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cunninghamchrissie · 17 hours

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it’s a well established fact that everything about chrissy drives eddie crazy, but he specifically has an insane reaction to her pulling him by his guitar pick necklace. his spine turns to jelly and his cock is half hard before chrissy even looks up at him.

she’s not dominant at all, in bed or otherwise, and is still quite shy about initiating sex, so that’s her little way of letting him know she’s in the mood, and eddie is nothing if not a willing participant.

#hellcheer #eddissy #edissy #munningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #text #idk just clearing my notes app thoughts

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a-strange-inkling · 1 day

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🖤 hellcheer

🖤 kissing while crying

(Some post tour angst)

They’re all tucked in the wide hotel bed, the television softly playing Beauty and the Beast in the background as Eddie holds his little family close to him, stroking Maggie’s curls as she sleeps on his chest. Her golden hair has gotten longer, dropping in ringlets down her face. She’s grown so much over the summer that it breaks his heart. All the things he’s missed. He’s felt so lost and lonely for these past fifty-three nights, sleeping alone, homesick without them. He kisses her forehead before glancing down at Livvy in the crook of his elbow who’s got a mini death grip on his shirt, even as she sleeps, her face nestled into his ribs. Three-years-old today. His eyes mist over as he presses his lips gently to the birthday girl's round little cheek, flushed with exhaustion, remembering how she ran to him on stage with happy tears streaming down her little face.

“They’re conked out,” he whispers lovingly, smiling as he turns to Chrissy snuggled under his right arm, her hand gently rubbing Maggie’s back across her yellow fuzzy pajamas. His smile fades when he finds her staring up at him from where she’s resting her head against his shoulder, sparkling tears welling up in her big, woeful eyes as she watches him.

“Baby,” he breathes quietly, pulling her all the tighter to him. The sight is enough to tear his warm heart out of his chest. She looks so weary, so vulnerable. She’s been so strong through all of this, taking care of everything on her own. For him.

“I just… missed you so much,” she confesses softly, stars and oceans behind her eyes. “So much.”

He feels his own tears spilling as he leans down and closes his mouth over hers tenderly, the last few months of separation still a dull throbbing ache, taking its toll on them. She holds onto his neck, her body trembling as he kisses her through their shared tears.

“We’re never doing this again,” he promises throatily when they eventually part.

“But, I can do it,” she sniffles. “I can.”

“I know you can,” he tells her solemnly as they settle in cozily with their daughters, gazing over them before returning his eyes to her. “But I can’t.”

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts #ask answered #ask game

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foundtherightwords · 1 day

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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.

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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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 days

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Eddie: Nance, who's the better kisser? Steve or Jonathan?

Steve: *smirks* Yeah, Nance, who's the better kisser?

Nancy: Hmm, this requires some research.

She leans forward and kisses Steve. She pulls back and kisses Jonathan.

Jonathan: Well?

Nancy: . . . I still need some more data.

She climbs into Steve’s lap and kisses him, kissing him longer before doing the same with Jonathan.

Robin: Okay, you're literally just making out with them.

Nancy: No, it's very important scientific research.

Chrissy: *grinning* I'm definitely learning a lot.

Eddie: *cackling* Maybe it's Steve and Byers who need to find out.

Argyle: *nodding* They are the subjects.

Robin: She's just feeling them up in front of us.

Vickie: Let her work, babe.

Steve and Jonathan shrugged before kissing each other.

Steve: Definitely Jonathan.

Jonathan: It's definitely Steve.

Eddie: All three of you assholes are together, aren't you?

Nancy: *giggles* Yeah.

Robin: Steven Robin Harrington, I've been trying to set you up for weeks!

Steve: *grins* I know.

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lovemewednesdays · 1 day

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monster trucks and a monster crush.

(Based off of this post from the lovely @ebongawk. If I had the spoons, I'd probably flesh this out a bit more, but for right now, it's just a bullet fic.)

The movie comes out in July.

Eddie and Chrissy aren’t dating yet, but they might as well be, seeing how they spend most of their time together.

Chrissy has been trying to figure out Eddie on a real date all summer with no luck, and then she sees an ad for Maximum Overdrive in the paper.

It was perfect – Chrissy doesn’t like horror that much, but she can stomach it for an hour and a half, especially if she got to look at Emilio Estevez in the process, and Eddie loves Stephen King, she’s seen the beaten-up paperbacks on his floor.

They’re on the couch in the trailer. Something’s playing on the TV. Chrissy’s not paying attention.

“Do you wanna go to the movies tomorrow?” she blurts out. "There's a new Emilio Estevez movie.” Eddie makes a face and Chrissy shoves him lightly. “It’s directed by Stephen King.”

“Oh, yeah. Heard something about that. It’s based on one of his short stories. Yeah, that’s cool, let’s do it.”

Chrissy smiles and snuggles back into his side. She feels like she’s floating.

It isn’t until Edde’s driving her back home that it hits her like a brick wall – what if Eddie doesn’t know it’s a date? They go to the movies all the time. He probably thinks it’s no big deal! It’s not! It’s the biggest deal!

She works herself up, her nerves getting the best of her, and when they pull up to her house, she jumps out and twirls around.

“BythewayImeanttomorrowtobeadate." His eyes widen as comprehension dawns and Chrissy has to leave. “Okay, bye!”

She sprints inside her house, leaving a shell-shocked Eddie behind.

(Chrissy doesn’t sleep well that night.)

(Neither does Eddie.)

The next day, Chrissy is ready to renege on the whole thing. They can just be friends. It was a stupid idea anyway, why would Eddie Munson ever date her?

The van pulls up, and as she makes her way over, Eddie pops out of the driver’s side and rushes over to open the passenger side door.

Chrissy stops. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt under his leather jacket and his jeans don’t have any holes in them. It looks like he even tried to comb his hair.

He’s holding flowers.

Eddie's smile is nervous. “Wayne says it’s always a good idea to bring your girl flowers on a date.”

Chrissy smiles and takes the flowers.

The ride to the theater was normal. They talk about Corroded Coffin’s next gig, about the kids at Chrissy's summer job, and if Wayne would actually go on that fishing trip he’s been talking about for months.

Once he parks, Eddie jumps out of the car and opens the passenger door. “Milady.” Chrissy takes his hand, gets out of the car, and they head toward the theater.

They’re almost to the door when Chrissy stops. Eddie stops, too.

They’re still holding hands.

“If, um…I know that – I know I didn’t let you respond yesterday, so I totally get it if you, um, don’t want it to be a date.”

She tries to pull her hand away, but Eddie tightens his grip.

“I was gathering the courage to do it myself, you know,” he says with a wry smile. “You beat me to the punch.” He kisses the back of her hand. “C’mon. You gotta go drool over Estevez.” Chrissy laughs and lets him lead her towards the theater.

The movie is terrible. Schlocky. Corny. Chrissy’s almost embarrassed for suggesting it, but Eddie’s arm is around her and he’s laughing.

(He loses it after the baseball coach dies by demonic soda cans. The kid getting run over by a steamroller right after didn’t help. Chrissy elbows him and Eddie flashes her a grin. “Kid’s fine, Cunningham. The grass’s soft.”)

The credits roll and Eddie and Chrissy walk out into the lobby; Chrissy hides her face. “I’m sorry!”

Eddie’s face twists in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“The movie was so bad! I don’t want our first date to be at a bad movie.”

Eddie takes her hands in his. “I had the time of my life watching that movie with you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah! Watching a batshit-crazy movie about possessed eighteen-wheelers with my girl? Best day ever.”

Chrissy laughs and lifts up on her toes to kiss him. When she pulls back, Eddie grins widely and pulls her back in.

They get chased out of the theater by a miserable college kid in a neon orange vest grumbling about teenage hormones.

(When they make it out to the parking lot, Eddie stops her before she gets in. He lets go of her hand and splays himself against the hood of the van. “Now, Sheila. I know I just said that Chrissy was my girl, but I love you, too, and if you ever get possessed by an alien comet, please, please don’t kill us.”

Chrissy laughs and gets in the passenger seat as Eddie yells dramatically to be careful.

Eddie makes the movie his entire personality for weeks – whenever he sees an eighteen-wheeler, he screams and pulls Chrissy behind him. Sheila breaks down at the entrance to Loch Nora one night and he does his best Wanda June impression: “You can’t do this! WE MADE YOU!”

He takes the younger boys to see it and they join in on the theatrics. Steve and Nancy are ready to pull their hair out, but Chrissy loves it.

When the movie comes out on VHS, Eddie buys it immediately. They watch it every year on their anniversary.)

All in all, not a bad first date.

#hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #obsessed with them #stranger things #nic writes

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staceymcgillicuddy · 2 days

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to get my soul known again

epilogue

I don't know what to say, so I'll just say thank you to everyone who took a chance on this fic and followed it all the way through. It has been one hell of a long-haul truck ride.

Read from the beginning Read the epilogue

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #edissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #to get my soul known again #fanfic #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer fanfiction #finished fic

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withacapitalp · 3 days

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Fairytale

For the AMAZING @penny00dreadful and the awesome prompt given to the stwg today. Take some hellcheer bc who doesn't love that?

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“What the dragon didn’t realize was that this princess was the kindest, smartest, bestest lady in the entire kingdom. She had the nicest smile in the whole world and her butt was -”

“Dad! Don’t be gross!” Ellie exclaimed through giggles, as Teddy stuck his tongue out and began to make gagging noises. Eddie pulled himself out of his story-telling mode, raising an eyebrow and pulling an overexaggerated pout.

“This is an important part.” Eddie protested, barely managing to keep from breaking as the twins continued to complain, “If the dragon didn’t notice that beautiful round peach then-”

“What exactly are you telling our children?” A voice from the doorway called out, interrupting the moment.

Both twins squealed in glee, ecstatic that their mother had returned home from work in time to say goodnight. On the nights she worked late, it was a coin toss if she would be back before nine, and that was a problem when you had two children who liked routine as much as Eddie and Chrissy’s did. The compromise was this- The twins could sleep in their parents bed for those long work nights, as long as they didn’t make a fuss if she wasn’t able to give them a kiss goodnight, and ate all of their vegetables.

But here she was, just in time to catch the tail end of their nightly story.

Chrissy picked Teddy up as he reached her first, swinging him up onto her right and wrapping her left arm around Ellie in a half hug as she trooped over to where her husband was kneeling by the bed.

“I’m telling them our story?” Eddie offered, as she released their hellions to jump back into bed.

He turned his head upward so Chrissy could bend down to give him a soft lingering kiss, a thrilling spark rushing down his spine as she did. The same spark he had felt the first time they kissed, and every single second afterward.

“That’s our story?” Chrissy whispered against his lips, the cinnamon smell of the gum she loved most lingering between them.

“With a few embellishments,” He added as they broke apart, shooting his beautiful wife a tricky little grin and wiggling his eyebrows in a slightly lecherous way.

“Mama, you’re interrupting the good part,” Ellie said, grabbing her parent’s attention.

“Well it was good until Dad started talking about mom’s butt,” Teddy grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I’m very sorry to have interrupted,” Chrissy said, toeing off her shoes and hopping into bed with her children, letting them snuggle up to her as all three turned back to Eddie, “Please, carry on with the tale, but with a few less mentions of my tushie if you don’t mind good sir,”

“As my lady wishes,” Eddie replied with a small half bow, going back to their fairytale with twice as much drama as before, now that his princess had finally returned to her dragon’s keep.

#stranger things #st #eddie munson #st drabble #Chrissy cunningham #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #stwgdailyprompt

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hellcheer-heaven · 3 days

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Not sure why it took me this long to make the connection.

An American Tail Hellcheer (Tony and Bridget)

Anastasia Hellcheer

Aristocats Hellcheer

Bambi Hellcheer (Thumper and Miss Bunny)

Fox and the Hound Hellcheer

Lilo and Stitch Hellcheer

Lion King 2 Hellcheer

Sleeping Beauty Hellcheer

#hellcheer #munningham #eddissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer au!#hellcheer au #disney #lady and the tramp

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angstyastro · 2 days

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Naughty Hellcheer reupload bc tumbl dumb

Full uncensored on patreon :)

#hellcheer #eddissy #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #my art #Astro art

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a-strange-inkling · 15 hours

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💜 hellcheer

💜 impulse kiss

“Chrissy!” He shook her shoulders again pleadingly, his voice hoarse, scratched down to almost nothing from his endless begging and crying. “C’mon wake up! Please wake up!”

He watched as her pupils moved beyond the pale pink glaze glossing over them. The aged, broken light bulbs began to flicker to life around them.

Could she hear him?

“I know you’re still in there, Cunningham,” he started with more vigor despite his fear of hurting her. “Come back, please! Please, come back to me!”

A single, pitiful tear cascaded slowly down her ghostly white cheek and he felt his own eyes stinging helplessly as he took her face between his palms. “It’s not real, sweetheart, wherever you are it’s not real. Okay? I need you to wake up. C’mon!”

It happened so suddenly, just as he was beginning to give in to his despair. Chrissy’s eyes snapped open, jolting awake with a breathless gasp as if she’d just resurfaced from beneath the dark waters of the lake, startling him so greatly, he almost fell backwards from the shock.

Everything went quiet as he panted heavily in amazement and disbelief, staring down into her eyes, now blue and clear and deep. She took him in, slowly coming out whatever illusion she had been trapped in. Her mouth hung open in silent question, trying to form his name, her body shaking from head to toe.

With her unveiled face still cradled between his hands, Eddie moved foward without another thought, crushing his lips to hers in a hard, desperate kiss.

#mwah #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #vecna’s bride #maybe #ask game

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aicosu · 6 months

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