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ghosttotheparty · 2 years

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one of us

inspired by this post by @missingexaltation :) also on AO3

Jim Hopper has a bad feeling about this Munson kid.

He’s not really a kid. Hopper knows. Joyce reminds him every chance she gets. He’s not a kid, Hop, he’s twenty-one. You can’t ground him or tell him what to do like he’s El’s age. It makes Hopper feel worse, really.

Especially when he remembers how much Eleven loves him. When she met him, she informed him excitedly that he was bitchin’, which made Eddie laugh out loud. She loves his tattoos, and his heavy rings, and the rips in his jeans. It all makes Hopper grimace.

And it especially make him feel worse that Mike Wheeler likes Eddie. (He and El have broken up, but Hopper still doesn’t particularly like him. He has a soft spot for him just like he does for all the kids, but he’s certainly not his favourite.)

If he’s honest, everybody seems to like Eddie. He gets it, he really does. Eddie is funny, quick-witted in a way that only Erica can challenge. He’s gentle with the kids when they need it, drawing carefully on El’s arm with markers to cover her 011 tattoo, chattering with Will endlessly about that fantasy game they play. He banters with Robin and talks about books with Nancy and makes fun of Steve, who makes fun of him too.

He helps Joyce in the kitchen even though he doesn’t know anything about cooking, even though Joyce tells him he doesn’t have to. He insists.

But Hopper doesn’t like him.

He knows Eddie Munson. He knows his reputation, even before the Vecna-Satanism murder accusations and apart from the fantasy game that everyone in town hates so much. (Hopper knows it’s just a game.)

Eddie Munson always smells faintly of pot, and his clothes always look dirty and ripped and messy. He’s a terrible influence. Mike already has hair as long as Eddie’s, and Dustin’s already starting exclaiming Jesus H Christ the way Eddie does.

Joyce tells him he’s being dramatic, that he needs to give him a chance. But the cop in Hopper can’t leave it alone. So he keeps an eye on him. Every time they’re in the same room, Hopper ends up watching him, carefully observing every move he makes. Eddie sees him looking, and occasionally stares back before looking away with a resigned sigh.

Usually he just ignores him. Continues talking with whoever he’s talking to, goes back to messing with the kids or playing with Robin’s hair.

“You’re staring again,” Joyce whispers softly into his ear, and he startled slightly, looking at her. It’s dark in the living room, but her eyes are shining playfully, reflecting the movie. “He’s not doing anything wrong, Hop.”

He knows she’s right.

Eddie is sitting on the sofa next to Steve, Eleven sitting on the floor between his legs. He’s playing with her short curls. (He insisted that her short hair was also bitchin’. It might have actually made her feel better about it.)

“He looks restless,” he whispers back. Joyce rolls her eyes, looking back at the movie. “I think he wants a fix.”

She shakes her head, looking over at him.

“You’re reading into it,” she whispers. There’s a loud crash on the screen, and Robin jumps where she’s sitting on the floor between Nancy’s legs. Nancy giggles. “That’s just how he is,” Joyce continues. “He’s always fidgeting.”

“Because he does drugs, Joyce.”

“Hop.” She gives him a firm look. He melts. She’s got her hair tied back, her bangs recently trimmed. The light from the movie shifts, sending shadows across her face, accentuating the wrinkles around her eyes before it goes dark for a moment, and in the dark he can just see her face. He remembers sitting in supply closets with her in high school, the flame from his shitty lighter lighting up her face in the dark. He thinks briefly that he’s lucky that he’s known her so long, that he’s gotten to witness every wrinkle on her face come into existence. That he’s gotten to witness her age and watch traces of her years of laughter and sadness and anger smiles make their mark. She’s beautiful. “He’s a good kid,” she says, startling him out of his thoughts.

“…I thought he wasn’t a kid.”

She suppresses a smile and rolls her eyes again, looking back at the movie. He gazes at the side of her face for a moment before he looks back at Eddie.

Or, rather, where Eddie is supposed to be.

Hopper shifts, looking around the room, but Eddie is nowhere to be seen. Eleven is leaning against the sofa, holding Max’s hand as Lucas lays his head in Max’s lap.

“He’s gone,” he says softly to Joyce. She sighs.

“Probably just to the bathroom,” she says dismissively.

“I’ll be right back.” If he catches Eddie doing drugs in his home, he’ll realise hell.

“Oh my god.” She sighs again, shifting so he can lift his arm away from her shoulders, and he gets up, stepping over Mike, who’s fallen asleep with his head on Will’s shoulder.

He checks the bathroom first, but the door is hanging open, the lights off, and he can’t smell anything.

He looks around, the light from the kitchen lighting up the hallway, listening carefully. The stairs always creak, and there’s a part of the landing upstairs that creaks like a haunted house in a low budget horror movie, but he doesn’t hear anything.

Hopper stops, hesitating by the kitchen, when he feels a breeze, and he turns to find the front door hanging ajar.

It’s cold outside. Not freezing, but he’s uncomfortable in just his flannel.

“—just kind of overwhelming,” Eddie’s voice says quietly. Hopper freezes, glancing around.

“I know,” Steve’s voice responds. Hopper tilts his head. He hadn’t even realised that Steve had left too. His voice is low, soft. Almost soothing. “It gets easier, though, I promise.”

Hopper inches across the porch until he gets to the bend, and then he glimpses around it. Steve has Eddie pressed against a banister, his hands on Eddie’s waist, and Eddie is pushing his fingers through his hair. He exhales, closing his eyes. Hopper blinks.

“I’ve never had anything like it,” Eddie says after a moment.

“Like what?” Steve whispers.

Eddie is quiet a moment, looking at Steve in a way that Hopper can only think of a gaze. His eyes flick across Steve’s face, and he gives him a partial smile, pushing his hair back.

“A family, I guess,” he says finally, softly.

Hopper can’t see Steve’s face, but Eddie smiles at the expression he’s giving him, and then Steve is lifting a hand to Eddie’s cheek, and he’s leaning in, and Eddie’s eyes are falling shut, and they’re kissing.

Hopper blinks again, tearing his eyes away after another moment and moving back around the corner, staring out at the driveway. He hears Eddie sigh softly. It’s such a gentle kiss it seems almost out of character for the two of them, so tender and loving that Hopper wonders if everything is okay.

“You ready to go back inside?“ Steve asks softly, and Hopper’s heart palpitates.

“Not yet.”

“Okay.”

It’s quiet again. Hopper takes a moment before he looks back around the corner. They’re wrapped around each other, Eddie’ face buried between Steve’s neck and his own arm, and Steve is murmuring indistinctly, his voice muffled.

Hopper knows he shouldn’t be watching. That this is a private, quiet moment between them. But he can’t look away.

Even when Eddie’s eyes open and meet his. Eddie laughs into Steve’s neck, squeezing his eyes shut, and Hopper’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Eddie doesn’t seem to care. Or worry. (Not that he has anything to worry about. Hopper won’t tell anyone. And of course he doesn’t have any problems with it, with the two of them. With this.)

“What is it?” Steve asks, his voice muffled.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” Eddie presses a kiss to Steve’s neck. “Kiss me.”

Steve lifts his head with a soft hum and leans in, kissing Eddie deeply as Eddie lifts a hand to shoo Hopper away.

Hopper rolls his eyes with a smile and sneaks back inside. He pauses in the kitchen, pours himself a glass of water from the tap, thinking.

He knows about Eddie Munson. About his parents. About his uncle.

He goes back to the living room after setting the glass in the sink, sliding his arm around Joyce, who looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“And?”

He pulls her close, kissing her forehead the way he does every chance he gets, almost mindlessly, habitually, like he’s been doing it for years and years. She relaxes against him, setting a hand against his stomach. He’s gained weight recently. He’s not entirely excited about it, but Joyce is. She likes to slip her hand under his shirts to squeeze and prod lovingly, smiling as he rolls his eyes at her. When he commented that he doesn’t understand why she likes it so much, she said she fell in love with him before he was starved in prison. That he’s beautiful when he’s fed and cared for and living instead of just surviving. No one’s ever called him beautiful before. He could just say Oh..

Eleven is happy about it too. Every time she hugs him, she presses her face into his chest and comments that he doesn’t feel like a wall anymore.

“It’s nothing,” he says, kissing her forehead again. “He just needed some air.”

No one notices when Steve and Eddie come back inside except Hopper and Joyce. Steve passes them silently, going to sit on the sofa again, and Eddie pats Hopper’s chest wordlessly before he joins him. Joyce looks at Hopper questioningly. He just shakes his head with a little smile.

He watches as Eddie leans against Steve, setting his hands in El’s hair again, playing with her curls, pulling them out straight before letting them bounce back into place like rubber bands. Steve sets his hand on Eddie’s leg gently, running his thumb back and forth, and Eddie sighs, relaxing. Hopper smiles.

The kids all sleep in the living room. Erica cuddled between Dustin and Lucas, Max’s head resting on Lucas’s stomach, El’s on Max’s stomach. Mike is holding onto Will’s arm when Hopper pauses in the doorway, looking around as the others leave. Joyce is laying blankets over everyone, making Eleven laugh when a blanket covers her face, and Max fixes it, reaching down to hold her hand.

Hopper realises he’s doing a headcount. He shuts the door as quietly as he can when Joyce leaves.

Nancy and Robin take Eleven’s room, both of them sleepy as they say goodnight. Argyle follows Jonathan to his room. Steve and Eddie take Will’s room, but Eddie hesitates, looking at Hopper.

Hopper tells Joyce to go to bed. He’ll be there in a second. She nods and kisses his cheek.

Eddie is sitting on the counter in the kitchen when Hopper joins him. Hopper leans against the wall across from him. He realises that Eddie is wearing Steve’s clothes.

“So…” Eddie starts awkwardly, twisting one of his rings. “I don’t know what all you saw.”

“I saw enough,” Hopper says. Eddie nods. “It’s not a problem, Munson.”

Eddie smiles bashfully, looking down at his hands.

“Does your uncle know?” Hopper asks as gently as he can. Eddie nods, looking up at him.

“Yeah, he’s always known about me,” Eddie says. “It’s kinda the reason I live with him.” Hopper nods, sympathy knotting in his chest. “He didn’t like Steve at first, but… Steve is good to me. Wayne saw how he helped me after a nightmare a while ago. He likes him now.”

Hopper nods.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Eddie bursts, looking at Hopper with desperate eyes. “Steve doesn’t— He doesn’t want anyone to know yet. Only Robin knows right now.”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Hopper tells him gently. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

“I like Steve,” Hopper declares with a nod. “He’s good with the kids.”

“He good with a lot of things,” Eddie says. Hopper blinks, and Eddie looks up at him, his cheeks flushing. “That sounded… inappropriate, it wasn’t— I just meant, he— he’s real smart. He helped me plan a campaign a while ago, he’s really creative.” Eddie blinks again, inhaling. “Which you also can’t tell anyone, that was a secret— I’m just gonna stop talking.”

Hopper laughs.

Eddie looks startled. A slow smile crawls across his face.

“You’re happy together?” Hopper asks. Eddie nods, still smiling.

“Yes.”

He nods.

He stands up straight, looking at Eddie earnestly.

“You and your uncle ever have any trouble, you let me know, okay?”

Eddie blinks blankly at him.

“I thought you hated me.”

Hopper sighs.

“I’m not your biggest fan—“ Eddie interrupts with a laugh. “I don’t like the tattoos, or the pot, or you encouraging profanity—“

Eddie keeps laughs, covering his face with a hand, and Hopper cracks a smile.

“But you’re still one of us,” Hopper finishes.

Eddie’s smile fades, and he nods.

“Okay.”

His voice wavers. His eyes fill with tears, and then he lowers his face, covering it with his hand again.

“Come here, kid.”

Hopper opens his arms, and Eddie lets himself slide off the counter, and then he’s holding him, smoothing a hand over his hair the way he does to El when she needs comfort.

“So when’s the Byers-Hopper wedding?” Eddie asks when they let go, wiping his face quickly. “I’m invited, right?”

“Go to bed, Munson.”

Eddie snickers and Hopper follows him upstairs.

“I better not hear anything tonight,” he says as they part ways on the landing. He tries to avoid the floorboard that creaks, but it doesn’t work, and he winces.

“Ew.”

“Good night.”

“…Good night.”

———

“Where’d you go?” Steve asks quietly when Eddie enters Will’s room. He shuts the door behind himself gently, turning to look at him. He’s under the blankets, facing the door with an arm folded until his head, almost asleep, his eyes dark and shining in the golden light of the lamp on the bedside table.

“Hanging out with my new best friend, the former chief of police.”

A laugh bursts out of Steve, and Eddie tugs his sweater off as Steve lifts the blankets for him.

“What the fuck?”

Eddie grins, crawling into bed next to him, pressing up against his chest and sighing as Steve combs his hair back, away from his neck.

“He saw us outside.”

Steve’s hand freezes.

“What?”

Eddie moves back to look at him, smiling, and he reaches up to touch his face.

“‘S okay.”

“He didn’t— Was he…”

“He said it’s not a problem,” Eddie says softly, petting his cheek. “And he said he won’t tell anyone.”

Steve stares. Blinks. Exhales.

“Oh.”

Eddie smiles at him and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“‘S okay,” he repeats softly. “I think he’s coming around to me.”

“You think?” Steve asks breathily.

“Mhmm.” He kisses him again, relaxing against the pillow. It smells like Will. “Said I’m ‘one of you.’” He gestures quotation marks. “Which kinda makes it sound like a cult, but it’s nice.”

“Guess a cult makes sense,” Steve says softly, sighing and running his hand down Eddie’s forearm, light over his tattoos and scars. “Cult of Vecna and all that.”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed, and his smile grows until he’s beaming, and Steve rolls his eyes, his cheeks pink.

“Look at you,” Eddie teases. “Remembering your D&D.”

“You’re telling no one,” Steve says, holding up a finger to point at Eddie’s face, and Eddie giggles, grabbing his hand and bringing it to his lips.

“I’m telling no one.” He kisses his hand again before Steve presses his palm to his cheek. “King Steve’s got a reputation to keep up.”

“Ugh.”

Eddie giggles again, and he presses closer, wrapping his arm around Steve’s neck as Steve lifts his chin so Eddie can nuzzle into his throat.

“Everything’s okay,” he says softly. “Hopper doesn’t care.”

“Everything’s okay,” Steve says, sighing softly. He wraps an arm around Eddie gently, pulling him in tighter and running his hand down his spine. “Eddie.”

“Yeah, baby.”

“…I love you so much.”

Eddie’s eyes fly open, and his fingers run through Steve’s hair again before he pulls away once more, looking into his eyes. Steve looks serious, entirely earnest to the point that he almost looks upset, his eyes flicking across Eddie’s face like he’s trying to read him.

“I love you too,” Eddie breathes.

Steve smiles. He kisses Eddie’s forehead softly, sighing again.

“Light on?”

Eddie nods, tucking his hands against Steve’s chest, curling them just over his heart and letting his eyes close. Steve pulls him close.

“Good night, baby.”

Eddie hums softly, settling against him as he drags his hand over his back. He smiles when Steve kisses the top of his head.

———

Hopper kisses Joyce’s temple as she scrubs a pan in the sink. She smiles up at him.

It’s a lazy morning. Most of the kids are still sleepy, nibbling at their french toast and eggs as they talk quietly. Hopper goes into the living room, rubbing his face, wanting a cigarette.

The kids are everywhere, sprawled across the room, careful not to get syrup on the new carpet. Robin is half asleep, leaning on Argyle’s shoulder, and he holds up a slice of french toast. She takes a bite without moving. Eddie and Steve are on the sofa, talking quietly and gazing at each other like there’s no one else in the world. Erica is asleep on the sofa, her head in Eddie’s lap. One of his arms is set on her shoulder, his hand hovering in the air to block a bright beam of sunlight from her eyes.

Hopper pauses, watching. He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s doing it, protecting Erica so gently, so lovingly. He isn’t even looking, his eyes trained on Steve as he listens to whatever he’s talking about.

Hopper crosses the room, stepping over Will, who’s laying on his stomach, and pulls the curtain almost shut so it blocks the beam of light out. Eddie looks over when he hears the rattle of the rings, and lowers his hand to Erica’s head gently. She nuzzles into his leg.

“Harrington, you want coffee?” Hopper asks as he’s stepping over Will again. He drags a hand across Mike’s face just to mess with him, and Mike almost drops his fork, letting out an indignant Ugh! as he tries to pull his face away. Eleven giggles.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says, looking startled. His face flushes pink. Hopper wonders in Eddie told him about last night. “Sure.”

“Munson? Coffee?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

“Jesus,” Hopper mutters, rolling his eyes as he heads back to the kitchen.

He makes them coffee. Brings it to them and carefully hands it to them, listening to their little thank yous. He ruffles their hair affectionately, and when he leaves, he pauses in the hallway, watching as they whisper to each other quietly and then kiss each other gently, quickly, before anyone sees.

Steve is smiling. The sun is shining.

Maybe Munson isn’t so bad.

#considered making this spicier but i needed a spice break after my last one #maybe next time #probably next time #anyway go drink some water #love u #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #jim hopper #joyce byers #steddie

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harrowedsoup · 11 months

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I love the Chef Gideon AU though.

Like…Love is stored in the basic bread and simple meals that Gideon carefully makes Harrow everyday. It’s the fact that Gideon spends just as long getting unseasoned foods just right as she does complex recipes, despite Harrow not truly enjoying food either way.

#the locked tomb #gideon nav #harrow nonagesimus #griddlehark #I love the idea of Gideon going on some show #and they ask her to make her wife’s favorite meal #and Gideon is like… you sure #she ends up making a unsweetened bread with a tiny bit of salt #a chicken breast with no seasonings #with a glass of room temperature water with a tiny bit of lemon #dessert is like wafers or something #and Gideon just stands there ‘…. I tried to tell you man. my wife doesn’t eat shit’#‘this is actually more than she usually eats tbh’#‘I’ve been making her drink ensures because she refuses to eat the gummy vitamins I got’

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chronic-solitarian · 2 months

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Tbh I feel like the ones angry are going to ruin it for the rest of us. They’re already saying they’re going to attend the live shows to boo them. It’s going to make them not want to do live shows again. It’s giving “I can’t get what I want so now none of you can.” It’s childish.

i think that people are 100% valid for feeling disappointed or angry, but being hateful or mean is just gross. this is obviously a disappointing situation, but the people who are attacking the character of ryan, shane, and ESPECIALLY steven should realize that this is just a not-great decision, not a reflection of their character.

remember that sending hate to people is a gross thing to do. don’t go out of your way to purposely be negative. obviously you are allowed to be upset, but don’t let your emotions hurt others.

#man this is rough #it’s been a chaotic day #and hi mutuals i love you guys #let’s all go drink some water and get a snack #ryan bergara #shane madej #steven lim #watcher #ryan and shane #shane and ryan #watcher entertainment

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spookythesillyfella · 2 months

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tony prepared the cereal !! sketch added the toppings !! and colin is a coward who won't eat what his partner and his sibling prepared for him !!

★ [ audio from "The Endorsed Frosted Crispy Sweets Prized Pals Commercial" – @/partycoffin on tumblr]

#sometimes i sit . and i think that i should put the phone down and never make content again #the dread of being the only person who cares about my stuff is consuming me every day and i just want someone who would love to hear me –#– rant about the guys for absolutely no reason . no one really has the time for me so i just feel sorta strange #i dunno #i guess venting in the tags of my posts makes me feel better but it just feels like attention-seeking behavior #then again i assume no one reads my tags anyways #whatever #little guys who give me brainrot stuff #dhmis #dhmis art #dhmis au #high voltage au #dhmis sketchbook #sketchbook dhmis #dhmis hv sketchbook #dhmis tony #tony the talking clock #dhmis hv tony #dhmis colin #colin the computer #dhmis hv colin #i guess having some more free time and going to comicon is coming up #so that's neat i suppose #im planning on painting my nails neuvillette color [blue and white] :3 #okay bye-bye guys #drink water #i love y'all #<3

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todayisafridaynight · 6 days

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sometimes i get nishiki i really do

#snap chats #like from an outsider perspective it is utterly hilarious watching everything go wrong for him #BUT GIRL NOT ME STOP HAVING THIGNS GO WRONG FOR MEEEEEE WHAT IS ALL THIS #this month its actually one thing after another if i start wearing white everyone needs to be concerned #you guys remember my bullshit roommates yeah well TLDR im getting fined for their messes im going to SCREAM #I HATE IT HEERRRREEE I KNOW IM EVIL BUT CMON #literally had such a silly night last night and now everything sucks again is this life is this what life is #its not its not what life is im just hearing my mom bitching in the other room and im letting her vibes ruin mine #everything going to be ok this is just a hiccup .... a small pinprick in the tapestry of life ....#i am incredibly annoyed though cause this is one of those situations where youve done nothing wrong but youre being shot for it #its just unfair but whatever we ball ..... im putting the hair gel away guys im not slicking my hair back just yet ....#i got a new friend last night so maybe ill just hang with them later and ill remember life is beautiful ..#heh ... jk ... i can remind myself life is beautiful right now ... im gonna go eat some tiramisu ...#jesus christ i really do love italian food what the fuck. pasta / calamari / tiramisu #i dont think calamari is italian but i got it from an italian place w/e we get the picture #its not my fault that italy has good food ... i would just never go there .....#ok bye ima go eat and drink water now. water will remind me how beautiful life is ...

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ivyssaigasdoodles · 15 days

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Day 23: No War AU

And instead they went to Hogwarts

#zutara week #this is an au ive gotten myself invested in #i really want to draw more #zutara #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts houses #hogwarts au #harry potter #jesus lives #go drink some water and have a shnazzy day lovely people #zutara au #gryffindor #hufflepuff #katara #zuko

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navybrat817 · 2 months

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*me trying to keep up with the boops* 😂

#navybrat rambles #tumblr #boop #case of the mondays #i don't really wanna do the work today #yes lovelies #i sadly have to work #boo and hiss #adulting is a scam #are you reading my tags?#go drink some water #stay hydrated my friends #boop boop

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the-broken-pen · 10 days

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A sapphic detective who gets too close to the truth of a case and gets confronted by her girlfriend for being too obsessed?

“You need to stop.”

The detective didn’t jerk up at the sound of her voice—just quietly stirred, rustling papers as she shifted upright to meet her eyes.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” the detective said slowly, eyes scanning over her. She watched her gaze catch on the water dripping from the ends of her hair, the mascara smudging itself down her cheeks.

“It’s date night,” she said, and even to her own ears her voice sounded tired. Dead. Rotting roses and dirty dishes in the sink.

The detective blinked once, then shifted through her papers until she found a scribbled in calendar. It was stuck on the wrong month.

“I forgot,” the detective murmured. It wasn’t an apology, and neither of them were pretending that it was. She could tell, even now, with her girlfriend pathetic and dripping water onto the hardwood floor in front of her, that the detective wanted nothing more than to go back to her evidence.

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Funny how it’s never the case you forget.”

The detective jerked, slightly, like she hadn’t expected the barbs in her girlfriend’s voice.

In the hallway, there was a drooping bouquet of flowers she hadn’t been able to bear bringing into the apartment.

“You know how important this is,” the detective implored, and it made her want to break things. Burn the papers, shatter the fancy glasses in the cabinet, spill wine across the carpets.

What about me, she wanted to scream. Am I not important to you anymore?

Instead, she said again, “You need to stop.”

“Stop?”

“The case. You need to stop.”

“I can’t just stop,” the detective laughed slightly, as if she thought it would convey how inconceivable the idea of stopping was.

“Yes, you can. Give it to someone else. There’s a whole precinct just waiting for you to put this file into their hands.”

At the thought of it, the thought of giving up this case, the hunt, the chase, pain flashed across the detective’s face.

“You don’t understand.”

“I do,” she replied. She had to shift her gaze to the dead plant on the corner of her partner’s desk, dirt dry and leaves brittle. “How could I not?”

“So then how could you ask me to do that? To give it all up? Why now?”

She had so many answers to that. So many moments that cut into her hands like a mosaic of memories. The bed empty beside her through the entire night. Cancelled reservations, one seat alone at the dinner table, laughs that died in her ribs. Friends, well meaning, who asked where the detective was, and the painful smiles she forced through the explanations. Work, and work, and work. Crime scene photos on the coffee table. The loneliness that seemed to care about her more than her girlfriend did.

There were so many times when she almost said something. Almost said enough. But she hadn’t, and now they were here, as she dripped a puddle onto the floor, and the detective looked at her like she had never seen her before.

When she tried to say that, any of that, it caught in her throat.

The detective took her silence for an inability to answer. A lack of evidence. Like she was throwing this tantrum for no reason, a little kid in the toy aisle of the store.

The detective sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. The other was already fanning through the papers once more. Her voice turned into something that begged to be understood.

“I’m so close—“

“To losing me.” She swallowed, painfully. “You’re losing me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“This isn’t fair,” her voice broke as she gestured between the two of them. “What you’re doing to me isn’t fair.”

“I’m not doing anything—“

“Exactly.” It was louder than she meant it to be. They both flinched.

“I’ll have it solved in a week, I promise.” She wasn’t sure who the detective was promising to.

“No.”

The detective blinked.

“No?”

“You heard me the first time.”

“I heard you, but I’m not sure what you’re saying ‘no’ to.”

If she had the energy to be slightly meaner, she would have told her to figure it out. Told her that she was a detective, this should be easy for her.

“I’m not giving you a week.” She took a deep breath. “And you’re not going to solve it.”

The detective’s looked at her like she didn’t recognize the person on the other side of the desk.

Finally, she understood what it felt like to face her girlfriend from the other side of an interrogation table.

Her girlfriend’s face was cold, and closed off. Her jaw was grinding into itself. She was staring at her like she couldn’t decide whether or not to consider her a suspect. As if the only reason she could fathom her girlfriend saying something like that was if she was actively sabotaging her.

She was cold, and her coat was wet, and this place no longer felt like home.

“You won’t solve this case.”

She was pretty sure there wasn’t anything crueler she could have said.

“You don’t know anything.” It was dripping with venom, and fear, and frustration. The fear the detective really wouldn’t solve it. The frustration that it still wasn’t solved.

“Do you really think you’re that special?” By now, it was too far gone for her to stop. There was no pretty way out of this. “You aren’t. This isn’t a TV show. You aren’t the main character who swoops in where no one else has before. It’s been decades of the same bullshit—taunting and evidence trails, and nobody has solved it. Don’t you think if it was solvable, it would have been by now?”

“There’s new evidence, and I’m not them—“

“What part of ‘you aren’t special’ don’t you understand,” she hissed, and the detective shifted away from her. “You aren’t the miracle detective who solves this. They’re going to keep on killing, and driving the people who try and find them crazy, and you’re letting them do it to you.”

“I’m not letting them do anything.”

“But you are,” she countered. “You have been for months. They’re messing with you. They’re everything to you, and you’re a game to them, and I’m nothing on the sidelines.”

“Babe, that’s not true,” The detective tried, voice softening. As if she had just realized something between them was wrong. That her girlfriend was hurting—had been, for a while.

She swallowed the tears rising in her throat.

“Do I need to become a crime scene for you to finally care about me again?” She slammed her hand down on the papers. Pretended the wince on the detectives face was concern for her, and not the papers she crumpled. “Will you look at me, love me again, if I’m a bloody photograph in this folder?”

“I do love you.”

“When someone loves someone else, they don’t leave them alone in the rain, waiting to be picked up. They don’t cancel to go dig through old archives on their loved one’s birthday. They don’t leave them in the middle of the night and let the blankets beside them get cold. People who love someone don’t live their life without a concern for the person they’re putting below everything else.”

“You’re making this really hard.”

“Good,” she snapped. “Because you’ve been making it hard to love you for months, and I’m glad you finally know how it feels.”

The detective paused, at that. Swallowed, eyes flitting around the room as if she would find the perfect thing to say in the remnants of the life they had built together.

“I love you,” The detective managed. Somehow, it was the worst thing she could have said.

“Good. Prove it.” She thought maybe dying would have hurt less than this.

“Prove it?”

“Prove it. Me, or the case.”

The detective froze.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, and it sounded like a plea. Don’t make me choose.

“Look at me and try and tell me I’m joking.” When the detective said nothing, she pushed further. “Go on. Do it. Choose.”

“I can’t do that—“ the detective choked. “This isn’t fair, you know that. I’m so close.”

Somehow, she had expected it to hurt less.

“Don’t make me choose,” the detective, her girlfriend, the love of her life finally said, voice breaking.

She had thought it would feel like dying.

It felt like nothing.

“You just did,” she said. The tears refused to be held, this time. The pain ran rampant through every word.

She knew her girlfriend could hear it.

“I love you,” the detective whispered. A final, desperate prayer for her to stay. But she was no god, and her girlfriend was no believer. And it would never be enough.

She let the door slam on the way out.

The detective never did solve that case.

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boysbeloving · 4 months

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okay...it happened...the way-babe showdown

the enigma reveal...babe's face when charlie told him it was way oh god oh god oh god

i did NOT KNOW that way legit tries to sexually assault babe....and omg babe is so scared and helpless and upset and he can't DO ANYTHING coz way is using his powers on him touching him and kissing him forcefully good god it was PAINFUL to watch

and the whole fight between way and babe....way's desperation, babe's hurt and anger....this is delicious angst i'll give them that

and i'm SO IMPRESSED with nut and pavel....BRILLIANT acting

#and now someone please hold me #i had to pause the episode...go to the bathroom to cry some more.....drink water to hydrate and then make this post #oh man it's....wow #i love it i love it i love it #i'll rewatch the scene coz i'm not anything if not an angst hoe #d watches vroom vroom the series #pit babe #pit babe the series

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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love me softly p6

tags from @theamazingannie on part five i apologise and here’s the the next one love u <3

@dazedandinked :)

Eddie can’t stop thinking about it.

The way Steve slid down the wall of the van after a while and wrapped his arms around Eddie tighter as they laid on the floor together, the way his cheek pressed to the top of Eddie’s head. The way their legs twined together, their bodies pressed together completely. The way Eddie slept that night with Steve’s heartbeat against his cheek.

It’s all he can think about all weekend. It’s all he can think about on his way to school, when he sees Steve’s Beemer in the parking lot. It’s all he can think about when he catches Steve’s eyes in the hall, when Steve smiles softly and his eyes sparkle.

Eddie feels fucking bashful. Like a fourteen year old girl whose crush made eye contact with her. (Which… is unfortunately accurate.)

Steve keeps leaving him drawings.

On Monday there are two in his locker at the end of the day, both on folded, lined paper. One is in pencil, a messy sketch of a hand that looks like Eddie’s, complete with scribbled, indistinct rings, the other in pen, an abstract colourful drawing of some flowers.

On Tuesday, there’s one, neatly folded and resting on his textbooks. It’s in pencil, dark and heavy and intense in a way that makes Eddie stare. He can’t tell what it is, but it doesn’t matter. It joins the others on his wall.

On Wednesday, there are two. One in pen of Eddie’s van in the parking lot, neat with meticulous lines crossing and overlapping, and the other of a messy crowd of people in pen with one person in blue highlighter. Eddie can tell that it’s him, thin lines of blue swirling for his curls. He manages to wait until he’s in the car to squeal like a fourteen year old girl.

And then on Thursday.

On Thursday, Eddie opens his locker, already smiling, excited, and he unfolds it to find Steve’s slanted, pretty handwriting.

hope i did him justice

- steve ♡

And even in his confusion he dies a little on the inside at the heart. He rereads the note again, furrowing his brows before he flips the page over and his heart stops beating.

It’s his character.

That he told Steve about.

Carefully drawn in black ballpoint pen, accurate to every word Eddie said on Friday, down to the bow in his hand, to the shape of his ears.

Eddie stands there too long, staring and staring and staring and falling and falling and falling.

He goes to Gareth’s. His hands are shaking.

Mrs Gareth’s Mom lets him in again, directs him to Gareth’s room after pushing a soda can into his hands with a smile, and he finds Gareth at his desk.

“Hey, Eddie,” Gareth says, glancing up, and Eddie doesn’t respond, setting the soda down and pulling the drawing out of his pocket to slap it onto the desk in front of Gareth. His hands are still shaking.

Gareth opens the paper, his eyes finding the drawing before they light up.

“This is really good, man.”

“Flip it over,” Eddie says, biting his thumbnail anxiously, his breathing short. Gareth raises an eyebrow at him, curious, suspicious, and Eddie just swats his hand, prompting him. Gareth flips it over and reads the message, his eyes widening.

He looks up at Eddie, jaw slack.

Eddie’s eyes are burning. Somehow he hasn’t cried about it at all, but the dam breaks when Gareth says emphatically, “Holy shit.”

He turns away, wiping his face.

“He likes you,” Gareth says.

“Do you think?” Eddie asks, his voice shaking. Gareth gives him a duh look.

“There’s a fucking heart on it, Eddie.” He holds the paper up and shakes it. “A heart.”

“I know,” Eddie says, bouncing slightly. “I know, I know, I know.”

“Steve fucking Harrington,” Gareth says dryly. “Drew a D&D character for you.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says weakly.

“You’re gonna turn him into a nerd aren’t you?”

“I might.”

Gareth grins almost mischievously before he flips the page back over and looks at the drawing again.

“God, this is really good.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “He’s so good, I can’t even…”

Gareth is still grinning, and Eddie falls to the floor, groaning, covering his face, rolling around. Gareth laughs.

“Everything okay in here?” Mrs Gareth’s Mom asks, popping her head in the door. Eddie just groans again, rolling so his head is under Gareth’s bed.

“Eddie’s getting closer to obtaining a boyfriend.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says loudly.

Mrs Gareth’s Mom laughs.

“What’s his name, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs.

“…Steve.”

“Steve,” she repeats lightly. “Is he nice?”

“He’s so nice.”

Eddie tries to sit up, but he hits his head on the wood of Gareth’s bed frame with a loud ow, and Gareth bursts into laughter.

Eddie flips him off and manages to get out from under the bed to glare at him.

“Oh dear.” Mrs Gareth’s Mom looks at him, sorry in her eyes and a suppressed smile gracing her lips. “Let me get you some ice, hun.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Eddie calls after her before he looks up at Gareth. “How’d a lady like that raise an asshole like you?”

Gareth just cackles.

Even with the ice pack, his forehead bruises. It’s not too bad, soft purple and yellow under his bangs, but Gareth keeps trying to poke at it. Because of course.

Steve catches his eye in the cafeteria on Friday.

Eddie is trying to listen to what his friends are saying, but he gets distracted, obviously, suppressing a smile when Steve tilts his head at him like a confused puppy.

Bathroom? Eddie mouths, and Steve grins, nodding.

Eddie covers his face with his hair, nodding back, and he turns to Gareth as Steve gets up. Gareth is already staring at him dryly.

“Going somewhere?”

“Uh. Yeah, I have to, uhm. Bathroom.”

“Is bathroom code for sex?”

“Wha— No?”

“Are you sure?”

“…Screw you, Gareth.”

Gareth pokes him in the forehead as he’s getting up, and Eddie smacks the back of his head.

Steve is leaning against the wall when Eddie walks in, his hands behind his back, and he looks up with a sly sort of smile that gives Eddie butterflies.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie says quietly. “Uhm.”

He pushes his hand through his hair nervously, and Steve watches, his brows furrowing, and stands up straight.

“What happened to your forehead?”

“…What?”

Steve moves forehead, carefully pushing Eddie’s bangs out of the way to see the bruise, his thumb brushing over it lightly.

“What happened?”

“Oh, uhm.” Eddie takes a breath, every nerve in his body lit up like a sparkler. “I, uhm. I was laying with my head under my friend’s bed and I… tried to sit up.”

Steve stares blankly at him for a moment before he snorts, looking away and stifling a laugh. Eddie’s jaw drops.

“Wow,” he says. “Wow.”

“‘M sorry,” Steve says, still laughing. He’s still touching him, standing too close, his fingers in Eddie’s hair.

“I have a head injury,” Eddie says. “And you’re laughing at me.

“I’m sorry,” Steve giggles. “It’s not funny, sorry.” He stops laughing, trying to suppress a smile, and Eddie tilts his head at him, raising his eyebrows. “Here.”

He pulls Eddie closer, lifting his chin, and pressing a soft kiss to the bruise. Eddie’s brain goes out like a light bulb that’s been left on for too long.

“All better,” Steve says softly, his thumb brushing over the bruise again before he pulls away, carefully fixing Eddie’s bangs.

“Thanks,” Eddie breathes.

“So.” Steve leans back against the wall. “Did you get the, uhm, the drawing? Yesterday?”

Eddie blinks, snapping out of it, feeling the ghost of Steve’s lips on his skin.

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “Yeah, I— That’s what I wanted to talk about, I’m—“

“Was it okay?” Steve asks almost shyly.

“It’s fucking incredible, Steve,” Eddie says passionately, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s shirt. “You’re so good, you’re so— you’re so talented, Stevie, it’s, like, the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve is staring back at him, his eyes wide, shining the fluorescent light of the bathroom.

“Really?”

“Jesus, yeah.” Eddie hesitates, looking at him anxiously. Steve is a little taller than him. Eddie likes it. “Thank you.”

Steve grins shyly, his hand finding Eddie’s on his shirt. His fingertips brush over the back of it, over his knuckles.

“I, uhm.” Eddie hesitates. “I keep all of them. They’re all up on my wall.”

“Really?” Steve asks in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Eddie says lightly. “They’re beautiful.”

Steve’s cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink.

part seven

read the whole thing on ao3

#lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part!!#might be putting these all on ao3 this week we shall see #im moving into my brothers bedroom it may cut into my writing #will that stop me? probably not #anyway go drink some water and eat something yummy #love u guys <3 #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #love me softly

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