𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 — 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

This is more centered around Wayne and eddie cause we got robbed of seeing them together. Reader is coming over to watch a movie with eddie (maybe they're new and eddie was nice to them and reade had nothing to do that day or something.) So eddie is panicking and wayne finds it hilarious.

I JUST- I CANT ENOUGH OF EDDIE AND WAYNE I DEMAND MORE FICS

"i've got a girl coming over."

the mug in his hand stops halfway, newspaper falling backwards with the lack of support. wayne's head lowers, looks up at his nephew—who looks...proper, today—through his short eyelashes.

"well, that's a first," he sips his coffee, tongue scorched but it's not as painful as it used to be. "you babysitting or something?"

"n-no," eddie fiddles with his rings, fixing everything on the desk he's standing next to. he fixes the mugs he bought for his uncle, the scattered pens and folding the bills, shoving it inside a drawer. "she's a friend- did you shower today?"

wayne furrows his eyebrows. "i shower everyday, excuse you."

but he doesn't believe it. he saunters over to him, leaning down to take a whiff of his shoulder which makes wayne swat him away with his newspaper.

"what the hell?"

"you smell okay," eddie straightens his back. "listen, she wants to meet you."

wayne chuckles, closing his newspaper. "you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend,"

"she's not!" he blushes profusely, mostly out of embarrassment that he's blushing in front of his uncle like he'd asked eddie about a crush he had when he was in first grade. "she just wants to hang out and she says she wants to get to know you."

he buys it just a bit, standing up from his seat. "well, whaddya both plan on doing today?"

"watching a movie,"

"boring," he snorts. "when i was your age, i took girls out on dates outside of town. ate at diners, watched movies at cinemas, then we'd get behind my car and-"

"okay well first, the cinema's down. second, i'm not ready to have that conversation yet and i don't think i will," eddie tugs on his jacket, chin jutted with pride. "besides, you're too late for that."

"glad to know that,"

"do we have mugs?"

wayne shrugs. "i don't know. why don't you check the shelves. you give me at least three every year. father's day, my birthday, christmas. wonder how many mugs we got."

eddie rolls his eyes. "haha. funny,"

-

when wayne sees you exit eddie's van from the porch, he certainly didn't expect you'd look like a freshly picked flower from a meadow; you looked too soft for eddie, in his opinion, despite your style as he so calls it. but he's happy his nephews happy with you.

eddie senses your nervousness, couldn't help himself but let a hand hover on the small of your back as you both make your way to his uncle who's stepping on his cigarette until it dies down.

"hi!" you quip. "i'm (y/n). you must be—"

"wayne," he shakes your hand. "eddie's therapist,"

"oh!"

"i'm kidding," he lets go of your hand, ignoring the murderous glare of eddie who towers behind you. "i'm his uncle. glad to meet you. he's never shut up about you."

that was a lie. he only heard about you earlier. but he loves to inflict embarrassment.

your cheeks roseate, looking back at eddie who's eyes burn holes at the bald head of his uncle who raises his brows as if to ask what had been wrong. eddie shakes his head, finally letting his hand settle on the dip of your spine as he leads you inside.

"welcome to my humble abode, provided by my ever loving uncle," you observe the baby picture beside the small television, with a much younger wayne with darker hair and a mush of curls coating the top of his head, and an eddie who's smiling brightly with missing teeth, his uncle's hands resting on his chest. "that's me."

"cute," you chuckle. eddie looks at wayne, who gives him a thumbs up and crosses his arms. "what movie are we watching?"

"the fly," eddie says, looking over the table where the dvd rests. wayne snorts, which makes you whip your head at him that he apologizes with a smile. "j-jeff goldblum's in it,"

"nice,"

"hey, uncle wayne?" eddie's voice cracks, wincing but luckily enough you're still at your curiosity venture. "do we have any candles? those long, good smelling sticks that you use when you cook?"

his face blanks. "eds, we never had candles. and we ran out of those good smelling sticks. write them down on the grocery list for me, would ya?" eddie nods, and he pats him on the shoulder. "miss (y/n), sad i wouldn't be able to stay longer but," he takes his cap from a rack. "duty calls."

"oh, it's okay," you smile at him. "i'll take good care of eddie, sir. make sure he's taking all his vitamins and tell me all about his childhood,"

"roger that," wayne tugs his nephew by the shoulder, reaching for his pocket as he leans in to whisper. "now, eddie, you know i'm old. and you know you've got two months left till you leave that hell of a pit, so here's a little gift,"

he takes his hand, opening it widely before he slams something plastic in eddie's palm. when wayne removes his hand, he winces at the sight of the trojan condom in his hand.

"what the fuck?!" he looks behind frantically to make sure you weren't looking before eddie shoves it in his pocket. "i just met her last week!"

"well, you never know,"

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

Eddie Munson’s house (With some details!)

Youth - Chapter 2

Ship: Eddie Munson/Reader Rating: Mature Warning: Vomitting & very brief non-graphic nudity Tags: Hurt/comfort, sickfic, touch-starved Eddie, pre-canon Summary:

You take care of Eddie when he's sick.

Text below!

Chapter 1 here.

You wait until he’s slept for a good three hours (roughly the length of Lord of the Rings) before you get up. Taking extreme measures to slip out from under him and replace your body with a pillow, you pause, watching him make sure he keeps sleeping. When he doesn’t stir, you breathe a sigh of relief. Rewinding the tape to roughly where he fell asleep, you put it back on for him before swiftly exiting his room. 

It’s late, you know that. So you head to the phone and dial-up your home number. It takes two rings before your mother’s voice is coming through the phone:

“(Y/N)!? Where have you been!”

“Sorry, mom, I know, I should’ve been home but…” you take a really deep breath, facing away from Eddie’s room so you don’t wake him. “Eddie got really sick at school. Throwing up sick. I was the one to get him home, and I thought since I’d been in close contact with him it was best not to bring whatever bug he’s got home. I’m gonna stay here a while until he’s recovered, just to be safe so I don’t get you contagious.”

“Oh thank God, I thought something awful happened to you. What with the disappearances not too long ago. Yes, hon, I understand if you want to stay there - I can stop by with something to eat for the both of you if you’d like.”

“That would actually be amazing,” you say with a soft laugh. “I know it might be too much to ask but could you grab the movies from my room? Just pick out whatever so I don’t go insane with my own thoughts. He’s not that big of a talker when he’s like this.”

“Will do. I’ll see you in about… how does an hour or so sound? I’ll defrost that chicken broth in the freezer and get you something proper to eat. Don’t want to overwhelm his stomach now.”

“You are seriously the greatest. Say hi to dad for me, I probably won’t be back for a few days just to be safe we’re not contagious.”

“I understand, sweetie. I’ll see you in a jiff.”

“Bye, mom,” you say, hanging up the phone. 

Taking a deep breath, you lean against the counter and stare at Wayne’s hat collection. You were lucky to have a mom who could see past Eddie’s whole… Eddie. Especially since she could bring you food as you didn’t have three days worth of takeout money. Eddie might, judging by the wrappers everywhere, but you weren’t about to make him put out while he’s sick. He can just pay you back later with some weed and jam sessions. 

You check on him every so often, leaving the door open just a smidge so that you can make sure he’s still in fact, breathing. He’s out cold (thankfully). 

So, you grab a bit of weed from his stash and your bong from his room. You left it here as it was easier than having it in your own house. Your parents were tolerant, but not that tolerant. 

With one final glance back at Eddie, you open the door to the trailer and take a seat on the steps. It’s still early evening as you pack the bowl and click on your lighter. It's not quite the same as smoking with Eddie. It lacks his signature conversation and excessive hand gestures. To be honest, it feels a tad too alone for your tastes, dragging down your mood and impacting your high. He’s barely a few feet away and yet he feels so out of reach.

You persevere anyway. You need something to take the edge off the flutter in your chest when he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. Now was absolutely not the time to go about suffering over a crush.

Leaning back, your head hits the trailer door, a smoke ring drifting through the air. 

You sit on the steps until you see your mother’s car out of the corner of your eye. Forcing yourself to stand you set the bong on the counter inside the trailer and step back outside. She’s grabbing something from the passenger seat as you walk up to her.

“Hey, that didn’t take long,” you say, holding out your hands to take the containers. 

“It took an hour and a half,” she points out, passing you a thermometer. “Here, because I doubt he has one.”

“Thanks, thanks. Times kinda weird when you’re taking care of someone sick so forgive me -” she nods her head - “Anyway, should probably get this into the trailer. I don’t really want to get you sick so uh…”

“(Y/N) I’ve taken care of you while sick countless times. A brief moment in the contamination zone won’t affect me,” she chides. You swear if she didn’t have a box of VHS tapes in her arms her hands would be on her hips. Spiritually they’re definitely there. 

“Right, right,” you mumble to yourself, letting her into the trailer. 

You’re immediately reminded why you hate trailers when the sound of Eddie taking a leak provides “ambience” for the two of you. You set the leftovers down on the counter, shaking your head. To you, it’s normal. Not that you particularly want it to be, but there’ve been plenty of times where he’s paused a movie and gotten up to piss, gracing you with the sound as you try and ignore it until he’s back. 

“Forgive him, he was supposed to be asleep,” you dismiss, baffled that he even had anything left in his system to be turned into urine. 

“I’m a grown woman. I’ve changed your diapers. I’m sure I can handle hearing your boyfriend pee,” she says, setting the VHS tapes down on the coffee table. 

“He’s not my -”

“Hey, (Y/N), I know this is going to sound pathetic but could you make me some soup? I kinda… I don’t feel like vomiting anymore. Starvin’ actually,” Eddie says, cutting you off as he wanders out of the bathroom, using the wall as leverage. “Mrs.(Y/L/N)?! What are you doing here?”

Your mother simply smiles and nods her head.

“Sure he isn’t,” she chirps to you before heading for the door. “Eddie, dear, I hope you get better soon. If you kids need anything else I’m a phone call away. Oh, and remember to wait at least three hours after the last time you puke before eating.”

“Thanks for everything, mom!” you call as she shuts the door. “You’re welcome, dear,” she chirps.

With that, the trailer door shuts and she’s gone. Leaving you alone with a very confused Eddie. 

You sigh, shaking your head before turning your attention to Eddie. He’s deflated against the wall, scratching his stomach with his shirt pooling around his wrist. He can barely keep his eyes open and you're fairly certain if the wall wasn’t there he’d have fallen over. 

“Come here, let’s check your temperature,” you hum, taking out the tiny thermometer. “Then we can get some food in your system. My mom brought chicken soup.”

He grins at this, wobbly and lopsided:

“I always liked your mom’s cooking. Makes me feel like home.”

“You’re delirious,” you say as you shake the thermometer down. “Open wide for me.”

He grins and sticks his tongue out in a sluggish version of the Devil’s naked tongue. You sigh and shake your head, still shaking the thermometer down. 

“No this goes under your tongue you goof, come on, work with me and you get to pick out the next movie,” you insist.

“Thought next one was Indiana Jones,” he slurs, putting his tongue away.

“You have to corporate first. My mom brought a bunch of my old ones,” you inform him, setting the thermometer under his tongue. “There, now, stay here for two minutes. Think you can handle that?”

He nods diligently and you accept it, turning your attention to reheating the soup. You watch the clock to make sure that he’s not just standing there, though you hadn’t anticipated him to be watching it as well. It’s barely been two minutes when he rests his head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist. 

“Someone’s impatient,” you laugh, praying he can’t hear your heartbeat as you take the thermometer out of his mouth. 

“Hungry,” he mumbles, watching you read it.

“Yikes,” you mumble. “One-hundred and two degrees Fahrenheit. One more and we’d need to call you a doctor.”

“Can I still get soup?”

“Yes, you still get soup,” you assure him, patting his hand. “Come on, let’s get you to the couch and so you’re not overexerting yourself.”

He allows you to lead him to the couch, settling him down with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders so he won't get cold. You leave him in a bundle to return to the stove, reheating the soup for him. You can feel his eyes on you as you work, unsure of what to say and knowing he won’t be much for conversation. So you let silence permeate the trailer until you settle down next to him, the bowl in your lap. He’s turned his whole body to face you, still snuggled in his blanket.

“Open,” you request, filling the spoon with broth.

He looks from the spoon to you, nervously. 

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah… I just… is it weird that you’re feeding me? Shouldn’t I do that?”

“Think you can do this or do you want me to? I promise I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” you ask, offering him the spoon. 

He considers it for a quiet moment, curling in on himself in the blankets. You can see he’s still shivering despite the fuzzy fabric. 

“... you. Too cold.”

“Alright,” you say, keeping your tone neutral and level.

You’re actually hoping that he’s going to keep it down. He’s gotten three spoonfuls in, going back for his fourth. Even if he takes really long pauses in between, he’s showing promise. 

You know the instant he puffs his cheeks out a little that this isn’t going to end well. Quickly setting the bowl on the coffee table, Eddie groans. 

“Need help to the bathroom?” you ask tentatively, reaching to take his blanket. 

“Mmm,” he says while shaking his head. 

You arch an eyebrow, taking a seat back on the couch. You’ve barely sat down when he’s bolting for the bathroom. Without a second thought, you go after him, making sure his braid isn’t near his face while he rejects the soup. It feels like forever before he finally stops, and you’re not even the one throwing up. You rub his back, letting him rest his head on his arm currently wrapped around the toilet. 

“Please… make it stop,” he whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“I wish I could, Eds. Let’s get you a cold shower, see if we can bring the fever down and get some of ick off,” you say, standing up to turn on the shower.

“Again? I just had one though,” he mumbles without moving. 

“Eddie, you are super clingy right now and I am not letting you cling to me while covered in toilet germs and sweat,” you point out, reaching to help him stand. 

“Fair point,” he mutters, stripping out of his shirt. You pull the elastic out of his hair to let him wash it. 

“Mhm. Let’s get you nice and cool, then we can watch Indiana Jones,” you remind him, helping him to step out of his pants and into the shower. 

“You’re too good for me. Don’t deserve this,” he mumbles as you shut the curtain. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t whole-heartedly disagree,” you point out. “Now get clean. I’m going to go eat something and then I’ll come help you out.”

“Go eat, ‘can wash myself,” he dismisses you, waving his hand behind the curtain.

“Just call if you need me,” you say as you step out of the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

You opt to wash your hands in the sink before getting your own dinner ready. Thankfully you can just pop it into his microwave, wait two minutes, then have a hot meal. Your mother's cooking was always the best, even if you ate it quickly so as to not leave the smell lingering through the trailer when you got Eddie out of the shower. 

The sound of vomiting interrupts you twice, and you plug your ears until it’s over. Not once does he call for you, and you feel bad, knowing that he wants to let you eat. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want you to see him naked more than you have to. Which is entirely fair. 

Either way, you finish your food, knocking on the open door:

“Ready to get out yet?”

“Yeah,” he slurs as the water shuts off. 

“Think you can dry yourself while I get you some clean clothes?” 

“I got it,” he confirms.

You dip into his room, grabbing more comfy clothes and bringing them back with you. He’s slow to dry off, still trying to get his hair when you return. 

“I’ll do your hair after, just dry the rest of your body,” you encourage him, holding his clothes. 

He does as he’s told without a fight (which is so very rare for him it’s uncanny). Once he’s dry and dressed you’ve gotten him back to bed, Indiana Jones in the VHS player as you sit on the edge of his bed. There’s a bowl next to the bed just in case he vomits again.

“Can you braid my hair again?” he asks quietly, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

“Are you just trying to fall asleep on me again?” you question, fidgeting with his hair tie. 

“... please?” 

You really need to learn how to say no to his puppy-dog eyes because they have you sitting behind him once more, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Your hair is an utter mess. Do you own a comb?” you ask incredulously, knowing he does, just not where. 

“Desk,” he grunts.

You grab it from where it’s pressed between a DnD module and a music notebook. You pick up the notebook, setting it down on the bed. 

“Oh, no, don’t look in that. It’s just shitty lyrics I’m working on,” he immediately says, piquing your curiosity. 

“Oh? Any new songs I should be aware of?” you question as you sit down behind him, taking a comb to his messy hair. 

“No,” he says quietly, tucking his knees to his chest. 

“Nothing?”

“Nothin’.”

“If you say so…”

You know he’s definitely hiding something from you, but, his hair takes top priority. So you comb out every knot you come across, letting him stay quiet and watch the movie. You know talking isn’t the greatest when you’re nauseous. 

He falls asleep before you can even finish braiding his hair, drooling on your shirt with his arms around your waist. You have a feeling this is going to become a regular occurrence, which you don’t exactly mind. He’s always cuddly when he’s high, no matter who he’s with. You’re not surprised he’s the same way when sick; even with a fever that high, he’s still shivering. 

So you let him sleep through Indiana Jones and Fantastic Planet, and the Outsiders, waking up part way through the Empire Strikes Back. He blinks a few times, squinting at the television as he watches the movie. You only notice he’s awake when he snuggles closer to you.

“Woke up for the good part,” he mumbles, watching the battle rage on. 

“Hey you, sleep well?” you hum, your attention immediately on him; brushing his bangs from his face. He still feels like he’s on fire, which isn’t surprising as it’s not even ten yet.

“Ask me tomorrow. Do… do you think we can try more soup?”

“You’re going to have to let me get up for that,” you point out, watching as he lazily redirects his gaze to you. 

“You gonna come back?”

“Just need to get the soup reheated.”

“Okay,” he huffs, shuffling off of you to let you off the bed. He pushes himself to sit up, resting his head on his knees with droopy eyes and a frown.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure him, patting his head.

You try to be as quick as you can. You know that he’ll be distracted by the movie, yet, you hate to leave him like that. Standing in the kitchen you press your lips together with a frown. You shouldn’t reheat soup if you’re not sure if he’ll waste it again. So, instead, you get some of the ice from the freezer and add it to a glass. Then you head back to the room.

“I know it’s not soup, but let's see if you can stomach this first,” you propose, sitting down next to him. 

“Okay,” he nods, opening his mouth.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you set an ice cube on his tongue. 

The whole glass is gone quickly. You wait fifteen minutes, letting him rest against your side as you watch the movie with him. When he doesn’t puke it back up, you get up and return with soup.

This time you only give him three spoonfuls, and you wait again. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. The soup stays down.

“Progress,” you hum, filling another spoon. “Think you can eat another?”

“Absolutely,” he grins, as proud of himself as you are.

lol some Miami firefighter got suspended for texting this

TW/CW: horror, stalking, weirdo Ethan, ghostface, mention of puking

Happy Halloween !

(31/10/2023) (2 228 words)

It's a miracle you agreed to go to that stupid party to begin with.

But Ethan insisted so much that you gave up. He told you he needed to tell you something really important. And, well, you've been flirting with him since forever. The hope he was finally going to ask you out was really present.

You terribly want him to ask you out.

It was a Halloween party, so you had to be disguised. Honestly, you are not too fond of these parties. You rather be in your living room partying with your friends, instead of strangers. But Ethan could ask you to jump out of your window that you'd do it.

So you bought a firefighter outfit from the nearest store and went with it. It's enough. Not good or bad, but enough. you had no idea what to wear anyway. It's not sexy, because you're cold, but it's not ugly. You don't think you'll be staying long anyway. As soon as Ethan's here, you kiss him and you leave.

But your plan turned out to fail miserably as you have no damn idea where your man is at.

You've been searching for him for age and the little fun you had completely faded out into the wind.

You've been wandering in the living room and the kitchen for too long. Did Ethan stand you up ? No, he would never do that. You know him. And, not to be mean, but he does not have a lot of people running after him. He's too shy to do the first move. So he won't miss this chance. Well, you hope anyway.

Deciding that you know the living room by heart, you head to a new area of the house, discovering the garage. The car that were previously here, deducing by the tire mark on the ground, was moved. Logical for someone hosting a party like that.

You sit on the workplan. It seems like tools were here before, but removed just like the car. You lay your back on the wall and close your eyes for a minute. When you think about it, you could've also come with your normal clothes. Because there is some disguises here that look just like everyday outfit.

You could have spare some money and not ridiculise yourself with this outrageousely lame firefighter disguise.

When someone push the door open, you're forced to come back to reality. Your hope of finding Ethan standing before you disappear as a Ghostface arrive.

You thought he would head back after seeing you, or at least go sit a little further from you. But he does all he opposite.

He walks up to you without a word and stand still in front of you, right in the middle of the garage. Okay, what is this now.

You feel naive for thinking whoever that was would speak up because he stays dead silent. You're getting uncomfortable. Not because it's Ghostface, but because you're thinking of the person under the mask staring at you so creepily.

Ghostface doesn't scare you, men does.

"Uh hello ?

Ghostface doesn't budge. Maybe he can help you find Ethan ? If you describe him to him, you can try to extract information.

"Well, while you're here. Have you seen my boyfriend ? He's... You know what ? Just forget it." You gave up when he didn't even move. It's like he doesn't hear you.

Plus, you don't even know what Ethan's costume looks like, no need to ask people. It won't work.

How are you going to find him ? It's useless to call for him out loud, he won't hear with the stupidly loud music blasting through the whole house.

"Are you gonna, like, stay here and stare at me ? It's getting awkward."

Ghostface doesn't answer. A sigh leaves your lips. Tired, you take out your phone in order to call Ethan. Of course, because your life always has to be ten times harder for no reason, he never pick up. And the stranger before you seriously start to piss you off.

"Can't you go annoy someone else ? Your costume isn't even fun, or scary, you guys are like twenty to be dressed like that tonight !

What's going on with being Ghostface ? Is it the new mode ? Did you miss something ?

-Do you like scary movies ? His modified robotic voice asks. Damn, some people are really giving their best in their disguise this year. He has to be rich or something to able to buy himself a voice changer.

-You're cringe." Escapes you like a bad reflex.

Who does he thinks he is ? Ain't no way you're feeding his stupid scenario. Ghostface uses his two pointer to draw you a heart in the air. You frown your brows and questions him with your eyes but he doesn't say anything. Did he just flirt with you ? Doesn't your firefighter outfit shows your lack of enjoyment of this night ?

What a shitty night.

You don't want to be the center of attention tonight. The only attention you want is from someone who's not even there.

You jump from the workplan to the ground and leave the place, closely followed by your new pain. Hands in your pocket, you wander without goal nor direction in the hallways of the big house, stumbling upon rooms, closet and just anything and everything.

Your Ghostface was still here, of course. Why would he leave you alone after all ? This asshole doesn't have anything better to do.

You tried to call Ethan several times again but to no avail. You weren't even annoyed anymore, just plainly confused and worried. Did you do something to upset him ? He always answer your calls at the mere second you press the button.

And with the man following you around, your sanity was starting to go low. Stopping suddenly your track, Ghostface hits your back because of him walking so close to you. You turn around, a scowl on your face.

"Will you leave me alone ?"

He draws another heart in the air then point himself and you.

Sighing, you leave the room and almost run to the kitchen in order to grab a new drink. After pushing and squeezing through people all over the living room, you end up at your destination. A group is here, a few Ghostface as well. You roll your eyes and take a can of anything but alcohol, not wanting to get drunk tonight.

All you wanted was Ethan and he was nowhere to be seen.

Seriously, you're here for him and he's not ? He begged you to come, it was his idea ! You try to think of different costumes he could wear. Last year, he wore a cardboard costume of a knight. Maybe this time he's Spiderman ? Something like that. You can definitely see him in a Spiderman costume. Or Ghost from Call of Duty. Fuck, there is like a thousand of different outfit he could wear tonight.

But you know for sure he's not a Ghostface.

Everyone is already dressed as it. Ethan is more nerdy, Ghostface is too bland. There's no personality to it. Of course it can be sexy in a different context. But damn, when there's so much of them, it's just boring. And you doubt Ethan would wear something sexy. You'd love him to, but you can't have everything.

Speaking of it, another of them arrive. He's alone and he lays his weight on the wall at your opposite. Is it him again ? Then, he just completely stop moving, not grabbing a drink. You can't tell if he's looking your way or not, as his mask hide completely his face.

It's possible you're getting paranoid but with this stupid Ghostface following you everywhere, you have some reasons to. Though, maybe it's not him. There is high chance it's not him. There are so many different Ghostface tonight.

But when he raises his hand to wave at you, you just sigh and roll your eyes. That's it, you give up. Throwing your can in the nearest bin, you push yet again everyone to hide in a room. Quickly looking behind you, you can't tell if someone's following you or not. You have to stop in your track to let people get down from the staircase's step to finally go up yourself.

First thing, you rush to the bathroom and lock the door. The music is muffled but still here. A bad headache is already coming your way. You turn on the faucet and throw water at your face after taking a big breath. It's better but you're still alone and bored. Plus, you're hot. So you slide down the zipper and sit your back against the bathtub.

When you think about it, maybe Ethan won't even ask you out. Maybe he just wanted to party with you and told you he had this 'something really important to tell you' just to make you come. Either way, he's not here. You don't know what to think.

You have the umpleasent feeling you wasted your night. Spending it in your bed would have been much better. With or without Ethan.

Maybe he was going to come but changed his mind ? No, Ethan's the nicest guy you've met here. He's not like that. And even if he changed his mind, he would've told you. He's not an asshole.

But then where is he ? Is he already down there ? But how come you don't see him ?

You decide to give up, closing your eyes and trying to ease your mind. Whether he comes or not, it's too late now. You're already here in your stupid disguise.

Your short moment of peace is interrupted by someone knocking and hitting dangerously hard the wooden door, followed by a loud 'Open!'. All you can do is afflict yourself pain by knocking your head on the edge of the bathtub. Why are you here ? You don't deserve that.

Slowly standing up, you unlock the door and immediately get pushed against the wall by an impatient man. You curse, he doesn't even hear, so you leave. In the corridor, your eyes sweep the living room from the interior balcony where there is still no signs of Ethan.

Multiple Ghostface are coming and leaving everywhere but only one catches your attention. He's laying on the wall just in front of the bathroom, as if waiting. You hope it's not him again. He has a hand behind his back, hiding whatever he's holding while the other rises up to wave at you.

Putting your hands in your pocket, you tilt your head to the side when you see him draw another heart with his index, with more difficulty this time as he's only using one hand. Now, you're convinced it's the same Ghostface that you saw earlier. Has he been following you ? Fuck, he has.

Where is Ethan when you need him the most ? You don't have the strength to deal with this guy right now. Smiling fakely, you flip him off and head to the opposite direction. Which is a dead end as Ghostface was placed right before the stair, preventing you from going back to the living room. So you have no other choice but to hide in another room until he leaves you alone.

And that's what you do, you chose a random room and knock on it, hoping there is no one fucking inside. Anxiously waiting for someone to answer, it's when silence fills your ear that you push the door open.

Taking the room in, your blood runs cold. Eyes widening and hands getting sweaty. So shocked that you let the door wide open behind you. They're not real, right ? Before you, a woman is laying on the bed, blood splashed on the sheets and the wall, she is wearing a Coraline outfit. On the ground, two other people in the same state. A man and a woman this time. A devil and a vampire.

They're scarily well done. They look so real. Too real.

You move forward, desperately wanting to be sure. With your pointer, you touch the leg of the woman spread on the bed and feel goosebumps rising on your whole body when it's supple. And warm.

Just like real skin.

A nervous laugh is the only answer you can muster. The music is still going in the living room, so it's fake. They're fake, right ? Yes, yeah of course they are. There is no way something like this could happen right now. In a place where so much people are reunited. It's just a regular decoration of Halloween, of bad taste, but still.

You hope nobody enters while you're here for what you are going to do, as depending on the outline of it, you'll either be fucking creepy or stupidly awkward. Heading to the head of the bed, you touch the hair of the woman on it. It's a blue wig, of course, she's disguised. Wait. She's disguised ? Nobody dress up a mannequin, no ? You remove the hair and realize with horror that real hair are under it.

It can't be, right ? Lastly, you poke her cheek and force open her eye. If it's fake, it's not supposed to have realistic eye. But it's a fucking real and brown eye that stare at your soul when you lift the lid.

Okay, now what the fuck ? It's not funny anymore. Where the fuck is Ethan ? Your breath get stuck in your throat. You are going to throw up if you stay here a minute too long. You need to get the fuck out of here.

You back up slowly but end up stumbling into someone's chest. A scream leave you, you jump in terror and search the head of the guilty who stopped you to flee. But the only thing you're able to see is this fucking Ghostface mask. It's him. You just know it. He's been following you everywhere. You just know it's him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you ?" you yell, feeling your sanity disappear the more you were staying here.

Ghostface tilts his head to the side and the hand he had until now almost hidden behind his back comes up at the front, displaying you the bloody knife he had in hand.

You could have thought it was fake. Only, the blood was dark and drooling on the floor leaving wet red drop on it.

Just like real blood.

He's swinging the weapon from left to right on loop. All the bad words and mean behaviour you could have gave him start to whiplash in your face. If you knew he was a fucking psychopath, you would have drew him a heart too.

"Do you have a boyfriend ?" He asks.

"He's... He's not here yet." You answer partially honest. Now that he was potentially dangerous, you had no problem answering his stupid questions.

"Really ?" Ghostface says, toying with his knife. He was playing with you.

From the corner of your eyes, you're still able to see the corpse of the woman on the bed and you want to puke at the thought of her.

"Are you the one who did this ? You ask in a shaky voice.

-Yeah. Of course. He stays nonchalantly, shrugging.

-Why ?

-Three people, just like us.

For a second, you wonder who's he talking about when saying 'three'. Because you are sure there is only two people here. Does he have allies ? Maybe someone hiding in the room without you knowing ? Fuck, you hope not.

-Three, for you and your two boyfriends.

-I don't have two boyfriends. Hell, you don't even have one to begin with.

-I wouldn't be so sure if I was you.

What does he know about you ? Who is he ? Why is he so sure about it ? What is going on ? There's dead corpses behind you, you need to get the fuck out of here.

You can see people in the corridor but it's like they can't see you. Hell, they probably think he's another Ghostface like there already is.

If you move or scream, you have the feeling he won't hesitate to use his knife against you.

-W-What ? What do you mean ?

The man rises his knife forcing you to shut your eyes in fear. He's tracing forms on your face with it, gliding it to your chin to your lips and then to your cheek.

You don't dare to move even a single muscle, you stopped breathing. You know he probably left bloody marks on your face. The weight on your lips tells you everything. There's blood on it, and it's not yours.

-If I remember correctly, I had something really important to tell you, am I right ?"

What the fuck ?

That was so cute ?????? I'm devastated

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Okay I hope you’ll have as much fun reading this as I had while writing it😂 Enjoy! - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 |  Eddie Munson x female reader (and platonic Eddie x Steve awkwardly befriending each other)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Based on this ask: Eddie wanting to do a good job pleasing his girl so he goes to Steve to awkwardly af ask for advice. Eddie doesn’t have much experience in bedroom activities, but since he wants to pleasure you as best as he can, he begrudgingly throws his pride overboard and seeks advice with Steve The Hair Harrington himself. 

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | humor, talk about smut 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2k 

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | talk abut SMUT obviously (only read if you’re 18+ years old!)

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.  

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝; 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

“You want me to tell you what?!”

“Can you please scream it a little louder so the rest of this goddamn town will be in on the conversation as well, Harrington,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth.

“Well, you shouldn’t have shown up at my work place to polish up your sex ed knowledge, then, Munson,” Steve shot back as he put the last of the VHS tapes he’d been sorting back into its spot on the shelf before returning to his usual place at the counter, Eddie trailing in his path like a lost stray dog.

“Look –“ Steve began, annoyance written all over his features, but the chime of the bell above the Family Video entrance drew his gaze to the spot behind Eddie, whose expression darkened further in return at the sound of giggles rising from the door and the sudden enraptured gleam of interest flashing in Steve’s eyes which Eddie deduced had everything to do with said giggles.

“Hey. Harrington,” Eddie grumbled, snapping his fingers in front of Steve’s face, whose expression turned gloomy again when his eyes met Eddie’s. The girls still kept giggling in the background.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Eddie drawled, folding his hands on the counter, the metal of his bracelet clinking against the wood, “You’ll help me out real quick with this and I’ll leave you to your…” Eddie turned, following Steve’s line of sight to the three girls having assembled in the romantic comedies corner, “Job.”

“Or I’ll just ignore you.”

Eddie tilted his head, a sardonic smile on his lips. “I promise, I’m hard to ignore. I bet the chicks will dig it if I’m breathing down your neck while you’re trying to flirt.”

Afficher davantage

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

lmao.

need some “fuck, you’re so hot” / “can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you” / “i’ve dreamt about this for so long” type dick