#the Jonathan frustration is real though

[heavencasteel420]

In my hypothetical no-UD AU, Joyce and Bob are seriously dating but Hopper is friends with both of them and there are kind of flirtatious vibes all around. But Will and Jonathan are both just like “whatever, let’s not look at that too closely.”

#bob and Joyce have been dating for about two years #so Jonathan’s basically past the ‘is Bob secretly an awful person beneath his teddy bear facade’ phase #and most of the way through the ‘will Bob devastate Mom and Will by bailing if things get too real?’ phase #and about to enter the ‘why come to me when I am this’ phase #and the ‘I’m going to move to forks because Mom married a baseball player and doesn’t need me anymore’ phase #will is genuinely glad to have an adult man in his life who likes him in a benevolent and genuine and effortless way #but this is the story where lonnie dies and will doesn’t feel much about it #so he feels guilty about the gulf between his affection for bob and the nothing he feels for lonnie #even though it comes from a natural preference for people who are nice and care about him #Bob is well-meaning but he does not understand the depth of dysfunction going on #and he’s like well obviously lonnie wasn’t a good guy but he was their father and i should respect that #and will and jonathan are both like no thank you! we do not want that! #meanwhile Joyce is frustrated because she has actually achieved some stability for the family #and made it so Jonathan and Will can do have a more normal adolescence #but there’s never an actual conversation about this #and it’s really too little too late for Jonathan #so he totally misunderstands what she’s trying to do #and thinks she’s just sweeping his parentification under the rug because she’s embarrassed by it #meanwhile will is like I will be the most normal teen ever #(as long as he doesn’t have to play sports except track ig. he has limits) #this is supposed to be a fairly lighthearted story btw

[laundrybiscuits]

(Continued from this snippet! Content notes: police interrogation, homophobia)

“You don’t look gay.” The detective gives Steve a very obvious once-over. Steve tries to look gayer as subtly as he can. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to let my boyfriend know you don’t think I look gay enough to fuck him.”

The detective’s face twists slightly, like he’s smelled something bad. “No need to be like that. I’m just saying, I bet a good-looking guy like you could get a girlfriend pretty easy.”

“You’re not my type,” says Steve. He smiles with his teeth, even though his heart is going fast and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. 

The detective’s hands tense, and Steve wonders if he’s about to get hit, but they relax again and the detective sits back.

“Just doing my job,” says the detective. “Because, funny enough, we asked around with all your little friends, and it seems like you used to be a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“Things change,” says Steve. 

“In fact…seems like none of your friends ever even saw you talk to Munson before. Moved in different circles and everything. I remember what high school was like.”

The detective leans close. 

“So why would the captain of the swim team, a nice normal boy from a good family with a string of pretty girlfriends, ever—ever—stick his neck out like this for some murdering scum like Munson? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, here.”

“Don’t fucking talk about him like that,” says Steve. His mouth is dry. His pulse is thundering in his ears. “He didn’t kill anyone. He was with me the whole time. He’s—he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Hm,” says the detective. 

It takes a while for them to stop interrogating him. They keep asking him the same questions over and over, trying to trip him up. He asks for water and doesn’t get it. In the back of his mind, a hysterical little voice is shrieking Scoops Ahoy! I work for Scoops Ahoy!, but he manages to keep it locked down. Doesn’t let himself get baited, just keeps repeating that Eddie was with him the whole time and neither of them know anything. 

It takes a while, but it’s over eventually.

When he leaves the station, Eddie’s standing outside with Hopper and Joyce Byers, wearing a shirt and jeans that definitely belonged to Jonathan at some point. Eddie’s got his hands tucked into his armpits, looking antsy and tense, but he’s free and standing on his own two feet. It’s a pretty big upgrade from when Steve last saw him about a week or two ago. 

It’s almost too easy to go straight over to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug like they’ve had their arms around each other a million times. 

“Oof. Easy there, tiger,” laughs Eddie. “I’m, uh, still a little fragile.”

“Sorry,” says Steve, and loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go all the way.

“Come on, boys,” says Joyce. “I’m taking you two home. Steve, Eddie’s been staying with us, but we’re a little short on spare beds and it’s not great for his recovery. We’re moving him to your place until we can figure out something better, okay?” 

———

Joyce drops them off and helps carry in a few garbage bags full of Eddie’s stuff. There’s not that much.

And then the door closes behind her, and Steve’s alone with Eddie for the first time since—actually, maybe ever. 

“So,” says Eddie. “What…the fuck, Harrington.”

“Is that an actual question?” Steve says. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “I mean, didn’t Hopper and Mrs. Byers explain everything to you?”

“Kind of? I mean, I still think this is probably the worst idea of all time, but they told me—anyway, what I meant just now was a much more personalized and individual what the fuck. As in, why the fuck would you agree to any of this? You know you’re never gonna get another girl in this town to look at you now.”

“Dumping me already? Ice cold, man.”

Eddie groans and actually throws his hands in the air in frustration. Steve hadn’t known people did that in real life. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie wheels around and grabs two of the garbage bags. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a fucking nap. We will be discussing this later.”

“Still don’t know what there is to discuss,” says Steve, but he picks up the last garbage bag and leads the way to the spare room. 

Eddie pitches forwards onto the bed, arms outstretched and face mashed into the pillow. “Fuck yes, I am going to marry this goddamn mattress. Hit the lights when you leave,” he says, slightly muffled. 

For a second, Steve finds himself stepping forward with a hand outstretched to—do something. He’s not sure what. Touch Eddie’s hair, or something dumb like that. His face warms. He’s really glad Eddie isn’t looking at him and doesn’t see how he’s kind of just standing there with a hand out for no reason. 

He turns around, flicking the light switch on his way out, and doesn’t look back.

#steddie #the document title for this is literally “2 cakes” #bc again...there is already a fic with this premise. by bonitabreezy. as I have already said: please go read that instead! #this is like the writing equivalent of a figure study #don't know where it's going or if it's going anywhere. I truly am just vibing with increasingly dubious historical accuracy.

[ymaohoh]

Masterlist

So I've fallen right into the deep end of the HellCheer fandom. Ride or die. I'm in love with Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson. The fans are fucking talented too, alright? I've been binging fics and the artwork but there's certain troupes/ideas/prompts that keep rattling away in my brainbox. I'm going to note them here for if (or when) I maybe write something for the two...but (public service announcement) if anyone knows a fic out there which can scratch these little itches please link me up.

Updated: 18.04.24

My Completed Fics

Chrissy starts dating. Eddie's not thrilled - Dating Chrissy - oneshot

Eddie wants to buy something nice for Chrissy. Candles are romantic, right? He ventures on a quest to the mall - Yankee Candle Baby - oneshot.

Chrissy is such a Brat with Eddie and Jason watches it (while hiding). Jason's POV - Chrissy Cunningham is a Brat - oneshot - mature

What if Chrissy ran from Eddie after her vision? What if it pushed them apart? They later share a joint and things get much much worse. My take on 'Chrissy lives' but it takes a little while for them to get back on the same page - Chrissy Runs Away - Chapter 3/3.

Eddie and Chrissy have unprotected sex against a brick wall after his gig because they can't wait - “We could always just…do it anyway?" - oneshot - mature

Eddie and Chrissy die but they're summoned again for the final fight Ft. time travel and angst - my hope for season 5 - Howl - oneshot

Gender Swap AU where Ellie Munson saves Chris Cunningham - a play on 'Chrissy Lives' - Rule 63' - oneshot

Ongoing

Vecna keeps Chrissy in hell - 'and she's a bride of the fucking devil' - 2/2 chapters.

My Mess of Drabbles

Eddie dies and Chrissy is waiting for him - end of passion play, crumbling away - short drabble only

Chrissy the Vampire Slayer AU

Labyrinth AU

X-Files AU

Pirates AU

Jason joins the good side AU

Photocheer moodboard (Chrissy x Jonathan)

Headcannon Prompts

Max's relationship with Hellcheer

Dustin's relationship with Hellcheer

Chrissy and Wayne Munson's (beautiful) relationship

Chrissy and The Party headcanons

Favourite Fanfictions Masterlist

Need a new fic? Not sure where to start? Check out these INCREDIBLE Hellcheer fanfictions

In need of/ Prompts

Chrissy gets her first tattoo. A cliche at this point no? I'm torn between her getting this done without Eddie knowing as a surprise, or if I want him right there holding her hand.

Eddy eyeing her up in the school cafeteria or class. Basically Eddy simping over Chrissy.

Anything with Eddie and Chrissy reuniting after death / or in the upside-down (manifesting the second).

Chrissy and Eddie getting high together. Maybe a dash of 'will I remember any of this tomorrow?' as they confess their feelings and frustrations.

Eddie loves Chrissy in a sundress. The more feminine, girly, and flouncy the better. He wants to get his hands under it.

He also loves her in a Hellfire top. Anything really that marks her subtly as his.

Other character POV's watching them flirt. Sweet sweet music to my...eyes?

He loves it when she wears one of his rings. She has plenty of her own jewelry (and it's all real gold/expensive/fit for a princess) but it doesn't mean anything really. Her eyes light up at his rings, though.

Together they create a D&D character for her to practice with. They discuss what type she's most likely to be (Eddie's a bard right?). I'm feeling Chrissy might also have that bard energy (she's THE hype girl, right?) or a healer? They definitely get distracted though and don't actually finish it.

He is a rambler. He talks when he's nervous - and Chrissy finds it easy to keep up.

Chrissy tells the jocks to leave the Hellfire club alone in the school corridor. She gets annoyed when she hears them referring to the kids as 'freaks'. Eddie adores the fire and nerve he sees in her eyes because it only really ever comes out when she's in protective mode (bonus points 1) if she tells Jason to fuck off 2) she walks away with the Hellfire club after).

Chrissy is the only one who gets him to study (and pass). He knows he has a reason to now, you know? They've got plans and he isn't wasting time.

Eddie has doubts about Chrissy really truly loving him - she's way out of his league, after all, so she makes sure to create visual reminders. She takes their photo together and tacks it up in her locker for all to see.

Eddie loves fucking Chrissy in her cheerleading uniform. She loves fucking him when he's backstage. They will want to mark their place in each other's bizarre worlds.

Eddie worries about his future with Chrissy (what's his dumbass supposed to do while she excels at college?) but he likes the way his last name suits her.

Eddie is ONLY soft for Chrissy. A scene where he's trying to be big and scary for the club and she unknowingly fractures this image by doing something oh so achingly cute. Maybe she giggles or squee's during a D&D session? It takes him ages to drag himself back into his DM role.

I'll be adding to this , fo' sure.

Is there an official name for this dynamic? Unpopular baddass x sunshine princess?

All aboard the ship. Ahoy ahoy.

#hellcheer #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #stranger things #i'm a sucker for this dynamic. please don't send help #Chrissy's got the cutest smile #edssy #eddisy #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer headcanons #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #stranger things season 5 #eddissy #eddissy headcannons

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

We're Still Shit Out of Luck, Munson (pt. 2)

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Part One Masterlist

Summary: After being snowed in with Eddie and accidentally falling for him, you two are left to figure out what this is and how to make it work – by any means necessary.

Word Count: ~8.6k

Warnings: Angst. Swearing. Fluff. More fluff. Eddie's a hopeless romantic.

A/n: Thank you everyone for the love I received on part one of this fic. I had no idea people would like it so much. Please let me know your thoughts! Love hearing from you all, and thank you for reading <3

And tip: you can listen to any song from Stick Season by Noah Kahan while reading

--

It hadn’t been enough for Eddie. 

One kiss. That’s all he was able to sneak in before the most horrible and irritating people ever (read: friends he loved dearly) interrupted you two. Then you were gone from his grasp, leaving him cold all over again in that godforsaken cabin. At the sound of Steve’s voice announcing they had made it back, he couldn’t help pressing his mouth to yours before the moment came crashing down around him.

It had ended all too quick, the pulsing left on his lips aching to return to you. The taste of you left him intoxicated, crawling back for more if Harrington’s stupid grin and stupid hair hadn’t waltzed back with his arms wide. You offered an apologetic smile to him before turning to greet the group, his own feet trailing behind you.

And that was the last day there before the weekend ended, so he couldn’t even share the bed with you for real this time. With you in his arms… as someone who wanted to kiss him. They’d been in and out of the room even while packing, telling story after story of the motel and plows. You couldn’t blame them – you’d come along to spend time with them, not to fall for Eddie. Though that certainly wasn’t a horrible coincidence.

But in the spare moments between Robin asking if you’d seen her hairbrush for the third time and Jonathan trying to figure out the drive back on that outdated map, it’d been quiet besides the rustling of clothes being shoved back into bags. You’d wanted it all to be comfortable, to feel as easy as it had been just hours ago, but everything weighed over you. It lingered in the air, stealing the breath from your lungs until you rushed out in a whisper, “I’m driving back to college tomorrow.”

A hard swallow bit down your throat as you risked a glance to him, and you lost that gamble. You would’ve loved to look up at his soft eyes to find that adoration he had for only you; hell, even a hardset glare at this shitty situation sitting in front of you. But they were neither. His eyes had looked up at you in raw shock, betrayal almost at it all. Then they broke as they turned just a bit shinier.

“How long?” he asked, voice quiet as he continued packing things into his bag.

“How long… what?” The pit in your stomach refused to ease, even without him looking at you now. It just wanted his arms back around your body.

His labored sigh snaked through the room – not out of frustration, but because he feared for the worst. “How long is the drive from Hawkins?”

You paused, leaving an expectant pocket of silence threatening to swallow up everything in its path. You’d changed your mind, wanting him to meet your eyes again. Please look up, Eddie. 

“I, uh… a few hours, a bit more. Three if you speed,” you told him, hoping he could tell that you were practically begging him to visit without you having to voice it. To be sure, you reached out your hand toward his. If anyone walked in, your body would block their view – and you’d almost pity them for missing out on the freckles that dotted the back of Eddie’s fingers, freckles that you rubbed over with your thumb like it could grant some wish.

Still, he hadn’t raised his eyes an inch, so you squeezed his hand and said, “Well, if someone wanted to drive there, they’d probably need the phone number of the student. Just in case, of course.” And his silent laugh brought a warmth to your chest you had missed.

“I suppose they would, wouldn’t they?” Eddie asked, tilting that lopsided grin your way. “So, sweetheart…”

“Yes?” you said, expression innocent and holding back a laugh as you waited for him to ask.

He sighed again, but it held no malice. “Could I get your phone number?”

You pretended to think about it, pursing your lips before saying, “Well I think it would only be fair if I got your number in return, wouldn’t it? Especially if I’m to make it to your concert.”

And he nodded, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “God, I got to kiss a genius. You come up with the best ideas.”

A laugh bubbled up your chest as you lightly smacked him. “Just because flattery works on you Eddie doesn’t mean it works on me.”

“Oh, so a genius and  a liar…” he said, shaking his head. He brought a hand up to brush a finger against your cheek, his eyes unwavering this time. “Because I know exactly what happens when I call you the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Part of you hated he was right, like your heated cheeks and inability to form words. But the other part of you nearly damned it all to kiss that smug grin off his face. Though none of it mattered, as every part of you hated the approaching footsteps and dropped hands, especially the wave of cold they left in their path.

Nancy had come to announce that they’d be leaving soon, and you found it hard to hide your disappointment. The two of you couldn’t even convince the group to let you ride back with him in the van, insisting that Robin and Steve lived closer to Eddie than your parents did.

You’d wanted to speak up, to tell the lump in your throat and their judgments to go to hell. Eddie nearly did say that. But neither of you knew what existed between the two of you, and jeopardizing it by telling your friends was not on the table. 

God, he wished you were on the table, him between your legs and mouth on yours.

His eyes blinked hard as he concentrated on the road again, playing your secret goodbye in his head throughout the whole ride back. Eddie dodged side-eyes from Steve and occasional questions from Robin about whether he was okay because he didn’t once complain about the terrible choice of music they picked.

You’d caught Nancy’s gaze in the rearview mirror a few times, knowing she had silent questions she wanted to ask. And you expected a call from her later when it’d just be the two of you, but she let you sit there quietly for now, planning all the different weekends you might be free to drive back here. For Eddie.

–

“Does next weekend work?”

“I’ve got Parent Weekend then. What about the weekend after? The… 16th?” you asked, looking through your calendar as you stood in your college dorm’s common area on the public phone.

The sigh coming through his end of the line had you chewing on your lip before he answered. “They’ve got me working a double that weekend, some dick called out.”

“I’m sure he didn’t do it just to spite you, Eddie,” you said, offering a small laugh.

“Well he did spite me by making me wait to see you again.” You could practically see the way he huffed, laying in bed at his place with those wrinkles set deep between his eyebrows and hand too tight on the receiver. “Okay, what about the 23rd then?” he asked.

You flipped through your calendar, the rustling of the pages filling the nearly empty room. As soon as you saw your writing there, your eyes squeezed shut, not realizing you let out a soft groan.

“No good, huh?” 

“No,” you breathed out, hand coming to rub down your face. “Got a test and an essay due that Monday. Professor Quinn’s class, can’t fail it.”

“‘S okay,” he offered, but Eddie’s voice made your lips press together to stop you from saying something you might regret – like ‘But I miss you’ or ‘Come anyway, please.’ Instead, you let the static fill the space between you. When imagining him this time, you tried picturing yourself right next to him, laying against his chest as he read some book out loud to you or talked about some metal song and its meaning.

It shattered apart when he spoke again. “Guess I won’t see ya until our concert, then,” he said, his words flat and shoved through the line with a wince. ‘Corroded Coffin’ was written on the Friday after, surrounded by a few doodled hearts. You’d wanted to see each other sooner, but the universe seemed to have other plans.

“I know… I know,” you told Eddie, trying to offer some reassurance to unspoken words, but it felt as much for you as it was for him. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Eddie.”

A soft hum came from him, followed by, “I like when you say my name.” Now that there was nothing to be done for these horrible plans, you were grateful he changed the subject.

“Yeah?” you asked, feeling a smile grow across your face. “Would’ve picked you as a ‘darling’ or ‘handsome’ kind of guy. Maybe a ‘super handsome Dungeon Master Eddie’ for special occasions.”

You hadn’t realized how much you missed the waves of his laugh until it kissed your ears against the phone. “Well now that you’ve said it, I could certainly get used to the last one, sweetheart. ‘S got a nice ring to it,” he said, his grin evident in his voice. “Really though, ‘Eddie’ sounds perfect coming from you.”

Thankful he couldn’t see the way your face lit up or stomach flutter from his words, you shut your eyes and just stood there listening to his soft breaths. Only when you heard someone come in to use the phone did you say something. “Gotta go, Eddie. You promise to write?”

“Course, I’ll see you soon,” he said, and you weren’t sure this call had made your body feel better for talking with him or worse because it reminded you that he wasn’t actually there.

Either way, you told him “Goodbye” with a sad sort of smile on your lips.

“Bye, sweetheart. Dream of me.” With that, he hung up, leaving you there for a moment listening to the dial tone before remembering the girl waiting there.

You nodded your head to her as you passed, taking your much too full calendar with you. And you did dream of Eddie, trying to hug him but no matter what you did, he slipped through your outstretched fingers like sand. The next time you spoke with him, you wouldn’t tell him that you woke up with tears in your eyes.

–

Eddie had tried, he really had. Harder than he’d ever tried at school, that was for sure. He’d pleaded with every one of his coworkers at the auto shop to take his shifts that weekend so he could visit you – he had promised to take double the shifts for them, had even tried bribing them with money, even though it’d only been $5.

And he got rid of one of them, opening up Saturday even if  he had to be back on Sunday. But he’d get to be with you for a few hours. That was enough. When he’d gotten ready to make the drive and surprise you – hair clean, clothes unwrinkled, and a pile of your favorite snacks – his phone rang.

He regretted picking it up, fearing it’d be work. And he was right. His boss said the guy who’d promised to take the shift bailed, so Eddie had to come in or he’d be fired. Slamming the receiver down, he let out a guttural groan that burned his throat. Throwing off his nice clothes for his grease-stained ones, he couldn’t bring himself to even tell you about his plans at all, knowing you’d be just as disappointed as he was. 

His grip on the steering wheel did nothing to relieve his anger – at his coworker, at his stupid job, at whatever sick and twisted universe was laughing at his misery. The only thing that got him through the weekend was picturing finally seeing you again. Toothy grin and warm touch wrapped around him, jokes that made him shake his head, and kindness he wasn’t sure he always deserved. But you gave it to him without question, and he counted down the days until he could have that again.

–

The week leading up to Eddie’s concert, the weekend you’d finally be able to spend time with him since those days trapped in the cabin together, you found yourself pacing more often, picking at the seam of your jeans, abusing your lip with your teeth as you thought of every detail the weekend held for you two.

You packed your bag with everything you needed well before you left, checking at least twice every day until Friday finally came. Maybe you were doing a bit too much, but you’d already made him cookies in the terrible dorm kitchen, so there was no going back now. You tried to keep most of this excitement down when talking with Eddie, not wanting to overwhelm or intimidate him with your feelings – but even with your worries, you knew he wouldn’t be, not with how much he talked about wanting to spend every minute with you while you visited.

After your final Friday class, your legs carried you through crowds of people as you grabbed your things and said a quick goodbye to your roommate before racing to your car under building waves of rain. The engine rumbled to life in the damp air that turned your deep breaths foggy, and as you turned out onto the street, you only hoped he felt just as excited to see you.

–

Eddie was losing it, practically shitting himself when Friday came. He’d spent more time cleaning his apartment than he had in his entire life, scrubbing things he had never known he had to clean. His clothes were folded, his fridge and cupboards filled with drinks and snacks he knew you’d like, hell, he even tucked in his sheets when making his bed. What were you doing to him?

He walked – no, floated really – through work, his palms constantly sweaty and body fidgety. His mind sat elsewhere while under the hood, nearly taking off his fingers when not paying attention one time. And though his feet were tired, he took a long shower after work to scrub himself free of dirt and grease. Because you were coming, just a few hours before his show at The Hideout, and everything had to work out, right? Right?

And standing in the middle of his apartment, looking out at the storm rolling in, Eddie believed, naively, for a moment. Until his phone rang.

–

You shoved your fingers under your arm, hoping to warm them up just a little as you stood in the phone booth. As it rang again and again, you pretended the water dripping down your cheeks was only from the rain you’d run through. You eyed your car on the side of the road dipping slightly to the side from its popped tire. The sun had started its descent now in the late afternoon, and the streets filled with more and more cars as rush hour grew.  You were only halfway to Hawkins.

“Hello?” 

Your bottom lip began to quiver, trying to focus on the way his sweet voice brought you into a safe hug rather than how it broke your heart.

“Hey, Eddie,” you whispered, not trusting your words quite yet. Though it didn’t matter to hide anything, not when it came to you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, worry instantly coating his words like suffocating sap threatening to drown you.

Glancing at your car once more, you swallowed down a hard lump in your throat and ripped the bandaid off. “I, uh, got a flat tire. So I’m stuck here for a little bit – I called a local tire shop and a guy’s going to hopefully get here soon to help.”

You heard rustling from his side of the line followed by keys jingling. “I can come get you, where are you at?” he asked.

With a shallow laugh, you told him, “I’m still an hour and a half out, Eddie. And it’s rush hour. You won’t make it back in time for your show.”

“Doesn’t matter. Where are you?”

You shook your head, more for yourself than him. The zipper of your coat clinked against the glass of the phone booth as you shifted, your fingers tightening against its hem. “I should still be there in time to drive over with you to warm up, okay?”

Your eyes shut at hearing his rough sigh. An aching erupted in your chest as you whispered out, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he told you. “Though, at this point, I have to ask. Were you some criminal in your past life? A murderer?”

“I don’t think so…” You let out an unsure laugh through your nose. “Were you?”

“Must’ve been, because it feels like we’re paying for something – some horrible destiny to make up for our past mistakes,” he said. And though he tried joking, the reality of your distant relationship and its obstacles weighed heavy in the miles between you.

You chewed on the inside of your lip, ignoring the pounding in your ears as you said, “Couldn’t be too horrible if I’m seeing you.”

His cheesy smile practically shone through the phone as he laughed. You imagined him covering his eyes with a hand, his cheeks dusted pink. “You sure know how to melt a guy, sweetheart.”

And rather than hang up, Eddie talked with you about everything and nothing while waiting for the tire guy. You’d long since dried, your cheeks warm rather than wet as you laughed at his story of him, Steve, and Robin getting kicked out of a movie theater for quoting all the lines of The Labyrinth and throwing popcorn at each other.

You used up all of your spare change to keep the call going, Eddie promising to pay you back despite your protests. But as the sky began to turn a darker shade of blue, the rain still dripping outside, a pit ate its way in your stomach when help still hadn’t arrived.

In a lull, you said in a weak voice, “Eddie…”

“Don’t,” he breathed, and you winced. “He has to be there soon. He has to, honey.”

“It’s getting late. I won’t make it in time to drive over with you.” It came out a whisper, your head leaning against the cold glass. With a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you said, “Think we’re shit out of luck again, Munson.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Yeah…”

Eddie’s words felt as a plea that would break your heart to deny him. “That’s okay. Just meet me at The Hideout.” He paused, before saying, “Please.”

“I will.” And you wanted to say something more, even opened your mouth to tell him how important this was and how hard you’d get your stupid car to work to get you to him. But you were running out of minutes on the call, and with no more change in your pocket, you just said, “Can’t wait to see you. Good luck, Eddie.” You’d make it there, someway, somehow.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Be safe.”

–

When Eddie knew you’d hung up, he pressed the receiver down much too hard. His fingers pressed against his head, twisting around his hair. He’d see you. You’d come. It’d be okay.

But as he laced his shoes, grabbing his guitar and equipment, he couldn’t stop the disappointing possibility of coming back here tonight without you – his spotless apartment that felt much too quiet, too empty now. Maybe he’d make a mess before falling asleep just so it’d feel like you’d left your clothes there.

The slick roads reflected shimmering lights from street lamps. Rain drops flew past the headlights of Eddie’s van, thundering against its metal exterior. He tried drumming his fingers to the beat of whatever song played in the background, not that he really focused on it, but his tapping fell off rhythm, joining the cacophony outside. 

Even when he pulled up to the back of The Hideout, his mind felt as foggy as his clouded windshield. He barely caught Gareth’s slight frown as Eddie just nodded to him, bringing his equipment inside without a word. It wasn’t until he’d readied everything and snuck a glance out into the crowd did his body start to come back online. You weren’t there. Checking his watch, he saw there were only ten minutes before they’d call the band out.

He bounced back and forth on his feet, shaking his hands out as if it could toss away his stabbing nerves… or maybe it felt like a sharp pain carved out by your absence. Eventually, Jeff came by, clapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You ready, man?” he asked, adjusting his guitar strap as he did so.

Eddie nodded hard, sending his hair flying. Perhaps if he faked it hard enough, it’d somehow come true. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “We got this.” But he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything more. He checked his watch again, and a few more times. His head peeked out to the crowd, looking one more time for you – for those eyes that’d tell him it was all okay. For that smile whispering promises of better days together. 

But he didn’t see either, and as Gareth let him know it was time to get into places, Eddie imagined whether you’d make it time for him leaving. That at home, he could strum on his baby for you, give you some sort of concert. Or if you were still stuck there an hour and a half away, he’d drop everything to make it there in 45 minutes – god, he’d really just let you stay there. He shook his head. He should’ve just left to get you, and his hand would be entwined with yours right now, your head leaning on his shoulder.

Even after that, Eddie began to plan other weekends that’d work for him. He’d make any of them work. Fuck work and his shitty coworker. He’d have you. And as Corroded Coffin walked out onto the small stage, a forced smile on his face and too shallow breaths falling from his lips, he took his spot to find you mere feet away – soaked from the rain and out of breath. But you were there.

–

You’d made the drive as fast as you could, but rush hour took mercy on no one. At least Eddie wouldn’t have to know how many times you nearly screamed at the other drivers for getting in your way, because you’d made it in time. Almost forgetting to even lock your car, you sprinted under the rainstorm into The Hideout the second a voice from the speakers announced Corroded Coffin. You squeaked out apologies to people you pushed past to get closer to the creaking stage.

The heat of the people around you made your damp clothes stick to your skin, the beads of raindrops plopping down around you. But you couldn’t find yourself caring too much when Eddie walked out, clothed in his leather jacket and red flannel tied around his waist. His wild hair spilled around his face in a halo, framing his eyes that immediately found yours. Eyes shining a warm brown in the stage lights, softening as you gave him a small wave, unable to dampen your growing smile.

He mouthed back “Hi” with the widest, toothiest grin you’d ever seen. And if you thought your hammering heartbeat couldn’t grow stronger, you were almost thankful to be wrong once they began playing. 

You weren’t sure what to focus on – his hands as they effortlessly floated across his guitar, his veins visible as his fingers flexed. Maybe his legs. Eddie never seemed to stop moving, his thighs tight under his black jeans. You tried his eyes for a bit, but they rarely left your face, and you could only take his intense gaze for so long. So more often than you’d admit, it landed back at his mouth moving along to the words, though it often quirked up into a smirk at your constant staring.

But how could you not stare? You’d made it, and here he was. You swore your smile never left your face through the whole performance, not that you remembered much of it. It passed in a blur, your body only calming when the last note drifted into silence, a promise of Eddie coming out in a few minutes settling into your relaxing shoulders and deeper breaths.

Shuffling through the crowd, you planned to grab a drink when you heard the unmistakable sound of Eddie’s voice saying your name. You felt his hand brush up your arm before you saw him, his fingers wrapping around you and pulling you to him in a crushing hug. Your face pressed against him as a breath rushed from your lungs, shutting your eyes as you let reality sink in.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty,” he said, his voice next to your ear. Eddie tried pulling away, but you held him even tighter.

“Don’t care,” you whispered to him, feeling him smile against you.

You eventually let him pull back, and you couldn’t say you missed hugging him – not when you took in the hopeless look on his face, one that probably matched yours. “Wanna get outta here?” he asked, thumb rubbing back and forth along your arm.

“Shouldn’t I meet your bandmates or something? Are you sure you want to leave?” You furrowed your eyebrows, not wanting to make him leave if he enjoyed myself.

But that made him laugh. “You can meet them at a different show. We’re on limited time, sweetheart,” he said, entwining his fingers in yours and leading you through the crowd and outside. Thankfully, the rain had softened into a light drizzle.

He walked with you toward his van around back, which made you pause. “Oh, I parked over there.” You pointed to the other side of the lot.

But Eddie swung your hands forward and back, squeezing just a bit harder as he asked, “Would it sound too desperate if I said I’d rather just drive together? We could come get your car tomorrow.”

Your grin must’ve looked teasing because his face dropped, his mouth opening as if to say something to explain himself. But you couldn’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the giddiness threatening to fall from your lips at his sweet words. “If the owner’s okay with it, then yeah. I’d love to, Eddie. But I have to get my things from my car.” You squeezed his hand back as he nodded before continuing, “I could meet you back at your van if you need to still pack up your things.”

“That’s alright. I’ll come with you,” he said, letting you bring him to your car. Though it was only a minute there and a minute back, you were glad he came along – even if to just ask you how the drive had been and take your constant compliments on how well he played. And that look reappeared like it’d always been there, the one that made it hard to think and look away from his gaze.

Eddie of course offered to carry your bag back, but you offered him the cookies you made instead. As he opened them up, you rambled. “Hope you like them. They’re chocolate chip. But if you don’t, blame my terrible dorm kitchen.” And you began to say, “We can make some together if they didn’t turn out–”

“Holy shit, are you Martha Stewart?” he said, disbelieving laughs coming out in between bites. “I can’t bake for shit, but I’d learn if you gave me this recipe. Here, have one.”

He held out a cookie in front of your mouth as you two walked, making you try to grab a bite while moving. But it was worth it because he wasn’t wrong. Your family recipe never did disappoint.

The cookies ended up in the front seat as Eddie loaded your bag into the back. He climbed in next to you, casting glances your way the entire time he drove the two of you back to his place. “You had dinner yet?” he asked.

“Besides one bite of a cookie, no. Didn’t get the chance – I was running late somewhere. Can’t remember where though,” you teased, nudging his elbow with yours.

He gave a soft smile, saying, “I hope it was worth it, whatever it was.”

“Oh it was.” Though your head leaned toward the window, eyes watching cars and buildings pass by in streams behind the rain, you rested your hand in your lap, his laying right on top. Never far.

“Okay, well even though I’m sweaty and you got soaked by rain – and it’s pretty late – we could go out to eat somewhere. I mean, I’d like to take you out somewhere. If you want… you did have a long drive and–”

“Yes,” you told him, stopping his adorable rambling and pretending you didn’t see the blush on his cheeks. “I want to go on a date with you.”

He nodded, making a turn into a parking lot as he said, “Yeah? Yeah, good.” And you could’ve sworn that under the soft storm, tires rumbling, and quiet music coming from the radio, you heard him say a celebratory “Sweet” under his breath. 

Looking up, you saw the neon signs lighting up the windows of a diner that boasted its late hours, all of it making your stomach growl. Your smile at the promise of food wavered a bit at seeing Eddie’s unsure look, but you’d have no more of it. You nodded toward the door, telling him, “C’mon casanova. Swoon me on this date.”

–

And swoon you he tried. Eddie forgot to get your door, but he held the diner door open for you. His feet shuffled under him in quick steps as he tried to make it to the table before you, planning to pull out your chair… but you chose a booth. Not that a booth was bad – it was the best seating option available he thought, but you were making him think harder about ways to impress you. Not that it’d work because he always found thinking to be the worst task around you.

He could barely concentrate on the menu that had too many pages, so he just decided to get a burger and fries. Instead, he watched your eyes flit through, your lips moving to the words of the Queen song playing above as your finger traced across the menu items. And an image of you and him dancing to a song in his tiny kitchen from his beat up radio had him breathless for a few moments.

But all he could bring himself to say to you was, “So, how’s college been?”

Your eyes flicked up to his over the top of the menu, some sort of look on your face that he couldn’t quite decipher. You let out a long sigh though, bringing your gaze back down. “Sometimes, I really wonder whether this degree is worth it, you know?”

“It’s gotta be worth something, right?” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “I mean, yeah it sounds like absolute torture, but I know you’re smart.”

You folded up your menu and set it down, making a flurry of emotion hit his chest. Your head cocked to the side as you said, “I thought you were too cool for school, Munson.”

“I am.” He pointed a finger at himself. “But you’re not. You’re too smart to give up on this. And that way, you can be the breadwinner, and I’ll get to be a gold digger.”

Eddie relished in the way you fought the giggles rising up as you shook your head at him. “I don’t have any money yet, Eddie.”

And he loved the way you began leaning toward him too. “Oh, but I’m playing the long con. In a decade, you’ll be making so much dough that I won’t have to do another goddamn oil change again.”

“Except for my car, of course,” you said, looking at him all sweetly like he’d ever deny you.

He nodded along. “Except for your car,” he said, “And mine, which I’m sure you’ll buy for me with your fancy job.”

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Your smile had his own itching higher and higher. “Well, then I’m sure I’ll have to get you something your style. Volkswagen Beetle? Maybe a suped-up van to replace yours, get a nice airbrush design on the side.”

You raised your hand up to spell out the words. “‘Eddie Munson: Dungeon Master Extraordinaire’ in red and black, maybe Dustin will even get a place on it.”

He’d long since rested his head on his fist, trying his hardest to give you an unamused look. “Are you having fun there, sweetheart?”

You just nodded, a smug smile on your face, as the waitress came by to take your orders. Unable to resist giving you some sort of stereotypical date activity, he also ordered a sweet drink to share between the two of you. He would’ve dragged you to the photo booth too if he wasn’t looking so worn. 

And though you’d come all this way, just for him, and were sitting in wet clothes – despite him offering his jacket and flannel – Eddie couldn’t help the doubting thoughts fighting through his mind. You’d calmed him from his panicky state before, but it wasn’t until a lull passed between you two, his eyes unfocusing as he thought, that you reached across the table to hold his hand.

“You know you have me, right?” you asked, and he saw the openness in your eyes. The sincerity you tried wrapping your words in so they’d reach his ears.

Still, he leaned back. “What?”

You gave him that soft smile, ever so patient with him. “You’ve already got me, Eddie. Get out of that head of yours,” you said, tapping a finger softly against his temple.

“Yeah?” he breathed out, catching your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Yeah. I don’t let just anyone be a future gold-digger of mine. You’re lucky.” 

The laughs he let out brushed along your knuckles before he kissed them. He couldn’t say his thanks to you out loud, not just yet, but he knew you understood he was grateful.

So through the meal and giggly drinking through two straws together, and even the drive home, Eddie held onto you tighter. Not because he still thought you’d suddenly change your mind and leave, but because he wanted to memorize the lines of your palm, the way your breaths moved your ribcage up and down, how quick goosebumps erupted along your skin after he touched you.

He wanted to know everything about you. And he planned to after cleaning up and changing. He let you go first – trying not to continue tidying up, though it kept his mind busy from wishing a bit too much that he was in there with you, even if it meant just washing your hair or face. 

You came out in your pajamas, and Eddie had to keep his eyes from staring too much. Though he did say, “Like the Snoopy pjs,” as he gathered his own clothes. He meant it, but he mostly said it to watch you fluster under his attention. Before going into the bathroom, he said, “If you wanted to set up a movie, I’ve got some tapes next to the TV. And popcorn in the kitchen or other snacks and drinks if you’d like. Help yourself to anything.” And he shut the door, breathing in the steam leftover from you.

–

After stuffing your old clothes in your bag, you couldn’t help looking around. You did check out his movie collection, palming through it until you pulled out The Princess Bride. Setting the tape on the table to ask Eddie whether he’d want to watch that one, you strolled toward his music collection – a wide selection of records from Ozzy and Slayer to Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. Maybe, one day, when the two of you had unlimited time together, you could spend the day listening to all of his music as it floated through his apartment.

Your hand brushed along the back of the couch as you walked down the hall to his room, bringing your bag with. A smile overtook your face as you saw how neat it looked. You’d already shared a room with him, you knew he wasn’t this neat. But the effort he put into making his bed and… did he dust too? You ran a finger across the various posters littering the walls, neck craning to look at them all.

“Just because you’re wearing Snoopy pj’s doesn’t mean you get to snoop, sweetheart.” Eddie’s voice came from the doorway behind you, making you jump and slap a hand over your mouth.

Turning toward him, you gently smacked his shoulder. “You have to stop scaring the shit out of me, I swear…” you told him, shaking your head but giving a begrudging smile. He was dressed in his flannel pajamas and black shirt as he had at the cabin, making you avoid his gaze or he’d catch your ogling. Not that you’d been hiding it much tonight. 

“I’m sleeping in here, anyway. Thought I’d get a look around.” You hoped the joking would mask the pounding in your heart.

“Oh?” he asked, eyebrows raised and hands on his hips. “You think you just get to sleep in my bed? I haven’t even offered it to you yet.” The smirk hiding behind his teasing made your chest flutter for just an instant.

You inched toward him, eyes never leaving him. If he wasn’t going to let your heartbeat slow, maybe you could raise his. “Even though I baked you cookies?” you asked, voice softer now.

And it made him waver, words hesitating for a moment before he answered. “Even though you made me cookies. I mean, you can’t just expect…”

“Yes?” you asked from inches away now – eyes wide, head tilted to the side expectantly.

His eyes flitted between yours and your lips. “Stop that,” he whispered, all teasing gone now. He reached a finger to wrap around one of yours hanging by your side.

“Stop what?”

Finally, Eddie surged forward, capturing your mouth with his. A surprised noise came from the back of your throat before you relaxed into him, bringing your free hand to curl around his jaw. He pulled you in closer, closer, closer. You thought he wouldn’t stop until you two had somehow merged into one, the imprint of his fingers on your ribs.

But he pulled back, giving you both a chance to catch your breaths. He leaned his forehead against yours, whispering, “Been waiting for too long to do that.”

You just laughed against his mouth before kissing him again. The dripping of the leaky shower head or the feeling of the carpet below your feet, even your own goddamn name, all disappeared out of your awareness – Eddie’s mouth moving against yours the only thing keeping you grounded to reality.

Your hands braced against his chest as you leaned back just a bit, wanting to look into his dark eyes. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?” he said, voice soft as he refused to look away from you.

Breathing in, you told him, “I picked out Princess Bride to watch, that okay?”

And he let out a groan as he pulled you against him again into a tight hug. “I wonder if the whole world knows I’m the luckiest man to exist. Should I go tell them? I should tell them,” he said, dragging you along as he went to the living room and toward the window.

But you pulled him back, giggles erupting. “You are not going to scream out your window, you lunatic.”

Even his fake gasp at your insult didn’t stop him as he tried to open it with his one free hand. You pleaded with him. “I’ll make the popcorn if you keep that window closed.”

That made him stop, his body turning to give you a side eye as he considered it. “Okay… I think we have a deal. But I’m letting every person I talk to know about you, there’s no stopping me.”

“Fine,” you sighed, just happy to appease him for the moment. Though he didn’t even let you make the popcorn, just made you get the couch all comfortable while he made it – as a thanks for your ‘god-like taste in movies’ as he’d put it. Though you took it as a thanks for everything else this night too.

As he settled into the cushions next to you, the warmth of the freshly popped kernels washing onto you, you leaned into him under a blanket. The first moments of the movie came to life, the grandson’s coughing and his video game illuminating the room. Eddie couldn’t help quoting most of the lines from it, his impressions making you quietly laugh. And just like that, your whole body felt safe, your heart full in the way only he could make it.

–

Eddie lived for making you laugh, the sound practically music to his ears. So when he stopped feeling your shoulders shake after he made another dumb joke, he looked over at you. Your breathing had evened out, your eyes shut as you laid your head against his chest, his arm slung around your waist. 

While he’d let out a long sigh when you missed out on the final scenes of the movie, Eddie couldn’t say he was all that disappointed. Waking you up to go to his room meant falling asleep next to you, something he’d often dreamt about these past months. Except, through the end credits rolling across his grainy TV, his own eyes grew heavier. And with your soft heartbeat pounding against his body, he didn’t stand a chance at sinking into sleep along with you.

His dreams as he drifted in and out felt like floating, swimming through the ocean or resting on a cloud surrounding him on all sides. He only slipped from it from your finger brushing his hair out of his face.

In a voice that sounded as sleepy as his mind felt, you said, “C’mon, we gotta go to bed.” Eddie let out a soft groan, rubbing his eyes before blinking open to find you with an arm thrown over your eyes, leaning against the back of the couch.

“Okay,” he mumbled, “let’s go.”

You nodded but didn’t move, making him give a weak laugh.

“What? Don’t want to cuddle anymore?” he asked, pressing his hands on his thighs before standing up.

And that got you up, even with hesitant movements as you lumbered into Eddie’s arms, shuffling to his room together. “I’m going to cuddle you so hard,” you grumbled, your eyes barely open. 

“I’m sure you will, honey,” he told you, shaking his head through a soft laugh. He pulled back the covers on his bed, collapsing onto the mattress with you in his arms. Your head nuzzled into his chest before you let out a long breath that wavered through the air.

In a voice rid of any sleep, you muttered, “I had a nightmare.” Your fingers twisted into his shirt as your breaths began to shake.

His heart staggered for a moment as he opened his eyes, trying to find yours in the dark. But he couldn’t see you. He held you tighter against him as he asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I…” you started, your voice watery. It made his own throat tighten up. After a few moments that ate away at his insides, you spoke. “I lost you.” 

Eddie could feel your lips tighten, as if holding back tears. He didn’t ask you any more questions. Bringing his hand up, he rubbed a thumb across your brow bone. “I’m right here, sweetheart. You didn’t lose me.” 

Your body curled against him, pressing into him even closer still. But his arm wrapping around your back could feel you holding your breath. “Hey, hey. Breathe in and out with me, okay?”

He exaggerated the rising and lowering of his chest as he felt you copying him, your pounding heart beginning to slow just a bit. Eddie’s mouth dropped to kiss the top of your head, whispering against you, “That’s good, just like that.” Once you seemed to calm, he spoke again. “I hope you know that it’s pretty damn hard to lose me. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

The exhale of your soft laugh brushed along his arm. Your quiet sniffle filled the room, and he maneuvered to turn on the bedside lamp. He passed you the tissue box, which you took gratefully. 

“Sorry, Eddie. Didn’t mean to keep you up,” you said, your eyes cast downward.

“Don’t worry about it. I mean it, or I will actually scream out the window this time,” he joked, pursing his lips as he thought. “How about I read something… out loud. Would that be good?”

His eyes caught your hesitance, like you were about to tell him that you didn’t need someone to read you a bedtime story. Which he knew, but everyone deserved to be cared for. So he held his hands up, saying, “No scary books, I promise. How about a little Lord of the Rings? Just the beginning.”

And that smile that grew across your face made it all worth it. He picked Fellowship of the Ring off his shelf, propping up his pillow so he could read and have you resting on his chest at the same time. 

With a clean tissue crumpled into your hand, you wrapped yourself around Eddie as he opened up to the first page. He started telling the story in a quiet voice, but in the same way he narrated his D&D campaign, making you give a soft giggle.

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of…” Eddie began, working his way through the first chapter. It was only once your eyes began drooping, your head growing heavier on him, that he strayed from the words on the page.

He skipped any talk of an evil power rising. Instead, he made up more tales of Frodo and his friends, of the eccentricities of wizards – happy, calm things you were too tired to notice weren’t from the words on the page. Once he was sure you’d drifted off, Eddie carefully shut the book, setting it on his nightstand. His eyes danced over you one more time, trying to sear it on his mind, before he reached over and shut the lamp off.

And he refused to leave you throughout the night, always an arm or leg touching yours. So that you knew you wouldn’t lose him. Not here, or ever.

–

You paid Eddie your thanks for that night all through the weekend, not that he would willingly accept it. But when you awoke the next morning, your face pressed against his back and arm around his waist, you knew he was the reason you felt so at peace – at home. 

After laying there and listening to birds twittering outside the window, and sure that it was late enough in the morning for Eddie, you slipped from the bed. Grabbing his flannel from last night, you slipped it on and rummaged through his kitchen to cook up pancakes as quietly as possible. You brought them back into the room alongside syrup and a cup of orange juice (making sure to check the expiration dates first, knowing how Eddie was sometimes). 

Your entrance didn’t seem to stir him, so you set the food on his nightstand, running a finger up his arm to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He seemed to lean into the touch of your hand, his eyes twitching before they peeled open. You watched the way his lips stretched into a smile as he saw you, his hand coming up to hold yours.

“Good morning,” he rumbled, and you couldn’t say you hated his morning voice. Not one bit.

“Good morning,” you whispered, picking up the plate. “Made you some breakfast, Eds.”

He’d begun to sit up but paused at your words, gaze switching between you and the food you held out for him. And you’d never seen the phrase “lovesick” so apparent as you did on his face, his whole body softening as he took the plate to rest on his lap. “Are you an angel or something? Did I sell my soul for this?” he asked before digging in and taking a large sip from the orange juice.

Sitting down on the bed, you let out a laugh. “You’re deserving of this, you know,” you whispered, eyes elsewhere since you couldn’t stand to look at him in your vulnerability.

But you didn’t have to. Eddie just took your hand and kissed the back of it. Then kissed you, putting all of his emotion into it before leaving you breathless. 

“Thank you,” he said. He didn’t need to specify what for, you both knew. 

That was how the weekend went – you and Eddie just understanding each other, moving together and leaving things unsaid but not unknown. In the spaces of these walls, you relaxed into him as no one else had allowed you to. He settled into a way of living that surprised both of you, one that ripped down any walls or performance he’d ever put up.

Outside of his apartment, he’d taken you around Hawkins, only visiting your friends for one dinner before returning back together. They’d given knowing looks when you two came in holding hands, and you both took the teasing. It all felt like how things had been, how they were meant to be.

And you knew he’d felt bad keeping you all to himself, but selfishly, you’d wanted the same. To take every minute he had so he could spend it with you intertwined. 

You refused to let yourself think of Sunday, of having to pack your things. Because you’d be back, or he’d come to you. For now, you were together. Nothing really mattered past that for the moment.

While the two of you lazed together on the couch, sharing life stories back and forth and creating a story that belonged to both of you, he pulled you against his chest. You dropped your fingers down to play with his, drawing shapes and words across his skin like scripture. After moments of silence that never felt uncomfortable, you angled your head to look up into his eyes, swallowing down a breath. “You know… I almost didn’t stay back when all the others left on that beer run,” you whispered against him, reminiscing about the cabin trip.

He hummed, the vibrations from his neck moving against you. “I know.”

“But, Steve had told me to get to know you, so we weren’t strangers,” you told him, shutting your eyes. “I’m really glad you’re not a stranger anymore, Eddie.”

As the sun reached past its peak outside and the world ran on without the two of you, the corners of Eddie’s mouth rose. The way his head came down to rest on yours told you everything you needed to know about his thoughts, the weight of it filling your heart. His thumb rubbed along the skin of your waist, hand coming up to hold your body against his. To press into you like your curves fit into the dips of him – as they always would, wherever he was.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

–

Thank Christ for Harrington.

--

@tea-with-cream-and-suga

A/n: Thank you for reading, love you all <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn #joseph quinn eddie munson

[findafight]

On Steve understanding those pretentious metaphorical films (I know, we'vepretty much moved on at this point, but) I do think it would get Jonathan questioning reality a little bit, but I think the person it would really mindfuck is Nancy

Because she's a very straightforward person but she also fancies herself the smartest person in the room at all times, which doesn't slot itself into this context very well. As does Jonathan, she has this perception that Steve is an idiot, but while Jonathan is having to contend with Steve being on level with him on this one, Nancy is having to grapple the idea that Steve intrinsically grasps something that she for the life of her can't figure out

-@fandsart

I sent this a few days ago, but I think tumblr has been eating my asks. You aren't the only person I've sent one to recently that hasn't been answered. Anyway, I know this has largely been moved past, but on the whole "Jonathan having a crisis over Steve understanding the metaphorical and complicated foreign films" thing. I think that Jonathan might have a hard time with that and start questioning his judgment of people, yes, but the person really questioning reality as a whole about it is Nancy. Because while both Jonathan and Nancy have this low perception of Steve's ability to comprehend thing, Nancy specifically fancies herself as the smartest person in the room at all times, but she can't understand these things for the life of her. She's angry and confused and trying to convince herself that she's neither of these things

I got it! I started writing a response and saved as a draft and didn't get back to it! Honestly I love going back to things talked about a while ago so don't feel weird about that!

I agree! I also think it'd be interesting to apply this to horror movies, which often serve as allegories for other things. Like I can see them watching Carrie and Steve commenting that it's kind of weird that a story about the trauma of adolescents for girls was written by a man. Which is maybe heavy handed but it's something that Nancy would feel like she should have picked up on and be frustrated that she didn't. No one is doing adolescent teenager girl trauma like Nancy!!

But it's just not how her brain works. She likes facts and figures, interviews and observations. Metaphors aren't really in real life, though we use them to understand things, they aren't always straight forward. While Nancy wants to research and discover things, she possibly isn't interested in more... obscured meanings of things. (we sort of see this when she dismisses the alien newspaper, when they were actively looking for clues about something that could break all of someones without touching them!) and this might also influence how she views steve and his intelligence and how he views and interpret things.

She does think she's correct and how she thinks and sees things. and that frustration and stubbornness about being right would make her more frustrated because now that it's been pointed out to her, she sees it, but she didn't figure it out herself. It's an interesting way for her to try to grapple with having her worldview challenged!

With jon I think he would feel kind of off-kilter and embarrassed that Steve of all people got it, that this wasn't something he could feel he was better at than Steve or any random person. So that would maybe shift his view of Steve more than himself, but still both?

#findaanswers #fandsart #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things #just. steve letting out random but insightful observations and surprising people! #he thinks in metaphors and tries to process in metaphors

[thestrangestthing89]

It's interesting to me how many people claim that Nancy's storyline is being reduced to a love triangle but then go and reduce her to that themselves. Her story is not about which boyfriend she has. It's always been about Barb. But the people upset over Jonathan and Steve always, always ignore Barb and her role in Nancy's story.

I wrote about this more here because I was getting frustrated by the amount of people who were saying this and claiming that Steve and her are endgame simply because they interacted a bit this season when that wasn't the point in this story at all. Nancy had multiple flashbacks to Barb this season (and in the past). It should have been very clear that that was what was motivating her to do what she was doing.

That fact that there is a subplot where she wasn't sure which boyfriend she wanted hardly reduces her to a love triangle. She's allowed to be unsure of what's going on with her and Jonathan. She's allowed to care about Jonathan (I have seriously seen people complaining that when they are getting attacked in the hospital in S3 it was sexist for her to yell for Jonathan. It wasn't. She's scared and upset and not one person was bothered by him yelling for her. She's allowed to have a full range of feelings.)

If people actually want her to be a 3 dimensional character, she is going to have life experiences and emotions that reflect this. And part of that is going to involve her feelings for her boyfriend. It's not a bad thing. It's hardly the only point of her character. But if that's what you are reducing her to, then maybe the sexist biases are coming from you and not the narrative.

People examine female characters in a way they never would with male characters. It ends up coming across hyper-critical and like those characters are always wrong or written badly. This helps no one and is hardly a feminist critique. It's the same sexism that drives people to be hyper-critical of women in real life. Women and female characters need to be perfect. The need to be everyone's ideal of what a woman is supposed to be. Which is going to be different for everyone and is what leads people to feel like they are always wrong. To me, a lot of the criticism of Nancy comes from people who can't relate to her. Which is fine. She doesn't have to be relatable to everyone. But people seem to get annoyed whenever she isn't behaving like them and isn't acting like how they view a role model to act. She isn't perfect, she makes mistakes - ie her plan this season was reckless (and again driven by her flashbacks to Barb). She's allowed to make these mistakes. She's never been written as this flawless hero who always saves the day. And she shouldn't be.

The same thing happens with Joyce. I have seen people complain that her character has been reduced to her romance with Hopper when she is doing the same thing she's done since the beginning of the series. She has done nothing but go through hell and back to save the people she loves. Usually it's Will. And I don't think I've ever seen anyone complain when she was protecting her child. But the second a male adult needs that same help suddenly she's being reduced to something. But this is just what her character does for the people she loves. And it isn't a bad thing.

Anytime a male character gets put into a caretaking role they never receive any criticism. Care taking isn't inherently problematic or sexist. Hopper does everything he can to save the people he loves too an no one complains. And don't even get me started on Steve who does a fraction of what Joyce does and gets called a mom even though there is a an actual mom doing all the work and getting ignored. No one is allowed to criticize Steve. I have never gotten more hate than when I criticized Steve. Even though in the narrative, he isn't doing nearly as much as someone like Joyce is.

Again, female characters are allowed to care about the male characters. This isn't reducing them to a romance role or a caretaking role. But again, I feel like people's own sexist biases are what is causing them to oversimplify the female characters on the show and not anything from the narrative. I also want to point out here that we don't know a lot of Joyce's backstory but will likely get a lot more of it with the stage production. She is tied to the supernatural plot in some way. We don't know the whole story here or why her and Hopper interact with each other the way that they do.

El is another character that tends get misinterpreted. I have written about this several times, but people tend to have a worshipful attitude towards her. Mike and El's relationship in particular is either reduced to people who want them to get get married and have babies or people who think she needs to dump him because he's a bad boyfriend and she's a girlboss. Mike's character arch is complex and while he has made mistakes, so has El and their entire relationship didn't fall apart because of him. She treats him badly, but criticizing her seems to be off limits. Anytime I have, I have gotten a lot of hate.

This isn't helping anyone. She is a complex character who has flaws and it's a good thing. She has also never been reduced to her relationship with Mike and has an entire backstory involving the supernatural plot. But she isn't going to be the one to save the day in the end. This story was always about Will. And when this happens that doesn't mean the writers sidelined a female character in favor of a male one. It means a lot of the audience simply decided El was the main character because she has superpowers and misinterpreted the fact that this was about Will from the start.

And for the record this is not anti-feminist. The gay kid getting to save the day in the end isn't something we've seen before. It's good that this is happening and hardly means that El has no role at all. I'm sure she will still be there helping. But seriously, I have seen so many white women being superheroes and badasses who save everyone. There may not be as many of them as there are white men, but I have never once seen a gay kid get to play this role. It's ok if she takes a step back here. Especially since, again, I don't think the narrative has ever centered her. I think it's the audience that's done this.

The only time I have felt like the critique of female characters is valid is when looking at the characters of color. Erica often gets reduced to the stereotype of a sassy black girl. Not all the time - I do think she has great moments with Dustin and Lucas in particular that show she is a complex character and I hope we get to see more of this. But I really wish she would stop saying "just the facts" every few minutes and sometimes her attitude is flat out rude and not funny or cute. Not to mention the fact that her mother seems to only every say her name over and over again. I would like to see the Sinclair family interacting more next season. They have less parent-child interactions than the other kids and their parents.

There is a lot more to be said for the way the show writes characters of color in general and this isn't the place for it. But the fact that I haven't seen a lot of criticism over this tells me that the white female characters are held to a different standard than the black female characters (which is hardly surprising or new information. This usually happens).

The white female characters need to be flawless - desirable by the male characters but not reduced to a romance role, kick ass and never make a mistake, be the "strong female lead" (notice how we never use the term "strong male lead"), and basically be something that is completely unattainable. But the black female characters need to be what the white audience is comfortable seeing. And even though this show doesn't just have a white audience, the fact that most of the cast is white shows that they are being catered to however subconsciously.

My point is this - while it's totally fine to critique the show and the characters on it (and people should do this), I feel like a lot of the time this is done at the expense of women and not in any way that is actually helpful. I think if people took a step back and recognized their own biases (which everyone has for the record, we are taught them) they would realize sometimes those critiques don't add up. But overall, with regard to the white female characters anyway, I have felt like the show does a pretty good job making them well rounded and complex without making them unrealistic. It's the audience interpretations that I have found very problematic sometimes.

#byler #nancy wheeler #joyce byers #el hopper #mike wheeler #stranger things #gay mike wheeler #jancy #anti stancy

[savelockwoodandco]

It's been a year of campaigning and I can't help but feel despondent about the chances of the show even though I know these things take time. I know I'm not the only one as well. I think it's the fact we don't have any sort of sign from anyone official that any of what we're doing is helping. Any real sign of major progress. Just hints and after a while you begin to wonder if it's just our own confirmation bias. There's no clue if any progress is being made at all. A part of me wonders that they're too afraid to tell us any bad news. Another part of me is still hopeful that no news is good news. Idk. I just wish we had anything concrete, some sort of acknowledgement, that we're not screaming into the void and it's not hopeless still and that we're somewhat closer to getting the show saved now than we were last year. Right now its a struggle to hope and I fear its all the more frustrating that situations like last year's strikes probably ended up causing a lot of internal industry changes we may not even be able to account for or that may be affecting how long this process takes. It feels like we know less now than we did last year. Do you have anything to shed some light on this from a different perspective? And if you're feeling sad yourself, all the hugs from me to you and Twitter Mod 🫂. If you don't have any optimism you don't need to give hope to us too since that's an unfair responsibility to drop on you.

Hi Anon! Thanks for the message and for the hugs for both of us!

It's amazing to think it's been a year of campaigning -- us mods have had so many things happen to us since we started this blog, and we're sure it's the same for many of you.

We were pretty sure we'd start to see a sort of 'settling' effect on the enthusiasm for this campaign as the year mark came, and sure enough here it is! That's not a problem or unexpected -- it's hard to keep up efforts and enthusiasm over a longer stretch of time! Having been in many, many campaigns before (successful and otherwise), we're prepared for the long haul, but we totally understand the sort of despondent feelings that come from time to time, especially as the campaign goes on.

A year, in the scheme of things, is really not that long for a campaign all things considered. It feels incredibly long sometimes, sure, but with all the legalities, scheduling issues, rights issues, and everything else that comes with modern TV, it's a pretty short time frame. The hints, good things, and continued momentum from the fanbase and from those directly involved from the show are always heartening, and happen with regularity -- but can feel like very little sometimes. We always recommend taking breaks when burnout starts, and that holds even more true the longer the campaign stretches.

Ultimately, us mods are still as optimistic as we were when we started this blog almost exactly a year ago. There's no 'set' timeframe for renewal/saving efforts -- it can be two months, it can be two years, it can be even longer. Just look at Julie and the Phantoms, whose rights were just barely released by Netflix -- a long time coming (out of Netflix's own pettiness, to be sure), but that's 3 years after its cancellation. The wheels of TV grind slowly, but they do grind on.

As we stand, with having had multiple events with the cast/crew of Lockwood and Co, with Jonathan Stroud, and with more to come -- as well as the outward support of both Agents Stroud and the love CF has for the show, we see no reason to give up the fight. No news is definitely good news -- if there was no chance, they'd tell us flat-out -- and for the time being we're continuing on with the same fighting spirit and enthusiasm that we've had for a year.

Take breaks, take heart, and keep noticing the little things. We're here for encouragement and support whenever y'all need us!

#save lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #l&co #answer post

[warpfive]

SAVING THEIR LIFE (AND GETTING HURT)

protecting the enterprise crew, and getting injured in the process

CW: gn!reader, small depictions of violence and injuries

CREW: jonathan archer, t'pol, trip tucker, malcolm reed, hoshi sato, travis mayweather

JONATHAN - it’s difficult for jon not to immediately get angry when you take a phaser hit for him. he’s had some trouble separating his feelings from his work - you only make things much more complicated and jon has to tell himself that if any other member of the crew did that, he’d just just as pissed. but he knows that’s not completely true, and it shows in the way his hands shake as he scolds you while t’pol comms for the shuttlepod. jon takes his responsibility as captain very seriously, so coupled with the fact that it’s somebody he deeply cares for (loves?), it muddies the waters and that only frustrates him more. later on, once phlox has stabilized your wound and orders you on a few days of bedrest, jon makes damn well sure you follow it, short of posting guards outside your quarters. he doesn’t go quite so far, but he visits you late in the night. scolds you again for getting hurt to protect him, makes you promise not to do it again, tells you how he doesn’t want to lose such a good officer and friend and… he doesn’t go much further. he doesn’t have to. when you tell him you don't regret it, and would so it again to save his life, jon wants to argue back. instead, he takes your hand and promises himself it would never come to that.

T'POL - vulcans are naturally stronger and more resilient than humans - it’s a fact often forgotten, t’pol’s noticed. especially in the chaos and confusion of a cave-in, where all the members of the away team are running away and simultaneously trying to help their colleagues out. t’pol was in charge of the away mission - it was her responsibility to assure her team’s survival. that’s all she was focused on, and not the rock moments away from falling and crushing her into a thick green soup. to give you some credit, you were fast and focused. t’pol barely registered what had happened - only that she felt your arms around her, a shove, and shortly after, your cry in pain that elicited something close to fear in her chest. phlox told her that the rock had broken your leg, and that you were lucky the break wasn’t another couple inches higher, or you would’ve been a real trouble. t’pol takes easily to scolding you, calling you reckless, making sure you knew how much she disapproved of your decision to save her. and yeah, you were in and out of sleep from pain medication. still, you found her hand and squeezed it and told her to court martial you, because you’d do it again in a heartbeat. though, you noticed in the next couple weeks that t’pol has been bringing you tea and finishing your work for you - she’s not completely as vulcan as she hopes.

TRIP - it’s all his fault, of course. if trip had been more careful, more astute; if he had somehow known this would lead to that and that would cause his console to blow, he could’ve prevented the whole thing. he was just too damn focused on the problem with the engine. with the ship shaking and the captain yelling over the comm, it was difficult to focus on anything else until he heard your name and felt you push him. trip wasn’t a small guy - in the moment, he was shocked you managed to push him over. but the shock fell away to panic once he figured out what just happened. the air was smoking, someone called out your name (maybe it was him), and he saw the angry red marks over your face and neck. phlox insists the burns aren’t all that bad, but trip doesn’t really believe him. if they weren’t so bad, then why did the sight of them turn his stomach so much? he tries to keep a good attitude, but part of him was so angry that you got hurt. not angry at you, of course. trip could never truly be angry with you. he was mad at himself, and after forcing a smile and turning away, the tight grit of his jaw was somehow worse than any burns he might’ve gotten in your place.

MALCOLM - he knows, logically, that he taught you hand-to-hand combat for this exact scenario. malcolm wanted, above all else, for you to be able to protect yourself if he wasn’t able to do it personally. yet, none of that made malcolm feel even a little better when he crouched beside you, a hand ghosting over the side of your face that was quickly swelling and bleeding. yeah, you smirked up at him. asked him if he was okay, and if he saw that move you pulled to disarm the man who’d pointed a weapon at him. malcolm insisted this was no time for jokes, and he said it in a rather harsh tone. of course, he was mainly frustrated at himself. if he’d disabled the attacking aliens quicker, you wouldn’t have had to intervene. and he says as much while pulling you up to your feet. you don’t seem upset - of course you weren’t, malcolm thought. you were still trying to ask if he was alright and malcolm had to eventually assure you he was, but he was also more worried about you. though, it wasn’t until you cupped his cheek and told him you were fine did he really believe you. still, in the days to follow, he couldn’t look at your black eye or hear your pained grunts without feeling guilty.

HOSHI - she didn’t even see the man coming. that was a flaw when she got so utterly sucked into her task - nothing else even existed. not even a large man with an energy weapon aimed right for her head and would have fired if you hadn’t intervened. the fight was long and brutal - hoshi heard the chaos of it from behind, but her focus needed to be on the task at hand. too much was riding on its success. it wasn’t until much later, when the crew was safe and the enterprise at warp, did hoshi come by sick bay. and of course, your spirits were high - talk of good teamwork and making you proud hit hoshi’s ears, but she just couldn’t match your energy. not when you were this battered and bruised from defending her. yeah, you talk of duty, saying that it was your job to make sure hoshi did her job. she didn’t feel much better, so you went a step further - telling hoshi that you loved her, and even without their duties to the ship, you would’ve defended her anyway. that did elicit a little smile, but when hoshi tried to give you a kiss, you were still a little too battered. you both compromised by holding hands until phlox had to run some more scans.

TRAVIS - when he came to, travis didn’t expect to be laying on a soft bed of grass, and not the hard metal floor of the shuttlepod. the sun shined right in his eyes, and when he squints against it, the motion pulls on a nasty lump on his brow - right, the one that knocked him out. and it takes only a few seconds of consciousness to sit straight up and search for you in a panic. the mental image he had of you being sucked out into space during the crash landing was thankfully laid to rest when he found you leaned up against a tree, looking more worse for wear than travis would have liked. when you saw him awake, you didn’t move to greet him. in fact, it seemed like just sitting there was causing you a lot of pain, despite working diligently to get the homing device back online. it wasn’t until travis stumbled his way over did he discover you’d broken your leg and probably a few ribs - a small price to pay, you told him, for successfully landing the shuttle (though, successful was a gracious word to use.) logically, he knew you were right. yet, it doesn’t make travis feel any better knowing he’d been in charge of getting the two of you to the surface, and you’d broken a leg when he failed to do so. he apologizes, you don’t understand what for. it just made him feel a little better.

#star trek enterprise x reader #star trek x reader #star trek headcanons #jonathan archer x reader #t'pol x reader #trip tucker x reader #malcolm reed x reader #hoshi sato x reader #travis mayweather x reader

[willel]

The way people perceive Jonathan and his family is so frustrating sometimes though.

"Oh Jonathan is crumbling under the weight of responsibilities that have been placed on him and he's placed on himself? Maybe his mom can help him out of that rut?"

"Pfff, why would his MOM help him with anything? It's his own fault."

????

Of COURSE Joyce would help him if she knew! She's his mom! She loves him! It's not a blame game, it's literally a desire to see Joyce and Jonathan scenes again, to see Joyce setting him on the right track as moms tend to do???

What is the real problem here? Why are people so against this idea? Why are you so convinced in your mind that if a scene like this were to occur, it would make Joyce look bad???

I hope you all realize no one is saying she's a bad mom except you. Maybe you need to reevaluate why you keep jumping to that conclusion because that says a lot more about you than the people hoping for some sweet and caring moments between a mother and her son.

Like where is the desire for familial intimacy and complex relationships? Do you just want these characters to be one dimensional? Is Joyce only capable of caring about herself now and not her kids? You KNOW that's not true so can you stop implying that?

#stranger things #joyce byers #jonathan byers

[rosiemarieyn]

One Day

pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader (teen&adult)

Summary: "Don't make promises you can't keep" you trusted him not to but it seems like he was like the others.

Genre: angst, friends to strangers, fluff

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Word count: 700

Note: Y'all I just watched "A Quiet Place 2" and UGH I might write something with Emmett next.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You threw a rock into the lake, watching it skip with ease while your eyes fell onto Jonathan’s failed attempt at throwing a rock. His little huff of frustration made you giggle as he looked over at you, he’d always have cuts and bruises over his body from his parents, you told him to call the cops but he would never listen to you.

“how do you even skip a rock???” he put his hands in the water, feeling the coldness of it throughout his body.

“Well first you have to grab a flat-ish round rock, then you hold it between your fingers and throw at an angle!” you described at him while grabbing another rock and throwing it in the lake and watching it skip 3 times before it fell deep in.

“you know, one day I will leave this shithole of a town and become a great man.” he ran his wet hand through his hair, slicking it back and smiling dumbfoundedly.

“I hope you do Jon, hope you do.”

“Don’t forget about me okay?”

He suddenly turned his head at you, his eyes betraying his real intentions. “I would never!!” he said, you smiled adoringly with a mixture of sadness in you, you knew he would.

And he did.

It has been years since you saw his face, 20 actually, he gazed in your direction like he used to do before turning away. Leaving you in the past even though you were the only reason he was able to leave that place.

“You’ve changed,” you murmured behind him, catching his attention right away as he slowly walked towards you, he stood tall, still as skinny as he used to be. He spoke calmly after adjusting his tie and straightening his suit. Still as perfectionist as ever.

“That I did, sweetheart. I changed, and I don’t regret it at all. I suggest you stay away from me as we are two separate people who have no connection anymore.” He took his leave once again, carrying his suitcase in one hand and checking his watch with the other.

“But you said—“

He didn’t even give you time to speak what was bugging you for an eternity, just kept walking and walking before disappearing into a crowd of people. You were, again, left with the burden of his so-called “love” he said he felt for you in the past.

“One day I will make you my wife so we can live happily ever after!” He swung his wet arm over your shoulder, making you shriek at the coldness and him laughing his heart out.

“That's impossible, Jonny. We’re too young—“ he put his other hand over your mouth, shushing you and slowly turning your head towards his direction, his blue eyes felt heavenly at that exact moment. His soft smile bringing joy to your face, making your heart flutter with adoration and warmth.

“I said one day, not today…although we can start today if you wish to.” That cocky smirk of his forming on his mouth, you quickly pushed his hand away from your mouth and furrowed your brows. Of course, it would be considered as pouting in his eyes —not that you meant it to be seen as rude anyway—.

“JONATHAN!!! That’s inappropriate.” he cackled at your little tantrum, it was quite cute in his eyes.

He abruptly took hold of your chin, carefully observing your face before whispering his feelings out.

“One day, You and I will leave our parents, who did us wrong—“

“Mine are good people unlike yours.”

“… Anyway, like I said, one day we will leave PEOPLE who did us wrong and we will start a family together, happier, better, and kinder.”

He took your hands in his, kissing your forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Then why did you make a promise you can’t keep Jonathan?” You mumbled behind him even though he already left. Oh to face the sorrows of the old times once again.

Maybe one day he would fulfill his promises.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

taglist: @hiraethberry @1-fuzzy-squirrels @justcallme1anangel @tejasvkris @rosierosem @meowsicles39

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian fic #cillian x reader #fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow x you #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #the scarecrow #cillian fanfic #cillian x fem!reader #dr crane

[withacapitalp]

Masterlist/About Me

Since there's almost 300 of you now....how tf did that happen....anyway! I'm Liam here's all the stranger things fics I've written. I'll add my headcanons when I'm not feeling minority lazy lol Under a read more because I appreciate y'all's time lmaooo anyways!! Feel free to send me prompts and thoughts and general things because I love hearing from the people who follow me!!! If you just want to look for a tag it's under "Liam writes"

A New Perspective- Series primarily told from Wayne's perspective with him watching Steve interact with the kids and deciding the kid is actually not as bad as he thought. Steddie endgame

A Father By Any Other Name- Wayne Munson didn't hate Steve Harrington. He just really, really, really, didn't like him. A conversation he witnesses between Steve and Dustin might just start to change that though.

Scrapes, Sprains, and Headaches- When Lucas gets hurt learning how to skateboard, Wayne Munson gets another glimpse into how wrong he might be about Steve Harrington. He also is starting to see the beginnings of what might be a big big problem.

Just a Little Bit of Truth- Wayne goes to Steve's house, gets a little closer to the truth, and definitely needs to have a chat with his nephew.

Awkward Conversations- After his conversation with Jim, there's nothing Wayne wants more than to go home and finally talk with Eddie about everything that had happened. He decides to stay to the end of the party, which turns out to be both a frustrating and illuminating option. Featuring Murray Bauman being Murray Bauman, Steve being an angel of epic proportions, and Wayne and Eddie finally talking everything out.

Who Can Understand?- While everyone else goes to one of Eddie's shows, Wayne and Steve have a little talk.

Well I've Been Afraid of Changin'- Eddie likes Steve. Steve likes Eddie. It should be so simple at this point. But it's really, really, not. (CURRENTLY A WIP)

Days, Weeks, Months- Takes place immediately following S1 Steve's perspective on falling in love and dealing with the aftermath of whatever the fuck just happened. Stoncy Endgame

The Day After- The morning after Steve helps to destroy a demon who had been trying to kill Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler, he goes to school. He didn't want to go. He didn't know why he did it. He just went. It was startling to see how the rest of the world didn't change.

The Weeks After- Steve loves Nancy. It's safe and it's good. It's normal. Steve knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He knows he wants to buy her a house, wants to watch her age gracefully into the gorgeous woman he can see her becoming. Steve knows that he has an overwhelming urge to protect her, to keep Nancy safe from the very real danger they all know exists out in the world, even if she's usually the one protecting him. Steve just also wants all of that with Jonathan too. But that’s not inherently wrong. It doesn’t have to be. He wished he could believe that.

Stranger Things Daily Drabble- A daily prompt fill of just about anything Multiship like literally pretty much everything.

House and Home- Three weeks after getting kicked out of his parent's house, Eddie brings Steve to a decrepit house on the edge of Hawkins to show him how much he loves him Expanded from STDD prompt!

Empty/Full- Chrissy Cunningham is a Good Girl. She gets perfect grades, has the perfect boyfriend, and does exactly as she's told. She's doing everything she should, and she's utterly miserable. She just wants something to help her sleep. Just a little extra to get rid of all of the voices in her head and the pain in her stomach. Eddie Munson has a better plan. HELLCHEER

#Liam writes #masterlist #I will add the headcanons #but I gotta find them all #and find a moderately okay way to organize them #anywho! #take this because I don't want to do any of the things I really have to do #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

[emblazons]

As much as I dislike that we will probably get a delayed season (in most likely 2025 lets be real), I also would not want a rushed sort of production or writing for the show's last season. Also the strike is important.... and i think it does extent the writers but also that other production staff is involved too. Idk, i definitely get some ppl's frustration but also that it is a needed strike.

I mean (and this isn't directed at you, but generally)...I get the frustration as a consumer, but as a young professional and often creative worker, I say let them go as long as they need to for the protections they deserve. I don't mind waiting two more years for my favorite show if it means writers and showrunners get the professional respect they need to not struggle to live—especially given how they've dedicated themselves to a job that so many people enjoy constantly, despite not valuing it as much as they should.

sidenote: I know a lot of people outside of this anon will probably read this, so I've included links to things explaining/detailing the points I've made here, just in case you're new to writer's strikes or how the ST production staff fits in.

That said: given that this strike means that writers and showrunners won't be on set for shows still filming, in the editing room or the sound stage, I'm fairly certain the production on Stranger Things will come to a clear halt beyond a few scenes they might want to get done that don't require much oversight from The Duffers—especially given that Matt and Ross are both WGA members on top of being writers and showrunners, and therefore are literally bound not to do work while the strike is on (x)

We also know for a fact that M&R do writing while on set and filming (see: the scene they added with Jonathan in the SBP being written as filming was happening)—

—which they aren't allowed to do anymore either...leaving Stranger Things especially in a clear "this has to halt" place, given that the masterminds/primary storytellers behind ST are obligated not to do their job right now.

While it does give a bit of comfort to know that ST is so deeply tied to The Duffers themselves as storytellers as much as showrunners, networks have historically tried to have everyone from novelists to novices outside the WGA write scripts during writer's strikes—hence the clear drops in quality in shows throughout the 2007 strike (iykyk), and why there is still some concern on my end should this strike go on long enough for Netflix to get antsy and start trying to get back to production on one of their most popular shows.

The UK Writers Guild has announced their solidarity with American writers in the hopes that they won't take on US projects to accommodate networks as the WGA strikes, but. If this goes on for a long time, I don't think it's impossible that several shows people love won't be cancelled or extremely delayed, or that Netflix won't get testy with ST. If networks start doing what they did the last time though, we might get some really shitty TV (and really bad seasons) for a solid year before we recover from the damage of the strike...even outside of anything that goes on with Hawkins lmao.

That said, Stranger Things is in the (blessed) position to have already had 9 months of writing + being ready for filming as soon as the strike is over, so. For most of us here, it's just going to be a waiting game....which. I mean. Like I said before, I'll take another three year turnaround if it means the quality of the show stays high, and The Duffers (and their wider writers room) get to "stick their landing" the way they've talked about before.

This got long sorry lmao. But still—given what's probably going to happen to a lot of shows during this strike, I'd day we're rather lucky as a fandom, so long as we're open to being patient.

Thanks for the ask!

#yes. yes I I did do deep dive research on this to soothe my nerves yesterday lmao #also dying that the dash is yelling about cheating mike and I'm just like 'BUT THE WRITERS STRIKE' lmao I'm somewhere else entirely #asks #do the write thing

[share-the-damn-bed]

Making it Make Sense

Alright, I think I’m ready to make sense of the writing choices related to Steve and Nancy. Or at least make them make sense enough that I am satisfied in the break between season 4 and 5. 

Disclaimer: Everything I am about to discuss is just implicit enough to leave room for the love triangle in ST5. I have no idea what the writers are intending to do. I can only take the moments they’ve given us and piece them together in a logical way. As I’ve already stated multiple times. I do not trust the writers and still do not understand why the love triangle is back and what their intentions are (in season 4 and in the end). I want to emphasize that though I believe that by the end of this season Jancy won (but barely... and they have their own personal issues to deal with because things are not 100% between them) the door for the love triangle to return is wide open if they choose to take it. And I’m not sure they even know what they want to do with the triangle at this point but I hope they do right by all characters involved. I know what that means for me... but I really hope they keep characters true to themselves.

The key to figuring out the writing choices for Steve/Nancy’s reconnection in ST4 is understanding Nancy’s motives. As a way to keep the love triangle open-ended by the end of season 4, I’ve noticed in rewatches and clip gatherings, we are never given any true insight into Nancy’s perspective on the whole Steve thing. Steve shares his dreams, Steve confesses his love and Nancy barely gets the chance to react either so we as an audience really don’t know what’s going on in her head. Even when Robin suggests Nancy and Steve getting back together, Nancy doesn’t address the Steve of it all and only comments on what’s really going on between her and Jonathan (which was fine, great even, but it didn’t really shut Steve down, y’know?)

But putting together their moments throughout the whole season, I would propose the following is happening for Nancy: she is lonely, he relationship is facing issues, mainly communication issues, that she cannot fix because she cannot get in contact which frustrates her. Steve is there and she’s always liked Steve, has been attracted to him, and enjoys his company. She has retreated to the safety of Steve before and she is doing it again this season. 

I think she enjoys the attention and genuinely admires Steve (not faulting her for this, she is only human). I also think she has always felt guilty for their break up and is happy to see he is doing well now. But the second Steve confesses that he thinks they would have made it if given another chance and that she’s always been his future wife in his dreams, the whole scenario becomes real and that this whole fun, flirty thing they’ve had going on is something to him and she instantly feels remorse and possibly regret. I mean look at the following scene. This does not look like a love confession going right:

This looks like a gentle rejection before it is interrupted. Even Steve looks like he knows her feelings are not reciprocated (which could explain why he’s only mildly defeated when he sees Nancy and Jonathan’s reunion in the epilogue). 

I think this is supported by the following clip at the start of the epilogue between Karen and Nancy. I love this clip because it was one of the few (if only) times this season I understood Nancy and her intentions. If my interpretation of the following is not what the writers were going for, I don’t understand this scene at all. Please let me know any alternate interpretations you have!

I think this scene depicts Nancy releasing Steve so that he can find someone who can truly love him. I like that they represent him as a comfort object (and it’s a HARE... get it? Steve “Hare”-ington?) that she falls back on (referencing Murray’s observation in season 2 where she retreats back to Steve as the comfortable option). I also like how this happens before Jonathan arrives because it shows that this decision was made because Nancy feels it is best and not because Jonathan suddenly reappeared. 

And we obviously can tell where her heart truly lies once Jonathan shows up...

I still hate all of it, but this is my best shot at making it make sense.

...

TLDR: Nancy was feeling sad and lonely at the start of the season and retreated back to Steve because she admires him and has always found comfort in him when things get difficult. However, once he confesses his feelings she feels guilty for leading him on and was about to reject him before being cut off. In the end she decides to let him go and wants him to find someone who can love him in the way she cannot. However, this is all vague enough that the love triangle is definitely fair game in ST5 as Jonathan and Nancy have real issues they should be able to work out but I’m not holding my breath.

#stranger things 4 spoilers #jancy #jonathan x nancy #anti st*ncy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

[steddieficrecs]

Best of Steddie

4/?

previous / next

all i need from you (is all your love) by wearing_tearing

"So will you pretend to be my boyfriend for a while?" Steve rushes out to ask, words tumbling out of his mouth.

"Steve," Eddie says, "it would be an honor."

Fake Dating | Fluff

Lovesick in Loch Nora by red0aktree

Even though Eddie's name has been cleared legally, he's still very much on trial in the court of public opinion. Dealing drugs isn't a lucrative occupation anymore, and getting a legitimate job in a town who still considers him a killer isn't much of an option, either. Eddie is beginning to think skipping town and starting over somewhere no one knows his name is the only chance he has left. Steve has another idea.

AKA: Steve gets Eddie a job as an anonymous columnist at a local newspaper.

Slow Burn | Getting Together

Doing Nothing With You by red0aktree

Steve and Robin get a two bedroom in Hawkins. It's perfect, except for all the ways it isn't. Drafty windows, clogged drains, shitty landlord. But it's got a couch. A couch that's often occupied by Eddie Munson. Home isn't really the kind of thing Eddie has much of anymore, ever since his trailer became the primary source for all his nightmares. Luckily, he knows of a semi-comfortable couch where he's always welcome.

Despite all it's problem, the house has perks. Primarily, it's somewhere Steve can actually call home. Secondarily, it's somewhere he can share with the people he loves.

AKA: The fruity four live in a convoluted roommate situation, and romance happens along the way.

Domestic Fluff | Living Together

a map of everyone who loves you by phonemicengineer

Soul flowers aren’t a ticket to true love, he knows that well enough, but they do mean importance, significance, permanence. And so far no one has ever loved Steve significantly or permanently enough to leave some. Maybe that means he’s broken. Maybe that’s why he can’t leave any for her.

So Steve lets Jonathan take Nancy home that night, and tries not to feel too bitter about the matching bracelet of roses on Jonathan’s hand.

Soul Marks | One Shot

A quiet I keep on keeping by ethereal_queer

Robin Buckley is a lesbian.

And Eddie Munson is gay.

And they’re dating.

Well, at least to the outside world.

And to a very, (very) confused Steve.

“I told Steve Harrington you’re my boyfriend.” Through the receiver. Alien words through plastic. He wants to laugh, really he does, but all he can manage is a bit of stunned silence until

“Why the hell would you do that?” With no malice. Not even really a tone to his voice other than curiosity. He of all people shouldn’t really have to ask, because he already knew the answer. He was a liar too.

“I panicked” she says, a shuffling on the other end. “He was getting all… mushy, saying stuff about feelings..”

“For you?”

“I know, right, can you believe it?

“You don’t think you could have told him the truth?” He asks, and there’s silence beneath the static. “Seems like you two are real close.”

And she sighs, and she lets out a noise of frustration that Eddie knows all too well, when you want to tell someone something, need to, and you can’t. You just can’t.

Because it’s Hawkins Indiana and sometimes you have to keep your mouth shut just to stay safe.

Fake Dating | Getting Together

#steddie #steddie fic recs #best of steddie #fake dating #fluff #slow burn #getting together #domestic fluff #living together #soul marks

[spicysix]

🏏 - more romantic ronance headcanons please!

[nancy HCs | ronance HCs part 1]

MORE romantic, you say?? ok then, here's a mariage

Nancy buys a ring and keeps it on her purse for weeks trying to find, or better, trying to plan the perfect moment to propose. she comes up with a ton of ideas but nothing seems as perfect as she wants it to be. she's getting frustrated after a month or two having bought the ring already but not being able to propose the way she wants, because she wants it to be the best proposal ever because Robin deserves nothing but the best, and yet Nancy can't find the right thing

Robin passes by a jewelry store on a random Tuesday and sees the perfect ring, one she knows instantly Nance would love. she buys it on impulse and goes home

when Nancy comes home from work, Robin looks at her, and she's so fucking beautiful: hair all disheveled from the helmet she uses to ride the motor scooter, shirt dirty from a pen that leaked earlier that day, taking off her high heels to show blisters on her feet and Robin just. blurts out the question

Nancy says yes btw. and gives Robin her own ring and tells her how she's been holding on to it for months. they have a laugh

welp not like they can get married though. not yet

the day same sex marriage goes legal in wherever state they live in, they both find the first open hour, drag the first coworker that agrees to be a witness and just. get legally married. for fuck's sake, they've been engaged for, like, a decade - they're allowed to go a little crazy over it

they of course plan a real party for their families to attend

Steve doesn't talk to them for two whole weeks so very offended he wasn't the witness to the legal courthouse thing. he forgives them when Robin asks him to be her bridesmaid. Jonathan is Nancy's bridesmaid. not best men, no. they're bridesmaids

Eddie officiates and gives the best speech ever, makes everyone cry - even Mike even if he denies it later

it's a spring backyard wedding, full of flowers and plants and the color palette is rich with greens and blues and purples and fairy lights hanging from the trees

they go to Iceland for their honeymoon! they see a lot of ice a lot of snow the volcanoes and the thermals and the northern lights!!!

and they kiss under the sky that's lit up with the color palette from their wedding all green and blue and purple and the stars twinkle like fairy lights; and life is beutiful and they're together until death does them part and maybe even after that, and they love each other and the whole world can know now

#ronance #ronance headcanons #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x robin buckley #i love them so much your honor #lui answers #lui's strange celebration #lsc 🏏

[ronanceisintheair]

Robin watched the frustration ebb into discouragement and dejection, Nancy looking like a shell of the girl who was so excited to get the internship at Hawkins Post.

"Tom is such a jackass," Nancy ended with.

The venom in her voice had waned, though she let out a frustrated groan, tearing her eyes away from Robin as she tilted her head towards the sky, "the worst part is Jonathan...he couldn't see how unfair it was...the way they can't see passed the fact that I'm not a guy."

Robin nodded, reaching her hand out comforting; despite the name drop of Nancy's boyfriend...or whatever, "You're an amazing reporter Nance. Like serious shit, and I'm not just saying that because I like you," Robin's eyes bulged at the slip of her tongue, "I mean as a friend, I like having you as a friend," she cleared her throat.

"Yea, Nance you're amazing, a real reporter. Not just a douchebag with privilege, don't let them forget why you love doing what you do."

Nancy smiled, her cheeks blooming into a soft pink, "thanks Robs, I knew you'd understand." She gave Robin's hand a warm squeeze.

Simultaneously sending Robin's heart fluttering into her throat.

+

Robin let out a low growl, the warning flowing through the silence of the night, before crescendo into a deep howl from where she sat on the roof.

She watched, ember blazing in her eyes, watching a sloshed Tom exit the building, none the wiser to his fate.

There was something of a wicked smile spread across Robin's face, showing hungry teeth; watching Tom enter the alley.

This was her moment. She pounced, claws clattering against rusty metal until she got to the bottom.

A menacing growl quickly transformed into a bark. She hovered a few feet from the drunken buffoon, her large frame eclipsing the moon, casting Tom into shadow.

"What the hell?" He asked, turning around like a baby horse, unsure of his own legs.

But she didn't give him time to register, lifting him effortlessly and slamming his back against the wall.

Loving the way he cried out in pain. Her snarling lips and teeth Meer inches from his face.

His eyes were widened by surprise and frightful disbelief.

"Th...thi...no," was all he stammered.

The smell and sound was distinct; Tom pissing his pants. And if only, for his sake, his embarrassment was enough to satiate Robin's hunger to see him suffer.

"If I hear that Nancy Wheelers name is still on your tongue,' there was a deep vibration coating Robin's words, her claws effortlessly digging shallow holes into his skin, the blood quickly soaking into his shirt. "I'll rip it off your tongue myself!" She opened her jaw wide, every sharp tooth glistened with hungry salivation.

#this is for the...yk unhinged #just thinking about werewolf robin #ronance #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ronanceisintheair