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foundtherightwords · 7 months ago

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The Hollow Heart - Chapter 1

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Summary: To escape her mother's control and the stifling society of Gilded Age New York, heiress Christabel Cunningham impulsively marries Henry Creel, a charming and seductive stranger, and accompanies him to his remote mansion on the West Coast. There, as Henry grows cold and cruel, Christabel must uncover her husband's sinister secret before it's too late. But can she trust Kas, her husband's enigmatic assistant, who seems to be her only ally in this strange place, or is Kas's loyalty to his master stronger than his attraction to Christabel?

A/N: This was inspired by the moodboard for "Vecna's Bride" by @a-strange-inkling. I saw the title and the Gothic imagery and my imagination just ran wild.

I changed the names to differentiate them from my Regency AU and better fit the Gothic vibe, so Chrissy is now Christabel (after the poem by Coleridge; the fic title and chapter titles are also quotes from the poem) and Eddie is Kas, because I took some inspiration from the D&D lore of Vecna and Kas (big thanks to @waterfallsilverberrywrites for helping me with that!) When I did a poll, the consensus was that Eddie's Gothic name should be Edmund, but... I prefer Kas :P (I already have plans to use Edmund for another AU.)

Chapter warnings: none (but Eddie doesn't appear in this chapter yet... please bear with me)

Chapter word count: 3.9k

Chapter 1 - At the Old Oak Tree

Christabel ran.

In the distance, she could hear the shouts and cheers of the hunting party, the excited barking of the dogs, and the occasional gunshots, cracking sharply in the crisp autumn air. She was not far enough. Lifting her heavy wool skirt above her knees, she pushed deeper into the bushes. The dead leaves from years past formed a soft carpet under her feet, muffling the sound of her steps, while the leaves of this year, despite having turned all shades of gold and crimson on the trees, had not yet fallen, so she need not worry about being discovered from their crunch underfoot. She hoped the party was not headed this way. After all her endeavors to snatch a moment alone, she intended to savor it to its fullest.

Christabel Cunningham hadn't had many opportunities to be alone in her twenty-three years on Earth. The only daughter of a wealthy New York businessman, she had been since birth surrounded by nurses and governesses and servants, who took care of her under the watchful eyes of her mother. Her father had died, quite suddenly, of a heart attack, when Christabel was only a child. Christabel did not miss him. To her, he was but a dim, distant figure, always away on business trips, or holed up in his study when at home, hiding from his wife, leaving Christabel to bear the brunt of her mother's nagging. The sole mark he'd left on Christabel's life was her name, given to her by him in a fit of romanticism, much to the disapproval of Mrs. Cunningham, who preferred classic names like Elizabeth or Catherine or Amelia. His death didn't leave much of a void behind.

Her mother, an ambitious and exacting woman, embittered by her failure to have a son and by becoming a widow so young, had poured all her affection and thwarted dreams upon her daughter, smothering the girl with them. She dictated everything Christabel wore and ate and read and play, and all the friends Christabel made and all the parties Christabel attended had to be approved by her. And so Christabel had grown up with her books and her dolls, lonely but never alone.

In truth, she hadn't been allowed to attend a lot of parties. As she grew up and learned more about her father's will, Christabel discovered a more mercenary side to what she'd once thought was her mother's overprotectiveness. As the trustee of her daughter's inheritance, Mrs. Cunningham could enjoy a lavish lifestyle, a townhouse on Fifth Avenue, a summer cottage in Newport, the latest fashion in her wardrobe and the most luxurious dishes on her table. But as soon as Christabel was married, she would be in charge of her own fortune, and Mrs. Cunningham would be left with half of what she was used to. Christabel believed that to prevent this, her mother would have locked her away forever, like Rapunzel in her tower.

But social standing has its advantages. Afraid of the wagging tongues of the town, the whispers behind closed doors that she was keeping her daughter from society to hold on to her money, Mrs. Cunningham had reluctantly allowed Christabel to make her debut when she came of age. Since then, her days had been filled with balls and theater trips in the winter, tennis matches and yacht races in the summer, giggling friends and fawning suitors, still under the watchful eyes of her mother. It was tedious, but Christabel had endured it because it was better than staying at home, surrounding by the dark walls of her room and feeling her mother's disapproving stare on her at all times. Besides, that was what was expected of all the debutantes. Smile, dance, flirt, ride, sketch or sing a little, play a little piano, speak a bit of French, a bit of German, be amusing but not sarcastic, be vivacious but not feisty, be modest but not withdrawn, and hopefully make an advantageous match, and then have daughters and watch them go through the same thing, over and over again.

Christabel knew she would not break free of this cycle. Her whole life she had been taught to do what she was told, to never question, to never put a foot out of line. But as her own, feeble form of rebellion, she made it a point to refuse every proposal she'd ever received—and there had been plenty of them. With her delicate features, dewy skin, wide blue eyes, and strawberry blonde hair, Christabel always turned heads in every room she walked in. It was true that her nose was slightly upturned and her front teeth were slightly crooked, but these flaws were seen as charming, not defective. And if her manners were at times rather listless and uninterested, well, her inheritance could more than make up for it. So a lot of men had fallen in love with her, or at least with her beauty, or with her money, and had proposed, but she had refused them all.

When Mrs. Cunningham found out about these refusals, Christabel always had a believable reason to convince her mother of her decision—the family had an unpleasant reputation, their fortunes were not equal, or the boy himself did not have a promising enough prospect. Mrs. Cunningham was appeased, for a while, but after two seasons and Christabel remained unmarried, she began to grow uneasy and warned her daughter of the perils of spinsterhood.

To all her admonishment, Christabel said nothing. It wasn't that she wanted to be an old maid for the rest of her life, far from it. But unlike other young women, who dreamed of marriage as a celebration of love or even as a way to further their social connections, Christabel saw it as a means to freedom. And none of the men in her circle could give her that freedom she so thirsted. They all grew from the same stocks, the same root. If she married one of them, she would move in the same circle, lead the same life, beating a tired circle from Manhattan to Newport and back again, perhaps with the occasional trip to Europe, but still seeing the same faces, doing the same thing as everybody else, and never be free of her mother.

For that summer season, Christabel had tried to convince her mother to go to London or Paris, or, if they had to stay, then she was secretly hoping—as hateful as it sounded—to catch the eyes of a European aristocrat, many of whom were flocking to America in search of an heiress to restore their family fortune. Europe would be the ultimate escape. However, her mother disliked traveling, and although Christabel's inheritance was sizeable, it was not large enough to draw the attention of an impoverish earl or baronet.

At least her mother had accepted Mrs. Carver's invitation to their summer mansion in Tuxedo Park for two weeks of English-style country party. There were to be riding and shooting and picnics in the woods, all culminating in a costume ball on All Hallows' Eve. They had just come back from Newport, worn out and looking forward to some quiet days to recover before the winter season, so Christabel had been afraid her mother would refuse, knowing her dislike of the outdoors. But an invitation to the exclusive Tuxedo Park was hard to come by, and when Mrs. Cunningham learned the party was thrown for Mrs. Carver's eldest, Jason, who had just come back from Yale, nothing could have kept her away.

Jason Carver. Christabel sighed. All the debutantes were in love with him, though to Christabel, he had always been just a good friend, nothing more. She'd never imagined he would set his sight on her, not when he was always surrounded by so many other girls. So it had come as a complete shock when, after a dinner party at the Carvers' mansion, Jason had asked to speak to her alone in the gazebo overlooking Tuxedo Lake. There, while the moonlight rippled over the water, turning the surface of the lake into a broken mirror, he had taken Christabel's hands in his and, tremblingly, haltingly, asked her to marry him.

For the first time, Christabel had hesitated.

Jason was one of her few childhood friends her mother had approved of, as the Carvers' Manhattan residence was not far from the Cunninghams'. He had always been kind and attentive to her, and unlike some men, she knew he cared not a jot for her inheritance, since the Carvers was one of the richest and most prominent families in the city. A marriage between her and Jason would send her mother to Heaven.

That was the problem, of course. Christabel never wanted to do anything her mother wished.

"If we are to marry, can we live here?" she'd asked. It sounded as though she had accepted him already, but she didn't care. She looked around at the untamed parkland of the mansion, with the woods surrounding it on all sides and the sparkling lake in the distance. It may not be far enough from her mother, but it would be something.

"Of course!" Jason had said, squeezing her hands. "We'll come here for the summer, and—"

"No, you mistook me. I don't mean for the summer. I mean permanently."

Jason had laughed at that, thinking it was a joke. "We can't possibly live here! I have my business in town, and there's nobody here for half of the year anyway. Why would you want to live here?"

Christabel had tried to say that she wanted to live in Tuxedo Park precisely because there was nobody there for half of the year, but one look at Jason and she knew he wouldn't understand. Nobody would.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she'd said and withdrawn her hands.

She'd half-hoped Jason would try to get her to change her mind, that he would say they could live anywhere as long as they were together, but he had only shaken his head, said, "It's not meant to be then," bowed, and gone back inside, leaving her alone on the shore of that moonlit lake. Of course. No amount of love could be enough to compel a man to throw away his whole life like that, and even if he had made the offer, she couldn't possibly have accepted such a sacrifice. Perhaps it was for the best.

Still, that hadn't stopped things from being rather tense and awkward between them when they set out for the hunt that morning. Christabel had never enjoyed hunting, but she jumped at any chance to be outdoors, to be able to walk and run and move freely without being criticized for not acting ladylike enough. And another reason—her mother, having no interest in hunting and riding, always stayed behind on such occasions. That morning, though, Christabel could feel Jason's mournful eyes on her whenever she turned. She'd only wanted to be alone with her thoughts, but it was difficult when she was surrounded by the hunting party with their guns and dogs and servants. It was only when they came across a flock of partridges and the others' attention was diverted that she managed to slip into the woods.

Now, as she walked through the trees, Christabel pondered her situation. Would it be so bad, being married to Jason? It would at least let her be mistress of her own life... except that life would still be tied to another's. No, if she simply wanted to claim her inheritance, she would've married the first man that proposed and had done with it. This regret was simply because she had started to feel anxious about her future. Could she go on like this until her mother died? Could she live as a spinster, becoming brittle and bitter in her old age, facing the pity and contempt of others? Christabel felt the old, helpless anger toward her father blaze up inside her once more when she thought about the predicament he'd placed her in. What was the use of ensuring no one could touch her inheritance, if she had to saddle herself to a man to claim it?

She passed through the line of trees and came to a clearing on the side of a hill, gently sloping toward a small glen, where an old oak tree spread its cape of gold leaves over a murmuring brook. It seemed something straight out of a Washington Irving story—all that was missing was a covered bridge. Tucking her skirt into the top of her gaiters, Christabel threw her arms over her head and sprinted down the slope, letting the cool air fill her lungs and clear her head.

Near the bottom of the slope, her skirt slipped out of the gaiters and tangled around her legs. Her ankles twisted under her and sent her tumbling down. She rolled head over heels the last few feet before skidding to a stop right by the oak. Luckily, the hill wasn't steep, and her fall had been more embarrassing than painful. She cursed under her breath. When they received Mrs. Carver's invitation, Christabel had begged and begged her mother to let her have a split skirt for the occasion so she could move about with more ease and perhaps even learn to ride a bicycle, as some of her friends had, but Mrs. Cunningham had insisted that her old riding habit, with its long trailing skirt, would do just fine. Christabel shouldn't do much walking or moving about anyway, Mrs. Cunningham had argued. Men wouldn't be interested in overly energetic girls. And as for riding a bicycle, showing off her legs in those newfangled bloomers, like some common hoyden? Forget about it.

"Are you all right, miss?" a voice said somewhere over her head.

Christabel looked up and saw a pair of blue eyes. A man had stepped out from the other side of the oak tree and was looking down at her. She suddenly became aware that she was sprawled on the ground with her skirt hiked up over her knees. She bolted up and pulled her skirt down, face burning crimson.

"Yes, yes, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she sputtered, struggling to her feet.

Her ankle turned painfully. The man reached out a hand to help her. His grip was firm and strong.

"Thank you." Christabel peered at him more closely. He was dressed for a day out in tweed and stout boots, but with a walking stick, not a gun. "Are you with the Carver hunting party?" she asked, for she did not remember seeing him. He was a little older than Jason and her circle of friends, in his late twenties or early thirties perhaps, tall, with a fine-boned, elegant-looking face. But what startled her the most was his eyes, as clear and blue as the sky above, fixed upon her with an expression of fascination and interest quite unlike anything she'd received from her suitors. She reached a self-conscious hand to her hair, trying to dislodge any dry leaf that may have gotten stuck there.

"Carver? No, no, I'm a guest of Dr. Brenner."

Christabel's eyebrows shot up. Dr. Brenner was an eccentric who had inherited one of the largest fortunes in New York, but rather than continuing to run the family business, he had devoted his time to studies of the occult and other esoteric sciences. Unlike most of the residents of Tuxedo Park, who only kept their mansions here as holiday homes, he lived in a cottage deep in the woods year round, engaging in all sorts of obscure experiments, never interacting much with his neighbors. They tolerated him out of respect for his family name; some saw him as a harmless old fool and even invited him to some of their parties to show him off to their out-of-town friends, much like the ornamental hermits that the English aristocrats of old often kept on their grounds. Unfortunately, the Carvers were not one of these open-minded people, so Christabel had never met Dr. Brenner. She had to admit that she sometimes felt envious of him and the male privileges that allowed him to give up his family business, but not his wealth, and pursue his true passion. Alas, no such luck for her.

And here was this man, claiming to be a guest of the mysterious doctor! Her curiosity was pique immediately.

"Are you?" she asked, with interest. "I didn't know he ever invited anyone here. You must be a man of science or some sort of scholar, for him to allow you to encroach on his solitude. What is your business with him?" Then she colored again, realizing how intrusive her question was. Usually she never allowed herself to behave so casually with a gentleman, but there was something about this man that freed her from the confines of propriety. Or perhaps it was the scene around them, the wild woods and the open sky that had no use for etiquette. Still, the habits of upbringing were hard to shake off, so she cast her eyes downward and murmured, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to pry."

"Not at all," the man said with a friendly smile. "As a matter of fact, my family came from this area before it was developed, and Dr. Brenner is helping me to research our history. I'm just looking for the ruins of their village."

"Oh. That sounds very interesting."

"And if there's anyone who must be pardoned," the man continued, "it should be me, for I have been so presumptuous in talking to you without so much as an introduction. You must allow me to make amends, Miss—"

"Cunningham. Christabel Cunningham," she said.

"What an unusual and beautiful name." The man looked into the distance. "The lovely lady, Christabel, whom her father loves so well. What makes her in the wood so late, a furlong from the castle gate?" he recited in his rich, musical voice whose reverberation seemed to reach Christabel's very core.

She laughed to hide her blush. "A very fitting quote. Only it's not so very late, and while the Carver mansion is grand, it is far from a castle," she said. "And I'm simply taking a walk, not praying for my betrothed. In fact"—the noise from the hunting party had ceased, and she realized it must be nearly time for luncheon—"I'm just heading back now."

"And alas, I am no Geraldine," the man said. "But may I accompany you anyway?" He extended an arm toward her.

Christabel hesitated, thinking what her mother would say about walking in the woods with a stranger. But surely, there was no harm in it. The hunting party was not so far away, and she could always tell the truth—that she had gotten hurt, and this man was helping her. She took the proffered arm, and they started walking toward the Carver mansion, not following the route Christabel had, but taking the longer way, along the lakeshore, Christabel hobbling to keep up with the man's long strides. There was a dull ache in her ankle, but she bit her tongue, not wanting to complain.

"I see that you are an admirer of Coleridge, like my father," Christabel said.

"Your father must be a man of great taste then."

Her smile disappeared. "I wouldn't know. He died when I was very little." She caught herself again. Why was she telling this man, whom she met not five minutes ago and whose name she still didn't know, all these things about herself?

"Oh, I am so very sorry." The man took off his cap, revealing longish blonde hair that fell over his forehead in soft curls. His eyes were full of sympathy. "I know how difficult it is, losing one's parents. My own parents—" His voice hitched. "They died when I was very young as well. An earthquake, in San Francisco."

Christabel's heart panged with sympathy. "That must be horrible."

Those brilliant blue eyes dimmed for a moment. "It was."

"So you live in San Francisco?"

"I do, yes."

"What is it like?" she asked eagerly. Outside of Newport and occasionally the Catskills, she had never been anywhere. She had never even left the state of New York.

Before the man could answer, she put her weight on the sore ankle by mistake and let out an involuntary yelp. He turned to her, all solicitous concern. "Have you hurt yourself in the fall?" he asked.

"I must have," she replied reluctantly.

Tucking his cap into a pocket, he knelt down, took her ankle in his hand, and gently turned it this way and that. "Does this hurt?"

"Only a little," she said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, that won't do." He put one arm around her and the other under her knees, scooping her up easily as though she weighed no more than a feather. "I should have noticed sooner," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right." Christabel was feeling a little dazed. None of her suitors had ever picked her up like that—indeed, none of them ever touched so much as the hem of her skirt without asking for permission first. She found that she didn't mind being handled, didn't mind the lack of permission-seeking. Nestling against his chest, she glanced shyly up at her gallant rescuer. Despite his slender frame, he was carrying her across the uneven terrain with no effort at all. The sun was shining upon his blonde hair, turning it into a gold helmet, and his blue eyes sparkled as he smiled down at her. She was glad they were taking the longer route.

But all too soon, the shingled walls of the Carver mansion appeared behind the trees, and the hunting party came into view. Christabel was afraid her rescuer would put her down the moment they came upon the others, but if anything, his hold around her seemed to tighten.

"There you are, Christabel," Jason said, stepping forward. "We were about to send out a search party—" His countenance changed upon seeing her in the arms of the stranger. "What happened?"

"Miss Cunningham had a bit of an accident," the man said. "I happened to come across her and took the liberty of escorting her home."

"How fortunate," Jason said, his voice icy. He all but yanked Christabel out of the other man's arms, as though she was a child, or worse, a doll, a toy to be fought over.

"I'm perfectly all right, Jason," Christabel said, fighting to put her feet on the ground. "It's just a sprain."

Jason relented and put her down. Christabel turned to her rescuer, who was replacing his cap on his hat, preparing to go. "Thank you so much," she said. "I hope I haven't delayed you from your quest."

"It was my pleasure. It's not every day a beautiful lady fell from the sky and landed at your feet, is it?"

She couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her face. "I still don't know your name."

"Haven't I told you?" He looked confused.

Christabel frowned, trying to recall. "No, I don't think so."

"Ah." He tipped his cap at her. "Henry Creel, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Will I see you again, Mr. Creel?"

He flashed her another of his dazzling smiles. "You can count upon it." Then, with a bow in the general direction of the hunting party, who was staring at him, he turned and disappeared into the woods.

Chapter 2

As usual, if you want to be tagged, drop me a line! Any likes/reblogs/comments will be greatly appreciated, thank you!

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #henry creel #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie munson

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ivyodessa · 5 months ago

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@hellcheeranniversaryweek Day 4- Medieval

Tristan & Isolde AU

The willows swayed above them as the sweat cooled on their bare skin, the breeze caressing their bodies like an invisible lover.

“I wish we could stay here forever.” Christine said, her soft voice breaking the quiet that had settled over them after their lovemaking.

“I could build us a little house deep in the forest,” Edward said with an easy smile, “I could fish from the stream. Live like no one knows who we are.”

“I could spend my days reading to you,” she smiled at him sweetly.

The mirth in his eyes dimmed before he asked haltingly, “When do you have to be back?”

Her smile faded as she answered quietly, “Soon. I told Bragnae I would be back by midday.” Her lady’s maid would be able to hold off suspicion if she were a little late, but not too much.

“I suppose we should cross the bridge then, your Grace,” he said it in jest, but it still stung. The reminder that he was her subject, and more importantly, the king’s wife.

She watched him as he stood to dress himself, admiring the lines of his strong body littered with scars. The shiny skin of the largest scar sat on his chest, healed by her hands the day he washed up on the beach all those months ago.

But they were in Cornwall now, far from the place they first met. Far from the private refuge of their seaside cabin where she nursed him back to health and they opened their hearts to one another.

She cleared her throat as she lifted her shift over her head, “Maybe….maybe there is a way,” she said tentatively. He turned to her as he pulled his shirt over his head and the intensity of his stare momentarily left her breathless.

“My father’s men talk. I know they plan to conspire with the dissenters at court to overthrow Henry.”

Edward’s eyes widened and his brows lifted, the information bowling him over, ““He…he is my king.” He struggled with what to say next, “He saved me from death, I owe him my life.”

“And he is my husband,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “But every day his rule grows crueler. He will stop at nothing to expand his kingdom.” She reached out to grab his hand, “He has never been unkind to us, but I worry the day may come when we meet his wrath.”

Edward’s face morphed into a pained expression, nodding solemnly at the truth spoken so plainly aloud. Henry’s mind had become warped and his sanity seemed to be hanging on by a thread, much like Edward’s loyalty to his king.

“In the midst of all the chaos, we could slip away. Go wherever we please,” she looked up at him, eyes shining brightly with the spark of hope and promise of freedom.

The thought of never again having to hide away in stolen moments, to be with each other out in the open…it was at once exhilarating and terrifying. Was there truly a chance for them to be free?

She reached her hands up to gently cup his face as he bent down until their foreheads touched, staring into one another’s eyes.

“How many have you loved before me?” she whispered into the stillness between them.

“None,” he said back simply, hands resting on her hips. The heat of his hands through her thin shift igniting the spark within her hot enough to set a kingdom ablaze.

“And after me?” she asked, her voice taking on a desperate edge.

His voice was all warmth as he smiled and said “None.” One of his hands coming up to cup her jaw and pull her into a gentle kiss.

“For all time, they’ll say it was our love that allowed a kingdom to be brought down,” he said solemnly. She frowned and nodded as her thumbs gently stroked his jaw before he spoke again,

“Well then…let them remember us."

He pulled her to him with the arm now wrapped around her waist and crushed his mouth to hers. Sealing their fate, and the fates of many, with a kiss.

#what if the star-crossed lovers just got to be selfish and not worry about duty!#i just think that would be neat!#Eddie is kinda Kas-lite here #(loyal to Henry not wings and fangs etc.)#hellcheer anniversary week #cheers2hellcheer #hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer au

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eldritchdiplomacy · 1 year ago

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Still one of my favorite...

#chrissy cunningham #hellcheer #kas eddie munson #kas au #stranger things cosplay #it me

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wynnyfryd · 9 months ago

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💖 2024 Steddie Fic Recs 💖

@thefreakandthehair and i were talking about how so many of the fics we can name off the top of our heads are from right after the show came out because we were still actively making rec lists back then, so:

in no particular order i present to you an incomplete list of fics i love that were published or completed within the last two months

short fics (<10k)

Found God In A Tomato by @beetlesandstarss 5.7k | rated M | fluff, text fic

syrupy sweet strangers to first date fic. without spoiling anything, eddie is a flustered cutie and steve is a fuckin' menace who's lucky he's so hot

he tightened he grip by @steddieas-shegoes 1.3k | rated E | crack not treated remotely seriously

Mickala beloved your commitment to the bit makes me wanna commit myself to you 💍

Slide It In by gayhandshake 1.8k | rated E | multimedia crack

another truly impeccable work of crack fic, i laughed so hard at the first image that i made it the icon for my private discord server

what's that sound? (there's a funny man at my door) by @jewishrat420 4.8k | rated M | spicy six text fic

laughed out loud at this fic so many times i really don't know what else to tell you. as a matter of fact, i went to look at my bookmark note to see what else i had to say about it when i read it, and my note just says "fucking hilarious i laughed out loud like 6 times" 💀 did not do not will never know what else to tell you except that the phrase "the goyim of gender" just randomly pops into my brain once every four or so days now

medium fics (10-20k)

In the Kitchen or the Tulips by @teddywesworl 44k | rated E | telepathic soulmate AU

this fic said "watch me flip this trope inside out like a freshly cubed half of an avocado" and then DELIVERED. i finished this fic and then stared at the side of my husband's head for long enough that he looked over and went "wtf are you doing" lmao hush baby i am contemplating the implications

they're going to send us to prison for jerks by @greatunironic 16k | rated E | social media AU

okay firstly the premise of this fic is so specifically and delightfully unhinged; love that i'm not the only one who looks at a random tiktok account and manically whispers to myself "there's a fic in there somewhere." secondly the execution is a 10 outta 10 outta 10 outta TEN

long fics (50k+)

Sneaky Link by @morningberriesao3 152k | rated E | onlyfans au

the sex is HOT the boys are dumb as goddamn ROCKS what more do you need? oh, what's that? you do need more? sick because this fic also has: the tags "cum slut eddie munson" and "everyone is gay (because i say so)", chrissy the homophobe slayer being the cutest little spy, and jason getting his ass whooped, like, spiritually. on a spiritual level. physically unharmed but that boy's soul is missing teeth do u understand what i am saying

podfics!

it was love, love alone read by @reena-jenkins 21min | rated E

am i technically reccing my own fic on my own fic rec list? you bet your sweet ass i am, i don't even care how tacky that is reena's performance is hilarious and deserves to be listened to at least 40 more times while doing the dishes

relax (lay it back) read by @flintandfuss 1hr 10min | rated E | yogi dom steve x sub eddie

listen if i'm already being gauche then i gotta include my internet wife's belated birthday present to me, like i gotta. morally and lustfully obligated.

Schiava by @teddywesworl read by aheada_lettuce 1hr 30min | rated E | kas!eddie AU

said it once already today and i'll say it again, i cannot believe one of the best reading voices i've ever heard belongs to a person i mentally refer to as fucking lettuce LOL anyway this read is incredible and i have listened to it Times(tm)

and lastly, if you want more recs (like, 348 more specifically), you can browse my full list of public st bookmarks here

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fic recs #i'm still playing catch up on tbrs from 2023 so don't have a ton of new fics to rec just yet but these are all excellent i promise <3 #steve harrington #eddie munson

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flowercrowngods · 2 years ago

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dio. 🤍

ao3 • writing tag • time travel au tag (stories & snippets) steddie drabbles & microfics ☕️ ko-fi vibes only. mostly steddie, sometimes clarkson.

🌷 WIPs & multi-chaptered stories

➤ i’ll try. i’ll try. (but i couldn’t be better) WIP M | 74k | 12/? | time travel au, angst, steve whump Sent back to 1983, Steve tries to save his friends from everything that's coming and takes on the battle against the Upside Down alone with El by his side.

➤ nice to meet you, where you been? T | 12k | 3/3 | tattoo shop au, pure fluff, trans eddie Chrissy sends Eddie to check out a tattoo shop. Little does he know it belongs to Steve Harrington, or that they’ll both be falling for each other at lightning

➤ untitled knight!Steve / bard!Eddie WIP T | 10k | 2/? | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | ... regency au (freeform), enemies to lovers Eddie is a bard of great renown who returns to Hawkins ready and willing to spite the people who cast him out all his life. He is in search of his muse: the knight Dustin has been writing to him about who has inspired his greatest ballads and poems. Dustin’s Sir Steve is nowhere to be found, but Lord Harrington seems to hold a grudge against Eddie and he wants to find out why.

➤ shattered on the cliff’s edge, trapped by the tides WIP M | 5.8k | 2/7 | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | ... A steddie ghost story. Steve Harrington, disgraced and disowned by his father for moral insanity, has been haunted by eerie dreams of a mysterious lighthouse ever since he was a little boy. His lighthouse quickly turns from recurring night terror to gruesome reality when his superior delegates him to fix the broken light and be the new keeper. But he soon finds out that it is he who is being kept.

➤ tales of blue | who did this to you? WIP M | 13k | 3/4 | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | Eddie POV, pre-s4, injured Steve, hurt/comfort One summer's day in 1985, Eddie finds a very injured Steve in the boathouse, and even though he doesn't want the kind of trouble that this might bring, he can't just leave him there. So, scared though he is, he takes Steve to the one person he trusts to always make everything better.

➤ untitled kas!eddie / steve WIP M | 5.3k | 1/? | tumblr: part 1 | post-canon, hurt/comfort, enemies steddie The extent of his brain injuries and the intensity of his migraines is something Steve has been keeping secret from everyone. When he goes to Kas to let him feed, however, the sudden blood loss gives him a migraine. Kas decides to take care of him.

one shots & ficlets under the cut (ao3) -> ao3 link in the tumblr fic post

🌷 fluff & floaty

floor time fic (ao3) Eddie POV, falling in love, fluff, neurodivergent steddie

eddie likes Good Words (ao3) Steve POV, stablished relationship, neurodivergent steddie, echolalia

rambly Steve in love Eddie POV, established relationship, love confession

soft insomniacs (ao3) Eddie POV, short trans Eddie, soft Steve, bickering, established relationship

3 am phone call (ao3) Steve POV, soft, pre-relationship

car ride in love Eddie POV, floaty, boys in love, Andante, Andante

stargazing Steve POV, floaty & soft, boys in love

sick fic Eddie POV, domestic fluff & silliness, steve is sick, eddie is in love

first kiss Eddie POV, floaty, boys in love

loving eddie munson (is a full body experience) (ao3) Steve POV, floaty, boys in love, introspection, love confessions

floaty steddie date hours Eddie POV, established relationship, date night, marriage proposals, softness, dancing in the rain

sick fic 2 (woollen bat hat) Eddie POV, sick!Steve, soft boyfriends in love, cuddling, Eddie reads Momo to Steve

🌷 yearning

✨yearning hours (a-side) (ao3) Eddie POV, heart-wrenching yearning, light imagery, (mis)communication, vulnerability, first kiss

✨yearning hours (b-side) (ao3) Steve POV, insecurity, trauma, darkness imagery, vulnerability, first kiss

✨yearning hours (bonus track) (ao3) Eddie POV, light imagery, vulnerability, getting together

summer nights were made for steve (ao3) Eddie POV, yearning, getting together, the stars are pretty but steve is prettier

✨yearning hours (hidden track) (ao3) Steve POV, floaty music, getting together, sudden love confession, pining, A Flock of Seagulls

✨ high yearning make-out fic (smutty) (ao3) Eddie POV, recreational drug use, dry humping, coming in pants, so much yearning, so much kissing, spicy six as friends

🌷 hurt/comfort

insomniac eddie & human weighted blanket steve Eddie POV, developing relationship, comfort

Eddie being inexperienced at relationships Eddie POV, established relationship, dramatic eddie, boys in love, cuddles

spiralling writer eddie Eddie POV, established relationship, comfort, emotionally intelligent steve

‘You’d be a great dad’ Eddie POV, established relationship, insecure Eddie, comfort

steve has seizures (ao3) Steve POV, angst, self-isolation, seizures, post-s3, found family, background steddie

nonverbal steve gets a hug (ao3) Steve POV, established steddie, nonverbal steve, caring eddie, touch starved steve

sensory overload steddie Steve POV, soft boys, building relationship, nonverbal steve, touch-averse eddie, floor time as the cure

🌷 angst & hurt/no comfort

spiralling steve Steve POV, traumatised steve, nonverbal steve, established steddie, eventual comfort

breakup Steve POV, steve is not okay, breaking up

My Boy Steve POV, major character death, post-s4, inspired by My Girl funeral scene

memory wipe musings Steve POV, post-canon, established relationship, breakup-ish

post-breakup steddie Steve POV, a follow-up for @steddieas-shegoes prompt-fill | years after breaking up with steve eddie writes him a letter and they talk, mentions of drug abuse and rehab, starting over, 2nd chances (it's hopeful but it's kinda really sad)

knightmærs Eddie POV, prince!steve, traitor!eddie, lovers to enemies who are still lovers but it's intrigue, brainwashing, torture, eddie whump, manipulation, open ending, violence & threats of death

🌷 smut(ish)

steve wants to hear eddie Eddie POV, established relationship, anal sex

sexytimes in a tent Steve POV, trying not to get caught, established relationship, hand jobs

sub!kas eddie (drabble) (tag for more) Steve POV, good boy kas, soft dom steve

school reunion sex Eddie POV, chubby!steve, dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex, good boy eddie

misc. & gen

steve and nancy finally have A Talk Steve POV, apologies, communicating like adults, making up, platonic stancy

steve and mike coming out to each other (ao3) Steve POV, bisexual lighting, established background steddie, mike & steve sibling relationship

why'd you jump? (ao3) conversation at the quarry, coming out (kinda), working through trauma together, steve & mike sibling relationship, big brother Steve | cw: could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

a study in grief: steve and mike talking about barb (ao3) Steve POV, Barb's death anniversary, Barb was Mike's friend, grief, mourning, big brother Steve, Mike character study

stobin arsonist tendencies (drabble) Steve POV, robin wants to burn down steve's car and house, fucked up platonic besties, neurodivergent swag

🌷 i'll try-verse (time travel au) oneshots

steve takes el to see her first meteor shower

el calls steve magic

eddie finds nonverbal steve

tina's party steddie hug

steve meets wayne

clarkson fics

meet-sweet | kids duty (ao3) clarkson origin post with @unclewaynemunson. Wayne POV, first meeting, slow burn, pre-relationship, soft

coursework, caffeine and cuddles (ao3) teacher student!steve, domestic fluff, established clarkson & steddie, found family

if i fell in love with you (ao3) Scott POV, soft, established relationship, domestic fluff, If I Fell

home. (ao3) Scott POV, comfort, floaty, established relationship, after-school car ride, domesticity

quiet. (ao3) Scott POV, hurt/comfort, domesticity, established relationship, wayne doesn’t like how quiet scott’s house gets

don’t let go (i won’t) (ao3) Scott POV, hurt/comfort, found family, post-s4, shared trauma, steddie, established relationship, wayne gets a bad flashback and scott calls steddie for help

ronance fics

snow angels for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six winter fic challenge, Nancy POV, pining, first kiss, getting together

yearning hours (ao3) Nancy POV, pining, yearning, realisations, pre-relationship, semi-floaty

#steddie #clarkson #flowercrowngods masterlist #masterlist #all my fics are just vibes tbh #there are some misc ficlets in the writing tag still but eh these are the ones i think are okay

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rogueddie · 1 year ago

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Kas!Eddie and Kas!Chrissy au idea thingy;

Eddie wanting to go back to Hawkins, back to his friends, the control Vecna has slipping in the face of how strongly he needs to be with those he loves. So, to keep him where he is, Vecna tries to bring Chrissy back.

It leaves him weaker, for longer, needing even more time to recover- but it effectively traps Eddie on his side. Because, as wrong as it feels, he can't leave. Not without her- he can't run away, he can't leave her behind, not again.

But Chrissy is even more pure-of-heart than Eddie. As soon as he mentions friends, probably thinking he's dead and desperately trying to save the world? As soon as she hears that most of them are kids?

Neither of them are quite... right. They might not be under Vecnas control, not really, but they're not exactly the same either. More morally grey, less concerned about consequences or doing exaclty what's right- just what's best for them and their friends.

Steve is still confused, trying to figure himself out, but Eddie pushes anyway. He can tell that Steve likes him, as much as he likes him, so why not? He doesn't push any bounderies. Not too far, anyway. Steve still likes him, still helps him, so he can't be doing anything too wrong. Right?

And Chrissy, no longer paranoid about her mom or living up to expectations, falling into obsession with Robin- the first girl she lets herself love. Robin is too happy, rose-colored love glasses too thick, to see the co-dependancy forming.

But it's between all four of them. Everyone else assumes it's just because of Vecna, how he's an immediate threat. But they're still heavily tangled after. And by then, it's a little too late.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #longficidea #fsfs

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she-who-the-river-could-not-hold · 8 months ago

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All Around Me

a Hellcheer AU | rated: M | oneshot, wc: 7.8k | tags: Kas!Eddie + Chrissy lives, canonverse, supernatural romance, season 5 concepts

The day that Chrissy wakes up from the coma, she realizes that she’s haunted.

She adjusts to life slowly and uncertainty, still not quite sure how she’s alive at all. But if there’s only one steady thing in her life now, it’s this new presence that’s followed her home. A ghost? A guardian angel? A demon? It’s impossible to know.

Just that she feels him all around her and he’s the only thing protecting her.

[READ HERE ON AO3]

#hellcheer #hellcheeredit #hellcheer fic #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things au #kathryn writes #kathryn designs #my creations

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year ago

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“I want to taste you,” she says, breathy in tone but blunt in content as she runs her thumb across Nancy’s dry knuckles, chapped, scabbed over at the base of her left index. “You should know that I— I really want to taste you.”

Nancy’s heart picks up and her breath heaves out of its evenness and into something more rhythmically unique. Life, by Nancy Wheeler. It’s like music.

“I want that too,” Nancy admits, pulling Chrissy’s hand into her lap to clasp it in both of her hands. “I want to know what it feels like. I want you to have what you need.”

“I don’t know that I do need this,” Chrissy looks up and finally meets her eye because this feels important, that she understands.

Chrissy is getting by with the middleman of cups and bowls, she’s getting by with animals still and she doesn’t need to drink directly from Nancy to survive. Chrissy knows that, somewhere in her gut. She knows this isn’t about need, it’s entirely about want.

“I don’t care,” Nancy laughs, a quiet exhale of a thing, almost like disbelief if she didn’t also maintain every ounce of her eternal command over a situation that she does. “When you— In the woods— I just—” a hand, lifting to push Chrissy’s hair behind her ear, linger as it cradles her jaw, “there’s something in me that can’t shake it.”

“The others won’t understand,” Chrissy leans into her touch. “They’ll think I’m hurting you.”

Nancy retracts her hand, and Chrissy feels a surge of loss and longing and rejection and that same looping want of a burn in her gut, on the forked tip of her tongue.

Chrissy never really understood Nancy Wheeler, this specter of a girl always viewed from afar in school, but Nancy pulls her hand away and still moves closer, forehead tipped to press against Chrissy’s, noses slotted up against each other, and Chrissy realizes she knows Nancy.

Just Nancy. Not the girl she was supposed to be just like Chrissy isn’t, just the girl who kisses her on the corner of her mouth, a brush of skin so faint it’s barely there but world shaking in ways no kiss with anyone else has ever been.

“They don’t have to understand,” she says, and so it must be true. “Everything else is a fight, but this doesn’t have to be, does it? You can just— I can just give you this because I want to and because you want me to…?”

Chrissy lets her eyes flicker in the small space between their faces, lets herself gather the courage that the light in Nancy’s eyes offers, and then shifts the press of her forehead to Nancy’s temple, breathing deeply as she trails down past the shell of her ear, her jawline, right into the crook of her neck.

She smells— it’s like nothing else on the planet, this smell, because she doesn’t smell like magic or hope or saved.

Nancy, all grimed up from their trek through the woods and the general sweat-stained nature of life at the end of the world, isn’t a smell which a human Chrissy would have felt like this about, but she finds herself unable to pull away from that rich and deep source of it pounding just beneath the skin at Nancy’s neck.

She smells like a human girl with all that brings; she smells like dirt and blood; she smells like the kind of thing that makes Chrissy lick her lips.

“It might leave a mark,” she breathes into Nancy’s skin as a hand tangles up in Chrissy’s frizzy hair, “where can I leave a mark?”

kas!Chrissy | Wheelingham | rated E

part 9 of how the light gets in

read more on ao3

#dot fic #kas!chrissy au #wheelingham #pompompistol #nancy wheeler #chrissy cunningham #happy wheelingham wednesday to all who celebrate #it's.... it's vampire sex. that's all i have to offer today #vampire sex with a heaping side of comphet introspection #they've earned it peace and love <3

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foundtherightwords · 3 months ago

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The Hollow Heart - Chapter 18 (Last Chapter)

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 2.5k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

Chapter 18 - Hush, Beating Heart

There was a voice in her ears. A soft but stern voice, reminding her of Miss Kelley, her old governess. Perhaps it was Miss Kelley, and she was ten years old again, being wakened up in her nursery. That would be vastly preferable to wherever she was now, her body numb, her mind a mess of fragmented memories, of screaming faces and dark blotches and blood.

"Mrs. Creel?" the voice was saying incessantly. "Can you hear me? Mrs. Creel?"

Christabel opened her mouth to tell them to stop, to not call her Mrs. Creel, because she was not Mrs. Creel, not anymore, not in her heart, but her throat was raw, her lungs felt scorched, and what came out was a feeble, wheezing cough instead.

"She's awake!" the voice said. She tried to sit up, but a hand pushed down on her shoulder, holding her still. The hand was gentle, but it still hurt, and she became aware of other pains on her body, the stinging, smarting pain of burns, the throb on her arm. "Don't try to move," the voice continued. "The doctor will be with you in a minute. Here, have a drink of water."

Something smooth was placed into her mouth, and then water, sweet, cool, heavenly water flowed over her tongue, soothing the burning feeling in her throat. She opened her eyes. A face swam into focus—a woman, with round, ruddy cheeks, hair pulled back into a bun under her white cap. A nurse. Behind the nurse, Christabel could glimpse other beds filled with patients, and nurses and doctors running to and fro. The acrid smell of smoke lingered in the room, from herself or from the very air, Christabel didn't know, overpowering the hospital smell of bleach and medicine.

"Where am I?" she managed to ask.

"At a makeshift hospital in Golden Gate Park," said the nurse.

"How—how long have I been here?"

"Two days." The nurse helped Christabel sit up. "My, my, it was pure luck that you were found at all. The entire city was in chaos, and your house is so out of the way—if people hadn't seen the fire from the headland—" Her face fell when she caught Christabel's expression. "Oh, I do beg your pardon, ma'am. Didn't you know—?"

"Didn't I know what?"

"The house has been completely destroyed." The nurse gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'm so sorry."

But Christabel paid no attention to the nurse's comforting hand. She was too elated. Destroyed! Destroyed and gone! She was free of that place of nightmares, it would haunt her nevermore. But—a cold finger of fear ran down her spine—suppose—suppose Henry had survived? She had seen him survive a bullet to the face and a knife to the chest. Could he have survived being buried under a house, in a fire?

"Did they find anyone else at the house?" she asked the nurse.

A half-sad, half-frightened look came into the nurse's eyes, and the fear spread throughout Christabel's body. "You should rest, ma'am," the nurse said. "There will be plenty of time—"

"Did they find anyone else?"

The nurse stared at her for a long time, her sympathetic eyes driving Christabel mad with apprehension. "Yes," eventually the nurse said. "They found two bodies."

***

Despite the nurse's attempt to stop her, Christabel insisted on seeing the bodies. Eventually, the nurse relented and helped her into a wheelchair.

The bodies were kept under a tent outside—one of many throughout the park. Rows and rows of the bodies were laid out under white sheets, and orderlies were bringing weeping survivors around to identify their loved ones. The spring sun shone through the thin canvas of the tent, casting its watery rays down on the somber sight. In the distance, columns of smoke still rose from the city, darkening the sky. The earthquake must have done a great deal of damage.

The nurse wheeled Christabel toward an orderly and whispered something to him. The orderly looked askance at Christabel. "Are you sure you're up for this, ma'am?" he asked.

"I assure you, I'm feeling quite well," she said, and indeed she was. Other than the burns, a few cuts and bruises, and the bullet wound on her arm, she had suffered no great injuries. Her limbs were weak and shaky, but that was only from nerves. And even if she had been at death's door, she still had to know.

The orderly led them to a table, where two bodies were laid side by side, each bearing a card with "Outside Lands, Creel House" scrawled on it. Christabel took a deep breath and nodded at the orderly. He lifted the sheet from the first body. Her heart jumped to her throat.

"His name is—was Hargrove," she said to the orderly. "William Hargrove. From Chicago, I believe." She paused, wondering how to explain Hargrove's appearance at the house. In the end, she settled for a version of the truth. "He was an acquaintance of my husband's." Poor man. He'd only been trying to do right by his sister.

The orderly wrote the information down in a notebook and moved to the next body.

"I must warn you, ma'am," he said. "This one's found inside the house, after the fire's burned out. There may not be much left for you to identify."

"I understand," she said, her voice coming from a long way off through the drumming of the blood in her ears. What if he was still under the ruins of Creel House, biding his time?

The second body was, as the orderly had warned, burned down almost completely, leaving only a charred skeletal frame. It could have been anyone's. But as Christabel looked it over, her pulse started racing again, not from fear, but from immense relief. The skeleton was missing a left hand.

"It's my husband," she said.

If the orderly and the nurse noticed her lack of a reaction, they showed no indication of it. After all, many people were in shock from the sudden losses. "Are you quite certain, ma'am?" the orderly asked.

"Yes."

Any lingering doubt in her mind was completely dispelled by what she saw on the skeleton's chest—there, glittering between the blackened ribcage, was a lump of molten glass. It had once been a stained-glass pendant in the shape of a rose. Now, looking closely, she could swear it looked almost like a heart.

She turned to the nurse. "So... there was no one else found at Creel House then?"

The nurse shook her head. "No, ma'am. I believe they even searched the lighthouse, which still stands. But they found no one."

Perhaps he had survived. She didn't know how a vampire, or a dhampyr, would die, but if there wasn't a body, then there was a chance he had survived. There was a twinge in her heart when she thought of how he had left without saying goodbye, but of course he had to flee before the sun came up, before search and rescue arrived. She told herself she must accept it. She could accept it. She could accept life without him, as long as she knew that he was safe.

Even so, she couldn't stop from weeping at the thought that she would never see him again, and that night, lying in her hospital bed, she sobbed bitterly. She was free, yes, free from Henry and Creel House, but what was the use of freedom if she couldn't share it with the person that mattered the most?

A shadow passed across the white curtain surrounding her bed. Christabel didn't pay much attention to it, thinking it was a nurse or an orderly, but when the figure came back and stood by the foot of her bed, her heart shot to her throat. The murky yellow light from the electric bulb overhead distorted the figure, making it stretch grotesquely against the curtain, like a monster in some shadow play. What if she'd made a mistake? It couldn't be... could it? He was dead. And the pendant, the soul container, the phylactery as he'd called it, was destroyed, melted in the fire, so his soul was gone too. He couldn't—he couldn't—

She sat up, casting wildly about for a weapon, though deep down she knew, if it really was Henry, nothing on Earth could save her—

"Christabel?" the figure called softly.

Christabel's heart, which had been pounding before, now hammered as though it was trying to break free of her chest. She knew that voice.

"Kas?" she croaked.

The curtain parted, and there was Kas. There were some burn marks on his face, his hair was patchy, singed in places, and his clothes were covered in soot, but it was him. Even in the dim light, she could see those soft brown eyes gleaming at her. He smiled at her, and it was Kas's smile, framed by his dimples, childlike in its joy and wonder and love. "Yes, it's me," he said, and it was Kas's voice, warm and comforting.

Christabel didn't remember what she did next. She leaped out of bed and threw her arms around him, heedless of his dirty clothes. Holding her, he staggered onto the bed as she kissed and kissed and kissed him, laughing and crying all the while.

"Shhh, let's not wake the others," Kas whispered. He kissed her back, taking care to avoid her burns.

It was a long time before she was calm enough to sit down next to him on the bed, but she still kept her arms around him, pressing his hand to her wet cheeks to assure him of her presence, and to assure herself of his.

"I thought I'd lost you," she said. "They said no one else was found at the house."

"I hid in the lamp room of the lighthouse. I heard them moving about downstairs, but they didn't come upstairs."

"Are you all right?" There were still burn marks from the silver chain around his neck, and when she touched his shoulder, where the bullet had hit him, he winced.

"Yeah. I was lucky, the bullet went straight through. If it had lodged there, the silver poisoning would've killed me for sure. It's going to take longer for me to heal than usual, but it'll heal."

She kissed his shoulder, gently, carefully, wishing she had his healing power.

"Did they—did they find anyone else?" Kas asked.

She understood what he meant. "He's dead," she said.

Kas stared at her. "Are you sure?"

"I've seen his body. He's dead."

It took a moment for Kas to register this. Then he let out a long, long sigh. He, too, was free. Suddenly it occurred to Christabel that with Henry's death, perhaps Kas's affliction could be cured as well. That hope crumbled when Kas said, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, but I had to wait until nightfall..."

She looked at him more closely. In the joy of reunion, she hadn't noticed that he was still a little cold to the touch, and that he was pale under the burns and the soot. "Does that mean that you're still—?"

He nodded resignedly. "It wasn't as though he cursed me and the curse would be lifted with his death. He infected me. An infection can't just clear up on its own." He smiled to reassure her. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"But how have you—how have you managed in the last couple of days?" She didn't want to mention blood or feeding, for fear of being overheard.

"One good thing about an earthquake is that it brought out plenty of rats." He gave her another rueful smile. "You may regret kissing me just now."

"I never regret kissing you." And to assure him, she kissed him again.

"I can't stay long," Kas said, gently extracting her arms. "I only came to say goodbye."

She stared at him in shock. "Goodbye? Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I may stick around San Francisco. It's large enough and cloudy enough for me to blend in—"

"What about me?"

Kas undid the bandages around her hands so he could kiss the cuts and burns on her palms. They started to heal immediately.

"You don't want someone like me with you," he said.

"I do. I want nothing more than to have you with me."

"But you've promised me, remember? This is your chance at freedom. You must take it."

"No, this is our chance." She pressed her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. "I love you. And I'm never leaving you, do you hear me?"

"How can you? Besides the obvious, I have nothing. Not even a name."

"I have enough for both of us." With the transfer deed burned up along with Creel House and Henry dead, her money was hers again, and safe. She glared at Kas. "Don't tell me you're one of those manly men who can't stand the idea of living off his wife's wealth."

"You're not my wife," Kas reminded her.

"Not yet."

A ray of hope sparked in his eyes. "Is that a proposal?"

She smiled. "Perhaps. What do you say?"

"You know we can't actually get married. It won't be legal, seeing I have no identification," Kas said solemnly, but his eyes were dancing.

"I don't care," she said. "Will you marry me?"

The ray of hope in Kas's eyes brightened until it seemed the very sun was shining out of his face. "Yes," he said. Then he kissed her, gently at first, and then with more and more passion as his arms found themselves around her once more, holding her like he never planned to let go again.

It was a while before their lips parted, but they remained in each other's arms.

"So what are we going to do now?" Kas asked, still sounding a little awed, as though he couldn't quite believe they were truly, finally free.

Christabel thought about the future that lay ahead of them. She thought of the train timetable she'd perused during the trip out West, all those names, all those places. She thought of Creel House and all its horrors, now burned to the ground. Kas was still afflicted. But they were free, and together, which was the most important thing.

"Anything we want," she said. "We can travel. Around America, to Europe, or anywhere you like. We can go back to Indianapolis, to where Creel found you. Perhaps there may be some clues about where you came from, about your mother..."

"No." His arms tightened around her. "I don't want to visit the past. It only brings pain."

"But don't you want to know your real name, to find your people?"

He pressed his forehead to her so his eyes filled her vision. "Heart bound to heart, soul bound to soul," he whispered. "I'm yours, my body, my spirit, my being whole. My name is Kas. I'm yours. And you're mine. That's all I need to know."

Christabel's heart brimmed over. Out there, a city lay ruined and burning. But here, now, on this little hospital bed, tragedy seemed a thing of the past. She knew the city would be rebuilt, just as she and Kas would rebuild their lives. Together.

THE END

A/N: And that's a wrap! It has been such a fun journey with this story, and I'm so grateful to everyone for sticking with it. I do have a tentative idea for a short sequel... I don't know when I'll get around to it, since other ideas are yelling at me to write them first, but I will get to it! In the meantime, there will be more Hellcheer fics and more fics for other JQ characters. Thank you and see you again soon!

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #joseph quinn #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #hellcheer au #henry creel #joseph quinn fic #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie munson

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spookycreepycookie · 2 years ago

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Monsterfuck FTW! 😜❤️🔥🦇🐙

Faces in the Window, Noises in the Night - Chapter 2

Hunger.

That was all he could feel when he woke, before he even opened his eyes. Not the gnawing in his gut when money was too tight to afford more than a single grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. Not even like the straight-up lust for food he got when he smoked a fat bowl and got the munchies.

No, this hunger went deeper. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, in the tendrils and wings that were simultaneously a foreign parasite and a necessary part of him, even in the hollow where his stomach used to be, there was a thrumming, hollow, aching need.

Read on AO3

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #eddie munson #eddie as kas #weird as fuck #but still awesome #chrissy cunningham #my babies in love #no matter the au

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months ago

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wiggly Wiggog Y'wrath wednesday! 🧠🪱

i was tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation again this week and i think it's time to let the worms wiggle about this previous post i made about npmd

it's still only vibes but i'm thinking about Mayor's son Steve doing his damndest to get outcast Eddie to help him on a pop quiz in history, the only subject Eddie's always been good at even through his repeated years.

He wears Eddie down enough for him to help, but are immediately caught by the teacher and given detention.

On their way to the office, Eddie can hear Jason Carver and the rest of the jocks heading their way and would normally stand his ground, when two of his underclassmen friends round the corner (two of the CC guys? two of The Party™? idk) and Eddie shuffles them back out of the corridor before Jason can find them. He can handle Jason and his goons on his own, at least put on an off-putting enough show to get them to leave him alone, but if the other two are there, they're more vulnerable.

Steve, of course, isn't as attuned to listening for Carver wherever he goes and calls after Eddie like "Dude, who are you running from?"

I'm imagining Chrissy as Grace in this au but only kinda. Like, she knows Jason is into her and is constantly being a creep and hates that she's kinda into it, so when she hears Steve and Eddie talking about Jason while passing the boys' bathroom that day, she barges in with a plan of her own.

Their plan goes horribly wrong, Jason is killed at the old Creel House, comes back as a ghost and starts after the losers, they call upon The Lords in Black, entities that bear striking resemblance to the group of kids sometimes still babysits (who would each kid be??? My first thought was Wiggly = Mike for some reason lmao) who agree to get rid of Jason if one of them gives up the thing they treasure most.

Steve has to kill Eddie.. or Eddie has to kill Steve. neither one having the time to let the fact they're both super into the other sink in before Jason appears again.

i think it'd be funny if Chrissy/Grace still gets it on with Jason to fulfil the Lords' demands, maybe even though she's not as much of a zealot about her faith as Grace is, she still grew up religious and has had the importance of keeping her chastity drilled into her all her life, she starts to worship under them instead idk idk etc

anyhoo, all still basic worms, but i haven't been worming as much lately!

tagging: @spectrum-spectre, @kas-eddie-munson, and @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson!

#steddie #npmd #starkid #wiggly wednesday #steve harrington #eddie munson

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bifuriouswaterbender · 1 year ago

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Can't Start A Fire (Without A Spark)

A Steddie Modern AU written by me and read by @aliteralgarbageheap for the @steddiebang

Steve claimed not to be a snob about different dance forms, but with his ballet background, he had a hard time looking at stripping as anything other than a money grab. He didn't see the beauty. Until Kas.

Rated E. ~21,000 words. No Archive Warnings Apply. Featuring Steve/Eddie and Robin/Chrissy.

Posting will begin on December 3 found in print form on my AO3 and in audio form on alitergarbageheap's. If you'd like to be notified when the story begins, feel free to subscribe to me.

For now, here's a teaser from Chapter One.

Someone was talking near him on the side with his earbud.

Steve looked up, taking it out as he turned around. “What?”

He took in a rather attractive man standing before him. Steve was good at spotting a dancer’s body, but he couldn’t tell if it was a sign or a coincidence with a man like this. His long curly hair hung down around his shoulders, and he sported a getup that looked as much like a costume as normal clothing thanks to the number of patches on his vest and holes in his pants. Steve had worn a jacket that was not dissimilar when he’d been cast as Riff in West Side Story in college—more for his ability to dance the dream ballet than his singing voice.

“I said this is quite the place to dance around like that,” the man said, a teasing smile sliding onto his face. “Most people save it for the stage or a pole.”

Steve frowned and squared his shoulders. “Excuse me?”

The man snorted and gestured toward Steve’s simple filming setup. “I’m sure your followers love it, but the park’s not really the best place, is it?”

This was a new one for Steve. “Are you trying to tell me I was dancing like a stripper?”

The man raised a brow. “Are you trying to tell me you weren’t? I’m sure it does well with viewers, but you could make a lot more if you took that to a club.”

Normally when people were dismissive of dance, Steve responded to them in his professor voice. He calmly explained to them the nuance, the skill, the history, and everything else that made dance an important tradition. Maybe it was the setting. Maybe it was because of the man’s tone, but Steve didn’t do that today.

“Fuck you,” he snapped. “If you don’t know what modern ballet looks like, you can look it up for yourself and leave dancers alone. What I was doing was a far cry from stripping.”

The man took a step back, mouth falling open. “Something wrong with stripping?”

And okay, Steve wasn’t proud for getting even madder, but he didn’t take well to people being dismissive and then taking the moral high ground.

“Nothing wrong, except that I don’t appreciate you comparing my highly technical training and background to a kind of dance that people do for the money. They’re a far cry from one another. Learn the difference.”

The man’s face went flat, but there was an edge to his expression Steve couldn’t read. “Just the money, huh? So you think your fancy pants dancing that includes some of the exact same moves is so much better? That you can’t have artistry when your skintight clothes are made out of spandex instead of tulle?”

“What is your problem?” Steve demanded, grabbing his tripod and starting to disassemble it to get out of there.

The man licked his lips but otherwise looked ready for a fight. “I was trying to have a conversation. Was even going to invite you to go to auditions next week at the Pearly Delight. Maybe you’re too scared. Maybe you think it’s too unskilled. But oh, show up some night. I dance. You’ll see what you’re missing.”

With that, he whirled around, leaving Steve standing speechless with his phone in one hand and the tripod in the other.

What the hell had just happened?

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie big bang #st fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #modern au #steddie modern au #my writing

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 years ago

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MULTI-CHAPTER/PART

the satanic rites of eddie munson | au | explicit | chapters: 4/6 | female reader

Eddie was just trying to have a normal Thursday when some band from out of town decides he’d make an excellent virgin sacrifice for their get-famous-quick plan. Except he’s not a virgin, and the ritual unleashes something much more sinister that lives in him now, hungry for flesh and possessive of you, the pretty cheerleader he’s always been drawn to. Which means anyone that touches you? Needs to die. Inspired by the movie Jennifer’s Body. ON HIATUS.

↳AO3 | Tumblr: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

something perfect | au | explicit | chapters: 9/9 | female reader

While your mom heads out on her grand honeymoon with her new husband, you find yourself spending your summer before senior year in the sleepy town of Hawkins, working at your dad's comic book shop. It's shaping up to be a pretty monotonous time until Eddie Munson enters your life.

↳AO3

bat out of hell | vampire au | explicit | chapters: 6/6 | female reader

Convinced Eddie might still be alive, you travel to the Upside Down to find him.

You weren’t expecting the monster that finds you instead.

↳AO3

CONNECTED WORKS

nothing else matters | rockstar au | connected work | female reader

PART 1 of the “nothing else matters” series

It’s been a few months since Corroded Coffin has played at The Hideout. Ever since recording an actual album and having one of their songs picked up on the radio, they’ve been securing actual shows, with actual crowds.

But whenever they’re within fifty miles of good ol’ Hawkins, they drop into the grimy dive and put on a show. The crowds are bigger, with fans coming in from surrounding towns and cities, but there’s one constant he looks forward to every time.

The new bar owner. As of two years ago, crotchety old Hank finally sold the bar to the hottest woman he’s ever seen.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

change your mind | rockstar au | explicit | connected work | female reader

PART 2 of the “nothing else matters” series

Five times Eddie Munson asks you to marry him, and the one time you say yes.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

'til the sun burns out | rockstar au | explicit | connected work

PART 3 of the “nothing else matters” series

Your wedding night to one Eddie Munson.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

we are the dreamers, you are the dream | rockstar au | explicit | connected work | female reader

PART 4 of the “nothing else matters” series

You pee on the stick as instructed and set it on the counter, staring at it as you bite your nails.

“This is insane. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no—“

Two pink lines.

Well, fuck.

↳AO3

the mark you saw on my collarbone | vampire au | explicit | connected work | female reader

A oneshot in the bat out of hell series

A snippet of life with your human and your monster.

↳AO3

secret’s out | vampire au | PG-13 | connected work | female reader

A oneshot in the bat out of hell series

Dustin and Steve meet Kas.

It goes about as well as you’d expect.

↳AO3

ONE-SHOTS

this is for real (this time i mean it) | au | explicit | one-shot | female reader

Five times your best friend Eddie Munson kissed you, plus the one time it meant more.

↳AO3

your name like a prayer | au | explicit | one-shot | female reader

The list of mistakes Eddie Munson has made in his life is not short, but he’s pretty sure “calling out your best friends name while fucking your girlfriend” has jumped straight to the top of the list.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

spilling our guts | au | explicit | one-shot | female reader

Eddie Munson has been your best friend for years, and your secret crush for longer than you care to admit. When Chrissy Cunningham shows up at his house one day, you’re thrown for a loop, thinking they’re together.

Eddie proves to you just how wrong your assumption is.

↳AO3

EDDIE MUNSON/STEVE HARRINGTON

blue jeans and leather (even better on the floor) | au | explicit | one-shot

It’s Friday night, and some band is playing at the bar, a punk group with loud guitar and even louder vocals that make his eyelid twitch slightly in annoyance. Work sucked today and he’s not in the mood to deal with belligerent bar patrons, especially when most of the crowd is sporting spiked leather clothing that make getting them to physically comply way more painful than Steve ever signed up for.

He’s waving through one such dressed group when he hears the shatter of glass. The distinct sound of crunching bone reaches his ears, followed by a cheer.

“Son of a bitch,” Steve groans, leaving his rickety barstool and fighting his way through the gathered crowd.

Tony, the bar owner that Steve is pretty sure was once part of the mob, holds back one large leather clad man who’s got blood dripping from his nose. There’s another guy getting up from the floor and Steve catches a glimpse of curly brown hair and bright brown eyes that he hasn’t seen in years.

“Munson?”

↳AO3

EDDIE MUNSON/STEVE HARRINGTON/FEMALE READER

demon’s are a girl’s best friend | incubus au | explicit | one-shot

Since returning from the Upside Down, something dark exists in Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Something that is satisfied by only one thing - sex.

And they've set their sights on you.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x steve #eddie munson x steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson masterlist #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #no use of y/n

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