Modern!lee Bodecker And Chronically Ill Reader (migraines And Chronic Fatigue) And Soft Fluff/comfort/cockwarming

Modern!lee Bodecker and chronically ill reader (migraines and chronic fatigue) and soft fluff/comfort/cockwarming -cuddling?

Greatest Comfort

+18 ONLY

Pairing : modern!Lee Bodecker x chronically ill!reader

Word Count : 567

Warnings : chronic illness, fluff, cockwarming, explicit language

Notes : Thank you for sending this in! I hope you enjoy 💕

________________

Lee came home prepared. She had texted him that she had to leave work early today. While he couldn’t get off early like she could, Lee made sure he had all the essentials. He had scoured the internet to tips and tricks to help alleviate her suffering. He had it all memorized by now.

He found her sprawled on their bed, barely conscious. He leaned down and kissed her head, smoothing her hair out of her face. Her face was contorted in pain, his heart aching at the sight.

“It’s bad again,” she grumbled into the pillow.

He kissed her temple, “I know, honey.” He began to strip of his uniform and changed into his loungewear, “You take anything?”

“Yeah,” she croaked.

He covered her body up with the blanket and kissed her head once more, “Be right back.”

Going into the bathroom, Lee ran a bath with peppermint essential oil and orange slices. He put on the steam diffuser and added eucalyptus essential oil. When everything was ready, he wandered back to their bedroom and slowly coaxed her out of bed. He carefully led her to the tub, helping her shed her clothes and stepping into the water.

Before she sat down, she turned to him, “With me?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips and nodded, “Okay.”

He stripped of his clothing and sat behind her in the tub. Her body immediately relaxed into him, the warm water soothing her aches and pains. The scent of the peppermint and eucalyptus began to soothe her fatigue, slowly masking the pain of her throbbing head.

Lee began to massage her shoulders, dispersing the tense knots. His fingers worked on her scalp and her neck, scattering kisses over every inch of exposed skin. Her limbs felt heavy and she finally felt at peace. Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was Lee. Either way, she was starting to feel better.

The water was continuously topped off so they could bask a little while longer. She curled into his chest, finding great comfort in his arms. She never wanted to leave this moment.

She nuzzled her face into the crook of her neck and murmured softly, “Wanna be closer.”

Lee immediately hugged her tighter with one arm and slipped his other hand down between them. He took hold of his member, already half erect. He stroked himself a few times as he kissed her temple. He knew exactly what she needed.

He worked himself up easily, his breath becoming heavy. He swallowed hard as he squeezed her hips, signaling that he was ready for her. Carefully, she maneuvered on his lap, the water lapping at the sides of the tub. She positioned him at her entrance and slowly sank down onto this length. He stretched her wide, her walls fluttering around him. They both let out soft moans as the pleasure washed over them like the water.

Seated and filled to the hilt, the remained still. They held each other as they savored this moment, this feeling. No words were shared. The silence was calming. They simply stayed connected until the water around them became chilled. Even then, they debated staying in the tub. Only when their skin began to wrinkle did they leave their embrace, only to return to their bed.

While Lee couldn’t completely take away her pain, he certainly was able to help.

Omg omg I hope you had a nice shift!!! Im feeling soft, so could I request reader comforting a jealous Lee (give in au). Maybe she was ogling a magazine about her favorite celebrities and it got under lees skin a little more than he’d like to admit?

Simple Jealousy

+18 ONLY

Word Count : 612

Warnings : slight angst, jealousness, fluff

Notes : I had a fun time with this one! I hope you enjoy! Much love ❤️

_______________

“What’re you readin’, girl?” Lee sat his coffee mug on the table as he sat down beside her.

She had her nose stuck between the pages of a magazine all morning. She had yet to make them breakfast because of it. His stomach growled as he waited for her to get up and start making them something to eat. He wasn’t in the mood to cook today. He wanted his pretty girl to do it for him.

“Nothin’ important,” she mused as her eyes continued to scan the page.

His eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his coffee, “You hungry?”

“Yeah. What’re you makin’?”

Lee frowned. So much for not cooking. He jutted his jaw as his eyes flashed down to the magazine in her delicate grip. The front page read ‘MOVIE MIRROR’ with a picture of Frank Sinatra and Gail Martin.

He pushed up from his seat and walked to the fridge. He opened the door and peered inside. “I don’t know… Eggs?”

“Sure,” she answered listlessly.

Lee tried not to frown. The whole time he cooked for them, she flipped through the magazine. No chatting, nothing. He wanted her attention on him. When he finished cooking her eggs, just the way she likes, he placed her plate in front of her. His eyes glanced at the magazine and saw a two page spread on the actor, director Warren Beatty.

“You like that stuff?” He couldn’t help but ask. He’d never saw her with a celebrity magazine before.

“Not really. I just think he’s pretty,” Y/N cooed as she ogled at the man’s image.

A frown creased in Lee’s features. He huffed and returned to the stove, making his food next. Once finished, he sat across from her at the table rather than next to her. She didn’t even notice. He frown deepened. He ate his eggs in silence while Y/N ignored her plate, staring at the same two pages.

“You’re food’s gettin’ cold,” Lee grumbled.

Y/N’a eyes ripped from the magazine, brows perked in realization, “Oh, sorry.”

She took a couple bites and then went back to reading. Lee’s tongue swiped over his teeth as he placed he fork down on the table a little too hard. The sound of the metal clacking against the table’s surface made Y/N’s eyes flash up to Lee’s face. Her eyes were wide, now realizing Lee was upset. Irritation radiated off of him as he glared at her.

“What?” She asked.

“You’d rather pay attention to a man who doesn’t even know you exist than me, the man who’s sitting right across from you?”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before she slowly closed the magazine and pushed it away from her. She swallowed the lump in her throat as her gaze fell downcast, “Sorry.”

Lee sighed and instantly felt guilt tug at his insides. He wiped his hand over his mouth as he shifted in his seat, “No, I’m…” The apology was stuck in the back of his throat. Instead of apologizing for what he said, he apologized for how he said it. “M’sorry for yellin’,” his tone rumbled in his chest.

Y/N pursed her lips as she slowly forked at her eggs, “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice now thick.

She bit her lip as she glanced at her magazine, “I think they should have a magazine spread of the sexiest Sheriffs in the country.”

Lee’s eyes flashed to her face, his brows puckered.

“You’d be number one,” a smile teased her lips.

Lee couldn’t help but chuckle, “Alright.”

“It’s true,” she pressed on, “I’d much rather read that.”

A smile spread across his face, “I’d probably read that.”

Modern Lee Bodecker! Reader Valentine’s Day date!

Valentine’s Day

+18 ONLY

Pairing : modern!Lee Bodecker x reader

Word Count : 506

Warnings : explicit language, fluff, public groping

Notes : Thank you for sending this in! I had a lot of fun with it! Much love ❤️

________________

“I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“Oh, really?” Lee smirked, “‘Cause it looks like you’re strugglin’.”

“Better save room for dinner for the words you’ll be eating,” she quipped.

Sirens rang and the game announced the winner.

“Goddamnit,” Y/N slammed the plastic gun down, “I was so close!”

Lee threw his head back with a hearty laugh, “I warned ya, darlin’. No one can beat me at shootin’.”

Y/N grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him close, “And I warned you. I’m gonna beat your ass one of these days.”

Lee gripped her chin with his fingers as he tried to bite back a smile, “Over my dead body.”

“Sheriff, food’s ready,” the bartender called out over the loud noises of the game sound effects and children laughing.

Y/N patted his chest, “After I fuel myself with sustenance, we’re playin’ again. And I’m gonna win.”

“I’m paralyzed by a combination of fear and awe,” Lee said sarcastically.

As she turned away from him and headed back to their booth, Lee slapped her ass. She smacked his hand away as she tried not to grin, “Lee, children are present.”

Lee’s hands returned to the globes of her ass, “Don’t give a shit. This is an adult arcade.”

His hands remained low on her hips as they reached their booth and sat down. Their food was steaming hot and waiting for them. They cuddled in the seat as they ate their appetizer before moving onto their meals. Once their bellies were full, Y/N leaned back against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

“M’stuffed,” she grumbled.

Lee hummed as he kissed the crown of her head, “Still ready to beat my ass?”

She let out a deep sigh, “Yeah, I think so. Better prepare yourself.”

“Shootin’ or air hockey?”

Y/N pursed her lips, “I’m totally gonna beat your ass at air hockey.”

Lee chuckled, “Alright, let’s go. If I stay sittin’ any longer, I won’t wanna get up.”

Her hand rubbed over his belly as she batted her long lashes at him, “My sexy old man.”

“Alright,” he grumbled, sliding out of the booth, “Lemme get a beer first.”

“Get me one, too,” she stretched once she stood back up.

“There wine is half off,” he said, “Valentine’s Day special.”

“Oh, okay,” she beamed.

Lee went to the bar and added the drinks to their tab, returning with an amber bottle of beer and a clear glass of wine.

Y/N took a large gulp and smiled at him, “This is the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Lee smirked. He had surprised her by bringing her here to the adult arcade for a special night.

“I’m actually having fun,” she continued, “So much better than sitting at a quiet dinner and pretend that we’re boring adults.”

“We’re certainly not boring,” he agreed, leading her over to the air hockey table, “Now, prepare to lose. If I win, we’re doin’ that thing I like.”

“And if I win, we’re doin’ the thing I like,” she smirked.

“Deal.”

the bad stuff never stops happening

summary: You don’t want to be alone anymore. Not when Sy lives in the same house as you.

“The bad stuff never stops happening: it lives in its own dimension, repaying itself over and over.” –Tim O’Brien, The Things They Carried

warnings: angst. cursing. severe military-centered PTSD issues. marital problems. shouting/arguing/miscommunications. 

words: 2k-ish

pairing: syverson x you

A/N: yall tired of me yet? This is completely standalone…just something I’ve been working on off-and-on.

For a long time, you wait. With a wine glass in your hand full of alcohol you haven’t even sipped, you sit on the couch and stare at the black rectangle of the television mounted on the wall. It’s not even turned on. You just stare ahead.

After long and heavy minutes pass, you turn your head to the spot beside you and stare at that. Like most nights, it’s empty.

He might choose to join you tonight. He might sit down next to you. He might choose you for once. If he does that, maybe instead of getting larger, the void inside your chest will close a little bit tonight. Maybe instead of causing more wounds, he’ll begin to heal them. Maybe he’ll begin to heal his own wounds, too.

Keep reading

Gone with the Sin

other Eddie Munson Hanahaki Disease AU fics: Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses Tears in the Rain

prompt: he loves another, and your fate is sealed.

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

show: stranger things

note: Eddie's 19, readers 18+, Chrissy's 17-18 years old. also, 400 points to your Hogwarts House if you can tell me the band that sings the title song without cheating. AGAIN - not responsible for your therapy bills!

second note: there is an intensional shift at the end, where i got from "you" to "her". i hope it makes more sense when you read it.

word count: 8.9k

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU, cursing, character death, angst - again, ANGST!!! this gets gritty and dark and detailed, people - proceed with caution and maturity. NO SHAME in skipping this if you cannot handle it!! AGAIN - character death!! this gets sad. ✅ no spoilers 🔪 please note there are a thousand ways to write Hanahaki Disease, and this is just my variation. yes, i did research, and yes, i tired my best.

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞

Spring has sprung in Hawkins, Indiana, and with the approaching warm weather came the thunderstorms. It felt appropriate that the harsh winds and piercing bullets of rain ruined all of Mother Nature's hard work; storm in your heart mimicking the storm outside. It ripped fresh leaves from trees, pretty petals from newly sprouted stems, and sent animals to seek shelter; for unattended trash cans to blow over and children to be rushed inside.

You stood on your front porch, glancing up and down the barren street to find it empty. Your fingers worked together in nervous knots as something sick crept up your throat; winds whipping away the sounds of your struggling breath, and spraying the blood that was coughed out pathetically.

Tears ruined mascara down your cheeks, blood dribbling down your chin, and still, no headlights flashed onto your street. Never had you felt so terrible or sick, never had you felt so stupid; turning for your front door and staggering into your home only to let your eyes scan across the clock hanging in the foyer.

8:50 pm

He promised to pick you up at 6:30, and now you knew, he wasn't coming due to simple, excused forgetfulness. He just wasn't coming. Your hands shot out to catch your body when your coughing became gut-wrenching, doubling over as your lungs tried in vain to pull air in while expelling whatever clogged them upon exhale. No such luck, and black dots started to dance in your vision; the storm masking the sounds of your body falling into your mother's end table; sending picture frames, a book, and lamp shattering to the floor.

Broken bits of glass represented the state of your being and the ends of your floor-length dress scattered the shards as high-heeled feet tried to stumble towards the staircase.

If you could get upstairs, you'd be fine...

But energy was harder to come by, rational thought swept away with the raging storm, and oxygen was no longer available to you - forcing your legs to give up at the base of the staircase and careen your bare skin into the glass shards. You didn't register the pain because the worst of it was concentrated in your chest and heart, hands reaching out to drag your body up the first three steps.

Before you could pull yourself up to the fourth, your ears rang with a piercing whine and your eye lids fluttered heavily as lead weighed your limbs down. Your manicured hand reached up in the hope of grasping anything, never finding purchase, and thumping limply down with your cheek pressed to the carpet. Blood splatter painted the floor beside you before drooling in a puddle from your opened mouth.

You swear you saw his face in that moment, but your mind wasn't trustworthy - larger, darker spots clouding any sight.

• 4 WEEKS EARLIER •

"So, is Johnny Boy flying in for prom?" you asked Nancy, forking a bit of homemade chicken salad to your mouth. The cafeteria was loud with the usual bustle of kids, most of the seniors clamoring to talk prom details; the dance only weeks away.

Nancy Wheeler, probably your oldest standing friend, blushed under the make-up she'd already applied, "Yes. He's renting a tux and everything."

Robin chuckled with you, asking, "He's renting a tux?"

"He doesn't exactly own one," she defended her California-dwelling boyfriend. "And I'm just relieved he's actually coming that I don't care what he wears."

"Well, it's a big deal... I guess," Robin rolled her eyes to you.

"He buy a plane ticket yet?" You asked the girl across the table instead.

"He bought one last night," she blushed harder, still feeling like a giddy school girl with a silly crush at the thought of her boyfriend. However, you wondered if it was just because she was excited to get laid but hey! If she was happy, who cares! You and Robin both cooed obnoxiously, poking fun at the Wheeler girl as she became flustered and waved us off. But she couldn't dodge the half-eaten baby carrot Robin shot at her, scolding, "You're both children!"

Your shoulders shrugged dramatically, "We're fun."

"Unhinged, is more like it."

You and Robin shared a look before nodding dramatically. You assured Nancy with another shrug, "We can live with that."

She scoffed, "Whatever. Well, look, what about you two?"

"What about us?" Robin asked, glancing at you in feigned confusion.

"Who are you guys going with?"

"To what?" You asked dumbly.

She glared, "Prom! God! You're both so annoying, you know that, right?"

You couldn't fight off the taunting chuckle, "We're messing with you, Nance. We know what you're talking about, but we're not going."

"You're not?" Nancy squeaked.

"Nah, it's not - "

"I'm going."

"You are!?" You gasped at the girl beside you. "You're flaking on me? On the night we're supposed to finally watch Scarface? You traitor..."

"Well," she flushed slightly, "I just... I-I brought it up - you know, the whole prom thing - to Vickie, and she was receptive to all of it, and-and-and next thing I know, right, because she's, like, looking at me with these beautiful wide eyes that I just end up blurting it all out, and we know me, I'm not exactly quiet, or subtle, and I-I might've, like, spit on her face a little because I was so nervous and my mouth was sweating because I was doing that thing that I do when I ramble, but it was okay because she, like, totally laughed, and then, BOOM!" Her hands clapped together, "She nodded and, like, then she-she-she's saying yes!" Robin yelped, eyes wide to look between us. "To prom! With me!"

"She said yes?" You grinned, feeling genuine elation for your friend.

"She said yes - to me!"

"Well, that's not hard to believe, sweet cheeks, I mean, who could say no to that faaaaace?" Your hand reached out to pinch her cheeks, puckering her lips; making her swat away at you with a small giggle.

"Yeah, seriously, Robin," Nancy smiled, sending you a look; mother hen letting her eyes tell you to settle down. "That's really great news! We're so happy for you - that's so amazing. You guys are gonna have so much fun!" Her eyes shifted to you, and her voice dimmed, "And since Robin's going with Vickie, maybe Steve could take you?"

Your eyes rolled, "Oof, babe, pawning me off on Harrington as a pity date? No thank you - I'll happily stay home, order in, watch my movies. My parents are supposed to be gone the week of prom, so, I'll have the house to myself to smoke."

"Well, that doesn't sound totally sad."

"Bitch, you were literally going to do the same with me until you accidentally asked Vickie out to the prom."

Robin shrugged, "Yeah, but now I'm going and you're gonna be all alone? While the rest of us are partying? C'mon, that's no fun. You don't even need a date, who cares about all that - why don't we all just, like, go together, or something? Right? People do that, go in groups? I-I mean, not that it matters if it's a thing to do or not, 'cause who cares - okay - so, let's just do it, you know?"

"I'm flattered, really," you pouted at the two girls. "I mean, it's not everyday I'm offered to third wheel on two different dates at the same time. It's an honor to just be nominated, really."

Nancy rolled her eyes and tossed the half-eaten carrot at you.

However, that wasn't the last time prom was brought up that day. Usually you did all you could to avoid the "sappy, teenage stupid shit" but it followed you around the halls, into the lunch room, bathrooms, to your locker, and inside the classrooms.

And the one person you never expected to, asked you, "You goin' to prom?"

Your head lulled to glare over at your best friend since 6th grade, Edward 'the Freak' Munson. "Oh, my God. C'mon, not you too." Your eyes glared at the ceiling, hands pointing dramatically, "Gimme a break, man!"

"What?" he shrugged innocently. "Can't I ask a simple question? Jeez, didn't know you were so touchy, babe."

"You seriously want to talk about prom? You? Who literally made himself throw up but pretending to throw up so hard when I started talking about the Snow Ball when we were in 8th grade?" Your eyes rolled, neck cracked, and you slumped further into your chair.

Class was about to begin, students filtering in to take their seats.

"Well, yeah, you see, typically when someone asks a question, they want an answer, so, sure," he chuckled, mimicking your position and making you smile lightly, "let's talk about prom, princess. So? You going?"

"Nope."

"Why not? Thought all girls dreamed of going to prom and all that frilly shit."

"Not I, Mr. Munson. Haven't you learned by now?"

He mocked, "I know, I know, you're not like other girls."

"Exactly, so, no, I don't care about prom. Spend money on a hair style that'll hold for only 3 hours if I'm lucky, get my nails done before I pick them off from how annoying they are - and then what? Spend over $100 on a dress I'll only wear for a single night? I promise, there's better things to spend my money on." He nodded slowly, you changing the subject, "Speaking of spending money on better things, are you carrying?"

"When aren't I, princess?" he snorted lightly.

The last class of the day passed slowly for you two, but before long (and to your pleasure), you were free to rush out of the room with the sounds of the last bell; stop at both your lockers, load up your bags that Eddie hoisted up his shoulder, and make a beeline for Eddie's van. Tuesdays were only for you and Eddie since you had other obligations on other weekdays, and he had Hellfire on Friday's; so, you both were quick to get in the front seats.

"All right," he cleared his throat, pulling out the black, buckled pail he used for drug deals and flipped the lid, "how can I serve you this time, pretty girl?"

"An ounce, please."

He shot you a cautious look before chuckling dryly, "Celebrating something?"

You slapped the agreed upon cash to his hand and snatched the baggie of green from him, "Possibly."

"Wanna tell me?"

"Wanna celebrate with me?"

"Only if you answer a question for me."

"Depends on the question, but... Proceed with caution and ask me."

"Go to prom with me?"

You glared, jaw clenching, "No."

"What?" he whined, "C'mon, why not?"

Because I've been uselessly and helplessly in love with you since we were kids and I don't want your pity date, you thought sadly.

"Because it's literally stupid and a waste of time, energy, and money. Besides, I thought you didn't want to go - you've never gone before. What happened to all that bullshit about it being a 'conforming brainwash to distract us from the manipulative realities of life after graduation'?"

"Okay, yes, fine, sure, okay, whatever, you got it - I said that," he sighed, rolling his eyes lightly. "But I also might've already bought two tickets, and they're nonrefundable..."

Confusion swirled in your mind, pinning him with a softer look, "Why would you buy two tickets?"

Because I wanted Chrissy Cunningham to say yes and figured she would if I showed her the two tickets - for me and her. Show her I was serious about this, about us, Eddie thought to himself.

Instead of voicing the truth, he lied, "Well, one for you, and one for me, pretty girl, see, that's how two tickets are usually split between two people. Maybe - it's possible - I could've wanted to spend the last night of high school with my best friend. C'mon, please?" He pouted lightly. "Bet we both clean up real nice."

You felt suspicious, "Why would you...?"

"C'mon, doll, don't we both deserve a bit of a break?" he smiled lightly. "Just you, me, a few joints, and really bad music. We can hang for 10 minutes and leave if it's really as bad as we thought. Hmm? Is that an okay deal?"

"If I say yes, will you shut up and drive us home already?"

He grinned, "Yep."

"Fine."

"Fine what, pretty girl?"

You glared, huffing through your nose before relenting, "All right - fine, Eddie. Fine, I will..." Your eyes rolled, "I'll go to prom with you."

Eddie grinned and leaned over, letting his arm hook around your neck and yank you closer to press his lips to your cheek in rapid kisses. You whined lightly and pushed him back, trying to fight down the warmth spreading in your chest from his actions.

Nobody knew you like he did, making you feel safe and vulnerable with only him. High school was a weird time for you and you didn't really get many dates, maybe being in part why you and Eddie were so close. Time spent together meant a lot of walls were dismantled brick by brick and it was hard not to fall in love with someone like him; with his soft hands, kind words, charismatic attitude...

Sure, the drug dealing was a bit... Less than ideal, but still! Eddie was Eddie and you've loved him for what felt like eternity.

You returned home on cloud nine and while it made your heart sing with glory over being asked to the senior prom with your long-time-crush-slash-best-friend, for the strangest reason, that night, you started coughing. It was a wet, rattling cough that made you think you had a flu, a cough growing in intensity that made you double at the waist and stumble towards your bathroom. You coughed more as you filled a plastic cup with tap water, choking as you tried to clear your throat by gulping down whatever was stuck. It worked for a few moments, cup drained as you lowered it before the violent attack began again.

This time, it drove you to your knees; hacking until you spit something from your tongue. Amongst the foam of your saliva, were bits of torn-up peach-pink petals. Your eyes glared at the odd sight before you figured it was too late to go to a doctor - how the hell would I even explain this one? At least last time, it all made sense what was wrong and how the doctors were gonna fix everything.

You rationalized it in your head that you would "go to the Emergency Room" if this persisted, which was an outright LIE because you had this developmental phobia of hospitals. It wasn't something you liked to discuss but long story short, when you were younger, you had a near-fatal medical emergency that resulted in a 6-part surgery, 109-day hospital stay - curating your fear.

Every appointment thereafter only solidified this fear. And your parents understood the trauma you experienced, never pushing you into anymore appointments because you agreed to a yearly examine that would confirm you were still out of danger.

So, when the next week rolled around and you were huffing fucking flower petals from your mouth and lungs, you kept your mouth shut... Unless to pick petals out - then, obviously, your mouth was open. However, that whole week, you felt... Run down. Disconnected. Confused. Scared. And pretty pissed off - the coughing was toe-curling painful and you weren't a fan of it interrupting your day.

Nancy and Robin noticed, and the Wheeler girl brought you cough-drops to suck on.

And that whole week, Eddie was distracted. He caught himself staring off in the cafeteria, eyes glued on Chrissy Cunningham's figure. You'd noticed the heart eyes he made and rolled your own, nudging him, "C'mon, man, knock it off and quit staring before Jason kicks your ass again."

He scoffs and crosses his arms, "I'm not staring."

"Oh, yeah? And I'm the Queen of Sheba," you retorted. "I could get you a pair of binoculars if that makes it easier," you teased, ignoring the way your heart now thumped with unease. Discomfort... Pain. "Maybe you can even crawl up the tree in her yard, watch her in her bedroom. Fucking creeper, stop staring at her, Jesus Christ!"

Eddie's then laughing at you, "You're literally an idiot."

"And you're staring at a girl who's boyfriend looks for reasons to pick on you," you retaliated with an unimpressed stare. "C'mon, Eddie, be practical."

"Be practical?"

"She's with Jason - has been since, what? Freshman year?" You sighed, arms crossing in the hope of relieving the pressure in your chest but found it was only getting harder to breath. "Staring at her is gonna get your shit rocked, and I'm not cleaning you up again."

"You're right," he sighed, shaking his head as his arms slowly crossed over your chest. "Hey, uh... Did you want to match at prom?"

"Match?" you repeated, laughing after you realized it was his poor attempt at changing the subject. "Wh-What? Like wear the same color and all that goofy shit?"

"Well, yeah, that goofy shit, c'mon, we gotta do it up all the way, baby," he smiled at you. "C'mon, you look so beautiful in red."

"Oh, I look good in it? Has nothing to do with the fact it's your favorite color?"

He grinned now, "Nothing at all."

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, admitting, "I'm going dress shopping with Nance and Robin this weekend."

"You are? Look at you!" He cooed, "Being all girly and shit! I'm proud of you!"

"Don't push me, there's still plenty of time for me to back out of this date," you warned, trying not to let your heart drop too low when his smile lessened upon hearing the word 'date'.

That weekend, you did go dress shopping but you didn't buy that pretty red number - you chose this pale silvery color that made your skin nearly twinkle. Robin had gushed over how good you looked, and Nancy refused to let you leave the store without it. You three went to a few other stores and you decided on a pair of shining red heels; Nancy buying a pretty lilac dress with silver heels, and Robin chose a sultry blue color, with white heels.

2 weeks before prom, you were starting to feel the pressure but not like everyone else as your peers ran around like headless chickens. All around school, girls complained about needing to "lose weight" or "buy a whole new dress" because "the original color was atrocious" or even how their boyfriends "made a reservation at Antonio's - as if I'd ever eat there!"

Boys complained, "I have to rent a tux in this God-awful blue color," or the ever present, "what the fuck is a corsage?" and the occasional, "what's wrong with Antonio's - they've got the best burgers, man!"

You listened mutely, worrying something was wrong with you because you didn't feel that overwhelming panic they did. Instead, your breathing got worse and your skin started to dull as life was virtually sucked out of you, prom seeming so fucking stupid - and yet, it was keeping you going. You hated to admit it, but your feelings for Eddie were finally coming to a head and you were debating if this "date" meant something more, or if it was just your stupid girly heart wanting something impractical.

That was the week your symptoms changed; the same week Eddie was seen speaking in low voices to Chrissy Cunningham at her locker when everyone else was in class. When nobody else was in the hall to see their close proximity, to see their whispers and longing looks.

Nobody else in the hall except you - but you were on a mission.

You didn't say anything to them because you were rushing to the bathroom, skidding to your knees on the dirty floors in front of a toilet as blood was being heaved out of your mouth. "No! God, no, please, God, holy shit!" You gargled through pain, spitting, retching, and sobbing as you were being shredded from the inside.

But God didn't have business in the girl's dirty bathroom of Hawkins High School, and apparently, he didn't have business with you.

Inside the toilet bowl were short sticks of floral blooms and leafy greens, but no matter how hard you looked, you couldn't identify the flower floating at the top. As disgusting as it was, you reached in and fished the bloody plants from the water, turned to the sinks, and rinsed them off; lifting your gaze slowly and hating the reflection that stared back at you.

Deep, bruising bags lined in rings around your eyes; iris' dull; skin tired and dry to the touch; hair brittle and lacking any health or shine. Your fingers were bonier, collarbones sticking out from under your shirt, and you began to wonder when the last time you could stomach a full meal was. You looked like a ghost, a stranger in the reflection; someone who looked like they'd sell their left kidney for a guaranteed hour-long nap.

Shaking your head and adverting your eyes, the flowers were rinsed of blood clots but it didn't do anything to answer your questions as the only identifying factor was the four-petal pinwheel. You jumped in fright when the door opened, turning wide, fearful eyes to look at Chrissy slowing her stride. She blinked a few times before worry etched across her face, "Oh, my God. A-Are you okay?"

"What?"

She pointed to her lips, "You're bleeding."

Your eyes cut back to the mirror and widened to see the blood smears, reaching for a few paper towels to hastily wipe at your face. Your nose sniffled sharply, "Yeah, Chris, all good, thanks."

"You don't look good," her brows were crinkled and eyes wide with worry. "Do you need the nurse? Or, um... I don't know, someone to talk to?"

"What I need, you can't give me," you whispered, shaking your head before using a dry paper towel to wrap up the small brown stick. "Excuse me," you rushed, pushing past her and running down the hall, shoving out of the school doors, and bolting for your car.

In your driver's seat, you opened the paper towel and got a look at the meat caught between thick thorns that didn't wash off down the drain, and fought off an anxiety attack.

Every day that week, you went to different plant nurseries, botanical shops, hardware stores - anywhere you thought someone could identify the flowers you were coughing out. You knew now you couldn't go to a hospital, it was futile; but the stems were morphing and it was becoming increasingly painful. Plus, if you were coughing out flowers, why wouldn't you go to someone who knew plants?

Well, the only thing you were able to do was identify the flower. Something called The Crown of Thorns - a durable, drought-tolerant flower with a range of colors, but all with a range of thorns in size and consistency.

However, on that Friday, luck turned around and you had hopped a few towns over to check out an old botanical shop. The wooden shop was lathered in books and plants, the smell of leather circulating around you as your eyes took in the antique decor. You prayed this was the shop to be in for something as strange as puking flowers - and you were right. The aging shopkeep listened to your hushed words, explaining your symptoms, before frowning deeply and turning silently to a bookshelf. She reached up and pulled a little blue book down before opening the passage, sticking a bookmark in, and handing it to you.

The old woman wished you luck and pushed you out of her door, never once accepting the money you tried to hand her. You laid in bed for the weekend, reading the entire book front to back; drops of blood saturating the thin, old yellowed pages.

The waste bin at home was soon stuffed to the brim with broken stems, loose petals, and bloody tissues. Your mother didn't notice the change in you because she was so focused on her up-coming business trip, your father choosing to go with her as a make-shift vacation to Chicago. In fact, you barely saw them in that week, leading you to seek solitude with a backpack full of magazines Nancy had shoved into your arms earlier.

She told you to have a hair and glam look picked out by prom because you, Robin, and she were going to get ready together. You tried to save blood from dripping onto the pages but the nose bleeds snuck up on you; discoloring the glossy images under your fingers. Tears often blurred the images as you could do nothing but cry through the harrowing pain, not knowing that Jason Carver was screaming at Chrissy Cunningham... And the cheerleader was calling Eddie Munson, in tears, asking him to talk.

You didn't know he agreed easily and was sneaking over to her house, being extra quiet because of her mother as he came in through her window; while you bruised your knees from the force you hit them when thicker blooms were being regurgitated through globs of thick blood clots. Shredded bits of your throat still stuck in the thorns.

The week of prom, you had resorted to taking liquid Benadryl just to sleep. It was doing enough of the trick, and you were sleeping 3-4 hours a night; but you woke up each morning, on your side, a large puddle of blood staining your bed sheets. But hey, at least it was PROM WEEK!

Right?

Banners lined the school.

Energy of the student body was higher than ever before, gossip echoing down the hall and in your ears.

Yet, you were just tired. Being in a constant state of pain took every ounce of energy you had and the Benadryl could only help so much before your coughs woke you, forcing you to hack out flowers. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, Eddie seemingly taking slight pity and letting your head rest on his shoulder during classes you shared. He even did your classwork, the sweetheart.

When you woke to the last bell dismissing everyone for the weekend, you were sluggishly lifting off of Eddie to pack away your backpack. "Hey," the boy beside you spoke quietly, "you feeling okay?"

"Yeah."

"Don't lie to me, you look exhausted."

"Great observation, Eds," you muttered. "I'm just not sleeping well."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now, hey, um, I'm gonna get a ride home with Nancy, okay? We're getting our nails done."

Eddie's lips stretched in a bright grin as we stood from our desks and his hands took my backpack wordlessly to hike up his shoulder. "You're gonna get your nails done?"

"Um... Y-Yeah?"

"That's really cool, doll," he assured, nudging your arm gently. "Do you need money? I can give you some - "

"No, God no," you refused, shaking your head rapidly. "Um, yeah, you know, I asked Daddy and he gave me enough to treat Nancy too, so, I'm good."

He chuckled, "The pros of being a Daddy's Girl, huh?"

"Watch your mouth, Munson," you warned.

His hands rose, "All right, hey, I'm kidding, it's a good thing. Well, if I'm not driving you home, guess I'll just... See you tomorrow?"

You gulped as you approached your locker, rocking on your toes as you dialed your combo. "Right, yeah, sure... I'll uh... I don't know," you breathed, shaking your head slightly. "Nancy and Robin want to get ready together."

"Cool," he smiled, "I'll pick you up at Wheeler's, okay? 6:30 sound cool?"

"Yeah, totally cool," you nodded.

Eddie smiled and leaned in, one hand holding your cheek as his lips kissed your other. "Perfect," he breathed against your skin, pulling back to smile at you. "Just remember, it's only me, okay? We're gonna have a good time - no need to be nervous - 'cause we're gonna be together. Right?"

"Right," you nodded in agreement, his hand falling away as he straightened up. You looked to your feet, and Eddie's eyes jutted up to catch Chrissy as her locker - watching the two of you intently. When she caught Eddie's gaze, the cheerleader blushed and turned away. "So, I'll just - yeah, okay. See you tomorrow."

"I'll be the one in red," he joked, handing over your schoolbag. "Bye, pretty girl."

After you stuffed everything you didn't need in your locker, you pulled out whatever you did need, slammed it shut, and rushed for the front of the school. "Hey," Robin beamed when she saw you, linking arms instantly. "Nancy's at her car."

"Great..."

"C'mon, lighten up!" Robin jostled your arm but frowned when she looked at you. "Dude, your nose."

Your hand shot into your pocket and pulled out a trusted tissue, using it to mop up the red liquid, "Sorry, yeah, just... I don't know, dry air or something."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, sure, all good. Um, hey, have you ever gotten your nails done?"

"Me? No - couldn't afford it."

"Well, Daddy gave me money, so... I could pay?"

"You'd do that?" Robin breathed.

"Of course," you assured. "C'mon, you know he gave me more than I need, and Nance already worked this into her budget. Please? I don't wanna be the only one sitting there like 'what the fuck is happening?'"

Robin laughed, "All right, fine, good point. All right, cool, you can totally treat me and spend your money on me."

"Good," you perked a brow with a smirk.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at the nail salon. It was a fucking experience - a weird fucking experience because you didn't like hospitals, or people touching your feet. Nancy assured you that it was okay, this was part of the process; holding your hand when you flinched and made the nail tech glare up at you.

Your toes were painted a bright cherry red, matching the red French tip you got on your fingernails. Nancy chose a classic French tip on both hands and feet, and Robin got classic, sleek, shining blue that matched her dress color perfectly. You had to admit, once you got over the whole 'someone touching your feet' thing, it was nice to feel pampered... It was nice to feel like a "real" girl.

You rejected Nancy's proposal of a sleepover because you couldn't handle explaining to her or Robin why there was a puddle of blood under your mouth. Why you were hacking violently at 2 am. Why your breathing became wet and ragged, why you needed to take a shot of Benadryl before bed.

The next day, all hell broke loose because you were 20 minutes late to Nancy's house, and she almost instantly pushed you into a shower when you made it there. You three ladies got a real groove on where Nancy did all of your make-up, Robin did hair, and you - well, you were just there for the thrill because this was 100% out of your realm of comfort.

And when 6 pm came around, you three were shimmying into your dresses; tying each other in; lacing heels on, and fixing any out-of-place strands of hair. Jewelry was latched, perfume sprayed, and last minute details worried over. You packed your clutch purses with whatever necessities you needed (yours literally nothing but tissues) before being declared ready.

All the parents took a plethora of photos, your parents having begged the Wheelers to take extras for them to have a copy. It was mildly embarrassing to take photos alone, but you knew Eddie was just running late because he was never on time. Right? That's all this was, Eddie lost track of time and he was gonna be here any minute.

"Um, hey," Jonathan checked his watch, "dance starts soon, we should head out."

Nancy turned her worried gaze to you - who instantly lifted your arms to wave her off, "All good, I'll wait for Eddie at my house. The idiot probably got high and lost track of time, or something."

"Are you sure?" she worried. "Just come with us - he can meet you there."

"No, it's cool, my house is on the way to the school," you again, waved her off. "I'm really sure, I forgot the necklace I wanted to wear at home anyways," you tried to laugh off, but the truth was, your chest was caving in. After some mild convincing from Robin and Nancy, you stuck to your guns that you could wait at home, and as your friends got in their rides, you asked Mrs. Wheeler that if a long-haired, van-driving metalhead showed up to tell him you were at your house.

She nodded and handed you the Polaroids for your parents, leaving you to pack up in your own car and make the short drive to your house as dark storm clouds were rolling into town. When 7:30 struck, so did the first crack of thunder.

And unknown to you, who waited uselessly on your front porch, Eddie was getting read to head out his door - with every intention of being on time - when suddenly, as he ripped it open, Chrissy Cunningham was revealed on the other side. Her fist was raised as if to knock, gasping and jumping nervously when Eddie opened the door. "Chrissy," he breathed in shock, eyes wide. "Um... W-What're you doing here?"

As you waited, Chrissy explained she and Jason had the biggest fight they've ever had - cursing, screaming, and the blonde boy storming away with both prom tickets in his suit pocket. You waited, and Chrissy told Eddie she felt safe with him, needed the comfort, and had changed her mind about going to prom with Eddie, and as she confessed her long-harbored feelings for the Dungeon Master, you wiped blood from your mouth as you waited.

He ended up inviting her inside in home, both sitting on his couch with his hands in hers as he listened - something Jason never did to her. He complimented her, finding her red dress outstandingly beautiful on her pale skin; finding the blush on her cheeks something he wanted to see more of. He became tongue-tied and confused when she admitted she had a fight with Jason because of him - because Jason accused her of having a "thing for the Freak!"

And they broke up because Jason was right, and Chrissy told him that. She broke up with Jason because she loved Eddie and wasn't afraid of her feelings anymore; rushing to his house in a long red dress before prom because she needed him to know.

Chrissy loves me, he thought impossibly; staring at the cheerleader with shock and awe because this was all he's ever wanted. And Eddie didn't often think he deserved the things he wanted.

Nothing else was on his mind except the pretty strawberry blonde, lifting his hand to gently caress her cheek as any rational thought evaporated when her lips parted to push a breath over his chin. When Eddie leaned in to kiss Chrissy for the first time, nothing else mattered because he had all he ever could've wanted right here, right now.

They showed up to prom at 8 pm; both wearing bright, gleaming smiles as their outfits were matched perfectly. He had given her a corsage, and she pinned a boutonnière to his rented tux jacket; hands laced together tightly as they arrived at the Hawkins High gym and warranted all of the attention.

Everyone stared because the sight of head cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, showing up at prom looking like a fucking princess with Eddie Munson - the Freak, who, admittedly, cleaned up very nice.

The prom was enchanting with fake billowing arrangements of loose vines, flowers, and candles. The lights were dimmed, and the music already off to a rocky start by Eddie's standards. However, the snack table was in full-swing, the punch bowl already spiked, and Eddie couldn't want anything more as he let his hands wrap around Chrissy's waist.

They swayed to a slow song, enraptured with one another.

He lost himself in the music; in the smell of her perfume and feel of her body pressed against his. She let him kiss her, muttered she loved him, then pushed her hand into his hair to gently twist strands around her fingers.

Eddie was in bliss.

He was so fucking happy.

Nothing could ruin this for him.

Until, "What the fuck are you doing, Munson!?"

He jumped and turned, seeing an enraged Robin Buckley glaring at him. "Robin?" he questioned dumbly, seeing Nancy Wheeler charging up to them. "Oh, um, hi Nancy - "

"What the fuck are you doing here!?" Robin demanded, eyes ablaze.

"Dancing...?" He looked nervously around, keeping an arm around Chrissy.

"We can see that - but why're you dancing with Chrissy?" Nancy snapped.

"What am I missing right now?" Eddie asked desperately, hating the way they looked at him now.

Robin snapped your name, and all color drained from Eddie's face. "She's waiting on you, you fucking dickhead!" Robin raged, Vickie stepping in to pull her date's arms back a little.

"She got all excited," Nancy sneered. "She didn't want to come to this, she was content to be alone and do her own thing. We were gonna convince her to come with us - but then you asked her. So why're you here? Huh? Why're you here with Chrissy when she's waiting on you?"

"She bought a dress, new heels, new make-up! Got her nails done, got dolled up, looks so fucking pretty! And for what!? For you to, what, Eddie?"

"I-I," his bottom lip trembled as tears filled his eyes, "oh, my God, I forgot. I forgot her."

"No shit!" Robin, Vickie, Jonathan, and Nancy all snapped; making Chrissy jump a little into Eddie's embrace.

"You've gotta go, man!" Jonathan encoruaged.

"And pray she forgives you!" Robin sneered. "'Cause I sure as hell wouldn't! What happened? Huh?" Eddie shook his head, sniffling. "Jesus Christ, you're pathetic - what happened, Chrissy shows you a little attention and you forget about the one girl who's only ever loved you unconditionally?"

"GO!" the teenagers raged in sync again.

"I'm sorry," He looked down to Chrissy, pulling away, "I-I have to go."

"Of course, go, go," she nodded, giving him a little push as Eddie turned and sprinted out of the gym.

He sprinted into the rain, away from the school.

Down streets.

Through puddles.

Around honking cars.

All the way to your house, finding only your car in the driveway and lights on in your house. Panic swelled when he caught sight of the opened front door, sprinting up the driveway; taking the porch stairs two at a time, and as he burst over the threshold, came to a skidding halt.

A blood curdling scream fell on deaf ears as Eddie registered the sight before him - begging your name like a desperate prayer and dropping to his knees beside you. He sobbed harder than ever before, pulling you into his lap as blood was smeared up and down your nose, cheeks, and chin; mingling with the rain water that dripped off him, and onto you.

"No, no, no, no! C'mon, pretty girl, c'mon, open your eyes, please, please," he whispered, caressing your cheek and seeing your eyes flutter. "That's it, baby, c'mon, come back to me. Please, wake up, I'm right here, I'm here, I've got you... I'm so sorry. Oh, my God, what's happening, baby, please, what's wrong? What's going on?" he sobbed, cradling you against his chest and watching as your arm weakly rose to point behind him. "What? What is it?" He sniffled, looking back to the floor and seeing the littering of glass, broken lamp, and then... An old, bloody blue book.

"T-The book?" he asked you, seeing the faintest nod as your hand shook and gave up in strength. "No, no, no, no, hey, hey! No, baby, you've gotta stay with me, please," he sobbed, shaking you again as he tried to pull you in closer. "Just stay strong for a little while longer, oh, fuck - I'm so sorry! Please, don't give up, okay? I'm right here, please, I'm right here, I have you, please, baby, I-I don't understand what's wrong. Please, sweetheart, just tell me what's wrong! Don't leave me, please, I-I can't do this - I can't do this without you! NO! GOD - YOU CAN'T TAKE HER YET!" He screamed bloody murder over the sounds of the raging storm, watching your eyes flutter back into your skull and any energy in your body completely deflated.

"Y-You were - you pointed at the book, baby, why? Please! Why the book, please, stay with me, okay? Why the book? You're - shit, it's okay, you're gonna be okay, but you have to stay with me, please, please! Just tell me about the book, baby, please! Talk to me - please! Fuck!" He sniffled, trying to wake you but from the way your eyes remained unseeing, he knew you weren't with him anymore; the way your mouth was gently parted but not passing air, he knew you were gone. "Please, God, no," Eddie whimpered, a hand raising to pet his fingers down her soft cheek.

Eddie screamed until his throat went raw; never knowing that the inside of her throat still dripped blood into her stomach. Tears soaked down his cheeks, rocking her with him as snot bubbled at his nostrils, but he could only beg, "COME BACK! NO! I'M SORRY - COME BACK! Please! Please," his voice cracked, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't mean - I'm so sorry. No, no, no, please, just - just come back! I'm sorry! Come back to me," his hand caressed her cheek, "please."

Nothing made sense and his head throbbed; looking around desperately as his mind couldn't fathom what he'd discovered - but his eyes could only scan over that fucking book she spent her last moments of life pointing at. Her skin was cooling, and there was no pulse at the point of her neck; Eddie's calloused hands shaking as he tried to still wake her up.

Then, he caught sight of something in her mouth, behind the ruby-red painted lips. As terrible and disgusting as it was, he gently pulled her stiff jaw down and used his pointer finger and thumb to reach in, pinch something soft, pulling it out. "Please, God, what is this!?" He sobbed, setting the small, thickly-thorned flower to the side of him as the feeling of her sticky blood was making him feel sick. "Please, please, please wake up," he still begged, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry," he sniffled, sopping wet hair dripping water over her still face. "I'm so sorry - I should've been here. I'm so sorry, I should've - I should've done something! FUCK!"

He sobbed as he set her down to rush for the phone, dial 911, and explain the situation. He returned to pull her body back into his lap; rocking like it was soothing someone - whether her, or him, he wasn't sure. But Eddie had to do something, so he tried CPR - but stopped when each compression of her chest sent a splatter of blood over her smooth skin.

Eddie went in the ambulance with her body, tattered book in his hand; using the other to hold her cooling hand even when the EMT's pronounced her dead on the scene.

This wasn't happening - this wasn't real.

Eddie waited for hours as an autopsy was performed - telling the morgue he wasn't leaving until he had answers, and planting himself on the sidewalk as he vapidly read the book she wanted him to take. The pages that answered all of his questions were dotted with dried drops of her blood; allowing Eddie to assume she was suffering for longer than he could've imagined. It's where Jonathan and Nancy found him when they were cruising through town, looking for any sign of their friends. When they arrived and sat beside him, softly asking Eddie what was wrong and what happened, he just pulled his knees in and sobbed loudly.

They waited with him.

16 hours after he found her, her parents were coming to a screeching halt in their car before bolting for the morgue's front doors. Eddie picked his head up, waiting; wondering; watching for any movement.

His hand fisted the book in a white-knuckle grip, the other wiping his eyes of stinging, guilty tears.

18 hours after he found her, her parents were shakily exiting the morgue with grim looks of acute distress. Her Daddy caught Eddie's eyes and after assisting his wife into the passenger seat, turned for the young man who his daughter loved more than anyone. Nancy and Jonathan shared a nervous look as Eddie couldn't stop crying, looking to her father through red eyes.

"I was told that... You found her?" Her Daddy whispered.

"I-I did," Eddie whispered.

He nodded, "She was still in her dress, all dolled up."

"Sh-She looked beautiful in that dress," Eddie sobbed, a hand slapping over his mouth.

"Docs know what happened," he nodded, clearing his throat. "Said there were Crowns of Thorns crowding in her lungs. Said it made it almost impossible to breath, said-said that the thorns were cutting her from the inside; said she was in a lot of pain from all that."

Eddie hated the idea of her suffering, opening the withered book to show her Daddy the folklore she'd discovered. Nancy and Jonathan shuffled down the sidewalk a little, watching as her father turned and dropped to the concrete beside Eddie; backs against the morgue building as he read the inked words through dried blood. Her father gingerly leafed through a few pages before sighing sadly, nodding in acceptance.

"I killed her," Eddie whispered. "I-I couldn't see that she was suffering, and... And I killed her."

"You didn't - "

"Didn't you read what I did?" Eddie snipped, sunken, haunted eyes staring at her father and begged him to understand. "Sh-She got sick because she loved me, and I couldn't love her back. She's gone - because of me."

"Unrequited love is never really anyone's fault," her father sighed, closing the book and handing it back to Eddie. "I just... I just hate my little girl suffered."

Eddie's heart shattered, nodding before whispering, "Me too. I didn't help her," Eddie wobbled. "I-I promised I'd always help her, I promised I'd always be there for her - an-and I wasn't." His eyes filled with tears as he admitted, "I forgot her, and went to prom with another girl - "

However, this made her father bristle, and he snapped, "Don't you say another word if you want us to keep our good opinion of you. Because if I find out that you're telling me that... That my little girl was waiting on you, and that she died alone, I'm going to lose it, Eddie. You hear me?" The younger man swallowed thickly and nodded. Her father nodded once, "Good."

Eddie had to remind himself that the man just lost his daughter, and his 180 attitude change was completely warranted. If Eddie were in her father's place, he was sure he wouldn't know what to do either except hate whoever was responsible.

"Could I ask you for a favor?" Eddie asked through his tears; Steve Harrington pulling up with his car loaded with Freshman, plus Robin, and Vickie - and yeah, even Chrissy - only to pause and watch the scene on the sidewalk.

"What is it, boy?"

Eddie reached up and pulled the necklace from around his neck, handing it over with a shaking hand, "Y-Your daughter got me this pick when I first told her I wanted to learn the guitar when were were kids. She, uh... She always knew how to make me feel supported, so, I just... I don't know," Eddie's voice cracked painfully and tears poured down his cheeks, "I just thought she should have it back... Just to... Have a little piece of us wherever she ends up."

Her father swallowed and shook his head, "I'm not burying my only child with a keepsake from the man who killed her." Eddie's eyes widened and his hand retracted, pulling the necklace into his chest as her father's red-rimmed eyes turned to him, "We'll tolerate you going to the funeral, we might let you read something, too. After that, make no mistake, we want nothing to do with you. She was..." Her father shook his head as the words stuck in his throat like flower petals had done to her's, "She was the best of us, and you ruined her. I hope you know that all she did was love you, and I hope the guilt sticks with you, kid. Because her mother and I will never know peace... You took that from us when you decided to take another girl to prom and forget about my innocent baby girl. Now, I get to identify her body and instead of picking out a graduation dress, I get to pick out a casket." The two men held eye contact for another minute, her father shaking his head, "Never thought it'd be you, boy, but... I've been disappointed by you before."

"I'm sorry," Eddie gasped through his emotion. "I'm so sorry, I feel terrible, please, please know that I'm so fucking sorry."

"Sorry don't bring the dead back. Sorry won't fix my girl, I can't ever get her back and you? You get to live a long, happy life... Love many girls... And my little girl? My only child? My ray of sunshine in this shitty, cursed town?" Her father scoffed, "She got a cruel and unusual punishment that made her suffer because you could never get your head outta your ass long enough to see how she felt. She didn't deserve that."

"She didn't," Eddie agreed brokenly. His guilt felt insurmountable, but increased tenfold to understand her parents blamed him - that was okay, because he blamed himself.

Her father stood to his feet and sniffled, nodding at Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers (still in their prom clothes). Before he could walk away, Eddie's best friend's father nodded down at a defeated Eddie, leaving him with one last comment, "Now you're seeing clearly, and now, you'll only get to only see her from inside a coffin. Some best friend you are."

Eddie sobbed on the sidewalk for at least another hour, everyone surrounding him and passing the blood-splattered book around that explained her untimely end. Both your friends cracked with emotion; Steve leaning in to hold Robin as Nancy sobbed into Jonathan's shoulders, the kids with tears just silently falling down their cheeks.

However, despite knowing he deserved it, the others didn't blame him, and instead, tried to offer a small amount of comfort to the distressed metalhead who had held his dying best friend in his arms, in her final moments. He didn't know about her feelings, and she never voiced them openly - nobody could blame him for wanting to date. Nobody could blame him for not knowing his best friend harbored deep secrets.

Still, while his friends didn't, Eddie blamed himself.

Damn near the whole town went to her funeral.

Damn near everyone - except the boy who killed her; who chose to wait at the graveyard, wait until her casket was lowered, wait until everyone left, and wait until the dirt was pushed back into the hole she'd been lowered into before he approached. He did so slowly, hands in his prom suit pants pockets that now doubled as funeral attire; a bouquet of flowers silently laid on her grave.

Eddie dropped to his knees in the dirt; sobbing until his chest hurt, and then sobbing some more.

He begged her spirit to forgive him - despite knowing he never deserved it. Nothing made sense to him, and he hated how empty his life was without her. He agonized over the last few weeks the two of you had together, cursing himself for not noticing; and hating himself more for forgetting.

Every single Tuesday, Eddie visited her grave. Like when you two were in school, you hung out together on Tuesdays, and Eddie kept the tradition. He brought new flowers every other week, and started to keep a journal so he could easily update her about his life, as if there were only distance between them - and not transcending planes of the living and dead. He and Chrissy eventually got married, and never once did she try to interrupt his Tuesday plans because even after she were gone, Chrissy knew there was no replacing her as Eddie's best friend - not even Chrissy could fill that void.

Her parents eventually moved to Tennessee to live with other family, dropping off only a box of her things they figured Eddie would want, but he could never leave Hawkins. He couldn't - not when she were buried there. He couldn't - not when that's the town he met her in. He couldn't - not when this was both of your homes, and the only town you both ever knew. He couldn't - not when his guilt was preventing him from ever considering moving on.

Chrissy hated watching him suffer but there was nothing that could alleviate the stress and guilt Eddie felt. There was nothing to do but let him disappear to the graveyard every single Tuesday because it seemed to be the only thing that brought him the smallest sliver of comfort. He felt close to her on those Tuesdays, and nothing would deter him - not even that crazy wicked snow storm of '91.

He never left Hawkins because Eddie had forgotten you once, and it cost him everything - so, he promised to never forget you again.

•

i'm sorry

Hey babes💕

Can u please write a sequel to "To give you what you need" where she gets pregnant. I really wanna know what would Steve do!

Hiya, luv!!💝

Oh lord yes, here it comes!!

Keeping you

Pairing: Soft!Dark! Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: non-con, dub-con, pregnancy anxiety, forced pregnancy, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral (female recieving), vaginal sex, mild violence, lots of crying. 

Summary: After Steve’s meticulous work and your lack of choice, you're pregnant. His reaction has you finding yourself in a whole new predicament. 

Note: This is the third installment following Taking what he wants and To give you what you need. These have all been quick scribbles without much editing, so please forgive any jarring character changes, kink swaps and general plot holes. Not beta-read either, so I'm living on the edge here.

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It felt like your stomach dropped clean out of your body and through the floor. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears like a raging river during spring floods. 

On the bathroom counter in front of you, the test was mocking you. 

Positive. 

“Oh god,” you whispered to yourself. You’d just sat there crying for about an hour, miserably holding your own shoulders in an attempt at self-soothing that seemed to have no effect. 

You’d been suspicious for a few days now, carrying the sneaking, gnawing feeling that something was different inside you. But you were hardly surprised. Barely two days had gone by between Steve’s visits after he’d caught you taking Plan B. You wondered how in the hell he had the time and resources to hound you so insistently.

It had always been inevitable, of course. Since that first night, you had been completely at Steve’s mercy, and now you could feel the bonds of his control tightening, making it hard to breathe. 

Pregnant. Fucking hell. You didn’t even know what he did for a living. He’d told you once he was a secret agent, whatever that entailed. Like James Bond? CIA? KGB? Was he a good guy? Who the fuck knew, it certainly didn’t feel like it. He felt like a dangerous, reckless maniac. And now his child was growing inside you? Like a parasite. You could barely support yourself. 

You took a deep, fortifying breath. 

No, you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. There was no way. You needed to find a way out of this, whatever it was, this thing with Steve had gone too far. 

You took your phone out with shaking fingers and typed in a search for the nearest abortion clinic. Next state over, 14 hours drive. Fine. You had the day off tomorrow anyway, and it wasn't like anyone ever noticed you at the yarn store anyway. 

Getting a small bag packed in a matter of minutes, heart in your throat, you threw the test inside - in case you needed to check on the way and make sure you didn’t imagine things. Adrenaline pumped painfully in your chest as you slipped out into the night and got into your car. You looked over your shoulder all the while, paranoid Steve might lurk in any shadow. You got out of your driveway and took the highway heading south. Steve had been there the night before, so it was early for him to return, but you had learned the hard way never to assume anything about his behavioral patterns. 

“Oh god, your mouth,” he’d sighed, stroking your hair softly as you took him in, the weight of him on your tongue anchoring you as his scent made you light headed. Everything was so wet, your pussy pulsing as he slid into your throat, a breathy moan on his lips. 

You nearly reared into another vehicle. “Shit,” you exclaimed, and clung to the steering wheel as the thoughts whirled around in your head. 

You’d driven for about an hour when the road cleared, and you were all alone, surrounded by thick forest. Glancing at the clock, it read 01:03 am, and you stifled a yawn. There was still a long way to go. Outside the street lights passing by shone a warm, yellow hue, and glancing up you saw the stars shining bright in the night sky. 

Glancing back to the road, your eyes nearly popped out of your head. Ahead, a figure stood in the middle of the road, and you stomped the breaks hard. The wheels screeched. Your stomach surging, the car ground to a full stop and you slammed back into your seat with a grunt, knocking the wind out of you. Panting, you looked up. 

It was him. 

Instant tears pricked your eyes and you felt faint with the sudden horror of the situation. He’d found you. How were you going to explain this?

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. 

You sat still, not really able to move, stiff with fear. He slowly moved forward, almost tauntingly as he walked up to the car. 

Don’t run, he’ll know for sure then that you’re hiding something. 

But your fear won out, and your mind went blank as you tore your seatbelt off, ripped the door open and bolted off the road, running into the ditch on the side and through the bush, into the treeline. Your sweater snagged on a branch, and you stumbled over a stump, feeling drunk as you stumbled through the night, not seeing a goddamned thing. You just needed to get away, die falling off a cliff if necessary. 

It was futile, of course. Deep down you knew it was all futile, you were never going to escape. 

Sure enough, Steve caught up to you, grabbing your arm in a steel grip. He spun you around and pulled you tight to him, his other arm wrapping around your waist to secure you to him. 

You shut your eyes, a whimper escaping your clamped shut mouth, mind whirling as you started to prepare for your punishment. This will hurt, you thought miserably to yourself, preparing for it the best you could, trying to cool your frantic breathing. 

But nothing happened. Above you, you heard the wind rustling the trees softly. You noticed how cold it was, shivering with it now, and Steve was breathing so soundlessly, he might as well be made of stone. 

You cracked an eye open and looked up at him. His eyes were steady on your face, his lips in a neutral line. He didn’t look angry, he didn’t even look upset. He looked…guarded, thoughtful. 

You opened your other eye, studying him closer for any trace of emotion, opening your mouth to say something, finding you had nothing to say. You stuttered, blinked, frowned, dumbfounded by his lack of reaction.

“You’re coming with me,” he said then, his voice brooking no argument, his look steely. He turned and started to tug you along by the arm, back the way you came. But you didn’t go back to your car, just walked straight past it on the still empty highway, and then into the treeline on the opposite side. 

“M-my car,” you started

“I’ll come back for it later,” he cut you off, not even looking down at you.

Coming up through a clearing, tumbling awkwardly behind Steve’s confident walk, your eyes landed on what looked like a private jet, just sitting there, in the woods. A moment later, you realized Steve was walking straight up to it, and confusion scrambled your mind. Did he own this? Where was he taking you?  Who the hell was this man? 

§

The jet jolted as it touched whatever landing spot you’d come upon. This was kidnapping. No one would find you now. Not that anyone would come looking. You had no family left and your social life was practically none existent. Except for Steve’s visits, ironically enough - which was probably why he’d kept you through these last months. No one to tell, no one to miss you. 

Steve walked intently to the back of the jet where you sat, unstrapped you from the intricate safety straps and hauled you firmly, though more gently than you’d expected, to your feet. The jet plane opened at the back, a flash of wind making you squint painfully before you saw the house in front of you. 

Well, not house, mansion. With a distinct cabin-like aesthetic, but there was no mistaking that this was the home of someone powerful and wealthy - even in the dark of night. Your jaw fell slack as you took it all in. There was a small pathway dotted by spot lights leading from the landing patch, through an elaborate, though wild garden trimmed with lanterns and into the huge, three story building cluttered with tall windows. Your apartment looked like a broom cupboard compared to this, and you almost felt embarrassed over it if this was where Steve lived. 

The inside continued the lavish display. Huge, expensive looking furniture, walls lined with art depicting urban New York-esque motifs and row upon row of diplomas and awards, medals and honorary memorabilia. No pictures of family, nor any clutter. Every surface was shining and spotless, not even a carelessly strewn magazine or a lone standing coffee cup to be seen. If this was where Steve lived, it didn’t seem like he lived here. It didn’t feel like a home. 

Steve hurdled you through a large living room as fast as your shaking feet could keep up, up a grand staircase in the main entry hall, down a long hallway and in through a set of double doors at the end. It was a bedroom, though not recently slept in from what you could tell. The immaculate made up bed must have been a double king size with about fifty pillows on it. Steve pushed you down almost rudely, and you bounced on a mattress that felt like a floating cloud. 

Steve dumped your bag next to you. You hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it with you. 

He stood before you, hands on his hips, stance wide, that same, undecipherable, neutral expression on his face. Your defiance sparked, you were irked and annoyed and tired of being panicked. 

He didn’t say anything, clearly expecting you to growel, and you refused. The silence stretched on. He cocked a brow, so arrogant, so entitled, and fury rose high in your throat like bile. 

“Fuck you,” you snarled under your breath, immediately fighting the urge to wince as you realized what you’d said. This would get you in trouble. 

Steve didn’t react at all. 

“Do you have any idea how unsafe that part of the state is at night?” he asked, and the infuriating irony of him lecturing you on danger had you scoffing in frustration. 

“How did you know where I was?” you asked back. 

He reached into a pocket and pulled out your mobile phone. Your jaw went slack as realization hit you. 

“You tracked my phone!?” you asked, horrified.

“I track everything, including your search history,” he said matter of factly, putting your phone away again.  

You felt a pang of nausea, mind swimming momentarily as you mulled that over. All those months of googling how to prevent pregnancy naturally, how to escape abusive relationships, how to get away from stalkers. And he’d seen it all. Heat rose on your cheeks. 

The abortion clinic. 

You’d never even stood a chance. You sighed defeated and put your face in your hands, vehemently despising feeling so exposed. 

“Show it to me,” he said then, bringing you back from your thoughts. 

A beat of silence, the night completely soundless.

“What?” you asked, not following. 

He made a pointed look at your bag. 

The test. 

You didn’t want to show him. Couldn’t bear it. 

“I left it at home,” you lied. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“I threw it out,” you lied again. 

“No.”

“I don’t-”

“y/n, you do not want to try me right now,” he said, and the downright ice in his voice made you shiver, fear settling a cold sting in your chest. You wanted to cry. 

Slowly, you bent down and unzipped the bag, searching past your joggers and toothbrush to that familiar shape and feel of the pregnancy test. You pulled it out slowly and held it out in your hand, eyes down on the bright orange, lush carpet on the floor, not able to meet his eyes. 

The test was taken from your hand and you let it fall to your lap. What were you going to do?

The silence droned on again. You briefly wondered how he would react. How smug he would be, how mean and condescending, how possessive and objectifying he would act, how he would torment you with the knowledge that he had done it. The thing you’d fought so hard. Marked you as his, made you pregnant with his kid. With his seed as he liked to call it in his throws of passion. You ignored the memory of how feral that had made you sometimes. 

You heard a shaky exhale, so small that if it wasn’t for the crushing silence in the room, you would have completely missed it. Confusion had you looking up before you could think, and your mouth fell open again. 

His eyes were glossy, wide as they stared down at the test in his hands, his brows in a small frown. It was the first time he’d looked anywhere near vulnerable in all that time you’d known him, and it tipped you off your axis, warped your mind with confusion. 

He looked up to meet your eyes and instantly got down, sat on his knees in front of your sitting form on the bed. His hands, searingly warm through the fabric of your pants, landed so gently on your thighs, pinning the test, the herald of your doom, firmly to your thigh as his eyes didn’t leave yours. 

There were tears there, making the blue shine so bright it caught you.

“You’re a miracle,” he whispered, and you almost recoiled with the shocking sincerity in it. 

He stared into your eyes for so long, and you wanted to break eye contact, but couldn’t. Just couldn’t. 

He took a large breath, again slightly shaky. 

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, I swear. From now on, I’ll always keep you safe,” he said then, a hand moving up to press so tenderly to your belly, the warmth seeping into your core, almost too hot. “You…and our child,” he continued after a beat, his breath hitching as he breathed in again. 

You didn’t move. Were too shocked too. This must be a dream, you thought helplessly as Steve broke the eye contact to stare lovingly at your stomach, his fingers stretching and curling slightly against it. This must be a weird dream, this isn’t my life. 

But it was. And there was Steve. Moved to tears at the truth of you being pregnant with his kid. So tender and sweet where he’d been so unrelenting and harsh before. He’d never let anything happen to you he’d said, completely glossing over the fact that he had happened to you, and now sealed your fate. 

He leaned forward, slowly, bending over your legs and pressed his face into your belly, his breath warming the fabric of your sweater. He pulled the fabric up to reveal the skin underneath and pressed a lingering kiss there, slick with spit. He kissed it again, slowly, and then again, slightly more urgently. 

The tension grew hot and fast like it always did, and you could feel it like air right before a summer storm - sparking with electricity and premonition. Steve gently pried your legs apart to shuffle between, still pressing wet kisses to your stomach. 

“So good,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re a miracle. So good to me. So good for me,” he continued, as if to himself, as if so overwhelmed by his emotions, the words bleeding from him like blood from a cut. His kisses almost felt like cuts, overwhelming you with contradicting, heart wrenching confliction. 

Maybe you should just give in. Give in to him. Let him have you, possess you like he was determined to do. Maybe you just needed to take comfort in him now, to let him soothe away your anxieties with his conviction. That this was a good thing, could be a miracle like he said, and not the utter demolition it felt like. 

His hands slowly moved to unbutton your pants, gently prying them off you, and you let him. What choice did you have? At least this was familiar. You could lose yourself in this, let yourself be obliterated by his hands, mouth, body and cock like you had so many times before. 

Discarding your panties with your pants, Steve stayed on his knees  on the floor by the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders as he lowered his head between your thighs. He devoured your cunt, tongue mapping it out with his spit, and you fell backwards on the mattress, letting your mind go blank with the sensation. 

Despair slowly enveloped you, tears blurring your eyes before trailing from the corners and into the hair at your temples. He moaned into your mound, growing incessant, his hands grabbing your hips tightly. It felt like the world was spinning away slowly, sinking, bleeding out of oxygen and leaving you aching. 

You came with a keen, convulsing quietly on the bed, thighs clamping down around his head as he groaned, sending vibrations through you. The tears kept coming, a silent river flowing down your face. 

He slowly got to his feet, crawling up over you and pulling you further up the bed with an arm around you. He saw the tears and your face and raised a warm, calloused hand to wipe the wet away. 

“Shh, no, no. Sweetheart, I know this is scary, but it’ll be alright. I’m here,” he said low and soothing, bending down to kiss your eyelids as they slid close. A small sob broke from you. 

Yes, exactly.

You didn’t move as he slipped between your legs, sitting back on his haunches. He unbuttoned his plain, blue shirt. He was wearing regular clothes, you noted, not able to care. As his skin was unveiled, sculpted muscles rippling elegantly under smooth skin, your hands absentmindedly reached up. You stroked up his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch under your touch. He panted softly as you caressed him, but you felt nothing. Couldn’t care. It was like every feeling you had was muted, had bled out along with your tears. 

There was no point either way. Your life was over. What is freedom, integrity and autonomy good for anyway, when I can live to be underneath Steve’s body, you thought sarcastically and bitterly to yourself. 

His eyes followed your hands, wide and intent, and you could see how hard he was, the bulge in his jeans obscene. 

Yes, fuck me. Fuck me til I can’t even remember my own name. Make me forget everything. 

“Make me feel good,” you whispered out loud, pleading, eyes meeting his, body lethargic, heavy and dull. 

He didn’t even seem to notice, his pupils blown wide, breath picking up as he hastily unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down just far enough to free himself. He lowered himself down, leaning on one hand as his other guided him inside you, slipping in in the most subtle way, like two puzzle pieces linking together in a chain of a thousand others. You gasped slightly as he bottomed out, the sting of his girth welcome as everything else was just numb. 

Oh, who were you kidding. It felt good. In spite of everything, when Steve did this, it always felt good, and the guilt of making this an escape, cowering away inside this one respite, this silver lining, stung along with new tears in your eyes. 

He started moving slowly, rocking you softly on the mattress as his body lowered to lay flush against yours, warm and heavy. You wrapped your heavy, limp arms around his neck, just letting the movement rock you, letting him do as he wanted. 

He turned his lips to your ears. 

“You’re gonna stay here from now on. We’re gonna raise it here. Together. Be a family, you, me, and our child. Our baby,” he murmured, interjected by soft grunts. “You’re mine. Finally, completely mine.”

His hips picked up speed, moving more frantically, his cock spearing you with the pulse after pulse of pleasure. You felt the distinct need for it to be harder. More painful. Not tender and intimate like this. Like you were lovers, in love, married, about to have a kid together. You wanted him to choke the life out of you, hit you until your skin turned raw and red, bend you til your bones protested and pound you like he was punishing you. Until he drew blood. Like he had done so many times before. But no, he chose this moment to be sweet. 

He leaned up on his arms again, staring into your eyes as he grinded inside you, the way slick and easy for him. 

“I love you,” he whispered, so genuinely and achingly gentle. 

You came, back arching off the bed, a strangled noise catching in your throat. Your whole body stiffened to the point of pain, and Steve fucked you through it, slowly, eyes boring into you, taking in every minute detail. He followed into his own orgasm as you came down from yours, groaning loudly as he jerked twice inside you, and you felt the warmth of his come as his cock pulsed familiarly against your trembling insides. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting hotly against the skin, his whole body slumping to pin yours down. 

The distracting pleasure faded away like a dull ache, and you were defenseless against the welling grief washing over you again. The anxiety that always sparked after he’d come inside you was gone now. The damage is already done, you thought bitterly. A little extra seed would make no difference now. He had thoroughly claimed your body as his. 

Your body jerked with a sob underneath Steve. He raised his head and looked at you, hand coming up to wipe at your tears again. 

“Hey now, what’s this?” he asked softly, brows drawing up in a fond expression. 

You couldn’t even muster enough strength to be provoked by his ease, his audacity to play ignorant to what he was doing to you - what he had been doing for months. 

“Just let…let me go,” you whispered. 

He looked at you, and his brows twitched, delicacy starting to bleed away from his afterglow. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Please. I don’t want this,” you said, voice small and frail. 

He blinked a few times and you could see his mind warring against your words. This was not what he wanted to hear. He never wanted to hear those words. 

“I do-”

“No,” he said, quickly pulling out of your body and sitting up on his haunches. You stayed lax on the bed, legs spread, his come leaking out of you, your arms slung out on the mattress at your sides. 

“I don’t want this. I don’t want you, I don’t want the child,” you said, and you sounded so dead, so lifeless and muted, speaking the words to the room more than anything. You just needed to say them out loud - to have given this last, defining defiance. To protest out loud - if only for the symbolic meaning of it. 

You heard Steve’s breath pick up again, and knew this wasn’t wise, was not going to save you - was probably going to come back and bite you in the ass later. He wasn’t pleased. But you didn’t care. If he was going to steal your life, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of playing house with him willingly. Not just yet.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice steely, but you detected that small undercurrent of anxiety. 

“I’ve never meant anything else,” you countered, still staring up at the ceiling, not moving save for your steady breaths, tears still falling silently from the corners of your eyes. 

Silence. 

“We’ll see,” he said, or rather, gritted out through his teeth, and you felt the mattress dip as he got off the bed. “You’ll stay here, eat and sleep. I’ll get your things soon, including your car, though you won’t be needing it. This place has everything you need - fully stocked pantry, a cinema, pool, good outdoor grounds and a library. If you want any other books, let me know and I’ll get them for you. Food as well. Though I don’t want you to be unhealthy, I suspect whatever cravings you get can’t be helped.”

He talked as if discussing a matter of business, not mapping out your prison for you. The ceiling turned blurry as you stared, exhaustion starting to seep into your bones. 

“Oh, and y/n,” he said, bringing your eyes to him as he lingered in the doorway, pants and shirt buttoned again, “if you do anything to harm yourself or the child, you will never leave this room again.”

§

Note: I'm thinking of maybe continuing this as a series. Possessive, unhinged and slightly yandere Steve always gets me going<3 Lmk if you'd be interested in reading more of these two<3