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ghostheartfelt · 1 year ago

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*:･｡☆ tags: cafe cuteness (fr), regular customer au, sunshine reader, grown attachments, pervert!venom, fem!reader, first introduction, no use of y/n, she/her prns used

〔☆〕 desc: you meet eddie during morning rush hour, vv understanding man who admires your connection with your customers and dedication towards your job. eddie's hungry for chocolate (n you), you pique interest in the host and his symbiote. very calm and soft start<3 u get both povs basically cause the way i write can b confusing :)

.. ☆ next part | masterlist (tbe)

—✩ RUSH HOUR P. ⅰ ✩—

word count — 1.7k

a/n: u get both povs basically cause the way i write can b confusing :)

Rush hour, you thought.

Your coworkers were racing in and out of the kitchen holding platters of fresh baked muffins and pitchers of orange juice.

In the evenings, the café is quieter and calmer - in the mornings, not so much.

You turned as someone called your name and nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Can you get the back left corner table napkins and jelly packets, please? That old woman is just about ready to throw her handbag at me,” your coworker, Becc (short for Becca), had asked you while balancing dirty plates going down both of her forearms.

“Yes, yes, I can—“ you nodded, waving her off as you rushed to the check-in desk, grabbing at a few jelly packs; orange marmalade, grape, and strawberry, as well as a new pack of napkins.

You did as Becc asked, bringing the items to the old woman who indeed was clutching her blue leather snakeskin handbag. “Sorry, ma’am, we’re a bit busy this morning.”

With no reply, she snagged an orange marmalade jelly packet from your hand as you were placing them on the table, causing you to flinch at the sudden action.

You as well unpackaged the napkins and placed them in the metal stand, then fixed your apron and walked back to the front desk as the welcoming bell’s ringing filled your ears.

A male in an olive green jacket and denim jeans, a gray undershirt, and black converse made his way towards the dine-in counter where you stood behind.

He had a scruffy yet handsome face, his hair slightly unkempt but in a way that you admired him. Your cheeks slightly flushed.

“Good morning,” he nodded at you respectfully.

“Good morning,” you replied, “just a table for one?”

You picked up a menu, clutching it to your chest as your fingers trace along the plastic cover.

“Yeah,” his eyes nervously dragged around though you let it go and took it in as some sort of social anxiety.

“Right this way, sir,” you lead the way, your head turning over your shoulder to make sure he hadn’t zoned out, turning it once again at the sight of him trailing behind.

“Will this booth work for you?” you placed the menu down and he slid it over with his thumb and pointer finger.

“Oh, yeah, nice cushioning,” he laughed nervously.

“Perfect - any drinks to start you off? Perhaps an O.J, or a coffee?” you straighten your posture, your shoulders slouched awkwardly.

“Coffee sounds great, side of cream of sugar, if that’s okay?” he looked up at you.

You were a nervous wreck, and he could tell - they could tell.

“I’ll have that right out for you,” you turned and took a step, though he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Shit, sorry, just uh—can I get a chocolate muffin as soon as possible?” his lips overlapped one another as he let go, though you blinked and smiled.

“Of course, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you’d like anything on the side.” You bit your bottom lip with embarrassment.

The man was rather distracting, your eyes dragging over and analyzing every feature his face held. He had blue eyes with soft bags, tiresome dark circles and a muscular build. You had an oddly specific type.

“Oh, no, don’t apologize,” he scoffed with a small smile.

You smiled back and turned on the heels of your white sneakers and headed to the kitchen.

“SHE SMELT DELICIOUS,” a deep and grim voice echoed in the brunette’s mind.

“Quit smelling random people like some pervert, V,” the man whispered to himself.

“NOT RANDOM, JUST HER,”

“Well, we can’t eat her,” he bit the flesh on the inside of his cheek as he looked outside the window, his forehead in the palm of his hand.

“WE WILL NOT,” the voice snarled deeply. “GET TIRED OF CHICKENS.”

“I know, V, but you can’t just go around the city beheading random people, so for right now we need to deal with chickens.” He grunted.

“BUT THEY ARE BAD, BAD PEOPLE SHOULD SUFFER AND DIE,” the voice grew louder, irritated by his response. “WE KILL, WE SAVE!”

“Yeah, well, we kill, we also risk our lives, V.”

“SHE IS COMING,” it snarked, evading his head.

The brunette turned his head to watch you walk over to his booth, a muffin and a cup of coffee on a large round tray that you balanced on your open palm, waving at frequent customers with a tug at both corners of your lips.

“I’m sorry for the wait, sir,” you grab the plate and set it on the table along with the mug of java.

“Just call me Eddie,” he nodded as thanks, taking a bite out of the muffin.

You introduced yourself, drumming your fingers on your server book before opening it. “Did you want anything else this morning, Eddie?” You clicked your fuzzy purple pen as you spoke with a bubbly voice.

“WE LIKED THAT,” the voice boomed through his head again causing Eddie to swallow thickly.

“I think we—I’m okay,” he stammered slightly, a nervous smirk curving one corner of his mouth upward.

He was cute, your hip dropped to the side slightly. You bit your lip to suppress a smile, instead giving a small laugh.

“Just wave at me when you’re ready for your bill, okay?” you close the book and turn once again to assist another table.

“HUNGRY,”

“Alright, V, just hold on a second,” Eddie peeled back the cover on the small creamer packet, then poured it into the coffee along with two packets of sugar.

Your fingers dig into the pocket of your apron to take out a few crayons wrapped in plastic and place them on the table along with a kids menu. A small ravenette boy with curly locks and smooth dark skin smiled at you brightly as he took out the green crayon and coloured in the small dinosaurs sprinkled across the kids menu.

“Thank you,” his mother sipped her cup of hot tea, her french-tip nails clicking against the glass as she loops her finger through the handle.

“Of course, what can I start you two off with this morning?” you leaned on your toes, then met back with the ground.

“For him, I think just a small pancake—“ she gently tapped the boy’s knuckles with her thumb, then began signing in what you assumed was American sign language.

You observed closely, watching in awe as he signed back to his mother, an exciting smile never leaving his face as he signed a “thank you,” to you.

You knew a bit of signing from your highschool years, so you replied with “you’re welcome,” enthusiastically, hugging yourself to gesture an air hug.

“A pancake is fine for him, some fruit on the side?” she smiled. “Is pot roast on the menu right now, dear?”

“Yes, there’s about ten more minutes until it’s done, if that is alright with you?” you wrote down the mention of extra fruit in your book.

“As long as it’s fresh, am I right?” she let out a heartwarming laugh, earning a small giggle from you as well. “Oh, and three cornbread biscuits.”

“That’s when it’s best, and sounds great - any juice for the little one?” your eyes dragged over to him craning his neck to sip out of the plastic cup of water that was given to his mother with her tea. Your heart fluttered with baby fever.

She caught his attention once more, signing with her fingers.

“Sprite, thank you,” the mother rejoiced.

You toyed with the hem of your apron. “I’ll have it right out for you two,” you scrambled toward the kitchen.

“WHERE DID SHE GO?”

“She’s helping others,” Eddie swirled the little bit of cold coffee in the bottom of his cup, slowly adjusting himself as he watched you set down a small plastic cup with a yellow lid in front of a child, then a bowl in front of his mother.

You place a straw on the table, then walk back to the brunette who had introduced himself as “Eddie”, which you admired. It fit his face well.

“I’m so sorry for the wait, Eddie,” you smile nervously with your eyebrows pinched together as you hand him his bill and a pen.

“Hey, it’s no problem, seriously.” He took it from your hands, scanning it over. “Thank you,”

“Of course,” you quipped. “Tell me if you need anything, I’ll be back,”

“LITTLE MORSEL,” the voice purred. “WILL WE COME BACK, EDDIE?”

Yeah - yeah, we will, V. Eddie watched you leave to assist another group of people walking into the small café as he took out his wallet, setting down two twenty dollar bills for a tip and his credit card for the rest.

“WANT TO MEET HER,” it grunted.

No, we might never even see her again.

“YOU ARE A LOSER.”

You sped back over, exhaling heavily. “It’s getting busier and busier, I’m sorry for the delay of getting you out the door,”

“No need for all the apologies, seriously,” he scoffed.

“Right, sorry—“ you blinked. “The tip, Eddie, that’s so much,”

“THAT SOUNDS—“

Knock it off, perv.

“I was a journalist, that’s nothing to me,”

Your cheeks flushed, but you thanked him again and guided him to the front desk.

“Any chance you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“YES!” it boomed.

“Actually, I won’t,” you hum sadly.

“NO—“ it snarled.

“But I work every Wednesday through Saturday,” you smiled.

“Okay, good to know,”

Your heart thumped in your chest, you were frozen in place in fear of him actually having the ability to hear, which Eddie himself couldn’t - but he could.

“SHE IS NERVOUS, EDDIE,”

Of us?

“OF YOU,”

Did Eddie want to get to know you more? Or possibly were you just that good of a waitress? God, now you were really overthinking things - is that why he tipped you so much? Did he not actually pique interest in you?

“Are you alright?”

You were so captivated in thought you hadn’t even realized you were still holding the brunette’s credit card in the machine; blinking for you to take it out - you felt your ear tips heat up.

“Sorry, I space out sometimes,” you gently pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, which he grabbed with two fingers.

“Not a problem,” there was a genuine tone on his tongue that delivered you some comfort.

“Have a great day, Eddie,” you waved to him as he left the building which he warmly returned; your heart feeling a sudden loneliness as he escaped your peripheral view.

#eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock brain rot #marvel x reader #eddie brock x y/n #eddie brock x you #eddie brock x venom x you #eddie brock x venom x reader #venom x reader #venom and eddie #cafe au #frequent customer #ghostheartfelt writing #ghostheartfelt

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thisapplepielife · 5 months ago

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Written for @steddieangstyaugust.

Never Not Mine

Prompt #1 - Second Chances | Word Count: 3240 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sex, Mentions of Alcohol, Possessiveness | POV: Steve | Tags: Past Break-Up, Exes-to-Lovers, Motorcycle Riding Eddie, Seeing Your Ex in a Bar, Steve's Gonna Get Eddie Back, He Just Hasn't Decided Yet If That Means Marrying Him, Or Trashing His Bike

Also available right here on ao3.

They've ended up at the same bar.

Steve isn't sure how the fuck that happened. Of all the bars in Chicago, Eddie Munson is in his regular haunt? It's bullshit. If Steve knew he was gonna run into his ex-boyfriend, the one that yanked out his heart and stomped all over it, he would have dressed for the occasion.

Not that he doesn't look good. He does. And he's aware of it. He's come into himself over the past few years. Robin whines that it's unfair that he's the one between them that had a glow-up, but tonight, it seems very fair and perhaps the whole reason for it.

It's as if the universe knew it was gonna be thrusting Eddie Munson back into his path, and as his reward, at least he'd look this fucking good.

And now Eddie's seen him, so he can't just fucking ignore him. Well. He could. But it might be more fun to flip the script and make Eddie suffer. Just a little. Eddie sure didn't hesitate to make Steve suffer when he wrecked their relationship, and then ran and hid like a goddamn coward.

Eddie's smirking, and Steve plans to wait for him to fix his fucking face before he approaches. Make him second-guess if it's even gonna happen or not.

Steve can tell Eddie still wants him, just by the way he's looking him up and down, hungry. Eddie fucking wishes. He had his chance, and Steve would have loved his stupid ass forever if Eddie had just let him.

So, Steve goes to the other end of the bar, strolling up and leaning down against the top, elbows on the wood, putting his finger up, signaling that he wants one. Kyle, the bartender, knows what he orders and slides him his usual without a word, just a big smile.

Steve tips well, and pretends he doesn't see Eddie watching the entire exchange, jealousy seeping from his pores.

There's a guy sitting on the stool right next to him, and when he looks Steve over hungrily, Steve squeezes his shoulder. He's not interested, not really, but Eddie doesn't need to know that.

Eddie's still watching him, but the stupid smirk is gone, so Steve finally approaches him.

"Small world," Steve says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Come here often?" Eddie asks, and Steve rolls his eyes at the stupid pick up line, as he slides onto the open stool beside him.

"All the time," Steve says, "unless you're planning on being here. Then I can find somewhere new."

He doesn't mean it, Eddie's not taking his fucking bar from him, but he wants to turn the knife, just a little. Get him back for all the bullshit he put him through, all those years ago.

Eddie might think he has the upper hand here, as the one that broke their relationship off. But Steve can see it in his eyes, the regret, and Steve knows he's gonna win this one. It's gonna go his way, whichever way that might be.

Eddie will be the putty, easily molded to his will. He'll make sure of it.

"Might just make you," Eddie says, "it's nice in here."

"You can certainly try," Steve answers, and the guy from earlier has scooted down until he's sitting at Steve's other side.

Steve swivels on his stool, smiling at the guy, "Hi."

"Is that your boyfriend?" he asks, looking around Steve to see Eddie.

Steve turns back and looks at Eddie, "He used to be."

Eddie's hand clamps down on his thigh, and it feels like lightning riding his veins. A jolt.

His body demanding that bygones be bygones.

Goddamnit.

Steve rolls his eyes, like Eddie is being dumb, but makes his excuses, and the guy is charmed, not mad, when Steve turns back towards Eddie.

Only then does Steve acknowledge the death grip Eddie has on him.

"Well, I can see you still want me," Steve says, stirring his drink, as Eddie squirms on his stool, "Don't you?"

And Eddie's hand lets go, like he's been burned.

Steve takes it as a win. Another small tally in the 'you rule' column, while Eddie racks up the 'you sucks' all for himself.

They make small talk. About their mutual friends that had been divided and divvied up during the great war that became their break-up. Steve got Robin, of fucking course, and Eddie got Gareth and the rest of the band, but that left Henderson shuttling back and forth, knowing better than to even dare breathe the other's name.

If Henderson caused this, if he gave up Steve's bar to this degenerate ex of his, Steve's gonna kill that kid. Slowly.

Steve goes to the bathroom, and when he looks into the mirror, he sees that Eddie has followed, and is standing behind him. Of course he did. He's never had an ounce of self-control.

There was a time Steve loved that. Loved the feeling of riding along as a passenger to Eddie's storm. The shitty van, that turned into a fixer-upper bike, that eventually turned into a nicer vintage bike that Steve loved sitting behind him on. Wind in his hair, holding on as they moved as one.

Eddie was a tornado, and Steve was just sucked into the vortex he'd chosen, just waiting to be spit back out.

And he was.

He'd have held on forever, but Eddie let go, and that was that.

Steve's still mad about it, honestly. He's never gotten over it. Over him. The one that got away. As fucking cliche as that sounds.

Eddie got away, and Steve couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Steve asks, wheeling on him.

He shoves right up against Eddie, and Eddie presses his chest right back against him. Not backing down, either of them. Then they're grabbing at each other so hard that if anyone saw them doing it, they'd probably both leave here handcuffed, suspected of being involved in a bar brawl.

This isn't that.

This is more heated, more desperate, more personal than that.

Eddie grabs a fistful of Steve's hair and pulls his head back, baring his throat, that he immediately latches his mouth to, sucking so hard Steve knows he's gonna have a huge, fucking hickey.

At his age.

He can't find it in himself to care, though, not really.

But he shoves Eddie off of him, hard, because he's not getting the upper hand. Not now, not tonight, not ever again. Eddie can be cornered for a bit, Steve thinks, as he pushes Eddie up against the bathroom wall, trapping him there, leaning forward and biting his lip, hard. And Eddie moans, right into his mouth as Steve slides both of his hands up under Eddie's leather jacket, squeezing his sides.

"I have a boyfriend, you know," Eddie says, half-hearted, even as he chases Steve's lips. His touch.

"Yeah, well, I got someone, too," Steve lies. He suspects Eddie is lying as well. He doesn't know why. He came here, and Steve suspects he came looking just for him. Did his research, somehow, and showed up.

Now, he's getting exactly what he asked for.

Steve pulls back, and then looks right into Eddie's eyes, "You were never not mine."

And Eddie whines, low in his throat, then scrabbles at him, clawing at his back through his jacket, his shirt, trying to get a hold of him in some way. Like he's desperate.

Fucking good.

He should be desperate.

"No matter where you went, no matter who you fucked," Steve says, low and a little threatening, "no matter whose hole you used, or what dick was inside you, you always knew you were ruined for anyone else. Didn't you?"

Eddie nods, pathetically, "Ruined. So ruined."

Steve yanks Eddie into the open bathroom stall, locking the door behind them. Then he pushes all his weight against Eddie, restricting his movements. He isn't sure what he's gonna do with him. Not really. Get him back, somehow. Whether that's petty revenge or marrying the stupid fucker, he hasn't decided yet.

"What are you gonna do to me?" Eddie asks, big eyes boring into Steve's soul.

"Haven't decided yet," Steve says, then he leans back, bracing himself against the other wall of the bathroom stall, "How about you try and convince me, one way or the other?"

And Eddie's nodding, head bobbing up and down, hair flying, even as he sinks to his knees in the dirty stall.

They're disheveled, and it's obvious what they've been doing, but Steve can't find it in himself to care.

Steve holds onto Eddie's hand, pulling him, even if he's not exactly sure where he's headed.

But Steve sees the bike, and he's pretty sure it's not the same one Eddie had when they were last together, but he can still tell it's Eddie's. Would recognize it anywhere, even if he's never seen it before in his entire life.

Steve walks over to it and stands beside it.

"What makes you think this is mine?" Eddie asks, but he's fishing the keys out of his leather jacket, and Steve lets him get on, barely, before he's swinging his leg over, climbing on behind him.

Yeah, he should wait, but they've done this song and dance a million times.

It's literally like riding a bike.

He hugs his body close to Eddie's, smelling the leather of his jacket as he presses his face to Eddie's back, as Eddie kicks the bike to life.

And once they pull away, Steve remembers everything he's ever known, and leans with Eddie as Eddie takes them wherever he wants. Somewhere with a bed, preferably.

Steve loves this feeling, the synchronicity of following Eddie's movements, like second-nature. Eddie takes a corner, and Steve shifts his head, tucking to the inside. He doesn't have to think about it. Eddie leans, he leans. Their weight moving together. It's fluid, and comfortable, just as it always was.

Steve meant it when he said Eddie wasn't getting the upper hand again. If he wants to fuck, he can just roll the fuck on over, then.

"Roll over," Steve commands, and Eddie does it. Bare ass staring right back at Steve. His own name, still there, tattooed dark against his skin, branding him.

Steve slaps it, "What'd I say? I told you that you were still fucking mine."

"I'm yours," Eddie mumbles into the pillow that his face is smashed against, as he raises his hips up, wanting.

Steve reaches over to the nightstand, and yanks open the drawer. The second one, not the top one, because he still knows Eddie.

He pulls out the bottle of lube, a couple strips of condoms and wraps his fingers around the sex toy he sees there.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks. It's fucking huge, colorful, and bulging in places Steve's never seen a sex toy bulge before.

"If you're good, maybe you'll find out sometime soon," Eddie says, and maybe he'll find out right now, and use it on Eddie.

He puts it on the bed, and Eddie says, softer this time, the bravado and bluster gone, "No. Not tonight, I want you."

If Steve's hand is shaking, just a little as he puts it back, at least Eddie won't know.

"Whatever," Steve says, even if he feels anything other than whatever about what's happening right now.

They're both vers, that's nothing new. But more often than not, Eddie wanted to fuck him. And Steve wanted him to do just that, and it was only because Steve knows how much he loves it, that he was gonna deny him.

But the fact that Eddie's desperate and begging for him tonight, is intoxicating. Nobody is getting denied here, and that's just fine.

Steve chooses between the two kinds of condoms, and rips open one of the foil packets, because he's not new at this, and doing it first, before the lube is involved is the smart move.

Only then, does he uncap the lube, slicking up his fingers, and pressing one right inside Eddie, who relaxes and lets him. They still know each other better than they know anyone else on earth. At least in this way. Yeah, he shares a brain with Robin, but he can read every minute shift in Eddie's body.

He clamps his palm down over the tattoo of his own name. The one Eddie never removed, even when he was purging many others he'd grown tired of. Steve's not a faded scar on Eddie's body, on his ass. No, he's bold and black, still making his mark. Still marking his claim, lingering in his rightful place in the world.

And Steve squeezes it with his free hand, making his point.

Steve slides his finger in, knuckle catching on his rim on the way in and out, and Eddie whines every fucking time it happens. So, he does it again. And again.

Then, when he's ready, slides in two. Then, three.

Eddie takes them all, takes everything Steve is giving him, and acts like he still wants more.

Steve knows that feeling. He's always wanted more from Eddie. He doesn't ask if he's ready. He knows he is.

So, Steve grabs the condom, pulls it from the opened wrapper and slides it down his dick. It fits like a fucking glove.

"Why are you still keeping condoms in my size?" Steve asks, rubbing the head of his dick against Eddie's hole.

"Guess I have a type," Eddie says, face against the pillow, "girthy."

Steve laughs, and swats him on the ass, "Knees."

Eddie forces himself up onto his knees, and Steve slides off the edge of the bed, pulling Eddie until he's backed up to the edge.

Standing behind him, he pushes the head of his cock against Eddie's opening, waiting for the give, waiting for Eddie to take him inside.

Eddie pushes back against him, and he slides right in, like he's been doing this for all the years they've been apart. Like, no time has passed. They still know each other that well, and Steve bottoms out, making Eddie moan and groan about it.

"Feels good," Eddie says.

"Better than whatever that horse cock is in your drawer?" Steve asks, staying settled. Making Eddie wait.

Eddie's breathing hard, but Steve knows he still can't resist answering, he never can.

"It's a wyvern cock, thank you very much. But you could get a horse one, if that's what turns you on," Eddie smarts off, and Steve grins. He's still a fucking nerd, that hasn't changed, obviously.

Steve adjusts, and aims right for Eddie's prostate. He knows what works on this man, and he damn well should, as many times as they've done this dance together.

Eddie whines, and hangs his head.

"I asked if this was better?" Steve repeats, hammering his hips into Eddie's ass, as Eddie claws at the bedsheets.

"Yes," Eddie breathes out.

"Yes, what?" Steve asks again, just playing with him, because he can. Because Eddie loves it.

"Yes, you're better. You've always been better."

Steve believes it, because Eddie's always been better, too. Nothing has even come close to comparing.

And Steve grips his hips at that, and starts grinding into him. A steady, solid roll of his hips, slow, but fucking perfect. Eddie makes a broken noise, and that's all it takes for Steve to start fucking him in earnest. Not hard, not soft, just fucking right. Just like Eddie has always preferred.

Eddie shifts under him, bracing one arm in front of his face, leaning his forehead down against his forearm, and Steve remembers this move. It makes his heart squeeze and beat a little faster in his chest, but he frees up his hand from Eddie's hip, and is ready when Eddie reaches his free hand back.

Steve laces their fingers together, holding his hand, holding on. To him, to them, to this moment.

In case this is it.

It's not it.

It'll never be it.

"I'm sorry," Eddie breathes out, "I love you."

And Steve's hips stutter, the rhythm suddenly lost as he pushes deep, leaning over Eddie's back as best he can without knocking him down to the bed, and kisses his shoulder, the back of his neck, "I love you, too. You're never leaving me again."

Eddie shakes his head, his back heaving, "Never."

Steve keeps fucking him. Keeps loving him, has never stopped. Not for a minute.

When Eddie comes, he clenches down on Steve, crying out, squeezing his hand as tight as he can.

Steve squeezes back, and keeps fucking into him, even through the grip Eddie's got on him.

His orgasm is building, building, building and he finally just lets go. Shoving as far into Eddie as he can, groaning as he empties into the condom.

Steve breathes for a second before pulling out, having to let go of Eddie's hand to do it, and he steps back from the bed, sliding the used latex off of his cock. Eddie rolls over onto his back, and watches.

Then, opens his arms, an invitation.

One Steve's gonna fucking take. No question.

He tosses the tied-off condom in the general direction of the trash, making Eddie laugh, as Steve puts his knee on the bed, dipping down with it, as he crawls over on top of Eddie, and makes himself comfortable.

Eddie immediately wraps him up in a hug, fingers dancing along his spine.

Steve lets Eddie hold him, face tucked into his neck. He could fall asleep right here, and it'll be the best sleep he's had in years. He's sure of it.

Just as Eddie's hands start to slow, Steve speaks up, "If you really have a boyfriend, you're gonna have to take care of that."

Eddie laughs, his chest rumbling against Steve's, "I don't. I just wanted you to be jealous."

Steve could lie, could do lots of things, but he tells the truth instead, "Yeah, well. I've been jealous since the day you left me."

Eddie makes a noise, and Steve presses his lips to Eddie's neck.

"I really do love you," Eddie says, "if you wanna risk trying to love me back again, I swear I'm ready this time."

"I don't need to try," Steve says, "this love I have for you has been my constant fucking companion, even when I had nowhere to put it."

Eddie cups the back of his head, and holds him close, "Robin told me your favorite bar. I've been there, off and on, for a month. Never catching you."

Steve laughs. Robin. He should have known.

"Don't be mad at her," Eddie adds.

"Oh, I'm definitely mad at her," Steve laughs, "but I'm happy, too. And it finally makes sense why she was so fucking interested in how my nights out have gone lately."

Eddie laughs, and Steve loves the sound. Has always loved it.

"Guess she'll finally hear what she's been waiting on, come tomorrow," Steve laughs.

"I'm sorry you need to give me a second chance," Eddie says, fingers tangled in Steve's hair, stroking his scalp gently. "I shouldn't have squandered the first one."

"No, you shouldn't have," Steve laughs, but he's happy to take this gift. From Robin. From Eddie. From the universe.

They didn't get right the first time, but maybe they will the second.

Goddamn. He sure hopes so, anyway.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieangstyaugust and follow along with the fun angst! 😭

Notes: Inspired by the song imgonnagetyouback by Taylor Swift.

#steddieangstyaugust #second chances #steddie fic #stranger things #exes to lovers #steve harrington #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieangstyaugust

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agirlwholovesrockstars · 3 months ago

Text

°𝄞 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 °𝄞

☆ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 ☆

"You're from another time, are you?"

♬♪ 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 ♬♪

ᯓ★ previous chapter | next chapter ★ᯓ

✶࿐ Summary : you're getting the hang of it all but why does it seems to backfire everytime you try to prevent it?

✶࿐ Word Count : I hope the length is fine

✶࿐ Warnings : 18+ Eddie Munson x Future!FEM!reader, cursing, use of y/n, time travel, upside down, mentions of bullying, toxic!boyfriend, false accusation, heated argument, slight allusions to r*cism, Aaron is one of Jason's goons, this will have a brief Gareth's POV, reader being a hopeless romantic, Chrissy and reader blossoming friendship, Jason Carver once again reoccurring lol, everyone is afraid to leave one alone, NO SPOILERS! 🤭

✶࿐ What to Expect : ANGST AND FLUFF!, comedy, romance, fantasy, sci-fic, reader lives in 2024!

✶࿐ Note To Reader : y'all this is only the beginning of the angst! the next part will go crazy too but you're going to love it, I promise you that! ;))

✶࿐ Author Note : this is all you've been waiting for the Wanted! Eddie hiding everywhere as he possibly can but....a hint of him and readers relationship perhaps? 👀

𓆩♱𓆪 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𓆩♱𓆪

❦ 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙖'𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙖𝙜𝙚 ❦

"Y/N?" he says softly laced with concern

Your eyes stings from the tears that are gathering in your waterline as you try to remain your composure

"H-Hi- I-I'm sorry, I just needed some air" you voice cracks as you tried to hide your face away from Eddie's sight

He looked back at Steve's house and back to you, "Did the news made you upset?"

It shivers you timbers from the words that he just said, you avoided that to happen right?

Does it bound to happen to him?

Does it meant to happen to him?

Whatever you do to cement that event it always finds its way to ruin his life?

"It shouldn't be like this" you frustratedly said as you sniffle

"Jason has always been like that, sweetheart, you don't have to be upset, I'm used to it" he walks over to you by the front so he can see you properly

Oh, poor him, he has no idea, he doesn't know, he doesn't know what's coming

"E-Eddie, this is different from what Jason has done to you"

"How different?"

"He wanted to do something else to you, something that is inhumane"

He chuckles dryly, "Y/N, the whole town knows that I am a trailer trash and a school freak, this is no new to me-"

"This is no laughing matter, Eddie, I am upset because I made sure this won't happen to you and to anyone who is affected by the cause of it"

He has now become shaken by the change of your tone and he knows your mind might overdrive at how many non-stop thoughts going through your head

"Wait, you said it before that I can't walk around freely...."

You watch him as he begin to place the puzzles into his mind

"Is it happening now?"

"Y-Yes"

"Fuck- w-what should we do?"

Before you can answer, Dustin, Steve everyone emerge outside as they quickly went to their respective vehicles

"What's going on?"

"It's Lucas, he needs a lift before Jason catch him" Steve runs a stressful hand through his hair as he goes in the driver's seat

"Do you know something about this, Y/N?" Dustin asks you before he throws his bagpack into the passenger's seat

"Yeah, I do, I'm coming with you-"

Without any word, Eddie takes your hand and leads you to his van, you saw how determined he is to make this all of this shit go away

You would've been blushed by the way he snaps in your seatbelt despite under the circumstances

All of you drove off to find Lucas and hopefully....

Hopefully, that he is safe

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"He is a fucking traitor"

"I'm gonna break his face"

"Not even a traitor but a liar too"

"What-"

"You know what he said back in our place right? that he knew about D&D shit but he just changes his answer that his younger sister was the one who is playing it, we've been fooled"

"Deceived, we we're deceived by him"

Patrick and Aaron both looked at him in the rearview mirror

"This....This is a part of their doing, don't you guys see it? they're deceitful because they're doing the devil's work"

"How are we able to stop them?"

"Yeah, we don't even know where they are"

Jason laughs evilly, "Don't worry, fellas, I already erupted a plan and it will work"

He then turns on the radio and it's revealed that he's the one who started it all

The rumor, the false rumor that the town is still carrying for all of these years, a lot of conspiracies circled around throughout the years

But this time? You will never ever allow it to happen

No matter it could cost your life

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"El? You got a phone call"

"From who?"

"It's your friends back in Hawkins" Joyce places a big smile on her face, El lighted up but slowly fades slightly as she already knew the call what is for

She looked back at Will who is already staring at her who is thinking the same thing

El stands up from the couch as Will takes her hand and squeeze for a reassurance that everything is going to be okay

Joyce gave El a gentle hold on her shoulder as she hands her the phone, she gave her a small smile as she leaves

"Hello?"

"Hi"

The voice, she doesn't recognize this voice, she never heard of it, but why does it feel that she is close to you?

"I-I'm Y/N by the way, I'm with your friends, they're here, and I'm sorry that I disturb you at this hour, it's just- it's important that I have to call you"

"You're from another time? are you?"

Will gave her a confused look but then he starts to put all the pieces together from what she just told him

It all makes sense now

You steady your breath but also you're perplexed as to why she already knew, "Y-Yeah- wait, how'd you know?"

"It's kinda hard to explain but I could tell you soon but why did you call?"

"Hopper.... Hopper is alive"

She almost dropped the phone and you can hear her staggering breathing, "W-what did you just say?"

"He's alive a-and Joyce and Murray are embarking on a mission to rescue and find him and Yuri is the guy who is a charlatan, he's untrustworthy but-"

"B-but- but- w-what"

"He's the only guy who can take them off from where Hopper is, I just- I'm so sorry, if I'm saying this to you now-"

"N-No, it's fine, you're from the future and I actually thought highly of you"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I know my friends are safe when they're with you"

You smile for a second as you become serious again, "El, I know it isn't my place to say something about what you're dealing with and you don't know me but I understand how you feel at school because I was also at your shoes too, already dreading the day heading to school and it's.....very hard to mingle with other people who doesn't have any interest with you"

A faint tear slides through El's cheek as she takes a shaky breath, you can hear her sniffle behind the phone as you smile empathetically as if she can see you

"But one thing I know is for sure is that you don't have to put pressure on yourself just so you can be liked by other people who doesn't even deserve your wants as a friend"

There's a couple of beats of silence and you begin to think that you might have crossed over too much until she spoke again

"T-Thank you, Y/N, that's very kind of you to say, it helped me eases out what just happened earlier today" she chuckles lightly as you huff over the receiver

You looked over at your side, Dustin who is waiting impatiently, you roll your eyes playfully at him, "It's nice talking to you, El, I hope I can meet you and take care"

"You too, Y/N"

"Oh, Dustin wants to talk to you-" "Gimme that!" El giggles at the urgency and the rustling sounds of the cord

"Was it always like that?"

"Like what?"

"It feels so weirdly natural talking to her"

"Oh- god, tell me about it, everybody does but El, she's real, we can trust her"

"I know"

"El....I think the gates are opening up once again"

"What?!?"

Dustin gives El all of the full details of what just happened recently and the fact that it's not even one week yet when it feels like it's been so many things already happened around the town

Before he ends the call, El told him that he will tell it to everyone at home

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"We don't even know if we could trust him" Dustin mutters as he averts his eyes to somewhere else as Steve tries to extinguish the tension between the two teens

"Dude, if you got something to say-" Lucas stood up and Max alerted from the sudden action as she darts her eyes back to him and Dustin

"Okay, guys back up-" Steve tried to hold off Dustin but he swats his hands off of him as he walks forward to Lucas

"Lucas, don't-" Max saids firmly as she gives him a look but he needs this confrontation

"You know all what you care for is yourselves" Lucas presses as Dustin grips his fists

"Oh, how dare you to call us selfish when you fucking left us in the first place because of your stupid dream"

"Can't you just look harder??? Dustin??? You're so self-centered that you thought anyone around you is doing okay-"

Dustin pushed him by the chest and then Lucas pushes him harder knocking him off but before he hits the ground Steve catches him

You, Eddie, Chrissy, Gareth, Jeff, Lewis, Robin, Nancy and Fred overheard the rise of their voices across from the gasoline station as all of you ran out to them leaving the payphone behind

"Hey! Knock it off the both of you!"

You blocked them in the middle as you stand there looking at them in disappointment

"What happened?!?" Eddie demands as he looks at everyone

Steve huffs, "These two got into a fight, I tried to stop them-"

"You should've have let me-" Dustin tries to reach out to Lucas but you guarded him

"That's enough, kid!" Steve angrily pulls Dustin away from Lucas

"I wish I was never your friend!"

"All I wanted was all of you to support me instead the rest of you are bitter about it!"

"I said quit it!" You shout out loud making them shut up

"Dustin, you overlooked him-"

"He fucking ditched us! Y/N!"

"It's because he is goddamn tired of being bullied all the time! I can't even fucking blame him for it and just hear him for a moment?!?"

Lucas was surprised that you chose his side, he is now grew even more fond of you

"Correction, Dustin, he didn't leave all of you, he was still there but all of you guys ever did was to rant about him being with his sports friends, of course, he will get drained dealing about it, you didn't even care for once what he might even feel like when that's not only what he was trying to endure"

Your words crack through Dustin's rage as he calms himself down, Steve sighs as he places his hands over his hips in a stressful manner

"and now, he is here and he is back and you're pushing him away again because he realized that the people that he met in there he thought might be good like his old friends are but it doesn't, Dustin, he didn't forget about all of you, he just wants you to be there for him no matter what he wanted to reach for his goals, he just wants you to let him"

Dustin pursed both of his lips as he tries not to breakdown and cry in front all of you as he nods in understanding of your words

Lucas ducks his head down as he quietly sobs and Max rubs his back gently, she feels like she owe him an apology and she felt guilty, your words strucked her too

"What the fuck are you guys fighting for when there's a big- erase that- huge problem is among us"

You throw your hands up as you scratch your forehead and shook your head sideways, you're slightly mad at the both of them but also glad that they finally got that shit out of their away

This is why communication is always important in every relationship

"Now, let's go before the cops find Eddie"

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"You might get me into trouble, my friend"

"I told you they're keeping monsters inside of that and we're the bait!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Have you located it?"

"Why should I believe you?"

"I'm telling the truth"

Enzo thinks for a moment as he keeps on stealth mode as they continue to walk to bring back all the prisoners inside of the compound

"He told me that they're on their way"

Hopper looks at him in a brief second as he catches the hopeful glint on his eyes as he kept calm as Enzo locks the bars

"You better not cross me"

"I will not, I just want to get home and be with my family"

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"How's the trip with the girls?"

Chrissy almost yelped in shock as she clutches her chest when Jason opens up the light in the living room

"Jason!" She speaks breathy as she stabilized her beating heart

"Hey darlin" he grins as he walks slowly towards her, Chrissy on the other hand tries not to show nervousness in front of him knowing that all of you are waiting inside of Eddie's van on 3 blocks ahead from where she's at

"Hello- uh- h-how did you get in?" She gulps as she felt the sides of his fingertips brushing her cheeks

Chrissy loved Jason, really, she loved him, despite his awful behavior towards other students she still accepts him even though she admit it without a second thought in her heart when he does make their lives miserable, she is ashamed of it all

And now, that feeling, grew more even stronger, the fact something tells her that he's the one who caused all of this

She might not be surprised at it because she already knew that Jason would do something like that, the trust that she has on him is fading away and it disappoints her

"I picked the lock" he shrugs as if he did not just committed a crime

He fucking trespassed???? What the hell???

"Jason, you know that's against the law-"

"Are you saying that I got no right to check on my girlfriend?"

"N-No, that's not what I- I mean! you could've- just- called-"

Chrissy saw the red-rimmed tint on his eyes, a sign that he hasn't got any sleep and his aura screams lethal fucking danger

She tries her best not to be uncomfortable around him but he is making it hard not to

He stops walking around her for a second, he turns his whole body at her, towering over her as they both walked backward until Chrissy's back hits the wall

"You're not lying to me, are you?" He emphasize the word as he kept his eyes on her

Oh, Chrissy knows how bad when Jason gets mad, all he sees is red whenever he has it

"No-"

"If I catch you lying, you know I hate liars, honey"

Before the fear eats her up, she coos at him, "Baby, I think you need to rest, you don't want to be cranky in the morning" she says sweetly but deep inside??? She is terrified if this won't work

Jason licks his lips as he sighs deeply, "Hmm"

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Of course, you need to rest as well too"

Both of them said their goodbye's as she watches him leave with his car, she can't believe that she stopped breathing air for all of that stuff that she did to Jason

Chrissy went stomping upstairs heading at her bedroom as she begins to pack everything that she needed

Her parents are not always available during weekdays, so, she's got all the house by herself as she locks the door properly, she might even change the damn lock after all of this business with the upside down is over

Out of the blue, she bumped into someone, she almost screeched that it could waken the entire neighborhood

"Hey, it's me!"

Chrissy rips out the hand away from her mouth as she pushes him, "Gareth! You scared me half to life!"

He chuckles nervously, "I'm sorry but uh- for forgiveness? I could carry your bag" he offers

She huffs as she hands out the bag and motion at him to get on walking

The walk to Eddie's van had a minute to get there, it was windy and moonlight shines prettily

Gareth is walking beside her, glancing at her every moment that he can, he likes the way her hair falls so effortlessly, the long sleeves are too big for her as she always scrunching it up to her arms

The silence is taking so long, he might not be even to talk to her soon

He clears his throat, "Are you okay?" He genuinely asks as he waits for answer patiently

She looks at her with that sad glint on her eyes, she lets out an exhausting sigh, she shakes her head as she looks back at the path in the sidewalk, "No, I am not" she crosses both of her arms

He tugs up a small smile and then it is not his intention to eavesdrop at their conversation earlier but he doesn't understand yet that he feels upset that douchebag Jason treats her like that, "Is he always like that to you?"

"Well, if he's in a good mood, no, but I don't know anymore-" she answers absent-mindedly as she halts her tracks also Gareth stopping at the same time

"Are you listening to us over there?!?" She pokes at his chest so harshly that making him exclaim with pain that made Chrissy rolls her eyes

"Hey, that hurt!"

"What are you even doing outside anyway?!?"

"I just wanted to look out for you!"

Chrissy is taken aback at that as she looks at him up and down as she raises her eyebrow

Oof, Gareth is in big trouble now

Gareth cheeks turns into tinge pink as he swallows hard, "Y-You know after all what Y/N has done for you, of course, it is normal for me to feel worried for you-"

Chrissy is amused at this as she nods slowly as she turns her back to continue walking

Gareth smacks his forehead as he jogs up behind her

"It doesn't mean anything-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, doofus"

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"You got everything that you need?"

"Yeah, I do"

"You really can't stay over at my house?"

You smile gratefully at him, "I can't, Steve, I'm sorry- but thanks for the suggestion though"

He nods in understanding but you know that he is worried for you, it is evident on his eyes, the way he looks at you, it always lingers

"Okay, but please, do call me, if anything happens"

"Noted"

He gives you a side hug as he picks up the paper plates as all of you eat dinner at the Rick Reefer's house where Eddie thinks it's the best place to hideout

It is covered in the woods, but still you're not so confident that you can both stay here, it is better to be careful with every move and always alerted

You told everyone that they can go home and be on their own now but it seems like anyone else can't leave one another after all they just witnessed

It is not so easy to just move on and act like nothing happened but no matter you try to protest, they stick with you at the end

Steve said the rest will stay over at his house, Chrissy on the other hand wants to be with you, he lets her knowing that you knew much more what was going on with her than he does

"What are you still doing here?"

You opened up the garbage bag as you put all of the canned soda on it, "I volunteered to stay with you"

Perplexed expression is written on his face as he finishes the last drop of his soda as he reaches the bag out of your hands, "Why?"

"This fucking guy, I swear to god, why does he want me to just spit it out" you think to yourself

"It's because I know what will happen to you remember? I'm from the future, so, it is important that I should be here" you snatched off the bag out of his hands as you walk past over to him cleaning out every trash that you see

The sound of the cans makes a clinking sound as the blurred conversations from the kids can be heard on the living room with very dim lights on

You went at the backdoor as he follows you out as you throw the bag in the garbage can

"Don't you want to be at Steve's?"

"Why are you asking too many questions, Eddie?"

"My bad, it's just-"

"What?"

"I think I'm new to all of this- uh- kindness" he rubs the back of his neck as he averts his eyes elsewhere

His sudden shyness is always endearing to you that it made your eyes soften, "Well, Eddie, I think this is called helping, I am helping you"

"Why would you do that? I didn't asked for you-"

"You don't have to because I wanted to"

He tilts his head at that as he takes in your words, oh- god- help- almighty, you saw how his eyes flickers into something that you can't read yet

No, you're from the future, he's from the past, you're being delusional, it is impossible to happen

The moment your hair gets into your face because of the cool night air wooshed in the area, you're about to tuck it behind your air but you felt someone else's touch

It's him, it's Eddie, Eddie fucking Munson

You furrowed your brows when you watched him step closer to you, he looks at you so dreamily that you absolutely swore that he memorized every single thing in your features

You have been this close, hell- you went to bed with him the other day, your heart might stopped beating soon, you get another whiff from his musk cologne and its making it hard

You thought he is finished with him tucking your hair behind your ear, but he moves down to your cheek as he holds it and he lets it there

You're so extremely so fucking confused right now but also the same time???? You're baffled that you're experiencing this and it's Eddie Munson

This shouldn't be happening right???? This isn't supposed to happen and it's not right

Your mind is going in circles, you wanna run away from him, but also savoring and breathing in this moment even for just a while

"Y/N"

He says your name and it so soft that you could hear it melting down to your ears

"Yes?" You managed to say with a confused look but also with a thumping heart

"You're the only girl that has ever truly shown to me what it is to be protected and cared for"

Your breath hitches when he moved closer and if goes some for more, he can kiss you and it frightens you

"Eddie" you try to remove his hold on you but he won't budge as it gets even worse, he keeps you steady by holding you at the waist

"Please, just listen, I-I am thankful that you're going to stay when I thought you will leave me"

"Of course, I'm not leaving you behind, Eddie, you deserve to be appreciated, always"

"I am still in disbelief from all of the things that you said to me"

"Don't ever think that you're not worthy to be loved, Eddie"

Your eyes widen when he leans closer-

"Y/N, Eddie- where-" Chrissy's jaw drops when she saw you and him mere inches close

You step back and walk away and you know damn well a pair of chocolate button eyes is glued to your back and you pretend like everything is going fine but a knowing look is present on Chrissy's face as she nods along to your excuses as you went inside of the house

She slowly turns her head around at Eddie who is a blushing mess as he waves a dismissive hand at her as she smirks at him

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You wrap your hair in a towel as you saw Chrissy fluffing out of the pillows with a smug smile on her face

"Don't fucking start, Chrissy"

"What?!? I'm not even doing anything!"

"Well, wipe that eat shiting grin off your face!"

"If it affects you so much that means you like him-"

You give her a death stare as you rip off the towel from your head as you hang for it to dry in the rackets as you start to brush your hair

"No, wait- you love him!"

"I wanna go home so freaking bad-" the answer that Chrissy wanted is so obvious how your cheeks turns to bright red as she giggles at your side

"Why? Do you have a boyfriend back there?"

It's like a real fucking connection that you could feel that Eddie is behind that door when in fact he is listening to your conversation together as you look at it before you bring your eyes back to Chrissy

Eddie clenches his jaw as he thinks so bitterly about you having a boyfriend when it should've been him

"Uh, no, I don't have a boyfriend-"

He raises both of his eyebrows the same time Chrissy reacted at the reveal

"What?!?" She exclaims as if she receives the worst news of her life

You chuckled at her reaction as you lay your blanket as you released a soothing sigh as you went all the way down to the bed

She propped her elbows to look at you in disbelief, "Wh-What do you mean that you don't have any boyfriend?!?"

You laugh breathy as you went serious, "For starters, I have very high standards when it comes to men and if it's so hard to find the right one on this era then it is much more excruciatingly hard to find the one at my time"

"Oh, true" she smiles sadly at that when it hits her, you're right, your words resonate with her situation too

"I'm sorry if I reacted that way, you look pretty and I think you're cool, any guy would be lucky to have you, Y/N"

"Wow, thanks?"

"Oh my god, just take the compliment!"

"Okay, okay"

Eddie sits down on the floor quietly on the side of the closed door with a lovesick smile on his face as he continues to listen

"I really hate talking about my personal life but I just wanted to have something so real and I don't do dates, hell- I don't even have a relationship all my life, I've never had a boyfriend, it's because when I do it, I wanna be like, okay, this is it, I want you, we're going to spend the rest of our lives loving each other and you know, I just don't wanna pick the wrong guy that it would end me getting hurt and kicked around for fun, I want love that is so lasting that you won't get tired of me that we both understand each other with mental connections"

Chrissy listening very carefully to your words as you noticed the slight teary pricks on her eyes

"I do enjoy the life of me being single, you know, just hanging out with your bestfriends but yeah, sometimes, I do wonder what it is like to be loved to be truly loved by someone else that you loved them the same way as they do you know?, I do yearn and longed for that feeling, but.....I just can't, I really don't want to waste my life with the wrong soul, I can't bond over that"

"You got me thinking there, Y/N, what you just said is true, it must've been so great to find your person"

"Exactly"

"Do you have lots of bestfriends?"

"Nah, I only have one"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm not much of a popular kid at school too"

"They're clearly missing out on you"

"Damn right"

You both laughed at each other as Eddie smiles so widely at that but he processes everything that you just said to Chrissy

Your expectations and his standards are just the same thing as you do, he sighs deeply as he thinks about on how he can pull this off

He stands up as he takes off his leather jacket as he settles himself on the couch

He puts his other arm under his head as he speaks the words

"Y/N, words can't describe how much I fall for you from the day that I saw you in the woods....appearing into my life, jumping into my world without any context..."

He chuckles to himself when he is so sure of his heart as he can feel it pumping really hard and fast whenever he thinks about you

"Yeah, you're right, Y/N, you're my future"

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taglist <3 : @paleidiot @marsmallow433 @whothefckissofia @letsfallinlove-blog @silky-luxe @imagine-all-the-imagines @theladyasgard @mayaluvzyou @mewchiili @crystalr @sadbitchfangirl

(chapter 5 has officially dropped! I hope y'all didn't forget about me and this series! I still hope that all of you are looking forward to this story that I created, I'm so sorry if it's taking way too long but my life had so many happenings and thank you so much for understanding, support and enjoying this! 🥺🫶🏻✨)

#eddie munson #eddie munson series #eddie munson x fem! reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson supremacy #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #journey band #separate ways worlds apart #agirlwholovesrockstarsfics #Spotify

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ultimateempath · 10 months ago

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Welcome Home Theory

ALRIGHT SO. I've had a thought about what's going on in the world of Welcome home for a while, and this newest update gave me a little more to work with so I'll finally be sharing my thoughts.

I personally believe that Home itself is not evil, but that it is being used as a vessel by the unknown entity that affected the puppets and caused whatever incident that got the show shut down.

As we've seen, there's a massive swirling pit beneath Home that appeared to be getting bigger. I think what happened is that the Playfellow Workshop made the terrible mistake, intentional or not, of building the set for Welcome Home right on top of some kind of paranormal hotspot, triggering that pit to begin forming and Home to be taken over by the entity released from it.

Wally, as the one living within Home and right on top of the pit, was the first be affected and 'wake up' as it were. He was the first to become sentient, the first to realize the truth of their existence...and he is/was the worst equipped to handle it. He was supposed to be the child stand-in, the one learning lessons from the others. Now he's stuck as the one trying to "help" them, trying to reach out, to bring their show back, to fix it. I don't know if he's intentionally coming off as malicious about it though, for now it's unclear if he's genuinely trying to help or if the entity is controlling his actions in some way.

Eddie and Frank appear to be the next two to 'wake up'. We don't know what exactly happened with Frank yet, but it's clear from him switching from 'Mr. Dear' to a hushed 'Eddie' in the homewarming video that he became sentient as well and is aware of the need to stay in-character. As for Eddie, we saw it happen with our own eyes. He finally gets to relax for the first time, perhaps seen as 'breaking character', and immediately experiences some kind of dissociation and hellish realization complete with Home ominously staring into him.

Eddie is strangely not present in the new content on the main 'innocent' website. While he simply may have been busy during these particular escapades, it's also possible he was removed from the main cast for some unknown reason. My guess is that it would be due to either something with his and Franks relationship, or possibly because Eddie and/or Frank ended up breaking character too much, likely out of concern for one another, and Playfellow and/or the entity responded by getting rid of Eddie. Wether his puppet was sent elsewhere or he was straight up murdered is another unknown, if he was in fact removed like we think.

The rest of the puppets don't appear to be sentient yet at this point in the story, but that will most definitely change as time goes on. I believe the change from cartoon hands to puppet hands may be a clue as well since Wally and Eddie are currently the only ones we've seen with puppet hands and Eddie's changed during his hellish epiphany. So if we see the animated povs of other characters, it's a good idea to keep a look out for that switch to puppet hands.

My final note: the new website can't stay uncorrupted for long, I'm certain we'll hear from Wally and/or the others again at some point.

Thats all for now, just wanted to share my thoughts on what might be going on. Sorry if I'm late to this particular line of thought.

Edit:fixed a typo and tweaked my phrasing in one section.

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #welcome home wally #welcome home home #home welcome home #eddie dear #welcome home eddie #eddie welcome home #frank frankly #frank welcome home #welcome home frank #welcome home theory #welcome home update

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daffi-990 · 1 year ago

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Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1, @thewolvesof1998 and @disasterbuckdiaz . Thank you 😘

I think I got exactly seven sentences today haha. Oh! I also found a title for Rival Firefighters 🚒 … perhaps I’ll share that next Inspiration Saturday with the song I got it from 👀.

Anyways, here is some Eddie POV from his shield ceremony …

During the ceremony, Christopher had delivered Eddie’s helmet to him with a congratulations dad before Eddie was scooping his son up into his arms for a hug. He’d looked over Chris’s shoulder and met Shannon’s smiling face, blue eyes damp with unshed tears. She’d been his biggest supporter when he’d announced he wanted to become a firefighter and it means so much to him that she’s here, that they were able to keep their friendship after the divorce and continue to raise Chris together.

Once the official aspects of the ceremony were over, Lena and Reynolds carried out a large sheet cake and things became a lot more relaxed as everyone switched into off duty mode. Eddie makes sure to serve cake to his family before grabbing a slice for himself, knowing his parents would give him an earful if he was anything but a gentleman. Chris, like a typical seven year old around cake, gets frosting all over his face, Eddie and Shannon sharing a look before swooping in to clean it up with over the top kisses. They end up making more of a mess, all three of their faces now smeared with white frosting, but Chris’s delightful laughter is 100% worth the sticky sensation on Eddie’s skin.

No pressure tagging: @callmenewbie @lover-of-mine @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @rainbow-nerdss @eddiebabygirldiaz @devirnis @exhuastedpigeon @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @athenagranted @wildlife4life @hoodie-buck @watchyourbuck @giddyupbuck @spagheddiediaz @malewifediaz @try-set-me-on-fire @weewootruck @honestlydarkprincess @captain-hen @fortheloveofbuddie @shitouttabuck @the-likesofus @ladydorian05 @jesuisici33 and anyone else I missed -> you’re officially tagged! 😋

#I know I just posted a Saturday snippet a few hours ago 😅#but it’s Sunday for me and I do what I want haha #daffi writes #rival firefighters fic #buddie #buddie wip

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katyawriteswhump · 10 months ago

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the power of love part 8 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here where it's still in need of love, if anybody is feeling kind *sobs* ;))

Chapter Eight

Eddie POV continued

“You kissed? And now you can’t wake him?” Robin perches beside Steve on the bunk then rounds on Eddie—genuinely baring her teeth. “I shouldn’t leave you alone with him. It’s like you’re cursing him or something.”

“Woah! Are you accusing me of satanist shit now?” Eddie stops pacing the floorboards, claws his hair.

“Steve? Steve! Oh God, please!” She gently pats him, sinks her face into a hand. “Sorry, Eddie. It’s just… totally unexplainable.” She looks up sharply. “That’s exactly what we should be looking for, right?”

“The unexplainable?” Robin nods. “I should be dead. Steve should be bright and breezy—”

“—and it’s not anything to do with the Upside Down.”

Eddie hums uneasily. Should he share the new theory he’s got brewing? “I dunno. It blows to be a cynic, but—"

“Come on, Eddie! There are so many other possible explanations. If the Upside Down is real, who knows what else is? You’re a maestro of the D and D underworld—work with me here.”

They bounce ideas off each other, including that Steve might’ve succumbed to bad beer. Neither of them buy that one.

“Maybe Steve has some sort of regenerative power,” she says, “like Doctor Who. And you’re leeching it out of him, or something.”

Eddie hoots: “It’s my fault again?”

“No! Look, I sometimes get kinda papa grizzly where Steve is concerned, which is odd, because otherwise, I have almost zero protective instinct. We can’t deny the pattern, though—last time you two got mouth to mouth, he performed miracles and then went downhill fast. This time, uh…”

“I slurped the life out of him again?” Eddie sinks down on the opposite bunk. He thinks back to the kiss, which had been so mind-blowingly awesome. Until it wasn’t. Time to test his number one sucks-balls-squared theory of the day.

He slowly peels his shirt—or, rather, Steve’s now extremely grubby t-shirt—off over his head.

“Ew! Save it for the boys, Munson.”

He runs his palm across his midriff, glances over his shoulder, then hurries closer to the window for better light. Holy shit. “I was still covered in scars yesterday. Even earlier today, there was too much pink among the ink. Now there’s diddly-squat.”

“So, Steve is still healing you?”

Eddie scrunches the shirt and hurls it across the room. “Yeah, and at this rate, my payback’s gonna kill him! We’ve been so fixated on Steve—what if I’m somehow a font of crappy juju? The big bad wolf the whole world believes I am, after all.”

“No.” Robin strokes Steve’s arm. Eddie’s dying to be close to him, too. Shit, he doesn’t dare! “It’s the water. It gives him some kind of power, and he’s passing it on to you. I mean, it doesn’t explain everything, but…”

Eddie retrieves his shirt, grabs her lifeline and clings to it. “It’s as good an explanation as any.”

“Ooooh!” She turns super-excited. “Perhaps there are fairies in Lover’s Lake? Water nymphs? Or aliens landed there! I’m still mightily suspicious about those clouds and the choppers, because—”

“This is getting absurd, Robin.” She sneers at him, shrugs anyhow. “Look, if we buy the lake theory, what can we do about it? It’s not like we can drag him there. We left the car practically in the next county, and he’s too sick.”

“I could fetch water and bring it back here?”

“Given my recent form, I think it’s best for you to stay with him. Eddie the Banished will don his armour and head once more into the breach.”

“Shakespeare? You listened in English Lit?”

Eddie puffs out his chest, conjuring a bravado he so doesn’t feel. “Still gonna be my year, Buckley.”

His armour is chiefly the shelter of the forest, during several hours of tedious trek. He cycles the last part of his journey, pulling his bandana over his face. When he makes radio contact with Dustin, however, his journey feels more than worth it.

Eddie arranges a meet with the Wheelers at Skull Rock. At least, he believes he does. Dustin communicates in one of his more baffling codes. Eddie is blown away, therefore, when he spots his fave lil’ dude approaching their liaison spot. Dustin defiantly wears his Hellfire Club t-shirt, despite everything.

Dustin throws down his crutches. Eddie rushes forward and flings his arms around him.

“Eddie! You son-of-a-bitch! You scared me so much!”

“Yeeeah, I was pretty scared myself.” Eddie hugs him tight, squeezes his eyes tighter. Tears leak anyhow. “But I’m alive and…” He pulls back, drinks up the sight of Dustin, who sniffs and rubs his red face. “God, it’s good to see you.”

Somebody clears their throat. Eddie jumps a good two inches in the air.

“Hey.” Nancy Wheeler stands a few yards off, offering a sheepish wave, which Eddie returns.

It’s not really surprising she’s there. Someone had to give Dustin a ride, and help him limp through the woods. Sitting beneath the rock, the three of them discuss possible explanations for wtf is going on with Steve.

“Okay, let me get my head around this,” she says. “You think Steve derives some sort of regenerative power from Lover’s Lake? And he’s sick? Right now?” She frets her lip. “I should go to him.”

“Uuuuuh, no need. We’re coping all right.” Eddie almost laughs out loud at how badly he doesn’t want her anywhere near Steve. He’d never in his wildest dreams have believed he would go toe-to-toe as a love rival with Nancy Wheeler.

She shakes her head. “There’s gotta be a connection with the Upside Down. This is bad. Really bad.”

“Not necessarily,” says Dustin. “I like Eddie’s hypothesis. There’s no logical reason why all the supernatural shit in this town, let alone this world, is evil.”

“It was Robin’s hypothesis,” admits Eddie.

“Whatever,” says Dustin. “If a bad alternate dimension can bleed into ours, maybe a good dimension can too.”

“I suppose,” said Nancy. Eddie nearly agrees with her, but can’t quite be that gracious. “Either way, if that lake fixes Steve somehow, we need to act quick.”

Nancy heads off to collect lake water. Once she’s gone, Eddie feels able to share his other Steve-related issue: “Didn’t want to divulge this in front of Wheeler, but… Uh, Steve and I got mouth-to-mouth again.”

“You had to perform CPR on him? I had no idea you knew—”

“There’s other reasons that lips meet.” Eddie puckers his lips and crosses his eyes, totally silly.

Dustin stares at him, his mouth hanging open. “Oh!”

“Yeah. Theeeeen… he basically passed out.”

“Whut?”

“Look, don’t ask me to explain it! I mean, I like him. I really like him. Equally implausible, I think he likes me, but…” Aargh! His feelings for Steve are more tortuous than pleasurable right now. What’s more, the distance between them makes armouring his heart a teeny-weeny bit easier.

“But?” Dustin bobs up and down on his butt.

“If I’m making him sicker, I should make myself scarce. I still wonder if I’m the bad apple here. Flayed… or whatever. It would neatly continue the sordid tale that is my life. Plus, if Hopper’s back, I bet he can get Steve off the hook for aiding and abetting, or whatever. Steve can go home, get the help he needs.”

“Hopper’s got his own problems, dude.” Dustin scratches his head beneath his baseball cap, kinda nervy. “There’s this army colonel in town, O’Sullivan, who’s pretty much Vecna levels of evil. He knows about Brenner and Hawkins Lab, and… Long story, cut short. He’s out to kill Eleven.”

“You gotta be shitting me!”

“That was my line when I found out. Hopper and El are hiding out, waiting for a safe opportunity to get outta Dodge. The band of the banished gets bigger every day.”

“Well, this exile should return to being a solo act. Steve and I absolutely would not work in the real world.”

“Huh?” Dustin wrinkles his nose. “You’re different—that’s what makes it fun. Even Suzie and I don’t like all the same music, for example. She’s got a real downer on Debbie Gibson.”

“Then maybe I should date Suzie,” mumbles Eddie, avoiding Dustin’s scrutiny. “In reality, Steve and I are from different planets. I’ve seen his house—his folks are loaded.”

“You can’t hold Steve’s parents against him. They’re literally never there for him. His Dad travels tons, and they stopped taking him with him when he was, like, eleven, because…” Dustin’s jaw drops again.

“Because what?” prompts Eddie.

“Steve stopped travelling with his parents because he started getting sick every time.”

“So, he got travel sick. So do tons of kids. So what?”

“I honestly don’t know! But it supports your theories concerning his proximity to the lake. Sort of.” Dustin whacks his cap against the rock. “Jesus-mother-effing-son-of-a-bitch! I am literally dying to return to a world where I can trust the laws of science.”

Steve POV

1979

Getting himself up in the morning, getting himself to the school bus-stop alone—that only sucked.

It was the emptiness of the night that freaked him out.

Steve stayed up too late, of course he did. He was nearly twelve years old, with nobody to tell him what to do. He ate sweets and watched grown-up television, which got boring pretty fast. When he finally plucked up the courage to go to bed, he’d huddle under the covers, muffling his ears. It never drowned out that horrible, screaming quiet.

Who knew silence could be so loud?

He missed his mom, and it hurt, too. Knowing she chose to leave him behind.

He’d hated travelling, because in the last year, he’d always got ill. Like, not just travel sick, but fevers and chills and headaches and stomach cramps, always “ruining” his father’s trips.

Inevitably, his dad decreed that he must stay behind, and the first couple of times, his mom stayed home with him. Then she’d told him his father needed her more. What did that even mean? Steve really, really needed her, simply to be there. Somewhere in the house.

She wasn’t.

The hours would stretch on, while he was too scared to close his eyes, until…

The monsters barged out of the closet, rioting through his nightmares. Then THEY arrived, with their smooth, smiling face and whirlpool eyes. That wordlessly singing voice, trickling through the waters, reassuring him everything would be all right…

In the morning, shuffling to the bus-stop, he remembered them. Clearer than the monsters, even. Oh man, he could be so childish and unhip sometimes.

“Steve? Steve! Please wake up! You’ve been asleep for hours.”

A groan escapes him, and then: “Momma?” Somehow, he knows it’s not her. “Dad?”

He opens his eyes.

Oh shit.

No, that’s not where his life is now. He’s sure as hell not eleven-years-old! Robin looks faintly amused, and also like she wants to thump him: “Gonna give you a pass on that this once, Steve, then go bleach my brain.”

Part 9

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 10 Part 11

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #eddie x steve #eddie munson #platonic stobin #stobin #stobin fic #stobin friendship

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buddiewho · 9 months ago

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Is it just me or was 7x05 just a Shakespearean comedy? Yes, some of you might think I’m giving it too much credit, but if you’ve seen plays like Much Ado About Nothing, Midsummer’s Night Dream, and Twelfth Night, then those are three examples of absolutely chaotic and peak comedy shit. And most of the time those plays are viewed as having mostly comedy built into the overall story.

For real, it looked very stage-esque to me. Like a play with cut scenes/acts showing somewhat standalone stories. Like every scene kind of had me imagining a blackout on the actors and then there is set up for next scene, places and a cue for lights…action.

I feel like you could have done most of what we saw as little one act POV plays with some intersection; especially with the Buck and Eddie of it all.

I don’t know, I found it hilarious yet with a hint of drama and intensity as usually I think this show does. There was just some sort of outlandish Shakespearean comedy going on.

Right? Perhaps, it was a collective fever dream as from a Midsummer’s Night Dream when Puck says:

“If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber’d here

While these visions did appear…”

For real, they put in a scene of Eddie panicking about nun Marisol.

Though, none of it seems real.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie 911 #911 spoilers #haha #just saying

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kitausuret · 8 months ago

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So, what's going on in Venom these days?

You know, that's a great question!

No but seriously, I admit I... barely understand what's happening in the current run. It's been a LOT of stuff and I'm just kind of twiddling my thumbs waiting for the next like.. big arc to start..??

But, uh, spoilers for both Venom and Carnage below, because they're in the middle of a crossover event:

So right now, Eddie is dead/not dead, Dylan is recently dead/not dead as of #32 where he seems to be totally alive, Flash is more or less fully alive since he broke out of the Darkness Cube, Natasha Romanoff is in and out of the series, Normie Osborn/Red Goblin and Bren/Toxin are in and out of the series, uhhh... Oh! Flash had a Dad Who Stepped Up moment that was very funny to me in Venom #28.

Have Eddie and Flash come face to face since King in Black? No. Am I still reading both these series with bated breath? Perhaps unfortunately, yes. I have to hold out hope! Even if. You know. This is what's going to happen next:

Anyways, IIIIII am curious to see what's going to happen. Lee Price coming back could be very cool! I would love to see him and the Symbiote find common ground in "we need to kill Carnage right now". It would be a way better way to close out his arc, even if he does end up dead again by the end of Blood Hunt.

In any case I do recommend reading Venom #32 for some nice Symbiote POV, even if I think the Symbiote is wrong about itself. Maybe it just needs to, oh I don't know, be bonded to a grown ass man instead of a teenager? That's just me though.

It would be very funny if it was Lee who made it realize it was wrong.

Overall, I think this series - and even Carnage, despite my gripes with it - has a lot of potential for some great character development. We were getting some in Venom with Eddie, buuuuut the Symbiosis Necrosis event (yeah, seriously) has kind of............put a damper on all that, at least in my opinion.

Anyways. Guess I'm just manifesting Flash and Eddie reunion (with kissing! or without. hug? shoulder touch? handshake? staring at each other in a hallway? come ooonnnn).

Thanks for the ask, and here's hoping for greatness!

#venom #dylan brock #eddie brock #flash thompson #asked and answered

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stagefoureddiediaz · 9 months ago

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Hi I’m not the greatest at this kind of stuff so could you explain the arrows and Eddie a little? The danger one is pointing away from him and the other one is pointing to him ? Thank you In advance!

Hey Nonnie

I’m not entirely sure I have the arrows figured out myself at this point, but I can give you my current thoughts on them!

So the first arrow - on the black helicopter with danger written on it. In the still it’s to the right of Eddie (as we look at it - his proper left) but in the actual scene we see, it’s on the other side of Tommy pointing towards both Eddie and Tommy. Remember this is being shown to us from Bucks pov, so this could be telling us that the developing friendship between Eddie and Tommy is a danger to Buck.

Now the second arrow is less clear, but my current interpretation of it is that it’s about Buck looking past Eddie and focusing on Tommy. The reason I think this is because of what else we can see from that perspective - which again is Bucks pov.

Buck and Eddie build the yellow tripod - which creates a triangle - a play on the Buck-Eddie-Tommy triangle that is developing, buck is in one section of the tripod, Eddie in another and in the blank section, is a blue for lease sign and the arrow appears to be pointing toward it (from a flattened camera perspective, in reality we know that it’s pointing down the road to the left of the building the sign is on). Leases are temporary things, so the arrow pointing to the for lease sign is perhaps saying Buck should look past Eddie temporarily. That looking past Eddie, will move things forward for him - that he needs to look elsewhere for a bit.

I want to point out just how much yellow and blue we saw in play at both scenes - the blue plane and uniforms and the yellow helicopter at the airfield, the yellow tripod, the blue sign, blue shop front behind Eddie and the blue post box (??) on the wall next to the lease sign. The later scene at Bucks loft is also yellow blue coded (as is the basketball game to a certain extent) and yellow and blue are a colour combination that is used loudly in queer narratives - heartstopper, fellow travellers, rwrb and many other shows have used this colour theming to great effect.

This is the loudest we’ve seen it’s use in 911 since the beginning of season 5, when it stepped up a notch before chilling back down to the there but not as obvious levels we have had for a while.It’s important in relation to the arrows because it is telling us that Buck is headed in a queer direction and also that the queer direction is the right one!

Hopefully this makes sense, but like I said this is just my interpretation right now - we’ll see how things play out next week and over the rest of the season, but it’s worth keeping an eye out for arrows in Bucks and Eddie’s (and Tommys) scenes together! 🩷💜💙

#kym answers things #Nonnie asks #arrow theory #I seem to have a theory for everything - I should probably be worried about this at this point 😬#fandom is more fun with theories!#eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc

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thevampirelevi · 1 year ago

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Adventureland | Part IV

Masterlist

"Leviathan." (part 4/7)

cw: vampire!eddie x fem!reader, mentions of blood, mature language, parts of this chapter written in first person pov (briefly!)

wc: 6.6k+

You knew it wouldn’t take long for your aunt or uncle to actually phone up your dear old dad and casually drop your current location, thus blowing your whole cover. You weren’t sure what to expect, would they all be angry with you? Disappointed? Concerned maybe? Sympathetic to your desire to flee after perhaps your first ever heartbreak in life? All these possibilities played musical chairs in your head the entire month you were in Hawkins, but never once could you anticipate the possibility of going through another heartbreak when Judgement Day finally came.

Maybe it was your lack of sleep or your low mood that raised suspicion in the first place and gave your aunt the motivation to finally clue your father in. Maybe they began planning your intervention when you’d begun to spend far too long cooped up inside of a room that isn’t truly your own. Maybe this was actually the universe’s doing, deciding to punish you once more in the ultimate cosmic “Fuck you.”

You’d actually decided that today was the day you’d be reborn, try to act as if nothing was wrong, forget you’d ever met Eddie. Blissfully unaware, you gave yourself a hot shower and tried to pick an outfit you’d really liked out of the remnants of your wardrobe. Tied up your laces, enthused to treat yourself to breakfast at the diner when you were suddenly met with a surprise waiting for you in the kitchen.

“Morning, I’m gonna go eat at Benny’s today-” you’d started to say, expecting only your aunt.

You stop at the end of the staircase, all three members of your family staring back at you.

“Surprise seeing you here,” says your father. “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, you join them at the dinner table and take your silent settle, unsure of what to even try to say. Luckily for you, your aunt makes the next move as a way to cut through the tension that thickens the air.

“Honey,” she places her mature hand over yours gently over the placemat. “Your uncle and I have been a little worried about you, so I called your father yesterday afternoon. Only for him to inform me that he was already looking for you and had no idea you were even here.”

“Why didn’t you come home, or at least call Y/N?” he chimes in, his voice is stern and laced with concern and hints of anger.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I was going to tell you all everything, I swear, but-”

Your father interjects, “But?”

“I just didn’t know where to start,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I still don’t. I needed some time. Just time to think, not answer everyone’s questions since I don’t quite know all of the answers yet myself.”

“Well,” a deep sigh above your father’s mustache is expelled as he exhales loudly from his nose. “Time’s up. Start talking.”

You blink rapidly, trying not to cry, moistening your lips and swallowing the lump that forms in your throat. This is the first time you’ve actually been forced to fully face the intrusive thought of him and the events that transpired between the two of you the last time you shared a room.

“Chance,” you start off slow, his name feeling foreign on your tongue. “We broke up.”

The room is quiet for a moment, processing.

“On Valentine’s Day, actually.” you continue.

Your aunt’s eyes, too similar to your mother’s, flitter with sympathy as she braves you a sad smile. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Before she can make claims about the population of fish in the sea, you go on. “I just grabbed all of my things and left. I didn’t want to think about him anymore and,” you look up for the first time, aiming your gaze at your father and his sorry expression as you address him specifically, “You always ask about him so I just wasn’t ready to go home, not yet.”

“Y/N,” your dad’s voice is soft now but still somewhat stern. “You could’ve told me, sweetpea. I’d have ripped him a new one when he came ‘round looking for you the other day, if I’d have known that…”

“That’s probably why she didn’t want to tell you,” your uncle speaks for the first time, chuckling.

You halt, “Chance was looking for me..?”

Your father nods, wrinkles appearing in between his bushy brows. “Showed up on my doorstep asking for you, said you had a fight and that you took off. Guess he figured you came back home. Had me worried sick, I called nonstop for about two weeks, waiting for you to call home off some payphone in Timbuktu but you never did. I was this close to filing a missing person’s report when your aunt here finally rang me and said you were here.”

“I’m really sorry, dad,” you take your hands into your lap, pulling at a hangnail and avoiding meeting your father’s eyes. “I didn’t think he would show up, I never meant to make any of you worry.”

“Well you did,” your old man rises to his work booted feet and pulls you to yours, tears welling up his eyes that he tries to hide. “I know you’re an adult now n’ all, but you’re still my little girl. Don’t ever scare me like that again, y’hear me?”

“Yes sir,” you promise, muffled as you’re hugged to his chest.

“Good. So, when are you coming home?”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Nancy Wheeler. She was the one condition keeping you from being dragged all the way back to Bloomington, at least that you and your father agreed upon. Albeit, now that your father was finally filled in on all of the details and knew not to speak a certain name, there wasn’t a logical reason to explain your reluctance on going back - but there certainly may have perhaps been an illogical reason. The lie? That you were finally reconnecting with some old friends and wanted to spend more time with them, and when put on the spot you could name none other than Nancy Wheeler.

Not only was she one of the only people you knew of that was likely still in Roane County, but she was also one of your only friends that your father could actually remember by name. Once upon a third grade ago.

It had been so long since you’d last been to her address, it was a mystery how you’d still remembered it. 2530 Maple Street, wherein resides your first order of business with your Pops off your back.

You need only knock once, powder blue door answered by who you recognize to be Karen Wheeler. Older than in your memories and hair definitely lighter than the last time you’d seen her, but nevertheless the same woman you remembered from sleepovers, school bake sales, and parent conferences.

“Mrs.Wheeler?”

The now blonde woman holds up her manicured hand in pause, looking you up and down, you watch her brain working. “Y/N?”

You smile, nodding. “That’s me.”

Karen’s jaw slacks open ever so slightly in surprise, but her cedar eyes light up enthusiastically. “Y/N honey, I haven’t seen you in a hot minute. Not since-”

“I’m back in town for a bit, figured I’d stop by and say hi.”

“Of course,” she smiles, showing more of her age. “Oh well, Nancy’s not home right now but maybe I can take your number? We’d love to have you over for dinner sometime.”

“Sure thing,” you answer, letting Mrs.Wheeler guide you inside of her suburban home.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

‘Nancy Wheeler called’ was scribbled on a note stuck to the fridge come the 24th of March, just the day after your run in with her mother. You’d secretly hoped there was a different name written in Nancy’s place when you first spotted the sticky note, but remembered then that you never gave Eddie your number.

Pleasantries were exchanged when you called Nancy back and you were now on your way to the recently rebuilt ‘Starcourt Mall’ to meet with her, the duration of your phone call short and sweet, similar to chatting up a receptionist. The nerves wriggling in your tummy had you hoping things would feel less awkward in person, that you could pick back up right where you left off, otherwise you might soon have no choice but to acquaint yourself with people that were not at your mother’s wake. Given how long that guestlist was, your mommy dearest evidently very much cherished by this town for the years she spent as one of their most beloved teachers, that would be rather difficult.

‘Sam Goody’ was the store you’d both agreed to meet in, its location memorized as the spot adjacent to the Sears where you bought your mourning dress. Man, you thought as you retraced your steps all the way there, this whole town is starting to feel like a funeral.

As if another Momento Mori, you look up to find that your respected Sam has now joined the list of dead things and is instead replaced by ‘Musicland.’ You never even got to enjoy their “going out of business!” sale.

Nancy sees you before you recognize her, denim jacket draped over her arm, greeting you with a fond smile under her grown out perm.

“Hey, it’s so good to see you again,” the honey brunette pulls you in for an unexpected hug, voice now more womanly without the static of the landline and less shy than how you remember. “How are you?”

“Good, good. How are you?” you try to match her enthusiasm but the words feel slightly forced, mirroring the awkwardness of your encounter on the phone as you both relearn one another’s presence while the dust settles.

“Been alright,” she says, beginning to slowly make her journey between vinyl shelves and various displays, feigning interest as she skims along. You follow her loosely. “I’m now an investigative journalist at Hawkins Post.”

“Wait, that’s so cool,” you beam earnestly, memories of a young Nancy playing pretend news anchor swarming to the surface. “Look at you, Nancy Drew.”

Wheeler picks up a ‘The Clash’ CD, flipping it to eyeball the tracklist. “It was indeed very cool, at first. Not much to write about nowadays, though.”

“No? I’d think there’d be plenty of stories to cover still, y’know since the earthquake wasn’t that long ago. Seems people are still tryna recover.”

Nancy stops reading, looking up at you blankly as she stills. “Earthquake?”

“Yeah…The quake of ‘86?”

She blinks a few times, showing no remembrance before she shakes her head. “Oh, yeah. Right. I’m more true crime than regular watchdogs, though, so I didn’t have my piece on writing about that.”

Conversation waxes and wanes as you both sift through Musicland and hop around other stores as well, making a brief trip to the food court, catching up as old friends do - or at least making the attempt to.

With what very little spending money you have, you earn yourself that ‘Transformer’ album on vinyl, a leatherbound journal with a moonstone clasp, and an invitation to Hideaway Pub next weekend, courtesy of your old childhood best friend.

You’re informed that her boyfriend Jonathan and friend Robin will both be there, and Nancy encourages you to bring someone of your own, too.

The idea of the one person you’d want to bring makes your heart do its familiar little ache.

Your first time at the bar, you’re too preoccupied with nerves from meeting new people to really get a good look around the place. You’d end up regretting that later.

For now, though, you stand glued to the sidewalk as you stare at the wavering rhombus of the neon sign. You gather all of your courage in a breath, remembering that this is part of Nancy’s oath to being a better friend - being there for you like how she should have last year, her words - her now doing her damndest at making you feel included. As if she actually missed your presence in Hawkins. As a burly man holds the door open for you upon his own exit, you take your cue.

Cozied up inside of the privacy of a dimly lit leather booth, tucked away from the peanut shelled bar thankfully, sits Nancy and who you guess is Jonathan. The chime from your entrance a mere few feet away puts a pause to their simple conversation and Nancy, the one facing you, smiles in your direction as she waves you over.

You opt for the seat next to her, allowing you a curious gander of her boyfriend as she introduces the two of you.

Robin arrives by the time your drinks have made their way to your table, wasting little time in telling all about how a ‘Steve’ is the reason she’s late. While Jonathan is notably shy, Robin speaks as if she’s known you just as long as she’s known the couple, skipping over the jargon of any introductions. You’re glad to have her here, saving you from third wheeling, and also finding that she’s an easy person to warm up to.

You’re nearing the end of your once seemingly bottomless pile of potato skins when Nancy starts a conversation about her brother Mike, of which you smile fondly as your only memories feature the preschool aged version of him.

“How is Mike by the way?” you ask, these being part of the few words you’ve spoken over the course of the night. “There’s so many people I haven’t seen in so long. Like Barb, I remember her from our sleepovers. How’s she doing??”

Despite you asking what you think are innocent questions, silence is your only response as Nancy’s face suddenly goes pale and all eyes turn to her. Obviously, you never meant any harm by it and never would have asked had you known somehow that the pair of childhood best friends had had a falling out. By the looks of it, a bad one at that, as you quickly find yourself stepping out of the booth to allow Nancy out as she rushes to the bathroom before you can even offer an apology, seemingly about to hurl.

“Sore subject?” you ask quietly, fidgeting your fingers as you try to come to terms with possibly ruining the friend group you’d just barely had hopes of forming, wondering how you manage to keep doing and saying the wrong things.

Jonathan nods, chin in hand as he rests his elbow on the table. “Not your fault, you don’t know. It’s just kinda hard for her to talk about still.”

Robin, perhaps having one too many beers and/or a low tolerance for cheap booze or just naturally outspoken in general, adds, “Barb’s unfortunately part of the list of people gone without a trace from what I know. No one saw what happened. If I lost my best friend like that, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself either.”

Not wanting to gossip, but letting your curiosity get the best of you anyways, you lean in closer with a hushed voice, “List of people..?”

Robin is too lost in her own thoughts as she thinks out loud to notice the looks Jonathan tries to send her, and he's too soft spoken to stop her from saying too much. “I mean, I’m not entirely sure it’d be better to find them down there after what could have got to them, but at least it’d be an actual answer.”

Deciding not to press the issue any further, given Jonathan’s apparent anxiety about the topic, you remain silent as you try to solve the puzzle with missing pieces inside your head just as Nancy finally returns.

“Are we all ready to call it a night?” Her voice is soft, nothing in her tone indicating that she’s still upset. No one protests and you all begin to file out once the bill is paid two separate ways. You thank Jonathan for covering you and he mumbles something about “Don’t mention it.”

Robin is riding with Nancy and her boyfriend, beating them to the car as you walk to your own parked further down the street. You feel a soft hand stop you by your elbow.

Nancy offers you a small smile, no harm no foul, “See you next weekend?”

You return the gesture, accepting, relieved. Despite now not having to question if you were going to be exiled, your mind still sashays like the hula dancer on your dash even the whole car ride home. Questions fill the unusual silence of your car.

What did Robin mean by “List of people gone without a trace” and whatever else she said about finding them “down there after what could have gotten to them”?

Your first nightmare in weeks makes its prompt return this very same night, now arguably the price you must pay for allowing your curiosity about this increasingly strange town - and its even stranger people, and their secrets - to peak. It’s no surprise when you wake at three in the morning, equipped with new use of your new journal.

March 31st

Fissures split the earth, scarlet glowing like ruby embers from the ravines and from the sky. People are running, abandoning their cars in what is left of the street as Doomsday approaches. The earth is divided in two, and then just as fast is severed by tenfold. Nameless people plummet to their deaths, passersby in the sea of people forced like magnets to the earth’s core against the flow of the stampede.

A red haired girl no older than a teenager reaches her hand out to me, dangling off of the jagged edge of the street as she fights against being pulled under. I can see her umber eyes pleading behind the cracked lenses of her glasses. Just as I’m about to help her, the shock of a cold hand clasping onto my other wrist jerks me awake, alone.

You fully intend on leaving the dream within its leatherbound confines and hope to use the rest of the flyleaf for grocery lists or something. You even keep busy as a means of distraction, helping your aunt and uncle run their motel for a small allowance and making due of your mileage the most you can between there and Wheeler’s house. Against your efforts however, you find yourself narrowly escaping dream death yet again. This time, ostensibly triggered by seeing Mike for the first time in years. Tall, lanky, and wearing a worn out t-shirt with fading iron-on letters just so barely spelling out ‘Hellfire Club.’

Not having brought your journal with you, because why would you, when your eyes snapped open to the darkness of Nancy’s bedroom, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed as you lost all details of the dream to the start of a hangover. All details but one.

Two black eyes like endless pits, flames dancing in their reflections, staring down at you.

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April 11th

‘Welcome to Hawkins HELL. Population 001.’ The red paint graffiti’d on the road sign matches the hue of the sky, which I can see in all of the mirrors of my car and through the cracked windshield as I drive through a sea of bodies bloodied on the pavement. The radio is on, crackling with a distorted voice chanting, ��MASTER, MASTER!”

Suddenly there are figures moving in my rearview mirror as the stereo switches its mantra. “LAUGHTER, LAUGHTER!” The figures only appear closer and closer as I fail to accelerate against the pile of corpses littering the road. They’re too tall for me to see anything above their shoulders, and too tall to be human, gray torsos moving like the bones are broken and limbs too long for their emaciated lich-like bodies like something out of Evil Dead. I can hear their groans fill my ears before suddenly, all goes quiet as my car dies and the radio fades away. “MASTER, Master, master…”

Just as I’m considering making a run for it, something pale makes itself known to me in my rearview mirror and its black eyes stare back at me beneath its mess of dark hair. This is the last thing I see before I wake up, feeling like I’m being watched still.

April 13th

Sterile white walls surround me with only one, long rectangular mirror separating the scene. I see myself, gray and gaunt, a stream of crimson flowing in blood ribbons down my neck and soaking the starch hospital gown I am apparently wearing at the collar. Instinctively, I try to reach my hand up to touch it but find that my hand is fixed in place at my side as if I’m restrained. Looking down at said hand, I realize it is trapped by the cold, unmoving grip of a statue I hadn’t noticed before. Slowly, my eyes trail up the tall statue towards its face where I see it is made apparent that it is weeping blood from its blind eyes, which drips onto my neck. As I try to break free, I glance at the mirror whilst in the struggle at what I can only make out to be the sound of pebbles hitting the other side.

To my surprise, a devilish grin stares back at me.

April 20th

A dark abyss is perforated by tiny flecks of starlight, which is where I’m floating when I hear a raspy voice pleading with me, “I can explain everything…

Suddenly the shout of your aunt’s voice from downstairs puts a bookmark to your writing.

“Y/N,” she bellows. “Phone’s for you!”

You make your way downstairs, already knowing Nancy is waiting on the other line. The pair of you have grown pretty close over the course of the month, grief being the tide that brings you both together. You never pry, but sometimes Nancy volunteers to talk about Barb and gives small glimpses of what her life was like in the years you drifted apart. You however, you never speak about Chance, still have yet to tell her or a soul about your nightmares, and certainly are not yet ready to ever tell your friend about Eddie. That would one day change, but no time soon.

“Hello?”

You hear shuffling in response.

“Hey Y/N,” her voice is nonchalant in the way it usually is when she’s about to invite you out somewhere, of which you never decline. “You busy tomorrow?”

You pause to think, even though it’s not like you’re drowning in plans, “I’m on innkeeper duty at the motel tomorrow morning, but I should be free by the afternoon?”

“Well a bunch of us are gonna set up a bonfire at the lake since it’s spring break for Mike and his friends. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” you answer without much thought except in hoping that it’s not Lover’s Lake that she’s inviting you to.

“Cool, I’ll pick you up at around six.”

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The rich smell of firewood wafts through the trees as your group of three - Nancy, Mike, and yourself - carry all of the party amenities to where everyone else is gathered at the shore. Jonathan brought his brother Will, and his friend Lucas - who brought his girlfriend - and there are several other faces for you to put a name to. Nancy helps, landing on ‘Max’ using the hand free of carrying a wicker basket to point at a redheaded girl sitting close enough to the fire for the glow of the flames to illuminate the bare skin on her freckled arms.

You try not to stare, noticing how the girl seems to fold in on herself as if trying to shrink away from your small crowd of (new) friends. You notice the scars on her arms and some on her legs, straight and precise raised pink keloids, surgical. The glasses she wears even as the sun is setting hide the fact that she was curious about you, too.

Soon enough, the circle of incongruent lawn chairs is filled around the firepit. Half full of people you at least somewhat know, and the other half of people you’re only learning the names of today. To your left is Robin, who’s sat next to who you now know as Steve, and sat to your right is a babyfaced teen named Dustin. The curly haired boy sneaks glances at you all night, which makes you wonder if you know him from somewhere. Despite how extroverted he acts toward the rest of the group, though, he does not utter one word to you.

Several campfire stories later and a belly full of marshmallows cooked in a myriad of different doneness, you’re on aching feet ready to go home and recharge your social battery. You and Robin are helping Nancy lug her belongings back to her car when a boyish voice stops you.

It’s Dustin, mustering up the words to finally ask the question he’d apparently been unable to sit still with all night. “Your name is Y/N, right..?”

You turn his way and nod, waiting for him to continue.

“And you’re friends with Eddie?”

In one single second you’re feeling all of the color drain from your face at once, except at the apples of your numb cheeks. For some reason you have the sudden urge to run.

But this time you don’t. You instead face his ghost, the sheer mention of his name that brings on a wave of unwanted thoughts, head on. You do your best to act unfazed, thinking that maybe you can fake it until you make it. “Don’t know him,” you shrug, catching up with Robin and leaving whatever Dustin’s reasoning was behind.

Why is it becoming harder to get over a man that you barely even knew, over your ex boyfriend of two years?

Maybe because it wasn’t Chance who you were looking for in crowds of people, getting Deja Vu from anyone who even slightly resembled him. It wasn’t Chance’s name you kept hearing, nor saying in your sleep. It wasn’t Chance who you dreamt of nearly every night.

Tonight, it was Eddie. Your journal sat in its rightful place on your nightstand, waiting for you when you woke up calling out his name again.

April 21st

Waves crash into my chest as I wade in darkness, my dreamself having no sense of the temperature, just only slightly the sensation, as faint as a blanket slipping off in the night. I have the feeling that I’m waiting for something or someone, as I find myself mumbling mid sentence as if there was anyone around to hear it, “I told you, it’s never too late…”I trail off, the fabric of the dream slowly unraveling as I start to question where I am and who I’m talking to. I turn my head in every direction, searching for the answer.

When I finally look down into the water, I see a ring of light shine through the pool of black surrounding me. The glow is red, unnatural and unforgiving, reminding me of the persistence of a neon sign even meters below the surface of the water. It puzzles me, but this somehow leads me to the conclusion that I’m in Lover’s Lake. The light is almost, maybe, heart shaped.

Just then, a ring clad hand snakes around my ankle, pulling me under.

For perhaps the first time ever since your acquired sleep apnea, and much to your surprise, you find yourself being rapidly lulled back to sleep. You hold your head up only long enough to jot down your first dream before a thick blanket of exhaustion smothers you out like a light. The last thing you see before you’re watching the back of your own eyelids is the glowing red of the alarm clock. 11:11pm.

This time, however, you’re aware that you’re dreaming the very moment your feet reach the ground. You almost have the feeling that you know exactly where you are as you step away from under a head of clouds aglow in the scarlet sky above you. You find a clearing in the forest enclosing you with ease, floating through time as you come face to face with the Motel 6 a mere few feet later.

The only source of light here forward illuminates the ‘No’ of the vacancy sign, sputtering for a moment before it gives out. The only car in the parking lot is your station wagon. You walk up to it, having to put a hand over your squinting eyes as you try to peer through the grime on the driver’s side window. Cobwebs have made a nest of your steering wheel and a thin blanket of dust and debris covers the upholstery of your seats. Your ignition is rusted over and the dancing hula girl on your dashboard is missing her head.

You turn around and wander back through the trees from which you came. When you emerge from the forest this time, you’re in front of your childhood home. The front door is cracked open and you can tell that no one is home as you enter the darkness inside with a creak.

Particles float through the cold air as you analyze what was once your home. Dust has fallen on nearly every surface like snow, but when you go to pick up what should be a family photo you find only your parents in the picture.

You nearly tear apart the whole place, turning the entirety of the second story upside down in search of nothing in particular, but come up empty handed regardless. No princess bedroom like how you’d left it, no pictures of you on the walls, not even a nursery. Just your parents’ bedroom and ensuite bathroom; a study where your room should be.

You nearly come flying down the stairs and out the front door, making a beeline back to the forest. You clear the entire woods in just a few steps, born out the other end staring at a sign covered in large vines that reads “Forest Hills Trailer Park.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

By the next time you’re out with your newfound friends for a much needed break, Robin is the first to point out just how tired you look - much to your dismay.

“Jesus Y/N, you getting any sleep?” asks the tallest member of your party, now that Jonathan’s decided to sit this one out.

“Rob,” Nancy scolds her friend, shooting her a look.

You shrug your shoulders, unable to fight the yawn that escapes your lips, “She’s right. I’m practically a member of the undead these days.”

“You okay?” asks Nancy.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m fine.” This is when you decide to actually confide in your friends for once, hoping to put the nightmares to rest if you talk about it. “I’ve just been having these really weird dreams? Or nightmares, I guess.”

“Nightmares?” Robin echoes. “What about?”

You can feel Nancy studying you closely, no longer interested in her food. You choose your words carefully, deciding not to mention him just in case the pair before you might know of him. “Apocalyptic shit. Sometimes there will be these really strange monsters, or sometimes I’m in like a completely abandoned version of Hawkins. I dunno.”

“Monsters?” both women ask at the same time, staring.

You laugh, “Maybe I never got over my fear of the Boogeyman,” you wipe your hands and throw the crumbled napkin onto your now finished plate, standing up from the booth. “Don’t judge.”

You glance over your shoulder a single time as you make your way to the bathroom, spotting Nancy and Robin muttering amongst themselves. You decide not to dwell on it, excusing yourself out of the way of a woman exiting the ladies’ room. Right when you’re about to enter behind her, your eyes focus on a particular poster on the wall between the two restrooms as she moves out of the way, a familiar face catching your eye.

MISSING PERSON.

EDWARD MUNSON.

Also known as “Eddie.”

20 years old —-- 5’10” —-- 145lbs.

Last seen: March 21st-

You rush inside of the bathroom before reading any further, drowning in your thoughts all too quickly within seconds already as you try to process what you’d just read. Hands bracing the sink, your reflection scares you as you stare back all wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. You attempt to turn the words over in your mind multiple times in an effort to make sense of them,

MISSING PERSON.

EDWARD MUNSON.

You see the image over and over again in your head, knowing that it’s him.

MISSING PERSON. EDWARD MUNSON. Also known as “Eddie.”

His hair was a few inches shorter in that picture than when you’d last seen him, but everything else was all the same. Same doe eyed brunette that you’d last seen. Last seen in March.

You stand there unsure of what to do, wondering for a second if this was the start of a panic attack similar to the one Nancy might have been subjected to when you mentioned Barb.

Robin’s words suddenly echo in your mind. “The list of people gone without a trace.”

When you finally return to the table, you make it known that you’re ready to call it quits but without actual intention of going home just yet.

You’re repeating the details you’d skimmed on your way out and in as you start up your car. Residence: Forest Hills Trailer Park. That was the place you’d seen in your dream.. If you have any information, please contact Wayne Munson.

The sun is setting as you drive closer and closer to the trailer park, unsure if it’s your shot nerves or eyes blurry with tears that threaten to spill - not only does the place look eerily similar to how you’d dreamt it, but you could also swear you see Max, the redhead from the bonfire. You’re certain that it’s her as she comes fully into view and she stops walking at the sound of your tires pulling up nearby behind her.

You park your car and exit the vehicle, hurriedly making your way towards the girl. “Max?”

She does not move, even once you reach her.

“Um, hi I’m Y/N. I was at the lake, with Nancy?” you state to the back of her head.

The girl finally turns around slowly, letting you notice the cane she holds for the first time. Her eyes are cloudy, milky white and darting back and forth constantly in apparent nystagmus. You’re too shocked to say anything else.

“Yeah?” her quiet voice speaks finally, as if the recognition has dawned on her, she looks straight at you.

“I-Um,” you shut your eyes and exhale, starting over. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Wayne Munson is, would you?”

Despite how ridiculous you suddenly feel for asking, Max turns ever so slightly and points directly to a trailer across the way as if blessed with vision. “That’s his new trailer.”

“Thank you,” you declare earnestly.

Your heart banging against your eardrums, you make your way over to the trailer with the truck parked in front. Your feet drag as you amble up the stairs, and you notice something moving the blinds in one of the windows farthest from you out of the corner of your eye. At least someone’s home, you think. Stomach dropping under the heavy weight of dread, you raise an equally heavy fist to knock on the door.

After several clicks, the door creaks open ever so slightly ajar to an older man with sharp blue eyes and a graying beard as he watches you cautiously from behind it, muttering a greeting with a gruff voice.

You clear your throat, eyes misty already. “Wayne Munson?”

“Yes?” The man’s voice is low, almost a whisper. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was afraid of you. “Who are you?”

“My name is Y/N, um,” your voice is smaller than you intend, tired of having to introduce yourself. “I am- I was friends with your nephew, Eddie…When did he..When did he go missing?”

The man squints, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. He opens the door fully now, casting away the shadows that were looming over his face. “Eddie’s fine,” he states matter of factly.

It takes a second too long for his words to hit your brain, you were expecting the worst. Rarely ever are you wrong about that, especially these days, or so you thought.

You’re unsure of letting out the breath you’re holding, “He’s- He’s fine?”

“Yes,” the man nods a single time, his expression just as puzzled as yours. “If you saw a poster or somethin’ my apologies, those are old. He’s been home for quite some time now.”

Finally, you breathe. “Oh. Is he home right now..?”

Wayne hesitates to answer, stepping back from the threshold and looking towards his right for a few moments. “Uh, no..He’s not, sorry.”

You know he’s lying, but you don’t test him. You take this as your final sign to let go, clearly you are unwanted. Your brain practically ran with the story of him being abducted or worse, instead of just coping with the fact that maybe he was just avoiding you.

You vow to never smoke tree ever again.

“Oh, okay,” you keep your tone chipper as you turn to leave. You will not cry. “Thank you.”

You’re making your way to where your car is parked, hands shaking and a gloomy overcast darkening the evening as it slowly begins to rain. You let one single tear fall, disguised by the raindrops. As you pivot to seat your body behind the wheel, you see a second door opening in the trailer you’d just left. You stop behind your open car door.

Running so fast he’s nearly dodging falling rain is none other than ‘Edward Munson.’

Before you know it, the man is pulling you into his cold embrace as he breathes your scent deep into his lungs, leaving you florid and stammering. Butterflies choke up every word you want to say and he can feel your heart beating against his ribs, electrified.

Finally he moves away, but only ever so slightly, barely leaving room for rain to fall between you.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is raspy, strained. “I just have to try something."

You notice his hands are trembling as he opens and closes his balled up fists before finally using his cold hands to close the gap between your bodies.

One hand at your cheek as your warm blood rushes to it, the other cold at your neck, rings pressing into your skin ever so slightly. He’s gentle with his hands but his lips crash into yours, hungry and practically burning with desire, leaving yours buzzing. You can’t help but to melt into him, touch starved yourself. You’re clearly not as famished as he is, though, a small whimper leaving him as you put your hand to his chest briefly just as you begin to run out of air.

Finally he breaks away from you, you gasping, his eyes as dark as always but soft looking down at you - like graphite. The boy looks pained, almost. Lips and cheeks flushed.

“Sorry,” he repeats sincerely, for multiple reasons.

“Where were you?” the sadness in your voice makes his unmoving heart break, if only it could.

Eddie’s cold breath fans your face as he exhales, still holding you to him. “I’ve been keeping something from you… But I just can’t stay away from you anymore.”

“What do you-” before you can get all of the words out, his lips are hugging yours again, shutting you up. He's all around you; the smell of his clothes, his grasp, his body, his kiss, all eclipsing you.

The man is quicker this time to remember you still need to breathe. He parts from you slowly, eyes still closed. You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, dark lashes even wispier against the hollows of his undereye as rain cascades down his pale cheekbones - making him look like a weeping angel.

His pink lips part. “I’m a vampire.”

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an: sooo sorry this part got delayed so many times! honestly, i'm not totally loving this story anymore. i'll def still finish but i just wanna say that any constructive criticism is always welcome <3

p.s.

max is only partially blind :3

- levi

#stranger things eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things #adventureland

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superblysubpar · 1 year ago

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📼Remember to vote at the bottom // Details for the Trope or Treat Madness Event found here

📼 We're doing things a little different with this one! I highly recommend reading the little insights into each character's story beforehand here, as the intro belows is told from a narration while they all start the evening together. After this, you'll be voting on which couple we follow for the remainder of the night and it would follow the typical "you" pov with the boy who wins - but the stories are very much intertwined. There are things that happen before and after that would be revealed in future scenes if they make it to the next round and/or in the final one shot if declared the winner - the story told in slightly different perspectives as well.

📼 warnings: You're given names for this one, sorry to do it. Blair for Steve's lady, Vanessa for Eddie's (but used as sparingly as possible) | a sprinkling of toxic relationships, hints to infidelity, yelling, death, blood and gore descriptions as well as use and mentions of weapons like knives and guns will be present throughout the entire story after this| mentions of drugs and alcohol and their use and effects | the little intro image below is playing off of the one from Fargo, and I don't own it

On the evening of Friday, October 27th, 2023, a group of people, let’s call them old friends, are brought back together through the twists of fate and their own stupidity.

Four couples, and none knowing what the others have gotten themselves into after all of these years apart. None knowing what was about to transpire, and how, as a direct result of their actions, beloved friends are going to die.

Our scene opens with Robin Buckley, a gold strappy heel reveals itself first, stepping onto the cold, gray sidewalk. A pale leg on display from the high slit of the dark emerald and silky dress wrapped around her figure. Black polished fingers take the hand offered to her by her date - let’s call her Gabriella. Robin’s freckled face and bright blue eyes shine in the lights of the marquee up at her. Gold chandelier earrings, a modest lip color, and a dramatic eye - perhaps it was a little too much for a simple show at the Orpheum. A fancier look than most, but dammit, Miss Buckley needed this.

You see, Robin is a middle school music teacher. She spends her days pointing at a kid who thinks he’s slick putting gum on the back of his sheet music stand. Calling him out and making him wear the Dingus top hat for the rest of class, marking a talley in the you suck column on the whiteboard and the rest of the class groaning - one step further away from their pizza party. Her eye frequently twitches, for when she asks the student’s what she just said, one quite literally plays the sound of crickets on their smartphone. Yet she loves her job - her students are wonderful, most are respectful, and many are in band because they truly enjoy it.

However, twelve to fourteen year olds these days have no trouble learning the latest tiktok dance in less than five minutes but cannot nail the transition to the chorus of a song they’re learning. She’s guidance counselor when the tweens come in crying, she’s a dentist when she yells at one to get the scissors out of his mouth and cries that he absolutely cannot fix his braces in her classroom. She is benefactor for supplies, she’s an extra custodian, she is superwoman.

She is, simply put, not paid enough.

Which exactly why she got her side gig, and is wrapped up in the mess of tonight. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Robin and Gabby enter the Orpheum, plush red carpet beneath heels as they make their way up grand staircases towards a bar. They don’t know that they’re about to cross paths with old friends for the first time tonight - that it’s not just a happy coincidence.

For our second couple of the night sits at the bar with their drinks in hand already - Nancy and Jonathan Byers.

These two, oh these two. They’re quite a pair.

Nancy Wheeler Byers is in a simple but elegant black cocktail dress. It hugs her hips she works hard for, her shoes and jewelry silver, her clutch a shimmering little thing to match. Her make-up pops, hues and shades that were matched professionally, and her brown curls are pinned up in an old Hollywood style.

Jonathan is wearing a suit.

Nancy raises her extra dry martini to her lips and Jonathan’s thumbs slip down the side of the tumbler holding an old fashioned, he stares at it in disgust. He hates cocktails and would much rather hold a beer.

But that’s not how Nancy does things.

To any other person walking by, to Robin and Gabriella making eye contact with Miss Byers, these two look picture perfect. They are divine, they are a couple straight out of a catalog. Their love is the stuff of myths.

Literally.

Behind the smile pushing up Nancy’s cheeks, behind the black and white candid photography on Jonathan’s carefully curated Instagram, there’s pain and mess and so much we have to uncover.

Robin rushes up to her, an arm around her shoulders, “Oh my god! How long has it been?”

“Too long,” Nancy squeezes her fingers, setting her martini on the black tabletop and motioning for two more to the bartender.

Robin’s eyes bounce between the two old friends, a genuine smile on her face as she gushes, “God, I mean what are the odds? How are you both? What have you been up to?”

Nancy and Jonathan’s eyes dart to the other, tight smiles before responding in unison, “Nothing much!”

Nothing much meaning they’ve dug themselves into holes they can’t get out of, and perhaps they don’t want to. Because she can’t let something go and he can’t say no to her. When Nancy Wheeler Byers finds a loose thread, she has to pull until the whole thing is unraveled. She has to commit, she has to be the best, and her passion and obsession for answers always leads her to forget about others and how her actions have consequences. And it is for this reason, that many believe that what is about to occur tonight is entirely her fault.

But, we'll see about that.

Because, while these old friends start catching up, Gabriella’s smile falls as her gaze makes contact with a pair of hazel ones in the mirror above the bar. He ducks his head, his hand with a thick family ring on his middle finger grabs the elbow of a woman in red, whispering in her ear. His caramel and honey hair styled, pushed back but stray strands will soon fall over his forehead. His black suit is tailored, a bowtie that’s far too expensive, and his shoes shine. The lady in red, we’ll call this one Blair, has accessories and make-up that are equally as professionally done and sophisticated as Nancy’s but far more expensive. The woman attached to the wrist his fingers now curl around turns her head, smiling directly at Gabriella and waving. They begin to head over to the group and Gabriella panics, squeezing Robin’s fingers and beelining towards the line snaking out of the ladies room.

Gabriella’s lack of subtlety is not lost on either half of our third couple. Steve Harrington watches it happen, his throat bobbing and his fingers flexing at his side. Mrs. Harrington finally has the confirmation she needs that her husband is fucking his secretary. But is that what’s happening? Only time will tell, we suppose. That is afterall, how a story works.

Nancy sees the Harrington’s first after Gabriella’s abrupt departure and she smiles. Kisses to each apple of each of their cheeks and a firm handshake from Jonathan.

“Steve?”

Steve Harrington turns, and Robin Buckley beams.

“Ro-Robin! Oh my god!” He engulfs her in a hug and she laughs, the two old friends holding each other tightly. Mrs. Harrington looks at the pair then back at Nancy and Jonathan, confused, and even more so when Nancy gulps down her third martini and Jonathan’s hand shakes before grabbing the detested old fashioned.

Blair has never seen Steve so genuine, not since their early years, not since before their engagement. It’s like the weight of his life is lifted from his shoulders from this honey-haired goddess and suddenly she’s not so sure it’s the secretary he’s fucking.

Steve’s hands land on her shoulders, hers on his forearms as he shakes his head, eyes wide, “Wh-what? What are you doing here?”

Robin laughs, gesturing over her shoulder, “My girlfriend got tickets.”

Steve’s eyes dart up, Gabriella’s head ducks down quickly because as we’ve established, subtle and her don’t mesh. Steve inhales sharply, “She, oh, uh…wait, what?”

Yeah definitely fucking the secretary. The secretary who’s dating his old friend. The friend whom Mrs. Harrington has never heard of before tonight.

Before Blair Harrington can begin to question more, before Nancy Wheeler can start to confirm and piece her puzzle together, another familiar voice breaks the group's focus, and our fourth and final couple is introduced.

“What the fuck?”

The group turns at the question, finding Edward Munson in a suit and a beautiful woman holding his hand. She wears a navy dress, this one is Vanessa. She glances at the three gorgeous women staring at her husband. Her brain begins to calculate just how much their earrings cost, let alone the rest of their ensembles, and she folds in on herself, trying to pull and hide behind Eddie.

He squeezes her fingers as Robin steps forward. “Eddie? Oh my god, seriously is someone playing some like prank tonight? Did the kids do this? How are we all here?”

A great question indeed, Robin.

What are you all doing here?

Before this question can be answered, the soft lighting overhead flickers twice and a chime rings out, signaling it’s time to take their seats.

Blair Harrington starts to head towards their box, Vanessa Munson glances down at the paper ticket in her hand and tries to figure out which direction to go, Gabriella (we never did give her a last name did we?) is nowhere to be seen.

Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler Byers, Jonathan Byers, and Robin Buckley all stand in a circle, speaking at once.

“Well, we should-”

“Where are you stay-”

“I miss you guy-”

But it’s Nancy’s voice that rings out the clearest.

“Right back here. Intermission. Please.”

With nods, fingers slipping into wives who tug on them, and smiles - some tight lipped and some genuine - the party dissolves and the orchestra makes its first harmonizing note.

The show is starting.

Please vote for who will be moving on and revealing more of their story.

Remember: whoever wins this week, faces the winner of Creatures of the Night - which will have more revealed on Thursday, Oct 12th

Choose wisely!

#superbly subpars trope or treat madness #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic

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foundtherightwords · 1 year ago

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Signal Fire - Chapter 1

Summary: Two years after Corroded Coffin finally made it big, Eddie learns that Chrissy's mother has passed away. He returns to Hawkins in the hope of reuniting with her, but would Chrissy be able to overcome her fears and allow herself some happiness at last?

A/N: This is the final part of "Return to Hawkins". I highly recommend that you read the first two parts, especially "Headlights on Dark Roads", before reading this.

Also, since the first one, "Same Streets, New Memories" is in Eddie's POV, and the second one, "Headlights on Dark Roads", is in Chrissy's POV, I thought I'd have their alternating POVs here to balance things out.

Warnings: angst, brief mentions of abuse, homophobia, and drug use, some smut (in this chapter)

Chapter word count: 4.2k

Chapter 1

On tour, every band has its own post-show wind-down routine. Some retire to their hotel rooms with a drink or two and some mind-numbing TV. Some crash on their tour bus on their way to the next city, the next gig. Some meditate. Some talk to their therapist. Others, the really annoying ones, do yoga or hit the gym. Most party, and party hard, putting every substance known to man—and some unknown as well—down their throats, up their noses, and into every bodily orifice they can find.

The members of Corroded Coffin, like ET, phone home.

It had been over two years since they were signed with Metal Blade, two whirlwind years of constant recording, rehearsals, and gigs. Their third album—often mistaken by the new fans as their debut—had gone gold, then platinum. They had opened for Metallica, played at the recently resurrected Lollapalooza, and were about to embark on their first-ever European tour. For a band from a small town in Indiana who, until five years ago, was still struggling in obscurity, it was pretty well done.

Perhaps some of that success was owed to the band's exemplary behavior, both on- and offstage. Perhaps it was because they'd made almost every mistake one could make as a band already. When you've spent nearly 15 years doing everything wrong, the next thing you do is bound to be right. Their shows were always explosive, but there was no smashing of instruments, no biting heads off live animals. They were friendly with the other acts, but as soon as the backstage party descended into chaos and disorder, they excused themselves. When it came to parties, Corroded Coffin was much more likely to be found in the kind that went raiding and fighting evil wizards.

Though there was the occasional speculation about their personal lives, especially that of their charismatic frontman, they remained intensely private on that aspect. Tabloids soon got bored of them. They became known as the good boys of metal. Other critics, less charitable, called them a dad band, squares, or said that, like their name, they were already in the grave. They didn't care. All those years had taught them to manage their expectations. They knew they were never going to be huge, like Metallica-huge. But they seemed set on their way to being a moderately successful band, at least enough to earn a living doing what they love, and how many of us are that lucky?

That night, as they finished their penultimate US show in San Francisco, Jeff, Grant, and Gareth called their loved ones in LA as usual, although they were coming home the next day to prepare for Rock am Ring in Germany. Eddie checked his phone as well. Though it was now late in Hawkins, Uncle Wayne would still be awake, a leftover habit from his days of working nights at the plant, or, if not, he would leave Eddie a voice message—the old man never got the hang of texting, bless him—and Eddie would call him back in the morning.

Wayne had left a message. It only said, "Call me when you get this. Never mind the time."

Had something happened? Had there been an accident? With his heart in his throat, Eddie fumbled with the buttons to dial Wayne's number.

"I'm fine, everything's fine," Wayne said the moment he heard Eddie's voice, and Eddie relaxed slightly. "Except—ah, Mrs. Cunningham just passed away. Couple of days ago."

Eddie's first reaction was to laugh out loud at the sheer anti-climactic feel of it all. Through the curtain of his bunk, he could hear the murmur of Gareth's voice asking his wife to give their daughter a goodnight kiss.

"How'd you know?" Eddie asked. "Did she tell you or—"

Wayne knew who he meant. "No. I still see her in town from time to time, but—no, I saw the funeral notice."

So Chrissy's mom had died. Eddie sat down, not quite sure how he should take the news. He supposed he should feel bad for the woman, at least a little, but all he could feel was relief. Ding dong, the witch is dead. He'd only met Mrs. Cunningham once, shortly before he went back to LA, but it was enough, and he could never forgive her for the damage she'd done to Chrissy. She was the reason Chrissy had decided to stay in Hawkins, the reason Chrissy had given up on them. Now that she was gone... but he was getting ahead of himself. What bothered him was that Chrissy hadn't told him the news herself. She still had his number, he believed. Why hadn't she called? Did she think he would not care? Did she even want him there?

"When's the funeral?" Eddie heard himself asking.

"Day after tomorrow."

"Do you—do you think I should be there?"

Eddie knew Wayne would understand. Wayne knew Eddie would want to talk it out with someone, which was why he'd waited to tell Eddie directly instead of just leaving a message. Eddie was grateful to his uncle for that.

"Look, I don't want to pry into what happened between you and Chrissy," Wayne said. "But she's lonely, I can tell. For a year after you left, she didn't come around, didn't call, nothing. Then one day, I ran into her at the store, and the girl just... broke down. I told her if she needed someone to talk to, I'd be there for her. Now she brings me food sometimes, and we'd have a beer and talk about you."

"Wait, how come this is the first time I ever heard about you and Chrissy hanging out?"

"Chrissy asks me not to mention it to you. She's still..." Eddie was dying for his uncle to finish the sentence, but Wayne only cleared his throat. "But what does an old man like me know anyway? If you can make it, go—even if it's just for old time's sake."

After he said goodbye to Wayne and hung up, Eddie lay back in his bunk. Two years. Two years he had not heard from Chrissy. When he left, she'd asked him not to say goodbye, and so in his mind, things between them had never ended at all. Once the band was settled in LA, he'd called and called and called and sent messages after messages, telling her that he would wait until she was ready to talk, so they could figure things out. She never answered, and after a while, he stopped.

It was fortunate that he had been so busy the past two years, or he might have gone crazy from missing her. The mornings were the worst. At night, he could fall into bed, exhausted after a gig or a recording session, without thinking much of her, but in the morning, there was always a drowsy moment when he expected to feel her feather-light kisses on his ear, and he would strain so hard to actually catch the kiss that he woke himself up.

He'd missed her when he and the guys had gone to see The Return of the King (opening night, Grauman's Chinese Theater), although she had always fallen asleep watching any of the Lord of the Rings films. He missed seeing her curled up on his shitty couch in his shitty apartment in Hawkins. Not that he would trade what they had now for his old life. But it would've been nice if he could've shared it with her.

And here was his chance.

The funeral was on Thursday. They were leaving for Germany next week. That would give him three days in Hawkins for the funeral and to work out whatever needed to be worked out between him and Chrissy, before rejoining the band in LA.

Two years was a long time. A lot could've changed. But if Wayne was correct, if Chrissy was really lonely and still... still what? Thinking of him? In love with him? Eddie didn't know, but he couldn't let this chance pass without finding out.

***

Eddie rented a car in Indianapolis and drove straight to the funeral from the airport. The closer he got to Hawkins, to seeing Chrissy, the faster his heartbeats got, until he felt like his heart had been switched with one of Gareth's snares. What would she be like? Would she be the same, or had she changed? Would she be happy to see him?

His flight was a bit late, and the car rental had taken longer than he'd expected, so by the time he pulled into the church, the service was already underway. He slipped in, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but several heads from the back rows still turned toward him, first with curiosity, and then disapproval. He'd take care to wear black, but now that he thought about it, perhaps black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket were not the most appropriate attire in this situation. He could only imagine what he looked like to this church-going crowd—less like someone attending a funeral and more like someone going to a Black Sabbath concert, which, to be fair, is what he looked like most of the time. Even the photo of Mrs. Cunningham set by the lectern, surrounded by white chrysanthemums, seemed to be glaring at him.

Ignoring those looks of consternation, Eddie found a pew at the very back and gingerly sat down, while still scanning the front for Chrissy. He knew the back of her head and her neck so well that he was certain he could pick her out even from behind. But there was no sign of her blond head. Perhaps she had decided to skip the funeral altogether. Given the relationship between her and her mother, Eddie couldn't exactly blame Chrissy. That didn't stop him from feeling a sense of anticlimax though. Where would she be?

Eddie noticed that no family member stepped up to give a speech. Of course, Chrissy's brother, who had been kicked out by her parents at eighteen for being gay, wouldn't be there either. At the lectern, the pastor was droning on about what a kind and generous soul Mrs. Cunningham was and how bravely she had endured tragedy and hardship in the last few years of her life, and Eddie had to fight the urge to snort. Yes, such a kind and generous woman that neither of her children was present at her funeral.

Finally, the service was over, and people started filing out and headed to the cemetery. There was a bit of a traffic jam at the door as they stopped to shake hands with the family. Eddie hung back a little to see if Chrissy was there, but he only saw a woman whose resemblance to Mrs. Cunningham suggested she was a sister or at least a cousin, and standing next to her was the last person he'd expected to see.

Jason Carver.

Despite looking a little thicker around the middle and with a bit of a receding hairline, Jason didn't seem to have changed much since high school. The smug look on his face and the instant loathing Eddie felt upon seeing it were exactly the same as well. What the fuck was Jason Carver doing here? Last Eddie heard, he was married and living in Bloomington. Unless... unless... a terrible possibility formed in Eddie's mind. Two years was a long time. A lot could have changed.

Eddie hesitated, half wanting to slip away so he wouldn't have to interact with Jason, half wanting to interrogate Jason on what he was doing here and where the hell Chrissy was. Just as he was wavering at the exit, he felt a prod at his back, and a woman behind him hissed, "Move along!" He stumbled forward and found himself face-to-face with Jason.

"Eddie Munson?" Jason's mouth dropped. "What on Earth are you doing here?"

"Carver." Eddie nodded with what he hoped was a nonchalant air and deliberately ignored Jason's question. "Didn't know you were in town."

"We just happened to be visiting my parents when I heard the news from Chris—Chrissy. I thought she could use some help."

"So where is she?"

Jason's eyes narrowed as if he thought Eddie wasn't allowed to ask after Chrissy, but he answered anyway, "She wasn't feeling well and decided to stay home. This is very hard on her, you know. First her dad, now her mom. They were close."

Eddie stared at Jason, astonished that despite being with Chrissy for less than ten months, he'd known more about her than this fool ever did after having dated her throughout high school. His fear of Chrissy getting back with Jason seemed ridiculous now. He turned away, got into his rental car, and drove to the Cunningham's house.

***

Eddie drove down Poplar Tree Road, past the horrible cookie-cutter McMansions with their tiny lawns and huge garages that had sprung up all over this side of town in the nineties, until he came to Chrissy's house at the older end of the street. It still looked the same as he remembered from Thanksgiving two years ago, even from the time he'd driven her home after that night they'd spent in his trailer, all the way back in high school, with its unfriendly faux-stone façade that reminded him of Mrs. Cunningham's perpetual thin-lipped, disapproving look.

There was no car in the driveway. He rang the doorbell, then knocked. For a bewildering moment, he wondered if Jason had lied and Chrissy wasn't home after all. Just as he reached for the handle to see if the door was locked, it opened, and there she was.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat. He had been so focused on seeing her at the funeral and so worried when she didn't show up, that he hadn't prepared himself for seeing her like this, in such a normal setting, like no time had passed at all. Relief and joy and agony fought inside him, weakening his limbs.

At first glance, she, too, seemed unchanged. Her hair was longer now, pulled back into a low bun, almost like the ponytail she'd sported in high school, and for a second, Eddie was transported back to '86, back to the woods behind Hawkins High, when Chrissy had looked up at him with those blue, blue eyes. Even the expression in her eyes was the same. It tugged at his heart and made him want to scoop her up into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, because he was here.

But that vulnerable look was only there for an instant. It quickly disappeared, replaced first by surprise and then by an unnatural, blank calmness, and Eddie felt his heart falter.

"Eddie?" she said, and if he hadn't been watching her so closely, if he hadn't dreamed of seeing her again every night for the past two years, he would've missed the slight quiver in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Wayne called and let me know. Why didn't you tell me?"

She took a moment to answer. "I thought you were on tour."

"We just finished our last US show." So she knew they were on tour. She still cared.

"Did you come here all the way from LA?"

"Yeah. I'm going back on Sunday."

Chrissy let out a small "Oh" before they lapsed into an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have come—" he began.

"No, it's fine. I appreciate it," she said stiffly. Then, realizing they were still standing at the door, she stepped back. "Come in."

Eddie followed her into the living room. He noticed that Chrissy was wearing a black dress, but the matching jacket was thrown haphazardly on the couch, and there was a rather sad-looking bouquet of white lilies on the table.

"Why weren't you at the funeral?" he asked.

She turned to him, that haunted, frightened look back in her eyes. "I was getting ready to go," she said, picking up the lilies and trying to rearrange them, her fingers twitching restlessly. "But my dress—the fit isn't right—and these lilies I bought to put in the casket—they wilted—she wouldn't like that—she always wanted everything to be perfect—and I just couldn't—I couldn't—" The flowers dropped from her hands, her face crumpled, and she burst into choking, wrenching sobs.

Eddie was beside her in a flash. He took her hands in his, and when that wasn't enough, he pulled her into his arms, cradling her head on his chest. "Shh, it's OK," he murmured. "It's OK. It's OK."

Chrissy clung to him, her hot tears soaking through his shirt, and slowly, her trembling subsided, and her sobs quieted. He lifted her chin. "She's gone. It doesn't matter what she thought anymore," he said. "And for what it's worth, I think you're perfect, Chrissy Cunningham."

She looked at him, and he could see something else was unchanged too—the trust and love in her eyes, eyes that had lit up his world and guided him through all those long, disheartening years, even before they had gotten together, before he knew what she would come to mean to him. His fears and doubts vanished, and, leaning down, he kissed her.

As soon as their lips met, all the grief and the longing of the past two years melted away, disappeared into the blaze that erupted between them with all the suddenness and intensity of a wildfire. Their hands were all over each other, his cupping her face, hers curled into his lapels, as they drank each other in like two people dying of thirst. No matter how hard he crushed her to him, she would press back harder, until she stumbled backward and landed on the couch, pulling him down on top of her. Her skirt rode up. Eddie pushed it further up and twisted his fingers into the elastic band at her hips, yanking it down. The feel of her hips writhing under his hands drove him to distraction, so much so that he couldn't even undo his belt, not wanting to move away from her. Luckily, Chrissy noticed his fumbling and lent a helping hand.

But the couch was too small. Her left leg and his right arm were squeezed against the back, and if they tried to make room for each other, they were in danger of falling off. With a growl of frustration, Eddie sat up and swung Chrissy into his lap so she was straddling him. Much better. Only her dress was in the way. He tugged impatiently at it, heedless of the ripping sound, until it was off her shoulder, and he buried his face between her breasts while she braced her palms against the back of the couch and rolled her hips toward him. He lifted himself to meet her.

When their bodies finally connected, Chrissy let out a choked cry, and Eddie almost cried out in relief as well. He'd missed her, but he hadn't known how much until now.

It had never felt like this between them. Even their last night together, over two years ago, had been slow and dreamy, tinged with the bittersweet note of heartbreak, not this savage, desperate clawing at each other's clothes, not this panting, gasping need to get closer and closer until they were one. He no longer knew where or who he was. All he knew was her—her skin silken and scorching in his palms, her lips quivering in his mouth, her arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, her hips moving so in sync with his that he couldn't tell where she ended and he began.

When the release came, it was messy and clumsy and wrong, and it felt so, so right.

Eddie didn't know how long they remained on the couch afterward, with his arms around her and her head on his chest, while their matching breaths and heartbeats slowed and became their own again. After what felt like either an eternity or no time at all, Chrissy spoke. "Eddie," she said, and he almost cried again at the sound of his name in her voice, the whisper of her breath against his skin. "That was—"

"��amazing," he said, placing a gentle kiss on her lips that soon became not so gentle anymore.

When they drew apart again, he brushed some strands of sweat-damp hair away from her forehead and thought, even with her tear-stained cheeks, swollen lips, and half-torn dress, or perhaps precisely because of those things, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Yes, it was, but..." As soon as the word "but" was out of her mouth, his heart went cold. "But it doesn't mean—"

"Please don't say that it doesn't mean anything," he said, tightening his grip around her.

"No." She placed her hand on his chest and looked at him with such tenderness that his heart turned over. "But it doesn't mean what you want it to mean either."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She didn't answer right away. She moved off his lap, pulled her dress up, and smoothed her hair back without looking at him. He adjusted his clothes as well, feeling strangely chilled and lonely. That all-consuming fire between them was gone.

"You should go," Chrissy said. "My aunt may come back here from the cemetery to check on me." So the woman he'd seen at the funeral was Mrs. Cunningham's sister. "And Jason too," Chrissy added.

Hearing her say Jason's name so casually stirred up some unaccustomed emotions inside Eddie. Anger? Jealousy? At the church, he had been sure Chrissy couldn't have gotten back with Jason. He was not so sure now.

"Are you—you and him—" He knew he had no right to ask. He and Chrissy had broken up; whatever she did or whoever she chose to see was her own business. He hated himself for even asking, yet he couldn't stop the question.

"Don't be ridiculous. He's married, remember? He and his wife are in Hawkins visiting his folks, and he's been kind enough to help me with the funeral arrangements, that's all."

So you trust him enough to tell him about your mother's death, but not me, Eddie thought, but what he said was, "You got all your exes lined up pretty conveniently, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Chrissy asked, her face wary.

"Well, there's Jason helping with the funeral, and here's me for—what? A quickie on your couch?" He didn't know where the vitriol was coming from. Perhaps he was hurt that Chrissy had not turned to him in her hour of need. Perhaps he was hurt that she could push him away so coldly and matter-of-factly, after what they'd just had.

Chrissy's eyes were like two blue crystals. "Don't try to be nasty, Eddie," she said, expressionless. "It doesn't suit you."

Eddie looked away. Hot shame rose within him. He'd come back to comfort Chrissy, yet the moment she didn't swoon at his feet, he threw a tantrum like an overgrown toddler.

"What do you want from me?" Chrissy continued, when he remained silent. "My mom just died. Did you expect me to throw my arms up in the air to celebrate and then ride off into the sunset with you?"

"No!" Eddie shouted, though that was exactly what he had expected. "I just wanted to—to comfort you!"

"I don't need your comfort," she said, her jaws set.

Her words lashed at him like a whip. He was reminded all too vividly of her words when she broke up with him, when she'd chosen to stay in Hawkins instead of going with him to LA. I can't keep letting you fight for me. They still smarted, after these two years.

"But you need Jason's help, is that it?"

She flinched. "That was different."

"How?"

"He doesn't—I don't—" She picked up her jacket, then threw it back down again, unable to find the right words.

Eddie jumped up from the couch and seized her arms. "You don't have to be strong all the time, you know. Why can't you just let me take care of you? I want to! I want—" And because he didn't know what else to do, how else to show her, because he still wanted her, all of her, so much he could hardly bear it, he kissed her again. For a moment, her mouth opened and her body melted into his, and all the hurt was forgotten once more—

"Chris?" Jason's voice rang out across the foyer.

Chrissy pushed Eddie away just as Jason stepped into the living room. "You OK? The front door's open—" He paused upon seeing the two of them, their faces crimson like two teenagers caught by a parent. Jason's handsome features hardened as his eyes bore into Eddie. "Munson? What are you doing here?"

"Leaving," Eddie muttered and staggered to the door without a look back. He didn't want to see Jason succeed where he had failed—in comforting Chrissy.

Coming back was a mistake. There was nothing left for him here.

Chapter 2

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