#Head Trauma

[jellyaibo]

i wanna like. hold a funeral for this fictional crew man!

🫧🪥🌌🥩🎠

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic — 3/3

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

wc: 3k | rating: T | cw: head trauma, brain injury talk | a special thank you to @dame-zoom-a-lot for betaing! <3

The days following Steve’s Houdini act are fuckin’ tense, to say the least.

Eddie had messed up. Royally.

He could’ve sworn that when Steve took off, he’d ducked into the Recovery Center, y’know, the place he was supposed to go! If Eddie had known Steve took a detour and missed the building entirely, Eddie would’ve ran a lot fucking faster than he had. Especially after…

Well, no point in shying away from it anymore; after Steve confessed his love for him.

And how did Eddie return the favor? By being a total bone head and losing Steve for the entire goddamn day! Not to mention a good chunk of the night. Jesus… It’s no wonder Robin’s still sore.

Now, in Eddie’s flimsy defense, Steve had thrown him for one hell of a loop. One that Eddie was still seeing double from. He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around what he’d heard; Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High, being into Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson, the drug-dealing ne’er do well hailing from the Forest Hills trailer park. Forgive him for finding the threads a little difficult to tie together! He’s not exactly Steve’s usual fare.

But it had happened.

Things have fundamentally, metaphysically, allegorically and subatomically shifted between the two of them—there’s no getting away from that, no matter how long they try and dance around this.

Steve said he loved Eddie. Love.

That isn’t something you just move on from. At least, it isn’t something Eddie can move on from. Especially when he didn’t even get to say his piece!

The trouble is that Robin’s in all-out guard dog mode with Steve, keeping Eddie at arm's length even after a whole goddamn week goes by. Sure, she’d accepted his apology (albeit begrudgingly), but she isn’t exactly keen on letting Steve out of the house without her by his side—much less with Eddie. It would be kind of heartwarming if it weren’t so goddamn annoying.

Steve isn’t some damsel locked away in a tower, and Eddie wasn’t some knight in shining armor, planning to scale the side of a stone tower to avoid the sleeping, fire-breathing dragon…

But as Eddie stares up at the fire escape attached to the side of Steve and Robin’s brick apartment building… he'd be lying if he said he didn’t sort of feel a little shiny.

Part of Eddie can’t believe it’s really come to this, but… he just can’t stand the idea of wasting another goddamn night tossing and turning, going over and over Steve’s words in his mind. Thinking about the way Steve’s hand felt in his, the way his eyes went all soft when he told Eddie he—he loved him…

Jesus H. Christ, this is way beyond his skill set—he’s way out of fucking league here, but there’s nothing for it. Eddie needs to settle this, once and for all.

So, he takes his bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and presses the flat of it to his forehead while his hands make a tight knot in the back. He zips his leather jacket as high as it’ll go and gives his hands a shake to try and get the jitters out.

It’s not exactly a helmet and plates of armor, but it’ll have to do. Eddie takes a breath, steels himself, then climbs on top of a precariously stacked pile of milk crates that he’d crafted and leaps for the steel ladder. As soon as his feet leave the plastic tower, it collapses under him, clattering to the ground. Eddie knows he shouldn’t look back, but he sneaks a peak over his shoulder and… yep. He really shouldn’t’ve looked. He’s not that high up, but it’s enough that if he falls, he’d be feeling it tomorrow. Might even bust an ankle if he landed wrong.

He turns back to the task at hand; getting to Steve.

There’s a terrifying moment where he’s not sure if he can pull himself up, but somehow, he finds the strength to do just that. If only Coach D’Amour could see him now!

He grunts as he pulls himself up onto the platform, belly getting scratched against the grates as he goes. Eddie scrambles to get his legs underneath himself. Then, he stands, dusts himself off and takes the win, graceless as it was.

The fire escape is rickety and fucking loud as he takes the steps two at a time. It’s cold enough that even the quickest touch of the steel railings drains all the heat out of his fingers, so he just keeps them balled up, swinging at his sides. The wind is especially chilly up here too, something he hadn’t noticed on the ground, but now that he’s up a couple of floors there wasn’t anything for the wind to buff off except the side of the building and, well, Eddie.

By the time he reaches the third floor, his nose is running and no doubt red and irritated looking, and he’s woefully out of breath.

Kind of a pathetic knight, he thinks as he sniffs back the worst of it, wipes the underside of his nose on the sleeve of his jacket to get rid of what’s left.

The light in Steve’s room is on, reaching out to him through the lines of Steve’s shut blinds.

His hand is raised, wind-chapped knuckles knocking against the glass of his window before he can plan out what he’s going to say. He just wants to see Steve. Get eyes on him again. Work this out.

It’s a painful few seconds before Eddie can see movement from inside the window. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently waits for Steve to let him in. His breath fogs the window.

Then finally. Finally! The blinds are pulled up. He smiles and—

Oh Christ on a cross. That’s not Steve.

Eddie’s stomach damn near falls out of his ass as the woman on the other side of the glass screams, as shrill and high as if she were next to him.

And of course she’s in a fucking towel.

Eddie slaps one hand across his eyes and the other up in surrender, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Shit, Jesus, I—I’m not a pervert, I swear!”

Debatable, his brain supplies, entirely unhelpful in an emergency situation. But hey, what’s new?

“I was looking for my friend, not—Please stop screaming!” He screams.

“Eddie?” A familiar voice calls from below.

The hand on Eddie’s eyes lift and looks down through the metal grates under his boots. “Steve!”

Steve’s hanging half out his window, peering up at him with a bewildered expression on his face. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie holds his arms out like it should be obvious. “Seeing you!” He snaps.

Eddie’s attention is briefly yanked back to the scandalized looking woman in the window in front of him. “I’m—yeah, I’m gonna—” He backs away, and swings around the escape before thundering down the stairs, shouting another apology up in his shameful retreat.

Steve backs up in order to let Eddie in. He climbs in as gracelessly as ever, all knees and elbows, stiff from the cold. He slides the window shut behind him once he’s in, dropping the blinds for good measure.

He wonders if Hopper is getting a call about a long-haired, wild-eyed, deranged looking peeping Tom at this very moment.

“Smooth.” Steve says from behind him, an edge of playfulness.

When Eddie turns and finally gets a good look at Steve, who looks especially comfortable in his flannel sleep pants and worn sweater, hands on hips. “I was looking for you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Steve snorts softly, “third floor, remember?”

“I counted! Ground floor, first floor, second floor, third floor.” Eddie says, using his hand to indicate his pattern of thought, moving it up a tick with each floor.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. And even though Eddie knows Steve’s laughing at him, he can’t help that warm feeling that pours through him, filling him up. All his cracks and edges, sealed up with Steve’s effortless being.

“No.” Steve raises his own hand, mirroring Eddie’s. He begins notching as he explains, “ground floor, second floor, third floor. The ground is the first floor, dude.”

Eddie frowns. “What? Since when?”

Steve levels Eddie with a flat look. “Since like, the civil war, dude.”

Huh. Eddie frowns. Mulling over the new bit of information. That would’ve been nice to know.

“Why were you even doing out there in the first place? We have things called front doors. And, y’know, phones.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, losing a bit of steam as the words left him. Like he’s realized exactly what Eddie being here, in his rooms, meant.

“I had to see you.” Eddie says, like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world, “Face to face, just me and you.”

“Can’t we just—I don’t know, pretend all of… that never happened? Hell, it might drop out of my head one of these days anyway. Lots of shit does.” Steve’s says, sounding so fucking defeated that it sends a sharp pain through Eddie’s chest.

“Hey,” Eddie makes a face, gets in Steve’s space, “don’t be a jerk to yourself.”

He ducks his head in an attempt to meet Steve’s downturned gaze, which he reluctantly returns. He’s got these big, warm eyes, the color of dark honey—the kind that are hard to look away from, so Eddie rarely does. He’a got a staring problem, he knows, but… damn. Can you really blame a guy?

A nerve in Steve’s jaw jumps when he clenches his teeth together, and salt pools begin forming along the rim of those familiar eyes. When he speaks, it’s stiff. Barely above a whisper. “I’m embarrassed, alright?”

“You don’t gotta be embarrassed, man.” Without thought, Eddie’s hands go to Steve’s arms, fingers hovering around his elbows. Eddie tilts his head again to try and keep eye contact again but Steve seems determined to avoid it.

“Easy for you to say.” Steve huffs, and sits down on the edge of his bed, slipping out of Eddie’s hold, arms still crossed over his chest. “You didn’t totally humiliate yourself in front of your—friend.”

The word, one in which Eddie holds in a most sacred of views, sounds distinctly hollow when Steve says it.

“Steve, listen to me, just for a sec, alright?” Eddie gets down to the floor, one knee buried in the carpet while the others bent out in front of him. “This is my fault.” He confesses, voice full of remorse.

Finally, Steve looks at him. His brows twitch together as he makes a face. “Bullshit.”

“No, it’s true! I—I didn’t mean to, but I’m not exactly big on the whole impulse control thing, as you know, and, thinking back on things I probably… I probably let a few things slip.” Eddie explains, his rings clinking together lightly as he gestures with his hands.

Steve, however, doesn’t look any less confused. He blinks. “What?”

Eddie lets his head fall forward in a moment of defeat as he attempts to gather up his fleeting thoughts. It’s like chasing wet, feral cats up there!

Still, he picks himself back up. For Steve.

“What I’m trying to say is…” Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s knees. Feels the warmth under the soft, worn flannel. The hard muscle. Alive, whole. He tightens his grip. “Steve, I’ve been crazy about you since the first time I ever saw you. Don’t roll your eyes—I’m serious! You sat in front of me in math one year and you forgot your pencil. We were having a test that day, and you asked me if you could borrow one of mine, so I let you have the one I was using. You chewed up the end of it, squashed the eraser to all hell, but then when you gave it back to me, you smiled, thanked me and said, ‘I owe you one.’ It—okay, yeah, so it sounds, like, really small, and probably pretty pathetic, but… I was totally starstruck, man.”

At some point in his little spiel, Steve had uncrossed his arms. So Eddie takes the opportunity to clumsily take Steve’s hands, his insides feeling like a kicked hornets nest. Buzzing. He swallows. “I still am.”

Steve keeps his mouth shut, but there’s a knot in him that’s loosening, Eddie can tell. He’s just gotta keep tugging. He squeezes Steve’s fingers.

“The feeling was cranked up a few hundred clicks because of all the, y’know, near death experiences we went through together. But you get it now, right? You get how this is all my fault?”

“Eddie, you don’t have to—” Steve starts, hands stiffening in Eddie’s hold. Slipping away. But Eddie holds firm, decides to just fucking say it. If Steve could, Eddie could too.

“I’m in love with you too.” He blurts out, and now that he’s said it out loud, it’s like there’s a dam that gets busted inside of him; he can’t stop the rush of words that follows the confession. “That’s what you were seeing. That’s what you were noticing. I thought I was being slick, just keeping it friendly or whatever. Flirting, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d ever actually reciprocate. Because, honestly man, I’m not really used to people taking me all that seriously. ‘Zany, pot-head Eddie, can’t trust anything that comes out of his crooked mouth!’”

Eddie shakes his head, scoffing at his own blind spots, “But… you saw right through that shit—right through me. You didn’t make it up in your head, Steve—you felt it. You were right.”

Steve’s got a funny look on his face, but he nods. A lock of hair falls over his forehead, but he doesn’t remove his hands from Eddie’s to fix it. “You love me?”

That’s like asking if the sun would rise tomorrow morning. Of course. Of course.

Eddie pulls one of Steve’s hands and flattens it onto his chest, over the leather.

“Every time my heart beats, it's your name it calls out, man.” Eddie says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he sees the red creep up on the apples of Steve’s cheeks. “D’you feel it?”

Steve gives a breathless chuckle, hesitating for a split second before he nods, playing along.

Electricity hums under Eddie’s skin, the resulting static snaps in the air around them. Eddie presses Steve’s hand against the wall of his chest a little harder, so that he can feel the pounding a bit better. Then Eddie whispers in time with the rhythm of his lovesick heart, giving it a voice, “Ste-vie, Ste-vie, Ste-vie…”

He keeps chanting until Steve’s grinning, eyes glued to their joined hands. It’s a fleeting thing, though. Eddie watches as that hard-won smile drops and a pinched look takes its place. “Even now? Eddie, I’m not—I don’t think I’m the same person I was before.”

“Are you kidding me? Especially now. In sickness and in health, right?” Somewhere in his brain an alarm sounds, but he doesn’t pause long enough to acknowledge exactly why, lest he lose momentum, “look, Steve, even if you are a little different from the guy you were in high school, you’re still you.”

A beat passes. “What if I never get better?”

“Steve, you will, the doctors said—”

“But what if I don’t? Jesus, Eddie, what if I get worse?” Steve’s voice had gone progressively more hushed as he spoke, as if he were so afraid of its possibility that even voicing it felt risky. Made it real, even in that small way. It’s something Steve’s thought about, Eddie realizes. Agonized over, even.

“Then I’m the lucky son of a bitch that gets to take care of you.” Eddie says, sure as shit. Truthfully, he can’t think of anything else he’d rather do, even if Steve hadn’t done a completely insane thing like falling in love with Eddie. His love isn’t conditional. “S’long as you’ll let me.” He tacks on.

It’s like a wall crumbling. Brick by brick, Eddie watches Steve’s resolve collapse. The rim of his eyes shine with unshed tears, his brow relaxes and his chin twitches. “You sure you want that?”

He scoffs, eyes wide. “It’s all I want.” He answers, quickly. A reflex. Who wouldn’t want to be with Steve Harrington? Eddie thought he was lucky just to be in the same fucking orbit as the guy, but now…

Now, as he watches a smile slowly spreads across Steve’s face—fucking Adonis incarnate—it feels like he won the goddamn lottery.

“Okay.” Steve utters, so softly that for a second Eddie thinks he’d imagined it.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, trying his damndest to keep from imploding. He’s fucking vibrating in his skin.

Instead of answering Eddie, Steve decides to clarify himself by leaning forward and pressing his mouth against Eddie’s.

Fireworks go off inside of Eddie, every inch of him. All lit up. Feels like he’s shining just as good as any knight.

One of Steve’s hands snake their way behind Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer, while the other remains held over Eddie’s jackrabbiting heart. Their lips part, and their kiss deepens. Eddie tries to keep up.

They eventually end up on Steve’s narrow twin bed laying side by side, legs entangled, kissing until their mouths go dry. Eddie swipes a calloused thumb over Steve’s cheek, savoring the feeling of the barely there stubble, the heat from the blush that never seems to subside.

They don’t speak for the rest of the night. Not even a ‘goodnight’ after Steve crawls over Eddie to flick off his bedside lamp, tugging the comforter up around their shoulders as he settles back into the safe harbor of Eddie’s arms. They don’t need words. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight, all they need to do is to rest.

Whatever comes after, they’ll deal with it together.

—

Tag List: (if you’d like to be added to a permanent tag list for all my Steddie fics, please comment/message me! ◡̈ thank you for reading, everyone!)

@stervrucht @taylortheyellowlobster @eyehartart @jinojiboundagain @sleepy-steve @lexgilga @morallyundefined @estrellami-1 @ollieolive @mugloversonly @wheneverfeasible @steddiefication @what-if-a-dragon @wrenisfangirling @yesdangerpls @flustratedcas @scarletyeager @snowstar2368 @starxlark @jizzing-bastard-600and69 @bambibiest @queenie-ofthe-void @lilpomelito @bananahoneycomb @kaspurrcat @deadwhiterosesstuff @3vilpurpl3d0t @loudmariachibands @steddieislife @questionablequeeries @lil-gremlin-things @ellietheasexylibrarian @ajeff855 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @thedragonsaunt @hello-sweetheart @stalactitekilla @archermightbegay @horror-music @breealtair @stevesharingtons @duraffinity @novacorpsrecruit @lawrencebshoggoth @tinyplanet95 @bookworm0690 @shoujo-wizard @weepsluv111 @justalittledrainbamage

[minmos]

[dinoburger]

OH TRAITOROUS SYNAPSES

[navy-leader]

Boom, headshot ❤️

[akihatohnoofficial]

banging your victim’s head against a wall until they get so woozy they’ll accept anything

[heatherchasesyou]

[fayvampiredom]

I would love for a foolhardy vampyre hunter to charge into my lair. Brandish her meek little toys and speak fervently about justice and hope, or something equally trite.

Bolt towards her in the middle of her speech, cutting it short as she gasps in surprise. Splinter her crossbow to shreds with my claws. Her dagger, shattered like glass against my fangs. Lace my fingers around her face and drive her into the ground, smirking as the satisfying crunch rings through my throne room.

Hunters raise their pets to be quite resilient. Once, twice, three times... We are well into the double digits, with the outline of your head firmly stamped onto the cold tiles of my floor, before her fiery eyes dull and roll back. Gloved fingers so rightly clamped around my wrists go slack and fall limply to her side. She groans, dazed, dizzy, weak...

Poor thing.

I hoist her off the ground with one hand, watching her limbs dangle uselessly by her sides. Slowly, deliberately, my tongue traces the crimson rivulets that mar her skin-- caressing her cheeks, her chin, her lips... Her shuddering moans taste almost as sweet.

I drag her body to my private quarters. Dress every wound oh so tenderly. Soft coos dripping into her ears like nectar as the eerie light of my eyes eases her pain. Brushing her hair. Dolling her up. Each measured ministration threading more and more puppet strings into her mind, molding her into the perfect plaything for me to feed from.

That's right. You are my maid. You always have been. Your purpose is to serve and adore me. And you love fulfilling your duties so, do you not?

Good girl. Now, your reward. Bare your neck, won't you?

[thebrightestlodge]

*SOMETIME LATER*

Little Sis and Big Sis Uncle adventures. I think they're funnier if it's scary 'The Shining' child and cranky ronin.

Also, Baiken's TV Dad instinct

[pespillo]

Happy Birthday to Jack Walten whos been dead under mysterious circumstances for 48 slutty years........

[insertsomthinawesome]

WHUMPTOBER 2022 - DAY 8 - Head Trauma

"Oh! And I forgot one other rule. Accidents, happen.” - Hades, Kingdom Hearts

-NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-  

[bandtrees]

-we're through. I can't live with that sort of-

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Are You Mine?

rhea x reader

content: reader accidentally gets knocked out causing memory loss but rhea is there to help you remember. a cute fluffy lil fic (gonna try first person in a more diary kinda way?? i hope this makes sense and works??!?!)

One Monday Night RAW went a little too crazy. Rhea and Shayna were arguing which ended up becoming a fight. Things got out of hand and chairs were being thrown. Sitting in the front row, I got free tickets because Rhea is my hot goth buff girlfriend, anyway, one of the chairs ended up hitting me in the head. Everyone thought it was planned but it surely was not.

I was immediately out, on the floor. For the sake of television, Rhea and Shayna continued to argue but once the segment was over and the commercial came, the goth wrestler jumped out of the ring and flew to my side.

Medics ran towards me, rolled me out on a gurney and drove me to the local ER. Once the show was done, Rhea drove to the hospital and forced her way towards my bedside. She was crying and holding my hand begging and pleading for me to wake up. I had tubes and lines all over me.

“Is she okay? Will she wake up?” the australian asked the nurse.

“She had a bad hit, so she’ll be out for a while. But everything inside is looking as good,” the nurse sounded dull and tired. I was probably her fiftieth concussion that day.

“So she will wake up?”

“It looks like she will be able to. Considering how hard she was hit, she might have some memory loss, so be prepared for that,” she wrote something on my chart.

“Fuck,” Rhea growled.

The nurse jumped a bit at the muscular woman in her intense makeup and dark clothing. She was scared of her when she walked in but it wasn’t even close to the craziest thing she saw that day.

“I’ll be back later to check on her,” she placed the chart on the hook.

“Okay…Thank you,” Rhea kissed my hand and rested her head on the bed.

The nurse left and closed the curtain behind her.

You’re probably wondering how I remember all this…well I don’t. This is what was told to me and a little bit of dramatization for the story. But this next bit I do remember because it was after I woke up and I was able to recover my memory, but not at first. Don’t worry, it’ll get good.

So after a few hours, according to the doc, I finally woke up. I forced my eyes open and looked to see who was resting beside me. I tried to not freak out about this large dark woman holding my hand but I couldn’t think at all other than “Where am I ?!”

“Y/N!! You’re awake!” she kissed my hand and I immediately pulled it away but she didn’t take too much notice of it because she stood and called for the nurse, “Nurse!! Please hurry she’s awake!! Nurse!”

The nurse walked just a bit quicker than her normal gait. Followed by two more who were checking on different tubes and monitors. She shined the small light in my eyes as I squinted away from her, she checked my pulse and my breathing before spewing off some random medicines.

“Can someone please tell me where I am and why I’m here?” I sat up trying to avoid everyone touching me.

“You had a bad concussion, you were out for a good few hours. You’re at Rosendall Grace hospital,” the nurse said as if she was reciting lines from a play.

“How?” was all I could say.

“It was my fault,” the scary muscular woman said sniffling in the corner, “I was arguing with shayna and we threw a chair and it hit you, I’m so sorry baby.”

“Who’s Shayna and why’d you call me baby? Who are you?” I felt the side of my head that was pulsing. It felt like my brain was going to burst out.

“Don’t touch, there’s a wound there,” the nurse pulled my hand away.

“Shit,” the dark woman slammed her hand on the wall, “You lost your memory. I’m Rhea, I’m your girlfriend and have been for two years. I’m a wrestler for WWE, and Shayna is another wrestler and we were arguing on television but you were in the audience.”

The nurses that were swarming around me looked at each other as if it finally clicked in their head why she looked the way she did and why she was here with me.

“What’s WWE?”

“You’ll remember later, too much to explai-”

“Please don’t pull out your IV,” the nurse grabbed my wrist.

“I’m scared, I don’t know who she is, I’m in a random hospital with nurses that could give two shits about me. I want to leave, please!” I tried wriggle my arm out from her grip.

Rhea sits down in the chair in the corner of the room, “Please just listen to them for right now and you’ll be out sooner. Fighting them won’t help,” she sighed putting her head in her hands.

“Fine,” I huffed crossing my arms refusing them from touching me more.

“Please, we need to fix it,” the nurse held out her hand.

If looks could kill, she’d be long gone by now with the daggers I was shooting at her. She didn’t budge. So I so dramatically give her my hand.

“Thank you,” she snipped, “this is medicine that will help with the pain… morphine,” she shot a look to the australian, as if she was making sure she knew what was going to happen. “You should get your memories back within the night,” she looked back at me giving a fake smile. Taking a big sigh and checking the medicine bag hanging near me, “try to jog her memory like talking about things she likes or about the moments leading up to the injury,” she turned towards my girlfriend before nodding her head. Who knows how long she’s been here.

“Okay, yeah… I can do that,” Rhea dragged the chair back to the side of the bed.

“We’ll be back later the check on things,” the nurse gave a nod and shut the curtain once more.

“Hey,” she tried to grab for my hand but I pulled it away.

“Don’t touch me, I don’t know who you are,” I turned away from her.

“You know me very well actually,” she sat back in the chair, “You know how much vegemite I like on my toast, you know that I love to be the little spoon, you know that I-”

“Vegemite?” I looked at her confused because what the hell is that, legitimately.

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved me away.

“And you,” I gestured frantically to her big arms and muscular stature, “like to be the little spoon?”

“Yes. Don’t start with me, princess,” she began to play into the memory loss as if I was someone she had never met before.

Unbeknownst to me, she was trying to win me back over but obviously I had no clue who this dark haired goth woman was. Did I think she was attractive? Yes but that’s not the point.

“Oh now you’re trying to flirt with me,” I said.

“I’m always flirting with you actually,” she winked.

The butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I tried my best to hide them but…

“Now how did I know that would fluster you, hm?”

“I don’t know! You’re good a flirting?!” I shrugged.

“I am, thank you,” she giggled.

“Ugh,” I huffed and crossed my arms. I remember thinking that she was so incredibly attractive and mysterious. I needed to know more about her but I had no clue where to start. We sat in silence for a good long minute before I decided to break it. “What did you say you did?”

“I’m a wrestler for WWE.”

“And what’s that?”

“It stands for World Wrestling Entertainment. My nickname is Mami, and I’m the big scary villain along with three other guys but we’ll get to them later.”

“Oh,” I really did try to process what she said but I was so far out of it that I had no clue what wrestling was. I thought that if I faked it, she would believe me.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember, you will eventually,” only then did I notice what she was wearing because she was putting everything on display by her manspreading. She noticed that I was staring pretty hard trying to take it all in, “What’re ya looking at so hard?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I’m trying to figure out what you’re wearing and why you’re wearing it,” I shifted in the bed.

“Oh,” she chuckled before she stood. “These are my boots,” she pointed at them as her feet turned in, “these are my fishnets,” she pulled at them with a snap, “they always gets holes in them but I think it makes me look cooler, and these are my lil booty shorts,” she pointed at them with both of her hands gesturing to her center, “this is my shirt with the group on it… that’s me,” she pointed at each of the silhouetted figures on the shirt, “that’s Dom Dom, that’s Damian and that’s Finn. They’re my boys,” she smiled.

“Hmm,” I said contently. I was really was fascinated by this woman. She was so… interesting.

She sat back down pulling the chair closer to the bed but I didn’t feel the need to shy away again. Something about her made me feel…safe.

She cleared her throat, “so do you remember anything at all?”

“Well, I know my name is (y/n) only because that’s what you said earlier, and I know I got hit in the head, and obviously I know how to talk, but other than that…” I couldn’t think of anything, nothing at all. I began to freak out a little but I tried to hide it as best I could.

“Hey, hey," she grabbed my hand, "it's okay, you'll get your memories back soon, I'm sure. Nothing to worry about, just a lil blip is all," she kissed my hand.

A shot of warmth from her voice as the kiss flew through me and calmed me almost immediately. I guess I did know her.

We sat in silence for a good moment as I studied her. Her eyes are an icy blue that almost close when she smiles wide, her teeth are perfectly white, her nose is long and skinny with a bump in the middle, it suits her. Her tattoos are dark but fit her style as if she was born with them, her calloused hands look rough but are softer than you can imagine. The way her black wavy hair falls perfectly around her face, framing it just right to accentuate her cheekbones. Her arms are muscular but you can’t tell when she’s relaxed, though I’m sure that if she flexed I’d go into cardiac arrest. I laughed at myself with that one.

“What’s so funny, love?” her voice was quiet but gentle.

The pet name didn’t phase me as much as the first one did, “just thinking.”

“Bout what?” She crossed her legs leaning on her elbow with her chin in her hand.

“How I wish I remembered who you are because I definitely think you’re my type,” I could feel my face getting red and hot.

“Oh trust me, I wish you could too because I most definitely am your type,” one of her blue eyes winked at me and the monitor started beeping faster.

She laughed as she looked at the heart rate going up, “Told ya.”

“Knock, knock,” a different nurses voice came through the curtain before she walked through, “your nurse left for the night so I’ll be taking care of you for now,” she grabbed my chart, “So how are you feeling?”

“My head isn’t throbbing anymore so that’s good, but I guess I still don’t have my memory yet.”

“It’ll come soon, but I’m glad the morphine is working,” she smiled as she put my chart back and flicked the IV bag to get rid of the bubbles, I’m not exactly sure why she did that though.

I gave her a weak smile before looking back at the dark woman beside me. She gave me another wink and the monitor beeped faster again.

“Oh! You okay?” the nurse shot me a look.

“Yeah, uh… I’m fine,” I tried to shrink myself down.

“She’s okay Doc, just trying to jog her memory,” the wrestler said.

“I see,” she giggled, “I’ll be back to check on you later. Maybe try to get some sleep, that usually helps others with their memory. Like a hard reset!” She quietly left the room, if that’s what you wanna call it.

“That’s actually a good idea, wait, when did we eat last?” my so called girlfriend asked.

“Around 5 I think?”

“What?”

“What what?”

“You remember when we ate?” She started to get excited.

“Oh… I guess I do!”

“Do you remember what you ate?”

“Uuuuhhhhhh….” I really thought hard about what food was, “Damn, no I don’t.”

“Damn,” her face dropped immediately, “I’ll get some stuff from the vending machine though, I’ll be right back, baby,” she stood and kissed my forehead.

As if someone hit me with another chair, my head pounded with memories. True Love’s Kiss really came through with this one. I remembered everything, who she was, what I ate, who I was, where we were, why we were here. I held my head as they came rushing back, “Rhea?”

“Yeah?”

“Do that again,” I pointed at my forehead.

So she did, but she didn’t notice that I said her name, which shoulda been the dead give away because I’ll be honest, I didn’t remember her name when she said it at the beginning of this whole mess.

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

“What?” she stepped back a bit.

“That I love you,” I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

“You do?! You remember?!” She was almost jumping she was so excited. “So who am I? What do I do?”

“You’re Rhea Ripley of the Judgment Day, you wrestle for WWE and most importantly you’re my girlfriend,” I shook my legs with excitement.

“Yes! Yes!!” She bent down and kissed my lips holding my face, “What else?!” she didn’t let go of my face though.

“We had burgers for dinner with the boys, Dom, Finn, and Damian. You had a match against Shayna that ended with me getting hit with the chair,” I laughed it off.

“YES!!” she kissed me once more, “NURSE! She remembered! Nurse!!!”

She came running in, “YAY!!” she was much more enthusiastic than the other one, “That’s exciting news!! Oh I love hearing about things like this, it’s so cool how the brain works,” she laughed. “I’ll get the doc to come check on you once more to see of you can be discharged. Be right back!” as she slipped out.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!!” Rhea kissed all over my face and down my neck finishing with a long kiss on my lips.

“I love you too…Mami,” I giggled.

“I can’t wait to get you out of here,” she snarled playfully.

“Me either.”

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Mayfield pt 1

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 1.9k || cws: check tags || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

~~~

Steve can’t believe he’s willingly knocking on the Hargroves’ door. As if his own anxiety wasn’t problem enough, the shrill sounds of two people arguing over the thrashing volume of metal music sets his teeth on edge. After a few seconds of waiting, he knocks harder. The arguing stops abruptly, and he hears a woman’s voice call out to wait a moment. 

He hopes the woman opens the door, assuming it’s Max’s mom. He doesn’t know her stepdad, but if the man is anything like his son, Steve wants to avoid him at all costs. Since Billy’s Camaro is missing from the driveway, hopefully he can avoid both of them.

To his relief, a woman with bright, copper hair and freckled skin opens the door. Her yellow cleaning gloves are almost dry, but there are still wet spots scattered on her pink t-shirt and jeans, as well as a few bleach stains. Large, blue circles halo her green, bloodshot eyes. Steve pretends not to notice the dried tear tracks striping her splotchy red cheeks.

“What can I help you with?”

“Hi, Mrs. Hargrove, I’m here to talk to you about–”

“Oh no, hun,” she interrupts him, “I’m sorry but we aren’t interested.” 

Steve looks down at himself, wearing a normal blue windbreaker and jeans, and wonders what she thinks he’s selling. Before she can shut the door, Steve catches the edge to hold it open. He sees her flinch at the force of his grip, the flash of fear behind her eyes reminding him of Max’s two weeks ago. He lets go, taking a step back to give her some space.

“No, ma’am, my name’s Steve Harrington and–”

“Susan,” the man screams from inside the house, loud and angry and too similar to the sound of his own father’s voice after a few drinks. They both flinch, Mrs. Hargrove faster to recover. Even though she’s standing straight, seemingly filled with confidence, Steve can still spot anxiety in the thin line of her mouth. “Who the hell is it?”

“It’s no one, Neil, just some boy selling magazine subscriptions,” she shouts, moving back inside. 

Steve turns to leave, hopes dashed, when he feels a hand wrap around his wrist.

She leans close, lowering her voice. “You’re Steve?” He nods. Mrs. Hargrove chances a glance over her shoulder, then looks back to him again, absentmindedly chewing on her bottom lip. “Wait around the side of the house, I shouldn’t be too long, ok?”

The door shuts in his face, almost grazing his nose. Steve wonders if he shouldn’t just leave, if she’s the kind of person to set him up and send Billy or Neil out to greet him instead. Except she seemed genuine, and this might be his only chance to win her approval. 

He waits for almost twenty minutes before she finds him leaned up against the siding underneath what he assumes is Max’s window, since he’s pretty sure Billy isn’t reading last month’s issue of Tiger Beat. She pulls out a pack of smokes from the pocket of her sweater, and he frowns when she doesn’t offer him one.

“So,” she says after a long exhale, “you’re the boy Billy and Max won’t stop talking about?” She ashes her cigarette, giving him enough time to school his stunned expression. “Can’t seem to shut up about you, surprised you’ve never been around before. Smart that you haven’t, though. Don’t blame you at all.”

“What do you mean?” Steve prods.

“Well Billy’s been bitching about you all year, practically. Saying you’re the reason he ain’t captain of the basketball team. Neil didn’t care too much for the excuses, though. Hasn’t let the poor boy forget it.” She takes a step closer to him and he watches as she looks over his split lip, the stitches, and his black eye. “Figured there was more to it than that.”

“He’s got the spot now,” he lets out a self-deprecating scoff, “can’t exactly play with a concussion.”

Her l brow creases as she frowns at him, tilting her head to the side. “You know, Max never really told me what happened that night two weeks ago. She got home almost an hour before Billy did, dropped off by God knows who–”

“The Sinclair’s, ma’am,” Steve interrupts. He second guesses whether or not he should bring up Lucas at all, realizing too late the problems that could cause, when Mrs. Hargrove smiles.

“Is that the young boy she’s been hanging around lately– him and his friends?” She ashes again. There’s a light in her eyes that’s been missing since he first met her, and she shines with it. 

“Yes, ma’am. Lucas Sinclair.”

Genuine concern laces her question when she asks “is he sweet to her?”. But her small smile tells him maybe she already knows the answer, just looking for confirmation.

Images of the worst day of Steve’s life flash through his mind, and in them he can spot the soft moments. Max and Lucas comforting each other, always searching the other out across a crowded room. Lucas’ poorly concealed admiration and Max’s fondness masked under a layer of sarcasm as thin as tissue paper.

“Yeah, he’s sweet to her,” Steve replies, answering her smile with his own. “Lucas is a great kid, Mrs. Hargrove. One of the best.”

Her eyes water and she smiles again, but it’s strained this time, as she looks towards the house where screaming music filters through the walls. Steve sees the weight on her shoulders, the burden of living with someone like Neil Hargrove. He feels sympathy on the fringes of his conscience when he thinks of being married to a man like that, or being raised by one. How that kind of anger could turn a kid into someone like Billy, or scare someone enough to stay in a bad situation.

The sympathy fades into a bitter aftertaste when he thinks of Max. He knows all too well what it’s like to live in a home with a scared mother and an angry father. How it feels to have a mother who will rock you in her arms and say everything’s ok, only to stand behind her husband when the belt comes off. 

He looks at Mrs. Hargrove and notices small bruises lining the inside of her right arm. The noise permeating from the house forces its way into Steve’s pores. All he can smell are stale cigarettes and motor oil. There’s empty beer cans sticking out underneath the bushes along the house and he kicks at one, harder than he should. He can’t help picture matching bruises on Max’s small, frail arms, and suddenly it’s all too much.

“Mrs. Hargrove, I came here to tell you I want to be Max’s babysitter.”

She frowns, clearly taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Oh, well it’s usually Billy’s job to–”

“Billy is the one who did this, ma’am.” He gestures to his face and attempts to reel in his frustration. “To be frank with you, Billy almost killed me and one of the kids I was with that night. He’s dangerous, especially to her. And you know that. You have to know that. Right?” 

Mrs. Hargrove sighs, dropping her cigarette into the grass to wipe the tears at the corners of her eyes. She pulls down the sleeves of her sweater, crossing her arms over her chest as she folds in on herself. Makes herself smaller.

She hesitates before saying, “Neil will be upset if Billy isn’t the one bringing her places. Says it gives him responsibility. Accountability.”

“Good thing Billy won’t have time now that he’s captain of the basketball team. And isn’t that what his dad wants?” Steve will counter every argument she has if he has to. He refuses to let another kid grow up in an angry home, scared and alone, even though Max’s is so much louder than his own. Somehow he thinks that might be worse than his own, empty, quiet home.

“We can’t pay you.”

“I’m not asking for any money. I’ll do it for free.”

She shakes her head, frustrated and out of objections. “You think you can keep her safe from them when I can’t, is that it?” Her voice cracks, and it cuts through him.

Steve tries to relax, opening up his stance and softening his voice. Hoping that she just hears him out. “I know you don’t know me, and that you and your family are new around here, but the Harrington’s are a big name in this town. My parents are well connected to lawyers and local politicians. I’m close with Jim Hopper, the police chief–”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” She snaps. He notices she’s shaking and he raises his open hands up higher.

“No, ma’am. It’s not a threat.” Steve looks her in the eyes, tries to convey everything he’s so bad at saying and everything he’s probably missed along the way. “It’s a promise that she’ll be safe with me, no matter what, and I’d do anything to keep that promise. Please, Mrs. Hargrove.”

He thinks it’s the please that gets her. Steve can see the moment she caves, heaves another great, heavy sigh as she wipes her sleeve across her eyes a final time before tucking it back under her arms. The quiet eventually settles between them. She pulls the pack of smokes out again, holding one out to him in offering. He takes it.

“She needs rides to and from school,” she starts, staring at him as she speaks. Steve doesn’t know what she’s hoping to see, but he feels himself light up inside, excitement beaming out through his wide smile and crinkled eyes. “Neil gets home first, usually around five. I work shifts, so sometimes the latest I get home is after nine.”

“Max can stay at my house as long as she wants,” Steve says, not bothering to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. “Even if it has to be overnight, I’ve got a spare bedroom that we never use. I’m also more than happy to bring her home after nine when you work late, so you don’t have to drive across town when you’re done.”

Steve knows his implications are obvious. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep Max out of the house when her mom isn’t home. He can’t help how desperate he feels at the idea of her being alone here anymore than she already has been, and how he’s so close to making sure that it never happens again. 

He can already picture Max’s muddy shoes in the entryway on a Friday afternoon, and hear her bitching about his cereal choices on a Sunday morning. She’ll wrestle with Dustin over the remote for Saturday morning cartoons. Steve’ll even learn how to cook for three, standing in the kitchen over a hot stove while the two kids do homework at the counter, posted up on the barstools that’ve never been used before.

He’s practically choking on the idea that he’s not just giving these kids a place to hang out, but that they’ll be hanging out with him. In his own house. For the first time in almost four years, Steve’s house will have people in it. People who like him and actually want him around. Kids for him to watch out for, and take care of when they need it.

“Alright,” Mrs. Hargrove sighs, “let me go grab a pen and paper, I’ll give you my schedule for the month.”

[skuaclan]

Moon 17 (Part 4)

[snellyfish]