#this wip hurts :)

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3

-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[retquits]

humbly requesting a Monroe and Hayden smooch even if just the tiniest doodle

soon 💗

[choccy-milky]

saw a couple of ppl doing these posts, so i present to you my very first attempts at drawing seb vs now.......and just looking at the old ones causes me actual physical pain😭😭 bc why does he look like hes wearing a TOUPÉE???😭 we dont talk about it....just dont go too far back in my blog im begging you

[linipik]

I'm drawing a sad thing and it felt familiar

...Just fucking wonderful. Sisyphean even.

[microtyalm13]

oh to have a weird monster under your bed and develop just as weird of a connection with it

you've come to learn that he can be very easily excited. all it takes is a couple of right words and he's already all over you, pressing you against your bed, sniffing you and nuzzling his face into your bare skin. he absolutely loves your scent, how your soft, delicate human skin feels against his. whispers "mine" while sticking his nose into places you'd be too embarrassed to let a human go.

and when he's excited, he drools. it's sticky and warm, black liquid that seems to dry off pretty quickly, leaving a weird scent of smoke. his tongue licks its way down your neck and to your stomach, leaving you breathless even before he reaches the place between your legs. all of this drool is going to be coating your tight insides once he's done eating you out. he doesn't know what he's doing most of the time, blindly following his desires and instincts, but he sure is eager to please you, you gotta give him that.

he's not the most talkative, and sometimes his cryptic answers leave even more questions. that makes him a very good listener, even when you think he's not listening. you don't bother to keep your moans from slipping out when you play with yourself, not aware of just how much attention he's paying to you right now, completely blind to how desperate you're making him down there. oh how he wants nothing more than come out from beneath your bed and get on top of you, to rut his hips feverishly against your lower stomach; to feel something other than his pathetically trembling hands.

[sentientsky]

“She never begs. She never gives any ground. She knows that she's right.”

(this is still a wip, but i’m not sure if i’ll actually get around to properly finishing it—i’m posting this here just in case)

[polisena-art]

Right now, Twitter is inaccessible to Brazilians. We'll see how long this whole situation lasts but know that I'll still be posting my art to Tumblr normally! I also have an Instagram and Bluesky I'll try updating!

[starmocha]

I HAVE A SCENE LIKE THIS IN MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS-TO-LOVERS SLICE OF LIFE AU but they were even younger (around 8-10). I wasn't gonna share anything yet (or, even at all tbqh), but since this scene was dropped, why not, I guess 😭😭😭

Caleb was your comfort person. You always felt safe with him, always feeling like the world could do no harm so long as he was by your side. In the beginning, he was embarrassed when he had found you hiding under the cover in his bed. He instantly chided you that you needed to sleep in your own bed, but one look at your trembling lips broke whatever resolve he had. “Silly girl, you can’t always sleep with me like this,” he scolded you, though he still hugged you when you snuggled closer to him.

“Why not?” you peered up, pouting. You grinned when his ears turned red. “Well…what if…we don’t live together anymore?” You startled, never once imagining such a scenario to be a possibility, though it honestly shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did. Your lips quivered a little, saddened as you considered the possibility. Wordlessly, you pulled away from Caleb, surprising him. As you climbed out of bed, he called out, frantic: “He-hey, where are you going?” “My bed,” you answered sullenly, already dragging your feet to the door. Looking back, you saw Caleb’s own hurt look on his face. He cleared his throat, and said softly, “Don’t leave.” “But you said…” “Forget what I had said!” he shouted and then covered his mouth, his eyes wide, seemingly also shocked by his own outburst. You both stayed silent for a few minutes, wondering if your grandmother would come into Caleb’s room to check on him. When nothing happened, you both figured she didn’t hear Caleb’s shouting, so he spoke again in a softer voice, “I want you to stay with me…” Your face slowly broke into a small smile. “Re-really?” “Yeah,” he said softly, smiling, “When you’re with me, you don’t have bad dreams like you usually do.” You climbed back into bed, settling in next to him. You peered up as he brushed your hair out of your face. “Pipsqueak,” he said your nickname affectionately, “I will always protect you, okay?” You nodded, smiling as you both let sleep take over.

[shushmal]

"Are you going to break my heart?"

Eddie almost drives them off the road.

It's late, nearly 2 am, and the country road is narrow and winding, and this thing between them, fingers twinned above the gear shift, radio turned down low, Stevie Nicks singing to them softly, is new. Eddie wants to live in this moment forever, wants the smell of lake water and dying August heat to live in their clothes, wants the warmth of first kisses and whispered confessions to last in tingling sparks in their skin, the memory of touch to be permanent. It won't be, it'll all fade, but Eddie can visit it again, rewrite them into the cotton and the softness of Steve's mouth.

It's late, and this is new.

"It's okay if you do," Steve says, so quiet. He's holding on to Eddie's hand like he's dangling off a cliff. "I can handle it. I'd just like a heads up, so I can prepare."

Eddie almost feels guilty, basking in his joy when Steve was sinking into something else. He thinks, if he were a kid still, if he hadn't died, hadn't lost everything and managed to get it all back, he'd be angry. But he's not. He's not, and he did, and it's late and this is new—but it's not unfamiliar. The same, but more, an extra free scoop with whipped cream and sprinkles, a cherry on top.

"You trust me?" Eddie asks. He rubs his thumb along Steve's knuckles, feels the scars under his skin, little tears in someone so perfect.

"Of course," Steve croaks. Eddie can't look at him, because the road is dark and narrow and winding, and he has to get his boy home safe.

"And I trust you," Eddie says, brings Steve's hand up, presses a kiss like a seal to his skin. "And I love you, and you love me. I got you."

Steve's quiet for a long, long moment. Eddie can tell he's watching him, so he presses another kiss to Steve's hand, lets his lips linger on hard tendons and dark veins. Kisses in his promises to the place they're linked together.

When he speaks again, it's soft, and Eddie can hear the love, living and leaving in the air between Steve's teeth.

"Okay," he says, giving Eddie everything. "You got me."

[marshmellobunny64]

🫡😭

[bubblebaath]

i suddenly remembered i never did the other half of this gifset and forgot to post the first one to here

[wardingshout]

fast travel duck my beloved....

[the-mang0tree]

he moves

[holly-bearie]

sparring with your master who you are totally normal and absolutely not insane about

i believe with my whole heart that obiwan blushes up to his hairline and down his chest bc its Cute

[orgonongurlz]

…and maybe even build friendships that last a lifetime

[comatosebunny09]

A fic where Sylus is sitting in his study, inwardly reflecting on his relationship with MC. You’re also there, sitting on the couch, lost in a book with your earphones in—he insisted you come back to base with him. Needed you nearby so he could keep an eye on you, lest you hide your injuries from him again.

Sylus is thinking, sure, he and MC are fated to cross paths in each lifetime. They’re kindred spirits, toting around one-half of each other’s souls. But he’s found something he wants to nurture in this lifetime, maybe just as much as fate itself. And as he comes to that realization, he peers at you from his desk, a glimpse of a smile twitching his lips.

Wordlessly, he moves to the couch to sit beside you. You shift over to give him room, still lost in your book. Once he’s settled in, he watches you with his elbow propped on the headrest and his temple leant against his knuckles like you’re the most enthralling thing. Sensing his unwavering stare, you pop out an earbud, confronting him with a mischievous smile.

“Did you need something?”

His eyes crinkle with mirth, and he taps your nose, to which you wince and swat him away. “Not at all.”

“Then why are you staring at me like that?” Your bottom lip juts out with a pout. He feels his heart swell in his chest.

“Am I not allowed to admire pretty things?”

You scoff. “What am I, one of your many conquests?” Your eyes fall to your lap, where you fiddle with your earphone.

Slender fingers ease beneath your chin, gently coaxing you to look at him again. His voice is low and doting, his gaze smoldering. “Not at all.” But you are my most precious treasure, he inwardly adds, fearing that speaking it aloud will scare you off.

You study the shine in his eyes. Gaze drifts down to his lips, and your mouth falls slightly open. It wouldn’t take much to tilt your chin a little to kiss him. When he looks like he’s about to complete your thought, Sylus releases your chin, and the teasing grin he dons when he draws back makes your body burn with embarrassment.

“Asshole,” you murmur, popping your earbud back in and begrudgingly taking up your book.

Meanwhile, he continues studying you. Do you know that you’re the cutest thing when you’re upset? Do you have any idea what you do to him? How you have his heart in a bind?

He was upset earlier when the thought of losing you was on the table. He’d had a taste of the metallic tang of fear when he saw all the bloodied bandages littering your flat and the festering wound on your side. It crushed him when you reluctantly told him why you hid your injury from him.

Fate has a way of muddling up his feelings and his life. But he’s been known to defy it at every turn, and he’s willing to do it again if it means keeping you around.