#Eddie even fight for his town until his last breathe

[ronancecore]

So someone definitely beat up Dustin in cemetery/infront of Eddie's grave

Those who beat up Dustin probably vandalised Eddie's grave(a jocks wearing varsity jacket of hsh) Dustin confront them and that's the start of their fight.

[hellfirenacht]

Clean (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: After the battle in the Upside Down, you and Eddie try and get clean.

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, smut, happy ending, no use of y/n, reader is not described, unprotected PiV sex, light choking, pet name, barely beta'd

7.7k words

You weren’t completely sure how you ended up back in the right side up, in your home with Eddie. After the fight with Vecna, everything was a blur. You remembered sirens, and an earthquake, and you and Eddie being arrested, refusing to be separated from each other but being forced apart anyway. You remember being bailed out somehow, Eddie’s name being cleared and waiting outside the police station for hours until he stumbled out and looked at you. 

Both of you stared at each other for a long time outside the station, battered and bruised and covered in cuts and bite marks, but alive. It was a fucking miracle considering Eddie had thrown himself into a suicide mission. He’d run, distracted the bats and had you not managed to grab him and tackle him into another trailer he’d be dead, you were sure of it. 

Looking at him outside of the station, you were about ready to kill him yourself. Your eyes burned with tears and if looks could kill, he’d be dust. It took everything not to slug him right then and there for daring to think that he could throw his life away like that, for a town that hated him. 

How could you? Your look said. 

I’m sorry. Came the silent reply as he dared to take a step closer. When you didn’t step back, his arms wrapped around you tightly. 

The two of you held each other for a long moment, and each passing second your anger dissolved as the emotions you’d been ignoring and repressing over the past few days started to surface. You couldn’t do this here. You couldn’t allow yourself to process this outside of the police station, not when the two of you were covered in sweat and blood. 

His hand gripped yours tightly, as if you were the last lifeline he had in this world. There was so much more that needed to be done. He had to tell his uncle he was alive, you had to check on Max and the others, Eddie probably needed some sort of lawyer. You had to see Steve and Robin and see what happened with Vecna while the two of you were in holding. 

But it was late, nearly midnight and neither of you had a walkie talkie anymore and the weight of what the two of you had been through was starting to catch up. 

Your apartment was small, cozy even. Eddie walked in with you, having followed you blindly back home. You couldn’t let him go, even when you dropped his hand to get you both some water from the kitchen you were constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure that he was still there, that he was still real. 

The whole time, he was looking at you, too. 

The two of you sat on your bed, hands clasped together tightly as you both tried to figure out what to say or do. You’d won, Vecna was dead and the gates were closed. You were alive, Eddie was alive and his name was cleared. If this was Eddie’s campaign, you two would be heroes, celebrating and drinking and would be standing tall and proud. 

Instead, the two of you were holding hands on your bed. Staring down at the floor as you both tried to sort through the horrors you’d seen in the past four days. Your eyes closed, and you saw everything; the news of Eddie being suspected of murder, the bats attacking, the upside down, Eddie’s back as he ran away-

A tear slid down your cheek and you gripped his hand harder, and in response he squeezed back. You took a deep, slow breath-

“We... stink.” You weren’t sure you meant to say that out loud but it broke the silence between the two of you. Eddie was silent for a few seconds before letting out a breath that almost counted for a laugh.

“Yeah... yeah we probably do. I haven’t showered in... shit. I don’t want to think about it.” He said. 

“We should shower.” You said, not meaning anything by it. 

“We should.” 

The two of you were quiet for another few minutes, neither of you moving. Having Eddie out of your site, even though you knew he’d be in a room that he wouldn’t be able to disappear in, made your stomach twist unpleasantly. 

But he needed a shower, he fucking deserved to hog all the hot water he wanted after what he’d been through. So you stood up, still holding his hand. “I’ll... show you how the shower works.” 

He followed you wordlessly to the bathroom, and you rummaged through your cabinet and pulled out a spare toothbrush for him. Eddie grabbed it and the two of you made your way over to the sink, brushing your teeth as the first step to feeling like a human again. 

“The left one is the hot water.” you said, turning the shower on for him. “And this button makes it a shower and not a bath.” 

He was staring at you, and you had the feeling that what you were saying was the least important thing going through his mind right now. You didn’t blame him. 

“There’s clean towels right there.” you pointed to the towels on the hooks by the sink. 

The water ran, and it was already starting to get a bit foggy in the bathroom. You turned to look at Eddie, who was still staring at you. His mouth partially opened as if he wanted to say something but for once lacking the words. 

“Take all the time you need.” you said, and started towards the door. His hand grabbed yours, stopping you from moving forward. 

“I...” Eddie said, his large doe eyes were looking at yours with a million different emotions. He didn’t want you to go. You didn’t want to leave. 

There had been an underlying tension between the two of you through this whole week. From the finale of his campaign with Hellfire to you saving his life there was something there. You would have always easily admitted that you found Eddie attractive but had never let yourself move past that. 

The moment that he’d disappeared, you felt like your world had blacked out, only returning to  your senses when he’d had you pinned against the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse with a broken beer bottle against your throat. You’ll never forget the fear in his eyes, like a wild animal cornered as the glass poked at your neck as his gaze darted between you and the others. 

What a terrible time to realize that you might be in love with Eddie Munson. 

You had been swallowing your emotions all week, focusing on the task at hand. Dustin brought Eddie junk food, you made sure there was something of substance in the grocery run. At least something that he could heat up so he wasn’t surviving on pure sugar. When the others were busy trying to piece together Vecna, you’d kept your own walkie close, updating him every step of the way. 

You don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up to Reefer Ricks as the basketball team seared for Eddie. You’d given him just enough time to escape without suspicion, and as thanks you had been witness to the gruesome murder of Patrick in the water of Rick’s boathouse. 

The memory was pushed down as far as you could, and you were brought back to reality by Eddie taking a hesitant step closer. You had never realized how badly you needed him in your life, the freak who’d given you a place to feel safe in a town where a toe outside of normalcy was seen as a crime. 

You needed him, and by the look in his eyes, he needed you, too. 

There wasn’t anything to say, words wouldn’t do anything in a time where actions meant everything. So you squeezed his hand and pulled it away, reaching up to his shoulders to start pushing off both his battle jacket and leather jacket. The heavy garments fell to the floor and he pushed them away with his foot to a corner. You reached up and pulled off his bandana, freeing his hair and tossing it as well. 

Eddie kneeled down and unlaced his shoes, as well as yours. Your shoes and socks were both discarded as he stood back up. You took his hand again, removing each of his rings carefully followed by his bracelet and watch and setting them on the counter. There was blood in the mouth of the pig ring that made your stomach turn and you looked back at Eddie instead. 

His Hellfire shirt was stained with blood and sweat and god knows what else, and he discarded it quickly. Small cuts and bruises littered his body, and you looked over each visible wound. Distress filled you, and you swallowed hard, trying not to think about the bats attacking and biting him just hours before. You’d been so strong up until now for him, and you’d be strong again until you could finally be alone. 

You weren’t expecting him to cup your jaw and tilt your head up to look at him. His brown eyes looked straight into your own and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes slid close, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the slightly scratchy callouses of his fingertips, the way his hand would squeeze slightly on reflex reminding you that he was here and safe. 

Safe. 

That thought alone nearly broke you as it passed through your mind. Eddie was safe, and he wasn’t dead and he wasn’t going to jail for murder. He was alive and cleared and free. 

You let out a choked sob and tried again to push down everything you were feeling but his hand squeezed tighter and his other hand wrapped around your middle and pulled you close. You let out a shuddering sob against his chest, holding his arm for dear life as you tried to calm yourself. 

It’s... really hard to cry with the scent of blood and sweat and boy filling your nose and shocking your senses. 

You met his eyes as you pulled away, but his hands remained firm on you, keeping you grounded. Eddie’s eyes were red and bloodshot, both of you were exhausted. 

Just hold it together. You said to yourself as you pulled your shirt off over your head, and fought with the button on your jeans. Eddie reached down to help you, his thumbs brushing over the bruise on your hand you’d earned from punching a demobat. You stepped out of your pants and reached for his, dropping the bullet belt on the ground which echoed with an alarming clang. 

“Jesus.” Eddie muttered. 

“Why did Erica even grab that?” you asked, as you both stared at it. “Those bullets don’t even work with Nancy’s gun.” 

It was a question without an answer, one of thousands from this week. 

You went back to his pants, pulling on the belt and.. Well that didn’t work. There was a handcuff around his belt that you tugged on. You’d noticed it before a few times, and had always wanted to question this particular fashion choice. But you never did, not wanting him to know that you had ever glanced at his crotch, no matter how innocent the circumstances. 

“Here, it’s uh... a little fiddly.” Eddie said, moving your hands away as he jiggled the cuff and it opened with a metallic click. You reached out again, removing the offending item and hesitated for a moment as your thumb and forefinger held onto his zipper. 

You looked up at him. Are you sure? He nodded and you pulled down his pants, leaving you both in your underwear.

A gentle push on your shoulder had you turning around as he unclasped your bra, letting it join the rest of the discarded clothes before you slid your fingers into your underwear and pulled them down before you lost the nerve. 

You could hear Eddie let out a shuddering breath and when you turned around there was a red flush underneath the layer of dirt on his face. But he didn’t look down at you, not yet, only focusing on your eyes as he also pulled down his boxers.

Neither of you made a move, only staring up at one another for a long time as the water ran. You took in every detail of his face, as if this was the first and last time you’d seen him. His long hair was a greasy mess, his fringe plastered to his forehead and covered in sweat. Dirt and blood speckled his face and there was a cut on his cheek. 

How were his eyes so impossibly round and expressive? You had no idea how he could wear every emotion on his face and yet still not have a clue what he was thinking. You two stood naked in the bathroom, something that would have been laughable to imagine just a few weeks ago, but now it was the least crazy thing that had happened to you in even twelve hours. 

Eddie made the first move, carefully placing his hand on your lower back and pushing you towards the shower. You stepped in, Eddie right behind you as the hot water hit your skin. You let out a hiss as it hit a cut on your shoulder, but other than that it felt... fucking amazing. 

You reached out of the shower to the sink to grab the antibacterial soap that Eddie had left at your place months before after getting the black widow on his chest done. Your mind flashed to him leaning against the counter with his shirt off as you had carefully cleaned the fresh ink. He’d been making a fuss about how it burned and you had scolded him for going to a shady scratcher’s basement and that he was lucky that he didn’t get an infection. 

Had that only been a few months ago? 

Now his tattoo was healed, but there were new wounds to tend to, new permanent fixtures on his body that you wish were just from an illegal tattoo gun. You grabbed a clean washcloth and finally looked over his body. 

It wasn’t like it was your first time seeing a man naked, and you’d seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times before. There was no denying this was different though, and your eyes wandered down between his legs for just a moment, curiosity getting the better of you in the moment because it was better than letting your mind stay trapped in the Upside Down. 

He wasn’t hard. You didn’t blame him, you doubted you could get aroused in this state. You were both tired and gross. You pulled your focus away from his crotch and back to the washcloth, lathering it up and began to wash his shoulders and neck first. 

Eddie’s hands made their way to your hips, unable to stop himself from touching you. Touching you meant that you both were real. 

He let out a small noise in the back of his throat as you began to gently wash away the gime on his neck and shoulders. Dirt and sweat flowed down each of your bodies from the water stream, and you focused as best you could on cleaning each of the cuts on his body, even if he let out grunts of discomfort. 

Your hands started washing lower, running the cloth against his chest and the black widow you’d cleaned a dozen times for him before. Eddie hissed as the cloth brushed over his hard nipples and you couldn’t tell if it was because it felt good or didn’t. You moved lower, washing his stomach and his hands held your hips tighter. It was becoming a game of chicken to see how far down you’d go. 

You were staring at his dick as your hands hovered at his hip bones. It’s not like you could help it, well, that was a lie, you probably could. But it had twitched just slightly, and your mind had raced with a thousand dirty thoughts. 

Not the time. You scolded yourself as you tried to figure out how to proceed. 

Sensing your hesitation, Eddie reached behind you for another washcloth and turned you around. 

“It.. might be better if I do this part.” he said in your ear and your skin erupted in goosebumps. “Between the lake water and the sweat and everything, yeah. Just, give me a second to do that part myself.”

Jesus Christ, he was talking about washing his ass and your body had still reacted. What the fuck was wrong with you? Well other than falling in love with your friend and Dungeon Master, nearly losing him to monsters, nearly losing him again to the justice system-

Something soft rubbed your back and the tension you’d been holding suddenly evaporated. While you were distracted, Eddie had finished his own business and had grabbed your loofah. He was washing your back in slow circles, getting the dirt off of you as well.

You let out a quiet noise and his hand froze for just a moment before resuming. Maybe in another timeline you would have been embarrassed about the noise you made, but not this time. Not when you were touch starved from him, not when he was naked and touching you, not when you two felt impossibly close and yet still so fucking far apart. It was a balancing act, a dance that neither of you knew the music to. Each movement was careful, hesitant, as if one wrong move might scare the other away. 

There will be no more retreating from Eddie, the Banished. Did that extend to you? With the way his fingers slid down your spine you were assuming so. One hand was firmly on your shoulder to keep you in place (as if you were ever going to move away) while the other ran your loofah over your sides. 

He turned you around, endlessly deep brown eyes meeting yours while his hand holding the loofa twitched just slightly. It was his turn to look down at your body fully, eyes raking down over your chest, your hips, and your legs. You saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, looking back up at your eyes. 

When you gave him a nod, Eddie reached out again, working the loofah over your neck and shoulders. You tilted your head back, letting him get as much grime off you as possible before his hand moved lower, running over your breasts carefully. Eddie’s eyes darted between your chest and your face for any sign that this was too much, that he’d gone too far. But you only leaned closed to him, resting your hands on his forearms as he washed you. His hands drifted lower, not lingering too much on your breasts when getting clean was more important than the hormones that were starting to stir in both of you. 

Just like you had, his hands stopped at your hips, just above your mound. You turned him around the same way he had for you, deciding that you could also wash your own ass for the time being. 

You closed your eyes as you washed yourself, imagining a world where taking a shower with Eddie wasn’t the result of a week of trauma. Maybe he’d joke about how he’d make your tits squeaky clean and you’d respond with a joke about him dropping the soap. Maybe in another life the two of you would be blasting music and he’d be rambling about the latest song he was learning on guitar while you two swapped off who was under the hot water. 

Your bodies were clean now, Eddie taking the free moment to wash off his legs and feet while you did the same. You pulled him back around and reached up to his face with a warmed washcloth, and his hands went back to your hips. Once you were satisfied with that, you grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. 

“Sit down.” you said quietly. 

The tub was comfortable enough for one person to lay in and stretch out but it was more cramped with two. Eddie sat down and you sat behind him, working the shampoo through his hair slowly, your fingers digging into his scalp. Eddie tilted his head back and let out a moan as you massaged and scratched at his head. 

There was a small part of you that said that you shouldn’t be having a reaction to this, that you two had just gone through something terrible and this wasn’t the time to unpack those feelings. 

You told that part of your brain to shove it. 

You peered over Eddie’s shoulder as you worked the lather through his hair, and took in a deep shuddering breath as your gaze was met with his cock standing at full attention. The warmth inside of you was growing as well, made hotter by his constant groans and murmurs of enjoyment. 

You rinsed his hair, and started working the conditioner through his ends. 

“Let that sit for a bit.” you instructed and he made a noise of understanding. You quickly worked on cleaning your own hair, and as the last of the sweat, blood, and tears slid down the drain you were now faced with it being just the two of you, naked, raw, and alive. 

Eddie turned around and leaned against the back of the tub and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as well. He pressed your back against his chest, his head resting on your shoulder. You leaned back into him, letting him hold you as the warm water washed over you both. 

Your hands reached down to his, and his fingers immediately laced with yours. Around you there was only the thick steamy air and the warmth and safety of the shower. Your fingers rubbed against his, unused to the bare skin without the heavy metal rings he wore. You wondered briefly if they were silver or pewter or some other metal. 

Something soft on your shoulder brought you back to reality, A shiver ran down your back as Eddie’s lips placed small kisses along your clean, wet skin. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. 

The kisses stopped after a moment, and he pulled you closer until you were completely flushed against him. His cock was pressing into your back, and you felt him shift his hips to try and find a way to have you close without bothering you about his physical reaction. 

You shifted in his arms, turning around to face him. The porcelain dug into your knees, but you ignored it to look at Eddie. His eyes were wide and everything stood still. He reached for you again, placing his hand on your jaw, his thumb resting on your cheek. In return you held onto his shoulders, one hand on the side of his neck. 

It didn’t matter who moved first. It didn’t matter if his hand pulled you in or if you had leaned after you looked at his lips. All that mattered is that Eddie’s grip on you tightened and his mouth was on yours and you were pressing up against him and his hands were moving around you and-

You slipped, your knee sliding against the soaked porcelain and your body was pressed fully against his. Eddie’s hard cock was pressed against your stomach, and he jumped at the sudden accidental movement. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sitting up a bit to check on you. 

No, you weren’t okay. And you didn’t think you’d be okay until he kissed you again. So instead of answering you kissed him again, deeper than before. He didn’t hesitate in responding to the kiss, his hands were sliding around you again, rubbing your back as your fingers tangled in his hair. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, meeting each other’s lips over and over again as the hot water fell on you. You’d occasionally shift and feel his cock rub against your stomach and he’d moan into your mouth in response. You liked that, and found every reason to squirm and rub against him as the two of you kissed. 

Eddie’s tongue pressed into your mouth, as easily as if the two of you had kissed a thousand times before. You moaned as he did, the taste of your toothpaste still lingering in his mouth melded with the taste of him. The moan only encouraged him to keep going, exploring your mouth and licking against a spot behind your front teeth that made you shudder. 

The water was getting cooler and it took everything inside of you to finally pull away. Eddie looked up at you with a hint of confusion on his face as to why you pulled back. 

“Did I-” he started and you shook your head. 

“Water’s getting cold. We should get out.” you said. 

He nodded and the two of you untangled from each other and helped each other stand up. You finished rinsing the last of the conditioner from Eddie’s hair before turning off the water and stepping out, grabbing you each a towel. He took it from your hand and wrapped it around your shoulders, using it as an excuse to touch you and pull you into another kiss. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pushed you up against the wall, needing the closeness as much as you did. Each press of his lips was slightly different each time, as if he was trying to decide the best way to kiss you, or maybe to just have the chance to kiss you every way he could. Making up for lost time? Making up for the uncertain future? It was hard to tell. 

“I’m here.” You don’t know why you said it, but those two words slipped out of your mouth in the two seconds that Eddie had pulled away to breathe. 

He was panting, and staring intently at you, his look of surprise mirrored your own thoughts. Then his mouth was on you again, kissing you rougher, holding you tighter, his hands were grabbing at you in a near bruising grip. Eddie’s cock was rubbing against your hip now, and he groaned feeling your soft skin against him. You could feel your own wetness start to pool between your legs as you kissed back, trying to keep up with him. 

“I’m here, too.” His voice echoed back. 

Your hips rocked up against him, and up bit his lower lip, sucking on it hard. He groaned again, and grabbed at your breast, squeezing it before rubbing his thumb against your nipple. You squirmed at the touch, and all you wanted was to be closer, closer, closer. 

When Eddie pulled back, it was your turn to look confused. You were dazed from the kiss, breathless with your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Eds...?” 

“Bedroom.” He pulled himself away from you like ripping a bandaid off. You followed his lips, kissing him again and he shuddered, stumbling back towards the door and reaching blindly for the doorknob. 

With some fumbling, you both managed to stumble into your room, lips locked together. It was cooler outside of the bathroom, and you could feel goosebumps raised along his arms as you both fell back into your bed. 

You wasted no time straddling him, pushing him down by his shoulders and giving him quick rough kisses. 

“Don’t you-” you kissed him “ever” you bit his lower lip “run like that” another bruising kiss “again.”. 

“I won’t” he replied, running his hand to the back of your neck and squeezing it. “I won’t. I won’t run.” 

Before you could capture his lips again, he pulled you down by your neck and latched his mouth against your throat. Eddie wasted no time with soft kisses, immediately sucking hard on the skin and pulling the blood to the surface until a deep bruise bloomed on your neck. You cursed, and ground your hips down on his cock, feeling the length drag against your clit. 

Eddie hissed and kissed the spot lightly where he’d been sucking. His hands gripped your hips, moving his own in rhythm with yours in a desperate attempt to get friction on his leaking cock. One hand slid down to grab your thigh, squeezing the back of it in a way that made your hips shudder and sparks of pleasure shoot right to your core. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” you whispered. 

Hearing his name had him grabbing you and rolling you below him, kissing your neck more. His lips trailed up to right below your ear, breathing in deeply before moving his mouth down to your chest. 

Eddie latched onto one of your nipples and sucked hard, making you gasp and arch your back up. His hand slid down, lower and lower until it was between your legs, sliding a finger through your slit with a trembling hand. The touch to your sensitive folds made you let out a small giggle at the feeling and your hips jerked again before settling back down. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Eddie said, talking to himself more than he was talking to you. He played with your entrance for a moment as he kissed and sucked along your breasts, sliding two fingers through your folds and stroking your clit with careful circles. 

You wanted to beg for more, roll your hips and tell him to keep going, but you couldn’t. If this was any other scenario, you would have. But when his head tilted back to look at you, all words died down in your mouth. This wasn’t something that you two could rush, not now, not after everything. This was more than just sex, more than a desperate quickie after the heat of battle. This was something you didn’t have a name for yet, but you two would figure out in time. 

Eddie leaned over you more, resting one arm by your head. His wet hair ticked your shoulders, and looking up at him, you thought about how a few hours earlier, you were on top of him like this as well, shielding him from monsters. He leaned down and kissed you again as he slid a finger into your entrance. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, gasping into his mouth. He pumped his fingers in and out slowly, never letting your lips disconnect. Eddie was fingering you, Eddie who’d all but bullied you into joining Hellfire when you were the new kid. The same Eddie who you’d bickered and squabbled with regularly because you two loved to get on each other's nerves. The same Eddie who you’d seen cry when no one else was looking over the death of Chrissy Cunningham-

Another finger slid in carefully and this time he did pull back, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort. Instead he found your face warmed and your lips parted in pleasure. You let out a small moan as he moved his fingers again, your nails digging into his shoulder. 

A quiet cry escaped your lips as he curled his fingers inside you, moving them back and forth until you gave him the signal that he had found the right spot. His name escaped your lips in a way he never dreamed that he’d hear. Eddie’s forehead pressed against yours again, taking in every reaction as his fingers explored your inner walls. 

His thumb brushed over your clit, stroking it in shaky and clumsy circles. As unpracticed as it was, it felt good. It felt good because it was him, and because you needed him, and when the fuck was the last time you had even had a chance to get off with everything going on?

“Eddie,” you panted as you moved your hands to his jaw. You kissed him again, and he kissed you back. His fingers sped up, pressing more into that sweet spot that was turning your brain off, removing any thoughts of the Upside Down, or of the shared trauma you now held. Right now, there was only you and Eddie and a mind-numbing pleasure that was building up inside you.

“It’s okay.” he whispered, his hand shaking a little. “Tell me what you need, please.” Eddie looked at you like getting you off was the most important thing he could do right now. You’d only seen this look in his eyes once as he’d cut the sheet rope that connected the two worlds-

“Tell me you’re here.” you begged, the words spilling out without thought. “Fuck, Eddie- just tell me you’re here. That you aren’t going- oh... oh God, please-”

“I’m here.” His voice sounded desperate, looking down at you. “I’m here, I swear. I’m not going anywhere again I- I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here, I’m here, Sweetheart.” 

It was that simple nickname that had you tumbling over the edge. That pet name that had always been reserved only for his guitar. His lips crashed onto yours as you reached your peak, swallowing your moans as your pussy clamped down around his fingers. Your body tensed up hard, and you tangled your fingers into his hair pulling at the roots. Eddie moaned at the feeling, his fingers faltering for a moment before slowing down and then finally pulling out. 

Immediately you felt empty, the orgasm not enough to satiate the need to have him as close as possible. You could still feel your pussy contracting as you came down from your orgasm, and you realized he was still talking. 

“‘M here.” Eddie whispered against your temple as he placed gentle pecks to your skin. “I’m here. I won’t leave again.” 

“I need you, Eds.” you said, looking up at him. “Fuck, I’ve needed you for so long.”

You hoped that he understood what you were saying. This was more than needing him inside you, this was about everything you two had been through together over the past few years. Every Hellfire Club meeting, every Tuesday at the Hideout, every shared joint between the two of you, every shitty study session that never went anywhere because you two would get too distracted and end up talking to each other about everything and nothing. 

You needed it, all of it, all of him. Eddie had made an indent on your life that you never wanted straightened out. You could not, and would not, conceive of a world without Eddie Munson in it. His death would have destroyed you in every possible way. 

Friendship, romance, sex, you didn’t care. If he was willing to just exist in your life, that’s all you fucking wanted. 

You didn’t even notice that you were crying again, until Eddie was wiping away your tears with his clean hand. He had a panicked look on his face as if worried that he’d done something wrong. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Did we take this too far?” he asked, grabbing a tissue from your bedside table and wiping his own hand off before offering one to you. You took it and shook your head, wiping your eyes and trying to take in a deep breath. 

“No, not that’s not it.” you said. “I just... I was so scared that I was going to lose you, Eddie. I’m still scared that when everything is done you’re going to disappear on me again.”

Eddie looked down at you, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “I thought I was doing the right thing, buying them more time.” he said quietly. “I thought if I could keep them distracted for just a few more minutes, everything would work out. If I had climbed back up, I thought- I was convinced the bats would either break in and attack you and Dustin or they’d go after the others.”

“You’re stupid.” you sniffed. 

“I know.” he agreed. 

“A total buttface jerk.” you added. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Eddie spread your legs more, putting himself into position. His cock was sliding through your folds now. 

“Y-you’re a freak and my fucking hero.” you gasped out as he pushed himself inside you carefully. Eddies cock stretched you pleasantly and easily. 

“I’m getting mixed signals here, Sweetheart.” he mumbled, kissing along your jaw. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, and you pushed your own face against his neck, sucking your own mark against the front of his throat. You didn't care if anyone else saw, you wanted to see proof of this night on him. 

You wanted proof on him every night for the rest of your life. 

“I'm never running away again.” he groaned in your ear as his hips started moving. Eddie held you tighter, nearly suffocating you as he did. How many times had he hugged you like this before, with you laughing and pushing him away, only for him to squeeze you harder telling you that your Strength stat sucked? 

“I'll find you.” You whispered in his ear as he grabbed your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his hips. “I'll find you every time, I fucking promise.”

He moaned loudly, his hips pushing harder into yours. Eddie was as deep inside you as he could possibly be, and each drag of his cock inside you made every nerve light up in your body. 

“Why did you come after me?” Eddie's voice was a near growl. His voice was strained, as if asking that question would snap the connection between the two of you. His lips never left your skin, kissing every inch that he could reach on your neck and face. 

“I couldn't let you- ohh oh God... I couldn't let you go. Couldn't let you disappear again” your body shuddered under him as his angle shifted slightly, just enough that it was rubbing up against that spot again that made it hard to think. 

“You could have died too.” Eddie's voice rattled around your head, frustration dripping from his lips as he sank his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out, dragging your nails down his spine in return, leaving raised marks down his back. 

He hissed and smashed his lips to your again, biting at your lower lip and sucking hard. Eddie looked at you, frustration now in his eyes as he looked down at you. 

It seemed like you weren't the only one processing your emotions through sex. 

“You could have died too.” He repeated. One hand went to the back of your neck, his thumb pressing right below your ear. You met his eyes, suddenly feeling small under him. 

Eddie had only ever looked at you like this once before. You two had a blow up fight the night that Chrissy had been murdered. You'd been so fucking mad at him for not moving Hellfire, having missed that whole conversation as you had a different lunch period. 

You hadn't learned about it until Erica Sinclair had walked in with Mike and Dustin. You'd swallowed the fight until after the campaign, when everyone was celebrating and Eddie was sneaking towards the back of the gym. 

It hadn't been pretty. You two had yelled at each other, called each other every name in the book. You were furious that he'd abandoned a party member and wouldn't budge. 

Eddie had hated that you were the only one to really stand up to him, to call him out for refusing to budge this one time. His brown eyes had turned black as you said things that didn't even fucking matter anymore. 

You saw him leave pissed with Chrissy Cunningham. You wondered if anyone else saw you two fighting that night which would have made him look worse when the cheerleader showed up dead in his trailer. 

Another moan passed your lips and your eyes closed as he started thrusting faster inside you. His hand on your neck tightening and loosening rhythmically, the blood running to your head and cutting off over and over again. 

“I can't lose you either.” He panted, kissing you again in a way that you were sure was going to screw you up forever. “You think I wanted to watch you die, too?” He demanded. 

“Eddie, I-” you didn't know what to say, all you could do was lay there as he mercilessly pushed into you, watching as the anger turned to anguish as he leaned over you. 

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and firm. The same subtle husky voice he used when he ran his game, the same voice he'd conditioned you to listen to over the past year. 

You nearly came again right there.  

Eddie’s warm brown eyes bore into yours and you didn't look away, even as his pace hit that perfect stride that had your toes curl and made your eyes want to roll back.  

“If I can't run away, you can throw yourself into danger.” He said. “I'm not losing you either.”

“Not gonna lose me-” you panted. “Fuck Eddie, I just-” your back arched as his lips sucked another bruise into your shoulder. “Don't put yourself in danger again and I won't have to.”

“We’re never doing that again.” he grunted into your shoulder. “No more monsters, no more fucking spellcasters, no bullshit alternate dimensions.” His hands were everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted or needed to grab you. “Gonna get us as far away from this shithole town as possible.”

Us. 

That word echoed through your brain. Us. That meant there was something more here, a future. A future with Eddie that he wanted you to be a part of. 

You kissed him again, and any more words between you died down as it didn’t mean anything anymore. The Upside Down, the future, none of it. Eddie’s hand finally made its way down to your clit again and stroked it fast. You tangled your fingers into his hair and pulled at the roots, his hips were starting to falter with their thrusts. Each push making your brain grow hazy as the pleasure continued to build inside you. 

Eddie pulled away from the kiss, pressing his lips against your ear again instead. “I’m here.” he promised. “Fuck, right- I’m right here.”

“I’m here, too” you repeated, your own voice breathy and desperate. “Eddie, I-” 

“I love you.” 

Those three words from his lips, had you seeing white. The whole world stopped and your body tensed up. Your nails sank into his back, and if you had been in a more clear state of mind you would have noticed you’d accidentally drawn blood. You cried out, unsure if you had managed to say those words back at all until the orgasm had started to subside. You felt dizzy, lightheaded and you breathed out the air that you had been hoarding in  your lungs. 

Eddie was staring at you with wide doe eyes, lips parted slightly in surprise. His hips were rocking slower now, as if unsure if he should continue after having apparently shattered your mind.

“I... love you, too.” you managed to gasp out, meeting his gaze. That was enough for Eddie as he picked his pace back up, rougher than before. He pressed his lips against your neck, breathing you in completely, listening to your overstimulated cries of pleasure as he pushed faster into you. 

It didn’t take long before he was cumming too, his hips jerking and shaking as he finally slowed down his thrusts. His weight was fully on top of you now as he started to soften inside you. 

You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, with him laying on you and with you stroking his back and matching his breaths. Maybe the two of you dozed off a few times, trying to savor the moment of peace between the two of you. 

Eddie was the one to break the silence with a chuckle. 

“What’s so funny, Eddie?” you asked, your eyes still closed. 

“We’re gonna need another shower after that.” he replied, slowly getting up off you. It was cold without his warmth and you whined at the loss. 

“Sounds like a tomorrow problem.” you mumbled, looking up at him. His curly hair was frizzing badly in its half-dried state. But he still got up and went to the bathroom, you heard the sound of running water and the a toilet flushing before he came back with a towel to clean help clean you up. 

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked quietly, as he settled back into bed with you, the two of  you getting over the sheets. 

Eddie nodded, looking at your blankets before meeting your gaze. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good.” you said and gave him a reassuring smile. “Because I don’t want to fight anymore monsters either again.” 

“Wait that’s-” Eddie stopped and laughed, shaking his head. “You know what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Did you mean it?” He asked. 

“Yeah. I meant it.” you reassured him. 

“Say it again?” he asked, cupping your jaw again. “I want to know it wasn’t just my amazing dick making you say it.”

You laughed. It felt so fucking good to laugh with him again. Had there been any doubt about your feelings for him, that would have sealed it. 

“Eddie Munson, I love you.” you said, looking into his eyes. “And if you ever do something stupid like that again, I’m going to be the one to kill you personally.”

“I love you, too.” he said, and for the first time in a week, his eyes were clear. There was no haunted look in his eyes, no anger, no frustration. For this brief night before reality came back the two of you could just exist with each other. Neither of you knew what was going to happen after this evening, but you knew in your gut that the two of you were going to get through this together. 

----

Please comment and reblog <3

Alternative title: Use Your Tears As Lube

If you cried you have to legally tell me. I'm keeping count.

[chelseeebe]

never leave (nevermind)

18+ mdni. canon compliant sorta kinda. takes place during the events of s4. violent scenes described. r and eddie are exes. reader gets vecna'd. lots of angst.

a/n: i've been writing this on and off for what feels like months and it's definitely noticeable in parts where my writing improves drastically. howeverrr, i've been wanting to write something s4 related for a while bc most of my fics are au's and as fun as they are, the canon material is also v fun (just very difficult to translate into a fic)

8.9k words.

being home for spring break meant one thing; avoiding eddie munson like the plague. 

it wasn’t exactly easy what with being practically neighbours but you’d certainly tried to make yourself invisible around the trailer park. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you hadn’t seen him for eleven months, not even a trace of that wild hair until one friday night when his van screamed down the gravel road, music bleating loud enough for you to hear inside. you’d known it was d&d night, he still held the club at the high school and no doubt would still be in charge of it, even after he eventually graduates. 

you shouldn’t have even looked. it’s not like you wanted to see him. just curious as to why he felt the need to make so much noise so late at night. 

that’s when your eyes saw her, green hawkins high skirt and the fluffy ponytail to match, flouncing out of the van without a care in the world. 

chrissy cunningham wasn’t exactly who you’d imagined eddie would go for. she was prim and proper, wasn’t into smoking weed and talking about ozzy osbourne but pom poms and cheer routines instead. 

it shouldn’t even hurt. 

you’d been broken up for the best part of a year, away to college, living what was supposed to be your best life. 

but it does. 

pangs through your chest in insurmountable waves, rushing to duck down beneath the window before either of them saw you peeking. 

you don’t dare look out again, maybe it was the fear of being caught or more likely for fear of hurting yourself anymore. 

eddie’s single, he can do what or whomever he likes. 

slinking back into the couch, hoping the crackly tv would drown out any of the lingering thoughts. 

a sharp, stabbing sensation rings through your head, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to shut it down. 

only since you’d been back here, in hawkins had you felt it. people always whispered about how this town was cursed, perhaps it was you after all, bringing the bad luck to the innocent people of this shit hole. 

you drag your feet along the corridor to your bedroom, deciding that being buried beneath your blanket was better than constantly punishing yourself with sly glances out the window. 

-

a multitude of fists pummel at your door, sunlight just barely breaking through the clouds as your eyes open. 

nothing in this world could be so important to cause this reaction, especially not at this time of the day. 

you slink to the door, grumbling your way through the trailer. 

the door swings open, revealing a very out of breath dustin henderson and max mayfield, looking frantic as they pant on your doorstep. 

“what the hell? it’s nine am,” you grunt, wondering how the two even knew you were home. 

being with eddie had meant you’d come to adopt the gaggle of kids he played d&d with, driving them to and from games, offering a place to stay when their parents thought they were at each others houses while they were actually fighting monsters. 

the usual. 

the monster stuff was secondary, getting thrown into the deep end last summer after what was supposed to be a shitty mall job to save up for college, had turned into slimy monsters trying to kill you. 

eddie had only really seen the aftermath, the piles of what remained of starcourt on the floor and the cuts that littered your limbs. you had told him that night what had actually happened, terrified that the government were listening at your door, ready and waiting to throw you in jail for speaking about what you’d seen. 

dustin had made it very clear that you had to be careful not to talk too openly about it, delving into the whole world that rumbled beneath your town. 

you weren’t exactly eager to relive that night in the mall, a haze of slobbering monsters and telekinetic little girls. putting it to the back of your mind as some weird fever dream, a symptom of living in hawkins. 

“eddie’s in trouble,” dustin frowns, “is your mom here?” forcing himself into the trailer, max at his heels. 

“no she’s not-” closing the door behind the rude tweens, “i’m sorry- what’d you say?” hoping you’d misheard him. 

he peers down the hall, lousily checking the perimeter, “eddie’s in trouble,” completely serious. 

“and what does that have to do with me?” putting your hands on your hips, hoping to display some sort of authority, though it rendered useless against their stubborn attitudes. 

“remember the mall?” he deadpans, grabbing the phone from your wall as max pulls out a list of numbers. 

“yeah? i’m still not.. why’re you here? you can’t help him at his trailer?” 

dustin sighs, long and exaggerated, “he’s not at his trailer. we don’t know where he is,” aggressively punching in numbers, “and why didn’t you tell me you were back? i thought we were friends!” ever the sarcastic little dweeb you’d always had a soft spot for. 

“i didn’t tell anyone,” shrugging as you slink into the kitchen, deciding that if they were going to stay, you were at least going to need coffee, “i still don’t understand what’s going on!” 

“we’ll explain later,” max yells, fumbling around in her backpack. 

you tut, relieved that the pounding in your head had subsided at least. 

-

you’re somehow roped into driving the two to family video, receiving the details on the drive over. 

cops had swarmed the trailer park by the time you were ready, piling into wayne’s trailer, talking in hushed voices and yelling at anyone that dared to leave their own homes. 

wayne had come back from work this morning to find chrissy cunningham’s body on his floor. limbs broken and her eyes weeping with blood. 

any sane human would assume it was eddie’s doing. he didn’t exactly hold the best reputation in this damned town, but you knew murder wasn’t anything he was capable of. 

“that monster, from the mall,” dustin continues, leaning over the centre console, “that has something to do with this, i know it,” speaking with such confidence that you had no choice but to believe him. 

“how do you know that?” you question wearily, pulling into the parking lot, “i’m not saying i don’t believe you, but how do you know for sure?”

“well,” he buffers, “i don’t, but i’m 99.9 percent certain,” hopping out of the car before you can get another word in. 

you contemplate just waiting in the car for them to be done with whatever the fuck it is they’re even doing. not keen on seeing more people you really didn’t want to. 

you follow them in either way, ducking your head in some half-assed disguise. 

“-dustin!” robin squeals, reaching out to grab his arm, “those are my returns, you dweeb!” 

she and steve turn to you, perfectly in-sync, “when the hell did you get back?” speaking in unison. it’d be unsettling if you hadn’t spent the entirety of last summer with them both. 

you shake your head, “uh..” regretting your decision not to just wait in the car, “a few days ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” robin huffs, thankfully distracted with the mess dustin was inflicting upon her store to chastise you too badly. 

“sorry,” you say meekly, picking up the fallen tapes from the floor as a shitty kind of apology. 

she smiles gently at you, before turning back to dustin with a seeding hatred in her eyes, “what are you little nerds even doing here? do you not have anyone else to piss off on a saturday morning?”

“eddie’s in trouble,” dustin repeats for what is probably the thousandth time today, holding the receiver up to his ear. 

“oh eddie?” steve quips, “what’d he do this time?”

dustin holds his finger up to shush him, unloading his rehearsed spiel down the phone to whoever. 

steve looks over to you for some clarity but you just shrug, not really any wiser on what was actually going than he was. 

this goes on for what feels like hours, listening to dustin and max inquire about eddie to each and every person on their call list, just to end up with a dejected frown when absolutely nobody has heard from him. 

“rick,” dustin nods, drumming his fingers against the desk, “rick! he said he was going to meet rick today! d’you know where reefer rick lives?” swivelling in his chair to glare at you. 

“reefer rick?” robin repeats with such disdain, it’d honestly have been nicer if she’d just laughed in his face. 

you shrug, “i don’t know.. maybe?” offering absolutely zero insight whatsoever. 

“you know, you were only together for four years,” he snarls, doing nothing to help his cause. 

“oh i’m so sorry that i can’t remember every single place we went together,” you hiss back. 

dustin eyes the empty computer and you can almost see the lightbulb go off above his head. tapping into the family video system as if he had any right to be here. 

“you’re not supposed to be on that!” robin hollers, reaching for the mouse though his hands are quicker. 

“stop it!” he screeches, typing rapidly into the computer, “jesus christ, how many rick’s are there?” scrolling the plethora of rick names that had appeared. 

he figures it out pretty quickly. 

realising that reefer rick probably wasn’t using the local video rental store to watch sixteen candles or risky business. 

“you know where that is?” he asks steve, tapping the address on screen. 

“uh.. i think so,” steve wavers, squinting his eyes. 

“great,” dustin shoots up, grabbing his backpack without a second thought, “you drive,” pointing at steve, “you follow,” turning to you, giving zero alternative or chance to protest before he’s out the door, tugging at the handle of steve’s car. 

-

you do as he says, obviously. fearing that if he were to be left alone with robin for too long, she might just wring his neck. 

eddie’s nowhere to be found, the house looks empty and his van isn’t here leaving you back at square one. 

“he has to be here,” dustin frets, pointing at the large shed on the other side of the yard, “let’s just have a look.. you wanna find him don’t you?” turning to you specifically. 

a few years ago you would’ve said yes with zero hesitation but now you’re not sure if you even care. the thought of seeing eddie again makes you a little nauseous. not even owing to the fact that he was a potential murder suspect. 

“why’re you looking at me?” you scowl, “i think we should just leave this to the police.”

“no!” stopping dead in his tracks, “they’ll kill him and you know that,” his eyes sharp as everyone falls into silence. 

he was right, as he often is. which makes this all the more irritating. 

you nod, gesturing for him to continue to the rundown shack behind the house. 

there’s nothing in there, at least no signs of one eddie munson. 

it all just seems useless. if eddie had used the neglected brain in his head, he’d be far away 

from hawkins by now. he was nifty enough to survive on his own, you were sure about that. 

steve jabs at the tarpaulin as you peer out of the door and into the quickly darkening night sky, spinning rapidly as the tarp crinkles and something comes flying out. 

eddie. 

with his hands now pinning steve back against the wall, chest heaving with sheer, seething anger. 

only dropping his hold on him when it registers who it actually is, eyes wide and startled. 

a million and one feelings rush through your veins. you hadn’t prepared to actually see him again, to now be stilled by the sight of him locking eyes with you. 

the slow realisation dawns on him, quickly forgetting that he was a wanted man, all encompassed by your presence in this suddenly stifling shed. 

steve gasps for air, breaking the tension and pulling the attention back to him. robin’s quick to soothe his arm while dustin launches into a quick scolding for eddie. 

it’s not long before he moves onto the next phase of his master plan, dragging max to the corner to loudly discuss what they should do. 

“when’d you get back?” eddie asks, leaning against the dusty wood panelling, “i haven’t seen you..” his voice cracks but he’s unwavering. 

good, you thought. though really it was all useless now. 

“couple’a days ago..” picking at the wood splinter on the wall, “when’d you start murdering teenagers?” hoping it wasn’t too harsh of a dig. 

“ha ha,” he deadpans, running his hand over his face, “you don’t think i did it, do you?” worry seeping through his tone. 

you shake your head no, choosing to meet his eyes, a little reassurance that even if you did think he was a loser, you definitely didn’t think he was a murderer too. 

he nods, sighing into his palm, “fuck,” deflated, exhausted by the day he had endured, “they’re gonna kill me,” shrunken into himself, resembling a dejected little puppy. 

“they’re not gonna kill you,” but your voice shakes a little, not unnoticed by eddie. 

“you don’t sound so sure,” he chuckles, turning his gaze to the rotting floorboards. he looked horrible, to put it nicely. the bags under his eyes were dark and his hair an even wilder mess than usual. 

“i’m not really,” refusing to lie to him, even now. 

he looks up again, unwavering melancholy in his eye, “how’d you find me?” 

you glance over at dustin’s busybody, passionately explaining the next steps to an exhausted looking steve, his hands gesturing for a fight. “he tracked down rick’s address from family video and then wouldn’t let us leave until we found you.” 

eddie grin grows, finding the motivation to get himself off of the dirty floor, “yeah.. sounds about right.” 

you’re too close for comfort now that you’re eye to eye, uncomfortably close while your relationship was still so fragile. 

he breaks away first, striding over to dustin, “what’s the plan? i really need you to save my ass, dude.” 

dustin nods, vowing to keep eddie alive, no matter what it takes. 

-

dustin doesn’t hang around. 

the minute the suns risen, he’s pounding on the bedroom door, waking the sleeping pile of limbs you’d collapsed in. 

“i’m gonna kill him.. i’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” robin grumbles, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, staring daggers at the door. 

“eddie’s not answering!” he hollers, busting through the door, “we have to go back to rick’s! now!” pulling at nancy’s arm, presuming that steve had told him no to driving him around this early. 

you rouse just enough to really see the panicked look on his face, swinging your legs off of the bed to grab his shoulders, “what happened? we can go i just need five minutes.”

“he’s not answering,” panting between his words, “i told him to check in at six! it’s nearly six thirty.. something’s wrong.”

“okay,” you nod, trying to wake yourself up, “okay.. let me get dressed,” finding your discarded pants and practically jumping into them. 

dustin’s in the passenger seat before you can even run a brush through your hair, only just able to brush your teeth before he’s got his fist on the horn. 

“jesus christ dude,” you exclaim, shoving the keys into the ignition and speeding off before he has the chance to chastise you again. 

you’re grateful that it’s still early and the chances of getting a ticket are slim because you most definitely had broken some kind of speed limit, but truthfully it was mostly to get dustin to shut the hell up. 

knowing eddie meant that you knew he was probably fast asleep, ignoring the cracklings of the walkie for the sake of a couple extra minutes of shuteye. 

you turn down the long wooded drive, wondering if rick was back yet and just how he’d react to eddie’s ex-girlfriend and some random kid showing up on his doorstep at seven in the morning. 

you’re forced to slam on the breaks, almost sending dustin through the windscreen as eddie’s face appears before you, his hands slam the hood, screaming something nonsensical. 

“ohmygodohmygod,” he rushes, throwing himself into the backseat of your car, “you need to drive!”

“what the hell happened?” dustin probes as you turn around, only now seeing the barrage of cars parked outside of the house. 

“jason..” he gasps, “those fucking meatheads he hangs around with.. they just showed up,” sliding down into the footwell just as jason rounds the corner of the house, yelling something about your car as you hightail the fuck out of there. 

“they.. they- they think i’m the devil or some shit,” eddie gasps, his petrified face appearing in the gap between your seats, “they’re fucking crazy man.. fuck!” 

your fingers tighten around the steering wheel, hoping to speed away before they got wise enough to follow you. 

jason wasn’t much but his lackeys would have zero issue beating the shit out of eddie, or you for that matter. 

you instinctively go to the first place you can think of, which in hindsight seems like a mistake now the gravel is crunching beneath your wheels. 

forest hills was still crawling with cops trying to determine who or what had killed chrissy, though thankfully at daybreak their presence seemed to have dwindled a little. 

“we should be okay here for a while.. stay in the car until i get the door open,” flashing him a harsh glare to make sure he really understands. 

the three of you barrel into your trailer, grateful for the silence, unsure of how you’d ever explain this entire situation to your mom. 

“shit man,” eddie marvels the walls, mouth hung open, “haven’t seen the inside of this thing for.. a while,” a sadness to his tone. 

“yup,” choosing to ignore his glum cadence in favour of keeping the peace, “you can sleep in my bed,” tossing your keys into the bowl. 

“you sure?” eddie asks, though he’s already making his way up the hall, all too familiar with your trailer. 

“knock yourself out,” collapsing onto the couch to resume your own interrupted slumber. in a time not so long ago, you’d have relished crawling up next to eddie in bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to tuck you up under his armpit. 

you brush off the glum feeling, wrapping your own arms around your body instead. 

dustin gets to alerting the wheeler residence, informing them all that eddie’s okay and you were going to hang out here until he came up with some plan.  

it’s almost noon before eddie rises again, asking if he can take a shower before dustin unleashes his plan. 

that horrid buzzing niggles it’s way back into your brain. a dull pain that quickly becomes sharp, stabbing at the sides of your head. 

“are you okay?” dustin questions nervously, ditching his notebook to step closer with caution. 

your fingers clutch your temple, unable to form a coherent sentence as the pain throbs through your frontal lobe. features screwed up in searing pain. 

“eddie!” he screeches, his fists pummelling against the bathroom door. 

eddie emerges, towel slung around his waist, barely able to turn the water on yet, “what? what the hell is going on?” quickly shutting up when he sees your sorry state. “are you okay? what happened?” rushing over without a second thought. 

dustin stands in horror just behind, watching as eddie’s thumb swipes the underside of your nose, coming back an unexpected shade of maroon. 

“she just dropped! i-i don’t.. i’ve never seen this before!”

“you’re bleeding,” eddie fuses, “dustin.. tissue now,” tilting your chin upwards. 

the pain subsides slightly, allowing your eyes to reopen and meet his, “there’s.. tylenol in the drawer,” letting him keep your chin between his fingers.

dustin speeds around the room, collecting supplies as your laboured breaths become easier, the ache dissipating as quickly as it came on. 

eddie dabs at your nose until it’s clean, shaking out two of the pills onto his palm for you to take. “what the hell was that?” nagging yet concerned all rolled into one. 

“i dunno, i’ve been getting these.. headaches, since i’ve been back,” looking between dustin’s horrified face and eddie’s distressed one.  “it’s probably nothing.” 

“that didn’t look like nothing,” dustin adds, still wary of your state. with all of the supernatural happenings at the moment, he had right to be. 

“it’s fine,” shrugging them both off before the questions got too much. “what’s the plan dustin?”

he and eddie share another glance, pretending that you weren’t right there in front of them. “uh..” erring the line of caution before jumping right into it, “okay so we need to go down.. down there.”

-

it’s stupid, reckless even. 

but what other choice do you have when the world is caving in and your ex-boyfriend is on the run from the police? 

eddie climbs through the window of the rv, pulling your eyes away with a quickness as his shirt rises up to reveal his lower back. 

the door swings open some moments later, gesturing for you all to climb inside as he gets to hot-wiring the gargantuan vehicle. 

you pile into the back, ducking below the windows while his fingers fiddle with the live wires. 

“do you even know what you’re doing?” nancy asks, her eyebrow raised in quiet concern. 

“nancy please,” eddie huffs, “while your dad was teaching you how to ride a bike, my dad was teaching me how to hot-wire a car.. i know what i’m doing.” 

she hums, settling into the passenger seat without another word. 

it shouldn’t be attractive. you should think it’s utterly reprehensible to steal and engage with such criminal behaviour. 

but you can’t. 

not with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth like that, his hands whirring away as robin looks on with a screwed up face. 

the engine roars loud, alerting the entire trailer park to your existence. eddie hightails it into the back, choosing the empty spot next to you as he yells for steve to drive. 

this all so ridiculous, flying about the back of the rv as steve speeds out of town. finding somewhere solitary for you all to prepare. 

-

everyone seems to be in cahoots about something, scarpering from the rv the second you walk inside. leaving you and eddie to navigate through the uncomfortable tension alone. 

you take a seat anyway, picking up the discarded knife on the table, running your finger along the dull blade with a sigh. 

you’d never imagined that the two of you could ever be so awkward together, having been close for the entirety of your lives, it felt awful to not even want to look at him now. 

“i’m sorry.. about chrissy,” you swallow, still sharpening the knife, hoping he won’t say something to make you drive it into his throat. 

the rest of the group ‘prepare’ loudly outside. dustin screeching at the top of his lungs for steve to put him down while robin tuts in annoyance. 

eddie looks up, a little glum, “yeah.. she was a good girl, she didn’t deserve that,” dropping his own knife on the table in front of you with a clatter. 

“i didn’t realise you two were.. together or whatever,” the look on his face immediately forces you to regret your words, hoping the ground would just swallow you whole. 

he scoffs, “together?” knocking his knee into yours softly, “you thought we were together?” 

oh my god. it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. cheeks burning as your eyes meet his, “oh! i thought.. someone said.. i don’t- i don’t know,” clinging onto the knife with sweaty palms, deciding whether to slice your own mouth off so nothing else could fall out of it. 

“she was buying weed,” he laughs quietly, “pretty girl but.. not really my type, you know?” 

you nod, looking back at the table in hopes that he’d just drop it now. so much for being the nonchalant, cool ex. all you’d done is solidify your psycho status. 

“i haven’t really..” he begins again, never knowing when to leave well enough alone, “i haven’t moved on, i guess,” shrugging as his own gaze slips. 

if you were going to live through the end of the world, you hoped it’d come soon. the tension in this cramped rv was enough to make whatever was happening with the underworld seem like a dream. 

“oh!” is all you can conjure up. unsure of what response he was expecting from you. the breakup had been amicable.. sort of. to you, it made sense to breakup. you were away to college and he was repeating senior year again. you had almost died in the town you grew up in, he hadn’t. 

it was a multitude of happenings that forced you apart. grief and it’s intertwining webs of despair had proved too much for your relationship. too much for you to handle on your own. 

eddie hadn’t agreed. 

he couldn’t understand it, why you needed out of hawkins so bad. but he wasn’t there, hadn’t seen the things you had. 

the guilt had wrecked you for the first few months, afraid that you’d abandoned him in that very town for a new life after promising for so long that you wouldn’t. 

“sorry, i shouldn’t have said that- i didn’t mean anything by it,” he fumbles, pulling on his bottom lip, “well i did! just.. not the time or place, you get me?” digging himself further into his hole. 

your eyes meet his again, gnawing at the skin on your bottom lip, “it’s okay.. you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“i think what i meant to say was that i missed you.. i’m glad you’re back,” eddie coughs, un-jumbling his words at last. 

it’s simple enough and really shouldn’t make your heart swell the way it does. you weren’t together. he wasn’t yours. that was that. 

but maybe there’s something about experiencing the end of the world with someone that makes you a little reminiscent. 

“i missed you too,” you smile, hoping that the overwhelming feeling of adrenaline is just from the interdimensional monster that lay beneath you and absolutely nothing to do with his doe eyes and plump lips. 

his eyes flicker, trailing from your eyes to your lips. the air seems to shift around you, leaving the room at an expedient rate. 

“you missed me?” eddie growls, looking back into your eyes, “then why’d you leave me here?” a deep set frown forming on his lips that wasn’t there a minute earlier. 

“what?” you question, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanour. 

“you left me. you left me here to die after you told me you wouldn’t,” he snarls, leaning closer. 

his eyes are glossy now, glazed over with what looks like tears. 

“i didn’t.. no,” backing away from him, “you were supposed to come with me.. you.. you..” shaking your head. 

eddie’s eyes change completely now, pupils turning a slick grey. a dark cloud fills the room, overflowing out of the tiny window, covering the furniture and your body with the thick smog. 

“it’s your fault,” the voice rumbles, no longer bearing any semblance to eddie’s, the walls decay in front of your eyes, wallpaper rotting as they crack and crumble. 

“it’s your fault,” it repeats, louder this time, “he’s going to die,” it cackles, filling the room with the booming voice. 

“no,” you scream into the void, thrashing around to find the source, “take me! take me instead!” yelling as loud as your throat would allow, but it’s futile. 

there’s no one here. 

eddie had gone. crumbled into a pile of ash on the floor, left on your own in some barren wasteland, the blood-curdling screams of menacing creatures travel through your body. 

“you can’t save yourself,” the voice booms, pulling your eyes to the horrific humanoid figure stood amongst the ruins. 

“what do you want?” you scream, stepping backwards over the rubble. 

the man.. thing just smiles, “i’ve been watching you for some time, you shouldn’t have come back here,” walking towards your cowering frame. 

“w-why? who are you?” fingers trembling as you attempt to grab onto something, anything to bring you back to earth. 

everything you grasp crumbles into ashes, disappearing before your eyes as you struggle to breathe. wheezing through the dark clouds, not an inch of relief. 

“we’ve met before,” completely ominous, “you don’t remember me?” tilting his head to the side. 

it feels like you’ve seen it before, somewhere in a far away dreamland. 

that’s when it clicks. 

the bad dreams you’d been having, there had always been something there, a presence you couldn’t ever see clearly. 

but now it makes sense. 

“h-how did you do that? how did you get into my dreams?” the rubble beneath your feet disappeared with every step. 

his head shakes and the landscape rumbles, a clattering of stones fall to the ground, jolting your body backwards. 

“you let me in,” he rumbles, stepping closer, “you’re the reason any of this is happening.. it’s time for you to pay.” 

his spindly fingers reach out, forcing you further and further back until your foot catches against  a stone, sending you flying backwards into a sudden abyss. 

you awaken with a harsh gasp, eyes opening to find eddie towering above, his brows threaded together in fear as the others screech around you. 

“she’s awake! are you okay?” eddie rushes, holding your face between his palms, “oh my god,” as white as a sheet, shock rippling through his body. 

you nod, blinking in the sudden bright light, exhausted from doing nothing at all. nothing felt real except eddie’s fingers brushing over your worn skin. 

too tired for tears, too afraid to speak. your eyes shut on their own, trying to ground yourself back in this reality. 

you relax into his hold, your breathing falling into line with his as their voices turn into humming background noise, focusing on the path of eddie’s fingertips instead. 

-

eddie hadn’t dared to leave your side, following you around like a lost puppy, watchful eyes widening every time you moved or breathed too loud. 

it would’ve felt suffocating if you weren’t scared to death. instead, it was a welcome comfort. a sense of familiarity in the most awful time. 

you felt immense guilt, knowing that the end of the world had to happen for you to speak to him again. the man you’d gotten married to a thousand times in your head, the man you’d had a plethora of baby names with. it was all so insane. 

dustin hadn’t exactly instilled much confidence in you. with news of fred benson and patrick mckinney’s deaths, he had figured out the pattern of attack. 

they’d all died the same way, eyes burst and their limbs snapped one by one. 

eddie had recalled how chrissy went into a similar trance, her eyes glossed over, completely unresponsive. though the moment he’d said it, his heart sank, realising that chrissy wasn’t the only one he’d witnessed like that. 

logically, that meant that you were next. 

dustin had uncovered what was essentially a countdown to your death. nobody wanted to say it, or even acknowledge it, but you weren’t stupid. 

that meant that whatever plan he had, he had to perfect tonight, ready to attack tomorrow. 

before it’s too late. 

he’d said the quiet part out loud. a shared grimace encompassing the room, pitiful glances in your direction. 

despite the fact that your demise was quickly approaching, you had felt a strange sense of peace. perhaps actually knowing your fate was better than not knowing. 

there would be an end to all of this. 

-

steve had offered his house for you all, his parents away on some trip for the next week meaning eddie could hide out in peace. a much better arrangement than the wheeler’s house again, ted had started to despise the groups of teenagers in his basement. 

sleeping bags and blankets strewn across his gigantic living room, sleeping bodies filling every spare inch of carpet. none of you wanted to be apart for more than five minutes. sleeping on top one another was the ultimate comfort. 

eddie had volunteered for first watch, keeping his eye steady on you from the corner of the room. 

it’s a little difficult to fall asleep knowing that he was watching you like a hawk, surveying every tiny change and movement. 

dustin was supposed to take over at some point in the early hours, but judging by the sounds of his rumbling snore, that wouldn’t be happening. 

you sit up, shuffling over to eddie’s perch, avoiding your sleeping friends on the ground. 

his eyes dart to the floor, as if he hadn’t been staring intensely at you for the last hour.

“d’you have a cigarette?” you whisper, knocking your knee into his. 

he nods, raising his brow, “you don’t smoke?” baffled by your question. 

you shrug, smiling into the darkness, “how would you know?” hoping it didn’t come across as snappy as it seemed. 

he doesn’t reply, just shuffles around in his pocket, producing the scuffed up box with his lighter. 

you nod towards the door, getting up from the floor with a small groan. limbs still aching and weary from your run in with death earlier. 

he follows behind, glancing at the room of sleeping teens before slipping out onto the porch with you. 

steve’s house was secluded, the massive back yard and the trees that surrounded it made sure that no one would find him here. 

you perch on one of the lounge chairs, gesturing for eddie to join you, watching the steam from the pool dissipate into the chilly march night air. despite being in the same tiny town, his house was worlds apart from the trailer park you two grew up on. 

he places a cigarette in your palm before sliding one between his own lips, passing you the lighter first. 

it’s a silent exchange, unsure if you could talk about anything without crying, though it’s meaningful. eddie had been selfish plenty of times during your relationship but at his core, he’d put you before himself each and every time. 

you light the cigarette, gazing off into the distance. hoping to god that he wouldn’t bring what had happened earlier up. 

“when’d you start smoking?” he asks, keeping a respectable distance between you though he wishes that wasn’t something he had to worry about. 

“when i found out that i was dying tomorrow,” exhaling slow, trying not to let your voice wobble. 

he sighs, “you’re not gonna die,” with less conviction than you’d have liked, “you can’t die,” shaking his head at such a ridiculous thought, “you won’t.. you won’t,” mostly for his own sake. 

your eyes squeeze shut, heart aching, squeezing your chest tight. last week you’d been terrified about your literature final and now none of it even mattered. 

“what if i do?” you ask earnestly, finally meeting his eyes, “everyone else has? we don’t know if dustin’s right.. if we can beat him,” shrugging helplessly. 

chrissy had died, patrick had died, fred had died. that meant you were next. 

his jaw clenches, wishing you’d stop, “you’re not,” throwing his cigarette butt to the side, “i won’t let you, okay?” 

you nod, albeit not believing a word he said. it was difficult to be so optimistic when the only evidence you had, said otherwise. 

“this vecna..” eddie begins again, “he doesn’t know what’s about to hit him,” sounding slightly more confident than before, “we’re gonna kill him and you’re.. you’re gonna live and graduate and do all that great shit you still have to do.” 

you don’t mistake the pain in his voice, the knowing that he should be there for all of that and that it had been his own fault for now being a footnote in the story of your life. 

“i really do miss you,” you clarify, “i’m not sure how much of our conversation earlier was a vision or not..” 

eddie chuckles, breath shaky and unstable, “no.. you said that before, you know- before you got possessed,” bumping his shoulder into yours, thankfully injecting his fucked up humour into the otherwise dark conversation. 

“was it scary?” 

he scoffs, almost offended that you’d even ask, “i shit my pants,” smiling with the side of his mouth, not fully committed, “reminded me of that stupid movie you made me watch.” 

he had never liked horror movies, this tough guy exterior that exclusively listened to metal was all a guise. he’d watched the film through his fingers, clinging onto your arm. 

“you were very brave though,” letting your cigarette fall to the floor, sure to be lectured by steve in the morning. 

he shies away, looking down for a brief second, “i’m not gonna let what happened to chrissy happen to you too..” meeting your gaze once more, “i promise.” 

“i don’t think you can promise that,” sharing a meaningful glance. 

“i can and i will.”

you nod hesitantly. his words, as much as you’d like to believe them, meant nothing when the supernatural was at play. 

his eyes flicker down to your lips, just like they used to so many months ago. but you don’t pull back, only leaning in further. 

if you lived past tomorrow, you’d no doubt regret this but as that wasn’t looking at all likely, what was a kiss between traumatised exes? 

eddie makes the first real move, his palm coming to cradle your cheek. you hope to god this isn’t another vision, that he won’t be cruelly torn away from you this time. 

“is this real?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, sighing as you do. 

“this is real,” he assures, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “d’you want to stop?” 

“no,” closing the already dwindling space between you, placing your hand on his in such earnest intimacy, a sensation you’d missed so deeply for an entire year. 

your lips touch, your eyes falling shut as his breaths start to steady, humming into your mouth in satisfaction. 

it didn’t feel so bad now, nothing could be so utterly terrifying while you’re touching him like this. 

eddie breaks away first, only a few inches of distance, just to gaze into your starry eyes, “i never thought i’d be able to do that again,” with utmost sincerity. 

“you weren’t supposed to,” shaking your head. if things had gone according to your plan, you’d have never seen him again. 

but it doesn’t work that way. 

fate had other plans for you. 

his lips twitch into a small smile, thumb drawing over your tired cheeks, “can i do it again?” 

“please.” 

connecting your lips once more, the cold tip of his nose bumping softly against yours. it was impossible not to notice how well you fit together, moving in synchronicity and with such tenderly care. 

inside, dustin wakes up in a cold sweat. looking over at the empty spot on the floor where you should be, but now we’re not. 

“shitshitshit,” he panics, whispering loudly to himself as he crashes around the house, stepping over the sleeping bodies. 

dustin’s panicked face shoots up from the window, gawping at the barely visible sight, straining to make out what the fuck he was even seeing. 

it only dawns on him when your lips leave eddie’s, foreheads resting together that it would be in his best interest to not interject and end up with his ass beat. 

you come back in some twenty minutes later, after a plethora of shared kisses and soothing words. deciding to settle in the same empty spot on the floor, his hand only comfortable enough to grace your waist, under the blanket. 

now wasn’t the time for questions or prying eyes judging your decision. you weren’t even too sure yourself. 

it’s the only time you’ve felt comfortable enough to sleep tonight, watching his chest rise and fall, knowing that he was here, alive and that for right now, you were too. 

-

the carnage pulls you from your sleep, people yelling over pancakes and glass clattering as max’s shrill voice scolds lucas for being too loud. 

you look around at the mess of blankets and empty sleeping bags, the door to the living room was closed though it made no difference. 

you’d have preferred to stay in the empty room, unwilling to address the situation with eddie last night but your stomach rumbles, pulling you out of the room and into the bright, bustling hallway. 

robin swings out of the kitchen at the sound of your presence. she’d clearly tried to help with the breakfast efforts, though unsuccessfully, emerging with flour down her shirt, jeans and somehow in her hair. she smiles gently at your weary eyes, “we didn’t wanna wake you.. you were knocked out.”

“thanks rob,” even though their incessant arguing and yelling did eventually rouse you from your sleep. 

in the kitchen, dustin sits with his feet swinging off the tall stool, a too-wide, toothy grin growing on his face the second he spots you, “well good morning! how’d you sleep?” a sarcastic little quip that you know holds something deeper. 

“great thanks, you?” narrowing your eyes as you fill a mug with coffee. 

he waits for steve to exit the room, turning back to you with the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable, “yeah, really good,” he twists his body to peer out of the door, ensuring no one could hear, “so you and eddie huh?” 

“me and eddie what?” refusing to entertain his cryptic questions. 

“i saw you two last night, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” wiggling his stupid brows as he shovels yet another pancake into his uncontrollable, jabbering mouth. 

“and i saw you wet the bed last year, do you want to go there?” flinging his taunting right back at him. 

dustin’s mouth falls open, “you can be a real bitch, you know that?” taking his heaped plate back into the living room. 

steve strolls back in, staring down dustin’s scowl before his eyes trail to you, “what’s wrong with him?” 

you smile, tight-lipped and fully loaded as you pour a cup of coffee, “oh nothing,” looking over the food with slight disgust. the hunger hadn’t really hit you yet, too occupied with trying not to die to care about pancakes. 

eddie interrupts your noisy brain, cackling as he comes into the kitchen, “maybe you should stop being such a smart-ass then,” immediately quietening down when he spots you. 

you don’t speak, instead communicating with a shared look before you focus on the cup of coffee in your hand. 

steve looks slowly between the two of you, “you good?” 

“yeah.”

“yup.” 

you both simultaneously reply, refusing to acknowledge the tension in the empty kitchen. 

“o-kay,” steve whistles, deciding that sitting with dustin and his terrible attitude would be far better than whatever this was. 

it’s not supposed to be awkward. 

it was just a kiss. or multiple. 

a few kisses between exes during the end of the world. that’s all. 

“d’you sleep okay?” he dares to ask, feeling comfortable enough to make eye contact now that steve had left. 

“yeah.. thank you, for looking after me,” smiling gently at the bleary eyed boy. 

“i told you i would,” he reaffirms, “you’re not doing this on your own.” 

“i know,” you nod, swallowing the growing lump, “but i’m scared eds.. i don’t want you to die because of me.” 

eddie tuts, rounding the counter to place his hand on your arm, “that’s not-,”

dustin hollers, falling through the kitchen door, giving away the groups prying position, “ow shithead!” shoving lucas backwards as they materialise one by one. 

dustin, lucas, max, erica. 

in that order.

“are you fucking serious?” you screech, throwing your arms into the air. 

this was low even for dustin. 

“sorry! sorry! go back to confessing your love or whatever the hell was happening!” scurrying off to finish his pancakes and no doubt inform robin and steve what they’d witnessed. 

“i can’t believe him,” you frown, turning to eddie who’s stifling his laugh. “it’s not funny,” but your lips twitch anyway. 

“it’s kinda funny,” his hand still lingering on your arm, his smile reaching his eyes, “you don’t care if they know.. do you?” 

you shrug, perhaps you did care a little bit. you were the one who’d broken up with him, deserted him for college. maybe you didn’t deserve a second chance. 

“it’s okay..” he nods, as understanding as always, “this is weird, i get it," as understanding as he was, he wasn't able to conceal the dejected puppy gleam in his eye.

"it's not that," pathetically reaching for his hand, "i'm just.. i'm supposed to die today, i don't want to.. lead you on, or get your hopes up or whatever," putting your finger up to stop eddie from interrupting, "i don't need you to tell me that i'm not. just let me spiral about this," smiling as you speak, truly a means to soothe yourself, not just eddie.

"o..okay," his whole speech shut down, leaving him with nothing. his eyes flit over to the mountains of food steve had whipped up, "you should eat.. you've got a busy day of not dying to get through," smirking right through your snide glare.

-

something feels off, a nervous twisting in your stomach that makes you want to call the entire thing off. 

you could go down there and fight this with them. screw whatever prophetic visions you’d had. 

eddie hadn’t even wanted to go, desperate to stay in the attic with you, watching over in fear of losing you again. 

“what if.. what if something happens and they don’t know how to fix it? they’re kids.” he’d pleaded, sat on the porch outside of the large house in your final moments of peace. 

“dustin can’t do this on his own,” you cooed, only slightly wishing that he could execute this plan on his own. “you have to go. i’ll be okay..okay?” not entirely certain about the truthfulness of your words. 

he takes a sharp intake of breath, fingers forming a weak fist, “you better be,” the moon reflecting off of his caramel iris’, capturing the entire universe in two tiny orbs, “i don’t want to lose you again.” 

your head dips, quickly losing the ability to look him in the eye, overwhelmed with guilt and the reminder that you had been the one to end things. 

“it’s okay,” grabbing your hand to place on his bouncing knee, “i’m not.. mad about it, or upset and you shouldn’t be either,” squeezing your fingers in a bid to draw your eyes back to him. 

“i don’t-,” huffing a frustrated sigh, unable to form a coherent thought when the impending battle loomed over your heads. “everything is so fucked and i don’t know if we’re gonna make it this time.” 

eddie’s fingers lace between yours, holding your hand tighter, “we’re gonna be fine.. okay? everyone is gonna be fine,” inching closer in the thick of the night, “i’m gonna be right back here, as soon as that bastard is dead.. i promise.” 

this time, you punctuate his sentence for him, springing forward to latch your lips to his, using your free hand to cradle his stubbly cheek. 

you long to kiss him forever, never escaping this embrace, knowing that there’s a chance it won’t happen again. his lips soft, desperate to stay attached to you, too. 

“oh! shit! uhm-,” robin stutters, clattering out of the door. 

you break apart, containing the low groan of disappointment, “sorry rob.. ‘s everything okay?” eddie’s as bashful as ever, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet, even in the darkness. 

“yeah! uh.. nancy told me to tell you that we’ve gotta go now or it’ll be too late,” swinging from the door as she speaks. 

he glances at you again, longing for just one more minute of this peace. one more second of your touch. 

but it doesn’t come. 

they leave in a hurry, cycling maniacally away to the trailer park, leaving you, lucas, max and erica to conduct the rest of the plan. only fragments of hope left as you watch them disappear over the hill, praying for someone, anyone to just keep him safe.

-

everything is eerily calm, far too silent for the situation at hand. 

you sit cross-legged in the attic, looking between lucas and max who had taken it upon themselves to converse through a notepad. 

they reminded you of you and eddie once upon a time, giggling teenagers trying to navigate love together. 

it’s sweet, full of the same adolescent innocence you were desperately trying to regain. 

eventually they break apart, lucas traipsing over the creaky floorboards to check on you, equally confused by the serenity. 

he turns to walk away, almost frozen as his brows furrow and his pupils dilate, “you killed them.” 

your mouth falls open, immediately hushing him so as to not screw up nancy and dustin’s carefully thought out plan. 

“you killed them all,” he parrots, a sinister air surrounding him. “eddie trusted you and you killed him.. you’re a murderer,” the venom flying off of his tongue, severing your heart in two. 

the plan had worked. you were back in wherever it was you were taken before, confirmed by the sudden darkness, the wallpaper splintering and putrid stench that had filled your nose. 

lucas isn’t lucas at all. 

a mimic to the higher power cursing your town, only a small part of his master plan to destroy hawkins. 

your surroundings melt away, lucas nor max no longer appearing before you. instead, you’re faced with a flash of red, and a maniacal cackle. 

henry, as you’d since learnt he was called, begins his tirade, just as you’d planned. 

“why didn’t you stop them?” he booms, appearing in the corner, “you let them go after everything i showed you.”

he didn’t scare you, not anymore. when the time was right, lucas would slide max’s walkman over your ears and pull you right out of this hellscape. 

“they’re going to kill you,” standing stoic, resistant under his thumb. “you can’t hurt anybody else.. not anymore,” gritting your teeth, such determination to have him hear you. 

his burnt frame disappears right before your eyes, a loud, blaring laugh appears from behind. 

once again turning to darkness, only this time it’s accompanied by a chorus of screeching. feral creatures and familiar voices circle around your head. 

his torment is ruthless, voices, namely eddie’s rattle around your brain, wailing and screaming, loud enough to make your ears ring and your head ache. 

your eyes open to your trailer, watching yourself argue and cry at eddie. 

the day you broke up. 

“you’re just gonna leave me?” he despairs, just as feeble as the first time he’d said it. 

“i can’t stay here eddie! you don’t get it! i nearly died.. i can’t do that again,” and yet, here you are. 

a shrill, shrieking sound fills the room before the scene crumbles before your eyes leaving you to the decaying scene you bore witness to before. remnants of the creel house float through the scarlet sky, threatening to crash into each other. 

“maybe i can’t hurt you, but you can hurt yourself,” vecna’s voice squawks, flashing forward to a scene you’ve never seen before. 

eddie, with his back against a door, you can only assume he’s trying to keep something out. a grotesque mix of blood, sweat and tears seep down his cheeks, the door beginning to thump from the pressure of whatever was on the other side. 

“this all could’ve been so easy,” rapidly wiping the imagine from your view, only to appear mere inches away, decrepit hand rising above your face. “don’t you wish you had just listened? don’t you wish that you had just come with me?” now mocking with his tone, condescending even though he’d gotten you exactly where you’d wanted. 

“no.. no no no,” arms suddenly restricted by a slimy tendril, forcing your face to meet his, “you’re not real.. you’re not-“ a sudden, awful constriction wraps around your lungs, squeezing the air from your body. 

“i’m not.. real?” he mocks, the corners of his mouth creep upwards, “i didn’t want this to happen this way but you’ve left me no choice.” 

you gasp loudly for breath, struggling within his grasp for a means out of it. where was lucas? or max? what happened to the plan? 

over the last few days, you’d become quite comfortable with the idea of dying. it became fact, an inevitable consequence of getting yourself tangled up in this entire thing. 

but now, as it looms over your head, you want out. 

you want to be with eddie. you want a dozen kids and a quaint house on the corner of maple. maybe a dog or a cat that he’d picked up on the side of the road. slow dancing in the kitchen after a day of warm sun. 

you want to live. 

his fist closes, leaving your lips blue and begging for oxygen. “this is what had to happen.. your time-“ his rambling cut off by a ground shattering boom, the tendril dropping your body at once. 

he stumbles backwards, grabbing onto his chest. your vision too blurry to coherently make out what was happening, a mixture of colours that swirls away quickly. 

your aching bones thump to the floor, gasping for air as the familiarity of the creel’s attic fills your peripheral. 

max and lucas swarm your body, muttering over one another, their small hands shaking in fear as your head is placed on max’s lap. 

“what the fuck? what the fuck do we do? lucas!” she hollers at lucas, as if either of them had any idea. 

they shouldn’t have to be concerned with any of this, nor tasked with the pressure of keeping you alive. your breathing steadies though your chest still heaves, leaving the comfort of her hold to scan the room. making sure that this was real, that you were home. 

four pairs of feet appear before you and not one of them the dusty pair of reebok’s you were waiting to see. 

collapsing once again, in a crumpled heap on the dusty floorboards, your voice cracks, broken as you speak. still reeling from the onslaught of abuse you’d endured. 

“where’s eddie?” 

[queenimmadolla]

drabbles! how about reader and eddie telling penny and wayne theyre expecting maple?

𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 (don't have to read but you'll want to)

“I’ll tell them. It’s fine.” Your voice sounds so defeated over the phone and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hates it, hates that he’s the reason for it. 

  Here he is, telling you everything’s gonna get better, that the two of you will be okay—that your family will be okay, and already he’s had to let you down. 

  After a particular nasty fight that led to a comforting tryst, you were pregnant again. Giving Eddie his third baby. And all he’s given you lately is disappointment.

  “This leg is just three weeks, baby.” He promises, voice urgent because you have to believe him. Things have gotten shitty between the two of you but Eddie’s determined to change them, needs you to know that, “I’ll make it home on our off days.”

  But he won’t be home when you’re telling his kids they’re getting another sibling. It’s fucked. And he wants to argue, tell you to just wait until he gets back in town this week—but the thing is, even though he’s promising and desperately hoping he’ll be able to make it, it would be just his luck for something to happen at the last minute.

  He wants to punch a wall until his bones tear through the skin of his knuckles.

  “Okay, Eds.” Still defeated, but you don’t sound like you hate him, a change from recent phone conversations and you’re short with him so he knows you don’t want to talk to him for much longer.

  He does take a few moments, eyes still shut as he hones in on your breathing. Trying to imagine you right next to him instead of thousands of miles away.

   “I know things aren’t as pleasant as we want them to be. I swear to god, they’re gonna change. I’m not losing you. I’m not. I love you, baby.” He whispers, voice low and raspy. He’s fully expecting the love you, too followed by dial tone, so Eddie practically starts silently weeping when he gets more than that.

   “I love you, too, Eddie.” It doesn’t sound distant, as though you were already mentally out of the conversation. You’re still present for it, and it doesn’t sound like a weight on you. 

  The dial tone doesn’t come, you’re waiting for Eddie to end the phone call. A change.

  With a faint sniffle, and after a few more moments of comforting silence, he does.

  You hang the phone back on the receiver then pad over to the living room. The tv is on, some animated film displayed on the screen that manages to hold your children’s attention. Not much could do that as of late.

  “You guys got a minute?” You ask, making yourself comfortable on one end of the couch. Your five year-old son, Wayne, moves over to you and practically wraps your arms around him as he cuddles into your side. 

  Penny mutes the TV with the remote and you know you have their full attention.

   “I know things have felt a little weird lately, but I don’t want you to think it’s a bad thing, okay? Things are just changing.”

   “Like what?” Penny asks, giving you the perfect opportunity. This has to be a good, has to be a positive thing happening for them even though you had no idea how to feel yourself. 

  “Like the amount of troublemakers under my roof.”

  Penny’s gasp is loud and dramatic, eyes wide in excitement as she immediately catches onto your meaning. 

  “ARE YOU GONNA HAVE A BABY?!”

  Wayne’s face is the opposite of Penny’s, mouth wide open and looking downright offended with the level of side-eye he’s giving you. His top lip is curled in disgust, gums and teeth on display. You would have thought you’d just stolen his childhood instead of just telling him you’re pregnant.

  Oh, boy.

  At least, you’d have something funny to break the ice with when Eddie called in a few hours.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2, part 3

Wayne stays at the hospital longer than he should. Rubbing his fingers along Eddie’s pick necklace like a rosary. Hoping that if he just prays hard enough, if his voice can be heard, Eddie will wake up. 

The prognosis isn’t great. Each day that passes marks another day where his chances of waking up get lower. Even though many people have woken up from medically induced comas much later than this. According to the doctors. According to the pamphlets given to him at the start of all of this shit. But those are just words. Words he doesn’t believe fully. 

Six days with no changes. No improvement. Just a tube to make sure he’s breathing regularly and an IV to make sure he doesn’t die of dehydration or starvation. The doctors say that his brain still shows activity, and his heart hasn’t missed a beat since he was last revived. Eddie’s alive, but just how much?

How much longer will Wayne sit in this agony waiting for him to wake up? Or how long until the string of hope just ends six feet under? 

Religion was something that Wayne dealt with sporadically. He was raised Catholic, sort of still is a practicing Catholic. Goes to church when he isn’t too tired, still prays, and goes to confession sometimes. Just didn’t always make sense. But now, it’s all he’s got. 

Eddie’s in God’s hands now. Whether that’s the God in the Bible, or some other deity of the many other religions in the world, Wayne doesn’t care anymore. As long as he’s heard, and this being knows his boy is good. That he was taken far too soon. 

Eddie liked to say there was nothing much for him past high school. That he was going to run out of town as soon as he could and fight to make something of himself. Be a struggling musician, find odd jobs. Anything to keep him out of the monotony of a corporate job. Get him away from the conservative views and stuffiness of this town. Somehow get big enough to prove them all that he wasn’t a failure. Or never come back to prove them all right. 

It would be a sad day when Eddie finally left for good. The trailer would seem empty without the life that Eddie brought. The peace and quiet that Wayne always asked for not bringing any peace because it was too damn quiet. He knew this now because it’s what’s keeping him here each day. 

The beeping of the heart monitor was like the heart beating in his chest. Some noise came from Eddie to prove that he was alive. Almost like he was acting himself again. The motel room he was staying in was too quiet. No music down the hall, no clanking around the kitchen, no yelling at the TV or a book. Just the occasional noise if there were neighbors and people driving to the hospital. It was all the wrong noise, though. 

“Excuse me,” a nurse says as she enters the room. “Visiting hours are over, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Wayne nods, getting up from his chair. Back screaming as it pops itself back into place. It’s his day off, or night off tonight, so he can actually sleep. If it ever comes to him. Might be one of those nights where the ceiling and him have a staring contest. He’s been close, but never quite won one of those yet. 

The Chief’s car sits outside of the motel as Wayne pulls up. It’s only been a day since they spoke last, there can’t be that many updates. Wayne can’t think of any other reason he’s here. 

Wayne invites him into the motel room, the urge to offer him a drink screaming at him, but he has none to give. Hospitality doesn’t come with the room fees. 

“I’m guessing there’s something new, that’s why you're here.”

“Not necessarily. I’m still trying, but until the one guy I normally negotiate with comes out of hiding, that’s when the real talking happens.”

Wayne sits down on one of the chairs, too tired to keep standing. “Why’re you here then?”

“To check on you. I know the hospital life well. It’s no picnic, especially if you’re doing it alone.” He pulls another one of the chairs over to sit down. 

There’s no lie in that. “I’m about as good as anyone could think.”

The Chief pulls two beers out from under his coat, handing one to Wayne. He takes it faster than any beer he has in his life. Pulling out his pocket knife to take off the cap. 

“How long till that friend of yours comes out of hiding?”

Hopper shrugs. “Don’t know. Sent him a few threatening letters, and he still owes me one, so we’ll see. If things were better here, I’d go hunt the man down myself.”

Wayne nods. The company’s nice, he can’t lie. Sitting in solidarity with someone who knows what you’ve been through. Making sure nothing’s going worse than it already is. Like a sponsor through the hospital proceedings. 

When the sun finally finishes setting, the chief excuses himself. Not before handing Wayne a slip of paper with his number on it, just in case anything happens. 

The more days go by, the more Wayne is reminded that he’s not alone in this. Not fighting this battle alone. People believe him, more than just kids. People with influence. It shows in how people keep coming in and out of the hospital room. Saying how they know he’s innocent. That he’s guilty of some things, but not this. 

It makes him think back to that afternoon, snapping at the Harrington kid. It’s so easy to be angry at people who are better off, in so many ways, that vision gets blinded. Seeing someone who went through something similar to Eddie get out, and be conscious while his boy is still asleep. Probably will never have to worry about hospital bills and medical debt. It makes him angry. 

Even if the kid doesn’t deserve it. Wayne has no clue who this kid is and how he knows Eddie. Why he claims to have been there in the week Eddie was missing. What it all means. It doesn’t make any sense. None at all. 

But then the next morning when he’s getting coffee, there’s the kid again coming in beside Dustin. Talking to someone at the front desk before heading down the hall. Right to the elevator, and up to the floor Eddie’s on. 

Wayne heads back to the room, ready to kick him out again or apologize. He’s not sure yet. But, the room is empty. Steve is instead down the hall, talking to Susan Mayfield. Looking serious as hell, and halfway ready to cry. 

Another kid comes out of the room, one who’s stopped by a few times to check on Eddie. Lucas, Wayne thinks is his name. Remembers it only because Eddie had ranted a few times about some kid named Lucas trying to be on both the basketball team and part of the Dragons club. 

The kid says something to Steve before he’s being wrapped in a hug and starts crying. Steve just holding him as this kid breaks down. Presumably about the person behind those doors. Wayne assumes it’s probably Susan’s kid. Remembers hearing that she was in bad shape. Hopefully, that didn’t get any worse. 

Wayne returns to his room, not wanting to intrude. A nurse comes in a while later and asks him to step out for a bit. 

“What for?”

“Eddie’s breathing has improved over the last twenty-four hours. The doctor came in to check on him early this morning, and said that if by noon it was the same, the breathing tube could come out.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Wayne’s hesitant to believe anything these days. 

The nurse nods. “As long as his oxygen levels stay, well level, then yes. It means that his body is well on the way to recovery.”

Wayne nods, taking his coffee to the waiting room. There, he just waits.

Next part

Note: The next part of this will get a bit interesting. I've been having ideas for a while now of making this duel POV between Wayne and someone else, maybe Steve. Mainly because I keep thinking of conversations that would happen, but Wayne would be nowhere to witness it. But I think what this fic needs is a POV not directly in the main relationship that will be happening, to keep it an outsider POV fic. So I'm thinking that the second POV would be from either Robin or Dustin. I'm currently deciding between the two so let me know what you think. I'm also going to start posting this to ao3, and will provide the link to that once I think of a title. I will continue to post the smaller parts here on tumblr, and you will not be missing out on any of the story if you only follow it on here. For now all of the parts will also have the tag #morgan's wayne POV. If that changes, as it probably will since this is no longer just a wayne POV fic, I will let you know. Also, Max is alive, they just got a heavy diagnosis that you will learn of later.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77, @here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium, @resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly, @gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight, @devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug, @greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake, @morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs

[faefictions]

Hospital Meet Cute

Eddie Munson x Reader

3.3k words

“What are you in for?”

They were the first words that had been spoken directly to you for what felt like hours. The bright white of the room and the smell of cleaner was overwhelming enough, but you were nursing a headache that was beginning to really worry you. In all honesty, you probably should have been rushed back to be examined the second you arrived to the hospital, but it had been well over an hour wait now with no end in sight. 

You looked to your right, where the boy who had spoken was sitting and looking at you. He looked almost as bad as you, a bloody nose that you assumed was broken, a split lip, and a black eye just beginning to darken. You were almost too exhausted to answer him at all, but what you could muster came out much more rude than you had intended. 

“Can’t be sure until they actually get me checked out,” you sighed, checking the time on the wall yet again. Only 15 seconds had passed since the last time you glanced, it was still nearing midnight, your bad day hadn’t yet ended. 

“How long have you been here?” 

You really looked at him this time. He was young, maybe around your age, give or take a couple years. His eyes were brown and his hair was long and curly, much longer than the men in your hometown. He was calm, calmer than you would have been if you looked like him. Hell, for all you knew, you did look like him, and you had been fighting off tears the entire drive here. But this guy was sitting there like he was a regular in the waiting room, and you sat there clueless to what town you were even in. 

“I’m not sure when I got here, but its been more than an hour at least. Maybe two now.” 

“They’re really off their game tonight,” he said, almost under his breath as he sat up to look behind the desk. You were staring to think maybe you were right about him being a regular here. 

“I think you misunderstood my question though,” he smiled at you as he sat back down, “I’m looking for the dirt, the juicy stuff. The how more than the why.”

His smile was charming, but his happy go lucky demeanor was going to get old fast. You had a feeling that ignoring him wouldn’t do much though, and you could use a break from staring at the clock. 

“Well it’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Hurts like a bitch though. Your nose doing ok?”

“Yeah, probably not broken. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as last time I broke it, so we’re probably in the clear.” 

“Glad to hear it,” you chuckled. You had never seen someone in such a good mood with blood actively dripping down their face. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“No, I usually respect the privacy of strangers that I met less than a minute ago.”

“I’m Eddie, now I’m not a stranger.”

“That’s not how that works,” you smiled incredulously. 

“Sure it is! And if you tell me your name, you won’t be a stranger to me. And it’s been more than a minute now, so I think that means we’re in the clear.” 

“You are ridiculous.” 

“I get that a lot, but I didn’t hear an introduction anywhere in that insult.” 

“I’m y/n.” 

He extended a hand, and you hesitated for a second before offering your opposite hand as a compromise. It took him a second to decipher why you raised the wrong hand, but when he look down to your left wrist, he could see the bruising. 

“So, you gonna ask now?”

“No,” you chuckled at his persistence. 

“Damn. Well I was just going to tell you not to worry your pretty little head about it anyway so I guess it all worked out.” 

“Wow. Are you always this charming?”

“You think I’m charming?” he smiled at you, and you half expected to find a missing tooth among his pearly whites, but his teeth seemed to remain one of the only parts of his body unscathed. 

“You’re a bit of an ass. That’s about it.”

“And you’re just a ray of sunshine.” 

“Well sorry for not being so chipper after…” you paused as you were about to reveal what your night had entailed, but shot a look at him before you could, “Damn, you almost got me.” 

“That was a close one,” he smiled mischievously. You couldn’t help but admit that you really liked this guy. He was nicer than the people in your hometown, and the way he dressed was a beacon for someone like you. 

You figured if you told him what had happened, it wouldn’t be as surprising to him as it would be to someone else. The kids in your town had been terrorizing you since kindergarten. The town freak since the ripe age of 5. Things had been getting progressively worse since your father died back in ’79. Now with no mother or father, you no longer had anything in common with the kids in your school. You thought the bullying would stop after high school, but you were wrong. You learned that leaving town altogether was your only hope. 

That is what you had been doing. Your car was packed to the brim with your belongings, and you were set on your way for a small town about an hour away. Far enough for a new beginning, but close enough to not terrify you. Halfway through the drive, you noticed the car behind you getting a little too close for comfort. The sun had just set, but you still recognized the car. It belonged to the boyfriend of a girl that had led the crusade against you in high school, the one person you were most thankful to get away from. You knew if he was driving behind you, she was in the passenger seat, and their friends were probably packed into the back. Whatever they had planned wasn’t going to be good and you were starting to get nervous. 

They started to tailgate you, and you did your best to keep your speed steady. If they rear ended you, that was their problem not yours. But your sentiment quickly changed when you realized that there was no one else on the road. If they forced you to stop, it would just be them against you, and you were worried that that was the plan all along. So you sped up. 

You rode for a couple miles with them on your ass, speeding almost 20 over the limit, hoping to come across some traffic and a well lit stop to get them to pass. But before you could reach your safe haven, they had pulled up beside you. The last thing you remembered was her smiling at you before running into the side of your car. 

They must have sped off, not even stopping to see if you were alive, because when you woke up you were alone on the road again. You could see the lights of a town maybe a mile up the road, and with your car now totaled, your only hope was to walk the rest of the way. 

You hadn’t told the ladies behind the desk about the severity of your situation. You just told them you got into a little accident. You were regretting that now, knowing that if you told them you were ran off the road and had to walk to the hospital after coming to in a totaled car, you probably would have been seen by now. 

“Do you want me to get you something cold for your arm? It looks like it’s staring to swell.”

You glanced down to your left arm again, and he was right. You still weren’t sure what was broken and what just ached. Your adrenaline was pumping during the walk here, but you didn’t feel an ounce of it anymore. 

“That would be lovely, but where are you going to get something cold in the waiting room.” 

“I know my way around,” he winked before getting up and leaving you for a moment. He returned a minute later with an ice cold can of soda.

“Come here often?” you chuckled as you took the can and rested against the tight skin on your wrist. 

“Yeah, actually. I’m on a first name basis with a majority of the staff at this point. Especially the ones who work the weekends.”

“What, are you more accident prone on a Saturday?”

“Oh, darlin, you really think I bruised myself up this good? Nah, not even I’m that talented.”

“You really want to tell me what happened, don’t you?” 

“Only so you’re trapped into telling me what happened to you. No offense, but you look like you’ve gone to Hell and back, and I would love for you to feed into my morbid curiosity.” 

“Then you can keep your secrets,” you smirked at him, and glanced back to the clock. Somehow, 10 minutes had passed. You had begun to convince yourself that you had entered purgatory before you starting speaking to Eddie. It felt like time was never going to progress, and you were going to be stuck waiting for medical attention for the rest of eternity. 

Eddie was about to speak up, but before he could open his smart ass mouth, the doors of the entrance slid open and he glanced behind him to see whose shoes were squeaking as they made their way to you. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. The smirk was wiped off your face when you turned to see a tall man in a police uniform approaching the two of you. 

“Hopper, to what do I owe the pleasure,” Eddie tried to joke. To you, he was clearly nervous, but you thought he hid it well. 

“I’m not here for you this time Munson. But better safe than sorry, you should stick around for a quick word after this,” The officer spoke gruffly, coming off like a disappointed father, “Are you y/n l/n?” 

Your heart dropped. You had never been good with authority figures. Whether it be teacher, principles, security guards, or cops. You were always on the butt end of a bad situation, and you learned from a young age that not even finding an adult could save you. No one was ever on your side. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you replied, barely above a whisper and unable to look back up at him. 

“Thank god,” you heard him grumble under his breath, “Are you aware that your car is on fire a mile up the road?”

“Oh, it just wouldn’t start when I left it.” 

Eddie was soaking up the conversation, looking between you and Hopper like it was a tennis match. It was the entertainment he had been hoping for to distract him from the third time he had been in a fight this month. This time he truly did have himself to blame, after saying something he really shouldn’t have to a man much bigger than him after a show at the Hideout. But as he began to piece the puzzle together, he was growing more concerned for you. 

“You mind telling me what happened to your car? Or how you got here?,” Hopper’s head quickly swiveled to Eddie, “Did you drive her?” 

Eddie just shook his head and glanced at you. He could see your eyes staring to water now, and something in him hated the sight. He reached out and grabbed your good hand, hoping to offer some kind of support or comfort, whichever you needed more. 

“I walked.” 

“And you were in the car when it flipped?”

Your head shot up, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“It flipped?” 

To the best of your recollection, you just swerved off the side of the road. Honestly, you weren’t thinking straight, because there was no reason for you passing out and totaling your car if you had simply swerved. 

“It did. There wasn’t anyone else in the car right?”

“No… Just everything I own.” you scoffed as the weight of the situation really sunk in. This brought a whole new meaning to your “new beginning” idea. There was no fresher start than one with nothing from your past. 

“How long have you been here?” 

You were too stuck in your own thoughts to process that another question had been asked, so Hopper looked to Eddie in hopes of an answer. 

“She was here when I got here an hour and a half ago, but she said she doesn’t know how long she’s been here.” 

“I’m going to go see if I can get someone to give her a once over. Keep her company.” 

Eddie nodded and turned his attention back to you. You were obviously zoned out, and Eddie didn’t blame you, but he needed to reel you back in. 

“So much for keeping your secrets,” he whispered, feigning maliciousness, as if he had personally asked Hopper to come down and tell him. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, even as your tears began to tip over your lower lids. 

“I think you have to tell me what happened to you now, if I recall the rules correctly.” 

“Oh, I just got beat up at a bar. Nothing near as exciting as what’s going on over here,” he chuckled as he gestured vaguely towards you. 

It wasn’t until now that you realized that his hand was holding yours, but you were glad to receive the kind attention. It wasn’t something you were used to. 

“So what were you running from?” he asked, the warmth and humor suddenly absent from his voice. 

“What do you mean?”

“You had all your belongings packed into the back of your car, and I am 90% sure you aren’t from around here. So I can naturally assume you were running from something. Honestly I have a feeling I know the answer, but you know, never judge a book by its cover.” 

“Maybe I want to hear your guess.”

“Town freak?”

“Excuse me?”

“Outcast? Pariah, reject, untouchable? I can go on for hours. I’m afraid I have an unfair advantage with all the synonyms.” 

“And why’s that?”

“I’ve been called them all, sweetheart. You are speaking with the resident Freak of Hawkins, Indiana,” he pretended to bow from his seat. 

“Guess it really does take one to know one, huh,” you offered a half hearted smile. 

“So what was it? Weird music? Everyone hate your dad? One person just decide to make it their lives mission to make everyone hate you?”

“If I knew what it was, I would have changed it years ago. I think it’s just genetic though. But your guesses aren’t bad.” 

You adored that Eddie could make you laugh even after something as terrible as this night. You almost didn’t want to get called back anymore, knowing that your time with him would likely come to an end, and you may never see him again. 

When Hopper returned to let you know that your wait was almost over, you were almost disappointed. 

“Y/n, I need to talk to you really quick though. Is that alright?” he asked, and he seemed much more gentle than he had when he arrived. You hated the pity, but it was much better than how you were used to being treated by the police. So you gave him a nod. 

“Eddie, can you give us a minute?”

“It’s ok if he stays,” you cut in quickly, subconsciously squeezing Eddie’s hand harder. 

“Ok, that’s fine with me,” Hopper gave you a smile before he pulled a chair closer to sit directly across from you. He pulled out a small notepad and a pen and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“Y/n, I need to know what you remember from before your car flipped. If you remember anything at all.” 

“Why?” 

“There are… There are some marks on the drivers side of the car that suggest you were hit. I just want to put the pieces together before we start a man hunt, just in case I’m wrong in thinking someone ran you off the road.” 

“It’s ok, there’s no need to look for them. I don’t want to press charges or anything.” 

Your heart began to pick up thinking about the retaliation you might receive from bringing legal charges agains them. You were trying to get away, the last thing you needed was a case to tie you to them. 

Hopper’s head quirked in curiosity, and he squinted his eyes at you before asking, “Y/n, do you know who did this?” 

“Well, yeah, but like I said, it’s…It’s fine.” 

“Can we have a second Hop?” Eddie asked gently, and Hopper nodded before crossing the room to allow you two to speak. 

“The people you were running from, are they the ones that did this?” 

“Eddie, you don’t get it.” 

“No, I do, remember? I need you to take a deep breath, ok?” 

It took you a second to realize how hard you were squeezing his hand and how quickly your heart was beating. So you took his advice and took a few deep breaths before you looked for him to continue.

“I can tell you’re scared. But, y/n, this isn’t school yard bullying. They could have killed you. And it doesn’t sound like they stopped to see if you were alive. They deserve to be locked up for that, you know that right?” 

“But they won’t.”

“Cops don’t like you back home?”

You just shook your head.

“Well look, you met Hopper over there,” he gestured over his shoulder and waiting for you to nod before continuing, “Well he’s different. I promise. He will make sure those bastards burn for what they did. He doesn’t care if their daddy is mayor, he will make sure they do the time the deserve ok?” 

“How do you know it was more than one person?” 

“Those kind of people always travel in packs.” 

“If I tell him who it was…” you paused to organize your thoughts into a coherent sentence as your mind raced, “How do you know they won’t just find me and try again?” 

Eddie gently reached up grab your cheeks and got closer to your face, “I swear they won’t lay another finger on you. And if you decide to stick around Hawkins, I can assure you no one else will either.” 

“You offering to be my body guard?” 

“Maybe,” he chuckled. He could tell you were calming down already. 

“By the looks of you, I don’t think you’re cut out for that line of work.”

“Shush,” he laughed, “So what do you say, can I call Hop back over?” 

You nodded, and a minute later, Hopper was out the door and ready to bring justice to the people who had been making your existence unbearable for your whole life. It wasn’t much longer before a nurse rushed out and apologized for the long wait to both of you and called you both back. Your heart dropped when you realized you may not see Eddie again, and he could sense your reluctance to let his hand go. 

“Don’t worry, I already memorized your full name like the good freak I am, and I will be back to visit you later.” 

“Promise?” 

“Of course. The best thing about the hospital here in the lovely town of Hawkins, Indiana, is that our visiting hours are 24/7. I can come annoy you for as long as I want,” he smirked at you, “I just need to run home and grab my copy of Lord of the Rings after they check out my nose. I think you’ll really like it.” 

“With this headache, I don’t think I’m going to like reading anything.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I wasn’t going to let you lay a finger on it. I like doing the voices.” 

You both laughed, and continued to hold hands until it was absolutely necessary for you to part ways. 

“See you soon,” Eddie smiled down at you before following a different nurse to a room down the hall. 

“See you soon.”

@embrace-themagic​ @fanficparker​  @heartbeats-wildly​ @saturn-aka-six​ @calum-hoodwinked-me​ @peterplanet​ @mischiefmanaged49​ @nicotine-sunshine820​ @itsjusttor​ @emistrash​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​ @sovereignparker​ @raajali3​@eddielives1986​ @eddieswifu​ @chickpeadumpsterfire​ @fluffybunnyu​

[lolahasmoxie]

Conversations at 3 AM (E.M.)

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x Reader

WORD: 1.3k

WARNING: nudity, language, casual intimacy, established relationship, friends to lovers, mentions of getting pregnant, mentions of sexy times, heart-to-heart talks (Eddie & reader are 25)

CONCEPT: You and Eddie aren't used to people sticking around.

DIVIDER FROM @firefly-graphics

Even though you were born at 6 a.m. on the dot, you were a night owl through and through.

During high school and college, summer meant you became a nocturnal creature, much to the annoyance of your family. There was one person it never annoyed, though.

You had met Eddie in elementary school after he moved into the trailer across from yours. From the day you met, you had been thick as thieves. For years, your friends watched as you skirted the line of will they won't they, watching the other traverse dating and relationships with an envious eye. It wasn't until a year ago, when Eddie kissed you during the middle of a movie night, that you had finally become more.

Tonight, you'd had dinner at Steve's house with the whole gang, seeing as Mike, Dustin, and Lucas were all in town for a long weekend from college. The boys had planned a one-off campaign at your shared apartment the following night, and by midnight, you and Eddie were in your home.

Side by side, you brushed your teeth, trying not to laugh as Eddie made faces at you in the mirror. Once in your Queen bed, Eddie's hands began mapping your body, and in a practiced routine that felt like breathing, you let him love you until sleep came for you both.

However, this time, sleep only came for Eddie.

You had tried everything to fall back asleep: counting sheep, listing Metallica songs followed by Black Sabbath, breathing in time with Eddie. Nothing worked. So, as carefully as you could, you crawled out of his hold, placing your pillow closer to Eddie when he started to stir. As his gangly arms wound around the object, you entered your kitchen.

You had been at the table for a while when you heard soft footsteps coming down the hallway. Turning your head, you watch as your tall metalhead boy walks into the kitchen naked as a jaybird, cock dangling freely as his hands wipe at his eyes like a little boy.

"What time issit." he mumbles as Eddie comes up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your hairline. "Why are you still up?"

"Almost 3 a.m. and I tried to go to sleep, but no dice," you say. He nods in understanding before sitting next to you at the table.

"I was having this great dream; you were wearing that black number you wore to our last show at the Hideout? Anyway, you were letting me drag you to the bathroom to do unspeakable things to you when I woke up, and instead of rubbing against my pretty girlfriend, I was humping your pillow. By the way, I'm pretty sure there's a stain, and I'm sorry in advance." You can't help but smile as you dip a carrot into the hummus.

"Didn't want to wake you up. You know how I toss and turn when I can't sleep."

"So there's no reason you're up at almost 3 a.m. eating," he paused as he reached for the container of hummus. "Jalapeno hummus? Holy fuck, you're not pregnant, are you?"

"No, you asshole," you playfully slap Eddie's arm as he tries to play off his terrified expression. "Nice to know how you feel about the topic, though."

"I'm just warning you, we could be on a babymaking schedule to get knocked up; I will still probably freak the fuck out when it does happen, so just a heads up for when we get there."

"Duly noted." you chuckle. Eddie laces his hand into yours and brings them to his lips. You can feel his eyes on you; you know Eddie will give you your space to work out whatever is going on in your brain. But he's also a persistent asshole who won't stop until he finds out why you left him alone in bed. "Does this ever feel too good, Eds?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us. I mean, we disagree on things, but we never really fight. Being together with you has always just felt scarily easy; I've never had that with other boyfriends." You sigh as you look at your joined hands. "Feels like I'm waiting for something, but I don't know for what."

"Easy, I know what it is," Eddie says as he gives your hand a squeeze. "You're waiting for the other shoe to drop." When you meet his gaze, those cow-brown eyes study you, looking at you with more love than you think you can handle.

"Elaborate, please."

"You and I have always been alike," he begins. "our dating histories are littered with people telling us we were too much. Too loud, too needy, or too whatever. But here's the good part, babe. You will never be too much for me. Ever."

"You mean it?" You're impressed that he could sum up your feelings so succinctly. He grins at you, a beautiful smile spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course I mean it. I had to watch you date assholes for ten years; you really think I'm gonna let you go now that I'm lucky enough to call you mine? Not a chance, sweetheart." You reach out a hand and cup his cheek, and you can't help but smile when Eddie leans into your touch.

"Thank you, Eddie."

"No problem; you know, I had resigned myself to loving you from afar a long time ago. Sometimes, when I wake up next to you, I feel like I gotta pinch myself to make sure it's real."

"You're such a cheeseball," you tease. "Why don't you head back to bed? I'm gonna clean up and join you in a minute." You stand from your chair, but Eddie stops you with a tug of your hand. In a flash, you're on his lap. Your hands hold onto his shoulders, although you're in no danger of falling. Edde's grip is secure as he gives you a look you are all too familiar with. You speak his name, and he raises a hand to push the hair from your face.

"You know, it was very mean to leave me in that big bed all by myself," he begins, his hand cupping your cheek. You feel your body warm as his thumb caresses your cheek. "Why don't you let me take you back to bed and help quiet that big brain of yours. Sound good, sweetheart?"

You lean in to kiss your man, his arms wrapping tight around you as he fists your shirt in his hands. When his tongue runs along the seam of your lips, you happily grant him access, tangling your hands in his hair while you slowly start to grind against him. When you feel him hard and warm underneath you, you think you may never want to sleep again.

You both enjoy the kiss, neither of you rushing things. You pull back when you need air, and while Eddie's face is happy, there's something else. You raise an eyebrow as he licks his lips.

"You taste like salsa." You can't help but laugh as you lean forward and bury your nose in his neck. He pulls you closer, hands caressing your back like you're the most precious being in his universe. You can feel his chuckle as your chests press together.

You stay still for a moment to enjoy being surrounded by him. One of the things you loved about being nocturnal was how quiet the world was at almost 3 a.m. You hum contentedly when you feel Eddie's lips against your hair. You close your eyes, wanting to commit this moment, this feeling to memory.

"Alright," Eddie taps you on the ass and breaks the silence. "Let me take you back to bed, alright?" You climb out of his lap and softly kiss the corner of his mouth.

"I'll go brush my teeth. Why don't you go make sure the bed is warm." Eddie hops up, cock bobbing comically as he begins to do a naked run back to your room.

"I'll keep the home fires burning! If I fall asleep, wake me up with head!"

BONUS: THE NEXT DAY

Dustin: I'm just gonna have a seat here, and we can get started.

Eddie: fair warning, my naked ass has been on that chair.

Dustin: 😳

Dustin: like, recently naked?

Eddie: last night.

Dustin: you're a fucking animal.

Eddie: 😁

[cranberrymoons]

i'll be home for christmas

prompt: no upside down au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 909 words tags: flirting, bartender eddie, college student steve

welcome to Day 9 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Nancy dumps him a few months after he moves away for school, and so he doesn’t come home that summer or the one after that, until a couple years have gone by and he ends up stuck back at his parents’ house during Christmas break. 

He hasn’t seen them in a while, but truth be told, he’d kind of rather just be back in South Bend hiding out in his dorm or maybe at the bar with Robin, the only other person from Hawkins who’d ended up at Notre Dame. He hadn’t even known her before they were there, and she’s a year below him, but – whatever. When you leave a small town, you sort of tend to find each other after a while.

She’s not there right now, though, so it’s not like it really even makes a difference. She’s off on some trip with her own parents, one that they take every other year, back to visit her mom’s old hippie friends in Berkeley, because Robin has the sort of parents who have old hippie friends back in Berkeley. Maybe Steve could just get adopted by them, and then he'd never have to come back here at all.

Anyway.

He’s here now. That’s the problem.

And of course he got into a fight with his dad on the first night back. Of course he did. I wasn't even over anything worthwhile, just – Whatever. It doesn’t even matter. He doesn’t even care, just. He really does hate his dad sometimes.

He clenches his jaw in rhythm to the song that’s playing from the tape deck in his room, turns his head on the pillow to squint at the glowing red alarm clock in the corner. 

8:50 PM

It’s barely even nighttime. He can’t just sit here like this, like he’s waiting for his parents to leave, because they’re not going to fucking leave, so maybe – maybe he should –

He catapults himself off the bed and reaches for his keys on the dresser, shoving them in his back pocket before he can overthink it. Down the stairs, slipping into his shoes by the door, shrugging into his coat. Calling over his shoulder that he’s going out, don’t wait up, and –

He doesn’t actually know where he’s going, but he gets in his car and starts driving. Just drives until he ends up parked in front of the Hideout, the run-down little dive bar on the complete opposite side of town. 

It’s open, and there are a few people hanging around out front, so he turns off the car and goes inside.

It’s dark in here, the ceiling low and the music kind of weird and more guitar-y than he’s used to, but it’s medium-crowded in a way that makes him feel like he can probably just grab a seat at the bar and blend in and not have to worry about anyone trying to talk to him about –

“Harrington?”

Fuck. 

He turns with a big fake smile on his face, prepared to deal with Tommy, who he hasn’t seen in at least a year, or maybe even Billy, who he hasn’t seen in about as long. Worst of all would be the Byers kid, the one he got dumped for, but Jonathan’s probably not bold enough to actually say anything to his face, but still. The last person he expects to find is –

“Munson?” 

Eddie gives a little jerk of his head and drops a dish towel over his shoulder. He braces his hands on the opposite side of the bar, arms spread wide, and Steve’s eyes flicker down, just for a beat, to the way the thin cords of muscle flex under his skin where it’s lined with a twisting pattern of black tattoos.

Eddie clears his throat, and Steve sucks in a breath, blinking back up to his face. Eddie raises his eyebrows. 

“What’ll it be?”

“Um. Just a – beer, whatever,” Steve says as he tugs his coat off and slides onto a stool. “You work here?”

“No, I’m just a really creative burglar,” Eddie says. He reaches for a glass and pulls the tap as he eyes Steve up and down. “Playing the long game. If I stand back here long enough, they’ll stop noticing me, and that’s when I strike.”

He sets down the drink and slides it across the bar, and Steve grins as he accepts it, letting out a surprised laugh. 

“Well now you’ve given it away,” he says, raising his eyebrows as he takes a sip. “Your plan is ruined.”

“You’re going to turn me in?” Eddie asks. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the countertop behind him, and Steve’s eyes drop down again like he can’t help it. “What if I cut you in? Ten percent?”

Steve feels a pleased little flush wash over him as he looks back up to Eddie’s face, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip of his beer. Eddie’s smile is slow and a little sweet, and it makes something in Steve’s stomach do a weird little flip. He tears the corner off a bar napkin to distract his hands from fidgeting too much, and leans forward across the bar. He narrows his eyes.

“Twenty.”

Eddie’s smile grows. He lifts his chin. “Fifteen, and your next beer’s on me.”

Steve laughs, feeling a warm glow settle in his chest. “Sounds like a deal.”

[also on ao3]

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 56

part 1 | part 55 | ao3

March

"Steve, honey," Claudia calls from the living room, where he can hear her shuffling around to get her things ready for work — the rustle of a jacket, the clink of keys against her thermos. "Do you need anything before you go?"

"I'm fine, Ma!" Steve answers.

And he is. He is fine. It’s been three weeks, and Steve is fine! He has a date tonight with a girl he doesn’t care about, and he's gonna cheer on Lucas at the championship game, and the other day at work he got a fifty cent per hour raise. And sure, his nightmares are worse than ever and his head aches all the time, and he’s had some weirdly persistent sinus infection or some shit going on, but he only teared up once this week while jerking off to thoughts of Eddie, so.

All in all, not bad.

He shoves a plain bagel in his mouth and rushes to leave the house; passes Claudia on the way out, who's now rapping her knuckles impatiently against Dustin’s door and asking, “Dusty, what’s going on in there? You’re gonna be late!" to which Dustin replies with a panicked shriek: “DON’T COME IN, I’M NAKED!”

Jesus Christ. "Deafen my other ear, why don't you?" Steve mutters under his breath.

He throws Ma a parting wave and heads out to pick up Robin so he can take her to school before his shift starts. She looks nicer than usual, and she won’t stop reapplying her mascara, and by the time Object of My Desire starts playing on the radio Steve is practically begging her to just suck it up and end this will-they-won’t-they thing with Vickie because it’s been months of obvious flirting and Robin still won’t make a move.

“I listen to you, and now look at me!” he argues, as if the handful of pointless dates he’s used to distract himself from Eddie are anything to look at. “Boom. Back in business.“

“Mm,” she objects, a little ‘you’re so full of shit’ frown on her face. “Not the same thing.”

Don’t say it, you bitch, don’t even—

“You ask out a girl and she says no…”

Oh, thank fuck. Steve sags in relief and licks the corner of his mouth as he listens to her rant, grateful that she’s just working the small town homophobia angle and very graciously not pointing out how half-hearted and sad his attempts to move on with his life have been. It’s a small mercy he repays by rambling about girls and boobies and girls who definitely like boobies until she scowls so hard at him that she smudges her mascara and has to apply another coat.

—

Dustin calls the store some time around lunch. Asks if Steve wants to sub in for Lucas at tonight’s Hellfire campaign, which, first of all, fuck you — he’s been helping Lucas practice for months now, he’s not about to miss this game — and secondly:

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie the Freak Munson?” he asks, idly playing with a slinky. “Uh, yeah. I’ll pass.”

"Dude."

"What?"

"You can’t just call him names because you’re pissed at him! That’s not cool!”

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs the slinky so hard it flops off the counter’s edge.

“Look,” Dustin says, his voice dipping into that low and slow and trustworthy thing that makes Steve want to snap the kid’s non-existent collarbones. “I know you won’t tell me what happened, but whatever it was, he’s sorry, okay? He’s really, really sorry. And he asks me about you, like, every day; if I didn’t know any better I’d swear he was in love with you or something.” Steve chokes on his own spit, and Dustin just keeps going; steps right over Steve’s corpse to continue his impassioned plea. “Besides, friends forgive each other! Right, Steve?”

Goddammit. Steve really regrets saying those exact words in that exact order the last time Lucas and Dustin had a fight. “Man, you can’t just use my own brotherly advice against me.”

“I can, and I will.” Wow. What a little shit. “Seriously, dude, come on! How many times do I have to pass on his apology messages before you just talk to him?”

How many times? How many times?

Steve doesn’t know.

He just knows he’s not ready; knows that as soon as he talks to Eddie, it’ll make it all real. It’ll be over for good. Whatever words they exchange next will get etched into the headstone of the thing they briefly had. He opens his mouth to say something, to try and make sense of the vortex in his head, but all he gets for the effort is a fresh migraine coming on.

He’s saved from answering by the doorbell’s chime. “I got some customers,” he says over Dustin's squawk of protest. “Gotta call you back, bye.”

—

part 57

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 22

Part 1 Part 21

It’s either very late or very early. The early rays of dawn light are just barely shining through the windshield. It’s warm on Will’s face in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. That place had been cold. It had been dark. He had been alone.

And then there was Eddie and Steve. Their hands were warm on his shoulder, on his cheek. Their quiet voices are a balm to the bleakness blooming in his lungs. They’d saved him, time and again. And now Eddie’s catatonic in the seat beside him, and Steve is still there. In the dark. Alone. 

Where WIll had left him. 

Barbara’s looking out the window on his other side, leaning as far away from him as possible, like she can feel the darkness that he can still feel clinging to him from that place.  In the front seat, Jonathan’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Nancy’s vibrating in the passenger seat, twitching like she’s bursting for a fight.

Will doesn’t know why any of these people are here, or where they’re going. He doesn’t know much of anything anymore. 

The unasked question is answered when Jonathan pulls into the driveway. He’s home. 

The house is in shambles when he walks in. Christmas lights hang, unlit from the ceiling like they’d been strung up in a hurry. The dining room table is overturned, chairs upside down, boxes scattered to and fro. Will doesn’t know what happened here, and that unknowing makes the pit finally sink into his stomach. He’s been gone. He doesn’t know how long, but it’s written into the disarray of their home. He’s been gone. 

“Mom?” Jonathan calls. 

Will stands on the threshold, something tightening in his throat. For a second, he swears there’s ash raining down. Blinks and it’s gone.

“Mom?” Jonathan calls again, louder.

Barbara and Nancy follow him in. Eddie stands by his side, slinging his arm around his shoulders, warm like forgiveness. “Come on, baby Byers.” Talking sounds like it hurts him. Will lets himself be led.

Jonathan comes back from his walkthrough of the house. “She’s not here,” he says. Will nods, leans further into Eddie’s side. There’s a funny look on Jonathan’s face that he’s never seen before. It congeals in his throat until he’s hiccuping on it. “Oh, hey, she’s just been spending a lot of time with the Chief. Trying to get you back.”

She’d sounded so desperate on the phone, and when the lights started flickering. He’d heard his Mom and Lonnie talking once, back when things weren’t good between them, but a little better. Lonnie had said, “no one should have to bury their own kid,” and his Mom had sucked in a breath like even the thought was enough to leave her breathless. 

There’d been a story in the newspaper that day about a kid two towns over drowning in the river. His Mom’s hug was extra hard that day.

He wants her arms now. She’ll know how to bring Eddie back from the brink, and get Steve out of that place where everything is wrong. She can do anything.

“How long has it been?” He doesn’t realize he’s the one who asked until Eddie squeezes his shoulders.

Jonathan takes a step back, like Will’s question hit him like a slap. Nancy takes a step forward, opens her mouth, and answers. “Five days.” 

It seems like too long and not long enough. He feels tainted, permanently changed from being out of school for a week. 

“So, four days for me and Steve?” Eddie asks.

“When did you two get there?” Nancy asks.

Did anyone even know they were missing? Did anyone look for them like they had for Will? 

“At that party,” Eddie says. “When you and Steve had your little, uh, lovers quarrel.” The last part comes out biting and bitter, like Eddie’s a dog being fed rancid meat, but he’s too hungry not to eat. 

“Oh,” Nancy says, looking down at her white tennis shoes. Everyone in this house looks like a real person – real and clean and alive. Will’s not sure what crawled out of the hole in that place in his place, but he’s not sure it’s alive.

His insides are gnawing at him, writhing like they’re alive.

“What now?” Barbara asks.

“Now, we feed the squirt here,” Eddie says, shaking Will around like a ragdoll, “and then we get Steve the fuck out of there.”

Jonathan and Nancy make sandwiches. Will wonders if Eddie’s tastes like sawdust, too. 

“We should go to his parents, right?” Barbara asks, picking at her own sandwich disinterestedly.

“No,” Will says, just at the same time as Eddie says, “No fucking way!”

Barbara widens her eyes, clearly shocked. She hadn’t been there when Steve seemed like he’d rather gnaw his own arm off than go to his house to try and call his own parents. She’s never lived with the looming shadow of Lonnie Byers pacing outside her bedroom door in the middle of the night.

“There’s no way they’ve even realized Steve is missing,” Eddie says, vehemently, “much less care.”

Jonathan shoots Will a look, and Will knows they’ve both mentally inducted Steve Harrington into the bad dad’s club. Maybe Eddie, too. 

“Then, what?” Barbara asks with a sigh, clearly done with their shit. 

“We have to find it again,” Nancy says.

Barbara looks at her best friend like she’s never seen her before. “You want to go back out there?”

“Maybe we don’t have to.”  she says, folding her hands primly on the table, even as her eyes go flinty and hard. “When I saw it, it was feeding on a dead deer, meaning it’s a predator, right?” No one responds, so she keeps going. “And it seems to hunt at night, like a lion or a coyote.”

“It got me and Steve at night,” Eddie says.

“Me, too,” Will contributes, when everyone looks at him. “I fell off my bike and scraped my hands. It got in the house.”

“You were bleeding?” Eddie asks, turning fully in his chair to bore holes into Will’s head until he nods. He sinks into his chair, knocking his head backward to stare up at the ceiling. “At the party, Steve punched the wall. His knuckles were bleeding.”

It comes out lifeless. Will wants to beg him to stay here at the table with them, not drift back into his mind where no one can follow. But, Steve and Eddie seem a lot like him and Mike, intrinsically linked until one doesn’t seem right without the other, like best friends always are. 

He hopes Mike is okay. 

“Of course he did,” Barbara mutters.

Eddie comes back to life at the comment to snarl at the girl. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Okay!” Nancy says, raising her hands palm up, placating. “We all want Steve back, right?” Everyone nods, even Barbara with her pursed mouth and cold eyes.  “It's just a theory, but sharks can detect blood in one part per million, that’s one drop in a million, and they can smell it from a quarter mile away.”

“So, you’re saying it can detect blood?” Jonathan asks.

“It’s just a theory,” Nancy replies.

“We could test it,” Will says. “But if it works.” He doesn’t finish the thought. He never wants to see the Demogorgon again, but for Steve, he will. Steve Harrington had saved his life, and then Will had taken Eddie away from him. 

“At least we’ll know it’s coming,” Eddie says, as only a person who’d been surprised by it too many times. “And we’ll be ready. 

Part 23

[hippiegoth97]

Hangman's Joke: An Eddie Munson x Reader Halloween Special (The Crow AU) Part Four

Collage by me :)

Master List

Special Thanks to @keikoraven for beta reading for me <3

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Tag List: @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

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@cxrrodedcoffin @queenimmadolla @kellsck @keeksandgigz @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

If anyone wants added/removed from tags please let me know <3

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smoking, fighting, abuse, blood, murder, violence, weapons, guns, gun violence, gore, death, animal death, character death, murder, angst, crying, happy ending

Word Count: 11.5k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part Four

October 31st, 1992

Max is woken up early in the morning to a pillow thrown at her face, followed by the covers being yanked off of her body. She lets out a small annoyed sound as she stirs, rolling over and reaching for the end of the blanket.

“Where the hell were you last night?” Billy’s voice hits her sleepy head like a brick, knocking her wide awake. Her eyes snap open, and she sits up in bed.

“I was over at Lucas’s house. Why is it any of your business?” Max sasses, getting out of bed, still wearing the clothes Y/N dressed her in last night. She goes over to her dresser, picking up a brush to sort out her hair. It’s always a tangled mess in the morning when she doesn’t put it up. 

“It’s my business because Mom and Dad didn’t know where you were, and they chewed me out for it! Do the Sinclairs not have a phone?” Billy snarls, stepping closer to Max.

“It wouldn’t have to be your business if you moved out and stopped mooching off our parents.” Max mutters, running the firm bristles through her ginger locks.

“What was that?” Billy barks, just waiting for her to give him a reason to beat her sorry ass.

“I forgot to call. Sorry.” Max answers sheepishly, setting the brush down. She looks at Billy in the mirror’s reflection, finding his icy stare waiting for her.

“I know what people have been saying around town, Max. That somehow that satanic bitch is back, and killing my friends.” Billy says, his tone equal parts furious and sly. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, now, would you?” He asks, every word telling her she’s on dangerous ground.

“No.” Max scoffs, rolling her eyes. “She’s dead. Everybody knows that.” She adds nervously.

“Yeah, well, it seems somebody is out looking for revenge. But I can’t think of anyone who would give a rat’s ass enough to come after us in their name. Can you?” Billy stands right behind her now, having slowly approached during his unnerving questions.

“N-No.” She stutters, feeling his breath over her shoulder.

“That’s right. Because other than you, and that pig Hopper, no one cared about those fucking freaks.” He seethes, holding Max’s stare in the mirror with unfiltered malice. “Now, I’m givin’ you one last chance to tell the truth. Where were you last night? And where is that crazy bitch hiding out?” Billy commands, raising a hand to grip his little sister’s shoulder. He squeezes it hard, not intending to let go until she gives him what he wants.

“You’re crazy. Even if Y/N was alive, I’d never tell you where she is.” Max scoffs, playing up her skepticism. It’ll take a lot more than Billy’s typical threats to get her to spill the beans.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Max!” Billy yells, forcing her to turn around in his grip. “You tell me where she is, right now, goddamnit!” He frantically shakes her, hoping the answers will come spilling out. 

“I don’t know! Stop acting crazy! Let me go!” Max squirms and flails, trying to break free from his grasp. But he’s bigger and stronger than her, so it's no use. She continues to scream, pounding her fists on his chest.

“Stop lying to me! I know she’s back! And I’m gonna kill her again! I swear to god, Max! Answer me!” Billy shouts back, his eyes growling wilder by the minute, murderous rage filling him from the inside out. 

“I’ll never tell you!” Max cries, tears streaming down her cheeks in fear. Billy’s gone crazy on her before, many, many times. But never like this, so unhinged and monstrous. “Your friends got what they deserved! And soon enough, you’ll get yours, too!” She pounds harder on his chest, kicking up her leg to knee him in the crotch. She sticks the landing, sending Billy falling to the floor.

“Shit.” Billy gasps as the wind is knocked out of his chest, nearly collapsing onto the floor while clutching between his legs. Max runs from the room, rushing to find her jacket and shoes and make an escape. Her parents are out for the day, her mother doing the weekly shopping, while her father is bowling with his buddies from work. There’s no one to help her, and she needs to get out now. “Come back here, you little bitch!” He yells from her room, still waiting for the pain to pass before he can get up and go after her.

Max doesn’t respond, too preoccupied with struggling to pull her sneakers on. The left one is on, but the right is giving her trouble. Her foot just won’t go in at the correct angle, and her heart pounds in her ears as she tries to hurry. She can see Billy slowly climbing to his knees from her spot near the front door. She finally gets the other shoe on, slinging her jacket on next and grabbing her skateboard. Max goes for the door, stealing a look behind her to find Billy speeding her way. She lets out a scream, yanking the door open and running outside. 

“Fuckin’ bitch! Get back here!” Billy growls as he misses her by an inch, the door slamming shut in his face. He turns the knob, throwing it back open in his pursuit. It slams against the inside of the house, and he finds Max attempting to drop her board and skate away. He hurries down the front steps, eager to catch up to her. She’s got one hell of an ass-kicking coming her way.

“Shit.” Max mutters as her wheels get stuck in a pile of rain-matted leaves sticking out past the gutter, kicking her foot to try and squeak through them. The wheels screech at her in protest, becoming more jammed up in the peat mess of foliage with every stroke of her leg. “C’mon, dammit!” She grunts in frustration. She’s about to abandon the board and run, when it finally pushes through and she nearly rockets forward just before Billy has the chance to snatch her up altogether. “Yes!” She cries in victory, adrenaline coursing through her as she speeds off. 

“Get back here, Max! Right now!” Billy tries to keep up, running as fast as he can to match Max’s speed. But his athleticism is no match for a set of wheels. Once Max turns down the block, she's got too much ground on him to catch up. “Fuck!” He growls, balling his fists at his sides. He punches a nearby mailbox, leaving a large dent in the thin metal, as well as a bit of blood from his knuckles. He storms back inside, already forming a plan to stop this shit once and for all. He won’t let this bitch win, not a chance in hell. If he has to see to it that she’s cremated this time, so be it. He will not rest until Witch Bitch Munson is shuffled off this mortal coil once again. And he knows just who to call to help him out.

It’s an uncharacteristically clear day on Halloween morning, the sun poking through sparse clouds. The only traces of the intense storming throughout the previous night are soaked piles of dead leaves, and slow-drying puddles on the pavement outside. It’s a fresh new day, setting the perfect stage for your final act. You received just short of Hopper’s outright blessing, and Max is in a better place mentally after your short reunion. Talking to them both has helped you feel much better about the whole thing. They know it isn’t your fault that you’re back, and they hold no affection for the men who took you and Eddie away in the first place. Divine justice, Hop called it last night. Oddly spiritual, coming from him. 

You’re itching to get this shitshow on the road already, but the crow warns you that danger is afoot. It appears Billy, the ringleader in your murder, doesn’t plan on going down easy. And in turn, neither will Jason. You can sense it all through the mind’s eye of the dark bird, hear their plotting and see the numbers they intend to amass this evening. A good ten other men will be gearing up with weapons of all sorts, and locking themselves down at Carver’s house. You can hear them making remarks about how good they’re gonna get you this time, how they’ll make the devil regret sending you back here. If they only knew the half of it. You recognize a couple of the guys from last night, surely they’ll regale the others with their tales of ‘satanic mind control’ to fan the vitriolic flames that burn inside of them all. You’re certainly in for a challenge, for once. And you’re looking forward to it, leaving all regret and shame at the door. 

There’s something else, though, concealed from your view. You don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel good. The crow won’t allow you to see, for it will throw your mission off course. It’s like black feathers are flapping in your vision, dizzying your head when you try to focus on it. You’re annoyed that you aren’t allowed this small piece of knowledge, given how much the crow has consistently shown you throughout this experience. You only hope it doesn’t involve your friends getting hurt, you couldn’t rest peacefully if anything happened to them. You light up another cigarette, second to last in the pack, waiting for your cue to take a final bow once the sun goes down.

Hopper’s startled out of his beer-steeped slumber by a pounding on his door, making him roll over with a loud groan. He squints his eyes open, peeking at the clock on his bedside table. 9am, he should already be at the station by now. He spent far longer than he thought he would talking to Y/N last night, and as much as his head hurts from the beers they shared, he doesn’t regret a second of it. Although, it’s probably Powell and Callahan currently banging down his door. The knocking still hasn’t stopped in his moment of contemplation, it would be best to answer it sooner than later. 

“Coming!” Jim calls to whoever is on the other side of the door, wiping his hands over his face as he sits up in bed. He picks his robe up off the floor, standing to put it on. It wouldn’t exactly be polite to answer the door in his boxer shorts, after all. “Keep your pants on.” He says as he slowly walks down the hall to meet his visitor. He grabs hold of the doorknob, twisting it to pull it open and reveal who’s outside. He finds Max standing on his doorstep, tears staining her red, puffy cheeks, her body trembling in utter terror. “Max, what’s wrong?” He asks, surprised to see her in this state. She doesn’t answer his question, too busy choking on her sobs. Something must have happened, and given how distraught she looks, it’s really, really bad. "Come inside, kid.” He sighs, looking behind her to see if anyone else is around. Y/N, or the crow that was with her, or someone far less friendly.

“I didn’t want to lead him right to her.” Max hiccups once she’s inside, following Hopper as he brings her to the couch.

“What do you mean? What’s going on, Max?” Jim asks, confused.

“Billy. He knows that Y/N’s alive. He was grilling me all about it, and he wouldn’t let me go. I thought he was gonna hurt me.” Max starts crying again as she speaks, her words making a flare of anger rise in Jim’s chest. “I wouldn’t tell him, and I managed to get away. I wanted to go to Y/N, and warn her. But I was worried Billy might follow me.” She shoves herself into Hopper's chest, her fear getting the best of her. His arms close over her instantly, holding her close to keep her safe.

“It’s alright, kid. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Jim says softly, though his insides boil with rage. 

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Hop.” She whimpers, muffled by his robe.

“I know.” He replies simply, becoming rather worried himself now that Hargrove is no doubt gathering his posse and gearing up for a fight. Y/N’s grown rather formidable in her newly-undead state, but those young men pack a hell of a punch regardless. “Look, I’m meant to be at the station, you can come with me. There’ll be other officers around, and you’ll be safe. Okay?” Jim offers. 

“Isn’t there anything we can do to help her?” Max asks, raising her head to look in Jim’s eyes. She finds no answer within them, and helplessness spreads through her veins like ice water. 

“I don’t know, kid.” Hopper sighs, unsure what else to say. He wishes he could drop everything and drive over to Crystal Ridge, and back Y/N up when the fight comes to her. But there’s too many responsibilities waiting for him. Parents to identify bodies, reporters with questions, his fellow officers needing a plan of action from their commanding officer. Unfortunately, that leaves Y/N on her own for the time being. And it kills him to do so once again, he can’t be there in her time of need. He only hopes she can fight back this time, and earn her victory. 

“Promise me you’ll at least try?” Max asks, picking at her cuticles as she’s aware of how big of a request she’s making. She doesn’t want Hop to get hurt, then she’d have no one. But Y/N has thus far taken the brunt of the risk, and Max finds it unfair to let her suffer it all herself. Again.

“Of course I will, Max. I’ll do everything I can.” Hopper promises, nodding his head even though the words feel like a cruel lie. No matter how much or how little effort he does end up putting in this time around, it will never feel like enough. His best wasn’t enough to save Sarah, or the Munsons, not even Pete fucking Howell. “I gotta get dressed, kid. Did you eat yet?” He asks as he stands up.

“No, didn’t have a chance to.” Max answers, her stomach rumbling.

“I’ve got Eggos in the freezer, pop a couple in the toaster before we leave.” Jim instructs as he walks down the hall to his bedroom.

“You got it, Chief!” Max perks up, heading for the kitchen. 

Jim chuckles, closing the door. He hurries to get ready, fishing out a clean set of his tan uniform from the closet. He’s got to look his best for the news cameras when he gives a public statement about these brutal killings. Brutal, but deserved, he thinks briefly, making note to leave that last part out. 

“Are you sure about this?” Jason asks, pacing the floor of his living room. Billy’s just filled him in on his little theory about who the killer is, and the plan he has in mind to take care of her. 

“Yeah, man. The bitch is back, and we gotta put her down. For good this time.” Billy says with cruel confidence, crossing his arms from his spot on Jason’s couch.

“I mean, you realize how crazy this sounds, right? Y/N Munson is dead, we sure saw to that a year ago.” Jason retorts, wondering if Hargrove has truly lost it this time.

“Believe me, Carver, I know how it sounds. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. Besides, Max told me all I needed to know.” Billy responds, unfazed. 

“Which was what, exactly?” Jason questions, growing rather irritated with all these ghost stories. There’s been more than enough gossip around town in the short amount of time Tommy and Steve turned up dead. And he would love nothing more than to forget all about that night. He did what was right for the town, and that’s all. He’d prefer not to have any part in a recreation of the justice the four of them served. 

“Enough to know that Y/N Munson is back, and she’s gunning right for us!” Billy snaps, making the other man flinch. He sighs, putting his rage away, saving it for the satanic whore who deserves it. “Look, I don’t like it any more than you do. But I, for one, am not gonna sit by and wait for that devil-worshiping cunt to come along and slit my throat.” He explains.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Carver asks, more full of questions than he’s ever been. 

“We’re gonna round up the boys, and gear up.” Billy says, as if the answer is obvious. “We’re also gonna go get my sister and bring her here. She’s gonna be the bait.” An evil grin spreads across his lips, and he cracks his knuckles. He’s going to enjoy killing Munson again, and he’ll enjoy making Max watch this time even more.

While Hopper has been busy handling the frantic press and public all afternoon, Max has been sitting in a chair in the bullpen at the station. Officers hustle and bustle all around her, answering calls from the tip line Jim put out for the citizens to report anything ‘suspicious’. She doubts anything these officers are writing down will be relevant, probably just more silly rumors and bored housewives looking for attention. Flo, a kind old woman who sits at reception, brings Max homemade cookies and hot chocolate with a warm smile on her face. No one else really pays the girl any mind, but it’s not their fault. This town hasn’t seen anything this big since the events of last year, which has everyone in a frenzy to get to the bottom of it. It all feels rather pointless to Max, and surely Hopper as well, given that they know exactly what’s going on and have no intention of stopping it.

Max doodles on a pad of paper Flo supplied to her, sketching crows with wispy black feathers and close-ups of motorcycles. She would draw Y/N, too, but she’s never been very good at faces. Plus, she’d hate for one of the cops to come by and question her about it. It’s odd enough that she’s drawing birds that represent death and mechanical parts, as opposed to the landscapes and flowers one would expect from her creative hand. She hopes Jim will be finished with the press conference soon, an uneasy feeling has been twisting around in her stomach ever since he left her in here. Like danger lurks just around the corner. Just a little longer, she tells herself. Hop will be back soon, and everything will be fine.

Max munches on her cookies, sipping the cocoa to wash it down. The sounds of phones ringing, voices mingling together, and the scratching of pens on paper lulls her into a false sense of security. She continues to sketch, filling the page with the things that have stuck with her since her visit to see Y/N. “Damn.” She lets out a small sigh when she messes up on getting the curve of the crow’s beak just right, turning her pencil over to erase the mistake. She fixes it right up, smiling happily at her handiwork. With the page full to the brim now, she gives her eyes a break from staring down at the paper. Just as she looks up, the last person she wants to see right now comes storming into the station.

“There you are, you little shit!” Billy yells as he stomps over to her. His words draw the attention of everyone in the bullpen, all other sounds falling silent. He reaches her in no time at all, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

“Ow, let me go!” Max shouts, looking to the officers around her for help. A couple of them have their hands trained on their holsters, ready to pull out their weapons if necessary.

“Nobody try anything!” Billy announces as he takes notice of their guarded actions, pulling a large pistol from his jeans. He holds it up, waving it at various officers to get his point across. “Don’t try to stop me, or I’ll shoot her!” He warns, yanking Max to her feet. His eyes dart around the room, checking to see how many officers there are. Eight of them spread through the room, all standing at their desks. Except for one, who attempts to slowly make his way over to Billy. His hands are outstretched defensively, a cautious expression on his face. “Hey! Don’t come any closer!” Billy snarls, pointing the gun at the officer. The man stops in his tracks, eyes widening as Hargrove cocks the weapon. “Stay back! All of you!” He shouts, his features taken over by mania.

“Billy, let me go!” Max protests, squirming in his hold. His hand is wrapped tightly around her arm, enough to leave her with a bruise later. She wonders where Hopper is, why he hasn’t come back yet. He could easily put an end to all this.

“Shut up, you little bitch!” Billy growls in her face, going so far as to smack the loaded gun across her face. She screams as cold metal meets her forehead, immediately sending a throbbing pain into her skull, and a trickle of blood runs down her face from a small gash the weapon leaves behind. The onlookers gasp in horror at the abuse, but they all stay where they are with their hands held up. 

“Why are you doing this?” Max whimpers as she rubs her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she realizes no help is coming to her now.

“You’re comin’ with me. I’m setting a little trap for your friend.” Billy says, just low enough for only her to hear. “And then you’re gonna watch me kill her again.” He chuckles darkly, tugging her along with him now. “Where’s the back door outta here?” He addresses the room again, expecting a quick answer. A couple apprehensive fingers point behind him, but it may be a trick to catch him off guard. He goes for the officer that meant to approach him before, pointing his weapon at him once again. “You! Show me the way out!” Billy commands. When the cop doesn’t move right away, he turns the gun on his sister. He holds the barrel to her temple, causing her to shriek. “I’ll fucking shoot her, I swear to god!”

“No, don’t! I-I’ll show you. Follow me.” The officer says nervously, gesturing towards the back of the station. 

“Lead the way.” Billy replies, nudging the gun in his grip. Max lets out a sigh of relief when it’s not held at her head anymore, though her sobs don’t stop. Her eyes plead with every officer she passes, and Flo, to do something, anything to stop her brother. They outnumber him, most of them have weapons. And yet here they stand, useless as always. 

The officer, who’s tag Max didn’t have a chance to read, shows them to a back door down a short hallway next to the bullpen. The man opens the door for them, and stands back to let Billy lead Max outside. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes weakly to Max, before closing the door behind him.

Billy leads Max around to the front of the building, bypassing the crowd out front with the gun pressed against her back. Max sees Hopper at a podium, issuing his statement and answering questions from the press. She wills him to notice her, to tell him telepathically that she’s in danger. “If you scream, I’ll make sure to aim for the pig Chief first.” Billy whispers threateningly, still dragging her along. No one notices anything is amiss, too focused on the big show. “Get in the car.” Billy instructs as he shoves Max forward towards his Camarro. He rushes to pull his keys from his pocket, it won’t take long for those scared little piggies to alert Hopper of the situation.

Max thinks it over for a moment, stalling as she opens her door once it’s unlocked. It’s risky to draw attention to herself. Billy could hurt someone, even from the far end of the parking lot. Or he could hurt her worse than he already has. But she takes her chance when Billy’s preoccupied with getting the engine started. “Help!” She cries, as loud as she can, hoping it’s enough to be heard over the mass of reporters outside. “Please! Help! Help me! Somebody!” She continues.

“Shut the fuck up, and get in the car! I told you, I’ll shoot Hopper if you don’t quit it!” Billy barks, reaching over the seat to grab her arm that’s barely inside the car.

“Someone please! Help! Hopper!” Max screams, and a few heads in the crowd turn her way. 

Hopper finally sees her from his vantage point, eyes blowing wide. Billy’s come to take her, and there’s blood running down her face. He hurt her. “Stop that car!” Jim shouts, pointing in the direction of the Camarro. He leaves the podium, trying to get past the crowd and reach Max.

“Get in the fucking car! Or I’ll shoot you right now!” Billy yells, his final warning. Without thinking, Max stops screaming, and gets into the car. She pulls her door closed, and Billy speeds off like he’s drag racing the Devil. Max doubles over, sobbing uncontrollably as she hates herself for giving in. But she doesn’t want to die, or for Hop to get hurt. So, for now, she’ll have to play damsel in distress. Her only hope for savior now will be when Y/N comes to take the last two lives she’s owed.

“Dammit!” Hopper exclaims as Billy speeds off. A couple officers come up to him, reporting what happened inside the station while he was busy. “Why didn’t you stop him? All of you are trained and armed, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts, before forcing himself to take a deep breath. The cameras are still rolling, and there’s a lot riding on his handling of the situation in a calm, respectable manner. This conversation can continue behind closed doors, as loud and as angry as he wants to be. Within reason. “Just…find them. Now.” He says as calmly as he can, dismissing the officers to get on it. This certainly complicates things.

Without a second thought, or the effort to alert anyone as to where he’s going, Hopper gets into his truck and goes straight to the place where he knows Y/N is hiding out. He peels out of the lot, ignoring the news crews that chase after him. The vultures can wait for whatever statement he’ll no doubt have to make after this is all sorted. If he makes it out alive, that is. His hands squeeze hard on the steering wheel, the rubber material twisting under his strangling grasp. This entire ordeal is getting out of hand, and he’s damn near clueless on what to do about it. He’s just the Chief of police in a small town made up of nothing. Hostage situations and task forces aren’t exactly in the realm of normal operations. Maybe back at his old precinct in the city, but there’s barely enough officers here to deal with a standard robbery, let alone this clusterfuck. 

Hopper’s front tires roll over the curb outside of Crystal Ridge, no time can be spared for perfect parking as the sun goes down. He jumps out of the truck, nearly falling on his face in the rush. He catches himself with the side of the vehicle, breathing hard as thoughts of what harm may come to Max play wildly in his head. He hopes that Y/N’s here, she has to be. He needs her help, now more than ever. And Max even more so. Hopper heads inside, jogging up the steps and down the pitch dark hallway. He approaches the open door to the Munson residence, a place he hasn’t returned to in almost a year. He walks through the threshold, looking around at the trashed interior.

“Y/N?” Hopper calls for you, startling you out of your train of thought about how exactly to pay Billy back for ruining everything you ever cared about. “Are you here? Max is in trouble. We don’t have a lot of time.” He calls out to you breathlessly, still awaiting a response.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You step out of the bedroom to reveal  yourself. “What’s going on?” You ask with worry.

“Billy’s got her. Max came to me this morning, she was really upset. They had a fight. I brought her with me today, and Billy held the station at gunpoint to take her. He knows you’re back, and he’s using her as bait to lure you out.” Hopper explains, struggling to keep a hold on his breath. 

“I already know where he is. The crow showed me. Well, not everything.” You reply, turning to fix the bird in question with a glare. I knew you were hiding something from me, you little shit. It gives a small caw in response, bowing its head as if to offer an apology. You turn to look at Jim again, putting aside the omission of truths. “But, I know what I’m walking into.” You say confidently, and he gives you an odd look.

“Mind filling me in? Jim asks, thinking he may be able to provide some backup this time around.

“This’ll teach you to run from me.” Billy snarls as he tightens Max’s restraints. He’s got her tied up to one of Jason’s kitchen chairs, with a thick strip of duct tape placed over her mouth. Can’t have the neighbors in the rich part of town hearing a little girl’s cries for help, now, can he?

“Is this really necessary, man? She’s just a kid.” Jason asks, his teeth worrying his lip as he looks at the girl. Endless tears stain her cheeks, blood from the pistol-whip Billy gave her dripping down to her chin, dark and crusted over her pale complexion. His stomach rolls, wondering if perhaps his friend is going too far to bring Y/N down. If she’s even the one who’s been doing all this. He wants to believe so, but he hasn’t exactly seen any proof.

“Believe me, she’s more than earned it.” Billy replies, standing up as the rope is tied tightly across the back of the chair. “Besides, we can’t have her screaming her head off, or running to the neighbors for help. Then we’ll really be fucked.” He explains, rather annoyed with the look of  uncertainty on Carver’s face. “What’s up your ass?” Billy asks, stepping closer to his nervous friend.

“Nothing. I just hope you’re right. And that you know what you’re doing.” Jason says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Have I ever steered you wrong before?” Billy poses the question curiously, gauging Jason’s reaction. He’d hate to have to add another hostage to this situation. Or another body.

“N-No.” Jason stutters, recognizing the coy, shark-like look in Billy’s eyes. The look that carries the threatening idea of ‘you’re either with me, or against me, and lord help you if you become my enemy’. “You’re right. Let’s do this.” Jason adds, nodding his head in confidence. He’s shaking in his boots on the inside, but he's in too deep to pussy out now.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Billy chuckles menacingly, proud that his partner in crime has made the wise decision to see things his way. He turns toward the men he’s rounded up in Jason’s house, and addresses them as a group. “Is everybody ready!?” He asks them, expecting a quick response.

“Yeah!” The men say in unison, brandishing their various weapons. Axes, ball bats, switchblades, brass knuckles for a couple of them, and Billy of course with his lethal new toy he swiped from his father’s safe. 

“Are we ready to send this bitch back to hell where she belongs!?” Billy asks, louder this time to rile them up.

“Yeah!” They respond as one once again, Jason included. 

“Then let’s fucking do it!” Billy cries, causing the men to break out into hoots and hollers. He looks over at Jason again, a slick smirk on his lips. “Now, all we gotta do is wait.” He says casually, the intent of cold-blooded murder settling deep within his veins.

As the moon rises on Halloween night, the time has finally come. The stage is set, the actors have taken their places, and the final act is ready to play out. All that’s left is for you to make your grand entrance. Billy, Jason, and their goons are hunkered down and armed to the teeth, with Max held captive under their close watch. You ride through town towards the house on Karma’s back, the crow perched on your shoulder, with Hopper following close behind in his truck.

The plan you’ve quickly concocted together goes as follows: You and Hopper will go to the Carver house, where you’ll make your way inside while Hopper waits outside and calls for backup. Cops will surround the place, and maybe even attempt to negotiate with Billy and Jason. Little will they know that you’re slicing and dicing your way through the men inside, rescuing Max in the process. You hope to slip out once the work is done, but that’s where things get complicated. Since every available officer will be forming an impenetrable wall around the house, Hopper will have to be the first one inside after the bloodbath. He’ll have to rely on timing, and maintain total control of the situation. Neither of which have been Jim’s strong suits, try as he might to exert complete authority. Tonight will be make or break. One wrong step, a single bad call, and it all goes to hell.

You pull up to the house, the moon shining down upon you through pitchy clouds as the sky threatens the entire town with rain. You kill Karma’s engine, Hop following suit with the truck. He gets out for a moment, walking over to you. “You sure you can handle this, kid? There’s a lot of angry, dangerous men in there, especially Billy.” He says with worry, wishing you’d let him come inside and help you take the fuckers out.

“I’m gonna be fine, Jim. They’re the ones that should be afraid.” You reply, glancing bitterly at the green-painted front door of the Carver residence. Just two more (or twelve, if it comes to that), and then this will all be over. You’ll be able to rest again, peacefully this time, and return to your love. 

“He has a gun, Y/N. I don’t want Max getting caught in the crossfire.” He presses, needing you to understand what you’re about to do, who you’re putting at risk.

“I know, Hop. I’m not gonna let them hurt her. She’ll get out in one piece, even if I don’t.” You say seriously, under no pretense that this third and final battle will leave you unscathed. Billy is calculating, and spry. Jason isn’t any less intimidating. And they’ve rounded up a small army, all of whom have the sole focus of putting you in the ground for the second time. 

“Okay.” He nods, though his gut still has all sorts of uneasy feelings about this.

“It’ll be fine. Just stick to the plan, and everything will work out fine.” You reassure him “I love you, Hop. Thanks, for everything.” You pull him in for a hug, which feels much more like a goodbye than either of you appreciate.

“Love you, too, kiddo. Go save our girl, and give those two shitheads my regards.” Jim smiles as he joins the embrace, though it would be nice if he didn’t ever have to let you go. It hurt enough the first time. But this is the way things are, and time is running out. It’s now or never, and he has no intention of denying you your bittersweet revenge.

“I will.” You say simply as you pull away. You think about verbalizing an actual farewell, but it would feel like a waste of words. You’ve said all you can, and the time for talking has long since passed. Now is the time for action. You exchange a small nod with the man, and turn away to head inside. You light up the last cigarette in the pack, tossing the empty box on the ground. You draw your twin knives, saving the switchblade for the final blow you intend to serve to Hargrove. It’s only polite to return the knife to its rightful owner, after all. You allow the rage to well up inside you as it has two times before, gearing up for a bloody fight as your feet clomp up the front steps. You take a deep breath as you meet the doormat, closing your eyes for a moment to gather yourself. “Let’s fucking finish this.” You say to yourself with purpose, a small encouraging caw leaving the crow. 

Without another second to lose, you lift up your right leg, and proceed to kick the front door right off its hinges. The wood splits off in a shatter of splinters, large chunks sliding across the floor into the foyer. You step through the threshold, finding the gang of men staring at you in disbelief in the living room to your left. “Sorry I’m late.” You say sarcastically, stalking into the room. The bird flies from your shoulder to perch on a nearby lamp, making the men duck as it swoops close to their heads. You take a large puff from your smoke, flicking the ash with the cig still planted between your lips. A neat trick Eddie showed you once, using one’s tongue to discard the ash when one’s hands are…preoccupied.

You take a good look around, finding Max first. She’s tied up similarly to the way you and Eddie were, but with tape pasted to her mouth. She’s got a wound on her head, from Billy, no doubt. It doesn’t look too serious, she’ll be alright once you get her out of here. You give her an assuring nod, letting her know you’ve got this under control. You leave her be once she nods back, gazing at each of the men who stand before you with weapons held in their sweaty hands. Most of them clearly don’t have the stomach for this, mob mentality or not. They’ll be easy enough to knock out. You’re not here to cause any unnecessary death. “Looks like quite the party.” You observe, perking up when you lay eyes on Jason and Billy standing at the far end of the room. “Hello, boys.” You greet them, a sickening smile spread across your lipstick-smudged mouth.

“I fucking knew you were back.” Billy growls, nudging Jason’s ribs. “What did I tell you?” He says to the other man.

“I can’t believe it.” Jason murmurs, ignoring the bruising jab of Billy’s elbow prodding at him. “This can't really be happening. It’s impossible!”

“Jesus Christ, not this song and dance again!” You groan, rolling your eyes. “Your eyes aren’t foolin’ ya, Carver! I’m back, and with a goddamn vengeance!” You explain as you laugh at his confusion. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, who’s first?” You ask, holding the knives up in your grasp. The light of the room glints off their steel blades, twinkling in the most threatening way. Without a word, about half the men Billy and Jason rounded up find themselves running out of the house, screaming in terror as they scramble to be the first to make it out the broken doorway and into the night to escape. “Well, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to a fair fight.” You play up a sigh as you watch the last one stumble through the exit. You turn back to find Billy storming over to you, nostrils flaring and gun poised in your direction.

“Enough of this shit!” He roars, pulling back the hammer of the pistol and firing a shot at you. It rings through the air, but you act quickly enough to raise your arm up so the bullet goes clean through your wrist.

“Fuck.” You grunt as it makes contact, searing hot and ripping through flesh and bone like it's nothing. Dark viscera oozes messily down your sleeve as you hold up the wound, waiting for the magic to happen and further frighten your adversaries. “Wanna see somethin’ cool?” You ask darkly, your smile returning as your stare into Billy’s angry eyes. He doesn’t say a thing, too enamored by the black sludge leaking from you to speak. Something isn’t right here, you’re not right. His fury morphs into fear as your wound closes itself up, bones regrowing and skin sealing the seams without leaving a trace. “Neat, huh?” You ask, taking a swipe at him with your left hand. Your blade makes clean contact with his bicep, slicing all the way down through the muscle.

“Shit!” Billy yelps, jumping back away from you as you attempt to land another blow. His hand tries to cover the deep wound, quickly becoming washed over in warm blood. “Get her!” He orders.

“Aw, did someone lose their nerve?” You pout playfully at him, not paying mind to the men who intend to rush you. You could take them out with your eyes closed and hand tied behind your back at this point. It’s almost boring. Almost. “Fine, fine. I’ll take care of your little lap dogs first. Save the best for last!” You shout as your blade stabs into the stomach of one of the men, ripping your arm across to make his innards spill out. He cries aloud in agony, failing to hold onto his slippery intestines as he falls to the floor with a thump. Your eyes stay glued to Jason and Billy as you work your way through their friends, lambs lead to slaughter by their former teammates. The second man tries to land a punch across your cheek, but you end up slashing his wrist wide open instead. You kick him swiftly in the chest, crushing his ribs and sending him flying across the room. He takes a glass coffee table with him on the way down, glass shattering and embedding inside of him in jagged shards. Weak wheezing can be heard from where he lands as he bleeds out, but the other men keep on coming. 

The last three try to tag-team you, armed with sharpened axes and knives. Without breaking a sweat, or the stare you’ve been maintaining this entire time, you block their blows one after another. You defend against heavy swings, the ching of blades zooming past your ears as they repeatedly miss. Kicks and punches are leisurely thwarted, the routine becoming quite predictable in a matter of seconds. Growing bored of playing with your proverbial food, you snatch one of the men into your grasp by shoving a knife into his arm, embedding deep into his flesh. He screams for mercy as you tug him closer, using your leverage to pull his arm back and snap it in two. His agony grows louder, like a wild animal caught in a trap. One of the others tries to get a swing in, but you use their captured friend as a shield to catch the blow. An ax blade lands deep within his chest, causing him to gurgle up blood and struggle for air. The other man pulls back, removing the ax and sending a spray of red all over the four of you. You remove your own knife from your prey with a clean spin, sending his body behind you into the foyer.

“Jesus Christ, she’s gonna kill us all.” Jason murmurs in realization, wishing he’d never agreed to this stupid plan.

“Not if we don’t let her. Go get that damn bird, there’s something weird about it.” Billy says to him, pointing in the corvid’s direction. It’s been watching this scene play out, with far more intelligence than he’s seen most birds have. Perhaps there’s something about it that’s tied to Y/N’s seemingly immortal constitution, though he thinks this over in much less complex terms.

“Why me? That thing gives me the creeps!” Jason retorts, shaking his head as the bird tilts its head at him. He doesn’t like the look in its onyx eyes, how it seems to be peering into his very soul.

“That’s the point! Now, go! I’ll take care of this crazy bitch.” Billy orders, shoving Jason toward the crow.

“Fine, fine. But if I get pecked, it’s your fault.” Jason says begrudgingly. 

While Jason attempts to catch your feathered friend, you’re busy slicing the throat of the second-to-last goon wide open. It’s not nearly as satisfying as Harrington’s was to cut, but it still fuels you to keep going nonetheless. These fuckers had a chance to run, to play no part in this. But they chose to stay, so their fates are sealed. You toss his body to the floor once his blood has left you soaking wet, left with one more to take down. “Let’s make this quick. I’ve got much more important things to take care of.” You toss a glance at the man you’re speaking to, recognizing him from last night. Patrick, you think his name is. “Guess the things I showed you weren’t enough to change anything, huh?” You ask, reminding him of the mind-melting torment you put him through.

“Hell no. You got what was coming to you.” Patrick seethes, holding up his ax once again. He’s coated head to toe in the blood of his friends, the wood handle of his weapon slick in his trembling hands. “You, and that pervert husband of yours.” He adds, rubbing salt in the wound.

“Don’t you dare talk about him!” You scream with rage, a switch flipping inside of you at his words. You stop fucking around, and ram both of your knives as deep into Patrick’s pathetic chest as you possibly can. The air is stolen from his lungs, quickly being replaced with blood to drown him. “Fuck you, you piece of shit!” You continue to yell as you drive him towards the wall. He slams into the floral wallpaper smearing ruby red all over the place. “Don’t you ever talk about him! Ever! Ever! Ever!” Your screams grow louder, more feral as you pull your blades out and shove them back into Patrick’s flesh over and over. Expletives fly from your lips, joined by jab after jab as you rip and tear him to shreds from the inside out. His torso nearly looks like raw hamburger by the time you’re through. You pull the knives out one final time, and his lifeless body slides down the wall, leaving a trail of viscera behind.

“Gotcha!” Jason says as he lunges for the crow, just barely catching it in his hands. It squawks and caws, flapping its wings wildly at being captured. “I got it! I got it!” He cheers, bringing it over to Billy.

“Well, at least you're good for something, Carver.” Billy chuckles, patting his friend on the shoulder condescendingly. 

“Whatever, just take the damn thing.” Jason shoves the crow his way, not wanting to hold it any longer.

“No, hold it still. I’ll take care of the little fucker.” Billy barks, holding his gun up to aim it at the bird’s head.

“What are you, crazy? What if you shoot me?” Jason protests, struggling to keep a hold of the crow, its talons scratching relentlessly at his hands.

“I’m not gonna shoot you, dammit! Just keep it still!” Billy yells, pulling the hammer back on the weapon.

“Let the bird go!” You shout in their direction, stomping over with the bloody knives still in your hands.

“No way! It’s got somethin’ to do with why you’re…like that. And I’m not fighting an undead, satanic bitch if I have anything to say about it!” Hargrove shakes his head, training the barrel of the pistol at the crow’s head. It gives you a sullen look, accepting its fate.

“No, don’t!” You scream as Billy pulls the trigger, hitting the corvid point-blank in its tiny skull. You fall to your knees, sensing your being becoming less impervious and more…mortal. You feel the connection between you and the bird become lost, leaving you to fend for yourself. It falls lifeless in Jason’s grip, and he yelps as he drops its body on the floor.

“Jesus! I told you not to do that! The bullet could’ve gone straight through and hit me!” Jason smacks Billy in the chest, his ears ringing from the shot.

“Stop bein’ such a baby! You’re fine, and the damn bird is dead! Mission accomplished!” Billy shoves him back, his words coming out frantic and gleeful. “Now we can kill the fucking whore!” He laughs, turning to look at you now. “Bring it on, Witch Bitch. I’m lookin’ forward to round two.” He jeers at you, grabbing at his crotch with his free hand.

“Careful what you wish for, Hargrove. You just might get it.” You pant, slowly returning to your feet.

Suddenly, you hear the wail of sirens outside. Backup has officially arrived. Right on schedule. “This is Hawkins Police. We have you surrounded. Let the girl go, and come out with your hands up!” You hear Hopper’s voice boom through his megaphone. The signal to finish this shit and get the hell out of here. Easier said than done when the one thing keeping you safe had its brains splattered on the living room floor.

“Looks like our time is almost up, boys. Let’s get this over with.” You say, refreshing your grip on your twin blades.

“Gladly.” Billy growls, and he and Jason run towards you, a determined battle cry leaving their heaving chests. 

Though your immunity to injury has been stripped from you, it appears your strength and reflexes are here to stay, for the time being. You drop to your knees, and stick one leg out to trip the men as they charge you. They go tumbling over your extended limb, landing hard on the wood floor. You decide to go after Jason first, he’s got less fight in him than Billy by a mile. You swing yourself around on your knees, straddling him just as he manages to turn over onto his back. “Sorry, Carver. You’re up first.” You say as your thighs pin him to the ground, though he tries to squirm beneath you.

“Billy! Help me, goddammit!” Jason shrieks, turning his head to look at Billy, who’s currently rubbing his bleeding, bruising head that smacked right into the thick leg of his father’s antique writing desk. “Shit.” He mutters, watching his friend groan in pain as a concussion takes hold. 

“Hargrove can’t help you now.” You say to the sniveling man below you, drawing his terror-filled eyes your way. “I’d say something clever before I kill you, but I’m fresh out of one-liners at the moment.” You shrug, taking your time in deciding where to bury your knives inside Jason’s trembling body. You’d hate to repeat your previous work, that would just be sloppy. 

“What are you doing? Just get it over with already!” Jason whimpers, his lip quivering. He’s accepted his fate, wondering if perhaps he deserves this. After all he’s done, satanic panic or not, he has blood on his hands. 

“What’s the rush? It’ll be a minute before Billy boy gets up, and I wanna make this count. It’s only fair, don’t you think?” You lean down towards his face as you speak, another sickly grin sprouting from your lips. “Is someone regretting their sins, Jason? Are you worried that you’ll burn in hell for what you’ve done?” You ask mockingly, running the edge of the blade along his chest.

“Y-Yes.” Jason stutters, tears rolling down his face as he nods.

“Well, you’re about to find out.” You say, lowering yourself further to plant a kiss on his cheek. Just like the others. He gasps at the touch of your cold lips of his flesh, a shiver running down his spine. The kiss of death. The thought passes fleetingly as you plunge the knives straight through Jason’s eyes, which burst like grapes once the blades pierce into his skull. His body falls still instantly, his head lolling to the side. The handle of one of the knives taps against the floor, the final sound he’ll ever make. You climb off of his body, wiping away a piece of eye goo that was flung onto your cheek from the impact. You look over at Billy, who’s managed to sit up against the wall now. A gash on his forehead bleeds and throbs, and it appears he’s gotten sick on himself from the injury. You go over to him slowly, crinkling your nose at the sight and stench of vomit on his chest and lap. “Get up.” You kick his thigh with your foot, ready to get this last bit over with. You pull his old switchblade from your pocket, clicking it open for the first time. “I’ve got something that belongs to you. Figured you'd want it back.” Your words draw his dizzy gaze your way, and you display the knife for him to get a good look. “I’m sure you recognize this little beauty, I know I do.” You say gleefully. “I ought to, since you stabbed me with it so many damn times.” 

“And I’ll stab you with it plenty more.” Billy says with a groan, his words slurring. He’s in much worse shape than you were hoping for. It’s a bit sad now, battling an already wounded animal like himself. But concussion or not, he’ll get what’s coming to him. He stumbles as he stands, bending over to throw up a second time. It lands wetly on the floor, mixing with the many pools of blood you’ve made. He wipes his mouth once he’s finished, lurching closer to you as you back away.

“Come on then, Hargrove. Show me what you got.” You beckon him closer, curling your fingers in a challenging gesture.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Munson. I’ll make you wish you never came back here.” He replies, his steps evening out as he regains what composure he has left. He completely forgets about the gun he has in his hand, running straight for you. His speed takes you by surprise, his free hand quickly grabbing your throat. He leads you back into a wall, which cracks behind you at the force. You grab at his hand, trying to break yourself free from his grasp. But your strength is fading, time is running out. “You’re gonna be beggin’ me to kill you by the time I’m done.” He says through clenched teeth, squeezing harder on your throat. He doesn’t plan to kill you, not yet. He’ll bring you right up to the edge of death, a good few times if he feels like it. He wants to draw it out, just like last time. 

You gasp for air, punching at his thick fingers to make him let go. But he doesn’t. He won’t. You can hear Max screaming through the tape on her mouth, pleading at Billy to stop. You look at her from across the room, just in case you won’t be able to see her again, in case you end up losing after all. A tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re nearly ready to give up. You’ve fought so hard, to get justice for yourself, for Eddie. It was a valiant effort, even if this is the end of the line. At least you’ll know you tried, that someone fought for the two of you. Max and Hopper will know that, too, and they’ll rest much easier for it.

“Ow! What the fuck!?” Billy yells as something is suddenly attacking him from behind. You can see flapping black feathers behind his back, your eyes widening in surprise to see the crow alive and kicking once again. Billy’s grip loosens on your neck, the crow attaching itself to his back with its claws, its beak pecking away at his neck and head. “Get off me, you stupid bird! I thought I killed you!” He tries to reach back and swat at the bird, but it only earns him more pecks on the arms. 

You don’t waste a second as the crow helps keep him distracted, following him as he goes backwards in frantic steps. You hold up the switchblade, watching Billy struggle with the corvid as it makes more small wounds on his flesh. You remind yourself of all the harm he caused you, how he took your love from you, violated your body with his disgusting friends. You’re not going to hold back, this one if for fucking keeps. “Hey, Billy!” You shout, wanting him to look at you when you land the blow.

“Fuck.” He murmurs when he sees you, aimed and ready to deliver his knife back to him as promised. The crow pulls off of him, leaving no time for Billy to react.

“Happy Halloween, motherfucker!” You cry out, ramming the blade right between his ribs and into his heart.

“Shit.” Billy gasps, trying to cover the rapidly bleeding wound with his hand. You keep your grip on the handle of the switchblade, watching the river of blood flow from his chest. You hear the tell-tale gurgles of fluid filling his lungs, smirking as ruby red trickles from Billy’s mouth. He struggles to speak, choking on his own blood. “F-Fuck you, Witch Bitch.” He manages to get the words out, a small smile rising on his own lips.

“Not in your wildest dreams.” You slowly shake your head, and twist the knife within his chest. A pained gasp leaves him, before he goes completely still. You give him a kiss as you’ve done with the others, marking the end of your blood-soaked journey. Your gaze follows him as he falls to the floor, making seven bodies you’re leaving in your wake. With the job done, you can do the one thing you’ve wanted to do since you arrived, untie Max. You rush over to her, kneeling behind her chair to undo the ropes. “I’ve got you, sweetie. Just hold on.” You reassure her as she squirms in her bindings. You manage to get to ropes undone quickly, coming around to the other side to take the tape off her mouth. You peel it off as carefully as you can, leaving only slightly-irritated skin behind on Max’s face. “You okay?” You ask her, realizing she just had to watch you kill seven men right in front of her. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Max nods, seemingly unfazed by the carnage. Blame it on MTV.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that.” You say in remorse, stroking her arms with your bloodied hands. The last thing you wanted was for her to witness all of this, to see what you had to do. It’s not right.

“It’s fine, Y/N, really.” Max insists, throwing herself into your arms, hugging you tightly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Me too. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” You give her a gentle squeeze back, and pull away to stand up. She follows suit, taking your hand as you lead her out of the house. Cops have swarmed around the house entirely, their guns all pointed at you as you step outside. A couple officers approach you, taking Max from you and throwing a blanket over her shoulders. She looks at you in fear, but you give her a nod that it’s okay. The medic needs to check out the nasty gash Billy gave her anyway. You walk further into the group of officers, ignoring their questions and bewildered looks. A rather large crowd has gathered behind the marked police line, almost everyone in town has shown up to see what the hell is going on. Some are kids in costumes, their trick-or-treating interrupted by the situation that’s unfolded. Others are concerned parents in work clothes and bathrobes, pointing fingers in your direction. Nothing you haven’t gotten used to. News crews sit off to the side, reporting what little details Hopper has given them about the situation.

“It’s the killer!” A woman screams in the crowd. Her words stop you in your tracks, your eyes finding Hopper’s immediately. His own are blown wide, and both of you know what’s about to happen. All hell is breaking loose. More voices join the first, accusations thrown your way, putting the officers on alert. 

Time slows down as you turn to try and run away, ignoring the cops telling you to stop. They keep calling after you, chasing behind as your feet carry you back across the front yard. “No, let her go! Stop! Stand down!” Hopper tries to order the officers to let you go, but he’s drowned out by the mob calling for your head. One of the officers pulls the trigger on his weapon that’s aimed right at you, the shot ringing clear through the air, silencing the crowd as the bullet makes contact with the back of your ribs. “No!” Hopper yells, pushing his way through to try and help you. 

You stumble forward onto your knees, your breath stolen away as you can feel blood pooling both inside and out of your body. You can hear more cops approaching you, their shoes trampling on dead leaves. You struggle for breath, scrambling onto your feet. You have to get out of here, to the cemetery. The crow has to lead you back there, or this was all for nothing. You start to run again, lurching forward, forcing your body to keep moving despite the horrid pain you feel. It’s nothing compared to what you endured at the start of all this, and you’ll be damned if you’re gonna let one lousy bullet be your undoing. You keep a good pace to the back of the house, ignoring any other calls for you to freeze, paying no mind to the weapons held and pointed your way.

“Stand down, dammit! Stand down! Let her go!” Hopper bellows over the megaphone, running to the backyard as he repeats his orders. He sees you slip past the open fence, letting out a sigh of relief that his underlings listened for once. “Good job, kid.” He says softly to himself, before turning back to direct the cavalry to go inside the house and assess the scene. Hopper, on the other hand, intends to meet you at the cemetery with Max to say goodbye. He only hopes you don’t bleed out before then.

The journey back to the cemetery is almost as grueling as the trip out of it was, a trail of blood being left behind as you stumble down the sidewalk. The crow flies overhead, doing what little it can to encourage you to keep going. You still have no idea how it came back to life in the first place, you saw its head get blown off and everything. You do wish its resurrection would have returned certain healing properties to you, but it seems you’re on your own in this respect. You will yourself to soldier on, to make your final stop before you can rest once more. Almost there, you tell yourself as the first row of headstones begins to appear in the distance, like crooked teeth in a gaping mouth waiting to swallow you up once again. Storm clouds rumble overhead, and you could stand to have them rain their cold showers upon you right now. To wash away all this blood, to numb the pain searing through your chest every time you take a step or dare to breathe too deeply.

Your wish is granted once you reach the graveyard, a streak of lightning piercing the sky as icy water begins to fall on Hawkins, though far gentler this time around. You sigh in relief, grunting in pain afterwards as your lungs attempt to fold and expand with much difficulty. You keep walking, trailing through rows of stained stones until you find the crack in the earth you crawled out of last night. The crow perches on your gravestone as it did when it awoke you, bowing its head one last time. It’s job is done, and so is yours. You allow yourself to collapse onto the grass, no longer needing the use of your legs, or much else. Your eyes drift closed, waiting for the sweet release of death to wash over you. It shouldn’t be much longer, and then you’ll be free.

“Y/N!” You hear Hopper call to you from a few rows over, causing your eyes to snap open. You sit up, crying out in agony as you do so. “Y/N.” Hooper repeats, softer this time as he approaches. “I’m sorry, I tried to stop them.” He apologizes, peering down at the damage. The bullet went clean through, leaving a round hole in your flesh.

“It’s fine, Hop. You did more than enough.” You say through a groan. You notice Max is with him, your eyes softening at her presence. Of course she needs a proper goodbye, how silly of you to forget. “Hey, kid.” You smile at her, and she comes closer to kneel beside you.

“Hey.” She says, reciprocating your cheery expression, though she feels far from happy. She doesn’t want to lose you again. “Does it hurt?” She asks, looking at your wound nervously. The skin around it is red and angry, blood washing away faster than it can bleed out of you with all this rain.

“Oh, yeah. Like a bitch.” You chuckle, which turns into a rough cough. “I don’t think I have much longer.” You add.

“They got you pretty good.” Hopper says gravely.

“I don’t want you to die! You did that already! It’s not fair!” Max protests, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I know, Max. I don’t wanna leave you guys, either. But I have to. It’s the way things are.” You speak as clearly as you can, ignoring the urge to cough until blood comes up your throat. “Hey.” You raise a hand to cup her cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “It’ll be alright. You and Hop have each other. And you have all the memories of me and Eddie to remember us by. Okay?” You say softly.

“Okay.” Max nods, taking hold of Jim’s hand. You lower yours to hold her other one, closing the circle by taking Hopper’s other hand in your own. The three of you sit here a moment, getting soaked to the bone by the rain, quiet tears leaving all of your eyes as life slowly drains from you.

“Think I can take it from here, you two.” A familiar voice says from behind your friends. Your vision is hazy from the blood loss, but you can make out that mess of curls and infectious smile anywhere.

“Eddie?” You ask in disbelief, the others turning around to find your husband standing behind them, his gentle hands resting on their shoulders. A faint light glows behind him, forming a halo of white around his body. He’s untouched by the rain, his hair and clothes dry as can be.

“It’s time to go home, sweetheart.” Eddie says, his words sweet and loving. A sound you’ve longed to hear for what feels like centuries. He steps between Hopper and Max, extending his hand to you. You reach out for it, and he lifts you onto your feet with no effort at all. He leans in close, planting a kiss to your lips. You reciprocate it, more tears rolling down your face at feeling him again. It’s like no kiss you’ve ever had before, healing you from the inside out, taking away the heartache and suffering, leaving only love and happiness in their place. The pain is gone as you pull away, as well as the mess you’ve made of yourself. You’re back to how you once were, beautiful and clean. “Ready, babydoll?” He asks, gesturing at the bright light he appeared from. 

“Yes, my love.” You share a loving smile, giving a little wave to Max and Hopper as you return to the land of the dead with Eddie. You walk together into the light, disappearing from view shortly after. You’ll spend eternity in bliss, no longer plagued by the bitter torment life thrust upon you. You know what they say, it can’t rain all the time.

The End.

A/N: I just want to pop in and thank everyone for reading this story. I put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it! Happy Spooky Season, everyone. I'll see you round on the next project! - Hippie <3

[dakotalun]

hi!! I just read both parts to your series ‘You Belong With Me’ and holy shit it’s so good!! I wanted to ask if I could request something maybe?? :)

i was thinkin something where Eddie and a super shy girl are dating. They’re only like three weeks into dating but they love each other so much. Reader’s parents fight a lot (maybe Eddie knows), and she randomly shows up on his trailer doorstep crying one day cause of it…sm fluff plz😭🙏

omg I love this prompt! I wrote this in one day because I simply couldn't stop thinking about it!!

Words: 2.2k

Eddie is the best thing to happen this year. I never thought that I would be dating the town “freak” but here I am. The only thing is that he’s not a freak, well in the ways everyone describes him as he’s not. He’s got a very sweet and loving side to him that if you just gave it time he would show.

It became apparent how much of a caring side he has when I told him about my parents.

“They hate each other! I never understood why the hell they got married in the first place. I mean if two people hate each other so much why be together?” I was ranting and pacing about the most recent argument my parents had.

“Sweets, you gotta calm down, please. Come sit,” Eddie motions for me to sit down on the bed next to him but I keep pacing, there are too many emotions for me to be still right now.

“I can’t calm down, I mean they do this all the time! They act all fine and loving around me but then once they think I’ve gone to bed they rip each other’s throats out. I can’t fucking deal with it anymore!” I can feel the tears welling up at the corner of my eyes, but I refuse to cry over them, over this.

Eddie gets up and stands in my path, “Move,” I look at him waiting but he doesn’t budge, “Eddie move. Please.”

“Nope. Not until you take a deep breath and calm down. This is too much for you right now, you just need to sit with it, trust me. If anyone knows fucked up families it’s me.”

“Don’t say that,” My heart breaks hearing him say stuff like that,  “You didn’t choose for your parents to leave you.”

“And you didn’t choose for yours to hate each other,” He places his hands on my shoulders, “If anything else happens just know that I’m here for you. If they start fighting and you need a place to crash come here, Wayne won’t mind and if he does then I’ll kick him out.”

I laugh at his joke, knowing that he would really do it if it had to be done.

“Okay,” I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him tight, “Thanks Eds. I love you.”

“Love you too honey.”

That was last week. Only last week when Eddie said I could come over any time they were fighting and I didn’t wanna hear it. So when I heard the screams come from down the hall I started getting dressed, but then I stopped. It was only last week. Was it too soon to come over and sleep at his place?

We’ve slept in the same place before but it was merely by accident, either we were watching tv in my living room and we fell asleep or we were cuddling after school and fell asleep. Never was it purposeful, until now.

Another scream comes from my parents room, followed by a crash. I have to leave. I can’t deal with this, so I continue getting dressed and pack a small bag before sneaking out of my room. The worst part is that I can’t even jump out of my window like most teens, I have to actually use the front door if I wanna leave. 

Quietly I open the door to my bedroom and slink out of it as quickly as I can without making noise. Their shouts are louder out here, no cushion protecting my ears now. This also means I can clearly hear what they are yelling about.

“DAVE I HAVE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES BEFORE-” My mom’s voice coes riquseing down the hall.

“AND I’M TELLING YOU THAT I. DON’T. CARE! WE DO NOT HAVE THE MONEY FOR IT AND THERE IS NO WAY TO GET IT!” My dad’s voice follows close behind.

“WHY NOT? IS IT BECAUSE YOU KEEP SPENDING IT ON HOOKERS AND DRUGS? ARE YOU TRYING TO BREAK UP THIS FAMILY?!”

“FAMILY? FAMILY? YOU THINK THIS IS A FMAILY? THIS IS TWO HUMANS WHO HAD A KID TOGETHER FAR TOO EARLY AND NOW HAVE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO TAKE CARE OF IT!” 

It. He referred to me as an it, not a she, or a they, or hell even a he. A fucking it! I’ve been their kid for 17 years now and they can’t even pretend to love me. I guess I was never their kid, I was just a burden for them. Well now they don’t have to worry about me.

I rush towards the steps and out the front door, not caring to be quiet anymore. I can feel the raindrops on my skin as they mix with the ever flowing tears. But I don’t care, I need to get as far away from that hell hole as I can, I need to be somewhere safe. I need Eddie.

---

I’m walking for what feels like hours, the rain now completely soaked through my clothes. My feet and hands are frozen but I can’t turn back now, I’m closer to Eddie’s than I am home anyways.

Walking through this part of town at this time of night was always peaceful, it would help me clear my head of all the things it was holding on to. The pain, anxiety and depression would slowly fade away as I walk, left, right, left, right, left, right. Until there was nothing to think of anymore, nothing to worry about.

Now, as I walk the familiar route to the trailer park, my brain can’t seem to shut up or shut off. The screams and yells from my parents flood every corner of my brain, never letting go. No matter how hard I try to get rid of them, they stick like super glue.

I look up from the sidewalk noticing the world around me getting slightly brighter than it was before. Eddie. My heart flutters at the thought of him, the way I know he will hold me and kiss my forehead. I turn into the trailer park, now only a minute away from the one I love.

I approach the doorstep and before I can knock I take a deep breath hoping it will make it less noticeable that I was crying the whole way here. But it doesn’t.

So I knock anyway. Knock, knock, knock. The sound rings through the small home like a pen dropping in an empty room. There’s shuffling on the other end and then the click of the lock. The door swings open to reveal Wayne, Eddie’s uncle. He’s standing there in his work clothes, one shoe on the other sitting by his recliner.

“Oh honey,” He steps aside and ushers me in, helping me take my coat off, “Did you walk all the way here?”

I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. Eddie calls from the other room, “Who is it? I just ordered pizza so it really shouldn’t be here ye-” He talks as he walks out of his room, cups and plates sitting in his hand.

“Shit.” He rushes over to me and cups my face in his hands, “What happened? What’s going on?” His eyes are frantic and he looks back and forth from me to Wayne, hoping someone will answer.

“My-” My voice cracks as I try to speak so I take a moment to think of what to say, “Parents.” I finally settle on. 

Eddie just nods and pulls me in for a hug, not caring that I’m soaked from head to toe. Wayne finishes putting on his other shoe then walks over to Eddie.

“She can stay as long as she needs, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring some stuff home after my shift.” Then he pats him on the shoulder and heads out into the pouring rain that you just escaped from.

Eddie keeps holding me while I cry into his chest, wishing that this nightmare of a life was over. As I calm down I can hear him spftly whispering things to me.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here. I love you so much baby.” The words fill my heart with warmth and happiness that I can’t help but to stop thinking about my parents.

I sadly pull away from Eddie, missing his warmth and look up at him, “Thank you.” My voice is still weak but it’s less strained than before.

“It’s nothing. I told you I’m always here for you, I don’t care when you come over as long as I know you’re safe.” He plants a kiss on my temple, “Can I start a warm bath for you? I don’t want you to catch a cold from these wet clothes.”

This. This is the Eddie everyone needs to see, if they did they would understand him the way I do. This sweet and caring boy who only wants the best for those he loves and cares for. I couldn’t have wished for anyone more perfect than him.

I nod my head and follow him as he leads us to the small bathroom next to his bedroom. He turns the faucet on and tests the temperature before turning back to me.

“I’ll set out some clothes on my bed and here,” He grabs a towel from the hall closet, “Is a towel for when you’re done. I’m just gonna be in the living room, so call if you need anything okay?”

“Thank you.”

“You already said that sweet girl,” A smile spread across his face, showing off his signature dimples.

“I know, but I want you to know that I really mean it,” I give him a quick kiss before he’s heading out into the living room again.

I quickly strip down, tearing the wet clothes from my body with some struggle, before finally getting into the warm water that Eddie prepared. The heat immediately starts to soothe my aching muscles and joints, the feeling bringing a wash of relaxation over me.

I wash myself off and clean my hair with Eddie’s coconut shampoo and conditioner. I always love the smell when he’s fresh out the shower and the scent is the strongest. After I’m thoroughly cleaned I get out and dry myself most of the way, only missing a few spots on my back.

I exit the bathroom and am blasted with a wave of cold air, sending shivers up my spine. I head into Eddie’s room to change and dry my hair. I walk in and notice that he left out his favorite Hellfire short and some grey sweats for me to wear, even if they both are over sized I love the gesture. I throw them on and admire the fit in his mirror before heading out to Eddie in the next room.

“There she is!” Eddie says, opening his arms wide, “How ya feelin’?” I walk over and snuggle up next to him, engulfed in the scent and warmth of him once again.

“Better. Still a little cold though,” I nuzzle further into him, not that there’s much room between us already.

“Well you’re in luck. I looked in the pantry and found some hot cocoa mix and mini marshmallows. I got your mug sittin in the kitchen,” Before I could even try to get it myself Eddie is up and off the couch and in the kitchen warming up my cocoa. He comes back only seconds later with a large mug topped with far too many marshmallows.

“Thank you,” I say as I reach out and grab the mug with both hands. I take a sip and feel as the warm liquid heats me from the inside. “DId you add-”

“Peppermint and cinnamon, yes ma’am. I know what you like,” He winks at me. A blush creeps up my cheeks at the words but I hide my face in the delicious drink before he can see. Eddie turns away from me to grab a nearby blanket and toss it over my shoulders, but he doesn’t go back to his seat.

“Come back! I miss your warmth.”

“Yeah yeah in a minute I gotta put this movie on first,” He’s crouched in front of the tv shuffling through disks and tapes. A minute later he finds the one he was looking for with a triumphant “Here it is, that little bastard.”

I just roll my eyes at him as he sets up the movie. Finally done with that and anything else he might need to do, Eddie slides in next to me and cuddles in the blanket as well. We watch as the screen brightens and the opening scene of my favorite movie starts to play.

“Wait, how did you?” I look between the tv and the man next to me, who just has a smile on his face as he looks at my shocked expression. “I bought it a while ago, figured you’d be over a lot so I might as well start making it more homey for you.”

I am in too much shock to utter any words so I opt for smothering him in kisses instead. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me and I can’t imagine anyone else sitting here next to me other than Eddie. We both burst out laughing before settling down and watching the movie before both of us drift off to sleep.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

[lisafrnkenstein]

steve's not a religious man, for all the years he spent being dragged to mass by his parents. but if he was, he'd want to ask god why he let someone like eddie die for this piece of shit town that didn't deserve him.

steve had watched from across the room as dustin handed over eddie's necklace, in tears. as wayne clutched it in his hand and brought it to his lips, like a rosary, eyes closed in prayer; and steve had broken a little.

growing up the way he had, he was no stranger to guilt. guilt was a steady undercurrent, a familiar beast he long learned how to wrangle, to compartmentalize.

but not this.

this guilt is a serpent, rearing its ugly head in his chest and constricting around his lungs until he can't breathe. it makes him uneasy, agitated. like he's filled with an energy he needs to expell.

the same kind that made him pick a fight with jonathan byers.

the same kind that made him crash his car into billy hargrove.

he knows there's something wrong with him, but he's never learned how to handle his emotions; he just does his best for having been a kid who was handed a bat studded full of rusty nails to solve his problems.

but guilt is not a thing you can beat down like some bloodthirsty monster from another dimension, no matter how it eats him.

so steve does what he does, and he swings his fists at the next best thing.

it's some buzzcut, blonde asshole from the local church, the older brother of one of carver's guys. a few years older than steve, even. he's mouthing off, worked up and angry. if steve was more rational, more gracious, he'd give leeway for the man's own grief, his own emotional response to loss and terror. steve's been through enough to know what it's like, to crave control.

but he's feeling neither of those things, and the man is sending specks of spit out of his mouth as he yells about searching the rubble of the town for eddie munson, the murderer, the satanist.

steve's jaw tenses. his hands clench tight, and before he knows what he's doing, he's rounded on him and socked him square on the jaw.

there's a beat where he processes, where he makes the conscious choice whether to step back and assess his actions, or to follow through.

the man snarls at him, and the moment passes. steve takes two fistfuls of his shirt and slams him to the ground, shouting as he goes.

"don't you dare open your mouth about him again, you ungrateful -" he cuts off with a growl, slamming the man forcefully against the earth again. "you'll never know, you'll never fucking know what he did for you! nobody will fucking know, they won't ever know now, they won't-!"

steve stops when he feels warm, wet trails run down his cheeks, tastes the salt on his tongue.

he stumbles back off the man, hands touching his face.

he hasn't been able to cry yet. it hasn't come, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times steve played that last look eddie gave him, over and over in his head, thinking about the fact that the next time he saw those eyes, they would be vacant and lifeless.

he could never cry, because he blamed himself, and what right did he have to cry over what was his own fault?

he'd had crying beat out of him at eight years old, when his father was on edge from his mother's nagging, and steve had been upset about something or other.

he'd smacked him, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shaken steve's head until he'd stopped, wide eyed and scared.

"men don't cry," his father had sneered, dragging rough thumbs across steve's eyelids, drying them of the evidence.

steve turns his head up, up, up, now, bare and facing the heavens, where god looks disinterestedly on from, and he screams. he runs his voice hoarse, the sobs tearing violently from him, wracking his body with sorrowful tremors.

his face is wet, and it's too salty to be rain.

he doesn't feel like a man.

not when he'd left eddie behind and run off to play hero, only to watch helplessly as the people he loved were choked by vines.

not when eddie had been left to make the hard choice, the sacrificial play, just to get them the win; and they hadn't even defeated vecna, only bought them all some more time.

he's not a man, but a failure.

somehow, in the midst of this, steve drags himself back home. manages to climb into his bed, and pull out what he'd stuffed underneath.

he sits there, numb fingers clutching a swathe of bloody denim, and he cries.

he cries until there's nothing left, until he feels like his whole body is dried and and empty, a husk curling in on itself.

he fades into sleep, too quickly to catch the reflective, red glint that enters his bedroom as the the sun sets, or to catch the way a figure moves through the shadows, perching at the end of his bed.

he doesn't hear the low rumble of a voice, raspy and trying to whisper.

"I thought I was the animal now," eddie says, sharp teeth flashing. "but you're a regular guard dog, aren't you, harrington?"

his eyes glow in the moonlight as he watches the sleeping figure below him with intensity.

"will you fight everyone that badmouths me, I wonder?" eddie laughs mirthlessly. "your work will be cut out for you."

his eyes travel over steve's full form, pausing with surprise when he catches the vest he's clinging to like a security blanket.

steve doesn't wake to see the winged body take off out of his upper story window.

he does wake, however, and find that the item of clothing he fell asleep with is conspicuously missing; and, even more alarming, what's been left in it's place: his yellow sweater, the one abandoned to the upside down, swallowed up when lover's lake split apart.

the one he never expected to see again, because things don't just come back when they've been lost like that.

except, maybe, he thinks, running over the golden fabric with disbelieving fingertips...maybe, there is a chance that they sometimes do.

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Death is here. 3051 words.

Notes: As per canon, Max is in the hospital. Argyle left Hawkins once he dropped Jonathan, Will, and Mike off, at the urging of Jonathan – who did not want his friend to be hurt. Maybe headcanon that he went back to Suzie’s place in case they needed her expertise and also because, ya know, Eden.

1843

Left in the sunlight, a vampire would not explode nor turn to ash and float away in the breeze. They would burn, blister, and shrivel until their body lay twitching and immobile. This provided a very brief window of respite from their evil; as soon as night came or shade was provided, the vampire would begin to heal.

Whatever damage, they could heal. Sunlight’s scorch. Blessed blades’ cuts. Holy water’s burn. Nothing could kill a vampire. A witch could curse a vampire to trap them in places, times, and forms; but ultimately, it had always come down to a fight.

At the beginning of the 18th century, a witch from a Romanian coven wrote a spell. It would allow a conjurer to summon a ball of sunlight to wound the vampires. The wounds would linger, fester, and scar their marble skin. Ripples in an otherwise perfect complexion. The Romanian witch had to offer her life in exchange for the gift of the spell to bless all of her kind.

And so, “lux solis urere hic malum,” became the witchfire war cry.

By 1843, the vampires had been hunting the humans your coven protected for seven years. The sunlight spell helped, but it was no longer enough. Your coven’s strongest wordsmith, Penelope, had been at work, spending days… months… years… on end hunched over her alter and communing with The Witches Who Came Before.

It was a bitter morning when Penelope’s magic worked for the final time. Frost bit at the tips of leaves and even the most hardened farmers took an extra minute to get out of bed, while she worked to ensure not only the protection of humankind, but the freedom of all witches.

Through bloodletting, she poured herself into a bucket, a witch’s sacrifice the last ingredient in a potion so strong, a single drop was death to an entire colony. Your aunt painstakingly soaked paper in the potion, let the sheets dry, then ground them up into a matte powder. She went into the night, her fist full of dust, and blew into the face of the undead.

The vampire had forgotten what it was like to breathe, but as quick as the feeling returned, it was taken away, and he clawed at his throat for air. He screeched until he shredded his own throat deep enough to sever his vocal cords. Then, not by God nor sword but by a magic woman’s hand, he was no more.

…

1986

Little witch echoed in your head.

You tore your gaze away from Eddie and blinked off the haziness that had overcome you. Change the subject, change the subject.

“So…” you started, but lost your intended sentence.

“So,” Eddie repeated.

“I don’t… I don’t know what we’re meant to do now…”

He rolled his shoulders back and considered his options. There was an urge to run, to abandon you and leave the doomed Hawkins. Go to the cities, feed, make more vampires. It was his first thought, primal and defining.

Eddie didn’t know if was all those years in bat form or if he had been patient in his forgotten life, but he was willing and able to wait on his primage urges. While his memories weren’t returning, his personality was, and he personally found it very amusing that a witch had knowingly brought vampires back from extinction.

That’s what he was telling himself. That he was not moving from your couch because he was entertained. That it wasn’t the feeling he got calling you ‘little witch.’ That it wasn’t a familiarity he couldn’t place. That it wasn’t your smile or smell.

You wondered what he was thinking. It occurred to you then, that he was probably sizing you up. “Do you remember what it feels like?” you asked. Eddie’s eyebrows rose. “The witchfire?”

His naked body had been in front of you enough for you to know the witchfire scars run along parts of his torso, and it covered his arms. Part of his neck, jaw, and cheek had been marked too.

“No,” he answered, holding a hand out and examining it. “Remind me?”

Hesitating, you thought about it. The burning smell. “Um… It would burn, like the sun. But concentrated. You couldn’t heal from it fast. Couldn’t wash it away with darkness,”

“It disturbs you,”

“No… Not… Not the vampire part. It’s the rest. Everything that happened around the vampire part.”

Eddie nodded. “Show me.” Your puzzled expression made him grin, fangs and all. “Witchfire. Show me,”

“You might not remember the pain, but assure you it definitely hurts,”

“Then hurt me,” he replied.

“I liked you better as the bat.”

Eddie laughed. “You spoke of witchfire first. You want to show me you are not weak. So, show me.”

Huffing, you crossed your arms over your chest. It only made him happier. You tried to pretend you weren’t loving it by standing up and walking a few steps away.

“Come on, little witch. You did not go to all that trouble to get me here, just to not play with me now.”

You knew you shouldn’t.

Muttering the spell under your breath, “Lux solis urere hic malum,” you held your hand out, palm side up, and let a ball burn into existence. Without nurturing it, it remained the size of a tennis ball, floating just above your skin. As you turned and walked back to the couch, you watched the witchfire reflect in his dark eyes, getting brighter the closer you got.

When you sat, Eddie moved closer still. He looked at the orb in awe rather than fear. “Your magic is…” He shook his head softly. “Remarkable.” He slowly held a finger up to the fire, you pulled your hand back, extinguishing it.

“It will burn.”

Eddie didn’t move. His sly smile did not falter. He waited.

“Fine…” And you repeated the spell and brought the fireball back to him.

Eddie’s eyes grew wider as he got closer, then as the tip of his finger touched the flames, he hissed and flung himself back so hard he rolled off the side of the couch.

Cackling with laughter, you clapped your hands together to kill the fire.

His face popped up over the armrest glaring at you, then in a literal blink, half his body was over the side coming towards you. He froze, timing his movements with your blinking. You didn’t see him change positions. It was terrifying. His arm looked twisted somehow, or maybe it was the sharp angles he was holding himself in. Spiderlike.  Murderous.

You held your breath and tried to wait it out, but the trailer’s air wasn’t clean enough to let you stare for long. When you blinked, he was instantly halfway across the couch.

Terrifying, but exhilarating.

It would take one more. Less than half a second. A single blink. He’d be on you.

Eddie’s pupils were wide, dark, void of emotion. His lips were in a twisted smile that let his sharp teeth show just enough. Nails clawed into the plush of the couch. A monster, no doubt, but somehow still so profoundly beautiful that you couldn’t bear to look away.

Through his complete stillness, Eddie listened to how quickly your heart rate began to race. You were breathing through your mouth, audible and shaky. Like his, your pupils were blown. Although he couldn’t recall when or where or to whom, Eddie knew he’d played this game before. It wasn’t like this though.

You closed your eyes with purpose. He was silent, but you felt the weight of him as he climbed over you.

Eddie waited for you to open your eyes, or push him away, or conjure witchfire, or any number of predictable things. Instead, you short-circuited his brain when you giggled. A happy sound. Carefree. Unafraid. Then, with your eyes still closed, you slowly laid back.

One of your legs hung off the side of the couch, while Eddie straddled your other. He held himself above it but you could still feel him there. His hands were still clawed into the fabric, one on the backrest, the other next to your head. As you laid yourself back, he followed you down, letting his weight distribute on his knees.

When your eyes opened, you were looking up into a soften expression. You could see the chocolate brown of his eyes. The ghost of freckles he earnt as a human and couldn’t shake as a vampire. His expression – a gooey combination of confusion, curiosity, and something else.

“I told you it would burn,” you whispered, turning your head and taking the hand next to your head. A mortal man would have collapsed, unable to maintain the position, but his nimbleness prevailed and he remained still. Eddie watched you study the finger he’d held the flame. It was a raw wound, but it would heal.

Without thinking it through, you kissed it. He let you. As your lips touched his skin, the hunger roared through him. Suddenly, he was at the door of the trailer. You scrambled, standing up.

“I must go,” he said.

“I can’t let you-”

“I will return,”

“You-”

“I won’t,” he assured you as if he was reading your mind.

“Promise me,” you demanded. “Say it,”

“I’ll return to you,” Eddie swore. “I won’t harm any of your humans.”

You hugged yourself and frowned.

Eddie said your name softly. “I will return to you.”

The trailer door slammed and he was gone.

…

Steve Harrington died in pain. There were no memories flashing before his eyes. No warm bright light to follow. Just agony. The feeling of his bones snapping through his skin. His eyeballs squelching inwards just before it all stopped. Then, he was gone.

There was no time to hold Steve or to carry his body to a safe place. Nancy Wheeler screamed and thrashed against everyone as they tried to pull her back. It took the brawn of Jim Hopper to hold her tight and carry her to the car. The group sped away, reeling from another loss.

Steve made three. Murray Bauman and Dmitri ‘Ezno’ Antonov died a week prior, on the Party’s second ill-fated attempt at taking Vecna down.

Nancy and Robin held onto each other in grief-stricken desperation in the back of the truck. El Hopper, not a witch but magic nonetheless, blamed herself.

“What are we gonna do…?” Joyce Byers’ small and scared voice asked from the front. “How are we going to keep them safe?”

Nobody answered.

The ride to where the Party was held up was void of conversation. They’d taken up in the empty lakeside house of one of Hawkins’ currently incarcerated drug dealers. Hopper, assumed dead but still a cop, knew Reefer Rick wasn’t going to come home anytime soon.

Inside the house, Dustin Henderson was the first to notice Steve’s absence.

While the children cried, Hopper and Joyce huddled in the corner. They were both pale with shock. Joyce shook her head. “We can’t keep doing this,”

“We’re getting them out of here. Sue and Charles were right to take Lucas and Erica. I’ll drag Henderson to his mom. Get them out of Hawkins. Mike too,”

“You think he’ll leave El?”

“Won’t give him a choice.”

Nancy, forcing herself into stoic resolve appeared. “I’m not leaving,” she asserted.

“Nancy,”

“No. We have to end this. For Will. And El. For Steve. For everyone. We have to end this.”

Within hours, half the Party was on route to evacuation, leaving Joyce and her sons – Will and Jonathan, Hopper and El, Nancy, and Robin. Like Nancy, Robin refused to abandon ship; vengeance was on the minds of the teenage girls.

“He’s getting stronger,” Will said. They were all sitting around Reefer Rick’s kitchen table. Will’s skin was tinged a sickly blue. His connection to Vecna and the Upside Down had never truly been severed.

“We cannot fight him there,” El added.

“So, we need a hometown advantage? How do we get him up here?” Hopper posed.

There were no suggestions or solutions at first. Then, Nancy thought out loud, “We need help. Maybe if we go back to Victor, to his dad…”

“Help!” Robin yelled suddenly. “We need help!”

Everyone watched her. “Erica. Erica’s leg should not have healed that quick. And it wasn’t just a sprained ankle. That was… that was Vecna magic poison shit, right? So, so, the girl that helped. Erica said she was weird. What if she’s like…” Robin gestured at El. “You know, superpowers weird? What if she can help?”

“Where would we even find her?” Joyce asked.

“Yeah, I don’t know, seems like a-” but before Nancy could finish, Robin interrupted.

“A shot in the dark?!”

…

When a knock on your door woke you up, you tripped over your feet to get there. It was as you opened it you realised Eddie wouldn’t have knocked. You’d learnt the hard way vampires did not need an invitation; they’d carefully cultivated that myth themselves.

Standing on your doorstep was a group of people. Although you recognised them, it was only Robin who recognised you.

“I told you we shouldn’t have all come,” one of them mumbled. Jonathan.

“We need your help,” Robin said. “We know you have superpowers. We know you did something to Erica. You have to help us,”

“She means ‘please.’ Please help us,” Nancy corrected.

Pure desperation.

Utter grief.

Abject misery.

“Come in.”

They told you the story, beginning in 1947 when Henry Creel was born. The Lab. Papa. Eleven. Will Byers going missing. The Upside Down. Barb. Demogorgon. Dr Sam. Demodogs. Bob. The Mind Flyer. Kali. Billy’s possession. Russian invasions. Starcourt. Hopper’s not-death. More Russians. Vecna. Demobats. Kate Bush. Max Mayfield lying in a hospital bed. Murray. Enzo. Steve.

“So, now it’s your turn. What’s, ah, what’s your deal?” Robin was pacing, nearly manic. Only Steve had ever been able to focus her energies, now he was gone and she was lost at sea.

“You’re not like me,” El said. She was sat between Hopper and Joyce on the couch. Will sat at his mother’s feet. Nancy perched herself on the barstool while Jonathan stood against the kitchen bench next to her.

You blocked Robin from taking another step, taking one of her hands and holding it tight. Her eyes welled up with tears. “When this is done and if we survive, I will help you talk to him. You are owed a farewell.” You turned to the group. “You of all are.”

Robin dropped to the floor and folded in on herself, wrapping her arms around her legs and rocking. You let her self-soothe.

“The first thing you need to understand is that involving myself in this could make it worse. Vecna is a parasite. He has his own power, but he feeds off others’ too. The other world, the Upside Down, he draws power from there. From you, Eleven. Even you, Will,”

“But he’s just a boy,” Joyce said sadly.

“I don’t think he is… You’re something else. But… nothing that can help us now. My point is that if gets a hold of me, he doesn’t just get my magic. He’ll find a doorway to all witches. That’s… Well, it’s almost endless power. He will not be stopped. He will take this plane of existence. And, he might find ways to the others.”

There was a stunned and pensive silence.

“So… It’s, it’s a gamble,” Nancy concluded.

“And we’re betting… literally the entire world…”  Jonathan said, looking at her. She nodded.

“What if he already knows about you?” Will asked, voice quiet.

You sat down on the carpet on the opposite side of the coffee table. Eye level with Will, you studied his face. “You feel him…” Will nodded. “And he feels me?”

“No,” Will replied. “He saw Erica, after you healed her,”

“Are you sure?” Joyce asked him.

Will shook his head. “No… But… he might.”

Cutting through the tension like a chainsaw through salted butter, the phone rang. Nobody was spared from the jolt of fear.

You jumped up to answer it, knowing the few people who had your number. “Hello?”

“You need to get out of Hawkins,”

“It’s fine,”

“No. It’s not,”

“Kelsey, whatever the news is saying-”

“You don’t understand. It’s not on the news. As far as the humans know, the clean up of Hawkins is going well and there hasn’t been any more casualties – injured or dead.” There was something worse than panic in Kelsey’s voice that you hadn’t heard in decades.

“What’s going on?” you asked, skipping over the obvious ‘that’s not what’s happening’ and rhetorical ‘how do you know about what happened?’

“The Witches Who Came Before. They’ve given a warning to the coven.”

Your blood ran cold, so cold it felt like ice, like all the red had frozen solid in your veins. Kelsey didn’t continue, maybe too afraid to tell you, maybe wanting to give you a chance to bail from the conversation if you wanted to go entirely rogue.

“Karhu. What’s the warning?”

Kelsey hadn’t heard her first, her ancient name, for centuries; she wanted to sob. She remained stoic and delivered the mystic caution. “He knows. He knows you’re close. He doesn’t know what you are. He can’t find you like he can find the humans. But it’s only a matter of time.”

Divine timing.

“And the coven? What are they going to do?

“Ah, well, they-they’re gonna set up a border. Around Hawkins. He-he shouldn’t be able to cross it. And his power shouldn’t be able to, you know, get through. But, um…” Kelsey was nervous, stuttering as she anxiously reported.

“But what?”

“They haven’t worked out if… If it’s better that you… Uh…”

She didn’t have to say it. “If it’s better that I’m trapped in here with him. Right? ‘Cause if I run, he’ll come after me,”

“Yeah,” Kelsey whispered. “I’m sorry… I tried-”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re sorry. You haven’t done anything. And don’t try to… Don’t fight the coven on my behalf, okay?”

Kelsey was crying.

You looked back at the terrified faces watching you intently.

“He’s powerful, but he’s just another monster. Just another leech. We have outlived famine and demons and war and witch hunts. Henry Creel is no match for a witch.”

End Note: I personally feel like the 1843 section of this chapter slaps so hard. Grimoire updated to include witchfire, and the timeline has been updated too.

You know the drill. Tell me your thoughts and feelings! I need them! xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers

[steviewashere]

Never Even Made it To His Twenties

Rating: General CW: Major Character Death, Grief/Mourning Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends AU, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Dead Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, What Could've Been, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Have a Brotherly Relationship, Dustin Henderson is a Sweetheart, Grieving Steve Harrington, Grieving Dustin Henderson, Aware of His Bisexuality Steve Harrington, Ally Dustin Henderson, Also Known as The Fic Where Dustin Tells Steve That Eddie is Dead For @steddieangstyaugust Day 18 Prompt: "Right Person, Wrong Time" Title from Kate Bush's "Army Dreamers"

🏴‍☠️—————🏴‍☠️ He’s not sure what to expect after the fight is over. Knows he won’t get one of those participation trophies he received in elementary school. Won’t be held by his parents, they’re off for some business trip he adamantly refused to join. And he definitely knows that he’s not going to be fully satisfied with the fact that everything is finally over.

Maybe a few new nightmares added to his roster. And a knack for calling his friends at two in the morning, driving himself up a wall when they don’t answer, and then eventually driving himself around town until he absolutely has to go back home and “rest.” It’ll be like taking a deep breath after the basketball championships he did in high school—when Hawkins didn’t win and his hours upon hours of practice ultimately amounted to nothing.

Like he’ll know that he did good, but it almost feels like not enough.

It’s getting right side up that proves that point.

Nancy suggests they go through the portal that was created after Fred’s death—whoever Fred is, Steve isn’t sure, but he takes Nancy’s suggestion. They make that detour. He helps the girls step through to the correct landscape. To the just barely cracked road and the dark blue of usual night. And then they head back towards Forest Hills.

If everything went okay, like he figures it did considering the bats didn’t storm them and that they didn’t hear the chimes of a clock, then both Eddie and Dustin will be waiting for them. Yet, when they approach, it’s just Dustin. Huddled tight on himself, sitting on the very last porch step to the Munson’s trailer. He’s holding things in his hands. But there’s no sight of Eddie, which immediately puts Steve on guard, so he runs fast. Faster than he thinks he’s ever pushed himself to. Not even high school track & field got him this agile.

Dustin doesn’t hear him, though. Doesn’t hear Steve’s heavy boots on the dirt. Doesn’t hear him huffing and puffing. Doesn’t hear him call out.

So, Steve crouches down in front of Dustin, puts his hands on the kid’s shoulders, and jostles him slightly. “Dust? Dustin? Hey—Hey, we did it. We won. We’re okay,” he says. Shakes Dustin’s shoulders again when he only tightens. “It’s over, dude. We—We’re all here and we’re all”—

Something is shoved into the center of Steve’s chest. One of Dustin’s balled up hands. He looks down at it. Hand off of Dustin’s left shoulder, hesitantly reaching down for the tight fist. There’s black fabric poking all which ways out of his fingers. Dirty and musty and tinted a saturated red. “What?” Steve mumbles, “what is this?” He can’t quite pry open Dustin’s fingers, so he forces both his hands around the fist, effectively covering the entirety of Dustin’s much, much smaller hand. And with the slightest bit of force, yet the gentlest grip, Steve unravels the hand in front of him.

Palm up at him. In the well of Dustin’s palm is a black bandana. And when he fully flattens it out, Steve recognizes it as the skull and bones one that used to reside in Eddie’s pocket. The one he wore on his tangle of hair before the fight.

If this is Eddie’s, Steve thinks, then where is—

“He wanted me to give it to you,” Dustin murmurs. Voice snotty and raspy, yet almost hollow. Almost, Steve notes, because there’s a deep lake of sadness flooding through the kid. The kid. “Said that…that you always loved it. That when you guys were kids, you used to hold onto it and play with it. It calmed you down? I didn’t know, Steve.”

Steve looks up to Dustin at that. There’s a boulder in his chest. And emotions, a bundle of them, warping and stretching and filling behind his eyes. Something in him shrivels when he realizes what happened.

Dustin continues, “I didn’t know you guys were friends. How come you didn’t tell me?” He doesn’t ask out of jealousy, something more…jagged and broken and devastated replacing it instead. “Why didn’t you tell me, Steve? Why’d you call him a freak?” There’s anger, too. And that—well—Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

Off his right, behind him, Steve can hear Nancy and Robin finally catch up to them. Can hear them muttering under their breaths. Not quite facing them, not quite acknowledging, but planning nonetheless. He doesn’t want them to see him, Steve realizes. Doesn’t want any of them to know about this part of him.

He gently drags his fingers down the center of the wrinkled bandana, over the middle where the soft part of Dustin’s palm hides beneath. Strokes the fabric reverently, with a longing he’s always had to taste, and now will always know the flavor of. “I didn’t think it mattered,” Steve whisper-croaks, “who I was friends with. Or that…I don’t know. I didn’t want to tell you.”

“But why?” Dustin pushes, “why not tell me? I wasn’t going to judge you for it! If anything, I’d want all of us to hang out. To—to egg each other on and be all close and I…I thought you hated him, but you…You knew him? You knew him, Steve. And yet you”—

Steve stands from his position on the ground. Knees popping. Burning aches and stretched edges of wounds pulling on every area of skin on his back. He swears the ground shifts under his feet, but it’s just him. Woozy and unable to get a grasp on anything. Like always. Clueless and scared.

“We need to go,” Steve says, “Max, Lucas, and Erica are probably waiting for us. We need to make sure all of them are okay.” And he begins to turn away, leave the bandana alone, make his way towards Nancy and Robin to figure out some way to get that RV back to the Creel House. But then Dustin’s tugging on his wrist with that bandana still in his hand, the drying, congealed blood on it cold against the skin of Steve’s wrist.

He comes face to face with Dustin again, when he lets himself be pulled. “Hey,” Dustin then says, making his voice softer, less harsh around the edges than it was before, “Steve, I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to get angry. It’s just—You knew Eddie? I thought you didn’t care.”

It’s hard masking his expression, what his face wants to do. A part of him wants to glare—because how dare Dustin suggest something like that. But also…he kind of wants to cry because, yeah, of course Dustin’s sort of right.

So his eyes are cowed. Wide and open and taking in everything. His nose catches on blood, his mouth full of air and rot, hot and cold in all the right places, the park around them almost silent, and Dustin in front of him with a mixture of apprehension and understanding and that same desperation from before. He’s not sure he could lie even if he tried. Eddie was Dustin’s friend, too.

“Remember how…do you remember a couple years ago when I told you the key to dating Suzy was sorta being all dumb? Just acting like you don’t care?” He asks, voice dropped low, dropped past that boulder in his chest. Everything is so heavy inside of him, he wishes Eddie were here to help pluck things away. He always knew how, at least to Steve it seemed that way.

“What does this have to do with”—Dustin’s mouth drops open. And his eyes are about the size of the moon. Then he gets that deeper sort of understanding to his face.—“Oh. Oh. Steve…” He hates the way Dustin says his name. Pitiful and concerned. But he doesn’t say that. Because at least Dustin isn’t shoving him away or saying something awful. Doesn’t stop looking at him like he always does. Like Steve is a world he’s eager to explore, like he’s all that matters, like they’re family. “Steve, I’m sorry,” Dustin eventually murmurs, “I’m sorry I couldn’t—I would’ve stopped him if I knew. Damnit”—

Steve shrugs and sighs. But the breath doesn’t relieve him, if anything, it tangles him even worse. Wonders, very briefly, if he’ll ever be undone again. His eyes have gone down to Dustin’s hand. Now sitting open again in front of him. That bandana wrong and crumpled and bloody. Wants to reach out and take it, but doesn’t want to accept the gravity and reality of it all.

“I was going to tell him after,” Steve whispers, “I was.”

“I’m sorry”—

He shakes his head and steps closer to Dustin. And he envelops him in the tightest hug he can offer, even as Dustin tried to flinch away from him, as if Steve would ever do something like that. But he won’t acknowledge that right now. They saved the world.

Not everybody can be saved, he knows that. Knows that beyond a reasonable doubt. It’s something he’s told himself for years. Since Nancy broke up with him. And sure, at the time it seemed foolish and douchey of him. But now it’s the only way he can care to think.

“I’m sorry, Dustin,” Steve tearfully muffles into Dustin’s hood. His chest stutters almost painfully as he tries to heave in a deep breath. This isn’t how things were supposed to go. He pulls back, hands by his sides. To stare Dustin directly in the eyes to say, “I wouldn’t have left you alone with him if I knew he was going to do this. There was something wrong. I knew it. I’ve seen that look on him before, but I didn’t…” He shakes his head, defeated, unsure of where to go. “Are you okay? Did those bats…”

“No,” Dustin answers quickly, “no bats got to me. It was just Eddie.” He looks down at the bandana again, shoves his hand closer to Steve once more. “Take this, please. He told me he wanted me to give it to you. And I promised him. I also promised him that”—Dustin sighs sorrowfully—“that I’d tell you that he loved you. Like…for years, he loved you. But he told me that things had to be this way. Which I don’t understand because he could’ve had you after all this and you’re great and we could’ve all been…I just don’t understand him sometimes. Wish I was able to now.”

Steve swallows. “He loved me?” He asks aloud, quietly. Immediately, his eyes burn something fierce. Sharp and itchy and painful. Something flames inside of him, anger so wild he doesn’t know how to tame it. Rage is the only thing he can care to taste. “I could’ve, but I—I was going to tell him. I was going to tell that son of a bitch I loved him, too and that I wanted to have a whole fucking world with him and he just—I’m a fucking coward. A stupid fucking”—

The tears come whether he wanted them to or not. Big heaving sobs from deep within him. Large and larger than the next, so much he wants to puke, so little he could tear the whole world apart and that still wouldn’t be enough. He’s angry, he knows that. But he’s confused and disheartened and unsure. Doesn’t know where to put it. How to be.

Dustin wraps around him again. The bandana shoved forcefully in Steve’s left grip. And he’s squeezed as hard as possible. Lisped shushing in his ear as Dustin tries to comfort him. It’s weird being the one needing to be taken care of, protected almost. It’s weird having felt so whole for a moment to then rot into something so empty.

There’s no next time. There’s no tomorrow where he goes to Eddie. There’s no playful banter. No running through the backwoods of Hawkins with his childhood best friend by his side. No promising each other impossible things like stars and the moon and a lifetime together. No sneaking each other lunches like they did in high school. No nurturing, no arguing over music taste, no hugging, nothing.

The only thing he can think of is that last glance he shared with Eddie.

If only he knew there wouldn’t be an after.

If only they had more time.

🏴‍☠️—————🏴‍☠️

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 23

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

8.4k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Heed the tags! 👆

23

Consciousness hit you like a brick. You shook onto your back. An open book dug into your kidney. Your hands clenched into fists. You tried to breathe. Something was wrong. You couldn’t consider the who or why as the feeling of static crawled up the tunnel of your spine.

The long silence stretched before you. It was a pit no one could climb from, a thicket no one could chop through. It was all thorns, no blooms.

That sonorous voice — Vecna — whispered to you as if to lure you. You closed your eyes. Another voice whispered over him. A voice so familiar and comforting — one you knew so well.

Hey, sweetheart, you gotta breathe.

You could follow those gentle directions. Air in brought an ease. Warmth spread across your hands and shoulders. Vecna couldn’t touch you here, you reminded yourself.

You inhaled and exhaled for four counts each until everything was calm. The book still dug into your back. You maneuvered off the book and stared at the ceiling for a minute.

Eddie? you thought.

He didn’t reply.

You blinked heavy eyelids.

Are you there?

You attempted tucking your cold toes in your pajama bottoms with little success. With a sigh, you hauled yourself to the head of the bed and curled under the blanket. Before you managed to switch off the bedside lamp, you fell asleep.

.

The morning started with repeated thumps on your bedroom door. You bolted upright, heartbeat revved. Only your father knocked like that.

“Yes?” you called.

The door whooshed open.

As if announcing a board-meeting, he said, “Breakfast in five.”

“‘Kay.”

The automatic door closer fizzed the door shut.

You brushed the grit from your eyes and startled when you couldn’t see your left hand. Then you remembered you’d taken part of Vecna’s curse. You slumped before glancing at the clock.

It was half-past seven.

Groaning, you pushed the blanket away and got out of bed. You couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to be awake this early. Your parents shouldn’t be awake. There was no way your father was going to work today. Not after last night.

And even if he were, he wouldn’t need you in the kitchen.

Unless he did.

Unless he was going to question you about the fight with Jason Carver.

You didn’t want to press charges or sue for damages or whatever else could be trumped up. Explaining anything to your father, and later the police, would have to be corroborated. They’d talk to Heather, who you hadn’t seen at all yesterday and had no idea you’d used her as an alibi. Then came glossing over how you’d met Eddie’s friends. You supposed they were your friends now as well.

You found the pressure patch with the strap in your purse and fastened it around your head.

Nothing could connect you to the Creel house or Jason’s death, either. Except for Jason’s crony who’d run after Erica. He’d been long gone by the time the fissure opened. You doubted he’d come forward, though. He’d be unable to justify going after a middle-schooler while Jason held a gun to your head.

A gun you had in your possession. Well, Mom had, but close enough. If she kept it secret, the bullet casings in the Creel attic would remain a mystery.

You went to the first floor. It smelled like coffee, baking biscuits, and browning sausage. You paused in the kitchen doorway to inhale the perfect scent of breakfast.

Mom greeted you and said she’d already poured you a glass of juice. Your father, wearing jeans and a casual sweater, stood at the island with an open map and a highlighter. He didn’t partake in the Casual Friday trend. If he was going to work, he wore a suit. No exceptions.

You thanked her as you headed for the table. She set it with fresh placemats, knife and spoon on the right, fork and folded napkin on the left.

She was anxious.

You sat at your usual place and took a sip of juice. You took furtive glances at your father’s map, his casual outfit, and Mom’s stiff shoulders. The muted television threw light on the counter. Beyond the sizzle of meat in the skillet, it was quiet.

They wanted to leave Hawkins. Shit. You’d bet they wanted to leave today.

While you didn’t want to abandon your new friends — and had no intention to — yelling about it would get you nowhere. You couldn’t be enthusiastic about leaving, either.

Without looking up, your father asked, “How’s the eye?”

You set your glass on the table.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

He hummed to himself. “We’ll find a specialist in Cincinnati.”

“What?”

Mom transferred the last batch of sausage patties to a plate. The oven timer buzzed.

She slipped on oven mitts and said, “It’ll be temporary.”

“What about school?”

“The school’s gym’s being used as a shelter,” he said. “There won’t be classes for a while.”

“Why can’t we stay here, though?”

With a condescending sigh, he said, “I can’t do business in a town where half of it’s destroyed, while the other half is without power.” He went to the coffee-maker to refill his mug. “Besides, we need a good lawyer.”

“For…?”

He faced you, eyes sharp.

“For getting that little shit, Jason Carver.”

“I don’t want to press charges.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“So, it doesn’t matter what I want?” you asked. “That I want to stay? That I want to graduate?”

Mom brought a platter of steaming biscuits to the table, saying, “You’ll graduate. Maybe not in May, but I’m sure the high school will have summer classes.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “You haven’t gotten your SAT scores yet, either.”

That was true. You’d taken the SAT at the end of February and prepared a few college applications for when your scores arrived.

You looked between your parents as you said, “What happens when it comes, and we aren’t here?”

“I’m going to have our mail forwarded.”

“Look,” he said, sitting at the table. “This is an excellent opportunity. When we return, you can graduate, and I’ll invest with a real-estate developer, and this family will prosper.”

“Real-estate developer?”

“People will need new houses after this.”

You nodded, watching Mom set the plate of sausage patties next to the butter and jam for the biscuits. Your father was talking about profiting from the suffering of this town. The developers he knew would want to build big houses that made lots of money. Of course, residents would need new homes, but Hawkins wasn’t a wealthy town. You hoped another developer underbid them.

You then thought of one last argument:

“What if Mom and I stay here? Then you’d know how things are going directly.”

“No, I need your mother with me. And you can’t stay here alone.” He stabbed a stack of sausage patties with his fork. “I’m subscribed to The Hawkins Post. They’ll report more than either of you could.”

You looked away with a nod. That went about as well as you thought. Still, you hadn’t agreed too easily, which would lessen any suspicion.

Mom said, “Honey, things will work out, you’ll see.”

You nodded again and offered a reluctant grin. She put a biscuit on your plate to encourage you to eat.

The rest of the conversation centered on planning. Mom didn’t want you driving, but your father didn’t want to leave your car. You assured them you could drive. Your right eye was fine. Mentally, you pointed out you’d driven just fine last night to the hospital. With that decided, your father would finalize the corporate housing arrangement and box up his files after breakfast. Mom would put the house in order while you packed a suitcase or two and loaded them into your car. He wanted to be on the road by lunch.

You finished eating quickly, commenting you wanted to pack. Mom reminded you to strip your bed and throw all your dirty clothes in a garbage bag. She’d do laundry in Cincinnati. You grabbed a black garbage bag from under the sink before heading to your room.

While you planned on staying, you couldn’t act like you were.

Standing at your bed with the spell books spread across it, you remembered your dream of the net and glittering connections. One connection had been snipped, then Eddie had calmed you.

His voice could’ve been your own projection. He’d only repeated an earlier encouragement. A missing connection in the net didn’t have to mean anything, either. It was just a dream. Eddie was recovering in the hospital. Vecna remained in the Upside Down.

But what if…?

Vecna’s voice was real. His intent was very real. Perhaps Eddie’s voice had been real, too.

You didn’t know what it meant when he hadn’t responded.

There was one way to confirm Eddie was healing without calling the hospital. You opened yourself. The same static from last night — and from the first time you’d opened yourself after moving to Hawkins — crept over your bones. It made your teeth itch. You tried to swim through it to find the silver flame of his energy. The static overwhelmed you, nearly drowned you.

Something clunked against the bannister. You blinked away the static, breathing hurried. Mom wrestled with a large suitcase at the top of the stairs. You rushed to her, partially to help and partially to block her view of the spell books.

“Thanks.” She grinned as you hauled the suitcase up the last step. “How’s the packing coming along?”

You smiled with the hopes you didn’t look rattled.

“Much easier now that I have a suitcase.”

She huffed a laugh, turning to descend the stairs. “If you need any help, just call.”

“I will, thanks.”

Once the door closed behind her, you pulled the spell-supplies box from your closet. There was someone you could call for help, or at least guidance: Tom Cunningham, the bookshop owner who’d sold you Israel’s book. You thought you still had his business card.

His card lay at the bottom, smudged with who-knew-what, but still legible.

You knew you’d hear about a long-distance charge when the phone bill came, but there was no one else who would understand. It was almost nine when you dialed the number on the card. You prayed he’d answer.

His mild voice answered on the fourth ring.

“Mr. Cunningham!” you said and introduced yourself to jog his memory.

“Ah, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think I’d ever hear your voice again.”

That made you hesitate.

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, my dear, your card disappeared. I thought you’d passed onto the next plane.”

So, you really had died. Vecna had killed you instead of Max.

“I…” You looked to the ceiling, lip between your teeth. “I did die.”

He hummed. “Most curious. I must assume you’re back in your body.”

“I am.”

“But that isn’t what you’ve called me about, is it?”

“No, sir, I—” You sat at your desk. “I don’t know how to explain what’s going on.”

“Give me the Reader’s Digest version, and we’ll go from there.”

With a nod, you gave him the facts: your family had moved to Indiana, you’d met Eddie, and, through him, you’d met a group who battled a psionic wizard from another dimension. You’d helped this group last night and taken a portion of the wizard’s curse. It had killed you, did something to your left eye, broken a girl’s arm, and left her unconscious.

Mr. Cunningham was quiet on the other end.

“I dreamed of a glittering net last night,” you said. “It connected everyone.”

“Indra’s net.”

“It’s real?”

“Well, not everyone believes in the interconnectedness of the universe, but it’s a hypothesis that’s been around for millennia.”

You blinked, eyebrows raising.

“There was a connection I followed that had its jewel missing. I fell into the darkness there.”

“That sounds frightening.”

“It-it was, but what was worse was hearing the wizard’s voice in the darkness.”

“So, the wizard’s alive and calling to you.”

“Why don’t you sound surprised?”

He chuckled. “You’re not the first witch to fight an interdimensional being.”

“What do I do? What did they do?”

“The tales never end well, I’m sorry to say.”

“But what if… What if I can do something? This wizard drained my powers months ago, but I regained them—”

“After dying, yes, that’s a typical reaction.”

“But the wizard was wounded, too. Like, severely.”

“Then it’s a good time to make oneself scarce.”

“What about the others?”

“Take them with you.”

“Their families won’t understand. My family won’t understand.”

“They never do, but they will — in time.”

“But my— Eddie’s in the hospital. I can’t leave him.” You shook your head. “I don’t know if he even survived. I can’t feel him. What if he didn’t?”

“Then he’s at peace, and may his memory always be a blessing.”

Your throat tightened. You couldn’t accept letting Eddie go like that.

“He deserves more than peace.”

Sounding remorseful, Mr. Cunningham said, “Bringing someone back from death comes at a steep price.”

“I understand that.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry there’s no more I can offer.”

“No, I… appreciate your advice.”

“I know you can’t take it, my dear, but I wish you every success.”

“Thank you.”

“I do have a favor to ask before you go.”

“Oh? Okay?”

“Make sure Agnes Jemimah Israel’s book goes to a deserving witch. It’s what I did.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you nodded.

You whispered, “I can do that.”

“Good. I hope to see you when you visit New York in the future.”

“I’ll come by, I promise.”

Mr. Cunningham ended the call with a kind “farewell.”

You placed the phone back in its cradle and sat at your desk for a few minutes. Your parents were hightailing it out of Hawkins. Mr. Cunningham encouraged you to leave. Maybe it was safer, saner, and smarter to leave. However, something inside said it was wrong.

.

Sunlight blasted through the car’s windshield. A soft breeze fluttered through the partially opened window, bringing with it the scent of a campfire. You waited for Mom to lock the garage door and come out the front. In the rearview mirror, your father sat in his car at the mouth of the driveway. Far in the distance, smoke plumes tunneled to the clouds.

Your packed suitcase lay in the trunk, along with the tied bag of dirty laundry. You’d stowed boxes containing your spell books, supplies, and music collection in the backseat. Your purse sat on the passenger seat. A map of Indiana, Ohio, and Kentucky your father had given you folded next to it.

Earlier, Mom had locked every window and door and closed every window covering. All the phones were silenced. The answering machine had been reset to answer on the second ring. You’d helped her empty the perishables from the refrigerator and pack them into coolers.

Now, you didn’t know what you’d eat when you returned. You hoped Bradley’s on Mulberry was still open.

Mom hustled down the front walk to her car. You unfolded the map, making a show of getting it neat on the passenger seat, and signaled to her to back out before you. She’d wanted to bring up the rear in the family’s little caravan, but you couldn’t have her tailing you. She waved and reversed to the street after your father. You followed a second behind.

Cars streamed out of Hawkins; so much so, it was difficult to navigate out of Loch Nora. At the main road, no one would let your caravan stay together. When it was your turn, you waved a few cars past. The fourth car’s driver insisted, and you waved in thanks. Three cars between you and your parents would have to be enough.

Driving passed the empty lot where the mall used to be, you recalled Eddie mentioning it burning down. Erica had said it hadn’t been just a mall fire. You wondered if it had something to do with Vecna. It wouldn’t surprise you, now that you thought about it. A good portion of Hawkins’s fucked-up-ness could be laid at his feet.

A sign stating "Swayzee 20 miles" and "Indianapolis 75 miles" came up on your right. It was now or never. At the first road that appeared to connect to the rest of town, you put on your turn signal and made a quick left.

Trees lined the road, becoming denser as you went. You hoped you’d made the right choice — or at least chosen a through road. It would suck to wind up at a deadend.

A few cars coming in the opposite direction zoomed past. That could be a good sign. Maybe? Your anxiety continued to grow as the minutes ticked by.

Then a small sign for Roane Hill Cemetery stood tall by a post-and-rail fence. You slumped in the seat. The turnoff must be a back entrance, which you hadn’t known existed. Taking a deep breath, you oriented yourself. The cemetery was south-ish of Hawkins High. If you could find the school, you could find the hospital.

With a fissure detour marked by handmade signs, you made it to the hospital in fifteen minutes. Open spots were scarce in the parking lot, but you found one near the back. It was just as well. You didn’t want your car spotted easily.

At the check-in desk, you asked after a John Doe who’d been admitted last night around midnight.

The clerk sucked in air through her teeth.

“We got a lot of John Does last night,” she said, and pulled a binder from under the counter. “You have a description?”

“Young? About twenty? He has brown wavy hair, below the shoulders. He has tattoos.” You closed your eye to remember them all. “He has two on his right arm: one on his outer forearm and another on the back of his upper arm. One on his left inner forearm. Two on his upper chest.”

The clerk paged through the binder. She frowned and hummed to herself. You hunched forward to sneak a glance. While the printed pages were neat, you couldn’t read fast enough.

She shook her head with a sigh.

“No John Does fitting that description, but—um…” She grimaced and crossed her arms over the pages to lean in. “The county coroner had to take our overflow. You might want to check with them. Once the deceased are off the premises, they’re taken out of our register.”

That didn’t mean Eddie was dead. He could’ve been identified — maybe by his uncle. However, you didn’t want to drop Eddie’s name in the middle of a crowded lobby. With how cagey that dog-walker had been last night, you didn’t know how anyone would react.

You nodded.

“How about Max Mayfield?” you asked. “Can I visit her?”

The clerk stowed the binder and turned to the computer at the corner of her desk. After some typing and grumbling at the system, she reported Max was stable and her family was allowing visitors. The clerk gave you Max’s room number on the fifth floor. You repeated it and thanked her.

On the fifth floor, Max’s room wasn’t difficult to find. You knocked on the heavy door before easing it open. A woman with curly red hair — no doubt Max’s mother — rose to her full height. She looked queasy for a second, then cleared her throat.

Max lay on the bed, her arm in an extensive cast.

You introduced yourself in hushed tones just in case she was sleeping. Lucas’s head popped around the corner of the room’s alcove. His concerned frown turned into a grin.

“She’s the one who drove us here last night,” he said to Max’s mother as he loped to you.

His arms spread. In the daylight, his swollen eye and cheekbone looked tender. It made you want to hurt Jason all over again — however impossible that might be. Instead, you hugged Lucas. You’d research a good healing spell to help him.

“Erica, Dustin, and Steve are at the good vending machines,” he said.

You pulled away and asked how he was.

“Eh, I’ve been better.”

You smiled.

“Me too.”

Lucas pivoted towards Max and led you closer. Her mother stood on the other side of the bed, arms crossed over her chest. Max looked asleep, but you feared her condition was something far worse.

“She hasn’t woken, has she?” you asked.

“No.” Her mother shook her head. “She should’ve. The anesthesia wore off hours ago.”

You glanced at Lucas, who watched Max.

Her mother added, “I’m Susan, by the way.” She rounded the bed’s corner and offered her hand. “Thank you for everything.”

Her clammy hand trembled in yours. You placed your other palm on top of your joined hands. She was not only scared, but sick.

“I’m sure Lucas told you already, but Max was very brave last night.”

“Yeah, my baby’s a fighter.” She sniffed. “I don’t know where she gets it.”

“Well, she’s not raising herself.”

She gave you a watery grin. Her eyes fluttered as she then listed. You steadied her forearm. Lucas darted around you to hold her other arm. Together, you guided her towards the couch in the alcove. She touched her forehead while thanking you both.

You offered to get a nurse, but she waved it off. She insisted she was fine. You volunteered to get her a soda. She replied she didn’t want to be a bother, which meant she’d like one. You asked Lucas to stay while you found a vending machine.

You hurried from the room, turning left, and almost ran into Dustin. With a yelp, you hopped around each other. His full hands went to his torso to keep from dropping his snacks. You pinwheeled your arms to keep from tripping. Erica ducked. You smacked Steve’s arm. He groused yet supported your elbow to stabilize you.

“Sorry,” you said and pointed at the pressure-patch covering your left eye. “Didn’t see you guys until it was too late.”

“Shiver me timbers, Captain!” Dustin said with an expectant look.

You laughed before channeling Captain Hook. “Ah, flay your shriveled tongue, Henderson!”

He giggled in delight as Erica called you both nerds.

You shook yourself out of the joke.

“Sorry, Max’s mom doesn’t feel good, and I was going to get her a Coke.”

Dustin thrust a chilled can of soda at you.

“Here.”

“I owe ye one, matey.”

You would’ve winked, but with the pressure-patch it would only look like a deliberate blink.

Back in the room, you cracked open the can and handed it to Susan. She held it with both hands to sip. You and Lucas waited for her reaction as the others entered. She nodded with gratitude and offered a strained grin.

“With all that’s going on, I…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Things have been hard, you know?”

You nodded — as did everyone else.

“Of course,” you said.

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. It was a nurse holding a full IV bag.

She said, “The doctor should be here in a few minutes,” and went to switch Max’s IV bag.

Steve looked to Dustin and Lucas, then you.

“We’ll wait in the hall.”

Susan gave you an encouraging nod.

You followed the others to a small waiting area near the nurses’ station. A lone vending machine stood in the corner. You put a couple of quarters in the machine to buy Dustin a replacement soda.

“—she told me things weren’t great,” Lucas said while you handed the soda to Dustin. “But I’ve never seen her mother like this.”

You asked, “It’s just the two of them?”

Lucas nodded.

“They had to move out of their house when Max’s step-father left.”

Dustin offered Lucas one of his sandwich crackers.

The awkward silence that followed had the others eating or drinking. You touched the pressure-patch and adjusted the strap under your ear. You hated to change the subject, but without Susan around, you could talk about Eddie.

“I asked about our John Doe at the check-in desk,” you said. “And there’s no record of anyone fitting his description in the hospital records.”

Steve coughed around a Dorito.

“What the hell?”

Dustin said, “The lady there wouldn’t even look unless I ‘presented’ ID!”

You frowned.

“How would you have ID? You don’t drive.”

“I know, right! Steve tried to sweet-talk her, but nada.”

Drily, Erica said, “So much for the Harrington Charm.”

Steve pointed at the younger members despite blushing.

“Hey, I’ve still got it, okay? The date with Brenda on Friday… went well.”

“Yeah,” said Dustin. “But have you actually talked to her since?”

Steve wilted a little.

With a grin, you said, “C’mon, Dustin, he’s been a little preoccupied.”

Steve gestured as if you’d proven his point.

To Steve, Lucas said, “Maybe that check-in lady remembered you from your Scoops days. Hard to take you seriously after that, Popeye.”

You grinned, though you didn’t know what Scoops was.

“Popeye, huh? Maybe you should be talking like a pirate, too.”

Dustin flung his arms out. Cracker crumbs confettied the floor.

“Sign on, Steve, and sail this ocean of flavor with us!”

“Oh my God, screw you all.”

Steve shoved a Dorito in his mouth and chewed like it offended him.

Dustin snapped his fingers and pointed at you.

“What if John Doe’s uncle identified him? That would take him off the list.”

“That’s what I’m hoping, but…”

“It would’ve been kinda stupid to bring him up with a stranger right now,” Erica said.

“Yeah, the lobby was packed.”

“And he’ll be under protective custody if he’s been identified, so they wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

You sighed.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Can’t you feel him?” Lucas asked. “Like…” He wiggled his fingers at you.

“I should, but there’s interference. Like TV static.”

Dustin asked, “Because of the mega-gate?”

“It was happening before that.”

He frowned in thought.

“What if there’s another gate we don’t know about?” asked Steve.

Dustin said, “I think we would’ve noticed that.”

“Do you honestly think the Commies wouldn’t have trucked whatever they pulled from Starcourt back home?” Erica asked.

Your eyes widen as you looked between her and the others. There’d been Russians and a gate to the Upside Down in the mall? The mall that burned down? You stopped at Steve, who noticed your stunned expression. He gave a mini-shrug and a look that communicated this sort of discussion was typical.

“That gate wasn’t open enough to get anything,” Dustin said. “More likely, there was a Russian spy at Hawkins Lab—”

Lucas said, “That got shut down two years ago.”

“Which is why they came back.”

“But a gate in Russia wouldn’t affect me,” you said.

“Not directly,” said Dustin. “But it’s an opening for Vecna to come through.”

“Then the static is Vecna?”

“Possibly.”

If that were true, you’d been feeling Vecna since August. That could mean he’d been feeling you since then as well. Maybe looking through the tumbler into the Upside Down had caught his attention. If you hadn’t looked, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Vecna wouldn’t have drained you and used your power to kill people—

From behind you, a tentative female voice said, “Hey, guys.”

It was Susan with bloodshot eyes and a pink nose.

“Why don’t you kids go on home,” she said. “They don’t know if—” She shut her eyes with a deep inhale. “—or when she’ll wake up, but they doubt it’ll be today.”

Dustin said, “We don’t mind—”

“No, of course,” Lucas said to cut him off. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Susan nodded.

“That would be great. Be with your families tonight, okay?”

You joined the mumbled agreements. Considering the bad news from the doctors, Susan probably wanted to be alone. Also, Max didn’t seem the type to appreciate a bunch of people staring at her while she was unconscious.

After Susan left the waiting area, the party threw away their empty cans and wrappers. They headed to the elevator, keeping to Dustin’s limping pace. You trailed behind as you thought of all the things you had to do.

“What’re your plans tonight?”

You blinked with a questioning hum.

Steve asked, “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Oh, I have to go grocery shopping, wash the laundry that’s in my car, research some spells. Why?”

“Do you live alone or something?”

“No, my parents—”

The elevator dinged as it arrived. Everyone crowded in before Erica pressed the button for the main floor.

“My parents left Hawkins today,” you said, elevator doors closing behind you. “Cleared out the house.”

Lucas asked, “They left you?”

“No! No, I was supposed to follow them, but I didn’t.”

Erica gave you an unimpressed look, one eyebrow raising.

“Won’t they notice you’re not with them?”

“I’m sure they have, but I’m hoping my father refuses to turn around.”

“What about your mom?”

“My mother will do as he says.”

Steve snorted. “Sounds like mine.”

Dustin brightened and held up a finger.

“Why don’t you stay with Steve? He’s got the whole house to himself.” To Steve, he asked, “Where are your folks now?”

“Brussels? Brandenburg? Basel? I don’t know. Something with a B. I’ll have to check the itinerary.” His expression remained unconcerned. “Now with all this shit going on, who knows what they’ll do.”

The elevator doors opened to a bustling main floor. People waited in the elevator vestibule, some with bouquets. Steve led the way through the crowd. You and the others followed a step behind until he stopped on the sidewalk near the main entrance.

You squinted under the unrelenting sunlight and pulled sunglasses from your purse. The air still smelled of smoke. Steve handed his keys to Lucas with orders to start the car. Lucas stuck out his tongue at Dustin and shimmied his shoulders. Dustin tried to swipe the keys from his hand, but Lucas was faster. They whirled away in a flurry of feints, dodges, and smack-talk.

With a roll of her eyes, Erica crossed her arms and walked after them.

Steve put his hands on his hips.

“Only start the car, Sinclair! I mean it!”

Lucas gave him a thumbs-up before spinning to keep Dustin from snatching the keys.

You shook your head and turned to Steve, who continued to watch Dustin and Lucas. You understood why Eddie liked them for Hellfire. They were good people — and you were glad they wouldn’t be around for the next thing you had to do.

“I need to check the coroner’s office for Eddie.”

Steve looked at you, a furrow between his brows.

“You want some back-up?”

“No, it’ll be better if I’m alone looking for a John Doe.”

His lips thinned as he sighed.

You said, “I’ll be okay. The worst they can do is turn me away.”

“And what if he’s there?”

“I…” You swallowed. “I guess I’ll identify him.”

“Don’t. If he’s there, I mean. Don’t identify him. Just come home. I mean, go home. Or come to mine — if you want. There’s a guest bedroom and a working washer and dryer. It’s all yours.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

It would be nice not to be alone. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Also, Steve was a sweet guy with good intentions. It wouldn’t be a hardship to have a meal with him and sleep at his place. It would keep you hidden from your parents if they’d returned, too.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

You found a pen and an old receipt in your purse for him to write his address. After he jotted his address and handed it over, he asked if you knew where Benny’s Burgers used to be. You surprised him when you said you did. He said Cornwallis — his street — was just around the corner from Benny’s.

“Gotcha,” you said with a nod. “One last thing: where is the county coroner?”

He turned to face the road beyond the buffer of the hospital’s manicured lawn. He said the coroner was behind the hospital, but he didn’t think they shared the parking lot. If you went out the main drive, you had to make three right-hand turns to get there.

“Where did you park?” he asked.

“At the back of the building.”

“You know, there might be a path to the coroner’s back there.”

“Okay, I’ll look.”

“If not, just circle around. Or I, uh, I can take you.”

“No, you’re the kids’ ride home. I can manage.”

He didn’t appear to like that, but he nodded.

“Okay, well, speaking of kids…” He thumbed in the direction they’d gone and stepped back. “I better go stop whatever the twerps are up to.”

“Yeah, they might be having too much fun,” you said, grinning. “I’ll meet you at yours.”

“If you get there before me, the key’s in a rock under the little tree by the front door.”

With that, you waved him off. He jogged down the sidewalk, his perfect hair bouncing with each step. You read his address again, then tucked the receipt into your purse. Steve lived with his parents on Cornwallis. That sounded like King Steve, the douche-y jock Heather had told you about on New Year’s. You watched him turn the corner before you started in the opposite direction.

If this Steve was King Steve, everyone was wrong about him. Just like they were wrong about Eddie. Maybe Steve had been a douche in high school. Eddie was an outspoken, self-proclaimed freak. They were more than these labels, though. You were more than a goth and a witch. You were you, faults and all.

You passed your car and continued to the edge of the parking lot. An informal path made of concrete pavers meandered between bushes and young trees. At the other corner, a paved drive with an “Authorized Personnel Only” sign cut into the woods.

Assuming they both led to the county coroner, you took the path. It connected to a downtown street, where the scent of hot stone and smoke increased. In the fashion of most public buildings, the brick building to your right was a generic box. Except this one didn’t have any windows, like a modern fortress.

Around the corner, a green awning undulated in the light breeze. Prismatic gold letters on the glass door declared Roane County Coroner. You took a deep breath and pulled the handle. You jerked forward as the door’s lock rattled. You pushed instead, yet the door wouldn’t budge.

They should be open. The hours posted in the window confirmed that. It was after lunch, too. Even if the coroner was out, a secretary, or someone working the front desk, would be there.

You stepped to the side and faced the street, riffling through your purse to disguise your thinking. You could open the door with magic, but that was trespassing in a government building. There might be security cameras. You wouldn’t know where to go once you were inside, anyway.

You inhaled and bowed your head. Eight energies occupied the building — none of them welcoming. Something was wrong. Yards away, two boxy, gray-green Humvees sat silent. If they weren’t military issue, you’d eat your proverbial hat.

With a look around, you frowned. It was quiet. Too quiet. Too still. The only vehicles on the street were the Humvees. You were the only person on the sidewalk.

Blue police barricades cut across the street a block and a half past the Humvees. For a fissure. The air simmered behind the barricades. That was why the scent of smoke was stronger.

People dragged the ends of the barbed-wire barrier apart. The chasm glowed orange-red, like the angry maw of a volcano. Unlike the witches who came before, you wouldn’t burn at the stake. No, they were casting you into Earth’s raging heart.

You needed to leave. Now. Before whoever was in the coroner’s office detained you. Before Vecna tore through the fissure. Before your increasing dread kept you immobile.

You turned the way you came and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. When no one called for you to stop, you could breathe again. When you found the path to the hospital’s parking lot, your shoulders loosened. When you stepped foot on the blacktop, you could think beyond the fissures and military presence.

To keep the phone records clear at Steve’s house, you decided to call the Cincinnati number from the hospital. You pulled the detailed note Mom had given you earlier from your wallet and walked to the payphone at the back of the building. Feeding a few of your remaining coins in the payphone slot, you dialed the number, added more coins, and waited for the answering machine to pick up.

It rang and rang before the machine beeped without a prompt. You identified yourself and said that your parents shouldn’t worry. You were okay. You ad libbed your car had overheated, but you’d nursed it to a local garage. The radiator had a leak and, with everything going on, it was going to take a few days to repair. In the meantime, you’d stay with a friend. You told them you loved them and would call again soon.

You hung up, hoping the message would afford you the weekend — maybe until Tuesday — to find Eddie, heal your friends, and kill Vecna.

As you walked to your car, you realized you’d had Eddie for an hour yesterday. Just an hour. Now, you were back at square one. You didn’t know where he was, if he was okay, or if he was even alive. The locals still thought him a murderer. Maybe you were on square negative-one, because they also now believed he was some cult leader who sacrificed teens to Satan.

This was the worst cosmic joke you’d ever experienced. For the first time in your memory, you agreed with your father’s assessment: the residents of Hawkins were country bumpkins. They were scared of the wrong things for the wrong reasons.

You touched the pressure patch with a huff. Maybe you should throw yourself into that fissure to enter the Upside Down. You’d kill Vecna yourself just to be done with the whole situation. Max would wake. Your eye would return to normal. Dustin and the rest of the party would think of a way to clear Eddie’s name. Eddie would go on to be the rock star he deserved to be. You’d find a way back to this dimension somehow. Everyone would live happily ever after.

And monkeys might fly out of your butt.

Dry heat blasted your face when you opened the car door. You rolled down the window before sitting in the driver’s seat and finding Steve’s address.

You started the car, loaded a tape into the stereo, and cranked the volume. Music drowned all your silly fantasies. You focused on what was in front of you. Nothing else mattered.

The drive to Steve’s involved another detour; this time with official signs. After twenty minutes of winding roads, you crossed Randolph, glimpsing Benny’s on the right. The woods looked familiar, of course, but you didn’t know the neighborhood on the other side of it. You slowed the car and turned down the music to read the house numbers.

Each large house sat in the middle of an equally large property. Many of the u-shaped driveways would accommodate at least six vehicles. Nothing was over ten years old, not the houses, plants, or cars. Your father would label the entire neighborhood nouveau riche. Mom would underline his assessment with the term parvenu. As if they could talk. Mom came from a middle-class family who sent her to etiquette school. Your paternal grandfather lost almost everything during the Depression — nouveau pauvre — but he made up the loss in the late ‘40s and ‘50s. You reasoned your parents were nouveau riche as well, which made you sick of leur pretentions.

The house numbers on the mailboxes increased until one matched what Steve wrote. You hit the brakes and stared at the gray box of a house. It looked like the uninteresting back of a house. The double front door was stained an orange-red. The huge slanted roof dwarfed the windows. Evergreen bushes bordered the groomed lawn.

You turned onto the driveway and followed its curve to the apex. From the parcel circled by the driveway, three younger trees shaded your car. An enclosed — and empty — carport stood between the driveway’s apex and the house. You assumed Steve parked there, yet on the other side of the house was a three-car garage.

Well, you thought, either way your car wouldn’t block him from getting in or out.

You parked and locked the car. Unfortunately, a key was not under the tree by the front door. Maybe Steve had buried it. You tapped around the mulch with your shoe just in case, but found nothing except spongy wood chips.

With a curse, you went to the front door to try the knob. It turned with ease, unlocked. Perhaps he made it here before you. While you didn’t think you’d taken that long at the coroner’s and with the call to your parents, you might have.

Then you remembered the Humvees downtown. If the military had put all the pieces together, or had Eddie in custody, they could know Steve was involved. Would they be so sloppy to break in and leave the door unlocked, though?

Hand still on the knob, you felt one person inside the house. They were idle and getting sleepy. You doubted an assassin would nap on the job.

As quietly as you could, you opened the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind you. The rock key-hider sat on the foyer console table. A pair of worn sneakers had been kicked off by the doormat. Unless Steve had a gaggle of close friends, only two people who weren’t at the hospital would know about the key: Nancy and Robin.

The open-concept interior was a touch warmer than outside. Light filtered through the sheer curtains on the double row of windows in the spacious living room. Generic geometric artwork hung on the walls. Your heels thumped on the hardwood floors until landing on a huge Oriental rug. To your left, a coordinating rug lay under the twelve-person dining table. Beyond that was a tile-floored sunroom.

“Hey, dingus, that you?” called a feminine voice from the sunroom.

You snuck around the dining table to the sunroom. Robin lay on the fluffy rug, sock feet swaying behind her, a magazine open at her elbows. The vertical blinds painted stripes of shadow across her.

“Not Steve,” you said.

She startled to her knees.

“Ah, holy shit!” She put a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, you left the door unlocked.”

“What’re you doing here? Not that it’s a problem you’re here or anything. I’m assuming Steve invited you. I thought you’d be with Eddie. At the hospital. You were at the hospital, right? Is he okay? How’s Max?”

“Max’s still in a coma.”

She sat on her heels.

“Eddie?”

“Missing.”

Her eyes widened.

“Missing?”

“No one matching his description is in the John-Doe log.”

And the coroner’s office had been locked. And some branch of the military was there. And you couldn’t get to Eddie — wherever he was. And Vecna was still out there. And Max—

“Oh, shit,” said Robin.

Your eyes stung with oncoming tears.

Your voice quavered as you said, “Yeah.”

You flopped onto the nearest armless upholstered chair, dropping your purse next to it. The pressure patch was stifling and hot and too tight. Making an exasperated sound, you pulled it from your face before letting your head fall to the back of the chair.

You whispered, “Sorry. You don’t need to…”

“No, I— What can I do?”

At her soft tone, you lifted your head to look at her. She gasped. You cringed and covered the cursed eye with your fingers. It didn’t feel crusty, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t gnarly.

“Sorry.”

How many times had you apologized now?

She shook her head and knee-walked closer.

You lowered your hand.

“Is it gross?”

“No—yes? Kinda? But not really?” Once close enough, she leaned in. “It looks like Vecna’s.”

“And Max’s.”

“Her coma’s not from the physical—” With a click of her tongue, she bent her arm. “—stuff, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

The front door opened and banged shut. Steve called your name. You scrambled for the pressure patch as Robin replied you two were in the sunroom. He didn’t need to see your gross, cursed eye. You secured the patch around your head just as he entered the room.

To Robin, he said, “Hey, finally got away from your parents, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re glued to the TV, so…”

To you, he asked, “Did you find the place okay?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Was Eddie at the coroner’s?”

Robin balanced herself with a hand on your chair.

“Coroner’s?”

You explained the John-Doe log to her before saying, “Anyway, the coroner’s office wasn’t open.”

“No way were they playing hooky.”

“There were military vehicles parked out front.”

Robin said, “Oh, shit,” as Steve said, “Could be the National Guard.”

“At the coroner’s?” You shook your head and swiveled to face him. “But why?”

He threw out his hands.

“I don’t know. It was an idea.”

Robin asked you, “They didn’t see you, did they?”

“No, everyone was inside, and I didn’t stay long.”

“Well, it’s good you’re here. It would suck if they kidnapped you or whatever. I don’t know how we would’ve broken you out. Especially since I don’t think I could get blueprints of the building at a time like this.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I doubt those are public record.”

“Still,” she said, lifting a shoulder. “I’m glad you weren’t kidnapped.”

“Me too.” You glanced at Steve. “I wasn’t looking forward to going home alone.”

“Hey, uh, we gotta stick together, right? So, yeah, alright…” He clapped his hands, and his face brightened. “You ladies hungry?”

Robin laughed and got to her feet.

“‘You ladies’?”

“Oh, shut up. Why’s everyone giving me shit today?”

“I don’t know, Steve.” She bopped his arm in jest as she passed. “Were you addressing everyone like a circus barker?”

“What? Circus— No! I don’t sound like that!”

“Ladies and gentleman!” she said from the kitchen. “Steven Priscilla Harrington presents the most amazing lunch anyone’s eaten in the history of the world!”

“You are hilarious.” He turned to you, expression somewhere between amused and affronted. “Do you see what I put up with on a daily basis?”

With a playful hum, you agreed before saying, “Personally, I pictured you more of a Steven Eleanor,” and stood.

“Eleanor?” He sputtered, blushing. “Eleanor?!”

You joined Robin in the big kitchen. Two frozen-pizza boxes sat on the island counter. She continued to rummage through the fridge like a raccoon.

“That’s so much worse than Priscilla!” he said from the sunroom.

You flipped over one box to read the temperature setting for the oven. Before you could go to the stacked ovens on the other side of the island, another name popped into your head.

“Steven Danielle?”

Robin pulled her head from the fridge to point at you.

“I like that.”

You shared her grin.

He walked into the kitchen, hands at his waist.

“That’s better, but, c’mon.”

Robin rested her elbow on the open fridge door.

“What do you think Vecna’s middle name is?”

“What was his name before we started calling him Vecna?” you asked, rounding the island.

“Henry,” Steve said as he shooed Robin from the fridge and closed its door.

You harrumphed, “Psycho,” and turned the dial on the upper oven to 400.

Robin pulled a round pan from a lower cabinet and set it next to the boxes.

“Fuckface.”

Steve went to the sink to wash his hands, saying, “Henry Fuckface Creel.”

Robin giggled, repeating the name. A smile spread across your face. Steve snickered, which had you snorting. In under ten seconds, Robin full-out laughed as she said the name again. Steve joined a breath behind. It must’ve been contagious, because a laugh burst from your mouth. You laughed and laughed, tears gathering in your eyes. You braced yourself with a hand on the preheating oven.

In an official voice, Robin said, “I christen you, Henry Fuckface Creel!”

Steve belly-laughed and propped his elbows on the sink ledge, water still running.

You met Robin’s gaze, made the sign of the cross, and wheezed, “In Jesus’s name, we pray.”

Steve’s laugh doubled.

“Amen!”

She howled, cheeks reddening, and fell back against the counter. Her reaction spurred you on until tears ran down your cheek and gathered under the pressure patch. Steve’s shoulders shook as he struggled to turn off the tap.

When the laughter tapered off, you wiped at your face and ran a finger under the patch. Robin fanned her rosy face while Steve dried his hands with a paper towel, then blotted his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, facing you and letting out a brief chuckle. “You don’t have tele— Tele-ko—” He frowned. “Tele-whatever?”

“Telekinesis,” said Robin.

He snapped his fingers before pointing at Robin.

“Yeah, telekinesis.”

She said, “Of course, she doesn’t. Fuckface took her power.”

“About that…”

They turned to you as one.

You held up your hands.

“I never had telekinesis, but my powers are back.”

Steve and Robin high-fived. She bounced on her heels as he fist-pumped. She galloped to you and shook your shoulders.

You said, “Don’t get too excited,” though their enthusiasm made you smile.

“Why? What’s up?”

“There’s something I didn’t say at the hospital.”

Robin turned to Steve, who looked at you.

“What is it?”

“I heard Eddie’s voice last night, but I can’t find him. There’s an emptiness where I think he should be.”

“You think Vecna got him?”

“I… I don’t know. It’s like silence. And I know it isn’t Max.” You sighed. “But… but I don’t know. I can’t feel him through whatever the fuck is going on out there.”

“Shit,” said Robin and Steve.

You nodded.

The oven beeped it was up to temperature.