#eddie's mom's journal

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

a witch!eddie moodboard for @steddie-spooktober day 23: witch

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the dive

“You do realize Skull Rock is a super popular make out spot? It wasn’t popular until I made it popular, alright? I practically invented it.” The words slip from Steve’s mouth before he can really understand the consequences behind them. He stops dead in his tracks and stares at you, eyes wide in fear. “Nice one, Steve.” You pat his chest sarcastically, sharing a disgusted look with Dustin.

Summary: dustin rejects the pity pringles you offer, eddie is straight up not having a good time, nancy does some investigative journalism about you and steve (gossips with robin), and steve suddenly decides he wants to take up scuba diving. for some reason. but hey ! title drop time !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, mentions of death and violence

Words: 7.4k

Before you swing in: HI !!!! HAPPY ONE YEAR OF COME HOME !!! weve reached the scene everyone has so patiently waited for ;) can yall believe it took a full year before we finally reached the fated title drop ??? i can ! anyways, pls enjoy. i love this chapter and you guys so so so much :')))

–

“Want some?” 

Dustin smacks the pringle that Steve dangles away from his face. “Get that away from me.”

“But you love Pringles,” your hand waves in front of his face, holding yet another chip. You’re sitting in Nancy’s trunk with Steve, eating leftover pringles from the supply run from this morning for Eddie. Dustin sits in the middle, squished between Max and Lucas. “Here, take one as a peace offering.”

“I’d rather be stuck between Lucas and Max than you and Steve, Y/N.” Dustin huffs, though he does eventually take the chip that you offer him.

Steve chews another chip. “Totally harsh, dude.”

The car turns and you’re suddenly pressed against your boyfriend, knee bending at an uncomfortable angle. “Cozy car, Nance.” You quip, repositioning yourself so your ribcage is no longer in your lungs. 

“Sorry, guys.” She glances back at you. “I know this isn’t ideal, but Eddie is almost definitely low on food and he’ll want to hear what we found.”

“Not to be a wimp, but can I sit in the car for this visit?” Robin asks from the passenger seat. “‘Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.”

You toss a chip into your mouth. “I agree. Especially after his weird broadcast yesterday.”

Dustin whips his head to look at you. “Eddie contacted Cerebro?”

“Did I not tell you?” 

“No!” 

“Shit, sorry.” Yesterday was a blur. After the lights exploded in Victor Creel’s attic, you’d all driven silently back to Nancy’s. Hardly anyone spoke afterwards. You all had gone to bed quiet, reeling from the implications of what you’d found. “It was weird. I couldn’t really understand him, the signal was weak.”

Dustin gestures wildly at you. “Okay, but what did he say?”

“Something about Jason? And holes in a boat?” You’d been recovering from your panic attack when Eddie’s voice came through the radio. The details were fuzzy. 

“A boat? Why the hell would Eddie need a boat?”

You shrug. “No clue, but I feel bad for the guy.”

The entire situation is grim. Eddie has been accused of murdering at least two Hawkins students, he apparently runs a cult, and now the only way of clearing his name involves El and the Upside Down. Both of which are currently out of reach. 

While you can barely tolerate the guy, it’s a shame that he doesn’t stand a chance.

“It’ll be fine.” Nancy insists, but Robin shakes her head. 

“I can’t stand to see those doe eyes of Eddie’s break again. I really, really can’t.”

“‘Doe eyes’ is a little much.” You scrunch your nose in displeasure. Steve snorts and Dustin glares at you. “Just saying.”

“At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” Steve offers, picking up the six-pack of beer and waving it around.

Max looks out the window. “That’s what my mom does.”

Lucas catches your eye. No one catches what Max has said besides you two. He looks upset, but you shake your head at him. Now isn’t the time. If he says anything to her, Max will close back in on herself. 

Robin and Nancy return to their conversation while you sit quietly in the back. Steve notices your change in demeanor and frowns. Unsure what’s caused it, he holds up a pringle and winks at you. “Bet you can’t catch this with your mouth.”

It’s a welcomed distraction. You sit up, eyes alight. “You’re on, Harrington.”

And the game is on. Steve tosses a chip into the air and you duck your head, angling your mouth so that you catch it just before it lands. Eyes wide, you throw your arms in the air and cheer. “I did it!”

Steve claps, whooping. “That’s my girl!”

Reaching for the bag of pringles, you grab one and don’t even give Steve a warning before you’re throwing it at him. He yelps, surprised, but with ease he catches it. He cheers again and chews triumphantly. “And you tried to cheat!” 

You roll your eyes. “Technically it wasn’t cheating, I just didn’t warn you.”

Steve pokes you side, eliciting a giggle from you. “I’ll get you for that, Henderson.”

“I’d like to see you try–” The sight of a police car stops you. 

Nancy sees it, too. “Oh, shit.”

You’re just outside of the boathouse Eddie is hiding out in. There are cars everywhere, cops walking along the perimeter, controlling a crowd that has formed. A news station van blocks your vision, but you get a sickening sense of deja-vu anyways. 

This is exactly how it’d been when Fred’s body was found.

Nancy ushers everyone to the side of the van, ducking down so you aren’t seen. Officer Powell is giving a speech to the press. He stands before the frightened audience, voice stern, but also tired. You can’t imagine what it must be like, being chief of police without having any idea of the horrors that Hawkins hides. 

“The Roane County line received a call a little after midnight, reporting a homicide here on the lake.”

Everyone freezes. Another body has been found. 

“That’s three deaths in three days.” You can’t breathe. This is all happening too fast. Faster than anything you’ve ever had to deal with before.

Chief Powell continues. “It was here that we found the body of the victim, an eighteen year old senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.”

Lucas stiffens next to you. Patrick had been his teammate. His friend. Numb, you rub his back, offering whatever ounce of comfort you can give him. 

“We have also identified a person of interest.” The chief holds up a photo of Eddie, showing it to the broadcasters before him. “Eddie Munson.”

You suck in a breath. The only thing Eddie had going for him was that no one knew he was the main person of interest. His identity had still been concealed, buying him a little more time while you tried to find answers for him. 

But now it’s too late. 

“This is not good,” Steve mumbles as officer Powell encourages the town to come forward with any information they may have about Eddie. “This is really not good.”

“He’s fucked.” You whisper. The crowd standing before Powell is large. Nearly half the town leans into his every word. They’re angry. All of them. Another one of their own has been taken. Another child. 

And they’d do anything to save Hawkins’ children.

The manhunt has begun. 

“Dustin, can you hear me? Hendersons?” Eddie’s voice cackles through the walkie.

Everyone scurries around your brother while he fumbles with his bag, anxious to respond. When he finally finds his walkie, he breathes out a sigh of relief. “Eddie. Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“Nah, man.” He sounds exhausted, seconds away from completely breaking down. Something within your chest tightens. No one deserves this. “I’m pretty goddamn far from okay.”

Robin prods Dustin to ask where Eddie is. No one wants him to be alone right now. Not when he’s become Hawkins’ most wanted.

“I’m at Skull Rock. Do you know it?”

Dustin nods eagerly. “Uh, yeah. That’s near Cornwallis and–”

“Garrett, yeah.” Steve is already running towards Nancy’s car. “I know where that is.”

You grab Dustin’s shirt. “Tell Eddie we’ll be there soon, alright?”

“Yeah-yeah I will.” The urgence in your voice scares him a little. He knows you’d do whatever to protect someone, but he never thought you’d extend this protectiveness to Eddie. Bringing the walkie to his lips, Dustin delivers your message. “Hold tight. We’re coming.”

The walkie clicks off. 

All you can do is hope that you make it to Skull Rock in time. 

– 

The last time you trekked through Hawkins woods, you had to endure Steve and Dustin constantly arguing as you all threw down chunks of meat onto the train tracks.

Now, over a year later, they’re still arguing.

At least this time there isn’t the stench of raw meat.

“I’m telling you, we’re going the wrong way.” Dustin nags Steve, holding his compass in one hand and a map of Hawkins in the other. “Skull Rock is in the other direction. You’re totally wrong.”

Steve shoves him, causing the teen to trip over a tree root. “What’s up with you always thinking I’m wrong these days?”

“Because you’re always wrong.”

You flick the brim of Dustin’s hat. “Steve has had a few good ideas from time to time. He’s taking us the right way.”

“No, he’s not. It’s north.” Dustin points behind him. Steve rolls his eyes in disbelief. “I’m positive. I checked the map.”

“You do realize Skull Rock is a super popular make out spot? It wasn’t popular until I made it popular, alright? I practically invented it.” The words slip from Steve’s mouth before he can really understand the consequences behind them. He stops dead in his tracks and stares at you, eyes wide in fear.

“Nice one, Steve.” You pat his chest sarcastically, sharing a disgusted look with Dustin.

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that.” Steve trips over his words, nearly falling flat on his face as he struggles to keep up with you. “I mean, I did kiss a lot of girls there, but-but that was before I enjoyed kissing you!”

Your brother gags. “Real catch there, Y/N.”

“I’m ignoring you both,” you tell the boys, continuing down the path Steve pointed out earlier. The gaps in the trees start to become familiar. The rugged terrain smoothes over from excessive use, creating an unmarked trail that you’ve walked before. “More importantly, I think we’re getting close to Skull Rock.”

“See? I told you, little Henderson–” Steve starts to cheer, happy to be right. Then the joy on his face quickly dissipates. He’s realized something. “Wait, how… how do you know where Skull Rock is, Y/N?”

A twig snaps beneath your shoe. “Used to go there all the time with Jonathan.”

“What?” Steve and Dustin balk at you, nearly toppling over the other in shock.

Quickly you realize the horrific implications of your words. “Jesus, not like that! We would only go there to read together and listen to music!”

It was your way of escaping life together. Just the two of you, early mornings before the rest of Hawkins woke up. The dew would still be on the grass. Everything was easier, then.

You miss those days more than anything. 

Dustin’s suspicious eyes linger on you, though he seems content enough with your explanation. Steve, however, still looks uncertain and utterly mortified. His distrust makes you sigh in annoyance. 

“I have never once kissed Jonathan.”

“Right!” Steve snaps back to himself, coughing and wiping his hands on his pants. “Yeah. Totally already knew that. For sure.”

Dustin hits his shoulder. “Dude. Learn when to shut up.”

“Working on it.” Steve mumbles bitterly, trying to catch your eye, but you ignore him. 

Behind you, Nancy and Robin walk silently together. They’d been the odd ones out in the group. You had paired off with Dustin and Steve to try and quell their arguing while Max and Lucas wandered off alone.

Neither girl speaks. There’s not a lot to say between them. When you come across a fallen log, they watch silently as Steve extends his arm to you, helping you jump over it. His grip is delicate on your arm, though firm enough to guide you. After you’ve jumped, his eyes instinctively go to your ankle, the same one you sprained years ago, to make sure you aren’t limping.

It’s a subtle, easy to overlook action. But Nancy and Robin see it, and they both understand how painstakingly sincere it is. Your ankle never quite healed right. Some days it bothers you, particularly after walking long distances or jumping too much on it. 

And Steve knows your body well enough to understand this. 

“Ugh,” Robin’s scoff breaks the silence, happy to voice what she knows Nancy is thinking. “They’re so adorable. I just wanna squeeze ‘em, ya know?”

Nancy smiles at her, although it’s strained. “Steve is very… sweet. With Y/N.”

“‘Sweet’? More like tooth-rotting, Nance.”

And Robin’s right. The way Steve is around you, there almost isn’t a word for it. Nancy has never really seen the two of you together. By the time Steve finally asked you out, it’d been only a week before Joyce told Jonathan they were moving.

Steve had stepped back after that. He allowed you and Nancy to spend as much time as physically possible with Jonathan before he moved. He recognized the strained history between him and Jonathan; he hadn’t wanted to spoil the little time you had left together. 

When summer ended and senior year began, Steve had already graduated and Nancy had thrown herself into the school paper by then.

Now, after spending the last few days around you and Steve nonstop, Nancy can’t help but notice all the nuanced ways the two of you are together. She’s picked up the small cues between you, the quirks in your relationship. And she feels a strange sense of curiosity about it.

“Steve and Y/N,” Nancy pauses, unsure how to phrase her question. She doesn’t want to sound intrusive or rude. “How, um. Serious are they?”

Robin is slightly surprised by her question, but the flush of Nancy’s cheeks tells her that it’d been hard for her to even ask it. “Oh, they’re very serious. Like starting a life together serious.”

“A life together?” Nancy doesn’t believe it. She doesn’t understand how the two of you could already be at the point in your relationship. You’ve been together less than a year. 

A lot less longer than Nancy has been with Jonathan. 

“Yeah, Steve has this crazy idea of following Y/N to NYU.” Robin almost doesn’t think she should be telling her this, but Nancy seems to be hurting and she feels bad for her. Nancy wouldn’t be asking about this if there wasn’t a reason to. “His heart is like, totally set on it. It’s crazy and all, but it’s sweet in his own Steve-ish way.”

“It is sweet.” Nancy affirms, a far off look in her eyes. The same far off look in her eyes from the other day in the library. Robin had asked about Jonathan and suddenly Nancy’s entire demeanor shifted. 

Robin clears her throat. “I’m guessing you and Jonathan haven’t figured out the whole life thing yet?”

“That isn’t any of your business.” Nancy responds coldly.

“Well, you did start this entire conversation asking about Steve and Y/N’s relationship.” Robin points out, though not unkindly. “All I’m saying is that someone in a happy relationship wouldn’t ask about another person’s relationship and look totally depressed while doing so.”

Nancy shakes her head incredulously. “Jonathan and I are fine.” 

“Okay.” Robin says, but it’s obvious to them both that she doesn’t believe her. 

“We’re good.” Nancy tries again, but not even she believes her own words. Defeated, she turns away from Robin and sighs heavily. “It’s just, he was supposed to be here for the break and then he backed out at the last minute for some vague, mumbly Jonathan reason.”

She doesn’t know why she’s confiding in Robin about this. They’re barely friends, Nancy has never spoken to her outside of party related stuff. But Robin remains quiet, listening, Her attention is all it takes before the dam in Nancy’s chest collapses. 

“And, to be honest, I’m not that surprised because I’ve been feeling him pulling away lately.” All the hurt and anxiety and insecurity Nancy has pent away finally unravels as she speaks. She can’t stop. “And I don’t know if it’s because we’re 2,000 miles away or if he met someone new or-or if Y/N–”

Nancy stops herself, aware that Robin is your friend. Not hers. Looking away, she hopes Robin didn’t hear her slip. “And now I can’t find out why because apparently he’s blown up his family’s house phone or something, so yeah. If the mention of his name caused a slight muscle spasm or curiosity over another person’s relationship, that’s probably why.”

She swallows down tears. Her chest feels lighter, emptier. The frustration is gone, though the bitterness remains. 

Robin is quiet for a moment. The resentment Nancy has been exhibiting makes sense now. While Steve would follow you anywhere, Jonathan doesn’t seem to want to follow Nancy. “Feels like a perfectly reasonable reason to flinch or be nosey.” 

Nancy smiles at her, eternally grateful. “Does you accepting my nosiness officially make us friends?”

Robin immediately agrees, albeit in her own shy way, and Nancy laughs alongside her. It’s a nice moment, one Nancy hadn’t known that she needed. Your friendship with the girl doesn’t seem so strange now. 

Steve’s distant cheer alerts the others that he’s found Skull Rock.

“Oh, boom!” He crouches beneath a shrub and swats away a spider web. He’s too excited to gloat that he doesn’t even care that there could be spiders in his hair yet again. “In your face, little Henderson. In your stupid, cocky little face!”

“Who’s the fifteen year old here?” You ask your boyfriend, looking at him pointedly. 

Dustin looks down at his compass and frowns. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“You hearing him, Y/N?” Steve waves his hands in front of the giant boulder. “Even with it staring him right in the face, the kid can’t even admit that he’s wrong! And you’re saying I’m the immature one? He’s such a little butthead.”

“Sure, because every nineteen year old says butthead as an insult-fuck!” A body lands next to you with petrifying force. You fall back in panic, heart pounding in your chest.

“I concur,” Eddie smiles at you wickedly. “Your brother, Dustin Henderson, is a total butthead.”

Dustin is hugging Eddie before you’ve even caught your breath. The relief on his face is evident. “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.”

“Yeah, me too.” Eddie clutches your brother tightly, the weight of the last few days bearing their toll on him. Still, the glint in his eyes hasn’t left yet. Winking at you, Eddie’s mischievous smile is back. “Never thought I’d see precious Hawkins’ sweetheart at Skull Rock. Sorry for the fright, by the way.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.” 

Eddie pulls away from Dustin and nudges you with his shoulder. “To be fair, you were kinda useless when I needed you yesterday. Isn’t your whole shtick helping people?” 

Sheepish, you duck your head. “In my defense, the signal was shitty. You kept breaking up, I couldn’t really do anything about holes in boats.”

“It’s okay, you’ll just donate your liver to me the next time I need one.” Eddie nudges your shoulder again, eliciting a begrudging laugh, breaking any remaining tension between you two.

Steve stands next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist in a protective manner. His eyes never leave Eddie, distrustful. “You’re not taking Y/N’s liver.”

“No one’s taking my liver,” you roll your eyes at him fondly before turning to Eddie. “But I can bake you something as compensation.” 

Eddie clicks his teeth. “Even better.”

Nancy hands the bag of food over to him and he takes it eagerly. He rifts through its contents while everyone else gathers around him. You all allow him time to adjust, to breathe for a moment. 

But eventually the overwhelming need to know outweighs the guilt. Nancy, always the one to get straight to the point, finally breaks the silence. “What happened yesterday?”

Eddie’s face darkens. “Jason and his goddamn goons. They were at the lake house and I was cornered. Didn’t know what to do. The fuckers were angry.”

Your eyes wander his face, noting the lack of bruises and cuts on it. A fight hadn’t broken out, which means Eddie escaped somehow. “And when they found you?”

Eddie takes a swig from his flask. He winces at the taste, but it seems to settle his nerves. “Turns out, the boat didn’t have holes.”

“So Patrick’s body, was it…?” Nancy can’t bring herself to finish the question. 

“Found in the lake? Sure was.” Eddie smiles venomously. “He tried swimming after me, so did Jason. Only one of them made it back to shore.”

Lucas looks away, grief clouding his expression. You mumble an apology to him. You hate that there isn’t anything else you can do to help him. He’s lost so much already.

“It was the exact same thing that happened to Chrissy. Patrick’s body shot out of the water like a fucking rocketlauncher.” Eddie says bitterly. His teeth are clenched, the memories from last night are gruesome to recount. “Then his bones started snapping and Jason lost his mind. He thought I was the one doing it.”

Dustin paces next to you. He’s mumbling to himself, every detail Eddie reveals only worries him more. Vecna has made his third kill. You and Max are next. There’s something that he’s missing. He just doesn’t know what.

“I ended up falling into the water and swimming to shore. I tried calling, but my walkie was busted, man. Drenched.” Eddie drinks again. He shakes his head curtly, scoffs to himself. “So I, uh. Did the thing that I now, apparently. I ran.”

The condescension in his voice, the cold laugh, upsets you. He’s disappointed in himself, he hates what he’s done, but no one blames him. There was no saving Patrick. Anyone who witnessed such a cruel death also would’ve run away. “You had no choice, Eddie.”

He ignores your comfort and instead answers Nancy’s question of what time the attack took place. “Yeah, I know exactly what time it was.” Eddie unclasps his watch and holds it up. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

Nancy catches the watch he throws her at and quickly reads the time on it. “9:27.”

You and Robin look at each other in surprise. She raises her eyebrows, thinking what you are. “That’s the same time our flashlights went kablooey.”

“That’s one hell of a coincidence.” You mutter to yourself, but Steve hears you anyways and squeezes your side. 

“That surge of energy had to be Vecna attacking Patrick.” Nancy pieces together, tossing Eddie his watch back. 

It isn’t a comforting realization, but at least it’s information you can use. You now know where, how, and when he Vecna attacks. The only piece missing is what to do with the information you have.

Dustin continues to pace back and forth. He’s hunched over, and when you look closer, you realize he’s scowling at his compass as if it personally offended him.

“So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Max says, as if it’s the most casual sentence in the world.

You look at her like she’s crazy. “We’re not going to the Upside Down!”

But no one is listening to you. Instead Steve, Robin, and Max begin a philosophical debate about whether or not Venca has a heart or if he’s a vampire. 

“It was a metaphor.” Max informs Steve, slight disappointment in her voice.

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie asks the group.

You shake your head at him. “Bullets never work.”

He stares at you, somewhat terrified. “How… how do you already know that?”

“We’ve had a lot of practice.”

“That’s actually even more upsetting to hear.” 

Lucas and the others start spewing creative ways to kill Vecna. They’re graphic and violent, but you already know that none of it will work. You’ve fought creatures from the Upside Down before; they’re notoriously difficult to kill, oftentimes requiring fire, bullets, knives, and bear traps. 

None of which you currently have.

Nancy knows this, too. “We can’t do any of that until we find a way into the Upside Down.”

“Why are we all suddenly okay with going there?” You ask incredulously. They’re all suggesting the Upside Down as if it’s fucking Disneyland. “I mean, haven’t we been trying to cut any connection to that goddamn place for the last four years?”

“What other option do we have, Y/N?” Nancy pushes. “You know there’s no other way to stop this.”

Max sighs in exasperation. “What we need is for El to get her powers back.”

“I miss her.” You sigh as well. You’re worried that there’s something wrong. You’ve called the Byers’ home a million times now, but no one is answering. Despite the weirdness between you and Jonathan, you still want him to be okay. He’s never gone this long without talking to you. 

And with Jonathan’s silence comes silence from El and Will, too. You hope they’re okay as well, especially knowing that Mike is supposed to be with them this week. You figured by now that Will would’ve called you to complain about Mike’s obsession with El. 

Instead all there’s been is silence, and their silence unnerves you.

Steve voices that he also misses El, turning to Eddie to explain how she has powers, but Eddie isn’t paying attention to him. 

“Hey, Henderson’s not cursed, is he?” His eyes follow Dustin’s pacing figure, nervous. 

“No, but I am.”

Eddie chokes on his spit and Steve snaps his finger at you. “That’s so not funny, Y/N. You’re in danger.”

“My point exactly. I feel that I’ve earned the right to joke about my demise.” You say, though you do grab his hand and squeeze it softly to voice your unsaid apology. As much as his concern warms you, you wish he didn’t have any at all for you. Worry has never been kind to Steve. Trying to brighten the mood, you turn to Eddie. “Don’t you agree?”

Eddie raises his hands. “I’m not a part of this.”

“Boom!” Dustin’s loud screech causes everyone to jump. He points his finger at you, a manic glint in his eyes. “Bada… bada… boom!” 

You shove his finger out of your face. “Are you done yet?” 

“I was right.” Dustin is smug, the mania in his eyes has yet to settle. “Skull Rock was north.”

You want to strangle your brother. You love him, you really do, but he can be very egotistical sometimes. He’s spent the entire conversation obsessively searching for a way to be right, rather than figure out what to do next about Vecna. 

He’s insane. 

Steve throws his head back in annoyance, equally as fed up with Dustin as you are. “You’re serious? This is Skull Rock!” He points at the giant boulder behind him. “You’re totally, absolutely, 100% wrong. Right now!”

“There’s literally nowhere else Skull Rock could be, Dustin.” You back Steve up. 

Dustin smiles. “Yes… and no.”

Steve has to step away, and you can’t blame him. You’re also seconds away from bashing your head against a tree. You’re in a forest. There are plenty to choose from. 

“This worked correctly when we left the Wheelers’.” Dustin holds up his compass. “It was correct when we got in the car on Kerley, but it started to slip the further east we went. Now it’s way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.”

Steve insists that the compass is merely faulty equipment and that it still makes Dustin wrong, but you start to remember another time a compass started acting up. How it almost caused the party to split apart.

El had been the one controlling the compass, leading them in circles because she hadn’t wanted them near Hawkins Lab. 

Which would mean…

“It isn’t a faulty compass.” You look up at Dustin, now understanding. 

His face splits into a proud grin. “Correct. Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?”

The teen is startled by the question. Lucas’ face is masked with confusion, but suddenly everything clicks. “An electromagnetic field.”

Robin questions what any of this means, prompting Dustin to explain what Mr. Clark told you at Will’s funeral. He explains the electromagnetic theory and how the presence of a stronger field can make a compass stop working. “So either there’s a super big magnet around here, or…”

“There’s a gate.” You finish, ice washing over you. The idea terrifies you, but somehow it makes perfect sense. “Maybe even multiple gates.”

Everyone looks uncomfortable with this new information, but Dustin cuts through the tension. “It’d have to be smaller, way less powerful.”

“A snack-sized gate.” Robin adds, and you appreciate that she’s trying to make you laugh.

Steve asks how multiple gates can even be possible, and all Dustin can do is shrug. He doesn’t know, but it’s the furthest you’ve gotten to any semblance of an explanation. “The last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is, because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Y/N and Max from this curse.”

It’s the most hopeful you’ve seen Dustin all week. He’s optimistic, endlessly proud of himself for figuring out the missing piece of the equation. 

“Okay, but there’s still the Eddie problem. What do we do about him?” You remind your brother.

Steve nods. “Yeah, he’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go hike the woods.”

Dustin is already several feet away, eager to start following the compass. He’s so close to finally lifting the curse. He’s going to save you. He will. “This little capsule might be the key to saving all three of them! Max, Y/N, and Eddie.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that even if you do find a way to kill Venca, it’d be almost impossible to clear Eddie’s name. No one else knows about the Upside Down. Legally speaking, you aren’t even allowed to know about the Upside Down. 

But Dustin bows to Eddie and pretends to tip his hat. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Everyone turns to the older teen. It’s a lot to ask of him. This entire time he’s been hiding, fearful of shadows and people. You wouldn’t think any less of him if he declined. And yet, Eddie surprises you. “I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor, which if I’m totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea, but the Shire… the Shire is burning.”

Dustin bounces up and down in anticipation. You cross your arms, rolling your eyes at him, but his childish glee makes you smile anyways. It’s cute, as much as it pains you to admit. 

Eddie stands up. “So Mordor it is.”

He marches towards Dustin, no ounce of hesitation within his movements. He has complete and total trust in your brother. He’s following him into what could very well be Hell, and yet Eddie does so with a brave face. They really are close.

And Eddie has chosen to join, not run away. 

“No more running?” You catch his arm.

Eddie smiles at you. “No more running.”

“What the hell is Mordor?” Steve cuts in, lost.

You giggle at him and grab his hand. “C’mon, Harrington. To Mordor we go.”

– 

Dustin’s compass leads you back to Lover’s Lake. 

You and Steve walk quietly behind the others. Your fondest memories together are at the lake. It’s where Steve finally asked you to be his. That night, underneath the stars, you kissed for hours and felt as if you were the only two people in the world. 

As if reading your mind, Steve brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly. 

The small moment between you is ruined when Dustin suddenly starts to speed up, practically running away from the group. Eddie shouts at him to slow down and the thought of your brother alone in the woods frightens you. Pulling away from Steve, you run after him. 

“I think we’re getting close!” Dustin calls over his shoulder, not seeing the water in front of him.

Eddie grabs the back of his hoodie and saves him before he can fall in. “Watch your step, big guy.”

“This is confounding,” Dustin is breathless, utterly in awe.

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max is skeptical.

You hum, thinking. “Unless there’s somehow another reason for Dustin’s compass going haywire, I’d say there’s a gate here.”

“Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening.” Nancy slowly says, her eyes scanning the water as she studies it. “Maybe Vecna’s the same way.”

Dipping the tip of your muddied mary janes into the water, you look down at it thoughtfully. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

You hate the Upside Down and all that it’s taken from you. Hopper, Will’s childhood, Max’s brother, El’s life. You hate all the violence and pain it brought into your life. The scars that litter your skin and the nightmares that will never leave.

But Max comes first. You have to save her. It doesn’t matter what it’ll cost you as long as she’s safe.

Eddie guides everyone to the boat he used to escape from Jason. Though its engine doesn’t work, he reassures the group that it’ll be fine. At the very least, it’ll get you deep into the water. Steve helps him push it to the shore’s edge.

Robin steps onto the boat first, using Steve and Eddie’s heads for balance as they hold the boat steady. They scoff at her, but she doesn’t care. Eddie goes next, then Nancy. When you go to step inside, Dustin pulls you back. 

“Have you lost your mind?” His hand doesn’t leave your arm. “In case you’ve somehow forgotten, you’re also marked. You’re not going anywhere near a goddamn gate.”

His voice shakes with fear for you. Your heart twists. “Dustin, I haven’t had any visions yet. Just the headaches. I even have my walkman on me. I promise I’ll be fine.”

“I’m coming with you.” Dustin juts his chin out, trying to appear brave before you.

But you see through him anyways. “You’re not. I need you to stay with Max and Lucas for me, okay?” Before he can argue with you some more, you kiss the top of his head. “I love you.”

Just as Dustin can’t stand the idea of losing you, you can’t stand the idea of losing him, either. 

Dustin snatches your walkman from your pocket. You lunge at him, but he’s fast. In a heartbeat he’s at his backpack, grabbing an old plastic bag, before he starts frantically wrapping your walkman within it. He ties the plastic tight around it, making it airtight. 

“I hate what you’re doing,” Dustin gives the walkman back to you with contempt in his voice. “But I’m not losing you to a waterlogged walkman.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyelids. You love your brother endlessly. Kissing his head again, you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You’re never losing me.”

“I better not.” He mumbles, sinking into your embrace. “And I love you too, by the way.”

You laugh wetly, and Eddie takes it as his cue to finally speak. “Not to ruin this tender sibling moment, but this boat only holds like three people tops. Dustin wouldn’t be able to come anyways.”

Dustin sticks his tongue out at him and Nancy extends her arm. “Compass?”

Reluctantly, your brother hands her his compass. After he’s given it to her, Steve finally turns to Dustin. He lowers his voice, trying to give him some privacy. “Listen, I’ll keep Y/N safe, alright?”

Though he doesn’t want to, Dustin nods. Steve is the only person that he trusts your life with. If it were anyone else, Dustin would’ve thrown himself onto the boat and demanded he be next to you. But you’re with Steve and your walkman is safe. That’s all he can ask for now. 

“You better.” Dustin warns, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Steve claps his shoulder and kicks off the shore’s edge, sending the boat into the water. It’s a small boat, Steve has to wrap his arms around you to fit. You’re pressed tight against his chest while Eddie, Nancy, and Robin are squished on the other side of the boat.

“Bedtime at nine, kiddos!” Robin shouts as the boat floats away, giggling.

You hit her shoulder. “Be nice, they’re worried about us.”

She shrugs, indifferent, and starts helping Eddie steer the boat. Nancy guides them with the compass while you and Steve hold up the flashlights. It’s eerily quiet on the lake. The only sound that infiltrates the night is the soft crash of the waves against the shore. 

About halfway into the lake, Nancy orders Eddie and Robin to stop rowing. “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down.”

The boat comes to a stop. You shine your flashlight over the compass and watch as it spins wildly. It can’t seem to decide on a direction to point in. “Definitely not just faulty equipment.”

Nancy nods, her face grim. 

“Guys, what’s going on? Talk to me.” Dustin’s voice crackles through the walkie. He must’ve seen the boat stop.

“Your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital ‘aah!’” Robin tells him, eyes narrowed at the instrument. 

You take the walkie from her. “I think we found the gate.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy’s concerned voice causes you to turn.

Steve has taken his shoes off and he’s already stripping his socks by the time you process what the hell he’s doing. “Steve Harrington I will drown you before I let you close to any goddamn gate.”

“Somebody’s gotta go down and check this out, angel.” He says hastily, taking his other sock off. “Unless one of you can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years.”

“What, did the swim team train you in dimension hunting?” You grab his arms, struggling against his strength to stop him. He fights back, overpowering you easily. You’re starting to panic now. “I-I’m not letting you down there!”

“It’s gotta be me.” He’s speaking to you in a hushed, understanding tone. Steve’s eyes find yours, and he pleads with you to listen. “Let it be me.”

Let me save you. 

“I…” You don’t want Steve to go; you’re scared you’ll lose him if you do. 

“Y/N, please.” 

Don’t make me beg for your life again.

Last summer Steve had been torn away from you by Russians. You watched as they took him from you, pried him from your grasp. The fear, the overwhelming sense of despair you’d felt back then had almost strangled you. 

You’ve already almost lost him once.

It would kill you if it happened again. You know it would. He’s your lifeline. Steve is the air you breathe and the flesh on your skin. He’s your constant, your home. 

“Come home to me, okay?”

They’re the same words you screamed to him the last time he was taken from you. It’d been the only thing you could think of, the only way to encompass all that he is to you. But Steve hadn’t been able to swear his oath to you. Time had run out. 

But not tonight.

“Always,” Steve promises. 

Then, ignoring everyone around you, Steve pulls you into a bruising kiss. His kiss, his promise, they breathe life back into you. The assurance that he’ll come back to you fills honey into your bloodstream. The taste of his lips coats your tongue in dandelion oil. 

Someone clears their throat aggressively, not so subtly reminding you and Steve that you’re still on a boat surrounded by three other people. 

Breaking apart, your cheeks burn when you see Eddie’s kissy face. “Romantic.”

“Shut up.” 

You help Steve undress. It’s intimate, tender. You would do anything for him. Pulling his sweater gently over his head, you kiss him again. “Good luck, honey. I love you.”

Steve rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in for the final time. His hands cup your face, warm and rough. “I love you too, angel.”

Eddie hands him a flashlight wrapped in a plastic bag. “Hey. What Y/N said. I mean, without the love confession. Um. Good luck.”

Taking the flashlight, Steve thanks him. Robin grabs your hand, both of you needing the other for comfort. She’s terrified, Steve is her best friend. Nancy looks at him with a look in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher.

“Be careful.” She finally tells him. 

Steve nods, looking back at you one last time, before taking a deep breath and diving into the dark water. 

The seconds drag on like hours. The moment Steve dives in, you feel every second he’s under the water like a knife cutting into your lungs. Your legs shake, Robin’s grip on you is so tight that it threatens to cut off circulation, but you don’t let go of her. 

“Where we at, Wheeler?” Robin asks after what feels like a decade. 

“Closing in on a minute.” She sees your shaking body and rests a kind hand against your shoulder. “Steve can handle it. I know he can. He’s strong.”

You bite your nails anxiously. Blood fills your mouth. You know Nancy is trying to comfort you, but her words only make you feel worse. Steve is strong, but he’s still only human. 

A horrifying thought crosses your mind: you’ve dreamt of this before, only it’d been Billy drowning you in the pool. Your body goes numb. Tonight can’t end that way. 

Almost another minute drags on before Steve’s head miraculously resurfaces. He inhales sharply, splashing water all over you, but you don’t care. You’re leaning over the boat’s edge the second his hands reach the surface. 

You can finally breathe again.

“Steve!” You kiss his soaked hair, grateful to feel his skin against your lips again. 

“I found it,” he gasps out, spitting water out of his mouth. He reaches for your hand, anxious as well to feel your touch. “I-I found it.”

Robin cheers, quickly alerting Dustin that he’d been right about the gates. You go to help Steve back into the boat, but he waves you away and goes back to holding your hand. He doesn’t want you getting wet, it’s cold out and you could get sick.

“It was wild.” Steve rubs his finger over the back of your hand. He’s smiling, adrenaline coursing through him. “It’s more a snack-sized gate than the mama gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big–”

Suddenly he’s back underneath the water, pulled so deep below that he almost drags you down with him. You scream, shrill and terrified. Nancy and Robin rush to your side, holding you back so that you don’t fall into the water as well.

Steve resurfaces again, but he must sense that this isn’t the end, because he rips your hand from his. He does it to save you, to ensure you don’t get taken with him. But you fight against it, you don’t understand why he wants you to let go of him. 

Steve pries your hand away. “Y/N–”

And then he’s gone. 

Everyone screams as Steve’s body disappears into the water. 

“Steve!” You’re dizzy with blind fear. He had protected you. He had spent his final seconds making sure that you wouldn’t get hurt, and now he’s gone.

Robin’s arms are around you, holding you back as you scream. She knows what you’re about to do. “Y/N, you can’t–”

“Let go!” You throw your shoulder back, prying your arm away. She screams at you, Nancy and Eddie do as well, but you’re already tearing your sweater off. 

You’re going in. You don’t care. Steve needs you. 

He needs you.

The water is cold. It shocks your system. Eyes burning, you struggle to make out where Steve is. Faintly, in the dark water, you see his body being dragged down. There’s something twisted around his ankle, pulling him towards a red light. You can hear his muffled screams. His arms flail, bubbles escape his mouth as he struggles against it, as he’s pulled through the red haze.

Lungs burning, you will your legs to kick as hard as they can. You’re both running out of time. 

The closer you get to the red haze, the colder the water becomes. Your ears pop at the depth. As the murky water settles, you realize that the red that illuminates is a crack in the earth’s surface. Vines encase its edges. 

Breaking through it, air hits your body as you fall to the ground. Your back scrapes against the rough ground beneath you, leaving you gasping for breath. You barely have time to gather your bearings before you hear Steve’s pained screams.

You stumble onto your feet, desperately searching for him. 

What you find is Steve’s body on the ground, vines choking him as he writhes in agony, demonic bats gorging on his stomach. 

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[moonriverrise]

Steve has a secret, well “secret” may not be the correct way to describe it. He has something for himself, thats what. Ever since he stopped playing basketball and doing swim competitions once he graduated he's had way more free time, which at first he filled with shifts at Family Video, or bothering Robin.

Then, when she started school he started doing art more. Which, may come a surprise to many, as he never really talked about his interest in paintings and old art.

Greek sculptures that are able to show life in a still ethereal way, while still being able to twist it at their will. Renaissance oil paintings, capturing tragedy yet still being able to portray it as beautiful, in their own terrible twisted ways.

He likes sketching on paper, painting on canvas. His paintings aren't usually too different from the things he sees around him. Honestly thats the only things he paints, people, his friends, places he goes, things he sees that stick with him, dreams, moments that play on repeat in his head.

Around his Junior year, after the Demogorgon, Steve had turned the sad basement in his sad empty house, into his own space. A place where he can go and do his art, hang it, play music on his walkman, or using the record player he got from a pawn shop a few months prior. Somehow the basement is the only space that actually feels like his in his house, not even his bedroom.

Steve’s art was not very consistent to be honest, mostly the kids and Robin, landscapes that he liked, the Demogorgon/dogs, the Mindflayer (he needs some way of getting those out of his head, and somehow drawing them down feels freeing.) He does have a few paintings of Nancy from when they were together, she’s become less of a model for his work after everything though.

The last time he painted her in a painting alone, was one of that bathroom in a girl he barely knows’ house, a spilled drink on Nancy’s dress, and red solo cups littering the counter.

Steve’s art shifts though, after a moment that will never leave his mind. He knows who Eddie Munson is, obviously. How could he not? Honestly Steve isn't that surprised Henderson and the others befriended the guy, he does run a DnD club.

But then, Henderson needs a ride home after their club meetings because his mom is working late, and then Lucas and Mike’s parents are also asking Steve to pick them up too. Babysitting duty, as per usual.

Steve arrives a bit earlier than he planned. He didn't have any project to consume himself into, hitting an art block begrudgingly. But then, Steve sees Eddie Munson, sitting on a fake throne, watching the kids and other club members argue, he has his chin rested on his fist, and he's wearing a white tank top, showing off his shoulders, given the fact it’s still September.

The lighting of the small theater room captures Steve’s interest like a moth to the flame, and he is regretting having left his sketchbook at home, even though he never draws around the kids or anyone he knows.

Eddie Munson’s face and curly locks fill up the pages of Steve’s journal and some canvases for months after, and Steve rarely genuinely complains about coming to pick the kids up.

Afterwords, months later from that day. Chrissy Cunningham dies, and Eddie Munson almost goes with her. God, or whatever deity that was looking down upon him, was on Steve’s side in that moment, when he was able to revive Eddie and then drag him out of the Upside Down.

Steve gets closer with Eddie after that, they become actual friends. Steve was so used to witnessing his muse from afar, it was so…exciting, to see Eddie in all his glory, just a few feet away, and his smile being directed at him.

“Do you even have any hobbies, Harrington?” Steve blinks. Him, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and the party, are all hanging out by the pool. Steve is lounging on one of the chairs, sunglasses over his eyes as Eddie talks beside him.

“What?” Steve responds.

“I mean…I like barely ever see you do anything besides sort Movies at Family Video, or boss around the kids. Like, what do you do when we're not all together?” Eddie asks, moving his hand a little as he talks. Steve thinks for a moment.

“Funny,” Steve answers instead. Eddie scoffs.

“I'm being serious, man! What do you do?” Eddie laughs a little, most likely at the ridiculousness of it all. What would Steve know, Eddie is like a puzzle, and Steve has to take every minute slowly, deciphering everything he lays out for him, via tongue or action.

“I don't know, what do you do?” Steve says, almost carefully.

“Band stuff, DnD, Writing,” Eddie lists. “And I guess saving the world now, but thats a bit of a side hussle.” Steve scoffs.

“Whatever, man.” And thats that, they don't talk about it again. But it sticks with Steve, because his friends really do think he doesn't do anything with his life. It's not like he has college classes to study for, so what does he do?

Later, maybe two or three weeks after, Steve decides he wants to show Eddie his space. The two of them are alone, Robin is in Nevada, visiting her grandparents, so the trio’s usual movie night is cut down to a duo’s movie night.

Although Steve finds himself mostly focusing on Eddie and his beautiful hair sitting next to him, than watching ET. The little alien scares him a bit anyway. Eddie notices him staring though, his eyes flickering to meet Steves, then a smirk spreading across his lips.

“We are watching a movie, lover boy.” Eddie says. Steve goes red, his gaze shifting to his lap. Steve furrows his eyebrows then stands and shuts the TV off. “Woah! Hey!”

“I want to show you something.” Steve says, it's a bit quieter than he meant it to be, but his tone indicates something to Eddie, which has him staring at Steve, starstruck.

Steve walks out the room and hears Eddie follow him. He gets to the basement door and opens it, flicks on the stair light.

“Basement- woah- okay, guess I'm getting murdered. Thought I’d go out in a more metal way than this.” Eddie says as they walk down. Steve laughs a little and shakes his head.

“I just think you should see this.” Steve says. “Nothing life threatening, I promise.”

“Alright, I trust you, Stevie.”

“Good.”

Steve turns and flicks on the light as they step onto the concrete. The lights flicker on, revealing the paintings on the walls and art supplies on the tables and counters.

“Woah-” Eddie says. “Is this, all your stuff?” Steve sighs, he folds his arms and faces Eddie. He looks shellshocked.

“Yeah.” Steve says. “You said I don't have any hobbies, I do, actually.” Eddie looks around, walking slowly.

“Is that Henderson? Why is he wearing yellow gloves?” Eddie asks. Steve walks over to a painting of Dustin from Steve’s angle while they were walking on the train tracks, a bucket of raw meat is in one hand and he's wearing the headphones for his radio.

“D’Art,” Steve says. “That was when we were leading him away. I made that one after everything happened. I was trying not to think about the Demogorgon stuff and everything, so I just drew him. I have one of Max from that day I never finished painting in a stack I think too.” Eddie doesn't say anything for a minute after Steve is done explaining.

“You can paint.” Eddie says, though not like a question. “These are beautiful…” Eddie looks around and walks to another one he sees. It's one of the Byers and Hopper’s, all hugging while laughing. El looks the happiest. Steve had painted that after they had all gotten together after everything. “Why…didn't you tell anyone?”

“About what?” Steve asks, folding his arms as Eddie brings up a hand to touch the painting.

“This- Steve, you're amazing at this. These are…” Eddie trails off as something catches his eye, he slowly starts to walk towards a big painting propped up behind one of the tables laid out in the middle of the room. Steve walks to him to see which one he's looking at.

An angel, knelt over a puddle, crying as it stares at his reflection, which is blurred and dark. He stands in a forest, his wings are long and huge, sprawling out above him.

It’s one of Steve’s bigger ones, the inspiration came from a dream he had after they had read about Icarus in his english class back in Highschool.

“It’s… magnificent.” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles gently at Eddie’s reaction. Eddie backs up a bit and looks away from the painting. “Is that me?” Steve follows his eye, to the painting. Eddie walks towards it, Steve stays behind him. It’s the first one Steve ever made of Eddie, the one of him on the throne.

“Yeah, it is.” Steve says. “I made that the first night I came to pick up the kids.” He says. “The first time I met you, actually met you.” They share a look.

“You are incredible, Steve Harrington.”

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER ONE — THE POISE, INTEGRITY and LUCK OF A KENNEDY

MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: you go head-to-head with your new neighbor, eddie munson, and lose something precious to you in the process. content warnings: NSFW / MINORS DNI swearing, classic 80s classism, tommy hagan jumpscare, eddie munson jackin off word count: 3.4k

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you it ends well for you. 

I wish I could tell you that this is nothing but a bad dream, or a fugue state, or an extremely vivid hallucination brought on from that weed your friends buy from that burnout in the horrendous denim vest that is now your next door neighbor. 

I wish I could tell you that you’re not sitting on your designer suitcases in the weed-ridden lot of a trailer park, watching your mom (who is already it’s-five o’clock-somewhere drunk) charmlessly haggle about the rent. 

See, you used to have money, but now you don’t. 

You used to have a dad who wasn’t incarcerated, but now you don’t. 

You used to have integrity, but the IRS seized the last of that along with your childhood home in Loch Nora. 

I wish I could tell you that you weren’t totally fucked. But it seems that there’s no way this total shitheap of a situation could get worse–

“Need a little help with that?”

–except there is. There totally is.

You flex your hand, relieving it from it’s writing cramp. You’ve been hunched over your journal, perched on your ready-to-burst luggage for what seems like hours now– admittedly, you’re the kind of girl that’s used to valet service. Bellhops carrying your suitcases to your room when you used to join your dad on business trips. 

But valets never looked like this. Squinting at you from beneath his ratted-out waves, Eddie Munson gives you a once-over that makes your stomach lurch. You know him the same way everyone in Hawkins knows him– either barrelling through the hallways like a tweaked out autocrat whose only dominion is over his group of unwashed dorks or palming off baggies at parties. But there’s something about Munson that’s always rubbed you the wrong way. He’s so loud and defiant and achingly obvious, smug when he’s got no right to be. 

Especially now. 

“Excuse me?” you drawl, snapping closed the leatherbound journal. 

“Just wheeling out the welcome wagon. It’s not often we get new neighbors with so much…,” he pauses, gaze scanning over the boxes and bags and randomized ephemera being loaded out of the cheapest moving van Hawkins has to offer, “Shit.” 

“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I’d say you were casing the joint.” In fact, you find yourself wondering where exactly your jewelry box is– y’know, the leftover shit your parents didn’t already pawn. The millieu of your grief made you forget about the high possibility of people in the trailer park stealing your stuff.

Munson grimaces. “Do I look like a thief to you?”

“You look like a drug dealer to me,” you snipe, smile all fake. “You might be looking to diversify your criminal skillset. How should I know?” 

From where you sit on your straining suitcase, you’re about eye-level with Eddie’s crotch. And call him a weirdo, call him whatever, he doesn’t mind the view. As much as he’d like to pretend he’s above the discordant buzz of Hawkins’ gossip scuttlebutt, news of your family’s downfall is hot shit. He can barely believe it’s really happening, and right in his front yard; Hawkins High’s stoniest, coldest fox and her equally foxy mom were packing their fur coats and shit into a double wide. Eddie couldn’t lie– he liked seeing people like you get knocked down a peg. So he’d come to gloat. A little. 

But you’re all snappy and full of venom– not like in school, where he’s almost positive you’ve never made eye contact with him.

He doesn’t mind that change in attitude either.

“C’mon. That luggage looks a little heavy for you, princess,” he says. “I don’t entirely trust you getting it inside the trailer without breaking a nail.” 

“I don’t need your help,” you say, shoving that tattered journal into your book bag. Eddie wonders what kind of bullshit you’re always writing in there– every time you’re not in the middle of some idiot milleu with your popular cohorts, you’re practicing your longhand. 

“You could use it, though,” he counters, and the condescension in his tone makes your cheeks flare up. You spring from your seat on the suitcase, making Munson take a shocked half-step back. His eyes blaze, rounding out as he takes you in at your full height. 

Still taller than you. He'll be okay. He thinks.

“I’m a goddamn cheerleader, you Neanderthal looking dipshit,” you spit, “I’ve got a core of steel.” 

You turn and dip, reaching for the thick leather handles of the case and discover–oof–that’s a little bit way heavier than you were expecting it to be. But spurned by sheer stubbornness and a need to get away from him as quickly as humanly possible, you brace yourself against the screaming muscles in your arms and wobble the baggage all the way to the trailer door. Your mom stands in your path, dress slipping off her shoulders, blearily looking toward the Munson kid as he retreats to his own trailer with a languid backwards tread. He can’t look away from this scene. 

“Mom. Mom, can I fucking–” you struggle through gritted teeth, “The bag, Mom. Get out of the way.” 

She moves out of your way at an aching half-speed as Munson’s eyes burn hot on your struggling frame–he’s loving this, he’s loving seeing you in the shit just like everyone’s loving seeing you in the shit–and you deposit your suitcase in your brand new matchbox-sized bedroom with a heaving gasp. Shit.

You cross the room in about three steps, heading to the window to close the blinds– shshk. Sshsk.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

The blinds begin to close, but stop dead not even halfway across the window. They’re stuck, leaving you without a particle of privacy. Which sucks, of course, because you were really banking on some scheduled crying time tonight. 

You had held it in for as long as you possibly could, all that hurt and frustration at the disaster your father had landed you in, promising yourself that you’d let it all out once you and your mom had a safe place. A place that wasn’t your estranged aunt’s basement couch, or a motel you could barely afford. A place that you could at least pretend was home. In your minds eye, you had envisioned something modest-if-shitty– the sunnier end of Cherry Lane, maybe. You hadn’t counted on a place that required a gas hookup. 

You tug on the beaded chain with a desperate force and no give– exasperated, you let your head slump against the filthy windowpane. The bedroom window stares directly into the window of the trailer opposite, where a warm yellow light flickers on and illuminates another bedroom. 

Peeling posters and a guitar on the wall. Of course. Of course you’ve got a bird’s eye view into Eddie Munson’s fetid cave. He spots you in the window and pouts a big ol’ pitiful pout– poor little rich girl. Missing your velvet blackout curtains? 

You can’t flip him the bird quick enough before he closes his fully functional blinds. 

–

You sleep like shit. Exhaustion couldn't even beat you into a slumber. You couldn’t be bothered to begin the unpacking process and instead fished out whatever closest resembled pyjamas from your luggage (an oversized t-shirt from a father-daughter trip to Columbia University), curling up on your bare mattress with your coat thrown over you, but the thing that was really keeping you awake? You couldn’t find your pen. 

Your prized possession pen, your fountain pen in the ruby-red casing. Your journaling pen. You refuse to write in your diary with an inferior instrument, alright, that’s just not how it’s done, but it’s nowhere to be found. It’s not rolling around the bottom of your book bag, though you’ve emptied the thing three times. It’s not anywhere.

You ask your mom if she’s spotted it anywhere, but she’s still in a Valium haze when you’re buzzing around, trying to get ready for school. 

That’s a whole other ordeal. Your acceptable school clothes are, again, buried in some suitcase that was hastily packed as agents waited for you to vacate the property. And by appropriate, you mean your carefully chosen pastel color palette– the very best of the very trendiest, the ra-ra skirts and the bomber jackets that sit so perfectly on your poised shoulders. The kind of clothes that make someone like Tina go, God, I wish we could trade dads. Just for the credit card. 

Now, all you’ve got to hand are the clothes that feel like your dirty little secret– thrift store suede and dark, rich knits, dresses of velvet and leather boots. The kind of things you collect just to collect, to dress up in when you know no one’s going to be looking at you and think someday. Someday you’ll be someplace where you don’t have to wear the exact right JCPenney piece of shit to fit in with a crowd. Because these are the kinds of clothes that feel right, but make people, important people, people like Carol go–

“Jesus, Lacy, dressed for a funeral much?” 

You hadn’t though the ensemble was too dark, but hey, in the harsh light of day. You bashfully shrug your jacket closer around you, faux fur collar tickling your ears. “I’m in mourning.” 

“Shit, I hate driving out here,” Tommy Hagan squawks from the driver’s seat, already agitated first thing in the morning, “I always feel like I’m gonna get carjacked.” 

Forget your shitty car; the only thing they’d be stripping for parts out here is you, Tommy, you want to quip, but you just fasten your seatbelt. Carol had managed to guilt him into giving you a ride this morning, an effort in pity and also because she wanted the gossip from the trailer park before anybody else. 

“Yeah, how was it, Lace? Did you like, deadbolt the doors and shit? Because you really gotta do that out here.”

“You should get a bat to leave by the door. Y’know, for intruders,” Tina blankly adds, staring into her compact mirror. 

“You should get a gun,” Hagan says, peeling out of the park with a quickness, “if that’s who you’re livin’ next to.”

“What? Who?”

“That Munson freak,” you sigh, resting your head against the windowpane again, “He like, basically threatened to rob me when I was trying to move in yesterday.”

A chorus of disgust rises up in the car that makes you feel good– warm, surrounded, accepted. Even though it blatantly wasn’t true, you’d do just about anything to win your friends’ approval these days. You noticed a certain waver in their stares when you revealed where you’d be moving to, after your dad was sentenced and everything.

A lot of the time, you didn’t feel like they wanted to be there for you, more that they wanted to be the first to hear the dirt on Hawkins’ most scandalous family. 

Usually you’re the one on the receiving end of their deep, dark secrets. 

It’s like they feel like they finally have something on you. 

Or, no! That’s crazy, you’re just being paranoid. These are your friends. As much as high schoolers can be friends. 

“I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off it, Lacy,” Tina says, pinching your arm, “Kegger at Harrington’s on Friday. He even asked about you–”

“--he said he could give you a discount at Family Video if you need it–” Hagan sniggers, earning a smack in the ear from Tina. 

“--shut up! So, you’re not a total social pariah yet, okay?”

You blink. You know Tina means well, but sometimes she is so fucking tactless. “Um. Didn’t think I was one, Tins, but thanks for the reassurance. I guess.”

–

He’s not a thief. He swears to God, or whatever the cooler alternative of God is, he’s not. 

But he’d be lying if he didn’t consider keeping the stupid red pen just to see if you’d miss it. It’s engraved, he noticed, while rolling it between his fingers as he lay in bed last night. And Eddie Munson is a man not unfamiliar with the value of a decent writing utensil. Those D&D campaigns don’t write themselves. You want something that’s going to be in it for the scribbling long haul and this thing’s not bad. Etched in teeny tiny letters on the pen cap are your initials– the letters of a name no one calls you anymore. 

Which is the part that makes it stupid, obviously. What is it with rich people and putting their monogram all over everything?

God, she’s obsessed with this fuckin’ thing, Eddie thinks. Wonder how much it’s worth. A lot, to you, obviously. You’re always etching with it in English, using it to push a lock of hair behind your ear in the library. Tapping it against your lips when you’re standing at your open locker, the tip settling right into your Cupid’s bow, the red casing bouncing off the plush pink of— woah. Pause. 

Eddie had to take a beat. 

He’d been tapping the pen against his lips too. Thinking about you. Thinking about your lips. That nasty little pout you gave him outside your trailer, the snarl it curled into when he goaded you on. 

Fuck, was that kinda… were you kinda…

It’s enough for him to jam the pen into his mouth and palm himself over his boxers, just to make sure. And— yep. He’d hummed, a kind of well whaddaya know! and slipped his hand under the worn elastic waistband. He even gave himself a couple of tugs, just to make sure. 

And the thing that made him really sure was the Technicolor vision he had of confronting you in the library’s restricted section.

Yanking that pen away from your mouth and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Clamping his mouth onto yours and sinking his tongue so deep inside he could taste the cherry Tab lingering on your uvula.

Guiding your hand, your writing hand, past the undone clink of his belt and waistband of his jeans so you could stroke him to the head. 

Ink stains mixing with precum. 

Moaning into your mouth. 

Giving you something to write to dear diary about. 

So now, back in the harsh light of day, this stupid rich bitch pen is burning a hole in his pocket. 

Almost like payback, as if you’d embarrassed him by making him hard in the privacy of his own trailer, he approaches you in the most audacious setting imaginable— the cafeteria. 

You sit there, among your usual gaggle of Gap zombies, but you look— different. You’re dressed different. Cool jacket, Eddie involuntarily thinks before mentally slapping himself. Shut up! We’re here to humiliate her, remember?

“Lacy,” he says, but he draws it out all over his tongue so it sounds like laayyyy-ceeee, and you are visibly disgusted by this. He looms over the table, barely containing the twisted grin on his face. He's playing the part of fake bashful here, you see. “You, uh, dropped this outside my place last night.” Your shoulders go tense. Eyes of your space cadet friends snapping back and forth, from Eddie to you to Eddie to you. 

Because it’s true. Technically, you did drop it and technically, it was outside his place but the implication is what's killing you. 

Eddie can barely outstretch his hand before you snap the pen from him, icy fingers a shock to his skin. This sick thrill gathers like a twister in his stomach as you freeze in place, staring him down with a laser pointed glare. Fuck. Off. And. Die, it says. 

But he doesn’t! “Oh gosh, no need to thank me, Lace! Really, it was no trouble at all— what are neighbors for!”

Mocking giggles start bursting from the popular kid peanut gallery. But the flavor is… off.

Eddie scans the little in-crowd that are scoffing at your expense— which, okay, is totally what he came over here to do but… these are meant to be your buddies, right? Shouldn’t Hagan be threatening to beat Eddie’s ass right about now?

But instead they’re just… letting you stew. No one’s telling Eddie to back off, no one’s calling him their second favorite F slur (freak, naturally). 

Nicole Summers is laughing into her sleeve. That’s rich. Underclassman Carver is almost looking at him like, Yeah man, you got her good!

Which does not feel good. Feels kind of shitty, actually. 

Too easy of a win.

You didn’t even get a chance to fight back. You couldn’t. 

Fuck. 

Eddie turns heel and heads back to his table, a gaggle of befuddled Hellfire heads eager to know what the hell was that, man?! But even he can’t quite put his finger on it.

He feels… bad for you. 

—

“Anybody got bleach?” 

It’s the first thing you manage to choke out after a chorus of ooh, Lacy, what a good neighbor! and Hope that’s all you dropped outside his trailer, girl! All through lunch period, you’re the fucking laughing stock squared thanks to that long haired douchebag. 

“Bleach ain’t gonna cut it,” Carol smirks as you both exit the girls room and head toward your respective lockers, “That thing is totally contaminated with freak cooties. Better toss it— unless you don’t mind.”

See, that’s the thing. You do mind, because it’s your stupid goddamn special idiot sentimental pen and now he’s gone and— and— freaked it up somehow. Exploiting the fact you’ve had to make a major lifestyle downgrade because it makes him feel better. It makes you feel even more exposed than you’ve been getting used to feeling lately. 

Before you can get into it any more, Carol is clotheslined by Tommy to go, I don’t know, finger each other behind the basketball bleachers or whatever it is they do instead of going to study hall. You’ve lost track. 

You push past the gathering rush in the hallway to access your locker. Just as you slam the door closed, it appears again, like an insistent apparition. 

“What, Munson, are you here to tell me you put a bomb in my book bag? Because, if so, great. At least that’ll kill me.” 

Munson stands there, leaning against some poor bastard freshman’s locker, brow all tight. 

“Was I kind of a dick earlier?” 

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I was. Shit, I knew it!”

“Why the fuck are you talking to me.”

“I didn’t mean it to come off like that— well, okay, I kinda did, but that was pretty cold. I mean, your dirty laundry’s already all over Hawkins, I probably shouldn’t have been like, waving your panties around—“

“Munson.” You gesture toward him, as if you’re going to clutch him by the forearms to shut him up, but halt at the last second. Fuck, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand the way he’s standing there with this earnest look in his eyes, on some hair metal Ferris Beuller protagonist of reality bullshit.

Your eyes flare white hot, jaw flexing.

“Listen to me. We may live in a regrettably closer orbit now, but that does not require us to acknowledge each other as human beings. In fact, if you try and pull some shit like that again— in fact, if you even so much as deign to look in my direction again, I will slash the tires on that fucking decommissioned World War II ambulance you call a van. You do not exist to me, and I better not exist to you. I am not your neighbor, I am a figment of your fucking rotted pothead imagination at best. Leave me the fuck alone or I will eat you. Capiche?”

You know for a fact that these are the highest volume of words you’ve ever spoken (or will ever speak) directly to Munson, and he knows it too. You don’t let loose like this— you don’t even talk to anyone outside your friend group unless extracurriculars or group projects call for it. Not because you’re shy, but because you’re discerning. 

Munson has managed to disarm you of all that with one stupid little pen. 

He’s staring at you with a deviously shiny-eyed gaze, one that makes you feel like you need to button the modesty button of a blouse you’re not even wearing. 

“M’kay, well, let me know if you need a ride after school!” he chirps and shrugs and takes off down the hallway to some class he’s certainly failing. 

And you’ve just earned the first big fat F of your life, by letting Eddie Munson get under your skin.

author's notes: hi! if you've read this far, i owe you my eternal thanks. been a hot sec since i wrote fic so i appreciate it. - thee perennial reference to lacy's nickname— best imagined sung to yourself in your bedroom mirror and having a classic 18 year old existential crisis, lol! - the journal and fountain pen motif is a not entirely subtle reference to veronica sawyer from heathers. please expect this trend to continue - as far as timelines go re: steve's working life and tommy and carol's high school careers, bear with me. all will be discussed or at least briefly mentioned but will there be inconsistencies? of course there will, babe. i'm here to fuck around, i'm not here for continuity - horndog eddie munson you WILL live forever! - please reblog, like & comment to show support! i've got some killer chapters planned for this fic and i live to entertain u

[steddieas-shegoes]

homework

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'let's talk about that'

rated t | 990 words | no cw | tags: therapy, gareth pov, personal growth, self-discovery

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Gareth hates therapy.

Okay, hate might be a strong word.

He dislikes it strongly and wishes he could just write in a journal or something.

“Let’s talk about that some more,” the therapist, Jessica, smiled encouragingly.

“Talk about what?” He genuinely has no clue what she wants to hear more about.

“Your need for validation from your bandmates.”

Oh. That.

He wouldn’t really call it a need. He just doesn’t ever do anything that they’d dislike him doing. Even if it would make him happy.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You mentioned that sometimes you have ideas for songs, but you know one of them won’t like it, so you don’t suggest it. Why don’t you give it a try even if they don’t like it?” She clarified.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because Jeff and Eddie basically run the band. They come up with most of the shit we do, I just add the drums,” he explained. “It’s worked that way this long, why disrupt the flow?”

“Do they tell you not to give your opinion?”

“Of course not. They always ask what I think.”

“And you choose to not give them honesty.”

“I…”

He didn’t realize that’s what was happening. And he hates that it took a therapist to figure it out.

“I’m not lying to them!” He rushed to say.

“Maybe not. But you’re not being completely truthful, either. Do you think they’d be upset if they knew that you were holding back to maintain the peace?”

Gareth hates therapy.

If Steve hadn’t insisted they all go twice a month, he wouldn’t even be here. If Sam hadn’t backed Steve up, a knowing smirk on his face when Gareth and Frankie argued they didn’t need therapy, he would be sitting on his couch or behind his drums.

“I guess there’s a chance they would be a little upset,” he finally admitted. “But not nearly as upset as if I disagreed with them and we argued.”

“How do you know a disagreement would lead to an argument?”

“Because all disagreements lead to arguments. Arguments lead to fights and silence and cold shoulders. Cold shoulders lead to people not wanting to be around each other anymore.”

Damn, Jessica was fucking good at her job. He didn’t even mean to say all that.

He didn’t even know he felt all that.

“Is this a pattern you’ve experienced before?” She set her notepad aside, all attention on him.

“I guess, yeah. My parents. My older brother and my dad. My grandparents and my mom. My first best friend.” He shrugged. “Just easier to go along with things. It’s not like I’m not happy.”

“Settling and being happy are two different things.”

“I am happy. Really.”

He is. He’s never been happier, actually. He gets to do the coolest job in the world with his best friends, he has a boyfriend he loves more than anything, and he gets to drink his favorite coffee every morning. Life is great.

“Do you think that happiness stems from the peace you’ve forced yourself to accept or from being content in your life?” Jessica leaned forward.

“Do you do this with everyone? Is this magic?” He asked, suddenly having the overwhelming urge to cry or run or both.

She laughed. “No, it’s not magic. It’s just understanding my people. You don’t give me much to work with, but sometimes something sticks out and I can run with it.”

“Seems like magic.” He sighs. There’s no way out of this conversation. “What am I supposed to do? Cause problems until no one wants me in the band anymore?”

“No. Do you want actual advice or do you wanna try to figure it out yourself?” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m pretty sure you won’t like my advice.”

“I don’t like most of what you say.”

“Fair enough.” She smiles. “I think you should try being honest next time there’s something you have a different opinion on. No one is going to hate you or want you out of the band. They value your opinion or they wouldn’t have you there to begin with.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not necessarily. It’s only as hard as you make it.” She makes a note in the planner next to her. “I’m expecting you to give me at least one example of doing this by our next session.”

“Homework? I’m busy enough!” Gareth didn’t want this to get in the way of tour prep. They were starting rehearsals next week and had a few last minute adjustments to make on their album before the tour started.

“And it’s the perfect time to speak up,” she raised a brow, daring him to continue arguing. When he didn’t, she spoke again. “I’m not expecting you to do it all overnight. Just once.”

“Fine.”

****

The first rehearsal was a shit show. It always is, but everyone’s nerves were shot today after barely sleeping and a flight delay keeping two of the tech managers unavailable for an extra few hours.

Frankie snapped on him earlier, but he walked away. That wasn’t the time to follow Jessica’s advice.

Eddie stormed from the room a few minutes ago, said he needed a break to call Steve. He’d been arguing with his guitar tech over which of his five guitars to use for a song.

Gareth started to speak up to give his opinion, but Eddie was already too frustrated.

See, Jessica? This is why you should stay quiet.

But Eddie came back a few minutes later and asked Gareth what he thought.

“The one you use for Blue Night is probably what you should use for Invade. Sounds are similar enough for those songs,” he said without thinking.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie agreed, knocking his shoulder against Gareth’s. “Thanks, man.”

“Dunno why he listens to you and not me,” the guitar tech grumbled.

Gareth smiled.

Okay, Jessica. Maybe you were right this time.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 14

Hello! Thank you so much for all the love the last chapter got! It was amazing to see.

In this chapter we have the Nancy take down. And if you've been following along on WIP Wednesday you know who awesome it is, and if you haven't you are in for a treat.

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

~

Eddie was starting to think that he was more nervous to meet up with Nancy than Steve was. His boyfriend was calm, collected, and determined.

He was in awe.

Eddie, on the other hand, was a wreck. He had to keep wiping him palms on his jeans, which did nothing to stop the one knee bouncing under the table.

Probably because he knew something Steve didn’t. Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys were ready to pull the plug if this meeting went south. They weren’t going to stand by an agent who treat ‘Abbadon’ and the rest of The Fallen that way.

Eddie wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to convince Gareth without letting it slip that Abbadon was Steve, but a miracle occurred and they had all four members on board.

They had decided to meet at the studio where it would be home turf for Steve and they could speak more openly about the band and their alter egos.

Benny was in the editor’s booth arranging some of the songs they had already recorded and would be on hand if they needed a moderator.

When Nancy arrived, she let herself into the recording booth. Steve’s back was to Benny so he couldn’t see his face, and Eddie was in a chair nearby. A small tray of goodies was on the table with water and coffee to drink. Steve had his hands wrapped tightly around a water bottle, Eddie’s first indication that Steve wasn’t as calm as he thought he was.

“I understand I’m supposed to call you Abbadon during this meeting?” she said in lieu of a greeting.

Steve pointed up to the booth behind him. “This is our producer, Bob Newby. He’s working today and doesn’t have the low down on who I am, but he’s listening in to keep things all fair and civil. Say hi, Bob!”

“Hi, Bob!” Bob repeated back dutifully. “Don’t mind me. I just wanted to make sure a couple of the track were laying like they’re supposed to.”

Nancy looked up at the cheerful man and then back at Steve. “Hey, Bob. I’m Nancy Wheeler. It’s nice to meet you.”

Bob’s grin was infectious. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” He waved at her and went back to what he was doing.

“I was hoping that we would be able to dispense with the charade so we could speak frankly,” she said, sitting down on one of the nearby chairs and folding her hands on her lap.

Steve licked his upper row of teeth, slow and dangerous. “I would have to trust you more for that and I really, really don’t.”

Her eyes flicked up to the sound booth and then over to Eddie. “I thought the point of bringing Eddie was so that he would be the mediator.”

“Oh I volunteered!” Bob said gleefully. “I offered to mediate so that Mr. Munson could be the bodyguard.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but slammed it shut when she saw that even Eddie was looking her with suspicion too.

Nancy took a deep breath and leaned forward on her elbows. “Before we started dating I was looking for a way to elevate my social status. My mom was always going on about how popular she was in high school, but I was too interested in books and journalism to put much stock in it my freshman year.” She sighed and straightened up. “So over the summer I had her teach me how do my hair and makeup. How to flirt and act with boys. But I wanted more than just a climb up the ladder.”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance. Eddie shook his head, while Steve rolled his eyes. He waved for her to continue.

She licked her lips and then scooted forward to grab a bottle of water. She took a long drink, cradling it in her hands as she started up again.

“I wanted to rebel,” Nancy said with a little eye roll of her own. “It was stupid. I wanted someone who my parents would raise an eyebrow at. But I didn’t want a ‘bad boy’, I didn’t want to actually hurt my chances to get into college.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Seriously, what the actual fuck, Nance!”

Steve reached out and put his hand on his knee. Eddie looked over at him, but quieted down.

“The king of the school was prefect,” she said with a shrug. “Top of the social ladder, known ladies man, a bit of dick and a bully, but nice enough that he wouldn’t harm me. So I did my research. I found out what kind of girl he went for and molded myself into that.”

Steve held up a single finger. “I’m giving you three strikes before I kick you out with great joy. You talking about me as if I was a separate person will not be tolerated. Because it removes you from the guilt of what you did. Try again.”

Nancy huffed and stomped her foot, but when Eddie raised an unimpressed eyebrow, she huffed again but did as she was told.

“You were always a means to an end,” she admitted quietly. “And then Will was kidnapped and Jonathan and I were thrown together because I thought Barb’s disappearance was connected.”

Eddie and Steve shared a confused glance.

“Didn’t Barb runaway with her boyfriend?” Eddie asked, tilting his head.

Steve nodded. “Used my party as a cover. A party she wasn’t even invited to, no less.”

“As I found out later,” Nancy agreed. “But you have to understand. I was her best friend, I figured that she would have at least told me about her plans.”

Steve had his own thoughts about the best friends bit, but he kept them to himself. He always assumed that Barb had used Nancy the way Nancy was admitting to using Steve.

“When I broke up with you the first time,” she continued, “I thought Jonathan and I had something special, something that couldn’t be broken. But he asked for time. He wanted to spend time with Will now that they had gotten him back. And I tried.”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “A month. You were back with him by Christmas break. In fact I didn’t even know you two had broken up during that month until I started hanging out with Abbadon and he told me about your small break you two took.”

She ducked her head and folded her arms over stomach. “Something I wasn’t aware of myself that other people didn’t notice the first break up.”

Steve scoffed. “Everyone sure as hell knew about the second one though.”

Nancy huffed a small laugh. “I think it was in the broadcast news and all the newspapers. It was pretty hard to miss.”

“So why did you come back to me after the first time?” he asked, pained.

“After having a boyfriend for a couple of months,” she explained, “I found that after month of not being with someone that it was hard to go back to being single.”

Steve threw his hands in the air. “So I was always just a convenience to you?”

“Uh, hey,” Bob said into the resulting silence. “Sorry to interrupt and shit. And story time has been fantastic. Riveting even. But I haven’t heard anything like an apology or even remorse. So maybe hurry up and get to the point?”

“Look St–Abbadon,” she corrected with a roll of her eyes.

“Strike two, Nancy,” Steve called out. “You slipping up like that makes it really hard to trust you with a secret as big as ours.” He was cool on the outside, but on the inside, his heart was screaming at his brain to run. Just fucking run. He probably would have had Eddie not been there.

Nancy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. That was a dumb mistake and one that could not only cost me a lot of money, but clients in droves. I’m sorry.”

“That was the first sincere thing you’ve said,” Bob said, his voice crackling through the microphone. “And it was about money.”

Her head snapped up and she looked affronted at the booth. Bob just gave her a cheeky smile and jaunty wave.

“You don’t regret using me do you?” Steve asked, his voice quiet and steely.

Nancy clasped her hands together and licked her lips. Her bottle long since emptied. “It’s really not that simple, Abbadon and it wasn’t as though you didn’t use people and throw them away, too. Look at Tommy H. and Carol. As soon as they crossed whatever invisible line you had on their bullshit and you told them to fuck off.”

Steve slowly stood up and walked up to the coffee table that separated them. “That was different and you know it. It took a lot for me to walk away from their abuse. It was you. You gave me the courage to walk away because I thought you had my back. But it’s clear you didn’t then, you don’t now, and you won’t ever.”

He clenched his fists and then jammed them in his pockets. “I refuse to have an agent who is so cutthroat that they are willing to hurt whoever is in their way, because one day it might be me.”

“Think about what you are saying,” Nancy implored. “Most agents aren’t going to take you on because of the anonymity clause. I was the last resort. You have no one else to go to.”

Steve bit his lip. He didn’t want her. She would stab him in the back, her lack of respect for him was oozing off of her like the smell of sweaty unwashed festival goers The Fallen were forced to endure when they first started.

Just as he was about to give in, about to throw in the towel and admit defeat, his phone rang.

“Abbadon,” he greeted, answering it without looking at the caller ID.

“Oh good! You’re still at the studio!” a very excited Robin nearly screamed into his ear.

“Celeste,” Steve said, warningly. “Too loud.”

Robin giggled maniacally. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

Eddie stood up and came over to see what the fuss was about. Nancy’s smug expression slid off her face as she frowned.

“What’s up?” Steve prompted.

“I got a call from an up and coming agent,” she said. “She’s got a few good clients, a couple of comedians, a B-list actor or two, but everyone I’ve talked to loves her.”

Steve straightened up, but at the same time his shoulders relaxed. “Tell me more about her.”

“Her name is Vickie Cameron,” Robin enthused. “She’s been in the business for about three years. Just like the band. She’s really out-going and friendly. And getting a band like The Fallen would be a huge win for her. Allow her to expand into music.”

“Hey, Celeste,” Eddie said over Steve’s shoulder. “You think she would be interested in two big bands to rep for?”

Nancy was on her feet. “What?!”

Robin cackled. “As in the biggest band in the world right now?”

Eddie looked up at Nancy with a feral grin. “That would be the one.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled.”

Nancy stepped forward, her hands clenched at her sides. “You can’t do that!”

Eddie just shrugged. “Can and will, darlin’. Before walking into this meeting, I had a talk with all my boys and they all agreed that if you were shit to Abbadon, we’d back out too.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Robin said. “I’ll contact Chrissy and the both of us will meet up with her to discuss the details.”

“And what is her stance on the onstage personas?” Steve asked looking over at Nancy.

She brightened. This could be it for her.

“Her words were, and I quote ‘It would be a fucking travesty if they were forced to reveal their identities.’”

Nancy’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide.

“She loves the onstage personas,” Robin continued. “She says that what makes the band a major part of the metal scene and to take that away would not only be a disservice to band but to their fans too.”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and then they both turned at looked at Nancy with great big grins on their faces.

“And that’s all she wrote, folks!” Bob said from the booth. “I believe you can show yourself out, but I’m gonna anyway.”

Steve turned into Eddie’s shoulder so his face would be covered as Bob popped out of the booth and opened the door to the recording room.

“After you,” he said with the biggest smile on his face.

Nancy grabbed her purse and marched out. Steve picked up the mask and held it a moment.

“You want to know the best part of all this?” he said, looking over his shoulder at Eddie.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

He slipped the mask on over his face. “The NDA is for the life of the band. Even if ten years down the line we come out to public with our real identities, all she can say on the matter is ‘no comment.’”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. Steve turned around and grinned. He had his answers about Nancy and Jonathan. He had her seen out and she had lost her biggest client because she couldn’t find it in her to be nice to him.

It was a good day.

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

I honestly don't know how long this is going to go, I have barely got to the tour and it just keeps stretching out like a god damn taffy pull. I think this will be the longest fic I've ever written, so there's that. I also worry I've been focusing too much on dialogue and not action.

Tag List: THREE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop

[aetlasx]

prologue

pair: eddie munson x witch!reader

summary: Ah, memories. You journal your first day of high school, but things quickly take a turn just a few weeks later.

tw: menstruation, pad/tampons, bullying, name calling (pls lmk if there’s anything I missed)

a/n: just stick with me lol. he’ll be in the first part. Also, this is an AU!! For spooky season!! thank you so much for reading!!

*the chat font is the diary entry and it goes back to normal at the end*

August 22nd, 1983 It's been a few months since i've written in this thing. I thought it'd be a good time to start now since I finally made it to high school!

You know what that means? Four more years till I leave this shithole!! Better than five. June was actually waiting by the door when I got home, she really wanted to hear every detail of how it went. I told her about my classes, I have Jonathan in two and Nancy in several. I told her how the school and people were so different from anything I was used to. But, it doesn't take her long to find something wrong with the way I think. She started with her usual warnings and advice, all the things I need to avoid, all the mistakes I shouldn't make. I know she's just trying to protect me, but it feels like she can never have trust in her little sister.

On the other hand, at least Teddy asked if I had fun. He's always been the one who knows how to lighten the mood, especially knowing how his wife is. He asked about my teachers and any clubs that looked cool enough to join. He even asked about Jonathan and Nancy.

Jonathan was definitely not as excited as me. He's quite, but he's always been that way.I know that his mom was excited for his first day of high school, she even convinced him to bring his camera. Right now, I'm trying to convince him to join the newspaper but he just shrugs me off. And Nancy, well, although it's been one–girl is practically glow. Within just 8 hours of the school day, she was able to meet a boy. She kept gushing about him and is pretty excited for the rest of the school year here. I'm genuinely happy for her.

Before June could add her two cents, I interrupted her with how I stopped by Aunt Claudia's after school to see how Dustin's day went. He was already sprawled out on the couch, 'exhausted' from fighting with his new math teacher. It had been a bit since I had seen them, I slaved away my summer at my job so stopping by, I felt grateful that they weren't even mad. I'll have to start hanging out with him again.

Anyways, I’m determined to make the most of freshman year with my friends. I’m ready to prove that I’m more than just a product of this stupid town.

Wish me luck!!

September 16th, 1983

I think I lied. I don’t know where to start…but a four year wait is too long. I don’t know where it all went wrong but it started over the weekend.

Sometimes I’d like to think that if my mom was still around, this wouldn’t have happened. Hell, June is like my mom, why did it happen. I’m talking about mother nature’s gift. It seemed as though no on thought to inform me that a girls first period would be this chaotic.

Nance and I had a movie night planned. I hadn’t really talked to her much, only in class, because her new boy toy or whatever—Steve Harrington, was taking up most of her time. I thought this would be a good time to just catch up and gossip, I was wrong. That Friday was horrible. I ended up throwing up, getting the chills, my body ached to no end. But I was still determined to make movie night happen, especially since June and Teddy were gone for the weekend.

As I was dying on the couch, Nancy finally showed up. But to my disappointment, it was only to cancel. Her and Steve were going out on their first date. I don’t know if it was how hot I was feeling or my intestines twisting, but black spots started clouding my vision. I just remember her screaming for Steve and once I knew it, I woke up in the hospital.

What I’m about to write, I’ll say with confidentiality…probably because I’m the only one reading this. Whatever.

A period is probably normal for all females. What’s not normal is having to go to the hospital and having your best friend’s boyfriend make fun of you because the doctor called you a late bloomer. I mean, she apologized but, if I could’ve just died on that bed, I wouldn’t be here.

Even June lectured me when I interrupted her weekend getaway. The whole ride home she kept complaining and saying ‘how could I not know’ and ‘you just gave us another unnecessary bill’. Like, sorry my baby’s natural response has ruined something for you.

Fuck. That’s not even the worst part. When Monday came back around, everyone was looking at me when I walked in. I know how cliche it sounds after what had just happened but knowing how popular Harrington was and who his friends were, he had already told the whole school by now. During gym, Carol and a few other girls threw pads and tampons at me. I got called ‘Bloody Mary’ and ‘Leak Freak’ in the hallways, at lunch, and anytime anyone had the chance. I tried to stay strong, I even hoped Nancy would say something to me during class or at least when she saw me but she just looked at me with sympathetic eyes. It’s just hard to believe that a few weeks ago, everything was fine. We were making fun of our teacher, gossiping with Barb, and even went shopping but I guess things change. Now when I look at her I’m just consumed with rage.

Jonathan has been supportive, though. The evening I got out of the hospital, he had actually brought over some of my favorite snacks and listened to me cry all night. Even when the mocking was bad, he’s stuck by my side. He’s told some kids to fuck off, walks me to class, and I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong but knowing that I have to wake up and go through it again doesn’t really ease my pain.

I feel like my chances of making friends and actually joining some clubs are ruined. When I try talking to some new, they give me dirty looks. When I go to ask about different clubs, they turn me away. I’ve lost hope. Thought this was suppose to be a fresh start but I guess not.

And just to add more salt to the wound, I haven’t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes and drift to away, I’m met with such an unsettling environment. The atmosphere is thick, groggy, red. It’s coated in fog, but a man I’ve never seen before always walks through it. He says his name is Henry, he starts talking about my worries and pain. It’s always the same—he says he’s ‘there to help me’, he’s there to ‘take away the pain because he knows what it’s like’. I truly don’t know what has caused my subconscious to create things like this but I guess I’m just tired of feeling like shit.

I don’t even know why I bother keeping a journal around. Sometimes I feel like I won’t even be here in the future to reminisce on the shitty days like this. Why would I even? I guess it’s just easier to write these things down than having to say them out loud. I thought I’d be able to make my sister, aunt, cousin, and friends proud, but I’m starting to think I’m just not cut out for this.

Closing the diary, the blonde places it back in the shoebox you hid it in. Pushing it back under your bed, standing from the place he sat. A satisfied smirk on his face.

He’d been following your turmoil closely, knowing that this was just the turning point. Your struggles were feeding into his plans. This entry was straw that broke the camels back—your vulnerabilities, your fears, and your desperations. It was almost too easy.

“Your suffering is almost poetic,” Henry said to himself, walking out of your room, your house, determined to take action now. He planned to finally confront you, to force you to acknowledge the full extent of what your destiny could be with his help—with what he had to offer.

[louloulemons-posts]

Newts and Water Hyacinths

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Deciding to spend his day with his favourite girl, Eddie goes to her home, but where is she?

Word Count : 1.2K

Warnings : Pure fluff, use of Y/N, potential incorrect information about plants, pet names, reader is basically the child of Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, kisses, Eddie is whipped lol.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Eddie coming over wasn’t a new thing at all, you were friends for a year or so before dating so him being at your home was a common occurrence.

He knocked on the front door before pushing it open and letting himself in. “Honey I’m home,” he called out, chuckling lightly. No response. “Baby? Where are you?”

Wondering through the lounge and the kitchen he couldn’t find the girl he adored so much. Jogging up the stairs, fingers tapping on the bedroom door before he entered.

Cosy and neat-ish, well your neat. Plants all over the room in various sizes and colours, books stacked upon books, notebooks and journals overflowing with drawings and facts about animals and plants, shells and pretty rocks sat on shelves. Not here either.

Eddie tried not to panic but couldn’t really help it, there was only one other place you’d be. He pushed back the nets on your window slightly and sighed with relief.

The small stream sparkling in the days sunlight. Stood in patchwork dungarees, and wellie boots, a smile noticeable from miles away, was you, Eddies favourite person.

Many people couldn’t believe that you and Eddie were dating. His mean and satanic appearance making it seem impossible for him to be with someone so kind and loveable.

But you were one of the few people who saw through Eddies outer layer, saw him for the sweet and gentle boy he really was.

Smiling to himself Eddie headed back down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. Wandering down to the beautiful stream. “Hey Sweetheart!”

Looking up from your crouched position you smiled at the curly haired metal head. “You found me.”

“I’ll always find you. Figured if you weren’t in the house, you’d be here. Found anything.”

Nodding and brushing a stray hair away from your face you picked up a water filled jar that also held a small newt. “Aren’t they cute Eds?” you asked, standing up to show him.

“It’s a red spotted newt, they’re not normally from places like this, so I might take them inside. Get dad to take a look, make sure they’re safe,” as you explained, he watched your brows furrow in slight concern for the creature.

“That’s a real sweet thought, I think it’s a great idea. We might have to get them somewhere a little bigger to stay though,” he suggested, to which you nodded.

Picking up one of your journals from the slightly damp grass, you passed the jar to Eddie. Climbing from the steam a ramble began, “I drew a couple of water hyacinths too, which isn’t great, I’ll have to tell mom. They can be really invasive, they’re actually a hazard for boats and grow really quickly!”

“Is that right?” Eddie said, sliding his hand into your free one, holding the jar with their newt buddy in the other. “Mhm it’s real pretty Ed’s but so dangerous!”

“Like you?”

“Me?!” your eyes widening as you looked at the boy.

“Yeah baby, just like you. So pretty, but you’re almost like a siren!”

“How?”

“Everyone just loves you. All wanna be your friends, or more. You have to let them all down easy cause you’ve got your bunch already.”

Nodding in agreement, “‘M not dangerous though Eds.”

“With eyes as pretty as those baby, you could make anyone do anything you wish. Trust me I know.”

“You know Ovid said that Sirens were friends of the Goddess Persephone, they were turned into monsters when Hades abducted her.”

“How do you keep all that knowledge in that head?”

“Dunno. It’s nothing useful though,” you shrugged. Motioning to the bench near the back door Eddie placed the jar down, “Sit.”

You complied. “Its interesting though, and some people will think it’s useful, depends who you talk too.” He squatted down, gently taking you boot covered foot in hand.

“Hm, maybe.”

“Definitely, do you know how much I hear Henderson praising you and saying how cool you are for knowing all this stuff. Even Sinclair Junior thinks it’s awesome and nothing impresses her,” he laughed, pulling the red boot off and placing it next to the bench to dry.

Wiggling your toes, Eddie smiled at your multicoloured thick socks. “Erica’s a sweetheart.”

“So are you, saving that newt, saving the steam from those flowers, saving me from being a lonely old grump.”

That did make you laugh, as he pulled off the other boot you spoke, “You’d never end up alone, so many people love you. Including me.”

“Yeah? You love me?” he grinned, it wasn’t a phrase you’d really said to him before.

“Yeah Eds, I love you a lot. Favourite person and all. Only person who I share everything with.”

“I love you too, and thank you for that, love your rambles. Love everything about you sweet girl.”

Standing up his full height he took her hands, “Careful, climb up on the bench, don’t want you dirtying your socks.” Slowly standing up, keeping your hands in Eddies, now taller than him.

Leaning down you softly pressed your lips to his plush ones, arms wrapping round his neck and legs around his waist. Pulling away you spoke, “Don’t drop me.”

“Never,” he stated, pecking your lips again.

“I’ll come back for you in a sec buddy,” he said to the orange amphibian in the glass jar. Placing you down on the counter, Eddie could only beam at you, pushing falling strands of hair behind your ears he kissed you once more.

It was always something that made your heart feel like it’d come out of your chest. Fingers running through the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly so he’d know not to stop.

If you didn’t have to breathe, you’d never let him stop, never ever. Would kiss him for the rest of time. Breaking away with a chuckle, Eddie rubbed his thumb on your rosy cheeks, kissing there too.

“You go and find a bigger home for our friend and I’ll go fetch ‘em and your journal, okay?” Words weren’t working for you at the minute, mind still racing from the kiss, so nodding would have to do.

Jumping down from the counter gently, you rummaged though the cupboards for a suitable waiting space. Perfect an old fish bowl, “Hey Eds we’ll have to make a trip back down to the stream,” you called out.

“Why’s that?” head popping round the door, and placing the jar and book on the side, Eddie wandered over. “Need the water, don’t want the little guy to get sick. Too much change can’t be good.”

“I’ll go, you stay put,” kissing your cheek once more, he grabbed the fish bowl and wandered away. Watching him walk down the garden, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were.

Having someone so kind, so considerate, a great friend, and even better boyfriend, just someone who you never had to pretend with. You could just be Y/N and he could just be Eddie. And that was perfect for you.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you for reading, please leave any requests 🤍

[dreamwatch]

My Occupation is Syncopation

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #14 - Prompt: And The Winner Is... | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Steddie (background) | Tags: banter, Gareth wears glasses, not as often as he should, 90s Corroded Coffin

I promised you no misery today, but I made no such promise to Gareth! 😂

Title from a quote by Ringo Starr.

****

“What?”

“You can’t answer your phone like that, man, it’s unprofessional.”

“Did you wake me from my slumber to berate my telephone manner?”

“Why are you still in bed?”

“You know how we’re in a band? Well, unless you want to start playing at weddings and bar mitzvahs we need songs, which someone has to write—“

“Okay—”

“—and that someone is me. I sacrifice my sleep when inspiration strikes—”

“Yeah, yeah okay, woah is you, the tortured artist. Have you seen Modern Drummer today?”

“Oh yeah, I like to read it after I’ve perused The Wall Street Journal. It’s a real palette cleanser.”

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

“I do know that.”

“Never mind, man, I’m on my way over.”

“No, no don’t—“ 

Gareth hangs up before Eddie has a chance to say no. Because this is fucking big, and the only way Eddie is going to understand is to see it in person. He grabs a few copies of the magazine (he had to get more than one, there’s his mom and dad, his brother and sister both need a copy, one for each of the band, and then a few extra in case he forgot anyone), and his car keys and he’s out the door like a flash.

Eddie lives ten minutes away which is either very convenient when they’re drunk and they need to get each other home, or very inconvenient when only one of them is drunk and needs a ride or a place to stay. Today it’s very convenient. Matt has a cool little townhouse, but it’s like an hour away so he’ll drive over to him later, and Jeff is out in the hills now ‘because you can get so much more for your dollar out here, dude’ he said like some weird real estate bro, so he’s getting the news by phone.

Outside of Gareth and the magazine staff, Eddie is the first to know.

He pulls up outside Eddie’s little apartment. He can afford something better now but he refuses to let go of this two bed little shit box, because of ‘the memories’, as if the fact he bought Wayne a really nice house by the beach isn’t the reason he can’t afford something bigger and better. But he spends as much time there as he does in this shoebox so…

He takes out his key, the one Steve gave him because ‘he worries’, and strides into the kitchen where Eddie’s sitting in his boxers, nursing a coffee.

“Why are you in my house?”

“Good afternoon to you, too.”

Eddie stares at him bleary eyed. “It’s afternoon?”

“Never mind that!” Gareth throws a copy of the magazine onto the counter where it lands in front of Eddie. “Page eight!”

Eddie rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath, no doubt abusive, but then he begins to read. Gareth watches on, waiting patiently as Eddie’s eyes slowly grow wider.

“Oh shit!” Eddie grins at him. “Drummer of the year?!”

“I won drummer of the year, man!” Gareth gives up any pretence of trying to be calm.

Eddie gets up and hugs him tight.

“So fucking proud of you, man. This is awesome.”

It makes something burn in his chest, this feeling of having other people, talented, brilliant people, who he gets to perform with and be around, tell him they’re proud of him. And it’s all the more heightened when it’s Eddie.

“Thanks, man,” he says sincerely. “Seriously, thank you for everything.”

Eddie’s eyes leave the magazine and focus on him, making him squirm a little under the scrutiny. 

“You don’t have to thank me. Fuck, you did this! There are some big names on this list, and you beat them.” Eddie drops the magazine and pokes Gareth in the chest with a long finger. “You. It’s all on you, man. You talented little shit.”

Gareth smiles, feeling oddly shy for some reason. “It’s just… I know, you guys, well you specifically, didn’t want me in the band—”

“Gare, no—”

“No, let me just. I’m not. It’s not a dig, or anything. I know you and Shawn were best friends, and I know you were sad when he left. And he was a great drummer. He would have been brilliant for the band. Probably would have won this years ago.” He huffs a little laugh, trying to take the frown off Eddie’s face, because that’s not what this is. “But, you took a chance on me, and it changed my life. I owe you guys everything.”

“Gareth, I’m not a man prone to hyperbole—”

“Like fuck you’re not.”

“Shut up! Listen to me and understand this: you are an incredibly talented drummer. You don’t owe anyone shit. You earned this,” Eddie says tapping on the magazine cover, “You earned all of it. Fuck, we should be thanking you for not leaving us. You with your fucking… flams and paradiddles and ratamacues—”

“How the fuck do you know what a ratamacue is?”

“I don’t! Thats the point!” 

Gareth can’t help the giggles now. It feels amazing to be celebrated by his peers, sure, but by Eddie and the band? That’s next level, top tier shit. 

Eddie goes back to reading the article properly, but Gareth catches the frown as he starts to read.

“What?” he says, moving into Eddie’s space.

“Uh… who is Garth?”

“What?”

Eddie points his fingers under the text, not that small admittedly… does it really say…? 

Oh no.

“Where are your fucking glasses?”

“Does it really say Garth?”

“It really says Garth.”

He flops back on the chair. “Oh for fuck sake!”

Eddie doubles over with laughter, traitorous asshole that he is. For Christ’s sake can't he have one nice thing?

“Dude, its fine, the label will reach out and get it fixed for next month.”

He let’s out an exaggerated sigh, practically deflating in Eddie’s kitchen. “I bought thirty copies of this,” he whines.

Eddie shakes his head. “And they say guitarists have big egos."

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Buddie Headcanons bc i forgot to take my meds today and it is too late to take them now bc if i did i would be up all night but im somehow still wide awake at 3am anyway so eh what the hell 🤷

- Eddie bought Buck a journal that he keeps in his bedside table drawer, so that if he wakes up in the middle of the night with some sort of information running through his brain, he can write it down as an outlet to gush about the information so he doesn’t toss and turn the rest of the night bc he feels bad waking up eddie to info-dump

- Buck went all out on the cheesey newly-wed merch: matching his & his throw pillows for the bed, matching Mr. & Mr. Diaz coffee mugs, pun-y couple t-shirts, etc. Eddie pretends to find it annoying, but he can’t hide the smile he always has when he holds the Mr. Diaz mug.

- They both leave sticky notes to each other around the house with little sweet nothings written on them; Chris eventually got annoyed with them and started writing things like “you two are gross” or “get a room” and leaving them in the usual spots

- Buck is a swiftie, Eddie claims he doesn’t like her music, but Buck constantly hears Eddie humming her music around the house as he carries out daily tasks

- They watch Drag Race together, and Buck info-dumps about the queens as Eddie just listens not comprehending a word of it bc he’s too busy watching Buck be so entertained

- Eddie learns how to make omelets and starts making them for Buck; they aren’t good at all, but Buck always eats them bc he sees how proud of himself Eddie is and he refuses to make Eddie sad

- When Eddie and Buck’s daughter gets into dance/theatre, Buck immediately turns into the Dance/Theatre Mom, learning how to see to make costumes, getting in arguments with other moms, sitting front row and filming every performance, etc.

- Buck sets their alarm an hour early intentionally so they have time to cuddle in bed every morning; waking each other up with soft kisses (Eddie loves to kiss the tip of Buck’s nose first thing in the morning bc it makes Buck blush), and whispered “i love you”s until their second alarm goes off and they start their day

- Eddie always does the dishes since Buck cooks, but Buck keeps him company by drying snd putting them away

- As a wedding gift to Buck, Eddie got Bobby’s help to track down the scrap yard where decommissioned LAFD vehicles go and got a peice of scrap from an old 118 engine that he had melted down to make their wedding bands

- Eddie asked for Bobby and Athena’s blessing before he proposed to Buck

- Buck (who was simultaneously preparing a proposal) visited Shannon’s grave with Chris to ask for her blessing to propose; promising to take care of her boys for her

- Buck (and Chris) begged Eddie to get a cat, but Eddie always said no… until Eddie found a stray in their backyard one day and started to feed it. The cat never left, and now spends most nights curled up on Eddie’s lap, and he would protect that cat like it was his own baby.

- Buck didn’t know Eddie wears contact lenses, and one of their days off when Eddie ran out, he wore his glasses to the breakfast table and Buck was speechless for most of the morning (Chris teased him relentlessly afterwards)

- Eddie started wearing his glasses more often after that because he thought it was cute the way Buck got all flustered and blushy

- Late at night on overnight shifts, if one of them has a nightmare, they sneak out of the bunkroom to go lay on the roof— they would call it stargazing, but there is too much light pollution from LA to see anything other than faint specks, but they still love to hold each other in silence to calm the other one down

- One of Buck’s favorite photos of Eddie was taken long before they got together; it was at a Grant-Nash barbecue shortly after Jee had been born, and Eddie was lounging in a lawn chair with a sleeping baby Jee curled up in his arms— he has a small smile on his face as he looks down at her, and it’s one of the first times Buck remembers looking at Eddie and thinking “He is so beautiful”

- When Eddie asked Buck to move in with him and Chris, Buck teased him by saying “you’re not gonna kick me out after a day, are you?”

- Eddie got him back when he jokingly kicked Buck out after a day, Buck believing he meant it for a solid 45 seconds before Eddie started laughing and pulled him into a tight hug, telling him he was joking

- They were initially going to replace Eddie’s bed with Buck’s, but when they were moving things in, they were playfully shoving each other around and both accidentally fell onto the bed before it was fully set up, breaking the supports meaning they had to buy a new bed

- Chimney (who witnessed this happen) now teases them relentlessly about how they “broke the bed” when Buck moved in

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i had a worm wiggle it's way into my head when 'work song' came on on my way home today.

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,949 | rated: T

cw: major character death (no gore, nothing descriptive, though it's stated that Eddie was sick and getting weaker, then implied that he dies.)

Eddie Munson’s mother was a witch.

He didn’t know this until he was stricken with the same sickness that took her from him years and years before, but he knows now.

He knows from the small chest he found buried deep in his and his Uncle’s attic one day after learning of his ailment, and the handful of months he should expect to have left, from the local doctor. 

The chest was brimming with scrolls, tomes, candles, stones, herbs, vials, even a small pewter cauldron.

“I shoulda known,” was all Wayne had said, heeding Eddie’s beckoning call that hazy afternoon. 

Eddie sorted through everything he had found; spending hours every day flipping through each book and journal, deciphering his mother’s handwriting and the spells she had inscribed onto the pages. 

He even started to try a few; his mother’s ‘powers’, per sae, had come from the earth around her, writing in the largest, most disheveled of the journals that all she had needed to do was to listen to Mother Earth herself, listen to what she had to tell her.

So, Eddie practiced.

Small things at first, like seamlessly re-attaching the snipped off head of a daisy back to it’s stem, snipping it off again only to regrow an identical one in it’s place. Even starting a broken branch of the pine outside the Munson home on it’s way to a new green version of what was lost.

Eddie counted himself very lucky that Wayne was not one to believe the church’s nearly unhinged ramblings about witchcraft being the work of the Devil, and let Eddie practice a couple of the other simpler things on him.

“Jus’ don’t go thinkin’ I’mma let you chop my head off, boy.”

Wayne’s body aching from following their ox around all day with the plow? “Here, drink this, it should help.” It did.

Couple of Wayne’s fingers get snapped under the same ox’s hoof? A little harder, but he managed; the digits sore and achy that night, but good as new come morning.

“There a hair spell in that book, Ed?” Wayne joked one morning over breakfast, a good three quarters of the way through the six months the doctor gave Eddie, and a couple after finding Maggie Munson’s secret.

“Hmmmm….I dunno Uncle Wayne,” Eddie flips through his journal absently, “I think a Get Your Hair Back spell is too close to a love charm to work right. You could end up with hair all over your body and not just on that beautiful, shiny, head o’yours.”

“Love spells are touchy,” Maggie’s journal had said, “There are a rumored few that work, but only for the truest forms. I’ve tried some simple potions and charms…Al still left..and if they didn’t work…” the rest was easily filled in. 

“Oh yeah? Then how's about a Cure What Ails Ya spell? Got one’a those in that there book?”

“Why? You feeling sick, Wayne?” Eddie half-jokes, trying to veer away from having this conversation with Wayne again.

Wayne’s quiet as Eddie focuses intently on the book infront of him, trying, and failing, to scoop up a bite of egg onto his fork without looking away.

“Ed,” his uncle starts, soft and pleading once again, “Is there really nothin’ that can help ya?”

Eddie huffs, dropping his fork onto his plate and pushing it and the journal away from him. Definitely something a younger boy would do, not the nearly 25 he is now. “Why don’t you give them a look, huh? ‘Cause I already have.”

“Ed–”

He snaps his head up to glare at the older man. “What is it Wayne? What?” Eddie snatches the journal back up off the table without looking. “I’ve looked okay? Through Mom’s and through every damn book in that attic. And there was nothing. Nothing! You think she would’ve left if there was?” He stands sharply, knocking the small faded blue table away as he does. “Would’ve left m—”

His free hand wraps around his middle, nausea and the spins taking him for a ride a the sudden movement.

“Hey, Hey, sit back down son.” Wayne stands as well, coaxing him back into his chair. 

The nausea spells have become more frequent, the dizziness even more so, as the months have worn on, so Wayne ties up Eddie’s hair (growing thinner by the day), walks the short few steps to the pitcher of water he’d pulled from the well that morning, and pours some into a bowl, grabbing a clean(-ish) rag on his way back. 

Wayne smoothes the cool damp rag over Eddie’s face and neck, slowly and deliberately until the nauseous feeling passes.

“‘M sorry, Uncle Wayne, I know you’re just worried.”

“It’s alrigh’ boy, I shouldn’t’a pushed.”

“I’m still doing better than most,” Eddie says, voice tilting up at the end, “I think it’s ‘cause of the magic.”

“Thoughtcha said there wasn’t no cure in that book.” Wayne states, moving to empty the bowl. 

“There’s not,” Eddie closes his eyes, relaxes back into his chair. “Doc thinks Ms. Wilson had the same as me and Ma, and you saw how quick it took her.”

“Mrs. Wilson was nearly 70, Ed.”

“Then how about that boy Carver? He was my age, and Doc gave him six when he came down with it too, was gone in two.”

Wayne shrugs, “The devil wanted him back sooner.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of his Uncle’s ‘desperately-trying-to-hide-his-smile’ smile.

Wayne jokes, but Eddie’s been contemplating this for a while now. When he had hit his second month, he was about the same as he was, steadily growing weaker, as what was expected, but nothing like how Ms. Wilson and Jason had looked in theirs. 

Hell, Jason had worked on the docks with Eddie since they were boys; both fit and lean, healthy young men with the musculature to show for their work.

That was when he’d found his mom’s books, and ever since, his health had slowed to a crawl. 

“I think using mom’s magic is helping me.”

Wayne is quiet, cleaning their plates from the table and dumbing the leftover eggs out the window to the pigs. 

“I think it’s your magic now, Eds.”

—---

And so it went.

Eddie’s given six months turned into a year, his magic growing from healing fingerbones, to mending their ox’s broken femur with ease. 

His year didn’t come without worsening symptoms though, and his previously well filled out overalls hung loose around him, his calves barely filling out the tops of his boots tied all the way tight. 

Wayne always kept the faith, so to speak, not a religious man by nature, but Eddie could hear him sometimes in the early morning and late night praying to “Whoever’s got their ears on up there,” to keep Eddie safe, to keep him in their sights when the time came. 

Eddie had been doing work of his own, too. Writing down anything new he found out while sitting with the Earth, listening, watching….

Mother told him through the whispers of the trees, the soft humming of the grass, that he’d know when it was time. 

And that time was within the next few days. 

He felt it in his bones, he felt it in the air when Wayne passed him his birthday gift (a flaky scone with the biggest chunks of chocolate in town, an amazing treat he got once a year) on the morning of his 25th year, he felt it in the very ground he walked on…

He was ready, though he did harbor one regret. One thing he knew he missed out on.

He’d never fallen in love.

Over his last year, Eddie would sit with Mother; amongst the trees, lain back in the field of grass on the hill behind their house, and tell her about them. 

The ‘they’ that he’d likely never meet, the they that would love him for nothing but his love in return. 

Nothing was ever specific, only the vaguest feelings he’d get about them, about the way they’d love, the humor they’d possess, the love for Eddie’s stories they’d have.

And every time he’d speak of them, Eddie’d leave with something that he didn’t realize he had picked up until he was nearly back home. 

A chain of daisies Wayne had plucked from atop his head when he sat down for dinner, a scrap of dark blue fabric he’d found walking through town, a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, the tiny sun bleached skull of a bat.

And he’d write. Over and over, never quite getting it right, but there was something he knew he needed to get out of his very being before he left for good. Something that felt like a promise.

–

The morning came, and Eddie awoke to a silent house. 

Wayne out on the fields already, most likely out helping the folks on either side of them with whatever they needed doing, with only the hens’ clucks and pigs’ snorts keeping him company with the calls from the birds in the trees. 

Eddie got up, slow as slow could be, got himself into his clothes, shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to their small blue table, tore out a blank page of his mother’s notebook and wrote.

Pouring all of what remained within him, Eddie thought of the Earth, of his mom, of Uncle Wayne, and them. His unknown love.

-x-X-x-

Steve Harrington’s mother was not a witch.

But for the last few years, he’s had a suspicion that his Grandmother is.

Everyone says that their food tastes so good because “It’s made with love!”,  but with Mama Harrington, it was real. The love and intent she imbued into her meals was there. And she could cure any ailment.

She would always go on and on about the importance of food, each recipe’s ingredients’ healing powers, and of the recipes and their stories that had been passed down through the years from her mother, and her mother’s mother, all the way to now, where they ended up in a cookbook that’d gone untouched since it was given to Steve’s mother in the late 60’s.

“A gift! Unused for so many years, Steven!”

“I know, Mama,” he nods again, dropping some green something into the pot of sauce bubbling on the stove. “Almost 25 years.”

“Aye! You have catching up to do.” she says, shaking a thick wooden spoon at him.

“Me?” he scoffs, “I don’t know the first thing about cooking, Mama!” Baking? He’d hold his own. Cooking? If his grandmother wasn’t there to help him of on the phone to guide him through a recipe? Kitchen would go up in flames.

“Bah! Watch closely, dear.” she says, shuffling to the pot that stands nearly as tall as her where it’s perched on the stovetop. “It is always your intent behind what you are cooking. You can make anything be anything as long as the intent is there.”

“Even eggs?”

She nods, her nearly fully white bun flopping back and forth on top of her head. “Even just eggs.”

“So if I want a carbonara to help get my friend a passing grade?” he asks, incredulous, but immediately thinking of Robin, who’s coming up on her finals in a couple months (for her doctorate! A PhD! Can you believe that!).

“The intent! Put it into the eggs, into the pasta, I don’t care! But make it for That!”

She throws a concerningly large handful of pepper into the pot on the stove, and gives it a stir.

“Now, this is my Mama’s recipe, and it will help your Pa’s back.”

“How so?”

“Because I told it to,” she growls, glaring at the pot and raising her spoon as if she was going to smack some sense into it.

“Alright, Mama,” Steve chuckles, “What do you need me to do?”

He spends the next hour helping his grandma roll out some of her premade dough for some fettuccine looking noodles, grabbing a wrapped up blob “from the top shelf, Steven. That’s the stuff I made for you.”. 

He rolls, folds, and cuts it as he’s told, then goes to pick Robin up from campus while she finishes everything.

“It won’t take long now, dear, and you shouldn’t either.” Mama scolds, waving her spoon around once again.

“Got it, Mama, be back soon.” He slips on his shoes, looks in on his grandpa in the living room as he passes, grinning at the loud snores he hears from the direction of Pa’s recliner, and slips out the front door to his car. 

In no time, he’s picked up Robin, stopped for a movie from Blockbuster, and is home to the smell of fresh bread.

“We’re home Mama!”

“I’m just setting the table, grab your Pa!”

“Come on Pa, Mama’s got some pasta for you.” Steve says, coaxing his grandfather out of the chair and into his slippers. 

“Ah, perfect, my back’s been real achy lately.”

“That’s ‘cause you sleep in the recliner, Mr. Harrington.”

“How many times do we gotta tell you, Robin? Just call us Ma and Pa.”

Robin plops down in her designated spot across from Ma, “Hey, you should get used to it now; Once I finally get up the nerve to Chrissy out, she’ll come over here all “Mr. Harrington” this and “Mrs. Harrington” that.

“And how’s that coming, Bobs?” Steve asks her, sitting down beside his grandma and immediately passing the plate of bread across the table to Robin’s waiting hands. 

She starts going off at a million miles a minute about her longest standing crush, while Steve shares a look with his grandma, both smirking conspiratorially as Robin takes a bite of the bread.

That’d been Steve’s suggestion, a bread imbued with luck.

It wasn’t a “Love Spell”, Mama said there was none in existence that were worth the pain. But the minimal luck that she had sown before into countless baked goods (especially near February), have had a surprisingly great track record.

With everyone but Steve.

She couldn’t quite figure out what it was that kept him from getting the benefits too, every time she had tried, they had tried, it was an astounding failure. 

First with Tommy Hagan, the carrot cake cookies Steve had presented him with as a special birthday treat back in middle school ended with two missing front teeth and a broken arm.

Then again without even thinking about it, he’d added some luck and hope to homemade chicken pot pies he’d whipped up when he and Nancy were on the rocks. 

It had somewhat worked with Billy Hargrove, but that one hadn’t even been intentional, and he shudders to think about it to this day.

“I don’t know my dearest, maybe it is because you are already tied to someone else?” She had said after her tried and true pot pie recipe failed.

“But it didn’t even work with the one I was already with!” he yelled, sighing deep and pinching the tears away from the bridge of his nose. “She jumped right into Byers’ arms.”

Mama had just given him a pitying look, which was worse, honestly.

Now, he stays far away from any of Mama’s lucky foods, especially with the weird twisting feeling he had gotten the few times he’d tried over the years after leaving Hawkins.

He and Robin came up to Indy for Robin to go to U of I, a year after she graduated, and when Steve was fired from the job that had been paying the majority of their apartment's rent when he was spotted kissing his then boyfriend by his manager….they came to live with Steve’s grandparents, taking to them both with open arms and hearts.

He comes back to the present when his third bite of pasta clears away the last of his headache.

Steve shoots his grandma a knowing look, which she ignores with a sip of wine. 

–

They’re nearly finished with dinner when it happens.

Steve’s listening intently to a story Pa is telling them, something he’s sure he’s hears a dozen times before, when he absentmidedly picks up, then takes a bite of the bread Ma made for Robin.

It’s more than he’s ever felt before.

In the past, whenever Steve’s tried to gain some luck in love, he’s been inundated with flashes, feelings, words, a warmth in his bones that he’s wanted to hold onto forever. 

The feelings grew stronger the older he got, and now, Steve finds himself sitting on a rolling grassy hill. 

It’s not a flash of a vision like before, he’s sitting in the tall soft grass, and his hands are already making a chain of daisies. Nearly done, in fact. 

He finishes it off, turns it around in his hands, then when he goes to put it on…

He’s back at the table with his family, the slice of bread in his hand, and Pa still telling his story.

Steve jumps up, startling the other three, and beelines it to the kitchen, flinging open drawers, searching for just a damn scrap of paper. 

Mama follows him, “Steve, the bread?”

“I was on a hill, chaining daisies, and now I have to get these words out.” He probably doesn't make a lick of sense, but he doesn’t want to lose them.

Suddenly, a pad of paper and pen are passed into his line of sight. He snatches them up, and starts scribbling down as much as he can.

He and Mama stare down at the words on the page. 

“Mama, what is this?”

She is silent for a handful of breaths.

“This is why the luck never worked.”

now with a part 2!

also: i don’t know the first thing about being a witch or anything of the sort, nor do i know anything but the basics about cooking; hope im not way way off on anything!!! this is all in fun 😅

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Truth of the Matter

A Four Part Miniseries

@wonderland-girl143-blog @gregre369 @420-hun

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Chrissy stood in Steve's living room watching Eddie. He was sitting cross-legged on the coffee table pouring over his spellbook, his tongue poking out.

"You know, I have perfectly good couches," Steve said, crossing his arms, and Eddie hummed without looking at him. "He's lucky he's so cute."

"Okay. . .okay, it sounds like this spell is going to be difficult, especially with all of us, and it says I need to be. . .stronger for this. Fuck, I have to be a certain level? Well, what fucking level am I?" Eddie asked. "And how do I gain experience? More spells? You know, whoever wrote this book should have had this damn thing coded. You know, write in the margins which ones are for beginners."

"Well, considering the few spells that you have done, I think you're very much still a beginner," Robin said.

"If this is too much, we can wait. . .save up money. . . Buy plane tickets," Steve said.

"Baby, we're going to see this through, and your mother's waited long enough. . .you're worth it, Steve Harrington. . .now, shut up, I'm thinking," Eddie said.

"Oh, oh! I think I remember your father mentioning something about using magical creatures like conduits," Chrissy said.

"Yeah, no, I'm not using either one of you like that. And if my father suggested it, then I'm definitely not going to do it," Eddie scoffed.

"Well, what if we want to do it?" Steve asked.

"I can do the spell myself," he replied.

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean you should," he said.

"How in the hell is this relationship supposed to work if we're both equally stubborn?" Eddie asked with a scowl.

"Well, if we're both determined enough, we'll make it work," Steve replied.

"Eddie, it sounds like we both want to do this," Chrissy said softly.

"Are you sure?" Nancy asked.

"Very," Chrissy said, and Nancy smiled. "I want to do everything that I can to help Steve find his mom or dad. Not just because we're both fae but because it's the right thing to do."

"Thanks, Chrissy," Steve said softly and then paused. "Wait, what do you mean, mom or dad? My dad's dead, remember?"

"Oh. Did I not mention?" Chrissy asked with a frown.

"Mention what?" He asked.

"Fae can have children with anyone regardless of their gender. I had two mothers," Chrissy replied. "And some fae are what they themselves call genderfluid. . .depending on what they feel like. So, this person could be your mother, father, or both. Being transgender and queer is also more commonly accepted amongst fae. It's because of their beliefs that the fae had to remain hidden in the shadows, hiding with their illusion and glamor magic. They would come out of the shadows to help lost humans, whether they be fae, humans, or Wiccans, especially if they're children and rejected by their community because of who they love."

"Wow," Steve breathed. "Okay, so you know a lot more than I do."

"Do the fae have like their own city or country I could move to?" Robin asked.

"I don't know. If they do, it's probably hidden," Chrissy said. "There wasn't much in my mother's journal."

"Okay, let's do this shit. . .let's go find this Steve’s mommy or daddy. . .even more so now. Although, I suddenly realized that I'm going to be meeting my boyfriend's parent for the first time, and I hadn't even taken him on a date yet," Eddie said.

"And I just found out that my girlfriend neglected to tell me that she could get me pregnant," Nancy said.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! It slipped my mind. . .I was going to tell you, and then this happened," Chrissy said, looking guilty. "And besides, we can only get each other pregnant if we both wanted to. . .no accidents!"

"I figured you were going to say something like that when Mike barged into the house," Nancy said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I'm messing with you, baby."

"I can get Steve pregnant!" Eddie yelped.

"Down boy, buy me dinner first," Steve said dryly.

"Okay, let's get to Lenora Hills before I get completely distracted," Eddie said. "Nancy, focus, and then we can study fae anatomy later. . ."

"I'm so getting a better grade than you," Nancy smirked, and Chrissy giggled.

"Fuck off, Wheeler!"

Lenora Hills, California. . .

"Fuck!" Eddie screamed.

He dropped Steve and Chrissy's hands immediately as he fell to his knees. Eddie bent over and began to make retching sounds. Steve pulled his hair back just as he vomited. He wiped Eddie's face with a tissue Chrissy gave him and helped him stand up. Eddie's whole body shuddered, and Steve wrapped his arms around him to hold him up. Steve watched as the other man's eyes turned purple.

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Is anyone else hearing music?" Eddie asked as blood gushed from his nose. "Did I just gain another level? Hmm, maybe it's something I ate."

Eddie's fading purple eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed into Steve’s arms. Steve picked him and held him close.

"I don't want to be a bummer, but I think Eddie missed by a few blocks," Robin said.

"Well, it was his first time performing the spell," Steve said. "Let's go."

They finally found the house they were looking for, and when they did, they discovered that the front door had been left wide open. Someone had clearly left in a hurry. When they entered, they found it in a stay of disarray, like someone had packed quickly. It was similar to the one in Indianapolis, except the furniture had been left behind. Drawers were opened and emptied. . .papers and takeout menus were littering the floor. Someone had clearly lived here a while, but it looked as though someone had left recently. Steve hurried to lay Eddie on the couch for a moment. He cleaned his face and listened closely to make sure he was just sleeping. He was.

"Is he okay?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, just sleeping. That spell took a lot out of him," Steve replied. "Let him sleep, and we can look around. Maybe whoever left here is going to come back."

Of course, they searched the house for hours and came up with nothing. Robin, Nancy, and Chrissy let Eddie have the bedroom in the back, considering he drained his batteries getting them all to California. He laid Eddie on the bed and sprawled out next to him. He watched the man snore loudly before flopping onto his stomach. Steve ran his hand over his back, smiling when Eddie sighed in his sleep. He laid down on the pillow, wondering if his parent had laid their head on this very pillow. Steve closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Steve was dreaming. He was sure of it. He felt smaller than usual, and he was lying in a . . . Cage? No, a crib. He was a baby, and he was looking up at his mobile made of stars. A face appeared above him. It was a younger, fresher faced Bob Newby. He had hazel eyes just like Steve.

"He's made of stars just like you," Bob said proudly.

"Freckles and moles, my love," a garble voice said.

"Stars, stars to guide his way back to us," Bob said softly.

"He's not going to be like the others, I won't allow it," the voice said.

"There's more of them than there are of us," Bob said sadly. "It's happening more and more lately."

"Bobby. . ."

Wait, was his other parent British? Steve tried to reach for them as they moved closer to the crib.

"I'm right here," Steve tried to call out. "I'm right here!"

When he woke up, Eddie was staring at him.

"Hey, you feeling any better?" Steve asked as he immediately sat up.

"A little, but I don't think I'm at full power yet," Eddie said. "I'm fucking hungry."

"Yeah, okay, we get out of here, and we can find something to eat," Steve said.

"Just a moment," Eddie yawned.

He pulled Steve closer to him and nuzzled his neck. Eddie pressed his lips there, peppering his soft skin with tiny kisses. Steve sighed for a moment and leaned into it. He rolled over onto his side to face Eddie.

"Why are you going through all this trouble? I mean, I know you care about me, but we barely started whatever this is, and you're nearly killing yourself to help me," he said.

"I don't know. . .I mean, I guess it's because of the assumptions I made about you but also because I would give anything. . .chase any lead that gives me any hope that my mama's alive and looking for me. She's not, though. She's been dead for a long time. I can't do it for myself, but I can do it for you," Eddie replied.

Steve wrapped his arm around him, pulled him closer, and kissed him deeply. He poured every ounce of affection he had for the man into that kiss. He broke away and leaned his forehead against his.

"Come on, let's see what the girls are up to," Steve said.

They wandered into the kitchen to find Nancy, Chrissy, and Robin leaning over a phone book.

"Eddie!" Chrissy exclaimed. "How are you doing?"

"Better once I get some food in me," Eddie said.

"Well, we were actually going to order something. I was thinking pizza. Laura never lets me have any," Chrissy said.

"Pizza sounds fucking awesome," Eddie exclaimed.

As they waited for the pizza to arrive, they sat in the living room to discuss their options. Eddie still needed to recharge and get some food in him before doing any sort of spells. In the meantime, they wait it out here and see if the person comes back. Steve was trying not to get his hopes up, but the closer they got to find his parent, the more hopeful he got. Robin leaned over the arm rest of the couch. Nancy, Chrissy, and Eddie were talking amongst themselves.

"You doing okay?" Robin asked.

"Trying to keep it all in, you know?" Steve said and paused. "I had a dream about my dad, about Bob. I think it was a memory. I couldn't see my other parent, but I know they were British, and Bob said I was made of stars like them. They have moles like me. . .what else did I get from them? Will I ever see them again? Do they know what happened to Bob?"

"I'm sure that you'll find your way back to each other," Robin said.

"That's what Dad said. . .that my stars would guide my way back to them," Steve said. "It was happening to so many fae children. . . They knew it was going to happen to them."

"You're going to find each other," Robin said softly.

Before Steve could say anything else, the doorbell rang. Nancy went to answer it but paused when they heard arguing coming from the other side. Steve shared a look with Nancy.

"Is that Jonathan?" Steve asked.

"I didn't even think about it," Nancy laughed quietly. "I ordered from Surfer Boy."

"Argyle! What are the odds that my ex-girlfriend is here in Lenora Hills while my current boyfriend is the one delivering her pizzas?" they heard Jonathan yell. "It is not the same Nancy Wheeler. She's still in Hawkins."

"Man, fate has a funny way of bringing people together!" Argyle laughed loudly.

Nancy covered her giggle with her hand and went to answer the door, but Chrissy stopped her. Chrissy pulled the front door open and grinned.

"Hi, I'm Nancy Wheeler," she laughed.

"Oh, shit, man, you were right," Argyle said.

"No. . .that's Chrissy Cunningham. She goes to Hawkins High," Jonathan said.

"Oh, what are the odds?" He asked, and Jonathan elbowed him in the side.

Nancy nudged Chrissy out of the way and appeared in the doorway.

"Nancy?!" Jonathan asked.

"Hey, Jonathan," Nancy said meekly.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"It's a long story," Nancy said. "And I'll tell you later, I promise."

Jonathan looked at her doubtfully and then looked at Argyle before sighing. He knew that something strange was up, but he couldn't say it in front of Argyle. He accepted their tip and dragged Argyle back to the yellow van, leaving them with their pizzas. Once they ate, Eddie took a nap, and when he awoke again, he started to work on doing the location spell again. Eddie looked down at the paper and made a disgruntled sound with his mouth.

"What?" Steve asked.

"It says Hawkins, but it doesn't give me an address. . .just a bunch of random letters and numbers. It's like someone doesn't want us to know. . .hm, maybe there's a spell preventing us from knowing," Eddie said.

"Well, people place runes on the fae children to prevent the parents from finding them. Maybe they put runes on their houses too," Chrissy said.

"Shit, maybe it's my house or rather the Harringtons," Steve scoffed.

"Well, the only thing left to do is to check it out," Eddie said. "I'll start preparing the spell to travel back to Hawkins."

"Eddie, are you sure you're well enough for that?" Steve asked.

Eddie smiled. He cupped Steve’s face and pressed a hard kiss to his lips before he leaned his forehead against his.

"I'm fine, big boy."

Once they were in Hawkins, Eddie once again vomited and collapsed. They were just outside of Steve’s house. Steve picked him up and carried him into the house. Eddie's eyes fluttered open, and he groaned as he tried to sit up.

"Eddie!" Steve exclaimed. "You should be resting."

"I don't want to miss this," Eddie said sleepily, wiping the blood from under his nose.

Before Steve could say anything else, they heard a figure coming from upstairs. Everyone downstairs tensed up, preparing for a fight. A woman entered the room. Her hair was long and carmel colored with warm golden highlights like Steve’s with moles scattered across her tan skin. She had Steve’s nose and his lips, but her eyes were a bright blue. Her flowered colored dress was as blue as her eyes.

"You're my mom," Steve gasped.

"Today, anyway," she smiled Steve’s smile.

Steve ran into her arms without even thinking. She hugged him tightly, sobbing. This felt right. . .her hug held more warmth than the hugs he received from the Harringtons, theirs being nothing more than cold detachment. His mother's hug felt like home. He could feel her now, too, in the back of his mind. There were so many emotions going through his head, and there was one question that was on his forefront of his mind. He pulled back, tears in his eyes.

"I don't even know your name," Steve said.

"Farran Kelley," she laughed, tears in her own eyes, and she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Oh, you have your father's eyes."

"Yours too," Steve grinned as he felt his eyes glow green.

Farran laughed as her eyes glowed green as well.

"Your father was a fairy too, you know," she chuckled, and her smile dropped. "He should be here. . ."

"I'm sorry. . .I was there. . . I mean, I didn't watch him die, but I was in the middle of all of it," Steve frowned.

"Well, we warned the humans for years about meddling with that world. . .if I had known you were in the middle of all of it. . .I missed so much," Farran said sadly. "You're so grown."

"There's so much left to teach me. I still don't know everything there is to know about being a fairy," Steve said.

"Oh, so many wonderful things," Farran said and cupped his face. "My sweet boy. . .however, did you get that rune removed?"

"That was me!" Eddie exclaimed, waving from his spot on the couch.

Farran peered around Steve with a grin. Steve moved beside Eddie, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Mom, this is - "

"Eddie, my God, you've grown so much!" Farran said delightfully. "I haven't seen you since you were an ankle biter."

"You know me!" Eddie exclaimed.

"I was mates with your mum," Farran said.

"You were at her funeral!" He realized. "If you were friends with my mom, then why would my dad. . .I know he's an asshole. . ."

"So, you figured out that he was the one who kidnapped my son?" She asked.

"Well, I had to remove the rune that was on his back, and I had to be blood related, so. . .and kidnapping fae children is the kind of shit my dad would do," Eddie scowled.

He sat all the way up, and Farran sat down next to him.

"Your father loved your mother very much. She was the only person in the world who could make him cut all his bullshit but even though he loved her. . .he still didn't treat her very well. He left her all the time, and I was there for her when she had all those miscarriages. She had complications when she gave birth to you, and after that, it was harder to get pregnant. I did what I could being a fae healer, but not even magic has the answers to everything. It's something your father could never understand. Lizzie and I became close when she got to town. I was there when Al refused to be. That's what really drove him mad. He couldn't forgive himself for it. When I became pregnant, Lizzie became so excited. She hoped our children would be friends. A few months after we had you, Steve was taken from us. I didn't believe it at the time that Al had anything to do with, but his jealousy had been too obvious over the years. He always thought there was something between Lizzie and I, but she had become enamored with someone else. Even though Bobby and I split up, my heart always belonged to him," Farran said.

"My father's a dick," Eddie spat, and then his furious face fell. "Is there anything redeemable about my dad?"

"There's a part of me that still hopes that his love for Lizzie, for you, and Wayne will wake him up, but the rational part of me knows that will probably never happen. You know that you look like him, but I always knew that you got your heart from your mother even when you were a child," Farran said. "It's not wrong to hope that your father might do the right thing by you or the right thing, period."

"It's a small world, isn't it? You were best friends with my mother, and now I'm dating your son," Eddie laughed, and then he slapped a hand over his mouth. "I've gotten a little too comfortable."

"It's alright," Steve grinned.

"Oh! That's wonderful," Farran gasped. "Oh, Lizzie would be so happy!"

"Don't get too excited, mom. It's only been - wait, what day is it?" Steve asked and paused. "Eddie's only recently found out he's a witch, but he's the reason we found each other at all. He's exhausted himself so much to do it."

"Definitely Elizabeth's son," Farran said fondly. "Oh, sweetheart, you look exhausted. We should probably get back to my house. Steve, we should probably get you back to our house."

"We have a house?" Steve asked.

"Well, your father's family home. It's nestled out in the woods," Farran said. "You and your friends are more than welcome to come with us."

"OH! Mom, these are my friends. Well, Nancy's my ex-girlfriend, but now she's one of my best friends," Steve said, and Nancy smiled softly at him. "This is Chrissy. She's also a kidnapped fae child."

"If you don't mind, how did you know Steve’s name?" Nancy asked. "Didn't he have a different one?"

"No, Steve is the name we gave him. It was my father's. I guess the Harringtons were too lazy to change it," she replied, scowling.

"Oh! And this is my best friend in the whole world, my platonic soulmate, Robin Buckley," Steve grinned.

"Hi, Steve’s mom!" Robin exclaimed, hitting his chest. "I told you would find each other, dingus!"

Farran laughed and hugged her tightly.

"So, we're going to your house then?" Eddie asked.

"Steve, is there anything that you want to bring?" Farran asked.

"Oh, I've been wanting to leave for a while now. What I need is already packed," Steve grinned and ran up the stairs.

He came back downstairs with his hands carrying two large suitcases. He had the largest grin on his face. Farran helped Eddie up while Chrissy did the same on his other side as Farran promised Chrissy that she would teach her all about being a fae.

"How are we getting there?" Eddie asked.

"By car," Farran said. "Why? Did you think I had a carriage being pulled by unicorns?"

"Well, now I don't," Eddie scoffed, looking disappointed.

"Unicorns live in Scotland," Farran replied with a laugh. "And are a protected species."

"They're real," Eddie gasped with delight.

Steve laughed as he followed them to the front door. He walked out the front door with them, leaving the name Harrington behind. The name Newby-Kelley slid back into place. He was going home.

Months later. . .After the spring break from hell. . .

Steve stumbled through the trees, clutching his sides. Despite all the medicines Farran used on his son, the bites still hurt.

"It's just up ahead," Steve said.

"So, why did you move?" Hopper asked.

"It's my family home," Steve said.

"Figures John Harrington has more than one home in Hawkins," Hopper snorted.

"John Harrington isn't my father," he sighed. "He never was. Him and his wife hired someone to kidnap me. This is my real family home."

"Jesus," Joyce said.

"It's okay. I found my parents. I mean, my father is dead, but my other father, who is also sometimes my mother, is very much alive and is waiting for us," Steve said.

"I'm lost," Hopper said.

"No, it's just up ahead," he replied.

"That's not what I - "

It was a spacious four bedroom cottage type house in the woods with a stone pathway leading up the front door. Vines covered the house, sealing over every opening as though they were protecting it. There were vines sprouting around the house like a bubble as well. Steve approached the vines, and his eyes glowed green. The vines moved to create a doorway for them.

"What the hell?" Jonathan asked. "Hey, does this have anything to do with you guys being in Lenora a few months ago?"

"You were in Lenora?" Joyce asked.

"We were tracking down my father," Steve said. "We had to come back to Hawkins, though, because he had been tracking me too and tracked my last location to the Harringtons. He was my mother then."

"I'm lost again," Hopper said.

"Man, we're here," Steve said. "How are you getting lost? You're right behind me."

Hopper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Joyce laughed and patted his arm.

"I think he doesn't understand about your parent being both your mother and your father," Joyce said.

"Oh! Some faes can change their gender if they wish. Today, Farran Kelley is a man," Steve said. "He's been my father the last few weeks."

"Faes. . .as in fairies?" Will asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm not human," Steve grinned. "Let's get inside, and we can talk about this."

They went inside the brick house where they were led into an open space living room and kitchen. On the other end of the house was a fireplace where a cool, blue fire crackled. The walls were lined with shelves, and the shelves were stuffed with books. Pictures hung on the walls very neatly. Sitting on the couch in front of the fire was Nancy. Robin and Vickie sat on either side of her, rubbing her back as she cried. Steve felt his chest tighten painfully. Mike pushed his way through the group and ran towards his sister. Farran came down the stairs with Dustin. It always startled Steve to see how much Farran looked like him as a man. It was a good thing, though.

"Holy shit, is that a picture of Bob?" Jonathan said as he glanced at a picture on the wall.

"It is," Joyce said. "Why do you have a picture of Bob?"

"He was my husband," Farran said. "And this was his family home."

"Bob never said he was married," Joyce said, frowning.

"Divorced. We split after Steve was taken from us," Farran said.

"Steve is Bob's son?!" Will asked.

"He never said. . . ," Joyce trailed off. "Actually, he said he didn't have kids he was aware of."

"Steve was kidnapped and hidden from us by wiccan magic. We searched for years, and then Bob stayed here, waiting for him to come home, never knowing he was right in front of us," Farran said softly.

"He does have Bob's eyes," she said as she smiled at the both of them.

"I'm glad Bobby had love in his life before he died," Farran said, patting her hand.

"Okay, tell us everything from the beginning," Hopper sighed.

Farran shared a look with his son before launching into the story.

". . . And we did everything we could, but Vecna overpowered us," Farran said.

"Eddie. . .," Steve choked. "He and Chrissy. . .they died."

Suddenly, everything was hurting. Eddie wouldn't be here anymore. Steve wouldn't wake up next to him. . .no more dinners with Farran, Wayne, and Eddie. It would he a somber affair now with a piece of their family missing. No Chrissy coming in with Nancy to join them. No more double dating with Nancy and Chrissy. No double wedding under fae law. They were supposed to travel to Saoradh, the hidden land of the fae, this summer. Not to get married yet (that was far off) but to view the beautiful land and all it had to offer. Chrissy and Steve were supposed to learn more about their magic, their ancestors. Now, Chrissy was gone, and so was Eddie. Eddie.

"I'm so sorry," Joyce said softly.

Steve glanced at Nancy, who was hugging Jonathan tightly. Argyle stood somberly off to the side. Nancy pulled away and shared a glance with Steve. They moved towards each other. Nancy threw her arm around Steve, still crying. Steve sniffled and wrapped his arms around Nancy. What was going to happen now?

"I am here now," El said. "And I am stronger than ever. I believe together we can destroy Henry."

Meanwhile, in the Upside Down. . .

A figure jumped down into the gate from the Munsons' trailer. The hooded figure moved outside and glanced at the red sky filled with lightning. He pulled the hood down. Al Munson moved through the Upside Down, not stopping until he came to his son's body. He fell to his knees and placed his hands on Eddie's cold forehead.

"I've fucked up, son. I've done everything wrong, and I let my anger get the best of me. I wasn't there for your mom, not the way I should have, and I spent so much time blaming other people. You shouldn't have had to pay for my mistakes. There's one thing that I did right, and that was bringing you into this world with your mom. There's one other thing that I could do, and that's bringing you back. . . I still have time. It's going to take everything that I've got," Al said. "I love you."

Al cut up his son's shirt and began painting runes on his chest. Al took off his shirt before painting the same rune on his chest. He opened his spellbook and began chanting. Al felt his lifeforce begin to flow out of him, purple light floating from his chest. With the spell, Al told it where to go. The light began to pour into Eddie's rune. The last bit of light escaped Al's body and went into his son's. He collapsed on the ground, and as he took his last breath, Eddie gasped for his. Eddie awoke, clutching his chest. Shit, didn't the bats eat him alive? There were no wounds. . .only purple scars. Eddie turned his head to find his father's lifeless eyes staring back at him.

"Dad?" Eddie asked and knelt over him. "Dad?!"

Eddie sobbed. He already knew what Al did for him. . .but why? Why?! Eddie hated him for so many reasons, but now he was grateful to him. It was twice now that this man gave him life. Eddie sat up and took his dad's hand only to discover there was a note in his palm.

"I know sorry isn't going to be enough for how much I fucked up. I let you down so many times. Let Lizzie down. If you've discovered what I've done. . .no apology is ever going to be good enough to make up for what I did to those kids. On this paper, there is a list of names. Kids I sold, witches who have also sold kids. . Do with it what you will. You're already a better man than I am. . .I love you, kid. I know wherever your mom is. She's proud of you. Your story isn't over yet."

A couple of hours later. . .

Everyone stood their ground in the woods. Steve was fighting off the demogorgons and the demobats. His father was fighting beside him. Red lightning flashed over head. Steve held his nailbat, his eyes glowing green as emerald flames erupted around his bat. He swung the bat and hit a demogorgon. It whimpered as it hit the tree and exploded into green flames. More demogorgons came out from the trees, ready to pounce. The party was surrounded. The demogorgons launched themselves into the air.

"ENOUGH!" Henry's voice rang out.

They all heard him but they couldn't see him. The demogorgons paused, standing before them and waiting for their next orders. Steve scanned the treelines for any sign of the bastard. Silence fell as the party gathered together in a circle, back to back. Dustin was one side of him while Farran was on the other. Suddenly, they heard footsteps move closer, the snapping of branches echoing throughout the forest. She appeared, her eyes red and her smile menacing.

"Chrissy," Nancy gasped.

Fred followed after her, then came Patrick, and finally, Max.

"Max," Lucas gasped and moved to get to her, but Nancy grabbed his arm.

"Let me introduce you to my wonderful puppets. . .why would I kill them when I can use them for their power? Oh, I would have gotten to you too, Steve. . .if it hadn't been for Eddie. . .I had to do away with him - "

Suddenly, Henry was cut off by the sound of music. . .specifically the strumming of a guitar. Purple smoke, flashing with light, started to spill through the trees.

"What the fuck?" Will asked.

The purple smoke surrounded Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Max. Amongst the smoke, their eyes turned a bright, furious green. The smoke swirled around the bats and the demogorgons as well.

"NO! NO! NO!" Henry screamed as he appeared through the smoke. "WHAT IS THIS?!"

A shadowy figure appeared and started moving towards them. The music got louder and louder until a person appeared carrying a guitar covered in runes. Steve grinned at the familiar guitar and at the ring covered hands playing them. He recognized those hands. He came out of the smoke like a god, his eyes a furious purple and his grin feral. He was shirtless and covered in runes.

"Eddie," Steve gasped.

Eddie grinned and began to sing his spells. He was an angel and devil. Both menacing and beautiful. Steve was ready to get down on his knees for Eddie right then and there. The demogorgons and the demobats turned on Henry. Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Max all turned on him as well.

"NO! YOU'RE SUPPOSE TO BE MINE!" Henry screamed.

"We belong to no one," Chrissy said.

Her hands lit up with green flames. She Fred's then Fred took Patrick's, and then Patrick took Max's. All their hands glowed with a bright green flame, and they shot out at Henry. The green flames encircled him, and he screamed as they began licking at him, burning his flesh. The demogorgons growled and dove into the flames along with the demobats. They all began tearing at his flesh, not caring that they were dying in the process. They all watched the flames until everything died out. Henry Creel was dead. The purple smoke was gone now, and the skies had cleared. Lucas rushed to Max immediately, hugging her tightly. Max crashed her lips to his. Nancy ran to Chrissy and immediately jumped into her arms, wrapping her legs around her waist. She kissed Chrissy deeply, shaking with sobs. Chrissy gripped Nancy's thigh and pressed her up against a tree to steady her. Steve stood and stared at Eddie in shock. The runes disappeared from him and his guitar. Eddie gave his guitar to Dustin.

"I'm real, big boy," Eddie said softly.

Steve let out a sob, and Eddie pulled him close. He dipped Steve and kissed him. Unable to keep their balance, Steve and Eddie stumbled to the ground.

"Well, hell, is anyone going to kiss us?" Patrick asked.

"We could kiss each other," Fred joked.

Patrick stared at him, and the smile slipped off of Fred's face. Patrick grinned as he looked him up and down.

"Yeah, okay, you're cute," Patrick said.

"What?! I mean. . .yeah!"

FIVE YEARS LATER. . .Saoradh. . .

Steve couldn't believe he was here, standing in his homeland with Chrissy, Eddie, and Nancy. Robin brought Vickie as well. All of their family and friends were there, including all of the fae children they had saved over the years. It had taken Eddie, Steve, Chrissy, and Nancy traveling in a cramped RV all over the country to find them all. Eddie hadn't been able to use his magic all the time. He was still amazed every time they came here. Steve gazed at the purple and pink sky, sighing happily. This is it.

"You nervous?" Robin's voice asked.

"Not at all," Steve grinned.

"He's totally nervous," Dustin said.

He pulled his head from the window and back into the small wooden building. He turned towards Robin and Dustin, glaring playfully.

"I'm ready for this," Steve said and tucked his hair behind his ears.

He clipped the fairy wings to his ears and checked his makeup in the mirror one last time. It had been centuries since the fae had lost their wings, but they still made sure to remember they once had them. Steve adjusted his yellow suit. It had been tough choosing between the suit and the fairy wedding robes, especially since the robe had lovely flowing sleeves. Steve chose the suit because his ass looked great in the pants, and he loved to see Eddie drool. Steve was more than willing to wear the jewelry, and if he knew Eddie, which he did, he had chosen the long flowing robes. Farran popped her head in, wearing fairy robes with glittering and moving flowers. Her carmel hair was piled on top of her head, with strands of hair framing her face.

"Oh, you look so beautiful, my love," Farran gasped.

"Thanks, Mama," Steve grinned. "You look beautiful too."

"Oh, I can't believe this is happening. Bobby and Lizzie should be here to see this," Farran said tearfully.

"In a way, I think they are," Steve grinned. "I feel them."

Farran patted his cheek and pulled him down to kiss his forehead.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

"Yeah."

Farran took his arm and led him outside. Dustin ran ahead to stand beside Eddie as his best man. Robin took Steve’s other arm.

"Hey, you're supposed to be my best man," Steve said in amusement.

"I've decided to give you away as well," Robin said. "I feel like it's my right as your platonic soulmate."

Farran and Steve laughed. Farran and Robin led Steve towards a cluster of trees. The tree branches moved aside, opening up to a large clearing where a lot of people were gathered. Eddie was up there already, Wayne crying and trying to get him to settle down. He adjusted Eddie's red, long flowing robes before stepping aside. Dustin was grinning with tears in his eyes. There was a large space next to them where Fred was standing up as Nancy's best man, and Patrick was standing up as Chrissy's. The music had already started. Nancy appeared first in her pastel blue suit, and her wild curls set loose. Ted and Karen stood on either side of her, crying. Steve watched as they led her down the aisle, and he laughed when Eddie high fived her before she got in place.

Next came Chrissy in her pink pastel suit, and her strawberry blonde hair loose around her shoulders. Argyle was happily giving her away, laughing when Eddie high fived her too. Finally, Steve was next. Farran and Robin guided him down the aisle where Eddie was waiting for him. With tears in his eyes, Steve couldn't help but think about how all of this started. Eddie had been in robes then, too, clueless about the unknown. He had guided Steve home, led him to discovering the truth about himself, and in the process, they had done so much good. It doesn't matter where you were, really, the people who were the most important to you, they were what made a house a home. As Steve walked towards Eddie, he had the same feelings as he did the day he met Nancy, the day Dustin came into his life, the same emotions swirling around him when he became friends with Robin and it was like when he hugged his mom for the first time since he was a baby. The truth of the matter. . .is that coming home happens more than once, and Steve was lucky to get so many.

[jasongracedefenseattorney]

thinking about Eddie Diaz referring to Shannon always as Christopher's mother and never as his wife. Eddie being told that a boy needs his mother and so he fills that hole first with the teacher who Chris liked. Except that didn't work so now what about this woman who helped him find what he needed for Chris's school project? And now here comes this woman who is a clone of his dead wife. She has Shannon's smile, her eyes, her voice. And now he's caught up in the moment and inadvertently blows up his life. No more girlfriend, not that he felt like much of a boyfriend to her, and Chris is in Texas. He says in confession that he put his desires before his son's needs but no he never really did. He was always always always trying to fill the Shannon shaped hole in Christopher's life and Kim was just a deranged version of that same pipe dream. So Chris is gone. Well now he has to be with himself. He no longer has to perform. So now what does he want outside of trying to give Chris a mom? When he's no longer having to hide his vulnerability? When he can want? And beyond that, one day Chris will come home and will he like the Eddie he sees? I feel like I need to write a scholarly journal about Eddie Diaz and all the ways he's always been gay.

[hawkins-archive]

A Nightmare Far Worse - Chapter One

The Exorcism of Chrissy Cunningham

FANDOM: Stranger Things

RATING: T

SHIP: Eventual Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, hints of eventual Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham

SUMMARY: Eddie Munson witnesses a demonic possession in his trailer. Luckily someone swoops in to help. (Supernatural inspired AU, Hunter!Eddie, Angel!Steve, Newbie Hunter!Chrissy)

NOTES: This is the result of the Supernatural-inspired AU with Hunter!Eddie and Angel!Steve I'd been tinkering with! I had intended for this to be just Steve/Eddie; Chrissy snuck into the ship during the writing process. If that's a dealbreaker for you, please move along.

___________________________

“…Chrissy?”

Eddie stops in the hallway with the Special K, staring at Chrissy standing frozen and unresponsive in the middle of the trailer’s living room. She blinks furiously, her eyes rolled back so far only the whites are showing.

Oh God. Is she having a seizure? 

He walks towards her, waving a hand in front of her face. “Chrissss-yyy. Hello?” No response. He waves his hand again, and then shouts, “Chrissy!” as he jumps forward.

Nothing. Just more blinking. She’s still standing, arms at her sides. Eddie looks up as every single light in the trailer start flickering and buzzing.

This isn’t a seizure. Eddie’s not sure exactly what’s happening to Chrissy but it’s not a seizure or an OD or a concussion or anything normal. Unfortunately, this has the Munsons' kind of weirdness stamped all over it. 

Fuckity fuck fuck. Is she possessed? Eddie’s severely out of practice since Wayne didn’t take him on the road for his hunts like Al had.

Dropping the Special K, Eddie turns around and starts frantically pawing through the cabinet next to the oven for Wayne’s Hunter box. He finally unearths it from a pile of paper bags and old newspapers and nearly throws it onto the kitchen counter.

The lock on the box is a combination one, set to Eddie’s birthday. His hand is trembling as he turns the wheel, yanking it off as soon as the lock pops open.

Inside are some of Wayne’s monster-hunting supplies: a handgun with ammo, particularly silver bullets, an assortment of knives, a few gris-gris bags, two wooden stakes, Eddie’s mom’s rosary, Wayne’s hunting journal, and a few vials of holy water.

He grabs one of the vials of holy water and Wayne’s journal. Eddie’s never done an exorcism before - even Al had the good sense to keep him away from the possession cases, although like all the Munsons he has the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. The closest Eddie has to experience with anything like this was watching ‘The Exorcist’ with Wayne. Hopefully the exorcism will still work even if the Latin pronunciation’s a little off.

He yanks the cork stopper out of the vial. First he’s gotta make sure it is possession.

Eddie approaches Chrissy warily with the vial, Wayne’s journal tucked under one arm. He takes Chrissy’s limp hand and raises it, palm-up. “Sorry, Chrissy. I think this is gonna hurt a little.” Grimacing, he pours some of the holy water onto her hand.

Chrissy screams, guttural and loud, but her face remains perfect blank. She wrenches her hand out of Eddie’s grip, steam rising from her skin.

She’s definitely possessed.

“Shit.” Eddie hurriedly flips through Wayne’s journal and almost sobs in relief when he finds the page with “EXORCISM (short)” scrawled across the top in his uncle’s messy handwriting.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” Eddie says, trying to steady his trembling voice.

Chrissy screams again, her face blank. Without warning, her body goes flying up. The whole trailer shakes from the impact of her body slamming against the ceiling, pinned against it with her arms outstretched.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Eddie trips over a chair behind him and falls on his ass, still clutching the journal. 

The journal, right. He can’t get distracted. He has to say the whole spiel or it won’t work. He tears his eyes away from Chrissy pressed against the trailer’s ceiling and back to Wayne’s journal. “Om--omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.”

Chrissy’s jaw opens wide, and inside her mouth is a writhing mass thick, black smoke. Tendrils of smoke coils around her face as she thrashes on the ceiling, her eyelids still fluttering. But it’s not coming out. Isn’t the demons supposed to come out of her during the exorcism? That’s the whole point! Shit, is he doing it wrong? Is some demon going to steal Chrissy’s body because Eddie's such a fuck-up he can’t pronounce Latin correctly?

Thunder rumbles overhead, shaking the trailer’s roof.

The door to the trailer loudly snaps open by itself, and Eddie is jarred out of his downward spiral by the sight of Steve Harrington, of all people, standing out on the trailer’s porch.

Eddie lets out a thin whine when he notices that Steve’s eyes are burning gold, the brightest thing in the whole trailer with the lights still bugging out. He really can’t take any more weird shit right now, not when Chrissy’s still pinned up against the ceiling with a demon inside her that won’t come out…

Steve steps into the trailer calmly, his molten-gold eyes fixed on Chrissy. Eddie flinches when the light bulbs in the trailer near the door explode in a shower of sparks one by one around Steve.

“Ergo, draco maledicte,” Steve says, his voice steady.

Latin? Eddie looks down at the journal, realizing Steve has spoken the next line of the exorcism. Eddie wets his lips nervously and croaks out the last lines together with Steve. “Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”

The demon-smoke is finally yanked out of Chrissy’s mouth and pulled down, sinking through the floor of the trailer like water being sucked down a drain. Eddie’s heart feels like it’s about to shake itself loose from his chest.

Chrissy stares at Steve and Eddie with confusion in her blue eyes from the ceiling before she plummets down, sprawling on top of Eddie. She bursts into tears, latching onto him, burying her head against his chest. The lights that haven’t exploded finally stop flickering.

“Chrissy! Oh, shit, are you hurt?”

Chrissy keeps crying, her mascara running down her cheeks, but she gives a short little shake of her head. “I-I’m fine.” She sniffs again. “I mean, apart from the…thing that was inside me? The evil smoke cloud?”

“That was a demon,” Steve says.

Eddie looks up at Steve. His eyes are still shining gold, which is surprisingly creepy with him just standing in the dark area in front of the door, surrounded by the glass from the bulbs.

“It was like it was trying to…to…stuff me into a little box in my head.” Chrissy looks at Eddie, then at Steve, her bottom lip quivering. “Why did it…w-want me?”

That was a very good question. “Because a demon needs a human meatsuit when it’s outside Hell and you were there,” Eddie says. “I didn’t show you my very first tattoo – it’s an anti-possession symbol. Wards off demons.”

“How do you guys know-w about all this?” Chrissy whispers, her eyes flicking between Steve and Eddie. “Like, the exorcism and everything.” She looks down at the Hellfire Club logo on his shirt. “Is the heavy metal stuff?”

Eddie shakes his head. “My uncle and my parents are Hunters.” He pauses, realizing that needs more explanation. “I mean, they hunt monsters and demons that hurt people, not deer and rabbits.” He eyes Steve. “I know all the Hunters in town, and the Harringtons definitely aren’t Hunters.”

The thunder rolls overhead again, louder. 

“So what are you, Steve?” Eddie holds Chrissy tightly as she shakes against him. If anyone in Hawkins was going to turn out to be a secret monster in disguise, it probably would be one of the Harringtons.

“I’m an angel,” Steve says, eyes still shining like a beacon. 

“Bullshit,” is Eddie’s immediate response, slipping out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

Lightning strikes. In-between flashes of light, Eddie can make out the shadow of large, feathered wings extending from Steve’s back, like an afterimage. Beautiful but terrifying.

Chrissy gasps.

“I’m an angel,” Steve repeats as the golden light in his eyes finally dims, returning his eyes to normal. He rubs at the side of his face before placing his hands on his hips. “And this is a fucking mess.”

[faramirsonofgondor]

Reasons why I think Buck might have OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder) as someone with OCPD and ADHD

He seems very preoccupied with his work, lists, systems, and order. Especially when he’s in “clipboard Buck” mode

OCPD usually starts in your teens to early 20s, and can be caused by trauma and feeling like you need to be “perfect”

Perfectionism and extreme focus on working (the way he was incredibly determined to get back to work during the Lawsuit Era)

Inability to let things go even when they lose their worth

Inability to share or delegate work to others for fear it won’t be done right (while Buck very often chooses to be the one to take risks on the job because he doesn’t want others to get hurt, this could be a part of a moral/methodical obsession. To him, Buck wouldn’t be doing his job correctly if he let one of his coworkers get injured when he could be the one injured instead)

Being obsessive, judgemental, and inflexible in matters of morals and judgement (this literally reminds me of S1 ep1 when Buck didn’t want that teen mom to ride in the ambulance)

Difficulty forming and maintaining close relationships with others (again S1 Buck and lawsuit era)

Excessive doubt and conscientiousness

Rigidity and stubbornness

Compelled to do things a certain way

Low threshold for humiliation, criticism, and emotional hurt

Bye why did I find a med journal that says “loved ones on the receiving end of the relationship will experience exhaustion, unhappiness, and frustration” like Lawsuit era who???? (ok but this journal is lowkey so critical of people with OCPD wtf 😭)

Obviously not all of these things are stuff that Buck does throughout the entire show but I think S1 and a bit of early S2 era Buck was more obsessed and preoccupied with his own morals and as he matured he bent his behavior more towards following the rules at the 118 and he became obsessed with his work and doing his job as best as he can. I think part of this duality stems from the fact that in his teens he would’ve felt pressured to adhere to the standards his parents set, with the only times he really went against them being when he would injure himself for their attention because in his mind the right method to get someone’s attention is through injury (which we see come up multiple times throughout the show). However, as he entered his early 20s he got stuck into a routine of traveling from place to place and learning new skills, which probably would’ve impacted his ability to be preoccupied over his works rules/systems and would’ve probably caused him to obsess more over morals, as we see when he quits the marines because they don’t align with his approach to morals and emotion.

**Also I know some people might be confused when I say early S1 Buck had an obsession with morals considering he slept around, stole the fire truck, etc. but I want to point out that with OCPD your own rules surrounding morals and judgment might not be completely logical, and more “Black and white” so Buck might not have seen casual sex as morally wrong (which it’s not, but I digress) and he probably didn’t see an issue with stealing the fire truck at the moment. People with OCPD can still mature and have changing moral values over time and that’s part of Buck’s development. He probably took Bobby firing him as a very harsh judgment on his own behavior and we see that even in S2 he was obsessing over that when Eddie was hired.

Sorry this is kind of a messy post where I just word vomited all over the place I hope this makes sense even though I probably ended up contradicting myself at some point.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie is sixteen and his magic is incredibly volatile. He's powerful and he has trouble not accidentally casting when his emotions are high (which is always) or casting on a whim, not being careful enough of his words, and suffering the unintended consequences. Wayne ends up hiding the grimoires and family journals until Eddie learns a little more control, and is the first to realize that Eddie casts better while he's playing music. They develop a system, by no means perfect, where Eddie composes a song based on how the spell feels.

Sixteen is also the year Eddie falls in love. He's always known he liked boys, but never thought about relationships. He lives in Hawkins and is a witch, for god's sake. He sneaks off to Indy, goes to bars, but can't imagine having something like a boyfriend.

Jackson is new in town, already 17 but in Eddie's grade. It starts as friendship, but before long Jackson kisses him. Eddie thinks it's like a fairytale. It ends when Jackson's military dad is transferred to a base overseas. It's mundane. It rips Eddie's heart to shreds.

After, Eddie does a spell. He knows he shouldn't; he's too upset and his magic is unpredictable at the best of times. He doesn't care. He grabs his guitar, starts playing. The song is melodic, layered, sad. He starts babbling, casting a spell to never fall in love by creating the most beautiful, unrealistic boy in the world. He won't remember some of what he says--and that's a problem-- but knows he talks about a boy with a map of the night sky on his body, the loneliest king, the prettiest man in Hawkins, jock with a heart of gold, lover of nerds and small children, throws himself into danger with little thought for the consequences, shockingly kind, fantastically mean. He knows this person can't be real, too many contradictions, too many impossibilities.

Enter Steve Harrington.

Eddie knows Steve. Everyone does. And sure, the guy is hot as hell, but the worst kind of douchebag jock, so Eddie never really considers him worth thinking of. And that would probably continue, but his new Hellfire recruits think the sun shines out of Harrington's ass, and apparently Robin Buckley is his best friend. It doesn't add up and Eddie's usually great at math.

Time passes and he starts to get it. He watches Dustin and Harrington do the dorkiest, nerdiest handshake and the joy that contorts Steve's face. It's so fucking beautiful, Eddie has to look away. He comes upon Harrington and Erica Sinclair bickering, both smart-assing, listens to the way Erica giggles about it once she thinks no one can hear. Or when he watches Steve drop Max Mayfield at home--Max who Eddie has never once seen smile, who he's always been just a little bit afraid of--and she's laughing and teasing him, beaming.

It's inevitable when they become friends. Steve is a wonder. Constantly a surprise. So pretty it's like looking directly at the sun. When Steve tells Eddie that he's bisexual, it drops off his tongue with no hint of unease, no consideration for how he's upending Eddie's world view.

One night they're getting high, just the two of them, and he's asking if Steve wants to shotgun and Steve smirks and leans in, and then they're kissing. Doing way more than kissing.

They keep hooking up, but it's nothing. It's Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who wants the all-American white picket fence, wife, 2.5 kids, and a dog. Not a dnd playing-metalhead-nerd-witch dude. And if Eddie feels himself growing inexplicably more and more fond, well, he's made damn sure love isn't in the cards for him anymore.

They're laying in Eddie's bed one night, Eddie tracing gentle fingers between the moles and freckles on Steve's back.

"That tickles," Steve murmurs. "What are you doing?"

"Mapping the constellations," he whispers.

Steve's laugh vibrates Eddie's ribcage, as does the rumble of his voice saying, "my mom used to do that when I was a kid. Said she was looking for the big dipper."

He presses his lips against the top of Steve's spine to stop from saying something unkind about his parents, who never loved their absolute gift of a son enough, leaving him lonely and forgotten in that big, cold house. He freezes as soon as he has the thought, remembers that spell. It's nothing, of course. The spell was to repel love, not get Steve Harrington into his bed.

They keep sleeping together, spend almost all their time together. Eddie's enamored but it doesn't matter. Steve isn't his, not really, and never will be. Eddie made sure of it.

But one day Steve comes over and sees this old Casio keyboard Gareth brought over.

Steve flips it on, starts hitting notes; at first dicking around, but then sliding into Clare de Lune.

"You play the piano?" Eddie asks. He knows he has a dopey smile on his face, his heart doing something terrible in his chest even though he's not in love.

"Took lessons until I was ten," Steve smiles up at him, blushing when their eyes meet.

Eddie has to walk away or he's going to do something like drop to one knee and propose. Steve keeps playing, transitioning from Debussy to something infinitely sweeter, so sad it makes Eddie's heart ache.

He stands in the doorway to his bedroom for at least thirty seconds, before storming back into the living room. "What are you playing?" he demands.

It startles Steve, whose fingers still as he looks at Eddie with giant eyes. "Uh, I don't know. It gets stuck in my head sometimes. I thought it was Ozzy or Dio or whatever. It only happens when we're together. You don't recognize it?"

Eddie recognizes it. Eddie recognizes it and Steve shouldn't know it. Eddie didn't write it down , just like he didn't write down the words of the spell.

"Get out," he says. Mean because he's trying not to fall apart.

"What? Eds, what're y--"

"No, you need to leave, Harrington. Right fucking now."

"Eddie, tell me what I did. Let me fix it, please."

"Not on you. But you have to go," Eddie is shaking and Steve's eyes fill with tears.

He doesn't fight, though. His mouth pinches and he shoves his way outside.

Eddie panics and cries, tries to remember as much of that fucking spell as he can before Wayne comes home.

The first words out of Wayne's mouth when he sees Eddie curled up on the couch are, "What'd you do this time, kid?"

He spills it all, every last detail, and Wayne listens in silence, eyebrows peaked.

"It's that Harrington boy?" He asks when the tale is told.

"How'd you know?" Eddie asks.

"Are you kidding me? I see the way you look at each other. You love him?"

Eddie nods, burying his face in his knees. "He doesn't want this, though. He only likes me because I fucking spelled him to."

Wayne rests a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Kid, I thought I taught you magic better than that. Better go make things right while you can. Then we're going to have a long talk."

Eddie wants to ask what the point is in making it right. It's already too late, after what he's done. Still, he makes the drive to Loch Nora.

Steve opens the door in sweatpants and a stretched out t-shirt, his hair undone. He's sad, Eddie realizes.

"You here to tell me what I did yesterday?"

"Like I said, it wasn't you. Can I come in?"

Steve nods, steps aside.

"Well?" Steve prompts.

Eddie explains exactly what he did four years ago, what it lead them to. When he finishes, he braces for Steve's anger, for yelling. Instead, Steve throws his head back and laughs.

"You're not mad?" Eddie asks. "Or you're so mad that all you can do is laugh?"

"Not mad," Steve confirms.

"Why not? How can you trust me now? Trust this?" He gestures between them.

"I don't know, dude. It's not like you...designed me, or something. I didn't wake up one day when I was fifteen with a bunch of new moles. I told you about my mom. Plus, that would be medically concerning. And I definitely already had crushes on other boys. So, you didn't make me bi."

"What about being kind? What about the kids and being protective?"

Steve just shrugs. "I think a lot of that was due to Nancy, but I guess I can't stay it wasn't the spell."

"You're too calm about this. I took away your free will!"

"Did you?" Steve raises an eyebrow, way too unbothered. "Maybe the spell brought us together. Took a damn long time to do it, but I don't feel like I have no choice in this." He turns more towards Eddie, taking his hands. "I like what we have. But if you don't feel that way, we can end it."

It's Eddie's turn to laugh. "Not feel that way? Harrington, I don't know if you've heard, but you're the man of my dreams. I am, unfortunately, wildly in love with you. I just--this isn't what you want, right? Not forever. You want a wife. Kids. All that shit."

"Who says? We could have a family, Eds, if we want. Hell, we already do! We're raising six kids. And, yeah, maybe I will decide I want a wife and all that one day. I'm 90% sure nothing magical is stopping me. The only thing that is, the thing that matters, is that I want you. Not because of a spell." Steve smiles, face turning a delicious pink. "But because I love you too."

He squeezes his eyes shut to force back the tears that want to fall, kisses Steve instead. Their mouths slide together in perfect sync, and Eddie wants to get lost in it forever; in Steve's lips on his, the snag of his teeth, the way he clutches at Eddie's curls.

When they pull apart, Steve starts laughing again. "I can't believe I'm your perfect man."

"Oh my god," Eddie's face flares with heat. "You have to forget this ever happened. Your ego's too big as it is."

"Nah, this? This I'm remembering forever."

They kiss for a long time before Steve says, "I think I understand why that song was so sad now. You should write us a new one."

Eddie pulls Steve close, thinking that he'll write Steve whatever he wants for the rest of their lifetime.