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smilesrobotlover · 7 days

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Talon has never been afraid of things that people were typically afraid of. He never understood the fear surrounding spiders—he only found them to be pests that needed to be put outside where they belonged, and he even found some of them cute. Talon never found water frightening, the dark was no issue to him, and he found tighter spaces more cozy than anything. He was scared of monsters, but that felt more like a valid fear since they could actually kill him. But everything else he never understood the fear others had. That is, until he was swept into a different world surrounded by men looking for their respective heroes of Hyrule. Talon discovered that he was terrified of heights. He’s never had to climb anything high up—back then he would have his wife reach high places for him. Now either Malon or Ingo took care of those problems for him since they were both taller than him. But being on this adventure, he had to face heights more times than he’d like, and every time he faced them, his legs would turn into mush and he’d struggle to stand on his own. He always tried to hide it since he already felt like a burden to the other men, but he couldn’t. It was all getting worse when the men found themselves in the mountains, inching closer to cliff-sides that made Talon dizzy. Rusl picked up on Talon’s nervousness and he rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t like heights?”

Talon gave him a look and let out a shaky breath. “Y-you could say that.”

Rusl smiled. “It’ll be ok, we’ll take care of you. And besides, we have Kass here in case we fall!”

The blacksmith gestured to their feathered friend who was chatting with Benji, but it didn’t make Talon feel any better. He didn’t want to put any responsibility on Kass, and he definitely didn’t want to fall in the first place. As the men walked, Talon couldn’t help but notice the cliffside getting closer to them, and he felt himself pressing up against the rocky wall more and more the closer it got. The path turned rocky and rough, and the edge was inches away from his feet. Talon turned away from the cliff, hugging the wall as he shuffled forward. This slowed him down, and the others were far ahead of him, not seeming to care that one wrong step could send them to their death. But Talon didn’t care; he didn’t bother to call for them. He was just focused on his breathing and shuffling along the wall.

“Talon.”

The farmer flinched and looked to his side where Leon was standing, watching him worriedly. “S-sorry,” Talon apologized, and Leon waved it away.

“It’s alright, we just don’t want to accidentally leave you behind. Here,” Leon offered his arm for Talon to grab onto, “you can hang onto me, but the sooner we’re off this path the better.”

Talon let out a breath and complied, not caring that it was childish to do so. Leon walked slowly, yet with confidence as Talon stumbled along. It wasn’t like the first knight to slow down for him, but Talon was grateful for it. He peeked over Leon’s shoulder to spot the others already on the other side, with Rusl watching them anxiously.

“We’re almost there,” Leon assured, and Talon nodded.

“I’m so sorry about this—“ Talon started, but Leon stopped him.

“We all have fears, it’s normal. But that’s why we have each other. We don’t have to face them alone.”

Talon smiled at Leon and they pressed onward. He didn’t know how long they were going for, but it felt like forever. But Leon still held onto him as they walked, so he continued. Sudden shouting from the others made him and Leon pause.

“What’s going on?” He heard Leon yell, but he wasn’t able to hear a response before the sound of crumbling rocks was heard. Leon gasped and he spun around, covering Talon as small rocks and dirt fell on their head. Talon felt his stomach lurch as the mountain shook, and a loud crash was heard in front of them. Leon let go of him and he cursed under his breath. Talon opened his eyes only to see the path in front of them destroyed, and the others hidden by boulders.

“Oh goddesses,” he mumbled, and Leon cupped both hands around his mouth.

“RUSL! AMMON!” He shouted, and it was silent until the two heard a faint shout back. Talon let out a sigh of relief, but was returned to his own predicament. “Well, they’re alive,” Leon muttered, turning to him.

“W-what are we gonna do? The way forward is-is broken!” Talon cried, gesturing to the broken path. Leon hummed and walked towards the edge, then he gave Talon an apologetic look.

“It’s not a far jump…”

Talon’s eyes widened.

“No.”

Leon walked towards him, his hands up defensively. “Talon, that's the only way we can reunite with the others.”

Talon shook his head, but the mountain began shaking again, and another loud crash came behind them. To his horror, the other side was destroyed, and there was shouting from his friends again, this time with the clang of metal. They were being attacked.

Leon grabbed his arm and started to pull him towards the edge. Talon pulled back, stopping him in his tracks.

“Talon, we need to go. Now!”

“B-but—but we—“

“I know you’re scared, but we must get to the others or else we’ll be crushed by rocks!” Leon turned to the gap and ran towards it, jumping towards the other side. It didn’t seem to take much effort for him, but it didn’t make Talon feel much better. “Talon please!” Leon tried again, his hand extended. “It’s going to be ok, we’re close to the end!”

Talon swallowed hard, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He had to be brave—just this once.

The farmer started to slowly move towards the edge, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he shuffled. Parts of the cliffside began to give way, and it nearly made Talon fall to his knees, but with Leon pleading for him to hurry, he continued to move forward. He reached the cliff edge and he felt himself grow nauseous as he glanced over the edge. That was a mistake.

“Come on, Talon!” Leon pressed, his hand extended. Talon paused for a moment before letting out a breath.

“J-just give me a moment—“

“You don’t have a moment! Don’t think about the cliff, just jump!”

Talon swallowed again, his whole body shaking now. He shuffled closer and closer to the edge, feeling weaker each step he took. Leon was clearly growing impatient, but he gave Talon a confident look. He could do this. He had to.

“Run and jump, Talon,” Leon said, waving his arm towards him, and the farmer nodded. He just had to trust himself. Talon took a small step back and took a deep breath, then ran to the cliffside. But as his foot hit the edge, the ground beneath him crumbled, and he yelped as he began to slide over the edge. Talon’s hands were waving wildly, and he miraculously was able to grab onto something, stopping his fall.

“TALON!” The farmer looked up to see Leon reaching out for him, a more desperate look in his eyes. “Grab on!”

Talon was growing hysterical as the only thing stopping him from plunging to his death was his grip on the rocks embedded into the rocky wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, not trusting his strength to grab onto Leon.

“Talon please!”

The farmer looked up at Leon.

“It’s going to be ok,” the first knight assured, inching closer to him. “I won’t let go, just trust yourself, and trust me.”

Talon swallowed again, and he nodded. Using all the strength he had, he began to reach for Leon. Their hands were inches away from each other, and with one last effort, Talon swung himself, and their hands clasped together. Talon smiled relieved, as did Leon.

“It’s going to be ok,” he said again, starting to pull. But Talon heard something, an arrow shooting through the air, and Leon let out a pained yell as it was buried into his back. A sudden electric shock went through both of them, and Talon yelped as he lost all strength in his grip, and he let go of Leon’s limp hand. He could do nothing but watch as Leon and the path grew smaller and smaller as he plunged to the world below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talon awoke with a jolt. He instinctively started to feel himself, checking for injuries, but he found none. He let out a loud sigh of relief, rubbing his hand against his head as everything came back to him. Was it all a nightmare? He didn’t know what else it could’ve been—he fell. Not even a tough Hylian would’ve been able to survive a fall like that. Yet… it felt so real…

Talon rested his hand on his heart and attempted to slow down his breathing. Whatever it was, he was still worked up over it; beads of sweat were beginning to drip down his forehead, and his throat hurt as though he was about to cry. He glanced over to his left and found himself in a clearing surrounded by trees, but no one else was there. He frowned and turned his head to the other side and found a shallow spring with fairies gently floating around it. Yet no sign of anyone. He sat up and flinched at a sharp pain going through his ribs. He groaned and rubbed at the area, trying to breathe in a way to not make the pain worse. Why was he hurt? What happened? Where was everyone? Talon’s questioning thoughts were interrupted when he heard movement behind him, and he spun around only for his heart to stop at the sight.

A large man was watching him from the shadows of the trees. He had long white hair that sat on his shoulders, with strange markings decorating his cheeks and forehead. But what scared Talon the most were the bright, white eyes staring back at him. The man began to move towards Talon, and the farmer began to scramble away despite his aching side.

“N-no no no! Stay away! Please!” Talon begged as the man reached him in only a few strides, but he stopped in front him.

“Be at peace, Talon. I will not harm you,” the strange man said, his hand raised in a way to calm him. Talon’s mind went blank as he stared at the large man, his eyes feeling like they were popping out of his sockets.

“D-do I—do I know you?” He stammered, fearing to anger him. The man’s expression was blank as he stared back at him, but he shook his head.

“No. But I know you.”

That certainly didn’t tell Talon anything. He looked side to side again, hoping to find one of his friends, but he remained alone with the strange man who somehow knew him. He swallowed and sat up, once again cradling his side with a wince.

“Um… Who—who are you?” Talon tried again, and the man simply kneeled in front of him, his expression continuing to remain blank. He was silent for a moment, and Talon wondered if he even heard him, but he finally spoke up.

“I am called the Fierce Deity,” he answered.

“Oh.” Well that still didn’t answer anything for Talon. But he supposed it was better than nothing. “Well… Uh… nice to meet you then. Um… Can I just call you Fierce? Or… something?”

Fierce’s expression was making Talon grow uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. Was he even a Hylian?

“You may call me whatever you like,” he said after a long moment of silence. Talon nodded, and he began to lean back, his whole body beginning to shake. He fell backwards and let out a sigh, staring at the sky. With this… Fierce Deity here… It was becoming harder and harder to explain the previous events as a dream. Fierce suddenly came into his view, and Talon’s eyes widened.

“Wh-what?”

“Are you alright?”

Talon let out another sigh, rubbing his ribs. “I–I don’t know. My ribs kinda hurt. And I’m confused. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what happened to me, I don’t know how you know me or what you even are. I’m just—” Talon’s voice began to shake and he rested his hand on his eyes. “I’m so confused.”

Fierce’s eyes squinted slightly and he left Talon’s view. “I can explain everything to you Talon, but first—” A twinkling sound was heard, and Fierce entered his vision again, this time with a fairy. “Let’s heal your side.”

Talon frowned, but the fairy floated towards him before he could say anything. In a blink of an eye, the fairy swirled around him, and his side suddenly stopped aching. Talon sat up, staring at his side in surprise. He always knew about the fairies’ abilities to heal, but he never experienced such a thing himself. It was incredible. He looked around him but found that the fairy disappeared. He glanced up at Fierce confused, who picked up on his confusion.

“It’s alright, the fairy only needs to return to a great fairy to rejuvenate her power,” he explained.

Talon nodded and looked down at his side, still amazed by the missing injury. Goddesses, he almost wished he could do that as well.

“It is fortunate that you fell closeby to a fairy fountain,” Fierce continued to explain, and Talon froze. Fell. So Talon did fall, so he…?

“What happened?”

Fierce turned to him and once again kneeled down. “You died.”

Talon’s mind went blank. “What?”

“You died.” He repeated, hitting Talon harder the second time.

“I… died?” Talon repeated himself, feeling his stomach sink to the ground. He died. That fall killed him. How was he alive? Did the fairies save him? Did he die when he hit the ground? His friends…

Did they all think he was dead?

Talon began to grow nauseous, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I died…”

Fierce watched him silently as Talon continued to look down on himself. There was no evidence from the fall, save for his aching ribs, but the fairy healed that away.

“Is-is it true then?” Talon asked in a quiet tone, his voice shaking uncontrollably. Fierce tilted his head which was the first emotion he’s ever seen him express. “Is it true that fairies heal you, even after death?”

Fierce was silent for a moment. “Only immediately after you die. If you die long before you can get to a fairy, then you’ll need fairy’s blood.”

Talon felt the blood drain from his face. Fairy’s blood was extremely illegal in Hyrule. In order to use blood from a fairy, it would have to be killed. To kill a divine creature sent from the goddesses themselves was an act of blasphemy. Did Fierce… kill a fairy to save him?

“You… you didn’t…” Talon started, but he felt his stomach churn, and he covered his mouth, feeling like he was about to vomit. Fierce’s eyes squinted at him, once again showing his confusion. “You didn’t—you didn’t kill a fairy did you?” Talon was able to force out.

“No, you died as soon as I reached the fountain. The fairies wasted no time in helping you.”

Talon felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders and he let out a loud sigh of relief. “Thank the goddesses. I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for a fairy’s death.”

The corner of Fierce’s mouth was curled up in a smile, but it went away so quickly Talon thought he imagined it. “I could never harm Hylia’s creatures.”

Talon frowned. Hylia? “Right, well… Thank you for saving my life,” Talon finally said, and Fierce nodded.

“Of course. It is my desire to help Link and those he cares about.”

Talon frowned again. “So you know Link… How—How do you know him? How do you know me?”

“You are Malon’s father.”

Talon nodded slightly. “How do you know my daughter?”

“She is Link’s wife.”

“Ok… And how do you know Link?”

Fierce’s empty eyes stared at him, and Talon swallowed, wishing he could read what he was thinking.

“Link saved me from an eternal fate in Termina,” he finally answered.

It was Talon’s turn to stare. Termina. He’s heard that name before…

“Before I ever saw Link, I always believed that mortals were all the same,” Fierce began, his eyes half-closed as if he were looking down. “They are selfish, greedy, and cruel. They’ll lie to you to benefit them, they’ll steal from you, they’ll hurt you. They use you and then give nothing in return. They imprison you when you have done nothing but help them.” Fierce’s voice had a hint of anger that sent a chill up Talon’s spine. “Link taught me otherwise. When Termina was threatened with destruction, he was the only one who set out and did something about it. I watched him help countless people when it didn’t benefit him; I watched him express compassion that was lacking from other mortals, and I watched him defeat evil, and save Termina.”

Realization hit Talon. Termina. He remembered Link telling him a story about a moon falling in a land and him going back in time over and over again. He always chalked it up as a child’s imagination, but now… was it all real? Did Talon brush his previous adventures away because he didn’t believe him? Guilt crept up on Talon. It was no wonder why he stopped telling Talon his stories. Fierce picked up on his guilt and tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing I just… I think I remember Link telling me about Termina… it’s… it’s real?”

Fierce nodded. “Link understands why you don’t believe him.”

Talon was taken aback. “Oh… well…”

“Do not feel guilty for not believing him.”

“… It probably felt like he had no one to talk to though…” Talon sighed. It was no wonder why Link was always so mature and jaded for a child. If everything he told him was true… poor Link.

“He has Malon.”

He supposed that was true, but regardless, he wasn’t there for Link like he should’ve been. He wondered if he would even want to see him again after this adventure…

“You have no idea how much you mean to him,” Fierce continued when Talon remained silent. “Everything you did for him, he cannot ignore it, nor can I.”

He didn’t feel like he deserved such talk. He didn’t even know why or how the deity knew about any of it. Fierce was large and stood out from the rest of the world like a sore thumb. How did he never notice him there, watching him and his family for the past fifteen years? The thought of it all was making him grow uncomfortable, so he decided to change the subject. “So… Termina… what happened after Link saved it?”

Fierce’s eyes went half closed again. “I’m not sure how he did it, but he left Termina, and he took me with him. I was doomed to remain in Termina forever, away from my Hylia. But because of him, I was able to return to her land.”

“You keep mentioning Hylia, is that a person?”

Despite having a blank expression, Fierce gave Talon a look as if he was stupid. “Hylia, the one who created your kind and Hyrule.”

Talon slowly nodded despite not understanding. He’s never heard of a Hylia who created Hyrule. He always thought it was three golden goddesses. If this Hylia created the land he called home, why hasn’t he ever heard of her?

“I could’ve left Link as soon as I was in Hyrule, but I instantly felt an emptiness where Hylia used to be. Judging by your lack of knowledge of her, I take it she no longer resides here?”

“Uh, no I guess not…”

Fierce stared long and hard at him before turning away. “I see. I was always curious since meeting Link, if Hylia’s influence on the world changed mortal’s nature. But, I suppose it makes sense that they were never influenced by the goddess herself. When Link returned to Hyrule he grew ill and didn’t have the strength to carry on. The mortals simply passed him by, which went against what Hylia believed in.”

Familiarity sparked in Talon. He remembered finding Link again in the middle of Hyrule field, burning up with a terrible fever. So Fierce was watching him the whole time. Where was he?

“You proved me wrong again, Talon. Not all mortals are selfish and greedy. Some are… good, and pure…”

“Wait, what? I proved you wrong? How?”

Fierce gave him another look. “You helped Link, and expected nothing in return.”

Talon frowned. “Is this about when I found him with a fever then? Trust me, I ain’t special for doin’ that.”

“You saved him, Talon. That’s not a small thing.”

“Oh come on! He was a sick kid in the middle of the field! Anyone would’ve helped him!”

“No. No one did.”

Talon froze. “What do ya mean no one helped him?”

“Like I said. The mortals passed him by. Link asked around Kakariko and Castle town for help, but he had no money. No one helped him.” Fierce’s voice grew angry again until his face turned to Talon fully. “You were the only one who reached out to him. He had given up at that point.”

Talon stared at him, shocked. It put everything from that time into perspective for him. Knowing Link, an eleven-year-old boy, tried to get help, but no one did? That didn’t seem possible, no one was that heartless.

“That’s how I know you. I saw the way you and Malon treated him. You may think you’re not a good person because you don’t believe him, but that does not erase all the good you’ve done for him. You restored my faith in mortals, and you saved Link. For that, I thank you.” Fierce bowed slightly. Talon felt his face flush and he turned away. He was starting to hate this praise. It almost felt wrong, especially from a deity.

“It… it really was nothin’. But… um… really I should be the one thankin’ you… for… you know… savin’ my life?”

Fierce squinted his eyes again. “You already thanked me.”

“Oh, well… It certainly doesn’t hurt to thank you again, now does it?”

Fierce stared blankly once again. “Why?”

“Well, like you said, it ain’t a small thing.”

Fierce stared for a moment, then turned away. “You mortals confuse me.”

Talon chuckled. “Well if it makes ya feel any better, mortals confuse me too.”

“But you’re a mortal.”

“Exactly.”

Though it was subtle, Talon could almost pick up an annoyed expression on Fierce’s face, and he couldn’t tell if he should laugh at it or not. They both remained silent for a while, until one more question went through Talon’s brain.

“What… are you?” He asked. Fierce looked contemplative as he looked down at his hand, and he glanced up at Talon.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I am what they call a deity. But I have no divine power unlike the others. A demon is a more appropriate thing to call me.”

Fear pricked at Talon’s chest and he turned away. “So you’re a servant to evil?”

For the first time, Fierce’s expression grew dark, and Talon leaned back. Oh no.

“I will never serve Demise,” he growled. Talon nodded, yet continuing to not understand anything he was saying.

“R-right! Well then… you’re no demon!”

“That’s what we were called in Termina.”

“Well, lucky you, this ain’t Termina.”

Fierce’s expression softened and he didn’t press any further. Talon supposed no one knew what Fierce was, but he began to feel less of a threat to him the more he talked to him. Sort of.

“You should get some rest,” Fierce finally said, standing up. “Fairies don’t rejuvenate energy.”

“Oh,” Talon looked down at himself, admittedly still feeling exhausted from before. But… “My friends will be out lookin’ for me. A-and the puppeteer too… I reckon he’s the reason I fell down the mountain.”

“I will keep watch. But you must restore your strength if you are to continue on.”

Talon sighed. The others could be in danger—Leon could be in danger, and he’d be none the wiser. But his heavy eyelids fought against him and he simply laid back, staring sadly at the sky. His mind began to run rampant over everything that happened to him, and he was struggling to calm himself down so he could rest. He died, he was resurrected, Leon was shot with an arrow, and his friends were either dead, fighting, or captured. How was he going to reunite with them? Will Kass fly down to search for him? Will they try to move down the mountain to find him? Or will they continue on, with Talon completely separated from them? Anxiety pricked at Talon; he couldn’t travel alone, even with a deity at his side. He was a farmer, not a traveler. He wouldn’t survive on his own and he wouldn’t know what to do if something happened. His heart already ached for his home and for his daughter, he didn’t feel like he could handle anymore stress. Tears pricked at his eyes and he rubbed his face, feeling a sob threatening to escape his throat. He was spiraling; no matter how much he tried to not think about his current situation, he couldn’t help but only think about it. It was all too much—this whole adventure was too much. Just as he felt himself go into panic, a soft melody suddenly filled the air. It was a gentle, rising melody that put Talon’s mind at ease. He felt his body relax and his eyes grow heavy, and a thought went through his head.

You’re going to be ok.

Talon took in a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill, but the gentle melody continued playing, and he was finally able to fall asleep.

#smiles writes #strangers across eras #sequel?? 👀#I would add a link but they are different enough #and I don’t want to mess up the stupid format #fierce deity #talon #ocarina of time #poor talon is so overwhelmed #I’m not as proud of this one as I am the first one #the beginning is kind of a slog to get through #but this was a fun idea to play with #everyone mentioning FD in the first one looool #temporary death #crap I forgot to say thank you to bearie for beta reading this #thank you bearie once again for beta reading this

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bigskyandthecoldgun · 7 months

Text

based on this

steve's pov | dragon's pov

Her Dad has always been very lonely.

Even from when he’d found her in that horrible, dirty bush back when she’d been but a kitten, the bright, comforting smile on his face had been tinged with a sort of sadness so deep it made her mewl with sympathy, digging her scraggly little paws into his shirt as he’d picked her up, using the last of her strength to nuzzle into his chest. Dad had stayed sad in the strange, clean room with the person in the white coat as they had explained something to him, casting glances down at her as she’d struggled to hold herself up on shaky legs on the metal surface they’d placed her on.

Her fur had been cleaned, she’d been poked at and prodded and felt a whole lot better, and when Dad had taken her into the big house and placed her gently on the bed, telling her tales about someone named Nancy and her wit and her pretty face, and someone named Jonathan and his ability to keep up with the Nancy and make her happy, and how Dad was glad to have someone to talk to about all of it, that smile was back. The sad one. She hadn’t been given a name yet, but her Dad had given her care she hadn’t ever known, food and medicine and affection, and she loved him for it.

The Nancy and the Jonathan, whoever they are, are determinedly not loved by her, she’d decided that night, curled up on her Dad's chest as sleep overtook her.

The day after, the small boy, who she affectionately calls Curly in the privacy of her own mind while Dad calls him the Dustin, comes over and gets far too close to her. She panics and swats at his nose—claws sheathed, because he is smaller than Dad, and he isn’t the Nancy or the Jonathan—and he shrieks, a delighted smile on his face that isn’t tinged with loneliness like her Dad's. She hisses at him from the comfort of Dad's shoulder, a little raspy, and Curly makes a face.

“Her breath should be considered a weapon,” he tells Dad, and then a look of even more delight crosses Curly’s face. “Oh! You should name her Dragon! Fierce little monster with a breath weapon, it makes so much sense, Steve!”

Curly goes on rambling until Dad finally cuts him off. “Okay! Fine, her name’s Dragon,” he relents. “Happy?”

Dragon is okay with that name, if only because Dad's smile is not as sad when he tries to hide it from Curly as the boy whoops.

She grows big and strong, broad and intimidating, and Dad tells her every day how soft and shiny her fur is, how she’s such a sweet girl, how he thinks it’s funny when she roars at trespassers in their home. And, of course, the trespassers are many in number and often come into their home with little protesting from Dad, much to Dragon’s dismay. She loves her Dad and only her Dad. She likes the rest well enough, sure, but Dad is special.

Dragon spends the majority of her time practically attached to Dad. He gives her many pets and lets her sit atop his shoulders or his chest or his lap, always ready to guard him from the hands of other people. Dad is her human, not theirs. Even as they try to win her favor with treats and pets, Dragon turns her nose up at them with a hiss, her hackles raised. She needs not the fleeting affections of the smaller humans, or even the Nancy or the Jonathan, who she meets for the first time when they show up on her Dad's doorstep, telling him how they’re here to take the smaller ones away.

“Hi, Steve,” the girl says, and Dragon clambers her way up to her Dad's shoulders, making herself as large and imposing as possible. “Jonathan and I are here to take the boys home.”

Her Dad radiates sadness. Loneliness. The girl must be the Nancy.

“Aw, who’s this?” the boy—he must be the Jonathan—asks, reaching up towards Dragon, which is a definite no-no. He needs to learn. Dragon hisses in warning before swatting his hand, claws out, because Dad smells so dreadfully of loneliness that it makes Dragon’s heart ache. The Jonathan draws his hand back with a wince. Dragon purrs. “Ow.”

“Shit, sorry, I should’ve warned you,” Dad says, and Dragon feels indignant at the fact the Nancy and the Jonathan have made him feel as though he needs to apologize. “Dragon’s not exactly friendly.”

Dragon begs to differ. She’s plenty cordial with the children. She doesn’t even take her claws out to swat their hands away when they try to pet her. Petting her is Dad's job, not theirs. “That’s okay,” the Nancy says. She looks at Dragon and smiles. Dragon’s ears flatten against her head as she hisses again, and the Nancy’s smile falters. “Uh, sorry, Dragon. Are they ready to go?”

She aims the question at Dad, who nods and steps aside to let the parade of small ones out of the house. “See you guys around,” Dad says as he shuts the door, and he scoops Dragon from his shoulders, holding her out and up at arms’ length as he clicks his tongue and shakes his head fondly. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Dragon mewls. You’re welcome, Dad.

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t like people, I get it,” Dad sighs, tucking her against his chest.

She nuzzles at his jaw and meows again. I like people well enough. I just don’t like the Nancy and the Jonathan. They make you smile bad.

“I’m really the only person you can handle, huh?” Dad muses, scratching behind Dragon’s ears in the best of ways. Dragon purrs, making biscuits against his shoulder. “Little beast. Tiny baby creature. You’re the best.”

Dragon is neither tiny nor a baby anymore, but Dad seems intent on calling her his baby, which she doesn’t mind. She gives him a quiet mrrp and nudges him again. Make friends that make you smile good.

“You’re gonna have to learn how to deal with people sooner or later, Draggy. I think I wanna start dating again,” her Dad says.

She comes to learn that ‘dating’ means bringing strangers into their house and closing the door to the den. Dragon makes her protests very known, yowling and scratching at the door when strange noises start up behind it, hissing and swatting and biting at the strangers when they get too close to her, and getting between Dad and the trespassers at every opportunity. None of the strangers make his smile any less lonely. If anything, they only serve to make it worse, and none of them seem to realize it.

The only person that Dragon comes to really like is the Robin, who she likes to call Dots, because of all the little dots on her face. Dots never tries to push her into letting her pet her, keeps her hands to herself with Dad, and makes Dad's smile a lot less lonely. “She’s so sweet,” Dots says one day as Dragon sprawls herself out on Dad's lap, belly exposed for him to rub at with his blunt nails, just the way she likes. “Do you think she’d let me pet her?”

“Dragon doesn’t really let people pet her,” Dad says, and Dragon lets out a little mew of agreement. For some reason, it makes Dots and Dad laugh. “I mean, you can try, but it’s kind of a miracle she tolerates you enough to let you sit next to me.”

“I don’t wanna bother her,” Dots says, and Dragon promptly decides that she’s her favorite of all the strange people her Dad brings to the house.

Human litters are strange, Dragon has discovered. She can only assume that the humans, too stupid to name themselves, have roles that correspond to the strange words they call themselves, the same across the board. Each litter must have the Steve—her Dad's title among the group—who clearly leads the rest of them, the Dustin, who is the Steve’s apprentice, the Erica, who is second in command, the Mike, who is in charge of scowling, the Lucas, who is the Max’s companion and the one in charge of games with orange balls, the Max, who is the Lucas’ companion and the one who makes funny comments, the Will, who is in charge of breaking up arguments, and the El, who is the superhero. The Robin, of course, is in charge of being the Steve’s best friend. The Jonathan and the Nancy are still of little concern to Dragon, but she has determined they are in charge of moving the children in and out of the house. Again, totally unimportant.

The El and the Will don’t come around much anymore, and Dad says that this is because they are in California. Dragon doesn’t know what California is, but it’s a long word, which she usually only hears in reference to sicknesses. Dragon hopes the El and the Will get better soon. The Jonathan has also stopped coming around, and it’s curious that this development seems to make the Nancy’s smile just a bit like Dad's now.

Dragon had been entirely unaware that a human litter needs an Eddie until one comes barreling in one afternoon in the cold months, throwing his things unceremoniously onto the couch in the TV room and shouting Dad's title into the house. Dad is not home yet. He is off with Dots at what he calls ‘work.’ Dragon postures herself as big and scary as possible, ears flat against her head as the tall man with dark hair and clothes and dangly metal walks down the hallway, towards the kitchen. And—the audacity astounds her—he starts poking around in the cabinets, making himself a meal! How rude!

Dragon yowls, low and throaty, posted up in the doorway to corner him. “Oh, shit, Steve has a cat?” the man asks, crouching down but making no move to coax her closer. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”

Dragon blinks at him and meows. You’re a stranger in my home. Why would I tell you?

“Ah. Mrawr. Lovely name,” the man says, nodding. He purses his lips and an airy noise comes from him, kind of like that metal thing Dad uses on the stove every now and then. “You are huge. Not that that’s a bad thing. You’re very pretty.”

Preening a little, Dragon lets out a little mrrp of gratitude. Yes, I’m very pretty. My Dad takes such good care of me. Now, go away.

The door opens again. Aha! Finally, Dad is home, and they will be rid of this intruder, the stranger who hadn’t been told about Dragon, so he must be lost, he must be looking for a different human litter’s Steve. He isn’t scowling, so he must not be a Mike or a Max. His hair is curly, so perhaps he’s a Dustin? He is looking for a Steve, after all. Or perhaps he is a Robin, by that logic.

“Eddie! Hey! What’s up, man?” Dad asks, and—

Oh, his smile is so bright and finally free of the loneliness that plagues it.

Dragon has only ever seen him smile like that once before, when Dots and Curly had been at the house, the three of them playing some kind of game with the Erica. She needs to keep that version of Dad's smile around. It’s the best one, and far too rare. The rest of Dad's litter smiles like that all the time, and it wouldn’t do if Dad continues to only show that wonderful smile on special occasions. She dutifully steps aside as Dad moves into the kitchen.

This Eddie is the key, Dragon realizes. The key to making her Dad not so lonely anymore.

Dad and the Eddie embrace. Dragon has never seen Dad as relaxed as he is in the Eddie’s hold, save for when he’s asleep and Dragon is guarding his slumbering form. “Good to see you, dude,” the Eddie says. “You got any coffee?”

“You and your coffee,” Dad says, shaking his head as he pulls back, going all around the kitchen in a routine Dragon’s only seen in the mornings.

As her Dad and the Eddie—Dragon decides to call him Ink after one of Dad's comments about the strange black shapes on the Eddie’s arms—talk idly and sip at their coffees, Dragon observes. Dad has never seemed so at ease, so happy. There isn’t a trace of the loneliness anymore, not a single sad crease in his forehead. Ink even makes him laugh. So much, too! And Dad looks at Ink like he’d looked at the Nancy that first time she’d showed up on their doorstep. Wanting. Wistful.

Dragon makes a decision.

She will make sure Ink and Dad are never separated. She will convince Ink to spend more time with her Dad. She will keep her Dad happy. Her Dad will never be lonely again, not if Dragon has anything to say about it.

After a while of talking, Ink nods down at her. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how cool your cat is,” he says. Dragon takes that as her cue to get up on her Dad's shoulders. She shudders at the prospect, but if she lets Ink pet her the next time he tries, surely Dad will realize that he must stay with them. She gives her Dad a reassuring purr and nudges his cheek with her face, and Ink smiles. “Dragon. A fitting name for a majestic beast.”

“I don’t know why she’s so unfriendly,” Dad sighs, reaching up to scratch behind Dragon’s fluffy ears. Dragon purrs even harder. When Ink makes a strange noise and reaches up to join her Dad in scritching behind Dragon’s ears, her Dad takes a step back. No! That’s not the plan! “Woah, careful, man, don’t want you to get clawed.”

The big smile on Ink’s face gets smaller, but somehow feels more private. “Cats don’t really like me, anyway, I don’t mind a little scratch or two,” he says, stepping closer to offer his hand up for Dragon to sniff.

Dragon doesn’t even need to sniff him, though he smells strongly of outdoors. He’ll smell enough like Dad sooner or later. She just pushes her face against his knuckles. Pet me, you imbecile. Show Dad how you will love us.

She even keeps purring to drive the point home. “Holy shit, she doesn’t do that with anybody,” Dad says. Yes! He’s getting it!

They continue their conversation, and Dragon feels herself getting shifted into her Dad's arms, so she nuzzles against him. Dad is talking about things that don’t interest her, strangers and the like, so she meows pointedly and licks his face. Tell the Eddie he needs to stay. We don’t have one yet.

Finally, the conversation points to her in a favorable way. “Well, maybe you just have to find somebody she likes,” Ink says, scratching under her chin. She meows again and squints, tilting her chin up. She’s really going all out here. Dad better get her point. Ink makes a strange sort of sound. “Aw, see? She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll have a soft spot for someone other than yourself soon enough.”

“Draggy,” Dad coos in his play-voice, “will you please let Daddy get laid? Be all sweet and good instead of biting people’s ankles?”

Dragon doesn’t know what any of that means, but it clearly makes Ink horrified enough to drag the conversation elsewhere, which, again—annoying. Neither of them are getting her point, not even when Dad shifts her so that her tummy’s facing up and she lets Ink give her belly rubs. Belly rubs! Those are not given lightly, and Dad must realize it, because Ink comes over a lot more often after that.

She always makes sure Ink and Dad are sitting together, lets Ink pet her—and, admittedly, he’s pretty good at it—and watches to make sure Dad's smile never turns lonely. And it doesn’t, not with Ink around. Dragon changes nothing about how she interacts with other people, but she gets clingy to the Eddie, trying to show her Dad that he should be, too. Dad even lets the Eddie into the den, lets him lay on the pillows beside him as they talk and talk about things that Dragon doesn’t understand and doesn’t particularly care to.

But Ink is not close enough. On one memorable occasion, Dragon even paws at his arm until he gets the hint to scoot closer, and she thinks that if her Dad could purr, he would. Dad doesn’t get the hint, though, even still, because even though Dragon is pretty sure the Eddie of the human litter is supposed to provide love to the Steve, Dad doesn’t seem to realize he can. Dragon even lets Dots get in a scratch to her chin, just to show Dad that if even she can let other people in, so can he.

“You are killing me, you little menace,” Dad tells her one night when Ink isn’t in the room, but he’s still in the house. “Why do you like Eddie so much, huh? I mean, sure, he’s funny and he’s nice, but it’s not like you can understand what he says, you don’t speak English.”

Dragon meows indignantly at him from where she sits on his lap. I understand enough to know that this Eddie is the Eddie you should keep.

“Yeah, yeah, I see your point. Eddie is pretty great,” her Dad mutters.

Dragon yawns, because the little song and dance her Dad is doing about his silly feelings is exhausting, and starts making biscuits on his thighs, then purrs. He is. And you deserve that. You should not be lonely, and he makes you un-lonely.

“Okay, so he’s handsome, too, but I don’t see how that’s appealing for you, you’re a cat,” Dad huffs. Dragon watches him pause, then his face goes all pink, and he looks funny. “Well, that’s—it doesn’t appeal to me, either, I guess.”

Dragon gives him an inquisitive little mrrowp? in response. What does handsome mean? You should let him give you whatever pets for humans are.

Her Dad makes air push out of his mouth for a while. “Look, Draggy, you gotta find someone else you like. Eddie can’t be the only other person you can tolerate, it’s just not realistic,” he tells her. Rude. She tolerates everybody.

Dragon roars. The Eddie loves you, so I love him. What’s so hard to understand about this? You love him, too, if you would stop being obtuse about it.

Dad has the audacity to shush her, even if he does give her some pets. “Yeah, I know, and I like having him around, too—”

“Talking to your cat about me, Stevie?” Ink asks.

Dragon makes a whole big show of letting Ink give her tummy rubs, keeping her eyes on Dad the whole time. See? You could have this, too. Just be brave. But, unfortunately, Dad doesn’t get the hint, because while he puts Ink in clothes scented by him, Ink sleeps in one of the dens for guests rather than in Dad's den. Fine. If Dad won’t get the message, maybe his Eddie will.

She sits outside of the door to the guest den Ink sleeps in and yowls and cries until he comes out to pick her up and put her on Dad's bed. “Please tell your daughter to stop screaming at me,” he says, and Dragon gets dragged into her Dad's lap. The Eddie turns to leave, which is outrageous! All of that work, for what? Dragon lets out an indignant cry, and Ink turns back around. “Oh my God, what?!”

Dragon gives him a little chirp and trots to the edge of the bed, nosing at his hand. Sleep in here, Dad is so lonely when he sleeps.

“Draggy, let Eddie go to bed,” Dad protests. Dragon resists the temptation to tell him to stay out of it, because he is still her Dad and must be respected.

“Yes, Dragon, I need my beauty sleep,” Ink tells her, which is further infuriating, because Dad already thinks he’s pretty! He stares at Ink all the time! When the Eddie turns to leave again, Dragon yowls again and takes his hand into her mouth to try and drag him towards Dad. Ink looks to Dad, probably for guidance. The Steve is the leader, after all. “Does she want me to stay here?”

They exchange more words, which is a terrible bore, but Ink clambers into the bed, so Dragon is triumphant. They’re not close enough, though, not as close as the humans on the TV that make Dad sigh wistfully, so Dragon pushes against Ink’s back and doesn’t stop pushing until he scoots a little closer. Still, it’s not enough.

“She keeps pushing at my back,” the Eddie says. “Why is your cat so strong, dude?”

Dragon is so busy being pleased at the comment that she nearly misses what her Dad says in response. “I can take her out of the—”

She lets out a panicked screech, as loud as she can. No! You’ll never do this on your own! I have to help, so I have to be here until you figure it out!

Neither of them make any further threats to remove her, so she just keeps idly nudging at Ink’s back. After so much chatter, really, humans have got to be more direct with each other, the Eddie takes initiative, leaning close to her Dad's face. Finally, finally, they look the way the humans on TV do, and Dragon quietly makes her way off of the bed as the strange noises that usually mean she gets locked out of the room begin, meowing when there’s a pause.

I will stay out of your way, Ink. Please make him happy.

Dragon heads down the hall and curls up on the bed of the guest den, too tired from her matchmaking efforts to be kept up by the increase of noises from the room next door.

To be given her proper credit the next morning, she politely snatches up one of the shirts on the floor—the one that smells like Dad but the one Ink had been wearing—and waits for her Dad to see her up on the bed before swishing her tail smugly. When Ink sees, he cackles. Dragon can tell that he will live up to his title. The Eddie will make the Steve happy, just as he’s meant to.

Honestly, Dad should listen to her more often. Dragon has very good ideas.

#dragon's pov as promised #she thinks they're too dumb to come up with names so she names the ones she likes best!!!#thinking of doing a sequel where nancy is enlisted for catsitting and it goes. Very Interestingly #we will see #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #robin buckley #there is nothing more important than platonic stobin

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gwendaria · 30 days

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The Strangers (2008) dir. by Bryan Bertino

#the strangers #the strangers 2008 #horror #horroredit #myedit #thestrangersedit #none of the sequels will ever top the original for me #it is THE home invasion movie IMO

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slashergirlnancy · 5 months

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stancy + The Hunger Games AU (mentor!Nancy and tribute!Steve)

#stancy #stancyedit #stranger things #strangerthingsedit #stedit #stranger things AU #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #au series #dailystrangerthings #strangerthingsedits #tvstrangerthings #mine*#i'm sorry this came out so long dskhjfkj i didnt mean to #and the last few scenes are pretty dark so i'll explain:#the gamemakers set the mutts loose to get them both to the cornucopia #they fight and eventually steve pushes jason over and the mutts kill him #might do a sequel to this at some point and do the quarter quell idk

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shares-a-vest · 3 months

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@flufftober Spring Edition Day 6: Sharing a Blanket

wc: 549 | Rated: T for suggestive language and flirtatious banter | cw: None

Tags: Quiet Night In, Getting Interrupted, Future Fic (early-00's), Steddie Dads, Teen Daughter

Note: idk this one might skirt the line of fluff. The start is more silly-fluff and gets a tad angsty.

'Breaking Up with a Grade-A Dork'

“Gimmie,” Eddie commands, all but lunging at Steve to pluck his glasses from his nose.

“Wha-Eddie!” he splutters, kicking up the blanket they are sharing with enough force, it sends a skittish Meatloaf bolting for his safe haven under the couch.

“Your glasses are always so dirty,” Eddie grumbles, vigorously rubbing the spectacles with the bottom of his shirt and ignoring the chaos he has caused.

Steve would shoot something back, but Eddie’s cleaning routine exposes some skin. Flesh that is still easily seen (and ogled) at their close proximity. A little paunch of a belly and a thin trail of hair that goes down, way down and disappears under a teasingly thin pair of sweatpants –

“– Like what ya see, sweetheart?” Eddie chimes.

His voice is a little too loud for a quiet and cozy evening on the couch where American Idol plays forgotten on the television in front of them.

Steve looks up, startled as Eddie now begins some silly rolling motion of his stomach muscles and meets him with greedy eyes and a wiggling brow.

“Maybe,” Steve shrugs, pouting as he snatches up the admittedly, clean glasses.

He puts them back on and runs a hand through his hair, flashing a smirk.

“Steven…” Eddie pretends to warn as Steve leans in and puckers his lips, “We… um…”

But he trails off just as Steve bats his lashes.

“This is going to go on for hours,” Steve bargains, nodding to the television without breaking Eddie’s gaze as he lowers his voice to a whisper, “Ryan Secrest can’t wrap up the results show to save his life.”

“It’s…” Eddie whispers, his gaze flitting to Steve’s lips, “The commercials.”

He closes the gap between them, pressing a soft kiss to his partner’s lips, figuring they’ll start slow –

At least Steve intends on initiating their typical – alone – primetime TV makeout session. But the front door bursts open to reveal Joanie, home far too early and looking more than a little displeased for a routine date night.

“I broke up with James,” she huffs, flinging her handbag in the vague direction of the hatstand before she all but charges to the couch.

Eddie gasps, flopping back onto his couch cushion.

“Steve,” he stage-whispers, sounding desperate as he scrambles to untangle the blanket between them, “I’m not prepared for this.”

“I wasn’t even ready for her first boyfriend,” he shoots back, making room for their daughter who, by the looks of her disgruntled frown, appears not all that heartbroken.

Steve adjusts the throw-over blanket to mask his words but Joanie isn’t listening, instead perking up at the sight of television.

“Well, I’m glad,” Eddie mutters out of the corner of his mouth, “Dude was a grade-A dork – here, Munchkin!”

He smoothes out the throw-over, patting it down for good measure as he shuffles closer, squishing them all tight together on their generous couch.

Steve meets his daughter’s eyes, the big brown orbs growing glassier by the second as her initial nonchalance begins to fade away.

“Tell us what happened,” he says, placing his arm around her.

Grade-A dork on not, James was a perfectly acceptable boyfriend – a nice boy wholly deserving of their daughter’s affection.

Joanie snuggles in under the throw-over, squeezing him back and sniffles.

#might write a sequel to this #in my head joanie breaks up with james over something really petty and silly (she IS gremlin man eddie munson's daughter after all)#fluffspring2024 #day 6 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie as girl-dads #steddie dads

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sketchupnfries · 11 months

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Every year without fail, I tend to have an intense hyperfixation during the summer, and it's always my favorite thing since it's happened each year (more so starting in 2016 and then onwards). Also I can't believe it's like officially-ish I guess the fifth anniversary of the Roombalution comics I made, and the chaos they brought haha. This year it's part 2 with Turbo Dogs lol.

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

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Over Now

♥ ♥ rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: In this sequel to "Only Now", you've moved away from Hawkins and it's something you should've done much sooner. It's the best choice you've made, it all works, until Eddie finds your address and stops by for a visit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, smut, angst

Author’s note: a couple of you found my askbox and talked me into this after i answered an ask about Only Now, and with a little inspiration courtesy of @ghostinthebackofyourhead that kickstarted all of this, we find ourselves here. I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 9.6K

(find all four parts of this story here)

You wanted days to speed up. Have the sun travel across the width of the sky faster. Blink your eyes a few times and accidentally have a few hours pass you by entirely without you having noticed. If you could, you’d skip a full year. You envisioned yourself a year from now, and she seemed strong. Twelve months would be plenty of time for her to have gathered up enough strength to arm herself properly. She probably didn’t think about it every day. About him every day. She was probably happy. Strong, and successful and happy. You wished every day for time fast forward, just so you’d get to meet her sooner.

"You should leave," you whispered into the dark, hearing the city wake up outside of your windows, the hustle and bustle slowly picking up.

"Not yet," Eddie stated it so matter of factly that you didn't even feel like you could fight it. If Eddie decided to stay, you both knew he was going to stay. Eddie knew it was what you wanted, and Eddie knew you wouldn't fight him on it. But you had to be strong. Find the strength somewhere. Somehow.

At New Year's Eve, a couple of weeks after Eddie had left you with a little note that read "Merry Christmas x", you were doing a round of sharing your resolutions for the next year. You had decided yours on the spot and had blurted it out without having given it much thought.

"I'm going to move out of Hawkins."

And everyone had looked at you like it was the wildest thing they'd ever heard, laughed at you as if you were joking, like they had done when Dustin said he was going to start going to the gym. Not Steve though. Steve had hooked an arm around your neck, pulled you in so he could speak directly into your ear and said, "Coolest resolution of the bunch."

What Steve hadn't anticipated is that a mere two, two and a half weeks later, he'd be stood outside of the apartment building you used to share, ready to say goodbye and wave you off. You'd packed up all your belongings into your shitty car and were ready to get out of Hawins. Just, leave. For ever? Never to return? You weren't sure. You'd see.

“I know you have to leave, but, if you really think about it, what’s another week?” Steve tried, leaning his elbows in your open car window. It was too cold for it to be rolled all the way down, mid-January the temperatures were freezing, but you had something to say to Steve still, and you wouldn’t leave before you’d said it. Could you have told him inside? Absolutely. But it would’ve postponed your plans, and you had procrastinated enough. Years, if you really thought about it. You should've gotten out when Nancy and Jonathan had done, but, you know, you clearly hadn't.

“Shut up,” you completely dismissed Steve’s attempt at another week with you in Hawkins and he let his head drop in defeat.

“I need to say things to you,” you said, and Steve was quick to whip his head back up. You kept your engine running but slumped your shoulders and let your hands fall into your lap as you gave him a little pout.

“No, don’t,” Steve warned you.

“I have to,” you took a deep breath, and before Steve could block his ears with his fingers, you got the words out fast. “I don’t deserve you, you are by far the best friend, too good for this world, I can’t believe I’m leaving you behind- I love you!” all your words blended and built up in volume until you were practically screaming. They weren’t the words Steve was expecting, so when he lowered his arms, you snuck them in real fast: “Please come with me!”

“No!” Steve was too late; the words found his ears without any obstruction, and he waved his arms in frustration as he turned away from your car.

Your play back and forth of you begging Steve to join you, and him very actively avoiding every single talk you tried to have with him about it, had been going since the start. Ever since you dropped the comment that you should probably just get out of Hawkins all together, you’d been saying you should both go. He had threatened you at the start, “Careful, or I’ll do it!”, thinking it would make you stop the bit, but knowing there was a slight chance he’d actually consider it only made you press it more.

Steve took a few steps, circled back to your car, and pretended he was about to take a dive across you, aiming for your passenger seat. Just for a second, you thought he was actually going to go for it, and it made you squeal in panic filled laughter. Instead, Steve just leant through your window, found your shoulders with both his hands, and pulled you in for the most awkward hug.

“I’ll come visit soon,”

“Promise?”

“Of course, idiot.” Steve’s grip tightened. “I promise.”

A fresh start. New beginnings. New surroundings. It was what your mother said you’d needed for years. It was what Steve was hellbent on you getting for years.

You’d done enough scooping of popcorn into buckets at the movie theater, only to sweep up half of it two hours later from under the seats – a dead end job, but easy money made. Enough to pay rent, have a little fun and even save up a little.

You’d saved up enough to get yourself through two months of rent in the city, no problem. The urge to immediately find work wasn’t there, but when you moved into your new, much smaller, apartment above a bar that had a sign in the window that read BAR STAFF WANTED you thought, "Perfect.".

It was late February when Steve got word that Eddie was coming back into town. That’s soon, Steve thought. Usually, Eddie would leave much longer periods in between visits. Maybe they were playing somewhere close, and Eddie would just pop down for the day, he thought, secretly pleased that you’d decided to move away when you did.

Eddie didn’t even seem fazed when he walked up to greet Steve. Didn’t look around. Didn’t do a double take. And then, didn’t even ask, but just smiled and hugged Steve, patted him on the back and followed him inside.

Small talk.

Steve was astounded by the surface level of small talk Eddie made. Has the weather been good? Munson, it’s February. Of course not. It’s been grey skies and wet cold. Has he also been sick? Wayne told him a bug had half of Hawkins knocked out a couple weeks ago. Steve had a cough for a few days but was fine otherwise. Got all his fingers still? Eddie knew Steve liked lighting fireworks with Dustin, Mike, the others, anyone who would still come back from college, from jobs, had time to visit family over New Year’s Eve. Steve showed him all ten.

Then Eddie started talking about tour. The band. The gigs. The crowds. Steve loved Eddie’s stories, could honestly listen to him for hours, but he couldn't give him his full attention. Steve was listening to Eddie through your ears. Watching him through your eyes. It was like everything had to pass through a filter of you before it reached Steve, and it slowly built annoyance.

The last time Steve and Eddie had spoken, just the two of them, had been on the ice. When Lover's Lake had frozen over, Robin had taken you on a slippery, scary ride as she had run off with you and he'd stopped Eddie to ask him, was he even really aware of it? Of what he was doing? Did he ever stop to think what his behavior meant for you? Eddie hadn't appreciated Steve placing full blame with him; what Eddie's behavior meant for you. Not, what you were doing to Eddie.

Steve had told him to at least be mindful. When Eddie had scoffed, had said that he was being mindful, Steve revealed how a couple of months ago he had sat outside of your locked bathroom for hours. Listened to you cry silently in between echoing spasmed breaths and sobs. "Don't put her through that again, man." Steve's eyes shone with sadness. It annoyed Eddie greatly as he watched you and Robin laughing together, holding hands as you carefully made your way back to them over the ice.

Eddie didn't think he was doing anything to you. He was just being nice, wasn't he? Would hold you while you slept. Said nice things into your hair. Held your hand on walks. Squeezed your thighs underneath tables. Kissed you on the couch. These were all nice things; things you wanted, things you didn't shy away from, things you happily accepted from him. This is how you were together. Frankly, how you'd always been together. How much worse would it be if he didn't do any of those things at all? If he grew distant all of the sudden? If he just... stopped?

"Be mindful, s'all." Steve said just before you slid back into earshot.

And Eddie had tried for like, an hour maybe. Steve was a good friend and had come to him with difficult things to say, so Eddie tried. Even if he didn't like it. Eddie tried. Kept a little more distance. Didn't sling an arm around you as you walked back to Robin's car together. Called shot gun so he didn't have to share the backseat with you. Didn't use pet names. Didn't look at you and smiled until his eyes crinkled. And then they'd all felt it. They had all seen your angry glances at Steve. Had felt the mood shift. Had felt the sudden tension in the air. Had felt your complete rejection of whatever it was that Steve wanted for you. He wasn't meant to interfere like that, you thought. So when you'd reached for Eddie's hand when you'd gotten out of the car, Eddie had looked at Steve. Told him, I'm not doing anything, with his eyes. It's her.

So Steve was glad you weren't there. But Steve was annoyed that Eddie didn't even acknowledge that.

"You staying over at Wayne's?" Steve asked once Eddie let a silence fall. Eddie never stayed at Wayne's on his visits, but without prospect of staying over at your place, Steve thought he kind of had to.

"I guess," Eddie shrugged.

Steve waited. Still nothing.

"Speaking of, I should probably head over and go see my old man." Eddie spoke through a stretch, arms all up in the air, fingers interlocked, palms out. Then he sighed deeply and got up, went to get his coat from the hallway as Steve moved their used glasses to the kitchen. "Promised he'd make me more meatloaf since I didn't get to take any with me last time," Eddie joked halfheartedly and smiled at Steve when Steve met him in the hallway. Perfect moment to mention you, Steve thought. Yet still, nothing.

Steve followed Eddie on his way out, then decided he couldn't let Eddie just leave like that. Couldn't let him walk out after pretending you weren’t one third of their- your whole. Steve and Eddie had never been just two. Ever since they'd gotten closer as friends, you'd gotten closer in friends together. The three of you. Joined at the hip. Morning, noon and evening. Sun, wind and rain. Birth, life and death. Past, present and future.

"No? Nothing?"

"Huh?"

"You're not going to ask why she's not here? Come on, man…" Steve said, hoping Eddie would let his guard down, not pull it up more.

Eddie turned his head away, looking down the long corridor of apartment doors, hands in the pockets of his leather coat. Then he clicked his tongue and looked back at his friend in the door opening. "What's there to ask?" Eddie asked disdainfully, flicking his eyes down to Steve’s shoes and back up real quick.

Steve loved Eddie, really missed his friend all the time, and maybe even more so now you had moved away too, but this wasn't cool. Eddie didn't need to be so arrogant, act all haughty around him. They were friends. Two legs of this tripod they formed with you. Acting like you weren’t in the slightest bit important, weren’t an inherent part of them, vested in everything they were and weren’t together wasn’t okay.

Steve pushed his chin up, made his lips disappear and gave a small nod. "Say hi to Wayne for me." and closed the door on him. Eddie could go fuck himself.

When Eddie stepped into the trailer without knocking, Wayne took one look at him and told Eddie to walk back out. Eddie sighed loudly. Wayne used to do this all the time if Eddie came walking in like he owned the place. It would often happen when Wayne had worked double shifts and had left Eddie alone for too long. Wayne would make Eddie walk out and come back in, almost as if he was a polite guest, visiting his uncle for a special occasion. Put him in his place a little. Feel that, even if he was the one with his own bedroom between the two, the trailer was still Wayne's home first.

Eddie knew better than to not do as he was told by Wayne, famous rockstar or not, and stepped back out. He took a second, hand on the door handle still, and then he knocked and waited for Wayne to answer.

"Jus' a second," Wayne's low voice gruntled from behind the door, and Eddie huffed a laugh through his nostrils. Fucker was going to make him wait out in the cold, too.

When Wayne opened the door for Eddie, they grinned at each other and hugged.

"Come on, boy. Eat."

Eddie had been pushing the same bite of meatloaf around his plate for ten minutes, then sighed deeply and explained why he was going to have to stay over on the couch in the trailer that night.

"That why you ain't eatin'?"

Eddie shrugged, mentioned how Steve seemed upset with him about something too, not elaborating on why exactly that was. Wayne didn't push it, and instead focussed on the note Eddie showed him.

"And now she lives in the big city, huh?" Wayne said, reading the address.

"Seems like it," Eddie held the note in between his fingers, like he would hold a cigarette and stared at Steve's handwriting.

"Didn't tell you?" Wayne shoved his empty plate towards Eddie a little, signaling it was Eddie who was going to be doing the washing up. Eddie didn't fight him on it; Wayne cooked, so it was only fair Eddie did the dishes. Picking up the plates, his own barely touched, Eddie shook his head a little at Wayne's question.

"Didn't need to, it's her own life, isn't it? Makes her own choices," Eddie reasoned for himself. He hadn't told you about all the places he'd stayed at to write, to record, to rehearse and to play. Why should you have to?

It would have been nice for Eddie to have known, don't get him wrong. He probably wouldn't have come back to Hawkins so soon had he known you weren't there anymore.

"I never understood it," Wayne sighed, sitting back in his seat as he placed his hands behind his head, elbows sticking out wide. "You kids, not goin' together but holdin' hands all the time anyway," Wayne frowned and shook his head a little.

Wayne knew you and Eddie far surpassed innocent hand holding - walls were thin in his trailer - but hand holding was all the two of you had done openly in front of him. Everything else Wayne had caught, he'd pretended not to have seen or to have heard.

"Nothing to understand," Eddie shrugged.

"And she's not goin' with Steve either?"

"No," Eddie snorted, absolutely unable to even think of you and Steve as a couple.

"Hand me that towel," Wayne joined Eddie in the kitchen.

This was nice, Eddie thought. Just chatting with Wayne, in the trailer, hands busy with an easy task. Just the two of them, like old times. It didn't have the same effect as hanging out with you and Steve had on him, though. But it was nice anyway.

"Wouldn't have time for it anyway, would you?" Wayne said. "Not with all them girls waitin' outside after your concerts," There was a moment of eye contact where Eddie had expected a sly smile from Wayne, something a little playful, but was met with a set of stern eyes instead.

"I better not be hearin' bad things, Eddie," Wayne warned, and Eddie immediately took it to mean something malicious. Like Eddie was taking advantage of every single person that showed him any form of interest. Like it was Eddie’s fault that the band had groupies.

"What do you take me for?" Eddie mentally placed his foot against the gas pedal, ready to absolutely floor it if Wayne was going to say something else he didn't like.

"Don't forget who raised you, now," Wayne stayed calm, his voice not changing tone.

"Are you accusing me of something?" Eddie accelerated.

"Just makin' sure no one has reason to,"

Eddie just looked at Wayne a second before he contorted his face and threw the sponge he'd been scrubbing pots with loudly against the tiles behind the sink. The wet slap was loud and splashed dish soap suds onto dishes Wayne had already dried but had yet to put away. He silently watched his nephew grab his coat, feel around pockets for a packet of cigarettes and step out.

Had Eddie been 16 still, he'd have slammed the door.

Wayne wasn't stupid. He'd seen things on MTV, saw pictures in the magazines and, sometimes, if they were particularly bad, the newspapers. He'd even seen some girls with his own eyes when he'd been to see Eddie 'n the boys play when they'd been close enough for Eddie to put Wayne up on the guest list. He had never seen Eddie give them any real attention, but Wayne knew his nephew.

Eddie just needed to be mindful. Tha's all.

That night, Eddie and Wayne had gone to bed in silence. Eddie had refused to say another word, even when Wayne had sat down in his armchair and had put the TV on. Eddie was all passive aggression, rumbling stomach only adding fuel, and Wayne knew to keep quiet until Eddie would break, say something stupid, something that crossed a line, immediately apologise and then they'd be able to talk everything through. Old routines died hard. That, or Eddie would crack because he had to have been hungry, still.

Before bed, Wayne had placed bedding and one of the better pillows onto the couch next to Eddie before retreating to his own bedroom. Eddie's old bedroom. When Wayne had closed the door behind him, Eddie had looked at it and wished it was his bedroom still. With the same old posters still up, his favourite guitar on the wall and all his other stupid shit strewn around, messing the place up. Making it all his. His own little safe space where everything was so very his. Eddie almost resented his uncle for not leaving it the way it was back then, but knew that would've made no sense.

Eddie found himself on the couch, hours later, middle of the night, not being able to sleep at all. The blinking streetlight from out front illuminated the note Eddie held in his hand in flashes.

Should he just... call?

Could he? He couldn't remember the last time he talked to you over the phone. You never called each other. Not that you'd be able to reach Eddie anywhere - he was always on the move.

You hadn't mentioned moving out of Hawkins the last time you'd seen each other. Maybe he wasn't meant to know. Or maybe, you'd tell him later. Once you'd settled. You couldn't have been gone that long, could you?

Eddie didn't manage to stay until the morning. When Wayne woke up and went to find his nephew to talk things through over breakfast, he was met with an empty trailer. Eddie had left the sheets folded nicely up on the couch, and had left his uncle a little note on top.

"I'm sorry. Took the leftover meatloaf x"

It was busy at the bar. Too busy. It was Thursday, and Thursdays were never this busy. The band playing had done a little promotion beforehand, and clearly, it paid off. You were sure lots of them were friends and family, but you eyed some curious anticipation from what you assumed were strangers too.

It was busy, but work was fun. It was just you and your immediate boss behind the bar together, and you wanted to impress, still. Be quick on your feet. Get lots of tips for the two of you to share later. You'd only worked there for about a month, but you'd learned fast. And it was fun because you seemed to really have a good routine down. There was no bumping into each other - if you were about to reach for a glass, he'd have it ready for you, and if you heard someone order drink from a bottle closer to you, you'd hand it over before he could even ask. Work was busy, hectic, and chaotic, but it was fun.

Most people drank beer. Some would order whiskey. Very, very rarely, someone would ask for something else. You'd barely touched the vast array of liquor bottles that decorated the wall behind the bar. So when someone ordered anything you'd not poured before, your boss would help you, show you once, then keep an eye the very next time you'd do it yourself. But most people drank beer, so you'd gotten used to asking which kind, almost on autopilot, and would point at the different taps with questioning eyes. Until someone didn't ask for a beer, and threw you for a loop.

"Jack and coke, please?"

You heard him before you saw him. The visceral reaction within your body was unreal. Unfair. Maddening, too.

You thought you had it all under full control. You had it all tucked away, squeezed into a small cage, locked up behind bars, keys thrown away far into Lake Michigan, never to be seen again. You'd been so good. Would sometimes go days without thinking of him. Became an expert in occupying yourself, and it really helped that none of your surroundings were reminders here. You had all of his things hidden away in a shoebox, placed it deep into your wardrobe, underneath and behind other items, and you'd tried to do the same with all the memories inside your head. Found a shoebox in there too, placed every single little thing you'd come across into this box and would store it away, somewhere near the back of your head, close to the top of your cervical spine.

And it had worked. You'd done so well.

But the sheer sight of him... the first little glimpse you caught after hearing that voice... It broke that cage wide open. Bars snapped in half, brick walls crumbled down and your heart was free. Free at last. Beating fiercely, almost painfully fast inside your chest. It got to swell again. Gave itself more wiggle room. Grew three sizes and pressed tightly against your lungs which made it hard to breathe. It hurt, but it hurt so good.

Eddie was here.

Have you ever felt your brain short-circuit in real time? Felt fires start from sparks too big upon the sight of someone's smile?

"What... how did you..." There were no full thoughts, and you had no possible way of verbalizing anything coherent in the moment.

"Steve," Eddie shouted over the music.

Your eyes grew, doubled in size. Never. Eddie was lying. Steve would never. Eddie could see your disbelief, your disgust at Eddie placing blame with your mutual friend and knew he had to explain.

"I saw..." Eddie sighed deeply, both hands placed on the bar as he leant forward, eyes closed, about to disclose information he wasn't proud of. "There was a note, with your new phone number and your address. He left it on the side, and I couldn't..." Eddie reached into a pocket, pulled it out and showed you Steve’s handwriting.

"You took it?"

"Don't worry, you know Harrington, he's got it memorized by now."

Like Steve being unable to reach you was the problem here.

"Eddie Munson?" someone tapped his shoulder, recognized him, went in for a hug immediately. "Told you it was him!" you heard someone else call out from the other side. "Eddie!"

Too many things were happening at once and you were unable to process any of them. Eddie was here, under questionable circumstances, and you didn't even have the time to be angry with him, because you were at work. You were at work, and it had been going so smoothly. You'd been on a roll, absolutely in it, you and your boss fully attuned to each other. Eddie ruined it, fucked it all up, but you had to get back to it. There were people waiting, drinks to be served, tips to be collected. But you were kind of... frozen. Almost nonresponsive.

You could only give Eddie confused eyes. Judgmental eyes. What the fuck are you doing here eyes. Came to mess up my life again huh eyes. But mostly, your eyes just held a lot of bewilderment and simple shock. Uncomplicated. Things anybody could read.

An arm holding a drink came into your vision from your left, and your boss placed down Eddie's jack and coke in front of him. A little dazed, you looked at your boss, who gave you a look, eyebrows raised high, not in question, but in let's get back to work, all right.

You looked at the man next to Eddie, who searched for your attention with a hand, was holding money and pointed at the beer tap before holding up two fingers.

"Coming right up," you snapped back into work-mode and smiled. You had to get back to work and pretend Eddie wasn't there. It was too busy at the bar not to. So, you ignored him, tried your best to not let your eyes find him, and focused on the work at hand. Work was busy, and it was fun, you sternly told yourself.

After a while, when the band was done playing, the bar started to feel more like a regular old Thursday inside. There was still enough work to be done, but nothing that overwhelmed you.

“Dude's still here, that okay?” Your boss eyed Eddie who was stood talking to two of the bandmembers. They seemed excited Eddie had seen their set.

You already knew Eddie was still there. You'd watched him all night. Corner of your eye. Peripheral vision. Like your body knew there was danger lurking, and you couldn't not keep an eye out for him.

“I'm working,” you shrugged. “If he wants to talk, he can wait.”

And you silently and secretly wished that he did. Fucking Eddie. What the fuck did he want? You’d last seen him in December, which for Eddie’s terms must have felt like just a week ago. Why had he been over at Steve’s?

“Is um… is he who I think he is?” your boss carefully followed up, making drinks right next to you as you kept busy rinsing glasses.

You gave a small smirk, but didn't answer, kept your eyes down. Eddie had been the talk of the night, obviously your boss knew the dude that seemed to be waiting your shift out was Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame. But the way the two of you had interacted, before the murmur of people whispering his name had started, told your boss you weren’t just shocked to see him because he was Eddie Munson. No, you knew each other. There was some sort of history there, he could sense it, and he silently commended you for only letting some of it show for half a second. The rest of the night you’d been perfect bar staff. No regrets in hiring you.

"Could you... do you think you could get Corroded Coffin to come play a little gig here?" your boss joked, and you couldn't help but huff a laugh through your nose. "Give us a little show? No?" you got a nudge in the shoulder and a playful smile when you looked at him.

"I'll ask, but I can’t make any promises," you said, making your boss laugh loudly. Corroded Coffin played huge venues, had insane mosh pits, full light shows with smoke and pyrotechnics. The bar you worked at fit the genre, sure, but was small. Tiny. They would tear the place down, and if not the band themselves, then definitely the people coming to see them.

“Let me know if I need to kick him out, because I’ll do it. Don’t care what name he carries.” And with that, your boss picked up drinks to carry over to the other side of the bar to whoever ordered them. You silently berated yourself for having waited so long to move to the city. People were nice here. What had held you back so long? The second you thought it, you hated that the answer to that question sat down on a barstool right in front of you.

“So when does your shift end?”

You were prepared for questions from Eddie. All throughout the evening you'd thought about what things you would tell him. What things you’d be honest and up front about, and what things you’d avoid telling him. You didn't owe him anything, but you imagined Eddie had questions anyway.

What you weren't prepared for was the magnetic pulling you felt in your stomach when you saw Eddie standing in the middle of your small, new apartment.

What you weren't prepared for was Eddie kneeling down in front of you as you'd sat down on your couch to take your shoes off.

What you weren't prepared for were Eddie's hands that found the outside of your thighs and used his fingernails to slowly scratch up and down the sides of them slowly as Eddie leant back on his heels.

You kind of couldn't really do anything but watch his hands move slowly along your legs and your breath shuddered as you felt your ribcage expand and tighten simultaneously. You frowned when you recognized where you were emotionally. You were in your bed, in your old apartment still, and had just found that stupid fucking note Eddie left on his pillow. You were back in December in the exact moment where all you could feel was loneliness and the strongest yearning you'd ever felt for Eddie.

And now, Eddie was here.

"Eddie,"

Your eyes locked, but what were you going to follow up with? Ask him why he was there? Ask him why he had visited Hawkins so soon after his last visit? Why he'd taken that note with your details from Steve's place? Were you going to tell him about why you'd left? Tell him about those days after he'd left without saying goodbye, again? You didn't really want to do any of those things. Because Eddie was touching you, and you kind of didn't want him to stop.

You hesitated for too long and saw Eddie's dark eyes move between yours before he sat up on his knees and moved in close. Close enough for your noses to touch, to dance around each other for a brief moment, to move like you were kissing. Close enough for your breath to hitch, throat working, as you saw Eddie's eyes roam your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

Eddie had never asked permission like that before, and you didn't need asking twice.

You only needed to tilt your head a little for your lips to touch, and it could've been soft, and slow, but it was none of the sort. You smashed yourself into Eddie, held onto him, arms winding tightly around his neck to pull him into you and keep him there. You kept feeding pressure as your faces swirled, tongues exploring each other, making sure they recognized each other still. You had to feel as much of Eddie as you could to make sure he was really there. That he was real.

Eddie kissed you back just has fervorous, like he was surprised that you'd granted him permission for it. Like he thought that maybe he had asked a question you would've easily said no to.

Thinking back to what Steve had said, he wouldn't have been surprised if you did.

You kissed each other, inhaled each other and tasted each other until Eddie suddenly noticed how your breathing grew erratic at an alarmingly rapid rate. Your hands started clambering behind his head, then on his back, your touches increasing in desperation. Your lips pressed against his hard and it started to become uncomfortable. Eddie reached for your hands in a bid to loosen your grip and broke your kiss.

"Hey,"

Eddie tried for eye contact, to see if you were okay, but you were quick to dig your face into the crook of his neck, escaped into his hair, and hooked your arms under his to tightly squeeze him. Your pressed your chests together and hugged Eddie tensely. You hugged him like you'd never let him go, clung to him like you were scared he'd get up and walk out, your chest heaving heavily still.

"Hey, are you–" Eddie stopped talking when a sob escaped you and he felt your body shake against his. It startled him for a moment, but it only took a second for him to hug you back.

Emotionally, you were there, in your old bedroom still, alone, blinking tears from your eyes at that stupid note Eddie left on your pillow. Eddie had walked out and hadn't even said goodbye.

"Shh, it's okay," Eddie turned soft, found the back of your head to caress and gently stroked his other hand up and down your back.

You cried, and Eddie was gentle. You cried over Eddie, because of Eddie, and let Eddie comfort you. It was an agonizing loop you found yourself in, realized you'd been in, that somehow also felt like it spiraled down with the weight of everything growing heavier each time. You'd be pushed further down each time. You'd have to rise up higher each time, gain new unprecedented levels of strength each time. It had only been a few weeks, and you hadn't even properly began the painstaking process of putting yourself back together again since you'd last seen Eddie. You had just ran from it. Hid from it.

But now, Eddie was here. He had left you alone in your bed a few weeks ago, but now, he was here.

"You always leave," you spoke through broken sobs, letting out the words you felt were hurting your heart from the inside out.

"I'm here," Eddie softly reassured, his voice kind, but flat, almost void of feeling. "I'm here."

You heard it – lies – and knew he emotionally wasn't here at all, but you could pretend he was. Needed to pretend he was. You could feel him, smell him, taste him and could pretend he was here, just like he said he was.

"Do you want to go lay down?" Eddie whispered after a little while. You had calmed down, but were holding on still, and he'd been sat on his knees in front of your couch too long.

Eddie felt you nod your head on top of his shoulder, and you expected him to move back, away from you, in order to stand up. Instead, Eddie moved your legs to hook around his waist, said, "Hold on tight," before gripping onto your waist and hoisting you up from the couch as you clung onto him.

Lowering you down onto the bed, Eddie got a look at your face and saw the mascara streaks he'd been responsible for. When he wiped a thumb across one, you realised what he was doing and were quick to wipe at your own face with your hands. You were sure that whatever Eddie was looking at, wasn't very charming.

But then Eddie grabbed onto both your wrists, stilled your hands and moved them away slowly. Replaced them with his own. It felt like the least thing he could do, to slightly make it better a little. He licked one of his thumbs like your mother used to do, and used soft strokes to wipe the make-up stains away as you stared up at him. Eddie's touch was careful and tender, and you melted under it, relaxing deeper into your bed.

Eddie didn't have mascara splotches to wipe at, but you wanted to touch his face in the same ways he was touching yours. You reached up, cupped his cheeks, rubbed a thumb along a line in his face and got a smile out of him. Eddie moved his head, kissed one of your palms, then straightened up and looked at your jeans.

"Can I take these off?"

What was with all the asking for permission? It was new. You didn't mind it, but it was... different. You nodded and let Eddie undress you.

He removed your jeans, your socks, your top, your bra too, and you waited for his roaming hands. Waited for his touches, his squeezes, for Eddie to grab at you, with soft or harsh fingers – you didn't care.

Eddie then removed his own T-shirt, and instead of discarding it onto the floor with the rest of your clothing items, he moved it around in his hands, found the neckline and said, "Sit up a little." before helping you put it on.

Eddie dressed you in his own T-shirt, the one he'd worn all day and overwhelmed your senses with all things Eddie. It was the smoothest of moves that caught you entirely off guard, and you had to take the deepest of breaths to not burst into tears again.

When Eddie slipped into bed in just his boxers next to you, you noticed that you were secretly pleased that he hadn't latched onto you the second he'd seen you naked. This was much nicer. Eddie was about to get comfortable on his back, was about to pull you in for cuddles, but you stopped him.

"Lay on top of me,"

Eddie froze a second, covers held up in his hand, facial expression a little confused.

"I want to feel you on me," you felt raw and vulnerable, all up in your emotions and had shared them with him too. There was no use in hiding what you wanted from him now.

"Yea. Yea, okay." and Eddie scooted down a little, found your chest with his head and carefully relaxed until you were pressed down into the mattress by his full body weight.

Eddie listened to your heartbeat, felt himself rise and fall with your breaths and dozed off the very second he knew that you'd fallen asleep as well.

You woke up in the middle of the night when you felt Eddie roll off of you, to get more comfortable, you imagined. He laid down next to you and the loss of his warmth, his weight and his contact made your hand search for his so you at least had something, still. You were needy and clingy and knew it was unattractive and overbearing, but you didn't care. When you found his hand and interlaced your fingers with his, your felt him squeeze a few times which was enough reassurance for you to drift off again.

Eddie woke you up in the morning by placing a hot mug of coffee on your bedside table.

"Morning," Eddie sat down next to you on the bed and leant over you, one arm planted either side of you. He bent over for a kiss, and you groaned, "morning breath," and tried to avoid him getting too close. But Eddie was Eddie, and he held your face to kiss you anyway.

"Couldn't," another kiss, "care," more, "less." and then deeper too. Until Eddie murmured, "You're out of breakfast," and you groaned loudly as you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

"Yea, I need to get groceries."

"So let's go have breakfast somewhere and get you some groceries."

You still didn't know why Eddie came to visit you. Why he had been in Hawkins, why he'd been over at Steve's. But Eddie sort of behaved in the same way he always did and you were about to plummet into domestic bliss together which you enjoyed far too much to confront him now. You'd get the answers to your questions later.

You found a little cafe to have breakfast at and sat by the window. You let Eddie choose your breakfast from the menu for you, but only because you had just told the waitress what Eddie was going to get. When your plates were put down in front of you, you both looked at the food, then at each other and both reached to switch meals because you'd chosen for each other what you really wanted to have yourselves. It was stupid and it turned you into grinning idiots, sharing dopey smiles as you ate. You missed Steve a little, thought he would have probably made some golden side comments had he been there, but you didn't mention it. Afraid it would ruin whatever it was that you and Eddie had going. Out of the confinements Hawkins held for you, where people had fully formed ideas of who you were as a person, and who you and Eddie were as friends, you got to just be... be yourselves, more. Be a little more coupley, without familiar judging eyes or the feeling you were going to have to explain to someone later that, no, you weren't actually dating, this was just what you were like.

Now, this was just who you got to be, almost without repercussions, and it made you want to up the level of it. Be a bit more of it.

And Eddie let you.

In the supermarket you noticed how flashy Eddie looked compared to every single other person in there. You realised that, when in Hawkins, Eddie definitely toned down this whole look he had created for himself. In Hawkins, Eddie was more the Eddie he'd been in high school, which, for small town terms, was pretty out there already anyway. But here, away from home and away the people that would still probably treat him as the town's freak, Eddie let some of his stage persona shine through in his outfit. Kind of made you feel a little underdressed, almost. He looked more confident, a little more removed from you, and sure, he looked very sexy, but it wasn't Eddie Eddie.

"What's chelse?" Eddie said, squinting at your shopping list. "Is this something fancy we don't have in Hawkins? That us simpletons have never heard of?" Eddie acted like he was the one stuck in Hawkins still, and that you were the one with a broadened worldview. Very obviously, that was clearly the other way around.

"Shut up, idiot. That says cheese."

"Excuse me, where do you keep your fancy chelse?" Eddie asked a teenager stacking shelves whose eyes grew with recognition for him.

"Oh my God, Eddie," you hissed under your breath, but couldn't withhold your giggles as you pulled Eddie along on your way to find some regular cheese.

Back in your apartment, Eddie started putting food away in all the wrong places, so as he placed items into random cupboards, you stood next to him and reorganized everything without saying anything. You just smiled, and when you snuck a look at Eddie, saw that he'd seen what you were doing, because he then placed bananas in the oven and a packet of uncooked spaghetti in the fridge. You were being dumb smiley idiots together and it was so cute, you imagined how Steve would say something along the lines of, "Well, at least you think this is fun." and he'd be so totally right.

"I start work soon," you said after letting yourself fall onto your couch, like you'd just ran a marathon.

Eddie copied you, hair flying as he landed against the backrest, sighing dramatically. Made you laugh.

"You can come sit at the bar, or... I don't know, stay up here, see what's on TV," you didn't want Eddie to leave, yet. You held out a hand and Eddie took hold of you, swinging your arms back and forth playfully.

"I'll have a shower, then call China... see what they have going on," Eddie joked.

"I'll send you the phone bill, so make every minute count," you joked right back, happy Eddie hadn't mentioned anything about needing to leave, about needing to get back to the band. It irked you a little too, unexpectedly, because you still didn't know why Eddie was here.

"What?" Eddie saw you frown as you looked at your hands that were still sort of moving around, drawing shapes in the space between you from your swirling elbows. You decided you were just going to be up front and ask the exact question on your mind.

"Why are you here?"

A beat.

"What made you come visit me?"

You turned to look at Eddie, who was staring at your hands just as you'd been doing.

"You weren't in Hawkins," Eddie shrugged and looked you in the eye briefly.

Your frown deepened, because that wasn't really an answer. It didn't explain anything, but just left you to put dots in places in order to connect them yourself. A dangerous game, because what if you put the dots in the wrong places and made the wrong connections?

"Missed ya," Eddie followed up, said it nonchalantly, Wayne's words echoing in his mind. He moved the hand he was holding up to his mouth to kiss it, easing the crease between your brows slightly.

No word on why he'd been back so soon. No word on what happened at Steve's for him to need to steal a note that held your details. You could imagine, sure, but those could be the wrong dots, and Eddie not elaborating only made you feel like he didn't want to talk about it. So, you didn't press it further, even though you really wanted to.

"Why did you let me in?" Eddie asked.

Oof.

You thought of all the cells in your body that all called out to Eddie at every second of every minute of every hour of every day, and about how having Eddie with you silenced all of them.

"Could hardly turn you away, could I? Leave you out in the cold?"

It was just as much of a non-answer as you'd gotten from him, and Eddie tutted, just about scoffed at you and you saw his brow furrow. You didn't take offense immediately, but were very ready to step into that box if Eddie didn't guide you away from it.

"Why do you... why are you doing this to yourself?"

Eddie instead pushed you straight into it.

"Excuse me?" you couldn't quite believe what you were hearing.

Eddie sat up, let go of your hand, used the both of his to rub his face and then turned his head a little to look at you.

"If it hurts you so much," Eddie started, but you weren't going to let him finish that sentence.

"Me?!"

Eddie just stared, blank faced.

"I'm the one who's doing this?" you challenged him.

"I mean–" Eddie raised his eyebrows and you knew he was going to have several examples ready to throw into your face. You very much didn't need to hear them.

"Why do you think I moved here, Eddie? Why I got the fuck out of Hawkins?"

Eddie just looked at you, and you could almost hear him think "you ran away", and you could feel the stinging of upcoming tears behind your eyes. The frustration of how easily emotion got hold of you again only angered you more, triggering the waterworks even more. You weren't strong enough yet. It hadn't been long enough since you'd last seen Eddie, and now here you were, a weak mess of a girl, about to drive away the person you wanted to keep close the most.

"I can't run away from myself… I can't run away from my past, from my actions, from choices I've made..." you had been able to run away from Hawkins, and so, that was what you'd done. It just hadn't worked as well as you would've hoped, and you realised it didn't work at all now that Eddie was here.

"You did… run away, I mean, didn’t you?"

Eddie said it with so much disdain, like it was the most cowardly thing you could've ever done. Like moving out of Hawkins was the absolute worst possible thing a person could ever do in their lifetime. Like you were faint-hearted. Weak. Spineless.

"You don’t get it." You got up to find the shoes you'd taken off earlier, wiping your hands harshly across your face to rid yourself of tears, annoyed that none of this seemed to touch Eddie at all. "Physically I had to," that was easier to say with you back towards Eddie, who was still sat on your couch. "But you think I can escape my own mind, Eddie? I’m in there, 24/7 - you are in there. It’s all the time, never ending, just... always there. How do I… how am I supposed to…" you started stumbling over words as your lips trembled, starting new sentences before ending the previous ones, thoughts overlapping and spilling out faster than your tears did.

"Hey," Eddie got up, but you were quick to hold out both your hands, palms facing him.

"No. I've got work." you turned around, grabbed a jacket and opened your door.

"Maybe you shouldn't be here... when I get back." and before Eddie could say anything, you stepped out and shut the door behind you.

You worked a grueling shift, and Eddie had been able to hear loud voices and live music thump in your apartment. It was late when you finished work, and you were exhausted, but you'd tried all night to build yourself up. Handed over beers whilst simultaneously mentally stacking bricks to build up walls in order to shield that weak mess of a girl inside, make sure she was still safe in there.

And then, Eddie was still there when you got back.

Hatred knotted in your stomach, because Eddie was still here and you liked it. Relief washed over you when you saw him, sat in the dark, still on your couch, and you wished it had been something else. Not relief. You wished that instead you would've felt ugly things. Mean things, exclusively.

You looked at each other in silence as the door clicked shut behind you and you noticed Eddie seemed sad. However, you couldn't allow yourself to dwell on it. Because feeling bad for him wasn't going to help you. You knew exactly what was going to help you, though.

"Say something horrible to me," you sounded exhausted, voice flat, not enough energy to muster up anything more for him.

Eddie immediately frowned in confusion.

"Tell me I'm your worst mistake," you stepped closer as you let your jacket slide form your shoulders.

"Say something to make me hate you,"

"Baby," Eddie got up.

You winced at the pet name, closed your eyes and breathed heavily, tried your best to pretend you didn't hear it.

"Tell me you fuck every single girl that throws themselves at you and that they do you better than I ever will and,"

"What are you..." Eddie tried to interrupted, but it just made you speak louder over him.

"That you'll never stop because they're just, too, good," you couldn't help but let your voice slowly build anger as you avoided any and all eye contact with Eddie.

Eddie slowly got closer, confused and concerned. This isn't how he had envisioned the two of you to make up after your shift had ended.

"Say that you think I'm annoying, that you hate the way I laugh,"

Now stood right in front of you, Eddie reached for your face with both his hands and he tried to find your line of sight to make you look at him.

"I don't," Eddie started, and you were quick to interrupt. "Then lie." you said sternly.

The air felt tense, but only because you were shooting daggers, glaring at Eddie with dark eyes, trying to win the staring contest you'd started with him the second you'd made eye contact. You won, because Eddie looked at your mouth for a second, and you wondered how you were going to murder all the butterflies that sprung up in your stomach.

"Ruin us, Eddie," you tried so hard to be strong. "Please." but it was difficult, and Eddie upped the ante when he kissed you.

For a second, you let him. You let Eddie kiss you, and it was immediately hot, and heavy, and you liked it. But you were strong, God damn it. You hadn't spent all hours of your shift building yourself up for fucking nothing. You were strong and were going to protect yourself, because clearly, no one else was fucking going to.

In a bid to take back control, you bit Eddie. Harshly. It made him pull back immediately.

"Give me reasons to hate you," you pleaded, breathing heavily.

"You're a mistake," Eddie said before crashing right back into you. There was nothing kind about the way you kissed each other. Forceful lips, pressing mouths, scraping teeth mixed in with unkind words, because Eddie obliged and started giving you what you were asking for.

"You're the worst thing that's happened to me in my lifetime," Eddie started guiding you backwards towards you bed.

"I hate the way you laugh," his tongue licked at your lips as his hands started to undress you.

"I hate the way you look," he said it right as he got your bra off of you and used a hand to push you back, making you fall and bounce on the mattress.

"I'm gonna keep fuck..." Eddie stopped, sighed a small breath, like he was unable to get it out of his mouth.

"Say it," you ordered.

"I'm gonna keep fucking every single girl that wants it," and with that, Eddie let himself fall on top of you. You were used to him at least pretending that, whenever you had sex, it was about you first. Not tonight. And maybe that was exactly right, because it drove home all the words he said and made them land in your brain.

Eddie didn't care about you.

But then, inches deep inside you, Eddie panted sudden sweet words.

"You've no idea what you do to me,"

His words dripped with lust and adoration, and you could've cried, but you didn't. You were strong, remember?

"No, more things you hate, t-tell me," Eddie's pace was fast, made it hard for you to speak. "Tell me more things that make me hate you,"

Eddie grumbled, grunted, let himself fall onto you as he kept going and chased his own orgasm.

"I think," Eddie started, but was cut off by himself as he came fast. He shuddered and spasmed on top of you, moaned loudly, then softer, until everything eventually stilled. "I think we should just stay friends."

And with a kiss on your cheek, Eddie climbed off of you and disappeared into the bathroom.

When Eddie came back out, you were silently crying in your bed. Eddie slid back in, nestled under your covers, but you jolted when he tried to touch you. So Eddie turned around, and you slept in your bed the way you'd never slept in a bed together; back to back, without touching each other, like two strangers forced to share a blanket.

But, asleep-you and asleep-Eddie, weren't confined by the same things awake-you and awake-Eddie were confined by, and your bodies had found each other in the night.

You woke up the next morning with Eddie's arms around you, the little spoon to his big spoon, and for a moment, you let yourself really feel it. Feel Eddie with every fibre of your being.

You deserved to win, you thought. Because with Eddie, you’d come in first place every single time, ask anybody. But Eddie hadn’t awarded anyone in years. There wasn’t a shortlist for you to top. There was just a long line of pretty girls who waited by stage doors and by tour buses, and you didn’t want to be in that line. You wanted this; Eddie in your bed, cuddled up to you, breathing in your neck, his hair or yours tickling you with every exhale. You wanted all of this just for yourself, for ever.

But you couldn't.

Because Eddie always left.

And you had ran away from him.

"You should leave," you whispered into the dark, as the city woke up outside your windows.

"Not yet," Eddie said. "Go back to sleep."

You shifted back a little, more into him, pressing your back against his chest more as you abandoned everything that happened the night before for a second. You understood that the very moment your feet would touch your floorboards and you both got out of this bed, it'd all be real again. And then, it'd all be over.

So you snoozed, and stretched out time and pretended for a moment that you were 17 and in Eddie's old bedroom in the trailer after a weird night of crossed boundaries. You pretended to snooze until Wayne would loudly knock on the door and tell you to come and clean up the mess you left in the living room. You pretended to snooze until you were no longer pretending and you just snoozed until you woke up hours later and found yourself alone again.

Alone but for one of those stupid little notes.

"Love you x"

You read it, crumpled it up and threw it across the room before burying your face back into your pillow.

It was over now. Eddie was gone, and it was over.

-----

Read the follow up: Then Again

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The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff - (tag list currently full)

#over now #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #stranger things 4 #munson #only now #sequel #angst #smut #fluff

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henbeaka · 3 months

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mike tying will's shoes in the middle of the street. mike grabbing will's hand when he feels that he's anxious. mike tickling will to wake him up. mike posing for will for hours for paintings. mike glaring anybody that breathed too loud near them if will was sleeping. mike giving will his sweater immediately if he saw him shiver even a little. mike watching will sleep with the dopiest expression. michael wheeler in love.

#byler #stranger things #michael wheeler #i love him. so much.#could someone make a sequel with will #be warned #i will if no one does >:(#byler loves each other #<- find sequel on this tag

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strangersequel · 2 years

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* ✰. *.˚៹ 🔦🚲 : moodboard - Ada Marie Clarke

I'm walking on sunshine, whoa And don't it feel good?

#fic: twist and shout #ch: ada marie clarke #wattpad fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #moodboard #stranger things wattpad #stranger things oc #stranger sequel collab #stranger sequel #zoe colletti #ochub #OC stuff #ocapp #ocappreciation #oc community

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fastcardotmp3 · 2 months

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

Max goes to Nancy first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chrissy…? Shit, Nance—”

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

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

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

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

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

“... might not actually be…”

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

“... not the same as…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nancy seems to feel it too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max doesn’t have an argument for that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Nance?”

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

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

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

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

Wet and nervous, but a smile all the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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