile and try to look more casual than you feel. Your mind is still spinning from the kiss, mouth tingling with want for more. “It was okay.”

“Yeah?” Eddie drums his fingers on the steering wheel. The wind gushing throw the window makes his wild curls dance. “Any grumpy old ladies to deal with?”

You giggle. Yesterday, you’d told Eddie all about an elderly woman who’d got angry at you for the library not having the book she wanted. As if it was your fault.

“No,” you say, huffing amusedly. “What about you?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “No grumpy old ladies, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You snort. “That’s not what I meant!” You say, though you’re sure he knows.

Eddie laughs loud and it’s music to your ears. He’s got such a nice laugh. It only makes the flame in your chest grow.

“Sorry, babe,” he says. He reaches over and pats your thigh, his eyes on the road. “My day was good, thanks.” He sneaks a glance at you and you know what’s coming before he says it, “Better now you’re here.”

You huff like he’s insufferable. He isn’t, of course, but you like to pretend he is. The rest of the short ride to Eddie’s trailer is spent with Eddie drumming along to the radio, and you trying not to show how badly you want to kiss him.

It doesn’t get any easier when you arrive at the trailer. You sit on Eddie’s bed while he picks away at his guitar, his back against the edge of the bed. He’s shed his jacket and tossed it over the bed post. Underneath he’s wearing a sleeveless band tee that makes his arms look so good you think you might scream.

“What does that look mean?” Eddie asks casually.

You start and realise he can see you watching him in the mirror across from his bed. You meet his reflection’s eyes and your cheeks go warm. Well, warm-er.

“What look?”

“You look like you’re bursting to say something,” Eddie says. He sets down his guitar gently and gets up on his knees, twisting so he can face you. “What’s up, honey?”

“Nothing,” you say. I just want to kiss you til you can’t breathe.

Eddie squints at you like he doesn’t believe you. Before you can fix your features to look like you’re not lying he’s climbing onto the bed and plonking down in front of you.

“You’re a bad liar,” he says, a cheeky smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me what’s wrong, hm? Are you hungry? Tired? Do you want a hug?”

You think it’s sweet how worried he is about you. You’d be endeared but it if you weren’t so embarrassed about what you actually want. A hug does sound nice, though. Maybe it will put out the flame that’s burning in your chest.

“A hug would be nice,” you say, and hold your arms out. You’re past being too shy for hugs. You’re yet to conquer being too shy for kisses.

Eddie falls into your arms heavily, his chin hooking over your shoulder while his arms go around your middle. It’s a nice kind of heavy, though. His scent washes over you. Something woody, something metallic. His cologne, a little musky and a lot attractive.

You’re disappointed to realise the hug does nothing to get rid of your problem. In fact, it makes it worse. Having him this close makes you dizzy. Having him this close also makes you think about how he’s near enough to kiss, to take his face in your hands and press your mouth to his until he’s as dizzy as you feel.

You think your thoughts are showing on your face because when Eddie pulls away, he takes one look at you and frowns.

“I don’t think that worked,” he says, half joking but half serious, too. “That wasn’t what was wrong, was it, baby?”

Baby. You don’t have it in you to lie to him again. You shake your head silently.

Eddie grins. “I knew it!” He declares. He bridges the gap between you again to take your face in his hands. You’re already hot as a furnace and you’re sure your skin burns like wildfire under his touch. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t acknowledge it, only stares at you so intensely you think you might melt. “Tell me what’s wrong, angel.”

You swallow. He’s very convincing when he wants to be.

“Um,” you say. “It’s embarrassing.”

Eddie’s eyes lose their fire and go soft. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he says, earnest and soft at the same time. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

You know he won’t laugh. In fact, he’ll probably indulge you on the spot. Still, you’re embarrassed.

“I, um. Do you …?” You stop halfway, unsure how to say it, unsure how to ask. Unsure if you should ask.

Eddie’s hands slide to your shoulders and squeeze. “Do I what, angel?”

You stare at his chest when you say it, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you … want to make out?”

You cringe as soon as you say it. Pull away from Eddie and hide your hands in your face, your heartbeat like a drum in your ears.

Eddie protests. “Hey, where are you going?” He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Come back out, sweet girl, please.”

You do not come back out. You hide and wish the floor would swallow you up. Your heart jumps to your throat when Eddie’s hands find your thighs and pull, pull until you’re half in his lap and he can get his fingers around your wrists.

“Come out,” he begs, tugging at your wrists with much less force than he’s capable of. “Please, angel.”

You let him pry your hands from your face but refuse to look him in the eye, staring at a point over his shoulder instead. Eddie huffs and gets his hand on your jaw to tilt your head until you’re forced to look at him properly. You grumble something incoherent.

“Y/N,” Eddie says. He’s grinning like mad. “Of course I want to make out with you. Are you kidding?”

You gawp. You’d expected teasing, at the very least. “You do?”

Eddie chuckles like he can’t believe you. “Is that hard to believe?” He asks, amused. “Of course I do.”

“Oh.”

Eddie grins. The fire in your chest rises to your throat.

“Yeah. Oh,” he says, and leans in to kiss you.

Your heart pounds. And it doesn’t stop pounding for the next half hour.

-

[writer-in-theory]

The Devil Is A Gentleman — part one.

18+ ONLY - SoftDom!Eddie, Sub!Steve, Slight Feminization (Eddie calls Steve 'princess'), First Time BDSM, Aftercare, Kink Discovery/Exploration

this part is based off of this absolutely amazing art by @dreaminginpencil ✨

EDIT: read on ao3

--

"I want to try it."

Eddie's just walking through the door after the first summer session of Hellfire when Steve says it. Steve is stood in the middle of the main room, arms outstretched a little like he's forgotten what to do with them. He looks nervous, hazel eyes looking just to the left of Eddie and teeth gently biting into his lower lip.

"What're we trying, exactly?" Eddie asks, eyebrows raised as the question makes Steve shift on his feet. "Steve?"

"Your bandana," Steve gasps out, hand stretching out to gesture at Eddie's waist. "I want to try it."

"You want to try..." If anything could short circuit Eddie's brain, it was hearing Steve Harrington say that. "Stevie, what do you think you're asking to do?"

That only makes Steve blush. His cheeks are a brilliant red now, so much that Eddie might've mistaken it for a sunburn if he didn't watch the color bloom there with his own eyes.

"I—Eddie," Steve actually goddamn whines, and Eddie's just glad this was Steve's idea because that alone gives him about a dozen ideas.

"C'mon, princess, I gotta hear you say it," Eddie presses, smirking as Steve continues to shuffle on his feet.

"Robin told me what it means," Steve tells the ceiling, chin tipped up so he can focus on the crack where the Upside Down portal used to be. "Told me about the...um..."

Eddie doesn't speak, let's Steve figure this one out for himself. If they're going to be doing anything, Steve needs to at least be able to say the words. Still, Eddie can't help but feel like this is a dream, and he'll wake up any second to a Steve Harrington who couldn't possibly know what his bandana means, much less want to try it.

"She told me about the bondage, okay?" Steve shouts, panicked with hands that wave about as he explains. "And the, the pain and the dom/sub and why you have handcuffs and I want it. I want it."

"Are you sure?" Eddie presses again, taking a few steps further into the trailer until he can reach out for Steve's hands. "You don't have to do anything you're not sure about. I'm perfectly happy with what we've got going on now."

If the blush and tiny sigh are anything to go by, Steve is too.

"I'm sure," Steve answers, more resolutely than any of his other sentences have been all night. "I'm sure. I want you to dominate me, Eddie."

"Shit, Stevie," Eddie breaths out, eyes wide as he takes in what he just heard. His body has an immediate reaction, chest heating up and waves of arousal coursing through him. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

"Maybe a little," Steve says with a smirk, some of his usual confidence starting to return. "So you'll do it?"

He wants to start yesterday. "Of course, Steve," Eddie begins, tugging on Steve's hands to lead him into the bedroom. Eddie sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him for Steve to sit too. "But with something like this, we gotta lay out some rules, okay? And you have to promise me you'll listen and follow them. There's no being a hero here, you understand?"

Brief nightmares of Steve ignoring safewords to seem strong ran unbidden through Eddie's mind, making him shake his head a little as if to physically dislodge them.

"Rules. I can do rules," Steve answers. "Like what? That I gotta stay naked around you, can't look you in the eyes? Call you Sir?"

The words force out a startled laugh from Eddie, who immediately has to shift in his seat at the image of Steve kneeling prettily in the bedroom waiting for him to come home. "Easy, baby," Eddie manages to get out, "We can't rush these things. We'll start off easy."

"Easy," Steve repeats, as though he were testing out the word on his mouth.

"You have to tell me if you like or don't like something," Eddie tells him, reaching out with thumb and forefinger to hold onto Steve's chin. He sees the reaction immediately—Steve's pupils widen as a sharp little exhale sounds from his parted lips. "I don't want to keep doing anything you're not enjoying, got it?"

Steve nods. "I need words, Steve. That's rule number one, if you can't answer me, I'm stopping."

"Tell you if I don't like something. Answer you when you ask me something. Got it."

"You're already doing so good, Stevie," Eddie coos, smirking at the shaky breath Steve lets out at that. "This is all about communication, okay? We'll have to talk more later about the details, but for now if you want to dip your toes in..."

"Yes, yes please," Steve rushes to say, nodding as well as he can with Eddie's grip on his chin. "Please, Eddie."

"Okay, okay, sweet boy," Eddie says, chuckling at his enthusiasm, "I've got you."

Normally when they kiss, there's a little fight for dominance. Now, when Eddie kisses Steve he lets him, moaning as Eddie playfully nips his lower lip. It's only when Steve reaches out for Eddie's waist that he stops, keeping that firm hold on Steve's chin and pulling back enough to look him in the eyes.

"Who said you could touch me, Stevie?" Eddie asks, his voice a little harder than before, rougher.

"I—" Steve licks over his reddened lips, letting out a little keening noise that goes straight to Eddie's dick. "Eddie, please. Wanna touch you."

"Nuh uh, Stevie," Eddie laughs with just the right amount of condescension to make Steve pout. "Who's in charge tonight?"

"You are," Steve says, eyes looking down enough to conceal them from Eddie.

"Let's try that again, princess," Eddie says, tapping Steve's chin until he gets the man's full focus again. How had Eddie gone this long without seeing Steve like this, already nearly ready to melt with pleasure before they'd really done anything? "You can be a good boy for me, right, Stevie? I know you can, so focus real hard for me. Who's in charge tonight?"

Steve's eyes never waver from his own, his voice strong as he answers, "You're in charge, Eddie. I'm yours."

"Yes you are." Eddie grins, reaching out to swipe his hand through Steve's hair. Steve leans into the contact, a little noise falling from his lips that Eddie tucks away for later. "You're all mine tonight, Stevie. So why don't you keep being good and take your shirt off, come keep my lap warm."

Steve, for all his credit, moves quickly. He practically rips off his t-shirt, tossing it somewhere into the chaos of their bedroom. He's slower to climb into Eddie's lap, barely hovering until Eddie grabs his hips and rolls him forward until their clothes cocks brush. Steve's unable to stop the groan that he lets out, head tipping back a little from the sensation.

"Good boy, Stevie," Eddie tells him, reaching up with one hand to idly brush his fingers over one of Steve's nipples. When Steve starts to squirm in his lap, Eddie lightly pinches it until Steve keens, bucking his hips into Eddie's. "Here's what we're going to do. Paying attention?"

"Yes, Eddie." Steve is gorgeous like this, already looking fucked out, hazel eyes staring at Eddie like they're the only people who exist in the world.

"Doing okay?"

"Yes, Eddie."

"Alright. We're going to play a little game. You were a varsity athlete, you love games, don't you, princess," Eddie teases, unable to help the urge to pinch Steve's nipple again just to hear that whine again.

"Eddie," Steve groans, hands starting to grab at Eddie's arms but hovering in the air when he realizes he can't touch.

"Oh, what a good boy you are," Eddie croons, reaching out for Steve's hands. He pulls them behind Steve's bare back, crisscrossing them just at the butt of his jeans. He holds on just tight enough that Steve couldn't easily escape his hold, an improved version of cuffs. "Just for that I'll make it a little easier on you."

"I want to make you feel good, Stevie," Eddie tells him, smirking at the excited nod Steve gives in response. "Not so fast, sweet boy. You have to tell me when you think you're getting close to cumming, okay? Think you can do that for me?"

Steve nods again.

"Words, baby," Eddie reminds him.

"Yes, fuck, yes please Eddie just," Steve tries to get out, practically moaning the words out. "Please."

Eddie can't wait anymore. He starts to rock them at their hips, pulling with their hands so their cocks slide together through their jeans. It's immediate shockwaves of pleasure, and normally Eddie would pick up the pace but he wants to tease Steve a little, see how worked up he can make him. So for now, he keeps them at an even, casual rhythm.

"Eddie," Steve moans out, hands tugging at Eddie's hold on them before his head tips all the way back, exposing his neck to Eddie.

"You're doing so good for me, princess," Eddie tells him, letting out his own groan of arousal. It still feels like a dream, getting to see Steve fall apart under his hands. He's the only one who gets to see Steve Harrington like this—blissed out and doe eyes swimming with tears from the pleasure. "Are you close, Stevie? How're you feeling?"

"Good, so good, Eddie," Steve moans out, tilting his head forward so their foreheads nearly brush when Eddie rocks them. "Please, I'm gonna, I need to—"

"I know, baby, I know," Eddie tells him gently while gripping Steve's hands tighter, pulling them just a littler further apart as if to restrain him more, "I've got you, Stevie, you're doing so good for me."

"Eddie," Steve cries out, hips stuttering a little as he tries to speed up the pace, tries to dig in a little harder to get more stimulation. "Please! You're teasing me."

"That's kind of the idea, sweetheart," Eddie chuckles, though obliges him and presses their hips together harder. "C'mon, Stevie. Cum for me, I know you can do it. Be my good boy."

Steve lets out a little cry at that, rolling his hips. His head leans forward, their foreheads pressed together. Under any other circumstances, Eddie might've teased him for the sweat matting down his hair, but now the thought only pushes Eddie closer to the edge.

Eddie feels the moment Steve tips over the edge himself, his soft panting turning into the hottest fucking wail Eddie's ever heard as his hips stutter, pressing against Eddie. "Fuck, Eddie," he gasps out, head lowering so he can hide it in Eddie's neck, "Fuck."

The moment Steve's body relaxes against him, Eddie releases Steve's hands. He reaches up, one arm wrapped around Steve's back and the other coming up to brush through his hair. The best goddamn hair Eddie's ever seen, though he'd never admit it to the man.

"You did so good for me, baby," Eddie tells him, "You're so good. My good boy, Stevie. Why don't we get you out of those jeans, okay?"

"Wait," Steve gasps, leaning back with wild eyes, like he'd suddenly forgotten something. "You didn't—"

"Don't need to, Stevie, seeing you like this is good enough for me tonight," Eddie promises, cradling the side of Steve's face with his hand. He's sure he could coo with how sweetly Steve leans into the touch, the other man's eyes fluttering closed and a small smile pulling his lips. "Just wanna take care of you tonight, I promise."

And he does. He carries Steve to the little bathroom, holding him up in the shower so they can clean up. Steve doesn't say much, but Eddie does. He keeps talking to him, telling him how good Steve had done and how happy tonight had made him. It's only until they're wrapped up in comfy clothes cuddling in bed that Steve talks again. Eddie's body is pressed close to Steve's back, arms wrapped tightly around him in a close hug. Eddie's sure neither of them have ever felt so safe.

"Did you really like it?" Steve whispers, fingers drawing little patterns into Eddie's arm. Sometimes he likes to trace Eddie's tattoos, fascinated with the ink sunken deep in his skin.

"Did I really like it," Eddie repeats with a playful scoff. "Steve, you amaze me every day and this was no exception. That was incredible."

"Okay, good," Steve breaths out, as though that could ever be a real worry. "I liked it too. Can you tie up my hands next time?"

"Fuck, Stevie," Eddie nearly groans, shaking his head against the picture that sends to his mind. "Absolutely, always. We'll talk about it tomorrow, lay out some more ground rules. There's more I have to tell you about all this, but yes, fuck yes."

Eddie falls asleep that night wondering how he got quite so lucky to have found someone as incredible as Steve. And Steve, well, he's wondering the same thing about his own luck.

--

TAGLIST: @alessiamargaux @minispice-1 @shadetea @emily19990 @alexxavicry @raven2008 @whoringrove @strangerleaves @blackpanzy @goodproofingwater @greetings-and-salutations @doralovesit @kerlypride @singmeyoursimpsong @im-sam-fucking-winchester @itch-my-b0nez @largechaos

taglist signup

[silverfoxstole]

Recording Shada in 2002.

From DWM 330, May 2003:

PAUL MCGANN

INTERVIEW BY GARY GILLATT

We first spoke in Vancouver in 1996…

[sings] Ah yes, I remember it well…

…And here we are in Bristol, years later, with James Fox and Andrew Sachs. Would you ever have thought it?

Well, when my agent was telling me about it, I thought we had a bad line. She said, ‘James Fox is in it, and Andrew Sachs, and so-and-so and such-and-such’ and I assumed I was mishearing. I mean, how could it be?

Were you familiar with the work of Douglas Adams?

Not really, only Hitchhiker’s Guide. I’m not a sci-fi reader at all, that’s not my thing. I didn’t really know a great deal about Adams – I certainly didn’t realise he was this amazing polymath. But Lalla speaks so eloquently and passionately about him, and I’ve come to understand why he was so well-loved and respected, and, of course, the quality of the script speaks for itself.

Are you enjoying playing the script?

Well, compared to last year’s plays, and the year before, you can definitely tell it’s from a different source. It has a different tack, and a whole different kind of wit. If you were at a blind tasting, and shown just a page or two of every script we’ve done, you’d easily spot that this one came from somewhere else, from a very fertile mind. It’s great stuff.

Everyone seems to have treated the script with great respect. Almost every line seems to be debated as you all try to get the best of out it.

Comedy is a very serious business. If it was a so-called straight drama, you probably wouldn’t find that much discussion.

So it’s exacting work?

Oh yes, very much so. If a thing is meant to be funny, you’ve got to make sure it’s funny, so you’ve got to get it right. In drama, your main directions are ‘quicker’, ‘slower’, ‘louder’, ‘quieter’. But on something like this you have to watch how you spin every word. It’s not something you can be lazy about.

I hear you’re missing India Fisher…

I sure am. Every time the studio door opens, I think she’s going to walk through. It’s the association with this place, where we do all these plays, and this is the first one we’ve done without her, so it seems very strange. She’ll be back next year, though, won’t she?

I certainly hope so. Will you?

Well, yes, that’s in the planning stages. Apparently, as was revealed to me yesterday, 2003 is the 40th anniversary of Doctor Who, and they’re planning something of a special with me and Davison and Sylv and Colin Baker. I think they’re going to have us as some sort of barbershop quartet or something.

So you’re still finding it fun, being the Doctor?

You sound very sure of yourself when you ask that… You’ve phrased the question to get the answer you want, I think!

Well, I guess as a fan, I’d like to think that Doctor Who likes being Doctor Who…

Well, I’ll put your mind at rest, then, because I am still enjoying it. I like working on audios more than on screen. Day in, day out, it’s just more of a laugh. Doing the visual work, on TV or in pictures, you never get to hang around with the rest of the cast. Here we can swap stories in the green room, or go off in a gang to the pub for lunch. When you’re working on pictures it’s not like that. You go in, do your little bit, and then you’re shunted off to a trailer out of the way. This is much more fun. It’s what being an actor is all about, and I have Doctor Who to thank for that opportunity.

Extracts from the recording of Shada:

The Doctor decides it’s time to get to the point. “What have you done with the Professor’s mind?” he asks.

“It will be put to a more useful purpose,” replies Skagra, haughtily.

“I would argue that it was serving a very useful purpose where it was.” ”Not to me.”

“You realise he died?” says the Doctor.

“Only his mind was of use to me,” says Skagra. “Not his life.”

“You take a very proprietorial attitude to people’s brains,” responds the Doctor, calmly.

“It seems to me,” says Skagra, his voice rising slightly, “that the Time Lords take a very proprietorial view of the Universe.”

There is a pause.

“Hold on,” says Lalla Ward, looking across the room to Nick, the director. “Surely the Doctor would be more accurate about his reference there. Skagra hasn’t stolen the Professor’s brain, only his mind.”

“That’s right,” agrees Andrew Sachs, dropping his thin, high Skagra voice. “The actual brains stay in their heads, don’t they?”

“It’s a good point,” replies Nick. “I imagine that Douglas was trying to avoid repetition of the word ‘mind’.”

“Well Douglas should have known better,” says Lalla, firmly. “And it’s a bit silly to worry about repetition of the word ‘mind’ now. It’s all ‘I want your mind, I want his mind’ for the next 60 pages.”

“So would you like me to change ‘brain’ to ‘mind’ on that line?” queries Paul McGann. “Because, y’know, I think the Doctor would be far more accurate about his reference there.”

—-

The Krag commander growls its greeting to Skagra. “What are your orders, my Lord?”

Andrew Sachs peers over his script. “Cod and chips twice, please. And a carton of mushy peas.”

—-

Paul McGann is recording assorted screams and moans to signify the Doctor’s mistreatment by Skagra’s mind-sucking sphere. “Argh!” he groans, “Aargh…ugh…aaargh!”

“Thanks, Paul,” says Nick. “That’s just brilliant.”

“Three years at RADA for that!” laughs Paul gleefully. “Would you like me to do some more?”

Nick smiles and turns to Andrew Sachs. “Now could we just do your lines as the sphere attacks the Doctor again?” Andrew nods and clears his throat. “This time, Doctor,” sneers the icy voice of Skagra, “This time no one will come to your rescue. I shall have your mind.” It’s chilling stuff.

“Y’know,” says Paul, “I believe you!”

“Poor Skagra,” says Andrew. “I have the feeling he’s a very lonely man. I think he needs a wife and kids. A talking spaceship’s no real substitute for the love of a good woman, is it?”

—-

Skagra has some seriously sexy transport, and the Doctor is stealing it.

“Ship!” shouts the Doctor. “Activate all re-aligned drive circuits.”

“Something very strange is happening,” says the ship, all sultry sibilance.

“Ta-daa!” cheers the Doctor.

Hannah Gordon is in a separate sound booth. “Should I be getting more roused there?” she asks over the loudspeaker.

“I don’t think so,” says Nick. “Just keep it honey-voiced and seductive.”

In the gallery, artist Lee Sullivan crosses his legs. “I don’t think I can take much more,” he says. “I may have to leave the room. I never found myself attracted to a spaceship before!”

In the studio, Sean Biggerstaff is fidgeting with his headphones. “It’s very strange working with a sexy, disembodied voice in your ear,” he says.

“I can’t see any downside to that,” muses Paul.

“Hey, that’s me you’re talking about,” replies Hannah in a sexy, disembodied way.

—-

An invisible spaceship,” smiles Lalla. “Such a brilliant idea from Douglas.”

“And now we have an invisible spaceship on audio,” adds Paul.

“Douglas would have laughed at that. It’s just so marvellously perverse.”

“Shall we go and explore it?”

“Oh, yes, let’s explore…”

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Dead Friend Forever ep 10

I'm not sure how much I buy this version of events by Phee. It seems...too easy. But maybe it's because that would mean there is/are no other person/people involved (i.e. Non and/or Keng and/or White) and that would be disappointing. Nah, I'm holding out hope that this isn't the actual true events.

Yes, that IS the head of another person there with Tan and Top!

So Phee really did tell Jin everything...and then Jin admitted to posting the video...and they're ok with each other. They've found some 'comfort' in both being as bad as the other I guess.

I hate (LOVE) that I can't tell what is real/truth and what is part of the revenge plan 👀

So Fluke is finally including himself in saying 'we' hurt Non. *insert growth!gif*

How can they always act so cool about being in the middle of nowhere in the woods. You can literally die by being lost and walking in circles.

Again, I still don't know why Jin needs help to walk when it's his shoulder that's hurt 😂 It's like these actors and acting coaches have never been injured in their lives to know what it's like.

Haha yes! Someone else IS there and making other marks in the trees to fuck with Jin (and Phee?) 👏🏼

Top could get his arms out of those ropes easily, that's either a really sloppy filming error or these boys need to learn how to restrain someone better.

Oh White has the gun now does he? 👀

And how did Jin just fall over nothing? Oh I get it, the axe needs to be left there for someone to pick up later, right?

I don't think I've mentioned this yet but I can't stop thinking about how the end of their film is Jin running alone out of the house, implying he' a lone survivor, so I wonder if we'll get some kind of subverted parallel of that at the end of this nightmare for them all (which I don't think will be the ending of the series but I might be wrong - I don't watch horror so I don't know what 'beats the show needs to hit').

So everyone knows who's who and what's been happening (sort of)...and of course Fluke goes for the gun, which I guess needed to happen to take focus away from the Tan/New revelation.

Yes! Make Tee talk! Let's get new info!! And I want to know what Fluke did!!!

Of course Top can just stand up 🤦🏽‍♀️ Aaaaaand he's dead? Just from one shot to the stomach? (The severity of gunshot wounds vary greatly in bl -> we had Chart survive two shots to the back yesterday and Vegas survived multiple shots to his torso a few years ago but Top just keels over and is dead just like that? Oh! unless the gun has no live bullets but the drugs are making people think the gun/bullets are real???).

MOAR FLASHBACKS 🤓😍

So Khun Keng IS dead. I wonder how they got the photo of him and Non then...maybe photoshop?

OH MY GOD THE TRAILER FOR NEXT WEEK LOOKS SO GOOD.

Damn, I wish I hadn't caught up. Now I have to wait a week and I have a VERY busy wed-mon coming up with work 🤦🏽‍♀️😭

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Friendly Sex - Chapter 9 - The Calm

We're back baby! Chapter 10 will definitely be up at some point this week but I'm not going to put a time limit on it in case I get bogged down with life etc. Thank you once again to everyone who has liked, reblogged, commented, and messaged you are all actual 'sweethearts'.

Chapter warnings: MDI (18+ only), explicit language, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, over use of pet names, sex without a condom (reader is on the pill), creampie.

_______________________________________________

Your dad picks you up from Indianapolis Airport just after 6am the following morning, holding you tightly for a good 20 minutes before you both could pull yourselves together, and get back on the road. 

“I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to the twins.” You mumble tearfully, forehead resting against the passenger window.

“That’s not your fault sprout. That goddamn Philip, if I'd have been there I'd have laid his ass out.” Your dad seethes, and you can't help but smile, your dad is a good ten years older than Philip, slightly overweight with a heart condition, but you’d still bet money on him. “First thing I’m going to do when we get home is call your mother and give her a piece of my mind.”

“Dad, it’s not worth it.” You say tiredly. “She’s made her choice, and it’s not me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick you a better person to be your mom, kiddo.” He sighs sadly, patting you on the cheek.

You drift off for a while, the gentle rocking of the car soothing along with the quiet radio, it's not until you're 20 minutes outside of town that you wake up properly, stretching as best you can in the cramped car. Your dad is whistling quietly along to John Denver, as you pass the sign for Forest Hills Trailer Park, you wonder what Eddie is up to, thinking about how he talked you down last night.

You told him you missed him, it was a brutally honest moment, never expecting him to return the sentiment. You supposed it was natural to miss someone when you had spent just over a month with them, but you knew it ran deeper than that, you could have called anyone last night but you needed Eddie.

You finally pull onto the drive, the weight of yesterday feeling stronger again, you’re exhausted from all the tears, the pain of your mother’s rejection, the sleepless night in the airport.

Your dad takes your bag out of the trunk, unlocking the door, you toe off your sneakers and notice a fishing rod and tackle box to the side, suddenly remembering your Dad’s plans for the long weekend; fishing at Patoka Lake with his buddies.

“Oh Dad, I'm sorry, you were supposed to be on your fishing trip!" You cry feeling awful.

"Hey, don't worry about it sprout, there'll be plenty of other trips over the summer." He reasons, dumping your bag down. "Besides, you're more important right now."

"But you've been looking forward to it for months. Why don’t you call Dale? You can still make it up there. I’ll be ok on my own.” You say earnestly,

“I dunno kiddo.” He says scratching his head. “You being on your own after last night doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well how about I call Robin? See if she wants to stay over?” Knowing damn well Robin wouldn’t be the person you were going to actually call. You could see the turmoil in your Dad’s eyes, you sigh hugging him round the middle.

“Dad please go fishing, I just need a girl’s night, ice cream, crying, watching Grease.” That did it, and you couldn’t help but smile as he tensed in your hold, your dad hated Grease.

“You sure sprout?” He asks, hands practically itching for the fishing pole.

“Positive.”

____________________________________________________

You do feel a small twinge of guilt at your white lie as you wave your dad off, but it quickly evaporates into a strange sense of excitement and anticipation at the idea of having Eddie in your house. You rush to the phone in the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter as you listen to the rings, cord twirled tight about your hand.

“Hello?” A gruff much older voice than Eddie’s answers, this must be the illusive Wayne, or rather the Wayne you’ve been tactically avoiding.

“Oh - uh - hi Mr Munson, my name is Y/n, I’m a - friend of Eddie’s, is he around?” You don’t know why you’re stammering so much, although it might be because the inappropriate part of your brain is screaming ‘Hi Mr Munson, I’m booty calling your nephew, also we’ve banged on your couch - sorry.’

“You wanna speak to Eddie and you’re a girl?” He asks, sounding surprised and it throws you for a loop.

“Um - last time I checked, yes Sir.” You mumble, laughing awkwardly.

“You’re a girl and you’re calling for Eddie?” He clarifies again. “Alright - he’s outside, let me get him.”

The line goes silent for a moment but then you can hear Wayne call something out and Eddie’s voice getting closer.

“- jeez Wayne, why you gotta be so - Sweetheart?” He’s out of breath.

“Hi.” You say simply.

“You ok? You home? Are you safe?” He asks rapidly and you wonder if he’s been worrying about you all night, it made your heart do a funny flip.

“I’m fine Ed’s, I crashed at the airport and caught a flight out just before 4am, I got home about an hour ago.” You reassure him, hearing him exhale heavily.

“You had me so scared last night.” He mutters.

“Yeah, it was intense.” You agree, wiping your clammy palms on your jeans, now feeling nervous. “So, uh I was wondering and you can say no, but my dad has gone fishing for the weekend, did you maybe wanna come over and -” 

“- yes.” Eddie jumps in before you can finish. “Uh, sorry, yeah I’d love to come over, if that’s cool?”

“Yeah it’s cool.” You say smiling, swinging your legs slightly against the counter.

“What time do you want me?” He asks. A loaded question.

Whilst your urge to see Eddie is strong you look like shit, desperately needing to sleep, shower and get groceries.

“Dinnertime? Does six work?”

“It works, see you then princess.”

___________________________________________________

You had briefly called Robin in between your nap and going to the store, filling her in on the events in Chicago, and that Eddie was coming round for the evening. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who went through some shit last night.

“-come again?” You ask, ears ringing slightly.

“Steve and Nancy had a big fight yesterday.” She sighs, and you can hear her pacing in the background.

“What about?” You ask, biting at your thumb.

“He didn’t really say, well more he wasn’t in a fit state to say, he was hammered by

the time I got to him. But if I deciphered his slurs correctly, Nancy had booked plane tickets to go and see Jonathon next weekend without telling Steve.”

“Shit.” You breathe, sitting down on your bed. “I mean maybe she just forgot to tell him?” You offer weakly.

“Doubtful. Either way it sounds like they both said some pretty hurtful things to each other, I think they might be on a break.” She says seriously.

You felt dizzy, you had left Hawkins for all of 24 hours, everything was bright and breezy, you came back and Steve and Nancy are on a break?

“So, Eddie was a lifeline yesterday huh?” She asks, snapping you back to the present.

“Yeah.” You say quietly, mind reeling. “He was really sweet.”

“What’s your plan for tonight?”

“Uh, spaghetti.” You mumble, shaking your head slightly to clear Steve’s image from your head.

“- and?” She presses.

“And spaghetti, Rob.” You laugh wryly.

“Well, whatever you crazy kids are calling it, be safe!” Robin teases, and you flush.

“Ok, bye, Robin, hanging up now!”

“No - wait! Call me tomor-” You put the phone down, running your hand across your face, Steve could be single. Could be, but his track record said otherwise, and his voice from last month was clear as a bell ‘-me and Nance, we always find our way back to each other. I can be myself around her, you know? No bullshit, it’s easy.’ 

“It’s a blip.” You mutter aloud. “Not worth thinking about.”

_______________________________________________________

You should have ordered pizza, good god why didn’t you just order pizza?! You had to go to three different grocery stores in order to get everything you needed for Bolognese, which took up an extra hour of your time. The tried and trusted recipe of your Nana’s inexplicably failing you after 9 years of flawless service, maybe she didn’t approve of your dinner guest. The pasta had clumped together in the water, leaving a stodgy mass, the sauce was weirdly acidic and salty having caught on the hob, and you’d slopped red wine down your white t-shirt when the cork shot out. At this rate the garlic bread would be the only thing edible.

Ding-dong.  The doorbell sounded more akin to a death knell.

You glance at yourself in the hallway mirror as you run for the door and groan, your hair frizzy from the cooking steam, face flushed, the large wine stain looking like you’d thrown up blood.

So why, when you open the door, is Eddie looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen?

“Hi.” He grins, leaning against the porch, he’s trying to affect a pose of nonchalance but you notice his left leg is bouncing slightly.

“Hi.” You say breathlessly, attempting to smooth down your hair. “Where’s your van?” You ask, peering past him to the empty driveway.

“Oh, I parked it up at Gareth’s, didn’t want your neighbours to give you a hard time, tell your dad or something.” He answers sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to, Mrs Roberts is blind as a bat.” You laugh, thumbing to the house on your right. “You wanna come in?” You ask, awkwardly jumping to one side, realizing you’re barring the doorway.

“Thanks.”

You watch him take in the lower part of the house from the hall, consciously slipping his battered Reeboks off onto the doormat, hanging his jacket up carefully on the coat hook.

“Nice place.” He says, smiling widely as he looks at a picture of you on the wall, taken when you were in kindergarten, bright yellow dress and bows in your pigtails to match. “Very cute.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, shoving him lightly, he catches your arm and brings you in for a bone breaking hug. You wrap your arms about him instinctively, his head pressing to the top of yours, rocking you slightly.

A lot of unsaid things pass through, it's a hug of comfort about what happened with your mom, it’s a hug of missing each other, it’s a hug that’s needed by both parties and you find yourself burrowing a little closer. He pulls back after a minute or so to look at you properly.

“You good?” He asks gently, thumbs rubbing across your cheeks.

“'M good.” You mumble, smiling softly. He leans down to kiss you when he stops just shy of your lips, to sniff the air.

“Do I smell burning?”

“SHIT!” You shout, pelting towards the kitchen, smoke billowing from the oven. You grab some mitts, and extract a heavily cremated loaf of garlic bread, coughing as you heave it into the sink.

“Aw honey, you baked.” Eddie croons, wrapping his arms about your waist from behind, you can feel his chest vibrating with barely held in chuckles.

“It’s a disaster.” You whine, leaning back into his embrace.

“What was it supposed to be?” He asks gingerly, lifting a saucepan lid to examine the spaghetti log.

“Spaghetti Bolognese.” You sigh.

“Well, points for effort princess.” He laughs openly, spinning you in his arms. “Do you have ramen noodles?”

You grab two packets of ramen from the pantry as Eddie pulls on an apron with a flourish tasting the sauce, wincing slightly. “You got any sugar?” He asks.

You dutifully pass him the sugar bag, watching as he eyeballs a small amount of sugar into the pan.

“My old man is a shitty person but he always knew how to make a mean pasta sauce.” He notices your curious expression, holding the spoon out to you, the sugar has managed to balance out the acidity and salt. 

“Salvageable.” You nod impressed.

Eddie dumps the dead spaghetti into the sink on top of the still smouldering bread, putting fresh water into the pan along with the ramen noodles as you pour the rest of the wine, handing him a glass.

“It’s supposed to have tasting notes of cherries, chocolate and cinnamon.” You read off the bottle label, sniffing yours.

“Tastes -” He takes a healthy gulp “-like wine, so - fucking gross.”

 You laugh, passing him the colander for the noodles, and grabbing some pasta bowls and cutlery.

It’s a sickeningly domesticated scene, the two of you sat at the breakfast bar, knee to knee, slurping away at the strange dish.

“Well sweetheart, we’ve managed to insult two great nations at the same time, cheers to Japan and Italy.” He grins lifting his glass of wine in a toast.

“Or we’ve created some kind of new fusion that will take the world by storm and we’ll be rich.” You counter argue.

“Oh yeah, this is some Michelin Man shit right here.” He says, taking another huge forkful.

“Michelin star.” You correct, laughing, feeling lighter than you have in hours.

You wash up the dishes together, Eddie constantly finding excuses to touch you, until you flick dishwater at him.

“Ah, now princess, play nice.” He warns, wiping his sudsy face with a smirk, pinching your side. You cup a large handful of bubbles, advancing on him menacingly.

“You wouldn’t.” He challenges, eyes narrowing.

“Try me Munson.” You dare.

“Truce?” He asks carefully, hands raised in peace.

You nod, letting him get close again before shoving your wet hand up his back.

“Oh you’ve done it now.” He laughs loudly, grabbing the dish cloth aiming a whip towards your ass.

“Eddie no!” You screech, rounding the breakfast bar, chucking an orange at his head.

“It’s war Y/n!” He yells, chasing you, you race out of the kitchen pounding up the stairs to your room, giggling wildly, you’re just in the door when he seizes you about the waist, lifting you off the floor.

“Ed’s put me down!” You gasp, laughing so hard it hurts your ribs.

He pretends to suplex you into the bed, but he’s gentle as he lowers you, protecting your head from the bounce hovering above you.

“Do you submit?” He asks breathlessly, hair mussed up, t-shirt slightly wet.

“Never.” You say defiantly, the effect somewhat lost as you trace your hands up his arms.

He presses his lips to yours, the last of your breath leaving you in a pleased gasp as he deepens the kiss, hands stroking idly up your slides and across your stomach.

“Missed you sweetheart.” He murmurs against your lips, your heart pounding like you’ve run up the stairs again. 

“Missed you too.” You mumble quietly, fingers scratching gently through his hair. “Wasn’t gone for that long though.” You remind him.

“Doesn’t matter, you weren’t close by, I didn’t like it.” He says, brown eyes staring intensely into yours, your mouth feels dry, filled with a jumble of words that don’t quite make it out. You settle for bringing him in for another kiss. Time seems to stand still, as you both lay there, absorbed in each other’s mouths, hands wandering, squeezing, stroking, until he suddenly stops a confused expression on his face.

“Ed’s?” You whisper, chest heaving.

“Who - do we have here?” He asks with a smirk, you feel your eyes widen in embarrassment as he extracts your childhood teddy bear from under your back, having forgotten to put him in the closet earlier. “This is a very respectable looking teddy bear princess, does he have a name?” He teases, making the bear wave.

You glare at him, making a snatch for it.

“His name is Bearington Bear the Third and he’s very old, so gimmie.” You pout, blushing.

“Bearington Bear the Third?” Eddie repeats with unbridled joy. “That is one hell of a name.” He laughs but relents in passing you the bear which you quickly kiss before unceremoniously throwing it across the room.

“That is no way to treat an elderly person.” Eddie gasps scandalized, you’re about to punch him when your phone rings making you jump, you roll away quickly grabbing the receiver.

  “Hello?”

“Hey kiddo, just thought I’d check in.” Your dad says, sounding very cheerful.

“Hey Dad, yeah everything’s all good here.” You say, trying to ignore Eddie who has decided to place kiss after kiss to the side of your neck. “Uh- how’s the fish?” You ask, elbowing him away but it just spurs him on, nipping at the soft skin.

“They’re biting pretty good, got a couple cooking up now. Gordon and Dale say hello.” You snag your lip on your teeth, as Eddie sucks on a particularly sensitive spot, attempting to lean away from his touch. “Sprout, you still there?” 

“Yeah I'm here dad, just uh - got distracted by the film.” You mumble shakily, a kiss pressed dangerously close to your mouth.

“That Travolta boy shaking his ass about again?” He asks with a laugh.

“Um - s-something like that.” You stammer, Eddie’s fingers splayed across your naval, threatening to move lower beneath the band of your leggings.

“Alright kiddo, I'll let you get back to it. Have a good night with Robin, love you.”

“Love you too Dad.” You slam the phone down as Eddie slips his fingers into your panties, lightly circling your clit.

“That was fucking mean Eddie.” You gasp, back arching into his chest. 

“Sorry baby, I just couldn’t help myself.” He groans, sinking a finger into your tight heat.

“Fuck.” You whimper, bringing an arm back to curl around his neck.

“This fucking pussy, jesus.” He growls next to your ear, nipping at your lobe, another finger pressing past the wetness gathered between your thighs.

He pulls you backwards so he’s resting against the headboard, your back pressed to his chest, legs cradling you as he pumps in and out, turning his head to kiss you, tongue fucking your mouth in the same rhythm. It’s maddening, his free hand cupping your breast, thumbing over the nipple, his hardness rutting against your spine.

“Ed’s.” You whine, hips rolling to meet his movements. 

“Let me get you there baby.” He huffs. “Wanna make you feel good.”

He slips from your cunt to rub rapidly at your swollen clit, the warmth moves slowly from your belly, washing across you in a gentle wave. You mewl into his mouth, Eddie swallowing every sound with his own.

He shifts out from under you, letting you fall back against the pillows, hands pulling at your leggings and panties, hooking your legs over his shoulders, tongue flicking straight at your sensitive bud. It’s like he’s making out with your pussy, wet, sinful, decadent. 

“Oh - god.” You stutter, hands gripping at hair.

“Feel good sweetheart?” He asks needlessly, fingers re-entering your cunt, crooking them to rub against the spongy spot that has you immediately cresting again, hips canting against his mouth.

“Eddie, fuck me please.” You beg.

“Your wish is my command.” He grins, stripping in record time, you pull your wine ruined top off, both of you bare and wanting. Eddie’s face falls suddenly.

“Shit! I forgot to bring condoms.” The poor boy looks devastated and you can’t help but giggle.

“Ed’s c’mere.” You beckon, he does as he’s told, crawling back between your plush thighs. “I’m on the pill, I have been for years.” You soothe, hands running over his back.

“You - you are?” He stammers, ears bright red and burning. “And you don’t mind me -” He trails off looking at you pointedly.  “ - I mean I'm clean, I've had the checks.”

“I’m clean too, and no I don’t mind.” You grin bashfully, he looks like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh holy shit this is hot.” He breathes, cock braced in his hand, sliding through your slick, you nod vigorously, the skin to skin feeling electrified.

He pushes in and you both gasp, you can feel every vein, bump and ridge as he drags along your walls. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so warm.” He moans, head dropping into your neck, kissing at your pulse point.

“Eddie.” Is all you can say like a record stuck on repeat, each thrust and snap intensified, the wet slapping of your bodies meeting in a delicious slide.

“Wanna ride you.” You murmur, sucking on his bottom lip.

“Jesus H Christ you’re gonna kill me.” He groans, rolling you both so you’re on top, you brace your hands on his chest, helping you to bounce, Eddie holds your hips so tightly you can feel bruises blooming and it sends you to dizzying heights.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He chants, grabbing the back of your hair, smashing your lips together, his hips pounding up into you. You rub at your clit, whimpering as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

“You gonna cum sweetheart?” He asks moving faster, and you can only nod, writhing on top as the band snaps.

“Oh god, I can feel you.” He whines, head pressed back as he ruts up harder. “Where - where can I cum princess?” He asks desperately, looking like he’s barely clinging onto sanity.

“Inside. Eddie, please cum inside me.” You cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

Eddie makes a choking noise, the veins in his neck strained tight, strong hands working your slick cunt over him continuously as he pumps into you. It sends you over for a fourth and final time, the warmth of him spilling out and around, both of you clinging to each other like life preservers.

“Sweetheart, I -” You wait for the rest of the sentence, heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears but he just gathers you impossibly tighter, pressing a hard burning kiss to your swollen lips. “ - I have a great time with you.” He breathes fiercely.

“I have a great time with you too, Eds.” You whisper, kissing him back.

Taglist:

@avalon-wolf @mystars123 @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2@eddieslildarling@bakugouswh0r3@sidthedollface2@81rain@blueberrylemontea-fanfic@winchester-angel@bimbobaggins69@tuskjohnny@fckyeahlames@thecomfortgoth@alanamarie@miarosso@ghosttownwherenoonegoes@somespicystuff@eddiethesexy @unfocused81 @1paire2vans @take-everything-you-can @mynameismothra @kingaa101