#Eddie's suicidal huh

[wernerherzogs]

i fucking did it (finished s7) but christ alive

[solarmorrigan]

Everybody's Dying to Be Here

For the @steddie-spooktober day 12 prompt: Graveyard Rated: T | Words: 1561 | CW: suicidal thoughts (vague; you don't necessarily have to take it that way) | Tags: pre-relationship, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson friendship, Steve Harrington needs a hug, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, in his own way, post-season 2 AU Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has been coming to the graveyard to smoke for years.

It’s not really that he can’t smoke at the trailer; his uncle knows he smokes, has bummed cigarettes off of him before, says he figures there are worse habits for Eddie to pick up, it's just that it’s peaceful there.

There are hardly ever people around, and if there are, they’re not really inclined to talk. Otherwise, there’s a lot of open air, room to walk, green grass, interesting headstones if Eddie’s in the mood to look, and there’s a tree that sits at the top of a gentle slope of a hill that offers a nice view of the surrounding town that can almost make Eddie forget how much he hates the place.

It’s Eddie’s own personal haven.

At least, he'd thought it was.

“You’re in my spot,” Eddie says, staring down at the interloper.

Steve Harrington, who is sitting on top of Eddie’s hill, under Eddie’s tree, turns his battered face up towards Eddie, squinting at him in the sunlight.

“Are you dead?” Steve finally asks.

It’s Eddie’s turn to stare, uncomprehending, at Steve. “Nooo,” he says slowly. “Are you concussed?”

Steve holds up his forefinger and thumb, pinched together to indicate a little bit, and it’s been almost two weeks since he first showed up at school looking like someone had tried to turn his face into mincemeat, the bruising now all sickly yellow and brown, and Eddie realizes he has no idea how long concussions last. A while, apparently.

“Anyway, if you’re not dead, I don’t think you can have a spot in the cemetery,” Steve says with a shrug, and–

Well.

“Touché,” Eddie says, plopping down next to Steve beneath the tree.

He pulls his cigarettes out, shakes one from the box, and then, because his uncle didn’t raise a complete savage, he tilts the box at Steve in offering. Steve begs off with a shake of his head and Eddie shrugs, lighting up and taking a drag.

“So,” he says on his first breath of smoke, “what brings King Steve out among Hawkins’ illustrious dead?”

For one, long minute, Steve says nothing, and just when Eddie thinks he’s being ignored, Steve lets his head fall back against the tree and murmurs, “Just wanted somewhere quiet to be, I guess.”

“Oh? The life of partying royalty getting to be a bit much for you?” Eddie asks.

He knows he isn’t being entirely fair; Steve’s never really done anything to Eddie, personally, and for the latter half of last year and the beginning of this one, he’s actually been pretty decent. Fairly quiet, if nothing else, mostly hanging off of Nancy Wheeler and keeping his head down. In any case, Steve doesn’t seem to take offense, just lets out a little breath of unamused laughter and continues staring out over the town.

“Kinda realized that most of the people I used to party with were dicks, and I didn’t want to be around them anymore,” he says. “Nance– she and I aren’t… together anymore, so I can’t really hang out with her. My dad’s still pissed at me for getting into a fight, so I can’t stay home. The twelve-year-old who thinks I’m responsible for him now is actually cool, but god he can be loud, and I just wanted some quiet, so… here I am.”

There’s… a lot to unpack there. Like, so much to unpack. Eddie has questions. Many questions.

Somehow, though, he doesn’t think his prying would be appreciated, so all he offers is, “Damn. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, then, huh? Hanging out with the school freak.”

“To be fair, I didn’t actually know you’d be out here,” Steve says, sending Eddie a sidelong smirk to let him in on the joke. “Didn’t know I was stealing your spot, either.”

Because Eddie can hardly be mad at him for it now, he just shrugs. “Eh. It’s a free graveyard. I think.” Eddie pauses, blinking down at the headstones spread out before them. “Damn, do you think you have to pay to be buried? That’d be fucked up.”

“I have no idea,” Steve says. “Pretty sure you have to pay for a tombstone, at least.”

“Shit. Society, man.” Eddie shakes his head. “Finding ways to squeeze money out of you even after death.”

“I guess,” Steve says vaguely.

He doesn’t really seem like he’s interested in continuing the conversation, and Eddie guesses that’s fair enough. He’d come out here expecting to be alone, and Eddie had come out expecting the same. He’s not even sure why he’s trying to engage Steve Harrington in conversation at all, except that there’s something a little– lost about him right now, and that’s always drawn Eddie in like a cat to a sunbeam.

That doesn’t mean Steve actually needs him, though, so Eddie lets them both lapse into silence.

He’s just about finished his cigarette when Steve speaks again, almost startling Eddie.

“D’you ever think about where you’d want to be buried?” Steve asks.

“What, like when I die?” Eddie asks, feeling a little slow to pick up on this new turn Steve’s taken them down.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“Uh… hopefully far away from the shithole,” Eddie says, stubbing his cigarette out in the dirt beside him. “I want to get the hell out of here before I die.”

Steve hums. “Bet you will,” he says after a moment, and that surprises Eddie even more than his original morbid question.

“You figure?” Eddie says, and he’s trying for sarcastic, but he thinks something genuine might have snuck its way into his tone.

“Sure.” Steve shrugs. “You’re ambitious. You’ve gotta be some kind of smart, all those speeches you’re always giving. You want it badly enough, I bet you’ll get out of here.”

“I think the Hawkins Public School system would beg to differ with you on most of those points, Steve,” Eddie says, and Steve shrugs.

“Fuck ‘em, then,” he says simply, and that’s–

In its own, weird way, it’s more faith than anyone other than his uncle has shown in Eddie in what seems like a long time, and Eddie’s not sure how to feel about it.

Steve, oblivious to the way he’s currently shaking Eddie’s worldview, goes on. “I think I want to be buried over there,” he says, pointing to a spot on the west end of the graveyard.

“Near the fence?” Eddie asks, following Steve’s finger.

“Yeah. Looks nice over there. Not too crowded, and there’s roses. Or, I think that’s a rose bush.” Steve squints down at the shrubbery for a moment before shrugging. “Whatever. It just looks nice.”

“I guess,” Eddie says slowly, turning to look at Steve, who doesn’t look back.

“I should probably tell someone,” Steve says, almost as if he’s talking to himself now. “My parents would probably pick somewhere stupid to stick me.”

And– shit.

It doesn’t really sound like Steve’s talking about some hypothetical future time when he dies of old age; it sounds an awful lot more like he doesn’t even expect to outlive his parents – like maybe he’s talking about a much less hypothetical soon.

“You, uh… spend a lot of time thinking about when you’re gonna die?” Eddie asks, and immediately wishes he could suck the words back up, because that is a terrible way to continue this conversation.

Steve shrugs, turning a wry look on Eddie. “Kinda hard not to.”

“Right. Right.” Eddie nods, and – what the fuck?

What the fuck? Is he talking about everything that’s happened recently – all the weird shit in town, or the way he keeps getting his ass kicked, or the way his life has imploded and now he’s thinking about–

“So what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” Eddie blurts out.

“I don’t really have one.” Steve shrugs. “Figured I’d just stay out here for a while.”

Eddie frowns. They’re well into November by now; Steve is wearing a nicer coat than Eddie’s, but it’s still cold out. Too cold to just be sitting outside indefinitely. Eddie’s certainly not going to sit outside indefinitely, but he also gets the feeling that maybe this guy shouldn’t be left alone right now, which is precisely why he finds himself offering, “You wanna come back to mine and watch a movie?”

Steve turns to stare at Eddie, as if this is the weirdest part of the conversation they’ve had.

“Why?” Steve asks.

“Maybe I’m bored, and you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all day,” Eddie says, gratified when Steve gives him a little laugh. “It’s more fun watching a movie with someone, anyway. What d’you say?”

Steve watches him for a moment longer, as if he’s searching for something, trying to puzzle Eddie out. He seems to find whatever it is he’s looking for, though, because he finally nods.

“Yeah, okay.”

They stand from beneath the tree and make their way back down the hill, and Eddie hopes his utter confusion isn’t showing on his face as they go. He has no idea how his afternoon reached this point, and he has even less of an idea of what the hell he’s doing, but, as he glances back at Steve, the other boy seems a little lighter as they walk, and he decides that he’s absolutely made the right decision.

[userautumn]

i think the only story that structurally makes sense to me in this episode is maddie and chimney's (excellent. perfect. 10/10, no notes) because lord, i've been so caught up in the break up of it all that i haven't even touched the weirdness of eddie's story because what do you mean this man has been carrying around three decades of guilt, parental expectations, feelings of failure, grief, trauma, worthlessness, depression, repression, religious guilt, self-flagellation, and suicidal ideation that are suddenly magically cured, NOT by intensive therapy with his therapist, mind you, but by 1.5 conversations with a priest and dancing around in his underwear. what do you mean. like, don't get me wrong, i know 9-1-1 is (allegedly) going to circle back to this (i say allegedly because the interviews have been really misleading this season, i'm not gonna lie), but from where i'm standing, it's like...

in season 5, it took eddie two episodes (5x11-5x13) to break down, and even longer than that if you count the fact that his trauma arc stared in 5x1. and we, the audience, actually saw him reach that point where he could not take it anymore. so witnessing that story, and watching him go through that tangled web of emotions actually felt like witnessing an authentic and genuine progression. but now, in this episode—in less than an episode, actually—eddie's somehow suddenly confronted his clusterfuck of feelings, has decided that yeah, actually, having fun IS the answer!, and now he's just? alright? HUH????? 😭 it just doesn't feel like a progression to me, and that dancing scene would have held a lot more emotional weight if it had come on the heels of seeing him actually wrestle with what it means to redefine his own happiness, post having that conversation with father brian. and i'm sorry, but buying juice or water or whatever just doesn't cut it! what a way to kick off a healing arc (sad noises). 😭

[reaperlight]

The Beginning

[Post Venom 3, tw: suicidal ideation]

[Eddie in a depression spiral after the (alleged) death of his spouse when the door to his shoddy apartment bursts open...]

Frances: Yoohoo, Brockilicious~

Carnage: Hello, father.

Cletus: Guess what--we lived bitch.

Eddie: ...Oh thank God.

Cletus: Huh?

Eddie: I've been so lonely.

Cletus: ...You know we came here to kill you right?

Eddie [*grinning madly*]: Well then... when do we start?

Cletus: Eddie, you are honestly freaking me out here.

Eddie: So, are you going to kill me, or what?

Cletus: Well, if you insist.

Cletus: [*Stabs him*]

Cletus [alarmed]: You're not healing.

Carnage: He's not here. Venom. He's not here.

Eddie: [*Weeping silently, not scared for his life but the reminder of the raw wound of Venom's loss*]

[*Shared looks between the murder crew*]

[Cletus sits down next to him]

Eddie [impatiently]: Well are you gonna get on with it? C'mon already. Just do it!

[Eddie shivers, feels a deep want and self-hatred when Carnage heals the stab wound, for a moment they're connected tantalizing, the feeling of being a host again but it's gone again in the next instant]

Eddie: Oh got to go for torture first, of course. It's only what I deserve, treating him like a burden in his final moments--

[*Cletus puts the knife away*]

Eddie: Wait, what are you doing... [*Frances walks away*] hey, where are you going?

Cletus: Well... now we don't feel like it.

Eddie: Oh fuck you.

Cletus: Yeah, fuck me. Do you want to talk about it?

Eddie: No. ...yes.... I can't.

Cletus: Okay.

Eddie: I'm not supposed to talk about it. It's illegal.

Cletus: Oh yes, I'd never do something illegal. And I'm sure you wouldn't either which is why I don't have this massive hickey you left on my neck--

[Has obvious bite mark scar from being beheaded via Venom, making Eddie all the more nostalgic for the good old days]

[*Frances looking around in his kitchen*]

Frances: You got any soup here? Let's make soup.

Cletus: Yes, that's a great idea, honey.

Eddie: It's in the... yeah.

Cletus: Hey Eddie, do you mind if we like... stay here? You see we were just planning on killing you and taking your place tonight--

Eddie: Like, you can still do that if you want. Take it, whatever. Do whatever you like, I don't give a fuck.

Carnage [cheerfully]: From what I understand they were going to enjoy their marital relations on your bed too.

Eddie: I seriously do not care.

Cletus: Cool. Still not killing you though.

Eddie: Asshole.

Cletus: We're right here if you wanna tell us your story, Eddie. No judging, honest.

[daniclaytcn]

s8 eddie is really just gonna be reckless like we've never seen him be and borderline suicidal huh. it's gonna be like him taunting the guy holding him hostage at gunpoint in s5 but dialed up to a 100. he's gonna be throwing himself into the line of fire every moment he gets...because he literally has nothing left to lose! someone get him a wellness check i'm so serious.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

I Can't Say Part 1

Summary: Eddie thinks Reader is cheating on him and breaks up with her. He doesn't believe her when she says she has a good reason for acting how she has because she says she can't tell him.

TW/CW: Eddie Diaz x Reader, Insinuation of Suicidal Ideation, Break Up, Cheating Accusation

Requested?: No   

Word Count: 3,995

A/N: Mmmmm I wanted to write break up imagine and had a short simple idea but that turned into what is now sitting at 7,823 words total. Here's the first half while I work on finishing the rest. At this point, I think I should just starting Character x OCs because I put way too much thought and detail into my "Reader" lmao. Ms. Ma'am has an entire background in my head... I also feel like I should start writing a novel or screen scripts because I love writing long works like this. Anyways, hope you enjoy the read! Love to all! Requests are Open!

[ A/N: the amount of space this man takes up in my brain rent free is getting to be ridiculous... ]

--- Your POV --- 

"I think we should break up," Eddie says, refusing to even look at me. Stun locked and silent, I can't believe the words that just came out of my boyfriend's mouth... 

"W-what? Why?" I ask, feeling very confused. 

He gets up from his seat on the couch beside me and starts pacing as he runs his fingers through his hair, "(Y/N), do you think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been distancing yourself? Or how about all the times you've been much later than you should for just making a quick stop on your way to my place?" 

"Eddie I-" he puts his hand up to interrupt me. 

"There's also the phone calls and text messages all throughout the day that you always take in private," he pauses, seemingly hesitant to continue. "The other night when you were an hour late, I looked your number up on Find My. You were out in the hills, (Y/N). No where near the route from your place to mine." 

It dawns on me, "You think I'm cheating on you?" 

He stops pacing with his back turned to me. I watch him rub his face before answering, "Yes, (Y/N). What else am I supposed to think?" 

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that I have a good reason for all that stuff?" I answer, quite hurt that he’d think so little of me. 

He whips around to look at me and I can see the tears in his eyes, "Oh yeah? Like what?" 

I look down at my lap, fidgeting with the friendship bracelet Chris had given me not too long ago. It's quiet for a few moments as I weigh my options before whispering, "I can't tell you..." 

"What happened to always communicating, huh? What happened to never lying to each other, (Y/N)?" he asks, his voice getting a small bit louder as he throws his hands in the air. Unfortunately, the motion makes me flinch, a reaction I never thought I'd have to Eddie. 

I bury my face in my hands for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, "I promise, Eddie. If I could tell you I would." 

His voice is quiet now and he sounds hurt, "What happened to the promises that we made?" 

I clench my jaw, attempting to keep myself from saying something I shouldn't. I hear him cross the living room and leave, slamming the door shut behind him. I stay seated on the couch for what feels like forever, attempting to wrap my head around what just happened. I should've just told him what's going on but I promised Talia I wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone.  

Talia is a good friend of mine, more like a little sister, that I worked with at the 127 before being transferred to the 118. Several weeks ago, she called me, in the middle of the night, sobbing and gasping for breath. She begged me to come over. When I got there, I found her curled up in a ball on her living room floor, still sobbing profusely, and she only cried more when she saw me. Hours later, when I finally got her to calm down enough to speak, she explained that she was scared to be alone because she knew her head was in a dark place but I had to promise her that I wouldn't tell a single soul. So, I did. I stayed the night with her and made sure she knew to call me if she needed to before leaving for work the next morning. 

I'll admit, I have been distancing myself from everyone. I've been scared that I'd let slip what was going on with Talia. I'd made several stops to check on her on my way to Eddie's or home from work. I had contemplated just moving in with her at one point. Talia has been calling and texting throughout the day lately. Sometimes, because she needs support and sometimes just to let me know she was okay. She's gotten a lot better since she called me that first night, so much so that she agreed to see a therapist and has her first appointment in a couple of days. My train of thought derails off into other subjects like wondering why Eddie didn't trust me, wondering what it would be like moving forward, and plenty more.  

--- Third Person POV --- 

Knowing he needed to talk to someone, Eddie found himself pulling into Buck and Tommy's driveway. He sat there for a good bit before forcing himself out of the truck and up their front steps. Minutes after he rings the doorbell, Tommy answers looking very tired and quite disheveled. He immediately knows something is wrong due to the tears still running down Eddie's face and motions him inside. 

As Eddie steps across the threshold, Buck rounds the corner into the living room rubbing his eyes and yawning, "Babe? Who is it?" 

Tommy makes his way over to the coffee pot and starts a brew as he answers, "It's Eddie, Honey." 

Buck snaps his head toward his best friend, "What happened? Is Chris okay?" All Eddie can do is nod as Buck places a hand on his shoulder and directs him to the couch, "What's going on, man? Is it (Y/N)? Is she okay?" 

As the two sit down, Eddie drops his head into his hands and whispers, "I don't know." Buck and Tommy share a look over the back of the couch. Tommy holds his finger up, telling him to give Eddie a minute. The house falls quiet aside from the trickling and gurgling of the coffee pot. Buck does his best to wait patiently, glancing every few seconds at Tommy who still leans against the counter but now with hawk eyes on Eddie. Buck knows (Y/N) is like a little sister to Tommy and silently begs him not to get angry. 

Soon, the coffee is done and Tommy pours three mugs before joining Buck and Eddie on the couch, handing a mug to Buck, placing Eddie's on the coffee table in front of him, and taking a sip from his own. Buck carefully takes a sip as Tommy clears his throat, "Alright, say something." 

Eddie wipes the tears from his lashes, picks up the mug, and takes a deep breath, "I broke up with her," he stares down at the coffee warming his hands for a moment before taking a sip. 

Buck's jaw nearly hits his lap and Tommy grits his teeth. Never in a million years did they see this coming. Buck was pretty sure he'd soon be helping Eddie find a ring that (Y/N) would like and planning a bachelor party. Tommy was fully prepared to walk her down the aisle one day like she'd asked him to and thought for sure Eddie would be the one standing at the end of it waiting to put a wedding band on her finger. Hell, the entire 118, their friends and family, as well as some of the guys down at the 127 had bets going on when the lovebirds would get engaged. 

Catching sight of the pleading look in Buck's eyes, Tommy shoves his anger aside, although his tone still comes out a little harsh, "Why?" 

Eddie clenches his jaw and attempts to keep his tears at bay, "She's been distancing herself from me and taking weird calls and texts in private. She's even been lying to me about where she's going. I caught her in the hills on Find My a few nights ago when she was supposed to be on her way to my house with a quick stop at the gas station." 

"You can't seriously think she's cheating on you?" Buck insists. 

"What else could it be?" Eddie challenges, now looking his friend in the face. 

"I- I don't know but (Y/N) would never-" Buck is cut off as Eddie sets his coffee back down & stands up to pace. 

Tommy is deep in thought when Buck looks to him for assistance. He remembers (Y/N) having a friend who lives out that way. He can't for the life of him remember who but he knows he accompanied her to a birthday party there not long before she transferred. Buck leans forward and nudges his leg, shaking him out of his thoughts, and points at Eddie who looks like he's going to pave a flat spot into their carpet. 

"What did she say?" Tommy asks, desperately needing to figure out why his friend would be acting so weird and clinging to all hope that it's not what Eddie thinks. 

"She said she had a good reason for that stuff but couldn't tell me what it was," Eddie spits out. Buck and Tommy both are shocked at how quickly his tone has become angry. Buck gets up, aiming to convince Eddie to sit back down but is interrupted when Eddie flings his arms out, "We promised each other we would always communicate and never lie to each other. Hell, we pinky promised and you guys know how seriously she takes those! Why?!" he pauses, "Why wouldn't she just tell me what's going on instead of making up some excuse that she can't even say?" 

Tommy has had enough, "Sit back down and lower your voice." He knows Eddie is just angry because he's hurt but he won't let him be angry at her.  

Eddie is taken aback, "W-what?" 

"You heard me," Tommy stares him down, daring him to refuse. Buck thinks he's going to have to snap them out of it because of how long they stay staring at each other but finally Eddie gives and sits back down, dropping his head into his hands once again. "Where exactly was she?" Tommy asks, searching for any clues to what's really happening. Buck is also racking his brain but a small part of him fears that Eddie may be right.  

Without looking up, Eddie pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it toward Tommy, "I took a screenshot." Tommy's heart hurts when he opens the phone and sees the wallpaper of Eddie, (Y/N), & Chris all smiling brightly. He types in the pin number, Christopher's birthday, and navigates to the photos app. The most recent photo is, as expected, a screenshot of the Find My map. He zooms in as far as he can before pulling his own phone out and bringing up Google Maps. He types in the street name of the location pictured in the screenshot and hits search. Using street view, he attempts to jog his memory but has no such luck. Feeling defeated, he hands Eddie's phone back to him. Noticing Buck hoping for an answer, Tommy shakes his head.  

Abruptly, Eddie stands, "I'm going home. Thanks for the coffee." 

Buck stands with him, "A-are you sure? You can stay the night if you need to." Eddie shakes his head and leaves.  

Buck looks to Tommy, hopefully, as the door shuts behind their friend, "Please tell me she's not-" 

Tommy takes a deep breath, "I don't know, Evan. That's not like her at all but I also don't know exactly why she'd be way out there." 

Buck's features drop into sadness as he looks back toward the door, "What do we do?" 

Tommy pulls him into a hug and rubs his back, "I don't know... I'll try to talk to her in a couple days if they don't fix it themselves. Maybe she'll tell me what's going on." Buck nods into his chest before Tommy gently tugs him back to the bedroom. 

--- Your POV --- 

The next morning, I wake up curled into a ball on the couch. With a full bladder and a crick my neck, I begrudgingly shuffle to the bathroom. As I pass the mirror, the sight of mascara smudged across my cheeks shatters all hope that I had about last night just being a terrible dream. Fresh tears roll across the mascara as I empty my bladder. 

Exiting the bathroom, I head to my bedroom to collect some blankets and pillows before returning to the couch and creating a little nest. I plop down and open my phone to discover several missed calls and texts from Tommy and Buck. I put it on "Do Not Disturb" and then tap on the Doordash app. I order a bunch of junk food and once the order is confirmed I start trying to find something to watch on tv, fidgeting with the friendship bracelet out of habit. 

I could call Tommy and Buck to talk about what happened but I'm sure the reason they've called so much is because they already know. I honestly just want to lock myself up inside my house until I finally wake up from this nightmare. Maybe I'll talk to them in a few days but right now I have two days off work and I intend to spend them drowning my sorrows in ice cream. 

After God knows how many pints of Doordashed ice cream, hours of comfort movies, and plenty of napping, I wake up on the couch once again as my alarm blares from the coffee table. I silence the noise and roll off the couch, landing on my stomach with a thump. I take a few deep breaths, willing the tears to dry up, before dragging myself off the floor and stumbling to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. 

With the water running down my now clean body, I am once again reminded of reality. I have to go to work today where I will undoubtedly see Eddie. I have to pretend I'm okay or even though I feel like crumbling to pieces so my friends don’t worry about me too much. Eddie is my everything. When I asked Tommy to walk me down the aisle after my dad passed a few months ago, I fully envisioned Eddie standing at the other end waiting to say, "I do." I don't how I've survived the past couple days without him when I usually can't even go 10 minutes without talking to him. Hearing the doorbell, I force myself to turn the water off, get dressed, and slap a smile on my face. Talia asked me to take her to therapy this morning so I know that's who is at the door. 

A few moments later, I open the front door, "Sorry, I was in the shower. Give me a couple minutes and we can go." Talia nods so I grab my phone, keys, and go bag from the kitchen where I had left them the night before. As we get in my car, I shake my head, "I don't know why you wouldn't just let me pick you up. It would've saved you the uber here." 

She shrugs, "You've driven to my house so many times in the past few weeks so I figured I owe you one." 

As I crank the car, I give her a pointed look, "Talia, you don't owe me anything." 

She sighs, "You keep saying that but I don't believe it." I simply shake my head, knowing exactly where she's coming from and head toward her therapy office. A short drive later, I stop on the curb to let her out.  

She stares out the window for a few moments so I gently rub her shoulder, "You've got this, Tal. I know you do." 

She takes a deep breath and opens the car door to get out. Before shutting it, she ducks her head back into the car, "Thank you again, (Y/N)." 

I smile at her, "Anytime, kid. Now go before you're late." She mirrors my smile before shutting the door. I watch to make sure she makes it inside before pulling away from the curb and heading to work. I tell myself that I'll try to talk to Eddie today and remind myself that things are going to be okay. 

When I arrive at the station, Buck rushes over to me, "(Y/N)! A-are you okay? Eddie told us what happened." 

I do my best to offer him a reassuring smile and pat his shoulder, "I'll be okay eventually, Buck." He tilts his head and I can tell he's trying to decipher my facial expressions or maybe read my mind. 

As I head toward the locker rooms to get changed into my uniform, he is right behind me, "I don't believe you did it. I know there's something else going on." Unsure how to respond I stay quiet but when we reach the locker room door, he gently grabs my wrist, "(Y/N)... whatever you need, I'm here, Tommy too." I nod and again attempt to smile but just on the other side of the door, I can hear Eddie talking. Buck hears it too but only nods and heads upstairs. 

--- Third Person POV --- 

When (Y/N) slowly opens the door, Eddie is on the phone, "Tia, I promise we will visit soon." 

On the other end of the line, Tia Pepa is doubtful, "How soon is soon, Edmundo?" 

"I-I don't know," he admits as he notices that (Y/N) has entered the room. 

"Dios mio, sobrino," she sighs, "Well, will you please bring (Y/N) with you? I've heard so much about her from Christopher and would love to meet her," Tia asks, clueless to recent events. Eddie hasn't even figured out how to tell Chris yet, let alone the rest of his family who have been dying to meet the woman he just broke up with. 

"I'll have to ask her," he watches her make her way to her locker quietly, never making eye contact. 

"You better. Tell her I'll make some Tres Leches just for her," Chris has told Tia many times that (Y/N) absolutely needs to try real Tres Leches since she's obsessed with the kind you can buy at the grocery store. 

"Okay, I will," Eddie knows he's lying to her but he can't stomach the thought of having that conversation right now, nor does he have the time.  

"Te quiero mucho, Edmundo. Cuídate," Tia says, knowing he probably needs to go soon.  

"Te quiero mucho, tu tambien," as he hangs up, (Y/N) is silently staring into her locker as she changes into her uniform. Eddie desperately wants to run over to her, wraps his arms around her, and never let go. However, the ache in his heart holds him back. So instead, he stands and makes his way to the door. 

As soon as he opens it, she finally speaks, "Eddie..." He pauses briefly but without looking back, exits the room, and lets the door shut behind him. 

Over the next few days, (Y/N) does her damndest to get Eddie to talk to her. Every time, without fail, he ignores her. She doesn't notice him watching her from across the room or keeping an eye on her in the truck. He pretends he doesn't notice her staring at him with eyes full of sorrow every chance she gets. Buck does everything he can think of to make them talk but still no luck. Even Bobby, Hen, and Chimney have their own chats with both of them and come up fruitless. No one can get her to explain her actions and Eddie won’t even talk about it. 

About four days pass before Tommy has a chance to sit down with (Y/N) to talk. He stops by early for lunch at the 118 and finds her taking out her frustrations on an innocent punching bag. He catches the bag after it takes a particularly gnarly hit from her, "We need to talk." 

She looks down at her feet and drops her fighting stance. The two make their way over to a bench and sit in silence for a few moments. They both notice Eddie helping stock the ambulance across the bay. She takes a deep breath, fidgeting with her bracelet, "At this point, I'd settle for him yelling, screaming, and throwing every curse word in the book at me. At least then he'd be speaking to me." 

He pats her knee gently, "I know." She says nothing else so he declares, "I also know you wouldn't cheat on him so what's really going on?" 

She looks up at him with tears threatening to spill and regret heavy in her eyes, "I-I can't talk about it." 

It stings but he accepts it, "But it is a good reason?" 

She nods and looks back toward Eddie, "Yeah... I just wish he would believe that." 

He sighs, "I do too." He thinks for few moments before asking, "Do you remember that birthday party we went to right before you transferred here?" 

She knits her brows together, "Mmmm no, no birthday party. There was mine and Talia's going away party though." 

Tommy mentally face palms, why didn't he think of Talia? On a hunch, "Oh yeah, Talia. How's she doing these days?" he asks as nonchalantly as he can. 

She hesitates, doing her best to control her features so that Tommy doesn't catch on, "She's alright. Still hanging in there." 

He puts two and two together despite her efforts to prevent him from doing so but before either of them can say another word, Bobby is calling everyone up for lunch. The two make their way towards the stairs and as luck would have it, whether good or bad (Y/N) isn't sure, they arrive at the bottom of the stairs at the same time as Eddie and Chimney. A sort of tense standoff ensues, (Y/N) isn't sure if she should go and Eddie is fighting with his instinct to let her go first like he always does.  

Finally, Chimney gets tired of it, "Alright, love birds. Let's get up there and get a few bites in before the bell goes off." He steps between Eddie and (Y/N), who make eye contact when he does, and runs up the steps. Tommy follows his lead, stepping around (Y/N) to meet Buck at the top, who he promptly drags away to explain his latest epiphany. Eddie finally snaps out of it and motions for her to go. She drops her gaze to the steps and takes them up. 

Later that day, when everyone is getting ready to go home, Eddie and (Y/N) cross paths in the locker room again. The tension is thick and the silence is loud as they change into their street clothes. Both of them are internally screaming at themselves to say something and finally (Y/N) does, once again right as he's about to leave, door already open, "Eddie, please." His eyes are locked on the floor and his hand grips the strap of his go bag a little too tight. She takes a step toward him and shockingly he doesn't move.  

"Please, just look at me, breathe in my direction, hell scream at me until your voice gives out. Just give me something to show that you acknowledge my existence," she begs. The only movement he makes is a spasm in his shoulder muscle. 

As he finally shoves himself toward the door, she desperately tries again, "Baby, I miss you. This is killing me because god damn it, I love you." 

He pauses, "You don't get to call me that anymore," before exiting the room.  

From upstairs, Bobby, Buck, and Tommy watch Eddie leave as (Y/N) drops to sit on a bench. They all heard what was said. Buck looks between Bobby and Tommy before stating, “I swear I am this close to borrowing Athena’s hand cuffs, attaching them together, and locking them in a closet.” Tommy and Bobby both hum in agreement as they watch (Y/N) grab her go bag and exit the building. That evening, she does nothing but crash on the couch when she gets home. Having taken a shower at the station and knowing her alarm is already set for tomorrow, she curls up in a ball and drifts into a dreamless sleep. 

Part 2

More 911

Main Masterlist

[rip-headphones-users]

My Headcannons for how Infected and Kasper operate

Buckle up, this is a long post. Thinking about how characters function in relation to the world around them is basically a hobby of mine, so expect more. (I have others planned for both lampert and unpleasant at the very least)

(Not ship related) (angst heavy sorry)

Kasper’s infection is a brain-rooted/cognito-hazardous parasite

He got it after purposely ignoring a chainmail curse, both as a sort of “fuck around and find out” as well as an outright form of self-harm/self-sabotage.

The parasite is the one that primarily controls all the conscious actions of infected, while kasper now acts sub-consciously.

Its less of a split-mind situation and more of a Venom + Eddie or Gundam + Pilot situation they are two separate entities inhabiting the same body that can potentially act at the same time

It just so happens that the parasite from the chainmail curse has VERY similar desires/interests/motivations to Kasper, so the host/parasite relationship actually works very well.

Infected accidentally makes Kasper lose a decent chunk of weight after it takes over, due to it not being able to feel when Kasper is hungry and forgetting to let him eat

Kasper and Infected can be addressed separately (Lampert, UnpleasantGradient, Folly and maybe a few others know this) and Kasper tends to choose not to respond due to his own apathy, instead opting to let Infected take the lead.

Being able to respawn/no permadeath on the regretevator is the reason why Kasper opted to infect himself, as he saw it as the next closest thing to death/suicide.

Allowing infected to enter his mind has radically reduced Kasper’s lifespan. (He’d be lucky if he made it to his late 30’s)

His nose bleeds when Kasper and infected try to act at the same time

Infected is only transferrable via chainmail

Infected doesn’t feel any of the bodily necessities that kasper has, so its not uncommon for him to collapse of exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, ect. If someone doesn’t remind him.

Infected doesnt feel pain either

Kasper feels it though. A lot.

In fact the whole process of infected entering his mind was incredibly painful as is.

Infected isn’t the reason why things in the elevator/on his own body suddenly lose their texture, neither of them know why that happens now.

They personally aren’t physically effected by it and both find it cool, so neither are bothered.

It’s probably just the result of infected’s malware (thats only technically supposed to effect machines) managing to attach itself to a human. Or maybe Kasper could do that and never previously knew. Who knows. ;)

Kasper/infected can phase through objects that are textureless, including parts of his own body. Anything else will collide as it normally would, and take damage.

Infected will always talk with full leetspeak, (L13k D1$) while Kasper will only have one letter/number substitution (L1ke Th1s)

UG unintentionally named infected that. Basically just looked at Kasper, who had just let a parasite into his mind, and looked at the chainmail virus on his computer, and it went “huh… Bro’s Infected”

Bro is, in fact, infected.

[andvys]

We'll burn the sky | part eight

Warnings: angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of cheating, allusions to smut

Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader | Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham | Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie confronts you about your night with Steve. You have your first interview and your final show before your break in Hawkins.

Word count: 7.6k

Series masterlist

-

The frown on Eddie’s face seems constant as he listens to Steve talk about his amazing night with you. 

He can’t even be mad at him, Steve knows nothing about the things that happened between you and Eddie but it still makes him angry; the way you so easily moved on from him and let someone else touch you the way he touched you– actually, you let Steve do more than just touch you. 

You and Eddie never had sex. 

He wanted to wait, he wanted to break up with her first. 

“Eddie,” Steve nudges his shoulder, “do you think I could take her out on dates when she comes to Hawkins?” he asks, staring at his friend, not noticing the anger and the jealousy in his eyes. 

Eddie doesn’t even look at his face, he doesn’t look into his eyes the way he always does when they talk, he stares at Steve’s neck with a sour expression on his face, you gave him hickeys, your lips touched his neck, your lips touched his lips, your hands touched his body, you let him touch you, you moaned his name. 

“Dude, what’s up with you?” 

Steve slaps Eddie’s shoulder as if to shake him awake. 

Eddie blinks, furrowing his brows as he finally looks into his friend’s eyes, “huh?” 

Chuckling, Steve shakes his head, “are you okay?” 

‘No, you fucked the girl that I love.’ Eddie thinks to himself. 

“Yeah, just tired,” he mumbles, “got another show tonight and some kind of interview.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise, “an interview? Are you nervous?” 

Eddie shrugs as he reaches for his cigarettes, taking one out from the pack before he puts it back inside, “not really,” he mumbles with the cigarette between his lips now, “I don’t think they’re gonna focus much on me or the guys. They’re not gonna go easy on her though,” he says after lighting up his cigarette. 

He is concerned about you. He knows how rude the press can be.

“She’s tough, got a mouth on her too,” Steve chuckles, “she’ll be fine.” 

“I hope so.” 

Steve scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat, he looks down at the snowy ground, “can I ask you something?” 

Eddie clenches his jaw already, knowing that it’ll be something about you. 

“Sure.” 

“Are you and Chrissy still a thing?” 

Oh. 

Eddie swallows harshly, he inhales and breathes out the smoke into the sky before he turns back to Steve. 

“Why are you asking?” 

Steve avoids his eyes, feeling nervous and uncomfortable all of the sudden and it only causes the frown on Eddie’s face to grow bigger. Just by Steve’s weird behavior he can tell that something happened. 

Steve tears his gaze away from the snow, instead finding interest in the people that walk past them on the sidewalk. 

“Steve,” Eddie mumbles, “why are you asking?” 

“I just– me and Robin went to a party last week and she was there,” he explains as his guilty eyes finally look into his. 

“And?” Eddie asks, tilting his head a little. He doesn’t know why he is even asking him this, he can already tell where this is going. 

Chrissy has either been seen with Jason or some other asshole. 

“Robin was with Vickie and uh, I was getting a drink, she followed me, we were just talking about you know, stuff,” Steve chuckles nervously, “she was talking about work, I was talking about a date I went on–”

“Steve,” Eddie says sternly, “come to the point.” 

He sighs, “okay,” he mumbles under his breath, “she kissed me.” 

The betrayal in Eddie’s eyes is there but there’s no surprise, no pain, no heartbreak, no shock– just betrayal and disappointment. He can’t feel hurt anymore, not after everything she did to him. He was used to it. Somehow, he has become numb to the pain, even when he used to love her. 

You just left the hotel and were about to walk around the corner when you heard Steve’s words. Halting in your tracks, your eyes widen in shock.

“But I didn’t kiss her back, I pushed her away, she tried again and she wanted more than that but I pushed her away, I swear Eddie–”

“It’s okay, Steve.” 

“N-No, it’s not, Eddie. I’m so sorry,” you hear Steve say. 

“It’s not your fault, you know it’s not the first time,” Eddie says without a single emotion in his voice. 

“Yeah, it isn’t. I-I saw her, Eddie, with Jason.” 

“Okay.” 

You furrow your brows at his words. Okay? How is that okay? How can he be so calm, so unbothered? 

“Okay?” Steve scoffs, “that’s not okay, Eddie! She keeps doing it– dude, you were a wreck, you were heartbroken when she cheated on you back then and now you act like it’s okay?” 

He suffered before, she put him through this kind of pain before, that’s why he is so unfazed. He is numb. He is numb to all this pain and all these feelings. Is that why it was so easy for him to do all of this?

“You should leave her.”

“I will,” Eddie says loudly, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now, I-I don’t know what the fuck I was waiting for.” 

You can hear Steve’s sigh, “I get it. I felt the same after Nancy cheated on me with Jonathan,” he snorts, “I was willing to look past it and beg her to stay with me but looking back on it, I’m glad I never begged, would’ve just made a fool out of myself. And, being alone isn’t that bad, man. At least you won’t get cheated on.” 

Eddie laughs a little, you know that he is shaking his head at Steve’s words right now. 

You also shake your head, staring at the ground in confusion. What’s wrong with the women in their life’s? Despite what Eddie did, you still think that he is the sweetest person you have met, he is perfect in your eyes, that’s why it hurts so much to look at him and remember what he was hiding and doing all these months. 

“Yeah uh, I’m going to talk to her when we’re back home.” 

“Who are we spying on?”

You almost yell in surprise when you hear Gareth’s whisper, startled, you turn around and stare at him with wide eyes, “dude!” you say in a hushed whisper as you hit his shoulder, he stumbles back a little. 

“You should’ve seen your face!” he laughs. 

“Shut up!” you frown, rolling your eyes.

He is still laughing, like it’s the funniest thing ever. 

“Are you drunk or something?” you mumble, furrowing your brows. 

“No,” he snorts as he finally stops laughing and straightens up, “you just get that funny look on your face whenever something startles you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s like you’re about to start screaming like the girls in the horror movies.” 

“That’s not true!” 

“Yes it is, y/n.” 

You roll your eyes at the grin on his face, “whatever.” 

Jeff comes out next, he’s wearing a thick hoodie with your band logo on it, a big leather jacket over it, he is carrying a red paper cup in his hands. 

“Hey you,” he smiles, “I know you missed breakfast and I know you need your coffee so, so…” he trails off, holding it out for you. 

Your eyes soften. You take the warm cup, giving him a small smile, “that’s nice of you, thank you, Jeff.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Did you put something in there?” Gareth asks Jeff with a smirk on his face. 

Jeff glares at him, “I’m not you, asshole.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t take a coffee from you, man,” you mumble, “I know you’d put salt or pepper in it.” 

“That’s uh not correct,” he says, holding one finger up, “I would add salt and pepper in.” 

You snort, “you’re a menace.” 

“Hey.” 

Your head snaps in his reaction, your eyes meet with his. Not settling on Steve, just yet. 

Eddie’s eyes leave your face, settling on your neck instead, he eyes the marks that Steve left on you. Anger flashes in his eyes and he frowns. 

Is he hurt or is he just angry that another man touched you, since he already claimed you?  

You hold the warm cup tighter in your hand, pressing it against your chest. 

Pain flashes in his eyes when they meet yours again, big brown eyes filled with sadness.

Damn you and your stupid puppy eyes, Eddie Munson. 

Steve looks between you and Eddie, curiosity lingering in his eyes. 

“Did you have a sleepover with Eddie?” Gareth jokes, looking at the guy he used to dislike once. 

“Uh… no,” he chuckles, nervously. 

“Oh,” Gareth mumbles, “where did you–” he stops when Jeff nudges his shoulder. He glances at Eddie, who still stares at you like you just broke his heart. Then his eyes fall to your neck, noticing the very visible marks that he hasn’t seen before, his eyes widen, even more so when he looks at a very flustered Steve. Oh god. 

Jeff clears his throat, looking away awkwardly. 

“Damn, Steve. You just can’t keep it in your pants, huh?” Gareth mumbles. 

Steve blushes, laughing nervously. 

Jeff can’t even stop the laugh that escapes from his lips, “says you?” he snorts. 

“What do you mean?” 

Jeff turns to Steve, “Gareth is fucking every groupie that he can find.” 

“What?” Steve gasps, “Gareth, you?” 

Neither, you or Eddie pay attention to them or their conversation, instead you keep looking at each other until he finally makes a move and pulls you away. Without asking you first, he grabs your hand and leads you away from the others. 

His hand feels warm, despite being out in the cold for so long. You fight the urge to intertwine your fingers with his. 

He stops next to a phone booth and turns towards you, still keeping your hand in his. 

You stare at him in confusion, not moving your hand away just yet. 

Eddie has dark circles under his eyes, his curls look messy, he looks tired. 

“What?” you mumble, not knowing what else to say. 

“What?” he mimics, irritating you, “did you have fun?” 

Rolling your eyes, you rip your hand out of his, “yes, actually. Steve is amazing.” 

Jealousy flashes in his eyes, he clenches his jaw. The images that pop up in his mind just make him feel even worse. 

“Was it so easy for you to move on from me?” he asks, with no anger behind his words, just pain and sadness. 

You don’t look into his eyes now, you can’t. 

Steve is amazing and you have only done what you did because you felt safe and comfortable with him and because you wanted to feel something other than this. Steve is funny and kind and sweet and you don’t regret what you did but you do feel guilty. 

You aren’t Eddie’s, you never were and yet you feel like you have betrayed him and it makes you feel sick. 

“Don’t ask me this question, you are the one with a partner, not me,” you finally say, “I don’t owe you anything, Eddie. I can do whatever I want with whoever I want.” 

“You once told me that I’m the only one that you want,” Eddie says. 

Scoffing, you look back into his eyes, “yeah, I did. I did want you,” you nod, “but that was before I knew about your girl.” 

He mumbles your name, eyes showing nothing but guilt. He tries to reach for your hand again but you pull away, shaking your head at him. 

“How would you feel if you were in my place?” you ask, “how would you feel, if you found out that I had a partner all this time, while we were doing this,” you ask, gesturing to the two of you. 

“I would give you a chance to explain yourself,” he mumbles. 

You scowl and roll your eyes, “would you now?” 

“Yes,” he exclaims, taking a step forward, he looks like he is fighting back the tears, “yes, I would because you mean everything to me, I could never do what you did, I could never move on to someone else, kiss them and sleep with them as though nothing fucking happened–” 

“You are such a hypocrite!” you whisper yell, trying to keep the attention away from the two of you on this busy street, “you fucked her after being with me and then you claimed that you wanted to leave her, that you wanted to break up with her for months now!” 

He scrunches up his face, brows knit together as he shakes his head, “I didn’t fuck her…. Christ.” 

Right. 

“Mhmm,” you roll your eyes, looking at anything but his eyes. 

“It’s the truth, y/n,” he mumbles, “I didn’t have sex with her, I didn’t even kiss her. I haven’t touched her like that since I left Hawkins.” 

“God,” you sigh, “stop fucking lying to me already. You said nothing when I confronted you about it two nights ago, I asked you why you kissed her and why you slept with her, when you wanted to leave her so bad and you said nothing, you just stood there and stared at me like I was a fool.” 

He sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I didn’t sleep with her and I didn’t kiss her, I’m not lying about that.” 

“Then why didn’t you say anything when I asked you about it?” 

“I-I just, I don’t do well with confrontations,” he mumbles as he looks down at his hands, nervously playing with the rings on his fingers, the way he always does. 

“Eddie, you literally fought a guy and argued with him for fifteen minutes straight after he tried to grab my ass and you’re trying to tell me that you don’t do well with confrontations, come on, man…” 

“It’s different with you, okay?” he huffs, raising his head to look at you, he finds you staring at him with nothing but confusion in your eyes, your lip jutted, brows furrowed. Why do you have to be so cute? 

“How?” 

“You intimidate me,” he confesses. 

You draw back in surprise, lips parting, “w-what?” 

“You intimidate me,” he repeats, chuckling to himself, “not in a bad way, it’s just. I’m worried about saying the wrong things around you, I’m worried about scaring you away. You’re amazing and even though we made it here together. It feels like, I get to watch you become a star, a fucking rockstar and I’m just some lucky dude that gets to play guitar and come along on this adventure but the moment it’s over, I’m going back to Hawkins to live the shit life I never wanted but you? You will keep doing this and you will forget about me and you know what? That’s what scares me the most. As much as I wanted this life, I want you more and the thought of losing you or you forgetting about me, breaks my fucking heart, y/n.” 

He quickly wipes his tears away and looks down. 

Tears well up in your eyes and your chest warms at his words, yet at the same time they hurt. The thought of living a life without him hurts you just as much as it hurts him to think of one without you in it. 

“And the thought of you moving on so easily hurts too,” he mumbles, “but you’re right, you don’t owe me anything, you can do whatever you want. I just thought that we had something special.” 

“How can you say that?” you ask, voice almost cracking. 

“Say what?” 

“That we had something special, you lied to me the whole time, you have someone waiting for you at home, you cheated on her with me, you knew that you would hurt me. This isn’t special, this is fucked up and disgusting, Eddie.” 

His shoulders slump and his face falls, “sweetheart,” he whispers. 

You shake your head, “no, you can’t say all these things to me.” 

He takes another step towards you, you don’t move away and you don’t flinch either, not even when he cups your cheeks, tilting your head up to make you look at him. 

You close your eyes, “don’t do this to me again, Eddie,” you whisper. 

A sigh falls from your lips when you feel his touch on your skin. Your heart begins to flutter the way it always does whenever he touches you, “you’re gonna hurt me, you’re gonna do the same thing to me that you do to her and I can’t do this, Eddie. I feel too deeply for you, I wouldn’t survive this so please, just let me go, don’t do this to me.” 

He shakes his head, stepping even closer to you, not caring if anyone sees you two like this. 

“I would never do this to you, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“But you did it to her and I think that you must have loved her a lot if you stayed with after what she did and yet you still did this, you can’t tell me that this– that you, would be any different with me.” 

Eddie didn’t stay because he loved her so much, he stayed because he was afraid. Afraid of being alone. She made him believe that no one else would want him. 

“You and I are different,” he whispers, squeezing your cheeks a little, he looks at you with pleading eyes, “we are different.”  

“That’s what you thought about her too, didn’t you?” 

Tears fill your eyes, you’re so sick of it already. Of these tears, of this pain, of all of this. 

His silence gives you the answer that you needed. You nod and close your eyes as you step away from him. 

“We have to go,” you mumble, “the stupid interview..” 

Eddie blinks his tears away, nodding at your words. He watches you, already waiting for you to leave him standing here by himself again but instead you look up at him with your soft and pretty eyes, a frown on your lips and sadness clouding your features. 

“To answer your question, I did not move on from you, I don’t think I ever will and you know what the worst part about it is? I don’t want to, I don’t want to move on from you, I just want this pain to stop but I know it won’t, no matter what I do,” you whisper the last part and take another step back, catching a tear before it can slip down your cheek. You turn away and walk back to the other before he can even say anything. 

You hate how easy it is for you to be so vulnerable around him, you hate that you can’t lie to him about your feelings, you hate that you can’t just push him away from you. 

How will you ever shake him off of you? 

“Hey,” Steve’s gentle voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey,” you smile, still blinking as the tears still threaten to spill. You look up at him, finding the soft look on his face contorting into a concerned one. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, laying a palm on your shoulder. 

“Nothing, j-just got something in my eye,” you lie. 

Steve frowns at your words, clearly not believing you, he looks over your shoulder to see Eddie still standing by the phone booth. He can see the sad look on his face, even from afar. 

He looks back down at you and then back at him, raising his brows as his brain slowly starts connecting the dots. 

“Oh,” he whispers in realization. 

Suddenly, he feels like a fool. 

He didn’t notice this before. He noticed the glares that Eddie gave him when he flirted with you, the frowns that took over his face whenever he touched you, the little scoffs that left his lips whenever you flirted back. 

Steve was just too excited to be with you to notice the so very obvious jealousy and anger in Eddie.

Eddie likes you and you like him. 

Steve stares at his friend as he walks back towards the hotel, the look of heartbreak in his eyes is so hard to miss.

No, Eddie doesn’t just like you. There is so much more than that. 

He looks back down at you, “you know what, you gotta tell me everything when you come to Hawkins.” 

-

The interview started off well. Though you were nervous about the amount of journalists in the room, all eager to find out more about you. 

You sat in the middle, with Eddie and Jeff on either side of you. Gareth and Jeff sat at both ends at the long table. 

The smell of coffee lingered in the room, oddly enough it was calming your nerves. 

The questions were tame, at first. 

They asked about your backgrounds, how the band came together, what or who got you into music, they asked about the process of songwriting and of recording. It was going well until now, the questions were starting to get personal and the more they asked, the worse you felt. 

“Are you single, Eddie?”

You want to roll your eyes at the question. What does his relationship status have anything to do with the band or music? 

“Yes, I am.” 

You have to restrain yourself not to turn to him and gasp. So he just continues to lie? 

“And what about you, y/n? Are you single?” 

“Very much so, yes.” 

“You and Eddie seem pretty close,” another woman says, “you look very comfortable with each other.” 

“It would be weird if we weren’t comfortable with each other, we’re together day and night,” Eddie says, not realizing what he actually said. 

“You’re together at night?” one asks. 

Eddie, you dumbass. 

“Yes,” you speak into the mic before Eddie can make this any worse, “because we’re on the same tour bus, obviously. There’s not much privacy.” 

“Y/n, what is it like for you to be the only woman in the band?” 

“It’s fun actually, they’ve become my family.” 

“Speaking of family, how does it feel to follow your father’s footsteps?” 

And that is where it all went downhill. One mention of your father and they all jumped right at you, throwing one question after the other. You were able to mask your discomfort with snarky replies and a stoic expression on your face but Eddie could sense your anxiety. He could see your leg bouncing beneath the table cloth, he could see you blinking more rapidly, you were angry, you were hurt and upset.

He took your hand in his and began to rub circles into your soft skin, it seemed to calm you down but he could only do so much. 

‘Is this life as overwhelming for you as it was for your dad?’

‘No, I love living this life.’

‘A source told us that you have been doing drugs before shows, is that true?’ 

‘No.’

‘How does it feel to live the life your dad once lived?’

‘Feels like I’m doing it for him.’

‘Have you had any relationships with your band mates?’ 

‘Is it true that you and Eddie had been caught hooking up in a bathroom at a nightclub in Pittsburgh?’ 

‘What do you say to these pictures?’ 

‘Did your dad commit suicide on Christmas eve?’

Rob cut the interview after that question, not even giving you the chance to answer the question. To say that you’re shocked is an understatement. You felt tense and you felt frozen in place and yet, you kept a straight expression on your face and let go of Eddie’s hand before leaving the room. Rushing through the hallways and storming out of the hotel before making your way towards the tour bus. 

Your chest feels heavy, you feel sick, you feel angry, you feel too much.

The moment you are back on the tour bus, you let out an angry sigh. You knew this would happen, you knew they would do this, you knew they would ask them all the meaningless and simple questions while you would get this. 

They just had to bring him up. 

They had to bring up his death. 

Rob speaks your name, approaching you slowly.

“How did they know?” you ask, angrily. 

“They don’t know,” he sighs, “people were talking about it before, in the magazines, it was a rumor–”

You laugh, raising your hands towards your head, “expect it’s not a rumor, Rob. He did fucking kill himself.” 

Rob turns around to make sure that no one followed him on the bus. 

“Y/n,” he steps towards you, watching with worried eyes as you begin to pace back and forth, “don’t let this get to you, these assholes out there always throw disrespectful questions around, especially at women, they wanna get a rise out of you but you did well, you handled it well.” 

“Well, I’m not handling it well right now,” you scoff.

He places his hands on your shoulders, “you gotta calm down, kid. I know this is hard but just try to calm down, yeah? You got a show tonight, don’t let them ruin this for you.” 

Closing your eyes, you nod at his words. 

He is right. 

You take a deep breath. 

“I think the christmas break will be good for you,” he says, patting your shoulder. 

You want to scoff and roll your eyes but instead you open your eyes and force a smile on your face, “you think?” 

Rob smiles at you, nodding. 

“Yeah, it’s been some stressful months. Songwriting and recording takes up a lot of energy but the tours are harder. Takes a toll on your body, it’s time for a break, gotta take care of yourself, eat some good food and just watch some christmas movies.” 

You chuckle, your features soften. 

“That’s what you will do?” 

His eyes flash with amusement, “of course.” 

“Then that’s what I will do too.” 

-

Though the conversation with Rob calmed your nerves a little, you still feel on edge and the other’s notice it as you all get ready for the show. 

Eddie can see the anger in your eyes. It’s only been there ever since the journalists have mentioned your dad and it makes him suspicious of the question they have asked you. 

He wants to approach you, take your hand in his and tell you that everything will be okay. He is scared to make things worse though so he stays back and watches you instead. 

You lean against the wall, you move your hair back and adjust your earpiece. Your lips match the colors of your nails tonight, blood red. You’re wearing a black cropped top with what seems to be a new leather vest, a pair of tight pants showing off your curves nicely and as you turn your back to him to reach for your red microphone, he can’t help but curse under his breath, your ass just looks perfect in those jeans. 

“Fucking christ,” he mumbles, having to adjust his pants the longer he stares at you. 

Suddenly the images of you with Steve appear in his mind, the thought of him touching your bare skin, kissing you in places that only he should be allowed to kiss you, his hands on your perfect ass– fuck you, Steve. 

Gareth comes up next to him, blabbering about some girls he saw before entering the venue but Eddie doesn’t listen to him, he is too busy staring at you, eyes almost bulging out of his skull when you bend over to tie the loose laces on your boots. 

His dick twitches in his pants. God, he knows you kind of hate him right now but he wants nothing more than to bend you over a table and rip those tights jeans off so he can fuck you senseless and remind that you are his, that you belong with him. 

You move back up and when you look over your shoulder and your eyes lock and he can’t help but wonder ‘are you doing this on purpose?’ You pretend to be innocent though, turning away from him and reaching for the drink you’ve grabbed for yourself earlier. 

Ever since you have found out about Chrissy, Eddie finds it hard to read you– it’s easy to read your emotions when you’re being vulnerable with him but it’s hard to read you when you do these things. 

Are you teasing him? 

Are you playing with him? 

Are you distracting yourself from today’s events by doing this? 

Or are you just reminding him of what he can no longer have? 

He can see the fire in your eyes when you’re performing, the anger and the raw emotions in your voice. Your engagement with the people in the front row makes the crowd go wild. 

Your touches with Eddie are different than usual, you step closer to him, letting him use your mic to sing, he looks into your eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as the audience screams for you. 

You step back again as the song stops playing ,before the band begins to play another song, you raise your hand and put a finger up and in front of your lips. They guys give you a questioning look but still do as they're told, Gareth puts his drumsticks down and tilts his head at you. 

Eddie furrows his brows, lips parting as he stares at you. 

You turn back to the crowd, greeting them for a second time tonight. 

“Eddie,” you speak into the mic, causing the people to scream once again, you chuckle as you look at them, “he is amazing, isn’t he?”  

Eddie’s eyes twinkle with happiness and gratitude when they cheer for him again. They love him. All these people are here for the band and him– Eddie who grew up with a father that didn’t love him. Eddie who was pushed around in school. Eddie who was considered a lowlife and a freak. Eddie who had been told that he is nothing. Eddie who had been told that no one could ever love him. 

All these people love him.

You love him and even though you claim that it has no meaning to you anymore, it still means something to him. 

“He is not just the best guitarist in the whole word, Eddie is also a pretty fucking good singer!” 

Eddie raises his brows, staring at you nervously. 

“Why don’t we switch places for this song, Eddie? Sing your heart out, see what it feels like to sing this song, what it’s like to be in my place.” 

Eddie blinks, drowning out all the cheers of approval. You wrote this song together, it’s the last one on the album, the one you have worked on the longest. The one about heartbreak and betrayal. 

He forces a smirk on his face, “you sure you can handle her?” he speaks into the mic as he holds up his sweetheart. 

“You know I can,” you smirk, tilting your head. 

“Yeah,” he rasps into the mic as he eyes you up and down. 

No one is blind to it, you always flirt on stage and your fans love it. 

“Alright,” Eddie says, “you guys are lucky tonight, you’ll be the first crowd to watch my favorite girl play with my sweetheart,” he chuckles, slinging the guitar strap over his head, he holds it out for you. 

His favorite girl. 

You ignore the fluttering of your heart when he calls you that. 

You grin, taking his guitar as you hold out your microphone to him.

You sling the strap over your shoulder, winking at Eddie as you switch places with him. You use your thumb and your forefinger to grip the neck. The crowd immediately cheers after you strum the guitar, you can’t help but giggle at their excitement. 

“I love you, y/n!” 

Eddie chuckles. 

He watches you with a smile on his face, staring at your twinkling eyes, the happiness, the one that has become temporary, the one he only ever sees on stage now. 

He appreciates the sight in front of him. The way you look with his guitar. You are perfect in every way. 

You turn towards him, using his microphone, “let’s do this, guys.” 

He nods, flashing you a small smile as he holds the mic tighter in his hand. His fingertips hurt from playing all night and now he is watching you with awe in his eyes. Despite not playing as much as he does, you’re good, just as good as he is, Eddie thinks. 

He can’t keep his eyes off of you, not even when he sings and is supposed to engage with the crowd– with his fans. He can only look at you. 

And you feel just the same, your eyes are glued to him as you play and sing the lines that are supposed to be his. Your eye contact is intense as always– perhaps even more intense than usual. 

Your heart longs for him, your soul pulls you into his, you want him and you need him but you can not have him and yet, when the song is over and you stop playing, you still let him in, you still let him pull you into his arms. 

Just like always, there is only you and him when you look into each other’s eyes. 

Eddie’s eyes show nothing but love. He leans down and cups your cheeks, he kisses your forehead softly, letting his lips linger for a moment before he pulls back.

You place your hand on his, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you look up into his eyes. 

Why does he have to make things so hard for you? 

-

December 16th, 1988

So, it’s been a while since anyone wrote something in here but, we’re back in Hawkins, home sweet home, or whatever. I missed this shithole, can’t believe it. -Gareth.

Hawkins.

The town you have dreaded so much ever since finding out the whole truth. Now you’re here and you feel uncomfortable. 

While the others went to visit their families, you will spend your time here at the town’s motel, which is very different from the luxurious hotel’s you have gotten used to but your room is a small and cozy one, it’s on the second story and it’s close to Forest Hill Park, Eddie’s trailer is only a ten minute walk away from motel 6. 

It’s a Friday afternoon and all you have done since your arrival was taking a long and hot shower and laying on the king sized bed while the tv plays in the background. You play with the rings on your finger and stare at the ceiling. 

You wonder what Eddie is doing. 

Is he spending time with his uncle? 

Is he taking a nap?

Is he laying in bed by himself? 

Is he with her? 

You haven’t been away from him since you’ve left for tour. You were together all the time, it’s weird to be here all by yourself now. 

You could see Steve. 

Sitting up on the bed, you stare at your suitcase for a moment before you decide to get ready. You still didn’t get the thick coat that Eddie had suggested you should get and you already know that you will hate yourself for it later. It’s even colder than in the city. 

You put some makeup on and do your hair before picking out the warmest clothes that you’ve got. Your oversized leather jacket definitely won’t do much to protect you from the cold but at least you’ve bought a scarf and a hat before leaving Indianapolis. 

You pick out your shoes when you hear a knock on the door. You furrow your brows, walking towards the window, you peek out, Eddie. 

Sighing, you step back from the window to open the door. 

“You miss me already?” you ask with a bored expression on your face. 

“Always,” he says. 

Rolling your eyes at his words, you open the door further, letting him in. 

“What do you want?” you ask, only now noticing the two coffees in his hands. 

“I don’t like that you’re here by yourself.” 

Oh. 

His nose is a little red from the cold, fitting the red scarf around his neck– you don’t have to ask to know that his uncle forced him to wear that scarf. He looks cute. 

“Why?” you ask, glancing at the coffee that he is offering you

“Here,” he whispers, offering you the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you wrap your hand around the warm cup, “it’s not dangerous here, is it?” you chuckle.

He shrugs, brown eyes flickering down to your leather jacket and the scarf. 

“Not really but there’s this weird guy.” 

Raising your brows and tilting your head in question, “oh?”

“Yeah, he actually lives right around the corner,” he says, pointing his thumb to the entrance. 

“Oh, you’re talking about yourself?” you snort, eyes flashing with amusement. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, scoffing at your words, “you’re so funny.” 

“Right?” you smirk. 

Placing the cup on the desk, you bent down and reach for your boots. Feeling his eyes on you, you glance up at him as you put them on. 

“So, what’s this guy’s name?” 

“Huh?” 

“The weird guy, what’s his name?” 

“Oh,” Eddie mumbles, eyes moving to your ass, again. 

“Henry, dude is kinda sketchy, he has that psychotic look in his eyes. I sold weed to him before and he started talking about the end of the world, seemed a little too into it.” 

“Wow,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Eddie finally asks.

You shrug as you reach for the coffee again, “thought I’d take a walk.” 

“Can I come with you?”

“Why?” 

He walks towards you, ringed fingers wrapped around his cup, his soft eyes meet yours, “cause I wanna spend time with you, I can show you around.” 

You wanted space, you wanted him to stay away from you, you wanted him to leave you alone but he just won’t do it, he keeps showing up, he keeps clinging to you. 

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” 

He sighs, nodding. 

If anyone else told him that, he would leave and never show up again. Eddie never truly felt wanted or loved, not until you. You never pitied him, you never faked anything with him, you never lied to him– not even when he hurt you. You could have lied about your feelings, you could have told him that you hate him but you never did. 

You might have told him that you never want to see him again but he knows that you truly never meant it. 

And despite the tension between you, despite the things you tell him, you still want him around. 

“I hate being away from you,” he whispers. 

You narrow your eyes, sighing in annoyance. 

“Shouldn’t you be spending time with your girlfriend?” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“I hope you know that, that kinda makes you sound like a dick,” you scoff. 

“I know,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “she isn’t here anyway, she’s gone for the weekend.” 

Of course. 

You can’t even stop the laugh from escaping, you shake your head, “right, so I’m the placeholder again, okay,” you scoff, turning away from him, you walk towards the door. 

Eddie curses under his breath, how does he keep messing it up?

“No, sweetheart, that’s not– I didn’t want to spend time with her, I wanted to talk to her.” 

You grab the keys and leave the room, waiting for him to come outside too, you look away with a clenched jaw. 

“I really don’t care, Eddie. I don’t give a shit about what you wanted to do with her.” 

He follows you, looking frantic as he stares down at you. You shut the door and lock it, stuffing the keys into your pocket before walking off. 

“Please, y/n.” 

“Please what, Eddie?” you scoff, “just leave me alone, that’s all I was asking of you.” 

“You are so confusing!” he suddenly says, almost yelling. 

Surprised by his words, you halt in your tracks and turn back around. Your wide eyed gaze meets his and you can’t help but gasp. 

“I’m confusing?”

He nods as he continues to walk towards you, “yes, actually. You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met in my life.” 

“What the fuck? Why?” 

“Because you act all fucking cute with me on stage and then you do this,” he exclaims, “you tell me you love me and then you go and fuck my friend, you keep telling me to stay away from you but then you almost kiss me at the show, you hold a whole speech about me and then go back to ignoring me, you keep acting normal with me and yet at the same time you look at me like you want me gone! I know I fucked up, okay? I know what I did was wrong but you made me feel like I was wanted for once in my fucking life, I felt like someone actually wants me and loves me for who I am, so I’m sorry for wanting to be around you, I’m sorry for wanting you so bad.” I’m sorry for being so in love with you. 

For the first time, you see the vulnerability in his eyes that he was hiding from the world. The part of him that’s broken is finally coming to the surface after years of pushing it away. His bottom lip quivers a little, his dark eyes filled with hurt. 

You feel guilty, you feel sad, you feel insecure. 

You want to hug him but at the same time you want to turn heel and run. 

“Do you actually want to be around me or do you want to be around me because I make you feel good?” you ask, “do you want me so bad because you know that I love you and that I would never hurt you like she did?” 

“What?” 

Now it’s your bottom lip that is quivering, now it’s your eyes that are filled with hurt. 

“Because that’s what it sounds like to me, Eddie,” you shrug, “you feel safe with me because you know how much you mean to me, because you know that I still want you even after you lied to me all this time but I would never stand a chance if she made you feel the way I make you feel, right?” 

He shakes his head, staring at you with raised brows. 

“You want to settle for me because I can give her things that she couldn’t give you.” 

“No,” he whispers in shock, “what makes you think that?” 

You shrug, not wanting to talk about this any longer, you turn away and begin to walk away from him again. 

You hear him sighing, calling out to you.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Eddie.” 

“But–”

“No,” you mumble, “I wanna go on a walk now.” 

“Can I come with you?” 

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” 

“I just, please.. I wanna be with you.” 

You look at him in annoyance, his stupid puppy eyes make it hard for you to say no to him. 

“I’m gonna spend time with you tomorrow, remember?” 

You promised Eddie that you would get breakfast with him and his uncle. Wayne wants to meet you and even though you don’t want to be around Eddie, you couldn’t say no to that offer, just like you can’t say no to him now. 

“Yeah but… still.” 

“You wanna go on a walk with me?” 

He nods. 

“Okay, then take me to family video, that’s where Steve works, right?” 

His face falls, frowning at your words, he turns away to roll his eyes. 

“Seriously?” he mumbles. 

“Yeah.” 

“Fine.” 

-

“You are so full of shit.” 

“You don’t believe me?” 

Robin laughs, “nope.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, “why not?” 

She continues to stack the vhs tapes on the shelf, looking back at her best friend, “because, I don’t think that you’re her type.” 

“Dude,” he exclaims, “can’t you see this?” he points to the hickeys on his neck. 

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “some chick gave you those.” 

“Not some chick, y/n, gave me those.” 

“Keep dreaming, dingus.” 

Steve just started his shift and rushed into the store with the most excited look on his face that Robin had ever seen, his cheeks were flushed red and his eyes shone with happiness. 

She hasn’t seen him like that since… Okay, maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he got lucky and did get to be with you.

“You’ll see.” 

“See what?” 

Steve smirks at her, crossing his arms over his chest after putting on his vest, “she is in Hawkins now.” 

Robin drops the tapes and rises to her feet, eyes widening, “what?” 

He nods, “she’s in Hawkins, she’s staying here and guess who’s gonna hang out with her?” he asks, smirk growing bigger as she walks towards him, “me.” 

“Holy shit,” she mumbles.

Just as she stops in front of the counter and looks at the smug look on his face, the bell above the door rings, he looks over her shoulder, eyes flashing with excitement. 

Robin’s brows draw together, following his gaze, she turns around, eyes widening even further when she catches sight of you. Her lips part before they set in a smirk, “holy shit.” 

With Eddie right behind you, you walk inside, an excited smile resting on your lips, while the look on Eddie’s face is nothing but one of annoyance. 

“Hi Steve.” 

-

I'm only doing taglists for friends and mutuals from now on, follow @andvyswritingss and turn on notifications so you don't miss updates of new chapters!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @mysticmunson @sherrylyn628 @aftermidnightwriting @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @yearwalker96

[steviewashere]

My Scars are Hiding (My Branches Don't Show)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Suicidal Thoughts, Depression From a Young Age, Depression Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Depressed Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington's Mother is a Sweetheart, Steve's Mom is Depressed, Eddie Munson Has Depression (Implied/Referenced), Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Cuddling & Snuggling, They Love Each Other, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington This isn't great, fuck it isn't even good—just not how I usually write. But also, I've been feeling like muddled dog shit and this is the only way I can think to just get it out. So, yeah. It's probably not even all that complete, but it's something. Title is from "Take Me Down Easy" by James Henry Jr.

🫂—————🫂 Still laying in bed. Making marks in the ceiling. Wasting time.

There’s quiet. A gentle rush of wind against his bedroom window. Distant ticks of a grandfather clock he keeps forgetting to dust, a dog barking at something down the driveway, some rustles he can’t quite place. Low hums from the refrigerator. Just easy noise, easier than he’s used to.

His chest weighs. Concave between his pecs, digging in as if something has set itself where it doesn’t belong. Heavy. Too heavy. He takes a breath, but fizzles out with it—nostrils wheezing and mouth dry and his chest just…aching.

When he was little, he’d have days like this. Eight years old and laying down, lost in his bedsheets, eyes melting into his cheekbones, and his stomach hungry for anything. Sometimes, his mom would come in and brush the hair off his forehead, ask him sweet things—“Do you want Mommy to make you a grilled cheese? How about I take you out for some ice cream, huh?”—and those little moments were strange. He’d stare up at her from deep within his own pillowcase. There’d be something in her eyes. Something he couldn’t place then, but thinking of it now, it’s clear she was recognizing a sour part of herself; this sour part of herself now inherited in her only child. She was trying and that was something in its own right.

She hasn’t been home in a while. Off on another trip with his dad, the untrustworthy bastard. Trying to mend her marriage, calm her brain, keep her wit. They talk on the phone; hours long conversations—racking up that bill—passing love you like cold mashed potatoes. Still edible, still digestible, still nourishing even in the blandest way.

The last in-person conversation they had was about shit like this. This day, this feeling. They were sitting across from each other in the living room—him in the recliner, her on the middle cushion of the sofa. Glasses of iced tea on coasters. Television on just to make background noise. She asked him how he was doing. And for once, he didn’t lie. Looked at her. Desperate and honest and aching. He admitted it, this feeling.

And admitted, too, “I’ve been thinking of…what if I…Mom, what if I want to die?”

Silence stretched, much like it does now. The grandfather clock ticking and the gentle rush of wind and the dog and the refrigerator. And then she cried. Scooted closer, opened her arms, held him, and cried. “We’ll fix it. Let’s fix this. Okay, honey? Can’t lose you, you’re my baby.”

He wants her to fix it. Fix this pulsing, aching mass inside his chest—so thick and viscous and bloody. Heavy inside him, working its way through his throat, ready to burble out of his mouth.

Steve takes a breath, quietly gasps with it, but doesn’t move from the mattress.

He was supposed to be up a few minutes ago, already dressed, out the door. Going to Eddie’s home to pick him up. A date.

And yet. Jesus, here he is.

Here he is, melding into his mattress, mouth burbling and chest heaving. What if I want to die?

Time must pass, as it does when he’s like this, and within the distant quiet noises, his bedroom pushes open with subtle squeaks. He peers over and immediately cringes, guilt pooling under that pulsing mass—a blood puddle underneath this rawness. “Eddie,” he murmurs, voice crackling awful like a house on fire, “what’re you doin’ here?”

Eddie stands in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed deep on his face, arms at his sides, fidgeting with the chain on his wallet. “You didn’t…thought we had a date?”

He nods into his pillow. “I know,” Steve whispers, “was about to get up and get ready, promise.”

“You sure?”

Steve swallows rocks. Am I? He blinks and breathes and gasps—quiet still, but treacherous. “Yeah…yeah, Eds. Promise, okay? Just…just need a couple minutes.” His body is still stiff and his whole self aches something fierce, deep in his bones, under the fibers of his muscle. Fuck, can I—

“Did you sleep okay, Steve? You look…you look tired, sweetheart.”

A chuckle escapes him, humorless and awful. “Guess you could say that. Think I just need a few minutes and then I’ll get up.” He blinks at the doorway, Eddie’s timid figure. “You can come in, baby. I promise we’ll go.”

Bed-bound and waxy, Steve remains. This fixture in his bedroom, the way he will be, the place he’ll exist. And in this slimy bubble of self-loathing, of sacrilegious hatred, of suicidal despondency—Eddie encroaches. He settles himself on the edge of Steve’s mattress, barely close, hardly moving. But the bed dips and so he looks on.

Eddie’s face set with…concern and half-recognition. Something balmy in his eyes and his fingers ever tender as they reach across the comforter to trace the parts of Steve’s face that exist as nothing—no emotion, no explanation, just exhaustion. Some grief. He’s breathing slow and steady, easy in comparison to those gasping convulsions Steve keeps doing; a reminder of sorts to keep on because he forgets to do, to be.

He swallows as Eddie’s touch gets heavier. Mouth humid, grotesquely fuzzy, and gamey. The way it is when he hasn’t brushed his teeth in a few days, which is the case—the unfortunate case if they want to get any closer. His scalp tight and heavy from the weight of his unwashed, stringy hair. Malaise jagged in his stomach. There’s a film to him and despite it, Eddie still soothes him with the tips of his fingers.

And soon his palm, as it cups the left side of his face. Thumb running diagonal, then horizontal, then diagonal again in slow smears; as if attempting to work away the imperfections from a clay sculpture.

“Steve?”

He tries a hum, but it’s more of a croak.

“How are you feeling today? Be honest, baby.”

More rocks down his raw esophagus. “Dunno what words to use,” he says, “kinda like I’m not…” His eyes dart over Eddie’s soft, freckled, patient face. Dipping into the dark depths of his irises. Part of his mom is starting right back. “I’m not much of a person, Eds,” he finally murmurs—the words acidic and vile and staining black on his tongue, these horrid things to string together, and yet they come out calm as ever. Nonchalant as they’ve been for more than a decade, even when the words didn’t exist yet, and even when he was tired of defining them.

“Like you’re incomplete?” Eddie asks quietly.

Those careful words, spread across the mattress, cozied against Steve’s muddled brain. Ones that make sense in such a vastness of nonsense.

“Yeah,” he whispers and nods, “kinda like that.”

Eddie drags his palm away, smoothing it over Steve’s chest in the process—over his heart and his saturated lungs. Looking on at the wall across from him, eyes bouncing over the pattern, finding something. Then, when he grasps it, he stares back at Steve. With softness. With care. “These are always the worst days,” Eddie says, “they always just make me not wanna move. Not wanna care. Like, one time, I stayed in bed for a whole week! Wayne thought I was sick—which I guess I was—dude kept bringing me bowls of Campbell’s. The soup didn’t make me entirely better, but it was nice that he was trying.”

Steve settles his head deeper into the pillow, not quite moving closer, but something like. “You…you know what this is like?” Wordlessly, Eddie just nods at him. Still calculating Steve, though, carefully checking invisible boundaries. He sighs like an elderly dog. Quietly, “I’m glad you have Wayne.”

A wistful little smile. Dimples just making themselves known. “He’s great,” Eddie murmurs, “but I also know what it’s like to be alone through this. And…and, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try and keep you company, that okay?”

“But what about our date?”

“We can have our date here, no biggie. I’ll order in some pizza and we can hang out. If you aren’t able to bring your all, then I can bring my all to you. Figure out what works, get you feeling a bit better.”

In the face of Eddie’s optimism, it’s hard to say no.

It’s also hard to get the rest of him to spew. All the other swirling thoughts, ones he admitted to his mom, they won’t bubble like the rest of him. And maybe Eddie knows them, too. Maybe he understands that desire, those abyssal thoughts that seem to just swallow rather than swarm. Dragging him deeper into the cave of this murk that is him today—and yesterday, and the days before that one, too.

It’s hard to be a person. To just be anything. But if Eddie’s willing to just stay here, then—

“Are you okay with just sleeping, Eds?”

“Baby boy, I am the master of cuddling. You wanna sleep, then we sleep. If you wanted to go fucking ice skating right now, I’d take you. Seriously, sweetheart, I go with who you are and what you can do.” Blearily, Steve registers Eddie worming the sneakers off his feet—unlaced and so Eddie it makes him ache with something softer, sweeter, almost a cavity. Eddie grunts with the last tug of one of his sneakers. “So,” he breathes, “sleep? Big or little spoon?”

And he watches with a low lick of fondness in his chest as Eddie carefully slides himself onto the bed, right up next to Steve. Earnestly shining—glowing—at Steve like the sun shines out his ass, even like this. It’s not enough to mend him. Satiate the thoughts and the fog and the slime and the pulsing raw sphere inside him, but it’s certainly soothing him. Enough that he scoots over a little more, making more space between them.

Just so he can turn over on is side, his pale face and slick hair and sickly everything pointed at Eddie. “Little spoon, please,” he murmurs. Without much else to say—not that there are words to give, nothing to really say in the face of all of him today—Eddie is bringing him in. Encompassing him in his warmth, arms tight to his torso, snuggling his head into the rise and fall of his slimmer chest. His nose buried between scars and half-tattoos. Welcomed into Irish Spring soap and cheap cologne. Musk and sweetness. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have our real date, Eds,” he whispers into the hollow of his throat.

“Nonsense,” Eddie says back at the same volume, “this is real enough for me, sweetheart. Just you—no matter how much of you—right next to me is enough.”

“Okay,” he mutters, cozying in closer.

The wind gently rustles against the window and the grandfather clock ticks, a distant dog and other misplaced noises. And then, unexpectedly, the light smack of lips against his forehead—sticky and warm and pressing. “Okay,” Eddie whispers, “okay, baby boy.” Hands still on his back, firm in their hold, legs entangled with his, lips stuck to his temple.

Breaths, mingling air that settles—steady and warm and regular.

He sleeps.

🫂—————🫂

[steddieunderdogfics]

Wrap Me Around Your Finger by indelicate

@steddielations

Rating: Explicit

9,920 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Smut, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, Virgin Eddie Munson, Massages, Chronic Pain, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Disabled Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Uses a Cane, Steve Harrington Wears Glasses, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Has a Praise Kink, Bottom Eddie Munson, Top Steve Harrington, Good Boy Eddie Munson, pillow humping, Sexual Dysfunction, Touch-Starved, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Steve to Eddie basically: You’re so strange can I finger you

Summary:

“Hey, it’s fine.” Steve’s hand twitches like he wants to reach out assuringly, but can’t because Eddie’s boner is right there. “That… kinda happens when I do this with the guys on the team too. Just part of getting a massage.” “The whole team, huh?” Eddie feels delirious as he blurts out, “Slut.” Before he can clap a hand over his stupid mouth, Steve laughs and shoots back, “Virgin.” Or, Eddie gets worked up when Steve rubs his sore muscles, but Steve doesn’t mind.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @steddielations. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case— The “Seven Inches of Satanic Panic” Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic

The good lord (me) intended this to be an OC x Eddie fanfic, and by god, that’s what y’all are getting from here on. The original reader insert series will be discontinued for now, unless I really get the urge to go back and revisit it.

For now, just enjoy what I originally wanted. Which was over 3,000 words of self indulgent OC fanfic to help me get past these dark times. Life is too short to worry about being cringy.

Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses).

Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

Pairings: Eddie Munson x OC

Word Count: 4,088 words

[Next Chapter] — [Master List]

Chapter One - Don’t Talk to Strangers

“I'm danger, I'm the stranger.

And I, I'm darkness, I'm anger, I'm pain…”

Hawkins, Indiana was going to be hell on earth. Of that, Alejandra Perea was certain.

She didn’t want to move here in the first place. This whole situation was horseshit. Spur of the moment pendejadas from the family matriarch in command of a newly formed triad where there had once been a quartet. Leaving everything behind, even if it meant new and exciting things on the horizon, it wasn’t necessary. The family did not need a fresh start over in a new state.

No, what everyone needed to do was to start looking harder. She could still remember the advice given to her nearly a year ago, as it was the only solid and reliable advice she had received at the time. Expand the search area, but make sure at least one person stays at the home base. Keep the name in the media as much as possible, even if it meant taking out another loan to buy airtime on the radio stations locally. Question everything. Look for abnormalities, and above all: report, report, report!

Doing something was better than doing nothing, and if Alejandra’s family was any kind of concerned, they would be more aware of the rampant corruption and blatant conspiracy afoot throughout this whole situation. She could see the truth laid out in front of her, especially when there was a way to physically connect the dots. Soon she’d need another Big Chief Tablet to jot down her notes, and since the one sad little general store in town didn’t even have what she needed, the lack of consistency and the unfamiliar stationery was already making her panic.

So instead of playing pretend— telling herself that she would bide her time until she could find a way back home— Alejandra decided she was going to do what she did best when she wasn’t listened to: shut out the entire world, and focus her attention inward as her plan formulated.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…

“Sit up right, huevona! You’re going to mark my seats.”

Reluctantly, Alejandra slid her feet off the tan leather bucket seat, hoping that the battered treads of her Chucks left marks. Instead of facing her mother’s lecture, Alejandra spent the morning commute looking out the window with a scowl. She wanted to be anywhere but here. This podunk midwestern vibe was horrible. Unfamiliar. A hostile environment of mostly blue collar workers that could sniff out even the most light skinned Latina in a crowded room. Like a petulant child, she kept her thick framed glasses smudged with the oil from her cheeks. Just so she wouldn’t have to actually see Hawkins.

Her mother – Carla Perea– obviously noticed the scowl, and she sighed deeply before trying to speak again.

“I know you’re not happy, but this is a new start for us. Try to make the best of it, huh?”

Alejandra kicked at her blue Jansport backpack.

“And why couldn’t we just have moved somewhere else in New Mexico?! Chingao, you didn’t even think about it, you just put your finger on the map and ya!”

“Watch your mouth, Alejandra.” mom snapped, “And stop with that mocho talk! You know it wasn’t just putting a finger and ya. We needed a fresh start, and Hawkins was the best choice we could make. It wasn’t as impulsive as you make it out to be, it’s what’s best for all three of us.”

“And what the hell about dad?!” Alejandra demanded. “Huh?! How the shit are you honoring your marriage vows by just abandoning him like that?! Better or for worse my fucking asshole!”

Her mother's eyes narrowed as she drove. Obviously her daughter’s backtalk had hit a raw nerve. One of Alejandra’s new found talents was shit talking, the same venomous spitting that only cobras in certain parts of Africa and Asia had mastered. It had only been a year and some change since she’d honed the skill, but this kind of irate wit was too well honed for it to be new.

This talent had been latent. As if waiting for the perfect opportunity…

“What’s done is done.” Carla hissed, knuckles going from tawny brown to white grip, tightening her hold on the steering wheel.

“It’s been over a year, it’s time to accept he’s not coming back. Basta!”

“Bullshit…” Alejandra hissed.

And she would have kept going, if not for Carla deciding that morning to wear her leather belt around the waistline of her denim dress. And not just any belt. Oh no… It was the thick one with the sterling silver Gary Reeves buckle.

The thing about Gary Reeves: his silver work conchos with the fine needlepoint lines hurt like a motherfucker. Especially if there weren't any soft turquoise chunks on the front to cushion your ass from a chingazo. Alejandra wasn’t wearing the right kind of clothes for a fight, anyway. Months of trial and error taught her that her Wrangler culottes – along with a paperback copy of Heretics of Dune tucked in the back pocket– were the only acceptable armor if she wanted to talk shit back to her mother.

So instead of pushing her luck, Alejandra quietly resigned herself to her repetition. Unwilling and unmotivated to start a battle, when her mother was armed and willing to pull off into a Hawkins public parking lot to humiliate them both.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The Dodge Aspen continued down the unfamiliar streets at a snail’s crawl. Cars boxed them into the single lane going down Cherry Street towards the cluster of schools. Even though the realtor had boasted about the house’s proximity to the finest education in Roane County, the motorists of Hawkins, Indiana managed to turn a ten-minute drive into almost forty-five minutes. Luckily, Carla had anticipated this.

By five thirty that morning, mom was already blasting a mixtape of los classicos, banging on Alejandra’s bedroom door and setting off the barking of the family’s two dogs. Tiffany had almost tripped Alejandra in the bathroom, both dog and girl yelping as Alejandra stumbled and nearly smacked her head on the counter. Scruffy had refused to go outside into the dog run, so everyone stopped what they were doing and aided in chasing him out the back door into the yard with Tiffany at his heels.

And then that darned cat…

Unruly and orange Ripley had puked all over Jaime’s work pants, while he screamed at Alejandra to help him find another pair in his mess of a room. Useless from years of mi hito syndrome, he complained when his sister refused vehemently to take time from blow drying her curls to iron his creases. They’d gotten into a screaming match, until Carla finally conceded to do it for her son to “keep the peace”.

It had been a shitshow of a morning, an omen of things to come.

Carla blasted the horn at a green Gaucho with a white stripe that nearly sideswiped her, the dented vehicle trying to cut in front of their sedan into the lane and nearly taking out a couple of other cars with it.

“Pinches babosos!” Carla growled under her breath.

Alejandra was too pissed off to laugh.

The two women stayed in silence for some time, until at last Alejandra spoke up.

“You couldn’t have picked somewhere with raza at least? Like California?” she muttered, watching the faces of a group of younger teens crossing on bikes at the light.

“I’m light skinned, and I bet I’m the darkest one at school… A la chingada mujer.”

“What does it matter if there’s no raza here?!” Carla demanded, pounding her fist on the tan leather of the middle console, “Get over it. There’s no way we could have managed in California. I’m not going to kill myself working three jobs with your tios in Lynwood!”

“Enserio, mom?! You waited until right at the start of senior year, you didn’t want to wait?” Alejandra whined.

“Wait for what? Wait for you to fail another year in Pojoaque?!” Carla hissed, clearly fed up with her daughter’s bullshit, “I’m not waiting on you to pull your head out from your ass. So shut your mouth, and quit complaining or I will pull this car over. I swear to God.”

Alejandra shut her mouth. She tucked herself into the side of the passenger door with arms crossed, laying her head on the cool glass of the window and curtaining her teary brown eyes with her dark hair.

What could she say back to that?

Her mother was right. A reminder that she was a failure wasn’t necessary. The reminders of lost scholarships and a tanked GPA would follow her the rest of her life. And sometimes, if Alejandra pressed hard enough on the backs of her thighs, she could still feel the sting from the welts she’d gotten for failing senior year back at Pojoaque High School.

This change was stupid. A lot had changed in the past year. Too many things.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The reasonably happy, vibrant teenage girl that her mother knew was gone. Instead she was replaced by a bitter, angry young adult at eighteen years of age that had her innocence ripped away too young. Alejandra was now compulsive in her actions. Self-soothing in the oddest ways as old, pre-established habits became worse or new symptoms developed.

Pacing up and down the hallway listening to music on full blast was not anything new, chewing on the cuffs of her clothes or on the floss of her friendship bracelets was. As was the rebellion of dyeing all of her clothes some shade of black or gray. Carla had lost her mind when she saw all of the blouses, skirts, and Gunne Sax dresses had been dyed one weekend. It had taken hours to get the stains out of the washer and out of the bathtub at the old apartment back in New Mexico. Chalk that up to another lesson from the Gary Reeves belt.

And then she started failing all of her classes…

Much like any child, Alejandra had always been a bit of a space case. Living half in her imagination and reading weird books, or bothering her parents with second hand anecdotes of aliens and weird monsters. Like any other student, she wanted to spend her afternoons at play rather than at the family dinner table doing homework. Yet that had all been innocent fun. Science fiction books and fairy movies did not a troubled teen make, but lately that vivid imagination was shrouded in grimdark. She read gory novels of true crime and abductions, of both the supernatural and natural genre, rather than bothering with anything like cracking open a chemistry book or meeting her tutor at the library for help with remedial math.

Obsessive thoughts, spiteful biting comments, obsessions with dark media, lashing out and isolating away from everyone… This was not normal. This was not Alejandra Perea’s normal. To everyone else, it wasn’t like her not to care about things.

But she did care. Just not about the things everyone else thought was important.

She currently cared only about two things: the death of Frank Herbert, and Hector Filemón Perea.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

“Mija, I know this isn’t ideal. But you’re strong. You’re going to do fine. Just please… Please try to make the best of this situation. Do it for me, huh?”

The scenery of green trees scattered among the brick-and-mortar buildings of Hawkins held no interest for Alejandra as she ignored her mother. Normally, she would have been captivated by all the greenery. Save for a few day trips to the Jemez Mountains, Alejandra had spent the majority of her life staring at the same desert scrub brush, sand wastes, clay mountains, and adobe houses. Along the road, there were trees and quaint little homes painted daisy yellow, gray white, or the occasional brick and mortar Georgian style home if the occupants were wealthy.

Not one person had the familiar mud brick walls or coyote fencing made of latillas and bailing wire.

Hawkins had boasted four seasons, farmlands with adorable animals, and that unique charm only available in a majority blue collar midwestern town. New Mexico had maybe three seasons and pissed off raza, but she would have given up four seasons and Midwestern charm for the sand and red clay mountains any day. New Mexico was closer to what was important.

New Mexico was closer to dad…

It only got worse as the car approached the high school. Carla pulled into the drop lane; the car still idle as she stared her daughter down with a hard gaze.

Absolutely no move was made to exit the vehicle despite the impatience of the cars behind them. Alejandra stared at the collective student body of Hawkins High with disdain, downright disgust even. As if she would rather swallow glass than get out of the Dodge. She began chewing on the sleeve of her large jacket, already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead from the balmy morning with high humidity.

“Stop chewing on it, you mensa, you’re going to ruin the sleeve!” Carla barked, swatting her daughter’s hand.

Alejandra moved the cuff away from her mouth but said nothing. Instead, she focused on fishing in the pocket of her oversized jacket for her one escape that didn’t have wheels. She produced a battered Walkman with a scratch and sniff sticker on the back. After opening the tape deck, she rooted through the various jewel cases of cassettes in her Igloo Playmate, yanking out a well loved tape from the depths and popping it in.

She pressed play. The volume was turned up so high that her mother scowled when she heard what was blasting from the orange foam speakers of the headphones.

“Come on mija, you couldn’t pick something happier for your first day?”

“Nope.” Alejandra growled, pushing the Walkman into her jacket pocket, “I’m not picking shit else. I’m going to play this fucking tape so loud, that everyone is going to stay far the fuck away from me. Fuck these people, and fuck you too.”

Despite her mother’s sputtering protests and grabbing hands she unbuckled herself, threw open the car door, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and slammed the car door on the way out as she ran towards the double doors.

Not even a whole minute had passed, and already Alejandra was making enemies out of the preppy crowd of Hawkins High. Stomping her way through throngs of students to the front office, she bumped the shoulders of anyone who got in her way, nearly sending some lanky string bean of a freshman flying into his little group of friends.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, frigid bitch!”

She barely heard him over the music, but she did catch the insult.

Who cares? Kick rocks. Kiss my ass. Fuck yourself with a bent tire iron, you little fucking twerp.

I will face my fear… I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

She hoped the coordination of the day would repel everyone too, not just her shitty attitude. Unlike everyone else who had set up their first day back ensembles with care the night before, Alejandra threw whatever she had on hand on. That morning she came to school in a black cardigan layered over top a gray linen dress, black tights layered with dirty socks, beat up Chuck Taylors that had been everywhere from White Sands to TRC, and her dark brown curls straightened with her trusty Gillette Supermax, sprayed in place with a liberal amount of Aquanet. The piece de resistance was the jacket. Even though it was the end of August, she wore a large Carhartt jacket covered in kitschy buttons and patches. Even in the hottest months of the year, that damn thing never came off.

“What are you wearing that jacket for?” asked the school admin assistant, in lieu of a good morning.

Alejandra shrugged noncommittally as she removed her headphones. She stood awkwardly in the front office, and was about to say some smart ass remark when the admin’s hard stare stopped her sharp tongue short.

“... you’re going to boil alive before lunch…” muttered the admin, fanning her neck with a manilla folder, “Heavens to Betsy, I’m sweating just looking at you!”

“... I’m a new student. May I have my school schedule, please…?” Alejandra grunted.

“Ah.” nodded the admin, pulling open one of the drawers on her filing cabinet, “Name?”

“Alejandra Perea…”

“There’s no one here by that name. I only see an Alexandra Pera here.”

Alejandra winced.

Are you fucking kidding me, bitch? Where on my fucking birth certificate did it ever say fucking “Alexandra”?! And how in the hell is “Perea” too difficult for you to say?!

“Yeah… That’s me.” she admitted, then couldn’t help herself, “Alexandra Perea.”

The admin stared down from her imposing cherry wood desk, eyes laser focused at Alejandra from over the top of her large bifocals. Evidently, she did not appreciate being corrected.

“Young lady…” snapped the admin, tapping her eggplant colored nails against a file folder, “We do not tolerate troublemakers at this school. I suggest you quit playing your little games, and say your name correctly when asked. Is that clear?”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you-...

“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am…” Alejandra muttered, looking at her shoes as she took the class schedule and locker assignment from the admin.

The headphones went back on as soon as the admin was done talking. That poor Walkman was blasting so loud, everyone else in the hallway was forced to listen in on James Hetfield’s vocals. That fucking bitch of an admin pissed Alejandra off so much, she could not help but lunge at and startle a few innocent girls in pastel color culottes as they passed by. It was her one line of defense; to deter the general populace of Hawkins High, she had decided to be a goddamned menace to anyone who could not give her a detention.

It was unfortunate really, because no matter how hard Alejandra tried to deter everyone away, it took her ten minutes to realize that Hawkins High– home of the Tigers– had fangs that could snap even the most ironclad of wills in half.

She was drastically underprepared for the high schooler’s reception to her take no shit attitude. One big dude in a letterman that she shoulder checked did not hesitate. He checked her right back, right into the tan lockers lining the halls. The resounding crash of her body colliding with metal was loud and embarrassing, causing a few passing members of the pep squad to point and laugh. As they passed they said hateful, evil, ignorant shit, screaming it into Alejandra’s ear while yanking her headphones off. They wanted her to hear everything. One even yelled out a slur.

All the hate caught her off guard, and she almost checked someone else by accident.

“Watch where you’re going, fucking gap tooth bitch!”

A foot flashed out from some wastoid and sent Alejandra toppling. She would have hit the floor and broken her glasses, had not her oversized jacket caught on the door handle to the girl’s bathroom. She hung there for a few seconds, and felt everyone’s eyes on her. Ugly peals of laughter followed. Her face turned crimson.

I will permit my fear… no… I will allow… No! I… I will permit my fear to pass over me and… and through me…?

It was fucking humiliating. She wanted everyone to go away and leave her alone. Yet in her hubris and rebellion, the attempts at being a badass only ended up attracting every kind of attention she did not want.

Pulling herself off the handle, she immediately threw open the door and hid in the girl’s bathroom. Pushing past a girl in a blue gingham sundress and a strawberry blonde side ponytail, she ran for the nearest empty stall to lock herself in. The tears could not wait until she was sure the bathroom was empty. Loud and uncontrolled sobs began to emit from her throat, the noises so awkward she did not hear the whispers of the other girls as they exited the facilities.

Fuck this day. Fuck this town. Her arm was hurting from where she hit the lockers, her pride was wounded, and Alejandra wanted out. If she could just run away now and hitchhike with the first car she saw, she would do it.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

This was not how the second senior year was supposed to go. Senior year was supposed to be the last hoorah. A happy time to start preparing for reality. For college plans. Not a time to be stuck in a small Midwestern town that felt like a foreign country. And certainly not a time to be dealing with racist, shit attitudes.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

Dainty footsteps approached the stall as Alejandra bawled like a baby, a soft knock on the door making her freeze.

“Go away!” she cried, voice small and hoarse from the sobbing.

I will face my fear…

“… Hey it’s… It’s going to be okay…”

A soft, delicate voice answered. Not one familiar tone in that voice, the only hint to the identity of the one speaking was a pair of powder blue pumps at the opening of the bottom of the stall. Alejandra did not know the girl, nor did she want to.

“Go away…” she begged, face burning with embarrassment as she groveled like a prisoner for her freedom.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

“Please… Please just go away and leave me alone!”

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see that you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, cabrona… Quien te tiene?

The blue pumps hesitated, but eventually walked away. Leaving Alejandra to her sobbing.

She sat there on the toilet crying until the late bell rang, and everyone had cleared out of the bathroom to their first period class. With her glasses all smudged up from tears and snot, she took a moment to wipe them off with the hem of her dress, and eventually exited the stall with her tail between her legs.

Stopping at the sink, she began cleaning up. Alejandra took off her glasses and began washing her face with cold water. Blotting with a paper towel, she took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled, before making up her mind.

She would not be going to class today, or ever again for that matter.

Every part of her mind was made up. Now it would only be a matter of time to find an out.

The gears were turning as she put her headphones on, fast forwarding the cassette to her favorite song before sliding the orange headphones over her ears. Maybe she could walk home, steal Jaime’s ranfla to make her escape. No, probably she should walk down the road to the elementary school and steal the Aspen. Mom’s sedan was inconspicuous, and it would blend into the sea of cars on the freeway better than Jaime’s well loved blue 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo.

Besides, the Chevy was out of the question until Jaime got back from work at the Hawkins Water Utility, and she was not going to wait that long for him to come home. The elementary school was a closer walk, and as she walked out of the girls bathroom without checking if the coast was clear, she began to formulate how she was going to break into and hotwire her mom’s car (she knew how to do neither of these things, but she thought a good old college try couldn’t hurt).

As Alejandra power walked to the front entrance double doors, she heard nothing. Saw only the sweet promise of freedom. Walking quickly, unaware of the noise she was making, and drastically underprepared for the biggest shock of her life.

She felt herself being snagged by the backpack straps, her heart dropping into her ass as she was pulled to a chest.

The headphones were yanked from her ears, and a low voice with hot breath began muttering in her ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess.”

Alejandra jumped ten feet, and screamed.

“FUCK ME FREDDY!”

“ Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken. ” - Frank Herbert

[lover-of-mine]

Hi! So much has happened. Picking through different details to make sure this message is not repetitive because I know you have many many spies by now.

Firstly: the fake article. I cannot find who originally posted it. Only a screenshot from a BT mad about it. But apparently a Buddie made a fake post about a fake article about Lou quitting acting. They are very upset about it. It is ‘harassment’ apparently. People are offended that it cites mental health scare as the reason Lou would allegedly quit acting. As if BTs were not saying that Eddie should kill himself to mirror Ryan’s history of suicidality? Throwing stones from glass houses.

Here is the fake article screenshot. https://x.com/xfirepilot/status/1822790104525500839?s=46&t=i5gFcB_0q-6E5MZXiGtU_w

Secondly: Mark decided to lie about having ‘sources’ saying Lou is back on set this week. If he is not spotted… prepare for a full meltdown. They are CONVINCED this is the week. Especially because of the hangar. The longer they go without a sighting the more they lose it. They keep saying ‘quiet’ in hopes that it will make things happen (ie make Lou show up) which is kind of lame tbh. Taking all the fun out of the q word bit.

Thirdly: Happy birthday Peter! 9-1-1’s Instagram account posted a video of JLH + Oliver + Tracie + Ryan + Aisha + Kenny wishing him a happy birthday. Declan (Denny) also posted a photo of him and Peter. BTs are pretending that this is fine but are secretly losing it. Lou should be on set because of the hangar photo! Why is he not in that video! Why has he not posted about Peter’s birthday! But at the same time they are falling back once again on the ‘Lou is purposefully being hidden’ theory. Which is incompatible with their beliefs they will get a sighting this week.

Fourthly: one of them is saying a promo video will be released this week and promo photos the week after. I was not in the fandom in previous years but afaik this does not line up with past promo timelines? But correct me if I am wrong.

Fifthly: someone created a tumblr account called @killkinard and they are saying it is a death threat against Lou? Not Tommy? Very dramatic.

https://x.com/hofevanbuckley/status/1823057221053251994?s=46&t=i5gFcB_0q-6E5MZXiGtU_w

Sixthly: the subreddit drama… oh the subreddit drama. Okay. So. A BT shipper decided to make a new 9-1-1 subreddit because the main subreddit is way too Buddie focused. Complaining about anything to do with Tommy being downvoted on the main subreddit. So far the new subreddit has 35 members (as opposed to the 34170 members on the main reddit). So far half the posts on the new subreddit are transplanted from the main subreddit or the BT subreddit. Literally cross-posted. Makes sense that they do not like the main subreddit though. There was recently a post saying ‘why does Tommy get so much hate for being a bigot when half the main cast are cheaters’ uhhh because he is RACIST? And SEXIST? Honestly maybe it is a good thing they have that space now. Keep them contained away from the rest of us.

Seventhly and finally: someone said ‘I hope Lou posts a black and white picture Oliver takes of him on set’. They want Oliver and Lou to be Oliver and Ryan so bad oh my god. Not beating the Tommy/Eddie conflation allegations. Really all they ever do is steal from us. They have started calling Buddies ‘BDs’ now like we call them BTs. They are claiming Oliver’s new happy social media presence is a sign that he is filming with Lou. Everything we have or we say gets twisted and made about that man.

Anyways. I think it will be very funny if Lou does not show up this week. Especially because the hangar seems to be related to a Ryan and Kenny scene: https://x.com/buckleysbf/status/1823000264183271494?s=46&t=i5gFcB_0q-6E5MZXiGtU_w

Hi love 🩵

I don't even know what to say. I'm just staring at my phone. They really can't tell actors apart from characters huh? And this is a lot. I did the see part of the fake article drama but didn't fully get it. They definitely just want Tommy to be Eddie. I can't believe they dropped the BoB thing, come on guys, you don't have to copy everything we do. I do expect them to continue to detach themselves from reality more if Lou doesn't show up soon, even with the whole "they're hiding him" fantasy they have going.

[sotogalmo]

12 — 1:11 am

NEWS: The well-behaved and loved pet human — 000478; Yume Nagai — has been found to have committed suicide,

After being found with a pair of scissors in hands and the victim: 121321 (Sebastian), being found with blood stains and a huge gash on his left arm.

There are possibly more victims as 121321 was saying when he was interviewed but only the ones closest to 000478.

His method is not the scissors, but the vial- the “gift” he was making— but we cannot dismiss it because of the fresh cut that is close to a vein on his right wrist; and a clear line of blood on his neck

After that, 000478's room is nothing but a ghost "town". And we could never find out what his reason was for such an attack on those who were close to him; and we don't know if they are still alive just like 121321 is. And about 121321; his left eye mark was never done for a re-look (it's smeared, and it's more like it was made to be a tear mark now. Like some clown paint; of a star and a tear on their cheeks)

121321 was lucky to be alive after this; due to his talent of running.

"ah... ... Such an awful sight."

"sorry to, keep you waiting."

"you've done well. So, how was it?"

"right, well, it seems as though, the.. doll has already been taken away..."

"hm, I see..."

"furthermore, this matter does appear to be linked, to that woman... Margar."

"Noël...it looks like we'll need to investigate deeper, huh?"

.

. . "..."

. . .

"let's go, Bastienne. To AREPH."

"Yes, understood. Orian."

(AREPH: @/bluemoonscape . <- also I think you can find some similarities in appearances with Sebastian and Eddy via eye. If it is It's left eye that has the mark)

[bucksboobs]

so there’s a screenshot going around of a buck Tommy fan who supposedly asked Tim what age Tommy was and he said 40. Just as a heads up don’t believe this person, they’ve faked screencaps before. They’re also one of the troublemakers I sent you about. This one in particular is looking for ways he can get Ryan fired and hopes Eddie can re enact Ryan’s suicide attempt except Eddie will actually kill himself. Safe to say they’re not a good person.

The twists and turns of the Tommy Age controversy is just making everyone involved look bad huh?

[reaperlight]

Secrets Laid Bare (Part 1)

[More post Venom 3 with the murder fam Au]

[Tw: suicide mention]

[Eddie rotting depressed in bed.]

Frances: [Meditating and levitating at the foot of the bed.]

Eddie: Woah... like, what are you doing?

Frances: Well, since you asked I've been working on getting better control of my powers.

Eddie: You're being uh... awfully quiet for that... [Glancing at her levitating again] I didn't know you could fly?

Frances [smirking]: Oh, that's not the only trick up my sleeve. I've found a quirk of my psionic powers is that they respond best to mental anguish. And right now, Brockilicious, you are a feast.

Eddie: Well... I'm glad that you can get off on my suffering, I guess.

Frances: Not "get off," you're my battery. By being near you you're giving me a power boost so I can search further.

Eddie: Search further?

Frances: So I can find what they took from you.

Eddie: Oh! Can you... can you really?

Frances: Yes. Now, please let me concentrate.

Eddie: ...Do I need to think sad thoughts or something?

Frances: That would be helpful, yes.

Cletus [clearly jealous]: ...you used to do that with me.

Frances: Because you were in constent torment all the time, darling. Since we met again...It isn't as potent. I think your new powers are dampening it.

Cletus: So what do I need to do?

Frances: You don't have to do anything. I've got all that I need for this right here.

Cletus: But--

Frances: Baby, it's a good thing that you're getting better. I am feeding off of Eddie's anguish because he's depressed to the point of being suicidal. I do not want you harming yourself.

Cletus: ...but, do you still like me?

Frances [exasperated]: ...Cletus, I married you.

Cletus: But do you like, like me?

Frances: Baby...

Cletus: My angel, I know... Ever since... ever since my execution. There's been this dark, dangerous side of me I can't control and... [lost] I've never felt so out of control. I'm afraid I'll hurt you. I did hurt you.

Frances: And I forgive you. Did you forget who you're talking to? I know. I understand we can't control what forms our mutations take--

Eddie: Woah, woah, woah. Wait what? [to Cletus] You didn't tell her?

Frances [confused]: Tell me what?

Cletus [just as confused]: ...tell her what, Eddie?

Eddie: You didn't tell her about Carnage?

Cletus [annoyed]: Yes, Eddie of course she knows about Carnage. What the hell kind of question is that? You've seen me with her with Carnage. That's one of the first things I did when I found her again. I don't keep secrets from my wife.

Eddie [pinching the bridge of his nose]: Okay, okay just... back up here. What do you think Carnage is?

Cletus: Huh?

Eddie: Go on, take a wild guess.

Cletus: [*clearly put off-balance by the question*] ...I don't know Eddie. I'm not a scientist. I, we... Frances and I, we just assumed it must have activated some mutation when I drank your blood... Say if you drank my blood would that get you your Venom back?

Eddie [*tempted for a moment at the possibility*]: I... no. It doesnt work that way or rather... it wouldn't be the same. I do appreciate the offer though. I know you didn't have to--that was kind of you.

Cletus: [*flashing a genuinely happy black-toothed grin*]

Eddie: So you really don't know?

Cletus: What am I supposed to know... [annoyed] How am I supposed to know?

Frances: I know that he turns into a sexy red weredragon-octopus monster thing and that he's my soulmate [*comes down from levitating to sit in his lap, causing that rotten black maw to grin wider*] That's all I need to know.

Eddie: Carnage, you didn't tell him?

Carnage: Well, I tried but...

Eddie: But what?

Carnage: His mind wouldn't accept it at the time. It was easier to go along with it.

Cletus: ...what? [To Carnage] You lied to me?

Carnage: I never lied.. you didn't listen to me and made up your own reality and it became easier to play along. In any case a convenient lie is easier than having to drag you around while you were catatonic and risk you getting arrested again.

Cletus: Eddie, what's going on? Please, give it to me straight.

Eddie: Okay, before I say anything I need you all to try and stay calm.

Cletus: That's... not reassuring.

Frances: Is he sick?

Carnage: No I devoured his illness.

Cletus: What?!

Carnage: Have you not noticed less pain in your stomach lately? Since we met?

Cletus: [*the light of understanding, he clearly does know exactly what Carnage is talking about*]

Carnage: Do you not yet understand? I. Protect. You. But that's a discussion for another time. By all means Eddie, tell them what I am. Maybe he'll actually listen to you.

Eddie: I uh.. I'm just worried if we need to plug our ears or... or if I'm gonna get skewered for saying it.

Carnage: I will behave if she will.

Frances [glaring]: I will control myself. I've gotten better at it.

Eddie: Okay. First of all with Carnage... whatever is going on with Frances, the uh mutant thing? I'm pretty sure that's not what's happening here.

Cletus: Oh...

[clearly disappointed not having this in common with his wife]

Eddie: Okay, like... do you know what Venom is?

Frances: Your power. That they stole from you, correct? Because you're like Cletus?

Eddie: Or rather Cletus is like me, yes. But it's more than that.

Cletus: That black dragon-octopus thing, right? You looked very cool by the way.

Frances: Yes, very goth.

Eddie: I... Thanks. I'll... if... if I see him again, I'll be sure to let him know.

Frances: ...Him?

Cletus [clearly dejected]: I assumed it was either a mutation or... or demonic possession. It's the latter isn't it?

Eddie: No, but uh, you're on the right track. It's a symbiote. An alien that needs a host to live--

Frances: You're an alien?

Cletus [nervously]: Like E.T. phone home?

Eddie: ...Yes.

Cletus: Seriously, little green men?

Frances: But not little... or green.

Cletus [chuckling]: Explains why I never felt like I belonged on this planet.

Frances: You're just like Superman!

Eddie: No, uh not like Superman.

Frances [Hugging her husband]: Well he's my Superman.

Cletus: Oh.

[Eddie paused in the telling as they were clearly distracted by their makeout session. Frances was probably getting a big boost from him now as he was missing Venom dearly at the moment*]

[*Carnage cleared their throat*]

Cletus: Sorry, Eddie. You were saying?

Eddie: Well uh you're a human actually. Well as far as I known. Unless there's something about your family I don't know--

Cletus: Well they're assholes but I'm guessing that's irrelevant to the current discussion. So like what do you mean then by... alien?

Eddie: I mean you have an alien living inside you.

Cletus [throat dry]: So like... I've been body-snatched?

Frances [horrified]: Chest-buster?

Cletus: It laid its eggs in me?

Eddie: Uh... kinda, No. I don't know if eggs are involved but... uh, yes. It came from Venom somehow? Spawned, split off? I don't know. But like... it's not exactly body snatched. At least it wasn't for Venom and me. When it goes right. It's living together, with another person in your body. A weirdly shaped person but a person. Bonds are about compromise, it's a...  relationship. It's...

Eddie [realizing for the first time]: It's like marriage.

Eddie [gasping]: Venom is my husband.

Frances: Your husband? So then Carnage...

Cletus [panicked]: It's not like that. Baby, I swear, it's not like that!

Carnage [annoyed, grabbing Cletus possessively with big red claws]: Yes, I'm just a third wheel, apparently.

Frances: ...If you'll excuse me.

Cletus: Baby, no.

Frances: Gotta go, shriek coming on. And think I got enough misery for now.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️

➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️

57 for 🩸:

---

Like he can’t accept blaming Eddie. Eddie thinks over the course of their time knowing each other. Buck very rarely blames Eddie for anything. He’s frank with him when it was needed and deserved. Tells him when he’s wrong. But Buck has always, always believed only the best in Eddie. The physical counterpoint to Eddie’s self-loathing. 

Eddie can’t let him do that anymore. Not if this is going to work. 

He reaches to cup a hand over Buck’s cheek.

“You don’t need to fix this for me,” he tells Buck. “I… You’ve helped so much. Always. You’ve always been a miracle to me. But right now, I don’t need you to fix it.”

Buck’s bottom lip trembles. More tears run down his cheeks. Some land on the ridge of Eddie’s finger, slide down to occupy the space between face and palm. 

“I just need you to love me despite all of it, okay?” It almost sounds like a plea from Eddie’s mouth. “I know it’s not ideal, but please keep loving me, anyway.”

Buck’s eyes widen. He takes a sharp little breath. 

“Eddie,” he practically whimpers. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry. Of course… Of course I…”

He is cut off by a sort of choked sound. 

“Hey,” Eddie soothes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Buck insists. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I love you so much. There is nothing that could ever change that. It-it’s not despite anything.” 

Eddie takes a deep inhale. See, he knew that. Really, he did. But for some reason, he also badly needed to hear it. 

“Then don’t die on me,” Eddie begs. “Or for me. Please, please let us try to be something more than a tragedy, Buck.”

“I want that,” Buck promises. “Eddie, I want that so badly. I want us."

“Then just stay with me, okay? Don’t go running off on sacrificial suicide missions.”

Buck nods. “I won’t. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Eddie awkwardly crouches, leaning forward to kiss him. Soft and quick. 

“I love you so much,” Eddie tells him. “I don’t want to live without you ever again.”

---

51 for 🧟‍♂️:

---

 “That’s true. But you come with stellar references, and at least in my opinion, you’re nice to have around.”

Maddie smiles a little coyly. “Nice to have around, huh?”

Chim nods. “I think so.”

He feels a little foolish. Does he sound as dumb as he feels? Does he look as dumb as he feels?

“Well,” Maddie shrugs. “Hopefully you won’t get sick of me, then.”

Which he thinks is her way of saying she intends on sticking around. 

Chim can’t think of a smooth way to tell her that the idea of getting sick of her sounds more or less impossible. 

▪️▪️▪️

“It’s been three days,” Hen scolds him, later. 

They’re working in the gardens. Chim has dirt underneath his fingernails. His hair is sticking to the sweat on his forehead. 

“I know!” He replies. “I’m pathetic!”

“You’re not pathetic,” Hen sighs. “You just… I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“What does that mean?” Chim demands. 

“I mean, you get really excited about beautiful, not-entirely-emotionally-available women, Chim.”

Wow. 

“Do you remember Tatiana?” Hen asks. 

“Of course I remember Tatiana,” Chim scowls. “Maddie is not Tatiana.”

“I don’t think she is,” Hen says. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?” Chim asks.

“I’m saying, think before you fall.” Hen practically pleads. “I know you. I know your big heart. Maddie seems lovely, but she’s seen some shit. I can tell. She might not be up for whatever picture-perfect romance you have in your head.”

Chim knows what Hen means by shit. Maddie… Well, from some of what he’s heard from Buck, she’s had a rough go of it. He doesn’t know any of the details. It’s not his business. But haven’t they all survived a lot, to be here right now?

“There is nothing picture perfect about my friend’s sister in the apocalypse, Hen.” 

“You know what I mean,” Hen sighs. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

---

48 for ➰️:

@steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Buck shakes his head. “Wasn’t yesterday October 6th?” 

Eddie frowns. “No.”

Buck doesn’t know if Eddie is lying to him or suspecting he’s lost his mind. 

“I swear… Eddie, we did yesterday already. I remember waking up and… And I felt panicky…”

“No,” Eddie says. “No, yesterday we woke up early to go to the state park. Remember?”

Yes. Yes, Buck remembers. But that feels… That feels so long ago. 

“Something is wrong,” Buck says. “Something weird is happening.”

“Maybe you had a nightmare?” Eddie suggests.

“No,” Buck shakes his head again. “That’s not it.”

“Well… I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. It’s October 6th. It’s the last day of our vacation.”

Eddie seems to believe what he’s saying. Buck grabs his phone off the nightstand. It confirms October 6th as today’s date. Okay, fine. Buck will accept it. But that doesn’t mean something weird isn’t happening. 

“I feel like I’ve lived this day before, Eddie,” Buck says quietly.

Eddie grabs his hand. “But you haven’t.”

Buck sighs. “Maybe you don’t remember. But I do.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment. 

“Do I need to be worried about you?” He asks finally. 

No? Yes? Maybe? Buck isn’t sure. But if this is happening to Buck, and Eddie doesn’t remember, there’s no point trying to get him on board. At least not until he has more information.

“I’ll figure it out,” Buck tells him. “Don’t worry about me.”