#chrissy steele

[musicmags]

[phantomrose96]

live-blogging TMA was fun but the absolute funniest part was getting to the end of s2 when Jon found Leitner in the tunnels, and Leitner was like "I believe it was Elias who killed Gertrude." That sounded highly suspicious to me and not worth trusting for a second so I added to my liveblog "Nah I don't trust you Leitner" and then. Like. 30 seconds later...

[roxymorondraws]

Had a grand old time at Steel City Con.

Jaime is the sweetest, he called me love, darling and baby and I've been a big puddle of mush since

[myfairhudzen]

For some reason, a year ago I was bopping to this. 10/10, would bop again.

Also, I found something special outside of the field of comedy music. It's nice to see your favourite niche fandom having something like that.

[marshmallow--shark]

I wanted to draw something spicier between these three but then I got creative blocked

[pm-me-people-sucking-your-heels]

The real 11/o9 conspiracy no-one ever acknowledges is it was completely orchestrated by Basil Brush, Bruce Forsyth, Rod Hull and Emu.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Three times. Walter, Mr. Marshall, Detective, whoever he is that day, has driven by your house three times. Three times that you’ve noticed. 

The first time you recognised his car, you were taking out the trash. The second time, you were making sure your siblings got on the bus for school. And the third time, you’re coming out the front door, in uniform as you mentally steel yourself for another day at the grocery store. 

You try not to be too obvious as you look for him. You set out on your usual route, a peek here and there over your shoulder, a strategic glance down the street as you turn to cross. Maybe he can stop you for jaywalking. A perfect excuse for him to swing around his weight. 

You take out your phone as you come in sight of the plaza with the grocery store at its centre. Still not word from Faye. You really don’t expect her to be the first to reach out. You’re still sore yourself. It isn’t just that she ditched you, again, it’s that she was so quick to believe you sold her out. She knows the way her father is and yet just like him, she assumes you’re in the wrong. 

As you approach the front doors of the store, you glance back at the lot. It’s sparse with vehicles, still early enough that stockers work at the shelves and the deli still fills its baskets with slices and salads. You clock in and tie on your apron, taking your vigil behind a till. Debbie leaves you as the sole cashier as she goes to do her counts. 

You stare across the store, vision blurring, as the ceiling speakers drone out 80s pop. Your eyes nearly cross at the orbs of colours that form around you; the medley of produce, the smear of labels, and the looming shade of endless aisles. As you detach yourself from the monotony, you’re filled with a cloud of futile acceptance. Every day for the rest of your life. 

Last year, you still had hope. You remember you told Faye you could save up and join her at college. That’s definitely not going to happen. You barely saved a nickel. Just like high school, your cheques were spent picking up after your mom’s job hopping. Your siblings can’t go without food or clothes or everything you didn’t have. Even when you get a few staples free from the clearance cart, you’re still paying far too much just to feed the lot. 

Chrissie is almost fourteen now. She offered to put in an application but she’s still a few years from all that. Besides, you don’t want her to be like you. Only ever worrying about the empty fridge and your mom’s latest antics.  

Zooey is only ten and blissfully unconcerned with anything but anime and drawing in her sketchbook, and your brother, Milo, seven, likes to bring home frogs and snakes. They’re both too young to sense anything is off, though at times, they ask you very pertinent questions about the other kids in their class. 

You sigh. You never wanted this life. Against your will, you’ve inherited your mother’s lot. Your siblings need a parent and she’s not willing to be one. So, you’ll just have to ring through eggs and milk for the rest of your life and make sure they aren’t caught in the same bog. 

“Hey,” the sharp greeting draws you back. 

You blink and shake away the daze. You look over at Mr. Marshall. Not again. You do your best to smooth the worry from your forehead and reach for the sole item on the belt. An excuse, you’re sure. 

You can through the breakfast tray of a hardboiled egg, pita, hummus, cheese, and grapes. The beep chirps harshly in your ears as he stares you down over the top of your till. You stifle a yawn as you hover your hand over the buttons. 

“That everything?” You ask dully. 

“You looked worried,” he moves to lean on the other side of debit machine, where his tray awaits him. “Like maybe you’re keeping secrets.” 

You huff, “I told you I haven’t heard from Faye.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” you snap, “are you going to pay or do you want me to put this back, detective?” 

“I’m off duty,” he tilts his head, “night shift.” 

“Great, so credit or cash?” 

He puffs through his nostrils and squares his jaw, “lot of kids running around your place, huh?” 

“No,” you say curtly, “don’t.” 

“I’m just tryna figure out where my kid is. Pretty crowded at yours so... maybe she’s somewhere else.” 

“Maybe she is,” you utter in exasperation, “but I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that I don’t know where. You're still going to waste my time. And yours. So, please sir, cash or credit?” 

He scoffs and looks around, the place is still desolate, “you got time.” 

But you don’t have the patience. You barely keep from the retort. You turn and start tidying the till, distracting yourself as you rearrange your sanitizer and check the bin in case it was missed. 

“She’s my daughter. How would you feel if one of your sisters ran off, huh?” 

“You don’t get to talk about my sisters,” you turn back to him, “fine, alright, you want evidence, I’ll give you evidence, sir.” You take out your phone and flick through it in frustration, “the last message she sent me was the night we went out.” You turn the screen to him, “she hasn’t texted, she hasn’t called. Happy? Cause I don’t think she’s interested in being my friend anymore. She’s finally outgrown the poor girl.” 

You can’t help but throw the phone at him as your emotion wells up, “she was only ever friends with me to piss you off. Like I said, I’m not stupid. I just--” you cut yourself off, “I got work to do.” 

You turn back to the screen at your shoulder and brace the cash drawer. You take a slow breath and let it out. You’re embarrassed. He finally did it. He finally got you to crack. You refuse to look at him as he gently places your phone on the counter. 

“Got it,” he says softly, “she isn’t with you.” He clears his throat and shifts, “debit.” 

You grit your teeth, staring at the screen as you hit the button to activate the pin pad, “go ahead.” 

You listen to the beep of each button as he puts in his pin. You wait and the till chimes as the transaction goes through. You rip of the receipt and drop it beside you on the counter without looking. You can hear everything, even the soft noise of him slipping his card back in his wallet. You keep your attention on the monitor. 

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he says. 

Your furrow your nose as you listen to his footsteps and only turn when you hear the automatic door whoosh. You look down at your phone beside the tray of food, the receipt laid neatly over it. You peek up at the doors and your stomach growls. 

His pity is hardly preferable to his spite. 

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 020: ‘Red Thong, Party’s On!’ (Epilogue)

a/n: pov you’re back at hellfire, but this time you’re sharing the stage with eddie, stripping while he plays a song for you to dance to 🤭🤭♥️ (SURPRISE AT THE END) it’s been a WILD ride my loves, thank you all so much for the support for CMWYW. i hope we all continue to create more beautiful things together. readers, writers, artists, creatives of all kinds keep the world going round. 🤟🏼💋 all my love, maddy

MESS WITH HER? SHE’LL FUCK YOU UP

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

CW: strip club behaviors hehe, grinding, pole-dancing, ass-shaking, all that hellfire goodness, implications that shy girl c*me on eddie's guitar

word count: 990 words

♡

Mom always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

She left out one thing, however: sometimes being bad feels so fucking good.

“We’ve got a verrry special treat for you tonight folks!” the DJ announces. “She took a break for a little while but now she is BACK… and here to stay with us, FOREVER! Put your hands together for the ONE, the ONLY — Hellfire’s Princess — SHYYY GIIIIRL!”

And the crowd goes wild.

You emerge from the side stage in your glimmering scarlet set, flipping your plump, bouncy locks around as you dip your hips to the beat. Your regular customers swoon as you blow them kisses, and the petty kisses you issue to the Hellfire Girls (they came to pick up their severance checks) leave them shaking in their stilettos.

"WOOO, HARGROVE!" Nancy cheers for you backstage, dancing to the song as she curls Nina's hair.

"LET 'EM KNOW, BABY!" Nina shouts after her.

You acknowledge them with a wink, giving one to Chrissy as well as she cheers for you on the opposite side of the stage, bouncing up and down in her sexy Hellfire cheer uniform.

“Let’s go, Shy Girl!” ‘Cherry’ cheers as she waves her pom-poms in the air. "LET'S GOOOO!"

She's hot! Can’t stop! Up on stage doing shots!

You shake your ass when the song calls on it, grinding your hips to the beat to match the lyrics as they come. The crowd hoots and hollers as you dance, showering you in dollar bills as you make the pole your bitch for the night.

“YEAAAH!” Max cheers. “That’s my sister!”

As you glide down the cylindrical silver steel, you wave to the crowd and thank them all for coming out.

“Thank you! Aww, thanks so much! OMG, how are you? Long time no see!”

But just because you’re doing your thing on stage doesn’t mean you aren’t paying attention to the happenings beneath you. Because while you have a bird’s eye view of Vecna’s Lair, you can’t help but fix your gaze on Lucas, who is dressed rather sharper than usual tonight, going up to Maxine in attempts to ‘rizz her up’.

“I see spiciness runs in the family,” Lucas remarks to her as they stand beside each other in Vecna’s Lair.

The self-proclaimed 'Dark Chocolate' shoots her an awkward wink, to which Max responds with a grimace on her face.

“Genetics wasn’t playing ‘bout y’all,” Lucas continues. "You're looking mighty fine tonight, Max."

“Thanks. I guess,” Max shrugs, refusing to entertain it. “But, if you knew anything about family dynamics and DNA, you’d know she’s my step-sister."

"Psh," Lucas scoffs. "Yeah! Yeah, I knew that."

"Course you did," she jeers. "Stalker."

“Stalker?! I thought we were friends.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Whatever this is, is far from platonic.”

She begins to strut away, giving Lucas the opportunity to race after her. And Sinclair wastes no time, pushing himself past the sea of sweaty men to catch up to the beautiful redhead in front of him.

“So there’s a chance we can be more than friends?!”

You chuckle as you watch it unfold from the stage. Then you turn to everyone else.

Argyle and Jonathan give you two stoned-filled waves hello. You wave back. Henry whose the designated bone-snapper bouncer tonight blows you a kiss. You catch it and return the favor. Mike and Will don't even give you the time of day.

You then turn your attention to Dustin who is both head-banging to the song, and holding up a lazily written message on the black screen of his phone: “I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY”. You can't help but giggle. It's like he's a mini Eddie.

Speaking of your boyfriend, your eyes dart back to the side stage where you meet Eddie’s gaze.

She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth.

You watch as the curly-haired, metalhead-turned-strip-club-owner eyes you steadily, situating his guitar around himself, giving the body of his NJ Warlock one more wipe down with a cloth.

He smirks to himself, satisfied at the thought that only you two know why that guitar needed wiping down in the first place. But he’s mostly pleased with the fact that, despite the long list of handsome, eligible bachelors after your heart, the passionate, down-to-earth, sexy, siren of a woman that is you, is all his.

My girlfriend's a dick magnet. MY girlfriend…

Eddie then takes to the stage, using the same fingers he’ll use to ravage you tonight to strum the chords of the sexy guitar solo of the song — you know, the song about a guy…..with a hot stripper girlfriend…..whose seducing everyone around her while she does her thing…..in that beautiful red set.

“HOLY SHIT!” someone from the crowd raves, causing Eddie’s eyes to light up like a little kid. “DUET OF THE CENTURY!”

You’ve healed so many parts of Eddie that he was too scared to explore: Love after Isabelle. Showing him that self-care is just as important as caring for Wayne. Encouraging him to find a hobby outside of Hellfire that didn't include doing payroll or grocery shopping. And healing his inner teenager by letting him play on stage with you, as he relives his glory days as the guitarist and frontman of Corroded Coffin one last time.

And as Eddie continues to strum, he stays thinking of you. He couldn’t wait to heal more parts of himself…with 'Shy Girl' Hargrove by his side.

“So,” you pant, edging closer to your boyfriend as the music draws on. "What's next after this?"

Eddie smirks. As the instrumental allows, he presses you against his body, kissing you softly against the lips before trailing all the way down your neck. Your breath hitches in arousal as he hums against you.

“Whatever you want.”

The End

SIKE! King Steve has entered the chat… 😉

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

MODERN AU • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

slight age gap (Steve is 31, reader is 23); reader goes by the nickname "Sweets"

*loosely inspired by sara cate’s salacious players club*

Summary: 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄. Steve Harrington has the WORST luck with the ladies. His high school sweetheart left him for another dude, his former fuck buddy is dating his roommate, and his dream girl is a lesbian. King Steve is losing hope. That is until he meets you — a newly graduated university student from Seattle — when your paths cross on a fateful night in Sin City. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... that is until your risky business trickles over to Hawkins, Indiana, a town your best friend knows of a little too well.

theme song: call out my name by the weeknd

tag list is open 💌✨

PREVIEW

♛

Winter 2024

“WATCH OUT INDIANAPOLIS — you're about to get... absolutely SOAKED!”

The booming voice of a man in Steve’s bedroom stirs him awake.

Letting out a ferocious yawn, The King rubs his eyes free of the annoying crust in the corner of his sockets, flopping around one more time before doing his routine stretch.

“Google,” Steve commands. “Turn off the TV.”

The TV immediately switches off. It’s nothing personal to meteorologist Marcus Bailey, but if Steve ever needed an accurate forecast of Indianapolis, all he would have to do is look outside his penthouse window. And that, after brushing his teeth, is just what he does.

"G'morning Indy,” he sighs happily on his balcony before going back inside.

Steve then makes his way over to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast.

“Google,” he calls out again. “Open the curtains, please.”

Google replies:

“Opening curtains. Good morning — Steve.”

"Google, what's my schedule looking like today?" "Google, text Dustin." “Google, what is the weather looking like in Nevada?” “Google, turn on my shower tunes.”

The best thing about not living with Eddie Munson anymore, is that Steve can shamelessly sing Amy Winehouse in the shower without being hounded about it.

“We only saaaid GOODBYE, with WORDS!” Steve sings, confidently off-key. “I died a hundred times! You go back to her, and I goooo baaack toooo…”

"Scanning fingerprint...”

an automated voice announces at the entrance of Steve's walk-in closet.

Swish...

The door slides open. Sauntering his way inside, Steve ventures for some slick black athleisure down to the shoes, his usual musky cologne, and some matching sunglasses (despite the gloomy forecast prediction).

Black. 🎶

Steve Harrington is ready for the day.

---

"Google, make reservations for 3 people at Tony's Steakhouse at 7pm please."

All Steve had left to do for the day now was grocery shop. Which was always a hassle. Because sometimes, the store doesn't have the specific brand he's looking for so the shopper has to opt for an alternate version. Or sometimes, the shopper assigned to him that day chooses produce that is nearing its expiration date making every fruit in his bag a mushy mess. It doesn't happen too often, but it sure feels inconvenient as hell when it does. There are worse problems in life though, so Steve really can't complain.

*Ring, ring. Ring, ring*

The very distinct and custom ringtone has Steve bolting across the room to answer the call. One of his best friends was on the other line.

"Yello?" he says into the phone.

"Hey, it's Shy Girl," comes a voice. "Eddie and I are pulling in."

"Pull off to the side. Valet's got it. I'll send you guys up."

A bottle of cabernet sauvignon a la Steve awaits the pair when they make their way over. Consider it a Tony's pre-game.

"GameWorld stock is up 4% today,” Steve's buddy, and owner of Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Eddie Munson announces as the two clink glasses. "I don’t have much faith in it though, figure I’ll get my pie slices from actual grocery stores. Like Meijer.”

“Everyone's always gonna need groceries,” Steve points out. "Definitely. Just don't day trade. Not now."

"Ooh, you hear that, Eds?" Shy Girl nudges him. "You gotta be careful where you put your money."

"I gotta be careful with my money, period," Eddie smirks. "You're a danger to my pockets, angel."

"Oh but you love me," she says.

"Yeah," Eddie gives in, grabbing his lover's dainty digits, trailing his fingers across hers, and rubbing the glistening rock that took up most of her left hand on the distal side. "I sure do."

"I'm just... so proud of us," Steve sappily reflects. "So much has happened over the past two years and we've all come so far."

"Yeah," Shy Girl agrees. "And it's about fucking time we celebrate."

"I agree," Eddie chimes in, raising his glass once again. "This weekend trip is going to be... one for the books."

"Viva Las Vegas," Steve toasts. "Cheers."

"Viva Las Vegas!"

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

Black and red.

They're the two colors that occupy your closet the most. But of course, after graduating from Washington State University (or Wazzu, for short), you expected nothing less.

You could do with some more sequins though, you think to yourself as you pack your bags.

"What do you think of this, Sweets?"

Peering over your shoulder, you see that your best friend, Elle has started festivities early, managing to hold two glasses of champagne in one hand, and six-inch stilletoes in the other.

"Can't take the party out of the girl, that's for damn sure," you respond.

When you left Seattle to attend WSU Pullman, Elle was your only friend in business class. Mainly because the class was predominantly for dudes, but eventually you found out that you two have a lot in common.

Elle is everything you would want in an older sister figure: she is both book smart and wise, she is sexy, and she eats men for breakfast. And, now that she's about to celebrate the launching of her lingerie business (along with her Dirty 30s Era), and you're about to enter your new-grad era, you two are hitting up Las Vegas to go ham together one last time.

It's all so bittersweet. You owe everything to the Warrens, having taken you in when you were a lost undergrad. It also sucked quite a bit not having a support system after graduating high school. You and Elle were all each other has. Which makes this inevitable separation so much more painful.

"Are you sure you're okay with Vegas by the way?" you question. "I know since the split, being surrounded by gorgeous girls 24/7 can kinda be triggering.”

"Don't worry about it, love," she shakes it off. "The past is in the past. This is a new era of me."

Cheers to that. Clinking your airport-pregame champagne glasses with one another, you raise a toast to yourselves, celebrating how far the two of you have come over the past four years.

"To friendship."

"To friendship."

"To being elegant and educated."

"To elegance and education."

"And to being girl-bosses for the rest of our lives."

You giggle as you raise your glass of champagne even higher.

"To being girl-bosses for the rest of our lives," you two take a sip at the same time. "And no matter how near and no matter how far, we're always gonna be besties."

"I love you, Sweets."

"I love you too, Isabelle."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins @feral-pumpkin-energy @bl0ssomanddie

divider from: @plum98

[elvendria]

Clean

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Final Part

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies. There was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big. You just dream of making it out of here alive.

\\enemies - lovers//

((Warning: I'm not from the US, so bear with me with states and such) )

18+ MINORS DNI 

Eddie starts as a dick, but I promise he gets better. There’s a slap, but it's low-key warranted? Mentions of blood

18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, the reader Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, the reader is 20 and Eddie is 21, Chrissy is the villain but we stan Grace. Reader has a small scar on her lower torso. underage drinking, allusions to smut, no details of smut for obvious reasons, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, brief mention of Y/N

Every detail of the room felt etched into your consciousness—the rough texture of the wooden floor beneath your feet, the cold smoothness of the linoleum countertops, the mundanity of the generic painting hanging above Eddie's head. You'd stared at it for so long that it had lost its semblance of reality, blending into the background of your mind's eye. But as much as you preferred the silent refuge of these familiar surroundings to the looming conversation you needed to have, you knew you couldn't evade it permanently.

Eddie's voice cut through the thick silence, a reminder that avoidance was no longer an option. "You can’t stay silent forever. We still need to talk about this."

Your heart sank at his words, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on you. You wished for a way out, a reprieve from the inevitable confrontation. But deep down, you knew that delaying the conversation would only prolong the agony.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you forced yourself to speak, though you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. "I tried to talk about this. Five years and five months ago." The words tasted bitter on your tongue, a painful reminder of a past you'd rather forget.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to drift back to that fateful day—the memories flooding back with a visceral intensity that threatened to overwhelm you. It was the worst day of your life, a day etched into your soul with searing clarity.

The air was heavy with tension as you and Eddie sat across from each other, words caught in your throat like shards of broken glass. You'd rehearsed what you wanted to say a thousand times in your mind, but when the moment came, the words failed you.

You remembered the look of confusion and hurt in Eddie's eyes as you struggled to articulate the truth. You remembered the silence that followed, thick and suffocating, swallowing you whole.

In the years that followed, you buried the pain deep within, hoping that time would heal the wounds you couldn't bear to face. But now, with Eddie's patient insistence echoing in your ears, you knew that avoidance was no longer an option.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. But you knew that facing the truth was the only way forward, no matter how painful it might be.

5 years and 5 months ago

In the stillness of the room, time seemed to stand still, each passing moment stretching into eternity. The air felt heavy with emotions, suffocating in its intensity. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast elongated shadows across the walls, serving as a silent witness to the turmoil raging within.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, the familiar comfort of the mattress now feeling foreign and distant, you couldn't shake the weight of the sealed envelope clutched tightly in your trembling hands. The words "Return To Sender" emblazoned on its surface seemed to mock you, a cruel reminder of rejection in its most brutal form.

With each passing second, the questions swirled in your mind, each one more haunting than the last. How could Eddie do this to you? How could he turn his back on the life growing within you, on the love you once shared so deeply?

As you traced the outline of each handwritten letter with shaky fingers, the sting of tears threatened to overwhelm you once more. The pain was palpable, a physical ache that radiated from your heart and settled deep within your bones. It was a pain born of betrayal and abandonment, a pain you never imagined you would have to endure.

Desperate for some semblance of connection, some shred of reassurance that you weren't alone in your anguish, you reached for your phone. But each call ended in silence, the void on the other end echoing the emptiness in your heart. It was a loneliness unlike anything you had ever known, a loneliness that consumed you from the inside out.

In the silence of the room, memories flooded your mind like a torrential downpour. You couldn't help but replay the moments leading up to this, each one a painful reminder of what once was and what could have been. The whispered promises, the shared dreams — they all felt like distant echoes of reality you could no longer grasp.

And yet, despite the overwhelming sorrow threatening to engulf you, a flicker of defiance ignited within your soul. You refused to let this moment define you, to let Eddie's betrayal rob you of your strength and resilience. You were stronger than this, stronger than the pain that threatened to break you.

As you sat there, enveloped in the solitude of the night, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. It was a future shrouded in uncertainty, fraught with challenges and obstacles yet to be overcome. But it was also a future filled with possibility, with the potential for growth and healing in ways you never thought possible.

And so, with a newfound sense of determination, you rose from the edge of the bed, the weight of the envelope still heavy in your hand. You knew that the road ahead would be difficult, filled with twists and turns you couldn't anticipate. But you also knew that you were not alone, that somewhere out there, amidst the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope waiting to be discovered.

Present Day

The memories unfurled like delicate petals in the garden of your mind, each one a testament to the fragility of youth and the bittersweet symphony of love and loss. You transported yourself back to a time when innocence was your constant companion and the world seemed painted in hues of hope and possibility.

“You know, I used to draw a little design along the back of my letters so you could make sure they hadn’t been opened by the time they got to you. It was stupid. I mean, what kind of person would want to read a letter from a 16-year-old?” The simple act of drawing a squiggly line on the back of your letters emerged from the recesses of memory, a quaint ritual born from a desire to safeguard your innermost thoughts from prying eyes. At the tender age of sixteen, such gestures felt like feeble attempts to protect the sanctity of your words in a world fraught with uncertainty.

But uncertainty seemed a distant memory compared to the raw ache that now gnawed at your soul. Tears welled up unbidden, tracing silent rivers down cheeks once adorned with the flush of youth. You hadn’t even realized they were there until the telltale sting of saltwater against your skin brought your attention to their presence.

The weight of your emotions bore down upon you like a heavy shroud, suffocating and relentless. A sob escaped your lips, the sound foreign and raw in the stillness of the room. It was a sound wrought from the depths of your being, a primal cry for understanding in a world that seemed determined to remain indifferent to your pain.

This is what happened when you thought back to that day. You felt your chest tighten like your whole body had shut itself down and stitched itself up, trapping any remnants of the life you once had inside.

 “But… that was just it. I thought you would. I thought after everything, everything, that you were that person, that you’d want to read each word, and keep them until I came home to you.” You murmured, voice barely above a whisper as you navigated the labyrinth of memories that threatened to consume you whole. It was a day etched in the annals of your existence, a pivotal moment that had irrevocably altered the course of your life.

Your chest tightened with each passing moment, a vice-like grip that threatened to crush the fragile remnants of your shattered heart. It was a physical manifestation of the agony that permeated your being, a tangible reminder of the scars that marred your soul.

The spark of happy memories flickered briefly before being engulfed by the suffocating darkness that loomed on the horizon. It was a cruel juxtaposition, the juxtaposition of light and shadow that seemed to define your existence in equal measure.

“But… that was just it,' you confessed, the words tumbling from your lips like fragile petals caught in a tempest. It was a confession borne from the depths of your despair, a desperate plea for understanding in a world that seemed determined to remain deaf to your cries.

“I thought you would,” you continued, voice trembling with a vulnerability that left you feeling exposed and raw. It was a sentiment rooted in the belief that love, true love, could transcend the barriers of time and space, binding two souls together in a tapestry of shared experiences and whispered promises.

But his face remained impassive, a mask of stoicism that betrayed none of the tumultuous emotions swirling beneath the surface. It was a facade you had grown accustomed to, yet it still cut you to the quick, a reminder of the chasm that now yawned between you.

You watched in silence as he spoke, his words a litany of accusations and half-truths that cut through the fragile veneer of your composure. It was a barrage of verbal assaults, each one a dagger aimed squarely at the heart of your fragile hopes and dreams.

The question he posed hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating and oppressive in its silence. It was a question that pierced the very fabric of your being, laying bare the insecurities and doubts that had long plagued your tortured soul.

“Is she even mine?” he demanded, the words a cruel echo of the doubts that had long haunted your darkest nightmares. It was a question you had feared and dreaded, yet it still cut you to the quick, reminder of the fragile foundation upon which your fractured relationship now stood.

Any lingering traces of guilt dissolved in the face of his callous indifference, replaced by a seething anger that threatened to consume you whole. How dare he? How dare he question the paternity of the child you had borne alone, a testament to the strength and resilience of a mother’s love?

“Look, don’t give me that look,” he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt as he dismissed your pain with a casual wave of his hand. It was a dismissal you could ill afford, a reminder of the gulf that now stretched between you like an unbridgeable chasm.

But you refused to be cowed by his indifference, refused to allow him to diminish the magnitude of your sacrifice with his callous words. You squared your shoulders, steeling yourself for the storm that threatened to engulf you whole.

“And I don’t know you’d been telling me in your letters how you were getting close to this Jeb kid,” he continued, his words a dagger aimed squarely at the heart of your fragile hopes and dreams. It was a betrayal of the highest order, a betrayal you could ill afford in the face of his relentless onslaught.

Sure, you had attempted to befriend Jeb, and had sought solace in the fleeting moments of companionship he offered. But it was a fleeting respite, a reprieve from the relentless storm that raged within your tortured soul.

“Look, I think we just need to do a paternity test-” he began, his words a death knell tolling in the depths of your despair. It was a proposition you could ill afford, a proposition that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of your fractured relationship.

But before he could utter another word, something inside you snapped. It was a primal instinct, a raw surge of emotion that propelled you forward with a force you could not resist. The crack of your hand meeting his cheek echoed in the stifling silence, a symphony of defiance and liberation.

“Get out,” you spat, the words a bitter indictment of the betrayal that now stained the fabric of your fractured relationship. He recoiled, a hand pressed to his stinging cheek, shock etched into every line of his face.

As he made his hasty exit, you remained rooted to the spot, grappling with the aftershocks of your outburst. Glass shattered against the door, a physical manifestation of the shattered fragments of your fractured relationship.

Alone amidst the debris, you collapsed to the floor, knees buckling beneath the weight of your anguish. Blood mingled with tears as you surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotion, the cold embrace of exhaustion lulling you into an uneasy slumber.

And so you lay, battered and broken, the echoes of his accusations lingering in the recesses of your mind, a reminder of the fragile nature of trust and the devastating consequences of its betrayal. But amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, a flicker of hope remained a beacon of light in the darkest depths of despair. For in the crucible of adversity, you had discovered the strength to endure, the resilience to rise from the ashes of your shattered past and forge a future worthy of the love you so desperately sought.

Eddie seethed with a mixture of frustration and disbelief as he stepped into the familiar confines of his home in Hawkins. All he'd attempted was to apply logic, yet he was met with hostility. Perhaps "assault" was too strong a term, but it wasn't far from the truth. This marked the second occasion he'd been struck since returning home. Did he even still consider Hawkins home? The question gnawed at him as he pushed the door shut behind him, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily upon his shoulders.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Wayne sat at the worn wooden table, his hands folded neatly before him. The silence that enveloped the room hung heavier than usual, suffocating any hope of a casual greeting. Eddie's jaw tensed as he braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, his mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions.

"So... what went down between you two?" Wayne's voice cut through the oppressive silence like a knife, his gaze fixed intently on Eddie. Eddie couldn't help but admire his uncle's directness, even in moments like these.

"We argued, as we always do," Eddie began, his voice heavy with frustration. "She gave me the silent treatment for ages, and when she finally spoke, she blamed me for not knowing about the kid. So, I asked if the child was even mine, and she slapped me! Can you believe it?" His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white against the strain as he recounted the altercation.

Wayne sighed heavily, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "You're being dense, Eddie," he said, his tone laced with exasperation. He knew Eddie was smarter than this. Yet here he was, behaving like a petulant child. "Of course, Willow is yours. All the signs point to it."

Eddie shot Wayne a withering glare, his frustration boiling over. How could his uncle trust her over him? Surely the reasonable man Wayne was would understand why Eddie preferred to err on the side of caution, especially with matters of the heart.

"Edward, the kid has your eyes and your hair. She looks exactly like you did as a child. I knew she was yours the moment I saw her."

The words hit Eddie like a ton of bricks, a sudden realization dawning on him. "You knew? When did she tell you?"

"She didn't have to. Edward Munson, that kid is your spitting image. When she visits, all she wants to do is listen to your tapes and hear you talk about your Caves and Lizards game."

"It's Dungeons and Dragons," Eddie corrected automatically, his mind racing to process this new information. "She's mine... isn't she?"

"Of course she is. Did you think she'd choose anyone but you?" Wayne's voice softened, a hint of warmth creeping into his tone as he reached out to reassure his nephew. He had seen it the moment she entered their lives. She and Eddie had an infatuation with each other. They loved each other from day one, and it took a child to make them realize it if they ever did admit it.

"Yeah... about that..." Eddie's voice trailed off, a pang of guilt gnawing at him. How could he have doubted her, doubted them? He'd never forget the look in her eyes, like everything had fallen into place for her that night. He knew because he felt the same way. Even now, he felt like his entire existence revolved around her. "I kind of hinted that I thought she might be with someone else."

Wayne's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Eddie had always been quick to jump to conclusions, but his heart was in the right place. "You're something else," Wayne said, a hint of fondness tugging at the corners of his lips as he rose from his seat.

With that, Wayne pushed his chair back and headed to the bathroom, leaving Eddie to grapple with the weight of his own emotions. As he made his way to his room, a sense of unease settled over him. He had ruined everything he ever wanted, and the consequences of his actions weighed heavily on his mind.

To top it all off, he might have ruined any chance of seeing his daughter again. The thought hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the fragility of their newfound bond and the importance of trust in their relationship.

The echoes of the argument still reverberated in your mind, though two weeks had passed since the war within your… situation… erupted. Now, amidst the chaos of life, bigger things demand your attention. Today marked Willow's first day of school, a milestone overshadowed by the recent upheaval. Delaying it by a few days seemed necessary as she grappled with the revelation that the person she believed to be her sister was, in fact, her mother. It was a truth that unravelled a web of emotions, triggering one of the most monumental tantrums you had ever witnessed.

As you sat in the parking lot, the weight of recent events felt momentarily lifted by the simple joy of hearing Willow refer to you as her mom for the first time. The word, so longed for yet unexpected in its arrival, wrapped around your heart like a warm embrace. It was a validation of the bond you had worked tirelessly to forge, despite the obstacles and uncertainties that clouded your path.

"Mom... we should go." Willow's voice broke through the reverie, grounding you in the present moment. You couldn’t get past the significance of her words, even if she didn’t. Each syllable held a promise of newfound connection and acceptance for her and a promise that part of you was starting to slip away. It was a moment you had longed for, a moment that filled the void left by the turmoil of recent weeks.

With a sense of renewed purpose, you stepped out of the car, the cool breeze of the morning air brushing against your skin. Making your way around to Willow's side, you extended a hand to help her out, savouring the warmth of her small fingers intertwined with yours. The simple act of physical contact felt like a lifeline, a tangible reminder of the love that bound you together.

Pulling her into a tight embrace, you marvelled at how much she had grown in what felt like the blink of an eye. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, but in this moment, as you held your precious child close, everything else faded into insignificance. You couldn't help but lavish her with affection, doting on her every movement as if trying to make up for lost time.

"I know, I know. It's just you're so big now!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with a mixture of pride and awe. Willow's smile mirrored your own, a reflection of the unconditional love that flowed between you. As you stood there, basking in the warmth of the morning sun, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that was as resilient as it was unbreakable.

As she skipped beside you, her sparkly pink trainers lighting up with every step, you held her hand tightly. With each bounce, she seemed to carry a piece of the sun's brightness, infusing the world around you with an infectious energy that made everything seem more vibrant and alive. You wished you could bottle it, like her own brand of lightning in a jar. You were certain a joy like that could cure all ailments.

As you stepped into the building, a wave of familiar scents enveloped you, triggering a strange sense of nostalgia. The hallways exuded a peculiar blend of bleach, plasticine, and an elusive aroma that seemed to linger in every school corridor. It was a scent that stirred up memories, perhaps of apprehension, or maybe of anticipation, but most likely a concoction of both.

High school memories flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but think of her. You wondered how time would mould her, shaping her perspective of the world. If she retained even a fraction of the effervescent spirit she possessed now, you could easily picture her as a beacon of joy, radiating positivity and warmth wherever she went.

As you approached Willow's classroom door, a mix of emotions swirled within. Each step felt like a journey, leading inexorably to a new phase of life. The door creak seemed to underscore the weight of the moment as it swung open, revealing a space alive with the energy of youth. But amidst the chatter and colourful decor, a bittersweet truth lingered: this marked the beginning of the end of an era. Standing in the hallway, holding her tiny little hand, the gravity of the occasion settled like a heavy cloak. It was a poignant reminder that time marches on, carrying precious moments with it, even as it ushers in new beginnings.

“You ready to go in, sweetie? You want me to come in and help you get set up?”

“Wait!” 

Your head snapped up, startled by the rapid tempo of shoes striking the linoleum floor. As you turned, your heart leapt at the sight of the one person you least expected yet secretly yearned for. It was a paradoxical moment, where surprise collided with a silent prayer answered. Time seemed to stand still as you processed the unexpected encounter, each heartbeat echoing the tumultuous mix of emotions swirling within.

“I drove here as fast as I could. I… I had to see her.” 

His dishevelled appearance, with hair hastily scraped back and clothes seemingly inside out, hinted that he rushed here, disoriented maybe. The last thing you wanted was for Willow's first day to be marred by tears or confusion, so you hurriedly guided her inside, a silent observer from the doorway.

As Willow bounded towards a girl in a bright blue sweater, effortlessly engaging in her natural talent for making friends, you couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. Yet, you remained silent, unable to meet his gaze without the weight of an unspoken intensity pressing against your chest.

It was a sensation that threatened to overwhelm you, leaving your eyes burning and your mouth dry. The urge to scream into the void, to release the pent-up emotions into the world, was almost palpable. But deep down, you knew that no amount of noise could articulate the complex feelings swirling within you.

“Why did you-” You couldn’t handle his questions, only holding up a hand to shut him up for a minute.

“You can see her from here. I can’t have her asking more questions just yet.” He didn’t have to deal with the fallout, he’s never had to deal with any of it. He just walked back in, fired around a bunch of accusations, and walked back out again. He’d never get to understand the pain that left you.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Please, just… just listen to me.”

“Will listening shut you up? Will it make everything go back to the way it was before you knew?” You choked on the end of your words, fighting back the tears that stung your eyes and threatened to fall.

“Just let me speak, and if after I'm finished, that's still what you want? Then we can try to go back to normal. But it’ll never be like it was before I knew, because I want to know her.”

You stood up and began walking away, hearing him follow close behind. You weren't in the mood to hear what he had to say, or how he felt he had some god-given right to see her after everything he had said and done. His presence grated on your nerves, each footstep amplifying your frustration.

“I want to know my daughter. Please.” 

His voice sounded almost like he was begging, pleading with you to change your mind, to hear him out. The desperation in his tone made you hesitate, hearing him call her his. It stirred something within you, and you stopped in your tracks. Turning around, you fixed him with a ferocious glare, your eyes burning with a mix of anger and pain. The intensity of your gaze was enough to make him falter, and for a moment, the hallway was filled with the heavy silence of unspoken emotions.

"So now you feel entitled to call her yours?" Now you get to believe me when I say that I’d never been with anyone but you? Why did you suddenly have a change of heart?

He continued walking towards you, slowing his pace as he noticed you stiffen when he got too close. It was as if he was handling a wounded bird, afraid that any sudden movement might cause you to flee and leave him behind once more. The only thing convincing him that you wouldn't run was the undeniable truth that your child was still here, and you would never leave her. The weight of this unspoken understanding hung heavily in the air, a silent tether binding you to the spot despite the turmoil within.

“I was a fool before. Wayne showed me that. Hell, I was more than a fool. I was an outright fuck up.” He stood there, holding his breath. You could almost hear his heart battering against his ribs from where you stood. As you turned around and met his gaze, a flicker of softness crept into your heart. You wanted to dash to your car, to escape home and hide until it was time to pick her up. But you knew it was impossible. For Christ's sake, he lived across the street. Eventually, you'd run into him again. The thought of the inevitable encounters made your shoulders sag with the weight of resignation, yet you stood your ground, steeling yourself for the confrontation that you knew was coming.

“That doesn’t answer my question. It just proves I was right. Why do you feel the right to call her your child when I was the one who had to endure hell for years?” 

You felt the tears fall, but made no move to wipe them away. A part of you was glad you didn’t when you felt his warm hand on your cheek, gently brushing them away with his thumb. He looked at you with that familiar expression—the one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. It was a mix of tenderness and regret, a look that pierced through your defenses and made your heart ache. Despite everything, there was still a connection, a lingering trace of what once was, and it left you standing there, torn between the past and an uncertain future.

And it was goddamn working.

“I remembered it, just this morning.” 

He was staring through your soul with those eyes that could melt the ice-cold walls you’d built to keep yourself safe. He was the only person you had ever known who could make you feel secure, make you feel at home. In his gaze, you saw a depth of understanding and a silent plea for forgiveness, a reflection of the love that had once bound you together so tightly. Despite the pain and the years of separation, he still had the power to unravel your defenses, leaving you vulnerable yet inexplicably comforted in his presence.

“When I called you and the line went dead, I tried again and again to get through to you. Eventually, someone answered. It was your dad. He told me you didn’t want to talk to me ever again. Then I remembered something you said to me about a letter you wrote. I… I never got it.” 

The realization hit you like a freight train, surging through every vein in your body like an unstoppable force. It felt as though the tracks had suddenly given way beneath you, sending you hurtling into chaos. Yet, amidst the chaos, everything began to fall into place, like pieces of a puzzle that had eluded fitting together until this moment.

Memories flooded back—your father's abrupt phone call, the slammed receiver, the whispered conversations behind closed doors. And then, the return of your letter, marked with "return to sender." It all made sense now. The pieces of the puzzle, disjointed and scattered for so long, finally clicked into place, revealing a picture you had never dared to imagine.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. Part of you wanted to cry and scream, to unleash the years of pent-up anger and frustration at the injustice of it all. You had wasted so much time hating him for what he did, resenting the world for the hand it had dealt you. But on the other hand, there was a profound sense of gratitude, a realization that despite the pain and heartache, his actions had led to the greatest gift you could have ever received.

In the midst of the turmoil, there was a glimmer of light—a beacon of love and joy that had emerged from the darkest corners of your past. Your child, the embodiment of a love you had never thought possible, had brought warmth and meaning into your life in ways you could never have imagined. And in that moment, as you grappled with the complexities of your emotions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of profound gratitude for the unexpected blessings that had emerged from the depths of your pain.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did when you told me that Willow was mine. I should’ve believed you. I always believe you.” He walked closer to you, till the tips of your shoes were touching, and you could feel his breath on your skin, the smell of nicotine engulfing you. “Maybe if I told you sooner that I…” You watched him catch his breath, watched him stop speaking for a moment. You had a blooming warm feeling in your chest, hoping what he was about to say was the same as what you’d been feeling for as long as you can remember.

“Say it, please. So that I can tell you the same thing.” 

You watched as a sparkle appeared behind his eyes, a joyous expression threatening to overtake his face. It made you want to grin against him too, want to smile stronger and wider than you’ve ever done before.

“Maybe if I told you sooner that I loved you, I could’ve made you stay. We could’ve raised her together. God, I love you, have loved you and will love you for my entire life. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything before now. I wish I had told you that night, the beautiful night that I have been obsessed with since you left.” His words were like poetry, music to your ears.

The fluorescent lights cast a soft glow over the empty high school hallway, the distant hum of the lights barely audible. After five long years apart, you stood facing each other near the lockers where you had shared countless memories as children yourself.

"I never stopped loving you," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. "Not for a single moment."

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I've always loved you."

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at each other, the weight of your mutual feelings hanging heavily in the air. Then, almost in unison, you took a step closer.

His other hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the last stray tear. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you savored the warmth and familiarity of his hand.

He tilted his head, closing the distance between the two of you. Your breaths mingled, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Then, your lips collided with his in a tender, lingering kiss, a kiss that spoke of years of longing and unspoken words.

It was soft at first, a gentle exploration, as if you were both afraid the moment would shatter. But then, the intensity grew, the kiss deepening as you poured all your pent-up emotions into it. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you responded in kind, your hands tangling in his long, thick hair.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of love and passion. The cool metal of the lockers pressed against your back as they kissed, grounding you both in the reality of the moment. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch their breath.

"I've missed you so much," you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath.

"And I you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But we're together now, and I'm never letting you go again."

You smiled, your heart full, and kissed him once more, sealing the promise with a tender touch, the echoes of your love resonating through the silent hallway.

This, this was the life you deserved, the love you deserved, all along. This was what true love felt like, what it felt like to be loved. He was an intoxicating drug, and you knew that you were hooked for life.

You sat in the car together, catching him up on everything he’d missed while you were apart. Soon it felt like no time had passed at all, and that you were back to your old ways. Best friends, and now lovers.

You hadn’t realised that hours had passed until you saw the cute little bundle of joy bounding her way over in her pink light up sneakers. You saw a look on Eddies face, a beaming sight of joy.

“What is it? Are you okay?” You got a little worried, thinking maybe something was wrong.

“She… she’s wearing my old hellfire shirt. It was the first one I’d ever made. I didn’t want to waste a shirt my size, so I tried it on a child's one. Wayne, well, he must have sold it on or something.” You could now see that what that look in his eyes was. It was pride. Pride that his little girl was showing an interest in something that was uniquely his.

The grin stayed on his face even as she climbed into the car, throwing her arms around the seat to hug him, squealing his name in delight. It made your heart soar, like fireworks lighting up your whole world.

“So sweetie, how was your first day?” 

“I got a boyfriend named Sam!” 

You watched Eddie almost choke on his own breath, meanwhile you couldn’t help but break into a belly laugh, clutching your sides breathlessly.

“Well, guess I better meet this boy.” He turned to you, whispering gently. “Is it too much to sit on the porch with a shotgun?”

“Eddie! The kids probably five years old!”

“Hey! She’s my little girl, I gotta protect her from the big bad kindergartners of the world.” 

And that was it, that was how you’d go onto spend the rest of your lives. With a beautiful sunny glow surrounding you like heavenly light. 

The look of love would stay on his face forever, on your wedding day, on the day you brought a brother into the world for Willow. It was there always, and you just knew.

You knew that this was what it meant to be clean.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

And there we go! The final chapter is done after so damn long. I've been writing this fic for over a year and im so glad to finally have it be over. The amount of WIPs I've come up with since then has been enormous, but I've commited and didn't want to give up on this baby. So here it is, I hope you all enjoyed!

next up.... BRIDGERTON EDDIE

@vintagehellfire @1paire2vans @introvertedmouse @ms1oftheboys @ashlynnkennedy @poisonedluv @302rocks @micheledawn1975 @corrodedcoffincumslut @f-cklife @chloe-6123 @hellfirexwhore @caseyqdilla @alyisdead @winchester-angel @sunflowerabyss @badluckgirl @blackb4ts @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonsgf2 @rozxartaki @emilyslutface @them-cute-boys @ilovetaquitosmmmm @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @captainonaboat @lottie-90 @adaydreamaway08 @munsonmunster @thecomfortgoth @uglypastels @ghost-proofbaby @trashmouth-richie @blueywrites @amberolivia666 @mystargirl-interlude

@elegantkoalapaper @eddiesguitarskills @hazydespair @rozxartaki @seatbacksandtraytables

[dakotalun]

What Now? | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: You just got broken up with and you can only think of one place to go.

warnings: none, just some fluffy Eddie moments :)

word count: 1k

a/n: Shit it's been a while. Anyways back to it!

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Everything was going okay recently, not many nightmares and the ones I did have weren’t too bad. Until…

“What?” The confusion is evident on my face and in my voice.

“I just don’t think we’ll work out. I’m sorry,” Jamie’s head is down and their eyes are looking everywhere but at me.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all, it’s me.”

I scoff, “Pfft. Okay sure,” I roll my eyes at their words, “Like every other time people say that line.”

“I’m being serious, love. I love you, I really do but there’s shit that I need to figure out-”

“Then we figure it out together! That’s what it means to be in a committed relationship!”

“I just- I feel like having a partner right now is not helping,” Their voice is distant and soft now.

“I get it. I’m too much, too clingy, too needy, too…everything,” The words sting my throat and tongue as they leave but it’s the truth, it’s what they all mean when they break it off with me.

“Not at all! You’re perfect, in every way, shape, and form. Seriously, it's me. I’m going through shit that I feel like would break us if I kept lying about it to you.”

“So this has been going on for a while?” I see their face change for a second then go back to sadness.

“Yeah, it has. But I thought it was nothing-”

“How long?”

“What?” Now it’s their turn to be confused.

“How long have you known and been going through this?” My face is steel and I show no emotion.

“Since Lolla.”

Lollapalooza was in August, it’s November. They’ve known this and not said anything for 3 months! Lying to me about everything for so long and I had no idea. I don’t even know how to feel right now. I begin to grab my bag and stuff my shit in it before getting up off their bed.

"Y/N," They reach for my hand to stop me from leaving.

I pull away before they can touch me, "Don't. I- I need space," I leave their room and head for the front door, looking back at the fuzzy orange cat lying on the back of the chair as he always does for the last time. 

"Bye Cheerio," I twist the knob and walk out of the apartment I had felt so welcome in before. 

I can hear the thunder once in the elevator, realizing that I can't return home because I promised Robin the apartment, assuming I'd be with Jamie all night. I try to think of who else I could stay with tonight.

Chrissy maybe? No, she’s at Jason’s place for the weekend. Oh, Nancy should be free right? I reach for my phone to text Nancy but see a Google Calendar notification on the screen.

Nancy Double Date with Johnathan and Roomie! Damn, I guess she’s out too. Maybe Robin would understand me coming home tonight, if I told them what happened? 

As I think about what to do and where to go, rain starts to pour down, soaking through the loose shirt I had put on. 

Why does this keep happening to me? How do I always end up in the rain with no place to go? I think back to last summer when Kris, Sophia, and I got into it and my brother’s friend had to come rescue me from myself and the rain. I laugh at the thought that this is just going to be my normal from now on.

As I walk, my feet autonomously begin to head to the only other person whom I trust and who might be able to help. I don’t even realize where I’m going until I’m standing in front of the building, not under the protection of the awning even though it’s only 3 feet in front of me.

I take a deep breath before stepping forward and deciding this really is the only option I have left. I’m thankful for the covering once I’m actually under it. I dial apartment 203 and wait for the voice of my best friend to spread through the old speaker.

"Hello?" His voice is low and gravelly; he must have just woken up.

"Eddie, It’s Y/N. Can I come up? I-" I sniffle and before I can continue I hear the lock moving and the door unlock so I can enter. I didn’t even realize I had been crying until then.

I quickly open the door and make my way through the small maze to get to his place on the second floor. I can feel my wet socks and the weight of my bag has risen tremendously since I left Jamie’s. I'm gonna need to check and make sure my computer is okay once I get inside his place.

Soon I reach his door and he's standing there against the frame, in a tshirt and sweats, his signature look. The expression on his face is one of concern and fear. Something I’m all too familiar with.

"Hey," My voice is weak and not at all how he normally hears it. I’ve never cried in front of him and we’ve been friends for over a year now, strange.

"Shit, Y/N you're soaked! Get the fuck in here," He moves out the way and closes the door behind me as I walk into his living room, making sure to take off my shoes before going onto the carpet.

He comes back with a towel and wraps it around me after taking my bag and setting it at my feet. I mumble a thank you before taking a seat at the edge of his couch, completely on the other side from where he normally sits.

To my surprise he sits next to me and rubs my back, comforting me and drying me at the same time. We sit there in silence for a few minutes. I'm tired and not in the mood to fully explain what happened yet, so neither of us speak until I realize I should probably tell him why I came to his place so late and without warning.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

[astorytotellyourfriends]

ask and ye shall receive @cyraclove 😏

tw: body image issues, nsfw under the cut

Even with Eddie's warm body pressed against her back, his arms wrapped around her in a familiar loose hug that normally brings her so much comfort, Chrissy can't bring herself to open her eyes.

The corner of her mouth twitches with a smile when Eddie presses a kiss to her cheek. When he does it again, she has to fight the urge to grin.

"C'mon," he murmurs, half-teasing. "Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl."

Chrissy turns her face before she complies, but Eddie's too quick not to catch her workaround. He takes her chin in hand and clicks his tongue as he slowly guides her to look forward instead of at him.

She squeezes her eyes shut before she can catch her reflection in the mirror, and the next thing she knows, Eddie's other hand is pinching her side.

"Ow!"

"You're not even trying, baby."

Chrissy jabs her elbow backwards, catching Eddie in his ribs. He lets go of her chin and engulfs her in a tight embrace, making it impossible for her to do it again as she bursts into a fit of giggles.

He peppers kisses to her cheek, her neck, along the slope of her shoulder. As her giggles fade into soft breaths, he rests his chin on her shoulder and hums.

"I just want you to see what I see," he whispers.

Chrissy breathes in deep, unable to hold back the little whimper that slips through her teeth. Eddie presses his lips to her shoulder and squeezes her.

"I'll be right here," he says, his lips dragging across her skin, "the whole time. Promise."

"I know."

"Just wanna make you feel good."

Chrissy shivers at that. She knows he's telling the truth; he wouldn't lie to her. This was his idea, sure, but if she really didn't want to do this, he wouldn't push.

She slowly opens her eyes, but instead of looking at the mirror at the foot of the bed, she finds the vibrator laying on the bedspread next to Eddie's thigh. Arousal rolls through her and she bites her bottom lip, steeling herself against the negativity that's lived in her head for so long.

You can do this, she tells herself.

Eddie lifts his head as Chrissy carefully turns her attention to the mirror, holding her breath as though she's about to dive headfirst into the deep end of a pool.

Her eyes find Eddie's in their reflection as she exhales, trembling in his arms. He kisses her cheek before smiling proudly back at her.

"Look at you, baby," he murmurs as he loosens his hold on her. As his arms slink back to rest along her sides, the urge to close her eyes threatens to overtake her.

Chrissy starts to shake, her hands clenching as she resists covering her naked body. Her legs are still pressed together, hiding most of her lower half from the mirror, but her chest is on full display.

"Beautiful," Eddie continues as he shifts behind her, sliding a little further down so they're not sitting as upright as they were a moment ago.

His hands cover hers on her knees, pausing for a moment with an unspoken question hanging in the air. Waiting for her permission.

Chrissy swallows hard, pushing down the voice inside her that's screaming no and choosing to nod instead. He pries her legs apart, spreading them wider and wider until she's fully on display for the both of them.

"Fuck," Eddie groans.

Chrissy whimpers as she closes her eyes, torn between the traitorous throb between her legs and her deep-rooted shame.

"It's okay," he whispers hurriedly, "it's okay, baby, I promise. You're okay. I'm here."

"Eddie..."

His right hand vanishes from her knee and she hears him grab the vibrator, followed by the click of the dial, the low hum. Her curiosity breaks through the barrier of her embarrassment and she opens her eyes just enough to peek down at his hand as he brings the vibrator to rest between her legs.

"Oh my—" Chrissy gasps as the vibrator touches her clit; even the lowest setting is more than enough to double, maybe triple her arousal.

Her hips jerk up into it as her head tips onto Eddie's shoulder, her back arching as she moans.

"Jesus," Eddie pants, "look at you. Please, baby, look at yourself. Look how fuckin' gorgeous you are."

Chrissy whimpers, her eyes still mostly closed as she chances a look at the mirror. Her skin is flushed already, a rosy hue working its way down her chest. She lets go of her knees and drops her hands to Eddie's thighs instead, clutching them tightly as she lets out a soft cry.

"Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart? Please?"

'They— they are," she whines.

"More, please, baby. Wanna see 'em."

Swallowing down another whimper, Chrissy complies. The low setting of the vibrator is already becoming a tease; it's good to get her going, but it's not enough.

Without her saying another word, Eddie increases the speed of the vibrator just a little, like he's rewarding her for doing as he asked.

"There's my pretty girl. My best girl."

"Eddie—"

"You're so beautiful, baby," Eddie moans as he rubs the vibrator back and forth over her clit. "Does that feel good?"

"Uh-huh," Chrissy whines, digging her nails into his thighs a little deeper. "S-so good."

"Good," he answers with a rumbling laugh. "Fuck, you look so good. I'm so fuckin' hard just looking at you."

Chrissy shudders as she laughs. She can feel his cock pressed against her backside; every time her hips twitch and she grinds into his cock, it throbs in return.

"You enjoyin' yourself, baby?"

He doesn't wait for her to answer before turning the vibrator up again, almost purring in her ear when Chrissy moans in response.

"You are, huh? Know you like putting on a show for me, pretty girl. Now you get to see it, too."

Eddie wraps his hand around her left knee, hitching her leg over his to spread her a little wider.

"Oh, God," she moans as he rubs the vibrator against her faster, his quick breaths echoing in her ears like it does when he's fucking her.

"You gonna come for us? Want you to watch your face, baby. You look so fuckin' pretty when you come."

"Eddie..." she sobs, her eyes falling shut against her best efforts to keep them open. Her whole body is throbbing with arousal, the desire to come taking over inch by inch.

"Nuh-uh, eyes open," Eddie says as he grabs her chin again. "I know, I know," he murmurs when she whines. "I know it's hard, baby. Know you wanna come your little heart out."

"C-close... Eddie..."

"I know. Your pussy's ready to go, huh? Look at her, so fuckin' wet and needy. Making a mess all over the bed."

Chrissy's eyes drop down to look at the reflection of between her legs and Eddie's right: she can see the spot on the comforter where she's dripped all over it.

"Gorgeous," Eddie groans, his hand dropping from her chin to her breasts. "So fucking— God, you're perfect. Fuckin' perfect."

Chrissy jerks against him as she comes, her own cries of ecstasy drowning out Eddie's voice in her ear. She has to push the vibrator away when the pleasure pushes her to the point of overstimulation, but Eddie's quick on the uptake.

"Good girl, so fucking good," he murmurs as he kisses every inch of her that he can reach. "Love you, pretty girl. Love you so much."

She lets out a breathless giggle as she turns her head to kiss him properly, bringing her hand up to slide into his hair.

"Love you."

"Did you like it?"

Chrissy hums, still feeling a little shy. "Yeah," she whispers.

"Yeah?" Eddie kisses her, sounding so smug. "Good.

"Thank you."

"Thank you, baby. I'll do that any time you want."

She laughs, her head tipping back and giving Eddie a chance to kiss her throat as he repeats the sentiment over and over until she's shutting him up with another proper kiss.

"Or..." he hums, "we could do something a little different next time."

"Yeah?" Chrissy mimics his hum. "Like what?"

"Like... I lay on my back," Eddie gestures to the foot of the bed, "my head right there, and you ride me."

A shiver runs down Chrissy's spine, bringing a new wave of arousal with it.

"Oh." Eddie smirks. "You like that?"

Chrissy is positive she's blushing like crazy. "Maybe."

Eddie laughs, burying the sound under more kisses. "Show-off."

[bvtbxtch]

Stephen | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

“You’re my object of affection, my drug of choice, my sick obsession.”

Summary: 5 years since graduation, 5 years since you ran your way through Hawkins High, leaving boys in your wake…. Except one. Steve Harrington, apparent untouchable due to his infatuation with Nancy Wheeler. What happens when you see a worn out, former heartthrob with his fizzled high school flame stuck to him? Unhappy, feeling unloved and in a bind, you thought Steve could be the conquest of the night… or so you thought.

Pairings: King!Steve (Kinda) x Toxic!Fem!Reader

Content warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Non canon au. Steve and Nancy are together from Steve’s senior year to the time of the story. Cheating (emotional and sexual), p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), Reader defs isn’t a girls girl but I couldn’t help it, alcohol consumption, one night stands, stealing, public sex. This is definitely 18+ MDNI!!!!!

WC:

A/N: Hi babies I have returned with something a little bit different from my little hiatus and am super excited to try something new! This fic is inspired by the song Stephen by Ke$sha! I hope you like it!! I love you all!

The pounding in your head mirrored that in your heart as you remembered the burn of alcohol down your throat from last night. Your makeup had been smudged off onto your pillow, some still remaining on your swollen, hungover face. The day after drinking anxiety had reared its head, but a wave of nerves hit you like a ton of bricks when a vision of you writing your phone number on Steve Harrington’s arm - more or less in front of his girlfriend - faded into view. 

You cupped your hands over your face and your shoulders shook. You couldn’t help but giggle at the picture of her porcelain face twisted into a bout of jealous rage. You could fully admit to yourself that you lived on the side of delusion, but there was a piece of you that wholeheartedly believed that your former king of Hawkins High would call you. 

And yet, you sat and stared at the phone perched silently on your nightstand while you nursed your hangover all day. The bright afternoon light evolved into an evening glow and still you hadn’t heard the shrill ring. You put on records and VCRs. You flicked through magazines and tried to pick up the new Danielle Steele book you had pocketed from the bookstore on main street. But the soundtrack of your thoughts was the hope that the telephone would ring and that you would hear a smooth baritone voice calling you. You fought to keep your eyes open while the blue light of your TV laughed back at you. You finally surrendered to the sleep your body had been pleading for, the blur of the night previous finally making itself clear in your dreams…

-

The music at the dive bar had been blaring. You were on your upteenth drink courtesy of Eddie Munson. The first time you had come to the Hideout it was your senior year, freshly 18 and ready for an adventure. You had snuck in with a fake ID and eyed up the curly haired 21 year old behind the bar. His eyes had been glued on you since you had walked in. Well, you worked your charm and lo and behold, Eddie had you bent over the chipped porcelain sink in the staff bathroom. After the orgasm you gave him, he knew he would owe you for a while - and free drinks you received ever since. You flashed him a wink as you downed the third tequila shot of the night. Your plump glossed lips twisted into a smile after looking at the winces of Heather and Chrissy. The three of you had moved a half an hour outside of Hawkins to the bigg(er) city of Indianapolis, but you felt the need to parade your luxurious city life to the hasbeen jocks of Hawkins High that frequent the only legit bar in town. You couldn't count on both hands the number of guys you had toyed with that now loitered around the musty pool tables and bar tops. By the time you graduated and got a job, you thought of yourself as a big fish in a small pond. You were ready to break big city hearts and leave the lame Hawkins lifers behind. That couldn’t be you. But there was always one that got away - one that you hated to admit was one guy that scared you, solely because you would let him domesticate you if he asked. 

The girls beside you let out a small woo as another shot was sent your way, this time courtesy of Jason Carver who had fastened himself a seat on the other side of the bar with yet another Hawkins Hasbeen, Andy Robinson. You raised the small glass to your lips with a devilish smile across the bar. Jason still had his abs like he did when you graduated. Owning the small weightlifting gym on the outskirts of town had its perks, you guess. You looked at Chrissy and rolled your eyes with a snicker as the burning liquid slid down your throat. At least if you didn’t get lucky with someone else tonight, he would be there and more than willing to give you a half assed orgasm in the back seat of his beat up jeep cherokee - better than ending the night alone in your books (and probably his). You scrunched your eyes closed and a flash of stars lit up the darkness behind your eyes. You opened them to blurry vision, the feelings in your fingers were being replaced with warm fuzz. You knew that if you were to get off your barstool your knees would raise hell. You let out a euphoric giggle. This is just what you needed.

You heard a small “well, well, well,” slur out of Heather’s bowed lips as two new figures emerged through the metallic doors of the bar. “Surprised to see Harrington out here. Isn’t his past his bedtime? You know I remember…” Heather’s voice faded away as you honed in your focus to the pair at the door.

Nancy Wheeler - her obnoxious perm and housewife dresses… You couldn’t help but hate her. She was everything you weren’t: safe, boring, square. Her manicured hand rested in a much larger hand, and that hand was attached to toned arms in a light cotton crewneck. You couldn’t help but feel the saliva pool in your mouth. Nancy looked up to her beautiful brunette with her stupid doe eyes and he flashed her a small cautious smile. They stuck out like sore thumbs. She didn’t belong here, but Steve Harrington was too good looking to be in this shitty bar. It’s like your friends could read your mind. Chrissy pinched you in the side and Heather let out a childish giggle.

“Don’t even think about it, Y/L/N. Nancy’s had him on lock since, like, junior year.” You were well aware. 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll be smart…” You challenged. Your friends were very aware of your determination. If you wanted something, you got it. And Steve Harrington was on the menu. You watched the handsome couple stalk to one of the tall bar tables across the room from your seats. Steve’s eyes locked with yours and you licked your lips. No matter how hard he tried, like a magnet, your gaze kept him locked on you. The man felt a tug on his arm as Nancy shuffled him to the table. As their conversation lulled on, you couldn’t help but attract Steve’s eyes again. You waved your arm to Eddie for another shot.

“I think it’s time to have some water, doll” the mophead behind cooed. For the first time tonight you ruffled through your purse to find a folded 20 dollar bill. You placed it in the hem of your bustier and flashed your sultry eyes at Eddie.

“You want a tip or not, Munson? I think I have already shown you how much I appreciate your customer service.” The man’s cheeks grew flushed as he grabbed the bill out of your chest with nimble fingers - hoping that his hands didn’t slip. Another tiny glass full of liquid in front of you. Before you put it to your mouth, you raised your eyes to Steve, his mouth slightly agape, having seen the performance you had just put on at the bar. You raised the shot glass to him in salute, he blushed and turned his eyes back to his girlfriend. God, his fucking girlfriend. 

He watched your neck tilt back as the burning liquid slid down your throat. He had to stifle a small chuckle at your scrunched face at the reaction to your shot. Steve always thought you were effortlessly beautiful. But you were dangerous. A junior when he was a senior, he knew about the boys you had left in your wake. He made sure to stay away, betrothed to the girl sitting across from him at the bar. He sighed a choked breath of relief when Nancy coldly told him she was going to the bathroom then to get them some drinks. He let his shoulders shrug and rearranged his pants, which were a bit tighter than when he walked in. He wasn’t left in his silence for long. His shoulders shifted back up to his ears and his cheeks grew hot when he saw you saunter from the bar in his direction. His heart was in his throat and beating harder than ever. What the fuck was happening to him?

Your moment to strike happened when you saw Nancy’s pleated dress slither out of her barstool and towards the bathroom. You mirrored her and pushed your wobbling legs one in front of the other. You carried two glasses of brown liquor with you. Your face was calm and cool, but your hands were shaking as you crossed the dingy hardwood over to a beautiful head of hair. 

“So, what is King Steve doing in a place like this?” You didn’t dare take Nancy Wheeler’s spot. You wouldn’t want to be compared to the likes. You leaned your torso over the table, edging closer to the man than you would be on a stool. You preferred it that way, and you had a sense that Steve does as well.

“I could ask the same thing to you, Y/N.” He mumbled, but you can tell his confidence was growing.  “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Who told you I’m a nice girl?” You purred. “You looked thirsty over here, and I thought, since you’re in my domain, I could show you some hospitality.” You slid the drink over to him with a black painted fingernail and picked yours up and stirred it suggestively. 

“Bottoms up then.” Steve grabbed the glass and clinked it to yours. Your heart stopped as you watched the beautiful man’s neck strain upwards to take his drink in one gulp. It took all of the drunken strength you could muster to not sink your teeth into his strong neck. His Adams apple bobbed in strain and the liquor made his cheeks bloom a darker red than they already were. You sipped half of your drink, desperate to relieve some of the tension running through your body, but you felt like you would completely crumble if you downed it all in one go.

“So.. you and Nancy… That’s pretty… serious?” You couldn’t help the venom that seethed out of your lips. Steve cleared his throat and stared into the bottom of his empty glass. He shrugged his shoulders. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Trouble in paradise, King Steve?” you jest. 

“Nah, It’s just… it's been a few years I guess.” Steve’s voice was cold. You sighed audibly. The alcohol and the pure lust was getting to you, and you could barely contain yourself.

“Too bad… the word on the street is I could treat you much better.” You could barely bring yourself to look into his eyes, but when you did, you were met with an intense stare. You couldn’t read all of the emotions behind his eyes, but it made your core quiver. 

“Word on the street is you know how to treat a lot of people.” Steve scoffed. His defenses were up. Why in the world were you coming to him now? He had always stolen looks at you. He knew how magnetic you were. He wished he knew you in high school. Maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck working at his dad��s law firm. With a girlfriend who he felt stuck with; no sense of adventure, no true love in sight. But then you sauntered up to him and made his heart believe in life again.

“Well you aren’t wrong. But I only have eyes for one right now.” You winked. 

“Wish we could have had this conversation three years ago…” Steve whispered, hoping that you didn’t hear him. You were delectable, and laid out in front of him; and he knows that if he were to have a few more drinks, he would have forgotten all about the girl that he had come here with - his… girlfriend. Fuck, his girlfriend. You flashed him a pout and a disappointed smile. You had him eating right out of your hand. 

“Well… Let me give you this.” You pulled out a sharpie from your purse and pulled his wrist towards you, pulling up his sweater sleeve. You began to scribble your phone number onto his olive skin. You had to breathe slowly to keep yourself from shaking. “Call me tomorrow if you want to pretend it was three years ago.” A look of need flashed on your face. You had been absorbed by Steve Harrington. It had felt like all of the bar had disappeared and it was just the two of you. Steve could feel that too, he had you right where he wanted you, totally absorbed and infatuated. You couldn’t help but think of Nancy and it made you shiver. You couldn’t have her invade this. Fuck his stupid girlfriend. You were determined to make Steve Harrington yours. 

The two of you stayed transfixed on each other for a moment more. Steve fixed his gaze between your face and the new ink that you had given him. He wanted to nurture it like it was a real tattoo. You couldn’t help but take mental pictures of Steve’s face, so you could imagine whatever meathead you ended up taking home that night was him. You wondered what he would look like underneath you, gasping and panting for breath. What his skin would taste like: sweaty and sweet and musky. You wished that you could take his fingers and put them in your mouth right now. You were thirsty, parched for his lips on yours. You wanted to show him what you looked like underneath him, you wanted him to hear you moan his name. You wanted to fuck his brains out, the way you knew Nancy “White Bread” Wheeler doesn’t. You were connected, and it scared you because for the first time in forever, you wanted to fuck, but you also wanted him to hold you, to tell you that you’re beautiful. You wanted him to hold your hand and buy you flowers and take you out. You wanted to cook for him and play with his hair and rub his back. 

You were torn from your world when you heard a small ‘ahem’ from behind you. Steve quickly adjusted his posture and pulled his sweater sleeve over his new love mark. You stood up straight and turned to see the frizzy haired brunette tapping her pleather pumps at you… tacky, you thought. 

“Can I help you with something?” She peeped. “Or is there another reason why you’re over here talking to my boyfriend?” Nancy’s angry eyes flicked between the two of you and her brow was furrowed. Your gaze had hardened and you couldn’t help but chuckle; she looked like a toddler and an old woman at the same time. Steve’s cheeks remained a rosy pink. He had found whatever was on the floor oddly interesting. You took a step towards the girl.

“Nothing at all, darling. Just thought I would say hello to an old friend and grab him a drink.” You breezed past her, knocking her lightly on the shoulder. 

“See you around, Harrington.” You sang behind you. You couldn’t see her anymore, but you assumed that if looks could kill, you would be on the floor. You strutted back to Chrissy and Heather and slumped back to your stool. You exchanged mischievous glances with the girls, and then turned proudly to Eddie, who was flashing you a disappointed look. A victory for you, a loss for Nancy Wheeler - or at least you hoped.

Steve continued to stare at the ground while Nancy eyed him suspiciously. 

“What the hell did she want, Steve?” she pried. Steve huffed before looking up at her. Her eyes didn’t glimmer at him like yours did. 

“She just came over to say hi…. I hadn’t seen her since Senior year.” 

“Did you even talk to her senior year? You know the reputation she has…I don’t like her, and I don’t like her talking to you, Steve,” within the past year, he had thought of Nancy more like his mother than his girlfriend. He had been growing more and more confused lately. The love seemed to be lacking and he had caught himself wondering what his life would be like if he left it all behind, left her behind and started over. You made the idea of abandonment way more appealing. He felt himself growing unreasonably angry with the blue eyed girl sitting across the bar from her. He needed to defend you. You were the only thing on his mind.

“Who the hell cares, Nancy? What do you think that she was going to do? Fucking make out with me in front of everyone? She asked how we were doing. She asked about you and me. Chill out and have fun or let’s just get out of here.” He scowled. Nancy was taken aback and slid a chilled PBR across the table to Steve with a scoff. She drank her vodka cran in silence. Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to your figure laughing and smiling with your friends. He wanted to laugh with you. He downed his drink, took Nancy's hand silently and pulled her towards the door. She had a permanent frown on her face as Steve pushed her through the door. Before his body disappeared from the door, he took one more glimpse at you. Your eyes locked one last time and you sent him a wave as he disappeared into the Hawkins night. If he couldn’t have you, he’d fuck Nancy until he forgot about you. 

It was 3 am and your body literally couldn’t peel itself off of the plastic bar stool. Chrissy and Heather had gone home with Jason and Andy - your appetite spoiled when you watched the only person you wanted to be with leave the bar without you. You heard the stomps of old reeboks and the jingle of keys come up behind you. The lights had suddenly gone out.

“Come on, doll. Let’s get you home okay?” Eddie pulled you off the stool and wrapped your arm around his shoulder. 

“Can you stay over, Teddie?”

“Not this time, honey. You need sleep and you need water. You aren’t thinking straight.”

You pouted quietly, but you decided to finally take no for an answer. The thought of sinking into your bed and hoping - praying - that Steve would call you.

Steve had pulled Nancy into his bedroom of his parents’ empty house. He feverishly pulled at Nancy’s belt as she fumbled with the zipper at the side of her dress. Steve’s mouth didn’t leave her skin, and his eyes remained shut, save to navigate himself around his house. A flurry of clothes, soft sighs and sweaty skin. Steve had only had two drinks, but he felt drunk thinking of your encounter at the bar. He pressed his eyes closed as he mouthed at Nancy’s chest, wishing it was yours. He slid down her torso pondering what sounds you would make if he was kissing towards your sweet center. He pulled Nancy’s panties to the side and swiped his tongue along her heat, thinking about how delicious you would taste. He then flipped Nancy over on all fours and slid into her with a grunt. He couldn’t stand to look at her, wishing her body was yours, wishing her sounds were yours, wanting to hold you in his arms after. Steve finished quickly, his perversions towards you spurring him on. 

The couple collapsed into Steve’s king bed. Nancy traced small circles on his chest while they caught their breath. Steve felt satiated, his hunger for you ebbed, for now. 

“Steve! What’s on your arm?” Nancy yelped. Steve’s heart dropped into his chest. He frantically turned himself away from his girlfriend. Nancy’s small hands grabbed Steve’s shoulder to turn him back to her. Her nails drug down to the tattoo you had given her boyfriend and her face began to heat up.

“What the fuck is this, Steve?”

-

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[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 15

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | AO3

-----

Eddie can hear the sound of thunder overhead, the smell of rot fills his nostrils, and the taste of bile lingers at the back of his throat. Part of him has been fucking terrified beyond comprehension since the moment he went out onto the lake, but it's been kept at bay - barely - with reminding himself that the others are right there, with distracting himself by talking to Steve.

But he must have gotten separated from them, because when he looks desperately around the filthy, decaying forest, he's all alone.

"Steve?" he calls out, his heart pounding in his ears. "Robin, Nancy?"

There's silence, except the distant shriek of the demobats and a low, otherworldly growling, growing closer.

Shit.

He lurches forward, stumbling his way through the forest as he tries to remember where he was supposed to be going - the Wheelers' house, to get guns, or was it to his place, to go through the gate? He's so focused on where he's going that he doesn't pay close enough attention to his surroundings, and it's not long before he's stumbling over something.

A something that immediately grabs his ankle.

Eddie looks down, panic already filling him at the expectation of seeing a vine wrapped around his foot, of knowing that he'd alerted Vecna.

The thing on the ground is distinctly more humanoid, though, and Eddie has a brief moment where confusion wins out over panic - until a crackle of lightning streaks across the sky at the same time as the thing looks up, and he meets Chrissy's wide, vacant eyes.

Eddie screams, so loud he can feel it tearing through his throat the way he usually associates with a particularly good night at the Hideout. He scrambles back, forgetting what had drawn his attention to the ground in the first place, and nearly trips over himself when his ankle is held tight.

It's Chrissy's hand.

Her arm is broken and bent, stretched out at an angle that shouldn't be possible, fingers swollen and rotting, and yet her grip around his ankle is solid as steel.

You left me, echoes in his mind, cutting through his screams.

But not through his terror, and he keeps trying to yank his foot from her grasp even as he's shouting, "I'm sorry, Chrissy, I'm so fucking sorry, please-"

Chrissy's mouth opens in a silent scream as she stares up at him, neck broken and distorted, and she drags herself closer to him, her other hand reaching for him - though that arm is all twisted up behind her, and she can't quite make it.

"Please," he begs again, giving one more desperate yank of his leg.

It works, incredibly, but he wasn't expecting it, and he ends up on his ass on the ground in front of her.

Eddie tries to push himself up, but now she's so much closer, and she's able to grab his leg and drag him towards her.

"No no no no no no," he chants desperately, fingers scrabbling at dirt and leaves, trying to get a hand hold.

"Eddie?" someone calls, and he nearly weeps with relief as he realizes it's Steve.

Eddie starts to call back, but his hand slips and he's pulled closer into Chrissy's grasp, and he shrieks.

"Eddie, it's okay, I've got you," Steve says.

Something grabs his hand, and Eddie instinctively yells and tries to rip his hand free - but then he looks back, and realizes he recognizes the hand grabbing his.

Steve.

"Steve?" he asks, because he can't see him, fuck, he still can't see anything but Chrissy's bleeding eyes and the Upside Down and -

"It's all right, Eddie, you're okay. You're safe now, I've got you," Steve is saying, and Eddie doesn't -

The world tilts and fractures, and when he looks down at his legs, there's only sheets and blankets tangled around them.

His throat hurts, his shoulder and wrist hurt, his sides and stomach and legs hurt, just - fuck, everything hurts, and it's not helping that he can barely breathe and he feels like he's having a fucking heart attack and all he can see is still Chrissy's broken body and -

"Breathe," Steve says, and if Eddie had enough air for it he'd laugh, because shit, what does Steve think he's trying to do, and -

Steve's still holding his good hand, and abruptly he finds it pinned to Steve's chest, with Steve's other hand pressed palm flat against Eddie's own chest.

"Breathe," Steve says again. "In and out. In and out."

He times each word with the rise and fall of his chest, and Eddie can feel it expanding and contracting under his fingers. Steve's palm moves every time Eddie manages to pull in a breath or let it out, and slowly, instinctively, his breathing starts to match Steve's.

"You're safe," Steve's switched over to saying. "You're not alone, I'm right here."

"Where'd you learn how to do this?" Eddie asks when he's got his breathing under control again, when he's come back to himself enough to remember that he's not in the Upside Down anymore.

Steve quirks a little smile. "You're not the only one who has nightmares about all of this."

Eddie doesn't ask if Steve means himself, or one of the other members of their party. He kind of assumes that the answer is all of the above.

"You didn't have any at the hospital," Eddie points out.

Steve shrugs - or shrugs as best as he can, when he's got one hand over Eddie's and the other still pressed to Eddie's chest. "Neither did you."

Eddie considers that for a moment, not sure what to say. He didn't - it didn't occur to him to wonder why until now that he's had one. The meds, maybe, or that his fears seemed to come out as he was waking up instead of when he was unconscious.

But mostly, he doesn't say anything because Steve looks like he's considering admitting something, and Eddie remembers that Steve will keep talking if Eddie stays quiet and attentive and doesn't judge him.

"It's better when I have someone with me," Steve says finally. "Or not just someone, I guess, but one of you guys. My nightmares are about - well, they're about a lot of things. But it usually ends up in me not being able to protect someone. It helps having them right there to remind me that it's not real, that they're okay."

And just like that, the thing he felt like he was just missing when he kept seeing people in Steve's hospital bed clicks into place. "Does everyone know?"

Steve makes a face. "Robin and Dustin do. I think Erica and Max have figured it out. Nancy… she knows how it was that first year, I think she might know more now, too."

He remembers Nancy telling Steve he needs to rest, asking it's worse now, isn't it? He takes a closer look, then, seeing the exhaustion in the slope of Steve's shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. "Were you having one tonight, too?"

"Nah." Steve finally pulls his hand away from Eddie's chest, scrubs it over his jaw. "I, uh. Hadn't gone to sleep yet."

Eddie isn't sure exactly what time it is, actually. Late, he guesses, but not tipping into early morning, since the room would be pitch black if it weren't for the soft light of the lamp. He thinks about scolding him, teasing a little that Steve is supposed to let Eddie look after him too.

"Stay in here, then," is what comes out, and Eddie - yeah, okay, guess he's going to have to stand by that.

Steve drops his hand, looking at him with a furrowed brow. "What?"

"You said it helps, right?" Eddie tries to look a lot more careless than he feels. "And obviously we discovered that I do a lot better with someone here when I wake up, too."

With Steve. With Steve here when he wakes up, specifically, but Eddie doesn't want to think about that.

Shit, he's developing a pretty hefty list of things he doesn't want to think too closely about. It's probably going to come back to bite him in the ass, later, but as long as it waits until he's done recovering from his actual bites, he can deal.

Steve's looking at him in a way that seems familiar - almost like how he'd looked at Max, Eddie thinks, when she'd shoved her way into his hospital bed. "Yeah, all right. Just let me go get the walkie. I already talked to Robin and checked in with Henderson, but I promised him I'd keep it close."

He's gone and back before the shadows in the room can grow too uncomfortable, before Eddie starts to feel eyes on the back of his neck, before he's too afraid to look up or look down - but only just.

"So, uh. How do you want to do this?" Eddie asks.

Steve bites his lip, like he knows exactly how he wants to do this but isn't sure he wants to say it, and he sets the walkie on the nightstand before he lets out a soft breath. "Can I have the side closest to the door and the window?"

"Oh." Eddie'd kind of been wondering if Steve might offer to sleep on the floor, or the reasonably comfy looking chair. His brain is scrambled mush right now, and he doesn't know what to do with the fact that Steve immediately jumped into sharing the bed with him.

And putting himself between Eddie and the main points of entry, though that at least he'd kind of expected with what he now knows of Steve.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees hurriedly, because he can see the little scrunch developing between Steve's brows, and he doesn't want him to think that Eddie's uncomfortable with that. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Good. That'd help."

Fuck, what is wrong with him?

It just makes Steve look a little relieved, though, and Eddie scoots over to one side to give Steve room to climb into the bed next to him.

"You want another dose? It's been long enough," Steve offers.

Part of Eddie thinks he should ration them more carefully, despite the fact that Steve already dumped almost all of his pain meds into Eddie's, but - fuck it, he still aches everywhere, and he nods.

"Thanks," he says, accepting the pills and glass of water when Steve hands them over.

Steve doesn't ask if he wants the light on still, which Eddie is kind of grateful for - he's also grateful for the fact that he has to lay on his back to be at all comfortable, and can't be tempted to roll over onto his side to watch Steve.

Steve is right there. He's wearing pajama bottoms and a long sleeved shirt, so there isn't any risk of Eddie seeing the writing on his skin, and - fuck it, Eddie tips his head to the side so he can watch him anyway.

Steve's eyes are closed, head tipped back against the pillow as he lays on his back, too. If he can feel Eddie watching him, he doesn't give any sign of it.

After a long handful of moments of Eddie just looking, memorizing the shape of his nose and the line of his jaw, Steve breathes out.

"Night, Eddie," he murmurs.

"Night, Steve," he whispers, taking that as his cue to turn his head away.

He thinks it's going to take him a long time to fall back asleep again, with the dueling distractions of the lingering effects of his nightmare and the acute awareness of Steve Harrington sleeping right next to him, but - he's out between one breath and the next.

—

He's shocked awake by something he can't place, but at least it wasn't a nightmare. He doesn't feel terrified, just warm and sleepy and - kind of in pain, ugh, the meds must have worn off. Eddie hopes it's been long enough that he can take more.

There's a static feedback sound coming from a few feet away, and an equally staticky voice saying, "Come in Hawkins crew, over."

Must have been what woke him up.

Eddie's all set to ignore it, but his source of warmth - Steve, his brain supplies, though he's still too groggy to do anything with that thought - is moving away. He grumbles, wiggling as much as he can to scoot closer to him.

"It's Mike," Steve tells him, grabbing the walkie from the nightstand and bringing it closer.

Eddie can hear a chorus of other voices coming from it, louder now that it's right by him.

"Nooooo," he complains, even though Steve's already responding. "Wanna g'back to sleep."

"Jesus, Steve, do you have some girl sleeping with you?" Mike's voice demands from the walkie.

"That didn't sound like a girl, brochacho," another voice says helpfully.

"Yes there's someone with me, no it's not some girl," Steve says, and Eddie can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "It's-"

"Gross!" Mike shouts, and fuck if that doesn't feel like a douse of ice water all over, shoving Eddie the rest of the way out of sleep.

He sits up, gingerly, feeling a little sick to his stomach.

"You want to take a second to think about what you just said, Michael Wheeler?" Steve's voice is cold with disappointment, somehow managing to make that both a question and a statement.

Eddie resists the urge to look over at him. There's a long pause, where he can't hear anything but the unsteady beat of his own heart, then -

"What? No, not gross because it's a guy, that's - I don't care, that's not - gross because it's Steve!" Mike says, sounding just a little bit frantic - and his voice just a little bit more distant, like he's talking more to someone with him than to the walkie.

He feels a rush of relief, and he lets himself sit for a moment before he risks looking over at Steve. He looks - tired, in the faint light of the morning sun streaming through the blinds, but the pale yellow catches in his sleep rumpled hair, and Eddie has to look away again.

"Walkies are supposed to be for party members only, Steve!" Mike hisses, directly into the walkie this time.

Eddie latches onto the easy distraction that provides, looking back at Steve and making grabby hands for his walkie. Steve raises an eyebrow at him, but he hands it over without protest.

"I did not spend all year welcoming you into Hellfire just to get kicked out now that I'm in the party for real, Wheeler," Eddie says, putting on his best I am your DM and is this really the choice you want to make voice.

"Eddie?" Mike asks after a moment of silence, sounding confused. "What're you-"

He must put together some guy sleeping with Steve and Eddie on the walkie, because the next sound is a shriek that's half static feedback and half Mike Wheeler.

"No!" Mike shouts. "Steve, what the fuck, come on, first my sister and now my DM?"

He sounds so indignant that Eddie can't help it - he cackles, despite the ripples of pain it causes, and he can hear laughter from a few different voices spilling out over the walkie.

"Get out of my life!" Mike demands.

Steve takes the walkie back from him. "Is that any way to talk to your step-DM?"

The smug look on Steve's face only makes Eddie laugh harder, and he smacks at Steve's shoulder. Steve's laughing, too, more like a soft little huff than Eddie's near rib cracking glee, but Steve is smiling so wide his whole face lights up with it, and he's looking at Eddie like he's the best thing he's seen all week, and -

Hell if that doesn't make Eddie feel on cloud nine, like if he can make Steve look like that, he can do anything.

It almost makes him feel like maybe he has a chance. Like maybe, even though he'd resigned himself to having a platonic soulmate the moment he saw I'm not in love with her show up on his skin, he might have something, here. Mike Wheeler clearly thinks he and Steve are fucking, and Steve hadn't hurried to deny it, hadn't pulled away from him - he'd just played into it, and now he's leaning into Eddie's space and giggling with him, and Eddie lets himself hope.

In the background, there's still distant protests coming through the walkie, but someone more adult shaped must have grabbed it from Mike, because someone sounding closer to Eddie's age says, "We're almost to Hawkins, guys. Another hour or so and we can be at Nancy and Mike's."

"Yeah, it's going to be longer than you think," Dustin says. "It's a little bit of a mess out there."

There's a pause, then, "Sorry," someone says, very quietly - a girl, probably around the same age as the freshmen.

The walkie blares with static from a handful of voices trying to reassure her - Eddie can only make out Steve's, since he's there in person.

"Hey," Max says, cutting through it. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead. No sorries."

"No sorries," the girl - who Eddie is guessing is El - echoes, and this time there's a trace of something like a smile in her voice. "Thank you for your message. I need you, too."

"It was Steve's idea," Max says, very clearly deflecting.

El rolls with it, though, very seriously saying, "Thank you, Steve."

Steve's ear turns a frankly adorable shade of pink, and Eddie has to look away before he does something stupid like bite it. "I'm glad it worked, and everyone's okay."

"Party meet up at my house?" Mike says, a little bit of an edge in his voice - like he's worried, like he wants to see for himself that everyone is actually okay.

Eddie hasn't actually seen the kid in action, but he gets the feeling it's similar to the paladin he'd played at Hellfire.

There's a chorus of agreement to meet at the Wheelers' in two hours, then Steve sets the walkie back on the nightstand and slides out of bed, pausing to stretch. It makes his shirt ride up a little bit, and Eddie's feeling just reckless enough to let his eyes linger, greedy for the strip of skin it'll reveal.

He sees mostly gauze, though, and the reality of why he was in bed with Steve Harrington crashes back into him.

"How's your pain?" he asks, instead of saying how're you feeling. There's still wiggle room for Steve to get around it, of course, but at least it won't let him deny he has any at all unless he wants to flat out lie.

Steve makes a face at him. "Exactly how you think it is, man, probably a few steps below yours."

And - all right, fine, well played. Except for the fact that Eddie has no fucking shame about acknowledging that he hurts, that everything hurts, so really, Steve played himself, and Eddie grins at him. "Hurts like a bitch, then? Great, glad we're on the same page, here. I'll be sure to radio Robin and Dustin and tell them to send you home after a few hours so you don't collapse again."

"Almost collapse, Eddie, I almost collapsed."

Eddie's pretty sure the look he gives Steve tells him exactly what he thinks of that distinction, because Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't insist on it.

"You're okay with staying here today, then?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, I know I'm basically on house arrest for a little while, I'm not going to fight it. Besides, I, uh. I'm not sure I could even if I wanted to," he admits. "I know me surviving the first time was as much of a deus ex machina as the Great Eagles carrying Samwise and Frodo out of Mordor, I'm not about to try to test it by over exerting myself now."

Steve's frowning at him, brows doing that cute fucking scrunched thing that he does when he's thinking, and shit, it's too early for this. "Does that make me the great eagle in this metaphor?"

Eddie huffs out a little laugh. "Guess so. Thanks for carrying me out, by the way."

He gets a little shrug in response, Steve's gaze shooting away like he's trying not to show whatever he's feeling about getting thanked for that. "I'll be your deus ex machina any time, Munson."

That's -

Hmm.

Somewhere Eddie's not sure he wants to go right now, when both of them are still all bitten to hell. So he says nothing, looks down at his own hands until he can hear Steve moving again.

"Gonna go make us some breakfast. Yell if you need anything, all right?"

Eddie flashes a thumbs up at him, then begins the careful process of getting out of bed and shuffling over to the bathroom. Moving around doesn't take as much out of him as it did yesterday, but it's slow going. Still, even though it takes far longer than he'd like, he's not winded by the time he takes a piss, splashes water on his face, uses some of the brand new deodorant stashed there - seriously, who keeps toiletries still in their packaging in their guest room? - and makes it back to the bed, so he's feeling pretty pleased with himself.

Steve comes back up just a little bit after with a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of juice, shoving what looks like an entire half of a piece of peanut butter toast in his mouth.

"Didn't save any toast for me?" Eddie teases, reaching out for the plate.

Steve sets the juice down on the nightstand and hands the plate to him, waiting until he swallows his toast before he says, "Soft foods only for now, I read the doctor's instructions."

He thinks about complaining, just because he can, but decides it's not worth the effort and just shoves a forkful of eggs and cheese into his mouth instead.

Steve heads out to go get dressed, returns when Eddie's just about finished, wearing jeans and a blue sweater. There's a few books tucked under one arm, and he shoots Eddie a little smile.

"So you don't get bored," he says as he drops them into Eddie's lap.

Eddie looks down, half expecting to see books on sports facts or something, but - no, it's fantasy. Dark Tower: The Gunslinger, To Ride Pegasus, So You Want to be a Wizard, and even the first Lord of the Rings book stare up at him. Eddie seizes on that last one, holding it up with an affronted look at Steve.

"You acted like you didn't know what Mordor was!" he accuses. "Is this like that thing where you keep saying Dungeons and Dragons wrong even though I know you know what it is?"

Steve smirks at him, and for a moment Eddie thinks he's not going to answer, but then he's shaking his head with a soft laugh. "Nah, that one's Dustin's. He made me borrow it when he found out I've never read it, but it's such a slog to get through."

Eddie gasps, flinging a hand to his chest like he's been mortally wounded, and collapses back against his pillows.

Steve just laughs at him, but that's a good enough response for Eddie, and he grins back.

"Need anything else before I head out?" Steve asks, collecting the empty plate from him.

"Nah," Eddie says. "I'll have plenty to occupy myself seeing what Steve Harrington thinks is a better read than Tolkien."

Steve leaves the walkie talkie with him, promising to radio when he's there and when he's on his way back, and then he's gone. Eddie can hear him tromping down the stairs, the sound of the garage door opening and closing, and if he closes his eyes -

Well.

He doesn't close his eyes for long, because if he does, he lets himself feel like it's almost domestic, like this is them - like Eddie's lazing around with a good book after being delivered breakfast in bed, like waking up to Steve in the morning and listening to him head out is something they do.

The walkie blares to life, and Eddie reaches for it as Dustin's voice calls out to him and Steve.

"Steve just left," Eddie tells him. "Just me for now."

"Switch to channel four?" Dustin says.

Eddie gives an affirmative, switching over. "What do you need, Henderson?"

There's silence for a moment, which immediately gets Eddie's stomach twisting into knots as he thinks oh fuck, what is it, then -

"You guys are doing okay, right?" Dustin asks.

He sounds so small, so unlike the confident, brash kid that Eddie knows, and it gets Eddie right in the soft underbelly that's getting harder and harder to pretend he doesn't have.

"Yeah, we're doing okay. You were right about Steve making breakfast," he adds, because he doesn't really want to expand on what okay means, and he kind of figures telling the kid that he was right about something will get him going off.

Sure enough, Dustin's voice brightens. "See? I told you."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie says, but there's no heat in it. "Harrington makes a killer breakfast and rips apart demobats with his teeth, who'd have thought."

"He what?" Dustin screeches, and it's then that Eddie remembers Dustin wasn't there for that part, and there probably wasn't time for anyone to catch him up to speed.

"With his teeth," Eddie repeats, throwing a little flare to it. "Then he swung one around by its tail and slammed it against the ground, again and again, and when it still wouldn't give up he pinned it down with his bare foot and tore it in half."

"Holy shit," Dustin breathes out. "And Max thought he was insane before."

Eddie snorts. "Insane is one word for it."

"And you didn't believe me when I said he was a badass," Dustin retorts smugly.

"Forgive me, oh enlightened one, for not being immediately sold on the idea that the coolest of cool kids is secretly a badass monster hunter."

Dustin scoffs. "Steve isn't a cool kid. He's just Steve."

Eddie makes a noise of disbelief, exaggerating it a little because Dustin can't see his raised eyebrow.

"Steve is a dork," Dustin insists. "If you don't believe me, ask him about our secret handshake."

"Secret handshake?" Oh, Eddie can't wait until Steve is back so he can badger him about that one.

"Uh-huh." The kid sounds even more smug now. "We made it Steve's senior year. It's got a lightsaber battle."

Steve's senior year? All right, yeah, okay, he's accepted that Steve's different than how he thought he would be, but - maybe part of him had just kind of slotted that into Steve changing after high school, that he graduated and moved on and didn't care about being popular anymore. Being forced to think about it now means being forced to reconcile the image that Eddie had of him last year, to realize that Steve Harrington had a secret handshake with lightsaber battles at the same time that he was getting crowned prom king.

It forces him to acknowledge that he never knew Steve Harrington at all, that probably everything he assumed about him was wrong. That everything Eddie assumed about his soulmate might have been wrong, that he -

"-the walkie talkie on?" Dustin is saying, and Eddie snaps himself back on track and forces himself to listen. "Just so you can be a part of it, too?"

Oh.

Eddie considers that for a moment, but honestly, the idea of being looped in via walkie talkie while the rest of the party does their thing immediately sends him back into the time he spent in the boathouse with the walkie as his only connection to them.

"I'm probably just going to sleep, man, I'll catch up with everyone when you can all come over here."

"Oh. Are-" Dustin cuts off, and Eddie has a moment of panic before his voice picks back up again. "Steve's here! I'll still keep the walkie with me just in case, okay?"

And then Eddie's alone, really alone, for the first time since they all came to his rescue out at Skull Rock. He thinks he should - feel some kind of way, thinks it should be catching up with him now the way it hadn't caught up with him when he'd had a similar thought last night.

It doesn't.

He doesn't know if he should be grateful for that or worried that it's going to sneak up on him, but he doesn't really want to think too hard on that at the moment.

Instead, he takes another dose of pain meds, gets comfortable with one of the books Steve'd brought for him, and dozes off reading about a teenager who finds a book and discovers a whole new world of magic that'd been right there all along.

Taglist (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

-----

Part 16

[slumped-in-the-arms-of-fiction]

Pictures of You

Chrissy is dragged to a bachelorette party where the entertainment is very familiar... and very naked.

10,736 words | T rating | one shot

Read on AO3

If Eddie Munson – the actual Eddie Munson from Hawkins, Indiana, not someone with the same name – was in there? She definitely would’ve heard his voice by now. She would’ve heard it outside, for Pete’s sake.

So it couldn’t be him. Trish was just pulling her leg or she was just completely wrong… right? It was just some Van Halen lookalike paid to… what? Not strip, that didn’t sound like music to strip to. Not that she knew what music to strip to sounded like, but she was pretty sure that was too tame for it. Some upbeat, poppy top 40 party mix set at a reasonable volume.

Which brought her racing mind back around to Eddie Munson. Her Eddie Munson. He would not listen to that music. That she knew for definite. Right? Right.

So, as Exposé’s peppy Point of No Return started up on the sound system, and steeled with unwavering logic (Trish was being an ass, Eddie wasn’t in there), Chrissy slid into the room to take her place.

And was promptly met with a very real – very naked – Eddie Munson.

I intended to post this for the first prompt during @hellcheeranniversaryweek but that did not happen. But have a little treat anyway 🖤

[steventhusiast]

STWG daily prompt 23/9/23

prompt: summer camp

pairing/character(s): steddie, robin, dustin, will, lucas

CW: robin calls steve a whore but like. in her mind. and then a slut to his (and eddie's) face. but affectionately. they're besties.

-

"Robin, Robin!"

Robin's alone time is very rudely interrupted by a small group of pre-teens running over to her. Being a camp counsellor this summer has been fun, but she very much values her alone time by the lake. What can she say, she enjoys staring at the water and occasionally aggressively throwing pebbles into it.

So she may glare a little as she turns to look at the little terrors.

"What." She says more than asks.

Dustin, Will and Lucas are the boys standing before her, and the only one of them that doesn't wilt under her slight glare is Dustin. In fact, he lifts his head in retaliation and meets her gaze.

"We can't find Steve." He explains, and it's then that Robin notes the worry in the boys' eyes. She sighs, and fully turns away from the lake to focus on them.

"What do you mean you can't find Steve?"

"He said that he was gonna go get a change of clothes-" Lucas starts.

"And we were just gonna wait for him by the treetop course, but we wanted to get changed too-" Dustin continues.

"So we went back to the cabin and he's not there!" Will finishes.

God, this particular group has to be the weirdest group of pre-teens she's ever met. At least the rest of their 'party' aren't here, or the finishing-each-others'-thoughts thing would be a lot creepier.

"Okay, so," She starts, and gets up to start walking toward the cabins, the boys following her, "have you actually looked anywhere else before coming to me, or..?"

They stay silent at her words, and she sighs. The lack of an answer tells her everything she needs to know.

"You know he could have gone to the bathrooms? The cafeteria? One of the other cabins-"

She tops in her tracks as she cuts herself off. He wouldn't. That whore.

Before her precious lake-time, she was on an activity with some other counsellors, including none other than Eddie Munson. AKA Steve's summer camp fling. Who coincidentally also went to get a change of clothes a few minutes before Robin told Chrissy she needed a break and escaped to the lake. She bets he's also missing in action right now.

"Why don't you guys go back to the treetop course? I think I know where he is." She suggests to the kids, who immediately start protesting.

"What if he's hurt?"

"What if he needs help?"

"What if he got lost?"

She rolls her eyes at their worry. It's kind of cute, but so unnecessary. She knows exactly where Steve is (and Eddie, too).

"Don't worry. I know where he is." She says, and when that's not enough, continues, "Besides, if you run around with me you might miss the chance to go on the treetop course."

The kids run off in one direction, and she marches in the other toward the cabins.

Frankly, Steve's lucky the kids didn't think to check any of the other cabins. Especially Eddie's.

When she gets to cabin 5, she steels herself before going in. If they're doing anything nefarious, she's actually going to murder Steve. No. She'll murder Eddie for corrupting Steve. Steve never would have done something like this last summer.

"You better be decent!" She calls out as she loudly opens the door to the main room where the kids sleep. She starts toward the cabin leader's room with equally loud steps.

She just wants to give them as much time as possible to not be in a compromising position because... She does not want to see that.

"Heyyy, Robbie." Steve greets guiltily as she slowly opens the door to Eddie's room.

They're sat together on Eddie's single bed, cheeks flushed and polo shirts looking very rumpled. Eddie doesn't look guilty at all, with the wide and pleased grin on his face.

"Can't believe my alone time got cut short for this. Were you sluts planning on going back to your activities any time soon or were you just waiting for one of the kids to walk in on you?" She asks, one eyebrow raised.

Steve continues to look guilty, and Eddie snickers under his breath. How dare he.

"I'm serious! At least go into the woods behind the cabins!" She exclaims, and then shakes her head at them, "amateurs. Me and Chrissy would never."

[ghosttotheparty]

something in the back of my mind

Eddie died.

They all know it. Robin and Nancy and Steve all checked for a pulse. Steve tried CPR while Dustin shouted and sobbed that he was going to hurt him, even as Nancy said in a voice that was much, much too soft that he was gone. Steve had Eddie’s blood on him for days, under his nails, in the creases of his palms, on his lips and chin and cheeks from trying to give Eddie the breath from his own lungs. When he finally washed it away, he fell into grief all over again, watching it run across the tile floor, down the drain.

It took him a while to give up on the CPR. It might have been hours. He doesn’t know. He only stopped when Robin physically grabbed his hands and jerked them away, and he could barely even see through his tears, but he could hear her well enough.

He’s dead, Steve. He’s gone.

He left Eddie’s bandana on his chest. He didn’t know why he did it, why he carefully, tenderly pulled it off Eddie’s head as Robin and Nancy and Dustin watched, and folded it around his hand before placing it just over where Eddie’s heart should have been beating. He’d stopped there for a few moments, just looking at Eddie’s face. It would have looked like he was sleeping if he hadn’t been torn apart. Steve fixed his hair for him, fluffed it out and smoothed it down, barely noticing when it became streaked red with blood. And then he carefully took the guitar pick hanging from Eddie’s neck, and the ring on his left hand. (He gave the guitar pick to Dustin the next day as they sat in the hospital outside Max’s room. Dustin was all out of tears by then, but he took it with a trembling hand and clutched it to his chest, his whole body shaking. Steve kept the ring for himself. He knows they all saw it on his left index finger, but no one said anything about it.)

They had to leave him there. There was no way to get him back up through the ceiling. Dustin was sobbing the whole time, crying that they had to go back, that they couldn’t just leave him there. That he needed a nice grave, or to be cremated, that they needed to love him. That it was cruel. Steve had steeled himself, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and telling him It’s not possible, Dustin. We did what we could. And Dustin had just fallen against him, holding him so tightly it hurt, crying so hard Steve could hear his voice become rough. He held him. He got Eddie’s blood in his hair.

When Steve got home, he fell apart.

There was no one around. Everyone was at home or the hospital, safe and healing, and he was…

Covered in blood. On his kitchen floor, sobbing and screaming and clutching at his shirt because it was suffocating him. Until the white tile was covered with Upside Down dirt and grime, with dark blood and tears.

It wasn’t fair, he didn’t think. Eddie had only just gotten involved. He had only wanted to help Chrissy, and now he’s in hell, bloody and eaten and raw, all alone.

If Steve had been there, maybe he would have been fine. If Steve had been there, maybe he could have fought the bats off, and Eddie would have gotten off with the same injuries Steve has. If Steve had been there, maybe he could have convinced Eddie to run. If Steve had been there If Steve had been there If Steve had been there If Steve had been there If Steve had been there

It wasn’t until two weeks later that he realised why he was grieving Eddie the way he was. Why he slept at night with Eddie’s battle vest in his arms, why he found himself staring at the ring on his finger for hours on end, why he saw Eddie’s eyes late at night when he was sleeping. (Those are good nights. All the other nights come with demon dogs and bats and blood and flashing lights. Often with one of the kids lying, unmoving, eyes staring up at the red sky, blank. Gone.)

When he realised, he couldn’t even cry. He just held Eddie’s vest tighter and closed his eyes against the dim glow of the overhead light. And wished they could have had a little more time. Wished he had kissed Eddie before they parted. Wished he had made Eddie promise to come back to him. Wished and wished and wished.

The others began to heal.

Max can’t see. Her legs are still healing, but her arms are okay aside from the occasional burst of pain, and Lucas barely lets her out of his sight. The first time he leaves her hospital room to go home, he has a panic attack. Erica helps him through with Robin, who always seems to know just what to say, what to do.

Dustin began to recover with the help of a therapist that Owens sets him up with. Steve sees her too. She’s nice, and helpful, even if Steve doesn’t feel much different than he did that first night without Eddie. When she asked how long he knew Eddie, he said quietly Not long enough. She seemed to get it.

Eddie is dead.

Everyone knows it.

The fact settled in Steve’s chest like a brick of ice that refuses to melt. He got used to it. Just like he got used to wet pillowcases under his face and Eddie’s vest resting on his chest in the morning.

Which is why he falls heavily to the floor when, two months after Eddie’s death, he hears Owens’s voice say, crackly over the phone,

“We’ve recovered Eddie Munson. He’s alive.”

• ───────────────── •

They’d gone down to try to recover his body while checking that everything was in order in the Upside Down. For Wayne.

He was breathing.

Still unconscious, unmoved, covered in dry, matted blood and torn clothing and dirt streaked with tears, but the bandana on his chest was moving up and down, and one of the men in the yellow hazmat suits said in a voice too loud, Holy shit, he’s alive.

And he was.

He is.

In a secret room at Hawkins Memorial Hospital, sitting in waiting while Owens talks to everyone in another secret room. This room has coffee that no one is drinking, and comfortable-looking chairs that no one is sitting in. They’re all listening intently to Owens, almost leaning closer to him in concentration, some of their eyes tear-filled.

He tells them.

They can go see him, but he won’t be what they’re expecting. He’s not the same Eddie.

No memory past meeting Chrissy in the woods. No good memory of anyone involved in the whole Upside Down business, only the vaguest recollections of some kids in the Hellfire Club. He’s scarred and scared and trying his hardest to not be, to pretend everything is fine. Be gentle is what Owens tells them. Don’t scare him, or startle him, be slow and patient with him when he doesn’t remember anything.

The kids go in first.

Robin and Nancy go behind them, lingering in the doorway.

But Steve stays behind, in that room with the coffee and the chairs, eyeing Owens.

“You’re not telling us something,” he says when the others are out of earshot, and Owens turns back to him with this resigned look in his eye. He shuts the door quietly.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Steve?” he says lightly, his tone too casual, too friendly for this all. Steve sits anyway.

“What’s going on?” he asks tentatively, his heart still reeling with He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive.

“You were actually the person I wanted to speak to about this,” Owens says, sitting heavily in a chair near Steve. He pauses, looking at Steve, analyzing him for a moment. “You remember… We spoke about your side effects?”

“Yeah,” Steve says suspiciously.

It was the bats. Nothing bad, he had to assure Robin after his third appointment with Owens. Just weird things that didn’t happen before the bites. Things he couldn’t do but can now. Hear things from seemingly miles away. (The kids can’t sneak up on him anymore, no matter how quiet they are. It’s like he can hear their hearts beating.) Move things he would never have been able to move before. (Which he discovered after slamming his car door shut while angry and shattering the window.) See in the dark. (This one frustrates the others the most. (Except when he breaks things.) The kids complain about how creepy it is to hear him skulking around in the dark during sleepovers, and Robin complains that she can’t see in the dark too. It’s unfair, quite frankly. He just tells her she should be glad she wasn’t maimed by demon bats.)

“We believe Eddie has something similar,” Owens says slowly, carefully. “Just… A heavier dose, in a way, of the bat venom.”

Steve blinks.

“Explain?”

“Well. You know about his blood loss.”

Steve’s stomach twists. Eddie’s bloodied limbs and chest and face flash in his mind, followed by the blood running down the drain.

“Yeah,” he says weakly, feeling sick.

“When we tried a blood transfusion it didn’t work,” Owens says. “But he woke up. And… Started drinking the blood.”

Steve blinks, confusion momentarily replacing his sickness.

“Like… Like a vampire?”

“Well.” Owens tilts his head, shrugging lightly. “Yes.”

“What… the fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Steve lowers his head to the table in front of him, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Owens waits for him.

“He’s okay, though,” he says after a few moments, lifting his head and looking at him. “Right?”

Owens’s eyes lock with his intently, his face hardening with almost uncomfortable sincerity.

“He will be.”

Steve stays in there, scratching at the wood of the table as Owens talks to him. Tells him about what Eddie needs: blood, fresh or frozen, which they’d learned through carefully monitored experiments, and endless, gentle support. He’s so confused, Owens says, his brows furrowing the first exhibition of earnest emotion that Steve’s ever seen. He always seems so put together, so professional, that it makes Steve’s chest clench.

Owens brings him a cup of coffee. Black. The way Steve likes it. Steve takes the cup, and he watches the coffee ripple as his hands tremble. He sets it down after a moment.

They told Eddie about the Upside Down. He doesn’t remember any of it. The vines, the bats. Nothing. Steve covers his face as Owens talks, taking slow, measured breaths to try and stop his eyes from stinging.

“So what do I do?” he asks when Owens finishes.

“What do you mean?”

“You said…” He pauses to clear his throat, blinking his eyes and shifting in his seat. “You said you wanted to tell me about his… condition. Or whatever. Why me? What do I do?”

“You have some experience similar to his,” Owens says gently. Steve can practically feel the teeth of the bats in his skin for a moment. The serrated tails digging into his neck, into his palms and fingers.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing the memories away with a tiny shake of his head. He does that a lot.

“And you seem to instinctively take up the role of protector,” Owens adds lightly. It makes Steve laugh. Just a little.

“Yeah.”

“He’ll be staying here for observation,” Owens says. “And then he’ll need somewhere to stay.”

“He can stay with me,” Steve says a little too quickly. His face burns, but Owens smiles softly.

“Thought you’d say that.”

He runs into Robin in the hallway on his way to Eddie’s room. (Room 236. He can’t stop repeating it in his head.)

“How is he?” Steve asks weakly. She sways forward and pulls him into a tight hug. “Like that, huh?”

“He’s confused,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “About everything. But he’s, like, doing that thing where he pretends he’s fine even though we all know he’s not.”

Steve sighs. His hands are shaking. He presses them to her back.

“He doesn’t remember us.”

“Owens said he wouldn’t.”

“He, like…” She sighs. They sway. He tightens his arms around her. She likes to be hugged tightly. “Says he recognizes us. Like he knows he knows us. But he didn’t know any of our names, or how he knows us.”

He pulls away and presses his forehead to hers, running his hands down her arms firmly as she exhales slowly.

“Was… Kinda scary.”

“‘S okay,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

He can feel her trembling. He pulls away to press a kiss to her forehead, letting her fall against him as he presses his cheek to her forehead, feeling her breath on his neck.

“Kept seeing all that blood,” Robin says weakly. His throat tightens. He sees that blood almost every night.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Steve whispers.

“I know. I know.”

He sighs, closing his eyes and swaying with her, pulling her around gently in a way that makes her exhale sharply. Her arms wrap around his waist.

“I’m nervous,” he says after a moment. “I’m gonna cry when I see him, for sure.”

“Oh, we all did,” she says, and he knows without looking at her that she’s doing that thing she does, staring wide-eyed, blankly at nothing. “So many tears. He had no idea why. I mean, he kind of did, they told him that he… you know. But it was kinda weird. But he’s also weird, so.”

He scoffs against her head.

“Didn’t even question it when Dustin almost killed him again by tackling him in a hug,” she says. Steve smiles, closing his eyes.

“Funny.”

“If I don’t laugh, I’ll… break down in tears, so.” She lifts her head, looking into his eyes. “‘S gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he sighs.

She reaches up to hold his face, squishing his cheeks between her palms.

“I can tell you’re still freaking out. Stop it.”

“It’s not entirely within my control, Robbie.” His voice is muffled, his lips squished.

“Stop freaking out. Deep breath.”

He inhales, raising his eyebrows, and she does the same, squishing his cheeks harder and suppressing a smile.

“Fishy.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Hello?”

Steve looks over Robin’s shoulder at Nancy’s voice, and Robin looks back without removing her hands from Steve’s face. Nancy is raising an eyebrow at them. Her cheeks are rosy. She’s been crying.

They all have, Steve notices as they all appear behind her. Erica is sniffling, wiping her nose with the end of her sleeve, holding onto Dustin’s arm.

“I’m emotionally preparing him,” Robin says. Her cheeks flush pink, and Steve snorts, poking her side. She yelps and lets go, smacking his cheek lightly as he snickers.

“Get outta here,” he says, looking at Dustin and lifting his chin, silently asking how he is. Dustin gives him a watery smile. Steve’s heart aches.

“You staying behind?” Nancy asks as Robin approaches them, reaching to touch Max’s head gently, fondly.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I was talking with Owens, I’m just…”

She nods, understanding.

Dustin hugs him. He’s crying again, his shoulders shaking as Steve presses his cheek to the top of his head. He feels little. Like he’s aged backwards, just a little boy again, crying into Steve’s chest.

Steve kisses the top of his head when they part.

He watches them go, lingering by a window and watching them all, watching them half-hug each other, hold each other close. Dustin is still crying. Mike pulls him into a hug outside the van.

Steve exhales slowly. His heart is beating too fast. His hands are shaking.

He wanders down the halls slowly, meandering, taking slow breaths, letting his lungs fill and empty as he counts in his head.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

His therapist calls it combat breathing. (He’s going to have to tell her about this. Seeing Eddie.) He hates that phrase, even if it’s accurate. He’s never been to combat. Not combat combat. Neither has Dustin, or Max, or Erica, or any of them. And yet.

They’ve all got it. The flashbacks. The dreams. The days they can barely get out of bed, or feed themselves. Sometimes Dustin can’t talk.

Steve stops in his tracks when he sees it.

Room 236.

He’s stuck. In the middle of the hallway. His breath catches in his throat, and he chokes a little bit, exhaling hard as he rubs his hand across his chest harshly. He only moves when a nurse looking down at her clipboard bumps into him, apologising breathily as she briskly passes by him, and he moves closer to the door. The numbers are metallic, gleaming in the too-bright fluorescent lights of the hallway.

He approaches tentatively, like he’s trying to hide, until he can see the window.

And Eddie.

He’s sitting on the bed, arms wrapped in bandages, wearing a hospital gown, looking down at a book in his lap. His curls are tied into a messy bun at the top of his head, a few escaping and brushing his neck. Steve hears him huff and watches as he tries to brush them away, but after a moment he just rips the hair tie out of his hair and reties it all, dragging his fingers through it so hard he catches tangles.

He looks away from the book, across the room at the wall, finishes his hair, and drops his arms heavily, sighing. Steve can hear it.

He’s pale. He’s almost glowing.

But the marks around his neck are dark, almost burgundy. And his cheek is mangled, part of it covered with a bandage, red and purple and pink. Steve aches.

He turns away, pressing his back to the wall next to the door, closing his eyes as his lungs constrict. He takes a slow breath, pressing his hands to his face as Eddie’s bloodied face flashes in his mind. He remembers how it smelled. His throat hurts.

It takes a while for him to breathe properly. When he gets it, he exhales sharply, huffing, pinching the bridge of his nose, and his skin tightens when he hears Eddie’s voice say, “Hello?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, scolding himself, remembering that Eddie has the same shit he does, the damn hearing and sight and fucking everything.

So he exhales again, turning around and taking the door handle, pushing the door handle before he can talk himself out of it.

“Hi,” he says quietly, stepping inside, watching as Eddie’s eyes widen. “Sorry, I was just…” He shakes his head, unsure of what he’s trying to say, stopping. The door closes behind him.

Eddie stares.

Steve hurts.

Eddie’s almost gaunt, too thin, haggard. His eyes are still shining.

“Woah,” Eddie says, staring, wide-eyed.

“Woah?” Steve questions, forcing himself to inhale. He feels like he’s on fire.

“You, uhm. Sorry.” Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. His book falls shut in his lap. “I don’t… remember.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, shaking his head, pushing his trembling hands into his pockets. “No, Owens said. It’s… It’s okay.”

“Are we friends?” Eddie asks in a small voice.

Steve blinks. His eyes burn.

“Not really,” he says weakly. “We could have been, I think. If we…” His throat tightens around his words and he pauses, swallowing, blinking. “Had more time.”

Eddie nods, unblinking.

For a while.

Steve stares back, holding tears back.

“What?” he asks after another moment, scoffing, laughing lightly, uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, finally blinking. “Just… Wondering how I could forget a face like that.”

Steve blinks. His cheeks burn.

“Oh.” He exhales, dropping his shoulders. “Okay.”

Eddie stares again. Steve lets himself stare back, watching as Eddie’s eyes narrow so slightly Steve almost doesn’t notice.

“What?” Steve asks again, whispering it.

“You look familiar,” Eddie says. “Like…” He pauses for a long stretched moment. “Like a song I’ve heard once. But don’t know the words to. You know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again. “Yeah. I mean, no, but–”

Eddie snorts, gesturing toward the chair next to his bed.

“C’mere.”

Steve takes a breath, looking at the chair like it’s about to come to life and eat him, hesitating. But he sits down heavily, staring at the floor for a moment before he looks back at Eddie.

Who’s still looking at him.

He looks almost awestruck, eyes wide and shining, almost curious.

“You don’t remember my name,” Steve says.

Eddie shakes his head before he stops, eyes narrowing again, brows furrowing. He turns a little bit toward him, setting the book aside, his fingers tangling in his lap.

“It starts with an S,” he says after a moment.

Steve’s chest clenches. He nods.

Eddie’s face lights up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie does it again, that thoughtful stare, thinking hard, like he’s trying to use telepathy.

“...Sam?”

Steve smiles, relaxing a little bit, shaking his head.

“Simon?’’

Another shake.

“Samuel– No, that’s just Sam again. Sean?”

“No,” Steve says, laughing lightly.

“Shawn? With a W. It’s different.”

Steve laughs a little harder, scrunching his nose and shaking his head. He can tell Eddie’s doing this on purpose, being silly just to make him laugh, but it works anyway.

“Fuck. Sawyer?”

“No.”

“Spencer?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Uhm.” He pauses, thinking, his eyes searching Steve’s face like he’s going to find his name written in his skin, spelled out in his moles. “S-S-Sebastian?”

Steve shakes his head, smiling.

“Jesus, how many S names are there?”

“You want me to just tell you?”

“No. Shane?”

A shake.

“Uhm.” He stares again, scrunching his nose and shrugging to himself. “Sunny.”

Steve laughs, giggles, shaking his head.

“Good God. Uhm. Smith.”

“That’s a last name.”

“Maybe your parents are weird, I don’t know.”

Steve drops his head, laughing. When he looks back up, Eddie is smiling at him, his expression soft. Too soft.

“You want a hint?” Steve asks, ignoring it.

“A little one.”

“Uh.” Steve exhales, relaxing into the chair. Eddie moves closer, his legs crossed, tugging the blanket with him. Steve tears his eyes away, looking at the ground as he thinks. “Five letters.”

“Oh, hangman?”

Steve nods.

Eddie is grinning. Steve loves his smile. There isn’t any blood in his teeth, and it makes his cheeks squish up, makes his eyes squint, makes those perfect lines form in his skin. Steve lets himself gaze as Eddie looks up at some random spot across the room blankly.

“Five letters,” Eddie repeats, his eyes jumping around, envisioning the lines. “Starts with S.”

“Mhmm.”

“...A.”

“No A.”

Eddie lifts a hand and draws a circle in the air. Steve smiles.

“E?”

“Two Es.”

Eddie’s eyebrows fly up and his eyes jump around again, the Es finding their places before he gasps, jumping and grabbing at Steve.

“Steve!”

“Yeah,” Steve says, laughing, his skin lighting up again at the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him.

“Steve,” Eddie says again excitedly, beaming brightly, shaking Steve’s shoulders. “Steve, Steve, Steve–”

Steve is giggling again. His hands find Eddie’s forearms, holding him back. His skin is cold.

“That bring anything back?” he asks when Eddie stops shaking him. Eddie’s smile falters, but it doesn’t fall. He’s still grinning at him, staring intently at him.

“No,” he says. “‘S just nice to have a name to put to a face. I think Sunny is nice, too, though.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head and letting his hands fall. Eddie is closer. Close enough that Steve can see the faint lines in his skin, that he could count his eyelashes. Eddie stares back, almost smiling, his expression light and almost careless, like he isn’t covered in bandages.

“Steve.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. Too softly. He didn’t mean to do that. But Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, just tilting his head like he’s analyzing Steve the way he is Eddie.

His eyes catch on Steve’s neck and he tilts his head the other way like a curious puppy, leaning closer and narrowing his eyes. He lifts a hand before Steve can say anything, reaching up and touching his neck lightly, tracing his scars.

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Didn’t really get it as bad as you, though.”

Eddie smiles softly, still looking, tracing so lightly that Steve almost shivers. His fingers hover over his throat, tracing a line down it, and Steve swallows nervously.

“They told me,” Eddie says quietly. “About the Upside Down and everything. About the bats.”

Steve blinks hard, staring at him as he looks at Steve’s scar.

“Pretty wild, isn’t it?” he says. His voice is quiet. If he speaks louder, it might break.

“Unbelievable,” Eddie says. “But…” He shrugs, sighing, fingertips still touching Steve’s neck. They’re not on his scar anymore, instead tracing a line in a pattern that Steve recognizes at his moles. “The blood and everything. I don’t know if Owen’s told you about that.” His eyes meet Steve’s, and Steve blinks tears back, hoping Eddie doesn’t notice them. He nods.

“He did.”

“You too?”

“Not that. But the other stuff. The… hearing. And you can see in the dark, can’t you?”

Eddie nods, cracking a small smile.

“‘S nice to not be the only one.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie is quiet. Still looking at Steve. His fingers are twisting in his lap, fidgeting with his rings absentmindedly.

“So it’s all true.”

Steve nods.

And then his eyes are welling with tears, and Eddie’s eyes are widening, and Steve chokes out, “I left you there.”

Eddie shakes his head, shifting to face him, looking at him intently.

“No, Steve, you…”

“I left you down there,” Steve says weakly as tears finally fall down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Eddie, I wanted– I wanted to bring you home, I– I–”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Eddie says gently, reaching out to touch Steve’s shoulder, holding him firmly. “You– Steve. C’mon.”

Steve gasps for breath, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward to hide his face.

“You did everything you could, man,” Eddie tells him, pulling at his shoulder, and Steve falls forward, a sob ripping its way out of his chest, and then he’s actually dying, because Eddie is pulling him into a hug, whispering quietly to him. “‘S not your fault, Steve.”

“I wasn’t there,” Steve chokes. His face is pressing into Eddie’s neck, and he draws his hands up to clutch at his hospital gown. “I wasn’t there for you, and you– you weren’t breathing, and I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie says again, more firmly this time, leaving no room for argument. He shifts to take Steve’s face between his hands.

Steve’s chest aches.

He melts.

He exhales, closing his eyes, and Eddie’s thumbs wipe away tears that fall, and Steve didn’t realise this is what he’s been missing. Eddie’s hands on his skin, his whispers just reaching Steve’s ears.

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.

A sob rips out of Steve’s chest, and Eddie pulls him closer, tugging him onto the bed and carefully pulling his head to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. His fingers are pressing into Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp, swaying with him, like he’s doing everything he can to make Steve feel better.

“God, Steve,” Eddie breathes when Steve’s crying slows, smoothing his hand over the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, pulling away, avoiding his eyes. “Jesus, you don’t even know who I am, I’m—”

“You’re Steve,” Eddie says softly, grabbing at his arms and tugging, keeping him from getting up. Steve exhales shakily, his lip trembling. “You…”

Eddie pauses, his fingers tightening on Steve’s arms. Steve can hear his heart beating.

“I don’t… remember you,” Eddie says slowly, carefully, thinking. His eyes are trained on Steve’s neck like he’s looking at his scars. “But I… I remember how you made me feel.”

Steve swallows, looking down at Eddie’s hands. He’s not wearing his rings, but Steve can see the indents of where they belong. His nails are trimmed, and clean, and Steve wonders if a nurse washed the blood away before or after he woke up.

“How did I make you feel?” he asks quietly, almost whispering.

Eddie is quiet, his jaw working, and Steve shifts to hold his arms back. His skin is cold. Steve’s thumb brushes over the bats inked into his forearm, gazing at them, wondering if Eddie looks at them differently now.

“I don’t know if I can say it,” Eddie whispers.

Steve’s stomach twists.

“You can say it,” he whispers. “Please. Say it.”

Eddie closes his eyes, sliding his hands to meet Steve’s.

“Think I… might have. Maybe. Could have. Had a crush on you.”

Steve closes his eyes. His fingers tighten on Eddie’s arms, and he exhales.

“Really?” he whispers.

He opens his eyes when Eddie doesn’t answer, and Eddie looks like he might cry, eyes wide and shining. A jolt goes through Steve when he sees them. Real. In front of him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “I don’t…” He shakes his head, hesitating. “Remember, like… Why. I guess. But you…”

He smiles a little bit, softly, almost fondly, and he lifts a hand to touch Steve’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his skin. Steve’s chest squeezes, and he can’t breathe, but he doesn’t really mind, because Eddie’s gaze is soft, and warm.

“You’re even a pretty crier,” Eddie murmurs almost absently like he doesn’t even realise he’s saying it.

Steve’s face crumbles, and he falls forward against Eddie, who catches him and mumbles a soft, “C’mere,” and pulls him closer, until Steve shifts farther onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist carefully.

“Does that hurt?” Steve asks, conscious of the stitches and bandages and tape under Eddie’s hospital gown, but Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m on so many painkillers right now, man,” he says quietly, making Steve laugh lightly, stretching his legs out slowly. “I’m totally numb.”

They fall into each other, arms wrapped around each other, and Steve’s cheek rests against Eddie’s chest, against his skin where the gown has fallen a little bit. Eddie’s fingers push into Steve’s hair again like that’s where they belong, like he does this every day.

Steve closes his eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest with every breath, on the quiet beating of his heart against Steve’s cheek.

“God, I missed you so much, Eddie,” he says weakly. Because he needs Eddie to know. Eddie’s hand slides up his arm, squeezing.

“‘M right here, Stevie.”

Steve exhales.

Eddie smells like the hospital. Sterile. But the smell of cigarettes and weed still lingers in his hair, and Steve kind of wants to sit up and bury his face in it.

He settles against Eddie’s chest, lulled to sleepiness from Eddie’s hand in his hair, his other hand tracing down his arm.

Until Eddie’s hand rests on his.

“My uncle gave me that ring,” he murmurs. Steve’s stomach drops and his eyes fly open, and he starts to sit up, reaching to take it off.

The ring he’d taken from Eddie’s lifeless hand and scrubbed clean days later, because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing any part of Eddie, even his dry blood.

“Jesus, sorry,” he mutters, face flaming, heart pounding, more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his life, because he was just sobbing into the chest of a boy that has no memory of him at all, and his cheeks still feel tacky from his tears, and Eddie fucking died and he’s the one comforting Steve, and Steve fucking stole his ring off his dead body—

“Don’t be,” Eddie says smoothly, his voice soft. His hand stops Steve’s, grabbing it and pulling him back down against him, twining their fingers. “‘S okay.”

“It’s…” Steve lets him pull him back, stiff, anxious. “I shouldn’t have taken it, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Steve,” Eddie says. “Keep it.”

“But… Your uncle…”

“He won’t mind,” Eddie says softly. “‘S okay.”

Steve hesitates for another moment before he turns and buries his face in Eddie’s chest, taking a shuddering breath.

Eddie says it one more time. Murmurs it. Breathes it.

It’s okay.

Steve believes him.

Eddie hugs him tightly, one hand sliding up to hold the back of his head.

“‘M really tired,” he mumbles. Steve opens his eyes. He must be. Waking up after dying just to find himself ravaged and wounded, learning all the shit he had to learn about the Upside Down, meeting the Party all over again.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, his arms tightening. “I don’t want you to go.” He’s quiet for a moment, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “…Will you stay?”

Steve just presses closer, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck, groaning quietly when Eddie rolls slightly, one arm around Steve’s neck, the other sliding up his arm to his shoulder, pushing his hair back. Steve shivers.

He stays awake after Eddie falls asleep, listening to every breath, to every beat of Eddie’s heart. Feeling Eddie’s fingers twisted in his overgrown hair, feeling his legs pressed up against Steve’s, and Steve kind of wishes he’d worn shorts today so he can feel their skin press, which is probably a weird desire, but what even is weird anymore?

He wants to stay awake there until Eddie wakes up, to be conscious and aware of every second he gets to have with him, but Eddie’s pulse is steady, and his skin is cool against Steve’s, and Steve starts to drift off long before he wants to.

He lets himself, because he can’t move to wake himself up without moving Eddie.

He doesn’t have any bad dreams.

Or good dreams, for that matter. For hours, until a nurse comes in to check on Eddie, Steve’s mind is peacefully, blissfully blank. Empty.

It’s awkward when they both stir to find the nurse looking down at them with a smile. Steve’s face is hot, hotter than it’s ever been, and he knows he must be fucking red as he sits up and detaches from Eddie, but the nurse just asks if they slept okay.

• ───────────────── •

“Steve, how are you today?”

“I’m alright.”

“So… A lot to talk about today.”

“…Yeah.”

“Would you like to talk about that or start like we usually do?”

“Uhm. I guess like we— like we usually do.”

“So how was work this week?”

“Okay. I’m… working on being patient with customers. Even though they’re not patient with me.”

“How are you working on that?”

“Uhm. Deep breaths and everything. Reminding myself that I’m… Like. Not responsible for how they treat me. And that, like… They might be having a shitty day. I don’t know what’s going on with them. ‘S also easier with Robin there.”

“How does Robin help?”

“Makes faces at me behind customers’ backs. Which maybe isn’t very professional, but it’s funny.”

“How’s Robin doing?”

“She’s good. She’s trying to spend more time with her dad, I think it’s going well.”

“And the kids?”

“Good. Mike asked me to teach him to drive. Begrudgingly. I think he just doesn’t want Nancy to teach him.”

“Seems like that makes you happy.”

“I guess.”

“How’s your eating been?”

“Eh. Alright. It’s… easier to eat during the day if I’m… I don’t know. Eating with Robin or bringing the kids lunch and stuff. It’s easier at night.”

“How can you work on that? Getting your nutrition during the day? Just dinner isn’t enough to nourish you.”

“Uh. I guess I could… I don’t know. Bring food with me to work?”

“That sounds like a good idea. What about keeping some in your car, too?”

“I could do that. Like crackers or something. Stuff that won’t go back in the heat.”

“That sounds good. …And how’s your sleeping?”

“…”

“…Steve?”

“Not… great.”

“Nightmares?”

“Sometimes. A lot of the time. But it’s also… Just. I don’t know. ‘S hard to fall asleep.”

“What helps?”

“…Robin sometimes. When she sleeps over, she’ll stay in my bed. ‘S nice to listen to her… breathe.”

“Are your nightmares still the same?”

“…No.”

“When did they change?”

“After… I guess we can’t really avoid talking about it that long.”

“Guess not.”

“...After Eddie came back. That night.”

“Would you like to tell me what happened in it?”

“…I was… in my room. And the— the lights started flickering. It was, uhm. Morse code. I don’t even know Morse code, but I—I recognized it in my dream.”

“Right.”

“It was…”

“…What was it saying?”

“I don’t… remember. But it was Eddie. I just… knew. He was in the Upside Down, trying to– trying to talk to me. Tell me he was alive. And I’d just… left him there. And I– I know he was dead, and it wasn’t my fault, and I did– I did everything I could, but I just…”

“What did you do when you woke up? How did you cope with it?”

“Just… moved on. I think if I— if I lingered on it, or, like, thought about it I would have just… I don’t know.”

“Do you think… maybe burying your emotions might not be the best idea?”

“I know, I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You’re allowed to have feelings, Steve. I know you weren’t allowed when you were little, but you are now. And I know you know it’s unhealthy to suppress them.”

“I know.”

“…What was it like seeing Eddie again?”

“…Sorry.”

“It’s okay to cry, Steve.”

“I know. It was, uhm. I don’t know.”

“…”

“I think I was just, like. Confused. I guess.”

“What was confusing?”

“Just… I don’t know— I mean, I grieved for him. I mourned. And then he… Like, obviously I’m happy he’s back, and I’m— I’m so happy he’s okay, I’m really really happy, I just… Why does it feel like I’m grieving all over again?”

“...Do you think it may have something to do with that he doesn’t remember you?”

“Probably. It’s just… I don’t know. Frustrating. I shouldn’t be grieving him when he’s right there in front of me.”

“Steve, you’re allowed to feel whatever it is that you feel.”

“I know. ...It’s hard being around him. But I also don’t want to leave him.”

“What’s hard?”

“...Remembering. And just… God, the way he looks at me.”

“How does he look at you? Why is it upsetting?”

“He… He looks at me like he remembers me. But also like he’s trying to figure me out. He doesn’t remember me, he told me. But he said that he… remembers how he felt about me.”

“How did he feel about you?”

“...”

“When you told you, whatever it is, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, was it upsetting? Or did it bring you peace?”

“...Both? …I think I’m just tired.”

“Are you letting yourself rest?”

“...I’m trying.”

• ───────────────── •

read the rest on ao3 bc this ended up being over 30k oops lmao

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