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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months

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the seasons pass (but you never do) - e.m.

summary: he knew your reputation. he knew you had you way with half of hawkins. it was never going to end well - but that didn't stop him.

warnings: reader is NOT a good person (need to emphasize this), billy hargrove is involved and sort of ooc, smut, oral (fem receiving), a lot of hurt, not a 'happy' ending, reader has severe issues with self-esteem (not in the usual obvious way), very self-sabotaging reader. mentions of reader having adult relationships with multiple male characters. NOT A 'HAPPY' ENDING. minors dni - 18+

pairings: eddie munson x fem!fuckgirl!reader (with mentions of steve x reader, johnathan x reader, and billy x reader.)

wc: 8.4k+

a/n: i cannot emphasize enough - the reader in this fic is very toxic. she is not a good person. this does not end well. also, be wary, as billy is used as the easiest companion who can align with her being a bad person, so she is friends with him. this probably won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's been a year in the works! thank you to anyone who reads. <3 also, HUGE thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for making that banner for me. i am undeserving of your talents baby.

oh, also, here's a fun playlist to go along with it.

SUMMER, 1988

It was always going to end this way. It’s how it’s supposed to go - you met him, you wanted him, you got him, you left him. There was never any illusions on your part as to what this was. He knew your reputation. He knew the ending. You knew the ending.

It was always going to end this way.

There was no amount of flowers he could have got you, no amount of midnight rendezvous to change this course. It never mattered how his laughter wound your chest tight or how his fingers fit a little too perfectly between yours. You didn’t do long-term relationships, and he always asked for too much from you. You could give him a summer, no more and no less. He knew that, you knew that, all your previous flings knew that. There was only one ending ever in sight for the two of you.

So why does it hurt so much when you catch sight of him around town with her?

Chrissy Cunningham is beautiful. She’s all shades of sunrise pinks, flavors of sweetness that spur stomach aches - the epitome of enchantment and a type of softness you couldn’t compare to. And when you see her arm in arm with him, you can see that beauty of hers painted across him. Her pinks paint roses on his cheeks, her laughter etches dimples into his cheeks you’d only ever seen in the late hours of the night. She makes him happy. She makes him look lovesick. She doesn’t hide him in the darkness, she flaunts him in the light, and he looks devastatingly beautiful without the shadows.

You should be happy for him. It shouldn’t phase you; you didn’t bat an eyelash when Steve Harrington had taken to dating every other girl in the town after your spring with him. You never winced when Johnathan Byers started dating Nancy Wheeler after a flirtatious fall with you. Billy Hargrove had been on the same page as you, ready to brave a chilling winter with you and accept when the ice melted along with the infatuation, returning your winks when you spotted each other with your newest one night stands in shared bars.

But Eddie’s summer stuck to your skin. No amount of showers run cold, no amount of new partners who you won’t allow to spend the night, wash you clean of him. The change in the leaves only amplified the ache left in your chest when August turns to September. The flowers weren’t the only things wilting when September flashes into October.

You miss him terribly, and it’s all your fault.

You let him stick around far longer than you should have. You let his wandering lips slot between yours and you let him sleep at your side from the very first night. When it was all said and done, you were the one that broke every single imaginary rule you had set for yourself, and the blame was yours to carry. Eddie Munson was never going to be a three month memory to wipe away with the steam of your mirror. He’d done it, he’d left his mark. He’d managed to make the streets of Hawkins feel cold and empty in his absence, to make everything dull in comparison to your life before him.

You empty the last of your glass of wine, all bitter and tinged on your tongue, and chuckle internally as you watch Eddie’s hand’s find Chrissy’s hips from across the bar. Go figure.

SPRING, 1987

The Hideout was busy as ever, booming with business on a Saturday night as you reentered the scene. Your ‘date’ for the night was still outside the bar, surely not even entertaining the thought of coming back inside.

He hadn’t taken to you breaking the news that it was over kindly.

“You never let them down easy, do you?” Billy chuckles as he leans against one of the standing tables near the bar. He had seen the look in your eyes when you dragged the nameless boy out the front door; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Starry eyed boy, ever-fleeting girl. They were fools, and they should have noticed your wandering eyes and lack of commitment from the get-go.

“Never,” you smirk back as you approach him. The live band had just finished, the music over the speakers nothing compared to the deafening screams of the guitars that had played, “It’s not my fault the boys in this town never learn their lesson.”

Billy only shrugs and throws back the last of his whiskey, “What did it this time? Did he drop the big L? Maybe he brought you flowers like Harrington did that one time?”

“Oh, God,” you place a hand over your heart dramatically, “Please don’t remind me. Breaking his heart nearly broke my nonexistent one.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy cackles, “Still can’t believe you ever gave the sap a chance. Or what about Byers, hm?”

“Couldn’t break a heart I never had. He always had eyes for Wheeler, that’s what made it fun,” you shrug and grab at a fruity drink that had been abandoned at the table, “To answer your question, he got clingy. All jealous because I was making eyes at the lead singer,” you tip your chin towards the stage that’s now empty and take a sip of the cocktail, “Say, what happened to your date? She looked pretty.”

“You were making eyes at Munson? Doll, I knew you were getting desperate after me, but him?” Billy cuts himself off with a low whistle.

“Shut up,” you take another long sip of the drink. It’s sweeter than your preference, but free alcohol is free alcohol, “Tell me what happened to the blonde you were chatting up.”

“I’m more into redheads.”

“Aw, but it looked like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I had to have three shots before I could stomach her laughing at my jokes.”

You reach over to pinch his cheeks, receiving sharp slaps against your wrists.

“Hot,” you coo before leaning back and ending his attack against your hands, “You know, if we both strike out tonight, we could always go home together.”

“You struck out, the night is still young for me,” Billy grins wickedly and looks around the busy bar for emphasis.

There’s a small commotion at one of the doors to the side of the stage, and you glance over to catch sight of the band that had been playing exiting.

The lead singer, Munson as Billy had referred to him, was just as stunning when taken down from his stage pedestal. His hair had been pulled back into a low bun, his torso once exposed on stage now covered in a faded Judas Priest tour shirt, but his Cheshire smile on his face was just as brilliant without the stage lights. Dimples hidden by the dark bar lighting, plush lips and scruff framing his face.

Billy catches you staring at him.

“Maybe you didn’t strike out,” he hums, “You gonna go for it, hot stuff?”

You smile in return. Something dangerous, something evil yet inviting, “I might. I do need a new play thing for the summer, after all.”

“Careful. I’m sure there’s a line of groupies willing to fight you for the Eddie Munson.”

Billy had been mocking you with a shrill voice, but he had been wrong.

There was no line of girls for you to compete with as you approached Eddie. And if there was, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. From the moment you had smiled at him, uttering your name into Eddie’s ears over the bass of the music, placing a careful hand on his shoulder and telling him how much you just adored his music, he had been hooked. You had him in your grasp from the start.

And maybe Billy knew that as he flashed you a sly grin over a redhead’s shoulder as you dragged Eddie behind you later that night, heading for the restrooms that patrons notably didn’t use.

It was your lipstick smeared over Eddie’s neck that night, it was your name falling from his lips as you pressed him against a stall wall, it was your hair that he tangled his hands in as you sat pretty on your knees before him, it was your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs as he fucked your mouth. No, other girls never would have stood a chance.

By the end of that night, you hadn’t even cum, but you thought nothing of it, still smug that you’d found yourself a new supposed victim. You’d never considered which one of you truly held the match, which one of you might bleed gasoline rather than crimson blood.

All that you considered was the fact that you’d wanted Eddie, and you’d got him, just as it always went.

That was only the first night.

SUMMER, 1987

You fall for him in the summer. You convince yourself you’re in control still, but it’s fruitless - you’d lost control the moment you’d tasted him on that dizzy spring night rather than waiting for the arrival of summer’s heat.

“Come over.”

Two simple words, yet the moment you’d spoken them over the line, Eddie had wasted no time to speed his way across town for your apartment. He was officially at your beck and call. You said the word, and he was at your dispense.

It was the fastest he’d ever arrived at your doorstep, rapping his knuckles against familiar rosewood and listening to the familiar weight of your footsteps approaching the door.

“Hey, you,” you sigh softly once you catch sight of him in your porchlight. The creatures of summer buzz as background noise as you drink him in. Same wild curls, same deviant smirk. There looks to be new rips in his black jeans, and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that shatters the dreamy image of him to you.

You still want him just as badly as you had the first night.

“Sorry I took so long,” he teases, leaning into the doorframe you rest your hip against, “Traffic, you know.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just terrible this time of year,” you play along. You both know he’d made the fifteen minute drive in under ten minutes. But there’s something in the warm air, something electric and fluttering and addictive and palpable. You’re sure if you were to rest your hand flirtatiously against his chest as you normally did with your rotation of partners, that he’d burn you.

Something new. You tell yourself it’s just the excitement of a fresh Summer plaything, and you ignore the voice that whispers with the reminder that this started in the Spring.

“You gonna let me in?” he nods in the direction of your apartment behind you, bathed in a soft yellow from the dusk and the lamp on the table beside your couch.

You bring a hand to your chin and tap a finger mockingly, “Hm, I don’t know. Should I?”

“You should,” he leans even closer.

“I might need convincing.”

His breath washes over your cheek, so gentle you could have mistaken it for the summer breeze. You can smell the spice of his cologne, the stubborn smoke from his last cigarette. It makes your head spin.

“Convincing, you say?” he murmurs as his lips graze your earlobe, “I’ve been known to be convincing.”

This was something you enjoyed about him. He wasn’t like other boys - he didn’t fall to your feet and praise the ground you stood on, not directly. He didn’t follow you like a lost puppy. He took the time to dance with you, to entertain you with banter and to enrapture you with the chase. Maybe that’s why Spring and Summer felt the same when it came to him.

“I call bullshit,” you laugh breathlessly as his lips connect with your neck, making a trail of pecks until he reaches the bare skin of your shoulder. “You still haven’t convinced me to listen to Metallica.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his fingers sneak beneath the strap of your tank top, “Just be patient.”

The pet name strikes a kink in your armor, and in an instant, your hands are on his shoulders and dragging him into the living room, barely remembering to slam the door shut behind him.

You never let them call you nicknames normally. Billy had been the only exception.

But when he calls you baby, something blooms in your chest. And it’s vines and thorns alike twist and prick your gut, deflating your better judgment as the two of you are a mess of clumsy limbs that can’t seem to navigate your hallway fast enough. You can’t seem to get him to your bed fast enough.

“Off,” he demands against your lips when you finally have him sitting on your comforter, thighs straddling his as his hands tug at the tank top’s hem.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, but you’re already complying, shucking off the fabric and exposing yourself to him. You’d foregone a bra - it was too hot in Hawkins this time of year.

He doesn’t offer you an answer, hardly taking the time to suck in a deep breath before his mouth wraps around one of your peaked nipples and his large hand spans across your back to press you as close to him as he can get you. You’re already moaning too loudly, sure to receive noise complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. But you’re not thinking about the neighbors or tomorrow, you can only focus on his tongue and lips, working soft magic over your body as he twists the two of you so that he’s hovering over you.

“Fuck,” you blissfully breathe out, fingertips raking through the roots of his curls. His mouth has moved on to your other breast, leaving blooming petals of bruises in its wake.

Another thing you’d never allow to happen with any of the other boys.

No marks. A simple rule. A forgotten rule when it came to Eddie.

“You like that?” he chuckles as he places a final chaste kiss to your chest, lifting his head and staring up at you with his bambi eyes. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in, wander and wade through for hours if given the chance. Shadows of brown and honey intertwining, beckoning to you with a promise of the adoration you seeked out.

You do like that. As a matter of fact, you love it.

“I like it better when your mouth is busy, rockstar,” you say as if you wouldn’t listen to him talk for hours, as if you hadn’t listened to him speak about nonsense as the time passed the two of you by.

He takes his cue, and he does as you ask. He traces roadmaps down your stomach, across your thighs and hips, not uttering a single word until he’s pulled away your cotton shorts and lace underwear.

When he’s face to face with your heat, he finally speaks again.

“Beautiful.”

It’s just a word. If any of your previous flings had spoken it, you’d smack them away and declare the moment over. In fact, you’d done just that with your autumn boy from last year. You weren’t here to be called beautiful, to be held carefully or to be praised as you let them take you however they pleased. You were here to get one thing and one thing only - your own pleasure.

Your back still arches when he says the word, your vines still crack your ribs just as they had reacted to the utterance of baby.

The thorns prickle beneath your skin when he makes you cum with his tongue once, twice, thrice too many times. When he pulls your body to his, when you allow him to forego the protection of a condom and you let him sigh contentedly into your mouth when he slides in, it all pierces you the same.

And when your voice has grown hoarse from chanting his name and your lips have gone chapped from kissing him desperately, you break your final damning rule.

“Stay with me?”

The plea comes out soft and heavy as your head rests against his chest. Even with your window open, the night breeze drifting in, the heat is stifling. It’s too warm to stay pressed so closely together, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging your body to his.

He doesn’t hesitate in his reply, “Of course.”

The two of you sink further into your sheets and each other. It wasn’t the first time Eddie Munson spent the night in your bed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

AUTUMN, 1987

“You like him more than you liked the others.”

It’s not a question - it’s a fact secured in concrete that falls from Billy’s lips as the two of you lean against the brick exterior of the Hideout. A cigarette is half-gone and held limply between his lips, yours freshly lit and clung to tightly between white knuckles.

“I don’t like him,” you scoff, “He’s a good fuck.”

You weren’t here on your normal business, scoping for another warm body to join you in your bed for the night. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing one of their weekly shows.

“Right. A good enough fuck to live to see the fall,” Billy presses, raising his eyebrows at you as he takes another drag and let’s the whisps of white smoke carry off into the cool night.

You’d just been striking out. That’s what you had told yourself. It was bound to happen eventually; you’d hit a dry streak, and you’d have to eventually find a repeat offender. Eddie was just that for you. Someone easy to fall back on. It didn’t hurt that you also enjoyed his company, especially when he’d swing you around in your kitchen while the two of you made dinner in your apartment or when he’d let you cuddle into his neck during the scary movie marathons you’d began to take part in with Halloween now looming around the corner.

“I haven’t seen you getting lucky,” you snap, a sudden defensiveness taking over. A lie, of course. You hadn’t frequented the bar enough lately to even know the last time your former fling had gotten laid.

Billy throws up his hands as he discards the butt of his cigarette, “Hey now, don’t get so feisty, doll. It’s okay to admit you’re going soft.”

Soft. Soft like Eddie’s hands when he pulled your hips against his night after night. Soft like Eddie’s eyes when he watched you in the shower during the mornings after, quick to swipe away any shampoo that drips down your forehead and dangerously close to your own eyes as you wash your hair. Soft like your voice every time you asked him to stay, over and over, never learning your lesson.

“I’m not going soft,” is all you say as you put out the cigarette, not even half-finished, and move to go back inside.

You’re not having this conversation. There’s nothing more to dissect. You weren’t going soft and you couldn’t like Eddie, it wasn’t in your nature.

It’s a mantra you repeat to yourself as you take in the sight of him still setting up the stage. You catch his eye and he grins at you, and you remind yourself you’re not soft. No, whatever this feeling is, it’s not soft. It is angry and loud, it is demanding and sharp. It is copper on your tongue and it is raging storm clouds in your mind. It is the opposite of everything he has been to you; it is every contrast possible to the way he treats you.

He treats you like a human being. You’re not a prize, you’re not an idol – you’re just a person, and sometimes, he treats you as if that’s the greatest thing you could possibly be.

When the show is over and rounds have been bought for the band, he comes home with you. He staggers on his feet and you know he’s had too much whiskey for his own good. Normally, any guy this drunk would be told to piss off.

He’s not any guy. He’s Eddie.

And so you take his drunken state in strides. You let his body lean into you as you guide him up the steps to your front door, you only smile when he gets handsy, you offer weak laughter at his terrible jokes.

“You only want me for my body,” he teases you between kisses when you hook your fingers into his jean’s belt loops to keep him close and upright, “Don’t you?”

This is the part where you tell him yes. You’re supposed to tell him he’s nothing more than a cure for the looming loneliness.

You shake your head.

“I’m not, but I can’t ride your personality, can I?” your fingers retract from the loops, and trace their way up his chest, memorizing the muscles beneath the t-shirt. It’s too faded to see the band logo once advertised.

“You could try,” he sways, and your wandering fingers curl into fists into the cotton material, “P-Probably be pretty hard, though. Just like me.”

He takes one of your hands and places it over the bulge in his jeans.

If he were any other guy, you’d play into it, because if he were any other guy, you’d be expecting to get something out of this night for your own selfish needs.

“Not so fast, rockstar,” you bring your hand back up to his chest as he hiccups, brows furrowed at your subtle rejection, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

It’s an uphill battle of gangly limbs and stumbling steps. He falls against your hallway walls more times than you can count as you guide him to your bedroom and allow him to splay out on the mattress. The laces of his combat boots are impossibly knotted, but you win the war in the end and tug them off of him. He wiggles his toes within his socks, and watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“This is the part where you try to ride my personality, right?” he tempts you, the wiggling in his toes flowing up to his eyebrows, eyes alight with mischief.

Your hand is gentle as you grab his ankle, exposed from jeans that had ridden up into scrunched material around the bottom of his calf. “Right. Let me get you some water first.”

You leave him to rush to the kitchen, gathering the glass of water you’d promised along with a bottle of painkillers from your medicine cabinet. For a moment, you take in the silence and lean your palms onto the cold kitchen counter.

Five months. Two months too long, technically, if you were comparing it all to your track record. He’d seen the eggshell white walls of your apartment more than your own mother, more than your closest friends. At this point, even on your most lonesome nights, you found yourself leaving an Eddie-sized space on the sheets beside you. One of your pillows now permanently smelt like him. There was a mug in your cabinet reserved for him and his ridiculously sweet coffee preference. You’d bought his favorite brand of cigarettes just last week, far stronger than your preferred menthols, and you’d found one of his socks discarded in your dirty laundry.

No, this wasn’t soft. It couldn’t be.

When you finally return to your room, he’s already asleep. You still leave the water and the pills on the bedside table for the next morning, when he’d need them. You try not to think too hard about the way that even in his drunken slumber, he’s left a perfectly you-sized space beside him, arm thrown out perfectly so that you can curl into him once you’ve brushed your teeth and dressed down into pajamas.

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep against him is the way your soft hand grazes over his stomach in soothing circles, and the way your brain softly whispers in the hope of his hangover not being too cruel to him come morning light.

WINTER, 1987

“Eddie! Stop it!” you squeal when he nearly takes you down with him as his back connects with the polished ice beneath the two of you.

Ice skating wasn’t the best idea for two people who were notoriously uncoordinated. But he’d asked you to come with him, and you’d put up little resistance.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, still laying flat on his back with his eyes squeeze shut, legs spread wide as you wobble on your skates, “That fucking hurts.”

“I bet it does,” you nearly giggle, childish with your rosey cheeks and pink-tipped nose. Your smile is infectious once he opens his eyes and catches sight of you fighting back your laughter.

It was the first time the two of you had ever gone out before dark with each other. Although, you were sure by the time you two had finished your goofing off inside the indoor ice rink, it’d be night.

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, struggling to lift himself onto his elbows, “Laugh it up, chuckles. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your first fifty falls.”

“Fifty?” you squeak, forcing faux offense, “I only fell twice, thank you very much.”

It takes a bit for him to finally find his footing once more, plenty of hesitant and awkward movements to simply stand up right before you. Once you’re nearly face to face again, he’s pouting. “Kiss it better?”

Your feet shuffle beneath you, struggling to keep your balance. Your hands fly out and grab onto one of his forearms for balance, “Where’s it hurt?”

“Right here,” his free hand lifts to point to his lips, accentuating his pout further.

“Funny,” you muse, “I don’t recall you falling on your face - this time.”

He huffs as you begin to lose your balance again, one of your hands slipping down his wrist until your fingers are intertwined to the best of your abilities given the angle. His hand is freezing from the ice. Even despite his teasing, he’s quick to work with you, keeping the two of you standing straight with ever-shuffling feet.

“Residual pains or whatever they call them,” he waves off, tapping his lips again to make a point. You roll your eyes, but you’re still quick to lean forward and peck him.

“That’s all?” he whines, already moving in for another kiss.

Any onlooker would assume it’s a date. But it couldn’t be - you didn’t do dates. It was two friends, two acquaintances really, hanging out for the sake of fun. Just as you fell back on Eddie when your nights grew forlorn, he had seeked you out for comfort on his isolating days. It was just another perk of your arrangement.

An arrangement that had dragged on for eight long months.

“You’re greedy,” you mumble against his lips as he tries to deepen the kiss and you deny him.

“Of course I’m greedy,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, “Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?”

You couldn’t, you really couldn’t. You’d had your fair share of possessive types in the past, the kind that felt the need to always claim you as your own. And you would have found it hot, too, if it didn’t feel like they reduced you down to nothing more than some trophy to parade around town.

Eddie didn’t do that. He was still greedy, he had still gotten daring with marking you as his own as of late, but he never reduced you. He never forced you to shrivel in size, never tried to compact you into the box he needed you in. He took you as you were.

You were enough for him. For the first time in a very long time, you were enough.

If you thought about it too long, you would have become dizzy out there on the ice with Eddie. So you don’t think about it. You indulge yourself in banter and echoing laughter, in the scolding looks from nearby parents when one of you makes a crude joke loud enough for their children to hear. You claim your indulging him with the incessant kisses, but you know deep down they’re also for you. To feel his lips on yours. To feel his hands on your hips. To feel his fingers between yours.

To feel like enough.

You’re both still giddy when you approach the counter after several hours have passed, dropping your rented skates on the counter as you glance to the arcade filled with patrons. Glowing lights and trilling noises emit from the area, tangling with giggling that you can’t quite place as coming from there or the ice. It’s loud enough that Eddie has to lean in closer to the teenager working the cash register.

He insisted on paying. You’d tried to fight him on it, but he insisted it was his treat.

It’s during this momentary separation, in which your worlds’ briefly stop revolving around each other, that you spot him. He must have been here for as long as you and Eddie had been, and you must have just been too wrapped up in enough to have noticed him sooner.

Just as you see him, he sees you. Just as you prepare to turn on heel, to return to hiding into Eddie’s enough, he’s calling your name.

It’s loud. It mingles with the sounds already coming from the atmosphere. Eddie doesn’t hear him, but you do.

“Steve,” you try to greet him with a friendly tone through your clenched teeth, taking a few steps further away from Eddie, away from enough and blissful delusion, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah,” he looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he approaches you, “Yeah, not since, uh- well, you know.”

Not since the night you’d officially cut all ties with him, somewhere between Jonathan and Billy. You’d broken his heart. You’d nearly broken your own.

Your lips are pressed into a tight lip smile as you try to redirect the conversation, “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I’ve- uh, yeah, good. You?”

I’ve been on a downward spiral of breaking every single rule that I have spent my entire life curating for my dating life, and I know you’re aware of this by the way you just looked at Eddie over my shoulder, and the way your brow is furrowing, and I get it. I get it. I fucked up.

“I’ve been alright,” you force your jaw to relax, you force a kind and shy smile. It’s almost akin to the ones you’d originally flash him to get him in your grasp, “How’s Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler. After you left Steve the first time, letting whatever situationship that had begun just fizzle out, he’d ran into her arms. From the get go with Jonathan, you’d always known you were a placeholder for her. Even Billy had made a damn pass at her once you guys gave up at spring’s dawn; he’d claimed it might as well be a tradition now, only laughing as Nancy shot him down as expected.

Nancy Wheeler was everything you weren’t. She could promise these men security, stability, commitment, a future. She didn’t hide them. They weren’t dirty secrets forced to only wander into her arms late at night, they weren’t kicked out at the end of each night once she’d had their way with them.

Nancy probably never had her way with men, you realized, more likely letting them have their way with her.

“We broke up,” Again. He forgets to add the again.

They’d gotten together after that first time, been together while you had fun with Jonathan, broken up the moment you were finished with Jonathan and he could go to where he belonged – with Nancy.

Of course, when Jonathan chose a different university to go to, somewhere far away from Nancy, those two had broken up. Steve had swooped in again. It was a never ending headache of small town gossip you had grown tired of hearing about.

“I’m sorry,” you aren’t really, “That’s… forget I’m asked,” you’d feel worse if you hadn’t seen the girl waiting to the side for Steve. His date, no doubt.

“No worries, it’s been a while since it happened anyways,” he shrugs it off, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes.

He’d once called you drunkenly, going off on how he was going on all these dates trying to find you or Nancy again, how none of them were you or Nancy. Which, at the time, just irritated you because Steve, why do you still have my number? But now? Now, you almost get it. You almost understand the pain of searching for a familiar face in the eyes of strangers because any time you had gone to your usual haunts these last seven months, you found yourself searching crowds for wild, messy curls and warm brown eyes. For shades of honey and the scent of tobacco drowned out by cheap cologne.

You hadn’t been striking out anymore, the realization hits clear as day. It’s not even that you were being as picky as you normally were – none of the guys were Eddie. None of them had freckles below their right eyes that made your breath catch, none of them had the same calluses along their fingers from years of guitar practice. None of them had the same boyish grin that shone through the dark of your room at two in the morning, leaving you with no choice but to let him stay. They weren’t Eddie.

“You like him more than you liked the others,” Billy’s voice reverberates from the back of your mind.

The truth seeps into your bones like ash and flames, a fever burning you from the inside out.

Steve only fans the flames when he nods over your shoulder at Eddie, “So, are you and Munson a thing now?”

Flames. Hot coals in the back of your throat, lively embers trailing down your spine. You’re watching the entirety of who you had worked so hard to become over the years bursting into flames.

“What?” you whisper, not realizing Eddie had finished paying behind you, “No. No, we- no. We aren’t anything. We’re just… we’re just friends.”

Even the word friends whispers away into smoke, choking you up.

“Friends? Looks like you two were on a date, like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“Well, we’re not. He’s not.”

Steve hardly buys it, but when Eddie joins your side once more, you don’t even offer him a glimmer of a farewell. You grab the wrist of your friend, your not boyfriend, and you high tail out of there. Still choked up, still running, still reeling.

It’s still light when you leave the building and your hand drops from Eddie’s. You’ll both pretend the cold is from the weather, and not the distance you put between him and yourself.

And if he heard your conversation with Steve, he doesn’t bring it up. Not that night, at least.

SPRING, 1988

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You got him in the spring – it makes sense that you lose him in the spring.

“What do you mean?” you play dumb, painfully coy as you continue to rinse the dishes. Plural. Dishes that the two of you had just dirtied through a painfully tense dinner together. In your apartment, at the counter of your tiny kitchen, knees not even so much as brushing.

“This,” something has broken inside of him. Snapped, shattered, splintered. “It’s been a year, and I keep telling myself that you’ll come around, but-”

“Come around?” you cut him off with a laugh, one that stabs not only through his chest but your own. A double-edged dagger that has been sharpening itself for a year now, “Come around to what, Eddie?”

He hadn’t expected the way you lash out, the cold storm that you had been consumed by since the winter night where Steve had looked at you like something had changed in you. As if you had finally gotten better, as if you had had something sour in you all along and Eddie had managed to magically drain you of it.

He couldn’t. He never was going to be able to.

“Me?” he’s not sure of himself, voice wavering and eyes sparkling as they widen with tears of frustration, “Us? Fuck, I don’t know, but I can’t keep-”

“You thought I would come around to the idea of us?” your voice is cool and collected, nothing like his, as you finally turn around, “What, like we’re dating?”

You were. A year of this back and forth, and you were too stubborn to just accept it. It was your downfall. It was the bleeding wound for not only yourself, but for Eddie – for this, as he had called it.

You like him more than you liked the others.

So, are you and Munson a thing now?

A good enough fuck to live to see the fall.

You were never going to be enough for him. In your lifetime, you’d always known what you were good for, and it wasn’t for boys like Eddie Munson.

“What else do you call this?” he motions vaguely to the dishes, to the fridge that holds his takeout, to the hallway he had tumbled down more times than you could count, “We’re more than just good friends, sweetheart.”

“We both knew what we were getting into.”

“Did we?”

Come over.

I might need convincing.

Stay with me?

You should have been smarter. You should have been more careful.

It’s a brutal fight, and it’s the everything you had been waiting for. The illusion of softness finally breaks. Whispered words of care have become sharp insults, all the small moments where you had made mistake after mistake with him are now weapons. If the dated walls of your kitchen could speak, the tiles would murmur of all the blood being spelt as brutal defenses are sent back and forth from both sides.

“I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“You could, you just don’t want to.”

“What’s the difference, Eddie?”

You were never going to be enough. You should have seen that, clear as daylight from the beginning. You were something rotten from the moment he met you, and he had just been too stupid to recognize all the decay.

Of course I’m greedy. Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?

Why couldn’t he just accept what you were willing to give? Why did he have to push, to persist, to insist upon you laying more of yourself out for him? You had already dissected yourself beyond repair, made the cuts that would never heal and bared your innards in a way that you never should have to begin with.

Stay with me?

You wish you were still just lazing in between your sheets with him. A you-shaped space at his side, a pillow on his side of your bed. You wish he had never picked a fight he had every right to rage. You wish, you wish, you wish.

Stay with me?

And then you lose, you lose, you lose.

“You were just some idiot who thought you could change me,” you seethe at some point, aiming damning arrows for every exposed bone he’d ever given you a glimpse of, “What made you think that? Hm? Was it when I paraded you around the town, calling you my boyfriend? Or was it every time I told you just how much I loved you? Was it when I fell to my knees and kissed the ground you walked on, Eddie? Go ahead. Tell me.”

You were just rubbing salt in the wound at that point. Saying everything he had wished for over the last year, that you never gave him.

You never called him your boyfriend. You never told him you loved him. You never did, and you never would.

When it’s all said and done, it’s everything you had expected. A screaming match that the neighbors will complain about the same as they’d complained about every late-night rendezvous between the two of you. An effective cutting of ties that you’d been anticipating for a long twelve months. If it were the movies, maybe the fight would have been more effective. Something that would delve into the lead up of love confessions, an ending where you wind up in his arms and he’s whispering every which way that he still cares for you, even with your teeth bared and your sharpest knives poised.

It’s not a movie. It’s everything you expected.

But you hadn’t been prepared for the ache. When your own vicious words left a taste of ash on the tongue, when his eyes flashing with something harsher and less caring for you left a hollow ache that rang in your ears longer than his voice did. You didn’t think that you’d feel the cutting of ties. Every nerve ending in your body feels that jagged edge that saws through all that you two had tried to build over the last year, but it’s far too little and far too late. The foundation was cracked – you were damaged.

You lose him. The world doesn’t end; the night carries on even as he grabs his leather jacket and leaves behind the sock in your dirty laundry. And when he exits out your front door, hiding away any tears that might have slipped free, just as you were, you feel that unexpected whisper inside of you.

Stay with me?

You sleep alone that night. For once, the smell of tobacco and his shampoo makes you throw the pillow that was once his across the room.

SUMMER, 1988

She deserves him.

Chrissy Cunningham deserved Eddie Munson far more than you ever had. She was enough.

Summer can stain, but it can’t erase. Even in the months of aftermath, even for every tear shed in private and wave of yearning that would drown you in the dead of night, you never changed. It had hardly taken weeks after Eddie had walked out of your life for you to return to your old ways, going back to the bars and seeking out the latest warm blood to lose yourself in that night.

It didn’t matter that you compared each and every single smile to Eddie’s. It didn’t matter that you’d have to grip your sheets until your knuckles turned bloody to avoid touching the strangers hovering over you, hoping to feel familiar skin and a comfort long lost instead of whatever poor soul you’d dragged home with you.

He deserves a love full of life. A love that breathes him in and doesn’t drain him. One that could let him feel the sun on his skin rather than hiding him away in the night.

A love that doesn’t tick away each passing season, because it’s a love that doesn’t have a ticking time bomb attached to it.

“Never thought I’d see the day Cunningham got her claws in Munson,” Billy mumbles around a cigarette at your side.

He didn’t tease about Eddie those first few months. One look at you, and he had known.

“She didn’t get her claws in him,” you say, monotonous as you reach for your drink once more, “I’m happy for him. They look happy.”

They do. They really, really do. A love that burns like summer, and has never been touched by a dying autumn or cruel winter. The type of happiness Eddie would have never been able to find from you, try as he had.

Billy taps some of his ash into the tray at the center of your shared table. Surely, he had better things to do, but he stays. It was probably entertaining, watching you pine and regret for once in your life, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Their’s don’t. I bet you that there’s a ring on her finger before next summer.”

You don’t want to imagine the pain that would ignite in you. That’s the type of emotion that would far surpass any regret you currently feel. But you seem to enjoy torturing yourself, eyes still zeroing in on her left hand, as if you already see the glint of whatever diamond Eddie would seek out for his worthy lover.

“And I bet if that happens, you skip town within twenty four hours of finding out.”

He’s right. Nothing was truly tying you to this sleepy town, and the reminder of your worst mistake, your most terrible slip up of all time, would easily send you running with your tail between your legs.

“Probably,” you sigh, no longer putting up a front. You hadn’t even tried batting your lashes at a single man since Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the bar. You were striking out tonight, on your own volition, “Maybe I’d move to California. I hear the men there are easy enough.”

“They are,” Billy laughs, throwing his head back. It’s enough to garner attention across the bar, numerous girls being enticed as if he might be a siren beckoning to them, “Take it from one. The girls on the west coast are prettier, though, so you can’t blame ‘em.”

The girls on the west coast probably resemble Chrissy. Golden skin, golden auras, golden light. Honeyed words and the sweetest of blushes across coy cheeks. They probably embody every sunset and sunrise simultaneously, and you can only stand there green with envy.

“You are awfully easy,” is all you can offer in reply. The banter has started to fall flat since Eddie. You’re no fun – hardly taking any bait that Billy will hand over so generously.

Maybe, if you had tried a little harder, you could have been one of those girls. Clear blue skies, not a sight of the storm clouds that you still let consume you.

Maybe Eddie would have stayed if you had tried a little harder.

There’s no real hope for it now. You’re left to being nothing more than a conglomeration of pathetic pity parties and the taste of cheap beer these days, hardly worth the chase once the boys get close enough to see the rot. You’ve stopped trying so hard to cover it up; you’d ripped yourself open for Eddie, and had never found a way to properly suture yourself back together so that anyone new might not get a glimpse of all the bad. They could spot it from a mile away these days.

It doesn’t help that you no longer try to cover it all up with overly sweet perfumes or sickly sweet pickup lines.

Billy’s laughter didn’t just draw the attention of the girls around the bars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a pair of whiskey eyes find the two of you, locking on you far too easily to have not known.

You notice, because of course you notice him. But when Billy notices, it catches you a bit more off guard.

“Like I said,” he drawls, and you nearly panic when he grabs his drink off to leave you behind, “Looks can be deceiving, hot stuff.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s quickly, not listening to a word that Billy is saying. Chrissy is saying something, something surely important, but her boy isn’t listening. Her boy, her conduit for all her sunshine, is staring right at you and has no plans on looking away any time soon.

He’s seen the rot up close and personal. He’s the one who’d handed the treacherous scalpel over to your shaking hands, encouraging you to open up in all the ways you never wished to.

You shouldn’t do it. You’ll regret it. You really shouldn’t do this.

“They never learn their lesson, do they?”

You don’t know who Billy is talking about.

Eddie, who almost seems to be under your spell, taking a slow slip of his neat whiskey, staring you down as if he’s brimming with bad ideas that he hopes you can hear from across the room.

Or you, who should know better. You hurt him, you broke his heart, you don’t deserve him. And yet, you’re selfish as ever, mind reeling with possibilities of how you wish the night would end.

You can hear the bad ideas. Clear as day. Especially when Eddie only breaks eye contact long enough to lean in to Chrissy and whisper something that effectively dismisses her, leaving Eddie all alone and in your gaze.

“They don’t,” you say, throwing back the last of your drink.

You know where he’s heading. And you know where you’re heading. A moth to his flame, going only where he will allow you. You’re a ghost of the menace you once were. The other men, the other bodies that kept you warm these nights; none of them were him. You didn’t want them. You weren’t soft with them. They never stayed, because you never asked them to. There was only one man in this bar, in this entire damn bar, that would ever fill the hole left behind in you after Eddie’s summer. Eddie’s spring, Eddie’s autumn, Eddie’s winter.

And he was walking outside the bar, almost tauntingly as he sauntered through the doors, beckoning you with each and every step.

Perhaps this time, Eddie’s the one who needs a summer plaything.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Billy taunts you as he takes a few steps back, knowing damn well as to what was about to happen. Bad ideas, downright terrible ideas.

Eddie is playing the same game as you were once a master in. It dawns on you; Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t his newest love. She wasn’t his sweetest sunrise or gentle spring. She was a passing wind, just like all the boys you’d enticed before him. She’s already moved along, pretty hand resting on the shoulder of a new beau and not even paying any mind to Eddie’s absence. She may deserve him, but she doesn’t have him.

Nor do you. The roles have been switched, and you should know better. He’s leading you to an inevitable death, whether it be a little one or something of catastrophic value. He is leading you right into your own demise. Just as you used to do with every new victim you’d set your mark on before him, before your summer, before it all.

All your old tricks, turned to weapons against you.

And you’ll let him. A moth to his flame. A dog at his window sill.

“It never does.”

Stay with me?

Maybe, this time, you’ll be the one staying. If only for the night, and if only for Eddie.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #i could certainly be persuaded to write a part 2 :)

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slightlydepressedmelon · 2 months

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okay so I’ve been thinking about pop star!Chrissy having very much like a bubblegum pop style to her music and image for years and years and she’s a huge star like super successful and everyone is talking about how excited they are to see where her career goes but right when the momentum is at its highest she drops her label and exposes their mistreatment of female artists and how they tried to cover up sexual harassment then she disappears from public view for a few months only to return on stage with none other than Corroded Coffin the most famous metal group of the time and end her time on stage by kissing the lead guitar player one Eddie Munson in front of the entire arena looking happier than ever

in the following days she reactivates her social media accounts sharing some pictures from the past few months many of which feature Eddie and the ones that dont feature him hyping her up in the comments a week later Corroded Coffin and Chrissy Cunningham offically announce the release of their collab which then leads to Chrissy doing an interview with reporter Nancy Wheeler in which she reveals what she’s been up to and how she got connected with Corroded Coffin considering they are antithesis of her old music

she reveals that she actually met Eddie at an award show last year where he had flirted hard she found him charming but was deep in her labels idea of who she should be and was worried about how it would effect her image still she took Eddie’s number and they would talk sometimes he was even the one to encourage her expose her labels bullshit despite her family trying to convince her not to and she of course ended up listening to Eddie who also offered to let her come with him and the band to a summer house after the news broke and things got kind of crazy in the press which she did

that summer was when she finally allowed herself to fall for Eddie and she fell hard they would spend all day talking and laughing with each other not worrying about music or the press at all until one day in early August when Chrissy brought Eddie some lyrics she’d been working on and asked him to help her do something different thus the collab was born

her interview with Nancy is received really well and she’s enjoying being back in the public eye on her terms doing what she wants which currently includes traveling with Corroded Coffin to perform their collab and creating new music that feels like her for the first time in years

#I don’t know if I could ever write this fic #but i have a lot of thoughts #anyways #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #stranger things #eddissy #my post

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madelynraemunson · 8 months

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Bonus scene 𓆩♡𓆪

from the CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT universe (18+)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

timeline: 015, THIS SCENE, 016** | ** = smut

Eddie has an important question to ask you on your birthday.

contains: fluff, physical touch, flirting, loverboy!eddie, romantic eddie, implied history of abuse from billy

wc: 1k words

*play this while you read to really be immersed in st nostalgia* 🥹 (if you want)

♡

“Oh no,” you breathe.

Everything starts to make more sense when you see Steve waiting for you at Hellfire’s doors. He’s got the smuggest look on his face. You quickly try to turn and run the other way, already embarrassed. But the former Star Athlete is faster, immediately lunging at you to drag you into the club.

“Nope!” Harrington protests.

“Steve-” you begin.

“No no no no,” he shakes his head. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

They’re all gonna see you like this. You hate to admit it, but you had just spent your entire commute crying — evident by your raccoon eyes — because you thought everyone (except for Billy) had forgotten your birthday.

Robin and Vicky were already out of the house by the time you woke up. Max, you assumed, got a ride from Steve to their new barista job. Chrissy turned down a pre-shift ‘Hot Girl Walk’, and Eddie never called. It was starting to feel like the most Adult birthday ever, but by a long shot not the worst.

“Put me down!” you persist.

Birthdays suck. Especially when you share one with your abuser. But you’re in a new era now. An era where you are loved, celebrated, and protected.

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHY GIRL!”

You’re bombarded by obnoxious kazoos and party hats, streamers and confetti in all shapes and colors, and what looks like a homemade birthday cake in Jane (Mike’s girlfriend)’s hands, decorated with funky, florescent candles, and crafty red hearts that overpowered every inch of the thick white fondant.

“Oh my god,” you beam.

Max, Robin and Vicky. Chrissy, Argyle, Nancy, Jonathan, and Henry. Will, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Jane, and Erica who also just had a birthday (she turned 18 last week). Steve. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. All the faces you’ve grown to know and love since moving to Hawkins, all together in one room to celebrate YOU.

“We were trying so hard to keep this a secret,” Steve explains as he gives you a hug. “I’d say we did a pretty good job.”

“Yeah sorry we couldn’t get a better location,” Mike adds. “Chuck E Cheese was fully booked so Hellfire was the next best thing.”

“You guyssss,” you begin to sob. “This is oddly perfect. Thank you.”

“Well,” Jane says. She holds the cake up to your face. “There's no sense in waiting any longer. Make a wish!”

You close your eyes. I wish for life to always be this peaceful.

And when you open your eyes, you see Eddie in front of you, with a beautiful rose bouquet and a bag in his hands.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

His eyes are twinkling like a kid who woke up early on Christmas morning. You greet him with a warm hug to which he uses that opportunity to affectionately rub your back. You hear some soft “aww”s in the background, but you’re too infatuated with the man in front of you to jokingly scorn at whoever said it.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” you ask him.

“You can find out lot of stuff from paperwork,” Eddie winks at you. “Specifically your resume. Which, might I say, is very impressive.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” you giggle.

You can tell the sir made Eddie’s stomach do somersaults. Completely blushing now, he hands you your gift in the form of a bag, ushering you to open it — right here — in front of everybody.

"You didn't have to..." you mutter quietly.

You take the bag from him.

"Yet… I did," Eddie spews confidently. He watches as you unwrap your gift. “I’d get you strippers but then it’d feel like work. And your bday should never feel like work.”

You nudge him as you roll your eyes. Such a fucking cornball.

But then you become the cornball. A tear begins to form in your eyes when you look at all your gifts. The roses. A custom metalhead Build-A-Bear with a leather jacket and jeans whose certificate reads “Eddie Bear”, and a gold plated charm bracelet from Everlasting Memories with your name engraved on it. But just when you think you had everything, Eddie scoops up the last one from the bottom. It’s a small wooden sign with a message on it.

CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?

“Oh my god…” is all you can say.

His voice is as gentle as the fingers he uses to patiently graze your arm. "So can I?"

The tear that formed in your eye finally trickles its way down your rosy red cheeks. "Of course you can."

Then you two share a kiss, eliciting an even louder swarm of “aww”s than the ones before, and generating a reaction from nearby, a very curious dancers.

“I hope you know how special you are to each and every one of us,” Eddie says to you. “Especially me, haha.”

You wipe the happy tears away from your eyes.

“It sure feels like it.”

Eddie gives you the day off and you use it to stuff your face and play board games with all your friends. Eventually after the short festivities you stay behind to chill with everyone for a bit. Then you go your own way to start making dinner, which you insisted on, at home.

When you get home, you’re surprised with another text message from Billy.

Billy Hargrove

I’d say the move has helped us a lot. I have room to miss you 🤣

You smile as you answer back.

To be better days ❤️ Happy birthday, brother. I miss you tons.

Billy Hargrove loved “To better days ❤️ Happy birthday, brother. I miss you tons.”

After your convo with Billy, you make your way over to the freezer to grab and defrost the chicken. Tonight’s menu consists of chicken, greens, and potatoes for dinner, followed by some birthday muffins Bob Newby had his bakers make at his coffee shop (courtesy of Max and Steve) for dessert.

Next, you begin to set the table, making sure to make seven settings for tonight: you, Max, Robin, Vicky, one for Eddie, and one for Wayne.

And when you’re finally done, you take a look around your house that you have made a home with your sister and best friends. You’re finally home. Hawkins is home. And for the first time in a really long time, you can truly say you’ve had… a happy birthday.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things 5 #joe quinn #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff

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gerrystamour · 1 year

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here i have found some peace of mind [chapter three]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST ] [ PREVIOUS ]

Steve, meet Chrissy. Eddie, meet Consequences. RUH-ROH RAGGY 😬 The one photo of Eddie is absolutely referencing THIS IMAGE (kinda nsft, so be aware of that), you're welcome. NOW WITH ART commissioned by @dance-on-the-bones !!

[ READ ON AO3 ]

dreaming of the forest, the whispering pines

As the beginning of June rolled around, Steve excitedly noted it was time to reach back out to Chris from his end. Leading up to this point, it had been Chris calling him the whole time. In fact, Chris insisted on being the one to call him on account of their busy tour schedule.

Now that the cut-off was approaching, Steve needed to sit down with Chris and finalize all the details they had been discussing over the past two months as well as work out how things were going to work with the film crew. It was the one thing that Chris had been cagey about on the phone.

So, with only a moment’s hesitation, Steve sent Chris an email offering three different times over the next week to choose from for a meeting over Zoom, not really expecting a reply very quickly. Or more, he was expecting Chris to call him and choose one.

Steve’s computer pinged a minute later with a new email notification from Chris. When he looked, he choked when he realized it was a Teams meeting request for the same day, in an hour and a half.

Hi Steve, Great to hear from you. I’m excited to work with you as well! Do you actually have time to have the meeting today? We’re really busy this week with filming so I won’t be able to commit to any of those other times. Hope this is okay! -C. Cunningham

Faced with meeting the man of his dreams on such short notice, Steve accepted the meeting request and literally fled his cubicle to find Robin.

Except he couldn’t find her anywhere, and she wasn’t answering her texts. He was getting frantic as the time for his meeting with Chris was rapidly approaching. Finally, he found Dustin and snagged him by his shoulder.

“Hey, do you know where Robin is?” he asked, and for a moment Dustin looked… maybe conflicted? It was a weird expression, but then his normal smug smile split his face.

“She’s doing inventory in the beer cooler,” Dustin said and very deliberately winked at Steve as if it was some inside-joke. It was probably a banquets thing.

“Thanks, Henderson!” Steve said, deciding to ignore Dustin being weird and hurrying down the hall to the banquets storage area.

Steve was actually grateful they’d be having this conversation in a windowless cooler behind the ballroom. Not only would it help him cool down a bit, he could also yell a bit about his woes without worrying about being heard by passers-by.

“Robs, I’m going to die,” Steve all but wailed as he stormed into the cooler, but the rest of his statement was frozen on his lips as he registered what he was walking in on.

Robin was half-leaning, half-sitting on stacked boxes of beer, pinned in place by Nancy while they made out. Robin’s hands were fisted in Nancy’s skirt while the other woman buried her hands in Robin’s hair.

At least, that was what Steve saw when he first arrived, but when he blinked Nancy was standing clear across the cooler and almost looking for all the world like she hadn’t been shoving her tongue down his best friend’s throat. Steve would have almost believed it if Robin hadn’t still been standing there dazed, hands grasping at empty air where they’d previously been holding Nancy’s clothes, her hair a wild mess.

“Steve!” Nancy cried, relieved and that seemed to snap Robin out of her daze, because now she was looking at Steve with wild, scared eyes. “It’s just you, I thought—”

“Steve, I can explain,” Robin said quickly, her face turning so red so quickly Steve was worried she might pop blood vessels. She was also tearing up, which Steve distantly registered as wrong, but he was struggling to find the words to comfort her.

Nancy sucked in a breath. “You haven’t told him? You said you were going to tell him!” she hissed, crossing her arms.

“Tell me what?” Steve asked dumbly, looking between them.

“Robin and I have been seeing each other, kind of,” Nancy said in a rush, frowning at Robin with some concern. “We didn’t want to make it official until we talked to you. I wanted to do it together, but Robin insisted it was better if she did it alone.”

“Wha—Wait, what?” Steve shook himself and pushed his glasses up onto his head to scrub his face. “Start over. Why are you both being weird about this? Why are you acting like you both need my permission to be dating?”

“We don’t need your permission, Steve. I want to be with Robin whether or not you were okay with it, but Robin wanted your blessing before we made it public,” Nancy said firmly, crossing her arms.

“Why would—Robs, c’mon, this isn’t high school,” Steve said in a rush, looking at Robin where she was sitting, and to his horror she was actually crying. Stepping forward, he pulled her into a tight hug. “Robs, you can date whoever you want, you don’t need my blessing.”

“It’s just she’s your ex, and I know the way you talked about your relationship—I was worried it would hurt you,” Robin admitted as she hugged him back.

“Robs, again, we’re adults, and Nancy and I haven’t dated in years. I haven’t been into Nancy in years. Why would I care?” he asked, pulling back to smooth down Robin’s hair.

“So, this is okay?” Robin asked nervously and Steve laughed, nodding quickly. Then Robin made a face and asked, “can you pretend to be a little bit pissed because Wheeler has the smuggest, stupidest, hottest look on her face right now.”

Steve laughed and looked over his shoulder. “You figured I’d be okay with it?” he asked, and Nancy crossed her arms and nodded quickly. “I thought you were still seeing Jonathan, though.”

“I mean, I am,” Nancy said, and when Steve’s expression turned murderous, she quickly added, “I’m not cheating, Steve! We’re non-monogamous. Polyamorous. In an open relationship. Whatever.”

Nancy shuffled her feet uncomfortably as she began to shiver. She was just wearing a blouse and skirt, and now that she was no longer cuddled up to the human furnace that was Robin Buckley, she was obviously getting cold.

Steve turned to Robin with a frown. “You’re okay with that?” he asked, and Robin nodded quickly. There was zero hesitation or doubt in her expression.

“As long as I’m not expected to fool around with the boys, I’m definitely okay with it!” she reassured him. “The only thing I wasn’t sure about was how you’d feel, Dingus. Everything else? I’m totally on board with it.”

“Good. Then, Robin Buckley, I hereby give you full permission to date my ex-girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler,” Steve said dramatically, tapping her shoulders as if he was knighting her.

Robin giggled and pulled Steve into a tight hug, squeezing him hard enough that his back popped. When she leaned back, she was frowning again. “What were you yelling about when you came in?”

Steve blinked down at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“When you came in, you were yelling about dying,” Nancy supplied, and Steve gasped. Checking his watch, he realized he had to hurry back to his desk.

“I have a Teams meeting with Chris, I was coming here to freak out,” he confessed and then started to back out. “I have to go, Robs, please, resume your activities, I’ll talk to you at home.”

With that, Steve practically ran back to his desk to log back on.

Steve barely got his earbuds plugged in when Chris started to call him, and he fumbled a bit as he answered with his camera.

“Hi Chris,” Steve greeted with a wave as Chris’ camera took a few seconds to load. When it finally did, Steve’s smile faltered with confusion.

See, Steve didn’t put that much thought into what Chris looked like, and obviously the bubbly blond person grinning and waving at him could actually be Chris. But then the wording of Chris’ email came back to him.

“I’m excited to work with you as well!”

At the time, he had overlooked it because he was so panicked that he’d be seeing Chris so soon. With a sinking feeling, Steve began to consider the possibility that he hadn’t spoken a single word to someone named Chris for two months.

“Hi Steve, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet with you! I’m Chrissy by the way!” she said, and yep, her voice was completely different than the person he had been talking to on the phone.

Steve tried to settle his emotions, his panic as he realized he’d been discussing sensitive details with someone who wasn’t his client warring with his hurt as it dawned on him that “Chris” had been lying the whole time. Taking a deep breath, Steve managed to let out a small laugh.

“I am so sorry, Chrissy. I have been receiving phone calls from your phone number by a gentleman for weeks and talking about your block,” Steve confessed in a rush, and Chrissy’s face went through a comical number of emotions in the span of three seconds.

“Oh God, Steve, I should be the one who’s sorry. That was—that was Eddie, the frontman of our band. He does stuff like this all the time,” she groaned, covering her face, for which Steve was grateful.

That meant she didn’t see the exact moment his heart actually broke. So, Eddie regularly messed with the hapless, idiot event managers and group housing coordinators stupid enough to fall for his act? It was all a ploy for some rockstar to get into his pants? Hurt and rage simmered under Steve’s skin, and he managed to school his expression into something less pathetic by the time Chrissy looked back at her screen.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Chrissy. How about I go over everything Eddie discussed with me, and you can let me know if it’s all correct?” Steve offered, and Chrissy nodded.

“Of course, I mean it’s probably all fine. Eddie came up with most of the riders himself, I just organized them into a coherent list,” she said with a giggle, and Steve’s chest ached.

They talked for about half an hour, going over every point Steve had written down and by the end of it, Steve had almost forgotten about the heartbreak.

“Steve, before we hang up, I do want to formally apologize. Even if nothing happened, it was absolutely unprofessional of him to be reaching out to you,” Chrissy said in a rush, and Steve barely refrained from grimacing. “I didn’t know, but I also allowed him unrestricted access to my work phone. I hope he didn’t do anything inappropriate.”

Steve considered telling her that Eddie had been flirting with him, chatting him up, and had asked him out. Had the stories Eddie told been his own, or were they actually Chrissy’s? Did Steve fall for Eddie, or did he fall for Eddie-Pretending-To-Be-Chrissy?

But to tell her any of that would be admitting to his own lack of professionalism, which could actually get him fired.

“No, Chrissy, he didn’t do anything inappropriate,” Steve said brightly. “Aside from identity theft, he was perfectly polite and professional.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Chrissy teased, rolling her eyes before something seemed to click for her. “Steve. You’re Steve.”

Steve blinked at her, his brow furrowed. The way she said it was as if she meant it to be in her head. “Yes, I’m Steve,” he confirmed a bit cheekily, and Chrissy giggled. In the background, Steve could hear what sounded like a door slamming open. Chrissy barely reacted to it other than holding her hand up to whoever entered the bus.

“Yes, yes you are. Okay, I gotta go Steve,” she said, and at that she looked pointedly at whoever was standing there. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you. I look forward to seeing you in July.”

Steve knew by the murderous glint in her eyes that it was Eddie that had entered the bus, and he felt sick to his stomach. He took some comfort in how angry Chrissy looked, even if it terrified him a little bit too.

“Of course, see you then,” Steve agreed, and as he went to hang up, he saw Chrissy remove her earbuds and stand up.

“Edward Munson, you ass—”

“Chris, I can explain—”

Steve flinched at hearing Eddie’s voice and finished hanging up. He didn’t want to hear Eddie’s explanation, didn’t want to hear him confirm that it was all just a big joke to him, or an elaborate scheme to fuck Steve. The anger came back in full swing, this time paired with embarrassment that made for a nauseating mixture in his gut.

If Eddie was smart, Steve thought angrily, he wouldn’t reach back out.

❖

Eddie Munson was known for a lot of things: his skill on the guitar, his wicked smile, his vocal ability, his lyricism, his fun demeanour.

Thinking ahead? Considering the long-term ramifications of spending two whole months flirting and falling in love with a man under false pretenses? Being fucking smart?

No, absolutely not.

See, he had planned to come clean to Steve. He wanted to come clean because he wanted Steve to call him by his actual name. Every time he got close to telling him, though, Eddie would clam up. They were both already in too deep for Eddie to do it gently, to do it without hurting Steve at least a little bit.

Asking Steve out was a mistake, he knew it the second he hung up and he didn’t have time to call him back and confess his dishonesty.

There wasn’t even a good reason for continuing the charade so long other than selfish fear. Eddie liked Steve, liked talking to him, and he was afraid if Steve knew who he actually was, he would end it all without giving him a chance. When he found out that Steve didn’t even know which band he was arranging the stay of and didn’t care to find out, it had been so gratifying, and Eddie almost told him right there.

Ultimately, Eddie Munson was a selfish coward, and he stalled. He stalled for so long, in fact, that he missed that it was June, and that Steve would be reaching out to Chris for the first time in months. Chris, who was actually Chrissy. Now that Eddie had his own phone again, he couldn’t justify holding onto Chrissy’s phone as often. He had to actually steal it just to call Steve.

So that meant he didn’t know that Steve had emailed Chrissy, or that they arranged a video meeting.

“Where’s Chrissy?” Eddie had asked, looking around at his bandmates sitting on the curb outside of the bus as he came back from his run to a 7-11 down the road. He leaned heavily on his cane as he ripped at the plastic wrap around his new pack of cigarettes.

“She’s doing a video call with someone from one of the hotels we’re staying at next month,” Gareth replied, taking a long drag from his own cigarette.

Eddie stopped trying to get into his smokes as his veins filled with ice.

“Which hotel?” Eddie asked, trying to keep his voice even but his panic bled through, shoving the pack into his pocket and adjusting his footing.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant all looked up at him with the same frown.

“Eddie, what did you do?” Grant asked mildly and Eddie wanted to scream.

“Which hotel? Do you know which hotel?” Eddie asked, letting the frantic edge creep into his voice.

“I don’t know, man, it was either the hotel in Chicago or Indianapolis, I think she had a couple calls,” Grant replied, and Eddie felt the hope surge through him.

He entered the bus with zero grace, the door slamming open and then shut behind him as he clambered up the stairs and nearly tripping over his cane. In his haste, he felt something pull in the knotted scar tissue over his thigh and hip, but he pushed through until he was standing and facing the table.

Chrissy’s stare and raised hand to stop him killed any hope he had.

“Okay, I gotta go Steve,” Chrissy said with one of her colder smiles, the one she got when she was really seething under the surface.

Eddie felt his throat go tight and his eyes stung. It was all fucked up. He fucked up because he was too scared to do the right thing, and now he was going to lose Steve before he even got him.

“It was a pleasure to finally meet you,” Chrissy said, finally looking back at the laptop, her smile warming considerably. “I look forward to seeing you in July.”

Chrissy nodded as Steve said something, presumably goodbye, and then Chrissy took her earbuds out. “Edward Munson, you asshole!” she shouted, standing up to lean over her laptop.

“Chris, I can explain!” Eddie said desperately, and annoyingly a tear streaked down his cheek. Quickly wiping it away he took a deep breath and blinked rapidly at the ceiling. “Shit, hold on, give me a second.”

The sight of his tears seemed to take the wind out of Chrissy’s sails, and she heaved a gusty sigh. “You have one minute to convince me you’re just an idiot and not an asshole.”

“You know me, Chris,” Eddie insisted, and Chrissy laughed a bit.

“Yeah, Eddie, I thought I did. The Eddie I know wouldn’t’ve impersonated me for two months on the phone with some poor hotel employee,” she said firmly, but her voice was gentle. “So, convince me it wasn’t some mean prank. Now.”

“It was an accident! I was using your phone when he called the first time. He called me Chris and I decided to play along, we chatted a bit and he seemed to like it when I flirted with him,” Eddie said in a rush, still trying not to actually cry. “I wasn’t going to call him again, but I just… really liked talking to him.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” Chrissy asked and Eddie laughed, but it sounded a lot more like a sob.

“Chris, c’mon, I’m—people don’t talk to me when they know who I am. But when he thought I was Chris, he talked to me like I was fucking normal, like I wasn’t fucking famous,” Eddie replied with a weak shrug, finally looking at Chrissy. She was doing her best to stay angry, but she was never very good at ignoring Eddie’s tears. “It was really nice how he would tell me stuff about himself.”

Generally, the only people who would talk about themselves to Eddie would be other celebrities, and it was usually just them bragging. Steve talked to Eddie like they were both on the same level, like they were peers.

“He doesn’t even know the band’s name, apparently, so I was actually able to talk about myself and shit and he didn’t have my stupid Wikipedia page memorized,” Eddie added with a sigh. “It was just fucking nice, and I really fucking like him, and I just—I meant to tell him, I wanted to tell him the truth, I swear Chrissy.”

Chrissy sighed and tilted her head. “Why didn’t you?” she asked again, and Eddie let out a frustrated sigh.

“I was fucking scared that I would tell him, and he would immediately stop answering my calls. That after everything, even if I convinced him that the only thing I fucking lied about was my name, he would put a stop to it,” Eddie said, crossing his over his chest defensively.

“It would’ve been his right,” Chrissy said bluntly. “It wasn’t fair that you didn’t even give him that choice.”

“I know,” Eddie said weakly, hanging his head and lifting one hand to wipe his eyes. “I fucking know, and I can’t stand myself for letting it get so far—”

“What does that mean, Eddie?” Chrissy asked fretfully, but the look on her face said she had an idea what he meant.

She had heard the guys teasing him about a ‘Steve’, had seen the last two tour diaries that now had a whole Steeeeve montage in the middle of the Cringefail Eddie section. Chrissy wasn’t dumb, she could easily put two and two together.

“Eddie, I want to hear in your words what that means,” Chrissy pushed, and Eddie collapsed against the counter of the kitchenette, taking some of the weight off his leg as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“I asked him out to dinner, and he said yes,” Eddie muttered weakly, bracing himself for Chrissy to yell again. He was so caught up in his misery, he didn’t even hear her move, so he jumped when she wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re an idiot, but… you’re not a mean idiot. What you did was wrong, and you owe him the biggest apology possible, and you need to be honest with him,” Chrissy said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“I know, I’m gonna do that,” he said, even if that thought was terrifying.

“I hope it works out for you, though,” Chrissy said gently, tilting her head back to look up at him. “He seemed really sweet, and you deserve something sweet.”

“I don’t, but thank you,” Eddie said shakily, and Chrissy glared.

“Stop that, even idiots deserve nice things. Don’t argue with me,” she said. “Now, take out your phone and call Steve.”

“Right now?” Eddie asked, chewing his bottom lip. “Shouldn’t I let things cool down?”

“Haven’t you stalled enough?” Chrissy countered and Eddie held his hand out for Chrissy’s phone. She scoffed. “Nuh-uh, you use your phone, Eddie. You have lost all privileges to mine, even if you lose or wreck yours.”

Eddie cringed, slipping his hand out of the wrist strap for his cane and shuffling over to sit down at the table. Laying his cane down across his lap, Eddie fished out his phone and started dialing Steve’s number. He didn’t even have to ask Chrissy for it. Eddie had it fully memorized.

It rang twice.

“This is the Chicago In-Terminal Hotel, Events department, Steve speaking?” His voice was pleasant but cold, like the first time they talked on the phone.

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie said with a sniffle, and he was fully prepared for Steve to hang up on him.

“Mr. Munson,” Steve said coolly, and Eddie felt his heart crack. Cold professionalism. “So, you do have your own phone.”

Eddie tried to laugh a bit. “I had this phone for a couple weeks. I lost—”

“What do you want, Mr. Munson?” Steve interrupted, and Eddie sunk in his seat.

Eddie wanted to turn back time and be honest during the first phone call. He wanted to go back to the second phone call, really any call before this one and come clean. He wanted to apologize to Steve, to tell him he was so far gone for him, to beg him to go to dinner with him. He wanted Steve to give him a chance.

“I wanted to explain myself and apologize,” Eddie said earnestly, wiping tears from his lashes.

“No need. I get it.” Steve’s voice was too cold to get it. Or maybe he did get why Eddie did it, but just didn’t care.

“Steve, please,” Eddie pushed, and Steve scoffed. “I just—Let me explain—”

“No. You don’t have to. I actually get it, you don’t have to explain the grand scheme of your stupid game—”

“What? What game?” Eddie floundered, trying to catch up to what Steve was accusing him of. Even Chrissy’s expression was concerned as she sat across from him.

“Don’t give me that. Chrissy said you do this all the time. Just… forget my number and leave me alone,” Steve snapped, and Eddie felt his heart squeeze painfully, his stomach dropping. “I’m on the clock and you’re not actually technically my client.”

Eddie took a shaky breath and tried one last time. “Please, Steve, I really want to see you—”

“It’s not worth my fucking job to open my legs for you like one of your groupies, Munson,” Steve snarled and the meanness in his voice stunned Eddie into silence, his heart shattering.

There was a moment where Eddie tried to say something, anything, but all he managed was a quiet whimper that he hoped the phone didn’t pick up. It took Eddie a moment to realize that the call had actually ended.

Steve had hung up on him.

It would’ve been easy to turn it around on Chrissy or even Steve to soothe his own wounds—she said Eddie did this all the time, and what? Steve gleaned that he fucked his way through every hotel employee that handled their team? As if Eddie had the time to be chatting up that many people?

But no, this was on him. It didn’t matter what Chrissy had said or what Steve decided that meant. This was Eddie’s fault, completely and utterly, and being hurt by what Steve said was the height of selfishness.

“Eddie?” Chrissy prompted softly, and Eddie glanced at her. She looked apologetic, as if she was about to actually say sorry to him. Eddie couldn’t take that if she did.

Carefully putting his phone down on the table, Eddie got up and went to the back of the bus to crawl into his bunk, facing the wall. Sniffling a bit, Eddie wiped the tears off his face and took a deep breath. Behind him, he felt Chrissy press close and wrap an arm around his waist. Eddie couldn’t help the quiet sob he let out and Chrissy began rubbing his chest soothingly.

“I really fucking like him, Chris,” Eddie said through another sob.

Chrissy let out a wet laugh. “I know, Eddie. I know,” she said gently.

“I’ve never felt this way about someone,” he confessed, and that felt like glass in his throat. Thankfully, Chrissy didn’t say anything to that, just squeezed Eddie tighter and held him while he worked to regain his composure.

He had a show to do in a few hours, and a hard week of filming after that. Eddie didn’t have time to wallow.

❖

“It’s not worth my fucking job to open my legs for you like one of your groupies, Munson.”

Steve replayed the conversation in his mind and grimaced when he remembered how he ended it.

Once again, he was hurt and so he lashed out, he wanted Eddie to hurt like he was hurting. Never mind that Eddie sounded like he was already upset, maybe even already crying, that maybe he misinterpreted something along the way. Steve had immediately felt like shit for saying what he did, knew it was mean especially if there was an explanation for what Eddie did.

He was able to tamp down on his guilt for the rest of the day when he remembered what Chrissy said—“He does stuff like this all the time”—and his anger was renewed.

Steve held onto that all the way home. Robin got home a little bit later with Nancy in tow, and Steve unloaded on both of them.

To his dismay, neither of them seemed convinced of his stance.

“So, the tour manager asked you if he did anything inappropriate?” Nancy asked, and Steve frowned.

“Yeah, so?” he asked, and Robin made a face.

“If he was a serial seducer of horny hotel employees, I’m not sure she would ask if he did anything inappropriate,” Robin said in support of Nancy’s line of questions. “And she said he did that all the time when? Before or after she asked that?”

“Before,” Steve said, and he felt his certainty waning. Taking a deep breath, Steve doubled-down on his anger. “I know what I heard.”

“Steve—” Nancy started, but Robin held up her hand and Nancy closed her mouth with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, I know what you heard, Steve, but you’re also doing that thing where you insert a lot of stuff that wasn’t actually said, yeah?” Robin suggested gently, and Steve looked away. “Listen, I’m not going to argue about what happened in either conversation, okay? And you know I’m in your corner on this because screw that guy for lying.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming,” Steve muttered darkly, and Robin smiled brightly.

“However,” she said instead.

“Oh, same difference—”

“I would like to ask you to consider replaying both conversations and only considering the words that were actually said,” Robin finished, shrugging when Steve glowered at her.

“Kinda rich for you to be telling me not to overthink what people say,” Steve grumbled.

“See, that just means I’m an expert when it comes to coping mechanisms. Just think about the actual words,” Robin pressed, and Steve huffed in frustration.

“He lied to me,” Steve bit out, and Robin nodded.

“I know, and it was messed up and you have every right to be mad at him, you don’t even have to forgive him,” Robin agreed readily, then she shrugged. “I just don’t see a guy as busy as him spending two months actually like, wooing you for a hook-up.”

Steve clenched his jaw, frowning as he looked away. Even if what Robin was saying made sense, Steve still couldn’t get past the lying. Every time he started to consider her point of view, he would remember the lie and his hurt feelings would sting all over again and the anger would return in full force.

“Okay, let’s just— forget I said anything. Fuck that guy, he doesn’t deserve you anyway,” Robin said, clapping her hands as she stood up and startling Nancy and Steve. “We’re going to have ice cream, and pizza, and watch whatever shitty movie you like right now.”

“Robin—” Nancy started, confusion all over her face.

“Nance, either you’re in for Fuck That Guy Pizza and Ice Cream or not,” Steve said with a chuckle, relieved that they were dropping it for the evening.

She actually seemed to consider her position on the matter for a bit before she shrugged and said, “Okay, fine, I’m in.”

“Excellent!” Robin said brightly as she jumped up to get their evening set up.

❖

A few hours later, Steve sighed as he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth. Heading to his room, he paused when he heard Robin say his name inside her room.

“It’s up to Steve how he wants to feel about it, Nance.”

“But you know he’s overreacting, too—”

“I wouldn’t call it overreacting. He’s reacting appropriately to the facts he thinks he was given.”

“Okay, you know he’s wrong, then.”

“Nancy, I really like you, I like your tenacity and your sense of integrity and all that, but you gotta learn when to ease up. Steve has to figure some stuff out on his own, especially if it involves his hurt feelings.”

Steve continued to his bedroom and shut the door, happy that Robin was standing by him but annoyed that she didn’t disagree with Nancy completely.

With a heavy sigh, Steve flopped back onto his bed and glared up at the ceiling. He should just go to bed and try to sleep, but his swirling thoughts about Chris—no, Eddie, wouldn’t leave him alone.

Sighing again, Steve unlocked his phone and opened the browser, typing in “Eddie Munson” in the search bar. One of the suggestions was “Eddie Munson Corroded Coffin” and Steve raised an eyebrow. He vaguely recognized that name, pretty sure some of the kids he worked with at the hotel liked a band named that, and then looked up concerts happening in Chicago in July. Sure enough, there was a band called Corroded Coffin performing the same night Eddie’s band was.

It was safe to assume they were one and the same.

So, Steve typed in “Eddie Munson Corroded Coffin” and waited for the search to load. As soon as the first images popped up, Steve knew he had made a huge mistake googling him.

Eddie Munson had to be one of the most attractive men Steve had ever seen. Granted, the first images were from a few very suggestive photoshoots he’d done at some point, but there was only so much that could be credited to make-up and editing.

Eddie had long, curly brown hair and a soft face, his eyes big and brown and wholly captivating. Steve was struck by how… sweet Eddie probably would look if he wasn’t smirking to show off a pair of fangs under a heavy-lidded stare. Even his curly hair was messy in a way that oozed sensuality.

He was still only wearing a pair of leather pants while Eddie was sitting on an elaborate altar with his legs spread wide to accommodate a man—a priest kneeling between them. One of Eddie’s hands was holding the top of the priest’s head while the other was holding a rotting apple up. There was a snake wrapped around his bare shoulders and traveling down the arm holding the priest. Eddie’s head was tilted back, a maniacal, toothy grin on his face and dark eyes staring down the camera. The horns coming out of his forehead were big, elaborate things and his shadow against the back wall had massive, bat-like wings.

Steve stared at the column of Eddie’s throat and only snapped out of his stupor when he choked on his own spit.

Looking at the rest of Eddie again, Steve’s eyes traced what looked like scars, maybe from a bad burn that crawled up from Eddie’s hip over half of his chest and a bit onto his tattooed arm. There was even a bit of scarring on Eddie’s jaw, but Steve wasn’t sure how much of that was just make-up for the shoot. A demon with burn scars seemed to track, right?

With a groan Steve tossed his phone away from himself and covered his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Of course he’s fucking gorgeous, it was just Steve’s luck. If Steve had known before he told Eddie to fuck off, he might not have been so quick to decide sleeping with him wasn’t worth the risking his job.

Even as he thought that, he knew it wasn’t true, but he was hurt and Eddie was hot. Blasphemous, and hot. Honestly, the blasphemy made him even more attractive.

Picking his phone back up, Steve went back to looking up the band, and looked at the next most popular image.

He immediately regretted his decision as the black and white image of Eddie completely nude maximized on his phone.

The man was lounging back on a chair in front of a vanity, his chest arched up as he loosely held a cane across his torso. Eddie’s head was tipped back so that his eyes met the viewer’s in the mirror on the vanity, his expression sultry, but also a challenge. Through clever camera angles, and the placement of Eddie’s leg closest to the camera, his modesty was preserved. The last little detail Steve noticed was the necklace Eddie wore, with a single guitar pick and dogtags.

Steve remembered Eddie telling him about his Uncle Wayne, who did a couple tours in a war he didn’t believe in, who taught him to love music and play guitar.

It was captivating to look at.

Looking again at the photo, Steve noticed that the scars were there, if not bigger in this photo than the previous. It was almost as if in the other picture, the scars had been made to look less severe, smaller even. In the picture Steve was looking at now, the burn scar ran from mid-thigh, up his hip, over half of his chest, a bit onto his arm and that patch on his jaw. All of these scars were surrounded by tattoos in ways that deliberately highlighted them, drew the eye to them even, especially in a black and white picture.

The image itself was attached to an article that was done as a profile piece on Eddie specifically as a disabled artist. That was when all the stories Eddie told about the frontman and his cane came back to Steve and he felt stupid for thinking the scars were just make-up in the first picture.

The article had several images of Eddie in various states of dress, some with him wearing enough clothing to cover every inch of skin below his nose and hiding every scar, while others had him in clothes that allowed peeks of his scars. And then there was the nude image that Steve saved to his phone and resolutely did not think too much about.

Part of him felt guilty at first until he read the article, which was about how Eddie lived his life as a gay, disabled, rockstar. This nudity, the pose with his scars on display and his cane cradled in his hands, was all a deliberate choice and Steve was more than happy to consume art the way it was intended.

Moving on from the article, Steve learned that Eddie has never disclosed how he got injured to the press and usually made up a new tale every time an interviewer would ask. He also discovered that the image of Eddie with the priest on the altar was a still from one of their music videos. A few more shots from the video included the other band members, and Steve was a bit overwhelmed at how attractive all of them were.

It was when he clicked through to the music video that Steve remembered Eddie talking about their YouTube channel.

The music video itself started with heavy guitars and Eddie crawling out of a hole that looked like a red, gaping wound on the ground, wearing nothing but the mud and viscera that clung to him. Steve knew for his sanity that he couldn’t actually watch it, so he clicked through to the channel instead.

Out of curiosity, Steve started watching the oldest videos first, which were grainy and clearly of the band when they were teenagers. They were adorable, jamming out and goofing off. Eddie was charismatic even back then, with his big brown eyes and dimpled smile.

There was a brief interruption to their band content when Eddie ended up in the hospital after an incident that was only described as an accident. Eddie was almost unrecognizable laying in a hospital bed, his long hair buzzed short and awful burns all over. It was briefly mentioned that he had been caught on fire somehow, but again, there was no elaboration in the videos.

As the videos continued sporadically, it told the story of five best friends taking care of each other, especially taking care of Eddie who was unable to play guitar at first due to nerve damage in his arm. Steve felt himself tearing up at that because he could tell just how important the guitar was to this younger Eddie. The band adapted well enough, though, with Eddie taking over as the lead vocalist while Jeff took on lead guitar.

It was almost as if that was the ticket to the band getting their big break. Eddie’s unique vocals set them apart and Corroded Coffin started to gain traction. They signed with their label right after graduating and began touring as an opening band for another big metal band. When they were touring, the band would upload “Tour Diaries.”

Steve deliberately skipped the music videos or anything that was just Eddie on his own, like the videos they uploaded when they weren’t touring. It seemed like Eddie did reaction videos and covers of metal songs to keep the channel active which, while interesting, wouldn’t be very helpful to Steve at the moment.

It was apparently the last tour they were on as an opener for some band named Ghost that really put them on the map.

Now, with their third studio album just being released earlier that year, they were doing their first tour as the headliners and were even having a show filmed about their rise to fame and their current tour. The label had given them a lot of leeway so every single they released for their third album received a music video and the concert itself was apparently intense; there was a video where Eddie and Jeff were talking about learning some sort of choreography.

“I mean, I just get to grind on an altar,” Eddie had said, winking at the camera and making Steve blush all the way to his navel.

After several videos, Steve found the band as a whole to be very endearing, but ultimately he learned that Eddie was… a dork. He was hot and a dork, a nerd even.

There was a video where Jeff and Gareth were jamming and talking about things while Eddie sat nearby the entire time, painstakingly painting intricate details onto a miniature for a D&D one-shot they recorded and livestreamed a couple weeks later. When the Tour Diaries started again for the current tour, there was a montage in every installment that was dedicated to Eddie’s clumsiest moments. In almost every Cringefail Eddie montage, there was at least one new video of Eddie losing or destroying his phone by complete accident.

The Tour Diary that was uploaded right around the time Steve first started talking to the rockstar featured a video of Eddie dancing on a half-wall overlooking the Grand Canyon. The camera was slowly zooming in on Eddie’s pocket where, with each movement, his cellphone grew closer and closer to falling right out. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the wrist strap attaching his cane to his arm, Steve was sure the cane would have been lost too with how dramatically Eddie was gesticulating. Steve could hear Chrissy hollering at Eddie to stop waving his cane around and use it to support himself if he was going to stand up on the wall like that.

Eventually, Eddie’s phone finally fell out of his pocket and the camera zoomed back out just in time to catch Eddie’s reaction as he realized what just happened. The clip cut to Eddie staring into the canyon, one hand in his hair while the band howled with laughter and Chrissy yelled at all of them.

Steve was grinning broadly, despite himself. He was starting to piece together some of the how he came to be speaking to the frontman of the band.

The next video was uploaded three weeks later, and the Cringefail Eddie montage started with Chrissy and Eddie wrestling in his bunk and Eddie losing the fight when Chrissy bit him. Then it cut to Chrissy pinching Eddie’s nipple through his shirt before she ran away. When Eddie tried to give chase, he ended up in a heap on the floor of the bus. Steve was still laughing at the face Eddie made when he realized he was being recorded when the video cut to what looked like a green room at a venue.

It started with a shot of Grant and Jeff waltzing (poorly) to some pop song that was playing on the radio in the room. Then the camera panned over to Eddie, who was sitting off to the side in his full concert get-up—leather pants, no shirt, a dramatic leather jacket, as well as horns—and on the phone. Eddie was grinning, the smile huge and dopey, and as the camera slowly zoomed in, Eddie grabbed some of his hair and pulled in front of his mouth, as if he was shy and hiding his face from whoever he was on the phone with.

When Eddie hung up and looked over toward the person recording, his expression dropped and his eyes went wide.

“How long were you recording me?” he asked, and the person holding the camera—Gareth, by the sound of the voice—laughed.

“Who was on the phone, Eddie?” Gareth asked and that apparently caught the other boys’ attention.

“Was it Steeeeve?” Grant asked, drawing out Steve’s name which just triggered a round of the boys chanting it with varying degrees of drama, sometimes moaning it, while Eddie covered his face.

Then Eddie got up and said, “I hate all of you, I’m ending this band right now, we’re done.” He was grinning as he left the room, and the clip ended with Eddie flipping them all off.

Steve went back to the part with Eddie on the phone, staring at the sweet smile on his face.

Something heavy and sour settled in Steve’s gut as he went to the next video.

The next several videos had a new section within the Cringefail Eddie montage, which was the Steeeeve Spotting section. It was essentially an entire subsection of the boys catching Eddie in whatever hiding spot he was holed up in while on the phone with someone. Every time he was caught, he had the same smitten grin on his face and they added multiple recordings of the boys moaning “Steeeeeve” over the audio of the original video.

The most recent video that had been uploaded had a clip that started with Chrissy tearing apart the tour bus looking for her phone. The boys were all desperately holding back their laughter and they went especially silent as the door of the tour bus opened and Eddie climbed up. He was on the phone, wearing that same smile, not even aware that Chrissy had rounded on him with fire in her eyes.

“You!” she shouted, pointing as Eddie finally registered that he’s not actually alone with whoever he’s on the phone with.

“Oh shit, gotta go, babe,” Eddie said as he hung up quickly, and the boys lost it.

Steve remembered the moment Eddie called him babe, and how that rattled around in his brain for days.

In the video, Chrissy snatched her phone back and said, “You have your own phone now! Stop stealing mine to talk to your secret boyfriend!”

Steve blushed at being called Eddie’s boyfriend, and just before the video cut to a new scene, Eddie’s blush was just as dark as his own.

Later in the video, Gareth was recording while he asked Eddie a bunch of questions, both of them crammed into Eddie’s bunk on the bus together.

From what Steve gathered, it was part of a game where they asked each other questions that interviewers didn’t. Usually, they were genuinely stupid questions with answers that weren’t interesting to know, but sometimes they had decent weight to them.

“Mr. Munson, what are your thoughts about the discourse surrounding your recent photoshoot—?” Gareth started, barely keeping his laughter in as Eddie rolled his eyes and groaned.

There was an abrupt cut to a TikTok of someone clearly in the middle of an impassioned speech about Eddie’s nude photo, saying, “Stop making it sexual! Eddie posed like that because—” They were cut off by Eddie stitching the video while laying in his bunk on the bus, recording uncomfortably close to his face. A filter was cycling through random household cleaning items above Eddie’s head as he said, “I posed like that because I’m fucking hot and I’m a fucking slut, shut up.” Just as he finished, the filter stopped on a jug of bleach and Eddie said, “Smash.”

The video returned to Eddie in his bunk, and he was in the middle of his own impassioned speech. “It’s a sensual picture that’s from an article about my disability and specifically positioned in the part about how being disabled doesn’t change that I’m gay and like to have sex, and that I want people to see me as a sexual person while recognizing that I am disabled,” he said in a big rush.

Behind the camera, Gareth hummed thoughtfully in a way that clearly sounded like this wasn’t the first time Eddie had gone on this particular rant. “Go on?”

“Like, I used to hate my scars but now I’ve embraced them and they’re just as much a part of my sex appeal as my tattoos, or the bullshit demon get-up, or whatever,” Eddie continued before glaring at the camera. “I want people to stop being fucking weird about people being horny at the softcore pornography I posed for specifically to make people horny.”

After that, Gareth burst out into a fit of giggles that Eddie immediately joined him in.

“One last question Mr. Munson: Which show are you most excited for this tour?” Gareth asked, and Eddie’s playful glare at the camera made Steve laugh.

“Har har, Gareth, that is so funny,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. Then, with his voice so soft and smitten, he said, “Chicago.”

Steve’s stomach plummeted.

“And why’s that?” Gareth pushed and at that, Eddie grinned fully.

“I’ve got a date!” he replied, and then in a voice that could only be described as starstruck, Eddie added directly to the camera, “With Steeeeve.”

“Oh,” Steve whispered to himself as he dropped his phone next to himself on the bed, the heavy, sour thing in his gut spreading to his chest. Tears began to sting Steve’s eyes as he stared up at his ceiling.“Oh… Fuck.”

[ NEXT ]

[ READ ON AO3 ]

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#steddie #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #gerry writes #peace of mind

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acowardinmordor · 1 year

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This idea really only works as a tumblr post rambling to someone about a fic, but it aches, so I'm sharing.

Standard issue setup where Steve gets thrown back in time so he can fix things. One minute he's trying to keep the last of his friends alive in the final fight, the next he's waking up in bed in 1983, a day before Will would have gone missing.

Will is safe and home, but has horrible nightmares for a few weeks. After the first night, when he told his mom and his friends about it - the monster and the creepy place he went and the cold - they have nightmares too. It's strange that they all had dreams, but Will has always been a good storyteller.

Nancy and Barb get stuck on babysitting duty for the kids, where they mostly gossip about how Steve broke up with her one day and became a social outcast within two more.

The Party meets Jane at the start of summer break in 84, and they become fast friends. They know she has something bad in her past, but she's very careful not to say something she shouldn't. The boy who found her told her it was important, and her Dad agrees. The boys tell her that friends don't lie, and she quotes the boy who found her first, that 'safe is more important'

Will gets new nightmares as time goes on. Dustin dreams about a tadpole that grows too fast and eats his cat. They dream about things that could never be real, and they dream about Jane having superpowers and fighting monsters. Sometimes they talk about them a little, mostly they don't. They're just weird dreams after all, using words from DnD, and they're not little kids anymore.

Steve Harrington goes missing in early 1985. His car is found near the construction site for the new mall -- well, what's left of the construction site after a gas leak causes a massive explosion and fire.

That's when the kids start to realize something is weird. They see photos of this missing teenager who has been in so many of their dreams. It starts them talking, and they start to listen, and they've always loved to solve a mystery. They hear Nancy talking about him, and how he broke up with her out of nowhere and became super weird. How he dropped out of sports and showed up with bruises and bandages and scars after that. How he pushed away his old friends and never made new ones.

It's not until they're talking to El, who says she's not supposed to talk about him, that they decide there is definitely something weird, but they can't figure out what it is.

The dreams get weirder, and the circle grows. Nancy eventually talks to Jonathan and the kids. Joyce and Hopper talk. Over the summer, Robin, confused and shaking, finds Nancy to ask what's going on. Eddie makes it to 86 before a nightmare breaks him so badly he calls Chrissy Cunningham's house in the middle of the night to be sure she's okay.

It's not everyone who was ever touched by the Upside Down. Barb and Chrissy and Billy don't remember it at all. Benny goes about his life. Its the people that Steve knew and loved and had a connection to that are stuck with these dreams.

Once they accept that they're all seeing a cohesive thing, they start to compile it. Notes and notebooks and pinboards and post its as their dreams tell them the story.

Eventually, El confirms it might be possible by levitating the toaster.

They all accept that what they saw is real, but they also know it never happened. The Mall never opened. No earthquakes. Eddie is alive and Will never fell into the Upside Down. Even as more of them have dreams about dying, they don't understand.

It's Robin who puts it together for real, because everyone had dreams about Steve outside of the big fights and horrors, but she had dreams of long conversations and hushed confessions all the time. So at the end of 86, she's the one who hears him crying after they lost Dustin and Lucas to a pack of demodogs. She hears him talk about how he'd give anything to take it back and make it right. That's her Platonic Soulmate, and she knows him, even though they've never spoken.

So yeah, she might not know how, but she's the one that realizes what must have happened, what he must have done, and how much he achieved. They've all seen how much happier he was as years went on and they got closer. They've seen him protect them and tease them and help them in a hundred different ways.

And they know he made the choice, like he always did, to keep them safe, even if it cost him everything.

#Steve harrington #this idea does not function if fully written #it would be stagnant #but the concept is fun from 10000 ft up

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ymaohoh · 4 months

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'Dating Chrissy' - Hellcheer Fic - Oneshot

'It seemed that word had traveled to all the bachelors of Hawkins High that the Queen Bee herself was open to dating (and her bonehead ex was safely out of the picture). So it fell to the brave and brightest knights to try for her hand.' Chrissy's single and Nancy encourages her to try dating. Eddie's not so thrilled. Eventual happy ending and post-Vecna. Also on Archive.

Eddie cupped his hands together and yelled… “Cunningham! C’mere. You’re a goddamn genius!”

The entire hallway seemed to freeze and then turn as one to peer at the head cheerleader who was trying (and failing) not to giggle. She was scooping out books from her locker with a very bemused looking Robin Buckley waiting beside her. Both of them were well used to Eddie’s dramatics.

Chrissy grinned. “Yeah? No duh, Munson. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Eddie was beaming from ear to ear as he strode towards her, weaving round the surprised students like he didn’t even notice or care about the stares. That Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham were friends was old news by now and so were the rumors about devil worship and black magic and so forth. No, for some explicable reason Chrissy seemed to enjoy The Freak’s company and their peers moved onto the next boiling pot of hot gossip.

They didn’t know that the perfect and angelic looking Chrissy was a glorified freak at heart too.

(and boy how she’d squealed when Eddie first pointed it out, after stumbling across her trying to headbang - adorably - to his mix tape. She’d swatted his arm and said ‘Eddie!’ in such a breathy happy voice that it became a badge of honor now. Big bad scary Eddie had softened like cookie dough at the mere sight).

More importantly perhaps, the other students at Hawkins High didn’t know about spring break or how the pair teamed up with other loveable misfits (‘The Party,’ Henderson dubbed them) to save the world like freakin’ superheroes.

Chrissy had nearly died that evening in Eddie’s trailer and that was a decent enough ice breaker, all things considered. Ever since then they’d sort of been thrown together - the loser junkie and Queen Bee - and it turned out they made an excellent duo. Chrissy brought the brains and the brawn, and Eddie had a smart mouth and wheels.

That kind of thing formed friendships, you know? As did carrying around the secret of Vecna all these weeks later because it was supposed to be kept totally hush hush.

Annoyingly the government suits thanked them all most profusely and patched up their wounds - but their thanks didn’t extend to canceling finals or handing out honorary diplomas. Which meant the older kids still had to knuckle down and study.

So all in all, things were looking pretty swell for Eddie right now.

He presented his latest Math test like it was the holy grail itself, spun from solid gold.

“B plus, baby, which means…drumroll please, Buckley…” he grinned as Robin dutifully taped her knuckles against the locker. “...I’ve passed O'Donnell’s class! The school’s gonna have no choice but let me graduate in green this summer, so long as I keep my head down and play nice. This dumbass you see before you is going to finally graduate. I fucking knew 1986 was going to be my year!”

Chrissy gave a loud whoop and bounced on the tips of her sneakers. She looked like she wanted to launch into a whole new cheer routine just for him.

“Eddie! That’s amazing news! I’m so proud of you!”

Eddie laughed and swung his arms around her waist before picking her up and spinning them around in circles. Chrissy giggled against his chest and didn’t seem to mind even though they were causing a small spectacle (Eddie didn’t give a shit but Chrissy could sometimes get blushy and pink if people paid her too much attention). In the distance, somewhere, Eddie heard Robin offer her own congratulations and pat him on the back.

“Knew you could do it, Eddie!” Chrissy was saying. "I just knew it."

He set her down and jammed the test safely into his backpack. He couldn’t wait to show it to Wayne. Though his uncle never scolded him for his piss poor efforts with school before, he held out hope Eddie might someday find the motivation to straighten up and apply himself.

(the government did fork out a tidy sum of cash in exchange for their silence and Wayne right away set up a college fund for Eddie (while he lay unconscious, being sewn back together like Frankenstein's monster). There was enough left over for Eddie to buy a brand new van and amp for his guitar which cheered him up).

Maybe Eddie would actually get to use that fund now.

“Nah, it’s all down to you, sweetness. Couldn’t have done it without your expert tutorage. Gonna buy you some candy or a big bunch of flowers to say thanks. What’s your poison? Roses? Want some wildflowers, Chriss? Or what about…what are they called? Chrysanthemums, like your name. I’ll fill your bedroom with them.”

When she first offered her help, he’d not been optimistic honestly. A dumbass is a dumbass, right? But hell, Chrissy was a wonderful study buddy and again they proved they made an excellent team. He thought about all those late nights together studying old test papers, the cute revision cards she made with her pink and purple gel pens, the study timetable she decorated with stickers. Turns out Eddie’s a sucker for a gold shiny star sticker...especially when Chrissy herself pressed it to the tip of his nose.

O'Donnell should seriously take notes.

Chrissy swiped her hand against his arm playfully and gave it a squeeze. “Eddie, you’re sweet, but you don’t need to do that. You worked really hard and earned this fair and square. We talked about it... the answers were already there in your brain - just whizzing around like bats. You just needed help focusing and writing it all down.”

“We should celebrate!” Robin suddenly interjected. Eddie and Chrissy both seemed to jump, as though they’d forgotten she was a part of the conversation. “This definitely feels like something we should celebrate with cliche party hats and balloons. How about Saturday night at Steve’s place? We’ve got the night off work and I know his calendar... he’s got like zero plans.”

The bell rang so Chrissy shouldered her heavy backpack and they began to walk towards the lunch hall.

Feeling a bit guilty for leaving her out, Eddie flashed Robin a huge grin and said that sounded great. They began to talk about logistics, invites, playlists, and Robin promised to bring along a pack of her dad's fancy imported beers if Eddie swore not to play any Black Sabbath.

“As long as you don’t force me in the pool again, I’m sweet, ‘cause these glorious curls can’t handle it. And I’m not playing strip poker with you again because you clearly cheated last time and Steve nearly had a stroke,” Eddie chuckled. He noticed Chrissy was a bit quiet and gently bumped her shoulder. “How about it, Cunningham? Party this weekend at Harrington’s mansion? It’s time I finally showed you how to hangbang like a true rockstar.”

Chrissy bit her lower lip.

On hindsight Eddie should’ve known that things were going just too well for him. He was due a cosmic kick between the legs.

Chrissy began to speak and three things happened to Eddie all at once. His legs forgot how to function so he missed a step, his stomach heaved like he was going to seriously throw up, and it felt like some devilish spirit had just tipped an ice cold bucket of water over his head. It wasn't pretty.

“I…I’ll be there, Eddie, of course…but I might be a little late,” she said slowly. “I’ve got a…well… a date. You know Andrew from English class, Robin? Well he asked me if I wanted to see that new horror film this Saturday and I kinda' said yes. It’ll be rude to rearrange last minute, but it’s an early showing so maybe I can ask him to drop me off at Steve’s place after? You think he’ll mind?”

Eddie was vaguely aware of Robin saying something like oh wow. That’ll be fun, Chrissy. I’m sure Andrew won’t mind dropping you off afterwards. I thought you hated horror films or did he suggest it so he could play the ‘oh she’s scared so I’ll hold her hand’ move? Guys are seriously stupid. Is this your first date since…you know…?

Chrissy nodded.

“Since Jason? Yeah. I know it’s only been a month... but Nancy knows Andrew from the school newspaper and says he’s a real great guy. She thinks I should…what did she call it? ‘Put myself out there’…and try dating again. I got with Jason when we were freshman, you know, and it all happened so fast. He gave me his letterman jacket and we went out for milkshakes …and then we were suddenly boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s the only guy I’ve seriously dated…which I guess sets a pretty low bar,” she added with a blush.

It hardly needed saying but none of Chrissy’s new friends liked her stick-up-the-ass ex-boyfriend Jason Carver. Since the first day he’d been an absolute boor about Chrissy helping the party fight Vecna and threw his weight around when he felt ignored or sidelined (which he usually was).

Chrissy admitted they’d been on the rocks for ages and his speech at the pep rally was when she knew for certain it was truly over. She’d just…outgrown him.

And now she was talking about dating again.

Eddie noticed that her hand closest to him was twitching and she was gnawing at her lip so hard it was in danger of being chewed right off. He suddenly felt like the world’s biggest jackass when she clearly needed a friend right now.

Sighing inwardly, he took a deep breath. He tried to look supportive just like Robin. “You know what? I think that sounds great.”

Chrissy and Robin both looked up at him.

Chrissy’s baby blue eyes seemed to widen. “Oh Eddie, I’m being so selfish. If you want me to cancel, of course I will. It’s amazing news and I do want to celebrate with you. Honestly…do you want me to take a rain check?”

“No no, it’s fine. I’ll see you afterwards anyway, right? We can hang out then. You should go on the date, Chriss. Honestly.”

“...Really?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. It’ll be good for you to…put yourself out there. Nancy's right.”

“Oh. Okay…if you’re sure."

“Totally sure. Fly your freaky flag, Cunningham.”

He even pumped his fist into the air for good measure.

Chrissy smiled and then excused herself to go to the bathroom.

Eddie and Robin waited outside and Robin peered across at him. She was wearing such a painfully exasperated expression that Eddie couldn’t ignore it…though it would serve her right if he did. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair before speaking, knowing full well where this conversation was heading.

He’d had similar awkward chats with Nancy and Steve and Dustin which usually resulted in a lot of eye rolling (and name calling).

“You look like an owl.”

“I’m just flabbergasted, Munson. Truly flabbergasted.”

“Right…go ahead and spit it out before you explode.”

“The wonderfully beautiful and amazing Chrissy Cunningham, who is honestly too good for the likes of any of us really, just asked if you were sure she should date…and you responded with…and I quote… let your ‘freaky flag fly’. You know that was the exact moment in chick flicks where the romantic hero finally admits their true feelings, and they both swoon and kiss face. It was the perfect setup…”

“Buckley…I swear to god...”

“You’ve been making gooey eyes at Chrissy since day one, Munson, and now she’s ditched dickhead Carver and ready to move on…and you give her your blessing? Really? You’re seriously okay with the idea of her dating Andrew and holding hands and smooching and…”

“Okay…okay…hush!”

The hallway was pretty busy and although Robin was using her inside voice, Eddie was still nervous about being overheard especially with her throwing around words like swoon and smooch. And also yeah…he wasn’t totally over the moon with picturing Chrissy doing any of that stuff with whoever the hell this Andrew was.

“What exactly am I supposed to say?” he shrugged. He crossed his arms like a shield.

"You could start with being honest."

“Fine...here's the shitty truth. Did I think that maybe there was something between me and Chriss when everything went down with Vecna? Sure, yeah. I’d freak out when she flirted back or hugged me…but clearly I was wrong or misread things, and she only sees me as a friend. Which is fine, by the way, being her friend is a fucking honor.”

Robin was shaking her head. “Dude, it wasn’t nothing. We all noticed it.”

“Yeah? Look, it doesn’t matter either way. Deep down I knew how this fantasy would play out and I’ve got no expectations. This is reality. She’s going to a good college after summer and she’s so smart she’ll ace it and have this amazing perfect life…and my dumbass will only hold her back. I know how goddamn beautiful and amazing Chrissy is, okay? She’s a fucking angel. But I’m…me… and like you just said, she’s so far out of my league it’s like we’re a different species; she’s some lovely elf and I’m this cave goblin. I get it. In the real world…me and her just don’t make sense. I know it. She knows it. You know it.”

Shit. He hadn't meant to let it all come pouring out at once. Clearly he'd been bottling up more teenage angst than he knew.

Robin was looking at him now with something akin to surprise and sympathy. She was evidently not expecting this outpour of brutal honesty from him. Sarcasm and jokes maybe, or him telling her to go to hell, but not whatever this was. For all her wise cracks and joking, Robin was annoyingly perceptive.

“Big words for a fantasy nerd. She’s your fairy muse, the princess at the end of the quest. You think you can really let her go?” she asked after a pause.

“If this really was a dumb movie and I admitted all this stuff…you know what would happen? A big fat nothing. She’d blush and say ‘sorry, Eddie’ and be so crazy kind when she let me down. No swooning or…riding off into the sunset or whatever. Sorry to disappoint.”

“So what if she has a good time with Andrew? What if they hit it off and sparks fly. You’d be fine seeing that?”

“Fuck no but I’m still not going to say anything.”

“But…”

Eddie cleared his throat. “Look...I wasn’t lying to her. It would be good for her to date someone other than that prick Jason. After everything we’ve been through…she fucking deserves to be happy, you know? Let her be a kid and have some damn fun.”

He’d been so proud when she mustered the confidence to finally dump Jason, and when she stood up to her crappy asshole parents too. She was grabbing life by the horns and who was he to throw a spanner in the works because of feelings?

Robin sighed. She looked like a deflated balloon.

“You’re a good guy, Eddie,” she said. “But this is going to end in heartbreak.”

“I’ll handle it. Just stitch me right back up again, right? What’s a few more scars…”

‘Let her have some damn fun.’

He didn’t feel so benevolent when Saturday finally rolled around.

Eddie arrived at Steve’s that afternoon trying to keep upbeat (the freshmen were coming so they decided to start the celebrations early so they could make their curfews and still have time to par-tay). He found plenty of other things to think about... and Robin came through with the promise of fancy booze as a well done gift.

Steve started up the BBQ and bought some beers and wine coolers with strict instructions to the younger party members they were only allowed one (though Lucas definitely swiped more). He was wearing a jazzy orange apron and still somehow managed to look effortlessly cool flipping burgers. He’d clapped Eddie on the back when he arrived and murmured something about third time’s the charm but he sounded genuinely pleased for him. He seemed fine with them commandeering his home for the evening (or was just used to it by now).

Nancy had brought along party hats and balloons and streamers (again as promised. They looked like something from a kid’s birthday party and Eddie beamed - especially when she strong-armed Jonathan into wearing a pointy hat).

They decorated everything tastefully at first, but after some wine coolers Nancy and Robin became more confident with their artistic abilities and the garden soon turned into a mess of white and red streamers and balloons.

Chuckling, Eddie settled back onto one of the pool loungers and cracked open the lid of his fancy beer feeling pretty good. Steve passed him a burger with all the trimmings and Max put Kate Bush on the stereo.

(Dustin had heard about the gold stickers from Chrissy and brought along a sheet as a gag gift. Eddie was now sporting a star on either cheek. Jeff had them stuck all over his face. They were currently paying a silent game of who could pin the most on Steve without him noticing.)

It was chaos and Eddie loved it. They were all such weirdos.

They talked about everything and nothing for a while when he noticed Lucas and Max holding hands. They were dating again and it seemed to be going well.

But seeing that made him think about Chrissy who was at that exact moment in time (he checked Nancy’s watch to be sure) sitting in a dark movie theater with her date, watching a scary film. Chrissy was terrible with horror films - she’d had to hide behind his hands when Will put on Friday the 13th - so it was a cunning move on Andrew’s part if he wanted an excuse to get close to her. Plenty of chances to hold her hand, tuck her close to his side, maybe even wrap his arm around her shoulders if he was feeling brave.

Was she holding his hand right now? Were they sharing a soda with just one straw?

He didn’t know Andrew nor did he want to give Robin the satisfaction of asking. Was he another Carver with big shoulders and perfect smooth blond hair?

Eddie seriously needed a joint and Jonathan joined him down the street to smoke. It helped a bit.

It was nearly 8pm when he finally heard a car pull up and the passenger door slam shut. They all looked round as Chrissy opened the side gate and stepped through to the garden. It was getting dark (though Steve had rigged up some electric lights), and they were still hanging out in the garden drinking and playing silly games.

Chrissy gave them all a big wave and smiled brightly. She was thankfully alone.

They beckoned her over (Nancy rushed up to give her a hug) and Eddie noticed no one asked where she’d been which meant they all knew about the date. He noticed Dustin and Steve glancing at him to gauge his reaction.

Chrissy snagged a wine cooler from the icebox and plopped down in the spare spot beside Eddie. She wasn’t dressed up exactly but she’d made a noticeable effort to style her hair and put on a blue sundress that Eddie had once said was pretty. She was wearing a new perfume too.

“Hey guys. What’s with all the streamers? Steve, why do you have stickers all over your ass?” She giggled.

“Goddamn it.”

“We like to party in style, Cunningham,” Eddie smiled in greeting. Jonathan had two party hats on his head now and was putting on some Dio. Finally. Jeff and Gareth let out a cheer. “Drink up, you’ve got some catching up to do. Wheeler was just explaining why there’s no bouncy castle.”

Nancy spluttered something about not being kids anymore which was Robin’s cue to then suggest strip poker which everyone shut down. Steve offered to play normal poker and she accepted it grudgingly.

The freshmen were ready to head off anyway and Robin went to the kitchen for more beers.

“I still don’t know how to play,” Chrissy whispered to him.

“Stick with me kid, you can be on my team,” he said conspiringly. “Only don’t blurt out what cards we have like last time, ‘kay?”

Chrissy grinned and she nudged her leg against his. “Sorry I’m late. I’m really proud of you for today, Eddie. Now we can graduate together!”

Eddie nudged her back.

He very deliberately didn’t ask about her evening nor did she bring it up either, though Nancy apparently cornered her later on for a full breakdown. Eddie had just decided that he was at peace with things and didn’t need to know any details (the date was over, right? And she seemed happy to be here with him) when he walked in on Nancy and Robin discussing it in the kitchen while fetching ice.

Nancy noticed him right away and raised her voice so that he could hear too.

“...she said Andrew took himself way too seriously. Said it was like being with Jason all over again. Apparently he kept going on about all the writing awards he’d won and it came off as serious bragging, and he’s got his whole life planned out where he’s going to be this famous writer. You know Chrissy, she’s way too polite to shut that shit down, but she’s after fun, right? Who needs all that heavy stuff on a first date? She said it was like being interviewed for a job.”

“Ugh. Way too much male ego,” Robin cringed. “Guess there’s not gonna be a date two for Andrew?”

“I doubt it, but she said it’s not put her off dating. Let’s hope the next guy shows her a better time.”

Nancy was very pointedly looking at him now.

He rolled his eyes and went back through to the other room where they were still playing poker. Robin was winning but Eddie and Chrissy were coming a close second (all Eddie’s doing - Chrissy, bless her, couldn’t bluff at all). Jonathan was staring at his cards as though he could magically change them with mere force of will...though maybe he was too stoned to see clearly.

Eddie sat down on his seat and took a very large gulp of his fancy beer.

Chrissy was leaning across the table to look at their cards and kept whispering questions in his ear, so he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her over so she could perch on his lap instead. Her perfume smelled like strawberries and vanilla and he took a deep breath.

“Sit tight and buckle in, sweetness. We’re gonna win.”

(they didn’t, but they were having too much fun to care)

Though poor Andrew didn’t get another date, Chrissy soon found herself another one. It seemed that word had traveled to all the bachelors of Hawkins High that the Queen Bee herself was open to dating (and her bonehead ex was safely out of the picture). So it fell to the brave and brightest knights to try for her hand.

This time it was a guy from the Photography club. Jonathan gave him the all clear when Chrissy probed.

“He’s called James,” Chrissy revealed at lunch. She was picking at her sandwich. “He was very sweet actually - he wrote me a little note saying how he’d always had a soft spot for me from afar. We’re going to park up by the lake and go for a hike this weekend.”

Lover’s Lake.

“A hike on a first date?” Nancy raised an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly traditional…”

Jonathan shrugged beside her. “I think it’s nice. Plenty of time and space to talk in private and get to know each other. He’s a quiet guy.”

He promised to take Nancy on a hike and she softened like melted butter.

“I think he’s going to bring his camera actually - he said he would show me how it works and then maybe we could develop the photos together too.”

“All alone in the darkroom,” Robin sniggered. “This James seems to have it all figured out, I’m half impressed. What are you gonna wear, Chriss?”

“Oh! I guess my workout gear? Or would that be too casual? Maybe I should wear some shorts? I can’t exactly wear a dress if we’re hiking.”

“Wear those tiny black shorts you’ve got. That’ll give him something to photograph.”

Chrissy blushed to the very roots of her hair but Eddie noticed she didn’t say no.

Eddie kept silent throughout and focused on his own lunch.

Unlike Andrew, Eddie actually knew James and had even sold him weed before. James was very different from Jason's all-American vibe; tall, dark hair (that always looked perfectly tousled), and a serious (but sensitive) expression on his face. He could often be found with a camera slung around his neck wearing the kind of shabby clothes girls seemed to feel were cool and artistic.

Eddie sat behind him in class Friday afternoon and tried hard not to glare daggers into his back. Was he thinking about the weekend instead of whatever war the teacher was droning on about? He would be.

To Eddie’s utter dismay James actually turned around when the bell went and gave Eddie a tight smile.

“Hey Munson, you know Chrissy Cunningham, right? You’re friends?”

“Sure.”

“Well I’m taking her out this weekend, maybe she told you? But I’m kind of freaking out a bit…I mean…it’s her, you know? I thought maybe I should buy some flowers and surprise her? Do you know what she likes?”

A diabolical part of Eddie wanted to mess with him but he managed to keep his cool. This was for Chrissy, after all, and he wanted her to have a nice time.

“Get her Chrysanthemums,” he said, getting to his feet. “And make her laugh, alright?”

That whole weekend Eddie tried to keep busy. He cleaned his entire bedroom, gave the kitchen a scrub, even mowed the patch of grass out front. Wayne didn’t say a word though he pressed a hand to Eddie’s forehead to make sure he wasn’t feeling sick. Eddie tried to practice his guitar but found his concentration was all over the place.

He thought seriously about taking a long drive (maybe towards Reefer Rick’s and a certain lake nearby) but tossed the idea aside.

When he got to school Monday, he wanted to just head to class and forget all about the weekend - though at the same time he desperately wanted to hear every detail too. It had been a gloriously sunny weekend (perfect for stomping around nature) and the lake had probably looked picture perfect. Did they have fun? Joke? Did Chrissy wear those tiny black shorts that cupped her ass so perfectly? Most importantly… did Chrissy have a nice time?

It was Jonathan who finally took pity on him. They were sharing a smoke out in the woods before lunch period.

“Go on…hit me with it,” Eddie breathed out long and hard.

Best to get a heads up now before lunch with everyone’s curious eyes flickering to him to assess his reaction.

Jonathan watched him carefully as he spoke.

“...Chrissy called Nance up last night on the phone. Said the hike was nice but really awkward. Apparently James turned up with roses which she hates and barely said a word the whole time. She figured it was just nerves and tried hard to fill in the blanks - you know how nice she can be - but he wouldn’t take the hint.”

“Ah…”

That Jonathan was saying that, when he was a pretty awkward guy himself, must have meant it was truly bad.

“I guess you and Nancy won’t have to share the darkroom.”

Jonathan coughed and blushed but rather tellingly didn’t say a word.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel pleased that it was a dud even though Chrissy looked pretty disappointed when she spoke about it at lunch. She told them how beautiful the lake was but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t coax much out of James which was frankly bizarre because even Mr Wheeler had warmed up to Chrissy. If she was a D&D character she would have critically high charisma stats.

Eddie noticed that after Chrissy finished talking she didn’t touch her lunch. Her fingers tore up the sandwich into little scraps while their friends tore into James, oblivious.

He could almost see the cogs of her brain turning. Hear the anxious little thoughts gnawing away at her confidence.

Screw that.

So of course Eddie interrupted and started talking about the time Jeff got so high at Rick’s place that he jumped into the lake fully clothed, forgetting that he couldn’t in fact swim. It had taken both Grant and Eddie to fish him out because he wanted to stay in and make friends with the ‘fishes’. He mimed it out at the lunch table, hamming it up to the max, and making Jeff’s blazed expression even more cartoonish. Jeff himself sat at the table and laughed along with the others at the performance, taking it in his stride.

Eddie watched as Chrissy picked up her lunch and began to eat. She sniggered along with everyone else when Eddie pretended to be Jeff falling asleep in the bathtub (when they finally dragged him back to the house to hose down).

She even munched on the chocolate muffin he threw at her.

He felt his chest relax.

Chrissy was a popular girl and so the date offers naturally kept coming, and Chrissy bravely didn’t let the last attempts put her off. She wanted to try dating and reasoned surely the next one would be better?

And it was.

This time it was with another jock from the basketball team who Lucas was friendly with. He was called Christopher and apparently didn’t care about stepping on Jason’s toes one bit if it meant landing a date with Chrissy. Even Eddie had to admire the bold move.

(and yes Chrissy laughed when Dustin pointed out the inevitable dilemma should someone call out ‘Chris/Chriss!')

Christopher was a jock but Lucas promised Chrissy he was one of the good ones and she accepted his offer to go to the town fair that weekend. Christopher had the typical athletes frame and swagger, but the smile he gave Chrissy by her locker seemed sincere.

Eddie didn’t even need to get the lowdown from Lucas that Monday because he went to the fair himself along with the others. He was having a pretty good evening eating cotton candy and scaring Steve in the Haunted House, when he spied Chrissy and Christopher lining up for the ferris wheel.

Keen to be a gent, Christopher was maintaining a decent amount of distance between them but when it was their turn to step on the ride, Christopher placed a hand on her lower back to help her up and they sat snuggly together in the small car. There was something intimate about the way their bodies were pushed together and they whispered back and forth.

He saw Chrissy tip her head back in laughter and felt a knot in his stomach. Eddie really fucking tried not to stare. He truly did.

That Monday Chrissy told them the date went well and Christopher had walked her home after, even impressing the dragon that was her mother when she spotted his letterman jacket. That bothered Eddie more than anything else, honestly, especially when he glanced down at his ripped jeans and scuffed boots. Her mom was such a damn cliche.

Eddie had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“...But I’m not sure there’s going to be a date two,” Chrissy said, nonchalantly sipping her water. “We both like sports but we don’t have much else in common, and I don’t know how I feel about dating another athlete…no offense Lucas...but it’s a lot of pressure. Plus the smug look on my mom’s face kinda turned me off. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m trying to crawl back into her good books by dating someone like Jason.”

“But it went well?” Nancy pressed. “You had fun?”

Chrissy smiled. “Yeah I did…I think we can chalk that up to one successful date so far.”

Then came David from the swim team. He had a BMW but was more interested in looking at his reflection than looking at her.

Then came Joshua from band. Chrissy called him sweet but way too handsy.

(Eddie felt his jaw clench, what did she mean by handsy? He was saved by Nancy who offered to find her guns…hard to say if she was serious or not)

Annnnnnd then along came John.

John picked up weekend shifts at Family Video and asked her if she wanted to grab a milkshake after school. He seemed confident and cool and Steve told her he was saving up to take a year off before college and do some enlightened soul searching. Chrissy and Nancy made impressed ‘oooo’ noises when Steve explained that meant backpacking around Asia.

“I’ve never thought about traveling,” Chrissy said. “I think I’d like to, you know. California, Paris, maybe Rome? Wouldn’t that be so romantic? Or maybe go to England and see all the castles and lakes. I don’t wanna’ be stuck in the midwest forever.”

So they went out and had milkshakes. It was all so cute and twee. He knew Chrissy would probably pick strawberry, her favorite.

The next morning Robin pounced on him as soon as he parked up his van.

“So Chrissy rang me last night after John dropped her home on his motorcycle,” she greeted.

“Be still my beating heart. How punk rock.”

“The date went seriously well, Eddie. Chrissy’s made up. She was gushing about how interesting he was and how dreamy his eyes were. She reckons they’re the same colour as the sky...”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early in the day for kicking a man when he’s down?” he grumbled, slamming the car door with more force than was strictly necessary.

“They kissed.”

Honestly, that alone felt like a fucking bullet to Eddie’s chest and his face might’ve betrayed this for a fraction of a second before he pulled on his best DM mask. Instead he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He tried to look as cool as a cucumber though his thoughts were racing. Maybe it was only a polite peck on the cheek and Robin was just winding him up? Goddamn, had she worn her bubblegum lipgloss? Were tongues involved?

“And you’re telling me that delightful piece of gossip because…?”

“Because she had a nice time! For all we know there could be a date two,” Robin explained, exasperated. “This is getting out of hand now, Munson.”

“Who Chrissy dates or… kisses…is none of my business, Buckley. I told you, there’s nothing between me and Chrissy. We’re just friends.”

“Look, I saw you at the fair looking fucking devastated when you saw her cuddling with that Christopher guy. What if she sees John again and this time they do more than kiss…what if they have sex?”

“Buckley!”

“What? You gunna’ be fine hearing all about that?”

“...it’s not…” he groaned. “I can’t have this conversation. Seriously.”

He tried walking away but she clung onto his arm.

“Eddie.”

Eddie looked back and was struck by how serious Robin looked.

His voice cracked a little as he said, “...they really kissed? She said that?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes. The idea of Chrissy doing that did bother him. It bothered him more than he could’ve ever imagined. He knew he had no right to feel jealous but it crept over him like a wave. Everything he’d said to Robin before all this dating mess was still true - he still believed Chrissy was out of his league, that she deserved better - but hell, he hadn’t even tried. He’d given up at the first hurdle and she was slipping away. He was such a damn coward.

He thought about the last few weeks, about how desperately he wanted to be the one to take her out for milkshakes and hold her hand on the carnival rides. More than that…he wanted to be the guy to make her giggle and smile and feel happy.

But...didn't he do that?

Something twisted in his chest and he suddenly realized he was that guy. Had been all along. Didn’t she light up like a star whenever he hugged her or clowned around just to cheer her up?

She always looked at him like he was the only other person in the world. They were the perfect team, totally in sync.

Chrissy was his goddamn dream girl.

What the fuck was he doing?

“I don’t believe for one minute you’ve given up on her…” Robin said.

Eddie sighed. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yep.”

“Is it too late, d’you think? Is she into John?”

“She’s into you more. Always has been.”

“What if…”

What if she didn’t feel that way anymore? What if she wanted to date John and go traveling? He had a motorbike and all Eddie had was a beat up van. What if? What if? What if?

Robin picked up on his panic and she offered him a shaky smile.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, loser to loser. If you want a chance with Chrissy Cunningham you’d better step the fuck up and ask her out now, because honestly? I think you’d be really perfect together. She’s been looking for you all this time, bonehead.”

Eddie huffed a laugh into the collar of his jacket and knew he was blushing.

He clapped Robin on the shoulder. She was a pretty good friend, even if she was annoying as shit.

“Now go get your princess!”

Eddie didn’t go to Chrissy right away. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He didn’t want to be one of the other guys who casually held her back after class or slipped a note in her locker asking if she wanted a date. He was Eddie. Her Eddie.

And Eddie’s pesky brain had a tendency to go into overdrive.

So that weekend he drove like a wildcat to the ‘nice side’ of Hawkins. He didn’t dare knock at her front door wearing a suit and tie as he was pretty certain her mom would call the cops. Instead he parked his shitty van down the street and approached by foot. Her home looked exactly like a showhouse from the cover of Better Homes and Gardens magazine; pristine, tidy, unnerving. Even the grass was mowed in perfect lines.

It was a reflection of Chrissy from before. Like ivy, it threatened to strangle her.

Eddie would rather take his crappy trailer anyday.

(so would Chrissy. She said she felt more at home in the Munson homestead than she ever had at her childhood home. It kind of sucked that she felt that way…even though it made Eddie’s stomach twist into knots).

It started to rain (obviously) as he approached the house and carefully climbed the trellis.

The rain made the wood slippery. It wasn’t the first time he'd scaled the side of her house, but it was the first time he’d done so carrying a heavy rucksack over his shoulder. He hoped the trellis would hold the weight okay. It would be just his luck to come crashing down into Mr Cunningham’s award winning rose bushes and alert the entire neighborhood.

He knocked smartly at her window.

“Eddie!” Chrissy hurriedly opened the window. Her expression was one of total shock. “What are you doing, you weirdo? You’re totally soaked!”

She was wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe and slippers. She looked as sweet as cotton candy.

She was tugging him inside and he landed on the carpet with a soft thump. They waited for a second to see if the noise would summon her demon of a mother, but all remained quiet. She grinned at him like they were co-conspirators of a jewel heist.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again.

She’d clearly just stepped out the shower. A neatly ironed outfit was spread out on the bed behind her and she had the radio on. He vaguely recognised the preppy tones of Cyndi Lauper.

“Clearly just dropping by to see you, Cunningham. Thought that was obvious.”

Chrissy wrinkled her perfect nose and he had the irresistible urge to bite it. “And you didn’t want to use the door because…?”

She offered him a towel to dry off with and he took it gratefully. His teeth were chattering…from the cold and nerves. Eddie didn’t get nervous often but Chrissy always had this effect on him.

“I’m making a grand gesture.”

“Okay…”

Only then did he open the rucksack. Chrissy watched him silently as he brought out a (crumpled) bouquet of orange and yellow flowers. Then a checked blanket. Then some cutlery and a Tupperware box. Then a few other items to really set the scene. He'd always had a good eye for detail.

He sank to his knees and spread it all out on her bedroom floor. "You're gonna' have to imagine the carpet is grass and there's a babbling brook somewhere."

"It's a picnic. Why are we having a picnic, Eddie?" she knelt down beside him on the blanket. "You made peanut butter and jelly!"

Her favorite snack. She used to have it as a kid before her mom got so fussy and it reminded her of her grandma. He used his lighter to light a candle and placed it carefully between them.

He took a deep breath. It was now or never…

“Are you going to see John again?”

She was clearly not expecting that. She blinked. “I…He mentioned something about meeting up again, yes.”

“Chriss. Do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t.”

He watched as her lovely blue eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you…”

“Go out with me.”

His heart missed a beat.

“Eddie…?”

“Go on a date with me. We can do whatever you want… a hike or a dinner or movie. Whatever. Just as long as it’s with me. I’ll be real honest… I meant it before when I said you deserve some fun…but it’s been crazy watching you go off on these dates and come back each time goddamn bored or disappointed. You deserve fun, Cunningham… and I’m it. I’m the fun. Come out with me and let me show you a hella' good time.”

He wanted so badly to hide behind the curtain of his hair, but held steady. He’d been practicing that speech for hours - trying so hard to make it sound light and funny - instead of spilling all the lovey dovey stuff that he truly felt. Maybe one day he’d get a chance to say all of that...but... baby steps.

“What do you say, Chriss?”

And then Chrissy was grinning from ear to ear. She began to giggle which turned into a laugh which turned into happy tears. If he could bottle that fucking amazing smile he would. He found himself grinning back.

“What took you so long, Munson?” she beamed. “I’ve been waiting forever for you.”

They should engrave that on his headstone. No words would ever sound sweeter.

She slipped her hand into his.

“So that’s a yes? You gonna date me?”

“I’m gonna date you,” Chrissy agreed. “I’m gonna date you so hard.”

41 notes · View notes

fastcardotmp3 · 6 months

Text

Wheelingham; S4 AU; Outsider POV (Max); Presumed character death (but not real character death); 1.9k Written for @strangerthingsfemslash week day 3: secret relationship read day 1: different first meeting read day 2: women over thirty

Max goes to Nancy first.

The lights flicker and the cops roll in and one of them is whispering about— The Cunningham girl? She’s probably dead by now.

So. Max goes to Nancy, partially because at first she thinks she’ll knock out two Wheelers with one stone before she remembers Mike is already on a plane to California, but also because it’s Nancy.

Because for the entirety of this past school year, Nancy has managed to bulldoze her way over all of Max’s carefully constructed walls and forced her to keep one of them in her life, at the very least.

She’s a force of nature, Nancy Wheeler, and the first time she showed up at Max’s trailer with dinner on a night her mom was working a double, that had been apparent, but not everything had been.

Not the reason Nancy was determined to insert herself in Max’s life; not the underlying despair that Max has learned chases that girl from one fight to the next.

Max goes to Nancy because Nancy knows what to do when the world ends, in more ways than one. Max goes to Nancy, because she doesn’t realize that saying—

“I overheard the cops talking, they think she might be dead.”

—she’ll be knocking loose the mask of resolve that Nancy puts on with her hair clips each morning, knocking it straight to the floor and stomping on it hard.

“They think…” She's small, but normally she takes up mountains of space in Max’s life. She’s got this presence to her which Max can barely admit to herself is grounding, but it is. She actually seems small in this moment though. Wound up and tiny. “And you’re sure— did they say Chrissy? Did they say Cunningham? I don’t… I just—”

“That’s what they said,” Max feels like she’s watching something she’s not supposed to, like when she still lived in California and her mom still cared about the ratings on the movies Max rented from the Blockbuster. “And usually I wouldn’t put too much stock in what the Hawkins PD has to say, but… The lights were… I know what lights like that mean.”

Nancy clenches down on her jaw and something in her eyes shifts and Max has spent a lot of time with this girl in the past six months.

Long enough to recognize that there’s a lot Nancy doesn’t talk about, even when she’s actively trying to be vulnerable to make Max feel better; long enough, too, to know that just because Nancy is a force of nature doesn’t mean she’s not also still barely eighteen years old.

Nancy swallows thickly and her fists clench and unclench around the fabric of her skirt until it's wrinkled and Max wants to ask, but before she gets the chance Nancy is steeling herself and sending Max to the car and telling her to radio Dustin to meet them at the Family Video.

Before Max has a chance to really get a gauge on what’s going on with Nancy at all (because something is going on) she’s being forced to walk through exactly what and who she saw last night four times over on the fifteen minute drive.

More than anything, Nancy’s haste reminds Max that they’re in it again. It reminds her that none of it was ever over and she was right, in a lot of ways if not all of them, to expect another shoe to drop.

The problem is that it’s a lot easier to focus on something going on with Nancy than it is to think about the nightmares that have been haunting her since long before she watched Billy die. He’s starred in her nightmares before, but this is different, this is new, this is so entirely old by now.

No, it’s easier to let the rest of them try to make sense of what’s going on while she watches the looks on Steve and Robin’s faces when they hear the name Chrissy Cunningham.

They look at Nancy on instinct, without a beat of hesitation. They look at Nancy.

“Chrissy…? Shit, Nance—”

“Don’t,” she snaps, pushing past Steve’s big and welling eyes that clearly know more than Max does to begin typing away at the computer behind the desk.

He doesn’t let her run from him though, visibly putting himself between Nancy and the rest of them as he speaks just under his breath enough that Max can’t hear him over Dustin’s own plan-making, but can see the way Nancy’s shoulders tense up and her fingers falter across the keys.

If Max were, say, Dustin, it would look like the kind of sign that the two of them were starting something up again, but Max has broken up and gotten back together with Lucas enough times to recognize that this isn’t that.

This is its own thing. This is Nancy on the verge of something else Max has been keenly aware of for too much of her young life: a nervous breakdown.

Nancy Wheeler is terrified, but not in the same way the rest of them are, not because the world might be ending again. Hers is a different sort of terror, only Max can’t place it. She might even be wrong about the whole thing, looking too hard for a distraction from the pulsing ache at the center of her skull, but there’s something about the slices of conversation she catches that tells her otherwise.

“... might not actually be…”

“... no way for you to know that, Steve…”

“... not the same as…”

“...don’t have time to… need to focus on this…”

But again, too much is happening with too quick a turnaround for Max to really dig in and find the answers to her queries.

“Eddie wouldn’t hurt someone,” Dustin is saying with the sort of forceful defensiveness of someone who is being put on trial himself rather than defending a friend. “He wouldn’t. Something else killed Chrissy—”

Max’s eyes train in on the shift in Nancy’s posture, the thick swallow she takes as she turns halfway away from all of them like protecting her soft bits from coming blows.

“ – or probably something,” Dustin insists. “Which means Eddie is in danger too if he was there.”

“Why would Chrissy have even been at Eddie’s trailer?” Robin asks, the question broad enough to seem as though it’s angled at all of them, but Max can see the way she looks at Nancy, the direction she means for it to land.

Nancy seems to feel it too.

“They’re friends,” she says without meeting anyone’s gaze, arms crossed and eyes downturned. “Ever since she broke up with Jason, it’s been— hard. At school. And Eddie’s just— he’s been a friend, so…”

“So maybe she’s with him,” Robin says, but it’s less like a suggestion of theory and more like the kind of thing meant to ease nerves, softer around the edges, almost imploring in nature.

Nancy’s grip around her own biceps is tight enough to make her skin go white, and by the time they have an address for Reefer Rick, any proximity that Max gets to her feels like the air is vibrating at a different, but not unfamiliar, frequency.

When Max stepped out of Starcourt on that night in July, the air had tasted like ash. When she had sat unblinking and trembling in the back of a parked ambulance, she hadn’t been able to feel Lucas’s hand in her own past the shake of the world around her.

“She’s your friend?” Max asks, a murmur of a question just for Nancy after having forced her way into the front seat of the station wagon for their trek across town, letting the other three keep themselves occupied in the back.

Nancy’s lips purse and what Max can only imagine is an involuntary hum chokes its way out of her throat.

“I was— I shouldn’t have been so blunt about it,” Max says. “About what I overheard the police saying. I should have said it differently, because we don’t even know if she’s really—”

“She is,” Nancy says stiffly, grip tight on the steering wheel as they turn down a path that leads to the lake. “That’s how these things work. She is.”

Max doesn’t have an argument for that.

In her experience it’s the truth, the only truth, that the worst case is the actual case.

It keeps her quiet in the passenger seat until they’re parking, all the way up to Rick’s front door, through Dustin’s incessant knocking, until she notices Nancy wandering towards the boathouse and hurries to follow behind her.

The door creaks when they open it, windows mucked up with algae and the general wear of time to the point where even the fading light of day doesn’t permeate the space. The floorboards groan under their feet and the lap of water against the bottom of the boat at the center of the room makes the whole thing eerie.

Eerie and nerve-wracking and bad, the whole thing has their collective adrenaline pumping right up until a number of things are happening at the same time.

The toss of a tarp, the guttural scream of a man, the pushing and shoving and trapping of Steve up against the wall as the rest of them merely try to keep up and act on their feet and prepare for an attack and—

“Nance?”

It’s quiet, but it cuts through the chaos.

It’s quiet, but it seems as though it has physical weight in its effect on Nancy.

“You’re—?” the sharp choking-off of a question, the near-buckling of knees, something starts to click into place as Nancy seems to move a woman-possessed across the boathouse until she’s got her hands hovering over Chrissy Cunningham’s shoulders, drifting down her arms, searching, searching, searching for— “are you hurt? You’re hurt? You’re— oh my god, are you real?”

Chrissy’s got what appears to be Eddie’s leather jacket tied up around one of her arms like a sling, the stain of dried blood smudged on her cheekbone just under her eyes, but she smiles as she places her available hand on Nancy’s cheek.

Wet and nervous, but a smile all the same.

And things are clicking into place, because Max has broken up with and gotten back together with Lucas quite a few times.

“Um, some stuff is— is happening and I don’t know how to explain—” Chrissy shakes her head, lifting her gaze to meet Eddie’s as he drops his attack stance from Steve, “but we’re okay. And you’re here now, so, so that’s—”

“They said you were dead,” Nancy blurts, chin wobbling and voice thick and cracking. “They said— I thought you were dead, I thought—”

It’s bold, when Chrissy cuts her off with a firm kiss to the mouth, right there in front of all of them in the middle of the dark.

It’s bold, but Max sees the fondness on the older kids’ faces, the clarity that they’ve known the whole time.

It’s bold, but pretty fucking cool, Max thinks. Proof, maybe, that it doesn’t always have to go the other way, that maybe sometimes their people can get through to the other side, scared and hurt but okay. Not lost. Not entirely. Close enough to be found.

“Wha– Wait, what the–?” Dustin balks, confusion radiating off of him as bright as the sun beside Max, almost blinding in its comical nature. “Did you know about this?” he looks to her, face all twisted up in not knowing something more than actually having a problem with it.

Max looks at him, looks at the gentle way Chrissy swipes away Nancy’s tears as they press their foreheads close and relish in the finding.

And then she looks back at Dustin and shrugs. “It was kind of obvious, dumbass.”

#dot fic #wheelingham #nancy wheeler #chrissy cunningham #max mayfield #femslash week #stranger things femslash #once upon a time i wrote a ficlet about nancy and chrissy meeting during s3 and this is a psuedo sequel to that In My Heart

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givehimthemedicine · 7 months

Text

house arrest and boarded up homes

I was thinking about how the only times we ever see Vecna anywhere except at the Creel house (I mean literally in Vecna form) it's in visions, right? which he's conducting from the UD attic, really? can he leave the house?

so then I got thinking about all the "trapped at home" themes on ST and especially the boarded up exits in visions. far from a new revelation, there's not really gonna be anything "new" in this post - but I never realized how extensive it is (this isn't even attempting to be a complete roundup due to photo limit) or thought about what that means for him

OKAY Creelers, your homes are prisons... we got it... smth smth Karen trying to trap her kids at home and in turn being trapped there herself by allying with Brenner...

anyway onto the actual horror boards thing - not all Vecna visions have them.

Fred's visions, Chrissy's clock and bathroom visions, and Max's clock, mom and Billy visions do not have the boards imagery. those are also all the ones which happened outside of or not involving their homes, both in terms of the vision's setting and where the victim physically was while experiencing it.

but the visions set inside of homes got boards [and those are all also the ones experienced while inside of homes irl, though not necessarily those same homes] - the Cunningham house in Chrissy's final vision, the lab in Nancy's (not a house but was technically his home for most of his life, and is referred to as home by Brenner), and ofc Max's in the Creel house.

(honorable mention for Victor's war vision, which wasn't boarded up in the sense of the others, but it was both experienced from and set in a home, and there is some very similar blue-lit-boards imagery in the bombed house. I know there's some question as to who actually did this one but it sorta works)

and when we get to the actual Creel house, whoooboy do we go hard on the boards thing. both in the sense of the IRL house being all boarded up so that the kids have to pry plywood off that door to get in, and of the actual horror boards vision being so much more extensive than Chrissy's or Nancy's.

btw guess how many different boarded up exits Max encounters in her vision? 4. teehee get it

ok, any more homes/boards stuff outside of the st4 visions?

this is kinda Will trying to escape his house, the UD of it anyway. and depending in what way Will's UD experience was affected by what went on in the RU, consider the impys of Lonnie "repairing" that hole, from Will's pov. even if Will didn't literally get the horror boards treatment in there, as a result of this, still. Themes TM

and then much later we have Jon and Nancy boarding up the broken cabin window. yeah I know this is to stop bad guys getting in, not good guys getting out. but is it giving "horror boards but from the wrong pov" again? is this any support for the idea of the final scene being Will's Vecna vision?

and then of course there's the way that that cabin was El's former home, yet also very much a place she wanted to escape from - as was every other place El has ever called home, however briefly. in most cases the word "prison" actually does pop up eventually:

and then there's the mind lair being the fubar Creel house, and the fact that in no mind lair scenes do we ever see Vecna set foot outside of the bounds of the house, right?

in the Dear Billy vision, when it was Vecna in Max's head, he was able to chase her all around the graveyard when she ran. but when Max somehow got into his head, and then Kate Bushed it outta there, he just stood there looking grumpy and tried to stop her by making house parts fall on her, like he couldn't follow her.

[side note: if he HAD scored a direct hit, what then? send a vine out to drag her back? he stopped her that way before, why didn't he just do that again? can his vines not reach beyond the bounds of the mindscape house either?]

even the Piggyback moment where El comes-to and sees him carrying Max in (which. WHY?) he's already well within the house area.

thematically it makes sense that he would be trapped in his own mindscape. psychologically stuck in his trauma... prison of his own making type of thing.. etc etc

image limit. go on without me:

"they're still with me (taps head) in here"

Vecna getting trapped against one of those pillars in his own mindscape by El

boarded up doors imagery vs Flayed Billy and VecnaChrissysmom "open the goddamn door" (not to mention a trillion other instances of "open the door" and door imagery)

Victor telling the story of their home and his trauma from in an actual prison cell (nvm the whole Hopper prison plot)

Kali / Brenner / festering

Pennhurst "can't they just escape?" "they could, but the vast majority choose to be here"

leave your train station

and the only time I can think of that we see Vecna physically outside his house in the UD is when Nancy shoots him though the (boarded up) attic window, after which he disappears somehow. was whatever happened there (at least in part) a consequence of having gone out-of-bounds?

lab duels / if you leave your circle, you lose

Terry stuck reliving her trauma in her dream circle

you have already lost / no you have... etc etc

on first watch I figured he could do whatever and go wherever he wanted but chose to stay at home (like how Will hid at home in the UD)(actually ig I'm basing that on a lot of assumptions) but actually I don't see support for that unless I'm missing something huge.

anyway. just me rolling in the themes like a dog in poop 👍

#bro was forced to touch grass and it killed him. rip #but the prison references. constant. it is CONSTANT #givehimthemedicine analysis #mine #analysis #(owens voice) you son of a bitch!!! (me finding more patterns of 4 connected to Max)#vecna

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 years

Text

Banished (1)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

After the shitshow of spring 1986, all parents are kind of worried about leaving their kids with Eddie again, even when he was proven innocent. It’s not that they think he killed Chrissy, but they are afraid that their kids might be targeted for the association with Eddie, like Dustin and Lucas were before.

Even though Eddie doesn’t want to show it, it breaks his heart because he really loves his bunch of gremlins (and the new additions as well, El, Will and Max who finally joined some of their sessions after healing). He tries to accept it though, perhaps stepping back a bit, not hanging out too much because he wants to keep them safe, damn it, they survived the Upside Down and they’re not going to be harmed by a town mob. Especially not because of him.

Steve notices Eddie pulling away first, of course he does, but he has no way to fix this. The kids’ parents trust him, yes, but he’s not that much older than the party so his voice doesn’t have the power to persuade them. And he tries, he really, really tries. The answer is still the same - “maybe when things settle down a bit”, but damn it, they need Eddie now, and he has a feeling that Eddie needs them too.

When Steve vents to Robin, he mentions how hurt the kids are, especially Dustin (and he doesn’t also say so about himself, no, doesn’t admit how much he misses that loud laughter, the endless fantasy ramblings, the odes to his guitar), Robin just smiles at him and pats his back. “Can’t make any promises, but I might have an idea what to do.”

What happens is as follows.

Robin goes to Nancy to ask for help. She refuses to have Steve present and there might have been some gossip involved because Nancy looks at him in a funny way afterwards and says: “Give me a bit more time, you might just get what you want.” And winks at him. Nancy Wheeler winks at him.

Nancy goes for the throat and ambushes her mother. Karen Wheeler is a caring, sympathetic woman, and Nancy talks to her about who Eddie is, how he’s helping the kids, how he made Mike’s high school experience bearable, even enjoyable. She tells her bits and pieces (not all, definitely not everything, but enough) about his home life and what Eddie means to the whole party. She also mentions (maybe with a small smirk. Definitely with a smirk) that Steve will be driving the kids around anyway and while the mob might go for a few teenagers, they definitely will not mess with Steve Harrington. If nothing else, the Harrington family would absolutely sue. “Please, mom,” she finishes her plea, leaning into Karen. “There aren’t many people those kids can relate to. And Eddie doesn’t deserve to be punished even more, especially for something he didn’t do.”

And Karen Wheeler just nods with a deep sigh, hugs her daughter and picks up the phone. She makes several calls and Nancy doesn’t want to listen in (well, maybe she does, but Karen is very assertive on the phone so it doesn’t take much), but she hears phrases such as “Claudia, do you know he actually saved Dustin during the earthquake? Exactly. I’ve reconsidered my decision and frankly, so should you,” and “I get that you are upset about the incident with the police car, but please understand. It’s exactly the kids sticking together that saved them and I absolutely don’t intend to dissuade them from doing that.”

A few hours later, Karen Wheeler emerges from the phone with a victorious smile on her face. She knocks on Nancy’s door and asks her if she could make sure Steve is available tomorrow, to drop the kids off. Also for dinner, they might not be together anymore but she still likes him, considers him family. “But please call him in twenty minutes or so”, she adds, “I have one more call to make.”

The phone is not picked up immediately, but when it is, there is a cautious “hello?” at the other end. Karen’s heart skips a beat when she hears the fear in that voice, fear of more accusing calls, of insults, assumptions. She curses herself for ever taking a part in that, even if with the best intentions.

“Hello, this is Karen Wheeler,” she announces, making sure her voice sounds normal and collected. “Am I speaking to Eddie?”

There’s a gasp at the end of the line, and then a quick “Y-yes, this is Eddie. Look, Mrs. Wheeler, I swear your son is safe, I haven’t been around him in-”

“Eddie,” she interrupts him, strict but kind. “I know. And I thank you for indulging me...and the other parents. But there have been some changes. Would you be free tomorrow at...let’s say, six PM? Join us for dinner, from what I understand, all the kids will be here for their fantasy game. They have been complaining nonstop it’s not the same without you,” she finishes in a soft tone.

“I’d...I’d love to, I really would,” he says, voice strained, and Karen grips the receiver tightly. She is a social person by nature, but she really wants to meet Eddie now, properly meet him and talk to him. “But it’s not just you, Mrs. Wheeler, even if I have your permission, the others-”

“Will not be a problem,” she completes the sentence for him, smiling into the phone as if Eddie could see her. “I talked to them before calling you. They all gave their okay and will drive their children over, so you can check with them too. But I assure you, it will not be necessary. You are welcome to join us, Eddie.”

“O...okay.” There is a quiet sound at the other end, perhaps a sniffle, rustling of a tissue? “Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler. Thank you so much. I will...I will be there. Six, you said?”

“Yes, six. See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

As she hangs up the phone, she sees Nancy leaning on the wall, smiling. “You’re the best, mom,” she whispers and hugs her. “You really can’t tell where I get the fighting spirit from?”

Karen Wheeler just laughs, returns the embrace and starts planning tomorrow’s dinner. The phone is finally free.

Steve picks up almost immediately and when Nancy tells him the newest developments, there is a huge sigh of relief and she can just tell the way Steve is smiling into the phone, running a hand through his hair. “I could just kiss you and your mom,” he laughs after he confirms he’ll be there no matter what.

Nancy just snickers because there is no expectation, no unfulfilled hope there, just warmth that comes with Steve’s friendship. “Hmm...thank you, but I’ll pass this time. How about you kiss Eddie instead?”

She hangs up the phone to Steve’s sputtering and, once she’s certain he can’t hear her, laughs until her sides hurt because a shy Steve Harrington? That’s a new one and something she definitely cannot miss.

#steddie #steddie drabble #implied ronance #I mean very small but I see them at a similar relationship stage to Eddie and Steve #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #karen wheeler #strangerthings #stranger things drabble #strangerthingsdrabble #stranger things

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 2 years

Text

Crush

The entire group knowing Eddie has a small huge crush on Y/n but Y/n is completely oblivious. Just Eddie being head over heels, completely infatuated with her and her having absolutely no idea. The group loves to make fun of him for it when she’s not around (or sometimes when she is around, much to his annoyance).

Request by anon ❤

Warnings; none, fluff. Confessions.

Eddie Munson x Henderson! reader

❤

Eddie was in love and everyone knew it. Everyone except the object of his affection who was none other than Henderson's sister.

Yn was everything he had ever wanted and more, she was kind, funny, beautiful on the inside and out and most importantly she never judged him, she accepted him for who he was and was the sweetest friend he had ever had.

She also tended to be protective of her friends and family and since Eddie had met her that included him as well.

Henderson, the little butthead used any opportunity to tease Eddie about his crush.

"Dude. My sister? really? You could have fallen for anyone but you pick my sister?" Eddie glares at the little shrimp.

"Yeah, and what's your point dude? Your sister is amazing, do you know she helped me paint the miniature figures for D&D and was genuinely interested In my campaign for Hellfire?".

Dustin groans and Mike laughs along with Lucas.

"Ha! Now you know how I felt when I had Jonathan and Steve mooning over Nancy".

At this point, yn comes in and Eddie gets a dreamy look on his face.

"Shut up!" he hisses to Lucas and Jeff who keep chuckling and he immediately motions for Gareth to move.

"Saved you a seat princess?" He smiles warmly and Dustin mimes gagging but quietens immediately when Eddie glares at him.

All of Hellfire knew how he felt about Yn and always teased him and they weren't the only ones...

❤

The warmth that spread through him the moment that yn slipped her hand into his was something he had never felt before.

All he knew is he wanted to hold onto it forever.

"Eddie! look they have the new Nightmare on Elm Street movie out and remember how you promised you would watch Splash with me?" she bats her eyes at him and he melts unaware of how Robin and Steve are watching the two of them and smirking.

He would do anything to see his best girl smile so he agrees to watch whatever she wants.

Gareth said he was whipped but he didn't really care. He knew from the moment he met yn that she was special, that she was his dream.

If he was lucky enough to be with her one day he would treat her like a princess.

Steve comes up to him clapping his hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"Dude, could you be more obvious?" Eddie blushes.

"Do you think she knows how I feel?" Steve shakes his head.

"Nah, she would have said something man, you gotta play it cool, stop being so obvious and just ask her how she feels."

Eddie sighs.

"Yeah, like she would want to go out with Hawkins's resident freak"

Robin rolls her eyes.

"You are so dense Eddie, that girl is in love with you. How you don't see it is beyond me"

He turns to find yn smiling shyly at him and decides to risk it and tell her how he feels. Hopefully she feels the same.

❤

Eddie was nervous which wasn't like him, he was always so confident so when they went back to his trailer yn was a little worried.

She couldn't remember Eddie ever being nervous which didn't help what she wass about to tell him.

The truth was she was in love... Very much so with the man himself.

"Uh, princess we are great friends right?" he begins with this and she isn't sure where he is going. Does he mean only friends and they could never be anything more?

"Of course," she tells him smiling and taking his hand.

Her stomach sinks. Is he about to tell her that he likes someone? Maybe Chrissy or somebody like that? Of course, he was her friend and she would be happy that he was happy but at the same time, it would still be hard.

"The truth is ( she braces herself for whatever he is going to say, gearing herself up so much that she misses what he says the first time.

"You what?" he blushes and repeats himself.

"I've fallen for you and I get it if you don't feel the same way. You're it for me sweetheart and I just want you to know that" she kisses him then and there complete giddiness overwhelming her.

"Eddie, I've fallen for you too, I've been trying to tell you for weeks" a bright grin appears on his features and he smiles.

"So you wanna be my girl princess?" She nods happily and his lips meet hers, both of them abuzz with giddiness.

❤

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x henderson!reader

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a-strange-inkling · 5 months

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Just curious, in Old Haunts…What if Laura was murdered instead of getting a heart attack? How would this affect the story, Eddie, and Chrissy?

It would have been a very different story I think, more of a thriller/mystery than a drama.

I’d have had to set up a murderer and a motive and that would have changed to the whole atmosphere to something much darker (oh gosh if Philip did it)

As for Eddie and Chrissy, that’d uproot a lot of trauma. I don’t know if they’d have brought the girls, and they definitely would have been afraid of how and why she was murdered. Was it supernatural? Is the Upside Down truly closed. I think the entire gang would have to be involved (Joyce, Hopper, Nancy, etc) Also, would they have even come to her funeral with their history with the town? They’d probably stay in New York unless forced. Eddie had already been suspected of murder in Hawkins. They could have easily been suspected of killing Laura. Jason would have probably pushed that narrative too. I don’t know if they’d be able to risk one another or their daughters over figuring out the truth.

An interesting and haunting concept!

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts

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laundrybiscuits · 2 years

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Hah, thanks @beansthekid for giving me a chance to ramble a bit more!

I think there are many different and equally valid ways to interpret Eddie’s relationship with the Corroded Coffin crew; we really do not get very much canon material at all, which means it’s all very open to interpretation. However, I personally tend to read them as friendly acquaintances more than friends, because Eddie doesn't seem to treat them with any true closeness.

In the few scenes they share, Eddie sort of treats them like undifferentiated sidekicks/minions/audience. He seems basically fond of them, and I don't think his attitude comes from any sort of disrespect or dislike. Rather, I think it’s more about Eddie’s own comfort level: in general, I read Eddie as very skittish about relationships. He likes to keep people at a certain remove, and he likes to be in control of that distance.

We don't see him confiding in anyone or being intentionally vulnerable...right up until Steve and "guess I got a little jealous." Even with Chrissy, though he was definitely trying to present himself as friendly and harmless, he was absolutely putting on a little performance the entire time. He was taking on an entertainer role. He's willing to be seen as ridiculous, because that's the class-clown side of him, but it's not the same thing as letting down his guard. People laughing at him for his antics can't hurt him, at this point. Admitting he's fond enough of Dustin to make that a weakness, and being honest about feeling inadequate—that is vulnerability.

I do think it's plausible that that little jealousy confession was prompted in part by guilt over the whole broken-bottle thing. To be clear, I don't think Eddie's boatshed reaction was wildly out of line; at that point, he had zero information/context that would lead him to conclude that anyone out looking for him was on his side, much less Steve Harrington.

He was also scared out of his mind and literally shaking with adrenaline and fear, but he still didn’t actually hurt anyone. He could have shanked Steve and made a run for it, but I read him as someone who fundamentally does not want to hurt or scare people for real. He wants to make them uncomfortable, sure—or at the very least he doesn’t really care if they’re made uncomfortable by how he looks and acts. But actually being the villain of a story? That doesn’t fit with his values or his self-image.

So it would make sense if afterwards, he felt an outsized and misplaced sense of guilt about that little encounter, and let that spur him to offer up a little bit of honesty. It’s an intimacy he doesn’t extend to anyone else in the entire show.

I mean—hell, I am fully fixated on this little exchange:

Nancy: Hey, it’s Nancy.

Eddie: Wheeler, hey!

It would be way, way more natural to mirror her intro and call her Nancy, but instead he does this weird surname thing (and continues to call her by her surname) despite the fact that he already knows another Wheeler who is presumably also potentially tuned in. Why on earth would he do this. There are so many siblings in the group. The only way I can make sense of it is as a distancing mechanism that he leans on.

By the end, he does start addressing some people by their first names, some of the time. I haven’t done a full accounting, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly just Dustin and Steve (not counting the “this is for you, Chrissy” moment).

But back to the Corroded Coffin lads: the biggest tell, for me, is that they had band practice without him. They knew he was missing, and either they knew he’d be a suspect/in trouble or they didn’t know him well enough to recognize his trailer on the news. They’re just kids, so it’s fairly reasonable that they wouldn’t be trying to take any action to find/help Eddie, but it seems unbearably callous that they’d just be having a normal band practice. I still don’t really know how to fold that into my understanding of their dynamics, but one possible interpretation is that they aren’t used to thinking of him as someone who ever really gets hurt, so they figure it’ll all just blow over somehow.

Eddie’s obviously taken on a leadership position in their little group. He’s the DM, he runs the show. But we don’t have a sense that he’s got a second-in-command or a trusted advisor that he confides in, much less someone he sees as a true peer in a give-and-take way.

Again, I don’t think any of this means he doesn’t like the Corroded Coffin boys. On the contrary, I think he probably cares about them very much in the same way he loves Dustin. My read on Eddie is that he sees himself as a protector who is in some way responsible for them and their well-being, cultivating an interdependent community that he doesn’t really get to partake in. His sense of self-worth lies in his ability to be a shield, standing between his lost little sheep and the wolves of Hawkins. He draws fire and takes the hits, and that’s a very lonely position to be in.

And then…Steve Harrington.

#askbox #stranger things meta #this is very disorganized but hopefully the main ideas come through #general caveat as always that the most straightforward explanation is 'inadequate/inconsistent writing'#but this is the characterization/dynamic that I've more or less settled on as best fitting my understanding of the narrative #ST meta for TS

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bigdumbbambieyes · 1 year

Text

after many months of daydreaming and weeks of plotting and writing, i am so incredibly excited to announce that i’m writing a Harringrove Regency AU for the @bigbangharringrove event!!

and even better?? my partner for this fic is the super talented @hellfirefucker 🥹🤍 we’re so excited to work on this together and bring both incredible art and writing to you all!!

for those who are curious, i have a snippet and some inspo beneath the cut!!

There, Billy sits at the writing desk by the window, penning a letter to his friend, Argyle, who is currently abroad and has been for quite some time. Heather and Chrissy sit closely on the high-back sofa, speaking just loudly enough for him to hear.

“I have very exciting news from the tête-à-tête I attended yesterday,” Heather says with a rather excited tone.

“Well, go on!” Chrissy urges, and Billy smiles to himself as he writes, amused by their gossip as always.

“Miss Nancy Wheeler informed me that there is to be an event held at St. James Park sometime during the Season by Mr. Steven Harrington!”

Chrissy gasps, “Mr. Harrington?! The gentleman from Greenwell?”

“That very one,” Heather grins, “And you know what else? Miss Wheeler also informed me that he brings in seven thousand pounds a year and his family wishes for him to marry – soon! Perhaps even this year!”

#harringrove #hgbigbang #harringrove bigbang #i’ve been wanting to write this for MONTHS maybe even a year!!!#and finally i have the chance to!! 🥹#bambiwrites

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 7 months

Text

From Hell to Home To Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chrissy frowned as she walked to class. She didn't mean to make Dustin feel so bad, but he shouldn't have left home like that. What if something had happened to him? She had told him she didn't want to lose another brother, but maybe that was too far. He just wanted to go look for his friend. Was she turning into her birth mother?

"No," Steve said.

When did she get to Nancy's locker? She blinked at Steve.

"What?"

"No, you are not turning into your mother," Steve said. "I know that look. What happened?"

"I got into a fight with my brother last night for sneaking out," Chrissy said.

"Oh, I thought you and your mom knew he was at my house," Nancy said. "I have no idea what they were doing in the basement."

"Planning to look for Will probably," Chrissy said. "I told him I didn't want to lose another brother and he looked so guilty."

"He knows you love him, and that's something your mother would never say. Think Wilbur," Steve said and touched Chrissy's nose.

"You know about Wilbur?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, of course," Steve said. "I think it's cute."

"Me too," Nancy said, looking at him fondly.

Chrissy smiled at the pair of them. They were so cute. Meanwhile, Barb was rolling her eyes. Chrissy nudged her, and she grinned. She leaned next to Barb and raised her eyebrow questioningly. Barb shook her head. She wasn't ready to talk. Chrissy bumped her shoulder playfully, and Barb smiled. She let her eyes drift for a moment as Steve and Nancy did their little dance. Chrissy's eyes landed on a locker all the way across the hall. Leaning against the locker was a long-legged girl in a corduroy baseball cap, talking to none other than Eddie Munson. Eddie. Chrissy bit her lip. She hadn't talked to him since the Talent Show. It wasn't that she didn't want to. It was just that life kind of got in the way, and she spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to figure out her new life under a new roof with a new name and family. Before she knew it, time got away from her.

Now, here she was, and suddenly, the memory of that night came flooding back. He was still as cute as she remembered, cuter even. His hair was longer and very curly. He wore a vest now with pins and patches that look put on by himself. His shirt was a faded Led Zeppelin shirt. The same white one that she had. Chrissy was kind of surprised that it wasn't a heavy metal band like Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, or Judas Priest. She vaguely recalled him playing some Black Sabbath at the Talent Show. It was the only time she listened to heavy metal. She supposed he could also like rock music too. Chrissy herself didn't have a particular taste in music, mostly listening to what sounded good to her ears at the time. It generally depended on her mood. She smiled at the shirt, wondering what else they had in common and what else they didn't. A familiar feeling tugged at her stomach. Uh oh.

Chrissy sighed. She recognized that feeling. It was the same feeling she got when she first started crushing on Heather. They hadn't dated long but long enough to know that Chrissy definitely also liked women. Luckily, they ended on good terms. She should really stop watching him before he noticed, but she was mesmerized by the gesturing of his hands and the grin on his face. Oh my God, he has dimples. Suddenly, she felt someone push her.

"Why are you staring at Eddie Munson?" Barb asked and then said with a teasing grin, "It's rude to stare, you know."

"I wasn't!" Chrissy exclaimed, blushing.

"Oh my god! Are you crushing on him?" Barb asked.

Just then, the bell rang, and Chrissy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, look, saved by the bell," Chrissy grinned gratefully.

"Oh, by the way, we've been invited to a party at Steve's house," Barb said.

"But it's a Tuesday," Chrissy said in confusion as they walked to class.

"That's what Nancy said. Apparently, it's going to be low-key," Barb muttered. "Whatever that means."

"It means just us, Steve, Tommy, and Carol," Chrissy said. "His parties are always low-key."

"So, he doesn't throw ragers?" She asked.

"He goes to ragers. He doesn't throw them," Chrissy replied.

"Seriously?" Barb asked and rolled her eyes.

"It's going to be fun even if Tommy and Carol are going to be there," Chrissy said.

"It'd be better without Steve too," Barb muttered.

"Barb!"

"Oh, God, look," Carol said.

Jonathan was putting up missing posters of Will.

"Oh God, that's depressing," Steve said.

"Poor Jonathan," Chrissy agreed with Steve.

"Should we say something?" Nancy asked.

"I don't think he speaks," Carol said, and Chrissy glared at her.

"How much do you want to bet he killed him?" Tommy laughed.

"Shut up," Steve and Chrissy said as Nancy walked away.

"Steve, why the fuck are you still friends with these assholes?" Chrissy asked.

"Because he'd have no one else," Carol laughed.

Chrissy could tell by the look on Steve’s face that this wasn't the first time that they said something like this. Steve tried to laugh it off, but even Barb could tell it bothered him.

"He's got Chrissy," Barb scowled.

"Oooh," Tommy said and laughed with Carol.

Somehow, Chrissy managed to get through the day even though Will entered her thoughts every so often, and even Eddie filtered in there. She made sure the kids made it to Mike's before biking over to Benny's to make up for missing yesterday. However, when she got there, police cars were out in front. She dropped her bike. Chrissy was quick and managed to dodge the cops' arms as they made to grab her. She burst into the diner and gasped at the sight of Benny lying dead at a table with a gun in his hand as though he had killed himself.

"Benny!"

Suddenly, Hopper was standing in front of her, blocking her view.

"Kid, you shouldn't be seeing this," Hopper said gently.

"He didn't kill himself!" Chrissy sobbed. "He couldn't have. He was supposed to go out with my mom this weekend. He wouldn't do that!"

"He finally asked out Claudia?" Hopper asked.

"Yes! Oh God, mom. What am I supposed to tell her?" Chrissy cried. "He's not - He's not dead."

Hopper pulled Chrissy against him and let her cry in his arms.

"Hey, you guys handle this for a moment. I'm going to take her home," Hopper said.

Her mom had been just as much of a mess as Chrissy had been when Hopper told her the news. He stayed for as long as he could, but eventually, he had to go back to the diner. Mother and daughter both cried until they fell asleep curled up on the couch. They didn't wake up until there came a knocking on the door. That's when Chrissy remembered the party. Fuck.

"Oh, I just remembered. I forgot to call and tell Barb. She's supposed to pick me up for the assembly," Chrissy said.

"Oh, go, Honey," Claudia said.

"Are you sure, mom?" Chrissy asked.

"You need to be with friends. Besides, I need to call Sue," Claudia said. "And I have Mews with me. I'll be okay."

Chrissy looked at her doubtfully for a moment before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. Her blue sweater clung to her nicely, going great with her blue jeans. She shook her hair out of its ponytail and shrugged on her white denim vest as she walked out the door.

"Are you okay?" Barb asked as she slid into the car.

"Yeah," Chrissy said and looked at how excited Nancy looked. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Barb asked.

"Yeah, just a shitty day at work," Chrissy said.

"Rude customers?" Nancy asked.

"Something like that," Chrissy replied. "Robin didn't want to come?"

"Of course, Robin didn't want to come," Nancy said. "She's too good for parties."

Chrissy couldn't help but snort at that. As much as Robin and Nancy fight, like sisters sometimes do, she also knows that they really love each other. She was surprised that Robin didn't come along to make sure Nancy stayed out of trouble with claims of invading Nancy's privacy. It was amusing to watch Nancy force Barb to pull over three blocks away from Steve's house, too afraid of what the neighbors might think.

"This is so stupid," Barb said. "I'm just going to drop you off."

"Calm down, Barb," Nancy said. "Come on, you promised that you'd go. You're coming. We're going to have a great time, aren't we, Chrissy?"

"Absolutely," Chrissy said, plastering a fake smile on her face.

"He just wants to get into your pants," Barb said and Chrissy sighed.

"No, he doesn't," Nancy said.

"Nance seriously. He invited you to his house. His parents aren't home. Come on, you are not this stupid," Barb said.

"Barb! I've told you that Steve isn't like that. He really likes Nancy," Chrissy frowned.

"Tommy and H. and Carol are going to be there," Nancy said.

"Tommy and Carol have been having sex since, like, seventh grade," Barb said. "It'll probably just be, like a big orgy."

"Okay, I don't even like Tommy and Carol but even I know that's a stupid untrue rumor," Chrissy said. "Seriously, Barb, I did not take you for a gossip. It sounds like someone's turning into their mother!"

"I am not! You take that back!" Barb exclaimed and Chrissy laughed.

"Look, Nancy's a big girl and she's smart too. She's going to do whatever she wants tonight and it's going to be her choice because Steve respects that," Chrissy said. "I love you, Barb, but you need to chill the fuck out. I need to have fun tonight and so does Nancy. You need to let your hair down, just a little bit but you don't have to do anything you don't want too either. We're all making our own choices tonight because tomorrow we could be dead."

"Thank you, Chrissy," Nancy said as she changed her sweater. "Although, the last part was a little morbid, Chris."

"Is that a new bra?" Barb asked.

"No," Nancy said, lying.

"Nance, you left the tag on!" Chrissy laughed and pulled it off.

"Oops."

When Steve opened the door, "Raise a Little Hell" by Trooper was playing in the background.

"Hello, ladies," Steve grinned.

"Hey, Steve," Chrissy said, actually ready to forget about the day she had. It's not like it could get any worse, could it?

Chrissy chugged the beer until it was completely gone and let out a loud burp. Carol and Barb looked at her in disgust while Tommy laughed with Steve.

"Oh, that's ladylike," Carol scoffed.

"I never said I was a lady," Chrissy said flipping her off. "You're further from being a lady than I am, Perkins."

Chrissy collapsed in the empty lawn chair with a grin. Not even Carol could get to her in this moment. She watched in amusement as Steve stabbed a hole in the beer with a knife and drank from it. He was clearly trying to impress Nancy. Chrissy couldn't help but giggle as Nancy pulled it off. Then Nancy tried to get Barb to do it. Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"Nothing she doesn't want to do, remember, Nance?" Chrissy asked.

"Right, of course," Nancy said.

"But you do need to stop pouting," Chrissy giggled and kissed Barb's cheek.

Right, beer makes her cross some boundaries. She looked apologetically at Barb who just shrugged and laughed it off.

"Didn't know you were a lesbian, Cunningham," Tommy cackled. "But that makes sense."

"It's Henderson, asshole, and I'm not a lesbian but thank you for thinking that I am one," Chrissy laughed as she pictured holding his head under water.

"I can do it," Barb said suddenly. "Give me the knife and the beer."

"Are you sure, Barb?" Chrissy asked with a frown.

With a look of determined look, Barb attempted to cut a hole in the can but instead, ended up cutting her hand open. She quickly rushed off to the bathroom, letting Chrissy know that she could find it by herself. She frowned as Barb walked away but her attention was pulled away when Tommy tossed Carol in the pool before Steve did the same with Nancy.

"Fuck it," Chrissy said before stripping down to her bra and panties.

Tommy, Steve, and Carol all wolf whistled as Chrissy dove into the water. In that moment, Chrissy was free of what happened today, and nothing could get to her. Although, she ended up getting out of the pool early when Carol kept giving her "fuck me" eyes. Yeah, she hated Carol too much to do that. . .as attractive as she found her. She dried her underwear as much as she could in Steve's bathroom before getting dressed and going to search for Barb. She found Nancy standing on the stairs looking down at Barb.

"Where are you going?" Barb asked Nancy.

"Nowhere. Just upstairs to change. I fell into the pool," Nancy grinned. "Why don't you just go ahead and go home? I'll get a ride or something."

"Nance - ," Barb started to say.

"I'm fine," she replied.

"This isn't you," Barb said.

"I'm fine. Just go ahead and go home. Take Chrissy," Nancy said.

Barb stormed out of the house. Chrissy grabbed Nancy's arm.

"You're going to be safe, right?" She asked. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm not - ," Nancy started to say, and Chrissy gave her a look. "I'm on birth control. You're not going to stop me?"

"Why would I? Is this something you really want to do?" Chrissy asked. "Do you like Steve?"

"Yes," Nancy said.

"Well, I already know what you're like when you make up your mind," Chrissy said. "I expect all the juicy details. Have fun. Oh, by the way. . .Steve is a heavy sleeper, so if he falls asleep after, you're going to have to slap the shit out of him to wake him up. If that doesn't work, yank very hard on his hair."

"Noted," Nancy giggled.

Chrissy wandered outside to find Barb sitting out by the pool. She was sitting on the diving board. Her feet and wrapped up hand were dangling over the water. Chrissy's heart went out to her because she looked so sad and she didn't know why. She walked over and stood by the diving board.

"Do you want to leave?" Chrissy asked.

"I want to wait," Barb said softly.

"You know what she's doing up there," Chrissy said softly.

"Making the biggest mistake of her life," Barb said. "Nancy wouldn't do this. They haven't known each other long, and suddenly, she wants to jump into bed with him like she's got something to prove."

"That's your version of her, Barb," Chrissy said. "Did you ever think that maybe she really likes Steve?"

"It's always been us against the world even when you became our friend, nothing changed, but then she started to look at Steve and I just - ," Barb cut herself off.

"What?" Chrissy asked.

"Why can't she look at me like that?" Barb asked.

"Oh, Barb," Chrissy said softly.

"She never showed an interest in boys, not really, and I thought maybe she was like me too," Barb said.

"Well, you know, just because she likes boy doesn't mean that it can't change, and it doesn't mean that you're not alone," Chrissy paused. "I never had a boyfriend before, but I do like boys. However, that doesn't mean I never had a relationship."

"You had a girlfriend?" Barb asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah, can't tell you who it was because it would mean outing her, and that would be a no-no," Chrissy said.

"Do you think Nancy might be like you?" Barb asked.

"I don't know, but it's not up to us to talk to her. Right now, everything she's experiencing needs to be her decision. She needs to explore her sexuality herself, and she doesn't need us telling her who we think she is," Chrissy said.

"What am I supposed to do?" Barb asked. "It's not like I want to hate Steve or feel like this - "

"You're just jealous. We need to support her, and in the meantime, we can hang out, so you rant and rage all you want to me until you find yourself getting a little better each day," Chrissy said.

"How do you know how to deal with this?" Barb asked.

"A lot of therapy after I got adopted and then when I was hanging out with. . .my ex, I started to realize that I like women, and I kind of freaked out. My ex had this this older cousin who walked in on us, and we both freaked out, but she sat down to talk to both of us. She really helped, and if you ever want to talk to her, I still have her number," Chrissy said. "She's a huge ally."

Barb stared thoughtfully into the water for a while, and Chrissy was pleased that she looked a little less sad.

"Thanks for being my friend, Chrissy," Barb said.

"Always," Chrissy said.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her, and she looked up. Chrissy opened her mouth to scream, and then she was pushed into the water with Barb, being dragged down with her as the bottom of the pool opened up. It was strange, she thought. Before she fell into the water, did she hear Argyle scream her name?

Chapter Three

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