#what the fuck is going on in Hawkins

[henrysglock]

like you can't tell me we aren't all picking up what they're putting down, right (says the guy who has nothing but questions and isn't totally sure what he's picking up. he just knows that they're putting something down and he's meant to pick it up, even if he doesn't know what it is (he knows what it is. but he also doesn't))

[chirpsythismorning]

S5 opener REAL

[momotonescreaming]

lowkey obsessed with the domestic college stommy au that lives in my head

[schnuckiputz]

what if...what if after season 2 the hospital called the harrington's about steve and for once they actually picked up the phone.

what if, hopper, and the kids left him that night, safely tucked away in a hospital bed, and when they came back the next day, steve was just...gone.

at first, they think he just checked himself out of the hospital (because steve definitely is 'that dude'). but no, the staff assured them, his father came and took him home. but when they try to visit him, the only thing they find are a moving company and people packing away the harrington's entire house. the harrington's are just gone.

months later, nancy gets a postcard. it's beat up, the ink so smudged it's nearly illegible. there are just a few words: "they took me. trying to make my way back. steve."

in the end, it'll take nearly two years until they see steve again: when he rolls back in town in a beat-up truck just in time to help them stop the apocalypse. he's lost a lot of hair but apparently gained a sarcastic loudmouth soulmate and a fluffy haired metalhead on the way instead.

because, you see, two years ago, when richard harrington got to the hospital, he didn't care about how steve got injured but only about him getting in another fight. and he finally had enough of this problem child, who seemingly refused to fall in line with what was expected of a harrington. so richard harrington took his drugged up concussed son out of the hospital, loaded up his wife and a few clothes, and drove a few hundred miles to a boot camp in the middle of nowhere to finally get him straightened out.

[hauntingblue]

I have connected two dots... yamato kaido and momo (and kinda shirahoshi with her top) have clouds above their shoulders... and luffy in gear fourth has them also.... I can see the signs

[rigginsstreet]

It is very important to me that Heather is a freewheeling bisexual. It is imperative that she hits her college years, moves to the big city, and gets as much pussy and dick as she possible can. She WILL invite herself into your relationship for a one night freeway. She is a slut and I love her so much

[taylorhawkins]

“I was so scared when we went to go do Nothing Left to Lose. I had red-light fever so bad. …so how am I going to make it through this? And I didn’t know how to. And the producer, Adam Kasper, was like, “Oh, can Dave just play drums?” I could just hear it in his face. I mean, he was a nice guy, but he had Dave Grohl. He’s like, “Why is this kid trying to learn to play to a click track right now in front of me? Let’s get this record done.” And at one point I just said to Dave, “Listen, dude, I just don’t think I can do this.” And I was battling the demons a bit back then as well. I was just so scared.

“And he said — it kind of chokes me up — he just held my hand through it, and he’s like, “You’re going to play some drums on this.” [At this point, Hawkins’ eyes visibly tear up.] And I did half the drums on it, because he fucking held my hand through it, like that older brother, best friend does. So there you go. That’s why we’re here today, because he knew he wanted me there with him as a friend, as a family member, as his younger brother that he can fucking rubber-finger any time he wants, that ultimately totally looks up to him and wants to make him happy. And also, he knew that there was just something we create onstage. And I know that.” - Taylor Hawkins (X)

[gmaybe666]

twirling my hair and blushing that Charlie hinted that jancy, while still loving each other, might not be in a serious relationship ,,, damn thats so sad if only jon had a beautiful stoner bestie he could kickback with and kiss OH WAIT

[zoanzon]

An idea I just had that I've already decided is the funniest fucking premise for Stranger Things fanfiction? Have national events from other fandoms unexpectedly happen in later seasons and derail post-S1 plot, or zoom out of S1-2 Hawkins to show the town's just in the background of other weirdness.

Like...Hawkins kids through adults have all seen footage of when a mutant picked up a sports stadium and dropped it around the White House and nearly killed Nixon, and then the Party meets 011 and sees that she has powers.

Or a year or two into Hawkins bullshit, when news goes worldwide of a glowing golden man who appeared in the sky above a cruise ship, and shortly after trauma-derived powers become a thing that derails the next Upside Down misadventure.

Hell, what happens if Hawkins gets visited by that pesky Department of Scientific Intelligence, and the Party learns the National Lab isn't the only government agency populated by inhumanities wearing human faces?

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Absolutely Not Time To Cry

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Chapter 11/? - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 10,692

Summary: There's too much happening. And all the while, they have nothing they can really do. The Party is stuck until something changes. And feeling stuck like that can be suffocating.

More ST Fics

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Steve’s sleep was interrupted a little after 3 am. Surprisingly, there were no nightmares, no shaking, and no terror sweats. None of the things that usually follow their ‘special’ emergencies were what startled him awake. But Steve didn’t even have time to think about how nice it was to have slept so well, because the thing that did wake him up was the house phone downstairs. Ringing and clattering in the way that always pulled him from his dreams.

Steve’s always been a bit of a light sleeper, so it’s no shock that the phone would wake him up. Especially since he used to listen for it so carefully. Over the years, he’s practically trained his ears for it. But it was damn early to hear it that morning. He considered letting the person get sent to record a message. Well, he considered it for about a second, until he thought about all the other people downstairs who deserved to keep sleeping if they hadn’t already been woken up. And with that thought, he sprung up out of his bed and got all the way to the landing in what could’ve been record speed if he hadn’t pulled something in his side around his stitches that punched the air out of him for a moment.

He picked the phone off of the base to shut it up but hesitated in bringing it to his ear.

The moment he did, a harsh ”Stephen” barked through the line.

His dad. Of course. Already sounded put off even though Steve hadn’t spoken to him yet. Not a surprise. But there was a recognizable drawl to the word. The way he said it when he was just drunk enough to forget his manners.

This was going to be a fun conversation.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to keep the bother out of his voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

It was a stupid question, truly. Steve brought a hand to his temple and massaged it in an attempt to stave off his frustration as he answered,“ Sleeping? I was in bed when I heard the phone. It’s past 3 am over here, why are you calling?”

“Well, we were just getting back to the house after a very nice work dinner-”

A work dinner that went on until almost one in the morning over there in the Pacific timezone?

“-and your mother tells me that, in the middle of a disaster, mind you, you’re having a party at the house again.”

He tried to correct him,“ That’s not-”

But his father doesn’t listen, he never really does,“ Did you forget what we discussed the last time you threw a party when we left town? After you went and got into a fight with a boy whose damn brother was missing? After you defaced a local business? After that very public fucking embarrassment of your junior year? Did you forget?”

“No, but-”

“No what?”

Steve wanted to punch a wall. Even wanted to ram his head into one. Through grit teeth, he gave the man the obedient answer he wanted,“ No, I remember.”

“Then you should remember the conversation we had after graduation, too. About accountability, responsibility, and..." there was a pause that seemed like he was looking for another big word to use, but he couldn't find one and settled on," growing up. I am not spending my hard-earned money on that house just to let you laze around back there. You are supposed to be working and making plans. If you aren’t going to figure your bullshit out-" that word still made Steve's stomach twist every single time he heard it," -and make a man out of yourself, then at least don’t further add to my headache. Trashing the house with your unwelcome guests, getting fired from the one place in town that hired you-”

“None of that is happening!” Steve burst with the words. He immediately checked the living room, and thankfully no one seemed to stir at his outburst. He reined himself back in and corrected his father,“ I invited a few people to sleep here because they don’t have anywhere to go. There’s no party, no drugs, no alcohol, no loud music. It’s just four other kids who needed a place to stay and are crashing on the couch.”

“I’m not responsible for all the lost souls of Hawkins.” the voice came through in a singular kind of cold tone.

It didn’t really mean something as simple as ‘don’t adopt every stray off the street’. It meant ‘Get them out of my house, they are not my problem, and certainly not my bill to foot’. He said it final. Like the only respectful option Steve had, was to send them on their way at first light. Like Steve shouldn’t even dare argue, because then he was being the unreasonable one for costing his father more money on the house utility bills and pulling from the grocery money left behind.

There wasn’t any point in saying anything else to sway him, it wouldn't work.

“Understood, sir,” he answered, trying to press his voice into one of acceptance and indifference before he hung up the phone.

And just as Steve started trying to bring himself down, relax his muscles from the taut way they always got when he had to deal with his dad like that, Jonathan was rounding the corner from the kitchen. He hadn’t really been trying to eavesdrop. But he woke up a little while before the call came and decided to burn through a blunt before he tried to lie back down. He had thought he was being considerate by cracking the window above the sink and blowing the blissful smoke out of it instead of in the living room with the kids and making the house smell like weed. But now he felt kind of like he had hidden away and overheard a little bit of something that wasn’t really his business.

But weed makes him a little nosy. So he peeked his head over at Steve, brewing in some kind of tension, and asked simply,” What was that?”

Steve, on the other hand, had no idea anyone but him was awake. So the sudden question from behind nearly scared him out of his skin,” Jesus!” he yelped, spinning around almost too fast with a hand over his speeding heart. When he realized he was just looking at Jonathan, red-eyed and leaning against the wall from the kitchen, he steadied himself and brought his voice down,” God, what’re you doing?”

“Taking Argyle down to two remaining blunts.” he waved the last of it between his fingers, it was just about low enough to call a roach and throw out, but he just looked back up at Steve and asked,” You?”

“Well, the phone rang,” he answered matter of factly.

“Yeah, heard it but thought I’d let the fancy machine deal with it.” Jonathan said with a gesture to the ‘fancy machine’.

“Yeah,” Steve scratched at the back of his neck, honestly wishing he decided to do the same now that it seems the living room campers were pretty deep sleepers,” Just didn’t want it to wake you guys up.”

The other shrugged back to him before pressing again,“ What was it? Who calls someone at 3 am?”

“Inconsiderate people in Seattle,” he answered, more bite than he was intending. But he did want to bite. Or hit. Something. Just not Jonathan, though.

“Was it your old man?”

Steve's eyes widened slightly at Jonathan's correct guess,“ Huh?”

“I heard the ‘Understood, sir’ clear enough. Nobody really says it like that unless they’re talking to their’s.” Jonathan answered with a kind of knowing look.

Steve didn’t want him or the others to feel bad about his dad being an asshole. And he wasn’t going to make them leave. So when he saw Jonathan’s eyes, that despite his current condition, seemed like they wanted more details, he vowed none of them would know,“ Never mind, s’nothing. But, if anyone asks, you’re all the lost souls of Lenora, got it?”

“Uh, yeah?”, Jonathan agreed, sounding more confused than he had been a moment earlier," Sorry you ended up lying to him away. 'No drugs'. My bad."

“Don't worry about it," Steve told him as the short conversation stopped," Ugh, I need some water” he added as he rounded past Jonathan to the cabinet with glasses in it.

Jonathan still wasn’t exactly sure where they stood with each other. But he was more or less living with the guy right now, and there didn’t seem to be even a moment where Steve acted like he regretted the offer. Maybe he could stop being so wary around him.

“Get one for me, too?” he chanced.

“Why not.” Steve decided, grabbing a second glass on his way to fill them up. He knew the way weed stuck in a person’s throat after smoking, to help relieve that itch was the polite thing to do. He handed the other over and asked,” So is this why you’re different?”

“What?”

“The marijuana. I’m at least 90% sure that wasn’t something you messed with back here. And you seem different now. Or, well, different-er than the last time you became different,” He clarified with a sip, referencing how much Jonathan has changed since monsters and Nancy came into his life,“ So I was wondering if that’s what did it. If finding a friend in the bud made you so…”

“Different,” Jonathan finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It was something new for me. Just since we went to Lenora. And I haven’t really been running the same as I used to.” he pondered, pulling one last ashen breath from the thing barely pinched between his fingers, before casting it out the window respectfully.

“That why you were even up at this hour anyway?” Steve wondered, leaning against the marble island as he realized he was talking to Jonathan, one-on-one, for the very first time.

Jonathan shrugged off the suggestion,“ I’m pretty much half an insomniac these days.”

“Fair, the end of the world does that to people.” he figured.

“Nah,” the guest refuted, looking back out the window into the dim world, blanketed in only streetlight against the dark sky,” I’ve been like this for the better part of the year.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked. He hoped it sounded sincere. He meant it to be.

And as nosy as Stoned Jonny is, he’s still not exactly open enough for that conversation,“ We don’t… have to talk,” he excused Steve from whatever unspoken rules meant he had to ask.

“But do you want to?” he offered anyway,” I know we don’t, you know, talk. But you do seem really different from before you left. If you wanted to… get it out, or something…”

And yeah, Steve was being really nice. Jonathan almost wanted to tell him what he was thinking. See if the retired king had any good advice to lend. But how could he? Really?

What was he supposed to do? Look at him and admit,“ Yeah, I think I need to break up with my girlfriend. You know the one. The strongest and most amazing girl this world has ever seen, the one we’ve both said ‘I love you’ to because she's that incredible, the one who’s already dealing with so much shit because she wants to save the world. And I’m supposed to add to that shit. Why? Oh, because I’ll hold her back. Because I’m not moving on the way she is, and she deserves to move on. Because I don’t know who I am anymore and she loves the person I’ve been letting her think is still in me. She loves him way too much, and he’s going to ruin her. Just like his dad tried to ruin his mom. And she’d let him. And he can’t stand doing that to her. I can’t stand doing that to her. But I don’t know how to let her go.”

He couldn’t say that. Even with one joint in his system and being deprived of enough sleep that he wouldn’t be all that surprised if he was hallucinating their whole interaction, he couldn’t say all of that. It was too much.

“I’m good.” He said instead.

“Are you?”, Steve offered one more time.

And Jonathan couldn’t explain why he said it if anyone asked him, but he looked back at Steve, sharing this dark hour of the night with him, and met him somewhere in the middle,“ Ask me again? Maybe another midnight dreary?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” he agreed, and somehow Jonathan really believed he would. Some other time, they could try again. See if it felt more right for Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byers to talk a little further down the road.

Unfortunately for Steve, this slightly vulnerable conversation wasn’t enough to dull the memory of his dad. He had hoped the glass of water would do the job, but he was still worked up. All strung out on what happened over the last week, how they were stuck at this standstill, and now even his father was causing problems. It filled him with all this anxious energy and raging hurt, and he had no way to get it out.

So he reached for his keys and told Jonathan,” I think I’ll take a lap.”

“What?” he questioned back, standing up straighter from where he’d been leaning against the counter of the sink.

“I - I’m just going to head out for a bit.”

“At 3 am?”

“I won’t be long. Just need to - I don’t know - get out. Get out of all this for a minute.”

And with that, Steve Harrington was gone. He was conflicted about the plan. A big piece of him wanted to crawl back into bed and close his eyes until a reasonable hour and get up then. Maybe be extra host-ly and make breakfast for his guests, pancakes and bacon and shit like that. Kind of like a real family, his mind dared to wonder. Which only served to make him madder. Because they weren’t his family, and he needed to remind himself of that.

His family was the man on the phone who wanted him to kick out his friends in need and the woman who probably stood right next to him and didn’t feel the need to argue in favor of her son. And the worst part was that it was probably his own fault. At least a little. His dad probably wouldn’t have blown up so bad if he had asked first. Would’ve instead said, with some kind of mannerly smile, that ‘Of course, they can stay!’ Because it wouldn’t be becoming of the Harrington name to say no to providing charity for those standing on their doorstep, he’d have to extend the proposal. But Steve didn’t ask. Steve said yes behind his back and let him come to his own conclusions. Drunk conclusions that said it was a party. Even if he had a chance to mention to his mom before Argyle answered the phone, maybe he could’ve swund it his way. But the very guest outted that he’d already made the decision himself. It might've gone smoother the other way. If only he’d just picked up the phone and got in front of it...

But he didn’t. And the only people he can truthfully call his family, expected him to throw away the people that - he’d honestly prefer to delude himself into believing - could be family instead. And he really needed to nip that idea in the bud.

Some space would help. Probably. The most familial thing is being cramped in close quarters together, right? So getting in his car and putting some distance between them and him before they made him cry was the smartest thing to do. He wasn’t going to cry. He had to say it out loud to himself a few times as he took his car down random roads.

“Not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not going to cry. I am not going to cry.”

He was not going to cry. Because he was not sad. He was mad. So he’s not going to cry. He’s going to be mad. Be mad and break something.

And finally, he decided where he wanted to go at damn near 4 am on a Sunday.

He turned down the route that ran through the forest and would take him to the junkyard on the hill past the quarry. It was only the second time he’d ever been out there - and the last visit was only because he’d walked the train tracks with Dustin to kill Dart - so he looked around for a minute as the car rolled into the clearing of forgotten things. There were a couple of trashed cars, the school bus they’d fortified and subsequently forfeited that same night, along with a few empty oil drums, discarded cans and glasses, spraypaint bottles, all the kinds of things a boy might like to break.

It was just what he needed.

He parked his car, popped the trunk, pulled out the nail bat he hadn’t gotten a chance to use on their latest escapade into hell, and got started smashing. He was so pissed. Pissed about everything, and determined to stay that way, too. So, he repeated it to himself over and over again.

As he dented the doors on a rusted blue Oldsmobile,” I’m pissed.”

As he beat in the sides of a graffitied oil drum,“ I’m mad.”

As he kicked away crinkled cans into scrap metal,“ I’m angry.”

As he swung down at the glass bottles, sending their shards around him,” I am so fucking mad. About the Upside Down. Vecna. Henry. One. Dr. Brenner.”

As he struck the bus, littering it with holes,“ Monsters. Demogorgans. Demodogs. Demobats. Mind Flayers. Possessions.”

As he climbed on a broken-down Pontiac and beat in its windshield,“ Russian Invaders. Lies. Secrets. Experiments. Black Eyes. Bruises. Scars.”

He kept swinging. Even when the glass was all shattered and all he was doing was denting the frame metal, he kept swinging. And that wasn’t all he was doing. He was crying.

“Using El! Trying to kill her! Nearly killing Eddie! Killing Max! Blinding her! Breaking her!”

He couldn’t even see anymore. His vision was completely distorted with salt water. He tried to ignore it. To pretend like he wasn’t actually crying. Like he was successfully pushing the sorrow down and only feeling the rage. Even when it was impossible to ignore, he kept trying.

“FUCK!” He finally screamed, throwing down the bat to try and wipe the tears away. Having to admit to himself what was happening.

“I’M PISSED!” He shouted again, like maybe if he kept saying ‘I’m just mad, I’m not sad’ he could convince the invisible audience watching him. He could convince himself. And that it wouldn’t hurt so much. It wouldn’t feel so crushing. He wouldn’t be weak if he wasn’t sad.

He stepped forward to jump off the car, letting out a body-shaking bellow into the sky to try and prove his point when,“ AUGHH-” when his footing missed the hood, and he fell right onto the ground. Landing, luckily not on top of any metal or glass shards, but right on his side.

And, fuck, he didn’t even need to look to know he ripped his stitches. He rolled onto his back and threw his head back into the dirt in frustration. Because that was just what he needed. Then he beat his fist against the Pontiac once for good measure, before he got to his feet and shuffled back to his own car. He even bothered to pick up the bat and put it back in the trunk before he dropped himself into the passenger side seat, figuring his tantrum was done for then.

He always kept first aid stuff on him those days. A little in the center console, a little in the glove compartment, and a little more in the trunk. Firstly, he popped open the glove box, which is where he had the thick gauze he’d be able to wrap around his torso, and in the console, he had the bandaging material to pack over any bleeding. When he went to retrieve that though, is when he remembered what else he had put in there.

Max’s letter.

It was sitting there right on top. Staring at him, his own name inscribed in the girl’s handwriting on the brown envelope. Right where he’d left it a few days ago after she gave it to him. He hadn’t wanted to leave it in Nancy’s basement or risk crumpling it in his jacket pocket. He figured the console was the perfect spot to put it to keep it pristine until she got out of the curse just fine and he could hand it back to her. Give it back with a cocky smirk and some line about how it was a waste of her time because, of course, nothing was going to happen to her.

He hadn’t read it yet. He didn’t want to. Didn’t plan to ever need to. She handed it to him and emphasized it was for some kind of ‘If I die I want to make sure you know…’ thing. Which hurt at the time because Steve had no plans to let her die. He still had no plans to let her die.

But he never read it. And, suddenly, he considered never getting the chance to read it while she was still with them. If she ended up being right- if things didn’t go their way- if the next time he entered her room, he heard that long line on the heart monitor… If that happened and he hadn't talked to her about her letter? It hurt worse to think about that possibility.

So he picked it up. Turned over the brown pouch and exposed the lined notebook paper she’d folded up for him to read. Because if they were going to run out of time, he wanted to tell her he read it before she went.

Dear Steve,

Jesus, he was already crying again. He wiped his eyes once more and started again.

Dear Steve,

I know you’ll probably be pissed at me for writing this. For making a big deal out of what’s happening. Because you think you’ll save me, and everyone else, by the end. Which is stupid. You can’t beat up a curse with a spiky baseball bat. And maybe I’m stupid because I almost believe you can. But this isn’t about now. It’s supposed to be about everything else. I want you to know that you were the only person who ever stood up to Billy for me. You were the reason I believed I could do it for myself. I was just some girl that showed up with Lucas at a junkyard, some girl that didn’t believe any of you about the monsters you fought. But then I found myself face to face one up the emergency exit, and you pulled me out of the way to take it on yourself. Then we went to Will’s, and even though Billy got in, you ran right after him and tore him off of Lucas. That was the scariest night of my life, but the minute I saw you get back up, I stopped being so terrified. Because you were there. Even if you got knocked on your ass, you were there. And I knew you’d go down swinging instead of letting anything happen to us. To me. And I’ve never felt safe like that with anyone. And then you filled our summer with back halls to skip movie tickets and free ice cream. Which you totally should’ve been fired for. And you kept doing it anyway. Getting to see you in that ridiculous sailor uniform, swearing all of us to secrecy, and serving El and me so quickly that you forgot she was supposed to stay out of town… I wouldn’t trade those days for anything. I need you to know how much I loved that summer for every moment it was good. And I have always cherished that time, every day since, despite what happened on the fourth. And I still smile every time the radio plays ‘Take On Me’, by the way. I think you were the kind of brother I always wanted Billy to be. The one I always hoped he could become if he just stopped being so horrible. I figured out I shouldn’t expect much from him, but you showed me I could still expect something from someone else. Even after he was gone, and I didn’t make it easy, you kept showing up. Being there for me when I needed someone but didn’t want to admit it. And I love you for that. For being the brother I needed and always wanted to have. If you’re reading this, then it didn’t go well. I know that. But I’m sure I would’ve ended up worse if it weren’t for you. I’m sorry if this sappy letter makes it hurt more. Like you should’ve done more to protect me. That’s not true. It hasn’t happened yet, and I know it’s not true. Because I know you’ll do everything you can. But even if I’m done and gone, I wanted you to know you spared me a lot of pain over this last year and a half. I’ll always be grateful to have known you. Thank you. And if I’m dead, (it’s narcissistic to assume, but…) please don’t be too sad for too long. Don’t do what I did after Billy. Don’t close off from the group. Stick with them through it all and make sure they keep smiling. I know you can find a way to make sure they don’t forget how to have fun, even if you like being a buzzkill. So watch out for them for me, and watch out for yourself. And, if it’s not asking too much, talk to me. Keep me updated on how they’re all doing. I didn’t use to believe dead people could hear prayers or conversations spoken on their graves or whatever. But if there are monsters, then anything could be true, and there’s a chance I could hear you. So send me the good stories. Let me know you’re all okay.

Love, Your Little Maxie (And if you tell anyone I signed off with that, I’ll haunt you)

And that… well that pushed him over the edge. He was sobbing. Sobbing to the point that he couldn’t deny it was happening anymore. He let go of the letter, allowing it to fall into the driver’s seat because he didn’t want to rip it in his trembling grip. Everything in him ached reading those words. It hurt worse than the reopened wounds on his side. It hurt so deeply because it was so nice.

Max actually took a pencil to paper and wrote the words ‘I love you’ for him. She called him something like a brother, and that’s nearly everything he’s ever wanted his whole life. To be family to someone. To really feel like it. And he kept crying. He curled into the passenger seat of the car as the hot tears fell down his face, as he wailed and his head began to ache with the misery. It was the kind of cry that hurts. His eyes get irritated and lids become puffy and red as he hopelessly tries to rub them to feel better. Until all that can be done to ease that hurt is to close them.

So he does.

And he falls asleep. Right there in his car. Parked in the same junkyard where he first met Max.

Across town, Nancy was flying awake in her bed. Heartbeat in her ears, sweat collected on the back of her neck under all her hair. That was somewhat new. She’d done a surprisingly good job of coping with the last few crises in their lives. Sure, she used to stay up later than she liked, churning with guilt and grief over Barb. But that was the worst of it.

Now, she finds that she really only sleeps in bursts. Something between an hour or two where she’s just started dreaming and she’d see him again. She was certain it wasn’t the real Vecna. Will said he didn’t feel as… ‘there’ as he had in the past. And, it didn’t feel like he was saying anything new to her. But she was back in that hall. With its white tile, blood splatter, flickering lights, and boarded-up doors. And she fought, every time to pull them down and get away. If she managed to, the door would open back up into the hall. And she’d do it over and over again until Vecna caught up with her and she woke up.

Her breath steadied as she got done checking her room for any sign that something was off. It all looked right, so she wasn’t somewhere wrong. She was fine. Or at least, she was supposed to be. They survived. Even if it’s not over yet, they survived to that point.

She was fine. She was supposed to be fine.

With a peek at her clock, she knew it was way too early to do anything about how messed up she felt. Too early to watch tv in the living room to distract herself. Too early to try and call someone. Too early to plead with her dad for the keys to the car back. Too early to find any relief.

So she just fell back onto her bed, flipping over the pillow and rolling onto her side to try and get the heat off her spine. She looked out her window into the darkness outside and wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Memories of both Steve and Jonathan climbing through it her sophomore year come back. She contemplated, for a moment, climbing out it herself. Walking to Loch Nora at an ungodly hour of the morning and knocking on Steve’s front door to pull Jonathan out. Bringing him onto the porch with her, cornering him alone so he had to answer. And asking him why he didn’t want to come back for Spring Break in the first place. Asking him why he still feels so far away when they were back in the same town for the first time in six months. Asking him if he even loved her anymore.

She didn’t do that though. She stayed in her soft, far too-warm bed. Alone.

Instead, she just thought back on the beginning of her sophomore year in general. It was kind of funny to look at in hindsight. Once upon a time, Nancy Wheeler was some sweet and passive little thing. She wasn’t that person anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time. But she can’t help but find herself missing parts of it. She liked the fire that grew since, don’t get her wrong. But everything used to be so much simpler. Easier.

She missed that.

That Nancy wouldn’t wake up from nightmares about telekinetic monsters who murder kids.

That Nancy wouldn’t get grounded after she practically went missing all Spring Break.

That Nancy wouldn’t be worried because she doesn’t know what’s going on with Jonathan…

And with that thought, she considered returning to the nightmare she knew was waiting for her. Because at least she understood what was happening in them. But just before her senses faded, she remembered the way Robin held her hand and told her ‘Everything’s going to be fine. I am sure of it’. The way she later kicked her foot and said that even her I-don’t-know’s seem to go ‘pretty damn well’.

And who can really say what that memory does to her? What it means?

But Nancy sat up, looked away from the window, and instead laid her eyes on her desk. At the grey purse where she knew she’d slipped her notebook. The one she’d taken notes in when she spoke to Wayne Munson back when it all started. And she gets up. Collects her things, flicks on her lamp, and starts working on that article again. To tell their side of the story. The version no one else has considered. The one where Eddie is innocent.

The next thing Steve knows, he’s waking up in his passenger seat with the sun peaking over the horizon at him. He squinted at the painfully bright light against his tear-sore eyes. He was all crumpled up uncomfortably in his car seat, a knot of muscle forming in his neck at the odd angle. He hadn’t even bothered to close the door or actually deal with the stitches he’d originally meant to mend. A groan escaped him as he dropped his face into his hands, using his fingers to try and work out some of the sleep and ache from those burning eyes.

How long did he nod off for?

With a twist of the keys in the ignition, the Beemer’s dashboard came to life, and the digital clock on it told him it was already 6:52 am. The voice of a radio host came through low on the speakers as Steve started putting his thoughts together. He checked his stomach, and there was some dried blood sticking his shirt to him. Barely noticeable, but it still added to his headache. The wounds didn’t hurt too bad, seemed like they’d dried shut, at least. So he was able to pack away Max’s letter back into the console with the first aid supplies and get himself into the driver’s seat without much trouble. He could wrap himself up at home or stop by the hospital later.

He rubbed at his worn eyes again before starting the engine properly and backing out of the junkyard. He wanted to get back to the house and hopefully sneak inside without waking anyone. Wasn’t exactly keen on dealing with questions about how long he’d been out, but a spare glance at his gas meter told him that he should probably top off before he did so.

By the time he was pulling back onto his street, it wasn’t just Argyle’s pizza van sitting in the driveway. The chief’s cruiser was parked, and Powell was already walking towards Steve’s front door.

“Wait!” He called to him as he turned into the drive and hastily got himself parked.

Chief Powell stopped in his tracks and turned around to see the boy all but scramble out of his car and run up to him,“ Son? What’re you doing just getting home?”

“I just, uh, got restless. Went for a drive.” he was quick to try and excuse himself,” I just- didn’t want you to knock. What’d you need?”

“Well, we got a call down at the station. Your father wanted us to check and make sure no one had broken into his house. Remove any extra persons from the property. Which we told him was ridiculous. Because if anything had happened, we would’ve heard it from you, the person actually in there. But he was insistent that, due to your injury, you might not be capable.” he crossed his arms and raised a brow at him,” Want to tell me what that’s about?”

“I’m fine. And no one broke into the house. He just wanted…” Steve trailed off, now wondering how much legal right his father actually had to kick out his friends from over two thousand miles away.

“What?”

“I have a few people over,” he answered, figuring that was his best chance,” The Byers, Joyce’s kids. They arrived back in town yesterday, and their mom is away at some work conference or something. They needed a place to stay, so I brought ‘em back here.”

“And those are the people your father wanted me to remove? A couple of children?” Powell asked him, voice clear with disbelief that Mr. Harrington would be so unreasonable. If only he knew.

Steve searched for a way to explain away his father’s demand so that Powell might not report back his intent to keep his guests,“ He just, wasn’t too fond of me doing so without asking. Worried about the water bill or something. I’m sorry he tried to make you deal with it…” Steve was being respectful, but he wanted to set his resolve firmly,” But I’m not letting anyone kick them out. Which is why I didn’t want you to knock. They’re sleeping and really deserve to keep at it. Sir.”

“So you’re planning to secretly squirrel them away here, under Mr. Harrington’s nose?” the man questioned him.

Steve’s notion was to give a sympathetic shrug and point a pair of desperate eyes at him,“ Was hoping to?”

“Say you get away with it. Next bill goes out on the first, just a few more days, so there’s hardly time to notice a big difference in it by then. But what happens in a month when the next one is much higher?” the chief questioned, crossing his arms.

“Um… I could pay the difference? Cover part of it and the city sends a normal-looking bill over to him?” he suggested.

“Kid…” Powell shook his head at him.

“That’s not allowed, is it?”

“No. City Utilities can’t just send falsified bills to him because you want to…” he had to admit,” do the right thing.“ he let out a huff,” Steve-”

“I’ll figure something out by then,” he promised, trying to just come up with enough of an answer to get Powell to walk away and let it be for now.

“Steve-” he started again until he was interrupted by Callahan’s snarky voice over his shoulder radio

”Chief, what’s the situation over at Harrington Manor?”

“Please,” Steve asked again.

Powell had his hand on it, hesitating to decide what he was going to do with the information he’d been given.

“No situation” he chose,” Boy answered the door just fine. Nothing going on we need to alert his father about.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispered while Callahan made some remark about bored rich guys giving them too much work.

“Figure it out, kid. Don’t make me drive back out here because the man with his name on the deed comes calling again.”

“Got it, sir.”

“Get inside.” he nodded towards to door to send the boy on his way, before he remembered,“ Oh, and we’re done going through the RV, so let everyone know they can stop by the station today and pick up any of their things from it. We’re giving it back to the Jamesons later this evening, around six, so anything that’s left then will be theirs.”

“Uh, yeah, will do.” Steve agreed.

And with one final nod, Chief Calvin Powell was climbing back into the police car and leaving Steve to the mess he’d made for himself. He turned around and went back into his house when he found himself cornered by none other than El standing just a few feet from the door. He froze, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights.

“Hi?” he greeted her.

“Something bad?” she asked him, because, of course, she would.

Maybe she spotted the blood on his shirt, or overheard him and the chief through the door, or maybe she spied on him and saw him crying in his car a few hours ago. He really hoped it wasn’t that last option though. But whatever it was, El Hopper knew there was something off. Not that Steve was going to admit it, though.

“It’s fine. Why’re you up already?”

She didn’t really answer him, gave something of a half-shrug and seemed to wait like he was supposed to continue.

“You think you’ll be falling back asleep, or are you up for good this morning?”

“Up for good.”

“Want breakfast?” he offered.

“Eggos?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged and started walking into the kitchen,” I guess I’ve got some of those.”

Over the next hour, his house guests slowly woke up and trickled into the kitchen, each following the irresistible smell of store-bought frozen waffles as they popped from the toaster. He was less accommodating than he had been for their ice cream party the night before, only passing over a plate piled with them and letting each person douse it with maple syrup themselves. Thankfully, they all seemed to be getting used to each other a little bit more. Steve ended up giving a slightly more official tour than Robin had. She’d really only pointed out the bathrooms and living room. So Steve took them around. Showed them where his dad’s office was, told them to just kinda leave it alone as he does; showed them the basement, which was pretty much all storage and not a hangout like the Wheelers; showed off the dining room they technically have but never use; the attic, also storage. All that sort of stuff.

He also bothered to write down everyone in the Party’s house numbers in the contact book by the phone while he called around. Robin said there was no way she was getting out of church that morning after the disappearing act, Steve promised to grab the red beret she knew fell off when she helped pick up Max and anything else he spotted of hers. Nancy was able to convince her dad to let her use the car to stop by since it was part of ‘cleaning up their mess’. She agreed to grab Dustin and Lucas when Steve said he pulled his stitches sleeping and wanted to have someone at the hospital check on them before he was going to stop by. They all made plans to meet back up at his place later that evening though, to try and start re-strategizing.

And, originally, Steve was going to go with his California visitors to the store for grocery shopping, but when they heard him mention his stitches they told him to go ahead to the hospital while they dealt with it. He gave them some of the cash his parents had stashed for necessities and they headed off to the supermarket to get all the fixings for a taco night, as well as other various things to feed them throughout the… however long they were there.

When he stopped by the Urgent Care Clinic… there was something out of the ordinary, to say the least. There was some camera crew, or maybe it was a few, and a couple of people crowding around the front doors along a line of police officers trying to keep the way into the building clear. Steve pulled his jacket tighter around him as he turned away and tried to get in past them without getting pulled into it. What he heard was that they were calling the city a portal to hell again, and they wanted comments on the serial murderer, Eddie Munson… Great. The greatest. Absolutely what they all needed right now.

But besides that, he got inside and the nurse wasn’t very happy to see he’d already messed up their handiwork from just a few days prior. But she numbed him and retied the broken skin together anyway, all while gently chastising him for being too rough with himself. When she said he was good to go, he knew the other reason he came by was going to keep him there.

He needed to see them. So he went to the second floor, signed the visitors log like he was supposed to, told them it was for both Mayfield and Munson, and then walked into the girl’s room where she was alone for the first time he’d seen her. It broke his heart to see her on her own in the bed, but he was also incredibly relieved because he was not sure he could be as honest as he needed to be if there was anyone else there.

So he sat in the chair by her bed. He pulled the letter from where he’d put it in his pocket. And he leaned forward to say what he needed to make sure she knew.

“Hey, Max. I don’t know where you’re at. I don’t know if you can hear this. El says it's like your head is empty, but I don’t really get that. Doesn’t make sense. You’re way too snarky to not always have the engines firing, you know? But I wanted to stop by anyway. Talk to you because…” he stopped for a second and cleared his throat.

“I read your letter, Max,” He declared, like he was admitting to a crime,” I know you made a big deal about waiting to read it when Dustin and I tried to open them in the Wheeler’s basement. Because they were meant for just in case. Just in case you died, and I’m firmly believing that you aren’t dead-dead yet. And I'm not going to let you be. So, I’m sorry if I read it early. But I couldn’t stop thinking that, if I’m wrong - becuase I’m wrong a lot - and this really doesn’t go our way, if this does end with us losing you, I-… I don’t want to miss my chance to talk to you first.” his voice cracked and he looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears from building,” So I read it. And, fuck, kid. You really pack a punch when you want to, you know? I mean, I’ve been beat up plenty of times and I never cried about it. But man, you got me good, with just a piece of paper.”

He looked back at the letter between his fingers,“ Um, still can’t believe you actually said you thought of me like a brother to you. I thought you woulda been too tough to admit something like that. But you did. So I’ll admit I looked at you like a kid sister. The one I would’ve loved to have gotten to grow up knowing. God,” he sniffed and gently reached out to place his hand on her wrist,” A badass littler Max earning scraps on her knees because she’s determined to figure out skateboarding? That would’ve been someone cool to know… I would’ve wanted to go with you to the parks while you practice. But I wouldn’t have tried it myself. Would’ve run the other way if you told me to give it a shot. But you would’ve worn me down and I would’ve stood on it and instantly fallen off. Would’ve landed on my ass so hard I limped all the way back to the car and blamed you for it for the rest of the week.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit imagining it. A life where he wasn’t alone all the time. A life where he got to know Max earlier.

“Yeah, it’d been something like that, I guess. Just a thought. Anyway, I just wanted you to know…”

He hesitated before moving his fingers to hold hers,” I love you, too, Maxie. And I’m not ready for you to die. So you don’t get to. You have to hang on and get back up one of these days. Or you’ll break my heart, you hear? You’ll break my heart, and you’re not allowed to do that. We’re going to get you back. Whatever it takes. I really don't care what it calls for, it’s happening so we get you back. So you be stubborn like I know you are. And we’ll figure it out and handle the rest. We are getting you back.”

He finished off what he had to say and felt better. More revolved and ready to face Vecna again. He promised that little girl that she was going to live and, by god, he was going to be right. As he leaned back, wondering how long he should spend before crossing the hall and sharing his time with the other patient, the door opened. Max’s mother was walking in.

Obviously, she wants to sit with her daughter too. Steve just sort of nodded to her, gave a quick goodbye to Max and began to excuse himself when Susan pointed out the envelope in his hand.

“She wrote you a letter, too?”

He struggled with how he was supposed to answer that,“ Uh- uh- yeah. She did. I’m sorry, I just wanted to let her know I read it-”

“She left letters at home. I- it was like she knew something was going to happen to her. Do you- do you know why she- why she wanted to make sure she could say goodbye?” Susan was already tearing up. It was the first time she was able to ask anyone.

“I don’t know what-”

“You were with her, she wrote you one too,” she broke eye contact with the boy to look at her daughter as she pleaded,” Was there something else happening? Something I- Something I missed? Something I didn’t notice was going on with her?”

“I can’t…” he can’t tell her about the Upside Down, about the curse,” I don’t know how to tell you what she was going through. But I think she’s been struggling-”

“Struggling?” she echoed with a breaking voice.

“Since Billy.”

“You don’t think she would’ve-” she couldn’t finish the thought.

Because she was asking if Max would’ve killed herself. And that’s too painful a thought for a parent to voice.

“I don’t. Not really.”

It was the truth. From what Lucas had said, she blamed herself and thought about being the one gone. She closed herself off from everyone, but she wouldn’t have hurt herself. No, Steve didn’t believe it. Couldn't believe it.

“But I do think she needs a little more.” he added,” From all of us. So she doesn’t forget that, just because he’s gone, she’s not alone. We’re all going to do better for her, ma’am.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are. Thank you…”

He gave a solemn nod as he went to pass her and go out the door.

But just before he reached it, Susan turned around and said,“ Before you go… did she really say that?”

“What?”

Susan stepped forward,“ I overheard… did she really say that she thought of you like a brother to her?”

“Um… yeah. Uh, it was something she put in my letter.” he lifted the envelope toward her,” Um, you could read it if you want."

Her eyes fell to it as he thought to add," There’s this inside joke we have about monsters and stuff, um, but besides that, it was really nice.”

“Inside joke?” she questioned him.

“Yeah. Uh, it’s a thing the kids do. Play pretend that we fought monsters and stuff. Nothing serious though.”

“Is it?”

“What?”

“A joke?” she sounded unconvinced.

“Yeah. Obviously, it’s a big stupid joke. Inside joke. For us, the few of us… a funny joke. Dustin started it-”

“Because… in my letter, she said she wanted to explain something to me. And it didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t seem like a joke to her.”

“I…”

Steve didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? Break the NDA, get them all in trouble, and bring grieving Susan Mayfield into their hellish reality? Or hide it from her even though she deserves to know what really happened to her kid?

“Was it a joke? Or was something-”

“I can’t. Say anything. Here.” he emphasized in a low tone

“What does that mean?”

“Can I call you? Later?” he had to buy time, discuss it with the group, and figure out what to do,” To try and… explain?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll call and…” he still wasn’t sure what to say would happen,” I’ll just call.”

“Okay.”

He nodded and handed her the envelope,“ Um, if you wanted to read it… Goodbye.”

And he turned on his heels and nearly ran to the bathroom down the hall. Found it thankfully empty and braced himself against the sink while he let out shaking breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut, firmly refusing to keep crying that day. Once he got himself under control, he splashed water on his face and went to Eddie’s room.

It was a similar sight. The boy, all alone in a bed, mirroring the girl in the other room. Once more, Steve lowered himself into a chair by their bedside and scooted it forward so he could talk to the sleeping body before him.

“Hello... It’s Steve, stopping by during your post-apocalyptic, recovery nap. I see you’re still racking up that beauty sleep.”

He knew less of what he wanted to say to Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson didn’t leave him a heartbreaking letter to respond to, but the nurse said talking to him would be good. So, he started with the only thing that came to mind.

“You know, Munson... I used to run away too. I know you’re asleep, but I can hear you laughing. ‘Oh, King Steve, what do you mean you used to run? The only thing you “ran” was the school back in your heyday before Nancy softened you up.’ You’d be about half right with that one, but I was something of a coward, too.” he admitted, twiddling his thumbs together as he got to remembering who he used to be.

“I was a bully, as I’m sure you noticed. I hope our paths never crossed like that, but as embarrassing as it is to admit, I’m not even sure I’d remember if we did. I swear it’s not a lie to avoid taking responsibility or anything… If I did, I want to say I’m sorry. But I’m really not sure. I never really cared that much about ‘stomping on the ants’, as Tommy called it. I was more concerned with chasing tail, fulfilling my conquests, dominating sports, defending my position on the social ladder, all that useless shit.” he further explained,” I never tracked down the weirdos for the sake of hurting them - ‘for fun’ - but when my friends found a target, I jumped in the dog pile. Was on their side if they expected me to be.”

“It wasn’t right,” he insisted,” I know that. And it took me caring about Nancy enough to admit I was wrong. And then it took caring about Nancy enough to stop running away and instead go into the house with a monster. And then it took caring about those kids enough to stop running from the idea that I could ever be more than what I’ve always been. They made me confront myself and decide to be better.”

“Sometimes that’s what it takes, you know. Someone calling you on the shit you’ve done wrong… and them being there, needing you, so you have something to care about more than yourself. It kinda shocks you into doing the courageous things for the first time in your life. Just- I wanted to let you know that I know what it’s like. Being a coward and then getting the shit knocked out of you when you try to be brave. I’m still pissed you chose to play hero, we nearly lost you for a minute there… but I get it, man. Dustin was there, and that little twerp'll just crack a guy’s heart open like no one's business. So I get it.”

“Anyway, besides all of that nonsense, you did good. And we aren’t giving up on making sure you’ll be able to walk around freely again. We’re all on it. Nancy and Robin did a good job of making a game plan. We’ll be able to turn this on Jason Carver. So long as when you wake up, you follow the story. You’ve got nothing to worry about. So if you’re scared about coming back up because everything’ll be hopeless, and there’s no point in the fight, don’t be. Just wake up and we’ll all be right there with you while we fix it. You won’t go down for this.”

Steve was just starting to explain that everyone was back in town, that Eddie had some people he needed to meet, and that he missed out on an Ice Cream Party when a nurse came in.

“There’s a call for you,” she told him, which was pretty much at the bottom of the list of things he was expecting to hear while he was visiting.

“For me?” he questioned while pointing at himself.

“The same Steve Harrington who checked into the visitor's log this morning.”

“Alright?”

He followed her over to the nurse’s station and accepted the phone held out for him,“ Hello?”

“Steve,” a woman’s voice answered,” What’s this I’m hearing from Karen about all my children being at your house?”

“Ms. Byers,” he recognized.

“Joyce,” she corrected him.

“Yes, Joyce.” he amended, now remembering that’s not the first time she’d told him to call her that,” Um, yeah, Jonathan and his friend from California-”

“Argyle.”

“Yes, they showed up in Hawkins yesterday with the other two and Mike. Said they drove over because of a…” he looked at the nurse typing away at a computer just beside him before turning further away and simply putting it,“ Another situation.”

“And that’s why Karen made a point about my phone being disconnected,” she concluded.

“Yes. Lots of calls were made to your home, Ms. B- Joyce.” he caught himself,” And since your house in Hawkins was sold, and there was a bit of property damage around the city, and the Wheelers already have such a full house…” he excused,” I offered for them to stay over with me until we heard back from you about the business trip to Alaska. Sorry if that was-”

“No, no. Thank you for taking them in and keeping an eye on them. I can’t thank you enough, Steve.” There was a pause as she seems to get her bearings on what was going on,” Alright, I’m stopped at the house in Lenora - which is very much not in the condition I had left it in, by the way - but we’ll be on the next flight out there.”

“We?”

And there was another pause before she answered,“ Murray is over here. You met Murray.”

“Briefly.”

“I have him on the phone with the airport. Hey Ho- heeyyy, uh, how soon can we get to Hawkins?” He heard over the phone. Which was only a little weird.

There was some background noise, another voice, but not loud or clear enough to make out. But he thought he remembered Murray having a somewhat higher-pitched voice. The one he heard sounded lower, gruffer. Which only raised his suspicions that Joyce was being weird.

“Looks like there’s one later today we can squeeze into. Probably won’t be back until about dinnertime. And we’ll need someone to pick us up from the airport.”

“That’s fine, we’ll figure something out. Do you want the number to the house so you can check in and tell the kids yourself? They should be back from the grocery store by now.”

“Thank you, Steve. Yes, I’ll take the number, let me grab a pen.”

It didn’t take long for him to relay the number and make sure she had it right. Apparently, Nancy was already gone from the Wheeler’s, and Karen didn’t have it when she’d called. But when Nancy asked about the car keys, her father made a big deal about Steve driving them instead of giving them back. This resulted in Nancy saying he was going to be at the hospital, hence why Karen had sent Joyce that way to track him down, instead of digging through the phone book Nancy lost last summer that they hadn’t thought to replace.

“Alright. Thank you, Steve,” she said again,” I’ll give them a call.”

He began to brush past the thanks,“ Of course, Ms. Byers. You should know where your kids are, and I’m sure they really want to hear from you-”

But Joyce stopped him,“ No. Seriously, Steve, thank you. For watching out for them and keeping them together when they got back. And for being a part of this with us and being so much help every time.”

Now, Steve had told himself so many times that day that he wasn’t going to cry and absolutely wasn’t going to keep crying, but something about the way Joyce said it had him tearing up again,“ Yeah. Anytime, Ms.-”

“Joyce, Steve.”

“Anytime, Joyce”

There was silence on the line for a second, and Steve was about to give his goodbyes when Joyce said,“ You’re a good kid. You know that?”

Steve had to take a breath and stare back at that ceiling again to keep from letting the tears fall right there by the nurse's station. “Go talk to your babies, Joyce,” he dismissed her so he could run off and calm himself down again.

“Alright, you take care of yourself until I can catch up with you tonight,” she told him.

“You, too.” he agreed before handing the phone back to the nurse.

She made a lighthearted comment about not being his secretary, but that she’d let it slide since it was clearly about someone tracking down their children, and that’s serious enough right now. Steve returned to Eddie’s room and reclaimed his chair by the window as he pulled out the walkie he’d brought with him and bothered to give some of the group an update.

When that was taken care of, he leaned further in the chair to try and get comfy as he looked back at Eddie to ask, “Where was I, Munson?”

Obviously, the other didn't answer, so he thought for a moment,” Something about, 'Just wake up already' and 'The Party’s nearly all assembled again', right? Well, good news. Joyce Byers and Murray… I-know-it-started-with-a-B last name are coming back tonight. So we'll ALL be back together again and can make sure this whole thing stops this time. If you woke up right now, it’d be pretty convenient, just saying.”

He paused for a second, kinda hoping the guy would throw him a bone just this once and make it easy. He didn’t

“Fine, keep napping. Well, I didn’t bring anything to kill the time, so that’s on me. But they got you set up with a killer tv set, so we can crank that on for now. I can hang out until four, but then they’re going to kick me out. So, if you can’t do it now, but want to do your dramatic rise from the dead today, do it before then. Otherwise, your show will only reach the hospital staff, and, honestly, I think I’d make a much better audience.”

And with that final line, Steve was turning on the tv and changing the channel until he found something other than a news station. Turned out there was a rerun of Grease he was happy to sit through, even if he missed a bit of the introduction, they were catching it just in time for ‘Summer Nights’. He’d seen it enough times to not be bothered.

As far as he was concerned, he just gave a few meaningful speeches to people who couldn’t hear him. And while he certainly preferred to be listened to than ignored, he was grateful for that. He just said quite a bit of somewhat embarrassing stuff, so if they could never be used against him, he wouldn’t be too mad. He usually found it easier to talk about sensitive stuff if no one could hear him.

But in truth, Eddie heard every word. In his mind, he was still in the void El had left him in. When everyone was packed in the hospital room, talking fast and over one another, it was hard to follow. The words kind of slipped together and came through sloppy. But since Steve was visiting alone, talking slowly and carefully, it reached him much more clearly.

And he was far less alone as he fought to get his body up.

[bylertruther]

thinking about how lonnie only ever cared about will when he died and that was just to profit off of his death + will giving a girl he doesn't know his toy truck just because she's crying and he thinks she needs it more even if he knows joyce can't buy him another one + one of the very first things will did upon waking up in the hospital was ask if jonathan was okay + will telling them to close the gate in season two even though he's part of the hivemind and that would've killed him, too + will breaking his own heart by confessing his feelings and giving mike the painting he's spent so long on but saying that all of it came from el thus sacrificing his own wants and self to again help others + how that same selflessness and self-sacrificing nature of his is going to undoubtedly rear its head in season five again because he's at the center of it all and it all goes back to him and vecna is a creature that feeds off of n fans the flames of pain and guilt... feelin very scared n anxious in this chili's tonight over this actually 😳

[jonathanbyersphd]

pov: You’re Jonathan Byers trying not to lose his mind on the way to Indiana.

[biillys]

opened a hg fic for the first time in years cos i was like maybe its time maybe i could handle it but then i realised its literally just got 4 characters listed and its billy steve robin nancy and its like. i could push myself to suffer through steve i could honestly try so hard but the thought of having to push myself through steve AND nancy AND robin??? thats pretty much my entire blacklist okay the ocean isn't even strong enough for that. get real

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

[taylorhawkins]

“the great thing about Taylor Hawkins… he doesn’t know the fucking difference between a duck and a crow” x

[urhoneycombwitch]

common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k 

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me