#pre season 2

[alxarasm]

You haven’t been in a half dead fandom with a niche/lowkey ship unless you’ve found the single blog dedicated to it, averaging 3 likes per post, and then stalked the entirety of it from top to bottom reblogging and liking every single post.

[nolassolace]

[mslaevateinn]

A miraculous save

Can be found on AO3, part of 12 Days of Yuletide 2023.

People moving around like ants, kids running everywhere, screaming at the top of their lungs. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t they just leave, or shut up? Parks in winter were not what they used to be. Before, he could exist in peace.

He was drawn to a sudden noise. Great, now it was adults, too. A woman –who had just shouted– was running after a man, but failing to get his attention. Oh, an ice patch close to her path. How unfortunate would it be if she slipped.

The woman had almost caught up with the man, when her foot slid as she put it down. As if she were in a film, she then lost her balance and gave her best theatrical performance - and he could judge, he had seen a lot. She was about to fall when the man pivoted and caught her, just in time.

"Wasn’t this an amazing save?”

Of course. He turned his head. “One could say it was almost miraculous.” “Just as she seemed to suffer the worst luck possible, and fall on an ice patch not on her direct path.” “Strange. Would you care for a hot chocolate, angel?”

“Lead the way, my dear.”

[ato-dato]

A working woman

[writingdinosaur]

I don’t think we talk enough about how the head demons used to be Crowley’s friend group up in Heaven. I really desperately want to know more about “Lucifer and the guys.” I want to know about him piggybacking around with Furfur and how he and Beelzebub used to tell scary stories to cherubs.

I want to know what happened after The Fall. Did they drift apart slowly? Did it start before that? Did it happen all at once? Did he tell them he never wanted this? When did the people he once thought to be his friends start dragging him down to Hell for punishment? When did Lucifer begin to terrify him? When did Beelzebub? Were Hastur and Ligur a part of that group? When did they decide he wasn’t worth trusting? When did he start to dread the next time they would meet? Did the loneliness set in gradually or did he realize with a start that he was all alone?

The more I think about the differences between the Crowley that we know and the Angel we met in the season 2 opener, the more tragic it becomes. They used to be his friends.

[marriedtobigfoot]

Steve ends up heartbroken, lonely and depressed after season 2. Nancy called him bullshit, even after he ditched all his old friends for her. Billy Hargrove took his spot at the top of the food chain. He can have it, Steve doesn't really want it anymore. But Steve does want to find some sort of connection. Someone to have in his life who isn't an 11 year old kid he barely knows. He tries to go on a date one night, take a nice-seeming girl to a party. He wants to find connection, to kill the loneliness that's been building for months, but just as he's feeling kind of good about things, his date ditches him.

So. He decides to drink his feelings. He gets majorly fucked up, and ends up laying on the ground in the backyard, contemplating how much life seems to hate him.

Only to literally get tripped over by Eddie Munson, who was at this party selling pot and is very confused as to why Steve Harrington is alone on the ground with a bottle of vodka clenched in one hand.

Eddie ends up chatting a little with Steve, nothing substantial, but enough to know that Steve is very very drunk, and also very very sad.

He asks if Steve wants to go back to the party, and Steve staunchly refuses. He doesn't want to be around a bunch of annoyingly happy people.

He asks if Steve needs a ride home, and Steve just kind of shrugs. His parents just left for another trip, so home is kind of depressing right now too. But he doesn't exactly have any other friends he can stay with so. Home it'll have to be.

Only Eddie can *tell* he doesn't really want to go home, though he has no idea why Steve wouldn't want to return to his veritable mansion after a shitty night. The reason doesn't matter much. He offers to let Steve crash at his place. Steve can take the couch, or hell he can stay in Eddie's room if he doesn't mind sharing, that way he wouldn't risk being woken up when Wayne comes home that morning.

And well, Steve agrees. Can't think of any reason not too. Munson has been nice so far, he's got a good easy-going energy that Steve likes. Why not stay the night.

By the time they get to Eddie's, Steve is *slightly* more sober. Not much, but he's slurring his words a little less, and he can walk with only a little help.

Eddie grabs them each a little plate of leftovers, because he has no idea if Steve's eaten at all. It's quiet while they eat, Eddie doesn't push Steve to talk, and Steve isn't sure what to say. Eventually Eddie sets the plates aside and give Steve an easy grin.

"So, do you want the couch, or are you crashing with me?"

Steve thinks about it for a while. He hasn't shared a bed with a guy-friend since he was a kid, and he's heard rumors about Eddie, whispers in the hall about the way he looks at other guys. But...Steve can't really bring himself to care. He's tired, and he really doesn't want to be alone.

"I don't mind sharing."

Eddie sets them both up in his room, letting Steve choose which side of the bed he wants, and they both settle in. There's a respectable distance between the two of them, and Eddie says a quick goodnight to Steve, figures they won't talk and just go right to bed.

Except Steve isn't sober, and he really isn't in a good headspace, so he can't stop himself from blurting things out into the quiet of the dark room.

"Are you really gay?"

Eddie stiffens next to him, he can feel it, he can hear the way that the other boys breath cuts off and he seems to stop breathing all-together.

"It's okay if you are, I'm not going to be an asshole about it, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore. I guess I was just curious."

It's quiet for another beat before Eddie seems to loosen just a little. He starts breathing again at least.

"Yeah I uh- I am. Gay. And if that's weird the couch is still open, I can-"

"It's not weird."

"Okay."

Steve let's himself mull over this confirmation, and then his mouth starts moving again, without his permission.

"Is it lonely? Cause I mean, it's got to be hard to date in Hawkins. People here are shitty. Unless you've got like, a secret boyfriend or something."

"No...no secret boyfriend. It does get a little lonely sometimes. I'm lucky though, I've got my uncle, and my friends are pretty great. That's enough most days."

"What do you do when it's not enough?"

"Hmmm?"

"When your uncle and friends aren't enough, what do you do? To try and...make it better?"

Eddie is quiet again for a long stretch before he shrugs.

"I try to focus on something else. I'll play my guitar or work on a new campaign, read a book. Something to take my mind off it."

"Oh."

Now Steve is the one who seems tense, his jaw is tight and he's got his arms wrapped around himself. His next words come out as a whisper, but Eddie manages to catch them.

"I don't know how to do any of that."

He sounds almost choked, and Eddie is caught off guard. He's never seen Steve Harrington as anything other than solid, as happy. He's the king, after all. He's supposed to be all smiles and great hair. Only...Eddie's noticed that he hasn't hung out with his old friends lately, that he's eaten alone at lunch too many times to be anything other than strange.

"Steve...are you lonely?"

Eddie expects a denial, for Steve to laugh it off and tell Eddie that he's perfectly fine and fulfilled. Or maybe he expects a shrug, a non-answer. What he doesn't expect is the gut-wrenching sob that seems to tear past the other boys lips.

He doesn't expect to turn and see Steve Harrington's face, a scant foot from his, shining with tears.

He panics a little at the sight.

"Fuck- I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be." Steve tries to wipe his eyes, to hide the tremble in his voice. "Not your fault there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like I'm broken man, like nobody can stand to be around me. Tommy and Carol hate me now, Nancy- hell even my own parents hate being at home with me for more than a week. It's like I'm repellent or something. Couldn't even get a date to stick around for a whole night."

And Eddie's pretty sure *he* might start crying now. He'd never have expected this much from Steve, all that sadness to come pouring out. It wouldn't have happened if Steve was completely sober. Without thinking, he reaches out.

Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and waits to see if the touch gets rejected, but Steve seems to lean into him, so he lets his hand linger.

"This probably won't help, but I don't think you're repellent. And that's coming from somebody who your whole group used to torture. I don't know much about you, but I kind of liked having you around tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Steve gives him a tiny smile. His eyes are still wet with tears, and the smile doesn't come close to reaching them. He seems impossibly small here in Eddie's bed.

"I don't know man. I just wish-"

He cuts himself off, apparently deciding his words are too far, but Eddie urges him to keep talking.

"What do you wish Steve?"

"I just wish that... there was somebody out there I could have a future with. Somebody who actually loved me, you know?"

It might be the saddest thing Eddie's ever heard, and he blames that fact for what he does next.

He takes his hand off Steve's shoulders and instead hauls Steve closer to him, fitting the other boy against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. It's a move that might get him decked, but he doesn't think it will. And he'll be damned if he doesn't hug Steve right that second.

He doesn't get hit. Steve tenses for a second, but it's just that one instant before he's melting into the embrace.

Eddie feels more tears falling against his shirt, and he couldn't care less. He keeps Steve close, let's him cry into his chest, runs a hand through that famous mop of hair.

He isn't sure how long it takes for Steve to calm down, but eventually he does. His breathing evens out, and he shivers a little before speaking.

"Thanks man."

And Eddie takes another leap of faith.

"I could be that person, you know."

"What?"

"I mean. You know Im... not straight. It may not be exactly what you're wanting but. I think I could picture a future with you. If you want to, just for tonight...I could be that someone who loves you."

Steve looks at Eddie, like he's a puzzle that he needs to solve, before a other shiver seems to wrack his body.

"Just for tonight?"

It comes out as a whisper, but Eddie hears it all the same.

"Yeah. For tonight Steve."

"I think...I think I'd like that."

Eddie gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, and nods.

"Alright sweetheart."

Eddie isn't exactly sure what it means, to love Steve for the night. After all, Steve is straight. He figures it doesn't matter much though, it's only for a night.

He keeps a hold on Steve, let's him get comfortable tucked against Eddie, and he does what feels natural. He runs a hand up and down Steve's spine, traces shapes into the soft fabric of his shirt. He tangles their legs together, and in a moment of insane bravery he presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head.

He's met with a sigh, full of relief, and figures he's on the right track.

"Just close your eyes Stevie, I've got you."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"Hmmm?"

"The future. You said you could see one. Can you tell me?"

And he asks so carefully, he sounds almost afraid, Eddie can't say no to that.

"Do you want the fantasy future, or the realistic future?"

"The real one."

"Alright then. Well, if I'm not going to be a rich and famous rockstar...I'll probably graduate and get a job somewhere in town. A real job, maybe working on cars or something. I'm good with cars. You'd come over all the time, have dinners with me and with Wayne. You'd have to meet Wayne. And we'd have more nights like this, sleeping close."

Steve let's out a pleased sounding hum, and shifts his face so it's buried even closer in Eddie's neck. He can feel Steve's breath on him.

"We could save up money and get a little place together, somewhere outside Hawkins. I have to stay kind of close, for my uncle, but maybe Indy?"

Steve nods, mutters something about staying close 'just in case'. He sounds like he might fall asleep, so Eddie keeps going.

"We could get an apartment, nothing too fancy. We would get two rooms, so nobody gets suspicious, but we would share a bed most nights. I'd play with my band on weekends, just for fun, and you'd join some little local sports team. I'd make sure to schedule DND nights so that I never miss a single game, even though I don't understand a damn thing about sports. We would come home for holidays, but most of the time it would just be us. I'd take good care of you, make sure you never go more than a few hours without me telling you I love you. I'll show up wherever you're working just to give you a hug and a kiss, and make sure you don't forget it. And I'll annoy the hell out of, but you won't mind too much, because I'll make you happy too."

Eddie can think of more. He can think about so many things. How he could give Steve one of his rings, even if they couldn't legally get married, even if Steve would never want that. Just as another reminder that he's loved. They could take trips together and go out to parties where Steve will never have to worry about getting ditched. Eddie doesn't do things halfway, and he has a hell of an imagination. He could picture them growing old together, if he tried, if he let himself. But this is just for tonight, so he doesn't. Instead he runs a hand through Steve's hair again, and listens to his quiet breathing. He thinks he may have fallen asleep, but he's wrong.

"That sounds nice."

It comes out muffled, spoken into Eddie's neck, but he manages to make it out, and he let's the vibration of it sink into his skin.

*It's only for tonight.*

He has to remind himself, because Steve is just feeling lonely. He doesn't want that future with Eddie, he just wants to feel loved.

But even if it's just pretend, just to help Steve for a few hours, he's okay with that.

Steve may think he's broken, but Eddie thinks he would be easy to love for a long time. Loving him for one night is nothing. He doesn't even have to try.

Tomorrow Steve will wake up sober, and he'll thank Eddie for letting him stay over, and they won't talk about it. Eddie will drive Steve back to his car in silence, and they'll say their goodbyes. They may not talk ever again, they never had before.

But for tonight? Eddie Munson will love Steve Harrington, and Steve? He'll let himself be loved, let himself beleive it. And he'll love Eddie right back.

Just for one night.

And if Steve ever needs it again? Eddie will love him for another night. And Steve will give that love right back. He's got plenty to spare, after all. And there's far worse people he could share it with.

[kodaibara]

do you like him better?

[terikanae]

[valenrepetto]

"Let there be light" ✨️

Need more pre-fall crowley, I get so emotional just by looking at him dude

[lilpatison]

“𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵”

[yamisnuffles]

Starmaker

Angel Crowley is very precious to me because he's a tragedy.

[devondespresso]

Never Again (Mature)

Nancy is trying to have a good time with her boyfriend after season 1. It would be a lot easier if the last time they did this wasn't the same night her best friend died, but she needs the break to avoid those thoughts, even just for a night. Apparently, she doesn't get a choice.

TWs: Implied past sa (coercion, not between stancy or nancy and not directly described), past character death (Barb), accidental self-injury (and blood), and overall themes of grief (if you're worried about the sa tw i have a brief explanation of the context in the note on ao3)

This is the version of Never Again that has 18+ content changed to just kissing. (shoutout still to @museumgiftshoperaser for beta-ing the nsfw version 💕) **It still has implied sa and all other trigger warning still apply**

ao3.

___

Her heart was racing, her mind tuned into every touch and feeling, electric excitement buzzing in her skin at the soft kiss they shared by her bed. Gentle breaths hitting her skin and the echo of her own bouncing back.

No shirts, just the soft contact of skin as Steve held her waist and she held his neck.

She led him over and down to sit on the bed, keeping the contact above all else.

Warm, soft, and absolutely thrilling.

Just go home… okay…

Her heart was racing.

Her mind tuned into every touch and feeling.

An electric anxiety buzzing through her skin and swimming in her gut.

He pulled away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He looked at her with that face. She shook her head, glancing away and trying to get herself back into it. It’s okay, it’s fine, you’re okay.

I’m fine.

Just go home, okay.

“Nancy.” he leaned back fully, “What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just. Overwhelmed.” she smiled, “I’m okay. We can keep going.”

He studied her face for a moment.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she made herself roll her eyes and smile.

“Okay,” he said, leaning back in more carefully than before, “You have to tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

“I told you I’m fine.” she made herself laugh. She grabbed around his neck and pulled him for another kiss.

He was tense with caution for a few moments. She ran a hand through his hair and he relaxed.

..This isn’t like you…

She chased the feelings, the warmth and excitement and thrill.

..Nance.

She deepened the kiss, going stronger and disregarding the need for breath.

It was still warm. But it stopped being soft, desperate tightness in her lungs and tears in her eyes slowly outshining any joy.

Just go ahead and go home, okay.

A few tears escaped and she barely separated to catch her breath. The tightness in her chest only worsened as her lungs filled with air.

She needed out.

So she pulled back, getting up and rushing to the door.

“Nanc- Nancy! What’s the matter? Nance?”

Nothing.

“Just gimme a minute.” she called to the room behind her, then rushed in the bathroom and closed the door with a gentle thud. She sat on the toilet seat, covering her mouth with her hand and tried willing herself out of whatever headspace made her cry when she was supposed to be happy.

She tried cold water and breathing, but they did nothing. Dread still twisted at her insides, heart still too fast, tears still running wild and for no good reason.

“Nancy. It’s Steve. I have your shirt, do you want me to leave it on the door knob or can I come in?”

“No no no it’s fin-” her breath cut her off. She took another in, deep, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“No, we’re stopping. I can leave the shirt on the knob for you.”

“Steve, it’s okay, I’m just being… weird. It’s not a big deal.”

Silence from the other side of the door, long enough for her to think maybe he left already.

He took a deep breath from behind the door. 

“Nance, can I come in?”

She took a moment to breathe and wipe her eyes.

“Yeah.”

The door opened slowly and Steve already had his shirt back on. He closed the door behind him, crouching in front of her.

"Something is wrong." And he held her shirt out to her. More tears spilled out as she took it, and they agreed with him for her.

Steve sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall as she put the shirt on, slower than she had to.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked gently after she was done.

“I-” she shook her head, looking for the most normal way to describe it.

“Did I do something to make you upset?”

“No, no. You’re fine, I promise, I- It’s just me being weird, nothing to do with you.”

He studied her face. She wiped at her tears with her sleeve. He reached out and stopped, then grabbed her a towel from by the sink.

“You can touch me, it's fine.”

“Good to know.”

Silence for a moment.

“You know you don’t have to, y’know… we don't have to sleep together. Like, ever, if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not…” she paused. It's not. But it leads where she needs to go. “Never, huh? You’re okay with never sleeping with someone ever again?”

“Yeah. Especially if you don’t want to, okay? You’re not losing anything if you decide you never want to do it again.”

She gave him a look.

“You’d stay in a relationship where you can never sleep with your girlfriend.”

“If I happened to love this girl, I’d do pretty much anything." he smiled, "Maybe even, oh I don’t know, run towards a 10ft tall monster man with a baseball bat I found on the ground,” he nudged her leg, “Y’know, if this girl was really special.”

She tried giving him another look, but her smile broke through, followed by more silent tears.

“You’re not losing me for anything, okay? Never feel like you have to do shit you don’t want to just to keep some boyfriend around.”

“Says the guy who ran towards a monster to keep his girlfriend around.” She shot back halfheartedly.

“That’s different, that’s-” he scooted in closer, stressing the point even more, “I wanted to help. You gave me the chance to leave and I almost did, but I wanted to protect you.” he took one of her hands in his, “You have to want to, otherwise it’s not-” he looked away, searched for a word and couldn’t find it. Instead he made a tense sort of eye-contact, “Just promise me you’ll never do it unless you want to.” 

She exhaled, glancing away to cut tension and nodded. “Promise.”

He nodded, but his eyes still searched her face. She searched back.

“And it has to be because you want to actually sleep with them… not because you want to have them around or…"

She sobered and tentatively brushed the hair out of his face with her free hand.

“or you think you have to.” she finished. He gave a short nod, the look he gave her asking for the promise again.

"Steve, I promise I want to. It’s something else- and I don't know how to say it. But yeah, somethings... It’s something in my head. I had a good time, the first time, and I was having a good time just now, right until the..”

She looked for a vague enough word to fit without making it something he could’ve knowingly caused.

“...until The Something happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” he exhaled, then caught himself, “Well, not- not good, you’re still upset. I mean. Do you know-”

“Would it be weird if I gave you a hug right now?” she interrupted. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes.

“Go for it.”

She wrapped her arms around his back and he leaned into it. They both rested their head on the other’s shoulder, the air softening back into something comfortable again.

“I love you, too. By the way.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, relaxing.

“And you never have to do it to keep me around, either. I-” She took a breath, and the moment to think. Another breath. “I’m not with you because of that, I’m with you because of you.”

He nodded slightly into her shoulder, holding onto the moment. Then drew back, no longer concerned with hiding the tears. 

“I’m with you because of you, too. Even with The Something, okay?” he took her hand and rubbed a thumb along her fingers almost absentmindedly, “Do you know what you want to do about it?”

She sighed.

“I don’t know what I should do. I can’t… ignore it.”

“Yeah, probably not… We can avoid getting- avoid doing it, if you want. Or figure out why it’s happening.”

“I know why.” she cut in, “I mean I just… I have an idea, maybe.”

“Do you want to try and fix it?”

“I dont think it's like that…”

“That’s okay, that’s okay. Do you want to see if it’s something we can avoid?”

She looked down at the thumb gliding across her fingers. She put her other hand over it, stopping the motion and just holding.

“I think I just need time. To figure it out and work through it, on my own.”

“Okay, that’s fine." he squeezed her hand gently, then let go. "Never again, if you need that."

"Maybe again. Eventually again." she exhaled, shaking her head, "Thanks."

"Mhm."

She looked up, stealing a breath and bringing herself back to normal as a sort of silence stretched across the room. Not awkward, but still not completely comfortable, at least to her. Everything she's wanted to say out loud has been said, repeated and in more words than necessary, but moving on still feels too soon.  She looked around the room for a segue that could get them back to somewhere relaxed, but found nothing relevant. Instead she ripped off the bandaid.

"I think I’ll.. be in my room, for a minute." she said, then immediately cursed herself for the awful transition, standing decidedly to mask the awkwardness.

Steve seemed more shaken by the sudden movement before a clear realization. She gave her hand out to help him up.

"Yeah, ‘course. I can.. mind if I shower?"

"Mhm. Thanks for understanding." she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek, "I'll be in my room when you're done."

"I'll knock. No answer and I can hang out in the living room until you're good. That okay?" 

"Great, thank you."

"Cool, I’ll.." he jutted a thumb back to the shower.

"Yeah." and she headed out the door, almost closing it before he spoke up again.

"Nance."

She paused at the door.

"I love you."

She relaxed a little.

"I love you, too."

They shared a smile and she closed the door.

Nancy made her way back, strolling slow down the hall to her room, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it, locking it out of habit. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, taking a long breath, as much as he lungs could take, then let out as slow as she could without suffocating. They fixed it, or at least found the work-around. It's okay now. She's okay.

She looked over at her bed, and the tousled sheets on top of it made the dread crawl back in. Cold and shaky, heart rate still too fast despite it being over now.

She pushed off the door and ripped the blanket off, then the next blanket, the sheet under, then pillows, yanked off the bed one by one, to just get it all off, start over, get it back to-

Wood on wood knocked from the nightstand beside her. She turned her head and froze. The photo of her and Barb gone.

She dropped the pillow and leaned over the desk, searching for where it fell. Back left corner, a little raccoon plush breaking its fall.

She dropped down and rescued the picture, checking for cracks in the glass. It was fine. She stood up, avoiding hitting her head on the desk, and examined it again for any slight new imperfections. It was still fine. She set it back on the nightstand where it belonged, tidying a few other things that fell over but not quite off the ledge. And it looked fine.

She took the last few pillows off the bed carefully, dropping them on the pile behind her.

She took a breath. Another.

Now would be a pretty good time to start crying again. It's supposed to be better, make you feel better afterwards, or at least numb. Her last cry didn't do that, didn't even touch whatever immovable heaviness lived somewhere behind her ribs. Metaphorically the heart, but physically deeper. The true center of her body, below her lungs that seemed allergic to air, above her gut that stayed hooked on feelings well past their welcome.

Now would be the time to cry. No one to see it but her, like crying on the inside but if crying inside could do anything to actually help.

She didn't cry.

So she made the bed. Refitted the sheets tighter, neater. Laid both blankets over top, one flat to tuck under the pillows, one folded to be used. Arranged pillows, biggest by the headboard, smallest towards the center. A few stuffed animals added around for good measure: a worn white rabbit, a puppy with a pink collar, a black cat, a light brown teddy bear, and the raccoon.

And it looked perfect. She won't be using it for that anytime soon, it's just her childhood bed again. The assortment of stuffed animals specifically helped distance it from the dread, and if she was lucky it'd be completely forgotten by morning. 

She let out a deep breath and flopped down on her back, the bed bouncing and springs creaking loudly from age.

She's a little too big for this bed. She can still fit, technically, as long as she doesn't stretch out too far. They're lucky Steve doesn't mind curling up a bit, otherwise he'd never fit with both of them there.

A knock on the door. A gentle three taps, barely audible. She looked over to the door. She was basically done tidying up, the bed looked basically perfect.

A pause followed by three more knocks. Louder, just in case the first three hadn't been heard. She kept her eyes trained on the door. The room was perfect, she stopped crying and she was just lying down before bed now.

He didn't even try the doorknob, had no idea she locked it.

She couldn't convince herself to let him in.

Another second of silence, then the sound of the stairs creaking gently.

She should've let him in. 

But the bed still holds a whisper of their time earlier, the only evidence left being the memory. And her guts still carrying the dread it found earlier, like a toddler clinging to their first toy. 

She looked back over to the plushies, grabbing the Teddy Bear in hopes it could drive the dread away. It was nice, but didn't do anything, and she tried the raccoon after. Nice, but not helping.

She reached for the puppy but she was gone. She put the others back and looked over the bed, and found it on the floor. She rescued it and held her close. 

The dread still didn't get better, and if anything it was getting worse, but she didn't let go. She sat up with it in her arms and could feel the tears finally coming back to her eyes. She held tighter, but they wouldn't fall.

The room looked perfect. Exactly like it did a few months ago.

Only she knew something's different. Only she knew that Barb will never lay on her bed next to her, never call her phone over and over until she answers, never play with the little music box she had gotten when they were both tiny and happy and alive.

When they both fit on the bed, starfished out beside each other, talking about every little nothing that meant the world to them a few months ago.

She needed to fucking cry.

Because nothing was wrong. Will came back and Barb skipped town, problem solved, nothing to see here. A rocky month for Hawkins and then everything's normal again.

She pushed off the bed, holding the puppy tight and pacing a circle, careful not to hit the nightstand again.

She’s too careful.

The picture could've broken, but it didn't. She could've hit her head, but she didn't. The puppy plush could've been lost, but she wasn't.

Too careful and now everything looks perfect.

It was all just fine.

Barb wasn't dead, she ran away. No one was grieving, they were missing her. Nancy wasn't a careless ass, she was a teenager with one rebellious night.

And people had the audacity to think Nancy felt betrayed that Barb left her.

She threw the puppy plush at the bed and it bounced before landing somewhere on the other side. Guilt punched her gut and strangled her throat, but the puppy didn't hit anything, barely even jostled the bed. 

Like nothing happened.

She grabbed the picture of her nightstand, holding the top and bottom of the oval in each hand, put a foot up on her bed. 

And as hard as she fucking could, slammed the frame down on her thigh.

Glass shattered and the wood split along the sides, the little frame bent but still in one piece. She held the frame still in front of her, staring down at the split fibers sticking out, the glass chunks at her feet, the few clumps falling from the still frame as gravity slowly pulls them away from her.

She doesn't regret it. Or maybe she does. 

She turned the frame around slowly, looked Barb in the eye, both of them surrounded by shards of glass. The front of the frame's wood was more bent than split and would probably look ok after some work to it. But the glass is still broken, never to be glued back together or look quite the same ever again.

Something here was finally broken.

Her thigh was itchy. She moved the frame to one hand and looked at her thigh. A few crumbs of glass sitting on top, a scattering of cuts and a few splinters. Speckled with dots of red like her first attempt at shaving.

That wouldn't be a fun fix. Nor would finding all the scattered pieces of glass surrounding her. 

She could ask for help, but that'd mean explaining why she broke the picture of her dead best friend, on purpose, and finding a reason that doesn't sound awful. She could fix it on her own, make the problem just broken glass, like the frame just fell off the table. She could pretend it upsets her.

She did neither. 

She cried.

___

[hairmetal666]

It starts in Eddie's second senior year, close to the beginning of the semester. Eddie's in trig (again). He's good at math, but Mundy fucking sucks, always giving Eddie shit for breathing, or his shoes squeaking on the linoleum, or whatever, and he ends up with detention most days. So, he hardly ever shows and can't be bothered to do the homework, even though he knows the answers more often than not.

On this particular day, Mundy is in a bad mood, on Eddie's case way more than normal. In the heat of frustration, Eddie scrawls, "I fucking hate this class" on a scrap of notebook paper, and for reasons he can't begin to explain, leaves it folded on the window ledge. He doesn't think anyone will answer; fully expects the paper to be gone come morning with maybe another detention slip under his belt to show for it. He's a little flabbergasted, the next day, when the note is still there, and loses his mind a little when he sees the words "tell me about it" underneath his first message. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, sloping and a little looped, and for most of the class period, he's too bemused to respond. Right before the final bell rings he scrawls, "trig. You?" He leaves the paper on the ledge again. "Algebra 2 :(" is the response.

They keep it up, just a few words at first, before Eddie accidentally doodles on the page, and the other guy scribbles a hasty formula, the math spectacularly wrong. There's a little arrow leading to the words, "this shit sucks." Eddie re-writes the formula with the correct math, leaving careful notations of how and why. The next day he sees, "Shit, dude, I totally get this now. Mundy should retire and let you take over." Which pleases Eddie down to his core.

The messages get longer, nothing super personal, but complaints about life, math help, Eddie's silly little doodles, bad jokes, the slightly lewd drawings typical of teen boys. Eddie's never had a better attendance record in his life, but there are some days where his notes are left unopened. Most remarkably a couple week period before Thanksgiving, where he goes unanswered for so long he figures whatever thing they had going is done. But after the holiday, the notes start up again, with no acknowledgement they ever stopped. Eddie doesn't bother questioning it.

They keep it up almost all year, and they're definitely friends, even though they're totally anonymous. And that wouldn't have changed, except it's the day before spring break and Eddie's vibrating out of his skin with anticipation of the time off, so he forgets his dnd notebook in Mundy's class. He makes it all the way to Click's before he realizes, then sprints back across the school. He crashes through Mundy's door, tripping a little over his own feet.

"Sorry," he pants. "I just left--" he looks over to his desk, far corner right by the window, and then forgets every word he's ever known because Steve Harrington Steve Harrington King Steve, stares right back at him. And he just. He stops and fucking laughs, because all this time--this whole goddamn year--it's been Harrington he exchanged notes with. And sure, the jock's star has fallen in the last few months, with the breakup with Nancy and all that shit with Hargrove, but it's still Steve Harrington. With his big house and his fancy car and his girls. It's pretty Steve Harrington, the focus of Eddie's most hopeless daydreams.

He has a few seconds to see Harrington's hazel eyes go wide, before Eddie spins on his heel and makes a hasty exit. He absolutely doesn't spend the break thinking about the notes, matching what Harrington wrote with the gossip Eddie heard on him from the past few months.

Once break ends, he doesn't bother going to Mundy's class at all.

The Friday of the first week back, Eddie walks out to his van, only to find King Steve leaning up against it. He's doing that obnoxious thing where he has one leg bent, foot resting against the side panel, arms crossed over his chest, stupid hair falling in glorious cascades around his face. It's ridiculously, unfairly attractive.

"What do you want?" Eddie asks. He opens his front door without fully looking at Steve.

"Can we talk?"

Eddie snorts, "what could you and I possibly have to talk about."

Steve narrows his eyes. It's so bitchy and so fucking cute it makes Eddie queasy. "You know what."

"Enlighten me, Harrington."

"C'mon, man, the notes!"

"What about them?

"Don't be stupid, Munson, you know what. Why'd you stop?"

Eddie pulls a pack of camels and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Lost its appeal once I knew who was on the other side. Surprised you even want to keep it up now that you know you've been writing to the freak."

He pointedly ignores the little jolt Harrington gives at that, like the words hurt. Which is pretty rich from Steve Harrington, former #1 bully of Hawkins High.

"I've always known it was you," he says.

"You don't--wait what?"

I've known since, like, the first week, Munson."

"How??"

"What do you mean 'how,' dude, you're always drawing little pentagrams and d20's. Writing the word "Slayer" over and over. Who else would it be?"

And he can't even deal with the fact that Harrington knows what a d20 is (what the fuck) with everything else the other boy just said.

"I gotta go," is his only response. He ducks into his van, slamming the door basically in Harrington's face, before peeling out of the parking lot.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It's the last day of school. Eddie's failed again. His grades, which weren't great to begin with, took a sharp nosedive after spring break, and he just can't wait to be done with this place for a few months. Harrington hasn't spoken to him again, and Eddie tries his hardest to ignore the other boy (aside from seeing him hanging out with Robin Buckley, a junior and a band geek, besides, and he forcibly has to remind himself that he doesn't care what Harrington does).

He slouches into his last math class of the year, slumping over in his seat. He rests his head on his desk, eyes blankly staring out the window as Mundy talks about what a joy most of them were to have in class. His eyes are unfocused, he contemplates a nap, and then he sees it. The tightly folded piece of paper resting on the window ledge.

Eddie almost doesn't take it. He almost ignores it, but he physically can't stop himself for reaching for it, unfolding it, staring at Harrington's now familiar handwriting.

Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me. Buckley helped me see how that maybe freaked you out a little. I know I used to be a piece of shit. But I'm better--or I'm trying to be. And I'm so fucking sorry for the shit I did to you before and the things I didn't bother to stop. You don't owe me forgiveness, but you should know that I regret all of it. I liked passing notes with you. You made me laugh, and I don't know. It was nice to think someone liked me for reasons other than that I'm Steve Harrington, or whatever. I'd really like it if we could be friends. I get if you can't do that or don't want to.

Whatever the note actually ended with is scribbled out in pen so thick Eddie can't make it out.

All day he thinks about the note, the apology, all of it. Eddie thinks, if he's smart, he won't forgive Harrington. That he knows better than to trust him. But Eddie's never actually been that smart in this way, so he's not totally surprised to find himself walking to Steve's car after the last bell rings.

This time, Eddie's the one with his foot resting on the side panel of Steve's BMW, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't have to wait long before Harrington makes his way to the car, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze, biceps on display in a short-sleeve polo. A little smile dances across his lips when he spots Eddie.

"So, you gonna tell me how you know what a d20 is, Harrington, or do I have to guess?" Eddie offers the other boy a cigarette.

"Babysitting?

"Babys--Are you serious??" Eddie splutters. Steve Harrington babysits. Steve Harrington babysits little dnd playing nerds. Steve Harrington wants to be his friend.

A full grin spreads across Steve's perfect face and Eddie is absolutely, 100%, fucked.

(Part 2)

(Steddie Notes is now posted in full on ao3!)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Seems that two days before the premiere there will be a 2 episode sneak peek in US cinemas available for Prime users. I still hold hope that they will do some in Europe because it's BBC+Amazon and not just Amazon...

Edit: Wa-fucking-hoo! :)

[renegadesstuff]

They weren’t even together- 🥹🤍

[edwardbonnets]

@ofmdblog​​ 1k celebration: Day 2 - Favorite Dynamic

#ed constantly befuddling lucius

bonus: