scribblesforthemad

[scribblesforthemad]

69 + eddie munson

that number is just so fitting for eddie lmao. we love to see it. (also, are we even surprised taylor is all over my damn wrapped?)

#69: "MIDNIGHT RAIN" BY TAYLOR SWIFT (EDDIE MUNSON)

"he was sunshine, i was midnight rain."

warnings: serious thoughts of self-doubt and self-deprecation, angst?, hurt/comfort (this one ends happier i SWEAR)

wc: 3k+

There was more to Eddie Munson than what meets the eye. 

An entire town, somehow, had gotten it through their heads that the boy who lit up your days was something dark. A storm cloud, a hellraiser, a Satan-worshiper, a tornado of the utmost destruction – every nasty synonym they could roll off their tongues, they would spit at him. He was violent rain, he was uneasy nights, he was howling winds. They looked at him like an overcast for their sweet summer days, and they couldn’t be further from the truth. 

There was nothing violent nor stormy about the boy currently curled beneath bed sheets with you. Something soft and to be held – and that’s exactly what you did as the night swallows the two of you whole. You held him. His soft breaths ruffled the material of your shirt against your stomach, his curls tickling all the way up to your chest as a hand mindlessly twists at the end of a few stray strands. 

The clock on the nightstand blinks with a time far too late for you to be up, but you can’t help it. You’d woken up a few hours ago, and begged sleep to return to you, but it simply wouldn’t. Eddie had even roused at some point, twisting and noticing you awake in his half-dazed state, but his supportive state had been plagued by drowsiness, and the beckoning of his dreams won the war in the end. You didn’t mind it – it was nice to lay like this, the weight of his head on your torso and to feel his steady breathing rather than being left alone to your own thoughts. 

This town assumed Eddie was the terrible storm, but you knew better. 

He was the farthest thing from a storm possible. Even amongst his chaos, even amongst his wild demeanor, he still managed to embody the sun at the end of the day in your eyes. Warm, sought after, calming, relaxing. Bright and brilliant as ever. Those chestnut ringlets, those honeyed doe eyes – how anyone saw so much as a strike of lightning in them was beyond you. You were the one carrying storm clouds. You were the one with heavy forecasts, downpours that slaughtered in the dead of night. 

It was the thunder in your head that was keeping you awake. Not his, never his. 

“R’you still up?” he mumbles, nearly scaring you. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d awoken again, too busy staring at the ceiling as you watched shadows of the current rain trailing down the window reflected on the walls. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking down, moving your fingertips from the ends of his hair to his scalp before scratching in small circles, “Go back to sleep, baby.” 

“Can’t-” he starts to mutter, cutting off in a yawn as he twists so that his face is no longer buried in your chest, eyes still pinched shut for a moment before he can continue his thought, “Can’t sleep if I know you’re up. What’s bothering you?” 

Endless things. Your chest was coiled in terrible knots, strangling you on repeat with each second passing as you had been left alone with your thoughts. Haunted by every echoing step you had taken the last few days, taunted by every word you hadn’t said. 

Just how many mistakes had you made in the last twenty four hours alone? And how had they still, somehow, led you home to him? What had you done to be deserving of him?

“Just the storm,” you lie easily, keeping a soft tone, still trying to beckon him back to sleep. As if on cue, a distant roll of thunder can be heard following a brisk flare of light through the window pane. 

But his wide eyes only blink up at you, clearly awake now, “‘s that all?” 

His words are still slurring together a bit, but as he lifts his weight off of you, you know there’s no coaxing him back into rest. There’s no facing the storm alone tonight – and not the one that currently pelts the outside of the house. 

You can’t look him in his eyes. You’re terrified for him to see the rolling waves of nimbus formations behind your own. 

“Yeah, that’s all,” you say, patting your chest, trying to change the topic, “C’mere. Lay back down, there’s no use for us both to be tired tomorrow.” 

He sits up fully, your hands falling from his scalp, out of reach as he balances on his knees with a face of newfound determination, “I’m not letting you just lay here awake while I use you as my own personal drool catch. I know there’s something more than the storm bothering you.” 

Damn him. And damn his attentiveness. 

Even with the moonlight illuminating him, he emits his own specific shine that gleams golden through the dark room, striking you right in your heart. Your boy made of sunshine and kindness, good intentions and a pure heart.

Your sun. 

“It’s stupid,” you start, picking at the threads of the comforter as he settles to lay comfortably beside you. In an instant, the positions are switched, and he’s pulling you to lay on his chest, “I just… It can all get a bit loud, you know?” 

It’s not about the people in the town who talk. Not an ounce of their gossip can really get to you, hardly scratching at your skin. At most, they only leave their mark when they talk badly of Eddie. And even then, you know your truth. 

“We’re the talk of the town again, huh?” Eddie chuckles, fingertips grazing at the small bit of the nape of your neck that’s exposed from beneath the neck of your shirt. Lazy circles, wobbling triangles, hardly-distinguishable squares. All mindless shapes that he’s probably unaware of painting over your skin, and they send shivers down your spine all the same. 

It’s not the people in the town who are loud. 

It’s that voice in your head, the whisper that he’s too good for this. There is something simply so inherently good about the boy that lays beneath you. Something so golden, so warming that it aches and nearly stifles you. He deserves more. He deserves someone who can offer him the world, not someone who will never manage more than rotting away with the worms below the dirt. 

“Why did you choose me?” you blurt out before you can think better of it.

The storm outside the window picks up in pace, raindrops racing faster down the glass. You try and pick one to follow in particular, but they all disappear quicker than they appear to begin with. 

“What do you mean?” 

You can’t make sense of it, the way he loves you. As if he doesn’t see the storm always on the horizon, as if he can’t feel the sharp pain that resides permanently within your chest. A pain you were born with, a pain you’ll surely die with. The nasty thing that pangs every time you grow too comfortably, that screams for you to run when things get too good. 

You just don’t get it. 

“Everyone is always asking me why I’m with you,” you wish you could choose your words more carefully, but you can’t. They only come tumbling out, an avalanche of honesty over the crack of thunder that sounds, “Saying things like how I’m so nice, how you’re so… so… not. And I just don’t get it, because you are. You’re… everything, Eddie. You’re the sun incarnate, so good and so nice at your core. And they never have time for me to wax poetic, to go on and on about just how good you are. They always act like you’re the impending doom, and I’m always in danger, when it should be the other way around.” 

His slow motions on the base of your neck pause, “I’m not sure I’m following along, sweetheart.” 

You lift your head, look up at those eyes that could hold an entire Universe inside of them. The kind that do when the sun’s rays hit them just right in the daytime. He is everything. Every star, every first bloom of spring, every fresh breath of air. 

And you aren’t.

You’re built off of late nights and terrible troubles. Of racing thoughts and sweaty palms, and a mouth that always fumbles with its words. Something unhinged and something unattractive at its core. It’s not the outside so much, not that you don’t feel pretty enough for him, but the inside. That inner natural disaster waiting to happen. A tsunami of forces waiting to engulf you both, drown him right along with you. 

You want to run because you want to save him from that fate. You can’t save yourself, but you could save him. 

“I’m the storm, the unpredictable and violent one,” you choke out, placing a flat palm on his chest, “You’re… not. They think you are, but you aren’t. You deserve better than to sit around with me, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and for my torrential downpour to start. You don’t deserve to sit in the rain with someone who isn’t worth it.”

How many breakdowns had he already bore witness to? How many late nights had he already sacrificed his rest to spend talking you through a spiral? How many times had he given up all that he deserved, just to sit in the rain with you? 

“Quite the metaphor you’ve got going there,” he laughs under his breath, but all the joking fades when he sees that disaster-torn look cross your face, “Have I ever told you how when I was younger, and it would rain, I’d insist on sleeping with the window open?” 

Your brows furrow, “What does that have to do with-”

“You have your wild metaphors, let me have mine,” he interrupts, sitting up a bit, leaning forward until your forehead nearly bumps against his, “Wayne hated it. It would get everything soaked – the curtains, the carpet, my desk – and it would run up his electric bill. Said he’d always come into my room in the morning to find me shivering under the covers, and have to run up the heater to stop my teeth from chattering. The old man never lets me forget, either,” he pauses, and brings a gentle, warm palm up to your cheek, “But even after countless lectures, you know what changed? Nothing. Every day, whenever I saw the clouds or smelled the rain coming, I still got so damn excited. I still ran home to open up my window, and I smiled like a fool the entire fucking time. It only drove Wayne more insane.” 

“Okay?” you question, peering into his eyes, still not following, “So, you love rain. Are you trying to say you want to open the window right now? Or-”

“You’re so close to getting it,” he chuckles, closing the distance between the two of you, shutting you up with a brush of his lips against yours. 

“Getting what?” you mumble into his mouth, frowning a bit as he pulls back and his lips hover. 

That palm holds you steady, keeping you close as his other hand wanders to your hip, giving a soft squeeze to the tender flesh, “I love rain.” 

He loves rain. 

Your mind twists and gravels, tries to make sense of it when you’re still so consumed by him. The brush of his lips against yours as he whispers. The caress of his breath over your cheek, still minty from when the two of you had brushed your teeth together before bed. The warmth seeping out of his skin against yours, warming you even as the storm wages on. The smell of his sheets mingling with the damp air fighting through the vents from outside. 

He loves rain.

It clicks. 

“You love rain,” you say carefully, eyes fluttering open to find him already looking at you. 

He nods, forehead finally bumping yours. “I fucking love rain. Always have, always will.” 

The storm within your head that had been raging for hours, that had kept you up as your sunshine had slept soundly, goes still as night. It all stops – the wind, the thunder, the downpour. Every single thought halts in its tracks as you look at a boy who’s watching you with such adoration, with such promise of offering up the entire world if you asked. You have his heart in your hands, and he’s well aware you could destroy it at a moment’s notice, but he trusts you. 

He loves you. 

“Now, come here,” he insists, scooting back on the bed until his back is flush to the wall and his arms are wide open for you to crawl into. You don’t deny him. Slowly, you make your way to his chest, letting your ear press against his skin and listen to the steady and sure rhythm of his heart as his arms wrap around you, “We don’t have to go back to bed, but you do have to let me be here for you. Let me just sit with you in the rain, with the window wide open, yeah? Your storm can get the curtains wet, you can freeze me out – I don’t care. I like the storm… I love the storm,” he whispers as you settle against him. You finally glance at his old alarm clock, the one Wayne had bought him back in sophomore year when he’d insisted he was tired of waking the boy up every morning. Those blinking numbers read 12:43 just as his lips press to your temple, “I love you.” 

Such a quiet declaration. Full of meaning, full of intent. The only rain still pounding away is the one outside of the trailer, sounding off in a tinkling tune of water against metal slates. It’s almost melodic as you feel his exhale against your hairline. 

“I love you too, y’know?” you whisper right back, a hand coming up to curl around his wrist as he places his hand on your shoulder. It’s not enough to just hear his heartbeat; you need to feel the pulse beneath his skin, thumb digging in helplessly as you focus on just him and his rays of light as your clouds begin to break, “I’m sorry if I’m hard to love, or dramatic sometimes-”

“Never,” he cuts you off, “You’re never hard to love, sweetheart. Not for me.” 

No more words are needed as the seconds pass and the two of you stay like that. You, counting every beat of his heart. And him, still bleeding sunshine even in the black of night. Messy crown of curls, a smile that never quite leaves his lips. It’s impossible to wrap your head around – the boy who could light up even the darkest of rooms, who glows even at midnight, loves the rain in a way you never thought possible. Loves your rain specifically, and all the storms you always fear and battle with through every sleepless night. It doesn’t phase him in the slightest. 

“Are you ever going to get tired of me?” you ask, more out of curiosity than insecurity now as your fingers fall to trace over one of the tattoos inked into the skin of his chest, “I mean, I know you say you love rain now, but people can change. Hell, even I’m changing constantly. No two storms are ever exactly the same, or whatever the fuck they say.” 

“Do they say that?” he murmurs. You can hear the sleep returning to him, drawing him under, “To answer your question, no. I don’t think I will ever get tired of you. Change all you want. I’m just happy to be here.” 

You smile, and you know he feels it as he squeezes you a bit tighter, “What if I decide to shave my head tomorrow? Or dye my hair the ugliest shade of neon yellow I can find? Or tattoo my entire face?” 

“If you dye your hair neon, can you dye one of my strands to match?” you snort at his response, tilting your chin to catch him looking at you with a playful smile, “And I’ll still love you if you’re bald. As a matter of fact, I think I can see a bald spot already forming on the back of your head, so…” 

Your hand flies up to your hair, feeling for what he’s talking about as he descends into cackles. Head fully thrown back and eyes tightly screwed shut. 

God, he’s beautiful. Too beautiful for you to even get genuinely upset with his teasing. 

“Fuck you,” you say as you realize he’s joking, forcing a faux pout and throwing your head back down onto his chest hard enough to make him emit a small oof, “If either of us are going bald, it’s you.” 

He gasps, still dramatic even as he’s half-asleep, “How dare you. I was even going to offer up some of my luscious locks to make you a wig if you needed it.” 

“You don’t have long enough hair for that.”

“Yet,” he insists as your eyelids grow a little heavier, “I’ll just keep growing it out. You know, in case you need it, even though you were so mean to me.” 

Your body sinks deeper into him, as if you could bury you both into the safety of this mattress for the rest of your days. 

“I hate you,” you lie, half playful as the thunder outside the trailer becomes nothing more than a lullaby. 

He slips down further into the comforter, resting his head on his pillow rather than the uncomfortable wall as he holds you tight to him, “I love you, too, my little rainstorm.” 

You don’t even have a quick defense against his teasing nickname as sleep takes hold of you. You’re already far gone, eyes shut and mind slipping away as he kisses the top of your head before joining you. 

Storms are easier with Eddie. Window open and all.

[scribblesforthemad]

I love how all the fanfic blogs are monotone it’s our code of arms

[scribblesforthemad]

Source: This

[scribblesforthemad]

Masterlist

Leverage

Eliot Spencer

The Renaissance Job - Eliot x fem!reader

Part 1 (coming soon!)

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson

There and Back Again - Eddie x fem!reader

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22 (coming soon!)

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 21

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part twenty-one warnings: swearing, discussion of canon-typical violence, discussion of period homophobia, kissing, angst, fluff

a/n: I managed to finally get out of a bit of a slump this weekend, and I'm really pleased with Part 21 as a result! Also please let me know if you're seeing my work in the tags--I think I might be shadowbanned, so any reblogging/commenting/promoting of this series would really help me out! (Also I just love hearing from y'all asdfhlaksjdfhas.) This part is partially dedicated to developing the friendship between Robin and reader, bc I love Robin and she deserves the whole world. Love to you all <3

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

“I don’t like this,” you announced yet again, causing groans from the Winnebago’s various other passengers.

“We know, Y/N,” Dustin said, sprawling over the seat like a bad-tempered octopus. “But we need weapons and the War Zone has them. What else are we supposed to do?” You rolled your eyes in response, but internally, you had to concede the point. You did need weapons, and the huge, remote store was the best place any of you could think of to get them.

“I just don’t want you running into Jason and his psycho killers,” you said, shooting Eddie a dirty look. He grinned, but you could see the worry in his eyes. “Sue me for caring about you.”

Max snorted from her seat in the back.

“I do know a good lawyer. Just ask Steve,” she said, before resuming her gaze out the window. You smiled in spite of yourself, glad to see the girl’s spirits returning—even if it was only temporarily.

“I believe it,” you said, glancing toward Steve and Nancy in the front of the RV. Steve motioned broadly with his right hand as he drove, and Nancy smiled fondly at his words. You couldn’t make out everything over the sputter of the Winnebago’s engine, but you knew he was laying out his grand plans for six little nuggets and yearly summer road trips. You felt a pang in your chest as you worried for the both of you. For Steve, who didn’t know if he would ever get to have the girl of his dreams—and for you, who might have gained the love of your life only to watch him die that very night. You swallowed heavily, and Eddie looked up at the noise.

“You okay, Siren?” he asked softly, his chocolate eyes wide with concern as he bent toward you, placing a gentle hand on your back. You closed your eyes and nodded, savoring the warmth of his touch. Who knew how many more times you would feel it?

By the time Steve pulled into the War Zone’s bustling parking lot, your heart was beating in time with your racing thoughts. What if Jason was in there? What if he went further than he had in the show? What if—

“We’ll be right back,” Nancy said, interrupting your reverie. “You two stay low—we don’t want to give anyone a reason to look too closely.” You gave her a small nod, and she turned on her heel, heading for the store entrance while the others trailed her like a row of ducklings. As the last one out, Dustin gave you and Eddie a somber nod before closing the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone in the RV.

Minutes passed. You chewed your bottom lip nervously, your left leg bouncing involuntarily as you tried and failed to think of anything besides the events of the coming night. Across the aisle, movement caught your attention. Your head shot up suddenly, looking for the source of the motion—and saw Eddie’s hand waving slowly in front of your face. Relaxing your shoulders, you let out a sigh of relief. It was only Eddie.

“Piece of gold for your thoughts?”

You raised your eyebrows, a small smile playing across your lips in spite of everything.

“I believe the phrase is ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ babe,” you said, evading the question. Eddie smirked, but didn’t take his eyes off of yours.

“Maybe for regular mortals,” he said confidently, folding his legs to sit cross-legged on the narrow bench. “But I figure that’s too cheap for your thoughts, princess. Yours oughta be worth at least a couple pieces of gold.” His lopsided grin made your heart flutter in your chest, and a warm blush spread across your cheeks.

“Oh, hush,” you said, not meaning it in the slightest. “You’re so dramatic, Munson.”

“Yeah, well,” he said breezily, lacing his hands behind his head. “We can’t all be bewitching siren queens or sword-swinging heroes, L/N. Gotta leave something for us court jesters.” He winked at you conspiratorially, but you didn’t smile. Something about his tone bothered you; though it was light on the surface, you could sense an undercurrent of bitterness—like he really believed he was nothing more than a jester, than an outlandish bit of entertainment for others to glance at and then forget. It nearly broke your heart.

“Don’t say that, Eddie,” you said quietly, rubbing your face tiredly with one hand.

“Say what?” he asked with confusion, leaning toward you with concern, his hands moving to rest on your knees. His big, brown eyes were quizzical, truly not understanding why you were upset.

“That you’re not a hero. It’s not true, and I can’t stand to hear you say it, not when—” you stopped yourself before you went further, a strangled sob rising in your throat. God, you were so, so scared.

“Not when what?” Eddie asked softly, tilting his head as he looked down at you, taking your small, soft hands into his large, calloused ones. You sniffled, taking several deep breaths as you tried to calm the storm of emotions roiling inside you. When you felt you could speak again, you looked into the deep brown eyes you’d fallen for since that first scene in the cafeteria. You took another deep breath.

“In the show,” you whispered, your eyes flicking down as your confidence wavered. “That what you said in the show, right before—”

You couldn’t finish the sentence, but it didn’t matter. When you looked at him again, Eddie’s gaze had changed. He looked more somber now, taking in the full impact of your words—but his hold on your hands never wavered. The steady pressure continued, as warm and strong as it always had been.

It amazed you how much he was focused on you in this moment—he’d just been told some of his last words, which would be spoken that very evening, and yet he was focused entirely on you. He was scared, sure, that much was obvious. But he didn’t let the fear consume him, or direct his actions, or do anything other than fuel his empathy for you. He was so much stronger than he believed; not an all-powerful comic-book hero saving the day with a roundhouse kick, but an everyday hero. A you’re-too-tired-from-work-so-I’ll-do-the-dishes, make-stupid-jokes-when-you’re-anxious, take-in-and-look-after-every-high-school-outcast kind of hero.

A real hero.

 “I love you,” you said, the words spilling from your lips before you could really think about it.

Eddie’s head shot up, his eyes widening with shock at your words. You blushed deeply at his reaction, hoping he didn’t think you were crazy, saying “I love you” after only a few days of being together. But the words were true, and you couldn’t—and wouldn’t—take them back.

“Sorry, I know it’s soon, but it’s true, and I’m just so scared for tonight, and Eddie—” Your voice broke on his name, and you looked pleadingly into his eyes. “Please, Eddie, promise me you won’t do anything stupid tonight. I love you so much, and I can’t—I can’t lose you,” you begged, your voice trailing into a ragged whisper. “I just can’t.”

Eddie’s face was still blank with shock that quickly morphed into bewilderment. He cupper your face in his hands, his eyes wide as he looked at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Like a thing so precious couldn’t possibly be his.

“Say something,” you whispered, your stomach twisting in knots at his silence. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains behind him, nearly forming a halo over his dark curls. You held your breath, your subconscious taking a moment to appreciate his beauty while your conscious mind was frozen with anticipation.

“I—I love you too, Y/N,” he finally stammered, an incredulous smile breaking across his face, making him look even more angelic. “More than I can say, hell—more than I thought was possible.” His voice grew huskier as emotion welled up in his throat. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I’d spend the next fifty years doing only sensible things if it meant I could spend them with you.” Your heart swelled at his words, and you allowed yourself to hope for the first time in days. It felt like the first breath of air after a long and treacherous swim. “My Siren,” he whispered, drawing you toward him and resting his forehead on yours.

The kiss you shared next drove all thoughts of bats and spells and monsters from your mind, leaving only Eddie.

Only Eddie.

*             *             *                                              

The drive to the empty field was a short one, through a landscape just starting to acknowledge the coming of spring. Tiny patches of spring beauties and carpets of deadnettles dotted the emerging green with strokes of white and violet, shifting gently in the still-wintry wind. With the RV’s engine off, the afternoon was quieter than you’d expect, the insects not yet hatched and the birds still roosting in their warmer winter climes.

In fact, as you sat near the Winnebago with Robin, the only noise you heard was the playful fighting of Eddie and Dustin fifty yards away, charging and tackling each other before wielding sticks as imaginary longswords. You smiled gently as you watched them, loving the way Eddie instinctually put everyone at ease with his antics. The fondness you felt was so overwhelming, you didn’t even notice Robin staring until she spoke in your ear.

“You’ve really got it bad, huh?” she asked, nodding toward Eddie and Dustin, who were now mounting a valiant assault on the Sinclairs’ spear-making camp. You bit your lip, both embarrassed and happy to have been caught.

“Yeah,” you said simply, a bashful grin forming on your reddened face. “I really, really do. Lucky for me, he does too. Though I have no idea what I did to deserve it.” You gave Eddie one more fond look before turning to face Robin, who you were surprised to see was nearly on the verge of tears. “Hey, hey, hey,” you said soothingly, concern filling your voice as you reached for her, stroking her arms gently as she looked at you through glassy eyes. Your heart ached as you realized what was wrong. After all, you’d watched happy couples for years, forcing yourself to smile through the pain that came with observing the happiness you couldn’t have for yourself.

“I feel like such an idiot,” Robin said, pulling her arms from your grasp and crossing them protectively over her chest. “Like, in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.” She let out a pained laugh. “And yet, I still can’t get her stupid laugh out of my head. Only it’s not stupid, its wonderful, and I could spend the rest of my natural life listening to it.” She swallowed hard. “Not that that’s likely to be very long, anyway.” Your gaze softened as you looked at your friend, the one who’d welcomed you from the start and treated you like a real, human person instead of an interdimensional freak. You took a deep breath. Fuck time paradoxes. Robin needed you.

“I can’t pretend like I know exactly what you’re going through, or that it will all magically get better and people will stop being assholes.” You took your hand in hers, causing her to look you in the eye as a single tear rolled down her cheek. “But I promise you, it does get easier.” You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, the ones that would give even a glimmer of hope. “Like, 2022 is really, really far from perfect, and there’s still definitely homophobia, but it’s a lot less…blatant than it is now. Most of my friends came out in high school,” you said, smiling as you thought of them, “and no one gave a shit at all. A couple of them even went to prom together—slow-danced in the gym and everything.”

Robin’s eyes were wide with awe and longing, a flicker of hope stirring behind her tear-filled eyes. You glanced down at your feet, shifting your weight uncomfortably on the overturned plastic bucket.

Suddenly, there were wiry arms being thrown around your neck, holding you tighter than was strictly comfortable, but you didn’t mind. You wrapped your arms around Robin, returning the hug with a fierceness that surprised even you. Over the past month, Robin had grown into one of the best and closest friends you’d ever had. You’d shared laughter, and fear, and boredom; played pranks on Steve and plotted world-saving schemes on the weekends. Now, you were preparing for the final battle—the one that would decide if you’d done any good in Hawkins, Indiana.

And there was no one you’d rather have fighting by your side.

[scribblesforthemad]

reblog if its okay to send you cute anons/messages

[scribblesforthemad]

All the writers leaving due to lack of interaction makes me really sad. Readers pls if you like something u read, pls pls pls reblog it or at least leave a comment or an anonymous ask to the writer talking about what you liked abt their fic. It only takes a moment but to the writer, it means a lot.

And to those who do reblog and leaves comments, you guys are amazing. Thank u for taking time to give feedback

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 20

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part twenty warnings: swearing, discussion of canon-typical violence, PTSD, angst, fluff

a/n: here's part twenty! it's a little shorter than usual, but I'm really trying to gear up for the big finale scenes--so rest assured, there is still PLENTY coming! Also, please please please give feedback if you can! I've been having a bit of a rough week and would really appreciate hearing from y'all if you liked it. Thanks as always <3

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

When you woke, the bed was cold next to you. You frowned as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Where had Eddie gone? Wrapping the old quilt around your shoulders, you slid out of bed and began padding down the hall, searching for your errant lover.

You stopped when you came to the kitchen doorway. Eddie’s back was turned to you as he fiddled with the stove, letting out an expletive as he burned his finger on the old coil.

“Fucking hell, where does he keep the pots?” he muttered to himself, and you smiled softly, realizing what he was up to. When they had dropped you off last night, the others had made sure you were well-supplied with instant oatmeal—a hot, filling, and most importantly non-perishable meal. You watched as he managed to dig a pot out of an overcrowded cabinet, frowning and wiping at a spot with the hem of his shirt. Your smile widened, and you shook your head in fond exasperation. Boys.

Silent even on the old wooden boards in your bare feet, you padded toward Eddie, letting the quilt fall quietly to the floor as he filled the pot with water and placed it on the burner. He had just picked up the box of oatmeal and begun to read the instructions when your arms wrapped securely around his waist.

He jumped nearly out of his skin, the oatmeal box flying across the room as he whirled around to face you. You backed up at the sudden movement, and even more upon seeing the terrified and terrifying expression on his face.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart breaking as you saw him start to shake with relief and unspent adrenaline. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to say hello.” His shoulders slumped visibly as he tried to release the tension, closing his eyes as he took deep, if shuddering, breaths.

“S’okay, princess,” he muttered, taking your hand gently in his. “Just…” He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze briefly before flicking away. “Just been jumpy since—since Chrissy.” You nodded, squeezing his hand in sympathy and understanding. He looked at you then, and you could feel the weight of the previous night’s revelation hanging between you, though neither of you spoke of it. Instead, you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and he returned the embrace just as fiercely, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You stroked his back as he shook, making soft shushing noises as the adrenaline found its release in his tear ducts.

“I’ve got you, Eddie,” you whispered, clinging to him as if he might vanish at any moment. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

After what felt like an eternity, Eddie straightened and wiped his eyes, releasing your hand with a quick squeeze. Taking a deep breath, he bent down and retrieved the fallen oatmeal box, shaking his head and smiling as he checked the date on the package.

“Expired two days ago. Little shits,” he said, holding out the box for you to see. You laughed a little, glad to see him smile again—even if his eyes were still a little red.

“I think dried oats are pretty safe, Eddie,” you said, smacking him lightly on the arm. He raised his eyebrows playfully, his trademark mischievous grin back in place. He tapped his chin exaggeratedly, pretending to consider your statement.

“I suppose food poisoning is the least of our worries,” he said, mock-serious. “But I’m definitely going to give them shit about this later.” You laughed.

“I would expect nothing less.”

When the others arrived nearly an hour later, your playful mood evaporated. Tonight’s the night, you realized, your stomach dropping in fear. Tonight, we fight Vecna. You bit your lip hard, trying and failing to stop the flood of emotions that filled you as you watched Eddie greet your friends, patting Steve on the back and ruffling Dustin’s hair. Tonight, I might lose him. You chided yourself at once, turning your attention instead to the plan—to how you would save Eddie. Lifting your head, you realized that the others were already deep in conversation.

“We need weapons,” Nancy was saying, her eyes stormy as she paced the cabin floor. “The handguns I keep at home aren’t going to be enough to kill Vecna.” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up immediately.

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns—plural—in your bedroom?” he asked, incredulous. He scooted backward toward you as Nancy shot him a piercing glare in response.

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” she said flatly. No one questioned her further.

“Where can we get more guns?” asked Max, pulling her headphones from her ears. “You guys are gonna need them, even if Vecna’s focused on me.” Lucas turned to her, eyes wide.

“Why would Vecna be focused on you?” Max sighed, crossing her arms defensively.

“Because he’ll come for me when I stop listening to the tape. Then you all can sneak into the Upside Down while he’s distracted and kill him.” She glared at the group, daring anyone to cross her. Lucas, of course, did just that.

“Are you crazy?!” he almost shouted, standing up with the vehemence of his disagreement. “Max, that’s way too dangerous! You have no idea what’ll happen when you stop listening to the tape; that’s exactly what he wants!” You bit your lip, unsure what to do. On the one hand, you knew Lucas was right—this was far too dangerous of a plan, especially for Max. Even with El’s help, you weren’t sure she would make it. On the other…

“I don’t think we have a choice,” you said quietly, cutting off Max’s angry words. Everyone turned to face you, their faces grave. “I know we can defeat him tonight—with Hopper and Joyce fighting the demogorgons in Russia and El using her powers from out west.” You looked from face to face, willing them to understand. “In the show, with everyone working together, you just barely managed to defeat him—and even then, only temporarily. Season five is still coming. As much as I hate it, Max is right. We have to do this tonight, and her plan is the best one we have.” Lucas crossed his arms, shaking his head in disbelief. Max shot him a look, and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Finally, Lucas spoke again, his eyes never leaving Max’s.

“It worked, in the show? Max will be alright?” You swallowed hard, unsure how to answer.

“There were…some complications,” you said carefully, raising a hand to forestall any comments. “But they’re nothing that can’t be handled with an extra Walkman and a tranquilizer gun. And even without them, Max lives.” Your stomach knotted with guilt, even though you were telling the truth. Technically. “El will be with her the whole time,” you said softly, a pleading look on your face. “Actually,” you said, remembering, “If everything’s still like the show, then El’s watching us right now.” A small smile graced your lips at the thought. Dustin’s eyes were wide with wonder.

“You mean, she can hear us right now?” he asked, a wide grin breaking on his face. “In one of her sensory deprivation tank visions?” You nodded, and a flicker of hope seemed to ignite in the midst of your little family. “HI, EL!” Dustin shouted suddenly, startling everyone as he waved furiously all around the room. “WE MISS YOU!”

For a moment, no one moved, stunned by the sudden outburst. Then, slowly, Dustin’s smile spread to each and every member of the group. Shy hands rose and began waving uncertainly, gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“Hey, El,” Max said softly, looking happier than you’d seen her in weeks. A slow smile spread across her face, and a new light blazed in her eyes. “Ready to kick Vecna’s ass tonight?”

“El?” Lucas asked in wonder, looking around as if he might spot her hiding behind a bookshelf. “Are you really here?”

“Hey, Supergirl,” Steve said, running his hand through his hair in disbelief. “Happy to have you with us.”

“Hi, so, I don’t really know you, but it was so cool when you killed that thing in the mall last year, and I, for one, am really, really glad you’re on our side,” Robin rambled, bouncing up and down on her tiptoes as she spoke.

“That’s two of us,” Erica said, folding her arms across her chest and sighing loudly. “With your help, maybe we can keep these idiots from messing up the plan.” Though she’d never admit it, you could see a genuine smile peeking through behind her pursed lips.

“Hi, El,” Nancy said with a small wave. “Take care of my boys for me, will you?”

“Um, hi,” Eddie said, looking around uncertainly. “Y/N says you escaped from a lab and now you’ve got, like, superpowers?” You nodded, and Eddie seemed to gain a bit more confidence. He flashed the room a brilliant smile. “That is incredibly metal.” Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward slightly, though you had no idea where to look.

“Hi, El,” you said with as much brightness as you could muster. “I know you don’t know me, but I know how much you’ve done for Hawkins—for the world,” you corrected, stumbling over your words. You had so much you wanted to say to her, but now that the moment was here, your mind was going blank. Typical. “I know this is scary, but I promise you can do this—hell, I’ve watched you do this,” you said, your smile widening as you remembered. “I hope I get to meet you in person, but regardless—it’s an honor to fight with you.”

Though the group fell silent, small smiles still filled the room, and the birdsong outside suddenly didn’t seem so out of place. You weren’t the biggest or the toughest group, and there were plenty of dangers ahead of you—but somehow, that didn’t matter as much anymore. You had been reminded that there were others in this fight—friends and allies who, while not next to you, would most definitely be fighting with you.

You weren’t alone.

And just for a moment, you could’ve sworn the lights in the cabin glowed a little bit brighter.  

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 19

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part nineteen warnings: swearing, discussion of canon-typical violence, angst, fluff

a/n: thank you for sticking with me through 19 parts so far! I promise there's still plenty left to come. I'd really appreciate it if you could give me some comments on what you think! Love u guys <3

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

“I’m telling you, I ran for the portal and managed to jump through, just like Max. I don’t understand why you’re all still hounding me about it!”

You paced the floor of the Mayfields’ trailer, too agitated to sit. Six skeptical faces stared back at you from around the living room; only Eddie’s soft brown eyes were filled with concern rather than cynicism.

“We’re not trying to hound you about it,” Nancy said diplomatically, though her tone conveyed a bit more exasperation than she’d intended. “We’re just…making sure that we understand everything that happened.” You scoffed, having no patience for half-truths and deflections after your ordeal. They knew you were keeping something back, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You raked your fingers through your hair, trying to find a way to placate them without telling them the full extent of what you’d seen—Eddie’s lifeless body on the hillside, torn apart by shrieking bats and eventually left behind. You sighed.

“He…he showed me things,” you said, avoiding Nancy’s intense gaze. “Horrible things, that haven’t happened yet.” You swallowed hard, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. “He said he wanted me to witness those things. That that’s why—that’s why he brought me here,” you finished, your voice dwindling to a near whisper.

A beat, and then everyone exploded around you.

“He brought you here?! How long have you known? I swear to God, if you’ve been lying to us—” Max’s angry words were quickly overrun by Steve’s disbelieving questions.

“He showed you the future?” he asked, mouth agape. “Like, psychic prophecy shit?”

“We are so completely and spectacularly screwed,” Robin said, her eyes wide with fear as she wrung her hands nervously. The panicked voices of your friends rose, crowding out every other sound and even thought. Your breathing grew more rapid, and though you brought your hands up to your ears to try and block the sound, before long you were hyperventilating. The exhaustion and fear of fighting your way through the Upside Down, the vision of Eddie’s death, and now the chaos of everyone’s reactions—it was all far, far too much.

Quickly and quietly, Eddie rose from his seat on the couch and walked to you. He took your hands in his, gently moving them away from your ears before wrapping his arms around you. After whispering a few inaudible comforts, he turned his gaze to the others as you sobbed into his chest.

“Quiet!” he barked, and his commanding tone, so different from the laid-back sarcasm that usually coated his words, was fierce enough that the others immediately fell silent. “Give her a goddamn minute. Vecna just torturedher, for fuck’s sake.” You hid in the tear-stained cotton of his Hellfire tee, the comforting scent of him slowly bringing you back to reality. “I’m here, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He held you as you shook and cried, stroking your back with gentle, soothing motions.

Gradually, with Eddie’s gentle comfort and steady strength, you recovered yourself. You brought your face out from his chest, wiping your eyes on your sleeve but still clinging to his arm. You took a deep, if shaky breath, and sat on the couch with Eddie, staring at the carpet for a moment before finally facing the others.

Nancy was the first to speak, and her voice was softer than it had been before.

“Y/N, if you’re up to it, what did Vecna say exactly?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she looked at you with mingled affection and concern. “Maybe the wording can help us understand.”

You chewed your lip, thinking of how best to respond. You owed them the truth, and you knew it. But telling the truth also meant telling them about the one thing you’d sworn to yourself you’d never reveal: Eddie’s death. If you told them, like you’d told them about Chrissy’s and Fred’s and Patrick’s deaths, it would be like sealing his fate. You would doom the man you loved to the slow, tortuous death Vecna had shown you.

You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, feeling all eyes on you. Finally, you spoke, and though a touch unsteady, your voice was brittle with determination.

“After he showed me those things—” you glanced back at Eddie, your muscles tightening as you remembered his broken, bloody body, “and I won’t discuss them, so don’t ask—he told me that that’s why he brought me here, to witness them.” You swallowed. “He said he’d noticed some kind of…psychic bond I had to this world, and he wanted to bring me here to indulge it. To show me ‘the futility of opposing him’ or something.” You looked around at the group, your eyes pleading for one of them to provide some sense or meaning to the words. “But what does that even mean?!”

Dustin stood and began to pace, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he frowned, clearly deep in thought. Abruptly, he stopped walking and turned to face you.

“El opened the first gate by reaching out to the Demogorgon with her mind,” he said slowly, and you blinked at the sudden change of subject. You nodded, waiting for him to continue. “And a new gate opens whenever Vecna kills someone.” You nodded again, unsure where this was going. Dustin resumed pacing, and seven pairs of eyes followed his every move. “And because of what happened to Max,” he said, and the redhead scowled at the mention of her name, “we know that Vecna’s attacks focus on bad things that have happened to someone. Feelings they didn’t admit to anyone else.” He paused significantly, looking at you once again. “In short, these are psychic attacks. He isn’t physically here, but he uses his powers to look into people’s minds and make his kills.” Your eyes widened as you suddenly saw where he was going, and your heart began to beat faster. “Your love for what you knew as a TV show must have been so powerful that it projected outward toward our world. Vecna must’ve sensed it and used his powers to bring you here.”

Stunned faces looked from you to Dustin. Though none of you truly understood it, his theory had the ring of truth.

“But why?” you whispered, though you were beginning to fear that you knew the answer already. “Why bring me here when he knew I’d just try and stop him?” Dustin’s mouth fell into a hard line as he looed at you grimly.

“Because the benefits outweighed the risks. He didn’t think you’d be able to stop him, and…” he trailed off, not meeting your eyes.

“And what, Dustin?” you asked, your voice flat. Finally, he looked up at you.

“And because your bond to us, to this world, is so powerful that if you witnessed something in person—something horrible from the show that really messed you up—it might provide a powerful enough psychic surge for Vecna to open another gate.” He shrugged helplessly. “You’re a backup plan, Y/N.”

You took in Dustin’s words, waiting for them to hit you like a punch to the gut. Surprisingly, however, they didn’t; instead, you felt a wave of calm wash over you, grounding you more firmly than you had been in weeks. It wasn’t that you liked the idea of being puppeted around by Vecna, of helping his plans come to fruition. Rather, it was the resolution of a question that had been plaguing you since you woke up in the Hawkins woods: why am I here? Now that you knew, even though the answer was terrible, everything seemed easier to face. You knew the score, and now you could play the game.

And you were going to make goddamn sure you didn’t lose.

*             *             *                                              

You had just flopped down onto the lumpy old mattress, bones groaning nearly as much as the bedsprings, when he finally broached the subject.

“So, are we gonna talk about it, or what?” Eddie asked bluntly as he sat next to you on the bed in Hopper’s cabin. It wasn’t an ideal hiding place, but Jason and the others shouldn’t find it without Lucas to show them the way. You hoped.

You groaned and rolled over, hiding your face in a pillow so Eddie couldn’t see the naked panic on your face. If I talk about it, I’ll start crying, and he’ll know, you thought with utter certainty. You couldn’t let that happen, so you decided to play dumb instead.

“Talk about what?” you asked nonchalantly, forcing your features into a calmer expression as you sat up. Eddie raised an eyebrow at you, not buying the act.

“About your vision, Siren,” he said, his voice full of gentle reproach. “You scared the living hell out of me. I thought I lost you,” he finished, his dark eyes wide with concern. You cursed inwardly. He was just too damn stubborn.

“But you didn’t,” you said, taking his hand in yours. “You saved me. I thought I was a goner until I heard you singing.” You lifted your free hand to his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. You knew you’d never get tired of looking at him, of touching him. Your Eddie. But instead of leaning into your touch, he removed your hand from his face and clasped it in his own hand, his mouth curving into a frown.

“You shouldn’t carry all of that yourself, Y/N,” he said with such earnestness that it made your heart flutter. “Vecna uses pent-up feelings, right? Trauma you don’t talk to anyone about?” You bit your lip and nodded, against your better judgment. “Then tell me,” he begged, squeezing your hands in his. “Let me help you.” You pulled your hands from his grasp, turning your face away as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t,” you whispered, fighting hard to keep your voice steady. “I just—can’t. Especially not with you!” Eddie’s shocked face quickly filled with hurt and anger, and you wished instantly that you could take back the words. You didn’t, however—better him hate you than you tell him he was going to die, painfully and without purpose.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked harshly, his voice rising. “Especially not with—” He stopped abruptly, and it was as if you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Me,” he finished, his tone quite different now as he remembered a series of small, odd moments stretching back to the day he’d first met you.

“You remind me of someone I lost. It brought up a lot of old feelings, that’s all.”

“That’s why I’ve been avoiding you the past few weeks—I wanted to keep you out of all this. Keep you safe.”

“Your bond to us, to this world, is so powerful that if you witnessed something in person—something horrible from the show that really messed you up—it might provide a powerful enough psychic surge for Vecna to open another gate.”

Tears fell freely down your face as you looked at Eddie, feeling more vulnerable than you ever had before. Silently, he opened his arms and you fell into them, holding him tightly as if you never wanted to let go.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 18

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part eighteen warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, stressful situation, angst, fluff

a/n: this part is a little shorter, but I hope you enjoy! I'm so glad to be back to writing and posting more regularly--love you all <3

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

When you saw the broom handles poking through the ceiling of Eddie’s trailer, you nearly collapsed with relief. Only a few more minutes, and you’d be out of this hellscape.

Once you’d made contact with the others, devising a plan hadn’t been too difficult; using Holly’s LiteBrite as you had seen in the show, you and Eddie managed to communicate what had happened—and your need for assistance—to your friends. Then, of course, had come the long trek through the Upside Down to Forrest Hills trailer park. You shivered at the memory of the oozing vines, which were far more numerous on the man-made streets than among the trees surrounding Lover’s Lake.

Feeling your shivering, Eddie squeezed you to his side, his wide eyes not leaving the ceiling. You bit your lip, ashamed at your own fear when being here—in the place Chrissy had died—was clearly having an effect on Eddie.

“Hey,” you whispered, gently drawing his face down to meet your gaze. He licked his lips nervously, the muscles in his jaw tight with anxiety. You cupped his face in your hands, moving your thumbs softly over his cheeks. He shivered at your touch, and you felt him relax into you, if only slightly.

“Hey yourself,” he said quietly, glancing quickly back at the ceiling before returning his eyes to you. Your heart ached at his obvious discomfort, wishing for the thousandth time that you could have saved him from this trauma. You opened your mouth to reassure him—how, you couldn’t be sure—when the slimy grey skin covering the gate fell to the floor of the trailer with a wet plop!

“Eughh,” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. You laughed softly, tugging playfully on a strand of his hair. Dustin waved up—down?—at you from the other side of the gate, and you blinked in amazement at the bizarre orientation. Knowing gravity would be reversed and actually seeing it were two very different things.

“Hello, dimension-travelers,” Dustin said, a wide smile plastered across his face. You grinned back at him, and your heart swelled with fondness. Though it had started out as a ruse, you were beginning to feel that he really was your family. “Did someone order a rescue?” You snorted, causing Eddie to laugh at the undignified sound.

“We rescued ourselves, thank you very much,” you said with mock-indignation, putting your hands on your hips. “You’re just a rope-delivery boy.” Dustin’s face lost a little of its shine, but only a little.

“After all I’ve done for you, Y/N?” he asked, shaking his head. “Too far.” Your gaze softened, and you let your hands drop to your sides.

“Sorry, Dustin,” you said, a little chagrined. “You’re right; thank you so much for coming to our rescue.” The younger boy’s grin returned, and you looked to Eddie. “Ready to get out of here, babe?” He squeezed your hand in the affirmative, the strong pressure indicative of the fear you both had experienced in this nightmarish place.

“You have no idea,” he deadpanned, his voice low.

“Look out below,” you heard Dustin call, and looked up to see him swinging the bedsheet rope like a lasso. “Or—wherever you are,” he said before tossing the rope through the gate. It flew through the air for a moment before the opposing gravitational forces caught it at its midpoint, leaving it hanging from nothing between two worlds.

“Sick,” Eddie breathed, and you smiled at his reaction, identical to the one Dustin was having above you. After a moment of admiring the unique physics of the situation, you blinked and stepped forward, tugging the rope gently as you looked up at the real world. It seemed to hold, and you took a deep breath before glancing back to Eddie.

“Wish me luck,” you said, and started the climb. Placing your feet to either side of a knot, you pushed yourself upward, gritting your teeth with the effort as you reached above you for the next section of rope. Slowly, you inched your way upward, and you finally felt your hair drifting toward the ceiling as gravity began to reverse. Suddenly, you found yourself falling; you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact on Eddie’s mattress—but it never came.

You opened your eyes and wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

You were falling through an endless black void, your limbs flailing, searching for purchase on something, anything—but there was nothing. Cold laughter echoed through the darkness, and your blood turned to ice. Vecna.

You remembered Nancy’s vision when she had attempted to go through the gate, and you swallowed hard, thinking of how panicked Eddie must be at your rolling eyes and motionless body. You had to get back to him.

Thinking of him, are we?

Vecna’s voice felt like a physical blow, cutting deeply into your being, just as it had in your nightmare. A dark and horrible chuckle sounded from the void around you at your discomfort.

Well, Y/N, let me oblige you. I am nothing if not merciful.

Suddenly you were standing outside the trailer, the wind whipping your hair as crimson lightning flashed overhead. Not again, you thought, your stomach sinking as you saw a cloud of demobats circling something on the ground. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you knew with a sickening certainty that the object on the ground was no object at all, but Eddie.

You tried to run to him, tried to scream his name, but your body would not respond. All you could do was watch, tears streaming down your face, as you saw the bats dive, and heard the pitiful noises coming from the dying man before you. The dying man you loved. Slowly, the sounds resolved themselves into words as the wind quieted, and you could just make out Eddie’s whimpered pleas.

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice broken. You tried yet again to run to him, but with the same results. “Y/N, promise me you’ll be safe. Promise me you’ll take care of them. My… my little sheep.”

No, no, no! You wanted to shout to Eddie, to tell him you were coming, that everything would be okay—but Vecna’s curse was too strong. Hot tears streamed down your face as he gave another agonized cry, and your hatred for Vecna grew with every passing moment. You’ll burn for this, you promised him silently. And I’ll burn with you before I let you hurt him. With one last whimpering moan, Eddie fell silent.

“No,” you whispered, and you realized with a start that the spell was broken at last. You ran toward Eddie, hoping and praying that he was still alive—you knew it was only a vision, but the panic and fear of seeing your beloved die before your eyes was too overwhelming for you to care. You fell to your knees when you reached him, holding his cold hand in yours. You didn’t want to look at his wounds, at his lifeless and staring eyes, but you did. You took in the physical, visceral reality of Eddie Munson’s death before you, and you broke.

This is what you were meant for, Vecna’s voice says, curling around you in the sinister breeze. Your head shot up, searching frantically for the source of the noise, your eyes red and slitted with grief and anger. He only chuckled.

Why do you think I brought you here, Y/N L/N? he asked, and your blood went cold. He had brought you here? But how—and more importantly, why? You tried to form words, to spit something angry and clever at your enemy, but nothing came out, your mind too focused on this new information.

Why, to witness this in person. The tragic, meaningless death of Eddie Munson, right before your eyes. The psychic bond you had to this world made quite an impression; I thought I should indulge it. Should show you the futility of opposing me.

Your mind raced, trying to process everything you were learning, but it was all too much to take in, too much when Eddie’s lifeless body was lying in front of you.

That horrible laugh sounded again from the darkness, feeling like the flash of a knife into your flesh. You were utterly hopeless; exhausted, drained, and on the point of giving up. Of taking the easy way out; of letting him take you.

Suddenly, a hole seemed to open in the air at the edge of the trailer park. Blinking away tears, you squinted, trying to make out what lay beyond it. As soon as you heard the music, it clicked.

Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old…

A shaky voice made its way to you through the swirling ash and screeching bats, and your heart swelled with love and renewed hope. Eddie, you thought, your eyes welling with tears yet again. He’s singing to me. New strength flooded your limbs, and you sprang to your feet, the false vision lying forgotten on the hillside.

We must away ere break of day

To find our long-forgotten gold.

You flew across the trailer park, your eyes fixed on the scene you could just make out through the portal—Eddie holding your limp body, stroking your hair gently as he sang through shuddering sobs. Your heart beat in rhythm with his voice, and you willed yourself to run faster—to run back to him, to Eddie, to the realest home you’d ever known. You could hear Vecna’s displeased mutterings in the air around you, knew he was speaking words of desolation and hopelessness to get you to give up once more, but it didn’t matter. You had eyes only for Eddie, and ears only for his quiet, wavering, but determined voice.

The pines were roaring on the height

The trees were moaning in the night

You were approaching the portal now, the shriek of demobats growing fainter as Eddie’s tear-stained face came into ever-clearer focus. You put on one final burst of speed, racing toward the man you loved with everything you had.

The fire was red, it flaming spread

You threw yourself into the portal, thinking only of Eddie.

The trees like torches blazed with light.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 17

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part seventeen warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, stressful situation, fluff, kissing

a/n: thank you guys so much for your patience with me while I moved countries--I am now comfortably settled in Ireland, and should be able to write and post more regularly again! As a reward for your patience, here's a 2.8k part to hold you over <3

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

When you opened your eyes, Eddie was already awake.

“Hey, Siren,” he said tiredly, stroking your hair with one hand. “You sleep okay?” You nodded, wincing at the protests from your sore and overused muscles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. You?” Eddie smiled, but in the pale light it looked more like a grimace.

“Not great. Getting chased by demon bats and shit will do that, I guess,” he said, attempting levity. You cupped his cheek in your hand, wishing you could transfer your own feelings of rest to him. Both of you were silent for a few moments, just holding each other in the eerily still air of the Upside Down. He moved his hand to your face, gently smoothing an eyebrow with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his brown eyes wide with feeling. “So goddamn beautiful, Y/N.” You felt your cheeks redden, your heart swelling with love for the brave, stupid man in front of you.

“You’re one to talk,” you whispered back, your lips curving upwards in a gentle smile.

“I’m serious,” he said earnestly, propping himself up on his elbows and looking you directly in the eye.

“So am I,” you said, copying his movement. “You’re so, so beautiful, Eds. Do you really not see it?” His eyes softened at your words, and you saw the palest flush of red in his cheeks. He opened his mouth to protest again, but you cut him off before he had the chance. “Please,” you whispered, leaning closer. “Let me show you.”

You closed the short distance between your lips, capturing his with a tenderness that you hoped could convey just how much you loved him—loved his eyes, his lips, his hair; how he stuck his tongue out when he concentrated; how he took in and cared for all those who needed him; his wonderful, wild laugh. You kissed him with such conviction, with such loving certainty, that he felt tears threatening. No one had ever loved him this way before—not in spite of his flaws, not needing him to change, but purely and simply as himself.

Responding to your passion, he too lowered his guard, letting all the emotions he found so confusing and difficult to speak about pour out through his lips. He cupped your cheek, loving your genuineness; he tugged gently at your hair for your caretaking nature; he gripped your waist tight for the simplicity and totality of your beauty. He loved you, and you him.

Eventually, the shriek of a faraway demobat pulled you apart, reminding you of the very real dangers surrounding your little hideaway. Not ready to face them, you curled into the crook of Eddie’s neck, and his large hands stroked your back with soothing motions as he pressed one last kiss to your temple.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, his breath warm in your ear. “Let’s get home.”  Reluctantly, you extricated yourself from his grasp, giving his hand a final squeeze before releasing it to gather your scant belongings. Kneeling on the dirt floor, you passed the broken oar/spear to Eddie before picking up yours with a determined set to your jaw. You ducked out from under Skull Rock and into the weird, grayish light that passed for daytime in the Upside Down, scanning the trees for any sign of an aerial ambush. Finding nothing, you turned back to Eddie, who had exited just behind you.

“So,” he said, holding his spear like a walking stick. “What do we do now? Go back to the lake?” You shook your head vehemently.

“It’ll be guarded,” you said, shivering as you remembered the last night’s battle. “We can’t risk that kind of fight, not with just the two of us.” Eddie nodded thoughtfully, considering your words.

“Where, then?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in thought before looking at you again. “Wait, didn’t you say there was like, a gate in my trailer?” You bit your lip.

“Yes,” you said hesitantly, your brow furrowing as you thought. Eddie frowned.

“Okay,” he said slowly, noting your expression. “But there’s some kind of problem with that?”

You nodded, thinking hard. Who’s in Eddie’s trailer right now? Have the feds come yet, or is Wayne still there, or—? You cursed under your breath, wishing you had a better grasp of season four’s timeline. Concerned, Eddie nudged you with his shoulder. You looked up at him, still worrying your bottom lip.

“It’s just, I don’t think we can do it by ourselves,” you said, scrunching a fistful of your hair in agitation.

“Well, unless you want to enlist those fucked-up bat things, I think we’re all we’ve got,” Eddie said. Though he smiled, lines of worry were still clearly visible on his forehead. You shook your head, forcing the images of screeching, biting demobats out of your mind with considerable effort. Nope. Not today. Not now.

“We need to make contact with the others,” you said, straightening your shoulders. “And I think I know how to do it.”

*             *             *                                              

Blessing of blessings, Eddie knew the way to the Wheelers’ house.

“I’ve carted Mike around enough times, I could get there in my sleep,” he had joked, feigning exasperation. You had smiled, knowing how much he loved taking care of his little sheep, though he’d never admit it.

According to Eddie, Skull Rock was about four miles from the Wheeler residence. Four miles of navigating killer vines, avoiding demon bats, and breathing in toxic air.

Four whole miles.

You sighed, blowing a stray hair out of your face as you stepped carefully around a particularly nasty-looking coil of vines that oozed a noxious-smelling viscous sludge. Your nose wrinkled. As if reading your thoughts, Eddie spoke.

“Not exactly a vacation destination, huh?” he said, scampering up a nearby boulder to survey your surroundings. You smiled at his antics. You loved how energetic he was, even in such dire circumstances.

“I don’t know,” you said, smiling as a scene from your favorite movie popped into your mind. “I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.” You grinned up at Eddie, waiting for his reaction. He had to know The Princess Bride, right?

“We have trees in Hawkins,” he said, jumping down from his perch and landing in front of you. “Ones that aren’t covered in—in whatever this shit is.” He gestured vaguely toward the oozing vines that lay all around.

“You don’t get it?” you asked, your smile slowly fading. You had thought for sure that he would know it; it was exactly his kind of film. You used to tell your friends that you’d never be with someone who didn’t like The Princess Bride; it had started off as a joke, but even so…

“Get what?” Eddie asked, cocking his head to the side like an anxious puppy. The sight made you laugh, despite your slight frustration.

“The Princess Bride reference,” you said, shaking your head. “Come on, you have to have seen it, it came out in—oh.” You stopped as you realized what you’d done. Wincing, you finished the thought. “In 1987. Shit.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows, bemused and utterly mystified by your words.

“You wanna clue me in to what you’re talking about, sweetheart?” You smiled, shaking your head.

“Nothing, for now,” you said, lacing your fingers through his as you resumed walking. “But remind me to take you to a very special movie next year.” If we both live long enough, that is.

“A movie, huh?” Eddie asked, a sly smile playing across his face. “Like a date? You wanna go on a date with me, Siren?” You snorted a very un-siren-like snort, making Eddie laugh with appreciation.

“Hush, Dungeon Master,” you said, tugging him along behind you. “First we’ve got to save the world.”

*             *             *                                              

After what felt like hours—time was hard to measure in the Upside Down, especially in the perpetual twilight that passed for day—you arrived at the rotting, vine-covered echo of the Wheeler home. Both of you sobered as you approached, the ruin a terrifying reminder of what could happen to the real thing, if you failed to defeat Vecna.

“Remind me how this works again?” Eddie asked, his voice quieter than usual. You squeezed his hand, as much for your own comfort as his.

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” you said, quirking your mouth into an expression of frustrated worry. “We went through the Lover’s Lake gate a whole day before you did in the show, then we spent the night at Skull Rock. If we’d stuck to the original timeline…” You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking. “Then I think everyone would be coming to meet you at Skull Rock. In Hawkins, not the Upside Down,” you added, seeing the confusion on Eddie’s face.

“Then why are we at the Wheelers’?” he asked, puzzled. You tugged at your hair, frustrated with your inability to provide a better answer.

“Because it’s a good meet-up spot,” you said, moving toward the door. “We’ve used the boathouse until now, but that’s—”

“Not an option,” Eddie said, his shoulders slumping as you both remembered the terrible events of the night before. You hurried to continue your explanation.

“After you, Steve, Robin, and Nancy go through the gate in the show, everyone else ends of back here,” you said, trying to keep your thoughts in order. “I mean, I guess they were brought by the cops, but still—”

“The cops?” Eddie asked, incredulous. “Did they—do they all get fucking arrested?!”

“No, no, Eddie,” you said, trying to placate him before he got too worked up on behalf of his friends. His loyalty was truly a force to be reckoned with. “They just got questioned, nothing else. But that was in the show,” you reminded him, shaking your head to clear it. This was all getting to be too much to keep track of. “We’re off-script now. I don’t know what’s happening anymore.” You felt your eyes well up with tears, utterly overwhelmed by the events of the past few days. “This is just my best guess.”

Hearing the catch in your voice, Eddie squeezed your hand, trying to soothe you.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said, stepping in front of you and lifting your chin to meet his gaze. “We can figure this out together. You don’t have to know the answer to every problem.” Your lip trembled, and you looked away from him, unable to meet those loving brown eyes for a moment longer. But I do, Eddie, you thought desperately, your stomach tightening with anxiety. To keep you safe, I do.

Finally, you looked back at him and smiled weakly, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

“I know, Eddie. I’m alright.” You shook yourself gently, trying to clear any remaining doubts from your mind. “Let’s contact the others, yeah?”

When you stepped into the darkness of the Wheelers’ ruined home, a chill ran up your spine. Everything looked the way you remembered it from staying with Nancy, but something was…off. Something besides the oozing vines and floating ash—something subtler, but no less malevolent. You shivered.

“Shit, Y/N,” Eddie said softly as he entered behind you. “This place is…fuck, I don’t even know.” You nodded grimly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to ward off the air itself. “So how do we contact the others? You said we could from here, right?” His eyebrows were raised, his voice hopeful despite the fear that filled his eyes. You blinked back tears again, realizing just how much he trusted you. Focus, Y/N. Find the chandelier.

“We need to use the lights,” you explained, stepping cautiously toward the dining room. “When Will was trapped in the Upside Down three years ago, he was able to communicate with Joyce through Christmas lights. Lights flicker in the real world when Vecna’s around, too.” Eddie’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“How do we use the lights if there’s no power? And how do you talk through lights, anyway?”

You grinned, remembering one of your favorite scenes from season four.

“If we move our hands near the light fixtures here, it will cause them to flicker in the real world—hopefully where the others can see them.” You raised your eyebrows at Eddie as he still didn’t seem to understand. “And I have a sneaking suspicion that somebody knows the Morse code for SOS.”

Eddie returned your smile as it dawned on him, and you didn’t have time to say anything else before he was picking you up and twirling you around the dank and overgrown room, laughter filling the heavy air.

“You, Y/N L/N, are a genius!” You blushed, batting his words away with a bashful hand.

“I just watched you do this in the TV show,” you protested, still smiling at his enthusiasm. “I didn’t figure any of this out myself!”

“I don’t care,” he replied, giving you a sloppy, exaggerated kiss that made you laugh even more. He grinned broadly, shameless at his antics. “You’re still a genius, Siren. And the most beautiful girl in the world.” You blushed deeply, but put your hands on your hips in mock-sternness.

“Stop distracting me, Munson,” you said, pointing determinedly toward the chandelier. “And get going on that Morse code.” He snapped you a smart salute, turning on his heel and marching stiffly toward the light before glancing back at you, hesitating. You nodded encouragingly, and he tentatively reached for the fixture. Immediately, a warm glow emanated from the center of the light, enveloping Eddie’s hand completely. His face went slack with awe, and you stepped forward nervously.

“Eddie, are—are you alright?” you asked, concerned by the expression on his face.

“I’m fine, Siren,” he said slowly, not taking his eyes from the glow. “It just feels…funny. Ticklish, I guess. But…nice.” You advanced cautiously, your eyes on Eddie’s hand, until you were standing right next to him. Slowly, tentatively, you reached your hand up to join his.

Your skin tingled as it came in contact with the strange light, and your stomach relaxed as your brain diverted all available power to processing the completely unfamiliar sensation. It was almost like sunlight, you finally decided, though that wasn’t quite right. It was like sunlight, but on the inside of your body, as if a miniature star had taken up residence among the bones of your hand, radiating its light and heat outward through your tingling flesh. You shivered in response, withdrawing your hand and wiping it on your jeans as if to erase the effect.

“That’s…that’s weird,” you said, shaking your head to help clear it. “I don’t know that I like it.” Eddie smiled, glancing to you quickly before returning his attention to the light.

“It feels pretty good to me, princess,” he said before removing his hand. Immediately the light faded, and the room returned to the cold, dank echo of itself that was all the Upside Down could produce. Taking a small step closer to the chandelier, he touched it once more, but with confident purpose. Three short taps. Pause. Three longer touches. Pause. Three short taps.

Eddie repeated the pattern over and over again as you waited with bated breath, watching, praying for a sign from the others—but none came. You began pacing the room, unable to stand still and watch any longer, but Eddie remained constant, continuing his efforts for nearly an hour without stopping.

Just as you were on the point of giving up, of telling Eddie that you’d been wrong, that they weren’t here, that you should find a way through the gate on your own, you heard a voice. A voice with a slight and unmistakable lisp.

“Did you guys see that?” Dustin’s voice floated faintly out of the chandelier like a poorly tuned radio broadcast, and your heart began to beat faster. They saw it. “The light, it’s…it’s flickering, but—” He paused, and you sent your thoughts through the light, willing him to understand. Come on Dustin, you know this pattern, you begged, clasping your hands together in worry. Eddie glanced at you, looking just as scared as you felt. “SOS! Holy shit, that’s an SOS! Eddie and Y/N must be in the Upside Down!”

You clapped and nearly jumped up and down with excitement.

“Yes, Dustin, it’s us!” you shouted into the light, causing Eddie to jump.

“Jeez, Siren, warn me next time,” he grumbled, but you were too ecstatic to care. They had heard you.

“Y/N? Was that you? Guys, I swear I just heard Y/N,” Dustin said, the sound muffled and distorted, but still intelligible.

“Yes, it’s me, Dustin!” you cried, squeezing Eddie’s hand hard in your relief.

“And I’m here too, Henderson,” Eddie added, smiling despite his grumbling tone. “Not that you asked.” You laughed at his words, pressing yourself into his side and leaning your head on his shoulder. You were going to be alright.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 16

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part sixteen warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, stressful situation, animal death? (demobats)

a/n: OOF writing this was a TIME. I promise more soft romantic fluff is coming, our heroes just have some supernatural battles to fight first!

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

Lover’s Lake was murky and dark, the moonlight penetrating only a few feet past the surface. You kicked downward anyway, forcing your muscles to move through the frigid water, scanning your surroundings for even the faintest glow of red.

Where is the gate? You thought as Eddie swam beside you, the fear on his face apparent even underwater. Strengthening your resolve, you dove further, your lungs starting to protest at the lack of oxygen. Where is it?

Suddenly, you spotted it—a glowing red oval the size of a bathtub sitting on the lakebed several yards below. Gotcha. You kicked with more force, the movement catching Eddie’s attention. You knew he would be questioning you, wondering what new circle of hell you were dragging him to, but you couldn’t afford to spend any more time reassuring him. Your air was running out.

Bubbles fell from your mouth as you neared Watergate, your head pounding from the pressure and the lack of air. You couldn’t tell if the haziness invading your vision was due to the dive or the invasion of ashy particles that floated up from the gate. You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

Making one last, desperate kick, you propelled yourself through the gate, your stomach churning as gravity reversed and your head broke the surface. Coughing and spluttering in the ash around you, you hauled yourself onto the shore, careful not to touch any of the vine-like appendages surrounding the gate. You took deep breaths, gulping in the foul air of the Upside Down. At least there’s oxygen, you thought, though you were sure this air couldn’t be good for you. You stared anxiously at the gate as you recovered, waiting for that wonderful head of curly hair to appear.

Just as you were getting ready to dive back in after him, Eddie surfaced, gasping and choking just as you had done. Reaching for him, you helped haul him onto the bank, both of your arms shaking with exertion. It had been a hell of a night.

“Eddie,” you croaked as he wiped the water from his eyes, his chest heaving. “Are you okay?” He took a moment to answer, an almost maniacal laugh escaping from his throat.

“I’m just fine, Siren,” he said, the fear and exhaustion in his eyes giving away the lie. “I take it this is the…what did you call it? The Upside Down?” You nodded, wringing the lakewater from your hair—not that it mattered, seeing that your entire body was soaked. “But how did you know that—that thing would be there?” he asked, his teeth chattering from the cold.

“A new gate forms at every death site,” you explained, shivers wracking your frame. “When I heard the—” you winced, unable to speak the words. “When Patrick died, I knew there would be a gate at the bottom of the lake. A bunch of you went through it in the show.” Eddie nodded, considering.

“Wait,” he said, lifting his head suddenly. “Does that mean there’s one—”

“In your trailer, yes,” you said, your voice clipped as you remembered what would happen there. A concert, shrieking demobats, and—demobats. Your eyes opened wide, and you looked wildly up at the grey sky, scanning for any flying creatures. To your great relief, there were none in sight.

“What is it?” Eddie asked, scrambling back in alarm. “Did you see something?” You shook your head, the rush of fearful adrenaline too much for you to handle. You tried to take deep breaths, focusing on small things: the chips in your nail polish, the patches on Eddie’s jacket, the vine wrapping itself delicately around his wrist.

“Eddie!” you screamed, but it was too late. Sensing it had been caught, the vine pulled taught, lashing Eddie to the ground with a force greater than you would’ve thought possible. You tugged at it to no avail, screaming his name over and over—that was your big mistake. Hearing all the commotion, a horde of demobats came out of nowhere, hurtling toward you like a hail of bullets. Just like the nightmare, you thought, trying desperately to pull Eddie free of his bonds. He struggled too, but even your combined strength was no match for the murderous vine. You swore you could hear a low, cold chuckle as your throat grew raw from screaming.

As the demobats approached, you realized that you needed a weapon. Racing toward the pile of capsized boats around the gate, you grabbed an old oar. Testing it against your hand, you were grateful to find that it was sturdy, not sponge-soft from rot or age; it made a satisfying thwack against your palm. Running back to Eddie, you stood over him protectively as the swarm of bats attacked. They came at you from all directions, leaving you unsure of which way was up—an easy thing to lose track of in the Upside Down. You swung at them like baseballs; though your aim was poor, there were so many that more times than not, your strikes were rewarded with a shriek of pain from the evil creatures.

Suddenly, a piercing pain ran through your shoulder and you screamed. It burned and ached and stung and throbbed all at once, thousands of tiny, needlelike teeth piercing your skin and sinking deep into the flesh. With a wild cry, you tore the bat from your shoulder and threw it to the ground with more force than you thought you were capable of, accidentally breaking the paddle off your oar in the process. Desperate, you stabbed downward at the thing with the broken end of your makeshift club, impaling it completely and pinning it to one of the vines running over the ground. A shriek rose from the swarm around you, and they began to draw back—but not for long.

“Y/N,” you heard Eddie choke out, and you looked down to find that the vine you had stabbed was, in fact, the one holding him down. Scrambling to take his hand, you thrust viciously at the weakened vine until it released him, curling indignantly back on itself. “Thanks,” he panted, and you handed him your oar before running back to the boats to fetch another one.

“Keep them busy!” you shouted, turning away from him just as he hit what surely would’ve been a home run on a pair of bats diving for his face. Reaching the boats in record time, you snatched up another oar and sprinted back to Eddie. Standing with your backs together, you fought the swarm of beasts, each suffering bites and scratches in the effort, yelling wild battle cries and hoping, praying, that you would make it out of this alive. Time seemed to stop, and the violent dance of oar and bat and limb became your whole existence. Blood rushed in your ears, and you didn’t have time to think beyond the next strike. Sweat poured down your faces, but adrenaline kept you upright. You had no other choice.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the onslaught slowed; many bats had turned tail and flown away, and the bodies of several more littered the ground around you. You and Eddie slumped to the earth, utterly spent from the effort.

“Fuck,” he whispered, then louder, “Fuck! Jesus H Christ!” He ran a bloody hand through his sodden hair, spraying you with droplets of water and bat gore. You were too tired to care. He turned to you, the wild look in his eyes lessening as he took in your soaked, bloodied, and exhausted appearance. “Y/N,” he said, the urgency in his voice increasing. “You’re hurt, did one of them—”

“I’m fine,” you said hoarsely, waving his words away. “Just a small bite. We’ll fix it—later,” you said, still breathing hard. Eddie frowned, but said nothing, knowing that such an exposed location was no place to take a rest.

“Where can we go?” he asked, looking around hopelessly at the desolate lakebed. Thunder crashed in the distance, red lightning illuminating your surroundings in a dim, gory light.

“Skull Rock,” you said firmly, remembering the group’s flight from the second group of demobats. “Oh, fuck,” you said aloud—the second group of demobats. “We have to leave now. Right the fuck now.” Eddie stood, looking around frantically for the source of your fear.

Another flash of lightning filled the sky, and his eyes widened as he saw an enormous swarm of bats—dozens, maybe hundreds—making straight for the gate. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up.

“Run!”

You stumbled after him, forcing your tired limbs to obey your terrified mind. Why had you come here? You were going to get both you and Eddie killed, coming through Watergate alone, without weapons, without even telling anyone where you’d gone. Idiot, you cursed yourself, running beside Eddie for all you were worth.

“Come on, we’re almost there!” he yelled, glancing behind him at the approaching horde. “Shit shit shit shit shit!” Trees shot up around you, and at long last, you could make out the hulking form of Skull Rock twenty yards ahead. You redoubled your speed, sprinting for all you were worth before dropping into a baseball slide for the last few feet. You panted for air, looking up at the underside of Skull Rock above you—until Eddie slammed into you, knocking the wind from your lungs. You both coughed and wheezed, limbs tangled in the dirt underneath your makeshift shelter.

You could hear franting screeching and flapping outside, made louder by the echo on the rock. You held your breath, hoping against hope it would pass. Please, you prayed silently, begging for a break. Let them go past. Miraculously, they did, the sounds of angry chittering fading into the distance as they flew past Skull Rock to seek you elsewhere.

You and Eddie lay still on the forest floor, breathing heavily, too tired to speak, the intake of oxygen your singular and all-consuming need. After nearly five minutes of this, your heart rate was finally starting to slow, and your mind was beginning to process the horrifying images of teeth and wings and blood from mere moments before. Without your knowledge or agreement, a laugh began to bubble up from your gut, escaping from your mouth like a mad prisoner fleeing a dungeon. Eddie raised his head at once, looking around for the newest danger—but, finding none, he dropped back to the ground, and to your astonishment, began to join in your laughter.

It was a broken, messy sound, interrupted by coughs and wheezes and grunts of pain from your abused and exhausted bodies. Under any other circumstances, it would’ve been terrifying; you were sure the maniacal sounds leaving your mouth wouldn’t have been out of place in a horror movie. But there, after all the fear and trauma and adrenaline of the past hour, you couldn’t help but revel in it as if it were the sweetest sound in the world.

After several minutes of this, your laughter began to die down, your stomach muscles cramping in protest.

“I guess I got to take you to Skull Rock after all,” Eddie said, sending you both into another fit.

“Stop it, stop it,” you begged, wiping the tears from your eyes with a dirty hand. “I can’t laugh anymore.” Eddie took your hand in his and squeezed it in agreement, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, still breathing heavily. You lay hand-in-hand for several more minutes, recovering, utterly overwhelmed by the events of the evening. Finally, you squeezed Eddie’s hand and let go, making as if to stand.

“Y/N, wait,” Eddie said, voice rising with concern. “Where—where are you going?”

“We have to get out of here,” you said tiredly, your muscles protesting loudly at your sudden change in position. “Back to the Right Side Up. The normal world. Whatever.” Eddie’s face fell.

“I don’t—Y/N, I don’t think I can,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. You frowned down at him, worrying that one of his wounds was more serious than it had seemed. As if sensing your thoughts, he spoke again. “I’m fine, it’s just—I can’t run anymore, I can’t fight anymore. Not without some rest. And much as I believe in you and all that sentimental crap, I don’t think you can either.” Your shoulders slumped, disappointed but knowing instinctually that he was right. If you tried to push your body any more, it would give out.

“Okay,” you said resignedly, flopping back on the ground. “We’ll spend the night here. Rest. Get out tomorrow.” Eddie only nodded, relief evident on his face. You lay down next to him, and he opened his arms to you. You nestled into them gratefully, the shared body heat warming both of your damp, shivering forms. It was going to be a long night.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 15

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part fifteen warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, stressful situation

a/n: hooooooo boy this was a wild one--hope y'all are ready for some action and adventure after the last few parts...

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

The plan to save Patrick was a simple one, but it made you nervous nonetheless. You tapped your foot anxiously against Rick’s dirty linoleum floor, too on-edge to sit still. Eddie threw cashews into an old paint can next to you, each one hitting the rusty metal with a quiet tink.

“When do the others get here again?” he asked abruptly, his hands now empty of cashews. You jumped at the sound, jolted out of your spiraling thoughts. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie said with a lopsided smile that you returned halfheartedly.

“No problem, I was just spaced out,” you said, shaking yourself back to reality. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. 6:28 PM. “Any minute, really. Dustin said sunset’s at 7:01 tonight, and I remember it was dark when Jason’s crew showed up here in the episode. If we leave soon, that should give us plenty of time to get away, while maximizing the use we get out of this safe house.”

Eddie nodded, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.

“Makes sense. Where are we gonna go?”

“We’re gonna take the boat,” you said, skirting around the question. Eddie raised an eyebrow, noticing the deflection but not saying anything. “If there’s anyone out on the lake, you can lay down and they’ll only see me. A random girl out on the lake isn’t much to be suspicious about.” You bit your lip, knowing you couldn’t avoid the question of destination any longer. “As for where we’re going…” You looked up at Eddie and shrugged helplessly. “I honestly don’t know. You went to Skull Rock in the show,” you said, a blush falling on your cheeks as he grinned. “But that got discovered before long, and I don’t remember how long it was safe for, and I don’t think we should risk it.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Taking you to Skull Rock sounds pretty appealing.” He leaned forward on his stool, his lips puckered in a ridiculous imitation of a kiss. You swatted him away, laughing at his antics in spite of yourself.

“You’re impossible,” you said, the picture of affronted grace. “I can’t believe you’d—” The slamming of a car door cut you off.

“Finally,” Eddie said, standing and offering you his hand. “Took those little shits long enough.” You sat on the chair, unable to move as thoughts raced through your mind. You couldn’t explain it, but paralyzing fear filled every inch of you, instincts screaming in warning. Something is very, very wrong.

“Eddie,” you managed to get out, “I think we need to—”

“…is Reefer Rick’s place?” a voice asked as the front door creaked open, sunlight streaming in. You and Eddie froze. You knew that voice. Jason Carver, you thought, frantically running through the episode in your mind. It had been dark for Patrick’s death scene, you knew that—but then a memory of Jason Carver examining a pot of Spaghetti-o’s in the last rays of sun hit you with crystal clarity. They had arrived in the late afternoon, and you had forgotten. You cursed yourself inwardly, conjuring every foul name you could think of and hurling it at your stupid, stupid memory that was going to be the death of you and of Eddie.

Thankfully, Eddie’s instincts were sharper. He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you toward the back door, both of your hearts pumping with adrenaline. At the last second, you grabbed the walkie-talkie, making sure it was switched off.

“Make for the boathouse,” Eddie hissed in your ear, so quiet you could barely make it out. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak under the circumstances. You took slow, careful steps through the house; though the pace was agonizing, silence and stealth were paramount. If the jocks caught you here…well. You knew only too well what they were capable of.

“Hey Rick!” a voice shouted. Andy? “We know you’re back, we need to talk to you.”

“That’s right, Rick, we just want to talk,” a colder voice said, and your stomach dropped in fear. Jason. “So come on out and we’ll chat.” You and Eddie disappeared behind the living room wall just as the jocks rounded the corner into the kitchen, staying out of sight, but only barely. You tiptoed toward the back door, heart hammering so loudly you were sure they could hear it in the next county, let alone the next room. Just a few more steps…

You reached the door safely, and released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Sticking his tongue between his teeth in concentration, Eddie eased the handle into position, and slowly—oh so slowly—began to pull the door open.

Creeeeeeeeaaaaakkkk.

“The hell was that?” Jason asked, and Eddie cursed under his breath. Your cover blown, you threw the door open and raced for the boathouse, all thoughts of stealth forgotten.

“It’s him—it’s the freak! And he’s with that bitch that hit you!” Andy’s voice rang through the air as you ran, yanking the boathouse door open and throwing the tarp aside.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered, your hands shaking as you tried to undo the knot mooring the canoe.

“No time for that,” Eddie said, grabbing a broken beer bottle and using the sharp edge to cut the rope in one smooth motion. “Get in the boat.”

“You first, it’s you they’re—” you tried to say, but Eddie cut you off.

“Get in the boat, Y/N,” he said, practically spitting at you. You obeyed, knowing the sooner you got in, the sooner he would follow.

Three panting silhouettes appeared in the doorway, and you screamed Eddie’s name in desperation. Working more quickly than you would’ve thought possible, he threw the broken bottle toward the new arrivals, simultaneously leaping into the boat and pushing off from the shore with such force that the boathouse’s water doors flew open, giving you a beautiful view of the sunset over Lover’s Lake.

Eddie thrust a paddle into your hand, dipping his own into the water as you scrambled to get into the proper position.

“Row!” he shouted, not bothering to lower his volume. “It’s our only shot!” You nodded though you knew he couldn’t see, having already turned around and begun frantically pushing the water away from the canoe. You joined him, rowing with all you were worth, and you were twenty feet out by the time the three jocks appeared, now recovered from the shattered beer bottle, though Andy had several cuts on his cheek to show for it. Not hesitating for even a moment, Jason dove into the water, swimming after you with precise, powerful strokes. After a glance at each other, Andy and Patrick did the same.

You redoubled your rowing efforts, knowing that getting caught was simply not an option. Thankfully, two people rowing were faster than any one person swimming—but only just. You were nearing the center of the lake, and the sun had dipped below the horizon. Jason was still coming for you, though his pace had slowed as he tired and the temperature dropped. He was about fifty feet away, but you knew he wouldn’t be for long. You needed a plan, and fast.

“Eddie,” you panted, exhaustion making your arms feel like lead. “We need—backup,” you said, laying your oar on the floor of the boat. “I’m going to—call the others.” Eddie nodded, too tired to speak, as you reached for the walkie-talkie and extended the antenna.

“Y/N to Dustin,” you said weakly, praying the signal would stretch to wherever the others were. “Dustin, do you copy?” Static crackled for thirty nerve-wracking seconds before a voice came through the speaker.

“Y/N, thank God,” Dustin said, sounding relieved. “Yes, I copy. We were coming to get you and saw Jason’s car in the driveway—are you guys alright? Over.”

“We’re, um, having some difficulties,” you said, unsure how to explain the situation succinctly. “We’ve rowed out to the middle of the lake, but Jason, Patrick, and Andy are close behind us. Over.”

“Patrick?” Dustin asked, incredulous. “But his attack is due any minute, how—”

“The walkie-talkie,” you said, cutting him off. “Keep the channel open and hold the walkie-talkie up to the boombox speaker. That’s the best we can do, given the circumstances.” While he was chasing you, it didn’t mean he deserved to die—and especially not in such a horrific way.

“Okay,” Dustin said, sounding doubtful. “But how are we going to get you guys—”

A scream drowned out the words of the walkie-talkie, and you whipped your head around to see where it had come from. Across the water, Patrick had begun to rise in the air, his face slack and eyes rolling. It was Andy who had screamed as he and Jason reached for Patrick’s feet, but it was no use. Faster than thought, you brought the walkie-talkie back to your mouth.

“Play it now!” you shouted, urgency filling your voice. “Dustin, now!” You moved the volume dial to its highest setting, then held the device between your knees as you picked up your oar again. “Eddie, we have to row back to them!” you said, already making to turn the canoe around.

“Row back to them?” he shouted, incredulous. “Y/N, they’re trying to kill us! We can’t—”

“Eddie,” you said, your voice filled with more steel than it ever had been before. “If we don’t, he’s going to die. Just like Chrissy.”

“Jesus H Christ,” Eddie hissed, then joined your efforts to maneuver the boat back toward your pursuers. “He’d better be fucking worth it.”

Patrick was nearly ten feet above the surface now, and still rising steadily—you didn’t have long. Adrenaline fueled your rowing, and you got closer to the trio as the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

“Here it is,” Dustin yelled, electronic feedback screeching through the speaker as he presumably held the receiver to the boombox. At once, the tinny, muffled sounds of Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days shot out from the tiny speaker. You cursed. It wasn’t loud enough, not nearly loud enough from where you were.

“We have to get closer,” you told Eddie, desperation in your voice. “The sound won’t reach from this distance.” Cursing profusely, Eddie redoubled his speed, and you took up your oar again. By now you were within fifteen feet of your pursuers, Jason and Andy treading water and staring up at Patrick openmouthed. Hearing your shout, Jason spun wildly, his eyes locking on yours with an expression melded from hatred and fear. He surged toward you, his jaw wound tight as a drum. “Please, Jason,” you shouted, hoping against hope that he would listen. “We’re trying to help him, he just has to listen to—”

Jason slammed into the side of the canoe, making it rock wildly. His head broke the surface next to you, his hands gripping the side so tightly that his knuckles shone in the moonlight.

“Stop it,” he spit at you, eyes searching for anything that could be causing his friend to hang suspended in the air. “Stop whatever ritual you’re doing, I know it’s you.” His voice was an angry snarl, and he cocked a fist back as if to punch you—but Eddie was faster. He lunged toward the intruder, startling him so much that he let go of the boat. Unfortunately, that release combined with the force of Eddie’s movement, was enough to capsize the old canoe. You yelped as you were enveloped in icy cold water, your arms pinwheeling as you searched frantically for the walkie-talkie. It can’t get wet, you thought desperately, knowing it was Patrick’s only chance. I have to find it—

Your head broke the surface, and icy cold silence resolved itself into the chaos of the air above. Andy was screaming, Eddie was spluttering, Jason was moving toward him with the relentlessness of the Terminator. Treading water as well as you could, your heart sank when you saw the walkie-talkie sinking into the water just a few feet away. You lunged for it anyway, praying for a miracle—but you were too late. Snap.

Patrick’s bones broke with the same horrible sound as Chrissy’s, made worse by Andy and Jason’s piercing screams as they looked up at their friend, utterly terrified. Having known what was coming, you and Eddie were still able to move, though you were shaken beyond belief. Eddie swam to you and grabbed your shoulder, propelling you both away from the jocks with a powerful kick.

“What do we do now?” he gasped, trying to ignore the horrible sounds behind him. Your thoughts were racing. The boat was capsized, and there was no way you could swim to shore in your current state—and besides, you had nowhere to go when you got there. Suddenly, a crazy idea filled your mind, your eyes widening with the possibility. If Patrick is already dead…

“What is it?” Eddie questioned, seeing the change in your expression. “What are you thinking?” You swallowed. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Do you trust me?” you asked Eddie, looking straight into his deep brown eyes filled with terror and sorrow. He searched your face for any hint of your meaning, but found only a reflection of his own feelings.  

“With my life, Siren,” he said, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You let out a shuddering breath.

“Then follow me.”

You took a deep breath and dove toward the bottom of the lake.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 14

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part five warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, ANGST, fluff

a/n: So sorry that this update took a little longer--I'm getting ready to move countries, and this week has been pretty crazy! Things are starting to ramp up for our heroes in this one babes

Edit: reposting this today bc the tags were acting up last night. Hopefully it cooperates today...

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

www.cnet.com

You were snuggled into Eddie’s chest when it happened.

The room around you started to rumble, the wind on the lake picking up into a miniature maelstrom. You were wide awake now, gasping for breath in the suddenly freezing air as you looked around wildly, having lost touch with Eddie in the chaos of the past few seconds. Just as you were opening your mouth to scream his name, you spotted him—and the word died on your lips.

He was still asleep, oblivious to the raging tempest swirling around you. You reached out your arm to shake him awake, to get him to safety—but just as your fingertips brushed his shoulder, the world stopped working.

Time slowed, and the noise outside was dampened to an almost eerie silence. Ever so slowly, you began to float above the bed. No, no, no, you thought, sure that Vecna would snap your bones and gouge out your eyes at any moment. But a moment later, you realized that couldn’t be happening, because you weren’t floating at all. You were falling.

You were falling up, toward the ceiling, slowly but surely as a drop of honey from a spoon. You spun your arms wildly, grasping for anything to hold you up—down?—but it was no use. While the furniture, the blankets, and even the sleeping form of Eddie were still anchored to the earth, you were being pulled inexorably toward the sky. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable collision with the ceiling—only it didn’t come.

You opened your eyes and found yourself standing in a house, one grander but more dilapidated than Reefer Rick’s. Pieces of the walls floated outward, suspended in the reddish sky as if frozen at the moment of explosion. Ash hung in the air around you, their movements slow and fluid as salt in water. Despite the thunderclouds overhead and the clear smell of a heavy storm, the world around you was utterly silent.

Waiting.

Did you think I had forgotten you, my pet?

The cold voice tore at your ears. You cried out in pain and fear, slamming your hands to the side of your head in a useless attempt to block Vecna’s words. A low chuckle filled the air, amused by your futile efforts.

Did you think your efforts to foil me had gone entirely unnoticed?

He laughed again, and you fell to your knees, a cloud of ash rising from the ground to cover you.

Useless, perhaps, but never unnoticed.

The ash dissipated, revealing a familiar scene. Dustin shouting from inside a trailer, you and Steve running toward the door as Eddie’s frantic cries rose into the night. You closed your eyes, knowing what was coming, but it did nothing to quiet the horrible cracking of Chrissy’s warped and mangled corpse.

Another cloud of ash momentarily obscured your vision; as soon as it cleared, you saw another scene: Nancy standing outside her car with her hands up as the officer aimed his gun at her, taking no notice as Fred’s face went pale and he wandered almost drunkenly toward the woods. When he disappeared into the trees, you heard screams and the snapping of bone as if they were right beside you. You shuddered, tears streaking through the grime on your face.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steel your nerves.

“This—this isn’t real,” you said, gritting your teeth against the cold and fear. “I am safe in bed with Eddie, and this is just another fucking nightmare.”

Ah, yes, the voice said, malicious humor creeping into its tone. How is Eddie? I heard there have been developments between the two of you. How very, very sweet.

You wanted to throw up, but your stomach muscles were too tight with fear to allow it. Instead, you curled into yourself, rocking back and forth on the ashy hilltop.

Have you considered, pet, that you are the one leading him to that field? To a meaningless death against a few pathetic flyers?

As if in response, a swarm of demobats swooped out of nowhere. They dove straight toward you, gaining speed with every instant until they were mere blurs in the ash around you. You screamed, raising your hands uselessly to defend yourself, waiting to feel their teeth and claws tear into your skin—but the pain didn’t come. Instead, the scene around you began to dissolve into particles of ash, leaving only the echo of Vecna’s final words in your mind.

I thank you for your service, Y/N. This will all be so much easier because of you.

*             *             *

You woke suddenly, gasping for air in the stillness of the small bedroom. Your eyes darted wildly, searching for the source of danger—but found only the darkness of early morning and the quiet lapping of the waves on the shore. You tried to slow your breathing, taking stock of your body as you did so. A nightmare, you told yourself, though doubt niggled at the back of your mind. Just a stupid nightmare.

You shivered violently, and realized that your entire body was coated in a cold sweat. Still, Eddie didn’t wake, his arms wrapped securely around you as he snored gently. You smiled weakly at the sound, lifting a dampened curl away from his face as he slept. He’s okay.

Carefully, you lifted his arms away from you, placing them back on the mattress as you silently slid out of bed. You knew, without a doubt, that sleep would not find you again, and you couldn’t bear to look at Eddie’s still, sleeping face so like that of a corpse.

You padded down the hall to the armchair, holding your knees to your chest as flashes of the dream came back to you. Am I really leading him to his death? You wondered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Am I nothing more than Vecna’s puppet?

When Eddie found you several hours later, you hadn’t moved, still with a white-knuckled grip on your knees, staring at nothing while you shivered in the cold.

He tried to comfort you, tried to ask what was wrong, but you brushed him off with non-answers, too paralyzed with the fear of bringing him into further danger to admit what had scared you. He grew frustrated with your silence, and even more so with your refusal to let him help. You turned down his offers of food, of conversation, of further planning, not even raising your head when he regularly checked in with the others via walkie-talkie, making sure Max was okay. His face grew more drawn and his jaw muscles tighter with every passing hour as you stymied his attempts to help at every turn.

Eventually, the only concession you would make was to let him hold you. You lay on the couch together as he stroked your hair and whispered lovely things to you—but you heard none of them clearly, the words sounding as if they were being passed through a hundred layers of plastic before they reached your ears. The echoes of your nightmare were much clearer in your mind for all of that day, repeating over and over like some hellish heartbeat of guilt and misery.

I thank you for your service, Y/N. This will all be so much easier because of you.

*             *             *

When you woke from a blissfully dreamless sleep the next morning, your head was, thankfully, clearer. You sat up from your position on the couch, your movements causing Eddie to startle awake.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Another nightmare, or—” You cut him off with a gentle shhhh, placing a no-longer-trembling finger to his pale and chapped lips.

“I’m alright now, Eddie,” you whispered, the corners of your mouth curving upward in a small, sad smile. “As alright as I can be.” He let out a huge sigh upon hearing your voice, his shoulders slumping visibly with the enormity of his relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he said, wrapping you in a fierce embrace. His strong arms held you close against him, his large hands supporting your back and your head with the tenderness and strength of a chivalric knight. “I thought I was losing you, Siren.” His voice broke on the nickname, and you stroked his hair soothingly, as he had done for you the day before.

“I’m still here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I promise, Eddie. I’m not going anywhere.” He released you from the embrace, but still held your shoulders, looking you up and down to make damn sure that you really were alright.

“What happened?” he asked, his eyes wide with concern. “I know you had a nightmare, but that can’t be all of it,” he said, biting his bottom lip with worry. You almost smiled, and your heart swelled with love for the man in front of you, who took care of you in even your darkest moments.

And what are you doing for him in return? A sly voice asked in your head, draining your face of color. Leading him to certain death, hmm?

“I can’t—I can’t talk about it, Eddie,” you said resignedly, avoiding his eye. “I just—I can’t.”

“Because of the time paradox bullshit?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “I thought we agreed Saturday night that you weren’t gonna keep any more secrets?” His eyebrows were raised expectantly, his eyes searching your face for any sign of an answer. You shook your head, not knowing how to answer.

“I know, Eddie,” you said, your voice pleading. “And I’ve told you almost everything I can think of, but this—” You took a shaky breath, then looked him square in the eye, letting all of your hopelessness show. “I don’t know that I can.” Eddie released your shoulders and stood, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Y/N, I swear to God, just fucking talk to me, okay?” he said, barely controlled anger and desperation in his voice. “Whatever it is, we can work through it. Together. But you have to tell me first.”

You shook your head, getting ready to protest again, when Eddie interrupted you.

“And don’t say it’s for my own safety, or whatever other bullshit excuse you’re thinking of right now.” He turned to you, his eyes pleading. “I need to know.”

You covered your eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the temporary relief of darkness. You thought about every successful plan concocted by the Hawkins gang, every interaction you’d had with them in the past month, every touch and kiss shared with Eddie—and you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Okay,” you whispered, and Eddie looked up, surprised at your acquiescence. “I’ll tell you,” you said, patting the couch beside you. Eddie took a seat gingerly, taking your hand in both of his and massaging the clenched muscles you’d been holding for more than twenty-four hours. You took a shaky breath. ��I saw Vecna again,” you said, closing your eyes and seeing the nightmare all over again. “But this time, it was like—it was like he thought I was helping him,” you said, unwilling to meet Eddie’s tender gaze. “He—he called me his pet, and he said—” You broke off, your throat growing choked with emotion.

“What did he say, Siren?” Eddie asked softly, his thumb rubbing tiny circles on the back of your hand.

“He said that I was going to lead you to your death,” you said, watery eyes finally meeting his. “That his plan was going to work, all because of me.” Your voice broke on the final word, and Eddie wasted no time in taking you into his arms. You cried against him for a long while, shedding all the tears you had been too frightened to release the day before. His hands gently stroked your back, though he stayed silent as he pondered your words.

When your tears finally began to subside, he lowered his head and looked you straight in the eye.

“Y/N,” he said, softly but firmly. You met his gaze and held it, despite your emotion. “You are trying everything you can to prevent more harm and horror from coming to Hawkins. You are a good person, and you can’t let any mind games convince you otherwise.” You squeezed his hand gratefully, still unable to speak. “No one knows what the results of their actions will be until they happen. Till then, you have to try your best and…and roll the dice,” he said, an ironic smile playing on his lips. You choked back a laugh. “And I promise you, Siren,” he said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He leaned in for a kiss, and you let yourself forget the dream in the paradise of his embrace.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 13

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part thirteen warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, discussion of canon-typical violence, innuendo

taglist: @superflannel

You decided to lay it all on the table. Almost all of it, anyway.

After failing to save either Chrissy or Fred from their fates, you figured that potential time paradoxes were the least of your worries; to have any chance of changing the future, your friends needed to know what was coming.

You all sat in Reefer Rick’s living room, having taken an hour for everyone to eat, clean up, and rest before diving into another war council. Steve sat cross-legged in a leather armchair, the picture of suburban fatherhood, while Robin perched on the ottoman, her legs tucked gingerly to the side. The kids law sprawled on the couch, Dustin and Lucas fiddling with the radio while Max looked out the window, her face grim. Nancy had dragged one of the dining chairs into the living room, crossing and uncrossing her ankles every few minutes—a nervous habit you’d noticed over the past few weeks. You and Eddie had claimed the loveseat; while he had reclined into the comfortable cushions to get some much-needed rest, you were too nervous to sit still. You sat forward on the edge of your seat, your leg bouncing overtime while Eddie stroked your fingers, trying to soothe your jitters. It didn’t work.

Finally, when everyone was settled, you cleared your throat and began.

“Okay, guys,” you said, your voice a little shaky. “I think it’s time for me to tell you everything.” Taking a deep breath, you turned your attention to Max. “You were going to figure it out soon anyway, but Max—” you swallowed, not wanting to continue. “You’re Vecna’s next victim.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Lucas looked wide-eyed at Max, reaching out a hand for hers before withdrawing it hastily. You rushed to continue.

“But the good thing is,” you said, hoping to forestall any feelings of doom, “that you survive the attack. You survive, Max,” you repeated, looking deep into her eyes. Her face was paler than usual, the freckles on her face forming a stark contrast.

“How?” was all she asked, her jaw set grimly in determination.

“It’s the music,” you said, smiling a little despite yourself. “Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush.” Robin nodded in consideration, appreciating Max’s taste.

“But we’ve tried that already,” Steve cut in, propping his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “It didn’t work with either Chrissy or Fred.”

“We don’t actually know that,” Nancy said, her voice clear and steady despite what she’d witnessed only hours before. “Neither of them got to hear their songs once the final vision had started.  Maybe they’d still be here if they had.” You nodded, thankful for her support.

“Exactly,” you said, turning your attention back to Max. “I promise you—you survive the attack.” This time, at least, you thought, hoping the guilt wasn’t evident in your voice. El will bring her back to life the next time,  you chided yourself. She’s going to be fine.

“Where does it happen?” Lucas asked, still not taking his eyes off of Max. His voice had dropped half an octave with worry.

“At the cemetery,” you said, squirming with discomfort. “In the show, Max—” You corrected yourself, turning to face her and addressing her directly. “In the show, you figured out you were the next victim and wrote letters to everyone, just in case.” You swallowed. “Steve drove you to the cemetery so you could deliver…” You trailed off, unable to say the name.

“Billy’s,” Max said flatly, daring anyone to make fun of her. You nodded and forced yourself to meet her eyes.

“When you started having the vision, Steve, Dustin, and Lucas managed to find a Walkman and your Kate Bush cassette. You were floating in the air, but they played it, and you just…came back down. Gently,” you added, seeing Steve’s “concerned-father” face and knowing an objection was coming. He closed his mouth and nodded, considering.

“They play the tape for me and I’m just…fine?” Max asked, sounding skeptical. “That seems too easy.”

You tried to look reassuring.

“You have to keep listening to it,” you admitted, picking at the skin around your nails absentmindedly. “Otherwise, you’re vulnerable to Vecna again.”

“What, for the rest of time?” Max asked, snorting with annoyance. “That won’t be difficult to explain at all.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but you could hear the fear that lurked behind it. Your heart broke; you just wanted to hug her, although you knew she’d never allow it.

“No, not for that long,” you said, chewing your lip. “Just until Vecna’s gone.”

“So we do kill him,” Eddie said, giving your hand a quick squeeze as he sat up. “How?”

You hesitated. How to explain this?

“Well, we don’t killhim,” you said, trying to break the news gently.

Protests erupted from all corners of the room at once, overwhelming your ears with shouts that were getting dangerously, noticeably loud.

“Quiet!” you hissed, cutting through the uproar. “You’re going to get us all caught,” you said with a pointed look toward Eddie. Silence fell immediately, and you could sense the tension hanging in the air.

“What do you mean, we don’t kill him?” Dustin asked, his voice measured. You nearly smiled. Always count on Dustin to keep a level head.

“Back home, season four was the most recent release of Stranger Things,” you said, the expressions on your friends’ faces growing uncomfortable. It had to be unpleasant remembering that your life was scripted for entertainment, even if it was in a totally different universe. “But that wasn’t the series finale.” Your gaze moved from person to person, looking each of them directly in the eye. “They’ve planned a fifth and final season, but I have no idea what’s coming in that. The only thing I do know is that Vecna—Henry Creel, or One, or whatever you want to call him—is still the enemy, just like he has been all along.”

“Okay,” Lucas said slowly, rubbing the back of his head in thought. “But if he’s still in the…fifth season or whatever, how can he be ‘gone’ enough for Max to stop listening to Kate Bush?” He glanced at Max, concern filling his deep brown eyes, before quickly returning his gaze to you. You sighed and chewed your lip, wondering how best to continue.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” you said, hastily continuing before the group could interrupt you again. “With all of you working together—Max and El fighting him mentally while the rest head into the Upside Down to do more physical damage—it’s enough to greatly weaken him, to make him vanish temporarily or go into hiding or something.” You shrugged your shoulders helplessly. “They didn’t really explain it well.”

Steve huffed and threw up his hands, frustration written all over him. You flushed, embarrassed at your inability to provide more specific answers. Robin shot Steve a warning look before giving you a sympathetic smile.

“We’ll figure it out,” she promised, though worry still lingered in her eyes. “We’re pretty good at that.” You smiled gently.

“Yeah, you are.”

Silence fell over your little group as each absorbed the new information you had given them. Eddie scooted closer to you, running his large hand soothingly down your back. You sighed into his touch, letting some of the tension run out of your overtired body. Finally, Nancy spoke.

“When does this final battle take place?” she asked, her voice all business. Leave it to Nancy to ask the practical questions. You scrunched your nose in thought, trying to remember.

“In…three days?” you said uncertainly, counting off episodes on your fingers. “No, wait—four,” you corrected yourself, nodding with decision. “Four days from now.”

“So, what happens tomorrow?” Eddie asked, his voice startlingly close. You shook your head, trying to clear away the images of his broken, bloody body that you were finding increasingly difficult to keep out of your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, wanting to preempt the headache you could feel was coming.

“Tomorrow, we keep Max safe,” you said firmly, meeting her gaze. She looked at you for a long moment before nodding. “After that, we try to stop the next death.”

“Who is it?” Steve asked, shifting uncomfortably. You sighed, running your hands through your hair in agitation.

“I don’t know his last name,” you said, glancing at Eddie with apprehension. “But he’s one of Jason’s cronies, and they’ll be hunting Eddie by now.” Your voice broke as you saw Eddie’s face fall, unwilling to believe his classmates thought he could really be a murderer.

“Hunt the freak, right?” he said bitterly, trying for humor and failing miserably. You took his hand in both of yours, trying to provide some reassurance.

“They’re fucking crazy,” you said, lowering your voice to a whisper. “None of this is your fault.” He looked at you sadly, and you could see tears in his eyes—but when he spoke, his voice was steady.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ll think it was me ‘til the day I die.” Ice flooded your veins at his comment, though you tried not to let it show. Not now.

“Which one of them is it?” asked Lucas, standing and beginning to pace around the room. “I know most of those guys, maybe I could try and reason with him. Play his favorite song.” You hesitated, unsure.

“It’s Patrick,” you said, closing your eyes as you pictured his broken and twisted form, hanging over Lover’s Lake.

“McKinney?” Lucas asked, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. You shrugged helplessly.

“I guess,” you said, wishing you had more information. “They didn’t give his last name in the show; I’m not even sure what Vecna used to get to him.” Lucas’s eyes grew stormy, and you could tell his thoughts had stretched far beyond the drug dealer’s living room. First Max, then Patrick, you thought, wanting desperately to leap up and hug him. Poor Lucas.

“You said ‘try,’” Dustin interjected, frowning in concentration. “I assume that means that—in the show, at least—he doesn’t make it?” You bit your lip, feeling tears well up behind your eyes.

“No,” you said shakily, trying to regain your composure. “He, Jason, and Andy will find this place the day after tomorrow. Then, when they’re chasing Eddie across Lover’s Lake…” You trailed off as you saw Eddie’s alarmed expression.

“They’re going to find us here?” he asked, his voice rising in panic. “Then why did we come at all? Let’s get somewhere safer!” He moved to stand, all for leaving right then and there, but you wouldn’t let go of his hand. Finally, he turned to look at you.

“I brought you here because I knew for a fact that they wouldn’t find you for at least three days,” you said pointedly, your voice soft and even. “It was the only place I knew would be safe, because I saw you use it.” Eddie’s brow wrinkled; clearly, your explanation hadn’t made much sense. It must have been enough, however, because he resumed his position next to you on the loveseat, holding tightly to your hand. “For the same reason,” you continued, turning back to Max, “I think we need to keep everything that happens tomorrow exactly like it was in the episode—write letters, go to the cemetery, bring Kate Bush on the Walkman.”

“But why?” Steve asked, clearly perplexed. “If we know she’s going to be okay, and we know that the music works, why bother?”

“Because this is Max’s life we’re talking about!” Lucas snapped before you could explain. “Nothing has gone well when we’ve tried to change the events of the show,” he said, glancing at you. “And we know Max survives if we do everything the way Y/N says. We can’t risk that just to save a drive across town.” He crossed his arms and looked around the group, daring anyone to contradict him.

“Lucas is right,” you said, just as Steve looked ready to protest. You knew he didn’t mind the drive, he just didn’t understand why staying here wasn’t as good, or even better, for protecting Max. “It’s too dangerous to try anything other than what we know for a fact will work.” Stillness descended upon the group as everyone considered the horrible possibilities of the next day, despite your assurance that everything would be alright.

It was Robin who finally broke the silence, stretching her arms far above her head and yawning hugely. You chuckled quietly, knowing your friend was surely as exhausted as you were.

“I think that’s our cue,” Steve said, digging for his keys. “I know there’s more you need to tell us, but I think the next two days is about all I can handle right now.” He smiled, but it was a strained, tense thing that never quite reached his eyes. You nodded sympathetically.

“That’s fine. We need everyone well-rested for tomorrow, and besides, it’ll give me more time to think about how to explain all this. Try and remember everything I can.” You avoided Eddie’s eyes, though you could feel his gaze boring into you. You were so exhausted, so utterly spent, that you were sure your face would betray the secret of his death at the slightest provocation.

Gradually, everyone filed out, piling into Steve’s and Nancy’s cars. You watched through a crack in the curtains as they drove away, just making out Max’s nearly emotionless face pressed halfheartedly into a back window. Your heart ached for her.

“She’s going to be okay,” a voice whispered behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist. “You know she’s going to be okay.” Eddie whispered reassurances into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. You turned to face him, returning the embrace by linking your arms around his neck.

“I know,” you said, biting your lip to keep the tears from spilling from your eyes. “But I’m just so scared. For everything.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “But I’ll be right here. No matter what.”

Your heart nearly broke at that. A single tear rolled down your cheek, and you took a shaky breath, pulling away from Eddie to collect yourself.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” you said, and Eddie’s shoulders visibly slumped at your words.

“Back to the boathouse?” he asked, clearly dreading another night spent on hard wooden boards—at least you had had his chest for a pillow; Eddie had had only an old coil of rope.

“We’re already in the house,” you said, glancing around at the curtained windows. “We know they don’t find this place for another two days. Let’s take the bed; I think rest is more important than stealth right now.”

Eddie’s face lit up, and you smiled despite yourself. “Of course, I can’t promise there won’t be a pea under the mattress,” you said with a teasing grin. Eddie held his hand to his heart, mock-affronted at your words.

“But I have a princess with me!” he said dramatically, and your heart grew full. You’d meant to tease him about being overdramatic, but he’d turned it around to compliment you—how very, very Eddie. You watched as a mischievous glint came into his eyes, and were just about to ask what he was planning when he pounced.

Your knees were knocked out from under you as Eddie lifted you into his arms, carrying you bridal-style toward the house’s only bedroom as you squealed in protest.  

“Then I guess you’ll just have to find something to distract her, huh?” Your delighted laughter echoed in the empty house, a flicker of light in the darkness of the night.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 12

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part twelve warnings: swearing, fluff, kissing, canon-typical violence

taglist: @superflannel

You spent the rest of the day with Eddie in the boathouse—talking, laughing, and kissing for hours on end. You told him all about your life back home in 2022, which amazed him, and he told you about his difficult childhood, moving in with Wayne, and finally finding himself when he founded Hellfire five years ago. With every passing minute, you fell more in love with him, and your stomach did a happy flip whenever you remembered that he was yours. Really, truly yours, as he reminded you whenever you stopped talking to enjoy more tangible affection.

Though it had started out feeling like a prison, the boathouse was quickly becoming more like a second home—a cozy, private respite from the dangers of Jason Carver, the Upside Down, and the government agents closing in on your little family. In the boathouse, there was only you, and Eddie, and the sounds of the water. It was perfect.

By late afternoon, however, your anxiety began to return.

Noticing the change in your expression, Eddie lightly traced a finger over your back, concern filling his warm brown eyes.

“What’s wrong, Siren?” he asked, his voice gentle. You bit your lip in worry, trying to still the anxious tapping of your foot against the old wooden floor.

“It’s just—it’s almost time for the next part of the plan,” you said, turning to face him. “And I can’t be there to help.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked, his muscles tensing with the unpleasant memory of the night before.

“The next death,” you said, checking the time. “It’s supposed to happen in about ten minutes. We have a plan, and Nancy’s going to stop it, but…” You trailed off, but the rest of your sentence wasn’t necessary. Both of you knew you had had a plan last night, too.

Eddie took your hand in his and rubbed small circles with his thumb.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. “I’m involved now, so I wanna be looped in.” You nodded, taking a deep breath. Maybe it would help your nerves to go over the details anyway.

“The next victim is Fred,” you said, and Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“The little newspaper kid?” he asked, incredulous. You nodded.

“Yeah. He got into a car accident and the other driver died; he feels horribly guilty about it. That’s what Vecna’s using to get to him,” you said, sadness written on your face. “He and Nancy should be on their way to Forrest Hills now, to write a story about—what happened last night,” you finished quickly, seeing the color drain from Eddie’s face. You gave his hand  a quick squeeze of reassurance. “In the show, Nancy gets distracted while conducting an interview, and Fred wanders off into the woods, where—” You didn’t need to finish. “But instead,” you said, forcing your words into a lighter tone, “Nancy will loiter in the car with Fred with his favorite cassette playing, under the pretext of flirting with him. He likes her,” you added, seeing Eddie’s bewildered expression. “That way when the vision happens, Nance can switch it to his favorite track, and he’ll be just fine.” You smiled, trying to convince yourself as much as Eddie. I hope.

Running a hand across his mouth, Eddie nodded slowly as he absorbed your words.

“Why won’t you be there?” he asked suddenly, looking up at you with curious eyes. “You’re the one who knows what’s going to happen; doesn’t seem to make much sense to leave Nancy the whole job.” You smirked.

“That’s what Steve said yesterday,” you said, shaking your head as you remembered the heated conversation. “Trust me—Nancy can handle it. Besides, he would be suspicious if it was more than just her. They’re supposed to be reporting.”

Nodding in acquiescence, Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“Makes sense, I guess,” he said, sighing and leaning back against the wall. “So what do we do now?”

“Wait,” you admitted, unable to keep the frustration you felt entirely out of your voice. “I don’t like it, but Nancy insisted.”

“Of course she did,” Eddie said, some of the old, cocky laziness returning to his tone. “Remind me why Steve likes her again?”

“Hey, Nancy’s great,” you said, giving him an admonishing nudge. “She’s been through a lot.”

Eddie’s expression sobered, no doubt remembering the hell he himself had been through in the past twenty-four hours.

Silence fell over the boathouse, each of you absorbed in your own worries about the events to come. Eddie fiddled with the bits of rope in the boat, tying and untying random knots to keep his fingers busy. You stood and paced the length of the boathouse over and over, chewing your bottom lip with worry until it nearly started bleeding.

Finally, when neither of you could stand it anymore, Eddie spoke.

“Would you sing to me, Siren?” he asked quietly, unsure of how his request would be received. You glanced at the window of the boathouse, concern written all over your face. “Quietly, I mean,” Eddie added, interpreting your fears correctly. “Just so I can hear. Y/N, I’m just starting to go crazy,” he said, his eyes pleading. Finally, you nodded and moved to join him on the floor, leaning your back into his chest while he played with your hair.

“What do you want to hear?” you asked, regretting your lack of eighties metal knowledge. Eddie shrugged.

“You’re the one who knows all about me,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Surprise me.”

You took a moment to think, running over the mental lists of songs you had committed to memory for something uniquely Eddie. Finally, you found the perfect song, and smiled before taking a deep breath. Quietly—oh so quietly—you began to sing.

Far over the misty mountains cold,

You sang, each line trailing into a silver whisper.

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away, ere break of day,

To find our long-forgotten gold.

You heard Eddie’s breath catch as he recognized the words, and you smiled into the song.

The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning in the night.

The fire was red, it flaming spread;

The trees like torches blazed with light.

You pulled away from Eddie’s embrace as you finished the song, turning to face him instead. His expression was one of wonder, and you smiled at the childlike joy he had taken in the simple song.

“How did you do that?” Eddie demanded, leaning back against the boathouse wall. “How did you find such a perfect melody for the words?”

You grinned, and decided to come clean.

“I didn’t find it,” you admitted. “About ten years ago, my time, they made movies out of The Hobbit—prequels to the three-film Lord of the Rings series released right after I was born. The melody is from the movie,” you said, shifting to a more comfortable sitting position.

Eddie’s eyes were shining, and you almost laughed at the genuine excitement in his face.

“There are…Lord of the Rings movies?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it. This time, you did laugh, delighted by his earnestness.

“Yes,” you said, smiling. “They’re incredible. They even have extended editions that give three hours of film to each book.”

Eddie looked like he might pass out with excitement.

“I can’t wait for that,” he said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “That’s gonna be so cool.”

If you live that long, you thought, and your smile faded, though you turned to look out the window so Eddie wouldn’t see. All at once, the plan to save Fred and the horrible consequences if you didn’t came flooding back, and you knew you couldn’t distract yourself from it anymore. You needed to know what was happening.

You stood, pressed a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek, and picked up the walkie-talkie, intending to check in with the others. Before you could do more than raise the receiver to your lips, however, it crackled with an incoming message.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice shouted, the sounds of police sirens loud in the background. You froze, looking at Eddie with fear in your eyes. This could not be good. “Y/N, Fred’s dead,” Steve choked out, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “Nance couldn’t—we couldn’t stop it.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, and it took you several seconds to regain the ability to speak.

“What—what happened?” you asked, your voice sounding hoarse with astonishment.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Steve said, the sirens getting louder. “Just hang tight ‘til then, okay? I promise we’ll explain everything, just—oh, shit.” With that, the transmission ended.

“Steve? Steve?” You shouted frantically into the receiver before Eddie clamped his hand over your mouth as you had done that morning, reminding you of the importance of keeping quiet.

“Shhhh, Y/N,” he said, looking as pale as you felt. “We have to keep quiet.” His voice broke on the last word, and you threw your arms around him, seeking the comfort of his strong arms.

He held you until the others arrived, stroking your back as desperate sobs wracked your body. How could you possibly save anyone?

*             *             *

The mood in the boathouse was grim.

You were all huddled around the canoe, absorbing the implications of what Nancy had just told you. She sat alone in the corner, her knees drawn up tight to her chest, the tears still wet on her cheeks. Your eyes met Steve’s for the briefest of moments, and your heart ached for him that he was unable to comfort her. He, Robin, Dustin, Lucas, and Max were sprawled across the rough wooden floor, dejection written on all of their faces. You and Eddie sat against the wall, his arms wrapped protectively around you.

It had all been an easily preventable disaster.

Nancy and Fred had arrived at the trailer park with no issue; the cassette player in Nancy’s car worked perfectly, as did the tape itself—both of which she had checked numerous times. She had flirted with Fred the whole way to Forrest Hills, and he had seemed to enjoy it, but at a distance.

“It was like he wasn’t completely there,” Nance had said, raising her arms in helpless confusion. “No matter what I said, or what song I played, he was just—somewhere else.”

When they had arrived at the trailer park, a police officer had tried to stop them from entering, only allowing them through when Nancy claimed to be visiting Max. You had prepared her for this, remembering the troublesome officer from the episode. Unlike the episode, however, after parking the car near the Munson trailer, Nancy hadn’t gotten out to talk to Wayne, instead sitting and listening to music with Fred, waiting for the vision to begin. She had waited nearly ten minutes, growing more concerned with each passing second as Vecna failed to make his presence known.

At that point, she had heard a shout from behind the car, and seen the officer from the entrance running toward her with his gun drawn.

“Put your hands up and exit the vehicle!” he had shouted, poised to shoot her if she didn’t comply immediately. “And turn the car off—I don’t want you going anywhere. I swear to God, you reporters are all the same,” he had said, gesturing to the ignition with a flick of his gun. “Now turn it off and step out of the vehicle.”

Though she hated to leave Fred vulnerable, Nancy had had no choice but to do as the officer asked. Both teens had stepped out of the vehicle, though the officer only seemed interested in Nancy—she was, after all, the one who had lied to his face. He interrogated her outside the car for nearly fifteen minutes, finally letting her go with a warning once Max came out to defend her, claiming she really had been visiting. By the time the officer had left, Fred was nowhere to be found. Max and Nancy had combed the woods for him for nearly an hour before finding his twisted, broken form on a back road.

“There was nothing we could do,” said Nancy, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “He was already gone, so—we just left.”

“It’s okay, Nance,” you said quietly, your throat constricted with the pressure of unshed tears. “You did the best you could. It wasn’t your fault,” you finished, looking her right in the eye. She gave you a weak smile and squeezed your knee, unable to say more.

Looking around the room, you saw nothing but dejected faces. Your team was running out of hope, and there was still a lot more to be done before the end of this horror. You took a deep breath and addressed them all.

“So far, we’ve tried twice to save Vecna’s victims, and we’ve failed both times,” you said, looking each of your friends in the eye. “I don’t know if that means that the future can’t be changed, or if it’s just been random acts of chance.” You swallowed. “Regardless, we have to keep trying. We owe it to these people, no matter what, to try and save them from what’s coming, even if it’s hopeless.” You looked at Eddie, drawing strength from the love in even his most fearful eyes. “Because that’s what heroes do.”

[scribblesforthemad]

Masterlist

Leverage

Eliot Spencer

The Renaissance Job - Eliot x fem!reader

Part 1 (coming soon!)

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson

There and Back Again - Eddie x fem!reader

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22 (coming soon!)