#stranger things fanfc

[shesinchargeareyoukidding]

Do u think Wayne knew about Eddie selling drugs? I wonder how he would react would he be super mad?

Good question anon! I don´t have a very strong hc for this, because there are many plausible options. I think he probably at least suspects it. But how much he knows and how he feels about it isn't something I have a clear idea of.

I do have this idea for a fic where Eddie used to do way worse things because he was used to doing them when he lived with his dad (like stealing stuff from stores, breaking into people's houses, pickpocketing, hotwiring cars etc.). He thinks he's supposed to do these things to provide and do his part basically. And when Wayne finds out about this he initially gets very angry because he doesn't understand why Eddie is doing it, and Eddie gets really mad because he doesn't understand where Wayne is coming from (like he never learned that the adult is supposed to provide and that they can have steady jobs). Eventually they calm down and talk it out. Since then Eddie will tell Wayne about any schemes he wants to get up to and they can compromise on what is still okay. So Wayne knows Eddie sells drugs, but they agreed that he'll only sell to seniors and adults, and that he only sells soft drugs like weed. In this scenario I do think they sometimes need the extra money that Eddie provides. During easier times he can use the money to save up for stuff.

I might write that one day, but I'm not very productive :). I hope this answers your question! Let me know what you think!

[honkhonkrichard]

Chapters: 1/? It turns out when existence at large tries to kill you multiple times, and the people in your life fail to be what you need them to be over and over and over and over again, you get an empty body. Will was tired, and he was mad. The only good thing that came from it was that it kept him warm.

(he was living anyways) (will hoped that fortune favoured the totally, irrevocably messed up)

OR; A Stranger things story about Will Byers and his whirlwind connection with the Hawkins Devil, somone who mihgt be able to understand Will before he falls apart. Takes place between the fall of 1987 and the spring of 1988.

This is an updated, rewritten version of my other work by the same name, which can be read here. These are not the same stories, but you read this as an adaption of the other.

[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: “Look, kid,” he’s suddenly closing the space between them, towering above someone so frail and lost, looking for some sort of guidance through the haze. “I’m not afraid. Not of you, or whatever happens tomorrow. Hell, even a year from now. But, I think there are times when… you’re afraid of yourself.” Autumn remains still and unfocused. A stare locked on nothing in particular as her mind twists and pulls at the seams, digging through memories and reliving the hurt in her chest. “You don’t have t’go back. Just-just promise me you’ll think about it.” wc: 3,277 warnings: STEVE TIME, hallucinations, mentions of therapy

There’s unease and a deadly silence the moment those two glass doors fall shut at their backs. A man stands just at the edge, right before cement melds with the grass as he watches them go. A smile of success on his face, and pride. He spares a polite wave as the pair wander off, making eye contact with the officer who just barely glances over his shoulder. His stride is quick, easy to cover the ground with tall legs, yet still struggling to keep up.

Autumn moves against the harsh wind with force. Parting through the unseen with ease out of desperation to escape the grip of Hawkins Lab. It calls out to her. A taunting voice carried with every gust against her skin, but she pushed onward, not daring to look back.

The trio had ventured through the overwhelming building, following close behind their tour guide as he pointed out various spaces - near ghost-like. Rooms, where people once stayed and worked, are uprooted in panic and fleeing into the night. Their life left behind in spilled coffee on the floor and scattered papers. A life now being wiped clean to provide a fresh canvas for rebirth. Dr. Owens explains that hard work is not easy to come by, but that his small staff are reliable and efficient. He apologizes twice more for the incident beyond the walls.

“This, here, is my office.” He’s paused at an opening, allowing them to peer inside and take in the view. It’s boring, really. Just as she pictured. A desk to collect his work and a brilliant blue stress ball, misshapen from the pressure. False greenery to give life to something so dull, with certificates and achievements printed through ink strung up along the wall. In some ways, Autumn can picture her father sitting behind that desk. His wrist aching from hasty writing before slapping the folder shut to escape curious eyes.

“This is where we would meet,” he explains. “With the company of Mr. Jim Hopper, here.”

The officer stands at the girl's side in total silence, studying the man's features and searching for an ounce of ill intent. But his eyes hold sincerity as he awaits Autumn’s response. She remains quiet, merely acknowledging him with a look. Lips sealed tight from a lack of speaking and unwilling to pry them apart. Hopper anticipates some spiteful or sarcastic comment, maybe even an argument. But maybe she had given up. Total surrender as a sliver of hope stares back at her.

“I know you’re scared,” the doctor begins. “We don’t have to do this. You can turn around and go back to your life, and you’ll never see me again.” A hand lays just over his chest as a silent promise to vanish as if he never existed. “But what’s happening to you, won’t just quietly go away. It might get worse. It will get worse.”

Hopper can feel the tension grow around them, like a festering wound. He can hear the sharp intake of air as her body stiffens at his side, cowering beneath his shadow. “Sounds like this isn’t your first time.”

A look of pride and confidence shifts into a smile of sadness. Blue eyes fill with buried memories as they claw their way up to the surface, presenting their beauty and horror for only him to see. The cries of children and the rage that burned them up inside, until they became a mere shadow of themselves. Easy to mold and manipulate into the weapons they needed.

“No, it’s not.”

The car ride is silent, like the many hours prior. He won’t dare to speak and she won’t give him the courtesy of even looking his way. Her focus is locked on the passing scenery, just out the passenger window, looking for the girl. Searching for signs of her younger self in the faded grey. Winter claims and hides her away in the thinning woods. Or perhaps, she lies dormant. Finding the swift changes in her life challenging and overwhelming, seeking shelter from it all when her present self could not. Yet, she finds herself without envy of a girl she can’t fully recognize or place.

Through the silence, a familiar voice calls out for Hopper’s attention. The radio comes to life and the officer seems at his witts end, ready to rip it out from the dash. Still, he answers. Lips pressed to the mouthpiece as he mutters, “What?” Powell mentions another report coming in of a child being seen. Clothes were stolen and running through the woods on their own. For a brief moment, she wonders if it had been a hallucination at all. Maybe, she was being called out to help someone in need.

Autumn can see the way this news brings a certain level of distress. Head fallen back with shoulders sagged, a tormented look in his eyes as he studied the path ahead. She can feel it. The rip of his flesh and soul as he yearns to serve and protect, yet needing to stay by her side while she works her way through a storm conjured up to break her down. In a weakened tone, he says “It’ll be handled,” but never how or when.

Nothing else is said, nor is it needed. The pair vanished into the woods, far from any prying eyes. Inside the cabin, his discomfort is plain to see. He stands just after the threshold, gaze locked on the dirty, old wood with hands planted firmly on his hips. He fights a silent war - to stay or to go. Who would need him more? Would it make a difference?

The girl chooses for him with a heavy sigh, fingers massaging the sore space at her neck until clotted blood falls away like tainted snow. “You should go.”

Hopper has never been a man who needed or sought out permission. Not from family, not from friends or his coworkers - let alone a teenager. But her encouragement gives him a sense of peace. A small shred of relief brings the split he feels to a sudden stop, healing slowly as guilt continues to pour salt into his wounds.

“I’m kind of the reason they’re still out there, right?” Hopper can’t bring himself to answer, though something in her saddened smile tells him that he wouldn’t need to. There’s unspoken blame eating them both alive - maggots to rotten flesh. “D’you trust him?”

“I don’t trust anybody,” he replies without hesitation, and she nods along in acknowledgment. Her tired gaze cast down as she fiddles with what was left of her old jewelry. That old life had long since packed up and wiped clean from Hawkins - maybe even the entire state. “But I think…he can help. Help in ways that I can’t.” All falls to silence after that. The girl is unable to speak for fear a trembling lip will give way like a dam, releasing the floodgates she worked hard to keep strong. He can see it, even in the dark.

“Look, kid,” he’s suddenly closing the space between them, towering above someone so frail and lost, looking for some sort of guidance through the haze. “I’m not afraid. Not of you, or whatever happens tomorrow. Hell, even a year from now. But, I think there are times when… you’re afraid of yourself.” Autumn remains still and unfocused. A stare locked on nothing in particular as her mind twists and pulls at the seams, digging through memories and reliving the hurt in her chest. “You don’t have t’go back. Just-just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Autumn agrees in the silence with a nod of her head. Watching as her protector swiftly shifts into work mode, preparing to disappear into the wilderness in search of another soul to save. He promises to check in, and that he’ll bring home dinner in hopes of lifting the already heavy load from her shoulders. And with a final look to bid her farewell, he slips past the still-opened door and far from her sight. The sound of his engine fades with every second as he puts distance between them.

Now alone, the silence is deafening. Left in her own thoughts - maybe of someone else. Voices crawl over one another as they pile higher and higher. A tower of echoed pain and loneliness. It spreads and digs at the surface of her skin, enticing chipped nails to scratch along the fabric of her sweater and pull at the muscles. It builds rapidly. Seeping into her lungs until it’s suffocating - claustrophobic. Until all she can see in the dim cabin are the wicked smiles of men and creatures.

Hopper had told her to wait for him. To stay put for her physical and emotional safety. But with every tick of the clock, she sees that room. The flicker of a projection against dark wooden walls filled with pristine white. Whispers of children were just at her back when no one was there.

“Run.”

The light is fading in Hawkins by the time Autumn finally settles in. A grey sky now dusted by pink as the sun eases in for a long slumber, beckoning all to join her. But there are others that refuse her kind offer. They evade sleep like a plague, knowing what comes should they welcome it with open arms. There’s only torment in the darkness. They favor a large cup of coffee to keep the demons at bay, like her. Like the teenage girl who’s fled a suddenly crowded cabin to instead sit beneath bright lights of a diner.

It’s louder than she anticipates. Nearly turning her back on it as she passes by the windows, full of kids her age now running amuck with Winter Break in full effect. But, no one spares a glance her way. Far too enamored with their conversations to care about the lone witch of Hawkins taking a seat at the booth. Maybe in a way, she was grateful. They kept all others busy enough so she never became a distraction - a point of interest to mock and spit at.

The spaces at her sides empty one by one. Older men growing tired of the rambunctious teenagers, muttering under their breath as they leave a tip and bitterly leave the scene. And for a moment, she can breathe. Head fallen into her palms as she bounces Dr. Owens's offer back and forth in her mind.

A chance at life, though full of risks.

“It won’t be easy,” the doctor says with a heavy sigh. “You’ll probably hate me at times. But, right now, I’m offering you clarity. A chance to understand who you really are.”

“Aut?” The man's voice fades out, quickly replaced by another that holds a familiar and new warmth. Though, startling in the moment.

Steve stands just at her back with a puzzled look on his face, lips threatening to pull into a smile. “Wh-what are you doing here?” The question comes with a small chuckle, clearly confused by such a public appearance. He even spares a quick look at their surroundings in search of Hopper to stand guard.

“Having coffee,” she offers up, raising the warmed mug to better his view. “What are you doing here? Since you want t’be nosy.” She can’t avoid the grin creeping forward, though hides it behind the ceramic for another sip.

Her sarcasm pulls at unseen strings. The corners of his lips fully turn upward with amusement as he closes the space between them. The boy welcomes himself onto the empty stool, hands folded out across the surface as he studies her with care. “I’m going t’guess that this wasn’t Hop’s idea.”

“How perceptive of you,” she teased, turning her attention back toward the waitress. She’s got a pen and notepad in hand to take the new guest's order but is politely dismissed with the raise of his hand. She almost seems disappointed. “I needed a break.”

His lips part with a whispered, “Ah,” in understanding. Fingers twiddling back and forth from nerves. This new closeness was still not entirely settled in for either of them. “Livin’ with the sheriff gettin’ t’you?”

Autumn can only spare a twitch of the lip and a huffed laugh, twisting the mug back and forth in her hands. She can feel the words creep up the back of her throat, tickling at her tongue until they slip through the cracks, forcing the barrier to collapse. “He found a doctor for me. A-a therapist, I guess.”

It takes a few moments for her words to register. His mouth hung agape as the gears slowly turned until it settled in. There’s a feeling of guilt that constricts his chest for even poking at the situation - encouraging her to confess what others may have kept private. “Oh. Well-well that’s a good thing, right?” His arms cross, leaning further into the counter just to have a better look at his friend, noting the way she avoids meeting his honey eyes. “I mean, everyone needs somebody t’talk to.”

Autumn chews at her lip, gaze locked on the coffee’s oily surface and the patterns created within the sheen. She can still see him in a hazy memory. No longer smiling but instead appearing unimpressed just across a table, grip tightening around a grey mug as he commands another order.

“You nervous?” Steve begins, pulling her focus back toward him with an obvious answer in her eyes - she was terrified. “Y’know, no one can make you do anything, Aut. Believe me, I’ve tried.” The atmosphere begins to ease, and the man's face is replaced by a flash of memories where Steve pleads for her to get back on his bicycle after the fall. Where he tries to get her into his pool for the first time. It’s hard to fight away the smile. “But, maybe it wouldn’t hurt t’give it a shot. Get some things off of your chest.”

Maybe it would hurt.

Maybe it would kill her.

Maybe worse, it would unlock the deadbolt to keep darkened memories secured, letting them spill out into the light. Something evil and rotten, never retreating into the shadows now that it’s tasted freedom.

“C’mon,” the boy says with a sudden burst of energy, swiveling in his seat so his body is fully turned her way. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah? And do what?” She questions with a raised brow, amusement hidden by the rim of her cup as she takes another drink.

His lips purse with brows knitted in thought, attention flickering elsewhere for a spark to guide him. In the end, he surrenders with a casual shrug. “I don’t know. Dumb teenager things? Unless,” a hand gestures toward the crowd at their backs. Voices wild and laughter loud in hopes of gaining attention. The animals had been set free from their cages, now unrestrained and free to disrupt all those around them. All in the name of fun. “Unless you want t’stay here with these idiots.”

It’s all she needs. The ceramic quickly drained of its coffee before resting just over the payment hastily laid out for her waitress. Together, the pair slip out from their seats with Steve working hard to distract her from the sudden glances of fellow students, still unable to make peace with their sudden reunion.

“I heard you and Nance had a little girl time.” He teases.

“And I heard you were playing kiss and make-up.” She wears a smile just at his back, dismissing the sudden spike of her heart rate and the momentary hazy vision. A sensation of dizziness she blames on the amount of caffeine she’s consumed.

The boy is stopped at the glass door, a dramatic roll in his eyes as he forces it open with his back, waiting for her to pass by him and out into the chilled night. It’s an action he doesn’t think twice about. Something natural, and effortless. “I forgot girls like t’gossip.”

It comes for her - for them. It washes in with ease, consuming the world in its evil. In death. Her attention is locked on the contents of her bag, checking that nothing had been left behind in the diner when she notices the ground is no longer painted in the glow of a setting sun. The light is gone - swallowed up by an eclipse as ash rains down from the sky. It dances through the air with every step, quickly coating the top of her boots and dirtying her jeans. Autumn truly sees the world, then. Buildings collapsed and pulled into the Earth by living vines.

The sky cracks with a bolt of lightning, illuminating the nothingness Hawkins had become. She reacts with a flinch, her body recoiling from the sudden shock. The rumble that soon follows is drowned out by a racing heart, echoing in her ears. She wonders if it’s all a dream - or nightmare, rather. Had she even left the cabin? Did exhaustion take over, catapulting her into a deep sleep? Had she ever walked into that diner? Maybe never getting the chance to place an order before she’s out cold, sleeping on folded arms at the booth.

Had she ever seen-

Steve.

Eyes wide and panic in her chest, she turns to find him still there - still with her. Yet he seems elsewhere. A dark gaze is locked on something in the distance, lips fallen to a flat line - completely stone-faced. Empty. For a moment, he seemed frozen in time. A reminder of what was on the other side, waiting for her. But she calls his name, and his eyes move in her direction. The corner of his lips rise into a crooked grin, and something begins to shift.

There’s no warmth to the boy standing before a now vacant building. A soul so easily seen in his eyes was now gone, replaced by something much colder. Something she can’t entirely trust. And when he takes a step toward the girl, her body reacts without thought by adding more distance. Soon, she’s off the curb and into the crumbling street, hand held out to keep him at bay. “Steve!”

The name feels foreign. Like a stray piece in a puzzle that didn’t fit no matter how hard you tried to force it. It was a distraction and further proven the moment he opens his mouth to speak. The tone is deep, with words well spoken. Not like a clumsy boy fumbling his way through life, laughing at the small misfortunes.

“It’s a tragedy, isn’t it? What they’ve done. To you. To me.”

Autumn can’t bring herself to speak. Lungs froze with the lifeless air, muscles trembling and aching from the shock. She merely watches as he continues his approach, knees locked in place, offering her up as bait.

“I know how you must feel. Lost and frightened. Just like you were all of those years ago. And now, you’re desperate.” He’s within inches of her now. His breath is unfelt as if he was only a vision. But his fingers reach out to gently push aside a fallen strand of hair, and her skin reacts to the ghostly touch. Her stomach twists with bile as she drinks in a smile that doesn’t belong to a boy she once knew.

It’s not real.

Not real.

“Willing to let them in - to let yourself truly see. But as that man pries your mind open, you need to remember who was really there for you. Who fought for you. How I could have saved you, and what we could have done.”

[thief-and-dragonfly]

Alright I’m bored send me some asks about Mileven,Stranger Things,Gendrya or any headcanons or fanfcs about those three .

[shesinchargeareyoukidding]

Eddie Munson sickfic: When you hurt. Chapter 1

“What the hell happened?” Hopper asked as he entered the cell. Callahan was stood by the only piece of furniture in the temporary holding cell. A bench where people could have a very uncomfortable sleep on if they needed. Sitting on the bench was a soaking wet and miserably looking Eddie Munson. He was shivering and as Hopper stepped in the smell hit him. Alcohol. Was that red wine?

“Little shit destroyed a case full of wine bottles at Davis’ store. Drunk as a skunk by the way, probably high too.”

“I’m n-not.” Eddie wheezed from his position on the bench

“Yeah? So you just did it for the hell of it. destruction of property is just a joke to you, huh?”

“No! I f-fell, it was an accident.” Eddie breathlessly tried to explain. He was swaying dangerously from side to side and his eyes seemed to have trouble focussing. Hopper felt a pang of worry and stepped closer to the bench to lend a hand if Eddie needed one.

“Yeah, right. Only a drunk would be that clumsy, Munson.” Callahan scoffed. Eddie turned desperate eyes to Hopper, breathing shallow and wheezy.

“Chief, I’m not drunk, I’m not-“ Before he could stop himself, he started to gag and bend forward with a pained groan. He gagged again and threw up bile all over Hopper’s shoes. Eddie let out a pained cough as he squeezed his eyes shut in horrified embarrassment. A few tears slipped out.

He started to list to the side and Hopper’s hands quickly shot out to help Eddie lie down on the bench. Eddies hands instinctively found Hopper's arms to steady himself and they were cold as ice. Hopper’s concern heightened even more. Hopper could see Eddies entire body shaking. No wonder he was cold, he was completely soaked from the wine. Upon closer inspection Hopper could also see chunks of broken glass embedded in the kids blood coated forearms.

Callahan could be heard scoffing behind him. “See? Second time he’s done that. Didn’t I tell you? Kid’s completely shitfaced.”

I´m not f-FUCKING DRUNK!” Eddies hands squeezed into shaking fists as he fought to sit back up and look Callahan in the eye. He didn’t make it far, Hopper held him down. And as his hands touched Eddies chest, he felt his rattling breath and the abnormal heat radiating off him. Unnatural heat, but ice cold fingers? Oh no.

“Watch your goddamn mouth, or I’ll add ‘contempt of cop’ to your list of offences.” Callahan took a threatening step towards Eddie, who despite himself tried to flinch away. Hopper felt a red hot anger built in his gut.

“Callahan,” Hopper growled. “Get the fuck out. Now.”

“What? Chief, you gotta be kidding me.” Callahan huffed.

“Get. Out.” Hopper stood up and took a menacing step towards the officer, who immediately took a step backwards.

“Fine.” He eventually said. He turned on his heel and left.

Hopper turned back to Eddie, who was watching him carefully with half lidded eyes. The chief kneeled in front of the bench. Slowly, he reached a hand out, making sure he wasn’t moving too suddenly. Eddie followed Hopper's hand all the way to his forehead, where the chief’s fingers gently rested to check his temperature. The hand then trailed down to Eddies cheek where it came to a stop once more. Hopper’s frown eased a little when his eyes met Eddies once again. A worried half-smile graced his face as he sighed through his nose.

 “What’s happening, kid?” He asked softly.

“I d-don’t know…” Eddie stuttered, his eyes taking on an edge of panic. “m not drunk, ‘m not.” He pleaded with Hopper, who immediately put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Sssh. I know that, Eddie. I believe you.” Hopper tried to reassure him. He knew how desperate Eddie was for people to believe him. “I think you’re very sick, kid.” He told him softly, but the kid immediately started shaking his head.

“No. Can’t be sick.”

“Kid, you’re burning up, your breathing sounds awful, you literally just threw up. You’re sick.” Hopper stated calmly. Eddie’s sweaty brow frowned.

“B-but… I was getting better… stopped coughing y-yesterday…” Eddie explained in between strained breaths that didn’t reassure Hopper at all.

“Is your uncle home?” Hopper asked. Eddie shook his head.

“Visiting his p-parents in Missouri. Be home tomorrow morning.”

“Alright. Then I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No! No, don’t.” Eddie pleaded as he once again tried to sit up. Hopper´s firm hand on his chest easily kept him flat on his back.

“Kid, calm down, sssh. It’s gonna be okay, we’ll figure it out.” Hopper said as he tried to get Eddie to settle down.

“N-no we can’t.” Eddie weakly pried at Hopper´s anchoring hand as his panicked breathing hitched, but Hopper just took his hand and gently held it in his. Running a soothing thumb across the back of it.

 “It’s okay kid, sssh. Deep breaths, come on.” Hopper softly instructed. Eddies ragged breathing had turned into weak but deep coughs and his coughing was turning into gagging. Nothing came up. Hopper mused there was probably in the kid’s stomach to bring up. He carefully maneuvered Eddie to lie on his side and rubbed his back in a feeble attempt to ease his breathing. The new position brought on a new bout of coughing. It shook his entire frame and he let out weak whimpers of pain.

He did not like the look of this at all. How long had Eddie been like this? How had he not realized he was sick? Could he even get enough oxygen? Hopper had the terrifying realization that Eddie didn’t even seem to have the strength to keep coughing. He was getting weaker by the second. The hysterical coughing mixed in with gagging and pain filled sobs slowly started to die down. Eddies eyes rolled to the back of his head and closed. He went completely limp. Shit, shit, shit. Hopper shook the kid urgently.

“Eddie? Eddie! Wake up, kid.” He urged. Eddies terrified eyes snapped wide open. He frantically took in a ragged breath and flinched hard. “ow, ow…” He whined desperately as he continued to force air into his lungs, hugging his ribcage.

“Right, that’s it.” Hopper quipped as he stood up. without further hesitation he stooped down and gathered the sick boy into his arms. “Keep breathing, kid. That’s all you have to do right now. I’ll take care of the rest.”

honestly i’m not really a huge shipper maybe it can be good Wayne And Eddie bonding? I really love the idea of Wayne being worried about his nephew and constantly being by his side until he gets better. when eddie has a panic attack in the hopsital he wants wayne and he’s there to calm him down, hold the bucket for him when he’s sick, hold his hand when he can’t sleep fight the nurses when they mistreat him!!

Gotcha! I'll try my best anon! I'm almost done with Stir Crazy and I'm plotting this oneshot as we speak. I hope I can do it justice!