Eddie Munson X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2 Spoilers Ahead

Reading on your own risk

Warnings: mild cursing, my English (English isnt my mother tongue)

Soooo y'all know I'm a proud member of the "gaslighting myself" and "eddie is alive" club...

But there is something about Eddie's death that is sooooo annoying to me that it NEEDS to be mentioned!

Beforehand y'all should know that I hate it when people do NOT take their own advises to heart.

AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT EDWARD "EDDIE THE FUCKING FREAK" MUNSON DID!!!!

This little son of a goddess told Dustin to "NeVeR cHaNgE"

But then when Eddie was at the point of his life where he should NOT change a thing (meaning him running away from the bats and NOT play the hero by fighting them) THIS LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER DECIDED "SCREW MY ADVISE AND LET'S CHANGE EVERYTHING TO THE WORST" !!!!

Little fucker could be alive if he decided to STAY ON HIS FUCKING PATH AND TO RUN AWAY!!!

Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted Talk <3 and sorry for the mild cursing ;)<3

The smell of a Munson

(Not my gif, credits to creator)

The smell of Eddie Munson is often described as a mix of "cheap colognes, smoke/ cigarettes and weed". In this essay I will show why this is in fact either wrong or an understatement of the truth.

Here is the situation, everyone describes the smell of Eddie as a mix of "cheap colognes, cigarettes/smoke and weed". And even tho I believe that he strongly smells like smoke/ cigarettes and weed I do not believe that he smells like cheap colognes (or maybe he does, I'll explain it in a hot second). But I STRONGYL believe that he mainly smells like sweat and u all can't change my mind.

I mean look at our boy. He is a teenager/ young adult metalhead who's only father-like figure is his uncle who seems to work all the time. Because of his drug consum Eddie probably pisses himself all the time while sleeping (the stains on this mattress, change my mind). He is a nerd who gets like no bitches unless they want some free drugs... u all cant really believe that this boy knows what a shower is even less how it works.

And yes I know "his hair looks so soft"... I once knew a boy with curly hair and it always looked soft, too.. but the moment u touched it 🤮🤮🤮 I swear to god it was everything but soft. And I swear this is how i see Eddie. Our little unshowed metalhead rat ❤🧎‍♀️

(Btw that doesn't mean that i don't like curly hair in general I enjoy it but that boys hair was sus hahaha)

And this is like absolutely no hate towards him. I mean I love this little fucker so much, u all aren't knowing shit. And I wanna protect him as much as I can. But this guy is sooo perfect there needs to be a strong con. And yes, I love him but damn does he need a shower.

And this is like an extra headcanon for our boy. Like I said, I believe that Eddie showers like idk never (maybe once a month). But here is where the cheap colognes comes in. So to cover up his sweaty smell, Eddie uses SOOOOOO FUCKING MUCH colognes, u will die when u stand too close to him for too long. Like one bottle a week is minimum (one of the reasons why it needs to be cheap ones).

Change.

My.

Mind.

To sum things up, I strongly believe that Eddie Munson only has two states of smelling. Either sweaty like big foots ass or way too much colognes for his own good. There is nothing in between. But this is obviously just my opinion. Anyways kissies for reading this

Have a marvelous day, bye!

The Kas Theory (Stranger things)

This post will contain sooo many spoilers for season 3 and 4 of stranger things, reading on ur on risk

I have some many thoughts on this one, I hope my thinking makes sense in the end.

Okay, I am pretty sure that everyone who watch "Stranger Things" and fell in love with Eddie Munson heard about this theory already. But in case u haven't heard it yet, I'll explain it to u real quick.

In the game dnd, there is this one character call Kas. They are some sort of the right hand of Vecna. But then Kas turns against Vecna and defends him (or helps to defend Vecna? Idk correct me if I'm wrong).

And many people who love Eddie Munson (me included) believe that Eddie becomes some Kas anecdote and will save the day in the following season of "Stranger things". But hear me out:

I saw this Tiktok like a few days ago and it got me thinking. What if Billy is the Kas anecdote? I mean think about it. To become someone's right hand kinda thing, that someone needs to trust u, which needs some time yk? I mean I wouldn't let anyone be my right hand if I do not genuinely trust them. And idk how many months will be between season 4 and season 5 but since the doors to the upside down are already open, I dont believe that it will be as much as between season 3 and 4 yk. So Eddie would have less time to "bound" with Vecna than Billy would have had. And I bet Vecna also knows that Eddie fought his bats (I mean the wounds seem kinda obvious to me). And we know Vecna isn't stupid so he probably connects the dots and knows Eddie isn't on his side.

BUT BILLY ON THE OTHER HAND?! Not only was he already some kind of doll for Vecna, so Vecna kinda still has the connection to Billy (just like Will yk what I'm on about?), but Billy also never seemed to connect with the "Anti-Vecna" group, which is probably also shown in the memory of Billy. So Vecna knows that for sure. And adding to this Billy would also have had enough time to "gain" some trust from Vecna (more like prove himself to Vecna). I mean how many months were between the timeline of season 3 and the timeline of season 4? 8 months? That sounds pretty accurate to me.

I mean hear me out. I love Eddie.. I mean I really fucking love him more than myself. And I really wish for him to somehow come back in season 5 but folks u need to agree with me. This Billy-being-Kas-theory of me makes fucking sense..

And yes I know Vecna could just whoop Eddie's ass and make him do whatever he wants him to do. But Vecna is not stupid, like I said before! And he already had that mind controlling connection with Billy which will probably makes it easier for Vecna to get into Billy's mind? And even when Billy and Eddie had both a rough upbringing, I think Billy had it a bit rougher. I mean at least Eddie had a father like figure, friends who like him for him and his trauma (the "loss" of his parents, probably bullying yk) didn't got any deeper (I mean, yes he got still bullied but he had friends, he wasn't alone, yk?). But Billy on the other side, his mother left him alone with his abusive dad, who also were his only father figure. He only had friends because of his looks and the popularity he got because of it. And because his dad is shit, his trauma got deeper with everytime, Billy's dad laid hand on him, yk? So the bad things in Billy's life, his loneliness and the fact that he went to all that basically alone probably clouded his mind and also makes it even easier for Vecna to get in his fucking mind.

And also yes, in the end of season 3 Billy sacrificed himself for El. But only because she found a good memory. And do u all remember how long it fucking took her to find it (which would basically prove my theory that I pointed out before)? In addition to Vecna knows how strong El is, so there is a high chance that El could just faked the memory to make Billy "submissive" to her plans. U get this?

But I mean folks, who am i kidding? We all know the duffer brothers are freaking stupid (I mean they killed the best character yk) and tbh I don't believe they thought about this, so I guess eddie it is (I mean I'm happy, but I would make so much more sense with billy... waisted potential in a good plot if u ask me)

Anyway, I really do hope, that y'all get what I meant.. I mean I know this is a lot of information and I really tried to give my rambling thoughts some structur. But on case it didn't work and u have some questions, just ask me.

Anyway, bye bye, kissies y'all

They are a 10 but their soul is like 100 years older because they're shifting.

!!!

Hello friends, I need your help.

Yesterday, 04/04/24, I became homeless; I don’t have a home anymore.

I only have my car, luckly, so that’s where I’m staying with my cat.

I’m currently in my first year of university but I’m going to drop out soon as I can’t afford to pay the fees. I’m looking for a new job, of course, but as of right now I don’t have enough money to do anything about my situation.

I will not share my exact location for safety reasons but I will tell you that I'm living in my car near a gym so as not to be isolated. Physically I am fine, emotionally not really but it doesn't matter.

I’m asking for your help because I don’t know what else to do. I have some links in my bio, if you can donate anything, even just one euro is going to make the difference.

And if you can't donate, please at least share this post or my links. Thank you so much, I appreciate every single one of you.

(Please forgive me for using the tags improperly but I'm trying to reach as many of you as possible, as well as my mutuals).

𝒇 𝒓 𝒂 𝒈 𝒊 𝒍 𝒆 𝒕 𝒉 𝒐 𝒖 𝒈 𝒉 𝒕 𝒔 || 𝘦.𝘮

Eddie Munson x gn! reader Summary → Being Eddie's best friend and having a crush on him is tough. What happens when he asks out Chrissy and you feel a bit jealous.

Word Count → 978 Requested → no Request Status → open

A/n || This isn't canon to the ST plot, Chrissy doesn't die, Eddie isn't considered a murderer [ he's still 'the freak' ]. I'm sorry if you don't like that, criticism is very much welcome. Also this is fairly short, and I might write a part 2. Happy reading! <3

➽─────────────────────────────────────────❥ You were currently sitting in the back of Eddie's van, smoking one of his pre-rolled joints that he had stashed as you waited for him to finish his latest drug deal.

You had been waiting there for him to finish up for about twenty minutes already, getting slightly bored you opened the door at the back of the van and started swinging your legs off the edge.

What the hell is taking him so long?

His deals took a while sometimes, but not like this. You were too cought up in your own thoughts to notice both the front seat doors had opened and not just Eddie, but Chrissy Cunningham hopped in too.

"Close the door will ya?" You heard Eddie say over his shoulder.

"You got it boss." You responded in a sarcastic tone. "So what's the cheer princess doing here?"

"She's not the cheer princess, be nice [y/n]. Anyway, we're going back to my place to get some of the stronger shit. I'll drop you off on our way there." Eddie said, making you slightly confused. You doubt Chrissy had ever done any sort of drugs in her life so why would she try and get the 'stronger shit'. Eddie knows not to push peoples limits with drugs, something else is up.

And not only that he's blowing you off to sell drugs to some priss.. Well you know she's actually really nice, but you were slightly annoyed, he's been blowing you off to do other things for the last two weeks now.

"I thought we were hanging out tonight?"

"Sorry dude, plans change. But we can hang out tomorrow, promise." Chrissy had stayed silent for that entire conversation, and Eddie had just started up the van.

The entire car ride was filled with Eddie trying to impress Chrissy, and Chrissy doing the hair twirl thingy and giggling. And you sat in the back, very awkwardly, waiting for your stop.

Eventually, you'se had reached your house. Very clumsily getting out the van and giving them a half hearted wave as you walked up the drive-way. Eddie didn't even honk his horn as a goodbye.

You walked into your house, kicking your shoes off and putting them on the rack near the door. You made your way to your room and jumped onto your bed, burying your face in your pillow.

Eddie likes Chrissy..

You should be happy for him, that's what really matters, that he's happy. But you couldn't help but feel a sort of pain, I mean you've liked him since you first talked to him on your first day of high school.

But you couldn't get yourself hung up on those thoughts, feeling sorry for yourself would do no good in this situation.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had fallen asleep after trying to deter your thoughts to something other than Eddie, but that didn't work very well and you were now dreaming about him being outside your window, knocking on the glass to get your attention.

You stared at him groggily, before getting up with your quilt wrapped around your body as you made your way to your window and opened it for him.

"C'mon dream Ed, s'cold out side, wouldn' want ya t'get sick." He very ungracefully made his way through and stumbled into your room.

"Dream Ed?" He questioned, seemingly confused. Of course he's confused, he's confused by everything so obviously he'd be confused in your dream.

"Yeah, y'dream Eddie, real Eds is off with Chrissy, prolly kissin' n' stuff." You answered casually.

"Ahh, okay. So real Ed is off kissing Chrissy, and what does dream Ed do?"

"Dream Ed is here t'taunt me about m'feelings." You kept slurring all your words in your sleepy state and Eddie found it quite adorable.

"May dream Eddie know what these feelings are about?"

"Must you?"

"If I say yes, does that mean you'll have to tell me?"

You groaned at him, very much not in the mood for this type of banter at the moment. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes to get more serious. "If I tell you, you can't tell real Eds what I told you. Pinky promise." You stuck your pinky finger out for him to lock his with.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He hooked his pinky finger with yours in an unspoken promise.

You cleared your throat as you prepared to tell him. "I have a wee bit of a crush on real Eddie, but he likes Chrissy, and I'm happy for him ya know? But I can't help feeling upset because I've liked him for like.. ever. And I know I should just get over my feelings and push it all aside, because he deserved to be happy and I can't provide that for him, not like Chrissy can at least. And she's so pretty and nice and-"

At this point Eddie could tell you were rambling, but he wasn't paying attention like he usually would, he was too caught up in the fact that you liked him. Yeah he liked Chrissy, thought she was sweet enough, but he was only showing off to her to try and get over you. But he wasn't gonna tell you that right now.

Not in your tired sleepy state, not when you can't even comprehend that he was really there and it wasn't a dream.

"[y/n] I think you should go to sleep, especially after telling me such a big secret after all."

"Yeah, yeah. I think you're right." You layed yourself down on your bed, still wrapped up in your quilt, eddie was sat at the edge of your bed, positioning your favourite stuffed teddy next to your head as you closed your eyes to sleep.

You could've sworn that as you driffed off to sleep dream eddie kissed your forehead, but that's impossible.

➽─────────────────────────────────────────❥

Make A Ducking PART 2 TO THAT EDDIE MUNSON X M READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I FUCKUNG NEED NOWWEEE

it should be out either tonight or tomorrow depending on how much I get done because I have a few assignments and an exam coming up. <3

𝒇 𝒓 𝒂 𝒈 𝒊 𝒍 𝒆 𝒕 𝒉 𝒐 𝒖 𝒈 𝒉 𝒕 𝒔 || 𝘦.𝘮 [𝘱𝘵.2]

Eddie Munson x gn!reader Summary → Being Eddie's best friend and having a crush on him is tough. What happens when he asks out Chrissy and you feel a bit jealous.

Word Count → 1.0k+ Requested → yes Inbox → open Warning → This writing peice contains use of drugs, and intoxicated confessions/kissing. If that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

A/n || I hope this is what you guys wanted, I'm sorry if it's not. I'm sorry it took so long to get this out, some stuff happened and I ended up getting grounded, i lost motivation half way through this, but I wanted to finish it for you guys. As always criticism is welcome. Happy reading! <3

➽─────────────────────────────────────────❥

Eddie had left about an hour after you had fallen asleep, his thoughts were conflicted about everything you had told him. Should he confront you about your feeling and tell you he feels the same. Or should he just leave it and go on a date with Chrissy and see how it goes.

He was walking down the street in the dark, he was at your house to tell you he wasn't going to be able to hang out with you tomorrow, becuase he had landed a date with Chrissy.

But now he doesn't know if he should go, I mean yes he likes you, and yes he does want to be with you, but what if you guys break up. What if it ruins your friendship. At least with Chrissy he could just avoid her.

He had reached his trailer and walked in immediately going to greet his guitar for the second time today. His thoughts drifted to Chrissy, He was pretty, and smart and could hold good conversation. But she was nothing like you, she couldn't make him laugh to the point where you were both wheezing, she couldn't hold her own in a fist fight against three guys, she didn't have any little tics like you had like when you stuck your tongue to the side of your mouth when you were focused, or how your nose twitched when you were nervous. She just wasn't anything like you.

What if he did take his chance with you though? And everything worked out? What if you two really ended up being together forever, God he'd be so happy to spend the rest of his life with you.

He didn't know what came over him, but he soon drifted off into sleep, thoughts already latching onto every memory he has of you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had woken up to the sound of your {Parental figure} shuffling around, clearly trying to get ready for work, but right now you couldn't care less. You were still tired, thoughts of last night very far from you mind as you tried to close your eyes and go back to sleep.

But alas you can never get what you want. Your {Parental figure} had barged through the door and ripped the sheets from your body. "I hope you weren't planning on sleeping the whole day, you still have school." They said somewhat sternly, yet their voice still held a light teasing tone to it.

You couldn't help but smile up at them. "Of course not, Par." You said groggily.

"Well get up and goin' then."

You were about halfway dressed before there was a light knock at your door. You opened it, expecting to see one of your siblings, but no. It was the one, the only, Eddie Munson. "Whatcha doin' here Ed's?" You asked, almost forgetting you were currently topless. You would've forgotten completely if you didn't notice Eddie's eyes keep shifting down to your chest.

You quickly slung on the t-shirt you were holding. "Eddie?"

"Oh right yeah, uhm, I came to pick you up for school."

"You never do that unless you wanna ditch."

He gave you a knowing look, and you immediately understood. I mean he did say you two were going to hang out today. But you would've assumed he'd be too busy with Chrissy.

"Ah I see, and what exactly would we be doing?"

"I don't know, we could go to Towers, or we could chill around Lovers Lake and get high." He whispered the last part so no one else would hear and get suspicious.

"We could always do both, we'll have six free hours to spend."

"True true, we have time to do that and more." He finished his sentence with a wink.

Why did Eddie just wink at me? Your hands got a little clammy but you ignored it and grabbed your school bag to make it seem like Eddie was actually taking you to school.

You'se walked down stairs together, and past your {Parental Figure}. You waved towards them and yelled out a quick 'goodbye' before you left the house with Ed.

Once you were in Eddie's car he spoke, "Hey I was wondering if you wanted to head to Lovers Lake first, no better way to start the day than getting high, right?"

"Yeah sure I don't mind."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You guys had made it to the lake, now both of you were sitting crossed legged near the water, a blunt being shared between the both of you.

You had barely spoken a word, too busy enjoying the view in your high and relaxed state of mind.

You also hadn't realised that Eddie kept glancing over at you the entire time. He was currently debating in his mind if he should tell you that he likes you, or if he should just stay quiet and still head to that date he had with Chrissy later in the day.

Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was the way the early morning sunlight was hitting your skin perfectly, or maybe it was just pur confidence. But before he could second guess his decision he blurted out. "I like you."

"What?" You looked over giggling.

"I like you. Like, like like you. Like I'm pretty sure I'm probably in love with you."

"Are you joking right now? Because I swear to God if you are I'll drown you in the lake."

"No I'm not joking, I like you, romantic stylz, with a 'Z'."

"Yeah I could hear the 'Z'." You replied laughing, "I like you too Eddie."

"I know." He said nonchalantly, then he sure the confused look on my face and realised he shouldn't have said that. "It's just, ugh, you're really bad at hiding it, ya know?"

"Was I really that bad?" You cringed at the thought.

"Yep." He said popping the P, he'd tell you one day how he really found out. Maybe at your wedding day, or when you're on your way to having your first kid. But he knew for sure he wasn't telling you right now.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, just staring at eachother. Before he spoke up again. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

You'se both leaned in, lips kind of pursed. Your hands went up to grip his shoulders as your lips touched in a light, clumsy kiss.

➽─────────────────────────────────────────❥

People who asked to be tagged <3

@fangirl199812 @erodahellfire @bratckerman @golden-wander @eli-lilies04

Eddie Munson Headcannons!!

 • Eddie who thinks he is sooooo funny whenever he scares you, such as popping out behind the wall after you use the bathroom or coming up to you while your back is turned at your locker, scaring you and all of that.

• Eddie likes bacon, I don’t know why, but he probably loves it. When your are cooking, he’ll ask you to make it- whether it is morning or not, he’ll ask you to make it. Oh, he also probably likes it burned to a crisp, definition of shoe leather.

• As much as we call him Emo and think he likes when he significant other does his makeup, I think he hates it. You either have to be dying or he has to high- and I mean high- to let you do his makeup, let alone touch his face with any type of product.

• Took you to ONE Hellfire meeting, never again. You stepped in there and walked out knowing words that you didn’t even know existed. Now I’m not even talking about bad words, I’m literally talking about the most random words and insults. Bonus points if you use them against Eddie while y’all a have a disagreement- at least that’s what he calls them.

• Eddie absolutely hates the idea of you smoking weed. He thinks it is a nasty habit that YOU shouldn’t pick up on. Anyone else, have at it, go nuts. Just pay him.

• When he isn’t metal screaming into a microphone, he actually has a calm voice. Like he should be a singer, but he doesn’t really sing. He plays guitar, but once in a while he does sing and it is a moment to never forget. He’ll sings songs like- Zombie by the Cranberries, Back to the Old House- The Smiths, or California Dreamin’ by The Mamas & The Papas.

I should have went

»»————- 🙃 ————-««

Pairing: Eddie Munson X F!reader

Summary: Eddie has passed in the upside but his girlfriend, who he promised to spend his life with, is now left feeling as if she should have been there to save him. With her powers she could have kept him alive but now he’s gone and he’s out of her reach.

Warning: mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of reanimating people, angst, sadness and I think that’s it…

Please reblog, like and comment if you enjoy! Let me know if you want a part 2?

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“If anyone dies bring back the body”

That was the last thing I said to them before they left for the upside down.

They came back and I waited for Eddie to come through my door. But instead I was met with the tears on Dustin’s face, Eddie died. I looked at him like he was crazy, my Eddie couldn’t have died. He was meant to come back to me, it took me a minute but I calmed myself.

“Where’s his body?” I asked him, Dustin cocked his head to the side and looked confused at me through hooded eyes.

“What?” He retorted

“Where is his body? I said to bring back any bodies” I said

“We just barely made it out we couldn’t bring him back. He died” Steve said, I looked at him. He was serious, they left his body to rot in the upside down.

“This has to be a sick joke, where is his body?” I inquired, they all looked at me like I was crazy.

“We left him, we couldn’t bring him back. But he died being a true hero. Saving a town that hated him.” Dustin said

“Well, tell the town to fucking shove it up the ass and bring him back.” I said, I stood up and walked around them.

“It’s going to be ok” Steve said

“No it’s not ok, you guys like his body in the upside down to rot. Don’t telling it’s fucking ok, you don’t get to decide that” I said, now anger coursing through my body. They aren’t allowed to decide if everything will be ok, they should have brought back Eddie. He put all his faith in them and now he’s dead in the same place I worked so hard to keep him away from

•

•

•

It’s been a rough couple of days, all these kids going “missing”. But people were still trying to blame it on Eddie, he fucking died for this shit hole town and in return they blame him for murders he didn’t commit. He was never a cult leader, he was never a danger, he didn’t commit any crimes ( that I didn’t know of). Maybe I shouldn’t lash out like this but Eddie was gone and these dickhead kids were still bullying him behind his back. But at least I sent them back home when I was done. I woke up from my nap to see the groups faces contorted in horror. I simply looked at my artwork, their limp bodies hung like monumental statues on my wall. Almost all their blood had drained out, though the reaction I was getting out of the group was very much amusing I started undoing their deaths.

“What’s happening?” Mike asked rather horrified

“I’m bringing them back to life.” I said, i stood on my couch and pulled the stakes out of the boys chests and let them fall to the ground. They slowly stood up confused and walked right out the front door. I sat up on my couch and stared back at the people that stood in front of me.

“How did you do that?” Robin inquired, I raised my hand in a gun hand signal and pointed it at her chest.

“Bang” I said, I watched as I left a small hole in her chest. They all looked at her in shock, I reversed the hand motion and it was like I never shot her.

“Like that, I’m your best and worst nightmare.” I said, I got up and started to tidy my space.

I stopped in front of Steve, he looked at me and tried to keep his cool facade.

“Who should be my next little victim?” I questioned. I smiled and walked around him, they watched my even move as I went around my living room cleaning the beer bottles and the takeout plates.

“How can you do any of this?” Dustin asked

“Just the perks of being 000” I said and winked. I spotted a picture of Eddie and sighed, he was smiling and so full of life but now he was dead and I couldn’t even reach him to bring him back to life.

“I’m gonna kill 001” I said

“We did kill him” Nancy said

“No you didn’t, I can still hear his pulse. It’s weak but it’s there” I stated, I properly placed Eddie’s photo on my table and cleaned around him.

“What do you mean you can hear his pulse?” Dustin questioned.

“I can hear it which means I can hear it. I told you I’m triple O do you not understand the consequences and actions behind my power.”I said he kind off looked at me in shock.

“The only reason I didn’t go with you guys was because I couldn’t, I was at my limit. I would have caused everyone more pain then anything.” I said, but was that really true? If I had gone Eddie would have still been alive. My love would a little bruised but he would have been here. Now what? I’m just supposed to accept the fact that he is gone forever and I have give up?

Masterlist

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Updated 7/22/2024

You guys can definitely send In requests, I’ll have in my bio when my requests are open. I will soon be posting for other celebrities/ characters!

💙= smut

🩵= fluff

🩶=angst

🤍=suggestive

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eddie Munson:

I should have went ( Work in progress)

Part 1 🩶

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Billy Hargrove

Could we work? (work in progress) 🩵🤍

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3| Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6| Pt.7| Pt.8| Pt.9| Pt.10 | Pt.11 | Pt.12 | Pt.13

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Michael Langdon

One shots

1. Storm💙💙💙

2. Arguments 🩶🩵

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Evan Peters

Oneshots

1. Wedding🩶🩵

Imagine laying with Eddie…….

After a long day of fighting inter dimensional monsters all you want to do is lay down and relax with your favorite boy Eddie Munson. You’re laying on your stomach reading a book or listening to music, and Eddie comes and lays his head on you ass cuddling into it, falling asleep.

He seems like the type to bite your ass cheek while you’re dozing off, he bites it hard enough to make you jump and smack him while he’s laughing his ass off. I want this. I miss him sm :(

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Requests: closed

This was a masterpiece. I don’t usually get into the like supernatural AUs or anything but I’m making the HUGEST exception for this entire series. This was lovely-I’m foaming for the next part

THE DEVIL I KNOW: CHAPTER ONE - GOD, YOU'VE GOT THE BLACKEST EYES

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

chapter summary: To summon a demon at a crossroads, simply cast a circle, make an offering, and recite an incantation. What happens from that point on is subject to your desire… and the demon’s.

cw: making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witchcraft, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), suggestive themes, tom cruise jumpscare, sex pact, r sells her soul, use of the nickname 'daddy' but in a joking way, marking, mention of animal death, trauma, mentions of an abusive relationship, graphic depictions of violence (sorta), blood, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

a/n: and so it begins. there will be 10 chapters to this fic, posted every tuesday and friday throughout the month of october. enjoy if you dare

this fic contains dark themes and this entire work is explicit. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

series masterlist ♫ series playlist ♫ series tag

Through me you pass into the city of woe, Through me you pass into eternal pain, Through me you pass among forsaken people. Justice moved my exalted creator; I was wrought by divine power, Supreme wisdom, and primal love. Before me all things created were eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. -Dante Alighieri, The Inferno, Canto III

The book you’ve used for ages now, since late in your junior year of high school, has only one page in it that you haven’t utilized. You don’t know how much faith to put in it– you’re a little short on faith, these days– but, the spellbook lays it out simply, so you follow its directions to the letter. 

To summon a demon at a crossroads, go to a place where two paths meet on the dark moon. You find peace and quiet in the woods, deep where you know no one walks at night but two paths cross in a small clearing banked with trees. It’s your favorite place to go when you want to do a spell– ritual– and you don’t want to be bothered. The whole thing can’t be more than twenty feet across. Above the overhang of trees, there’s no moon in the sky, only stars.

Cast a circle of protection. That took more research than just the book in your hands, but years of collecting information have given you learned knowledge– there are a million ways to cast a circle, and different circles for different purposes. You do your best to create one for protection. You draw a literal circle in the dirt with a stick, fill it with salt, and walk around the circle three times clockwise to cast it. You light candles to give yourself some light, and to free up your hands of the flashlight you carried to see your way through the woods. 

Make an offering of copper. Your hand pauses on the copper dog tag in your hand. You’d thought of just offering a penny, but you remembered reading somewhere that pennies barely contain copper anymore, and you didn’t have anything else that was entirely made of the one metal. 

You run your finger over the embossed name on it. Lacey. Your pet’s old collar feels heavy in your hand as you remove the tag from the leather strap and bury it in the earth, you guess, to reach the… Underworld? Hell? You can’t honestly say, considering the text you’re referencing only calls it the Otherworld.

It’s a big sacrifice. It’s personal. But, you guess, that gives it more meaning. Making a deal is personal business, and you have your reasons.

Recite the summoning incantation. A stanza of words you don’t understand. You don’t think it’s in Latin, but you try your best, all the same. You read them from the book before you, and feel your blood rushing in your veins as you do.

State your desire out loud in a clear voice. Well, that’s a little more difficult. What is it that you want?

You take a breath, go to speak, and then stop. You don’t know how to start. You don’t know exactly how to describe your pain. You don’t know how to voice your anger well enough, you just know you need to… you need to get it out, somehow. This is a very crucial step in the ritual, you have to do it.

“I came here to make a deal,” you speak frankly, clearly. “I’m prepared to do anything. I’ve run out of options. I’ve been hurt too many times, by too many people who didn’t care what they did to me. I’ve lost everything I genuinely loved. I’m… I’m angry, and desperate, and I’m frightened. And I feel so alone. It’s eating me alive, and I just… I just want the ability to make things go my way, for once.” Good enough, you hope.

Wait for an answer.

You do. You listen intently, to the song of the leaves in the trees rustling in the slight breeze, to the crickets chirping in the grass. You wait long enough that you start to rethink your approach. 

It could be that things will turn around if you just wait another month, or another month after that. Maybe you’ll get the car back. Maybe you’ll get the promotion that was given to the newbie that you trained. Maybe your ex will stop coming around your work to intimidate you. Maybe you’ll get a new dog to take the place of the one that he killed. Maybe the evangelical town you live in will stop shunning you and calling you a witch, like something out of the middle ages.

Unlikely, that last one.

Just when you swear it’s a failure, that you should just pack up and leave, that’s when a strong gust of wind rips through the clearing out of nowhere. The candles blow out– and then, oddly enough, relight themselves. There’s a slight scent of smoke on the breeze, and you look around to make sure none of the candles fell over in the wind.

They’re all perfectly fine. There’s nothing amiss, it seems, until you hear a cough and movement across the clearing. You look forward, and see a pair of black combat boots in the stream of light from your flashlight. You follow the boots up to a pair of legs, clad in dark jeans, and then further up, to a torso, and a head, and a pair of sparkling eyes.

“Hi.”

You stare at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes. You’d fully expected the traditional scary depiction of a demon– maybe horns, goat hooves, et cetera. But the man that answered your call is… just a man. A pretty one. He has long, curly hair, which falls over his broad shoulders and stirs in the wind. His plush lips curve up in a relaxed, cocky smile, as he takes in the sight of you in return. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” 

“Sorry, hi. Hello.” You shake your head. “Can you believe I honestly thought I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” 

“I can believe a lot of things. You know, there’s a reason why the demon summoning ritual is first in that book.” His voice is soft and resonant. You get a mental image of heat waves radiating from tar-black and glowing magma, rolling slowly over lava beds. The image disappears just as soon as it flashes into your mind.

“Well, to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about making a deal with a demon first thing,” you explain, looking away shyly. “But I’ve tried all the spells in this book and not a single one of them worked. Just seems like everything is getting worse all the time.”

He doesn’t look away– rather, he keeps staring at you, unblinkingly. Like you’re the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen. He leans up against the tree that he appeared beside, his leather jacket falling open to reveal a shirt with a demon’s head on it. Fitting. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. 

“So, now you wanna make a deal with little ol’ me, huh?” He grins, a gorgeous smile that flashes bright, sharp teeth at you. He lifts a cigarette to his mouth and bites it gently between his teeth. He doesn’t pull out a lighter. Instead, you watch him light up with a small flame that erupts from the tip of his thumb. 

“Depends on who you are,” you retort, eyes following the movement of his hands. They’re weighed down by large, silver rings that reflect the light of the flame before it snuffs out. “What’s your name?”

He makes a short noise in his throat, shaking his head abruptly. He doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as you feel he should– more like he’s trying to warn you against something you don’t want. He peers at you from beneath his wavy bangs as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth and uses it to point at you. “Names are really powerful things where I come from, babydoll. Best not to bite off more than you can chew yet. Once we cut a deal– that’s when you get my name.”

You make a face as you mull that over. “So what do I call you, in the meantime? Demon daddy?” 

“You could,” he chuckles. The demon rocks to the side, crossing his legs at the ankles. “If you really wanted to. I wouldn’t mind, it’s flattering.” 

You grunt. “I think I’ll pass on that, actually.” He tilts his head with a snicker, watching you with an amused smile while you shift in place. “So, do I– I mean, you need to know what I want, right? Is that how this starts?”

“No, I know what you want.” He exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You want power. To get a fair shake, find your place, change your life. Defend yourself against the assholes making that life, well. A living hell.” As he spits out the words, his voice rings sharp through the trees, like the strike of a hammer on glowing metal, shooting sparks off into the air. 

“I want to take all this pain and just… return to sender. Give it back to them, y’know? I never wanted any of it,” you justify. Your voice is too small in comparison with his. “Maybe then I’ll be able to fucking breathe.”

For how little space you allow yourself to take up, he seems to consume the rest of it. He nods slowly. “That’s a fair request, sweetheart.”

“It’s selfish, I know.”

“Making a deal for power is inherently a selfish thing,” he shrugs. “Own it. I’m certainly not judging.”

You let out a shaky breath. You’re still so nervous, being so near him– ten feet away and growing closer every second, it seems, even though neither of you have moved. You feel like, no matter how far you pull back, the flow of fiery lava he seems to embody will keep creeping towards you until you’re burned alive.

His dark eyes glow like coals in the night as he looks you up and down, and then he quickly pushes himself away from the tree. You startle at the abrupt movement, and watch as he swings around it like Gene Kelly on a lamp post. 

When he rounds the tree, he uses the momentum to throw himself toward your circle. You flinch, and he frowns, but continues moving toward you at a slower pace, holding his hands out innocently. “Wanna know a secret? About how all this,” he twirls a finger in the air, indicating the ritual you’re in the middle of, “works?”

You nod, gazing up at him shyly. If you felt at all powerful while casting the circle and starting the ritual, he’s managed to take the wind out of your sails. You can feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He smirks at you. “You make your petition– when you say the words in that little book,” he points at the volume at your feet, “and that petition is answered by whichever demon caters most to that desire.” He points at himself emphatically, his eyebrows raised. “Me? Infernal majesty of freaks and misfits. I’m your demon daddy.”

You finally giggle, and it makes him smile fondly, like that’s what he’d been gunning for all along. He backs up a step and puffs his cigarette. 

“I’m here to help you, sweetheart.” He regards you for a second, like he’s thinking things over. “That is, as long as you agree to my terms.”

“Terms?” You echo, but you were sort of expecting that. Nothing for nothing, right? “What are the terms?”

“Ah, they’re simple. Very traditional,” he waves his hand like it’s frivolous. He holds his hand out in midair, and just like how he’d conjured the flames, he produces a weathered book. It looks like a composition book that has scribbles and doodles all over the front of it– the same demon head that adorns his shirt. “You sign your name with your blood in my little black book, you hop on one foot with your hand on your head and pledge your undying fealty to the dark lord Kthulu, and then you meet me on the sabbath to kill a child and make them into soup.” 

He smiles, fluttering his eyelashes at you innocently. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You blurt. 

“Of course I’m not fucking serious– what is this, the dark ages?” He snorts as he lowers the composition book. “Nah, we don’t do human sacrifice on the sabbath anymore, it was getting too difficult to evade the witch hunters.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He flashes you a disarming grin. You can feel yourself halfway smirking as well, incredulous but somehow enjoying his humor. Then he shakes his head and says, seriously, “No, you do have to sign my book, though. And then meet me back here on the full moon to fuck.”

You blink at him, reeling from the whiplash of that. “You… I’m sorry?”

“I find it best not to sugarcoat it, y’know.” He shrugs, “Think of this as a marriage, of sorts. I give you the power to smite thine enemies, live deliciously, blah blah blah, and then you meet me at the crossroads every full moon to be my whore and we fuck like bunnies all night. Simple as that.”

“That’s far from simple.”

“It doesn’t have to be monogamous, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continues frankly, “except on the full moon. I won’t compromise about that– you’ll be all mine, and I’m all yours. No takesies backsies.”

“No– that’s not–” You exhale, holding your hands over your eyes. “I’m just… not promiscuous like that…”

“Sweetheart.” He waits until you’ve lowered your hands to look at him, and he hums, with a saccharine smile that reminds you of the power you’d felt sweep through the clearing when he arrived. “You won’t be the first good girl I’ve broken, and you won’t be the last. If you’re worried about promiscuity, well… I answered your petition. I know what goes on in that pretty head, and it barely scratches the surface of what I’ve seen and done.” 

The toe of his boot barely nudges the edge of your circle, and a spark crackles in the dark from the impact. The light dances in his eyes longer than it remains in the air, like they caught the spark and ignited. 

“Trust me,” he says, drawing you in with the low register of his voice. “I can give you more than power. I can give you protection. I can give you real happiness. Karma’s a fucking bitch, so I can be, too. This is just such a little thing in return. And who knows… you may even like it.”

You shiver at that, even though his presence feels hot, like his stream of lava is surrounding you, crowding you in, boiling you where you stand. He’s right– you absolutely might like it. 

Because there’s just something magnetic between you, isn’t there? You can sense it, more than any heat and any sort of primal fear you might have instinctively at his presence. There’s a certain pull you feel toward him, emanating even through the salt barrier on the ground. 

You want to wrap yourself in him. Boil you alive, burn you to a crisp, destroy you– you don’t care.

“Or… is it that you don’t like this body?” He wonders aloud, striding backward two steps. He turns, his hand lifting his seemingly ever-burning cigarette to his lips. “Figures– y’know, I can be anything you want me to be, babydoll.”

Confused, you watch as he transforms in front of you. In the length of two steps while he paces across the clearing, his face and body stretches and contorts, until you’re not staring at the same visage anymore. He stops, and he turns to you with his palms up, like he’s waiting for your approval. 

You’re looking at Tom fucking Cruise. 

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” you shake your head vehemently, scowling. You wave your hands demandingly, “Put it back. You were so hot before– please, please go back to the way you were.”

The demon grins and turns his head, throwing the cigarette away. His hair grows back to its previous length, his face morphing as if made of clay until you meet the same pretty smile you’ve come to enjoy looking at. 

He chuckles, grabbing a lock of his hair and drawing it across his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course,” you murmur, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can hear it. His eyes are embers, blazing at you from beneath his bangs. “Is that what you normally look like? Is that your true form?”

He makes an iffy sound. “It’s what I looked like when I was human. My true form has more horns and unhinged jaws and claws and all that. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I thought you said you could read my mind. Do you know how much monster porn I’ve consumed? That’s hot as shit to me,” you argue, and he snaps his head towards you in surprise. You point at yourself. “Freak and misfit.”

He laughs, and it sounds like the roaring of an out of control fire, burning up everything in its path. He kicks his heel on the ground and steps up to your circle again. “I like you, baby. I really do. What do you say?”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, an annoying lump forming in your throat with the question. You’ve been burned before by people far less powerful than this demon, yet who still hold so much power over you. However much they have.

“You can’t,” he answers, more honestly than most would. He tilts his head with a crooked smile. “Not to get all preachy on you, but even if I wasn’t a demon… trust is built, not a given. ‘The devil you know,’ right? Better than the one that you don't.”

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice coming out breathy and winded the longer you gaze up into his eyes.

“Trust me to be… intense, I guess,” he shrugs. “And probably impulsive. But I’ll always deliver on our deal. Be my witch, my wife, my whore– whatever you want to call it, but be mine. I think we’ll have so much fun together.”

“Yeah, I think– I think I will.” You’re nodding, and his smile grows with yours. “I want to.”

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

Your toe scuffs the boundary on the ground, breaking the circle. Immediately, your senses are assaulted by smoke, not just the tobacco he’s been smoking but the scent of a wildfire, of cities burned to ashes, of desolation and destruction and pyroclastic flow and roaring, exploding volcanoes. 

Your demon crosses the line you’d drawn on the ground with ease, producing the worn composition book in his hand again. The cover reads Hellfire Club in chicken scratch handwriting. 

“Are there others?” You ask, prompted by the word Club on the front as he flips open the book to a middle page. An agreement is already written out in red ink. “Do you have more than one, um…”

“Consort?” He whispers in your ear. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your stomach flutters. “Not for a long time. I’m very picky about my partners. They have to be just as much of a freak as I am.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, although the admission makes you feel… better, in a way. You squint in the dark, but with the exception of the candles around your circle, there’s nothing to allow you to properly read what’s written on the page. 

He sighs, shifting on his feet beside you. “Are you one of those people who’ll read the whole contract?”

“Absolutely I am,” you hum. The book feels heavier in your hands than it should. “Can you give me a light?”

“Jesus Christ.” He produces a flame from his forefinger just as you turn to give him a confused look. 

“Shouldn’t you, like… evaporate after saying that?”

In the yellow glow of the flame, he just blinks at you, looking amused. “Things aren’t as black and white as you think they are, believe me.”

You snatch his wrist and yank his arm closer to the page. His body collides with yours, and he grunts in your ear as he wraps his other arm around you, embracing you from behind. You’re engulfed in the scent of smoke and the heat of his flames, impossibly hot and comforting all the same. 

His hair brushes your shoulder as you read his contract. It’s just a few lines, but the weight they hold will seal your fate. 

The agreement made this night of the dark moon shall henceforth be enacted from the signing of this document, that hereby renders the human party’s soul bound to the infernal party. Witness that the first party must appear before the second party each full moon to lay in matrimonial fashion, and that in return the first party shall be protected and given the powers of the second from here until the human’s mortal passing. 

“Aww, that’s sweet,” you coo, tracing the red ink with your fingers. 

The demon over your shoulder rolls his eyes. “It’s a fucking pre-nup.”

“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, though, does it?” You murmur. “I mean, I get the power to change my circumstances and you get– what– sex once a month?”

His hand tightens on your waist, and you pause. You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes flicker dangerously, so close to yours. They aren’t just glowing coals- this close, you can see the small details. You can see the swirling, the churning of lava within them.

“It’s not just sex, is it?”

“What do you think making a deal with a demon entails, sweetheart? Read the fine print.”

You look back at the page. There are no other words on it, save for the ones you’ve already read. “I don’t…?”

“It’s your soul, honey,” he mutters, pointing at the word. His mouth is muffled against your shoulder as he peers over it. “I won’t ask anything of you other than the sex, as long as you live. But right now, you’re offering up your soul. And once your life is up, you get to be just like me. Understand?”

“I… yeah. I understand.” You let go of his wrist, but pause over the pages of the book. “I don’t have anything to sign with.”

Wordlessly, the demon takes your hand. You let him caress your wrist, feeling your pulse with his thumb. Then, before you realize what’s happening, a sharp sting makes you yelp as he cuts your skin with his pointed thumbnail. 

He shushes you, letting the blood well up on your skin. “I did say you needed to sign with blood.”

Your voice shakes when you hold your dripping wrist over the page. “I thought you said you were joking.”

“Not about the book. Rules of the trade, I can’t change it.” Your blood splatters the notebook, dripping into the crease of the page. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts your wrist to his mouth and closes his lips around the small wound. It heals in a heartbeat. 

“Is that it, then?” You ask, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t you have to sign?”

Your demon kisses your wrist gently, his lips soft, inviting. “This is going to hurt,” he warns, and you nod. The heat of his breath makes your skin tingle, all your nerves on high alert. 

But then that tingling turns into a burn, that turns into a searing pain. You feel like your skin is on fire, an invisible hot brand held against your wrist. You cry out as he holds you close, letting you bury your face into his neck, holding you up as your knees threaten to buckle. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs to you as you whimper. He holds your arm as the pain fades into a throbbing ache, cradles your hand against his cheek as he coos into your hair. “You’re so strong. Not many people can handle my mark, you know. Fate works in funny ways.”

Your demon holds you until you can stand on your own, until your breathing evens out and you can compose yourself. He shushes you quietly, rocking you from side-to-side with a soothing hand stroking your head. Then he holds your face, and kisses your tear stained cheeks. The touch of his lips stokes at flames beneath your skin.

“I’ll look forward to our time together, little witch,” he whispers. And with a quick, chaste kiss to your lips, he disappears entirely. 

You stay in the circle for a while, clutching your throbbing wrist and crying frustrated tears. You wonder if you made the right decision, and yet, you don’t understand why you just want him to come back. You miss the comfort of his presence, even if you don’t know enough about him to justify it. All he did was hurt your arm and take your blood and kiss away your tears and make you a witch. 

It’s too late to go back on your decision now. There’s an all-encompassing fire you can feel burning in your veins, emitting from the pulsating wound on your wrist. His power. His fire. 

You pull your hand away from your wrist to finally inspect the mark that he branded you with, declaring you his in the same chicken scratch that had been on the cover of his book. It’s small enough that a well placed bracelet would cover it, but you don’t know that you’ll want to.

Eddie.

Your demon’s name is Eddie.

F E R A L

IM OFFICIALLY FERAL FOR THIS SERIES

THE DEVIL I KNOW: CHAPTER TWO - LOOK HERE ALL YOU WANT

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

chapter summary: Eddie gets your car back. You're trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

cw: horror, sacrilegious themes, dark themes, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, possessive behavior, trauma, eddie tortures a guy, blood mention, magic, mean!eddie but not toward reader, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of emotional abuse, bullying/harassment, the word 'whore' indirectly used toward reader, nickname 'daddy' used in a joking manner, reader has a breakdown, drinking, actually kinda fluffy in a way, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

this fic contains dark themes and this entire work is explicit. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

series masterlist ♫ series playlist ♫series tag

Eddie makes sure that the man feels him before he sees him. It may be cruel, but he’s always had a flair for the dramatic– once a Dungeon Master, always a Dungeon Master– and what’s Hell without a little fun and debauchery?

The man smells Eddie’s sickly sweet, smoky aroma first. It’s the first thing anyone notices about him, of course. The shit follows him everywhere, alerting people of his presence like a fucking cat collar with a bell on it. The wind that he conjures always smells at least like a bonfire– at worst, he’s the grand eruption of Mount Vesuvius. He guesses it’s some sort of infernal practical joke (he formed the hellfire club in life, so now he has to remain in it for the rest of time, or some shit. Don’t ask him. He doesn’t know all the answers, just the dumb ones).

Then the man jolts, his eyes flying all around him as he hears Eddie. Or, at least, what Eddie allows him to hear. It begins in whispers, like leviathans in the mists, murmuring and overlapping each other. It rocks slowly toward a crescendo. And then, Eddie’s voice, soft before the man realizes what’s happening to him. 

“Found you.”

There’s a sickening crack, and then the windshield of the car explodes beneath the man’s spine. He barrel rolls to the ground to find Eddie looming over him, staring him down, his eyes dead black and unforgiving.

“Hi, Spencer.” The heel of Eddie’s boot crushes against the man’s chest, holding him down. Eddie’s voice is comically musical, like the crackling of brush just beginning to go up in flames. “Busy tonight, are we?”

The man, Spencer, trembles as he stares up at Eddie. Blood tinges his bottom lip, either from biting it when he hit the windshield, or from coughing up whatever blood exists in his fermented body. 

He gestures at the duffel bag that he’d been holding when Eddie grabbed him, now laying on the ground. “Look, man– I dunno who you are, b-but you can have all the fuckin’ money, it’s right there–”

“I don’t want your fucking money.” Eddie squints at him, trying to gauge Spencer’s thoughts. They’re malicious, yes, but not murderous. He robbed the liquor store down the street, and then he pulled into the motel around the corner to try to check in with the money. He’s dangerous and stupid, but he’s not a killer. Yet.

Eddie didn’t have to read the guy’s mind to know that, though.

“Whose car is this?”

“What?”

“Whose–” Eddie digs his boot harder into the guy’s chest– “Car?” 

“Some fuckin’ small town whore, how should I know?” Now is not the time to play coy. Spencer learns that when Eddie’s foot shoots forward, and the toe of his book connects ungraciously with his chin. Pain rockets through his jaw. “Fuck!” 

“Save it.” Eddie’s temper has grown exponentially with his immortality, he thinks. He wonders sometimes if he’d always been this way, or if Hell has just made him worse. Probably both. “Do you have any idea who you’ve stolen from?”

He’s seen the memory– Spencer, drunk off his ass and running on blind adrenaline from robbing a corner store, stole your car from the parking lot of a diner; the diner where you work. 

You had to walk home in the rain. Eddie’s heart practically aches, watching you come home to an empty apartment, dirty and wet and shivering. He never wants to see it happen to you again as long as you live. He’s promised you that it won’t. 

He also promised they’ll get as good as they gave. And demon or not, Eddie Munson never ever goes back on a promise.

“Hell, I stole from lotsa people,” Spencer chuckles, his head sliding back and forth across the pavement as he rolls his eyes, gargling on the blood in his mouth. “F’yer here to collect, y’can just take the money and go. I ain’t got nothin’ else.”

“Oh, but you do, Spence.” Eddie grins with sharp teeth when he bends down to pick Spencer up by his throat. The flames in his eyes burst to life, roaring red and demonic. A flash of recognition crosses Spencer’s face when he realizes that Eddie is far more than he seems. “See, you stole from my girl. Now you get to suffer.”

Eddie was always intimidating. He made himself appear like that to push people away, until it started to backfire on him, and then it just got worse when he became a demon. It’s a natural instinct for humans to shrink away. He emanates danger, even when he’s not putting on a show– even when his eyes are dark and he isn’t producing fire from his hands. 

That’s one of the things that sealed your fate. You didn’t shrink away from him, even when he tested you. He’s always been a show off, and he’s very egotistical, he won’t lie. He gave you a little taste of his dark side, showed you his hellfire and brimstone, and you called him hot. To his face.

Well, you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Even if he wasn’t already sold on you, there was absolutely no way he was letting you go after that.

Eddie dumps Spencer on the ground. In Spencer’s head, the haunting voices seem to crash back raucously as magma boiling at the lip of a volcano. A chill sweeps through Spencer’s body as it retreats, as he feels the creeping panic rising in him, the ringing in his ears. Then, as soon as it fades, it’s again overthrown by the chorus, the cacophony of behemoth voices. Overlapping each other, humming along with the slow heartbeat of the drums.

It’s the arc toward the end of the death metal album Eddie wanted to write during his lifetime, but never got the chance to. It has to be good for something, even if Spencer is never going to appreciate Eddie’s musical genius. 

Spencer doesn’t need to know that, though.

Spencer lays trembling, his hands clapped tight around his ears. Nothing will stop it, save time– and by then, Spencer will probably be wishing Eddie had just killed him and gotten it over with.

Eddie steps around Spencer’s body, sighing. If Hell has made him cruel, it’s also made him weirdly just. Great power, great responsibility… all that jazz. 

Yeah, the powers are pretty fucking cool, he won’t lie about that. 

The windshield of the car decompresses itself at Eddie’s touch, the glass creaking and groaning as it fits back into proper shape. From there, it glows bright orange and melts back into one solid pane of glass, back in the way that it had been before Spencer’s back played Happy New Year with it.

Eddie sits in the driver’s seat, his fingers nearly denting the steering wheel where he grips it. He just hopes that you don’t freak out when he gets your car back to you.

You freak out.

Granted, you only made the deal with Eddie yesterday, and you had a long day at work. For you, the afternoon had been painfully slow. Maybe it was a good thing that the diner doesn’t have a major rush every single lunch service, but it just means more of the shit work that your newbie manager, Colin, loves to give to you now that he has the authority to. You don’t know if it’s payback for you making him slice bread during his training, but he’s taking it a little bit too seriously. 

You’re technically a waitress, so it’s really not in your fucking job description, but tonight he made you clean the men’s bathroom. 

Did you know how many men will just ejaculate onto the wall of the men’s bathroom in a small town diner? No. But now you do, and the answer is too many.

You had to walk home, as per usual since your car was stolen a little less than a week ago. And then you got to your apartment complex, got to the last place on the last row of buildings, and your fucking car was there, in your parking space. Beautiful and gleaming and with fresh license plates.

You’re freaking out. You absolutely are– you didn’t think it was going to happen this quickly. You figured there must be some kind of wait period. Demons aren’t obligated to make shit happen right away, are they?

(They’re not. But this demon could care less.)

When you get inside, all it takes is a single whiff of smoke to deduce that he’s there. In your apartment. With all the lights turned off. You flick one on and find nothing.

“Eddie?” You say his name out loud for the first time, your voice muddled with awe. The faintest of murmurs, but to him you may as well have screamed it.

The lights flicker, and in a flash he’s standing before you. Across the room, leaning against the door to the bedroom like a vision. His eyes crackle with fire, a coy smirk on his face. “I like the way you say my name. It’s pretty.”

You startle, your body suddenly functioning apart from your mind. Your back hits the front door you’ve just stepped through, mirroring him.

“Whoa whoa whoa– hey! It’s okay.” He holds his hands out toward you, palms up, like you’re a frightened animal. In a way, you are. “We’ve been through this before, princess. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m just your friendly neighborhood demon.” 

Eddie reminds himself to stop rewatching Spider-Man every time he gets a chance.

It has to be fake, you think. You’re exhausted, he couldn’t be here. And yet the room is filled with his fragrance, suffocating and somehow intoxicating. Like you might die from it but you’ll enjoy it all the same. It’s so magnetic that it nearly pulls you to him, taking a hesitant step forward toward the bedroom and then stopping short.

“How– you’re not– how are you here?” You ask him as softly as you can manage. “I thought you could only show up at a crossroads.”

“Not everything is literal, sweetheart.” He thumps his hand against the door behind him, giving you a dazed smile. “Points of entry and departure. Two paths meeting. Crossroads.”

“Huh.”

Eddie takes in the sight of you steadily, calmly, worried that if he moves too suddenly then you might disappear. You’re wearing a black, retro-style waitress’ dress and running shoes– muddy from your walk home. You clutch your house keys to your chest almost instinctively.

That reminds him of the reason that he’s here– not just to check you out, unfortunately. He brandishes your car keys, dangling them from one crooked finger. “Brought you your car.”

“Yeah, I, uh… I noticed.” After a heavy beat, you look away. Your voice is thick with tears– you’re crying. “Sorry. Thank you. I didn’t, um– I didn’t mean to offend–”

“Hey– You didn’t.” Eddie doesn’t know what to do with your tears– he doesn’t want to see you cry, ever, but he’s spent a little too much time causing tears to know how to effectively stop them anymore. He places the keys on the counter nearest him, leading into the kitchen. “I know, it’s not what you’re used to.”

“It’s not,” you agree. “It’s nice.”

Eddie rocks back against the door, pressing into it. The wood creaks under his weight. “Nice,” he echoes. “Haven’t been called that in a while. It’s… nice.”

You snort, and it’s enough to have him grinning all over again. You turn away slightly, and when you turn back you smile at him sheepishly. Trying to suck back the tears that had sprung forth so quickly. “How did you get the car back?”

He squints. He thinks to remind you that he has magic, something that a normal person wouldn’t be able to use– except, he didn’t just poof it into your parking space. He drove it, like a dumbass.

He clicks his tongue. Be cool. “I had a talk with the guy who stole it. He won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

“Oh my god– you killed him?” 

Not that cool. “No! No, I– I would nev–” you’re a demon– “I would seriously consider the consequences–”

“This is unbelievable.” 

“Hey, I got you the car back. Without killing! Even though it took so so so much impulse control, please clap.” He tilts his head and grins at you. He figures he probably looks insane with his glowing eyes and cheshire cat smile.

You nod and take a calculated step forward. You point at the open wine bottle on your kitchen counter. “I’m getting a drink.”

He shrugs. “You own the place.”

“No, I don’t,” you scoff, approaching him. The scent of smoke grows stronger with each step, until you’re engulfed in it. “I pay rent up the ass because I can’t afford any place else.”

Eddie watches you pour a glass of wine with the interest of a collector looking at a piece of fine art. “What would you prefer?” 

The air hangs thick with implication. What do you want me to do? Eddie holds the edge of the counter with his ringed fingers, watching your brow screw up in contemplation. He wants to reach forward and smooth it over with his thumb, get rid of any worries you might have.

He’s a sorry son of a bitch, is what he is.

“What I want–” you stop, your eyes falling to his hand. You stare at it for a long time. Hard knuckles that you’re sure have drawn blood, clunky rings like weapons. You wonder why he keeps them there indefinitely, why he chooses those accessories, keeps this form. He’s intimidating, dangerous-looking, and yet you feel a weird sort of comfort around him. 

He’s the most dangerous thing in any room, and he’s asking what you want.

You look up into the demon’s smoldering eyes, and take a breath. “What I need is to not take home pocket change, because my shithead manager won’t stop skimming my tips. Y’know I trained the fucker?” Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah. Piece of shit won’t stop giving me crap work just because he can, and I’m– I’m–”

Eddie wordlessly nudges the wine glass towards you with the tip of his finger. You grab it and take a long gulp. 

You sort of stutter and cough, trying to catch your breath when your tears of exhaustion keep wanting to spill. You’re furious. You’re so fucking angry that it’s vibrating in your bones, threatening to wither and crack them under its force. You start breathing in heavy, short bursts of air that don’t do much to calm you down at all.

“I’m barely making enough to cover my rent even with my tips,” you continue. “But now he’s stealing them and I’m having to skip breakfast to save food and I can’t find another job because the people in this town fucking hate me–”

A warm hand settles onto your back, heavy between your shoulder blades. A little bit of the tension in your shoulders melts and releases, but along with it comes the tears you were holding back. You shiver, leaning further into his touch as though it’ll ground you. Your sinuses are sore and your eyes sting as hot tears slide down your cheeks, but you let Eddie hold you up. 

“Want me to kill that guy for you?” Eddie smirks when you cough out a little laugh that sounds more like a hiccup, but he’ll take it. “What? I’m so fucking serious. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you anymore. What kind of a demon daddy would I be if I did?”

“Shut up.” You bat his chest with the back of your hand. He chuckles, and the sound is as warm and soothing as his hand on your back. Your lip wobbles, your brow screwing up as you try to even out your voice, but you just come out sounding like you’ve got something stuck in your throat. “What are you, a genie with three wishes? I tell you my sorrows and you snap your fingers and fix it?”

“You get a lot more than three with me, sweetheart,” Eddie promises. His eyes are unwavering, his hand stroking lightly back and forth between your shoulders in a way that has you hypnotized, leaning towards him. “And it may take more than just snapping my fingers, but yes. I’ll do it for you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re married, baby.” He holds your gaze gently, hoping not to upset you any further. “‘Til death do we part,’ right? We’re a team now. Your needs, my needs. That’s why you signed the contract. That’s why I gave you this.” Eddie’s warm hand ghosts over your wrist, and the mark that bears his name seared into your skin. The mark tingles, itching with recognition at his touch. “Just say the word and it’s yours.”

You’re still crying. Big, glossy tears falling down your cheeks, making him falter. He’s floundering. He doesn’t know how to make them stop, and the more he tries to get you to tell him, the harder they’re falling. You aren’t hyperventilating anymore, thank fuck, but you’re still quietly sobbing, and you’re not telling him what he needs to know.

Eddie tries searching for it. Squints at you, tries reaching into your mind to find what you need– sort of the same way that he saw the memory of you and the fucker who stole your car. All he gets is one repetitive thought, spinning around in the forefront of your mind. 

Hold me. Hold me. Hold me.

“C’mere,” he tells you softly. Eddie reaches forward, turning you slowly by the shoulder until you’re facing him. He watches your face for any kind of disgust– there’s nothing, save the big tears that keep falling. 

He pulls on your shoulder, just barely, and you crumple. You face plant into his chest and take a deep, shuddering breath that rattles in your lungs and tastes like a campfire. Eddie is warm as a space heater and his arms are strong, wrapped around you tightly to keep you from falling. 

Eddie holds you until he feels you stop crying. He thinks. Maybe you’re still crying, but it isn’t shaking your entire body anymore, and he feels like that’s a move in the right direction.

“Just say the word,” he speaks into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. A timid hand comes up to pet the back of your head. He hasn’t held someone like this in ages. “I can try to read your mind, but then I get the wrong idea, and you won’t like what I’ll do. I’m willing to do anything for you, honest. But y’gotta tell me, baby.”

You hesitate, and then you pull back, puckering your lips in a way that distracts him. He fixates on them, tilting his head as he watches the way they move. Remembering how they felt on his own when he kissed you last night. He hasn’t kissed someone in ages, either.

“No killing Colin,” you conclude, knocking him out of his reverie. He groans. “I’m serious! He’s a dick, but I don’t want that on my conscience. Please, Eddie.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“No.”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, pouting and stomping his feet. “But you wouldn’t feel that way if you saw the kind of torture we can whip out in ye olde Hell. Make your skin crawl right the fuck off. Ooh! That’s actually a good idea–”

“Maybe, sometime.” You shake your head. “But not now. Just… get him to quit. Or something. Okay?” 

Your hand presses into Eddie’s chest. It feels like a blast straight into his infernal heart. His eyes fall to it, taking in the willing touch that you give him and letting it define his entire being for a second.

Oh, he’s in trouble. He’s really, really done for.

“Okay, sweetheart. Anything you want.” 

His kiss is a ghost of a touch on your cheek, just barely a whisper of skin on skin. Just enough to make you gasp and nearly turn your head, to lock his lips with yours. You practically fight the urge to do it. Your heartbeat kicks up– not for the reason you think it should, either. You aren’t scared. He doesn’t make you nervous– at least, not in an uncomfortable way. 

You want Eddie to press his lips to yours, and you want him to hold you again. You want him to stay indefinitely. Make a home on your couch and hold you in his lap all night. You think that if you asked him, he might do it. Anything you want, right?

But he pushes away from the kitchen counter, and he’s gone as quickly as he appeared, in a rush of air carrying his scent. With a sigh, you sink back on your heels, finding yourself wishing that his arms were still there around you, to catch you before you fall.

You lift your glass of wine to your lips. The imprint of his name still itches on your wrist. 

“He likes wet food by the way.”

Dante’s gonna be a high maintenance lil baby boy and I’m LIVING for that

THE DEVIL I KNOW: CHAPTER FIVE - SO IS IT YOUR PLACE OR MINE?

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Your abusive ex-boyfriend's car being blown up in front of your face does wonders for your inhibitions.

cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking!!, sex with a demon, forked tongue action, oral (f receiving), heavy petting, like one singular pussy spank, things get cut a little short :((, sacrilegious themes, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, possessive behavior, animal death mention, discussions of past abuse and trauma, dark comedy, tfw your accidental boyfriend is a demon who is obsessed with you bc he doesn’t know how to be normal about anything ever, dead dove: do not eat

this fic contains dark themes and this entire work is explicit. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

series masterlist ♫ series playlist ♫ series tag

The diner closes early. Turns out that a car exploding outside, followed by every kind of law enforcement and crisis management team imaginable swarming the premises is kind of bad for business– who knew?

Andy, apparently, somehow survived. You watch from the dining room of the building as his battered and torched body is loaded into the back of an ambulance. You hear something about third degree burns, how it’s going to be a miracle if he pulls through– you can only imagine what it would have been like to be standing so close to that explosion of heat. Hellfire.

You spend the few remaining hours of your shift giving statements, which only mildly cover the truth. “Andy was my ex. He was abusive. For about a year and a half. He liked to come here for coffee. I don’t know anyone who would have tampered with his car. No, I don’t know anything about cars. I have been working all day. He tried to cut my arm. No, he didn’t succeed, I pushed him away. Eddie is the name of my high school sweetheart. We were a little bit crazy about each other, we decided to get each other’s names branded onto our skin. He got his on his chest. No, I don’t think that’s strange for an eighteen year old to do, we were fucking idiots. I don’t know where he is now. Eddie–” 

Munson. 

“–Munson. Sure, I can make some coffee.”

Before you leave, you hear a few whispers about a free pie special on Friday, but you just hang up your apron and bounce before anyone can ask your opinion.

You come home to find a dog on your doorstep.

You see it there before you turn off the car and step out to get a closer look. It raises its head when it sees you, almost as if it’s been waiting here for you. Expecting you. 

It’s a big dog– not as delicate as Lacey, as it feels like all things point back towards your grief these days– but it’s beautiful, regardless. It looks like a Rottweiler, with the most beautiful brown and black colors you’ve ever seen. 

“What are you doing here, baby?” You ask quietly when the dog bounds toward you, jumping up excitedly to scratch at your legs. It barks happily, looking so pleased that you’re home, like it’s known you for ages. 

Still reeling from the events of the afternoon, your limbs are jerky and stiff with nerves. You crouch down to inspect its neck, reaching for its leather collar, ducking around its attempts to lick your face. It’s fruitless; the dog is gonna kiss you no matter what, even if it has to climb over your shaky legs to do it. 

It’s comforting, even though you’re a little too frazzled to admit it.

Your heart plummets into your gut when your fingers latch onto the copper dog tag that hangs from the strap around its neck. The same triangular copper piece that you’d buried as an offering in the woods, a week ago.

“What the fuck,” you whisper. “No, that can’t be– what the fuck–”

But it can be. You know it, like you know that Eddie had been talking to you today, even though none of it makes sense. Things stopped making sense when he showed up in that clearing and lit a cigarette with his thumb.

You turn the dog tag over, but there’s no contact information. You get the feeling that this dog will never get lost, because it will always instinctively know how to find its way back to you. 

Lacey’s name, your beautiful Dachshund that was taken from you too soon, has been completely erased and the beveled copper smoothed over. Now, the same chicken scratch that adorns your wrist has also been inscribed here. 

Dante. 

You give the Rottweiler a bemused side eye. “Dante, huh? Whoever named you sounds like a fucking nerd.”

“I heard that.”

You raise your head to find Eddie standing in your doorway, looking as beautiful as ever. He glows around the edges, a suggestion of an aura about him that tells you his body isn’t merely made of flesh and blood, but still, he’s a little more… human. His eyes aren’t glowing like before– rather, they’re as dark as your apartment behind him, and they twinkle in the sunlight. He’s shed his usual leather jacket, his arms bare for you to see his tattoos. Bats and spiders and a skeleton puppeteer, inked across his skin. 

You hadn’t seen them before. They hadn’t been featured in that fucking dream, or you would have absolutely done something about it. Something involving a lot more tongue and less thought. He smiles wide and deadly and gorgeous, and you feel as though he’s completely aware of your line of thought.

“Dante, you were supposed to bring her inside,” Eddie chastises the dog as he trots through your door, “not stand out there giving her kisses. That’s my job. Chrissake.”

You step into the apartment after the dog, letting the door creak shut. The drive home had been brutal, to say the least. Your memories of the afternoon’s events are so whole and so fresh, as if they’re still alive within you. Your mind returns to the images over and over again; the vision of the car going up in flames, the sharp press of Andy’s blade to your skin. 

Everything within you aches. Magic courses through your veins– you feel it, simmering just below the surface like it’s going to bubble out of your skin. You might burst into flames. You might explode.

“If it helps, I can’t say I saw that coming,” Eddie begins, like he’s still hearing your thoughts. You have a good mind to ask him if he's constantly hearing them, or if he's just listening right now. He takes your keys gently from your hand and sets them on the counter, looking you over hesitantly. “At least, not until he drove into the parking lot.”

“So, that was you telling me what to do?” You ask, staring at his shoes. You swallow against an uncomfortably dry feeling in your mouth. “You were talking to me?”

“You called.” He chews on his lip, leaning back against the counter to face you. 

You feel yourself nod. So, he felt everything. He heard everything you were thinking, all the fear and rage and anxiety. You didn’t just make up his voice to calm your own mind.

“I can understand why. Fucking guy– I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you, to deal with that for so long. Nothing– no one should make you feel like that. Not while I’m around.”

You lift your eyes. Eddie’s words seem to pound a nail directly into your beating heart; you feel yourself on the cusp of doing something stupid, something you might regret later. You watch his lips as they move, as you tell yourself, No. Don’t do it.

“You did so well, though,” Eddie reassures you after a moment. “You were fucking amazing, baby, I was so proud. Burned the fuck out of him. Look at you, little witch.”

“Was that–” You take a stuttering breath, searching for the words you want to say. “Did I do that? Did I… did I try to kill him? Did I blow up the car?”

“No, I did.” 

You feel like the air has been sucked from your lungs. You give a few short breaths, as though you’re trying to hide from someone and don’t want the sound of your breathing to give you away.

“I did,” Eddie repeats. “I know you told me not to kill anyone unless you asked, and I’ll be completely fucking honest, I figure it would be better to just finish him off. Maybe– maybe I’ll have some fun torturing him for a lifetime, without killing him. There are a lot of ways to make someone suffer. But sweetheart...” He tuts and shakes his head slowly, “He defaced my mark. He hurt you. There was no way I was gonna let him just walk away after that. Not after hurting my girl.”

Tears stick in your throat, but they aren’t for Andy. You tried to curse him once, and you’d certainly try to do it again. Fuck him.

“Eddie.” You look up into his face, and it holds a level of severity and anger that should scare you, but it doesn’t. Tears pool on your waterline and threaten to spill over, urged by a wave of infatuation and gratitude toward him that you can’t seem to put a cap on. Your logical brain is trying to beat your own animal impulses back with a stick, while the rabid beast in your chest bites it and tries to yank it away. It’s frustrating how easily this demon can make you lose your morals.

“Trust me, he’s not going to get off easy,” Eddie continues, without even noticing the mushy look you’re giving him. “Even after he finally kicks it. Even if I make the rest of his fucking life miserable. Hell is eternal, and I have quite a few dogs who haven’t been fed in a while. They’ll be happy to rip apart Andy’s soul for lunch. It’s only fitting, after what he did to yours–”

“Eddie.” 

You take a running start at him. His eyes go wide and then crinkle at the edges with laughter when you slam directly into his chest, clawing at his shirt to drag him down to your height. 

With one quick move you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. 

Eddie grunts, his hands fumbling to catch you before you manage to topple the both of you. He reciprocates with frenzy, all clashing teeth and grabbing hands. His mouth is hot as sin and his tongue tastes like smoke and honey, although you weren’t expecting anything else. Maybe you were expecting it to burn you alive, but it wouldn’t matter to you either way.

He pulls back for breath, and chuckles. “Don’t you wanna wine and dine me first–?”

“Hush.”

Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe you’re just running on adrenaline and you’re not thinking clearly– the wires in your brain are misfiring, placing desire where it shouldn’t be in order to make up for the grief you should be feeling instead. 

Or… should you? Rather, you feel relieved. And you’d be remiss if you didn’t show Eddie just how much you appreciate his effort.

You manage to land two kisses onto his jaw before he dips his head and catches your lips with his. Something tells you that you’re going to be addicted to him by the end of this. Eddie’s hands find your face and hold you still so that he can kiss you deeply, letting his tongue glide softly over yours in a way that sends chills through your body.

“Demanding little minx, aren’t you?” His thumb traces the line of your throat, lingering there when you curl your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. 

“You told me to tell you what I want. This is me telling you.” Wavy hair tangles in your grip, and you yank him closer by it. 

You have to quickly reconsider the consequences of your actions, though, when Eddie picks you up and effectively throws you across the counter, toppling a bunch of random clutter onto the floor. 

Eddie’s hand comes up to grab your jaw, holding your head where he wants it as he sucks hard, his teeth grazing your throat in a way that makes you dizzy. You whimper when his lips find a sensitive spot on the side of your neck, sending a shock wave through your body, throwing your legs around his hips to pull him in toward you. Following his lead, letting him bite you until you’re bruised, until the capillaries under your skin burst and spread in the shape of his lips.

“I think you’re an angel,” he whispers, as his hands slip up your skirt and his fingers brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He sounds breathless as he kisses your jaw, just below your ear. “My angel.”

There’s relief in Eddie’s kiss that soothes the rabid thing in your chest trying to figure out what direction to go in. His lips glide over yours soft and then hard, the ebb and flow of waves on the shore. 

This is what you wanted. Contact. His tongue in your mouth, his hands on your body. You’ve been wanting to get your grubby hands on him ever since that fucking dream, and now that you do, you’re losing your mind. 

His fingers press into the skin of your hips, tracing the waistline of your panties. A damp spot grows on the crotch of them, and on any normal day you would be embarrassed. Now you simply grind against the touch, beyond the point of refusing it. 

You bite his bottom lip and suck on it, causing him to moan against you. In your haste, you miss the shudder that rolls down his spine, the way his eyes roll back in his skull a bit.

“I– mmmkay,” Eddie groans deep within his chest when you palm him over his jeans, feeling out his erection against the denim. Big is all the confirmation your clouded mind gets before Eddie's hands circle your wrists and pin them over your head. His eyebrows shoot up sternly as he talks down his nose at you. “Behave.”

“You don’t want me to behave,” you point out, your breath hitching in your chest when he dips down to press a kiss just beside your mouth. You gasp, “You want me to fuck you. That’s what this is, right? That’s… that’s what I want–”

“Oh, sweetheart.” A fire ignites deep within his eyes. It’s beautiful– so close, you can see the embers burning there, flickering with the heat of his gaze. “Took you long enough.”

“Bullshit. Took me– mm…” A soft noise of gratitude escapes you when his hand dips to stroke over the crotch of your panties, “three days.” 

You can’t help the way you cling to him, all but grinding down onto his hand for relief. He hisses through his teeth when his fingers press into the soaked cloth over your core. 

“Yeah, n’ it was too fuckin’ long. You poor thing, having to wait for me like this. M’so sorry…”

Eddie drops to his knees, kisses your knee once before dragging your panties down your thighs. Your hands are covetous, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and gripping onto his shoulder at the feeling of his lips on your skin. You shiver as he parts your legs, his face so close to your sex that he can smell you, sweet and earthy in the air.

He takes a long, deep inhale that makes your face burn, and he grins up at you. “Mmm, actually… no, I’m not.” 

“Fuck–” you hiccup when he hooks your leg over his shoulder. His breath hits you before his tongue parts the swollen lips of your pussy, and the touch is blindingly sweet. “You’re– hhuh– evil.”

He grunts, and takes to you with gentle licks that make your toes curl. Soft flicks and tender strokes that gradually become firmer, deeper. Warmth seeps into your limbs, spreads through your body like the sweetest poison on earth. 

Your breath catches in your throat when the feeling changes– his tongue seems too fucking long, reaching way too much of you all at once. And then there’s a split, a feeling of two appendages separating and tracing around the bead of your clit, moving individually. 

“Hoooly shit– wait wwwait, hang on– fuck!” 

Your breath is coming in hot, short pants that don’t quite reach your lungs as you lurch against him. You peer down to meet his eyes and they’re fucking smoldering, burnt orange and siena glowing as Eddie’s forked tongue flicks softly around your clit, easing up while you collect yourself.

You squirm against him, rolling your hips urgently toward his mouth even while you try to wrap your head around it. “I didn’t– hnnng– I didn’t know you had– had–” 

“Demon,” Eddie hums. He raises his head to give you a sharp, fanged smile. 

The sight makes you freeze, your eyes going wide. “That’s really, really…”

You trail off as his impossibly long, split tongue glides through your folds and teases at your hole. He fucks you slowly with it, eyeing you for your reaction. 

You moan, “Mmm, that’s… so fucking hot, oh my god.”

Eddie chuckles and squeezes fistfuls of your ass, lifting your hips and kneading soft flesh beneath his fingers. His touch is indulgent and selfish, nails digging into your skin and tongue seeking you out deeply enough that it makes your cheeks burn.

A forked tongue. That’s a new one on you, even if it isn’t quite so surprising. You’d never considered that it might be an exciting prospect until you could feel it. 

Your hands slip back through his hair, a soft moan escaping you. So many points of contact at once wreak havoc on your nerves. You can’t think straight, and it’s becoming something of a problem because you feel way too close to your orgasm already. 

But if you fall apart, what’s the harm? He’ll be here to put you back together. Even if it means he’ll just tear you apart again, he can spend eternity doing it. You think you’d let him.

You’ve never been one for the conventional. You like a little kink, a little sharpness and grittiness to go with your pleasure. And no one has gone down on you quite like this– all in, not submissive but simply servicing, like he’s reaching for a piece of your soul with it. 

So, you’re not surprised when the feeling of his fangs scraping your pussy is what sends you hurtling into your orgasm. It's an instant relief to the roaring heat in your body, but it only sort of quells the flame.

He laps at you slowly until he pulls off, leaving you spent, thrown across your kitchen counter. Eddie chuckles while you continue to twitch through the aftershocks. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? That’s fucked up, baby.”

He sounds so fucking cheeky. You bonk him on the head with your palm while he snickers. “Don’t act so goddamn proud.”

He smacks your pussy once, a sharp crack that makes you yelp. His fingers come back wet, and he licks them while your cunt throbs and stings. Still desperate for him.

Eddie pulls back to stand, and he watches you for a second, sucking on his teeth a bit. He looks contemplative, a little bit disarming once the fangs and forked tongue disappear. 

He bends over you to kiss your forehead, and gives you an apologetic look. “I have to go.”

“You’re fucking kidding.” Your cunt aches between your legs, pressing together to stave off the feeling. They just hit Eddie’s hips. “Fuck, Eddie, I don’t think I can– don’t leave me like this. Please.”

“It won’t always be like this,” he murmurs soothingly. His eyes are dark now as they peer into yours, round and seemingly innocent. “But I gotta. ‘Devil’s work is never finished,’ and all.”

You scrunch up your expression, attempting to glare but only coming off cutely perturbed, from his perspective. “I hate you.”

“Aww.” He sticks his tongue out at you– it’s a normal, human tongue. You want to bite it. “You’re so convincing at it. I’ll get you, my pretty. And your little dog, too.”

“My… dog?” You blink as he pecks your lips and steps away from you, walking toward your bedroom door.

“Dante,” Eddie tells you, looking around the room. The dog in question is nowhere to be found. “Ah… technically he’s my best one. When he behaves. DANTE?” 

There’s a bark from the direction of the bathroom, and a horrifying splash. Eddie motions at it, shrugging emphatically, as if to say what’re you gonna do? “He’s yours now. He’s got orders to take good care of you.”

You stare incredulously after Eddie as he goes to disappear through your bedroom door. Before he does, he spins back around with a finger extended. 

“He likes wet food, by the way.”

💳💥💳💥💳💥

Actually in love with

More please 😍😍

western nights

♫︎ western nights - ethel cain ♫︎

pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: You're on a road trip to nowhere. Eddie wants to get the hell out of dodge. It's a match made in heaven- if only it were, actually, heaven.

words: 13k

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), exhibitionism, light choking, spitting, eddie is 24, reader's age unspecified (over 21), illegal activities, theft, smoking, alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, bonnie & clyde type dynamic, mechanic!eddie, eddie's trying hard to be a good boy he's just got issues, pining, perv!reader, some slight dubcon/somno for a sec if you squint, there was only one bed, graphic depictions of violence, a drunk guy being nasty to both eddie and reader, bar fight, blood, arguments, angst, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, an overall janky relationship here, inspired by the song western nights by ethel cain

a/n: *slaps fic* this bad boy can be written with so many cold medicines in my head &lt;3 ethel cain if you see this do NOT interact i have done zero justice to your song and also completely disregarded some key aspects of the themes of it lol this is loosely based at best

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

He’s never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot, breaking into the ATMs, sleeping naked when it gets too hot…

You’ve become something of a connoisseur of gas station coffee. 

You know which chains have the best. Love’s always has the best and freshest, with the most options of flavors. Pilot is usually a crapshoot, depending on what area of the country you’re in. Occasionally, if you can find it, Bodega doesn’t disappoint. And the worst, by far, is always Shell. Shell coffee, you think, must come directly from the sewers of whatever backwater town you’re trundling through.

You’re somewhere in Indiana, you guess, judging by the state-shaped keychains on the rotating rack next to the cash register. You grab a state map from a magazine stand and toss it in with the rest of your purchase. You were lucky to have found a Love’s so you could finally afford yourself some proper dark roast coffee; all the watered down arabica stuff you’ve been getting since Cleveland has only been making your head ache. 

“What’s the quickest way to Indianapolis?” You ask the dead-eyed attendant ringing you up, a 20-something year old guy with bags under his eyes and bad skin. 

He chews his licorice like a camel chews straw, staring up at you blankly. “I dunno. Never been.”

You look from him, to the map, and back. “Cool. What town is this?”

“Hawkins.” His bored-by-you attitude is overwhelming.

“Thanks so much for the help.” You afford the attendant a tight smile as you grab your bag of snacks and head out. It’s going to be a long night. 

The air outside is stifling, summer heat hanging in the muggy air like a fog. The humidity makes your hair stick uncomfortably to the back of your neck as you peel off your old green hunting jacket and tie it around your waist. You’ve parked your van under the fluorescent-lit gas pump overhang, providing the proper lighting for you to spread the map of Indiana across the hood and bend over it, using your full coffee as a paperweight. You rip open the singular Slim-Jim you could afford for dinner, and pore over it.

There’s commotion across the parking lot, which stirs you from your rumination over the map. You glance up; there are two guys loitering by a telephone booth in one corner of the lot, sharing a cigarette. Teenagers who have nowhere else to be on a Friday night, you suppose. Five yards away from them, a third crouches in front of a badly vandalized ATM, the cause of the commotion. He seems to be hacking at the wiring with a pocket knife.

You ignore it. So far, on this trip, you’ve seen far worse than a guy stealing petty cash from a gas station ATM. Tracing your fingers across the paper, it looks like if you take state route 13 to I-69, you’ll be in Indianapolis by midnight. Shouldn’t be too difficult, as long as you can find the 13, and then you can find a place to crash in the city.

Grabbing an old highlighter from your pocket, you mark your route in bright pink. The guy from the ATM seems to have gotten what he wanted, moving quickly across the parking lot with his head held high, like he has every right to be there. He approaches a motorcycle parked on the opposite side of the pump from you, and begins feeding dollar bills into the machine. 

“Hey, do you know how to get to the 13 from here?” You can’t see much more than his leather-clad shoulder and hip jutting out from around the pump, the front tire of his Harley sticking out from behind his leg.

There’s a pause, and then his head pops out from around the pump. A curtain of unruly dark hair frames a long neck, big doe-like eyes and flushed lips pouting at you in confusion. It makes you freeze. “Sorry?”

“I, uh-” What were you trying to do? Get on the right course. Right. Of course. “State- uh- state route 13? I’m trying to get to, um, Indianapolis?” You cringe at your own stuttering, nails digging into the paper before you. 

The man stares at you for a long time, dark eyes framed by thick, curling lashes sizing you up slowly. Then, he rounds the pump. “The highway’s just down the road- keep going west and you won’t miss it.” 

“Great, thanks.” You grab up your coffee and the map, crunching it between your tense fingers. He hasn’t moved, still leaning against the gas pump, arms crossed, staring at you. It makes you nervous, in more ways than one. 

“You won’t get far in that heap, though.”

You pause. Your knees threaten to wobble under you as you look up at him. Your hand is on the door, you could simply ignore him and get in, but something in his gaze makes you stop. Is that… genuine concern? Or is he just putting on a show for you? 

“What do you mean?” The heat of the coffee burns through the paper cup and torches your fingers.

“Well, your fender’s bashed in and, I dunno if you noticed, but you have a crack in your windshield,” he gestures at the long crack running horizontally across the glass, just above where your line of sight usually is. “Probably got a lot more shit wrong with it, too, I could hear you coming a mile up the road. Junkyard find?”

“Something like that.” More like, sat in your parents’ garage for so long that you took a chance on the fucked up radiator and bailed. “She’s good, though. She’ll get me another 80 miles, easy.”

“Are you only going 80 miles?” The guy questions, “Or are you going way past that and only doing the 80 miles tonight?”

If he wasn’t so pretty, with a note of flirtation in his voice, you’d be hesitant as hell to tell him. “The second one.” 

ATM guy sucks on his teeth, rocking back on heels that creak with the movement. Rubber soled work boots flash at you from beneath torn blue denim. “Dunno if I should let you go alone, then. You might bust your carburetor halfway there and be stranded.”

That puts alarm sirens in your head. You’d back away if your car wasn’t situated between the two of you. “Thanks, but, uh… I think I can handle myself.”

The teasing smile drops off his face quickly, replaced by a look of subtle desperation. “No, don’t get me wrong, I’m not- I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. Obviously. Or you wouldn’t be trucking along by yourself through Nowheresville, Indiana,” he chuckles. “I just, ah… let me level with you?”

Your face screws up, but you lean your hip against the fender nearest you- the one that isn’t fucked up. What is it with this guy?

“I’m trying to jump ship. Anywhere’s better than here, but I really want to get to the west coast. I don’t know where you’re headed, but I’ve got my sights on San Francisco. And, uh, I have experience fixing cars, working in a garage,” he confesses. “But I don’t have a ride of my own- this isn’t even my bike, really. So, if you’re heading to the city, and you could use someone to make sure your car doesn’t kick it going over 75, I’m your man. Besides,” he bats his pretty lashes at you, his fingers fiddling with the end of his long hair as he brandishes a wad of ATM-stolen cash, “I have gas money.”

“You want to hitch a ride with me?”

“If you’re okay with it. Otherwise, I bid you fair and safe travels.” He bows dramatically, throwing his hand in the direction of the highway you’d asked about. “But if you ask me, I think you’d be doing both of us a favor in the long run if you let me come with. Just for insurance, y’know.”

“Insurance?” You parrot incredulously.

“Yeah,” he grins. He has dimples, a wide smile that stretches across his face and makes him even prettier than you can stand to look at directly. “Just insurance. No other reason.”

“Mhm,” you grunt, going over the positives and negatives in your head. 

Positives- your car is a piece of shit and you’re sure he’s right, you’re working on borrowed time and you’re less than halfway to your desired destination. Plus, he’s unfairly nice to look at. 

Negatives- you don’t know shit for fuck about him, other than the fact that he’s apparently trying to leave town and makes a hobby of breaking into ATMs. And, hell, even Ted Bundy was supposed to be charming and cute, at first. This guy could be a crazy ax murderer, could be a rapist, could be a junkie who’ll steal your car and leave you stranded, could be, could be-

“MUNSON!”

“Fuck.” ATM guy glances over his shoulder, then ducks quickly around the side of the gas pump as the station attendant comes storming out of the store. He crouches, pressing his hands to the glass window of the passenger’s side and peers through the cab at you on the other side with pleading eyes. “Can you get me a couple miles down the road, at least?” 

“What about your bike?” 

“Not my bike,” he tells you for a second time. “My buddy’ll pick it up when he hears about this, please.” 

The station attendant is making his way across the parking lot now, looking miffed. It’s clearly the most energy he’s put into anything today, but he isn’t moving very fast. 

You’ve made worse decisions in your life. You sigh. “Shit. Get in.” 

“Thank you, thank you.” He pops open the passengers door as you slide into the driver’s seat, tossing the crumpled up map in the back. You guess you’ve found a GPS, for the time being.

“Does my insurance have a name?” you ask as you peel out of the gas station. The attendant hovers by the pump you’d been occupying, looking lamely at the abandoned motorcycle in your rearview. 

“Eddie,” ATM guy says. A ring-clad hand lifts between you, hovering over the gear shift and waiting for your own to settle into it for a shake, “Eddie Munson.” 

You eye his outstretched hand, your stomach doing flips, but you’re unsure if it’s because of him or the very situation he’s just put you in. You lift your hand and bat his with your knuckles, a half-hearted acknowledgement without the formality. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie.” 

Eddie coughs, shifting up in his seat to peer behind you at the station. “Fuckin’ Keith. You can just drop me off at the next exit, it’s no biggie.” 

“Hm? I thought you were coming with me to Indianapolis, hot stuff.” 

Eddie whips his head around to look at you. “Seriously? You don’t- you don’t have to, I know it’s a big ask-” 

“You want me to change my mind?”

“Not particularly.” He sinks down in his seat again. “Guess I figured you think I’m more of a liability than anything.”

“I do, but I need all that cash you swiped from the ATM,” you hum with a snarky grin on your face. 

Eddie chuckles, wringing his hands in his lap. His knuckles tighten and relax beneath heavy steel rings. “Yeah, better I do it than you, huh?” There’s an awkward pause, and then he blurts, “Do you have any road music in this thing?” 

You reach forward and hit the volume button for the stereo. You’d been halfway through Danzig’s self titled album- Mother kicks in with the chorus. In the darkness, you don’t see the way Eddie’s eyes sparkle with adoration as he looks at you.

“I think you and I are gonna get along great, sweetheart.” 

You ignore how your thighs press in on themselves while you sip your coffee, and you turn onto highway 13, headed for Indianapolis.

When you step out of the bathroom in the motel room in Indianapolis, you find Eddie hunched over by the window, wearing nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxers. The chain on his wrist jingles as he smacks at the A/C unit beneath the drawn curtains.

“Everything okay?” You ask, pretty much knowing what the answer is. Your hair drips water down your back, but you can still feel the muggy summer heat in the room practically smothering your pores. 

“Damn Motel 6 A/C,” he grumbles as he gives it one last smack on the side, to no avail. “The unit’s broken, there’s gonna be no cool air in the room.”

“That’s okay, we can crack a window.” 

“In this part of the city?” Eddie scoffs, looking over at you. “Believe me, princess, I applaud your optimism- I would have just driven away from me there at the gas station, given the chance. But if we crack that window, we’re gonna get fucking robbed, first thing. Believe me.”

“I believe you,” you huff, clutching the itchy motel towel to your wet skin. Usually you would just pull on a tank and a pair of panties and call it a night, but there’s no such luck for you here. You have a backpack full of old, dirty clothes, and no clean underwear to speak of- you’ve been washing them in public bathroom sinks since Columbus. “Well, I’m just gonna sleep naked, then. You do what you’ve gotta do.” 

“What- you’re gonna- what?” Eddie blathers, sitting back on his heels. You stare at him for a second- he’s a vision of flushed skin and a cloud of brunette hair cascading over his shoulders. Knobbly knees stick up at awkward angles, hairy thighs disappear into the hem of his boxers drawn tight across his skin. Your eyes glance over the ominous bulge in the crotch of them, not willing to think about those parts of a man you barely know. “You really think- I mean- is that wise?”

“Are you gonna get frisky with me, Eddie?” You ask with a teasing voice. You’d learned enough about him on the way to the city- 24 years old, no prospects, big dreams, ran a D&D club in high school, worked in a garage to help pay the bills- that you’re fairly certain he’s a good enough guy to keep his hands to himself. You just enjoy watching his big eyes go rounder at the insinuation.

“No, of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eddie looks mortified. He backtracks, “Unless- unless you wanted me to, I mean-” 

“Don’t overanalyze it,” you tell him mildly, turning your back to him to rifle through your bag. “We’re both adults, it’s hot, there’s one bed and we’re both paying for it. Something tells me you’ve done worse things than lay next to someone without clothes on.”

Eddie blows a long breath out of pursed lips, not moving from his seat on the floor. He doesn’t deny your accusation, just mutters, “You put so much faith in me, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” 

You drop the wet towel on the floor and round the bed to turn down the sheets. Eddie’s eyes trail you; you can feel them burning into your skin, lit by the dim yellow light on the bedside table. It takes a moment for him to finally move, a single trembling hand reaching up to swipe a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the table.

“You gonna sit there on the floor all night?” You muse as you lay back on the bed. It’s too fucking hot. The dampness from the shower hasn’t dried, but now it’s simply growing with the rate your body is perspiring. Your hair and skin stick to the white sheets, which feel pasty each time you move.

“Just getting my bearings,” Eddie says, his voice tight and hollow. “You smoke?”

“Not especially, but I won’t stop you.” 

The smell of tobacco hangs in the heavy air more potently than you expected. The humidity dampens the vapor, making it sting your nose and leech into your mouth, even though you’re not the one directly breathing it. It strikes you as devastatingly intimate- the thought that you might be breathing the smoke that’s already touched his lungs. 

“Do you mind if I strip down, too?” Eddie asks after a long time of deliberating as he smoked. “Not that- I mean, I don’t have any pajamas, so…”

“Do what you need to do, honey,” you murmur, repeating what you’d told him before. “We can find a laundromat in the morning. Maybe get you a change of clothes somewhere.”

“Right.” He doesn’t say much after that, but you listen to him rustling around, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray and flicking off the bedside light. 

He straightens up, silhouette looming in the blue-dark from the curtained window. You watch from the corner of your eye while his backlit form hooks its thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, and drops them.

He clambers onto the bed beside you, careful not to bump any part of you. You refuse to look at him, scanning the asbestos popcorn on the ceiling above you with an overabundance of scrutiny, willing yourself to focus on anything but Eddie’s beautiful body, especially what he has below the belt. It’s a bad idea, no go. You don’t want to see it, don’t even want to think about it- what it looks like, how big it is, how it curves, what kind of hair surrounds it, if any-

You’re thinking about it.

And you told him not to overanalyze it. To be calm about it. What a fucking joke.

“You know, I’m not as easy as I might seem,” you blurt out suddenly, unaware of why you even do. You mostly come off sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself of it.

Eddie’s head rustles against the pillow as he glances at you in the dark. “I don’t think you are.”

“Okay. Just- just making sure,” you stutter out. “All evidence to the contrary, and all.”

“I’m not expecting to get lucky with you,” he tells you honestly, a little flatly, like he’s afraid of any inflection in his voice betraying him. “You know, beyond the ride west.”

“Right.” 

“Right.” 

You both regress into silence. You think you’ve both said your piece on the matter. You might not trust Eddie, not entirely, but you at least know he’s not gonna try anything stupid if you let yourself fall asleep. You actually think that he’s asleep after so many minutes, until he opens his mouth again.

“It’s really fucking hot, isn’t it?” He croaks. His hands twitch by his sides, feet jammed under the downturned covers, but everything else bare to the open room, like you. His pinkie brushes yours, and he nearly smacks himself jerking his hand back toward his stomach.

“Yeah, it’s not… it’s not good.” You blink into the darkness. “Sorry, you must be regretting coming with me all this way.”

“Nah, not a chance.” He brushes it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “I’ve been itching to get out of there since I graduated. Feel kinda bad that I didn’t leave a note for my uncle, but it’s not the first time I’ve bailed on him. I can always call him from a pay phone. Kinda wish I had my guitar, though.” 

“You play guitar?” you ask dazedly. You don’t have a hard time imagining it, now that you think about it. He has that rocker look about him, the kind that could grace magazines and be on posters on teenage girls’ walls, if he played his cards right. If he got his lucky break.

“Yeah. Pretty good, too, I guess.” He sighs. There’s a wistfulness in it, like he’s reminiscing on something from his past. “It’s okay. I can pick up another one once I get to California. Dropped a mint on the one I had back home, but I guess Wayne can always pawn it. Maybe get himself a nicer place.”

You chuckle. “And you think I’m the optimist here.”

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Eddie scoffs, then deepens his voice quite suddenly. “Two optimists, both alike in dignity-”

A burst of laughter bubbles from your chest, making Eddie grin as you gesture at your bodies. “Or lack, thereof.”

“In fair Indianapolis, where we lay our scene.” He ends his recitation giggling, the flimsy bed frame jolting with the shaking of his chest. “Radiant Juliet, you never did tell me where your chariot is taking me.”

“I’m not sure, really,” you admit, mellowing your laughter into a quiet giggle. “I just wanted to leave home. I was suffocating there, I needed to get out. See what’s out there for me, if anything.”

“And have you seen much?”

“Not much,” you tell him quietly. “Mostly truck stops and shitty roadside attractions. But we’re in the midwest, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” He lays his hand back down on the mattress beside you. 

You turn your body towards him, damp sheets clinging to your skin as you move. “California might not be such a bad idea.”

Eddie turns his head and glances at you, dark eyes finding you in the dim moonlight. “No? I’ll have to fix your car, then.”

“You do that, and I’ll make sure to get you where you’re going,” you whisper.

“Deal.” His eyes linger on your face, just inches away from his on the pillow. Flickering in the moonlight, two voids that hold all the stars in the night sky seem to take you in like you’re more beautiful than they could ever be.

This time, when your fingers brush, he doesn’t jerk away. This time, you don’t avert your eyes when you look down at his cock, but you sure do regret it when you don’t reach out to touch it.

He’s so pretty. You want to.

I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue, starting fights at the bar across the street like you do…

Your underwear and his come out of the dryer wrapped around each other. You spend a minute disentangling them, a small heap of clothes in a rolling laundry basket in front of you. The closest laundromat to the Motel 6 had been a five minute drive down the street. 

You’d woken up with your head on his chest, your arm draped across his bare stomach, despite how you’d fallen asleep barely touching him. As if your unconscious body had known more about your wants than you. His hand had been tangled in your hair, palm cradling your cheek and a bit of your neck, like his own unconscious wanted to keep you against him, too. 

The morning had been easy- the easiest it’s been since you hit the road. Eddie seems to have given you a sense of purpose you didn’t have before, driving around aimlessly, only stopping for fast food every once in a while when you remembered to eat something other than beef jerky and coffee. Once you had extracted yourself from his grip, you’d gone to buy him clothes from the resale store next to the motel. It wasn’t hard to find a plain black shirt and jeans, but used underwear was something you didn’t want to mess with. You’d brought it back to the motel, along with some food from the Waffle House across the way, and you ate cross legged on the bed while he showered and put on his new-ish clothes.

But now, you can’t stop feeling his hand cradling your head. His hot, sweaty skin against your arm. Your fingernails raking lightly through the trail of hair on his stomach, dragging through his pubic hair, your knuckles just barely brushing up the side of his length- thick, uncut, and so so pretty. Then, stopping nervously when you’d gotten too bold, fingers skimming over sensitive skin too close to his groin, and he’d twitched in his sleep.

You want him. You don’t even know him, and you want him so badly you can feel it even now, an aching blush between your legs turning into a dull throb when you so much as think about him. 

You toss all the freshly washed clothes into a plastic bag that you’d grabbed by the door to the laundromat, and haul it out to your van. He’d told you to meet him at the bar across the street when you were done, since he needed to make a few calls on their payphone- he’d even given you his weathered denim vest before he left.

“For insurance,” he winked. “Uh, don’t wash it, though… I stitched it by hand, it’ll fall apart.”

You don’t put it in with the clean clothes. It smells like smoke and alcohol and him, the edges frayed and yellowing a bit. You hold it in your lap for a second, plucking at the stringy bits around the arm holes. Maybe you can convince him to let you soak it in a sink somewhere, hand washed and dried carefully over a working A/C unit, wherever you can find one. You don’t know when he last washed the damn thing, if ever.

When you pull into the parking lot of the dive bar, and you clutch the denim vest in your hand as you step out of your van, something sharp prods your thumb. You hiss, slamming the car door shut and examining what it was. The sharp point of a pin on the vest- which reads Motörhead- had come loose and pricked your skin, which now threatens to ooze blood all over the aged denim.

“Fuck,” you murmur, bringing your thumb to your mouth as you lock the car. You struggle with the vest while you walk towards the door to the dive, trying to resituate the pin so it doesn’t go missing.

You find him loitering beside a billiards table, pool stick in hand, a cigarette in his mouth. When he sees you walk in, his eyes light up, and he nearly drops the stick prancing over to you. 

“Told ya I’d still be here- hey, you okay?” His grin turns very readily into a frown when he sees you sucking your thumb like a child. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” you mutter clumsily, “your pin just nicked me s’all.” 

“Oh, shit,” he curses, reaching for your hand. “Lemme see- no, let me see.” He forces your hand open when you try to close it, and scrutinizes the little pin prick as if it’s the worst battle wound he’s ever seen. “Should’a checked to make sure all the pins were right, this happens all the time. I’m so sorry, baby, my fault.”

Baby. Your brain tries to process it. He called you baby. 

He’s also kissing your thumb, cradling your hand with excessive care. He’s tasting your blood, sucking a little on the pin prick like you had been, so your skin is wet with a mix of his and your spit. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the way he touches you. Fleeting as his touches have been, anyways. You melt a little under his gaze as his round eyes blink up at you innocently.

“S’okay,” you tell him with a wobbly smile. “Did you make your calls?”

He looks at you softly, a reserved smile on his face. “I did. Wayne’s miffed, but he’ll live. Told him I’d send him a postcard.”

You giggle at that, thinking you’d sign it along with him. Sorry for stealing away your nephew; it will happen again. “Good. Buy me a drink, handsome?”

Eddie beams at you, and his dimples crease his cheeks as he turns to the bartender. There’s a sweet, boyish manner in the way he puffs out his chest and orders you a drink, his arm circling your waist as he moves you smoothly toward the bar. As soon as a whisky sour has been placed in front of you, he turns and squeezes your arm.

“Hey, I gotta finish this game,” he nods at the pool table he’d been stationed at. “I got some money on it. Y’okay with hanging out for a minute?” 

“Sure,” you chirp, sipping your drink. “Wipe the floor with ‘em for me?”

“It’s in the bag,” he whispers at you conspiratorially. You push his vest at him, imagining he wants to take his insurance back now that you know he’s not taking off on you, but he shakes his head. “No, you wear it. It’ll look good on you.” 

His eyes light up when you shrug the vest over your worn out white t-shirt. As you lift your drink, and he turns back to his game, you think you’d do anything to keep him looking at you like that.

Eddie wins. You don’t know how much he bet on the game, but there seems to be hurt feelings when he collects the money that had been placed on the table. You’ve never been much of a gambler, and he hadn’t struck you as one- but what do you know? He certainly bet on you getting him out of Hawkins, and you certainly took a chance on him. 

You don’t think much of it. It’s late afternoon- the sun’s going down, and you figure you’d better get going, but Eddie wraps his arms around you and says, “Dance with me.” And you do.

The jukebox in the corner only plays country classics. Patsy Cline croons over the speakers, taking you back to a time in your far off childhood. Eddie sways with you to the music, and even though there’s barely any rhythm to his dancing, you find yourself falling into it with him. Your head on his shoulder, his curly hair tickling the side of your face. His breath on your neck, cool on your heated skin. 

That is, until a hand wraps around Eddie’s shoulder and jerks him away from you. A man with blond hair, clearly a few too many drinks in, snarls at him, “That game was bullshit and you know it.”

Eddie blinks at him. “If by ‘bullshit’ you mean I beat you, then sure.”

“You di’int beat me, you cheated,” the man sneers. “I want my money back.” 

“Yeah, no.” Eddie claps the man on the shoulder, trying to push him away. “I won the game, I get the money. That’s how gambling works.” 

You step back when the man’s beady eyes fall on you, peering at him over Eddie’s shoulder. “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

“You leave her out of this, buddy,” Eddie growls dangerously, still forcing the man back with one strong hand on his shoulder. He’s trying to put himself between you and the man, you know. Still, you feel the need to fist your hand in the back of Eddie’s shirt and pull him away.

“I ain’t your buddy. Whatcha lookin’ at, bitch?” The man reaches out and yanks roughly on your arm, making you yelp in alarm.

And that’s when Eddie’s fist connects with the man’s jaw.

There’s a sickening crack. In the chaos, it somehow occurs to you that Eddie’s wearing all those chunky rings. You wonder if they could be considered a deadly weapon, in the same vein as brass knuckles.

It takes you a second to get through the initial shock, finding it hard to focus on who’s doing what. Eddie and the man have barrelled through a couple of tables, knocking over chairs. Eddie has the man pinned to the edge of the pool table, a flurry of fists moving from all sides. 

“You don’t touch my girl!” Eddie shouts at the man. “You don’t fuckin’ touch my girl!” 

His girl.

They tumble to the floor. The man curses and spits blood at him from a cut lip. A strong fist hits the side of Eddie’s face once, twice-

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” The words are shouted by the bartender, finally intervening, pulling the blond man off of Eddie. As the bartender restrains the unruly man, a second pulls an equally enraged Eddie away from him, separating the two. 

By the time you collect a bruised and bloodied Eddie into your arms, you’ve already tuned out the rest of the ruckus going on around you. Someone suggests that you should leave, but the words only barely register. You’re already pulling Eddie out the door and to the car.

You don’t even remember if you closed the tab.

Trouble’s always gonna find you, baby, but so will I. Crying only because I’m happy, hold me across every state line…

You don’t know when you started crying. Maybe it was around the time that Eddie fell unconscious.

Tears burn in your eyes like you’ve poured gasoline in them, but no matter how badly it stings you just keep sniffling and driving, tearing down the interstate away from Indianapolis, toward St. Louis. You hopped on I-70 as quickly as you could, and from there you’ve been lost in a world of your own.

He’d almost look peaceful, if it wasn’t for the blood on his jaw and the nasty shiner on his cheekbone. You keep telling yourself it’s not bad enough for him to need to be taken to a hospital. You can’t afford to go to a hospital, and even if you could, you’d have to explain how he got in this condition. It’s a recipe for jail time. You know that. You know. 

You just want to keep him safe, that’s all. 

He hadn’t instigated the fight, not really. He’d just swung first. He was just defending you.

His girl. 

When it gets to be too much, you pull over. Headlights gleam bright and then pass by in the dark with a whoosh of air. You think you must have crossed over into Illinois by now, or you’re getting close to it. The traffic has lightened considerably. 

You rest your head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths, but the tears keep coming in streams. A while ago, you had a mattress in the back of this van. That was before it started having problems, and it sat in your family’s garage for a year and a half. You should have put a mattress in it when you took off, but you weren’t thinking that far ahead. You were having a breakdown, something like you’re having now, only worse. It was a manic, get-away-or-die-there kind of breakdown. 

Breathe in. You’re not gonna die. Breathe out. He’s breathing.

Once Eddie cracks his eyes open, he flexes his jaw with a groan. You can tell he’s confused by the inquisitive noise he makes, but when he looks at you, all that disappears in a heartbeat.

“Hey, what’re you- oh, god. Sweetheart, don’t cry.” 

As if that doesn’t make you want to cry harder. His hand lands tentatively on your shoulder, stiff fingered but light in touch. He shuffles closer to you, pulling you against him to sob into his secondhand shirt. 

It’s pathetic, you’re sure of it. You feel pathetic, twisting the cheap cotton of his shirt in your hands and saturating it with tears, as he shushes you and soothes a hand over your hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his aching lips to your scalp in an attempt to calm you down. “We’ll be okay. I’m right here. What can I do?”

For some reason, the question makes you mad. “You don’t fucking fight,” you sob at him, the anger in your voice making him freeze. “You don’t- you don’t get into fights. I can deal with a lot of shit, Eddie Munson, but I can’t deal with that.”

“Okay, honey. Okay.”

“No fighting.” 

“No fighting,” he repeats affirmatively, petting your head. Then he adds, “No gambling.”

“No bars.”

“Well-”

“No bars.” 

“All right,” Eddie resigns, resting his chin on top of your head. Once you’ve stopped crying, from what he can feel, he tells you softly, “I’m not… I’m not like that, you know. I want you to know. I don’t fight, not usually.”

“You did.” 

“I did,” he agrees. “I just don’t like… I didn’t like him touching you. Disrespecting you like that- did he hurt you?”

“No,” you lie. The guy had yanked your arm a little too hard, your wrist still smarting a bit. Nothing near what Eddie had taken. “He hurt you, though.”

“I’ve had worse, trust me.” His tone is ominous, like you don’t really want to know the heavy details of it. “I’m not a fighter. Used to be if I saw danger, I’d just turn tail and run. I usually just take shit on the chin. But I never had anything to fight for before, really.”

You sniffle loudly, grossly. “I don’t want you to fight for me.”

“I’m gonna protect you, sweetheart. No matter what,” he insists. “Long as we’re together, I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you. Okay?”

Long as we’re together. Like you’re a couple, like you didn’t just meet by chance at a gas station a little more than 24 hours ago. Like you’re in love. 

His girl. 

“My dad’s in prison,” Eddie blurts out, raking a shaky hand through your hair. “He, uh… he was a fighter. And a thief. And a gambler. And a liar. He tried his best to make me be like him, but I don’t- I don’t wanna be like him.” Eddie sighs, a sad sound that rips through your already bleeding heart. “I thought maybe getting out of Hawkins would set me straight. Finally give me a chance to make something better of myself, prove I’m not like my old man. I tried, but after high school I got in some trouble, and Wayne had to sell my old van to pay for my bail. Now I’m here, and… Guess you just take yourself wherever you go, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you agree. Your fingers curve against his hip, squeezing the skin there. “So we have to try to change ourselves in the meantime, while we get where we’re going.”

Eddie breathes in, and it sounds an awful lot like a sniffle.

“Eddie. Are you crying?”

“No.” He is.

You lift your head with a wet, coughing chuckle at his futile attempt to hide it. You look up at him, your fingers tucking a lock of unruly, dark hair behind his ear. He’s staring back at you with glassy eyes, the tip of his nose gone red with the tears he’s holding back. He just barely flinches when your knuckles brush the bruise on his cheekbone.

“Hey, handsome,” you coo at him softly, your touch featherlight on his skin. He blinks, a tear dropping from his lashes. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up, okay?” 

“Okay.” His lip wobbles. “Let me hold you a little longer, first?”

“Of course, Eddie.” You fall into his grasping hands, yanking you to him like a child searching for the comfort of his favorite teddy bear. You’d let him hold you as long as he liked.

You wash his face in a dirty rest area just west of Terre Haute. In the middle of the night, no one is around to tell you not to, so you follow him into the men’s room and take your time wiping the blood from his jaw and his hands. You gingerly apply a bandage from your car’s console to his bruised cheek, while he sits in the front seat and brackets your hips with his knees.

He gazes up at you like a man seeing God.

The neighbors beat on the walls, while I'm face first in the bed. Show me how much I mean to you while I’m lying in these sheets undressed…

You sleep in the rest area that night, in the back of your van. No mattress, just your backs to the hard floor of the cab. With no A/C again, you shuck your clothes and spread a single white blanket over your bodies, more for modesty’s sake than anything else. Even though it’s unlikely that a cop is going to run you down in the middle of nowhere, you’d rather not get cited for public indecency. 

He holds you all night long, his arms around you and his chest against your back giving you peace, but he doesn’t touch you in any of the ways that you desperately want him to.

It takes the better part of a day to drive to St. Louis. Eddie swallows a couple tylenol for his face with his truck stop coffee and eggs, smiling softly at you from across a bright yellow plywood table in a cafeteria. From the look on his face, you doubt that he regrets the fight that gave him his wounds.

By the time your old van rattles up to another Motel 6 at the outskirts of the city, Eddie’s shaking his head. “The car’s not gonna take much more than this. I need to give it a good look, maybe borrow a tool kit and give it a tune up.”

“Whatever you say, magic man,” you muse at him. “Let’s just sleep in a real bed tonight, huh?”

His head tilted back, he looks at you sideways with a lopsided smile. You can tell his face is still hurting, but he puts on a brave face and bats his eyelashes at you. “Sounds good to me, princess.”

His touch lingers on you more, now, than it did yesterday. His fingers grazing your forearm as you open the glass door to the motel office, his hand hovering over your lower back as you sign for the room. His arm slung over your shoulder as he follows you down to the room, twirling the key around his finger. 

“You think the A/C will work this time?” He asks you lightheartedly as he turns the key in the lock.

“Only one way to find out,” you return with the same warmth in your voice. If you from two days ago could hear yourself, and that ooey-gooey note of lovesickness in your voice, your past self might keel over and die. When did this happen? 

You drop your bag of clothes on the bench by the bathroom door. Eddie bangs around the A/C unit a bit, until something starts whirring, and he makes a gleeful noise.

“It’s aliiiiive!” He announces dramatically, emulating Dr. Frankenstein. You giggle as he leaps toward you, practically throwing you onto the bed in excitement. “We have cool air. We can actually wear clothes to bed tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, not even trying to hide your disappointment at the thought. The best part of your last two mornings has been waking up to his naked body beside yours, warm and soft and littered with tattoos that you just can’t stop looking at. 

You mean, I won’t get to wake up to your skin on mine tomorrow? I won’t be able to pretend like I’m not staring at your dick and imagining all the things I want to do to it? How will I be able to admire you for my own perverted gain?

You don’t even realize that you’re stroking your fingers across his bruised cheek until he leans into your touch. Then you take inventory of your current position- your back to the mattress, his body hovering over you, half covering you. Caging you in with his arms. His long hair creates a veil around your faces. 

When he blinks his eyes open at you, you can tell where his mind is before he opens his mouth. “Did we have our first fight yesterday?”

You frown, a puff of air exiting your nose. “No, I think I’d call it laying ground rules.” 

“Ground rules,” Eddie nods, his sore cheek rubbing against your hand. You’re starting to wonder if he likes the pain, since he won’t stop pushing into it. “I’m not great at remembering rules. What were they, again?”

“No fighting.”

“Right, and no gambling.”

“No bars.”

He squints. “Is that one still up for negotiation, or…?” He trails off, giggling as you smack your hand lightly against his shoulder. “Kidding! I’m kidding. No bars. Got it.” 

“And that was it,” you tell him sweetly. “Unless there was another one you wanted to add?”

He stares at you for a long moment, his fingers twirling in the hair right beside your ear as he gets lost in thought. Say what you’re thinking, your mind practically screams at him. Please, god, say what we’re both thinking…

Eddie licks his lips and finally says, “No sleeping with clothes on?”

Gotcha. A creeping smile stretches your face, trying to play coy even when your heart’s beating a mile a minute. Eddie’s eyebrows raise at you, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m not easy, Eddie.”

“I know,” he tells you, mirroring your smile. “I don’t expect to get lucky with you.”

“I know,” you hum. Your hand drifts up the side of his torso, a more firm and languorous touch than you’d previously been brave enough to give him. “But do you want to?”

Eddie shudders, and it’s the first honest to god evidence you have that you turn him on as much as he does you. The realization feels rapturous. 

“God, yes.”

He kisses you then, open-mouthed and passionate, his hand cupping your jaw to keep you where he wants you. Your nails scratch up his back with a loud tearing sound against his shirt, and he chuckles as you frantically clutch at him with all your strength. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmurs, pecking your lips briefly before descending to bite at your jaw. “You’ve been wanting this since that first night. Feelin’ me up in the morning, like I wouldn’t notice…”

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” you hiccup as his hand cups the crotch of your jeans, rocking the meat of his palm firmly where you’re dying for friction. “Oh, ffffuck Eddie, m’sorry…”

“And here you were, thinking I was the pervert,” he grunts. “‘Least I can keep my hands to myself, hm?”

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry,” you babble at him, hands shaking as they grip onto his shoulders. Now that the aching throb between your legs is back, and he’s finally giving it attention, you can’t seem to come up with a more coherent sentence. Your face grows hot, but not at the fact that you’d been caught in your lechery- just because he turns you on more than you can think to admit.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet thing,” Eddie whispers. His dark eyes are lined up with yours, the curtain of his hair shielding them from reflecting any of the light from the desk lamp- it’s just you and the starry voids of space, locked in your own little world. He rubs his hand back and forth with practiced pressure against the front of your jeans, your hips kicking up against him. “I want you to touch me. Want you to do whatever you want with me, baby.” 

“Whatever I want?” Your fingers dragging up his lower back, under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

“Anything,” he insists, kissing you again. Wet and sloppy, teeth clacking as you grind up into his palm. Your thick denim jeans are about the most abominable things that have ever existed.

You feel like your head’s on sideways with how pent up you already are. “I want you to fuck me Eddie- jesus chr- can we do that? Right now? Please?” 

Eddie laughs. A happy, whole-hearted, almost disbelieving laugh. “Thought I was gonna be the one begging you, after all this…” His breath hitches, the touch of his hand leaving you so that he can push himself back. “Lemme get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

You nod quickly, earning a pleased hum from him. The way he undresses you is touched by reverence; his fingers slow as they drag the cotton of your shirt over your head, grazing your skin all the way. His lips dancing across your collarbone as he undoes the front of your stupid fucking jeans. You just want them off, done with and laying in a pile to be forgotten about by the motel room door, but Eddie has other plans. 

“Slow.” He grabs your hip to stop your wiggling, fingers curled around the back of the waistband of them as he pulls the denim down your thighs. “We’ve got all night, baby. I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere.” 

“I want you,” you insist desperately, sounding like a broken record. Your distress is evident on your face, in the way you clench your thighs together to hide the obnoxious wet spot growing on your cotton panties. You wonder if he’d felt it when he was touching you over your jeans, if the heat and dampness had soaked through the denim as well. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“You have me, sweetheart,” Eddie ensures. “Don’t… I don’t want you to worry about it. M’gonna make sure there are no worries in that pretty head.” 

He yanks his t-shirt off, the one you’d bought him from the resale store. A cloud of frizzy, dark hair obscures his pretty face for half a second, the shirt landing on the floor somewhere off to the side, and then Eddie’s eyes find you again, grinning at you widely with pointed teeth.

You grab for him, your fingers looping around the chain that hangs from his neck. Tugging him down, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. Then to his sore jaw, where a tiny scab has formed on the right side of his chin. Then to his bruised cheek, where he flutters his eyes shut and groans softly at the brush of your lips. 

“My boy,” you whisper to him, and you don’t even know if he understands the significance of it to you. His girl. Your boy. 

Eddie smiles against your skin. He peppers kisses everywhere he can reach, down onto your chest, dragging his sharp teeth every once in a while just to hear you keen. You’re certain you’ve ruined your underwear now, feeling the wetness grow cool against your skin. 

What a fucking concept. Cool air. 

Eddie seems to have the same thought as you, as he slips his fingers beneath the white cotton and peels them down your legs. Strings of your arousal stick to the wet fabric, dropping off in thick tendrils onto the sheets below you as he groans lowly.

“Fuck,” Eddie curses, shaking his head in chastisement as he settles between your legs at the end of the bed. He tsks, “Just look at you, poor thing. Should’a said something to me, can’t have you going around like this.”

You shiver as he trails his mouth up the inside of your thigh. His day-old stubble scrapes your sensitive skin, making you break out in a cold sweat. “M’not- I didn’t want you to think-”

“That you’re easy?” He coos with a condescending smile. “No, honey. I know, you’re a good girl.” He nips at the widest part of your thigh, plush flesh indenting with the imprint of his teeth. “But I’m no good. You should know that, better than anyone. No good for you.”

Eddie’s tongue burns and soothes at the same time, leaving your brain a scrambled mess on the mattress beneath you. He gathers all of your collected arousal into his mouth, groaning like he’s been desperate to taste it all this time. “Been dreaming of this since I saw you, pretty girl.” 

Pulling your leg over his bare shoulder, he all but crushes you against his face, his sturdy hands wrapped around your hips to hold you still. Your back arched, your hips fully off the bed as he lifts your lower half into the air.

You choke out the first part of his name, your hands fisting in the comforter next to your head. There’s a twist of pleasure deep in your core that makes you whine far louder than necessary, a waterfall of words spilling from you before you can stop them, “Oh shit- Ed- I don’t- s’too good-”

“Too good?” Eddie snickers, eyes bright as he watches you from between your thighs. “Nothing's too good for you.” 

Then he spits onto your already soaked and swollen pussy. You sob, positively crying from the feeling of it, drenched and dripping along your sensitive flesh. Eddie spreads the wetness around with his tongue, and your cunt clamps down hard at the lewd squelch of it, the mortifying slurp of his lips closing down and sucking on your labia. 

“Oh fuck, what the fuck-” you whimper high to the ceiling, mouth hanging open in shock. 

You could have been doing this for days. He could have fucked you like this the first night, when you lay next to him, naked in the dark. Your body aches at the thought of being deprived of this longer than necessary.

“That’s it, baby, just stay still. Let me ruin you, huh?” Eddie murmurs, letting your thigh rest heavy on his shoulder so that he can move one hand, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit in front of his face. He watches your cunt glisten and throb for him, listening to your desperate sobs echo through the otherwise silent room, and whispers, “Shit. Like my own little fuckin’ pornstar, sweetheart.” 

Normally, you wouldn’t exactly take that as a compliment- but with the way he says it, with his voice thick and dark like that, and with the way the hot, slick velvet of his tongue dips into your channel and shoots electricity along your skin, you figure he must have meant it like one. 

He goes slow, thrusting into you gently, taking his time to get familiar between your legs. Still, it doesn’t stop you from positively shrieking toward the ceiling when he licks you from hole to clit, the entire expanse of his tongue sweeping along nerve endings that are charged like live wires. 

Eddie chuckles, hot breath spilling out over your feverish skin, and he pauses there. Lets you feel the warm press of his flattened tongue before he just barely rubs it back and forth, back and forth-

“Eddie-!?” You gasp, an erotically loud moan spilling out of your mouth right before you come all over his. You crumble, your hips threatening to buck out of his steady grip as searing euphoria rips through you. He scrambles, ringed fingers locking tight enough on your waist to bruise, keeping you against him as you thrash wildly. 

He keeps you like that for a long time, purring into your spasming pussy while an array of unhinged noises pour from your body- your mouth, your hands tearing at the sheets and at your head, your cunt and all its wet filth drenching Eddie’s bruised face. 

If it hurts him, he doesn’t let on. He just keeps going, and going.

Until something pounds against the wall behind your head. You hiccup, your dazed, post-orgasm brain unable to comprehend where the sound is coming from. That wasn’t- couldn’t have been me…

“Pretty sounds,” Eddie giggles as he finally pulls his mouth away from you. “Guess the neighbors agree.”

“Oh, god.” Your hands cover your face, hot and sticky with sweat. Your eyes feel heavy, fuck-drunk, your heart still pounding in your chest from the adrenaline of the orgasm Eddie gave you. You feel embarrassed, like you ought to be going over to apologize to whatever sorry person happens to be sharing a wall with you, now.

Eddie has other plans. “Think we should give the audience a good show, huh?”

It’s merely a suggestion- you know that you could always find a way to quiet yourself, stuff your mouth with cotton and stifle your moans- but the implication of it makes your toes curl. Your breath rattles in your chest when you inhale. “You… you want everyone in the building to hear you fucking me?”

Eddie crowds you on the bed, your legs still slung over his shoulders so that you’re bent nearly in half. He’s still too fucking clothed for your liking- his leather belt digs into the back of your thighs as he presses a sloppy kiss to your dry lips. “I want everyone here to know you’re mine, sweetheart.”

Your hands cradle his face, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. Your over extended legs flop down onto the mattress, and you whine into his mouth as he massages his tongue with yours.

“I’m yours, Eddie,” you moan against his damp skin. “Oh god, I want it- want everyone to know.”

You take the initiative, with one last kiss turning in his grip. His hand slips, catching himself from toppling off the bed as you scoot onto your stomach, your knees planting on the mattress so that you can wiggle your hips up at him. 

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, smoothing a gentle palm over your ass before he kisses your lower back. He pauses, drawing soft kisses up your spine until his breath sweeps your shoulder blade. “You’re so beautiful. How’d I get so fucking lucky?”

A quiet keen is the only answer you give him, shoving your hips backward to get him to just fucking touch you, but he pulls away too quickly. There’s the clink of a belt buckle, a zipper being pulled, and you tense, your hand closing into a fist around the pillow at the head of the bed. Following the rustle of clothes, you hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper- you hadn’t even realized he had one. It didn’t even occur to you, in your dizzying need to fuck him, like some loveblind idiot.

You almost berate yourself for it, but then you feel his cock press against your entrance, and all those thoughts die away. He rolls his hips, and every single muscle in you tightens.

Eddie chokes on air as pleasure positively tears through you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth wide open and threatening to drool onto the pillow you’ve been shoved face-first into. 

“F-fuck, you’re so big.” It’s the only thing you can choke out around moans. He splits you so wide, dragging through your slick walls that are still so sensitive from your first orgasm. 

“Holy shi- oh my god-” he gasps behind you. “M’so sorry- I can’t- Feels so fucking good-” 

You groan, unable to form words to adequately answer him. All you can manage to do is jam your hips backward in an attempt to get him deeper, as far as he can fucking go inside you. Your body blazes, everything coming up smelling of sex and sweat as you wail hopelessly into the pillow.

Eddie snarls, a deep and dangerous noise in the back of his throat as he draws his hips back and presses into you again. There’s no time for you to adjust, each thrust a little more forceful than the last. His cock hits sharp heaven deep inside you, punching loud and guttural moans from you each time his hips impact your ass. 

“That’s a good girl- so ffffucking wet, goddamnit,” Eddie praises you through clenched teeth, ringed fingers and bruised knuckles wrapping loosely around your neck to lift your head from the pillow. “Let them hear all those pretty noises for me, baby.”

“Eddie…” You hiccup, your voice kicked up into a shrill whine. You swallow against the press of his fingers on your throat, holding your jaw into the air so there’s no place for your sounds to go but to the wall and through it. 

Above your head, the banging on the wall starts back up. Eddie drops your chin and slams his hand on top of the headboard, gripping tightly at plywood that threatens to hit the wall as he ruts into you. Your face hits the pillow again, but your sobbing moans still come out loud and disruptive as Eddie speeds up his hips in retaliation. 

“Doing so good f’me. Feel me, princess? So fucking deep,” Eddie groans. His cock licks up a sweet heat inside of you, and you know you’re going to come. He curses lowly, his hips pistoning into yours hard enough that you have to smack your hand into the headboard to keep from knocking into it. “Taking me so well. So perfect- s’like you were made for me, I know it, I just fucking know it…”

Eddie’s arm wraps around your waist from behind, and he hauls your back into his sweat-slick chest. You almost feel weightless, for a moment, before you’re settled back into his lap, your thighs bracketing his as he kneels beneath you, clutching you against him. 

A gasp tears from your mouth with a loud, “Shit!” His cock hits a different spot inside you, bursting color behind your closed eyelids as you throw your head back against his shoulder.

Eddie’s breath fans across your neck, sweat-damp hair tickling the side of your face. His hand greedily palms at your breasts, bouncing you in his lap as his tongue traces a wet line along your shoulder. 

“Just know you were made for me,” Eddie repeats quietly in your ear, his breath feeling like flames on your neck. “That’s why you found me, baby. You were meant to be mine, my girl.”

His girl.

“Yours, Eddie,” you blubber, reaching back to dig a fist into his hair as his hands squeeze your breasts. “M’all yours.”

“Yeah?” Eddie murmurs, his voice saccharine and velvety. He moans in your ear when your cunt clenches down, a threatening throb at the outskirts of your orgasm. “Say it again.”

A whimper, high and needy in your throat. “I’m yours. Your girl- oh, f-fuck, Eddie- I’m gonna-” 

“That’s right. My good girl. Only easy when it comes to me, right?” 

Eddie’s hand drags purposefully down, fingernails dragging just through your pubic hair, just barely grazing where you want him- just like you did to him, that first morning. The realization makes you seize up, all tense from head to toe. 

“What’s it like, when I do it to you? You like it?” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, a hiss through your teeth as you nod. His laugh is barely a ghost of a breath on your skin. “Yeah. I did, too.”

Eddie’s voice in your ear says, “Come for me,” and not even a fraction of you would deny him that.

His finger drags slowly your clit, calloused skin catching on the swollen bud, and you come. Your body slumps against him, and you’re so grateful for his arms around you to hold you through it. You’d swear he was splitting you in half with the sounds coming from your mouth. Your head tilted back on his shoulder, every breath is punctuated by a hoarse cry that breaks in your throat. Your hand clamps around his arm, which is still cradling you close to his chest as his own moans ring in your ear, his hips driving up into you as your cunt pulses around his cock. You know that he comes when his teeth wrap around the muscle of your shoulder and bite down.

Silence settles over your sweaty bodies, but thunderous banging is still furiously happening on the other side of the wall. You hear voices, words too muffled by the drywall to be intelligible, but they still sound angry.

Eddie won’t let you go, not yet. He’s clutching you, his mouth still wrapped around your shoulder, even though his teeth aren’t biting anymore. You pet his forearm, and lean forward just enough to knock lightly on the wall.

“We’re done!” Your voice cracks with the effort it takes to call out to the people on the other side.

“Fantastic show, my love. I think we deserve five stars.” Eddie laughs, nuzzling his face into your neck as he finally releases your shoulder from the trappings of his jaw. “I think I’m corrupting you, sweetheart.”

You hum, still petting his arm. “I think you already have, teddy.” 

Eddie freezes, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. “No one’s called me that since I was a kid.”

“What, teddy?” He nods. Your fingernails drag dully down his arm, tracing over a tattoo of a swarm of bats, which breaks out in goosebumps under your touch. “Is that… Can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, you can- you can call me teddy.”

It’s quiet after that. He rocks you in his arms until you kiss his knuckles and lift yourself gingerly from his lap, earning a pacified grunt from him as his softened cock slides out of you. You watch him as he ties off the condom and tosses it in the wastebasket a few feet away, then flops backward onto the bed so that his head hits the pillows. 

You chuckle, sliding forward to run your hands along his stomach. “Honey, you still have your pants on.”

He hadn’t taken them completely off, only pushed them down far enough to free his cock and have at you. What’s more, he still has his boots on, too- big, black motorcycle things that nearly hang off the end of the bed. 

Eddie grunts dismissively. “C’n deal with it in the morning.”

“No sleeping with clothes on.”

He huffs petulantly, but the scowl he tries to give you turns into a lovesick grin pretty quick. He tucks his hand behind his head in mock-nonchalance. “Hey, pretty lady. You come here often?”

“Once or twice, so far.” You grin at him as he laughs, rolling your eyes as you move down the bed to finish undressing him. You untie his boots and let them fall with his jeans and boxers onto the floor at the end of the bed, glancing up at him once you’re finished.

His eyes are closed. You don’t think he’s sleeping yet, but he’s flushed, covered in sweat. He’s still so much of an enigma to you, but you adore him. You’re enamored with him. 

You crawl slowly up the length of his body, feline-like in your movements. You appraise his tattoos, smoothing your hands over them as you go. You lean down and press featherlight kisses across his beautiful, bruised face. 

Eddie cracks his eyes open at you with an inquisitive smirk, just barely puckering his lips to kiss you back when you land one on them. “Feeling me up again, sweetheart?” 

You hum, kissing his chest. “You’re hot.” It’s the only explanation you afford him. And once he’s shut his eyes again, you carefully move down his body, peppering kisses across his naked torso.

“What’re you-?” He twitches when you drag your tongue over his cock, still wet and salty with his cum. He groans as you slowly lift it, suckling on the head gently. “Oh… Sweetheart, m’not… I don’t think I can-”

“I’m just cleaning you up, teddy,” you tell him gently. “S’okay. You can go to sleep.”

He hums tiredly, his hand lifting to run through your hair, stroking tenderly against the back of your head. “My girl just can’t keep her hands off, huh?”

“Not a chance,” you tell him, giving him another slow lick. “You’re just too fucking pretty, Eds.”

“And you’re too fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie only really falls asleep after he comes again.

I’m never gonna leave you, baby, even if you lose what’s left of your mind…

A few days later, the car breaks down in Colorado Springs.

It had been acting up for a while, of course. Even though you enjoyed watching Eddie when he was bent over the open hood, bare arms sweaty and streaked with grease in the afternoon heat, you knew it ultimately wasn’t going to end well. 

Each time Eddie tinkered with it, more and more concerning things came to light. “One of your cylinders misfired,” he said one time, shaking his head. He’d insisted on driving it from that point on. Another, “The fucking spark plug has gone out. We have to get a new one.” That was $75 you didn’t have to spare.

You guess the car had just fucking had it when you got to Colorado. You went to start it up at a truck stop, and the whole thing just sputtered and coughed at you, and then you didn’t have an engine anymore.

After Eddie paced around and cursed about it for a couple minutes, you both crawled into the back of the van and locked the door. And now you sit cross-legged across from each other, with everything of value that you have to your name in a little pile in front of you.

When you left home, you’d saved up a couple thousand to live off of until you got somewhere you felt comfortable working and living in. Since then, you’ve squandered it on food and motels and gas, never staying put and now rambling along with Eddie.

From the ATM, Eddie had stolen around two thousand dollars. He’s in the same boat as you, now looking at only a couple hundred in between the two of you. Hardly enough to afford a hotel room or bus fare for the both of you. Certainly not enough to get you a new car, or even rent one.

He scrubs his hands down his face, dirty fingernails pressing into his skin. “You should take it.”

“What?” You squint at him. 

“There’s enough here for bus fare for you, at least,” Eddie murmurs, his fingers poking at the pile and scooting it toward you. “Getcha where you want to go. Get a nice job at a tourist shop in Vegas or Santa Monica or something.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie?” you snap. You swat his hand away from the pile, looking affronted. “I’m not taking the money, so cut it out. We’ll figure something else out.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he’s already made up his mind. “We had a deal. I fix your car, you take me with you. And I didn’t fix your car.”

“Yeah, but that was before…” you trail off, scrutinizing his expression. He won’t meet your gaze. He won’t look at you. 

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes like he’s a fish out of water. Then, he says bitingly, “Before we fucked?” 

You can feel all the emotion drain from your face, leaving you a blank, hollow screen with dead eyes just staring at him. It’s your best defense against bursting into tears at the very tone of his voice. 

When he glances at you, you can tell that he wants to take it back immediately. His teeth worry his bottom lip, ripping at chapped shreds of skin. “Don’t do me any favors, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a fucking favor- I thought we were doing this together.”

Eddie talks over you. “You don’t need to keep dragging me around with you, okay? You’re off the hook.”

“Eddie, you’re being mean,” you croak at him. Not exactly the quick, biting wit that you can usually whip out- he’s shocked you.

He drops his eyes, his hands squeezing his knees. “Yeeeah,” he grumbles, his fingers tapping sporadically against his denim jeans. “Well, I told you, I’m no good for you. You didn’t listen.”

You told me that while your tongue was in my pussy. The words are balanced on the edge of your teeth, but they won’t fall out. Your hands itch to reach out for him, grab his chin and force him to look at you, somehow. 

Instead, they snatch up the little bit of cash from your side of the pile in between you. You crumple it in your hand and shove the wad into your jacket pocket before you grab the strap of your weather-beaten backpack full of the last things you have to your name, and kick open the back door of the van. 

It’s summer, but it’s windy in Colorado. It must be something about the mountains, you guess, and it being early morning. Condensation hangs in the air, making the air both heavy and cool as you breathe. Funny- if you slept naked, you’d probably have to curl up into each other for warmth, for a change. 

You’re either vibrating from rage or from the abnormal chill in the air. Standing on the street corner with the gas station sign lit up in neon behind you, you kick the crosswalk pole with your dirty converse. You’re still arguing with him, in your head. We were in this together, motherfucker. I told you, I’m your girl. I put all my eggs in your basket. Whatever fucking martyr complex this is, you can shove it right up your stupid-

“I know.” Eddie’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest, his face buried in your hair as he whispers urgently into it. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

So, you weren’t arguing with him in your head. You were actually yelling everything you were thinking, and he chased you as you stormed off. Seems about par for the course. 

“Fuck you, Eddie, did it even mean anything to you?” you blather at him, your voice thick with impending tears. “‘Cause it meant something to me.”

“Course it did,” he rasps at you, his arms squeezing you to him so tight that you’re running out of air to breathe. “I didn’t- I was being shitty. I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

“Then don’t push me away.” The tears collect in your lashes, finally dripping down your cheeks. You turn in his arms and whack your hand flat against his chest. “Don’t treat me like some slut, don’t- I didn’t sleep with you just because I wanted you to fix my fucking car, you jerk.”

“I don’t think that,” Eddie insists quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “C’mon, now.”

“You said-”

“I know what I said,” he cuts you off. “And I didn’t mean it. I have a bad habit of throwing away the good things in my life, ‘cause… ‘cause of that martyr complex, you said-” He jams his tongue against the roof of his mouth when you hiccup, staring up at him with a wobbly lip. “Don’t let me throw you away. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had, ‘n I don’t wanna lose you just because I’m an idiot.”

You sigh, your head falling neatly into the crook of his neck like it’s meant to be there. He’s too quiet, holding you against him at the street corner. Eddie breathes in deep and kisses the side of your head longingly. 

“I can get us a car.”

You lift your head to look at him. He wears a disappointed expression. “But we don’t have any money.”

“It won’t take money,” Eddie mumbles as he strokes your back. “I, uh… I didn’t want to end up like my old man, but…” he shrugs, his eyes cast away from you. He chuckles sadly. “Nothin’ I can do about that, now, I guess. I mean, look how you met me.” 

Oh. You can infer what he means by the far-off look on his face, like he’s resigned himself to his fate. You lift your hands to cradle his face; the bruise on his cheekbone has faded to yellow, the scab on his chin almost healed. He’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“You’re a good man, Eddie,” you tell him sternly.

Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be too sure of that. You might change your mind.”

‘Cause you know I’ll be right there beside you, riding through all these western nights…

The sedan isn’t exactly flashy, or new. It’s a tin can on wheels that’ll crumble into bits if you so much as side-swipe a trash can. You keep a lookout as Eddie jimmies an unwound wire coat hanger between the glass window and the door, and a second later the door is unlocked.

You’re unnervingly calm. How did you get to be so calm about all this? Stealing money, driving getaway cars, stealing other cars when those ones don’t work. Suddenly an accomplice to whatever illegal shit has to happen for you to get where you’re going.

What’s worse, you think, is how badly the sight of him hotwiring the car turns you on. It’s practically horrifying the way your skin crawls and your core burns as you watch his hands fiddle with the wires beneath the console, so quick that your mind can barely process it. You’re not sure if the adrenaline in your veins is from looking to see if anyone’s coming, or if it’s because you want to jump his bones.

"I swear to you," he's saying as he swipes at frayed wires, "I swear, when we get to San Francisco, I'll never- I'm gonna get an honest, real fuckin' job, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt yo-"

The car starts, and you leap into the front seat without giving it any more thought. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He looks up at you, his brows tilted up expectantly. He’s still tucking wires back under the dashboard, preparing to take off once he gets the door shut.

“I slept with you because I’m falling in love with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide as moons, glittering in the light of a fluorescent floodlight at the corner of the dark parking lot. 

“You don’t have to love me back,” you tell him honestly. “I just wanted you to know. I’m with you. And I’m not gonna leave.”

You don’t know if he loves you back- not yet, anyways. He doesn’t say it to you. But he kisses you like he does.

I'll be screaming your name past the gas stations, trailing down the interstate. Please don't love how I need you, and know that one day, you and I could be okay.

NOT LACEY MY HEART-😭😭😭

THE DEVIL I KNOW: CHAPTER SIX - I DON'T NEED TO FEEL THE SUN, LET ME TOUCH YOUR SKIN

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie's dumbassery brings the cops to... a door. Not exactly his, though.

cw: fem masturbation mention, sacrilegious themes, horror, magic, telepathy, demonic shenanigans, possessive behavior, mean!eddie but not to reader, murder, there are multiple minor character deaths and death mentions, gore, blood, animal death mention, graphic depictions of violence, eddie says ACAB, smoking, bullying/harassment, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

this fic contains dark themes and this entire work is explicit. please check all content warnings for each chapter. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

series masterlist ♫ series playlist ♫ series tag

Eddie steps– read: stumbles– through the dusty mirror on the back of the closet door. This house he picked is one grade A shithole, but it’ll work for his purposes.

Ohhh, he’s so fucking mad. So mad. He would have stayed with you all night. He would have been there to force you to drink some water, eat some chocolate. Now that you’ve given him a chance– now that you’ve decided you want him– he would have stayed with you until you were crying from pleasure. You’re so fucking precious when you beg, and he’s a creature of pride. And lust. And gluttony and all those other fucking sins– something about becoming a demon has made them all multiply within him. 

If he’d stayed with you, he would have taken you to pieces. Pulled you apart and molded you to his whim, given you anything you asked for and more. Maybe he’d even coax you to another orgasm in your dreams; who knows? The possibilities were literally endless. 

But he’s not there with you. 

He’s here in Fuckass, Nowhere, because the cops decided to dig into your so-called ‘high school sweetheart,’ Eddie Munson.

Why the fuck he gave you his real name, he doesn’t know. Maybe because he wanted you to know it, to have it in your mind the way yours is in his, constantly. But he didn’t imagine the cops would try to look into it. 

But, of course they would, because shit like this never goes easy for him. And, of course they would decide to do it the day that he’s got a hot date to take care of.

Fucking cock blocks.

He had to leave you in your post-orgasmic haze to cause a power outage at the department of investigation before he could construct a fictitious Eddie Munson, who’d grown up in or around Eastwick. Sketchy background, a few minor felonies that don’t add up to shit, but warrant at least an arrest record. Something believable without being too on the nose.

The lamp lights flicker on and off as he moves through the trailer. The TV switches on without any physical force directing it to. He picks up a yellowing, half empty box of Marlboro reds from the end of the kitchen counter, and pulls one out of it. 

The previous owner of this house rots in a lake a mile away, a few months too late for the party. One of the good things about being a demon is that you can construct an alibi so easily, change names on house deeds and pay stubs and tax forms with the flick of a wrist. Make it so that something you say happened actually did happen, on paper. Erase something you don’t want there. 

The rug beneath his bare feet is rough, indoor-outdoor carpeting that the poor idiot who owned this house didn’t bother to switch out. Eddie’s dark jeans hang low on his hips, his chest bare and his hip bones jutting out at odd angles. He looks down and all his old tattoos are there, just the way he likes them. Your taste is still on his tongue, in the corners of his mouth, behind his teeth, reminding him of where he’d rather be. 

Eddie lights himself the cigarette as he peeks out of the kitchen window. In the yard, the coppers are rounding the rust bucket of a Volkswagen bug sitting in the tall grass.

He sits on the rickety wooden dining chair beside the door, listening to their footsteps as they mount the porch, whispering to each other. He hates cops. Always did, for obvious reasons, when he was human– but now that he’s beyond worldly measures, all they do is stick their noses in where they don’t belong.

Normally, he wouldn’t do this. A normal demon would allow the consequences of the deal you’d made to catch up with you. A normal demon would let you swim or drown when it comes to dealing with the repercussions, take their share from the deal and run away, allowing the contract to claim your soul. Just like his own demon did to him.

The thing that Eddie failed to mention to you when you cut that deal with him is that he would steal the sun just to keep you warm. He had already decided that he was in love with you when he got your petition, and he doesn’t know how to love passively. 

So, this is a walk in the park for him, all things considered.

Three knocks against the door cut over the sound of Scarface on the TV. Eddie shakes his head in solidarity at the house ghost floating in the corner, watching him with hollow eyes and creating a black hole where a lamp is supposed to be.

“Watch me fuck this up,” he whispers to it.

“Edward Munson?” The small one, Officer Leony, peers up at him with a blank expression when he opens the door. 

“Uh… yeah?” 

He stares down at her, leaning a naked shoulder against the doorframe, not bothering to extinguish his cigarette. He sucks in a long drag.

Christ, this thing tastes like ass. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Cigarettes taste better when he just conjures them himself.

Eddie exhales a cloud of tobacco, somehow without pulling a face or retching. He’ll smell like smoke no matter what, and he’s sure that the heat of his hellfire radiates from his bare skin into the muggy air. Best to pretend it’s because he’s nothing but a smoker. He can feign mortality up to a point, and that’s where the uncanny valley sits. 

Seemingly to support this, Leony rocks back on her heels, but doesn’t step back the way she wants to.

“I’m Officer Leony, this is Officer Casey–” she gestures to the taller man beside her. “There’s been a disturbance at a town upstate, and we’re here to ask you a few questions about it, if that’s all right.”

Eddie shifts in place. Oh, no, he couldn’t have predicted this. “Can’t see what I’d have to do with something upstate.”

“Y’ever been to a little town called Eastwick?” Casey asks mildly.

“I grew up a town over. Across the river.” Eddie lies. It gives him a certain thrill to lie to the cops again. It’s like riding a bike– you never really forget how, but sometimes you miss it when the weather’s right.

“Ever met a man named Andrew Montgomery?”

That piece of shit motherfucker. “Never heard of him.”

“He’s dating– dated– someone we think you may know,” Leony begins.

“You’ve got her name on your chest,” blurts Casey, who seems to be having trouble keeping his eyes on Eddie’s face, in favor of the glaring mark. “Nice, uh. Nice scar.” 

“It’s a brand.” Eddie can’t help the smirk that comes to his face when he glances down to see the raised tissue on his own skin. You’d only said that he burned your name on his chest, but he took that a step further and placed it over his heart. Go big or go home, right? “Not as pretty as she was, but it’s not like I can remove it.”

“Right.” 

A few paces away, in the trees, a pack of hounds snarl and bark like they’re having a real field day. 

“What’s that?” Casey nearly yelps, peering into the trees. He sees nothing. “Wolves?”

“No, those are just my dogs.” Eddie shrugs at him. He fights off a nervous laugh. “They get a little rowdy sometimes, y’know. No worries.”

Leony clears her throat. “Mr. Munson, we’re sure that given your… history, you’re no stranger to automotive accidents.”

Eddie’s eyes flick to her. “Accidents?” Accidents, referring to the spontaneously combusting car that a certain Edward Munson was held in custody for perpetrating, but was acquitted for lack of evidence.

Or something. He doesn’t exactly remember the wording he used on the fake case file. Not too on the nose, right?

“See, Mr. Montgomery’s vehicle exploded earlier today.”

“Shit, is he all right?” Pfffft. 

“Why would you assume he was harmed?” Leony asks, looking like she’s just caught him in a lie.

Eddie’s eyes flutter in annoyance. “I know cops. You don’t drive into the middle of nowhere to question someone for a bit of damaged property.”

Leony huffs. “You’re right. Mr. Montgomery is in the ICU, unfortunately. Severe burns all over his body. We just want to rule out any foul play. If you know anything at all…”

“Like I said, I’ve never heard of the guy before now.”

Leony nods, sucking on her teeth. “And, when was the last time you spoke to your ex-girlfriend?”

Eddie puffs out his cheeks, overdramatizing it. “Probably, uh…” Could be talking to her right now. “Five, six years?” 

“And you haven’t been back to Eastwick since then?”

“Why would I want to go back to that fuckin’ place?” Eddie growls. His anger isn’t entirely fake– he hates small towns. 

“I can think of one reason.” Leony’s eyes fall to your name burned onto his heart. “Mr. Munson, I’m sure you’re… aware of your ex-girlfriend’s reputation within the town.”

“Reputation,” Eddie parrots.

“As a witch.” Casey says it so frankly, as if it holds some kind of merit.

Eddie bristles and looks back and forth between them. “R’you telling me that two cops actually believe in that kind of horseshit?”

“Witchcraft isn’t illegal, even if it… were real…” Leony explains hesitantly, while Eddie tries to keep smoke from blowing out of his ears. “But rumors like that don’t form in a vacuum. We have reason to believe she may have tried to harm Mr. Montgomery. If the rumors are true– which, usually they are in these cases, she has a bit of a reputation for being unusual. We just wondered if you can recall any sort of odd behavior… besides the obvious.”

Another pointed look at the brand on his chest.

EDDIE.

Eddie glances up at the moon in the evening sky, waxing its way to full. It’s a little more than halfway there.

EDDIE. EDDIE. EDDIE. 

You’re calling him. He can sense the need in your body, sees flashes of your hands moving down your stomach and dipping beneath the fabric of your pajamas. You’re just lying there, focusing all your energy on him. 

Touching yourself to the thought of him.

Your voice is ringing in his ears, screaming for him to leave this place and go to you. He fights not to wince at the volume of it. 

EDDIE I NEED YOU RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW–

Fuck, he wishes he didn’t have to do this shit. 

Eddie clenches his jaw, squeezing the door jamb so hard that he leaves scorch marks in the plaster in the shape of his fingerprints. He’s mad that he can’t be with you as soon as you call, and he hates that this is keeping him away from you.

He hates what they’ve done to you, ostracized you the way that his own small town did to him. Witchcraft. Devil worship. Unusual equals murder. Even if you are a witch, even if he is the closest thing to the devil you’ll know, he hates the way that these cops talk about you like they know you, or what you’ve been through. 

“Believe me,” he snaps, letting his temper get the better of him, “If she ever did anything unusual, it’s because she had a damn good reason to. Hell, I’d rather burn that whole fuckin’ town to the ground than see her suffer in it anymore.”

Leony’s mouth twitches up at the corners. “Is that so?”

Eddie blinks.

You fucked it up, comes the whispering voice of the ghost in the corner.

“Shit.” Eddie presses his lips together, and tosses his burning cigarette into the dead grass next to the porch. He lifts his two fingers to his lips and whistles loudly. 

Snarling and barking, a pack of shadowy dogs bound out of the trees. Red eyes glow from each smoky figure, varying in size and shape, but all made of the same infernal aether. 

Casey tries to run. Leony tries pulling her gun. The juxtaposition between the two officers is laughable, but ultimately, they both meet the same fate between the jaws of the hellhounds that swarm them. 

Eddie doesn’t see where Casey gets dragged off to– somewhere in the trees, the shouts take a little bit to die down. Leony’s throat gets ripped out first, so all he hears from her is a faint gurgling that slowly gets overshadowed by the sound of crackling as a fire catches on in the grass. 

“Never trust a demon to make things easy,” he sighs, and takes a seat on the porch. It’ll take a few minutes before the fire really gets going on the wood, and by that time he’ll be gone. 

He’ll make sure this doesn’t get back to you. It just means another trip into the computers at the department of investigation, and those wires are really fucking tight to squeeze into.

Eddie whistles shortly. “Cerberus. Stop it, you’re making a mess.” 

The Doberman spirit drops the decapitated head he’d been using as a chew toy, flinging blood all over the yellow grass. Instead, the German Shepherd spirit beside him immediately snatches it and throws it across the yard before chasing after it. 

Eddie glares. “Sauron. Bad dog.”

Out of the mix of shadowy dogs and flying body parts, a tinier hellhound than all the rest trundles up. It’s the newest of the bunch, still in need of training– but Eddie’s not entirely sure that he wants to train it to be like the rest. 

Dogs will be dogs, even in the afterlife. He chose the others for their ferocity. Most of them were the losers of dog fights; innocent animals that never asked to be put through the pain and torture that they got in life, but were trained to be killers nonetheless. They’re protective, loyal, and at times bloodthirsty.

This one is different. This dog has never killed, never maimed, never hurt anything in its little life. This one chose Eddie, sought him out, wandering through the Otherworld as a messenger with a piece of copper in its mouth.

Lacey crawls up into Eddie’s lap on her tiny legs, her little red eyes blinking slowly as she settles down onto his thighs, just like she did when she’d delivered your petition. She’d found him lounging against a tree, emerged from the mist and dropped the copper into his outstretched hand. Made a home for herself in his lap as the details of your petition rolled around in his mind, and all at once he decided you were beginning and end of everything for him. 

He would have given her back to you– she’s the one that you miss, but she’s too young of a spirit to be able to manifest as a physical dog yet. 

But she’s a cuddly thing. He can understand why you loved her so much. He feels a little bit of that love well up in his own heart, underneath your name branded across it.

His hand pets her smoky back as the fire in the grass reaches the porch. 

EDDIE WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU EDDIE EDDIE EDDIE–

Shit, you’re persistent.

POV your best friend makes a good film subject 🎞

POV more eddussy