Love everything stranger things, especially Steddie but you'll find Jargyle, Ronance, and Buckingham on this blog along with whatever catches my gremlin ADHD brain.
last month people were lovely enough to help me with a poll and the 'serial killer!steve, gas station attendant!eddie' won the votes, I know I kinda disappeared but real life has been....real somethin'. Here's a little taste of what I've been chipping away at when I've got the time and focus, 585 words | M some mentions of sexual content | the first meeting:
Eddie was dragging himself through to the early hours of the morning. His band had played a show over the weekend and he was still running on minimal hours of rest. The heat still wasn’t relenting as he gathered his birds nest-like hair into a messy bun on the crown of his head.
The bell to the gas station dinged as his hands were twisting his chaotic curls into some semblance of order. He nodded in acknowledgement at the customer who had walked in. It was crawling closer to five, the sun not quite peeking into existence yet and the hours between midnight and now had been an almost ghost town save for a few truckers en route.
Eddie slowly lowered his arms as he tried not to stare.
The man had Eddie questioning his sanity a bit. That many uneventful overnight hours could do that to a person, have them seeing things that weren’t necessarily there. He was good looking, the type of face Eddie would’ve remembered if he’d seen the man before.
Copper streaked hair shining in the fluorescent lighting and a captivating smirk he had sent Eddie’s way. He looked fit with a white tee shirt hugging the breadth of his shoulders.
The pretty man made his way to the register, a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and the most captivating amber-hazel eyes Eddie had ever witnessed. Call him a romantic but this man’s face begged for prose and poetry.
Shit, when was the last time Eddie got laid?
He had a mediocre blow job after his set this weekend, but he hadn’t fucked in the taking your time and take them apart sort of way in far too long.
The man cleared his throat, “Uh, whatever change’s left over can I put it on pump four? That alright?”
He’d clearly already asked while Eddie’s imagination wove delightfully inappropriate pictures in his sleep deprived brain.
“Yeah no problem, caught me at the time of day that my attention span is dangling by a thread.” He laughed at himself as he rang up the guy’s candy and gas.
The bright laughter that joined his own was surprising, “I totally get it, feels like not another soul is out on the roads right now.”
His smile and laughter was painfully enticing in Eddie’s lack of sleep state of being. He looked out the large shop window to peer out at the deserted lot clocking the same BMW the strange woman from the week before had been driving.
Eddie slid the chocolate closer to the customer, “That’s a great car—you move around here recently? Swear I saw someone with the same one about a week ago. I’d remember if it was you though.”
The man paused for a quick beat, “Oh yeah, my coworker and I are on a work trip, might be in the area for a bit.”
Eddie gestured to his own forehead, “Bangs and Freckles?”
The man chuckled, “Yeah that’s Robin.”
His gaze slid over Eddie’s features, their eyes meeting, “I asked her about the car, an ’81?”
“’83 actually, 733i, kind of a yuppie mobile back in it’s day-“
“A classic look to it now.” Eddie finished.
The guy gave him a warm smile causing Eddie to feel heat rise to his cheeks. The phones' ringer cut through in an alarmingly loud way within the quiet station pulling a startled jump from Eddie.
Immediately breaking the feeling that he and this stranger were the only two people on earth in that moment.
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Halloween had stamped itself as Hawkins' favorite time of the year, where teenager party and murderers prow. And you come face-to-face with that, when a particular masked man takes a special interest in you.
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, alcohol consumption, minor sexual harassment, stalking, mention/allusions to murder, and explicit sexual content: groping, degradation, choking, role play (serial killer), mask kink, knife play, oral (male and female receiving), rimming (male and female receiving), squirting, cum eating, squirt make out…?, semi-public sex, dubcon (part of the role play), and unprotected vaginal sex.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | What do you mean it's not Halloween? It's always Halloween. Especially when it involves Ghostface!Eddie. Oh, and this is also a Modern!Eddie story. But wait, can you image Rockstar!Eddie singing "In the Room Where You Sleep" as, like, a Halloween special- I'd have an aneurysm. Sorry, that was a lot of Eddies.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 12.8K
𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.
“Hey, it’s Eddie… or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie. I’m busy ignoring your calls, so leave a message or finally take a hin-”
The harsh smudge of your fingertip against your phone screen discerned your frustration, as you hung up with a huff, pacing your clacking footsteps a second faster than before.
But it all fell short, when the heavy set of footsteps that trailed behind you only quickened to keep up.
Faster. Aggressively. Shit.
For the third time in a row on that brisky night, your call had went straight to voicemail. And you were ready to kill Eddie Munson. In retrospect, castigating your boyfriend for merely doing the very thing you criticized him about on a near daily basis—the whole “stop answering your phone while you’re driving” debacle that took place every time Eddie picked up one of your calls while heading somewhere, then rebutting you with a “but I love hearing your voice, it relaxes me” that he always whined out—was hypocritical, at best, but given the circumstance, you were exhorting to have your boyfriend disobey your word of safety for your safety.
And the desperation that palpitated from the fervent clicking of your heels hitting against the rough pavement of the sidewalk to speed up your steps was starting to become humiliating. Because one step away brought them one step closer. By the nose, you narrowly glanced back.
The same mask. The same hood. The same heavy boots. The same entity that followed you through the hallways of Steve Harrington’s wooded, stately home on the night of Halloween.
Only the clock had struck a quarter past midnight. Halloween was over. The month of November had come. And yet, the figure behind you kept the mask on. Despite the lengthy walk from Harrington’s back patio to the intersection where Mirkwood and Cornwallis met, the mask stayed on. And your heart was beginning to race. You finally faced it. “God, you freak, stop following me!” Their steps halted. Gloved hand clenching around the handle of a knife that you wished to be of plastic. “My boyfriend’s on his way, so fuck off before he gets here!” God, you really hope he was.
Turning around in a huff, your eyes constricted with frustration, as the steps behind you continued, in sync with yours. Coming closer. And closer.
It’s just some stupid prank, you rationalized. It was one of the Stafford kids. Probably Declan Stafford. He was alway the worst out of the pair. It was best for your sanity to repeat that mantra over and over until Declan Stafford finally gave in and took off the mask. Only Declan Stafford was a fifteen-year-old sophomore. And you were desperately enforcing the incredulous lie that the possibility of Declan Stafford suddenly gaining muscle and height in the course of a single day was plausible. It wasn’t. But admitting that would be admitting that this wasn’t some immature teenager’s prank.
And you were actually being preyed upon.
“Hey, it’s Eddie… or is it? Ha-”
Why?! Why out of all the times Eddie blatantly ignored your concerns of picking up the phone while driving, did he actually decide to listen to you on the one night you needed him not to?! Straight to voicemail. Again. But when you angrily hung up on Eddie’s pre-recorded tone—the one you couldn’t find endearing at this given moment—you heard it- or rather, didn’t hear it. The quietness. The crunching of fall leaves being flattened under heavy boots was no longer lingering. A biting breeze howled, and a hunting owl hooted. But no footsteps.
You hesitantly turned around…
He was gone.
Your shoulders fell with the relief of your untightening chest, as your joints unlocked from tension, a foggy breath escaping in solace. For a moment, you relished in the quietness of the night with closed eyes. Something you hadn’t realized you missed so deeply until you had it back in your possession.
With a dissipating heartbeat, you ran a hand over your perspiring face that felt ablaze with terror. But Declan Stafford, or his other half, or whatever other delinquent freak that it was was finally out of sight, and you cursed the juvenility of boys during the night of Halloween.
Fighting the liquor that buzzed your body with heightened emotions, you blinked the dryness of your eyes to steady the blurred disfigurement of your phone screen. Your thumb smashed against Eddie’s contact once more, a last resort to finally chew him out, as you teetered on high heels to turn back on your trek.
Only, your steps halted at a sudden obstruction, and you watched the tempered glass of your screen protector crack against the pavement at your feet, as your heels stood toe-to-toe with the boots that plagued you.
“Hey, it’s Eddie…” Your head slowly followed up the broad, black figure, “…or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie.” Your stomach sank to the stagger stature that overpowered you. “I’m busy ignoring your calls.” His mask, deprived of anything holy, stalked down your trembling frame, mocking you with the tilt of his head.
Your breath became lodged in your throat.
“So leave a message or finally take a hint.” Your mouth dropped with the words you couldn’t find. And he allowed you the grace of one step back, before…
“AH- mmm!”
The leather of his glove smeared your lipgloss with the tightness of his grasp, as your screams diffused into a muffle of wails. With much resistance, your nails bit through the sleeved fabric of his clothes, but nothing was penetrative enough to deter his strength, merely constricting your flailing body more with a muscled arm. Your enveloped screams cried of defeated desperation, as you lost your footing to the strength of his embrace, now at his mercy.
In the distance, a meandering stray may have startled at the abruption of your stifled pleas. But in the beat of a second, they’d continue their hungry journey for a helpless mouse or scraps, as your screeches would succumb to the darkness of night.
No longer salvageable.
-
SEVEN HOURS EARLIER
“Mm… saw something touching your head, in the room where you sleep, mm…” You thrummed to the buzzing tunes, scrunching your face as an averse to the tickle of your makeup brush, against your greatest efforts of trying to stay still.
But with a little black there, and some pink here, you squealed with anticipation of the night to come.
Autumn had brought a chilling front to Hawkins, Indiana, and the small town of suburbia had never looked so good with a flood of orange and red crunching beneath the tiny feet of early trick-or-treaters. Credits to the Yankee Candle that burned its essence in the corner of your bedroom, the fall season felt at ease with the cinnamon apple that warmed your being.
“You better run, mm, you better hide…” Should the day ever come that you discover that you were actually singing along to the voice of Ryan Gosling, you’d flip your shit to your boyfriend on an endless ramble, but until then, you’d cluelessly enjoy the ominous tune of Dead Man’s Bones in the name of Halloween.
In the reflection of your vanity, you shifted in the various angles of the beaming sunset until you were fully satisfied with the face paint that decorated your features.
You stood from your place, prancing about to the beat of the music, as you swayed your way to your bed, where your purchased costume displayed itself, awaiting you. While your boyfriend appreciated the art of Halloween, and had much interest in the horrors behind it, the anticipated “costume talk” fell on deaf ears- or, at least, defensive ones. Something about looking stupid, you weren’t entirely sure. Though, what you did know was pointing out the irony of not wanting to look “ridiculous” whilst sporting a mane like his in retaliation was not at all a good idea, as his response came in the form of torturing you in the dramatics of wrestling on his frumpy mattress.
Touché, to Eddie Munson. It came as a good deterrence away from the conversation that would inevitably lead to him wearing something you sparked from Pinterest. Because in the end, Eddie Munson could never say no to you.
No matter how stupid he’d look.
But, as any reputable couple therapist would advise, compromise is key. And where you insisted on a cute couples costume, Eddie met you with the request to, at least, get to choose what that may be. And much props to him, you swooned at the adorable idea of being the abducted cow to his alien.
Only, Eddie didn’t allow you to celebrate too soon, as he vowed to go the whole nine yards. Devoid, black contacts; gargantuan, bald head; pale, soulless skin; creepy, gross tentacles. “I’m Heidi Klum-ing this bitch, sweetheart.” That night, you regretted ever showing him the moment a 5’9 worm walked the carpet. Something Eddie Munson severely got a kick out of.
You straightened out your patterned skirt, smiling for the night that was about to come. With shoes needed for completion, you turned to retrieve your platform pumps, only… your peripheral had caught the silhouette of something- someone… staring… watching… stalking.
Claiming the once calm view of your bedroom window.
The October chill brought a draft against your mother’s clothesline, where her linens flowed in the evening setting, and there it was. Peaking through sheets, masked, and dark.
Your eyes squinted to confirm the sight, as you hid behind your curtains, feeling your stomach plummet. What a psycho. Understandably, Halloween had declared itself around the idea of fright, but that came with the common consensus of harmless jumpscares and innocent pranks, not trespassing. “Stupid teenagers.” You mumbled to yourself.
But a sudden bang from inside your house had you gasping, petrified. “Dad?” The hairs on the back of your neck stood with alarm. “Mom?” Footsteps rang closer.
And closer.
“Hey- woah.” Eddie Munson, himself, flinched at the sudden shriek that left your mouth at the abrupt opening of your bedroom door. His brow cocked at the heaving of your breath, your hand clutching to your chest. “Hey, sorry, it’s just me, baby, you alright?” He eyed you.
“Shit…” You huffed out. “You scared me!” Your mouth pouted at the chuckles he teased you with.
Eddie smiled, mimicking your pout in faux sympathy. “Why? Thought you heard me comin’ in.”
“Ugh, well, yeah, but some immature kid is-” You turned back to your window, where suddenly nothing but your mother’s laundry hung to dry in the emptiness of your yard. They were gone. “I- what?” You inspected closer, your breath humidifying the glass.
Eddie questioned your strange behavior. “What?”
You rotated in his direction. “N-Nothing. It was nothing- anyway, what are you doing here?” In an attempt to recover your uncanny nature, Eddie scoffed at the hasty rudeness your tone snapped towards him.
“Well, for one, your dad let me in.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Y’know, I think he’s really starting to warm up to me.” His eyebrows jumped with cockiness.
And it became your turn to scoff at his presumptuousness. “If anything, he hates you a little bit more this time of year.” Because Halloween of 1984 became the year Hawkins, Indiana was terrorized by the vandalism of hoodlums, coined the “Toilet Paper Bandits.” Plastered on every front page of the Hawkins Post, the column followed the story of homes that became a victim of delinquency. Yours being one. Where you could find a little humor in your house, amongst others, being TPed, your father, as a mortgage-paying homeowner, became quite livid. In fact, you could vividly remember the rage of, “of course, it was that Munson boy,” when surveillance caught your soon-to-be boyfriend smiling sadistically with a roll of toilet paper in hand amongst his friends. “You gave him PTSD. He’s vowed to stay up all night to catch any ‘Munson wannabes.’”
Eddie barked out a laugh. “Hey, now, if it wasn’t for that night, his beautiful daughter wouldn’t be getting treated right by her strong, sexy boyfriend.” He smoldered in pride. And, as much as you could roll your eyes at Eddie Munson, he was far from fibery, as the night that followed Halloween of 1984 was filled with the sincerest apologies to all sufferers of his actions (not really, just you, as he always thought you were cute).
“Whatever, but seriously, though, Eddie, you’re not supposed to be here ‘til later, why are you here?” You interrogated. “I still have to finish getting ready, you do, as well.” You emphasized.
With calloused hands delicately caressing your face, Eddie thought of his next move. “Aw, look at you, my cute, little heifer.” Because if not buttered up with affection, he knew you’d be devastated at the news to come.
Your mouth fell agape. “Don’t say heifer!” Your hand collided with his chest. “Say cow! Cow is much cuter than heifer!”
And he chuckled at your annoyance, always proud of his accomplishments that left you feisty. “You’re right, I’m sorry, baby. You are a very gorgeous cow! Best out of stock! You’d be, like, the one the farmer doesn’t slaughter for a burger.”
“Right, just kept to be bred for the entirety of my life.” While only a joke, you knew his sick mind would run miles with it, as the inevitable lip bite came to play.
“Ooh, now that you mention it-”
“Don’t even start, you freak!” Your hand brandished over his mouth, only for you to shriek at the contact his wet tongue made with your palm, before taking a playful bite of your skin.
But with the bite came an abundance of kisses to your fingers and knuckles, as Eddie held your hand close to his lips, eyes peering down at you with caution. “Please don’t be mad at me.” His words mumbled against your skin.
Your brows furrowed with confusion. “What?”
Eddie sighed. “Boomer called me.”
You knew what entailed when Boomer called. “No!” You couldn’t help the petulant whine in your voice.
“He wants me at the shop tonight.” Eddie kissed his teeth with a groan. And before your mouth could even form the hurdling question as to why, Eddie was there to clear it up with a sweet kiss to appease the disappointment. “We got a couple’a cars Boomer’s been hounding on us to get finished. ‘Specially, since Rick just had his baby, n’ all, we’re down a man. And y’know, honey, all the guys got wives and kids and shit, it was easier for me to stay overnight, and get as much done as possible.”
“But Steve’s party!” You huffed. “We were supposed to go tonight. We were supposed to do the Monster Mash!” Eddie’s heart sunk at the misery of your face. Where something as silly dancing may have landed insignificant in the grand scheme of life, you were the first person to cement the fact that with Eddie Munson nothing was trivial.
You cared for the little things with him.
Your head dropped with defeat. “Aw, I’m really sorry, sweetheart.” He ventured to meet your eyes. “Look, it’s a little extra money, I’ll take you out on a real nice date-”
“No, it’s not even- ugh, I just spent so much time on the costume.” Granted, it was nothing but ordering overly priced cow printed clothes from various websites, but it really did hurt when the hot glue gun came in contact with your finger, as you strived to glue a mini UFO toy to your headband. “I really wanted to go-”
“Sweetheart, please go.” He encouraged. While not the usual rhetoric, as Eddie Munson always prided himself in being by your side, especially with events such as an infamous Steve Harrington Halloween party, he could put it aside if it meant you’d enjoy your night rather than sulking alone on Halloween.
In retrospect, should you have done so, maybe you still would have been alive today…
“Just promise me you’ll stick by Harrington and Rob, okay?” Despite the slumped shoulders of disappointment, you nodded to his request, and pecked his chin to pacify any guilt he may have been harboring for the turn of events. “Or hell, even Wheeler, saw her bitch out Carver for accidentally knocking over the newspaper stand, and with the look on his face, I trust her to do more harm than Stevie and his Farrah Fawcett hairspray.”
“I’m gonna look stupid just being an abducted cow.” You huffed, as you examined your DIY alien spacecraft headband, puffing out a giggle at the extensive amount of hot glue it took to secure the toy to the hair piece.
And Eddie Munson was right there to laugh along with you. “Believe me, baby, with what I had planned, you would’ve looked more stupid with me.” With a pout still distinguishable through your pitiful giggles, Eddie gently kissed your forehead, careful to not smudge the black spots that adorably littered your face. “I’ll try to finish up as fast as I can, and make it before the cops turn up, okay?”
“You sure you won’t be too exhausted?”
“To do the Monster Mash with you?” Eddie scoffed. “Hell no!” And he smiled, as your chest erupted in a bubble of laughter. “Might smell a little like grease, but so be it. Hell, I’ll even stop by the trailer, and come as an alien mechanic. Probe you with my wrench if you’ll let me.”
Eddie flicked out his tongue, and you squealed, as he attempted to smother you in his perverted ways. “Get off of me, you freak!”
“Alright, alright.” He calmed you through your fit of chuckles. “How ‘bout,” he quickly kicked closed the door of your bedroom, “you show that little number you’re wearing tonight, so I can know what’s waiting for me? Little motivation, if you will.” He winked.
“Ugh, my dad really does hate you, y’know?” Your arms instinctively caught around his neck, as his veiny hands gravitated to your ass.
Eddie derided. “Ha, just ‘cause I love eating my raw, juicy steak.”
“Ew, you perv!” Your laughter was concealed by the capturing of his lips.
By the grace of your closed bedroom door, your parents were spared from the spank of Eddie’s hand against the meat of your ass that rippled with a stinging clash.
Eddie moaned. “You love it. You so fucking love it.”
You did. You so fucking did.
-
In the lonesome of the darkness, Eddie smiled to himself. The heat of his phone radiated against his skin, warming his cheek, as your squeals brought a joy to him like no other. “Oh, my god! You guys look so cute!” Even through the static of distance that blurred with the background of house music, your voice still lit a desire in him that could never be extinguished. “You’re- Eddie, they’re so cute!” Sandwiched between your shoulder and head, you played around with Robin’s tie, as she—among Nancy and Chrissy—geeked at the enthusiasm of your compliments.
Despite his absence, your refusal to his exclusion left you detailing the present moments of Steve Harrington’s party over a call that surely overheated the phone. And what Eddie figured was the greeting of your friends may have left you a bit distracted from him, your distant conversation was enough to have him chuckling to himself, relishing in the moment that made it feel as though he was actually there.
“Ah, you even added the tattoos on your hand!” You screeched. “Oh, and your hair-” You moved onto Chrissy.
“It’s a wig! I couldn’t commit, ugh!” She clarified with a drunken slur that confirmed the group was well acclimated to the party, before you had arrived.
“Eddie! Eds!”
Eddie huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah, baby, I’m here.”
“Chrissy’s Phoebe! A-And Nance is Lucy! And, of course, Robin is Julien!” You shouted over the thrum of the music. “And they’re all wearing their matching suits! Boygenius! You remember? T-The songs I showed you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember, sweetheart.” Eddie smiled, a wish so vastly that he could experience your face of pure zeal. “Take pictures, baby, I wanna see it all.”
“Aye, where’s your other half?” Breaking through the static, that frat voice was far too familiar for Eddie to ignore.
“Oh, baby, please tell me if Stevie’s wearing something stupid!” He begged. If it wasn’t for the things Eddie Munson could hold over Steve Harrington’s head, their friendship would’ve succumbed to the awkward tension that came from being polar opposites in the hierarchy of high school. Call it karma for all the comments from The King’s friends that irritated The Freak’s life. But it was the teasing that allowed their “hatred” to manifest nicely. A genuine development into frenemies. And given that Halloween of last year was spent with Eddie Munson berating Steve Harrington on his “lazy” choice of a costume—nothing but pants with tiny, red flags held within his waistband; i.e., a walking red flag, i.e., Steve Harrington’s excuse to walk around shirtless—The Hair, himself, vowed to come up with something more… creative.
Your laugh vibrated through the speaker. “Oh, Steve, what are you wearing?” Your hand clasped over the shock of your gaping mouth.
Eddie practically lunged through the phone. “What?! What is it?!”
“Your boyfriend isn’t the only one who can rock a vest.” Steve’s cockiness garbled through the heavy gulp he downed of whatever tainted his red solo cup. And with the vest, accompanied the tightest jorts you’d ever witness. Something old, like the Levi’s of his sophomore year, found in the ensemble of polos and sweaters of his closet that he could commit to destroying. And that he did, with the kitchen scissors of his mother, those pants turned into shorts, that then paired with knee pads and boots. “I’m Steve!” He spat into the mic of your phone, after drunkenly stealing it from your hands. “‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin!” That Farrah Facett hair spray wasted to good use to slick back his mane.
Leave it to Steve Harrington to find a more creative way to be shirtless on Halloween night.
Despite now being pressed against the warmth of Steve’s ear, you could hear the guttural laughter of your boyfriend echo through. “Steve, give me my boyfriend!” You whined.
But your pleas went unheard. “Oh, man, I told you I was going all in!” These were the guys that claimed to hate each other? Yeah, right. “Nah, the girls are lovin’ it! Got the abs out n’ everything! All I gotta do is ask ‘em to wrestle, and they’re gigglin’ their shit off! I’m so getting laid!”
“Give me my phone back!” Your efforts fell unaccomplished, though.
“And where’re you at, man? I’ve got people asking for your supply! Thought you were comin’.” You rolled your eyes at the lost cause repossessing your phone became.
But you allowed your boyfriend to be virtually stolen, as the entourage of lesbians had plans to whisk you away to get something in your system for the night. Though, without his presence for reassurance, you were conscious of what you could manage, and kept it light enough for your body to buzz with relaxation. Eventually, your strength was able to pry away your phone from the sweaty hands of Steve Harrington, but not before his booze breath pervaded you with the stern information that he was in charge of you for the night, as per request of Eddie Munson. But, with pupils dilated like his, distractions being as easy as beautiful ladies walking by, and the atrocity of his outfit that left no room for seriousness (or the imagination, for that matter), Nancy Wheeler threw you the responsible look of understanding that she’d cover that shift.
By the dead of night, you’d succumb to the rhythm of the music, and let your body fall to the beats that vibrated your soul with liberation. With bodies decorated in costumes swaying against you from every direction, you never minded the tease of a hand brushing your skin. Packed like sardines in the humidity of an October party, accidents were bound to occur.
But accidents don’t repeat.
And when fingers started squeezing, your head whipped around, only to catch what was a glimpse of a masked man slipping away. Through the beer goggles you harbored, you blinked at what looked far too familiar for your liking, but between dancing silhouettes and blinding strobe lights, your drunken mind couldn’t confirm what you didn’t want to know.
“Hey, you alright?” Robin’s breath fanned against your cheek, as she pulled your attention from the blank directions you were staring into.
You dryly swallowed. “Um, yeah…” Spoken far too unconvincing for your friend. “Just, uh, Steve wouldn’t let, like, um, underclassmen in, right?”
“What, no, why?” She invited. “Shit, don’t tell me Dustin and the little rugrats are here!” Her sporadic eyes started bouncing from corner to corner.
“No, no.” You brushed off her concerns, before they amplified to the degree of telling Nancy Wheeler. “Just thought I saw another freshman or sophomore, like, one of the Stafford twins.”
At the mention of the name, her eyes rolled on cue. “Those little shits? Yeah, wouldn’t put it past them to try to crash.”
Robin Buckley hadn’t known just how relieving those words were to you. With a solidified threat entailing your boyfriend, you could control the tiresome plague of teenage boys. But a pit in your stomach lingered where you didn’t like, as you briefly looked over your shoulder, but nothing but blended bodies blurred your vision in a haze. You took a deep breath, swiping the sweat that beaded along your hairline.
Clinging to her tie, you pulled Robin close to tell her of your departure for another drink. While allowing you to do so, her instructions of “not too much” trailed behind, landing on defiant ears. Your thrown thumbs-up was a lie, as more booze was felt necessary to rid that precedent feeling that still stiffened your hairs in apprehension. Because the what if's were beginning to outweigh the most likely occurrence; that it was someone dangerous stalking you, not one of the Staffords or their peers.
Navigating passed figures, your heels clicked against the kitchen tiles of the Harrington household, where sparse bodies littered about; a pause to the intensity of the late Halloween hour. 9:57 P.M, blinding you against the photo of your boyfriend, as your eyes blinked to adjust to the harshness of your phone screen.
Holding up ok baby
Awaiting you for the past seventeen minutes, you clicked his message, and scrambled to respond, before any concerns were drawn from your stagnation.
Yup, yup! Pretty packed, so I’ma getting a drink.
Your buzzing, inebriated mind conjured back. And within the pause of a couple seconds, the bubbles of his response appeared. You frowned. The image of Eddie bored out of his mind, surrounded by the cold metal of the mechanic shop, with nothing but fumes and grease tormenting his body had pestered your mind with guilt.
Are you okay?
Bored?
Would you bea ble to come? Now!
Leave it to your intoxication to interrupt his pending bubble. Though, there was never a care on his end. A smile always invaded his face when you were on the other line.
I’m ok sweetheart
Not too much to drink ok
Not yet baby got some cars still needing a fix but I’ll try to make it as soon as possible
I love you
Your shoulders slumped with the huff that exasperated from you. You shoved your way past the drunks that habited the cooler, as you pried a beer bottle from the ice. Too annoyed to deal with the water droplets that froze your hand against the glass, you settled on plucking a cup from the stack.
😡
I love you, TOO!
With a groan of all your strength, you popped the cap against the counter, letting the metal clink against the floor. You watched with blank eyes, as the amber liquid aggressively swished within the plastic, hearing the echo of your breath pounding against your ear. But, in the matter of a second, the hairs of your neck shot with heightened alarm, your heart following soon after with a beat anxiously faster than before.
You stood frozen, your eyes darting, but ultimately losing to the depth of blackness surrounding you. Nothing. It had to be nothing.
Until the air from your nose fell motionless, and your chest became inert.
The breathing… continued. It was never yours to begin with.
You swallowed thickly, before whipping behind you, flinching back at the staunch build of the man in black. In an eerie contrast, his blindingly white mask scrutinizes your wavering frame.
Your mouth fell open to his arm that shamelessly came around your waist, and suddenly your hands were shoving against the density of his chest to pry him off. “You pig!” The words involuntarily flew from your mouth to spite him. In retrospect, seeing the broadness of his shoulders run along the towering height of his stature should have been enough confirmation that what you were dealing with was far beyond the likes of a juvenile teenager, but with a drunken mind fueled with vexation, you lost the necessity to see clearly. “Touch me again, and I’ll have you thrown out, asshole!” You spat back.
In an attempt to put an end to all of this, your hand gravitated towards his mask, hoping to peel off the confidence that cloaked his cowardness. But as your fingertips grazed the plastic, his gloved hands snatched a harsh hold of your wrist, forcing a gasp to be caught within your throat, as you flinched back.
Nothing but the black eyes of his mask pierced your soul, as he stood silent, his hand flexing cruelly against your skin.
Your chest heaved with the rapid beat of your heart, as it took all your strength to release yourself from his restraints. You quickly grabbed your drink and phone, not wasting a second to run away from the man, who did nothing but watch you run off in the blur of the crowd.
Much to his dismay, it was you dragging Steve Harrington away from the pretty lady that was giggling her way into his bedroom later tonight. “W…What the h-hell?” He hiccupped.
“Can you kick that person out?!” Your urgency came with your aggressive finger pointing towards his kitchen. “God, they’re being creepy and weird, a-and they were, uh, they were touching me-”
“Okay, okay, just take a breath.” Steve calmed you through your inebriated panic. “What guy? What person?”
Because when Steve Harrington followed the trail of your finger, it all led to the emptiness of his kitchen. Nothing but the casual partygoers, who did nothing but huddle in the corner, nursing their drinks. “Him… uh, h-” You squinted the hazy booze from your vision, but no matter how harsh the blinks were, he was gone. “H-He was just there. The, um, the Scream mask guy, y’know? Him?!”
“I- Y/N,” he really tried to give you the grace of understanding, but with liquor coursing through his body, and the clash of your consternation with the thudding of the booming music, Steve Harrington could hardly process the events unfolding before him, “the Scream mask guy?”
“Yes!” You forced out with frustration.
Steve blinked. “There’s, like, fifteen people wearing Scream masks, Y/N.” Your eyes fluttered to your surroundings, hitting every corner of the Harrington residence, where Halloween truly brought out the most lethargic efforts of a costume: Scream masks. Steve watched your face fall in defeat, as his hand ran over his face in guilt. “Hey, look, just stick with us, okay? No more walking on your own. If they come back, you get me, o-or Nance, Robin, okay? Anyone.”
Steve’s eyes didn’t let up, until your head slowly nodded to his words.
“And tell Eddie, before he fucking kills me.” Steve sighed, fanning his breath out. While you could appreciate his concern, you weren’t so keen on the babysitting nature of Steve Harrington’s efforts that he just couldn’t resist, as he guided you to the corner of the couch, and told you to stay put.
Effortlessly, Steve was able to maneuver his way back into the ropes of his rendezvous, all while a pout brandished your face, as you watched the rest of your friends unreservedly lose themselves to the night.
Your thumb hovered over Eddie’s contact.
Surely, the news would be broken to him, regardless, yet the dread of doing so still came with some hesitation, as you knew your boyfriend would be fuming in the lonesome of a garage, forcibly unable to focus on the work at hand, as he worried about you. And with the distance at play, it’d anger him beyond recognition, and despite not being his faults, he’d take it as so; not being there when needed, that is.
Please don’t ger all weird and mad…!
You’d imagine that incoming pang of your message alarmed him, given how quickly those bubbles were to appear. His messages hurdling even faster.
What the hell happened
Are you ok
weird? What weird? I don’t get weird
HELLO?
Baby you have 5 seconds to respond
Your thumbs twiddled quickly to appease his inevitable worrisomeness.
Someones being creepy at Steve's.
Like, bothering me and trying to touch.
Me
And it’s really pissing me off. I had to tell them off just so they could back off. I’m sitting on Steve’s couch now.
And you could read his impending responses from a mile away. Because when it came to you, it was inescapable.
I’ll be there
And that’s all it took for you to lurch forward in your seat, and risk the opportunity of catching a cramp in your hands, as your fingers took a tight clutch to your brightening phone screen. If it wasn’t for the music, nothing but the clacking of the digital keyboard would have infested your ears.
No!
No, Eddie, really, it’s okay!
I already got it handled. I told Steve, and he said he’d kick them out if they tried it again. I’m okay, really.
Don’t leave, Boomer will be angry with you. I don’t wan you to get in trouble because of me :(
Christ, you had just wanted to Monster Mash. But with hot bodies having no regard for your space, as harassment entailed you throughout night, and now the potential of a heavy admonishment waiting for Eddie from Boomer should he leave, nothing but a disappointed scowl danced across your face. And while you could appreciate the kindness of your boyfriend’s heart- really, you could, you could also find frustration in your boyfriend’s lack of awareness for consequences. Because, yes, it was unfathomably sweet when Eddie rushed to your side, when you simply texted him about the pains of your period. Though, what followed was an angry boss, who chastised Eddie for leaving in the middle of his job, only to punish him with a closing shift on your anniversary date.
Not fun.
And with Cedars Evergreen Farm opening itself from the daily pumpkin patch to a nightly movie drive-in, Eddie had promised you an intimate date in the back space of his van, and you’d be damned if you lost your date night to the consequences of his actions. Eddie Munson had to stay.
The bubbles appeared.
Stay with Nancy.
A period. Eddie Munson never punctuated. In fact, run-on sentences were his specialty.
I mean it Y/N.
But, at the very least, you could relax—somewhat—with the knowledge that his profession and your date weren’t compromised on the night of Halloween. Your fingers typed away.
I won’t! Swears! <333333
I love you so much!!!
Ransacking through tubes of lip gloss and a tin of Altoids, your compact was pulled from the clutter of your purse, before it flipped to showcase your tipsy reflection. Aside from the minimal perspiration that smudged the edges of the patterned spots, you looked the cutest you could despite the night you endured, and some handsy delinquent with no manners wasn’t going to ruin that for you.
Call me if something happens I’ll be there eventually stay safe and kick his ass if he does something else
Just kill him baby.
Honestly.
I will eventually so what does it matter if you get to him first :)
As he always managed to do, even when not present, you giggled at the vulgarity of his words. With the tip of your finger, you cleaned up the imperfect smears of your makeup, before smacking your lips together with a lather of your seductive plum gloss. With a zhuzh of your hair here and there, you stood from your miserable place on the couch, choosing to ignore the chastising gasp from Steve Harrington, as you made your way to the girls.
The audacious woman she was, Nancy Wheeler had wasted no time securing her hand around your wrist. “Hey, is everything alright?” Her voice amplified over the music. “Steve told me what happened.”
Though her stern eye was cold, you eased her worries with a flail of your hand, throwing something along the lines of “Eddie knows,” because if Eddie Munson knows, it’s taken care of.
Shoving the bothersomes of the night to the back of your mind, you graced the buzzing music with a warm welcome, as your body danced with the likes of Boygenius, and their carefree moves that came about with a burning cup of booze.
If Eddie Munson couldn’t be there to experience the thrills of Halloween—perhaps, being punished by running off kids who attempted to vandalize the garage; true karma—then, at the very least, you could retell the events with the blur of photos that claimed your photo album for the night.
-
As the hours passed, your vision succumbed to the haze of alcohol that electrified your body. Strobe colors blended with the movement of strangers’ figures, and time seemed to slow, leaving you vulnerable to the predators that preyed upon you.
You saw him. Or maybe him. Every turn of your head, your eyes gazed upon the white mask that haunted your vision. In every corner. In every direction. But the liquor on your lips left your mouth numb and impuissant to the party your body craved, entrapping you in a defenseless state against his terror.
You watched from outside of your body, as your limbs betrayed you to the laxness of your inhibitions.
And through the darkness of your surroundings, you watched that taunting face creep closer and closer with every dragging blink of your eyes.
Robin Buckley twisted to the heavy hand on her shoulder.
Your pupils were blown out. “I-I need to use the bathroom.” Your tongue lapped at the dryness of your lips that cracked under your heavy breathing.
“Okay, I’ll go with you.” She shouted over the music, but your head insisted otherwise with drunken fervency.
“I’m j-just” hiccup “gonna call Eddie.” You steadied yourself on wobbly ankles. “Had too much to drink, I-I’ll call him to pick,” hiccup “pick me up.” To hell with Boomer.
Robin’s warm thumbs swept under the smudged eyeliner that rimmed your eyes, with sparkles that once was packed onto your lid now dancing along the highlights of your cheek. She regulated you with a small smile. “Don’t wait alone, okay? Come back here when you’re done.”
You nodded slowly to appease your gnawing headache.
One step at a time, your surroundings seemed to slow, as your vision tunneled to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Feeling like a mile away, your fingernails grazed the smooth surface of the floral wallpaper that clung to the Harrington abode to anchor you for the trek, as drunk bodies alike shoulder checked you with no regard.
When you felt the clank of your heels against the linoleum, your breath released with all tension, as the door slammed behind you shut, and you relished in the warped quietness the secluded bathroom was able to proffer you.
Flicking the light switch on had your head pounding and eyes harshly binding closed.
The toilet creaked under the weight of your slumped body, as you blinked your vision straight to find an array of messages awaiting you.
Feeling okay baby? I’m lonely without you sweetheart these cars are boring me half to death need to see you soon or I’ll die
Finishing up soon, you doing alright baby
Heading out sweetheart
I’ll be there in a couple minutes
You sighed in relief, fumbling to click his contact, and letting the ringing line massage your head. “Hey, princess.”
The static of his grumbly voice pacified your racing heart from an alcoholic adrenaline rush. “Eds.” You exhaled in peace.
“Y/N.” You could make out the smile that lingered on his lips, as his tongue spoke your name. “Get my message? I’m heading over as soon as I get changed- and don’t get on me just yet, I haven’t started driving, so I’m not putting myself in danger.” He laughed. You always were quite serious with that ‘One Text or Call Could Wreck it All’ motto- well, at least, with Eddie Munson you were. He didn’t have an extensive relationship with the Hawkins PD for no reason.
“No!” You whined into the call, lips pouting to their fullest extent.
“No?”
Composing yourself, you settled into a deep breath. “Don’t change. J-Just come get me.” Your voice managed to mumble a response.
“What’s the matter? Something happen? Are you okay?” His voice swore into your ear, the vigilance of it so prudent with protectiveness.
Your hot palm smashed against your cheek in exhaustion. “Just drank too much. Got caught up, and now I’m too- I don’t wanna be here without you. Wanna go home.” Your slurred words bleated. The staticness of his sigh rang out in a heavy breath, and you knew an upbraid was to be waiting for you the next morning, after he kissed you okay with Tylenol and a hearty breakfast. Eddie Munson always did have a knack for setting you up for the keelhaul that disguised itself in affection. Really, the only time the adult man showed responsibility. “No mean words.” You fussed. “Not now, at least.”
“No mean words, baby.” Eddie soothed. “Okay, just give me a few minutes, alright? I’m leavin’ as we speak. Harrington’s house is not too far, should be around Mirkwood in five.” You nodded, despite the on call conversation. “You hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, Eds, five minutes.” You ignored the dull ache of your toes, as you conquered standing on straight feet. “Thank you, baby.”
A chuckle huffed through his nose. “No need, sweetheart, just no more drinking, okay? No goodbye shot with Robin or Stone Cold.”
You absentmindedly giggled at the image of Steve Harrington. “Okay.” You sighed. “No shots with Stone Cold.”
“Atta girl.” He smiled. “Alright, just hang tight for me, shouldn’t be long.”
“I love you.” Your breath dragged on.
“I love you way more, so you lose.” Eddie could vividly picture the pout that etched itself onto your mouth.
And it was his laughter that you last heard, as your jutted lips grumbled a “meanie,” before hanging up, because in your drunken stupor, that competition felt like a real loss.
Turning to the mirror, you flinched at the state of your look. Luckily, Steve Harrington had no plans of having a lights-on party. Rummaging through his family’s unmentionables, you pummeled a fistful of cotton swabs onto the counter, drenching each end with the sink’s faucet of water.
A bit of coldness brought some release to your hot face, as you followed the edges of the painted black spots that smudged with the perspiration of your skin. But in a blink of a second, the bathroom door rattled with a single bang.
Your face twisted in confusion, your body stopping as you waited.
But silence was all that met you, and you blinked your eyes close to think straight.
Steve Harrington’s house was packed with fifty plus strangers and acquaintances, all who whooped and hollered with an all you can drink display. It wasn’t irrational for a drunken body to collide against a door or wall in an attempt to seek a bedroom.
You sighed, continuing your task of trying to look slightly presentable. But Steve Harrington’s bathroom door didn’t hold up to another aggressive knock that left its hinges vibrating with the harsh hit.
You swallowed thickly, aiming to ignore the hairs that stood across your body.
“S-Someone’s in here.” But a suffocating atmosphere of pure quietude was all that came in response.
Goosebumps terrorized your skin, as your chest heaved with the heavy seconds it took to wait for something- anything to occur. You quickly discarded the stained cotton swabs, before slowly approaching the door.
Your trembling hand gently caressed the brass of the golden door knob, and with a swift swing…
Nobody.
To the right of the hall, the blackness led to the shed of light, where all party goers gathered in the setting of the living room. Your shoulders slumped with relief.
And to the left-
Your heart plummeted. Heavy breathing echoed from his mask, as his built towered over your stature. The grotesque intimidation shot your eyes sober, as your stomach heaved with the terrifying sensation that consumed you.
Pathetic whimpers poured from your mouth, as you took caution steps back, only for him to follow with each movement.
Screw waiting.
The epinephrine from his bone-chilling presence detoxed your body dispassionately, as your legs found the momentum to run away into the crowd.
Yet, as you looked back, he all but laid back and watched, as he stood in place, taunting you with no effort. Almost getting off on how easily you scared.
But you weren’t going to be a part of his game anymore. Halloween was over as of 12:14 A.M. You were going home.
Shoving past interlopers, you scoured your way to the less densely populated area of the back patio. Stragglers were all that occupied the darkened backyard, lingering on outdoor loungers, surely tainting Mrs. Harrington’s cushions with cigarette smoke and beer stains alike.
“Hey! Where’s your boy toy tonight? Been wanting to buy!” You barely acknowledged the slurred voice of a prospective customer, as your attention became engrossed with watching the dancing bodies through the glass door.
For a mask.
You barely spared him. “Not here.”
But not a flash of white in sight.
The grumble of his buddies reverberated, as maybe for once, you’d be left alone for the night.
“Well, then, can I get something from you?” The crudeness of his smirk was palpable without you needing to turn around. The whistling of his friends only fueled the anger more. “How ‘bout just a handy for double of what your boyfriend offers for a half ounce?”
You rolled your eyes. Yeah, screw waiting. “Fuck off.”
Taking the graveled path by the gardens to reach the sidewalk, you shook off the residing anger of perverted boys and creepy stalkers, and sucked in the chilled air that the night brought forth.
“Ugh, stupid people, stupid party,” and as the universe would have it, your ankle bent against the icing on the cake—a pebble, “ah, and these stupid fucking shoes!” You exasperated with a juvenile stomp to your foot.
Luckily, the Harrington manor had the luxury of wooded solitude, where bystanders lacked, giving you the freedom of unleashing your annoyances with grumbles that would have had late night joggers crossing the street to avoid your strangeness.
“This party sucks.” Your mouth groused, fingers typing fervently. “Couldn’t stand to wait, I had to leave.” The owl hooted, and crickets chirped. Nothing but the point of your heel scraping against the concrete sidewalk to accompany the midnight songs. “How far are you? I’m walking, you’ll probably see me.”
This party sucks! 😠
Couldn’t stand to wait, I HAD to leave!
How far are you?
I’m walking, you’ll probably see me.
In the year and some months change spent as Eddie Munson’s special lady friend—as he loved to say—you’d never once had to grapple with the nonchalant facade boys your age seemed infected with. No, your Eddie was never one to shy away from fast texting, hell, even double- no triple- no quadruple texting. He liked you, very much so, of course, he was going to show it. Even if it came in his uniquely Eddie ways. How the hell was waiting four hours to respond under the guise of being “busy” supposed to turn you on?! Eddie Munson had one goal, and it was to make you his girlfriend. To hell with slow texters!
And yet… the bubbles never appeared.
But with how clouded your mind had become with the turn of events the night took, you carped to yourself, clicking your phone off with an agitated slam of your finger, and continued your trek with hunched shoulders and a down spirit.
Crushing leaves and kicking rocks was all you could succumb to in the face of boredom, as the hope of hearing that god awful exhaust with its metal music to pair driving down the street only grew stronger with every ache of your toes.
“Of course, of course! All this would happen to me.” Contrary, conversing with yourself seemed to be the only semblance of sanity for you at the moment. “Should’ve just gone trick-or-treating. Should’ve just staked out with my dad.” Ah, yes, who was still, in fact, located behind your mother’s shrubbery, cocking his head at every giggle a passing teenager made. “Ugh, stupid boys!” The bane of your existence. You stomped with anger, “Hate everything,” you huffed. “Hate these shoes,” oh, how you would apologize to them when the time was right, “hate these clothes, hate my life-”
You slowed your steps. Confused.
The ribbit of a frog leaping from lily pad to lily pad was all too familiar with the great puddles that dampened the forest environment. The pine trees, too, did their usual of entangling their branches in hugs with one another, as the midnight draft brought them closer.
Normal. Everything was sounded normal… except… the whistling.
No, not the rustle of wind, or the buzz of cicadas, but the sinister taunt of his hunt.
Your head whipped behind you, where your eyes rounded at his silhouette that drowned under the single flickering street lamp.
Whistling. Preying.
Your legs started without a moment’s notice. Though, your platforms only allowed for such limited speed, as you hastily dialed Eddie’s contact. Every impending ring sank your heart deeper and deeper, as the pit of your stomach felt as though it was going to collapse in on itself. His whistling only a few feet away. “Hey, it’s Eddie-”
“Eddie?!”
“Or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie. I’m busy ignoring your calls, so leave a message or finally take a hint.”
“Ugh!” Frustration hung up the phone, as you no longer found the charm in his childish voicemail greeting. “God, just pick up.” Your steps quickened to a slow jog. “Pick up, pick up.”
The ringing had simply become torment to you now. “Hey, it’s Eddie… Or is i-”
You whined in exasperated disbelief.
“Fuck.” The whispers of your dread passed through your lips, as a stolen glance back only confirmed the proximity of which he managed with ease. Two jogs forward was a simple step for him.
Your chest heaved under the mounting pressure and the fear that tore your stomach to shreds. Your legs felt numb against the terror, and suddenly, your eyes were clamping shut with wishful thinking that all of this was just an unbearable nightmare, because through your quickening breaths, the heavy steps of his boots sounded closer… and closer…
-
Nothing but a flood of trees swallowed your surroundings, as his taut grasp of your body forced you into the dark abyss of a desolate forest.
Your throat ached at the screams that ultimately surrendered to a deadened buzz against his hand, as nothing but the crunch of leaves that snapped under his weight was all that could be heard in a miles radius.
With an elbow to his ribs and a kick to his shin, you gave it all your might to escape from his clutches, but your efforts never came to fruition, as the skin of your body became pinned to the scraping bark of a tree.
His heavy breathing rang against his mask, as his face taunted yours, watching the tears stream down your cheeks, as snot congested your wails. “Aw, don’t cry, my little… heifer.”
Slowly, your nails relented from his arm, and your eyes turned to bore into the black ones that adorned his mask. “Eds…?” His loosening fingers around your mouth allowed your whisper to speak. In a moment of clarity, his smell became all too dear of cigarettes and cedar spice. Your Eddie. “W-Wha… Eddie, wait, what’s g-”
Though, as your body began to fall slack under the ease of his familiarity, his sinister laugh only mocked your moment of vulnerability, as he exploited your weakness to have his heavy body pressed against your backside.
“Oh, what a sweet body to slaughter.” The depth of his voice had your heart now beating with something more than fright. “You wanna make it to the sequel, baby?”
Because suddenly, the night of September 4th came to memory.
Nana Munson’s—may her soul rest in misery (an avid believer of corporal punishment against a rowdy seven-year-old Eddie Munson)—couch had fallen to the impressions of both yours and Eddie’s body, as the Saturday evening brought laziness against your energy. Secured between his legs with your back falling lax against his chest, your eyes lulled to the scratches Eddie provided to your underboob against the imprints of your now discarded bra.
But the cries of Tatum Riley, as she capitulated to her death by garage door, had blinked your eyes awake. “Think it was Stu?” Your face scrunched under the sudden loudness of his voice. Much to his credit, though, Eddie hadn’t been aware of your drowsiness.
“Huh?”
“Y’think Stu killed Tatum?” He reiterated.
Your brows furrowed. “No way, that was his girlfriend.”
His chuckle reverberated from his chest. “Clearly, that didn’t mean shit.” Spoken truthfully, as her lifeless body dangled above. “But surely he had to be the one takin’ the reins on that one, he set her up.”
“Set it up, sure. But killing her? Nuh-uh.” Eddie laughed at your definitive state. “He had the whole party to host, someone would’ve noticed him missing. Plus, no one was expecting Billy to even be there, giving him the most perfect opportunity to do it.” You disseminated factually.
“Okay, okay, so wait.” Eddie cleared his throat. “You’re saying Billy snuck inside the house, then back outside, and just went all the way around like that, hiding the costume n’ all, to kill her? Someone totally would’ve seen him.”
With a debate at hand, you attempted to sit up, but his greedy hands held you back, wanting to continue to seek solace in the body heat your boobs generated. “Okay, it’s odd-”
“Really odd.”
“But, Billy’s calculated, y’know.” You retaliated. “If either of them are going to pull it off, it’s going to be Billy. You know how, like, clumsy Stu is. He couldn’t have done it.”
Eddie dramatically brushed you off with a pestering psh. “You’re just sayin’ all that, ‘cause you like Matthew Lillard.”
“Please, everyone knows Billy killed Tatum.” You laughed. “This has nothing to do with Matthew Lillard being hot- ow!”
His nimble fingers squeezed at your pebbling nipples, as he menacingly chuckled in your ear. “Swear, I’ll put on that fucking mask and have my way with you if I hear you call another dude hot.” But oh, how that thought, itself, was already having its way with you. Wriggling in his embrace, your actions did not go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as he eyed the rub of your thighs. “Oh, you like that!” He smirked.
“What?” You squeaked, fighting through the endeavor of avoiding the eyes that tried so hard to look into yours. “No, I don’t. Y-You freak.” But the heat of your face was palpable, and Eddie reveled in the bashful embarrassment that he could elicit within you.
“Oh, you so do, baby.” He sneered in your face, the silver of his rings stimulating goosebumps on the canvas of your skin, as his hands cupped your fullness. “Hm, want me to fuck you with that mask?”
You whined at his words. “Eddie.”
“That’s honestly hot as fuck, y’know?” His voice dripped with arousal, as his hands roamed your belly. “Letting me fuck you to spare you, fuck, throw in that knife you like. Begging for you life, shit.”
And with that hand of his sneaking between your legs, who were you to remember a one-off conversation from over a month ago?
The trunk of the tree bit at your cheek, as he forcefully affixed your body to the rough surface. Cold metal clashed against your thigh, and suddenly the scrape of a blade was shooting chills through your body; his pocket knife. “Ugh,” his groans intensified, as his hand got lost under the ruffle of your skirt, letting your clothed cunt be teased by the sharp edge, “the things I could do to you. And not a single soul would hear. Not your screams. Not your cries. Just completely at my mercy.”
You gasped at the unforeseen slice that ripped your panties in two, forcing the ruined lace to be soiled in the ground below you; the night’s draft now blowing against the flooding wetness of your exposed folds. “Please.” His laughs were all that met your pleas. “D-Don’t hurt me.”
Oh, what a fantasy come true.
Your teeth pierced into your swollen lip, as the flat edge of Eddie’s knife abruptly pressed into your clit, its coldness sending shockwaves to the hot bundle of nerves that had your hips driving back onto his pulsating bulge.
“Don’t hurt you?” He mocked. “Oh, but how fun would it be if I did. Huh, my little calf?” The fear that stirred in your belly was only able to ease for a second, as his sharp blade finally left your core, but only to trace the skin of your naval. “To bruise your skin, break your morale, violate your body- ugh, this pretty, little body.” His knife severed your tiny shirt in two, expelling your breasts. Eddie’s gloved hand then bunched your skirt at the hip, letting the cool zephyr nip at your naked body. “God, look at that.” His harsh hand groped your ass, pulling your cheeks from one another to see the glistening of your pussy under the moonlight. “And I can just do anything with it, huh?”
“I’ll do a-anything, I-I- just please, I’ll let you do anything, just let me go-”
“Oh, no, baby, look at you.” Eddie’s stature followed down your squirming figure. “You’re never leaving me.” Before you could get a word in, his strength brought you to your knees, your skin digging into the dirt and discarded panties of the ground. In a flash, his knife pressed to your tensing neck, as his mask stared you down from his height. “You better fucking show me how much you think your life is worth.”
Your manicured hand wasted no time to undo the metal clasp of his belt, as Eddie sighed at the relief his throbbing cock felt from the confined restraints of his jeans. Precum drenched his boxers wet, and behind that mask, your boyfriend smiled at the delicate kisses you offered to his body, despite the debauched scene at hand.
His cock sprung with an angry tip targeting your face, and your graceful fingers found themselves scratching at the unruly curls of his pubs, before wrapping around his girth to pull back to the sticky skin of his cock.
“Mm!” You moaned, as you tongued at his head, collecting the budding seed that oozed from his hole.
His hands didn’t hesitate to grapple onto your scalp, bringing you forth with dramatic moans, as his pocket knife rested against the plumpness of your cheek. “Ooh, fuck, yes.” His teeth clenched tightly. “Shove it down your fucking throat like your life depends on it.”
Your tongue salivated along the underside of his dick, as your lips latched onto his length, constraining you to take all you could of him. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, coating him in your spit that allowed your slick hands to jerk him with burning friction. His hips couldn’t help but drive forward, and he selfishly ignored the chokes that restricted your throat taunt, merely giving him something tighter to fuck.
“God, let me trash that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” His hairs tickled your nose, as a mess of spit and precum slung from his cock to your chin. Hollowing your cheeks had Eddie’s mewls echoing from his mask, as your eyes peered up lovesick at the sight of his bruteness taking all he felt was his.
He tapped your cheek disrespectfully, forcing you off his cock, only for his heavy hand to shove your head lower. “C’mon, you know what to fucking do, you fucking slut. You wanna live? You wanna go back to your boyfriend?” He laughed, playing his part menacingly. “You wanna be able to suck him off with that same fucking mouth you sucked mine with, you better make me fucking feel good, or you’ll be no use dead in the woods.”
Your mouth locked onto his heavy set balls that shoved itself in your face, and you suckled at the velvet skin, pulling it from his body, and feeding it into your mouth with whines of satisfaction. Your wet muscle tickled his legs numb, with his knees buckling at the massage he forced out of you.
And inch by inch, your tongue teased the expanse of his taint, until he felt it prod at his pulsating hole, and he forced your face deeper between his thighs, as nothing but his cock and balls swallowed your face. “You dirty fucking whore, ugh!”
Such an intimate spot, his musk invaded your senses with nothing but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie flooding your surroundings. His thick thighs suffocating your face; his leg hairs nipping at your cheeks; his balls smashing against your nose; his cock leaking on your forehead. There was no leaving Eddie Munson.
He consumed you.
“Dirty that fucking face, shit, m’gonna make that pretty fucking face filthy!” Eddie rode your face, forcing your tongue to plunge into your tight asshole, as you tried to keep up with his rough movements. “Eat my fucking ass, all your worth doing—shit, shit, fuck, I’m gonna—shove your fucking tongue in there!”
Your nails clawed at his thighs, branding red streaks to bleed against his pale skin.
But unexpectedly, you were rammed onto the dirt with a gasp of surprise leaving your mouth, as his barbaric strength manhandled you onto your tummy, blatantly ignoring your struggles.
His heavy weight suppressed your body to your ground, as his merciless hand came around your jaw, squeezing your face. “Smile, baby, big fucking smiles.” Eddie forced your lips to pucker. “Want nothing but smiles outta you while everything is happening. Show me how pretty you are- how happy you are to have me violate you, how much you love this.”
You felt his dense cock poke at the globes of your ass. “You gonna be a good fucktoy, and let me ruin these holes, huh? Not going to make a noise? Not going to tell anyone? Yeah?” You whimpered at the thick head to pried your sticky lips apart, catching your clit, only to glide back to your sopping entrance that clenched with need. “And I’ll let you live, I’ll let this pretty body live. Yeah? Go back to your boyfriend, but you’ll still be mine, no? When you’re leaving his, I’ll take you on the street. In the middle of night, when your clueless parents are asleep. When you just want to live in peace, but I’ll be there to wreck it, because this body’s mine. It’s all mine.”
His cock intruded your pussy. “Ah! Yes, yes! Make me take it!” Dirt stuck beneath your nails, as you attempted to cling onto the ground.
“Fuck!” Eddie bleated, as he fell balls deep, flushed to your back. “My fucking play thing.” He punctuated with a rough thrust. “My fucking pussy to use.”
With seven inches pumping deep, the ridges of his cock rubbed against your sensitive g-spot, as your cunt stroked him of his precum; a ring of your mixing cream flooded at his base to splash his naval dirty. Your arm managed to snake back, pushing the endeavor to slow his hips from the rapid pace he was fucking at, but his hands shut down your futile attempts.
“Nuh-uh!” He masked pressed to your face, your arm now pinned to your ground. “You said make you take it, you’re gonna fucking take it!” Eddie’s guttural voice vibrated against your ear.
“Y-Yes! Whatever you say! Please!” Your neck ached with the stretch Eddie was forcing to keep your head up. “Use me! Need you to use me!”
The veins of his cock were hammering with desire, as all his blood pumped to his groin to keep it hard until it got the release it was begging for. And he did all to get you there, as your walls were quivering around his length, your cries bleeding through the tight hold his hand kept to your jaw. The woodland creatures of Hawkins, Indiana were perking their ears at the wails of what they could only infer was an innocent critter being preyed upon; not too far from truth.
Your soft walls kept him warm against the biting chill of the night, and by the way your back was arching to shove your ass deeper into his pelvis could only mean you, too, were selfishly begging to satiate that aching need.
“Mm, fuck! Look at that ass.” He peered to see the fat of your cheeks recoiling against the snap of his hips. “This fucking ass and cunt- such a dirty, little fucking cunt.” His chest peeled from you, as cold wind satisfyingly blew against the sweat that marinated between your hot bodies.
The leather of his gloves stung against your cheek, as his heavy hand came to spank your jiggling roundness, while he moaned at witnessing the length of his cock get lost in the crevice of your ass. Peeling them apart, he eyed your winking hole, and propelled his hips forward, so your neglected asshole could get a tickle of his pubic hair, as he ground himself against you.
Your skin slapped together so violently in the waking hour of early November. Writhing beneath his body weight, your body could only hold back for so long, before you succumbed to your needs.
“So fucking sick in the head, y’know that? Such a pretty face with such a sick head.” Eddie’s hand came to constrict your throat, thumbs digging into your pulse points. “You love this, love me abusing you, abusing this filthy fucking pussy—augh, shit, shit!” His cock twitched under the clenching of your cunt that fluttered from his degradation. “I’ll defile it until no one wants you- no one but me! But fucking me!”
He jackhammered in dick mercilessly, until your hole clamped shut around him; your nipples scraping against the dirt with every drill of his hips. “C-Can’t—ahh—take it anymore! Too much! Stop!”
“Mm! You can hate this as much as you want, but your slutty body fucking loves it.” His fingers found themselves on your thudding clit, harshly circling it with the soft material of his gloves. “Cum for me, baby, cum on fucking cock!”
The muscles in your stomach were cramping, as the pressure was mounting against your core. Eddie’s muffled moans were proliferating by the seconds, and his wet balls were seizing against your pussy, nearing the end of self-control.
“I-I won't tell anybody, just let me cum! Please, please, please! No one, just between you and me!” Your pathetic blabbings had him laughing through the pain of his straining, aching cock.
Without a care for the tiny bugs that swarmed the dirt beneath you, your head dropped with the wails of your orgasm, as your body trembled with the overpowering sensations that wrecked your body lifeless. Your vision fell black, and all that could be heard was Eddie Munson’s fuzzy voice screaming with the release of ropes of cum that flooded your pussy full.
Unable to kiss you with the barrier of a mask, Eddie did all but purr and meow, as he displayed his affection with clumsy headbutts, as your bodies fell slack in the middle of the woods.
Slowly, as your vision came to be, and the blur was gone, your peripheral catched Eddie’s head menacingly turn, as he examined your lax state. And that laugh- that sinister laugh pooled your stomach with fear. “I’ll never be done breaking you.”
Before you could protest, Eddie manipulated your lenient limbs, and knocked you onto your back with your heavy legs falling entrapped in his strong grip. Hoisted in the air, your oozing pussy opened up to him with your thighs pinned to your dirty chest. But you knew your body, sensitivity was buzzing deep within, and you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore.
Your weak hands ventured to slap his head away, but his strength overpowered you, and for the first time tonight, the mask came off. You bawled at the attachment of his full lips eating at your clit. “I’d love to send you back to your boyfriend with my babies stuffing you,” the vibrations rippled inside you, “but he’d know too much.”
Back and forth, his tongue trekked from flicking your bud, splitting you in half, and prodding at your tight asshole, where sticky arousal seeped into. “Augh! S-Sensitive, Eds!”
Eddie merely chuckled into your cunt, breaching it with the point of his tongue to lap all that flooding inside you. The tang of your pussy never tasted so good with his piquant cum, as his mouth ravished your opening, pulling and sucking your folds with the fervent shake of his head. Gluttony was committed with how unforgiving he was with gorging your wetness into his mouth, proceeding back to bully your bundle of nerves, until your body was jerking with trying to flee his inescapable hold.
“Stop! Eddie, I’m gonna- f-fuck, really, Eds, I can’t!” You tried to desperately plead, but if there was anything Eddie Munson loved more than you, it was actually just you completely at his mercy.
Consuming the cum from your pussy, your legs locked and trembled around his head, and instantly, warm liquid was inundating his mouth. Your cries from the aching release of your squirt bled sinfully with his moans from your taste, creating the most depraved music of your intimacy, as your eyes lost the will to focus on anything else, but the glowing moon against the night’s blackness.
But in the haze of your inebriated mind, your boyfriend had crawled his body over yours, where mouths quickly connected. Only, the opening of his lips invited your squirt to soak onto your tongue. And it stayed there, swapping between your jaws, as both of you made fleeting attempts to consume each other with loving desire, until everything was swallowed from the intensity.
And all that was left was Eddie Munson smiling down at your blissed out face, his chin scintillating under the moon.
“You okay, sweetheart?” He caressed your face. “Would’ve just abducted you, but probing you felt more fun.” He teased at the irreparable damage done on your innocent cow costume.
You breathlessly laughed, refuting his words with an incredulous shake of your head. “Whatever happened to just asking me to take you to my leader?”
Eddie giggled, kissing you okay with delicate pecks that greatly contrasted from the lascivious events he put you through. He had sat up, degloving his hands—now drenched in perspiration from the confining heat—to brush away the specks of dirt that clung to your breasts. “Here, lift up for a second.” His now gentle hands helped guide the torn piece of clothing from your upper body, where the soft fabric now became a clean-up cloth for both your bodies. “I’ll get you new clothes,” Eddie groaned, seeking to squeeze his head from the hoodie that he took off, now proffering to you, “promise, sweets.”
“Help me up, don’t want a worm near my vagina.” He laughed at your whines, hands coming to entangle with yours, as a firm arm around your waist helped leverage you on wobbly legs.
“Yeah, sorry for the lack of set up.” Eddie swiped the dirt off your bare butt. “Though, don’t think a nicely laid blanket and candles would have really fit the whole horny-violent-serial-killer vibe, y’know?”
“Well, duh. You can’t light candles in the woods, that’s dangerous.” Christ, you really were something to appreciate. “But, no, seriously, that was-” you eyed him excitedly with precious giggles, “that was really good. Like, better than anything I could have fantasized Stu Macher doing.” And felt the consequences of that joke with a sharp pinch to your ass. “Ah! Okay, okay!”
Eddie guffawed in your face, planting a searing kiss onto your hairline. “You’re insufferable, y’know that?” He hugged you tightly. “But you liked it? Not too much- hell, too little, you freak?”
“Nuh-huh, perfect!” You sweetly piqued, until you diverted with a swat to his chest. “But, Christ, Eddie, you really scared me! And lied to me! I thought some lunatic was following me!”
“Oh, come on, when have I ever let you go to some rager alone? A Halloween one, at that?”
You pouted. “You made me hate Boomer just a little.” A guttural howl bubbled from him, as he went to pick up the discarded mask and pocket knife that was strewn about, your shirt and panties followed, gathered in his other hand. “And I have to throw these away.”
“Throw away?” His brow cocked, evidently in disbelief, as he examined your underwear. “Just because they’re sliced doesn’t mean they can’t be shown any love. Nothing I can’t add to the collection.” He smirked with a wink.
“Damn it, Eddie, give me back my seamless ones, they’re the only ones I can wear with leggings without getting lines.” You remembered.
And his eyes couldn’t help but teasingly roll back. “Alright, alright, careful with the branches, baby.” Side by side, Eddie guided you through the wooded area, until the quiet sidewalk he once kidnapped you from came in sight under the yellow streetlights.
Though, while you two had your fun of kink exploration, unfortunately, your dear friends were nearly killing themselves over trying to find you three blocks away, plotting operation plans as to what may have occurred. Lying where it was once dropped, you grimaced at the piling text that bombarded you, when you picked your discarded phone.
Hey, I’m okay! Swear it, Eddie picked me up! So sorry! Was too drunk to stay and tell you! 😖
Hopefully, the off brand Lucy Dacus would be lenient enough to spare you for the night. You could face their wrath tomorrow.
“Oof, gotta spend the night with me, before Wheeler kills you.” Eddie’s nosy trait had him reading your messages over your shoulder.
“It’s your fault! Ugh, you’re actually going to get me murdered!” You groaned, while all he could do was arrogantly smile at his work, until you abruptly stopped with a gasp. “You decided to sexually harass me all night instead of doing the Monster Mash with me?!” Christ, that pointed finger was so accusatory.
Eddie’s hand flew up in defense. “Sweetheart, I swear I’ll give you all the Monster Mashing until Thanksgiving.”
“Y’know, I think this was all just your way of getting out of dressing up.” Your eyes squinted with the interrogation.
Oh, how you wanted to eat that sly grin away. “And fucking you? Yeah.”
“Ugh, you perv!” Eddie caught your hand before it could swat him, giving him the leverage to torpedo a swarm of open-mouth kisses to your face. “Okay, okay! Truce!” He combed your hair straight, chuckling at your disheveled state. “So, that was really you stalking me?”
“Yup.”
“At the bathroom?”
“Uh-huh.”
“In the kitchen?”
“Totally me, baby.”
“Outside my window?”
“Yea- wait, what?” Eddie flinched back in confusion.
Your eyebrows furrowed. “Earlier today, when you came by. Y’know, watching me from my window?”
Eddie’s steps immediately came to a halt, as his face blended into concern. “Sweetheart, I never stood outside your window.” He declared. “Yeah, I came by, but seriously, your dad had just let me in. Who the fuck was at your window?”
You rejected the conversation, choosing to continue to walk. “Stop, Eddie, don’t scare me. You already have enough.”
“Y/N, I’m serious. I never stood outside your window.” Eddie Munson’s eyes were never one to genuinely lie.
“M-Maybe it really was just some kid, then.” You rationalized.
“Alright, look, let’s just really call it a night, and get home.” A protective arm secured you to his body.
Because perhaps in the night, your drunken mind did notice two figures watching you that were simply chalked up to one. Maybe, the second one was the one watching from the corner, then from behind a tree. Maybe, it was the one that quietly stalked twenty feet behind with a knife that shined too brightly under the moonlight to ever be plastic.
Don’t you know couples who have sex on Halloween night are the first to die?
Written for @steddieangstyaugust prompt “I’m not going to beg you to love me” | rating T | wc: 1098 | cw: none | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, love confessions
“I’m not going to beg you to love me, Eddie.” Steve’s head hangs heavy beneath his shoulders. He’s too exhausted for this conversation.
“Ok, so don’t.” Eddie flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dirt.
“Why are you being an asshole?”
Eddie shrugs with zero energy. Steve is aching for any kind of emotion. “It’s easier this way.”
“What is?” Steve’s squinting through the afternoon sun to look up at Eddie.
“This,” he waves his hands. “It’s easier if you hate me.”
“What?”
“You’re breaking up with me, right? So, I’m trying to make it easier.” Eddie’s tapping another cigarette from his pack like this isn’t affecting him.
“I’m not breaking up with you. Is that what you want?” Steve sits up a little straighter, guard going up.
“No,” Eddie wavers. “I thought-, it sounded like you were.”
—
“I’m trying to have a conversation with you.” Steve sighs. “This is why this is so hard.”
“I’m sorry I’m so difficult.” Eddie snipes back, making Steve want to throw his hands up and walk away.
“Will you please stop being so defensive? God, I’m only trying to talk to you.”
“Fine,” Eddie sighs, and then falls loosely onto the bench beside Steve. “Talk to me.”
“It feels like you’re fighting me at every turn. Like there’s this wall you won’t let me through. I don’t know what to do. Tell me. I’ll do it. I just need to know what it is.”
Their knees are mere centimeters from touching, but it feels like they’re miles apart. Steve can feel his fingers shaking trying to hold himself back from grabbing Eddie’s hand.
“I don’t know,” Eddie mumbles. “Maybe it’s just not for me.”
Steve sighs and feels his heart pinch in his chest. “Is it me?”
Eddie reacts to that, turning his head to stare at Steve. “Why would it be you?” Steve shrugs weakly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m just fucked up.”
“Do you want to be with me?” Steve asks quietly. He’s afraid to hear Eddie’s answer.
“Yeah,” Eddie nods, then rubs his hands across his mouth. “I just don’t know how to give you what you want.”
“Eds,” Steve twists in his seat, trying to look at the man he loves. “I just want you. I don’t need anything but you. I just want you to open up, talk to me, be with me.”
Steve catches Eddie wiping a knuckle under his eye. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never done this before. I feel like I’m failing you. You deserve more than me.”
“Don’t I get to decide that?” Steve knows he sounds frustrated and that’s probably not helping the tension building between them, but he can’t help it. “Eddie, I don’t know what I’m doing either. I’m not this relationship expert that everyone claims I am. I had one, count it, one long-term relationship that was a lie the entire time. Not only that, but I’ve been on a dumb amount of failed dates because I’m hopeless. I just keep trying. That’s it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “When I was a kid, my parents were crazy about each other. My dad would come home on a random Tuesday with a bouquet of flowers for my mom, and a new toy for me. She’d smile at him and pull him in for a kiss by the lapels of his jacket. He’d wrap his arms around her and dip her right there in the opening of the front door. She’d make this noise of surprise but smile the entire time. I’d catch him looking at her sometimes. Just watching her in the kitchen or folding laundry, like he was awed by her. Like she was incredible and he was so happy. I miss that. I want that.” And maybe that’s his problem. Because even now, his parents don’t look at each other like they used to. His dad only brings flowers home when he needs to apologize for something. Steve never catches him watching his mom anymore. They’re barely in the same room at the same time. Maybe Steve’s just as doomed as they are. “That’s what I want. Someone to be happy to see me.”
“I can do that,” Eddie whispers shakily.
“Yeah?” Steve’s voice cracks.
“That’s easy. I already am. Did your mom know when your dad was watching her?”
Steve shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Steve,” Eddie brings a shaky hand to Steve’s cheek. “I can’t keep my eyes off you. Do you know you stick the tip of your tongue out when you’re concentrating on something? Or that you frown when you’re scrubbing something sticky off the dishes?” Eddie strokes his thumb gently across Steve’s cheek. “You talk to yourself when you cook. You rub your thumb across this spot on the wall when you’re on the phone with Robin. When I’m at home, it feels like I’m sitting around waiting until I can see you again. Like everything else is some preamble to being with you.”
“I didn’t know that.” Steve says breathlessly.
“Is that how you knew your dad loved your mom?” Steve nods. “Hmm, then maybe I’m not so far off.” And then Steve watches a tiny, hesitant smile creep onto Eddie’s face. “Maybe I’m not so bad at this.”
Steve grabs Eddie’s hands, pulling them into his lap, and squeezes them tightly. “I don’t need much. I just want you to talk to me. The word ‘friend’ is in boyfriend. I’m not your enemy. You don’t need to protect me from the bad stuff.”
“Ok.”
“I love you.” Eddie gives Steve’s hands a squeeze. “And you don’t have to say it back. I’m not going anywhere.”
“How do you know?”
“That I love you?” Eddie nods. “I don’t know.” Steve shrugs and pauses to think about it. “Because when I look at you, my mouth wants to blurt the words out. Like I can’t help myself.”
Eddie’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Like they just want to tumble out?”
“Yeah, kinda.” Steve chuckles.
“Oh. I love you.”
Steve cocks his head. “What?”
“I was always stopping them.” Eddie shrugs like it’s that simple.
“You-?”
“Yep. I guess I love you.” He shrugs and chuckles sheepishly. “I’m so stupid.”
Steve leans forward, knocking their foreheads together. “No you’re not. This is why we need to talk.” He can feel Eddie’s breath brush against his face.
“I love you, Steve Harrington.”
Steve brings his hands up to cradle Eddie’s face. “I love you, Eddie Munson.”
dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics | coffee? ☕️💕 | my writing
While his ancestors were devoted to preying on virile men, Steve—a young succubus—chose to settle in Hawkins for a chance at a normal life.
Given his innate charm, he had become the top dog on his first day at school and reigned his subjects with an iron fist. That meant; no bullies nonsense, no ostracized students, and no making fun of less-privileged people.
Steve wasn’t a saint, mind you, but he always did what he deemed right, and reducing the high-school teenage toxicity helped assuage his headaches.
On the other hand, to cover up his tracks with some of the men (he had selected carefully) in the town, he played up the whole rich spoiled brat who had absent parents and was a womanizer part.
And for a long time, it worked.
It worked so well that Steve had become careless and slipped up.
After putting Nancy into a vivid dream of them having sex, he scented something foul and immediately knew there was a trespasser on his property.
That was how he had gotten to the pool in time to save Barb from a monster that resembled Snatcher.
Unfortunately, Jonathan Byers had caught him beating it on the camera and came begging for his help the following day.
Since Steve’s bleeding heart couldn’t take it, he ended up rescuing Will from the hellhole full of Snatcher-like creatures and flower-faced carnivores.
Naively, he had thought it was the end of it. But somehow, the Byers decided he was a part of them after he brought their youngest back from the underworld and always invited him over for dinner.
(Steve had shyly admitted to Joyce that it was kind of nice to have home-cooked meals with so many people for once. He had become the Byers’ permanent guest ever since then.)
Thanks to Will, he got to know The Party, learned about secret government labs and experimented children, and was dragged kicking and screaming into the Upside Down fiasco by the goddamm maternal he had for those gremlins.
(He guessed the list also included Nancy, Barb, Jonathan, Joyce Byers, and even Jim Hopper.)
Fast forward to S4 where everything derailed and went south so rapidly that Steve didn’t have time to respite. It resulted in his power being drained after having healed most of the bat’s bites and injuries he sustained.
Since they were on the run, his options were sort of limited, and although it would risk raising more suspicion on himself, Steve didn’t think Eddie would have the energy to mull over it too long once he was done.
Meanwhile, Eddie was perplexed and aghast when Steve Harrington pulled him to the back of the camper when no one noticed and proceeded to blow his brain the fuck out.
Eddie nearly combusted and died right then when Steve looked up at him through those pretty lashes, nuzzling his thigh and thanking him softly.
The sight went straight into Eddie’s spank bank and he didn’t even feel guilty about it. If anything, it just fueled his determination to kill Vecna so he could spend more time with his boy.
Much much later when everyone made it out alive and Eddie survived his horrible not-good spring break, he finally learned about Steve’s secret and offered the succubus a lifetime deal.
Eddie would be Steve’s personal charger for as long as he lived.
In response, Steve had jumped his bone right at that moment and didn’t stop until midnight.
Eddie had half a mind to worry about his kidneys’ welfare, but he soon decided it was future-Eddie’s problem. Present-Eddie was blissfully balls deep in Steve’s sweet hole and couldn’t care less.
Ok I’ve never written anything before, and I’m obsessed with Steddie content. So without further adieu, here’s a modern day Steddie story where Eddie comes to terms with the hard truth that his husband’s snuggles might be more popular than his world famous band. This kind of got away from me and ended up way longer than I thought it would. Oops.
Content warnings: idk, TikTok I guess?! It’s fluffy and sweet, illusions to smut at the end
Eddie Munson was a notoriously private person. Corroded Coffin was the biggest metal/alt band in the world, and despite the fame, he managed to keep his personal life just that - personal.
There of course had been rumors over the last few years of who he was married to. Among the chunky metal rings that always adorned his fingers, fans couldn’t help but notice the simple silver band on his left ring finger. Paparazzi would occasionally catch him out in public with various women, leading his fans to speculate wildly who his mystery wife was.
But as soon as the rumors got started, they were quickly shut down. He was photographed once stumbling out of a club in New York with SNL star Robin Buckley on his arm. Social media went absolutely rabid and Robin made sure to clear things up the following Saturday on Weekend Update, announcing that she was in fact, a raging lesbian.
Not too long after that, Eddie was photographed clinking wine glasses with accomplished journalist Nancy Wheeler at a romantic rooftop restaurant in LA. When rumors started swirling around them of a secret affair, Nancy’s husband (and Rolling Stone photographer) Jonathan Byers put a stop to it by posting a picture of all three of them on his socials explaining that they were long time friends and out celebrating Nancy’s nomination for a Pulitzer.
Again the rumor mill started churning when Eddie was spotted giving a piggyback ride to pro skateboarder Max Mayfield after one of her competitions. Accusations of him “robbing the cradle” had her immediately posting a video on TikTok telling everyone off, fake gagging, and saying that Eddie was like her big brother. She then pulled Eddie into the frame asking, “Would you losers seriously believe I’d be into this ugly mug?” before promptly shoving his face away. Eddie was only a little offended.
Max’s video kind of blew up though, with everyone demanding more of Eddie’s presence on the app. Reluctantly he started his own account, his first video of him backstage at his sold out Madison Square Garden show, simply flashing the devil horns, sticking out his tongue, and greeting, “Hey assholes!”
It effectively broke the internet.
He was verified within a matter of hours, and had millions of followers within the first day.
Now all he had to do was figure out what the hell he was going to post. He didn’t want to share too much of his private life, but scrolling through the comments, he could see how much his fans truly loved seeing just that brief candid moment from him. So he started sharing bits and pieces behind the scenes at his shows, shots of the guys hanging out on the tour bus, and one lazy morning, a glimpse of his sleep-rumpled self in bed and his birds nest of bed head.
The comments on that last one exploded.
Everyone wanted to know who he was sharing that bed with, asking for a peek at his wife, if she was also famous. Who was he married to for god’s sake?!
He refused to take the bait.
One afternoon he set up his living room for a TikTok live, planning on just strumming his guitar, answering questions about the new album that was coming out, maybe taking some requests for songs to play. While he was glancing at the comments and plucking away at his acoustic, he didn’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps coming towards the room. He startled when he heard, “Babe, I’m home! I got you some more Honeycombs!”
Eddie froze. And the comments went absolutely fucking wild.
“Wait, was that a dude?!”
“Did some guy just call him babe???”
“SPOUSE REVEAL?!?!”
“OMG IS HE GAY???? I LOVE THIS FOR US!!”
“Oh I am so invested in this! 🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈”
“Honeycombs?! Really?!”
Eddie scrambled to set his guitar down, quickly thanked everyone for tuning in, and cut off the live stream.
Steve stepped into the room with a questioning look on his face. “Babe?… what’s wrong?”
Eddie glanced at him sheepishly mumbling, “We may have just spilled the beans on a live stream.”
“You were doing a live stream? What happened? And wait, what beans?”
Sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair, Eddie stood up and walked over to Steve, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I was doing a TikTok live, playing some songs and talking about the new record. I didn’t hear you come in, and when you shouted that you were home, it was apparently loud enough for everyone to hear. So I shut it down fast before the comments got even more out of control. I didn’t know what to say!”
Steve leaned in and gave Eddie a peck on the nose, hugged him tight, and asked, “Well… how bad were the comments? Do you think people are gonna freak out?”
“Freak out? In a good way, maybe. They all seemed pretty surprised to hear a guy’s voice and were asking for a spouse reveal.”
Steve furrowed his brows and thought about it for a few moments. “What if we did?”
“Did what?”
“A spouse reveal. I gotta admit, it’s been pretty annoying having everyone assume you’re sleeping with our friends! I don’t really like the idea of being in the public eye, but what if we just did a quick video or something to put the rumors to bed for good?”
Admittedly it was a pretty good idea. Eddie liked being able to share parts of his life with his fans, and Steve was the biggest part of his life. It would be nice to show him off for a moment and finally tell the world who put that ring on his finger.
“Yeah. Yeah, ok! Let’s do it!”
Eddie grabbed his phone, opened TikTok, and got comfy on the couch. Steve sat down next to him, cuddled into his side. He started the video with the camera just on himself, took a deep breath, and hit record.
“Hey guys! Sorry to dip out of my live stream so suddenly. I was a little thrown off with that interruption, but thought it would be best to come on here and clear the air. Yes, I’m married. Yes, my spouse is a man. Yes, my favorite cereal is Honeycombs, don’t come at me for that! And this is Steve.”
He tilted his phone so both his and Steve’s faces were in the frame. Steve smiled brightly and did a little finger wave. “Hey everybody!”
Eddie giggled and turned to kiss Steve on the cheek. Even after years of being together, Eddie’s affections still made him blush. Steve turned at looked at Eddie with stars in his eyes and whispered, “I love you babe.”
“I love you too sweetheart.”
They shared a brief kiss before Eddie ended the video and immediately posted it.
He effectively broke the internet again.
Millions of likes and comments flooded in, a huge wave of love and support from his fans. And of course, more questions.
“Shut up, they are so fucking cute I’m gonna puke”
“I’m so sad that the married rumors are true, but omg his husband is crazy hot! Good for him!”
“His name is Steve?! Why is that so adorable?!”
“Find yourself a man who looks at you like Steve looks at Eddie!”
“Who is this Steve?! TELL! ME! EVERYTHING!”
“We demand more Steve!”
“Ok I need more details immediately”
The demand for more Steve content did not stop. Eddie still wanted to keep his private life as private as possible, but Steve had no problem with popping up in a few videos here and there. Rolling his eyes in the background at Eddie’s antics, hands on his hips while scolding the band for being late to an interview, painting Eddie’s nails backstage before a show. Just little glimpses of Steve being Steve. His fans ate that shit up.
One night Eddie was left to his own devices while Steve was out having a “girls night” with Robin, Nancy, Max, and El. Why he wasn’t invited too he will never know. Not that he was jealous or anything. Totally not jealous. He decided to set up another TikTok live while he screwed around on his guitar. About an hour in, the front door flew open and in stumbled a very flushed, very giggly, very drunk Steve.
“BABE! I SAW ARIANA GRANDE TONIGHT!”
Eddie started laughing as Steve made his way into the living room, glancing at how the comments went absolutely apeshit again.
“Stevie, sweetheart, sit down before you hurt yourself.”
Steve took the guitar out of Eddie’s hands and plopped down in his lap. “Babe, seriously! I saw Ariana Grande! Me and the girls went to some club and Nancy got us into the VIP section, and there she was! Just! Sitting there looking all cool and famous! Babe, it was awesome!”
Chuckling, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, kissed him on his temple, and pointed at his phone set up on a tripod. “Stevie, you interrupted my live stream again. Say hi to everyone!”
Steve turned his head towards the phone, eyebrows raising up, and smiled dopily. “Oh! Hi guys! Did you hear?? I saw Ariana Grande!” He then quickly snapped his drunken gaze back towards Eddie. “OH MY GOD! Babe! Do you think she’s on here?! Can you message her?!” He turned back to the phone shouting, “Ariana! I’m Steve! We should hang out! Eddie, tell her we should hang out!”
Eddie started cackling and patted Steve’s head like a puppy. “Ok big boy, you’ve clearly had enough. Sorry guys, I’m gonna have to cut the stream short and put this one to bed. And uh, yeah. Ariana Grande, if you’re into hanging out with preppy former jocks who like to snuggle while they’re wasted, let me know I guess. Goodnight!”
Eddie looked down at Steve, who had tucked himself into Eddie’s chest while he was talking, and gave a little kiss on his head before ending the live stream.
“Hmmm… sleepy.”
“I know you’re sleepy sweetheart, let’s get you into jammies and tuck you in.”
The next morning Eddie awoke to a hungover Steve groaning into his neck, and a message on TikTok from none other than Ariana Grande.
“What the fuck?!”
“Hng… too loud.”
“Sweetheart. Stevie. Wake up!”
“No.” Steve pulled the covers over his face.
“Honey, seriously, you need to wake up. You’ve gotta see this.”
“Eds, I don’t wanna see shit, I wanna sleep.”
“Stevie, do you remember coming home last night and telling everyone on TikTok that you want to hang out with Ariana Grande?”
Steve flipped the covers back off and gave him an incredulous look. “I did not.”
“Yeah princess, you did. You stumbled in talking about how you saw her at a club and wanted to hang out with her. And guess the fuck what.”
“…….what?”
Eddie turned his phone for Steve to see the message.
“What the?… ‘Hey Eddie! I caught your livestream last night and my answer is yes! Steve seems like an absolute doll, I’d love to hang out with him’”
Steve looked at him with wide eyes and just stared for few beats.
“SHE WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH ME?!”
His volume made both men wince, Steve immediately grabbing his throbbing head and groaning.
“Yes, sweetheart, apparently babbling drunk gay men are her thing. So, when should I tell her you’re free?”
The following Wednesday, Steve was a nervous wreck. He had cleaned the house from top to bottom, prepped a gorgeous charcuterie board, had wine chilling in the fridge, and checked his hair about 30 times.
“Stevie, darling, sweetheart. You’ve got to calm down.”
“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! Eddie, Ariana fucking Grande is coming to our house! How is this even happening? What if we don’t have anything in common? What if she thinks I’m an awkward idiot? I don’t wanna screw this up!”
Eddie wrapped Steve up in his arms and gave him a tight squeeze. “You won’t screw anything up. Everyone loves you Stevie. Just be you, and she’ll love you too. And if you’re freaking out, I’m a phone call away, alright? I should only be at the studio for a few hours and then I’ll be home before you know it. You two will have a great time! Ok?!”
Steve let out a long suffering sigh. “Ok.”
The doorbell rang and Eddie took his hand, walking with Steve to go greet their guest of honor. As soon as the door opened, Ariana Grande herself was standing there with a huge smile on her face. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you!” She immediately gave Steve a hug and barley even acknowledged Eddie standing there.
“Ok. Well. I guess I’m not needed here. Have fun you two! Don’t do anything I would do!” Steve laughed and gave him a quick peck before leading his guest into the house.
After a few hours of polishing some tracks on the new album, Eddie headed back home. He hadn’t heard from Steve the whole time he was out, and hoped that everything went smoothly with his new friend. Or whatever the hell this was.
Opening his front door, he was greeted with the sounds of giggles, clinking glass, and… are they watching Twilight?!
He pulled out his phone and started recording as he walked into the living room. “Here I am, coming home after hours of slaving away on our new album to find THIS.” He flipped the camera around to a view of Steve and apparently his new best friend, snuggled under a blanket, wine glasses in hand, a few empty bottles on the table, surrounded by a mess of crumbs, giggling at blue-tinted vampires playing baseball.
He flipped the camera back to himself, sulking “I think I’ve been replaced.”
Internet: broken.
“Did they just become best friends?!”
“Awwwww I want Steve Snuggles!”
“Living for this!!!!”
“#stevesnuggles”
“Wait, did he make her a charcuterie board??”
In the weeks that followed, #stevesnuggles took over social media. Everyone and their mother was gushing about Eddie’s adorable husband, wanting to see more of him, and his snuggles. Eddie couldn’t blame them, really. The man is adorable. But he still wanted to keep sort of a lid on their private life, so he limited most of his posts to just Corroded Coffin content. Anticipation for the new album was amping up, a tour was being planned, and the buzz was buzzing.
Unfortunately with all of the work leading up to the release, Eddie wasn’t getting enough of his daily allotment of Steve Time. He was looking forward to the weekend when his schedule was clear so he could finally have some quality time with his husband and soak up all of those famous snuggles.
Life had other plans, though. Friday afternoon he got a text from Steve saying that it was his turn to host girls night. Again, why was Eddie not invited to these things?? Not that he was jealous. Of course not. That would be crazy. He resigned himself to the fact that tonight, he’d have to share his husband.
When he stepped into their home, he immediately recognized the honking laughter of a tipsy Robin, Nancy’s adorable giggle, but there were several other voices he couldn’t decipher. Thinking ahead, he once again pulled out his phone and started recording.
“HONEY, I’M HO- the fuck?!”
It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. He flipped the camera around to focus on the absurd cuddle puddle on the floor. In a pile of what must have been every blanket and pillow in the house, was the obvious collection of Steve, Nancy, Robin, and apparently now Ariana. But then…
“Sweetheart, why are Rhianna and Taylor Swift on our living room floor?”
Steve just looked up at him pie-eyed and sweetly stated, “Girls night!” to which the bizzare collection of women shouted, “Hi Eddie!”
How many times can you break the internet before it stays broken?
“WHAT. THE FUCK.”
“Ummmmm best girls night ever?”
“How do I get an invite??”
“So Steve is just a magnet for powerful women then. Got it.”
“#STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”
Steve snuggles indeed. Eddie was so used to being in the limelight, it was a strange adjustment to have his once under the radar husband be in such high demand. Every time he posted a TikTok of the band, the comments were flooded with requests for more Steve. He did sometimes cave and give the people what they wanted. Quick videos of Steve cooking them dinner while dancing to his god forsaken pop music, sneak peeks of some of their new songs with Steve singing along, and ok, one thirst trap of him working out in their home gym. Eddie was a just a man after all, and his husband was hot.
The album was finally released and sales were through the roof. Corroded Coffin had never sold so many copies before and someone from the label insisted that their TikTok presence had everything to do with it. Was it actually them, or the love for Steve? Who’s to say. Either way, their concerts across the country were sold out in a matter of minutes and the band couldn’t wait to kick off their next tour.
The first show was in LA and Eddie had planned to do a quick TikTok before they took the stage. He started in the hallway backstage, welcoming everyone to the start of the tour, and made his way into the green room. “Alright everyone, let’s check in quick with the band and make sure these dickheads are ready to go! BOYS! ARE WE - Steve?! What the hell?”
He flipped the camera around to the view of Steve happily scrolling on his phone on one of the couches. With Dua Lipa cuddled up on one side of him and Lady goddamn Gaga on the other. What the fuck is his life?
“Babe! Hi! The girls were in town and came by to check out the show!”
“I’m sorry… THE GIRLS?! How do you even know them?!”
Steve raised an eyebrow at him like he was an idiot and said, “Lipa was on SNL and she had Robin get us connected. And Jon did a photo shoot with Stef and…basically the same thing.”
Stef?! Who the fuck is Stef? Wait right… Lada Gaga is a stage name.
Eddie flipped the camera back on himself and just. Stared. “I…I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”
Queue the comments.
“Ok is he like best friends with EVERY icon?!”
“Steve IS the icon! 💅”
“What’s a girl gotta do to get some #stevesnuggles in here?!”
“Omfg Eddie’s never gonna get his own #stevesnuggles now is he?”
“SHARE THE WEALTH”
“I can’t believe this app is free”
From there on the tour went off without a hitch and fans in every city were rabid for the new album. And of course Steve. Goddamnit. He’d occasionally see people in the crowd with “#stevesnuggles” t-shirts, or hear chants of “We want Steve!” Yeah, Eddie gets it. He wants Steve too. For himself.
Eddie took to posting a lot of videos from backstage with the band, sound checks, screwing around with the crew. And of course to appease the masses, some of Steve in his element. Putting on Gareth’s eyeliner, helping Jeff pick out his stage clothes, and rubbing Eddie’s shoulders after a grueling show. Just Steve mother henning everyone.
When they made it to New York, they had an appearance on SNL a few days before their concert. They got to catch up with Robin, meet the cast, and get a feel for what went into producing the show. Eddie hadn’t heard who the host was, not that it probably mattered much since they’d only see them at the end-of-show sign off.
He was in the middle of doing a livestream behind the scenes, walking the legendary halls of Studio 8H when he popped into his dressing room to show off the digs. “And here we have my office for the night…. Uh. Stevie? What? The fuck?” He turned the camera around to see Steve snuggled up with… goddamn Beyoncé.
“Hey babe! Did you meet Bee yet? She’s hosting tonight!”
No the fuck he didn’t meet “Bee!” And sorry, his husband is already on a nickname basis with this Queen?! Who the hell did he marry??
Goodbye internet.
“HOLY. SHIT.”
“Seriously, gay men have all the luck.”
“Two absolute queens, omg”
“BEYONCÉ GETS #STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”
“Eddie, your husband belongs to Bee now, my condolences”
“Don’t tell Jay Z”
The show went well even though Eddie was visibly shook by his husband’s new friend. Seriously, what is his life?! How much further was this going to go? He was relieved when the tour finally ended and they could go back to their bubble of domestic bliss. That is, until the next girls night probably!
Once they were back home and settled into their routine, he realized he needed to make some more content now that things have calmed down. Privacy was always important to him, but after a night of taking his husband apart over and over, he smirked and had an idea.
Quietly grabbing his phone off the nightstand, he started recording. Steve with his chaotic sex hair, neck covered in hickies, and curled up sound asleep on Eddie’s chest. A chest that was decorated in tattoos and nipple piercings, as well as fresh scratch marks. Eddie smirked at the camera, winked and whispered “hashtag Steve snuggles.”
Steve had just wanted to eat his damn ham sandwich in peace. He was over the hushed whispers, the pain in his left eye, and the side-eye he'd been receiving all day. He thought maybe he just wanted to go to the courtyard to eat his lunch, maybe he'd get some peace and quiet, but no, the theatre kids were rehearsing some off the wall bullshit and Munson had seen him and was currently crawling on his knees towards him.
“Heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!” Eddie came to a halt in front of him, his knuckles brushing gently against his left cheek as he gazed at Steve. “What villain has tormented you so, my dove. I will make haste and slay that beast, should I get a single kiss from thine lips.”
“Dude, what?” Steve said leaning backwards as Eddie moved closer to him still, “what nerdy bullshit did you blabber?”
“Mine heart!” Eddie clutched his chest as though struck through and fell onto Steve's lunch much to his chagrin. Steve wanted to be annoyed, truly he did, but it was almost endearing and he found himself smiling as he rolled his eyes.
“Look, man, if you want one of my cookies I'll hand you one, but you need to stop smashing my lunch with this theatre stuff.” Eddie popped up with a wild grin on his face.
“Cookies you say?” Eddie pulled his hair in front of his face before turning to his nerd friends, “alright everyone, we'll meet up later to go over our lines again.” He settled beneath the tree close to Steve, their thighs touching.
After they both had been quietly chewing for a few moments Steve decided he needed to ask, “why recite whatever that was to me?”
Eddie choked, then glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye before swallowing the last bit of his cookie, “You looked lonely, and like you could use the cheering up. But also, you have to know you're the most beautiful man in this school. If people don't want to be with you they want to be you.”
Steve felt himself flush, but he leaned more into Eddie's space before lowering his voice, “and which one are you, my cute little riot?”
Eddie's eyes went huge, and he stared at Steve, eyes darting around his face looking for something, before he leaned in so their lips were almost touching, “I suppose you'll have to figure that out soon, won't you big boy?”
Steve pulled him further into the treeline by the school before pushing him against a tree and lining his body against Eddie's who had gulped at the manhandling, “I think you want to be with me, but you won't make a move.” He whispered as he lifted his thigh between Eddie's legs effectively pinning him in place, he leaned and kissed Eddie until he was writhing gasping mess beneath him, and smiled, “you should come by my place tonight, practice your lines some more.” He winked at Eddie before letting him go. Eddie whimpered, reaching down to fix his now entirely too tight pants and nodded.
As inspiration for this douchebaggery in my DMs on Facebook, here's Steve being a bitch to someone who clearly paid zero attention and had no respect for his relationship.
👇 The inspiration is below 👇
Steve opened his laptop while he let his newest niece nap away on the new ottoman. She'd grabbed her tiny stuffed turtle, toddled up to him and said, “night, night” in her adorable munchkin voice, and Steve was done for. His ovaries, though long forgotten, wanted to explode immediately. He wondered if the hormones would affect the possibility of him carrying his own child for he and Eddie.
Speaking of Eddie, Steve looked back to his laptop and saw a notification for Facebook, the one social media he frequently used to keep in touch with his found family after they'd scattered to their colleges and new lives. He opened it curiously thinking maybe one of the kids had messaged him and found a girl he didn't know instead. He clicked her photo looking through her profile to see she was friends with about half the people he knew, so he chose to be friendly.
Eventually the messages veered from asking how he was doing, and how nice it was to meet him to flirtatious messages. He cringed reading it as he'd already mentioned his husband a good twenty times within the beginning of this conversation. To get a message saying, “so..are you single or happily married?” Made him want to reach through the screen and shake this girl. Hell, his profile has a profile picture of him and Eddie making out, his bio stating his infinite love for both his wonderful husband and their fur babies, Roscoe, Angel, and Thresher. How and why did this girl not realize he was happily married? In true mean girl Steve fashion he answered the video call she tried to send, his face that haughty mask he shone in during King Steve's reign in Hawkins high.
“Hello?” He said, sounding annoyed, “Is there a reason you called me?”
“Yeah, I thought it'd be nice to see your handsome face.”
“Look, sweetie,” he started, the absolute disdain clear in his voice and on his face, “If you used the last two brain cells you hadn't fried with all the bleach in your head, and actually, I don't know, read my bio on my profile or even my messages, you'd realize that A) I am happily married. B) I have mentioned my husband literally everywhere. C) My husband is absolutely the one for me, and way hotter than any bleach blond bimbo in my inbox, and D) which is rather appropriate for this, I prefer dick to pussy, so unless you're hiding something under that street walker wear in all your photos I wouldn't consider you even if I was single. Now, have a blessed day and lower your expectations when you speak to people. Or hell, pay attention to the signs around you.”
The girl was staring at him, her jaw dropped as he ended the call and blocked her. Eddie walked in just a moment later to Steve glaring at his laptop like it personally offended him and leaned down kissing his neck as Dustin and Erica followed behind to collect Stefania aptly named for the best big brother the party could ask for.
Once they were alone Steve pushed Eddie down into the couch straddling him, his tiny shorts riding up as he ground down on the sizable bulge beneath him. Eddie grinned up at him, he knew Steve was frustrated about something, but for now he'd take him apart in all the best ways and put him back together. If he wanted to vent about it later Eddie would be all ears.
Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Angst With a Happy Ending” | wc: 1,096 | rated: T | cw: hospital, heart attack, parental illness | tags: hurt/comfort, taking care of each other | title from “I’m Still Standing “ by Elton John
———
Eddie runs into the emergency room and directly into Steve’s arms. He can’t catch his breath, having hyperventilated the whole drive back to Hawkins and sprinted from the parking lot, but he’s able to gasp out, “Wayne-?”
“He’s okay,” Steve reassures him, rubbing his hands up and down Eddie’s arms. “He’s gonna be okay, they’re just gonna keep him overnight for observation.”
“He’s okay?” Eddie parrots. What does that mean? The words haven’t sunk in yet. Eddie was in Indianapolis getting ready for tonight’s show when Steve had called him from this very waiting room to explain that Wayne had a heart attack and Eddie needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Two hours later, he’s just… okay?
Steve shifts his grip to Eddie’s shoulders. “He’s okay. We got here fast and they took great care of him. He’s asleep upstairs right now.”
Eddie feels faint with the relief that sweeps through him. Though, as his knees go weak and he stumbles into Steve, it occurs to him that it’s probably just his adrenaline crashing.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve catches him under his arms and drags him upright again. “Let’s go sit down while I catch you up.”
Eddie doesn’t know what he needs to know other than ‘Wayne had a heart attack and it didn’t kill him,’ but he lets Steve steer him toward a bank of plastic chairs in the corner. He falls into a seat like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
Steve, angel that he is, pulls a notebook out of his pocket and begins telling Eddie what Wayne’s doctors had said. He had carefully written down phrases that he knew he wouldn’t remember once Eddie got there. Atherosclerosis. Nitroglycerin. Percutaneous coronary intervention. Angioplasty with stent. All the information Eddie would need about his uncle’s care, noted and defined in Steve’s neat handwriting. There are some items with question marks beside them, things that they might need to ask the doctors about.
Eddie’s eyes begin to water. Steve didn’t just do this for him, he did it out of love and concern for Wayne. He spent two hours gathering information and taking notes so he could understand what happened and figure out how to help. The notes on aspirin, the crude diagram of a blocked artery, the bullet point at the bottom of the page that says ‘diet?? medication??’ are all so Steve can take better care of Wayne.
Steve grips Eddie’s hand when he hears his sharp intake of breath. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’ll make more sense once we go upstairs and talk to Wayne’s doctor.” His tone is low and soothing.
“Thanks. I’m glad you were here to look out for him.”
“Yeah, of course.” He looks a little embarrassed by Eddie’s gratitude, like it’s a given that anyone would do the same thing. “He’s important to you, so he’s important to me. But he’s also a good man. A good dad,” he adds tentatively.
Eddie barks out a laugh. “You should call him that to his face, he would love it. Finally, a son who will watch sports with him and properly sort the laundry!”
“I don’t expect you to get it since ninety-nine percent of your wardrobe is black, but separating whites and colors really makes a difference!” Steve argues, blushing at Eddie’s teasing.
Eddie squeezes his hand. “Seriously, Wayne loves you. He calls you his son-in-law when he talks about you with his poker buddies. He brags about how all the kids at school love you and you’re the best second grade teacher in the state. Hell, I think he spends more time with you than he does with me.”
“He really does all that?” Steve asks quietly, like a wish that won’t come true if you say it out loud. When Eddie nods, Steve frowns, his lower lip quivering slightly, and looks down at the scuffed linoleum floor. “I didn’t know.”
Oh, shit. Eddie didn’t even think to ask how Steve was doing through all of this. He had called 911 and ridden in the ambulance with Wayne, had almost certainly paced around the nurses’ station waiting for news. Then, instead of going with Wayne, he stayed downstairs until Eddie got there so he could update him about Wayne’s condition as soon as humanly possible.
It was just like Steve to focus on taking care of everyone else, so natural that Eddie didn’t even think twice about accepting Steve’s comfort while offering nothing in return. And now that the immediate crisis is over, now that Steve has had a chance to breathe and start processing, Eddie thinks Steve might be on the verge of a meltdown.
Wordlessly, Eddie loops an arm under one of Steve’s and tugs him to his feet, herding him in the direction of the single-stall bathroom around the corner. By the time they’re inside, Steve’s whole body is shaking; by the time Eddie flips the lock on the door, fat tears are rolling down his cheeks.
“Sorry, I don’t know why…” Steve gestures at his face a little helplessly.
Eddie still doesn’t say anything, just pulls Steve into a tight embrace. His shirt grows damp where Steve has buried his face in his shoulder, and he feels Steve’s back shudder as he tries to stifle his sobs.
“I was really scared,” he confesses between gasps. “I just kept thinking how horrible it would be if I had to tell you—“
“It’s okay, baby,” Eddie murmurs into his hair. “You did great, he’s okay.”
Steve sniffles loudly. “I know, I’m just being stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” It comes out more forcefully than Eddie had planned. He hates when Steve does that, puts himself down and invalidates his feelings. “That was a medical emergency. Just because it turned out fine doesn’t mean it wasn’t stressful.”
“I guess.” Steve pulls away long enough to grab a paper towel so he can mop up his face. He goes easily when Eddie guides him into another hug.
Swaying them both gently, he tells Steve, “You know, you don’t always have to put on a brave face. Let me take care of you once in a while.”
“I know,” Steve croaks. “I’m working on it.”
They stand there for another minute, both drawing strength from the other’s presence, before Steve clears his throat and releases Eddie. “I think I’m good. We should go upstairs now, Wayne’ll want to see you.”
“He’ll want to see you, too,” Eddie reminds him.
Steve’s smile is small but radiant. “Okay, let’s go.”
you guys are feral for silly wereshifter Steve AU and I love that
Some meatheads are calling Eddie names again. The dog that's been tailing him appears out of nowhere and makes eye contact with him as it struts over to the group and lifts his leg, pissing all over the fresh wax on their BMW with the determination and focus of a dog that hasn't been outside for the whole day.
"Hey, get your fucking dog off my car!" One of the guys jumps up, but the warning show of canines stops him from shooing the dog away himself.
Eddie shrugs, though he's restraining a smile.
"It's not mine."
Later the dog finds him again as it always does, and he makes amends.
"You are my dog though, right? My good doggie. Who's my good boy?" he asks, scratching the overjoyed dog all over its furry body.
At home, Steve asks Robin to call him a good boy when he shifts, to see if it feels as good. It doesn't. Well, it does, but not in the same way.
It comes to the point when dog Steve spends more time with Eddie than human Steve. To soak in the happiness and love Eddie shows him.
"Is Steve okay?" Eddie asks one day, petting the dog beside him while they take a break from band practice. The rest of Hellfire is hanging out in the garage, with Mike jumping on every opportunity to learn guitar from Jeff and the rest usually following.
"Yeah?" Dustin cocks his head. "Why wouldn't he be?"
"I don't know." Eddie shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while and you're never mentioning him anymore."
Dustin looks at the dog.
"He's fine. You're overthinking it."
Eddie thinks that might be it, but...
"I know we're not friends-friends but I don't even see him in passing! Hell, Buckley is there to hang out, and he's not!"
Dustin throws his hands up in the air, annoyed with the questions.
"Don't ask me, man! Ask him yourself! And, to be honest," he crosses his arms, glaring at the dog, for some reason. "I don't understand what's going on with him either."
Eddie frowns, looks at the dog that huffs loudly, and looks away with a grunt. He pats its fluffy fur.
"How am I supposed to ask him if he's never here?" he sighs. "I don't want to just corner him at his place."
Dusting looks at him like he failed elementary two times, not high school.
"There's this thing called phones?"
"Oh. Right."
"Jesus it's like you'd die without me."
"Well..."
"Not what I meant!" Dustin goes pale instantly, mortified by his own words.
"I know, kid." Eddie pulls his head down in reassurance and leans into a side hug. "Don't worry."
-----
"He's not picking up," he tells the dog while biting at a hangnail. "Maybe he's at work?" He wonders out loud and goes to the magazine pile on the coffee table. The dog struts behind him. He rummages through the papers under its watchful eye until he finds the Family Video pamphlet. He runs back to the phone with it and dials the number on the back.
"Hi, I'm looking for Steve? Oh, hi Buckley. Do you know if he's home? Okay. Can you tell him to call me when he's free? No, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks. Bye."
When he hangs up, he's alone in the room.
"Buddy?"
There's a bark from the front of the trailer.
"Sure, sorry!"
He runs up to open the door for the dog already waiting there. But before it leaves, it nuzzles up into his hand, the wet nose and hesitance to leave reassuring Eddie that he'll be back sooner or later. He smiles at the dog, giving him one last scratch between the ears.
"Such a good boy. See you later, buddy."
----
Steve calls him not even an hour later.
"Eddie?" He sounds out of breath.
"Steve, hi!" He's relieved to hear him and suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time they actually talked. "Has Buckley talked to you already?"
"No?"
"Dustin then?"
"No- ah, yeah! He's mentioned you wanted to talk."
He's a bit disappointed Steve hasn't thought to reach out himself but it's better than nothing.
"Yeah, I Haven't seen you in a while, man. What have you been up to?"
"Uh, you know, just... This and that. Doing a lot of... Running. Exercises. You know."
Eddie doesn't know, but he's willing to nod along to keep the conversation going.
"Yeah, totally, you've been busy. Do you want to hang out maybe? Movie night, or, or..." He tries to come up with anything they could do together. "I got a new strain of weed we could test?" He offers.
Steve laughs at that, genuine and relaxed and Eddie relaxes at the sound himself.
"Sure, why not? Is tonight alright? I have a day off anyway."
Eddie's not prepared mentally and neither is his room but he agrees immediately.
"Sure, come over anytime."
"Okay I'll take a shower and I'm off."
When they meet up, everything seems normal. For about fifteen minutes.
Steve jumps whenever Eddie touches him, and his face is red, making Eddie look at him worriedly and ask if he's alright.
But all Steve can think about is “good boy” and belly scratches. When his leg twitches when Eddie touches his shoulder, he jumps off the couch, mortified by his body's reactions.
"Do you have a dog?!" he almost yells, looking around in panic.
Eddie blinks at him.
"Uh, no?" But then he frowns. "I mean, there is a dog," he corrects, and his brows crease in worry. "Wait, are you allergic?"
"Yes!" Steve points his finger at him. "I gotta go, man, sorry, I'm itching all over," he spits out fast, walking backward toward the exit and almost running into a wall. "But it was great seeing you, uh, bye!"
The doors slam shut and Eddie's left alone and confused, the reality show host still yelling from the screen.
SHIP: Eventual Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, hints of eventual Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham
SUMMARY: Eddie Munson witnesses a demonic possession in his trailer. Luckily someone swoops in to help. (Supernatural inspired AU, Hunter!Eddie, Angel!Steve, Newbie Hunter!Chrissy)
NOTES: This is the result of the Supernatural-inspired AU with Hunter!Eddie and Angel!Steve I'd been tinkering with! I had intended for this to be just Steve/Eddie; Chrissy snuck into the ship during the writing process. If that's a dealbreaker for you, please move along.
___________________________
“…Chrissy?”
Eddie stops in the hallway with the Special K, staring at Chrissy standing frozen and unresponsive in the middle of the trailer’s living room. She blinks furiously, her eyes rolled back so far only the whites are showing.
Oh God. Is she having a seizure?
He walks towards her, waving a hand in front of her face. “Chrissss-yyy. Hello?” No response. He waves his hand again, and then shouts, “Chrissy!” as he jumps forward.
Nothing. Just more blinking. She’s still standing, arms at her sides. Eddie looks up as every single light in the trailer start flickering and buzzing.
This isn’t a seizure. Eddie’s not sure exactly what’s happening to Chrissy but it’s not a seizure or an OD or a concussion or anything normal. Unfortunately, this has the Munsons' kind of weirdness stamped all over it.
Fuckity fuck fuck. Is she possessed? Eddie’s severely out of practice since Wayne didn’t take him on the road for his hunts like Al had.
Dropping the Special K, Eddie turns around and starts frantically pawing through the cabinet next to the oven for Wayne’s Hunter box. He finally unearths it from a pile of paper bags and old newspapers and nearly throws it onto the kitchen counter.
The lock on the box is a combination one, set to Eddie’s birthday. His hand is trembling as he turns the wheel, yanking it off as soon as the lock pops open.
Inside are some of Wayne’s monster-hunting supplies: a handgun with ammo, particularly silver bullets, an assortment of knives, a few gris-gris bags, two wooden stakes, Eddie’s mom’s rosary, Wayne’s hunting journal, and a few vials of holy water.
He grabs one of the vials of holy water and Wayne’s journal. Eddie’s never done an exorcism before - even Al had the good sense to keep him away from the possession cases, although like all the Munsons he has the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. The closest Eddie has to experience with anything like this was watching ‘The Exorcist’ with Wayne. Hopefully the exorcism will still work even if the Latin pronunciation’s a little off.
He yanks the cork stopper out of the vial. First he’s gotta make sure it is possession.
Eddie approaches Chrissy warily with the vial, Wayne’s journal tucked under one arm. He takes Chrissy’s limp hand and raises it, palm-up. “Sorry, Chrissy. I think this is gonna hurt a little.” Grimacing, he pours some of the holy water onto her hand.
Chrissy screams, guttural and loud, but her face remains perfect blank. She wrenches her hand out of Eddie’s grip, steam rising from her skin.
She’s definitely possessed.
“Shit.” Eddie hurriedly flips through Wayne’s journal and almost sobs in relief when he finds the page with “EXORCISM (short)” scrawled across the top in his uncle’s messy handwriting.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” Eddie says, trying to steady his trembling voice.
Chrissy screams again, her face blank. Without warning, her body goes flying up. The whole trailer shakes from the impact of her body slamming against the ceiling, pinned against it with her arms outstretched.
“JESUS CHRIST!” Eddie trips over a chair behind him and falls on his ass, still clutching the journal.
The journal, right. He can’t get distracted. He has to say the whole spiel or it won’t work. He tears his eyes away from Chrissy pressed against the trailer’s ceiling and back to Wayne’s journal. “Om--omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.”
Chrissy’s jaw opens wide, and inside her mouth is a writhing mass thick, black smoke. Tendrils of smoke coils around her face as she thrashes on the ceiling, her eyelids still fluttering. But it’s not coming out. Isn’t the demons supposed to come out of her during the exorcism? That’s the whole point! Shit, is he doing it wrong? Is some demon going to steal Chrissy’s body because Eddie's such a fuck-up he can’t pronounce Latin correctly?
Thunder rumbles overhead, shaking the trailer’s roof.
The door to the trailer loudly snaps open by itself, and Eddie is jarred out of his downward spiral by the sight of Steve Harrington, of all people, standing out on the trailer’s porch.
Eddie lets out a thin whine when he notices that Steve’s eyes are burning gold, the brightest thing in the whole trailer with the lights still bugging out. He really can’t take any more weird shit right now, not when Chrissy’s still pinned up against the ceiling with a demon inside her that won’t come out…
Steve steps into the trailer calmly, his molten-gold eyes fixed on Chrissy. Eddie flinches when the light bulbs in the trailer near the door explode in a shower of sparks one by one around Steve.
“Ergo, draco maledicte,” Steve says, his voice steady.
Latin? Eddie looks down at the journal, realizing Steve has spoken the next line of the exorcism. Eddie wets his lips nervously and croaks out the last lines together with Steve. “Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”
The demon-smoke is finally yanked out of Chrissy’s mouth and pulled down, sinking through the floor of the trailer like water being sucked down a drain. Eddie’s heart feels like it’s about to shake itself loose from his chest.
Chrissy stares at Steve and Eddie with confusion in her blue eyes from the ceiling before she plummets down, sprawling on top of Eddie. She bursts into tears, latching onto him, burying her head against his chest. The lights that haven’t exploded finally stop flickering.
“Chrissy! Oh, shit, are you hurt?”
Chrissy keeps crying, her mascara running down her cheeks, but she gives a short little shake of her head. “I-I’m fine.” She sniffs again. “I mean, apart from the…thing that was inside me? The evil smoke cloud?”
“That was a demon,” Steve says.
Eddie looks up at Steve. His eyes are still shining gold, which is surprisingly creepy with him just standing in the dark area in front of the door, surrounded by the glass from the bulbs.
“It was like it was trying to…to…stuff me into a little box in my head.” Chrissy looks at Eddie, then at Steve, her bottom lip quivering. “Why did it…w-want me?”
That was a very good question. “Because a demon needs a human meatsuit when it’s outside Hell and you were there,” Eddie says. “I didn’t show you my very first tattoo – it’s an anti-possession symbol. Wards off demons.”
“How do you guys know-w about all this?” Chrissy whispers, her eyes flicking between Steve and Eddie. “Like, the exorcism and everything.” She looks down at the Hellfire Club logo on his shirt. “Is the heavy metal stuff?”
Eddie shakes his head. “My uncle and my parents are Hunters.” He pauses, realizing that needs more explanation. “I mean, they hunt monsters and demons that hurt people, not deer and rabbits.” He eyes Steve. “I know all the Hunters in town, and the Harringtons definitely aren’t Hunters.”
The thunder rolls overhead again, louder.
“So what are you, Steve?” Eddie holds Chrissy tightly as she shakes against him. If anyone in Hawkins was going to turn out to be a secret monster in disguise, it probably would be one of the Harringtons.
“I’m an angel,” Steve says, eyes still shining like a beacon.
“Bullshit,” is Eddie’s immediate response, slipping out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
Lightning strikes. In-between flashes of light, Eddie can make out the shadow of large, feathered wings extending from Steve’s back, like an afterimage. Beautiful but terrifying.
Chrissy gasps.
“I’m an angel,” Steve repeats as the golden light in his eyes finally dims, returning his eyes to normal. He rubs at the side of his face before placing his hands on his hips. “And this is a fucking mess.”
i could not tell you what this is. i wrote it all in one sitting. enjoy or whatever
It starts with the graffiti.
Scribbled in thick, permanent marker across the boys' gym lockers.
STEVE HARRINGTON FUCKS EDDIE MUNSON
The custodian tries half-heartedly to scrub it off, but he only manages to get about a letter and a half off the locker before his shift is over. It's back up by the next day anyway.
Half the school is walking on tiptoes around Steve, waiting for him to blow up and demand a manhunt for the culprit.
The other half is snickering and laughing as he walks by in the halls.
Steve doesn't give two shits. He holds his head up high and walks onwards, ignoring the laughs and the kissy noises. He needs to graduate. He needs to not get eaten by a terrifying monster from an alternate reality. More pressing things happen to Steve Harrington than grade school graffiti.
Until he turns the corner and sees Eddie Munson glaring furiously at his closed locker.
He doesn't speak to him. Even if the graffiti isn't a big deal, there's no need to add any fuel to the fire.
Eddie finally steps forward and wrenches open his locker door. The crowd milling in the halls begins to laugh.
Papers spill out, dozens of them, cascading over the floor and burying Eddie's shoes. One slides all the way to Steve's feet.
He looks down automatically.
There's an atrocious drawing of two stick figures bent over each other. The one on the bottom has two lines of curly hair, while the one on the top has a singular swooping line of graphite.
Great.
Steve swiftly scoops it up and crumples it in his fist, shoving it in his pocket. He'll toss it out later.
As he hustles past Eddie, steadfastly not looking in his direction, he thinks he hears Eddie mutter, "Every class period."
Steve turns a corner, and the train wreck that is Eddie's locker is gone.
He slides into his seat, knowing the band girls who sit in the back corner of the classroom are whispering about him, but finding he couldn't care less.
The teacher starts class.
He reaches into his pocket and slides the crumpled paper between his fingers, over and over.
Steve raises his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?"
The teacher nods and waves him away, and Steve scrambles out the door, rounding the corner.
Eddie's still there, kneeling by his locker, trying to scoop up papers.
Steve kneels next to him. "Hey."
Eddie jumps like an alley cat that's been spooked. Steve could swear his hair starts bristling, puffing up.
"Your majesty," Eddie finally says, glaring back at the pile of paper like Steve'll disappear if he doesn't look at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure."
It's not really a question.
Steve answers it anyway. "Came to help," he says simply, picking up a piece of paper that has EDDIE MUNSON X STEVE HARRINGTON written on it in bold letters, surrounded by stupid little hearts. "After all, my name's on half this stuff."
"How kind," Eddie said. "Keeping me distracted while your buddies key my van or something?"
Steve reels back. "Huh?"
"I'm not dumb, Harrington," Eddie says, crumpling up another sheet of paper. Steve can barely catch EDDIE HARRINGTON on it before it's balled in Eddie's fist. "I get this is a prank or whatever. I just can't understand why you'd involve yourself with me. The King and the Freak."
"'Cause I'm not the King anymore." Steve says, standing to drag a nearby garbage can closer. It's already half-full of papers. "You sure don't listen to gossip, Munson. Billy beat my ass and I lost every friend I had. So. I think it's a prank on both of us."
"Oh."
Eddie, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, shuts the fuck up. Steve had seen people lose their meals to his impassioned school cafeteria rants, but it only takes Steve Harrington to shut Munson's infamous mouth.
Wait, that sounds wrong.
They keep cleaning in silence - relatively. Steve starts balling up the papers and tossing them at the trash can, unable to stop himself from hissing out a yes! if he makes the throw.
"Impressive," Eddie says dryly. "Can you do this?" He raises one hand in the air like he's about to take a pledge, and in the other he folds and rolls a slip of paper until it's shaped like a joint.
Steve chuckles. "Nope." He takes the fake joint, and it comes undone in his palm, revealing the same crude stick figure couple from earlier.
Right.
Steve had forgotten what they were doing here.
Evidently, Eddie had too. He looks down at the drawing, then snatches the paper from Steve, tossing it in the trash, two spots of pink high on his cheeks.
He scoops the last of the papers into his arms, dumping them in the trash can. "You can go back to class," he tells Steve, settling down with his back against the locker.
"What are you doing?" Steve says, slightly caught off-guard by the dismissal.
"Seeing if those pricks will try to do it again." Eddie says, folding his knees up to his chest. "They do it all the time. I think there's a jungle's worth of trees just being used to make shit for my locker."
"You're just gonna guard it?" Steve asks.
"Sure," Eddie says, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. "What else have I got to do?"
Steve plops himself down next to Eddie. "I'll guard with you," he says stubbornly.
"Seriously?" Eddie asks, like Steve's particularly slow. Steve's gotten that tone of voice a lot in his life.
"Yeah." Steve says. He parrots, "What else have I got to do?"
"You're just gonna fuel the rumors, dude." Eddie says. "My name's mud around here. You know that damn well."
"Sure," Steve shrugs. "But it hasn't been half-bad hanging out with you, and I don't care what these jackasses think of me anymore. Bigger things to worry about."
They settle into a comfortable silence, watching the students pass by, their whispered comments and curious glances bouncing off the duo. Eddie taps his fingers rhythmically on the ground, humming a tune Steve doesn't recognize but finds oddly comforting.
He reaches into his pocket to feel the small paper, then tugs it out. Is it dumb that a stupid drawing is making him think about himself this much?
"Hey, Eddie," Steve starts, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot," Eddie says idly.
"How do you... I mean, when did you know you were gay?" Steve asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Eddie's expression turns to one of suspicion, but he answers anyway. "I guess I always knew, deep down. But I really figured it out in middle school." He looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"
Steve bites his lip, considering his next words carefully. "I think I might be... different too. I mean, I've only ever dated girls, but lately, I don't know. I feel... something."
Something means he worried for weeks when Billy beat the shit out of him because suddenly all these feelings were tugging at his brain. Feelings for people like Eddie Munson.
Eddie's eyes widen slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. (What? Steve's not looking at his lips. Huh?) "Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High, might not be straight? Now that's some gossip I'd actually pay attention to."
"Shut up," Steve mutters, but he's smiling too. "I'm serious."
"Well..." Eddie trails off. "We can try it out?"
Steve's heart skips a beat. "Huh?"
"We can try it out." Eddie repeats. "But, uh," he leans close, his breath ghosting over the shell of Steve's ear. "Just so you know, I prefer to be the one on top."
Weeks later, the school is overtaken by a new kind of graffiti. Papers plastered to every surface, a spiky handwriting (usually used to write setlists and D&D character sheets) adorning each and every one of them.
Heads up: rating going up to Explicit for this installment!
Eddie is still reeling from his day at Steve's. He curses himself for letting his uncle get to his head and buying condoms when Steve clearly wasn't thinking about them hooking up. On the other hand, he wonders if he could have gotten Steve to admit out loud that while he didn't want to sleep with Eddie yet, he was still interested in him.
Steve Harrington wants to take it slow with Eddie Munson.
Eddie wants to take one of those expensive-looking throw pillows, bury his face in it, and scream. Giggle and kick his feet. Because the prettiest boy he's ever seen wants him. Not even the box of condoms seems to have scared him off, although Eddie is still worried that Steve might think Eddie just wants sex. Which, yes, he does. Anyone with eyes who is even slightly attracted to guys would want that, but Eddie wants more than that.
God, he hopes Steve wants that too.
"Hey. I can still hear you overthinking."
With a small chuckle, Eddie thinks Steve should get used to it. Overthinking is one of his many talents, along with spiraling, rambling, and not thinking before he speaks.
He keeps sneaking glances at Steve, trying to gauge what the guy is thinking, while also trying to look like he's engrossed in whatever's happening on the TV in front of them.
"I just, uh... I'm trying to make sure I don't fuck up here, so... If you say you want to take it slow..." Eddie chews his lip. "How slow are we talking?"
Steve clearly wasn't expecting the question, but to his credit, he barely flinches before recovering quickly.
"Well, I definitely enjoy being wined and dined before I put out," Steve tells him with a grin. Which, okay, honestly surprises him, because according to the Hawkins High rumor mill, Steve Harrington loves to put out. No wining and dining required.
As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he berates himself for it. He knows what the general population of Hawkins High thinks and says about him, and not even half of it is true. And even if it is true and Steve does like to sleep around, who is he to judge him? If Steve wants to be wined and dined, then Eddie thinks he deserves it. He deserves to be treated like the catch he is.
"Oh yeah, of course! I'm not a complete savage," he says, and goes on to list some places he could take Steve. There aren't many that come to mind, to be honest, because for one thing, they're in Hawkins, not Indy. That means the choices are limited as it is, and even more so for two guys. On top of that, he's not exactly rolling in money. But maybe he could contact some of his regulars, see if they need a little extra.
Steve just looks at him with an amused and, dare Eddie say, fond smile on his pretty face as Eddie rambles on.
"How about we start with a movie night at my place?" Steve suggests. "We can order takeout, relax, and just, y'know, talk. Hang out. It doesn't have to be a big deal." Eddie's heart races at the thought of another night with Steve, just the two of them in this big, empty house. No one to interrupt or judge. But that's not what Eddie wants for their first date, and he can't help but smile back at Steve.
Because Steve deserves this to be a big deal.
"That sounds amazing, Steve, really," Eddie says, "but I want to plan a date for us. You deserve to be treated right, and I wanna be the one doing that." His voice is filled with determination, and he hopes Steve can see how much he means it.
Steve looks at Eddie, clearly touched by his earnestness. "You really want to do that for me?" he asks quietly and Eddie feels even more guilty about his initial thoughts about Steve. He clearly didn't expect anyone to go out of their way for him, and that's just sad. He doesn't advocate it, but Eddie is a romantic at heart. Love was always the theme of so many of the stories his mama read to him as a child, and he inherited her soft heart.
"Of course I do," Eddie replies without hesitation. "I want to make this special for both of us."
Steve's eyes soften, and he rewards Eddie with a chaste kiss on the cheek. The warmth of Steve's lips lingers on Eddie's skin, making his heart flutter even more. "Thank you, Eddie," Steve whispers, his voice filled with affection.
As Eddie says goodbye and drives back home, he can't stop grinning. The kiss, though simple, feels like a promise of something beautiful to come. He can’t wait to sweep Steve Harrington off his feet.
When he gets home, he runs into Wayne, who's just leaving for his shift.
"Home already, Eds? Your boy not treatin' you right?" Wayne asks gruffly, and Eddie rolls his eyes good-naturedly. He can count on his uncle to make him feel loved and embarrassed at the same time.
"He's not my boy," Eddie reflexively deflects, before remembering Steve's words and the soft press of his lips against his cheek. He decides to keep what happened between them to himself, at least for now. Until he can be sure that Steve really is 'his boy'.
Wayne hums noncommittally. "Sure, Eds, whatever you say. Just remember to be safe, son. Don't want you to get hurt."
"I will, Uncle Wayne, don't worry about me."
"I'll always worry about you, Eds. Nothing to be done 'bout it, so don't go 'round givin' me any more gray hairs."
With that, his uncle steps out of the trailer and leaves. Wayne isn't one for heartfelt declarations, but he never lets Eddie forget that he loves him.
Humming a tune under his breath, Eddie goes about his evening. There's some chili in the fridge with a note from Wayne saying it's for Eddie, so he heats it up and digs in. With his stomach full of chili and his head full of thoughts about the former king of Hawkins High, Eddie falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Eddie finds himself sitting at a beautifully set table in an upscale restaurant, the kind with crystal chandeliers and a live string quartet playing softly in the background. The kind of place he could never afford but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter. Steve sits across from him, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever, his smile warm and inviting. The ambiance is perfect, and Eddie feels a mix of excitement and nervousness about their upcoming date.
As they chat, the waiter approaches their table with a covered silver platter. Eddie's stomach flutters with anticipation, expecting a gourmet meal. The waiter places the platter in front of them and, with a flourish, lifts the lid. Instead of a delicious entrée, the platter holds a pile of condoms, glistening under the dim light.
Eddie's eyes widen in horror. "Oh my God, this isn't what I ordered!" he stammers, his face flushing crimson. He tries to push the platter away, but it seems stuck to the table. "I swear, Steve, this isn't what I meant to—"
Steve leans back in his chair, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Are you sure, Eddie? Then why are you naked?"
Eddie's heart pounds as he looks down at himself. To his utter dismay, he realizes he is completely naked, sitting in the middle of the restaurant. He frantically tries to cover himself with the napkin, but it is too small to hide his embarrassment. The other diners turn to look at him, their eyes wide with shock and amusement. Fingers point, whispers grow louder, and the quartet's melody seems to mock him with every note.
He looks back at Steve, who is now chuckling softly, seemingly unfazed by the absurdity of the situation. Eddie's cheeks burn hotter, and he feels like sinking into the floor. "Steve, I—" he begins, but the words catch in his throat as the laughter from the surrounding tables grows louder.
Just as the humiliation reaches its peak, Eddie jolts awake, his heart racing and his body drenched in a cold sweat. He sits up in bed, breathing heavily, his mind reeling from the vivid nightmare. He glances around his room, reassuring himself that he is safe, clothed, and very much alone.
"Just a dream," he mutters to himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. But the anxiety lingers, a reminder of how much this date means to him and the pressure he feels to make it perfect. He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment, and lies back down, hoping for a dreamless sleep.
He's naked again, he knows that right away, but at least he's not in a fancy restaurant. Or any public place, really. He's in the back of a car, it seems. An expensive one, with dark leather seats that cling to his bare buttocks and thighs.
When he looks down, Steve is kneeling between his thighs, wedged into the small space between the back and front seats. He appears to be naked as well, but Eddie can't see much more than his broad, freckled shoulders, muscular arms, and wide hands resting on his thighs. The sun-kissed hue of his skin is a stark contrast to the creamy white of Eddie's own, and the image causes heat to pool in his stomach.
"Steve?" he asks dumbly, because didn't Steve want to take it slow? Or is this Steve's idea of slow?
"Shh, baby, it's okay," Steve coos at him and a shiver runs through him at the sound of the word 'baby' in Steve's husky voice. "I'm going to make it good for you. I'm going to take it real slow until you're begging me to let you come."
Fuck, Eddie thinks, or maybe he said it out loud, because the sinful smile on Steve's face changes to a teasing grin.
"You like that, baby? The king on his knees for you, ready to suck you off? You want to come on my face, don't you? The Freak painting the King's face with his cum, what a picture that would be."
Eddie moans deeply, like he's wounded, like it hurts. And it does, he's so hard, the second those wicked lips touch his cock he's going to come, he knows it. He wants to warn Steve, he wants to tell him that Eddie meant it, he wants to take it slow, get to know Steve. He wants to kiss him, his mouth the first thing those lips he has dreamed of so often touch, not his cock.
But it's too late, the wet heat of Steve's mouth devours him, heaven and hell, elation and damnation.
He comes with a scream, jolting awake in his own bed, disoriented. It's mid-morning, judging by the dim light filtering into his room, and he's painfully hard. Eddie's no stranger to wet dreams, he's a healthy teenage boy, but something about the sight of Steve between his spread legs has seared itself into his brain.
Before he can feel guilty, he yanks his blanket and boxers down in one motion and takes himself in his hands. His dick is already wet from all the pre-cum leaking profusely from his cockhead and he uses the liquid to ease the friction of skin against skin.
Stroking himself in the way he knows makes him come hard and fast, he thinks of Steve. His mouth, his hands, his droopy eyes that he has learned are hazel when you get close enough to fall into them.
It's over in a dozen strokes and he can't even be embarrassed. The guilt comes back though, because Steve wants to take it slow and here he is, dreaming about the other boy sucking him off.
This only strengthens his resolve to treat Steve right, to plan a perfect, romantic date for the two of them.
Picnic by the Lake: Eddie packs a basket with homemade sandwiches, snacks and drinks and takes Steve to a secluded spot by the lake to spread out a blanket and enjoy the view from the back of his van. He puts some blankets and pillows in the back to make it cozy and brings his acoustic guitar to play some songs for Steve.
Stargazing in a boat: Eddie asks Rick for his boat and takes Steve to the middle of the lake with it, with a blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate. They can sit there, wrapped in blankets and look at the stars together. Eddie couldn't have known this, but Steve had a great love for the stars as a child, and he used to look at the constellations through a telescope with his grandfather before he died. Steve explains the constellations they see to Eddie.
Movie Night in the Backyard: Eddie organizes everything to set up a projector and a white sheet in the backyard of Steve's house because Steve had suggested a movie night but that way, it's special. He decorates the area with fairy lights while Steve makes the popcorn Eddie brought with and together they settle onto a blanket with some pillows and watch a movie of Steve's choice.
Campfire Evening: Eddie builds a campfire by the lake (with some help from Wayne). They roast marshmallows, make s'mores, and talk while enjoying the crackling fire and the night sounds. They share a blanket and body heat against the cold. The stars twinkle overhead, and the moon casts a soft glow on the water. As the night deepens, their conversation becomes more personal, sharing stories and experiences.
Baking Christmas Cookies: Eddie invites Steve over to bake Christmas cookies together, something Eddie's mom used to do with him when he was still little. He plays Christmas songs, filling the kitchen with festive cheer. Together, they make funny figures from the dough, decorating them with colorful icing, sprinkles, and candy. Eddie shares stories of his childhood Christmases, and Steve listens, adding his own holiday memories. The afternoon turns into evening, and they enjoy their homemade treats with hot cocoa.
the gross mischaracterisation of Steve Harrington's music taste is an unbearable crime goddamnit, this man has never even heard a pop song in his life! All the music he plays is either rock, punk or indie music, we see this at his party and so the music playing in his car
someone on reddit noticed Steve is also wearing an outfit identical to one Freddie Mercury wore the same year season 4 is set. In fact, Steve regularly dresses similarly to Freddie Mercury, the more I look the more I see there's definitely influences of Freddie's casual fashion (not his show looks) in Steve's style; some of them, like the yellow jumper look the redditor noticed, are almost like for like. Why is this unusual? Maybe because Queen had tanked in America at the time, America's radio stations found them insulting in fact, so it's a big deal that Steve had Queen playing in his car, it means it wasn't on the radio by chance... he owned a copy himself
I'll have to rewatch but I'm pretty sure the only times Steve has mainstream 80s disco, dance or synth pop anywhere near him it's either someone else's party he's a guest at, and therefore has no say in the music, or he's referencing it to make fun of it (ie Tammy Thompson, and even then it was still pop rock).
Steve is a rock and punk fan, by the looks of it mostly British bands too, I wouldn't be surprised if he knows The Clash just as well as Jonathan does and it's time people realize that and respect it
Stop making his Vecna songs disco, synth pop music and make it something he's actually shown to listen to
also it was hammer to fall, which is not one of the tracks that frequently made it to the radio even when they were on the radio all the time. 100% he owned that tape.
Steve becomes a cop because Hopper basically saw a lost party boy and made him a personal project. El was the chosen one of a cult they busted together and Hopper adopted her.
Steve leaves the force to become a PI because he can't stomach the system, he's so close to convincing Hopper to join him.
Remnants of the cult hire a gang to get her back. Eddie, a low level dealer for the gang, is their in after she's taken. It's a hard sell but between a kid being in danger and Steves pretty face he agrees.
Eddie's a classic bad decision but Steve is so gone on him. Insert that please please please song.
Idk the plan yet but it goes awry, and Eddie ends up beat to hell, but he's the one who got El out.
Hopper and Steve think they failed and possibly lost them both forever. They go back to the safe house to lick their wounds and probably make some suicidal plan for vengeance, but Eddie's there, with El playing the GameCube in their shitty little hide out. They're both beat up and dirty, but there's pizza, one completely demolished and one untouched.
Eddie doesn't even give them the chance to adjust he just taps El excitedly and says “do the thing!”
She turns to them and solemnly says “fuck the police” and Eddie fucking loses it.
