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urhoneycombwitch · 6 days

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sick days

foreword: first proper fic for dad!Steve series!! thanks for requesting, anon. happy mother’s day to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t (cheers)- I hope this fic is a comfort. hair texture and skin color of the kids in this series will not be described- any physical descriptors will be of their likeness to Steve. if you want to read the origin story/meet-cute of this version of Steve + reader, you can read that here!

{for every ear a flower: series masterlist}

cw: mom!reader, R wears Steve’s shirt, the whole fam is sick in this one (no emetophobia warning tho!), fluff and parental caretaking

wc: 1.6k

___

There’s a soft noise around the corner, and Steve dog-ears his novel to scoot forward on the couch, voice soft and inviting. “Hey, buttercup. That you?”

His eldest daughter, JJ, peeks out from the entryway of the living room. “Me.”

“It’s you,” Steve confirms with a hum, setting his book on the coffee table to open his arms. “C’mere, babe. Your stomach hurting again?”

JJ gravitates towards her dad’s lap like a magnet, dragging her yellow flower-print baby blanket behind her. She’s already three and a half, but Steve hopes she never grows out of it- or the tiny socks with ruffles, warm in his big hand as he holds both her feet in a comforting squeeze.

“Head hurts,” JJ says, in a heartbreaking whine, settling her weight against the contours of Steve’s chest.

He sighs in sympathy, rocking his first baby in his arms like he did when she was even smaller. “Your head hurts? That’s no good.”

JJ makes a noise of agreement and burrows into Steve’s neck, cheek warm where skin meets skin. Steve slides a hand up her back, over her pink cotton nightie, to feel for lingering fever- her forehead is warm but not overly so.

In silent thanks to the wonders of Baby Tylenol, Steve kisses the crown of JJ’s head and pats the side of her leg. “Tell you what- it’s past bedtime but you’re not feeling so good. Wanna watch a movie out here with me ‘til you fall asleep?”

Normally this news would be cause for a screech of delight and some couch jumping, but on the tail end of a long week of sickness, Steve’s little girl just plucks absently at his shirt collar. “Mommy too?”

“Mommy’s putting your sister down for bed,” Steve says, and then (because he always tries to be mindful of where blame could land, knowing full well that disappointment can breed sibling rivalries, and he doesn’t think he could stand seeing that sisterly bond turn contentious)- “But I’ll go see if she needs some help, and then maybe we can all be cozy on the couch. Sounds good?”

JJ hums in response, sounding faded and fatigued, and Steve moves carefully to keep the jostling to a minimum as he stands to re-situate his kiddo on the couch. After tucking the blanket in yellow swaths around her body, Steve turns to the nearby VHS stack above the TV.

“You want Ariel?” he asks, already reaching to free The Little Mermaid from its plastic confines.

“Yeah. But no Urz-la,” comes the reply from the couch.

Steve kneels to load the tape into the deck, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they’d slipped. “I promise I’ll be back in time to fast forward.”

The VCR whirs, opening credits coming to life on the screen with a colorful overture to match. After lowering the volume, Steve backtracks to the couch again, dipping to place a kiss against the dimples in JJ’s hand where it curls around a fistful of fabric.

“Be back in a few, buttercup.”

The cheery music fades as Steve moves down the hall; the first door on the right is partially open, and he leans a shoulder against the frame, quietly observing, not wanting to interrupt your rhythm.

In a pair of comfy sweatpants and Steve’s old Hawkins High tee, your form moves smoothly around the darkened room, tracking a short loop from the crib to the changing table on the opposing wall. You’re walking with a gentle bounce, swaying the baby in your arms with each step, a constant murmur of nonsensical soothing as you rock your youngest to sleep.

“That’s it. You’re a sweet girl. Just close your eyes, ‘kay? Shh shh shh. Sleepy time.”

Steve can hear the exhaustion in your voice, even low as it is, and feels a twist of guilt- the college where the two of you work only allows librarian staff one day of sick leave per month, which Steve considers a crime (JJ gets sick at least that often from whatever germs her preschool provides).

Thankfully, his professor leave is slightly better, a generous three days a month, which he’s unintentionally blown in a week with this last bout of mystery sickness that’s been passed through his little family.

You, on the other hand, were only afforded a three-day weekend, and not a very restful one at that: on top of trying to recover from sickness yourself, a fevered baby Birdie has been overly fussy while JJ has been desperately clingy to both you and Steve.

It’s been a long weekend of rotating in and out of three bedrooms, disrupted sleep schedules, and speedy trips to the local pharmacy; a blur of constant motion as Steve and you have tried your best to stay afloat and tend to your sick kids.

Steve’s grateful the worst of it is over, now that everyone’s fevers have broken, and he’s glad you’ve still got a whole Sunday to recover. But by the looks of it- hovering uncertain over the bars of Birdie’s crib, unwilling to lay her sleeping form down- you’re not giving in to recoup time yet.

Steve moves in behind you, quiet still but shuffling his bare feet against the carpet a bit to let you know he’s there. “Hey,” he whispers into the curve of your neck, hands coming to rest at your hips, joining the rocking motion you’re keeping up for the sake of the baby. “How’s my girl?”

“Better, I think.” The arm that isn’t holding the weight of your six-month-old comes to rest against the fat of her cheek, Birdie’s closed eyelids fluttering while you feel for fever, just as Steve had earlier. “Hopefully she’ll sleep through the night, with this medicine.”

“Mhm. She’s a lot better, babe- I meant you.” Steve molds himself to the contours of your back, swaying to the tempo you keep, nosing up the line of your neck to place a kiss behind your ear. “Can’t pour from an empty chalice. Or whatever that saying is.”

There’s a soft stutter at your ribs as you exhale a laugh, hand still on the face of your sleeping baby. “Think Eddie’s wearing off on you.”

“God forbid.” His arms wrap around your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, smiling when he feels you lean some of your weight against him. “You can put her down, honey. She’s gonna be okay. Come watch Ariel with me ‘n buttercup. I’ll even skip past the scary parts for ya.”

“Well, in that case,” you whisper back, a tinge of amusement in your sleep-scratchy voice that hits Steve in his soft spot of love for you. With reluctance and practiced ease, you slip forward from his arms to lay Birdie in her crib, pausing to make sure she’ll settle without your warmth and movements.

She stays asleep, and you stay watching her, corner night light illuminating the steady rise and fall of her footy-pajama’d body with each breath until Steve takes your hand, gently coaxing- “She’s golden, honey. You did great. I’ve got the monitor by the couch, so we’ll hear if she’s up, okay?”

Your gaze stays on Birdie even as Steve leads you backwards towards the door, even leaning to catch one last glimpse before he pulls the door to a near-close. In the light of the hallway, you blink, looking more worn out than Steve’s ever seen you.

He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing across the knuckles, tortoiseshell-framed eyes on your half-lidded ones. “Ariel?”

This seems to resonate in the fog of your mind; with a nod, you squeeze his hand. “Ariel.”

On the living room TV, Ariel and Flounder are exploring a shipwreck, and JJ’s watching from her snuggled spot with glazed eyes until she sees you in the doorway. “Mommy,” she says, with feeling, trying to prop herself up but getting tangled in the process.

“Hi, baby,” you greet with equal verve, kneeling to give your eldest baby some untangling and a kiss. “Can I watch Ariel with you?”

In response, JJ musters all her three-and-a-half-year-old strength to pull you on to the couch cushion, and Steve chuckles in tandem with you as you go easily, shushing gently- “Okay, JJ. Don’t strain yourself, angel, just rest.”

There’s nothing like your touch. Steve knows it, and so do both his kids- under the circular pattern you trace against JJ’s face pressed into your leg, her lashes flutter, lulled to calm again by the caress of your fingertips.

After Steve makes sure that the baby monitor on the windowsill is crackling with life, he eases into the spot beside you, draping his arm around your shoulders- you nestle into his side out of habit. JJ’s nearly asleep, but your hand doesn’t waver, generous and tender even though sleep pulls at the edges of all your movements.

A shark snaps at tailfins across the screen, volume low enough to not shake JJ from the sleep she’s fallen into. Steve kisses that same spot behind your ear, then whispers, “Perfectly good shoulder right here. Wish you’d use it.”

He’s rewarded with a dreamy smile as you give in, head dropping to rest in the hollow of his waiting shoulder. Your hand stops its tracing, instead landing to rest securely over your daughter’s arm.

Soon, Steve is eased to sleep by the quiet breaths filling the living room, head tilted back against the couch, glasses tilted to one side. He’ll have a killer neck crick in the morning, but it’ll be worth it.

And luckily for him, you’ve got the most healing hands in the world.

#for every ear a flower #dad!steve #dad!steve harrington #oc!kid #oc!kids #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington #st fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you

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reineydraws · 1 year

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i have a soft spot for fics where billy sort of ends up adopting el and will alongside max. like, these are the kids that get dibs for rides in the camaro haha.

also im unfortunately not participating bc prev commitments but #harringrove for turkey is happening right now if yall want to donate to the earthquake relief funds for turkey & syria and get some art/fic back from harringrove fans! :) check out the tag if you're interested!!

#stranger things #stranger things fanart #billy hargrove #max mayfield #will byers #jane hopper #st eleven #eleven #eleven stranger things #obviously the ones where the party as a whole adopts billy are also very good #but i think it's cute when they end up getting split like this #it's precious when will asks billy for gay advice and maybe has a tiny crush on him #where billy and el bond over bad papas and containing anger and billy learning to find childish innocence again through her eyes #where max finds out about neil and stubbornly decides to get through to billy and when billy starts reaching back that's it.#theyre ride-or-die now.#i like those kinds of fics :') and steve gets the other half and then they co-parent together #billy's all right w the other kids too but whenever i interpret his relationships with lucas & mike #it always comes off more to me as 'these are the significant others of my kids so they are automatically on thin ice'#and with dustin it's always 'this is my boyfriend's little brother'#but will and el and max are billy's directly #i digress!#sometimes i dont post at all and then i post two things in a week! consistency who???

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lavenderstobins · 2 months

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Kitty (Josieverse)

for @stcreators event 07: comedy [ao3]

—

Steve comes home from work and finds the house oddly empty. Eddie's at Wayne's, he knows, but Robin and Josie should be long home by now.

"Rob?" he calls, heading up the stairs.

They're not in Robin's room, Josie's room or his and Eddie's room; not the bathroom, attic or playroom.

He's about to call for them again, heading towards the entrance to the basement, when he hears a muffled noise from the backyard.

Steve opens the backdoor and immediately finds both Robin and Josie atop the trampoline. They're not using it, though — Robin's holding Josie in her arms, her back to him, pressed as close as she can get into the netting around it.

"Kitty!" Josie shouts joyfully, waving her hands. "Here, kitty, kitty!"

"Josephine, for the last time, that is not a cat!" Robin's voice is strained. "Do not encourage it!"

"Kitty cat!"

"What's going on?" Steve calls, scanning for whatever's got them seemingly trapped. There aren't any bears in Hawkins, to his knowledge, or at least, none close enough to wander into their backyard.

A jolt of panic goes through him. The Upside Down was sealed off years ago, but what if it's reopened somehow? Could there be a democreature in their garden?

He's about to race off to grab his nailbat—carefully bubblewrapped in his wardrobe, he's not irresponsible—when Robin turns to face him, eyes wide and terrified. In doing so, he can see not only Josie's gleeful expression, but the 'kitty cat' that has them holed up on the trampoline.

It's no democreature. At the back of their garden, staring back at them, is a small raccoon.

"Steve!" Robin's face floods with relief. "Get it away!"

"Kitty!" Josie makes grabby hands in the raccoon's direction. "Fluffy kitty!"

"No fluffy kitty!" Robin holds her tighter as she struggles, wrestling to keep her from bounding towards it. "Plague carrier! Death bringer!"

"Steeeeve, look! Look!" Josie waves at him. "Kitty!"

"How— How long have you been up there?" Steve's trying so, so hard to keep a straight face. Now that there's a clear lack of danger, the situation is looking a lot funnier.

Robin, because she always sees straight through him, scowls at him. "It's not funny, Steve! Do you want us to all die of rabies?"

"Rabies!" Josie yells delightedly.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on." He ducks back inside, grabbing the broom from the cupboard. He grabs Eddie's gardening gloves for good measure if only so Robin doesn't yell at him.

Robin watches him with the eyes of a hawk as he slowly approaches the raccoon. It's a little thing, clearly young, only a couple of steps actually into their garden. It blinks up at him with big eyes.

"Go on, little fella," he murmurs, gently nudging it with the end of the broom. He's careful not to jab at it; he doesn't want to hurt it.

The raccoon scuffles back a bit, looking at him dolefully.

"Yeah, I know, it looks ridiculous to me, too." He glances back at the other two, taking in the stress on Robin's face, then prods it again. "But I think Robin might genuinely have a heart attack if you stay here any longer."

The raccoon chitters at him, possibly in annoyance, and flounces off into the woodland. Once he's sure it's gone, he heads back to the trampoline, trying to hide his smile.

"You got rid of it?" Robin squints at him, like he might've hidden the raccoon up his sweater or something. "It's gone?"

"It's gone," he confirms. Her shoulders sag with relief and she finally lets Josie slide down.

"Kitty," Josie says sadly. She stares off into the distance for a moment, but then seems to distract herself remembering that the trampoline is a trampoline, beginning to bounce wildly instead.

Robin wobbles, grabbing Steve's shoulders to steady herself as she finally emerges from the trampoline.

"Thanks," she mumbles, brushing her hair from her face.

He grins at her. "How long?"

She grimaces, flushing. "... I don't want to talk about it."

"How long, Buckley?"

"... Two hours."

#robin buckley #steve harrington #stobin #stranger things #my writing #josieverse #josie buckley #lavenderstobins josieverse #stcreators #my aus #st fic #kid fic #steddie

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streamafterlaughter · 3 months

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Fundamental Differing

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Chapter XXI: Baby, What Did You Expect?

summary: it’s the mid tour finale, and of course nothing is as it seems. i’m horrible at blurbs pls forgive me

cw/tags: alcoholism, addiction mentions, probably some improper AA etiquette, angst per usual, lots of tears. gn!reader, rockstar!eddie, estranged lovers, mutual pining, angst

a/n: hehe haha hehe. this is probably my best work thus far. i really hope yall enjoy it, this took a LOT out of me

—

January 1991

Steve’s POV

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He taps his foot on the linoleum, the buzzing overhead lights causing him to squint through his already painful migraine. Your phone goes to voicemail again, and Steve all but slams the payphone down onto the receiver. “Fuck!” He huffs, turning back down the hall, defeated.

In his room, Eddie sleeps on the hospital bed under a thin blanket. There’s a tube in his nose, but the doctor said the word stable, leaving Steve some time to call you. Not that it mattered. Even if you had answered, what would he have said? Would you even want to know?

–

July 1991

Eddie’s POV

It’s been a whole year since he’d seen you, but there you were. Right in front of him, dancing with a small redhead covered in tattoos, a plastic cup in one hand, the other in the air. He already knows he won’t go over, won’t approach you, or even try to violate your field of vision. But he can’t bring himself to look away from you, the way your shirt clings to your body perfectly, the way your skirt lands right below the curve of your ass, your exposed legs going on for miles. He drinks you in from afar, without caring how creepy it feels, seeing you without your knowledge, It’s day eighty nine, but Eddie turns to the bartender and orders a drink.

–

Present Day

Your POV

It just doesn’t make sense. If Steve had known about Eddie’s problem like he claims, then why on earth had he let him drink himself stupid? Your brain tries to rationalize your best friend’s choice, but you come up with nothing. There is no good reason for what Steve did. Didn’t he pride himself on taking care of his friends?

You sit up as the bus starts moving, preparing to confront Steve before quickly remembering he’s on the other bus. Instead, you find Robin reading a beaten copy of On The Road in the breakfast nook, and drop down beside her, sighing.

She glances up but doesn’t speak, eyebrow cocked as you pout for her full attention. She dog ears her page, making a show of sitting up straight, like a proper catholic girl in class.

“I’m having a dilemma.” You state, refusing to let your voice crack. “I need an outside perspective.” Really, you need someone to tell you what you want to hear, but you can’t say that.

“I’m all ears, babe.”

“This whole thing with Eddie,” You ignore her not so subtle eye roll. “Something’s just not right. Steve knew, y’know, about Eddie’s drinking. He told me himself he’d been aware, even before I was.”

“Okay…”

“But Eddie had been drinking, when tour started. A lot. And Steve definitely knew, because he’d been the one to carry him to bed most of the time.”

“What exactly is your dilemma in this scenario?”

“Why was he watching his friend backslide? Why didn’t he do a fucking thing to help him?” You can’t keep your voice from weavering, and you choke on your breath. “I don’t get how he could claim to care for Eddie, to love him, and let him do that to himself. Not after-” You stop, not knowing what Robin should and shouldn’t know.

“After what?”

“After everything, I guess.”

“Listen to me, honey. Eddie is a grown man, so’s Steve. Sure, we’re all buddy buddy, but when it comes down to it, we can’t always play heroes.”

“What, so we’re supposed to be okay watching Eddie slowly kill himself?”

Robin pinches between her eyes, deep in thought. “No, of course not. But at some point, talking to a wall is gonna get old. But, hey! Eddie hasn’t had a drink in weeks, right? So why the worry now?”

You shake your head. “I guess I’m just nervous. We have a month off, and I don’t know where i’m gonna go. I could go to my place in Boston, or go back to Seattle. I just-”

“You’re worried about Eddie.” For once you’re grateful for how easily she can read you.

“I am.”

“You want my advice? Play it by ear. No one said that you have to stay away from him now that business hours are over. You can afford to reconnect with him, in the real world.” She makes a point, but what exactly is the real world? The world you know is barely real, and the one you’d known before it felt even less so. Sometimes you wish you’d died in the Upside Down, at least then you wouldn’t have known such a profound kind of pain.

–

Eddie’s POV

“Tomorrow night, we play our last show of the first leg of the Freak Show Tour,” Eddie announces to his bandmates crowded around the small breakfast table of the tour bus. “We will rock this house like we have rocked no other, a grand finale they will wish they televised!” The response is various whoops and cheers from his friends, and a small smile from Steve as he stands aside with his arms crossed. “Let’s make sure the state of… uh…” Eddie places a hand to his mouth, stage whispering to Steve, “Where are we?”

“Delaware.”

“Let’s make sure the state of Delaware can’t prepare for what we’re about to give ‘em!” Eddie hollers, and his friends join in as the bus pulls around the back of the hotel parking lot.

–

He swipes his key card as he catches you unlocking the door next to him. “Hey neighbor.” He winks, feeling awfully bold after a long trip without seeing you.

“Hey, Eds.” You send him a smile that makes his heart skip, and he curses himself for being so easily bent out of shape. You and him are friends. Friends with a long, frustrating history, but friends nonetheless. “You ready for the mid tour finale?” He asks, awkwardly shifting to lean against the doorframe.

He catches as your face falls the slightest bit. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s gonna be weird, I think.”

“How so?”

You shrug. “I dunno. We’ve been on the road for like a month now. It almost feels normal. I won’t know what to do with myself when I’m back at home.”

He must be mistaken, but your words sound almost like an invitation, a cracked door. “Where’s home for you?” He asks, ignoring how tacky it must sound.

–

Your POV

It takes a lot to bite your tongue before you blurt, “You,” but you manage.”I uh, I think I’m going back to Boston. Might as well, it’s where we start back up again.” It will be August then, and you’ll have heard for sure whether you’re playing one of the biggest music festivals of the year. You still haven’t told Eddie, and at this point you aren’t sure what you’d say. “What about you? Where are you headed?”

Eddie sucks his top lip between his teeth in thought. “Maybe LA, or I’ll hold myself to my promise to visit Wayne. Depends.”

“On what?” It sounds like a challenge.

“On if I want to face my guilt or keep running from it. Or something equally dramatic.”

You snort, pretty eyes rolling back into your head. “Please.”

“What?”

“Don’t be shitty. Let yourself feel guilty, god knows you deserve to. Visit Wayne, at least for a while.”

“Why does it matter to you what I do?” He doesn’t mean for the words to come out as harshly as they do.

“Believe it or not, Ed, you still matter to me. Very much. And if you let yourself be miserable, we’ll all have to put up with your bullshit when we come back. Do us all the favor. Go home.” You swipe your card again, entering your room before Eddie can respond.

–

It shouldn’t matter. You and Eddie aren’t what you used to be, no matter how hard you delude yourself into thinking you can get back there. That possibility feels long gone, completely unreachable at your current status. You have to settle.

You walk over to the big window in your room, drawing back the heavy shades to reveal the setting sun and city of Dover below. You lay back on the bed, the fluffy pillows soothing you quickly to sleep.

–

A knock on your door rattles you awake. The digital clock on your nightstand reads 11:30 PM, and you groan as you roll onto your feet. Another round of heavy knocking makes you scurry faster to the door.

“What?!” You demand, flinging the door back to reveal a disheveled Steve clad in a wrinkled tank top and linen pajama pants. “Oh good, you’re awake.” Steve shoves past you and into the room without an invite, causing you to spin on your heel to face him.

“Well, I am now! What the hell is going on?”

“I can’t find him.”

“Who?”

“Eddie!”

Good fucking god. “He’s not in his room?”

Steve looks at you like you’ve asked the dumbest question in the world. You suppose you have. “No. He went out. Didn’t seem like he was okay.” Steve holds his face in his hands. “I’ve called all the bars in the area, no one’s said they’ve seen him. He could be on the street somewhere, he could-”

“Okay, enough!” Of course he’s worried, but you’re fed up with Steve’s inability to be consistent. “Where was this attitude a month ago? When he was drinking himself silly before every show, when he would beg for whiskey the mornings after? You let him relapse, and now you’re worried?” You don’t realize you’re yelling until someone next door bangs on the wall, demanding you shut up.

“What are you talking about?” Steve sniffs, lifting his head to look at you.

“Steve, you’d known this whole time that Eddie has a problem. You’ve been letting him indulge in it, doing almost nothing. Now you’re surprised he’s gone out without telling you? Seriously?”

“There is only so much I can do to stop him, Y/n, you have to know that. I had to watch him vomit all over himself while I waited for the paramedics, I had to watch him detox in that hospital bed. Then I had to watch him relapse. Not just last month, but last year. He fell off the wagon after eighty nine days, Y/n, eighty nine. You wanna know why?” He waits for you to answer, but you’re not sure you want to. “Because he saw you at a gig. In New York, last July. He called me that night, told me everything. Told me he was sorry, that he was a waste of my time, all that shit. Made me promise to never try to save him again.” Steve’s in tears when he finishes, and you feel your own start to fall. “I have kept my mouth shut because I promised, but I worry about him every day. Well, until lately. He’s been so much happier, and there’s no use even arguing why that must be. But he’s not your responsibility either, I know that. It’s not fair of me to be putting any expectations on you. I just thought you might know where he is.”

You drop onto the mattress beside Steve, resting your head on his shaking shoulder. “I think I might know where he is. We can’t go there, though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s supposed to be anonymous.” You hope to every god that you’re right.

–

Eddie’s POV

“I haven’t been to a meeting in about a year,” Eddie starts, addressing the small group in front of him, sitting in a circle of folding chairs in the basement of a church. “But today is the two year anniversary of the worst day of my life. I guess it’s getting to me lately.”

“What happened two years ago?” The woman running the meeting encourages Eddie. She’s an older woman, with sandy blonde hair and a wrinkled, kind face.

“I ruined the best thing I could have ever asked for. I lost the love of my life, walked out on them for the last time after months of doing whatever I felt like with their feelings…

–

July 1990

“We can’t do this anymore.” You’re talking to the ceiling, arms resting on top of your chest, you don’t look at him. He’s next to you, stuck to the bed with sweat, breathing in your scent that begins to suffocate him. He knew this day was coming. You’d been seeing each other for about a month now, after half a year of not speaking.You’d fallen victim to his drunken pleas, as well as what Eddie suspects is your own self hatred.

“What are you talking about?” He plays dumb, hoping you’ll chicken out of leaving him for a second time.

“This,” You motion to the room around you. “I can’t see you anymore. It’s too much.”

“Too much?” Eddie sits up, and wills the room to stop spinning.

“Every time you come over, you’re wasted. You’re miserable most of the time, and the times you aren’t you’re hopped up on blow. It’s like you’ve added me to your list of fucking bad habits. I don’t want to be that for you anymore.” Your tone is ice cold, not a hint of sadness or anger in your voice at all. It chills Eddie to his core.

“Fine.” Eddie huffs, shoving himself out of bed. “Makes perfect sense, you telling me all this after I fuck your brains out. Made sure to get what you wanted first, right?”

“Eddie, come on,” You go to move, but Eddie tucks the blanket back over you.

“No, really, it’s fine. Ten minutes ago you were telling me how much you missed me, how good it felt. Now you’re cutting me off? Just like that?” Eddie shoves his legs clumsily into his jeans, cursing under his breath when his toe gets caught in a hole. “We talked about this. This was supposed to be purely physical, remember? You agreed to that.”

“I did, I know. But I agreed before I could understand that you’re… well, different.”

“Different how?” He snaps. You hesitate, picking anxiously at your fingernails. “Y/n?”

“You’re mean, Eddie. You’re cold. You don’t care how you make me feel, or rather, how you don’t make me feel when you sleep over. I’ve had to fake it. Beyond that, I can’t even make conversation with you. I feel used. It’s lonely.”

He sees red. Eddie gathers up his jacket, and his still half full beer bottle from the nightstand. “Fuck you,” He spits, tossing things aside as he searches for his keys. “Y’know what, yeah. We’re done.” He gulps the rest of the drink down before slamming the bottle into the bin.

“We can’t be done if we weren’t anything to begin with.” Your words bite, despite them originally being his own from when he’d come up with such a stupid agreement. “And we won’t have to break up, because this isn’t a thing.” He’d seduced you after a show one night, high out of his mind. He’d never expected you to agree to it.

“Perfect,” He snaps, daring himself to look at you. Your eyes are wet, but you’re stoic. You don’t tremble, you don’t heave or scream or shudder. “I don’t ever want to see your face again.” He doesn’t mean that, and he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. But he can’t take them back now. “We don’t know each other.”

“I don’t think we ever did.” Your final words ring loudly in his ears as he slams the door behind him.

–

The group waits patiently for Eddie to finish, and he wipes a tear he hadn’t noticed from his cheek.

“You say you see this person frequently now?” The woman asks, and Eddie nods.

“We’re on tour together. Tomorrow’s our last show ‘til next month. Needed a meeting a little extra tonight, I guess.” It’s past midnight, this group being one that meets in the late hours to cater to night shift workers.

“Well, we thank you for sharing with us tonight, Eddie.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” The group responds as if on cue. The meeting is dismissed shortly after, and Eddie makes his way to the table for complementary stale coffee and doughnuts.

“You’re really brave for coming here.” The voice is small, taking Eddie a second to register. He turns around to face a girl who can’t be older than seventeen. “I’m Macy. Addict.”

“Hi, Macy.” Eddie greets her like he’s reciting a script. “I dunno about brave. That’s probably the last thing I feel right now.”

“Well, think of it like this. You could have gone to a bar, or a club to try and score. You came here instead. That’s brave.”

He shrugs. “I guess you’re right.”

“And they still love you, y’know. That doesn’t just go away.”

“How would someone your age know so much about something like that?”

Macy shrugs. “I follow the tabloids. I know who you are. I won’t say anything, obviously. But I’ve been watching you, with them. I’ve seen the photos, and the music doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“You can’t believe everything you read.” He’s not sure whether to take her word, she seems so genuine.

“Maybe not, but I believe this.”

Eddie gives her a sad smile before saying goodbye. She waves him off with a warm smile.

Once outside, he lights a cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he closes his tired eyes. The exhaustion has washed over him, and he’s ready to be dragged under when he hears footsteps approaching.

—

Your POV

He opens his eyes and meets them with yours, heavy from lack of sleep. “Hi.” You wave shyly, like you’ve never met him.

“How’d you find me here?” He flicks ash onto the concrete.

“Saw the flier in the lobby when we came in. Checked it again and saw one less tab on the bottom. Minor detective work.” You smile, despite the exhaustion written on your face. His cheeks warm.

“You alone?”

You nod. “Took a world of convincing Steve not to come with me. I think I’ve sedated him, though.”

“Shit, he that worried?”

You shrug. “You know how he gets. He’ll be glad to know you’re okay, though.”

“What, did you think I’d gone on a run too?”

“No, actually. It was my idea to check here. Relieved as shit that I’m right.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You stretch your hand out to hold as the doors swing open, a herd of people filing out. A small girl with a sweet face sends Eddie a smile, and winks at you before getting into a cab, and you turn to find him blushing.

“Friend of yours?”

He chuckles. “Guess you could say that.” He entwines his fingers with yours without waiting for an invitation. All too familiar touches, worlds away from where you’d stood only a month ago. “So,” He starts, swinging his arm and yours as you start back toward the hotel, “were you worried about me?” His tone is teasing, tinged with what can only be described as hope.

You can feel your cheeks warm and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. “Guess you could say that.” You squeeze his hand. “But that’s nothing new. I’m always worried about you.”

—

July 1990

Your POV

“It’s over,” You’re sobbing into the receiver, barely able to hear Steve’s sigh on the other end. Relief? Disappointment? You can’t tell, your senses are blunted only by the thought of him.

“Are you okay? Wait, stupid question,” Steve stumbles on the other line, unsure of how to comfort you. “Can I do anything?”

You shake your head before you remember he can’t see you. “No, no. I’ll be alright. I ended it. I had to. He’s not the same person I fell in love with. I know that now.”

“Maybe, but there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Do I want to know?”

Steve waits a beat before answering, the static of the line filling your head. “No, I don’t think you do.”

You talk for an hour before you feel your eyelids grow heavy, and say your goodbyes before hanging up. You are once again in silence. Alone. In a fit of rage— or of heartbreak, you’re not sure, you fall to your knees and let go. You haven’t cried like this in months, the kind of cry that leaves you hoarse and tired, but tonight, in the dark of your bedroom, you cry for the person you used to know.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Thank you, Denver! Goodnight!” The crowd erupts into cheers, pleas for a second encore, and Eddie’s sure he can see women in the front row tearing their bras off to throw onstage. The house speakers blast Talking Heads Burning Down The House as kids make their way to the exit. Eddie slides through the crowd of techs and stagehands backstage, making his way to the green room to collapse on the weathered couch.

“That was fucking incredible!” Jeff exclaims, clapping his calloused hands together. “Best show so far, I think.”

“Psh, that was nothin’, wait ‘til you see what Boston can do.” You’re sitting in the rickety recliner, a cigarette between your fingers, still dressed in your stage clothes. Your skin shines with sweat and glitter, cheeks rosy from exertion. You’re most stunning like this, Eddie thinks.

“Yeah? You willing to bet on that?” He jokes.

“Oh, more than willing!” You chuckle, stubbing out your smoke in the ashtray next to you. “But tonight, I turn in early.” You make a point to stand up, stretching your arms above your head. Eddie’s eyes fall to your midsection, exposed to him while you sort out your limbs. You’d think he’d never seen skin, the way he feels his skin burn at the sight of your stomach.

“Aw, it’s our last night together!” Sylvie whines, shoving you playfully. “One drink?”

Eddie waits with bated breath, and swears your eyes dart to his before you answer.

“Fine. One drink.”

—

Eddie doesn’t follow you to the bar, he knows better. Tonight has already been difficult, knowing he has nowhere to go after tonight, nowhere he wants to go, anyway. He digs through his duffel bag until he finds his long ignored copy of Tighten Up. He wants more of you, somehow. He’s still desperate to know how you’d felt, those horrible years apart.

He skips to the title track, tucking his hair behind his ears before equipping the headphones. The song greets him with the static of an amp, followed by the clicking of drumsticks. When it kicks in, the song is full, clearly a whole band effort. Robin’s bass cuts through with a funky riff, layered underneath dirty guitars and heavy drums. He’s sure the song can’t get better until your voice slices through the music

Dared myself to stand back up, / After all these wasted tears, / Felt my heart sew itself together, / After all that wear ‘n’ tear. / I let you turn your back on me, / I watched you walk away, / And ‘til now I let myself believe / I was supposed to die that way. / But now I’ve tightened up my heart, / I’ve locked away the pain, / and I don’t have much left to give, / without asking for the same.

You tell a story of a broken soul, fighting its way through the dark on its own. The music swells as you belt the chorus, and Eddie can almost feel his fingers hurt during your guitar solo. Robin’s backing vocals fill out your lead, and the buzz of the snare drum carries out the bridge.

When the song fades, Eddie takes his headphones off, needing to digest what he’s just heard. This one might just be his favorite on the album, at least so far. It feels like the pinnacle, the turning point of the story told by the tracks. He’s heard it live, sure, but something about hearing the way it’s produced gives him more of an idea of what you’d been feeling in the moment.

He has an overwhelming urge to see you. He launches himself out of bed, gathering himself as best he can for being so frazzled. He’s in sweatpants, a tattered t-shirt draped loosely over his form, hair pulled into a low ponytail to keep from tangling. He goes to turn the knob, but stops when he hears voices in the hall.

“I can’t believe it.” You’re wasted, words slurring together between hiccups and giggles. Eddie can picture you, rosy cheeked and stumbling, clawing for his arm to support your swaying weight, and his heart lurches as if to grab you through the door. “We’re playing fucking Lollapalooooooza!” You howl the word, and he hears Steve shush you as Robin cackles.

“Hey, hey!” Steve stage whispers, trying to silence you. “Don’t go gloating about it.”

“Why not?” He can almost hear your pout, and he chuckles to himself.

“I don’t wanna deal with you pissing Eddie off.”

“Y’know, Stevie, he’s gonna find out one way or another. Might as well come from me. Besides, he’s different. He’s happier, I think. I dunno. I hope he’s happy, he deserves to be happy.” Eddie’s heart swells as he listens to your tangent, but you’re not done yet. “I wish I could make him happy again. I feel like, whatever I do, I make it worse.” Your voice is cracking, whether from overuse or from trying not to cry, Eddie can’t tell. Now he has to see you. He goes to turn the knob again, but there’s a knock on his door at the very same moment.

Eddie opens the door almost as soon as you’re finished knocking, wafting your scent of lavender and vanilla into his nostrils.

“Hi,” You exhale the word, and Eddie can’t help when his lips twitch upward before he lets his grin free. “Needed to see you.”

“What a coincidence.” He tries not to let his excitement show, standing aside to let you in. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I have to tell you something. Well, I don’t have to. But I want to. You were the only person I wanted to tell, actually. I hope you’re not mad, though. I don’t know what I’d do if you were.”

“Hey, whoa, slow down,” Eddie rushes to where you sit on the edge of his bed, spiraling as the liquor tightens its hold on you. “Why would I get upset?”

You shrug lamely. “I dunno. Just, need you to be happy for me right now. Please be happy for me.” It’s a hoarse whisper, a plea meant for his ears only.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he settles for resting one clammy palm on your leg. “You can tell me anything you want.” He knows what’s coming. You’re playing the biggest festival in the States. Something he’s dreamed about since the festival came to be. Of course it hurts, but Eddie can push that aside to be happy for you. He knows better.

You don’t continue, though. Instead, you scoot further into his side, nuzzling into his shoulder like a needy cat. Despite his aching heart, Eddie wraps his arm around you, letting you further into his hold. Your breathing slows back to normal, and Eddie has no desire to move from this spot. Tomorrow, you go back to Boston, and Eddie fucks off somewhere to wait out the month until he gets to see you again. He can indulge for one more night.

“I do have stuff to tell you,” You say finally, “but not right now. Right now, I sleep.” You hum, and he scoffs. Surely you won’t remember this tomorrow, so he decides not to push you. Eddie slides out from where you rest, laying you back into the mattress. He slips off your shoes and jeans, careful not to tug at anything else. He then tucks the blanket up to your chin, and starts to make a place for himself on the floor when your hand shoots out, snatching his wrist.

“Please, sleep here.” You pat the bed next to you, and he melts at the gesture. Your eyes are almost completely closed, hair wild from dancing, sweating, whatever you’d been doing tonight.

“You’re drunk, sweets. You’ll be upset in the morning.” He doesn’t want to deny you, especially in your softened, sleepy state.

“No!” You shake your head vigorously, wincing at the movement. “No, I won’t. Please, Eddie,” and he’s a goner. Of course he surrenders, and tucks himself into the warm bed next to you. You snuggle into him like it’s instinct, making a home on his chest as he lay stiffly with an arm around you, waiting for you to get comfortable.

You let out a sigh, your breathing slowing, arms wrapped around him with surprising strength. Eddie’s mind starts to wander back to the song, how someone is capable of two such wonderful emotional extremes.

Your mumbling tickles his neck, pulling him from his head. He doesn’t quite catch the words.

“What was that?” He coos, enjoying your touches, your breath on his skin. He could live here.

“I said, ‘I love you, Eddie.’” The words come out strung together, but to Eddie they puncture with each syllable. “G’night.” And before he can respond, you’re snoring.

Eddie, once ready to retire for the evening, is now completely wired, feeling you drift into dreamland next to him, as if you haven’t just upended everything.

—

chapter xxii

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @potatobeanpie @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc @veemoon | send a message to be added

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #90s au #strangerthingscentral #st #fundamental differing #fd #new kid fic #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!reader #eddie munson fluff #angst

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gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years

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Ok I sent you that jealousy ask with a horny intent…but what you delivered was honestly better (and still kind of made me horny). I love dad Bradley and coach Bradley so much. The fluff was sooo good.

….And it got me thinking about their son’s conception (Bradley definitely has a pregnancy/breeding kink)

Thanks for writing!! We don’t deserve you!!

ahhh coach bradshaw! loved writing them like this, especially since they don't quite lose their spark even as parents. i maintain the fact that they would be fucking terrifying on the pta

and i am good for nothing if not subverting expectations, so yes! let's delve into the bradley x smart aleck breeding kink dynamic and gilbert henry bradshaw y/l/n's entry into the world...with a twist

warning: breeding kink, smut, child birth?? language

"Oh my GODDDD," you shrieked.

Shrieked - there was no other way to describe it. Your voice positively echoed through the maternity ward, bouncing off the linoleum floor and scaring doctors, nurses, and future grandparents alike.

It was hour thirteen - no, fourteen? - of labor and Bradley felt like his hand was about to break from the vice grip you had it in at the moment. All things considered, though, it was probably the least he could do.

The ice chips hadn't helped. Ditto with the quick walks around the room and all the back and shoulder rubs. He even offered to rub your feet despite feet freaking him out. The only other thing he'd ever heard of helping labor was sex and that didn't seem like the best idea at the moment. So, nothing - nothing helped.

"I know I will love him when he's here and all that mushy maternal bullshit, but right now I just fucking want this kid OUT OF ME!"

Your dad and step-mom chose that moment to poke their heads into your private room. "How's it going, sweetie?"

"Do you hear a baby crying yet, dad?" you snapped.

He had the decency to look apologetic and Bradley shot him a quick smile. "Sorry, we just figured we'd drop by again. Guess we'll be in the lobby with Pete, let us know if you need anything."

"Okay..." you said, way less harshly. Your dad just waved you off. "And now my dad hates me!" you wailed.

Bradley gave you a quick kiss on the head. "He doesn't hate you, sweetheart. You're going through a lot at the moment, he's just worried."

You let out a deep breath, then sucked in another, working through your latest contraction. They were just about three minutes apart and you were dilated about seven centimeters last time the nurse checked.

"My back is killing me, bubs..."

"Oh, here." Bradley rubbed your back, wishing he could do more. "The nurse said it shouldn't be too long now, alright?"

This was the transition phase, or so the book had said. You cried out during a particularly difficult contraction and flopped back against the rumpled and sweaty pillows once it was over.

"We are never doing this again, so help me god, Bradley - this is all your fault!" you grumbled.

Even amidst the circumstances - read his son's imminent birth - Bradley couldn't help but scoff. "My fault?"

You nodded, a weary expression on your face as he handed you some water. "You're the one who's always desperate to cum inside me like some fucking fourteen year old in his dad's Playboy."

"Hold up, hold up. Nah, sweetheart - you're always the one saying fuck me, Bradley. Come inside me, Bradley. Put a baby in me, Bradley -"

"- I'm being facetious!!"

He sputtered, "Facetious, sure, sure - I wanna make you a daddy, Bradley? Ring any bells?" That one normally sent him over the edge. He was one hundred percent sure he could pin down Gil's conception to the third night of your wedding anniversary trip to the Maldives...

"...Please, Bradley," you moaned in his ear, "I wanna make you a daddy."

His fingers dug into your hips, barely giving your body a moment to settle on his cock before driving it back into you. You felt so glorious around him - so pretty, so wet, so fucking tight.

"Come on sweetheart, keep talking. Let everyone here know how much of a slut you are for daddy's cock."

You took a hand off his shoulder to play with your tits and arched your back. "Ohhhh god, don't you wanna see me get all big and full when I'm bouncing on your cock? Have everybody know you made me look like this? So fucking full of your cum?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That did it. Bradley cried out your name and slammed his cock into you one final time, getting lost in the ecstasy of your cunt pulsing around him. He spilled into you, filling you to the brim.

"Thi - think that'll do it? Think that'll make me a daddy?"

You came with a cry at his words, no doubt waking up the Garcias in the villa next door. Bradley couldn't wait to see them at breakfast in the morning. 'Yeah my wife was the one keeping the resort up last night, asshole.'

Your body sagged against his and you pressed lazy kisses along his shoulder and neck. "Bra-Bradley, Bradley. Love you, Bradley, so much, bubs, so good..."

"Shhh, shhh, sweetheart. There's my good girl, took me so well. Just sit here for a bit, yeah? Don't wanna waste a drop of that cum you begged for so much. Gotta make sure everyone knows you're mine..."

...Current you shot him a look, trying to appear intimidating. But the hair plastered to your forehead with sweat and the partially unbuttoned johnny didn't really help your case. "I don't sound like that!"

"You do! And you say shit like that, too! But I love it, it's hot as fuck." This probably wasn't the place - or the time - to discuss both of your respective kinks, but that didn't stop either of you - until...

"Do not - oh, oh, shit..."

Bradley grabbed your hand. "What is it? This one feel different?" You nodded. "Let me call for the doctor, okay?"

He sat up to leave your bedside, but was stopped by your hand pulling at his pant leg. "Bra-Bradley?"

"Yeah?" He stopped.

"I love you," you said before letting out a deep breath.

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "I love you, too, sweetheart. Now let me go get the doctor so we can have this kid, alright?"

Twenty minutes later, Gilbert Mitchell Bradshaw was born.

And despite your earlier protestations, Margaret Amelia Bradshaw was born six years later.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley and smart aleck #top gun #asks #they go to the st regis maldives for their anniversary if you're wondering #just to give a visual you know??? 👀👀#bradley bradshaw full on dilf after doing the age break down on these kids ie. 40 and 46 respectively...#i gave gil a fucking stupid name that i'm oddly attached to now so figured any future ones should be relatively normal #writing #bradley fic

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astrobei · 1 year

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@ my mutuals who are currently stonathan posting all over my dash: do u Want me to clear my google drive of all my wips just to write an unnecessarily long fic abt them. bc i’ll do it. the google docs trash can is looking so good rn.

#like this has got to be sabotage atp #how am i supposed to live laugh byler in these conditions #i’m being so fucking for real right now .#stonathan #/astro posts #i rly will write a fic i’m not kidding an idea just sprung into my head fully formed #returning to my roots………… my 2016/2017 roots…….#literal my first st ship bc i was super into this show when it first came out #n didn’t get Super back into it until s4 #they say u never forget ur first stonathan fic and they’re right <3

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frazzledsoul · 11 months

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An update on Sookie St James, circa 2023:

Let's just say some of the headcanons the cast comes up with can be out there but I totally, totally buy this (especially since edibles are legal in Connecticut now).

#gawd i need a modern day fic with this concept #especially since all of sookie's canon kids would be teenagers now #gilmore girls #sookie st james

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read-write-thrive · 3 months

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Steve paced the linoleum, sneaker just off white squeaking every time he turned. He was just aware enough to refrain from crinkling the gifts he held in his hands as he glanced again at the clock on the wall, then to the board. DELAYED stared back at him, minutes ticking by without change.

He had no reason to be nervous, not really. He had last seen Robin 11 weeks, 6 days, and roughly 13 hours ago, when he’d seen her off at this very same airport. Hell, he’d talked to her on the phone less than 24 hours ago to reassure her that all the plans were in place to pick her up at the right time and terminal. Two semesters of college hadn’t dulled her anxiety, somehow, but Steve didn’t mind. He’d call her every day if they could, to reassure anxieties or just to shoot the shit. They had tried to, her first semester away, but phone bills and clashing schedules weren’t too kind to them. This semester they’d scheduled calls twice weekly instead, which worked in theory but didn’t stop Steve from missing her terribly. At one point he started scribbling down notes so that he would remember the stories he wanted to tell her on their next call, much to the mockery of almost all of the kids (when he was really bothered by it, he reminded them that he’d gotten the multiple concussions AND stayed in Hawkins for them, which usually shut them up).

The spiral of his thoughts was cut off by a new rush of people coming his way—another arrival at the Indianapolis airport. Steve froze in his tracks, peering past the stream of people to see which gate they’d come from. But before he’d even gotten the chance to register that this was the flight he’d been waiting for, he was bowled over by a flurry of freckled limbs and mismatched green luggage.

“Steeeeve!!!!” Said flurry shrieked, somehow dropping everything onto his right foot while throwing herself at him in a giant, uncoordinated hug.

Steve was laughing in joyful relief before he even registered doing so, stabilising them both and hugging her back just as fiercely, trying to match her tone as he half-yelled back, “Robiiiin!!!”

Robin was laughing just the same, just short of snorting into Steve’s collar, “Oh it’s so good to be on the ground again, Steve I swear they make flying more stressful every time! And I get to see you, of course, though I could miss Indiana and be fine with it, especially with this awful humidity and having to see my extended family again, and missing G—Some people from school, yup, no one in particular—“

Steve couldn’t stop his happiness, fully content to let her ramble herself hoarse. He’d really missed this. He hugged her tighter unconsciously, inadvertently crinkling the goodies in his hands. At the noise, he swore and pulled back from the hug, “Damnit, I had this whole thing planned out—“

Juggling the meagre bouquet of random flowers to one hand, he held up the little sign he (and some of the kids) had worked on, as he had meant to do to welcome her arrival.

Robin paused her rambling to read the sign, cracking up as she did so. “Willkommen zurück zur Hölle!” Had been written several times over, first in messy pencil then bolder marker, with a few doodles of flames along the bottom of the page.

Steve grinned, “I thought you’d like it, even though all you’ve done this semester is complain about your German professor.”

“It’s not my fault he hates me!—“

He shoved the flowers at her to cut off the much-repeated rant, “And these are for you. Mostly because I hate hearing about all these dates you’re going on with no flowers involved! What happened to romance, Rob?”

Robin took a moment to softly smile at the gesture before jumping right back into their usual banter, “It’s not that easy, Steve! Am I supposed to be giving flowers or getting flowers? What if there’s allergies involved? Plus, you know I’ve been on all of three dates and none of them were the flower-giving types—“

Steve once again let her ramblings wash over him as he picked up her luggage and started walking back towards his car, her right at his side. He was so happy to have her back, even if just for the summer break.

#platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin fic #stobin ficlet #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin month #stobin month 2024 #stobinmonth #stobinmonth2024 #day one: summer #st #stranger things #post series #ambiguous world where robin went off to college while Steve stayed in Hawkins while the kids finish hs

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envyadams-vs-me · 11 months

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I had this werid thought of like stranger things au where they find an open gate that looks like it's been abandoned for years. Then as the party™ is getting ready to go through, with the supervision of the adults and teens, a kid comes crashing through the gate as if thrown through.

It's a teenager, nobody knows who this kid is, but they're claiming to be lost and looking for their dad.

Long story short the kid that came through is from the future, (idk when in the future, maybe just 2023 cause I'm basic???) and claims to be the adopted kid of Steve and Eddie.

Naturally chaos ensues as they try and find a way to get the kid back to their own time line and find a way to close the gate.

Or alternatively someone from the party stumbles through the gate and ends up at a nice cabin. They meet a kid their age (or younger? Older??) and end up staying the afternoon for some lemonade and cookies.

Eventually the party member starts to notice that there are some appliances they don't recognize, like the Bluetooth speaker or the flat screen in the living room. As they're exploring the house, with a tour from the kid that lives there, they see pictures of the party on almost every wall and they start to freak out a little bit.

Eventually learning they're in the future and they don't know how that happened.

Idk I guess my question is: would anyone read this???? Like is this an intriguing idea?

#idk i might write drabbles for it for myself anyway #just a thought #steddie #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things fic #st fic idea #stranger things 4 #st ficlet #the party stranger things #back to the future but not au #eleven would be so badass i just know it #i would also include some self indulgent stuff probably #also what would i name the kid???#ill figure it out

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jellyfishloveletterghosts · 6 months

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Steve leaves the castle on his tenth birthday looking to gain parental love.

A Different Kind Of Love Spell

Steve leaves the castle on his tenth birthday. There is a grand party being held, one he is barely allowed to attend despite being in his honor. He is allowed hardly an hour before there is a nanny pulling him out of the room at his parent’s request. They themselves had not even acknowledged him, too busy greeting all of the important guests they had invited. The party is a ruse for political gain and not actually about Steve. Even the gifts are to him only in name.

It is not unusual. Outside of using him for their own gain, pushing him to play with foreign dignitaries' children or parading him in front of folks as their heir, they ignore him. Steve doesn’t know why they do not treat him the way other parents do, why the only time they actually talk to him is when they are upset with him. He just wants them to love him the way a parent is supposed to. The way Tommy’s parents love him.

Steve has heard tales of the enchantress in the woods beyond the village, some stories paint her a villain, others a hero, but there is one thing that is always the same, she has magic. Magic that can change not only physical things but mental states. Steve very much wishes to change one big thing about his parents.

He has been sleeping through the night since he was six so the nannies do not check on him often and if they do he has left a lump of pillows under the blankets in his place. Sneaking out is not hard, the guards are not looking for folks sneaking out, not from this part of the castle at least. The trellis outside of his window is overgrown, something pricking at his hands and pulling at his clothes as he carefully scales it to the ground.

Steve scurries through the dark gardens, pulling his clock tight to keep out the chill and to better blend in with the shadows. His heart pounds when he turns a corner to find a couple necking, giggling and clearly in high spirits. He doubles back and heads a different way.

Read the Rest on Ao3

#Pre Harringrove #jellyghostfic #fanfiction #st fic #Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington #They meet as kids here and if I do a second part we'll skip a few years and it won't be pre any more or less pre at least

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lavenderstobins · 2 months

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An (Allegedly) Easy Guide to my Kid AU Universes

I had the bright idea of making a short reference post for each of the various kids I've created across my Parenthood AUs. Then I worked out that I actually have six Stranger Things Parenthood AUs and I realised it would take forever to do a bunch of different posts, so here's a helpful reference to all the kids I mention in my fics and posts.

First up, of course, is Josieverse:

Not-so-secretly my favourite child. The parenthood AU I developed the most and the one I've spent the most time developing.

[The Josieverse series can be found here]

(The rest below the cut!)

Next up is what I affectionately refer to as "Canonverse".

As of today (26/03/24) only Teddy and Lizzie have been featured in a fic out of the six of them.

This is the universe I consider the closest to the canon up until the end of season 4, with some minor changes: namely, Eddie's alive (and trans). In this AU, Steddie and Ronance settle down and eventually decide to have kids after unofficially marrying. It's the least chaotic universe.

[This is their universe]

Damienverse is probably one of the more chaotic kid AUs.

I haven't written any fics for them yet, but my co-creator Percy and I have talked about them more over on my twitter.

It's centric on Damien, who is Robin and Nancy's son, born in 1986. It's a canon rewrite overall with a focus on Nancy as a trans woman and follows their lives through and after the Upside Down.

The One Night Stand AU, also referred to as the Accidental Pregnancy AU, just has the one kid:

This one is a no Upside Down AU where Nancy and Robin have a one night stand and lose contact. When they bump into one another again, Nancy learns that she has a son, Daniel. (Nancy's a trans woman in this one too. So is Stevie!)

The QPR Stobin AU also has just the one kid:

Evie is the biological daughter of Steve and Robin via IVF. They're platonic life partners with a kick-ass kid. Evie comes out as trans in her teens and her story revolves around her and Steve and Robin following it, with Steve and Robin figuring out how to be the best trans allies they can be for her.

Finally, my Kid with Powers AU is another chaotic one.

In this one, Robin has a daughter, Katherine, who shows signs of having powers. It's theorised that the exposure to the Upside Down the older teens went through affected them, though it's also plausible that it was the drugs Robin and Steve were drugged with underneath Starcourt.

Robin and Steve are aware that the remains of the lab are keeping tabs on them, but they slip up. Robin flees with her daughter, intending to take her to Dustin's mom, but is chased off the road. She manages to hide her in the boathouse before fleeing again to take the lab members' attention.

Holly Wheeler and her friends find Kat crying in the boathouse and sneak her home to the Wheeler basement. When Holly realises Kat has powers, she takes her to Wayne. Robin believes her daughter to be dead or kidnapped when she returns to find her missing.

Wayne raises Kat. When she reaches twelve, she uses her powers to track down her mother after learning El did the same. When she finds Robin and Steve again, she learns that they have another child: Steve's son Zach. Robin's overjoyed, unable to believe she's alive. Kat ends up living with them again and adjusting to this new dynamic between the four of them.

That's all of them -- that I can remember, anyway! Apparently, kid AUs have a habit of running away from me. They're just so fun.

Have questions? Ask me about any of my AUs whenever!

[Picrew by Nuggts! you can find it here]

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coniangray · 4 months

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A FOOTNOTE WILL DO - Shiftingfics on ao3

Mike wheeler has to face the facts. Despite Vecna's curse killing victims in Hawkins one by one, he finds himself in California, Lenora, only to find a complex situation with Will. This day is one that will change everything....

A canon compliant fic that starts in season 4 of stranger things and follows both Mike and Will's prospectives from Lenora all the way to a destroyed, apocalyptic Hawkins after the four gates of those victims collided.

The story is split in two parts:

Part one: The best spring break ever

After the terrible shooting, and Will thinking everything was his fault, Mike tries to approach him, even try to get a word from him. But will doesn't talk- he won't talk. He's mad at himself for everything.

All changes when Mike spits out that one lie he never meant. A lie that stigmatized Will for ages.

Part two: This is the end(?)

A year later. There was an attack on Halloween - called the crawl- that forces both mike and will to come closer to each other after drifting away for a long while. The Hawkins crew now has to protect their hometown from demo creatures by completing night shifts out in the wild, specifically by checking areas that are abandoned and in a non-quarantined zone. Little did they know that in one of them affected Will in a way that can't be deceived. Little did they know that this shift would change everything not even four days later.

The finished story contains 29 chapters and about 120k words. Hope you enjoy <3

#byler #no beta we die like my respect for noah schnapp #shiftingfics #a footnote will do #mike wheeler #will byers #byler fanfic #byler angst #byler theory #flickergate #birthdaygate #march 22 #coniangray #this fic took me A YEAR to finish since i started july 2022 right after vol 2 and went all the way to october but then i dumped it since #i was giving exams last year and retouched it on july 2023 (a year later) and actually wrote part 2 and the shifts and everything #cus it actually means so much to me since it legit came full circle and I finished it on byler week like full on st day #i am crying rn its like sending ur kid to college #and in the end i cried since it was legit the first ever scene that i wrote from that fic like #that last chapter is the reason i wrote the fic in the first place also thank these two gay boys in the 80s for it #yes i have made edits for that fic multiple times #one year anniversary 😭😭 i cant #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #explore

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streamafterlaughter · 10 months

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Fundamental Differing

Chapter XVI: You’ll Cry But You’ll Never Fall

summary: The secret hometown Corroded Coffin / Death Dance Approximately show does not go as smoothly as any of you would like, and the memories of Hawkins infiltrate your memories again.

tags: ANGST (more than usual?), violence, swearing, excessive alcohol consumption, fighting/arguing, trauma talk, overall just a very sad chapter imo but i’m also very proud of it.

a/n: this is my lil honor to sinéad, my heart goes out to her family and i’m so very upset to hear of her passing. This chapter is also one of the heavier ones, please feel free to skip it or read it slowly if it feels like too much. thank you guys for your continued support as always. ALSO, im seeing a lot of blog name changes and deactivations, so please let me know if you aren’t getting notifications and want to! i’ll see to fixing the taglist for next time 🩷 Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

October 1987

“Can I show you something?” Eddie stumbles into bed, his Warlock in his grip, a bowl of chips in the other hand.

“Of course, my love.” You pluck a chip from the bowl, shifting your body to face Eddie as he sits beside you. His fingers dance across the chords, and you sway as he begins to sing. When he finishes, you look at him in awe. “Is it done?”

He nods, eagerly. He’s been fighting with this song for almost a year, and you can tell he’s so proud of himself. It makes what you’re about to say that much more difficult. “May I?” You extend your hand, and he nods, handing you his guitar. You know the chords well enough by now to play it, and you start in with your eyes closed. “What if, instead of a major chord, you used a minor?” You play it again with your revision. “And what if, instead of Don’t let go, you could say don’t let go of me?” You sing the line for him, and watch as his face contorts, brows furrowing, lips pursed. You stop. “Or not, it’s beautiful regardless.” Suddenly, you’re embarrassed for even suggesting it.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just mad you made it so much better in two seconds.” He scoffs, and you can tell he’s upset.

“I didn’t mean to overstep, ali know this song has been kicking your ass, as just thought-“

“It’s fine, Y/n, really. Forget about it.” He takes his guitar from you, and leans it on his side table. Before you can say anything else, he’s turned the light off and pulled the covers up to his chin. no goodnight kiss, No I love yous exchanged.

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

He makes his way back to the dressing room, which is more of a closet behind the curtains of the small stage. He’s comfortably drunk, aching still with the words he’d overheard earlier as Sinéad O’Connor’s Drink Before The War floats through the speakers. You and Steve stand backstage, him adjusting your mike pack while you fiddle with your in-ear, the rest of your band tightening their instruments or twirling their drumsticks while you talk amongst yourselves. “Eddie!” You call, before he can open the door and slide by you, unnoticed. “C’mere a sec?”

Begrudgingly, he approaches you. You’re draped in a black skirt that sweeps the floor, and a black velvet tank top that shimmers when the light hits it. “Lilith had an idea, and I know this is so last minute, but what would you think about doing the song we wrote together? I know it’s probably too rusty for you, but I figure it could be a treat, for the little hometown show? It’s alright though, if you don’t wanna.” You shrug, but something in your eyes pleads with him.

“Sure, yeah.” He says coolly, confused by the question. Why would you want to, after what you’d said? “Where should we put it, in the set?”

“Was thinking, at the end of DDA’s, we have less time, but we have the room for it. D’you still know the chords?”

He fights off a humorless laugh. “‘Course I do. Just gimme the signal, and I’ll be right out. But we don’t have lyrics.” You nod, beaming, “Oh, but I do! I’ve been mulling them over, I hope that’s alright?”

The panic is palpable, he has no idea what he’s in for. “‘Course it is. See you out there.” He gives a curt nod before turning away, entering his dressing room without another word.

Your POV

“He’s being weird, right?” You turn to Steve, who’s just finished fluffing your hair out into the disheveled, rocker look you love.

“Of course he is, he’s Eddie. Now, get out there! They’re excited to have you back home.” He’s right, you can hear the restless crowd growing louder, more excited as your set time inches closer. “DDA! DDA!” The chant crescendos, and the house lights dim.

“Break a leg,” Steve plants a kiss on the crown of your head, and you wrap your arms around him. “and kick some ass.”

You turn to your band for the huddle, the pre show ritual, and let Sylvie lead the way to the stage. The crowd erupts as you take your marks, pressing out across a stage half the size of what you’ve grown used to this past month.

“HAWKINS, INDIANA!” You exclaim, drowned out by the audience as Lilith starts a drumroll. “We are Death Dance Approximately, from right down the street, are you ready to fucking PARTY?!” The response is a cacophony of screaming, just the way you like it.

“One, two, three, four,” Lilith taps her sticks together, and you jump into your first song. You open with Indiana, an ode to home, and you feel the weight float from your shoulders. The house is packed, and you recognize a face every few minutes, whether from school or just around town. Your friends are occupying a table on the side of the stage, and you can barely make out their faces. They dance and sing along though, and at some points you’re sure you hear Max’s whistle. It’s electric, rewarding to have people there for you, that know your songs, love your band. It reminds you why you started in the first place, despite the pain you’d endured on your way up.

“Thank you for coming out tonight, Hawkins! We have one more song for you before we introduce our friends in Corroded Coffin. This was a last minute decision, but before we play the song we know you’re all waiting for, could you please give a warm, freaky welcome to Coffin’s very own EDDIE MUNSON!” No amount of preparation prepares you for the screaming. The building must be shaking with the vibrations as Eddie saunters onto the stage, spotlight shining directly on him. His acoustic guitar is slung over his shoulder, and he wears a tattered DDA shirt and torn up black jeans, his converse laced tightly on his feet. He waves to the crowd, squinting into the bright stage lights. He wobbles slightly, and you know he’s drunk, but you have faith in his performance ability regardless.

“This song is one I wrote with Eddie years ago, and this is the first time we’re ever performing it. Please forgive us if it’s not so polished, but revel in the fact that you’re the first crowd that gets to hear it!” The audience responds with applause, and you glance at Eddie. His eyes are glued to the floor, not looking at you at all, so you turn back to Lilith who counts you off.

Eddie starts in with the opening melody, much softer than any song CC has put out, but still with the hard bite that persists within their catalog. You begin the ad libs, ones you love to play with live that can’t be recreated in the studio. The crowd sways with you, and glimmers from their lighters each the sky as you start the first verse.

“I’ve seen my share of gore and pain, enough to last my lifetime. / I wonder how you’re coping now that you’ve got that hurt inside. / I’d ask you how you’re doin’, but I know that you’d just lie, / and I’d bother you to open up, / if I thought it worth our time. / But you’ve been off drinkin’ down the hurt and pain we’d felt, / and I'm stuck circling the drain alone, keeling over as I melt.

Six years of shit, and dirt, and blood / caked under our fingernails, / and all I've got to show for it are these twisted, evil tales. / So all I ask is don’t let go, / don’t let go of me, / and all I want is for you to know / that you’re still the one for me.”

You don’t open your eyes the whole time, and you know you’re in for it when you do. You’re sure he’s caught on by now, the lyrics far from subtle, but still you can’t bring yourself to watch his reaction to them, instead focusing on your voice not breaking as he plucks the strings only three feet away. When the song ends, the crowd shrieks and it’s all you can hear. Eddie waves to the kids at the barricade, mouthing thank yous as they clap for him before approaching you. You entwine your fingers with his, swinging both your arms first into the air, then down to the floor as you both bow. He squeezes your hand before letting go, walking offstage without a word to the audience.

“Eddie Munson, everyone! I know you’re all very excited to see Corroded Coffin tonight, but we got one more song for ya, is that alright?” When the whooping fizzles out, Sylvie strums the opening to Pretty Boy, and it gets loud again. “This song is for, well, if you know you know. It’s called Pretty Boy!”

Eddie’s POV

He makes a beeline for the mini fridge, cracking open a beer before even saying a word to his bandmates. “You good?” Gareth raises an eyebrow, watching his bandmate down the bottle without a breath in between.

Eddie belches before snapping, “What makes you think I’m anything but perfectly fine?”

“Oh, just, everything.” He mumbles, but Eddie hears him anyway.

“What’s up with you, man? Aren’t you two on good terms now?” Jeff asks, plopping down on the arm of the sofa next to Eddie, who’s sprawled in the middle like an old rag doll.

“I have no idea. Thought we were, but I overheard them talking earlier and-“

Jeff interrupts, “Overheard? How much did you actually hear? Ever wonder if eavesdropping is maybe not the most reliable source of information?”

Eddie glares at his friend, who only rolls his eyes. “I know what I heard.”

“Whatever, man. We have a show to do, so get your shit together.” Jeff heaves himself off the couch again, and Gareth follows, clicking his drumsticks.

“Good evening, Hawkins! We are Corroded Coffin, and we’re here to fuck shut up!” Gareth shouts into his mic and is met with an eruption of screaming fans. Eddie feels the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream as he strums a chord, amping up the tension before the drummer counts them off. They break into the first song. His vision’s fuzzy, but he can still sense you, standing right up front, mouthing the words and nodding your head to the beat. He can’t let himself think too much about it, already distracted by your earlier conversation with your band. Because of him. You’re having nightmares again, unable to rest, because of him. The words play on a broken record, spinning out of control inside his brain, and he barely realizes he’s broken a string from strumming too hard.

When they end the song, a crew member cloaked in black rushes onstage to help him fix it while Eddie stands there, useless and shaking with a feeling he can’t place. Not exactly anger, nor anxiety, but a sinister lingering in his gut. The crew member leaves, Eddie’s string replaced, and Gareth waits for a cue to continue. “Apologies, my dear friends, for the technical difficulties. Thanks for coming out to see us on such short notice. This song is for anyone that’s ever felt like a freak in their own skin.” Eddie backs away from the mic as Jeff starts in on their next song, Eddie’s voice barely a part of him as he sings. His fingers are starting to bleed from playing so hard, something he hasn’t done since he started playing guitar more seriously.

Eddie fades in and out during the set, on autopilot, his usual lighthearted banter with the crowd now awkward and empty. He feels nothing when the lighters fly into the air during Wiped Clean, or even when he looks right at you when he sings Sweetheart. It feels like something in him has died, leaving a gaping wound. Being home was like ripping that wound right open.

Your POV

He’s looking right through me. There is absolutely no feeling behind Eddie’s performance tonight as he drags himself through the set. He’s usually bouncing off the walls, swinging his guitar around or sticking his tongue out while he shreds, but tonight he stands there, his head barely even nodding, let alone banging and thrashing like he usually does.

Around you, there’s a sense of panic. These people came for him, they know what he’s about, and this was likely the last thing they’d expected of a hometown show. Their dancing is tainted with confusion, worrying for the man on stage in front of you. You look to where your friends stand, cautiously swaying and nodding along to the music, glancing back to you every so often with a raised or furrowed brow. Dustin, though, meets your eyes and immediately starts pushing his way through the crowd.

“Move, please! Friend of the band coming through! Eddie Munson’s protege! Out of the way, holy shit!” He makes it to you relatively unfazed, and you grab his outstretched hand to pull him up to the barricade. “What the hell is going on?” Dustin shouts, and you shake your head.

“I have no idea, he’s been weird all day.”

“He drinking?”

“Dustin, he’s an adult!”

“That’s not what I mean! Is he, like, drinking drinking?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

He shoots you a baffled, disappointed look, and you get it. Loud and clear. This, whatever Eddie’s doing right now, is somehow related to you. “I am not responsible for his behavior!”

“No, of course not! But you might be able to explain it!”

You think, hard. You were fine this morning, waking up together, even being mistaken for reconciled lovers. “I really don’t know, Dustin!”

“Shit, okay. I’ll get back to you.” He turns around, about to disappear again, but you grab him. He meets your eyes, reading you in such a way that you probably won’t even have to ask him. But you do, for good measure.

“Make sure he’s okay, yeah?”

“Of course.” And you let him go. You turn back to the stage, where Eddie switches his beautiful electric guitar for his well worn acoustic. You feel a smile pull at your lips, knowing the acoustic rarely makes an appearance at regular Coffin shows.

“Hawkins, you’re so very special to me,” He starts, tuning his guitar as he slurs. Shit. “So I feel I should show you, just how special. We don’t usually do this, but because we’re home, I feel it’s only mandatory. I’m gonna play you guys a deep cut, one we never released and probably never will.” No. No fucking way. “Now, even the guys didn’t know I planned to do this, shit, even I didn’t til halfway through the set. That set sucked though, am I right? I mean, the guys were wonderful as always, but I was god awful, and for that I am truly sorry. It’s hard to put the energy into this town when it sucked the life out of me for so long. No offense, I do love that you’re all here.” Jeff and Gareth exchange looks of befuddlement. They have no idea what’s going on, but it’s starting to click in your head.

“This song is called Salt The Earth.” Your jaw drops to the floor. He’s never shown that song to anyone else, that you know of, because he hated it that much. It was a battle he’d been fighting since you’ve known him, one even you weren’t sure he’d win. But here it is, in the same town he’d written the song, giving it a live debut.

He plays to an almost silent, completely entranced room of people, staring straight ahead at the glowing exit signs, past you and all of his friends.

“Burnt the whole place down, demolished holy ground, packed your bags, didn’t look back, salted earth on your way out. / Fires bright, smoke in my eyes, I never even heard your goodbyes. / When you leave you’re supposed to salt the earth, you’re supposed to cut the rope. / But I'm still here, tied to this post, while you’re out somewhere laughing.”

There’s a bite, a sting behind your forehead, as the lyrics swim through your head. You haven’t heard the song in years, and it was barely passable as a song, but somehow, the lyrics are still there, stored in the depths of your memory, and only yours. As far as you can tell, scanning the faces of your friends and colleagues, you’re the only one that knows the words. Some of them have changed, he’s vastly developed as a songwriter in the last couple years, but it also gives you waves of nostalgia. To you, this song is an old friend, one constantly looping in the background of your life with Eddie. Selfishly, you wonder if your life with him, the ending of it especially, contributed to the song’s growth.

His voice is low, gravelly to match the somber tune. His eyes close as he further loses himself, wincing as he fingers the chords, breaking open fresh wounds on his fingers. Every so often, when you really let yourself watch Eddie perform, you’re hypnotized by his presence. You forget where you are, who you’re with, as everything falls away except for him, on display in front of you, for you, the only other person in the room.

The song comes to an end, Eddie practically playing himself out, still strumming as he leaves the stage. It takes a second, but the room eventually explodes with applause, chants of EDDIE! EDDIE! filling the club to its ceiling. After a good amount of teasing, the house lights dim again and the band take their spots once more, Eddie front and center with his Warlock strapped back in place.

“You didn’t think we were done yet, did ya, Hawkins?!” It’s as if he’s been struck with new life, rejuvenated after playing that song, defeating that looming enemy he’s had for so long. “We have one more song for you, and I know you know it. Thanks so much for comin’ out, tip your bartender!” They start in on The Crawl, the crowd going wild for one of their biggest songs. A pit opens in the middle, close to where you stand with your friends, and you feel at ease for the first time all night. Despite Eddie’s weird behavior, things have been going well. You desperately wish the other shoe would drop, but at the same time want for once for there not to be a second shoe. There’s always a second shoe.

Eddie’s POV

The tension still lingers in his shoulders, but he feels lighter. Salt The Earth had been a big, angry cloud threatening to rain down on him for years, and it’s like he’s finally watching the sky clear. Or, he would have been, if not for the much darker, much angrier cloud right behind it. This one holds what you’d said earlier, behind closed doors, and not for him to hear.

He stomps offstage, t shirt in one hand, guitar clutched in the other, avoiding eye contact with his friends and bandmates as he looks for solace: the bar. He’s already very, very drunk, and he knows it’s not smart, but it’s all he can think to do to drown his memory of earlier, and his shame about the way he’s reacting. What a Catch 22, to need to drink not to feel shame, and to feel shame for drinking.

“Hey, is he-?” Your voice floats into his ears, warm and concerned as you ask Steve where he is. “Never mind.” And suddenly, you’re next to him, leaning on the counter, not saying a word as he gulps down his whiskey. “Hey.”

He doesn’t look at you, barely even acknowledges your presence. He grunts, “Hmph.” in response.

“What’s going on?”

He won’t respond. He won’t open up to you again, he can tell it’s hurting you.

“Eddie, would you look at me, please?” He hears it, the slight crack, whether it’s from performing or from holding back tears he’s not sure, but it works in your favor.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” His words come out jumbled, slippery in his mouth against the liquor.

“There must be, if you’re drinking like this. What’s bothering you?” He chances a look at you, and wishes he hadn’t. You look up at him with concern, eyes darting back and forth between his, trying to read him, dig into him even deeper.

“Nothin’, just thirsty.” He won’t. He can’t tell you he heard you, it would only upset you, and it’s not fair that he’s heard you in the first place.

“Ed, you know you can tell me anything.”

“Ever think I don’t want to?” He snaps, and you jolt. He regrets it, it’s not your fault he feels this way, not on purpose, but he’s infuriated by your care for him.

“Okay,” you start, voice low, “you don’t have to. But I’m around, y’know, if you change your mind.” You almost place your hand on his shoulder, a gesture of consolation, but he leans away, and you tighten your lips to keep them from quivering. “See you later.” And you’re gone.

“Another round, barkeep.”

Your POV

“Well?” Steve meets you in front of the buses, overseeing the crew as they load the trailer. “How is he?”

You all but break down at the question. “I don’t know, I really don’t.” You don’t know why it hurts so much, he doesn’t owe you anything. “He won’t talk to me, but something is most definitely wrong. Whatever happened, I don’t have a single inkling of what it is.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Steve is gentle, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you let a single tear slide down your cheek.

“You’ve done so much for me already, this whole time. I can’t keep letting you fight my battles for me. I’ll figure this one out. On my own.” He nods, giving you a reassuring squeeze before letting you by, into the bus. You’re the first one in, the rest of your band enjoying their night with each other, and you’re in here sulking. “Fuck it.” You mumble, exiting the bus again. “Let’s go enjoy our night home, huh?” You wipe your face hurriedly, much to Steve’s confusion, but you don’t let him ask more questions. “C'mon! Let’s go dance and drink and be fuckin’ merry!”

He laughs, but it’s a nervous giggle. “Okay, okay! Don’t get all weird on me, though.”

“Please, Steve, you know I can’t promise that.”

The house music is blaring Soundgarden’s Jesus Christ Pose as lingering fans drink and dance, trying to catch glimpses of band members in the makeshift VIP sections. You catch your friends in the far corner, and they wave you over when they see you. “Thought you’d gone off with your boy!” Max teases as you sit next to her in the booth, and you try not to make your irritation known.

“He’s probably off somewhere, brooding.” Robin intercepts, a smirk on her face.

“That’s all he seems to do now. Any chance we’ll see him again before we leave?” Mike quips, and El giggles.

“And if we do? Chances are we’d say something to piss him off.” Lucas adds, slumping in his chair.

Dustin mumbles something only meant for you, but even you can’t hear him. “What was that?” When his eyes meet yours he looks away, and before you can ask again he’s sliding out of his seat, off into the darkness of the club. “What’s his deal?” You ask the group.

“Guess he’s not in the mood to rag on Eddie? Strange, he’s usually the one to start the rolling of the punches.” Lucas shrugs, and you sigh.

“Should I go apologize?”

Will shakes his head. “He’ll get over it, hang out with us!”

Eddie’s POV

“What the hell, man?” The voice next to him is unmistakable, even in his current state of intoxication. “Why are you hiding from everyone? We haven’t seen you in two years, more than that, and you’re avoiding us!” Dustin yanks the drink out of Eddie’s reach. “Fucking say something!”

Dustin’s anger startles him. “Whoa, big guy, hang on,”

“I have been hanging on, all week. You were fine, almost normal, and tonight you go on stage acting like a zombie, and you don’t come say hi to anyone after. I'm done waiting around for my friend to reappear. What is your damage?”

Eddie looks at Dustin, his sweet face and big eyes as he tries to keep his composure. “Look, man, it’s adult stuff, something you’re not gonna understand.”

“Would you drop that? I’m 20 years old, Eddie, as much as you don’t wanna admit it to yourself. Is it Y/n? Cmon, give me something to work with. Pretend we’re friends again.”

It takes a second, but Eddie catches the last part. “We are friends, Dustin, ‘course we are. I didn’t wanna burden you, or any of the guys with it. But I guess I owe you, y’know, for not giving up on me.”

Dustin crosses his arms. “Yeah, you do.”

“Alright, fine. Let’s go talk.” Eddie throws an arm around the boy, and they exit the club.

“What do you wanna know?” Eddie asks, a cigarette pressed between his lips.

“Everything. What happened with Y/n? Why’d you disappear? Why didn’t you call?” Eddie can tell Dustin’s trying to stay composed. He’s a strong kid, but this is even harder for him than the rest of the party. Eddie owes him an explanation, and they both know it.

“We broke up.” Eddie starts, and Dustin nods to keep him talking. “We broke up three years ago, and I hadn’t seen them in two.”

“At all?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I couldn’t, it was too hard. I left Hawkins after that, and couldn’t make myself come back. I couldn’t face you, the guys, or even Wayne, y’know? Everyone thinks…” He trails off. Everyone thinks it’s his fault. It is his fault.

“I don’t.” Dustin seems to read his mind. “Sure, you didn’t handle it correctly, you ran away from us. But it’s not your fault it happened.”

“Dude, I know you mean well, but it is. I let everything get to me. The fame, the break up, and you’re right, I did run away.”

“The fame would get to anyone, Eddie. And as for the break up, of course it would. I had never seen you like that before Y/n. You two were inseparable, infatuated with each other beyond belief, obviously you’re gonna hurt. But you had us, you could’ve talked to anyone, to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have.”

“Why’d they break up with you?”

Eddie gapes at him. “Why do you think they broke up with me?”

Dustin can’t help but snicker. “Sorry, dude, you’re not hiding it well. The avoidance, the brooding, the drinking. They’re hanging out inside with everyone right now, and you’ve been at the bar all night.” Eddie doesn’t say anything. He wants Dustin to keep talking, to be angry at him, he has every right to be. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something recent.” Eddie bows his head, kicks the gravel at his feet. “Something to do with Y/n?”

“They uh, they said something. To Steve, last night.”

“Oh, please, can you drop that? Steve and Y/n have never been anything but platonic, you know that.”

“No, nothing like that. They told him about a nightmare they had. Said it was my fault.”

“No.” Dustin says simply, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t. You sure that’s it? You heard them say that?”

“Well, no, but-“

“But nothing! You’re an idiot, Eddie.”

“Gee, thanks. I wasn’t already feeling horrible about myself or anything.”

Dustin groans. “You know eavesdropping gets you nowhere! For all you know, they were blaming you for a scuff on their boot.”

Eddie purses his lips. “I don’t really think that’s what it was.”

“It definitely wasn’t.” You stalk out of the shadows. “Dustin’s right, though, eavesdropping doesn’t get you anywhere. Well, except for when I do it.” You give him a sad smile, and he looks away. “Henderson, can I have a minute with our rockstar, please? The guys are on the other bus, if you wanna go raid the snack stash or something.”

Dustin nods, and turns back to Eddie. He wraps him in his arms, the first real hug he’s gotten since coming home. “Hear them out, okay? There’s an explanation for all of it.” Dustin pats Eddie on the back, then gives you a hug before disappearing into your bus.

Eddie can’t look at you, still basking in the post gig glow, cigarette dangling between your fingers. You walk closer, slowly as if not to scare him away. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

“Then what were you talking about?” He asks the ground.

“What did you hear?”

“‘All of this is because of him, as much as I hate admitting it. He’s the reason.’”

“Oh my god, you really are an idiot.”

“Right, I got that.”

“Eddie, I wasn’t talking about the nightmare. I told you, it happens when I come back here. It’s this place, feeding on whatever I’m already worried about. I was talking about my whole career. You’re the reason I’ve come this far, the reason I write what I do. I wasn’t blaming you for anything, I promise. Will you look at me, please?”

He does, finally. He looks into your pretty eyes, sparkling under the bright lights of the parking lot. Your cigarette hangs long forgotten in your hand, and you take another step towards him.

“You think you got here because of me?”

“I know I did. I couldn’t have done this without you, you have to know that. Deep in your soul, you know.”

He doesn’t, or at least he can’t admit it. What he does know is you don’t need him now. You’ve outgrown him, mastered your craft in such a way that doesn’t require his assistance anymore. And yet, you’re still there, waiting for him to come around, just like every other time. “I’m sorry. For this, for me. It wasn’t right of me to assume, to take something I only heard part of so personally.”

You shake your head. “No, it really wasn’t. Here I thought something real had happened. I thought I’d done something to hurt your feelings, with the way you’d been treating me. Avoiding me suddenly like I’d kicked your dog. Turns out, you’ll look for any small problem to excuse your behavior.” Your voice carrie’s a venom Eddie recognizes, each word stinging as it’s spit at him. “I’ll leave you alone. I get it. This is too hard for you, and I guess it’s not worth a fight.”

Before he can respond, you’re turning around, walking away again. “Wait! Please, wait.” He doesn’t mean for his voice to break, but he can’t help it. He can't watch you leave again.

You stop walking, but you don’t turn around. “What?” There’s no feeling in your voice, it’s cold.

“Are we okay?” He asks lamely.

You sigh. “We’re whatever you want, Eddie. Just like every other time.”

He’s dumbfounded as you walk away. You leave him there, alone, just like you’d found him six years ago.

Your POV

You can’t let yourself be proud. You know, deeply and surely, that you’d done nothing wrong. So why does it feel like you have? You’re in no mood to see your friends anymore, but it’s your last night in Hawkins before tour resumes, and you’re once again stuck with Eddie and his stupid face.

When you decide to make a beeline to the bar, you’re halted, colliding with a figure lurking behind the building. “Whoa, hey, sorry,” He stutters as you say, “You’re not supposed to be back here,” when he moves into the light. He’s older than you remember, more lines carved into the skin around his eyes and mouth, hair more white than gray, but it’s him. “Wayne, oh god, hi!” You squeak, and it takes him a second to recognize you.

“Y/n, wow. How are you, kiddo?” He cracks a smile, and your heart warms. He doesn’t hate you, even after everything.

“Oh, you know, same old.” He scoffs at your pathetic response, and you laugh too.

“Right, same old, touring the world and all.”

“Totally, just another day in paradise! Did you see the show?”

He nods, suddenly somber. “That’s why I’m back here. I don’t expect you’ve seen my boy?”

You frown at the question. “He hasn’t said hi?” Wayne shakes his head. “Yeah, he was just outside the bus, the big black one down there,” you point to where you’d come from. “Should still be there.”

“Thanks, love. How’s he, uh…” He trails off, realizing his question probably won’t have the best answer.

You give him one anyway. “He’s not good, Wayne. I don’t think he’s been good for awhile.”

He shakes his head sadly. “Haven’t heard from him in months, and after seeing that I had to find him.” His voice trembles, his fists clenching and flexing with each syllable. It scares you.

“Is this normal behavior with him?” You ask the question gently, trying to hide your nerves, and settle his.

“We talk once a week. Thought I’d give him some space when,” He pauses, meeting your eyes for the first time. They’re glassy, and it breaks your heart to see him so defeated. “I don’t know what you know. It’s not my business to tell, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I’ll walk you over to him.” Forgetting your dramatic goodbye, you pivot to face the buses, down the road from where you’d bumped into Eddie’s uncle.

“How’s tour been, by the way?” He begins, turning his head to look at you again. “You guys are making something great. Both of you,” He nods his head in the general direction before them.

“It’s definitely been chaotic. We've never done anything this big, and to do it under these circumstances is,” You falter.

“A punch in the face?” He offers helpfully.

And you laugh. Despite it all, you belly laugh at the man’s words, and it feels good to talk to someone outside of everything. Selfishly, you hope Eddie isn’t there, maybe you could hang out with Wayne. Maybe get your questions answered, or at least some inside scoop on why Marie’s diner is now called The Wrench.

“Yeah, a huge punch in the fucking face.”

You make it to the bus, still not running and therefore not leaving this shit town any time soon. You knock three times quickly, three times slowly, and three times quickly again. The bus shakes, and the door flies open. You’re met with the silhouette of Eddie in his underwear, travel sized toothbrush shoved in his cheek, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “What the- Are you okay?!” Your last conversation forgotten, panic written on his face, Eddie switches the front light on. “Wayne?”

“Hey, boy.” Wayne’s voice is weathered, a calming wave over this terrible tension, a welcome distraction.

“Didn’t think you’d have heard about this.”

“You think I’m not cool enough? You shoulda seen me in college, son.” And Eddie laughs, for the first time all day, and you can’t help giggling too.

“I’ll leave you guys alone, it was so nice seeing you, Wayne.”

“You too, kid. Keep it up.”

You nod, holding out your hand for him to shake. Wayne swats it away, pulling you into a hug you return with fervor. “Thank you for everything.” You whisper, and you can feel him shake his head, but he doesn’t respond. He has no idea what he’s done for you in raising Eddie, letting you crash at the trailer on bad nights, and promising not to say anything when he’d caught you singing in the kitchen that one time he’d come home early. He’d treated you, and all of your friends, like his own. He’s your family.

You end up playing Bullshit with everyone on the ride back to Nancy’s.

“5” Dustin slaps a card down.

“BULLSHIT!” It’s unanimous.

It’s a five

“FUCK!” Cards are thrown, birds are flipped, and there’s a pink tint to it all. You’d give it all up for this moment, but you know it’s not forever. The kids will go back to school, they’ll graduate, they’ll do something important. You’ll go back on tour, bumping into Eddie in different cities, different countries, until you inevitably kill yourself with drugs or pyrotechnics, or sell out stadiums until you’re fifty, like The Rolling Stones.

“Alright, kiddos, we’ve arrived.” Steve shoves himself from the bench to open the door. Both buses are parked down the street from Nancy’s, halfway to Dustin’s to make the trek home easier for them. “See you soon.” Steve squeezes Dustin first, then the rest of his children one by one. Eddie peers cautiously out of the crack in his own bus door, and you catch his eye. You have a million questions for him, and not a single one you’ll be able to ask any time soon.

“Ed, at least come say goodbye.” Steve says it with humor, a lightness you couldn’t manage if you’d tried.

It does the trick, as it always does, and Eddie emerges from his shelter. He makes his rounds, saying goodbye to the kids, then turns to Steve to say something. You can’t make it out, but Steve responds with a nod, and brings Eddie into his chest for a hug. “Alright, we’ll pick you up in the morning, you gonna be ready to go?”

“I don’t need Mother Steve over my shoulder to make sure I’m ready to leave. Wayne will do it for you.” He pats Steve on the shoulder. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?” You join your friends in waving goodbye, despite the lingering heaviness in your chest. You’re worried about him, despite how many times you’ve told yourself he’s not your responsibility.

Eddie gets back into his bus, and it drives away, leaving the rest of you at the fork in the road. The kids take the left to Dustin’s, and you follow your friends and bandmates back to the Wheelers’. “I didn’t know Wayne still lived in Hawkins,” You start, hooking your arm through Steve’s. “I figured he would’ve left as soon as he could.”

Steve nods. “Guess it’s more difficult than that. But Eddie bought him a real nice plot of land on the far edge of town, and Wayne built the house.” Of course, Eddie bought Wayne a massive plot of land, that doesn’t surprise you at all. “What’s your deal? You haven’t visited the parents yet, everything okay?”

You shake your head. “They moved back to Boston after I graduated, they had no reason to stay, Dad quit his job because he missed the city so much. But they told me they’re coming to the show out there, so that’s keeping me going. It’s weird, being here now. Beyond you guys and the kids, this isn’t my home anymore.” You remember the day they told you they were leaving, and asked if you had wanted to come. By then, you and Eddie had already planned to move in together, but right now you were between jobs and Eddie had only just gotten signed. You’d moved into the trailer instead.

Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder. “You always have a home here, y’know. You can take the rockstar out of Hawkins, but you can’t take Hawkins out of the rockstar. Prime example just drove away.”

Your group reaches the front door, and you say your goodnights before dragging your tired body into the guest bed. Tonight, you sleep alone.

You’re back in the dark, this time going seemingly unnoticed as you watch the figures in front of you. You recognize Eddie instantly, even with his strange posture and soulless eyes. In front of him, the taller, lanky figure stalks around, surrounding Eddie with its massive arms and veiny body.

“You have succeeded in your mission, Eddie. You have eliminated the one thing holding you back. Whatever you do now, you do it without them.” The one supposed to be Eddie, he doesn’t say anything. He watches the figure as it moves, unfazed by the words it seems only to be thinking. The voice is disembodied, swimming through your ears, or living inside your mind, you’re not sure.

Before you can react, though, the limbs stretch, tangling themselves around to Eddie’s body. You can't move, can’t speak, only watch as the branches of its arms tighten around him, lifting him into the air before swiftly snapping his spine. The body falls to the ground with a thud, and you can’t scream, can’t cry, you can only watch the body of the boy you love bleed out in front of you, as it would have years ago if you hadn’t gotten there in time.

You’re woken up by Nancy barging through the guestroom door, panic on her face. “Hey, whoa, hey,” she hushes you, rubbing your back as you continue hyperventilating. “Another nightmare? Here, here’s some water.” She hands you the glass and you gulp, stopping only to gasp for air. “You wanna talk about it?”

You do, but you can’t bring yourself to start. The first thing out of your mouth is, “Where does Wayne live?”

“Wayne? Y/n, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, where does Wayne live?!” You try not to snap, but this anxiety inside you is not letting up. Nancy tells you the address and you barely register it, but you bolt out the bedroom door and down the stairs, slipping on a pair of abandoned sandals before throwing the front door open.

“It’s far, hold on a second, let me drive you.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” To your left, Mike’s bicycle lay against the side of the house, and you yank it towards you. “I’ll take his wrath for this, but I need to go now. I know you’re gonna try talking me out of it.” You throw your leg over the bike, amazed that it’s now too big for you considering you’d met Mike when he was several inches shorter than you.

“Okay, please be safe. Give me a call in the morning.” Nancy wraps her arms around you, and you lean your head on her shoulder. When she lets you go, you pedal away, only vaguely certain of the direction you’re going.

It takes you forty five minutes, but you find Wayne’s house. Out front, Eddie’s old, beaten box of a van sits on cinder blocks, and it makes your heart hurt. You shove that feeling aside like you do the bike, tossing it onto Wayne's front yard before sprinting to the door. It dawns on you, you have no idea what you’ll say, regardless of who opens the door, if anyone does. The light inside is on, and you think you hear music playing, so you say a quick prayer that you’re not disturbing anyone’s much needed rest.

You bang on the door before you can talk yourself out of it, and you don’t stop until it’s answered. When it swings back, Eddie basks in the glow of the porch light, draped in a torn tank top and plaid boxers, rubbing his eyes. “Y/n?”

You have to physically stop yourself from charging at him, throwing your arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. “God, I’m so sorry, did I wake you guys up?”

“No, you’re fine. I was just about to go to bed. You uh, wanna come in?” You nod sheepishly, and he moves to let you by, clicking the lock shut behind you. “Are you okay?”

You take in the living room before you, much bigger than the trailer you’re used to picturing Wayne in, but still very cozy. His mug collection is still on the wall, as well as pictures of him and Eddie, the Hellfire Club, and even a picture of you and Eddie from your senior year. It makes you smile to see you’re still part of the family. in Wayne’s eyes at least.

“Uh, well,”

“Right, stupid question. ‘Nother nightmare?”

You can't help it, you break. The tears fall from your face before you can make them stop, and your breath seems to leave your body. The sobs that erupt from your throat are strangled, broken noises, and you rush your hands to your eyes to cover them. You feel Eddie before you see him again, embracing you without a second thought, rubbing your back soothingly as he lets you cry. “We don’t have to talk about it. It was just a dream, you’re safe. I promise.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his chest to suffocate the remainder of your sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Eddie. I couldn’t think of anything else, I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. I woke Nancy up and I still couldn’t tell her. It was so dark, I was so scared you were,” You pull your face away to look at him. He’s tired, you can tell, soft eyes carrying bags of sleep beneath them that he’s more than ready to put down, but he’s here with you instead. “I can go. I know you probably don’t want me here, just give me a second. I just had to make sure you were okay.”

Eddie shakes his head, holding you still. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. It’s way too dark, and I don’t have a vehicle to bring you back. I didn’t come here to get away from you. I just wanted to be somewhere quieter for tonight. That’s all.” He pulls you back into him, seemingly more for himself than for you. “You’re alright. Let’s go upstairs. I’ll give you the tour tomorrow.”

Eddie holds his hand out, and instead you hook yourself around his arm like a child reunited with your parent, holding on for dear life so as not to get lost again. Eddie leads you up the stairs, and down the hall to what you can only assume is the guestroom. When he opens the door, though, it’s far too lived in. Eddie has clothes in the closet, shoes on the ground, and records on the shelf in the corner. “I keep a lot of my stuff here. Wayne won’t let me take it to LA, thinks it gives me a reason to visit more.”

“Does it?” You sniffle, finally relaxing.

He shrugs. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” He looks you up and down, taking in the clothes you’d ridden here in. “You need something to sleep in.” He turns to his dresser, pulling out an Iron Maiden shirt and another pair of boxer shorts. “It’s not much but,” He holds them out for you, and you take them gratefully. “I can uh,” You’re already changing before he can finish, and you don’t care one bit that he didn’t even bother turning around.

“Thank you.” It’s a whisper, full of shame. You didn’t want to disturb him, to interrupt his time away from everyone. You’d been selfish, biking your way here just to see him.

“You don’t have to thank me. Or be sorry, for that matter. Never.” He pulls the covers back and climbs into the big bed.

“I can sleep on the couch, I know you probably want to be alone.” Even though you don’t, you can’t be right now. You would, though, for him.

“Absolutely not. Get in. Please.” It’s not a question, but you nod, and climb into the bed beside him. Before you can move, Eddie drags you into him, his arms closing around your waist, head burying into your shoulder. Instantly, you’re calm. Eddie washes over you, and you’re overwhelmed by his warmth, his smell, his soft breath on your neck. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe. You repeat it to yourself until you’re dozing off, and Eddie’s breath evens out. You fall asleep with him wrapped around you, and you don’t have another dream.

chapter XVII

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