#VECNA IS GOING TO RIP OUT HIS HEART

[hairmetal666]

Eddie survived the Upside Down. The bats. Vecna. And after the hospital, the town recovery, the shady government agencies clearing his name, after all of that, he has the best year and a half of his life. A lot of it is due to Steve and Robin. Well. The whole group of them, really, but Harrington and Buckley specifically.

Except that, you know, he survived extra-dimensional horrors and now he's going to die anyway, brought down in his prime by his devastating crush on Steve Harrington.

It's a stupid way to meet his end. Even worse than going at the hands of a demented telepathic wizard named after a DnD monster. Though...it's not like he didn't see the crush coming a mile away. Eddie may not have any practical experience in matters of the heart, but he knows he likes a pretty boy and Steve is the prettiest of them all.

There is no dimension where his feelings are requited, so he flirts and he pines, and knows it means nothing when Steve matches him quip for quip, touch for touch. He keeps getting himself in these situations where he thinks--maybe--but Steve is straight, constantly goes out with pretty, bubbly girls.

The pining may kill him, but he's determined to leave this world with a little bit of grace.

Until Steve's Halloween party.

It's a whole thing. All the kids, the rest of their own group of young adults, plus the Hellfire Boys, and the actual adults. It's a weird mix, but Eddie figures that, well. It's a family thing.

Halloween is his favorite holiday, one he plans for all year, but this year he decides to take it easy, electing to do a take on the vampire gang from The Lost Boys. The party is in full swing when they walk in, Wayne quickly spotting Hopper and making his way to the kitchen, but Eddie doesn't see Steve in the chaos of kids and Jonathan and Argyle's dual Frankensteins.

He grabs a beer from Robin who keeps giving him this look all knowing and sparkling and he doesn't understand it, not until he hears delighted laughter and shouts in the main room.

Buckley squeezes past him, and he takes the moment alone to close his eyes, brace for whatever fresh, unwitting, torture Steve has in store for him tonight.

He steps into the living room and time freezes.

Steve's in the shortest shorts Eddie's ever seen, thick, muscular, bitable thighs on full display. He's wearing a pink sweatshirt, neon fingerless gloves that very distantly Eddie recognizes as belonging to El, and gold hoop earrings in both ears.

Eddie has to sit down.

Wham! Isn't his kind of music, and he finds George Michael grating because of it, but--he's seen men dressed like that in magazines he steals from bookstores in Indianapolis, had wondered if George Michael was gay too. And now here Steve is, looking like a fantasy ripped direct from Eddie's brain.

Before he can make an escape, someone turns on the Monster Mash. The two Frankenstein's lurch into the room and start dancing. The rest of them are quick to follow, even Wayne and Hopper, after some light cajoling from Joyce, Max, and El.

It's silly fun, the perfect way for Eddie to forget about Steve and the way his ass looked in those shorts. They dance and goof around, and Thriller comes on, so they all try to do the dance, him and Nancy laughing until their stomachs hurt with their stiff-limbed moves.

The song switches to Material Girl, making El and Max screech, and the next thing he knows, Steve is in front of him, shimmying along. It's the closest they've been all night and now Eddie can see the faint eyeliner smudged along Steve's lash line. Something low and hot tightens in his core.

Steve grabs his shoulders, pulls Eddie closer. "C'mon, Munson, even you have to dance to Madonna!"

He laughs through his breathlessness, can't believe he and Steve are dancing together, not with Steve looking like that, somehow innocent, sexy, and ripe all at once.

Their eyes meet and Steve smiles all slow and dangerous, knotting up Eddie's stomach with a wild kind of anticipation. He doesn't have time to stop himself feeling it, can only give himself over to the shrinking distance between their bodies, the way Steve is warm and muscular against him.

Eddie's not hearing the music anymore, unaware of all their friends dancing close by. He's hypnotized by the dark heat in Steve's hazel eyes, lets himself clutch at Steve's hip, drag their bodies together. He feels Steve's breath escape in a quick burst, and it's a crash of cold water.

He disentangles himself, rushes out the patio doors. The night air is bracing as it chills his heated skin, his burning lungs. He takes a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, lighting it with a shaking hand.

That was too much. He let himself feel too much; want too much. Got swept away by Steve in makeup and earrings and tiny shorts. On the street, he hears children laughing, music thumping from a passing car, tries to get lost in that instead of his embarrassment. It makes him miss the slide of the patio door opening again. Doesn't realize he's not alone until he hears Steve say, "Eddie? You okay?"

He nods, but doesn't turn. "Just needed some air." He lifts the smoldering embers of his cigarette before dropping it and stomping it out.

Steve stands close enough that their shoulders bump. Eddie forces himself not to flinch away. "What are you doing out here? You'll freeze." It's not all a deflection.

"I'm fine," Steve says. "Sweatshirt." He wiggles the sleeve in Eddie's face.

"Yeah, but your legs, man. C'mon." He pulls his jacket off his shoulders. "At least cover them up a little."

Steve gives him an annoyed smile, but takes the jacket, trying to settle the leather around his legs. It's kind of a losing battle, but it makes them both laugh.

"I'm sorry," Steve says. "For back there. I shouldn't have pushed."

"Pushed?" Eddie feels like he missed a couple of stairs on his way down. "You didn't--"

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I did, Eddie. And Robin said," he sighs. "Robin said to just talk to you but I'm shit with words, so."

"So?" He faces Steve now, completely perplexed about where this is going. "I'm the one who pushed too far."

"Of course you didn't." Steve laughs a little. "I wanted to dance with you. I wanted to be close to you."

Eddie takes a step back, nervous smile on his face. "Is this some kind of weird joke?"

"What? No! Why would it be? I'm trying to say that I like you, man."

"Wha--But you're--"

"Don't--don't say popular or a jock or any of that. I'm--you know who I am, Eddie, better than most people."

"I was going to say straight."

Steve stills, blinking. "I told you I was bisexual."

"You did not!" Eddie yelps.

"I did! After went to see The Lost Boys!" He grabs Eddie's leather jacket. "I said I thought Kiefer Sutherland was sexy!"

"I thought you were being hyperbolic!"

"I wore this for you!" Steve wiggles his naked calf in Eddie's face.

"I don't like even like Wham!"

"You stared at a picture of George Michael in this outfit in one of El's Teen Beats for fifteen minutes!"

"I did NOT!" Except now that Steve's said it, Eddie has a pretty good memory of doing that very thing. "Wait. You were trying to seduce me by dressing as George Michael?"

"Like you weren't doing the same with the whole hot vampire biker thing?"

"I didn't expect it to work!"

He doesn't--will never--know who closes the distance first, but they crash together in a clash of mouths and teeth and noses. Steve's hands fist into Eddie's t-shirt, Eddie yanking at Steve's belt loops, until nothing separates them.

The kiss breaks as Steve mouths along his jaw, down his neck, and Eddie's fucking helpless at the turn of events. Never in his wildest fantasies--

"Stay tonight?" Steve asks, voice muffled against Eddie's skin.

"Are you kidding, sweetheart? I'm going to tear these shorts off with my teeth."

[paperbackribs]

update: 🐺werewolf Steve, 🦇bat Eddie completed on Ao3 here

How to survive a werewolf attack, Eddie mentally repeats to himself in a determinedly bright manner, channelling every nature documentary he’s ignored. His resolve does little to quiet the jolt of fear that had run through him as it turned into— that.

“How to survive a werewolf attack,” Eddie mutters to himself as it pads one giant paw towards him in the middle of Steve’s living room, hoping that speaking aloud will clear the bees buzzing in his brain, focusing all his thoughts in one direction: he should run.

“How the fuck do I survive a werewolf attack?” Eddie frantically yells at Dustin standing by the couch, grinning a gummy smile back at him with his hands casually thrown in his pockets.

The wolf growls lightly at his tone and Eddie’s head snaps back, alarmed that he’d allowed himself to look away from those intent yellow eyes for even a moment. But as scary as the predatory look is, the size of its head is just as terrifying. As large as Eddie’s torso with a wide, fanged mouth to match. Faintly, Eddie mentally compares one long tooth to the length of his hand.

This is how he dies Eddie realises with a thumping heart.

Not the bats.

Not Vecna.

No, a giant, golden mahogany werewolf nearly as tall as his fully grown adult body is going to open that massive mouth and swallow him down whole.

The beast stops, gaze narrowing to the pulse pounding in Eddie’s neck and he quickly slaps a hand over it, trying to limit the temptation of the tasty blood slash fresh meat vibe he must be giving off. It sits back on its heels; a movement Eddie feels shudder through the carpet at his feet and turns its head to Robin with a slight whine.

She scowls at Eddie, stepping forward to bury her hand comfortingly into the plush at its furry neck. “Don’t listen to him, Steve. He’s just being a big baby.” Shifting her fingers to scratch under its ears, the werewolf—Steve, Eddie hastily corrects himself as Robin continues to glare at him—half-closes its eyes in bliss. Though, he notes that it—he—still keeps his gaze steadily trained on Eddie.

Swallowing, Eddie tries to remember what they had just been talking about, but it’s lost in the chaotic whirlwind of his thoughts and the adrenalin urging his heels back. All of it consumed by the conviction that Eddie is prey in front of predator and about to be fed to what used to be Steve Harrington.

“Oh my god,” he moans, hands coming up to pull his hair down to hide behind, “Am I a sacrifice?”

Lucas sighs in exasperation, “I told you we should’ve showed him photos or something first.” Max makes a derisive sound and sits cross-legged next to Steve’s wide chest; he gently leans against her with a small thump of his tail. “He was always going to freak out, may as well get it over with.”

Eddie would really like to get the small child away from the massive beast right now; despite the fact that Max is a sophomore and would likely rip him a new one at even the suggestion. But it does help, seeing her casually play with the fur under her hand, and the bees die down a little, just enough to remember why they had called him here.

“You wanted to show me this—” Max squints at him and Eddie changes tack “—show me Steve turning into a wolf because you’re concerned about me.” The ridiculousness of it strikes through him, bubbling over into half-hysterical laughter. “Shouldn’t you be worried about the massive fucking fangs near Max’s head right now.”

The wolf lets out a gusty sound that Eddie can only imagine is a sigh and thumps onto his belly, stretching his head out to rest on crossed-over paws as big as dinner plates. The position should look less threatening, but all Eddie can see is how the jaw of the creature has been thrown into sharp relief, emphasising how far it could probably unhinge if given an incentive. He slaps his hand back over his pulsing neck again.

El appears by his side and he nearly jumps a foot, not having noticed her approach while focusing so fiercely on the wolf. She takes his hand, gently saying, “It is okay, Eddie. He’s only Steve and he would never hurt you.”

He keeps a hold of her hand. The Steve he’s come to know since Spring Break has seemed like a pretty good dude, sure; but, the one thing he does know, is that the guy would take a bullet for every kid in this room.

It's not cowardice to hide behind a kid, he reassures himself. Not when the kid isn’t in any danger. Max shoots him a dark look again and he suspects that she’s seen through his intentions. He clears his throat, focussing on El’s kind and reassuring squeeze of his hand, “Right. Why is Steve a werewolf?”

“Good question,” the bill of Dustin’s hat bobs in his approval, “Back in ’84 we were in these tunnels, you see and —”

“Short version, Dustin,” Robin interrupts, which is frankly ironic of her Eddie thinks, knowing she falls into extended explanations herself.

Dustin screws up his face, but condenses the story, “We were attacked by dog versions of the demogorgons and since then Steve has gone all furry whenever he wants.” He waves a hand at the prostrate wolf who continues to placidly watch their conversation, “I see where you went with werewolf but technically, he’s not forced to turn at a full moon.”

Will exchanges a look with Mike as they lean against the opposite wall, “Not technically, no. But he does get weird around it.” El tugs him to sit down with her and Max, but Eddie lets go of her hand, unwilling to let cede the high ground when it’s the only thing keeping his feet ready to run if Steve decides to demonstrate how weird he can get.

“Shouldn’t he have…” Eddie waves a hand over his face with a splaying motion of his fingers. He hasn’t seen a demogorgon yet, but the kids had described them to him, and the demo-bats apparently had the same set-up of gaping maws exploding like a fanged cross over their face.

“Another great question, Eddie,” Max rolls her eyes, “Let me just consult my instruction manual on the Upside Down and get back to you.”

“It’s a fair question, Max,” Lucas says softly and she relents, “Yeah, but he looks like he’s about to throw up and Steve would hate the mess.” The wolf snorts and nudges her with his muzzle; she lightly strokes the top of his nose with a responding smile.

“Our best guess is that the demo-dogs and demo-bats are a weird mix of actual animal and Upside Down creepiness,” Robin says, letting go of Steve to sit on the couch behind him, “And Steve got infected with the actual animal part but the woo-woo creepiness is what helps him turn into the wolf.”

Eddie’s guts turn to liquid, and he hovers suddenly uncertain hands over his body; right beside the areas still scarred from his own demo-bat bites. “Wait a second,” he rasps, “Steve got bit by the dog version and he turns into this. So if I got bit by the bat versions…”

“That’s why we’re telling you,” Lucas explains frankly, “It didn’t happen straight away with Steve so we thought that you should have a heads up at the very least.” Dustin gestures down Eddie’s body with a demanding hand, “And you can tell us if you notice any weird changes.”

“What?” Eddie asks a little wildly, “Like if my voice drops and I get hair in new and wonderful places?” Robin and Dustin exchange worried glances and the latter falls back on a soothing tone that he hasn’t managed since cornering Eddie in the boathouse while he was on the run, “There’s no guarantee that you were infected…” Robin winces at the word choice as Eddie’s eyes widen. “…but you should tell us if you notice anything different, just in case.”

Eddie wants to collapse onto the floor. Just crouch there with his hands pressed comfortingly against his eyes to shut out the insanity this afternoon has turned into. But eyeing how close Steve with his monster fangs is, Eddie refuses to get any closer. He may as well lay on his back and strip for good measure. That way Steve won’t get any denim stuck in his teeth; he thinks the last thought with a small hiccup.

The massive head raises and turns to look over its—his—shoulder with a questioning whine. Robin’s faces hardens slightly, and her arms come up to cross over her chest. “You go for a run or something, I’ve got this.”

Eddie watches those tree trunks for legs rise and feels something quake inside, doing nothing for his pounding pulse that had only just started to subside. Steve looks back at him one more time before licking Dustin’s hand and butting his head against Robin’s knee to trot through the living room towards the backyard.

Chapter 1

[runninriot]

Pining Idiots

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 28

prompt: pining | rated: T | wc: 1.000 | tags: post vecna, mild angst, feelings realisation, love confession, friends to lovers, best friend Robin Buckley

   "You are both so stupid. Hopeless and stupid." Robin throws her hands in the air, frustrated and all out of patience.

Steve must've heard her say those words about a hundred times already but still, he can't find it in him to believe that there's even a flicker of truth within her reasoning.

If Robin were right, Steve would've caught Eddie by now, apparently stealing glances at him. Because there's no way he'd miss Eddie's dark eyes lingering on him, not when Steve's own - for whatever reason - are constantly locked on the guy. He feels naturally drawn to Eddie, has this weird connection to him he can't really explain. But contrary to what Robin is trying to make him consider, he doesn't accept that it's... love.

They're friends. Good friends, maybe even the best. Grown so close over time that now, barely a day goes by where they don't spend time together. Always attached at the hip, somehow even worse than he is with Robin. And yes, Steve gets that it comes off strange for any outsider to see them cuddling and touching and kissing each other goodbye on the cheek without shame. That's not what male friends do, not usually. But fuck that, it's nice.

He enjoys the physical contact. Likes to relish in the other man's warmth when their bodies are pressed together on the couch, one arm around the other's shoulders, or a hand resting on the other's thigh. He likes the familiar scent of leather and cigarette smoke that clings to Eddie's hair and skin, enveloping Steve's senses whenever they're close. Eddie's presence calms him, makes him feel less on edge. After all those years of fighting Demons, it's a blessing to feel at ease.

Eddie is good for him. And Steve knows he, too, has an impact on Eddie. That he's less fidgety when Steve is near. That whenever the healed wounds start to phantom-ache, Steve's hand atop his shirt soothes his body's memorised pain.

They're each other's lifeline, something to hold on to when the turbulent waters of nightmarish dreams threaten to pull them down. This... trauma bond they share, this friendship, keeps them both afloat. But that's all there is to it.

They are not the pining idiots Robin says they are. Apparently too afraid of their feelings for each other, unable to acknowledge that there is something more between them. Emotions allegedly written all over their faces – Robin says it’s obvious, but it’s not.

This isn't love.

It can't be. Steve cannot let himself fall for this ridiculous idea. Because once he goes down that path, once he starts listening close to his heart in search of the truth, there will be no going back.

And he's not ready to lose what he has. Because inevitably, that would be the result of him breaking down the walls he's built to keep his own emotions in check.

Steve cannot love like a normal human being. He is too much, wants too much, gives too much - his love is smothering. All-consuming.

He'd only push Eddie away.

   "Why don't you just ask him?"

Robin's words rip him out of his thoughts and he blinks at her confused.

They're still standing in the kitchen, their friend's voices coming from the other room.

   "You know, if you don't believe me, why don't you ask him if it's true? And if it's not, well. You got nothing to lose. 'Cause you're not in love with him anyway, right?"

He doesn't miss the teasing tone, knows she's testing him, trying to break through his thick skull because she knows that he's lying to himself. Knows him better than he knows himself.

   "And what if you're right?" he asks, seemingly catching her off guard with his question.

   "What if you're right and he does love me back. What then? You really think I won't fuck it up again this time? That I won't ruin it again?"

It hurts to say out loud, to admit that his worst fear isn't rejection. It's the thought of having himself to blame for when it doesn't work out. As always.

And it hurts even more when Robin's face suddenly softens, eyes full of pity when she takes his hands in hers.

   "Babe. It wasn't your fault. Nancy- wasn't the one for you, that's all. You were both meant for someone else, and you-" she squeezes his hands for emphasis, "You could have all those things your stupid, big heart is yearning for. Your person is sitting right there, probably already losing his mind because you've been gone from his side for too long."

Robin laughs but her eyes are glassy and Steve can feel a tear making its way down his own face.

Fuck her for always hitting him right where it aches the most. Where her unforgiving honesty settles and sticks and makes something warm spread in his chest.

   "I know he loves you. And, as dreadful as the thought is because you two are going to be the worst couple ever, I hate to see you both suffer over nothing. Just talk to him. Tell him how you feel."

She pulls him into a hug, holds him tight while he lets his tears fall unrestrained. It's relieving but scary, because she is right.

   "Hey, uh, everything okay?" Eddie's voice suddenly breaks through the silence, startling them apart.

   "Glad you're here," Robin says, "Steve's got something to tell you." And with that, she leaves, a big grin on her face that only grows wider when Steve huffs out a wet laugh, mouthing 'I hate you' at her.

   "Stevie, are you okay? Have you been crying? What's wrong?"

Steve melts at the softness of Eddie's words, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

   "I- I think I'm in love with you, Eddie."

After a moment of silence, Eddie's lips curl into a smile.

   "Oh, well. If you're sure, let me know. I've been dying to finally kiss your pretty mouth.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Phoenix

Written for day 5 of @subeddieweek AND for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Pain | Wax Play & Mirror Sex

Rated: E

Words: 2,363 [also on AO3]

Tags: Post-Vecna; Scars; Trauma; Survivor's guilt; Self-worth issues; Friends with benefits; Eddie has a crush on Steve; Wax play; Pain play; Bondage; Soft dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie; Mirror sex; Coming untouched; Shower sex

“I think we’re good to go,” Steve murmurs. Eddie can hear him move around behind his back. Knows he could see him, too, if he were to open his eyes, but that would require looking in the mirror, and he doesn’t wanna do that right now. “You okay?”

He hums a weak affirmative. He knows that’s not what they agreed on, but he doesn’t feel like talking either. His mind has drifted off to that pleasant, floaty state he likes so much, lulled in by Steve’s voice, the gentle pressure of the ropes on his naked skin, and the scent of the candles.

“Eddie.” 

Steve’s voice isn’t unkind. He’s never unkind with him, no matter how much Eddie barks and bites and provokes, no matter how much he tries to get a rise out of him. It’s goddamn annoying. 

It’s also strangely soothing. Knowing that, no matter what he does, no matter how hard he lashes out, Steve will always be there to keep him in check, patient and steady and firm like the ropes binding him to the chair. It makes him feel secure and grounded and held, and that’s what annoys him more than anything else. 

A hand wraps around his chin, just over his throat, tilting his head upwards with gentle pressure. 

“C’mon now, we had a deal. Eyes open.” 

He obeys. 

It takes a moment for Steve’s face to swim into focus above him, breathtakingly beautiful against the flickering, golden glow of the candles. Eddie blinks tears from his eyes and tells himself that it’s because he’s still adjusting to the light.

“There you are,” Steve praises. The tips of his fingers are warm as they caress the scar on Eddie’s jaw. “Can I get a color?” 

Eddie huffs. He's so goddamn polite. Like he isn't the one in control here. Like Eddie isn't bound and naked and helpless in front of him, utterly at his mercy, in so many more ways than one. 

Steve just holds him and waits. He's taken off his shirt while Eddie was spacing out, and the back of Eddie’s head is resting against his naked chest. His other hand has started playing with the tip of the braid he pulled Eddie’s hair into. To keep it out of the way. 

He's so fucking considerate, Eddie hates him for it. Hates himself more for how it makes him feel, how the knowledge of being cared for like that settles warm and heavy in his belly. 

“Hey, stay with me,” Steve mutters. His eyes sparkle as they watch him, and Eddie's heart skips a beat, but he tells himself it's a trick of the candlelight. “Still need that color.” 

Eddie exhales - a long, shuddering rush of air that rattles around the lump in his throat. 

“Green.” 

Steve smiles. “Alright. Eyes ahead, then. Want you to see how pretty you are.” 

Eddie gulps, swallowing against the nerves and the humiliation clogging up his chest, and does as he is told. 

Steve has outdone himself with the ropes today. They're black and shimmery and soft, forming a stark contrast with his pale skin and gnarly scars. They criss-cross over the mangled flesh and ruined tattoos on his chest in a complicated pattern of knots, forming an intricate harness and securing him to the backrest, wrap around his ankles where they are tied to the legs of the chair. 

“See?” Steve says. He's leaned forward to double-check the knots securing his wrists behind the backrest, his breath tickling the shell of Eddie’s ear. “Beautiful.” 

He's not. He's really not. 

He's a hideous, ugly thing - broken and bitten and ripped into a hundred shreds. Sure, they stitched him up at the hospital, but he knows that he's all twisted and wrong, like a shattered vase sloppily glued back together. 

Chrissy was beautiful, but she's dead and he's here, and isn't that the biggest fucking joke in the entire world?

But if Steve says he's pretty? 

Steve said you're not gonna die, dragging him back through the gate while holding his guts inside with one hand, so he didn't. 

Steve said you'll walk again, supporting his weight when own legs wouldn't, so he did. 

Steve said it was okay to feel guilty for having made it out when others didn't, that night Eddie broke down and sobbed into his chest. Steve said it was okay if Eddie didn’t wanna go home that same night, that it was okay if he stayed until morning. So he did. 

So if Steve says he's pretty? Maybe he can believe him, if only for a little while. 

Steve gives the ropes one last tug, and Eddie holds back a whine as he steps out of his space and takes that warmth with him. But then Steve picks up one of the candles and the whine turns into a punched-out moan. 

“Let's give this a try then,” Steve mutters. Eddie can feel the heat of the flame on his skin as he steps closer, can feel a similar heat pulsing low in his abdomen, but he doesn't dare turn away from the mirror. Steve said to keep his eyes on the mirror, so he will. “Want you to tell me exactly how it feels, right? So I can stop if it's too much.” 

“Right,” Eddie rasps, as if anything Steve does to him could ever be too much. As if he wasn’t the one who asked for this. “Right, I promise, just- … Steve, please.” 

“Okay,” Steve says, and drops to the floor. 

“What are you-” Eddie croaks, naked cock twitching at the feeling of Steve’s breath puffing over his skin, the sight of Steve on his knees in front of him, burning candle still in hand. Like a worshipper before an idol. One of his hands pulls on a knot, and just like that, Eddie’s right leg comes free. 

Panic grabs at his insides and twists. He can't be free, he needs the ropes. Needs them to hold him down, needs them to keep him together or he'll crack along the seams of his scars and shatter back into a thousand pieces. 

“Shhhh,” Steve says, voice rustling over his frayed nerve ends like a calming breeze. “I'm not untying you. Breathe.” 

Eddie does. Sucks in long, measured gulps of air through his nose just like Steve taught him. Feels how his chest strains against his bindings, releases the air through his mouth. Forces his muscles to go loose and pliant. Steve hums in approval, wrapping a firm hand around his ankle to pull it closer towards himself. 

“We're going to start here,” he explains, running his fingers over the smooth skin of Eddie’s leg. He made him shave it, to make sure there'd be no hairs in the way. “Let you ease into it. Make sure it isn't too hot, alright?” 

Eddie bites his bottom lip to keep in the reply sitting on the tip of his tongue. How he doesn't wanna be eased into anything. How he doesn't want to be treated like he's this precious, delicate thing. How he wants, needs, craves the pain, because it’s the only thing apart from Steve’s touch that will make him forget about himself for a while.

“Alright.” 

Steve smiles, and the grip of his hand around Eddie’s ankle tightens.

“Here we go then,” he says and lets the candle tip. 

Eddie hears the molten wax hit his skin more than he feels it. Then the heat registers, and for all that he’s been anticipating the moment, he finds himself crying out in pain and surprise. It’s sudden and intense - like his skin is melting away and all of his nerve ends are being set on fire. His leg jolts, the motion running through his entire body like a shockwave, but Steve shifts his grip from his ankle to his upper thigh, holding him down so he won’t tip over the chair and hurt himself. 

“Whoa, okay,” he breathes, and even though his body language projects nothing but calm and control, Eddie can hear the undercurrent of doubt in his voice. “Color? Should we-” 

“No! Green! So fucking green, please, I need- … I’ll hold still, I’ll be good, promise. Just please don’t stop.” 

It's strange, Eddie thinks. Five minutes ago, he would've been mortified at the way his voice comes out. A garbled plea, wet with tears and cracking with despair. Now, he couldn't care less. 

Because now that the initial shock has faded and the wax is cooling on his skin, he immediately finds himself craving more. 

He wants this.

Wants that sizzling pleasure-pain sensation. Wants the hot, liquid wax to seep into his cracks and fill them up, wants the pain and the heat to burn away all that is ugly and disgusting and wrong about him. Wants to be left raw and shivering and clean in the aftermath of it. 

Maybe that other, better, cleaner version of himself would find the courage to tell Steve that he wants so much more than this. Maybe that new Eddie wouldn’t be as much of a weakling or as much of a coward. Maybe he would be someone deserving of Steve’s love. 

Steve reties his ankle while he waits for more of the wax to melt, every motion careful and slow, making sure every knot is firm and secure without sitting too tight. Then, finally, he picks the candle back up and begins to work his way upwards. 

Eddie keeps his eyes on his mirror image, watching his own skin flush, his own lips quiver, his own cock twitch as Steve washes every part of his body clean with the hot, molten liquid. His shins, his outer thighs, his lower belly. He whines and wiggles in his bindings, trying to relieve some of the tension that's coiling behind his navel, taut like a rubberband ready to snap. Urging Steve to give him more. He wants the candle closer, wants to feel the fire lick at his skin, wants to feel that beautiful heat on the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s tied and motionless and completely at Steve’s mercy, and forced to take whatever Steve deems fit to give him. He hates it. 

He loves it. 

He never wants it to stop. 

He must’ve spaced out again, because the next thing he knows is that Steve is no longer on his knees in front of him but behind him once again, picking up another dripping candle from the desk. 

“Doing so well, baby,” he whispers, flipping Eddie's braid over his shoulder to expose his neck, covered in goosebumps in spite of the heat eating away at his skin, the fire licking at his insides. If he hears the choked sound that tears itself from Eddie’s lips at the pet name, he ignores it. “Can you take one more?”

“Yes,” Eddie sobs, hips bucking in the chair, bound hands twitching with the need to touch, leaking cock bobbing against his own stomach, desperate for release. “Yes, please, anything.”

The look on the face of Steve’s mirror image is pure awe. 

“Good boy,” he whispers, and tilts the candle. Eddie feels the hot liquid pour down on his bare neck, feels it run down his back and shoulders, sees how his own face goes lax with pain and pleasure. Sees how Steve leans in to kiss the nape of his neck, lips soft and warm against the still burning trail of wax.

Eddie lets out a low, nasal whimper as his climax hits him, long ropes of white mixing with the cooling wax on his belly and thighs. It’s violent and humiliating and so, so gratifying, the room disappearing behind a curtain of white starbursts as his entire being is reduced to that hot, pulsing pleasure. And then Steve moans against his skin, teeth grazing the spot he just kissed, and Eddie swears he comes for a second time in as many minutes.

When the world slowly swims back into focus, Steve is in front of him again, undoing the ropes so that he can pull him out of the chair and into his lap. Eddie goes willingly, too spent and exhausted to even feel angry with himself, melting into Steve’s touch and allowing him to rub some feeling back into his tingling arms and shoulders. The cooling wax goes soft under his touch once more, mingling with the traces of Eddie’s relief.

“Ew,” he slurs into Steve’s neck, head too heavy to move. “Look this mess.” 

“I like it,” Steve hums, twisting his head so that he can press his face into Eddie’s hair. His lips tickle Eddie’s temple in a not-quite-kiss, and Eddie’s limp cock twitches between. “Messy is good.” 

When Eddie manages to lift his head, those lips are very close. Close enough to feel Steve’s breath on his own lips, close enough to lean in and- 

Steve’s nails scrape at the hardening wax on his arm, and Eddie hisses in pain. 

“We should probably clean this off you,” Steve murmurs, eyes locking on the reddened and irritated skin. “Go take a shower. I'll put some lotion on you after.” 

Eddie nods wordlessly, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and nudged in the direction of the bathroom. It's only across the hallway, but the cool gust of air that hits him when he opens the door still makes him shiver. 

“Eddie.” 

He turns. Steve has started cleaning up and blown out the candles. Their scent still lingers in the room. His eyes are still sparkling. 

“It's alright to ask for what you want, y’know?” 

Eddie gulps, hand clenching around the doorknob. Steve watches him and waits, and even without the ropes, he feels secure under his gaze. Tethered and held. 

“Join me?” 

It's not what he truly wants, Eddie thinks a few minutes later, as Steve brackets him against the tiled wall with his own, naked body and starts to slowly fuck him under the warm spray of the shower. Maybe he’ll never grow into a version of himself that’s brave enough to ask for that.

But maybe he will. 

And maybe this can be a start. 

More Steddie Bingo

[bigheadbrooke-9]

.𖥔 ݁ Tired .☘︎ ݁˖

Eddie Munson x afab!reader

Summary: You and Eddie Munson were never friends—your only connections in Hawkins were Robin, Nancy, and Steve. But with the terrifying Vecna killings unfolding, fate forced you together. Tasked with venturing into the Upside Down alongside Nancy, Robin, Eddie, and Steve, your group had no choice but to split up in a desperate attempt to defeat Vecna. When the moment of truth arrived, Eddie made a choice—he refused to run this time.

Warnings : Mention of blood( and touching it ) , this is really really really sad so please read with caution. Crying,angst.

Word count : 2.0k

“Eddie, it’s done! Come on!” I shouted, my breath ragged as we ducked behind one of the rusting trailers, the echoes of his reckless, metal-fueled concert still ringing in my ears. The swarm of demonic bats had turned away from the others—Nancy, Robin, and Steve—fixated now on us.

We didn’t wait. We ran.

The moment my feet hit the pedals of my bike, a burning ache spread through my calves, but I forced myself to push harder. Eddie was right behind me, his frantic breaths almost in sync with the pounding of my heart. The sickly air of the Upside Down clung to us like a second skin, thick with death, decay, and something even worse—inevitability.

“Eddie, we can still make it! I know a shortcut, we just have to—”

Before I could finish, the bats—relentless, monstrous things—turned with unnatural speed, swarming back toward us. My stomach dropped. We weren’t fast enough.

I barely had time to react before my bike hit a jagged bump in the road. The impact sent me flying—weightless, helpless—until I collided with the ground.

Pain erupted through my side as I crashed into the sludge-covered earth, the sharp sting of gravel scraping my skin. “Fuck!” The curse ripped from my throat, but it was drowned out by the sound of screeching wings above us.

Eddie slammed his brakes, skidding to a stop before leaping off his bike and rushing to me. He didn’t hesitate. Not this time.

“Shit, sweetheart—” He crouched beside me, his rough hands gripping the back of my knee and my forearm as he pulled me into his arms. Effortless.

I groaned against his shoulder as he hoisted me up, my body trembling from a combination of pain and exhaustion. He was running, but he wouldn’t make it far—not carrying me, not with those things closing in. The screeching above us grew louder. I barely registered his fingers pressing gentle, grounding circles into my hip as he sprinted toward another trailer, a last-ditch effort for shelter.

By the time he reached it, his breaths were sharp, his chest rising and falling too fast. He lowered me onto the cold metal siding, his hands steady despite the chaos around us.

“Shit—oh my god, okay, sit up for me,” he said, voice tight.

I tried. Failed. Every twitch, every breath sent white-hot agony lancing through my ribs. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving only raw, unfiltered pain.

Eddie’s gaze dropped to my side, his face paling. I followed his eyes, swallowing hard as I lifted my shaking hand. Blood. A deep, crimson stain smeared across my palm, growing, spreading.

“We have to go, Eddie,” I choked out, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be. My hand shot up, pointing behind him.

He turned.

And froze.

The bats were everywhere. A vicious, writhing mass of wings and fangs, surging toward us like a living nightmare. He looked back at me then—his face unreadable, except for the stark, unmistakable fear in his eyes.

I knew that look. I knew what he was about to do.

“No.” My voice cracked. I reached for him, grabbing his arm with as much strength as I had left. “You’re not doing it. Don’t even think about it, Munson.”

But Eddie only smiled. Soft. Sad. Final.

“I’ll be the distraction,” he murmured, like it was that simple. Like he wasn’t about to throw himself into certain death.

My heart stopped.

“Eddie, don’t you dare—”

He gently ripped a piece of fabric from his already-torn sleeve, pressing it against my wound with careful precision. The pressure made me gasp, my body recoiling instinctively. His grip tightened—not rough, not forceful, but grounding. Steady.

“Just hold that there, sweetheart.” His voice was almost soothing. “You have to run. Just—run and hide, okay?”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head violently. “You’re not doing this. I won’t let you walk over there and—”

A sharp, stabbing pain cut me off, my insides clenching. I let out a choked sound, my nails digging into his arm as I fought against the pain, fought against him.

He turned away.

“I have to do this,” he said simply. Like it was already decided.

Like it wasn’t killing him, too.

I could barely breathe as he grabbed his makeshift spear and battered shield, standing tall even as the bats grew closer. I wanted to scream, to claw at him, to drag him back down with me if I had to.

“Eddie—”

He squeezed my hand one last time. And then—

He ran.

Straight into the storm.

“EDDIE, DON’T!” My scream ripped through the air, raw and desperate. “PLEASE, COME BACK!”

But he didn’t stop.

The bats swarmed him in seconds, engulfing him. I watched, helpless, as they ripped into him—his flesh, his skin—until I couldn’t see him anymore.

I fell to my knees.

I don’t know how long I screamed. My throat burned, my hands trembled, but I couldn’t look away. Not as he fell to the ground. Not as his body twitched and convulsed beneath them. Not as the bats finally scattered, leaving only his broken, bloodied form behind.

A gunshot rang through the air—Nancy’s shotgun. The bats screeched, retreating. The battle was over.

But Eddie—

Eddie was barely breathing.

I stumbled forward, ignoring the fiery pain in my side. I collapsed beside him, grabbing his arm, his face, anything.

“Why would you do that?” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I cupped the back of his head. “What the hell were you thinking, you absolute fucking idiot?”

His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. But somehow, he still managed a weak, lopsided grin.

“You—” He coughed, his voice hoarse. “You called me an imbecile.”

Even now. Even now, he was still smiling.

I let out a strangled laugh—a sob, maybe—before shaking my head, pressing my forehead against his. “You didn’t have to do that.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “You never had to prove anything, Eddie. Not to them. Not to me.”

His breath hitched, his fingers weakly squeezing mine. “Guess I just wanted to be the hero for once.”

I bit my lip, forcing back the tears.

“You already were, dumbass.”

His eyes closed, I shook him again.

“Eddie—Eddie, wake up!”

My hands trembled as I gripped his shoulders, shaking him harder than I probably should have. His head lolled to the side, his breathing uneven, shallow. There was too much blood. His, mine—it was hard to tell which was which anymore.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but the fear was suffocating.

He wasn’t allowed to die. Not here, not now. Not like this.

My fingers dug into his jacket as I let out a shuddering breath. “You do not get to pull some dumbass hero stunt and then fucking die, Munson.” My voice cracked. “That’s not how this works.”

A groggy, slurred noise left his lips—something between a grunt and my name. His lashes fluttered, and for the briefest second, his brown eyes flickered open.

“S’what heroes do, sweetheart.” His voice was barely there, just a whisper of breath against my skin. “Save the day…go out in glory…”

“You are not going out, you idiot.” My hand found the back of his head, my fingers threading into his tangled curls. “Not on my watch.”

A second later, I heard Steve’s voice shouting something, but it was all a blur. The adrenaline was fading, and the pain was back—sharp, relentless, punishing. My side burned like someone was pressing a red-hot blade into my ribs, but I ignored it.

Eddie needed help. Now.

“Steve!” My voice was hoarse, barely strong enough to rise above the ringing in my ears, but somehow, he heard me.

His footsteps were heavy against the dirt as he ran up, breathless. The moment he saw Eddie, his face went pale.

“Shit.” He dropped to his knees beside us, his hands hovering over Eddie’s chest, his fingers shaking. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“He needs—” My breath hitched as I pressed my hands against Eddie’s wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. “We need to get him back through the gate. Now.”

Steve nodded, his jaw clenched. “Robin! We gotta move, now!”

Eddie let out a weak groan as Steve carefully looped his arms under his shoulders, his movements quick but gentle. Robin appeared a second later, panic written all over her face as she helped grab his legs.

Eddie hissed in pain. His head tilted toward me, his glassy eyes barely focusing. “You—you’re hurt.”

I scoffed. “No shit, Sherlock.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk, but the pain dragged him back under.

“Let’s move!” Nancy called out from the front, shotgun still in hand. “Hawkins is burning. We need to go, now!”

I stumbled as I got up, clutching my ribs, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My legs felt like lead as I forced myself forward, following behind them as we made our way back toward the gate.

The world around us was crumbling—literally. The ground cracked beneath our feet, red lightning slashed through the sky, and somewhere in the distance, I heard the twisted, eerie sounds of Vecna’s final death throes.

The fight was over. But we weren’t out yet.

And Eddie—Eddie was still slipping away.

I could see it. Feel it. Every breath he took was slower than the last, every second making it harder for him to hold on.

Panic clawed at my throat. No. Not him. Not now.

I didn’t think—I just reached for his hand. His fingers were ice cold, but when I squeezed, he squeezed back.

“Stay awake, Munson,” I murmured, my voice rough, desperate. “I mean it. You do not get to die before I get to punch you for pulling this shit.”

A weak, breathless chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Romantic…”

“Shut up.”

It felt like hours before we finally reached the gate, but by some miracle, we did. The rope dangled from the ceiling above, still leading back to the real world.

Steve went first, pulling himself up with ease. Robin followed next.

Nancy helped tie Eddie’s arms securely around Steve’s neck before he was hoisted up, inch by inch. Eddie groaned, but he was too weak to fight it, his head lolling against Steve’s shoulder.

And then—it was just me and Nancy.

She turned to me, eyes flickering to the dark stain spreading along my side. I could feel my legs getting weaker, the exhaustion weighing me down.

“You first,” she said.

I shook my head. “Not a chance.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “You go. If I pass out halfway up, someone’s gotta pull me through.”

Her jaw tightened, but after a beat, she nodded. “Fine.”

A few minutes later, she was through.

I reached for the rope, gritting my teeth through the pain. My fingers were slick with blood—Eddie’s, mine, I didn’t know—but I didn’t stop. Didn’t let go.

And then—hands. Grabbing me. Pulling me through.

The moment I hit the ground, my vision spun. Everything hurt. But it didn’t matter—Eddie was still breathing.

I turned my head just enough to see him, lying a few feet away, surrounded by Robin and Steve.

His eyes flickered open again, hazy but alive.

Alive.

Relief crashed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless.

“Munson,” I called, my voice raw.

He turned his head slightly toward me, a weak smirk tugging at his lips.

“Still here, sweetheart.”

I let out a choked, half-laugh, half-sob, shaking my head as I let my head fall back against the floor.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “You better be.”

Ayeeeeee if you made a request it will be out tomorrow love you all gnn 💜

[munsons-melody]

angeleyes

summary: after seeing nancy get pulled into a trance, eddie gets worried the same might happen to you and makes you a tape with your favorite song on a loop, even though you're broken up

pairing: eddie munson x female!henderson!reader

cw: bit of angst but ends with fluff

recommended songs: 'disillusion' and 'angeleyes' by ABBA

word count: 3.3k

a/n: did i start crying while writing this? yes, yes i did. also NOT PROOFREAD! also feedback is always appreciated :)

masterlist

part two of this fic called ‘your song’ can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

-

the two of you were together for almost a year. you were inseparable from the start but as months passed, you each kept getting busier and busier and whenever you were together, it would end in a giant screaming match with one of you crying while the other stormed off with no apologies in store till days later.

even though you knew the two of you were in a rough patch, you never expected the last fight to be your final one. you were at each others throats, a silly bicker turning into a full blown fight. you were both teary-eyed, throats sore from screaming and holding back tears, pacing all around the trailer. neither really knew what the fighting was about, but it didn't stop the screaming match that definitely caused the whole neighborhood to wake up from their peaceful slumbers

you still remember the exact moment you felt your world shatter. you stood in eddie's room, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you diverted your eyes from him to the floor, littered with his clothes and various items. you didn't want him to see you cry as hard as you were.

all you wanted was him to say anything like "i'm sorry" or "come here" and have him wrap you up in those strong arms of his, while he stroked your hair and told you he loved you and the two of you would be alright. but nothing of the sort came. the quietness deafening after the two of you stopped fighting.

"maybe we just aren't good for each other anymore," eddie muttered out, and you looked up at him with bloodshot eyes

"what? no! don't say that, please" you said, inching forward but he moved back to avoid your touch

"i think we should break up y/n" he said. it was like someone knocked all the oxygen out of your body as your heart started pounding

"eddie-" you tried but he shook his head, a couple of tears slipping down his cheeks

"y/n, please, just go" he said with anger hidden in his voice, facing away from you

"fine" you said, your blood boiling. you stormed out of his trailer and walked out into the cold evening air, using your walk home as a way to cool down and soon enough your anger turned into more sadness

once you arrived home, you couldn't help but let the tears flow freely, feeling as if your heart was broken into a million tiny little pieces

"shit are you okay?" dustin asked you as you crumpled onto the couch, not caring that you would most likely have to explain why you were crying.

"no" you muttered out, curling into a ball and putting a pillow over your face. he walked over to you, sitting on the coffee table across from you

"did you break up?" he asked and you nodded, turning your head to smush your face into the pillow, letting your tears soak into the fabric of the pillow

"shit shit you're gonna be okay i promise" dustin said with a panic

.

eddie's trailer was in pure chaos as everyone ripped his room apart, looking for some tape that wasn't a heavy metal song to aid nancy in freeing herself from vecna's trance

"music! we need music!" robin screamed out as you watched as she flung a handful of cassettes onto eddies bed, Eddie swiftly picking one of the iron maiden tapes up and screamed at her "this is music!" 

right as you grabbed another box of tapes you heard steve yell "guys!" and all of you ran to the small living room, littered with debris surrounding the mattress that served as your 'landing pad'

you looked up to see steve holding nancy on the floor and you immediately thought the worst, your heart pounding as it skipped a beat, not prepared to see the potentiality of your best friend dead in steves arms 

"she's okay! we're going to come through!" steve's voice rang out, laced with urgency. everyone nodded as they cleared the area. you watched as the two of your friends individually climbed up the makeshift rope and fall through the gate onto eddie's mattress

you saw everyone, or at least assumed everyone, swarm nancy, asking question after question of "are you alright?" and "what happened"

nancy just stayed quiet, holding her arms to herself blinking away tears, and you broke away from the group to get her some water as she slowly sat down on the couch

you moved through the all too familiar kitchen of the munson trailer, wanting to reminisce about the memories you shared with eddie in this kitchen, but refusing to do so due to the fact you a) didn't want to waste time helping nancy and b) didn't want to relive the memories that would just break your heart even more

once you handed nancy the water, you let her be, not wanting to overwhelm her or pressure her into talking about what just happened. you went back into the kitchen, not wanting to be in any ones way, and stood there with your arms crossed

this time you allowed yourself to let those memories creep back in. the early mornings where you would make pancakes for you and eddie's breakfast, and what would be wayne's dinner when he came home before he would go to sleep. the times you would teach eddie how to cook when you felt like making dinner together. the late nights you spent listening to the radio and would dance under the refrigerator light. the times you two would spend after hours of endless sex where even when you tried to have a break from each other to get some water just to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. 

hell, you even smiled to yourself about the time eddie accidentally bruised his knuckles after enthusiastically waving his hands around while in conversation and smacking them on the cabinet, and you of course had to kiss them better.

you heard some shuffling and mumbling behind you and turned to the hallway just to make eye contact with eddie as you watched him drag dustin down the hall and into his room

you heard the door close and some muffled voices, but you couldn't make out the conversation 

-

eddie shut the door and turned to dustin who stood there, confused as ever as to why he was being dragged down the hall 

"what is y/n's favorite song?" he asked with urgency. dustin looked taken aback.

"excuse me?" dustin questioned, looking at eddie as if he had five heads

"your sister, y/n, what is her favorite song?" he repeated with a stern tone

"shouldn't you know?" dustin snapped with an annoyed look upon his face. even though eddie was one of his best friends and someone he looked up to, this breakup between his sister and him was so new and fresh, he didn't know how to act in this situation

"well it changes with her, like it changes all the time man... for a while it was killer queen by queen and then it changed to dreams by fleetwood mac then it changed to, i think, amoreena by elton john? ugh" he groaned

"eddie, why do you want to know? didn't you two break up like a couple of months ago?" dustin pointed out and eddie shook his head, rubbing his temple 

"it was a little over a month ago but-" eddie started before dustin interrupted him 

"and didn't you break up with her?" he questioned further, crossing his arms 

"well technically but i-" 

"'technically' my ass! you completely broke her heart and now you want to know her favorite song? why do you even care all of a sudden? you didn't seem to care when she would come home crying after seeing you at school all day. you didn't seem to care when she wanted to go to her favorite place in this goddamn town but didn’t cause she was scared she'd run into you there. you didn't seem to care when she spent all of her money to buy you those stupid concert tickets for your birthday..." dustin's voice trailed off from his originally loud tone

eddie looked down, a lump forming in his throat

"i didn't know any of that..." he admitted, moving his head up to look at dustin with glassy eyes 

"what?" dustin said and eddie nodded, sniffling 

"i didn't know she did any of that, especially those tickets" eddie said, his voice cracking which mirrored the cracks forming in his heart

eddie sat down on the bed putting his head in his hands, feeling completely and utterly stupid 

"i am the biggest fucking idiot for breaking up with her. it was just the heat of the moment with that stupid fight- and i can't even remember what it was about! i was just tired of the fighting! and now it's been a month but i haven't even talked to her until all of this shit went down but god i love her so goddamn much and i will be damned if something happens to her- if nancy can get under his trance at random who knows if she's next" eddie ranted, standing up and putting both his hands on dustins shoulders

"please dustin, what is her favorite song?" he pleaded. dustin looked at him with sympathic eyes and sighed 

"angeleyes" he muttered out and eddie stared at him with a confused look written across his face

"i think her favorite song right now is angeleyes by abba... i always hear her listening to it and singing it around the house..." dustin told him and eddie's eyes widened 

he ran to the door to open it but as he did he it revealed you standing there, with your arm and fist up in a knocking position 

"y/n" he breathed out and you looked into his eyes, the knots turning in your stomach reminding you of the heartbreak he succumbed you to and you blinked, looking past him at dustin standing there

"sorry, uh we're heading to max's next door, it's safer over there" you said bluntly before turning around and walking down the hallway, steve wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you headed toward the door 

eddie watched you leave and made a b line into the cabinet that sat adjacent to their kitchen, opening the door and starting to rummage through the boxes

"what are you doing? didn't you hear y/n?" he heard dustin ask as he approached behind him

"i know for a fact that we have that abba song on an album somewhere" he rumaged some more before pulling out a handful of tapes by ABBA

"my mom loved them so we had a lot of their tapes," eddie explained, walking back to his room and grabbing a blank tape 

he looked on the back of each tape till he saw the small words ‘angeleyes’ on the back of the voulez-vous album

he put both in his boombox, playing the song and pressing record so he was able to make a loop of the song 

"eddie we need to regroup with everyone next door" dustin pleaded and eddie shook his head

"we can meet them after we get a good loop of at least 10 minutes" he said before turning back to his dresser 

"we shouldn't risk being here longer than we already have, what if someone hears us or even sees us in here?" he pleaded again and eddie shook his head, being stubborn as a mule 

"fine, we'll be all over there where its safe and you can be over here with the fear of being caught" dustin said with annoyance, starting to leave eddie's room when eddie walked over and stopped him 

"just wait 5 more goddamn minutes" eddie told him with an angry tone 

"jesus christ okay" dustin responded with his voice higher than normal 

eddie heard the end of the song and quickly paused the two tapes, and rewinded before pressing the play and record buttons 

he sat on his bed, listening to the song and the lyrics hit him like a train 

'Sometimes when I'm lonely, I sit and think about him And it hurts to remember all the good times When I thought I could never live without him And I wonder, does it have to be the same Every time? When I see him, will it bring back all the pain? How can I forget that name?'

shit he thought to himself, continuing to listen to the lyrics of the song 

'Look into his angel eyes One look and you're hypnotized He took my heart and now I pay the price Look into his angel eyes You'll think you're in paradise Then one day you'll find out he wears a disguise Don't look too deep into those angel eyes'

once the song ended, he rewinded and played it again, internalizing each word he heard from the song 

he came to his senses that both of you were hurting just as much when it came to this break up and he felt guilt and resentment gnawing away at him

how in the world could i ever get her back? he questioned himself, feeling as lost as ever

he heard the song again a couple more times as it was recorded onto the blank tape, feeling like a piece of his heart was shattering with each note

he finally felt satisfied with the loop he had made, and quickly ejected the tapes from where they sat and slipped it into his walk man and shoved it into dustins bag along with a pair of headphones, and they carefully walked out of eddie's trailer and to max's trailer next door

-

you stood next to robin in the kitchen, the two of you hungrily snacking down a pb&j after finding your appetite now that you knew everyone was safe and was able to take a breather from the traumatizing experience you all shared 

"here's one for you and nance" robin said, handing the plates to steve and he smiled before turning to nancy who was in the living room 

"where's eddie and dustin?" max asked you, making a sandwich herself and you shrugged, gulping down some water 

"i'm not sure, i mean i told them we were coming here and that was almost 20 minutes ago" you said, wiping your face

"should we go check to make sure they're still over there and not getting sucked back into the upside down?" robin asked and you nodded

"yeah i'll go, you two finish eating" you said, putting your plate in the sink and walking out to the front door but you noticed the two of them running across the street from eddie's trailer to max's and you switftly moved from the door as they jumped in 

everyone stopped and stared at them since they were out of breath

"where were you guys?" lucas asked and dustin looked at eddie before looking at you and then back to lucas 

"uh sorry we had to reattach the caution tape to the front door so it didn't look suspicious" dustin said, and everyone seemed to buy the lie, nodding to each other as everyone convened in the living room

-

you sat in the stolen rv in the back, looking out the window at the birds playing in the trees. it was parked on the side of the store where there was room to fit it without taking up spaces in the main lot.

you heard dustin and lucas up front near the steering wheel in some conversation when you felt the seat dip next to you.

you turned your body to see eddie sitting there looking at you. 

"hey" he said softly

"hi" you said back, turning to face back to the window 

you hadn't really talked to him over the past few days, not knowing what to do or say since you hadn't spoken since your breakup

"y/n can i please talk to you?" he asked sweetly, and you looked at him again, seeing his eyes in a fixed stare

you just nodded, turning to face him completely

"the reason i was late coming from my trailer earlier wasn't because dustin was fixing the caution tape" eddie started, reaching for dustins bag which was by his feet. you blinked at him, muttering an "okay?" which came out with a more annoyed tone than you intended 

he pulled out a walkman from the bag, and popped the tape out 

"y/n... i don't know what the hell will happen next but i know for a fact if anything happened to you and we didn't have a way to save you i-" he said, wiping a few tears from his eyes

your brows furrowed as you looked at the tape and back at him, meeting each others gaze

"i made this, uh, it's like a 20 minute loop of angeleyes by abba... dustin said it was your favorite song... after seeing nancy be put in that trance just so vecna could talk to her really freaked me out, and i don't know if he'll somehow use you as a pawn in his game, so this is for you" eddie said, fiddling with the tape before replacing it back in the walkman and handing it to you

"oh eddie..." you said, rubbing your thumb over the piece of technology

eddie's heart fluttered as he heard you say his name

"listen, nothing will happen to me, i promise" you said, grabbing his hand in yours. the fact that he was in the shittiest situation to ever occur and he was still thinking about you just made your love for him grow strong, which in turn only fed into your heartbreak because he wasn't yours to love anymore, and he had made that very clear

"yeah but if anything does, i want to- no i need to tell you... i love you y/n henderson. you were the best thing to happen to me in this godforsaken town and the fact that i messed things up will be something i will always regret. i hate that i told you i wanted to break up. i didn't- i was just so sick and tired of always fighting. i've never had someone like you in my life and i thought you were going to break up with me so i went and pulled the trigger before you could. this past month has been pure agony for me, and dustin went and rubbed salt into the wound when he told me about those tickets you got for my birthday, and jesus- im just, im sorry and i love you" eddie told you, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your hand 

you cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him, craving his lips on yours. he kissed back before you pulled away to look at him

"eddie, i don't even know what to say" you muttered out and he shook his head 

"you don't need to say anything, i just needed to tell you how i felt just incase" he said and you took in a deep breath 

"i've hated you so much these past few weeks for what you did, but fucking hell i love you more than words can say eds. it was very stupid of you to assume i would break up with you just because we were going through a rough patch but, maybe when all of this is over and you learn not to be an idiot, maybe we could have a picnic by lovers lake, just me and you," you said softly, and eddie smiled 

"yeah?" he asked, his eyes lighting up 

"yeah, maybe i can even tell you about the concert tickets i spent all my money on... it was supposed to be a surprise but i guess dustin ruined that" you joked, and eddie chuckled 

"oh honey you didn't have to spend all your money on me, especially not on tickets," eddie said, brushing his fingers through your hair to push it back on your shoulder 

"but you deserve it, your birthday's coming up and ozzy osbourne was going on tour and i knew you wanted to see him" you shrugged with a small smile 

he kissed you passionately, and you melted into his touch, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours and you didn't realize how badly you needed him till this very moment. it was soon interrupted however as the door to the RV swung open, and you pulled apart, watching everyone clamber in yelling that we needed to go

the engine of the RV roared to life as steve sped off the premises, leading you guys onto the next part of your adventure to killing vecna

fin.

[afewproblems]

The Holiday Party had gone quite smoothly, more than he was expecting if Steve was being honest with himself.

Until about halfway through, but that was pretty par for the course.

Jonathan had unearthed an old Rummoli Board from a box labeled 'Basement Misc', the Byers were still in the middle of unpacking from their move back to Hawkins, and brought it alongside a bottle of wine that Nancy had managed to smuggle from the Wheelers liquor cabinet.

Robin, who rode with Eddie and Argyle, brought pizza, the only copy of It's A Wonderful Life from Family Video, and way too much weed for just the six of them.

"It isn't a party without a little Kush Stevie," Eddie had told him, clapping his warm hand on Steve's shoulder, his thumb just high enough to rest on bare skin above the collar of his sweater.

All Steve could do was roll his eyes and take the pizzas, quickly ducking into the kitchen before Robin or, God Forbid, Eddie could comment on the pink flush that had taken over his face at the new nickname.

Robin had been insisting that Steve just tell Eddie how he felt for the last few weeks. Rip the bandaid off and come clean. What was the worst that could happen?

Which, really Robin?

Steve knows exactly what happens when someone puts themselves out there only for the other person to not feel the same way. His whole argument was currently sitting in his living room for fucks sake.

Sure, Steve and Nancy were on better terms now, but it also took two years to get there, and even still, there was a weird tension when they found themselves alone together.

So, no, telling Eddie was not an option, Robin.

Steve could keep it together. He could deal with the ache in his chest at the sight of Eddie's smile. Steve could deal with the way his heart beat quickened whenever Eddie said his name. He could deal with the heady flush that bloomed every time Eddie touched him.

He was fine, it was fine.

And, movie nights like these were nothing new in the wake of Vecnas defeat and the destruction of the Upside Down. Steve needed to keep it together if he wanted to continue to have this. Nights without the kids to look after or the adults to hide their indulgences from, these were the nights where they could truly relax.

These were Steve's favourite, and he was not going to let some Bullshit feelings stand in the way of being able to see Eddie.

This Christmas Eve found the six of them lounging on pillows and extra couch cushions from the basement to make the 'best movie watching set-up thank you very much', according to Robin, and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the umpteenth time.

"I can't believe that George Bailey would wish for something like that, when it's so obvious that people care about him," Robin scoffs at the top of her voice about halfway through the movie, prompting a irritated Shush from Nancy.

"That bro is depressed man, it's like a cry for help, and on Christmas, this shit is heavy dude," Argyle hums, lifting his fist up to Robin who shakes it with a wild grin. The two erupt into violent giggles which begin to creep into Steve and Eddie and eventually Jonathan as well. Nancy rolls her eyes but can't help the smile that takes over her face as well.

"Who would wish to never be born when you could just wish for the bank to like, not fuck you over, seems like a waste of a wish if you ask me," Eddie says as the last traces of giggles begin to finally disapate.

"Ooo, Eddie's right!" Robin says as she reaches for the remote, hitting pause on the movie. She waves her hands through the chorus of groans from everyone except Eddie who turns around to Steve with an incredulous expression on his face.

Steve shrugs as Robin continues, unable to look away from those large brown eyes until a hand darts out to smack him in the chest.

"Steve, pay attention," Robin huffs, "let's go around and share what we would wish for!"

Oh shit.

Steve turns on the couch to fully face Robin with narrowed eyes. She grins at him, lifting a single eyebrow as her blue eyes dart between Eddie and Steve.

Steve opens his mouth to argue, to insist that they just carry on with the movie, only for Eddie to drum his hands against his knees and speak.

"Oh birdie, I'm way ahead of you, this is Wayne's favorite Christmas movie so I've done a lot of thinking 'bout this".

Eddie clears his throat and lifts his hands from his knees now as though he's about to launch into a story for Hellfire, "I would personally wish for the money to be able to fund Corroded Coffin full time, get a demo done, and then be able to kiss this fucking one horse town good bye!"

Steve feels the words hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Eddie wants to leave Hawkins.

His wish, his dream, for forever from the sounds of it, is to leave them all behind.

To leave Steve behind.

The voices from the group, pitched high and low, all blend together into one as the rest of the group share their own wishes.

Steve absently feels a small hand grip his own, he looks up to see Robin staring at him, a worried frown pinched between her eyebrows. He answers her silent question with a shake of his head.

It was fine, he was fine. This was a good thing, better to know now than later when Eddie would inevitably leave him behind.

"Stevie?"

Steve startles as a ringed hand waves precariously close to his face. Eddie smiles faintly at him, one dimple on display as he speaks again.

"Kinda lost you for a second there, what about your wish?"

"Oh," he manages to say with a slight laugh in his voice, even as his brain fills with static, "um, I haven't ever really thought about it, maybe some new music or something".

Nancy and Jonathan both boo loudly from the love seat while Argyle nods with a hazy smile.

"Right on my man, sounds like Eddie'll be able to help when his band makes it big," he says before turning back to the television and slumping even more heavily into the couch.

Steve forces out another bright laugh, ignoring how much it burns his throat and crushes his chest. The only thing keeping him in his seat is the firm hold of Robin's hand on his own.

He doesn't look at Eddie as he leans forward to press play on the movie once more, letting the music and dialogue fill the room once more.

Later, as the end of the credits roll and the tape switches back to static, Nance and Jonathan are fast asleep. The pair are cuddled up on the love seat, their heads leaning against one another. It would almost be cute if not for the pang of envy that fills Steve at the sight.

Steve tries to bask in the warmth of having Robin cuddled into his side, knowing it will alleviate at least some of the ache in his chest. Robins eyes have been steadily growing heavier as she slowly falls further and further into Steves side. He smiles, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face.

At least he has Robin, and maybe for now that is enough.

***

This is a part one, let me know if anyone would like a part Two?

[dreamsteddie]

Who Will Catch Me When You're Gone?

Content Tags: Platonic Sobin, major character death, grief, depression, major character undeath

Inspired by this beautiful art by @tarraing

------

When they found Steve, broken and bloody and scraped raw from the bats, all Robin could think about was that Steve's favorite sweatpants were ruined. She'd never understood those things or how someone so obsessed with fashion could wear them, but he'd always loved how comfortable they were. She razzes him about it every time he wears them.

Now they're ruined. Dirty and ripped.

She can hear Nancy ordering them to help her and Eddie freaking out but it's all just white noise to her right up until the moment everything comes flooding back in and the world has never been louder. Her breathing is deafening like she's trying to breathe for both of them.

Steve isn't breathing.

Steve isn't breathing but somehow she still is.

One moment she's stuck watching Nancy Wheeler try to patch her soulmate back together the next she's doing it for her so Nancy can start CPR. Eddie has stopped freaking out, she is dimly aware of him standing behind her, hovering because he doesn't know how to help. Doesn't know if there's any way to help.

Robin knows she's talking but it doesn't matter what she's saying. She doesn't think Steve can hear her. How could anything she says matter when her best friend isn't there to hear it? But she can't make herself stop, just in case.

But Steve never hears her. Nancy pushes on his chest and forces air into his lungs until her arms are shaking and she doesn't have enough strength to move his chest anymore. Then Robin takes over even though she has no idea what she's doing. Even though Nancy and Eddie are trying to tell her it's no use, that they need to go.

Like she could leave him here.

Then she's kicking and screaming because they're trying to pull her away. She's biting down on Eddie's ringed hand and kicking out into Nancy's ribs. She's not leaving, she's not. She can't do that to Steve, would rather lie down next to him, take his hand, and let the bats find her than leave him behind.

The last thing she sees before someone knocks her in the head is Steve's eyes, open and empty and staring right at her.

------

When Robin wakes up she's surrounded by people, but no one says a thing. She sees Dustin, red-eyed and empty standing in a corner across from the couch she's been placed on. Max won't look at her, Erica is glued to her side, Eddie looks lost, and Nancy looks like a block of steel. Steve isn't anywhere to be found.

But then again, Robin knew that. She'd know if Steve was her because their hearts beat as one, but now her chest feels empty. It's Max, brave, scared Max, who breaks the silence. Robin doesn't hear it. Doesn't listen as people start explaining plans around them. Can't channel the righteous fury she sees in Nancy, Dustin, and Max or the barely concealed fear in Eddie and Erica. All she feels is empty.

She's going to do whatever they want her to do because she knows it's what Steve would do. Knows without a shadow of a doubt that if she was the one lying dead in the Upside Down he would be on a war path in her name, so she needs to do the same.

When she launches that last fire bomb into Vecna's ugly head, it's a hallow victory.

Everyone else survives. The Byers move back to Hawkins. The town starts to rebuild. The big bad is gone for good.

But it doesn't mean anything to her. She lies in bed most days without saying a word. She lets her parents dote on her, listens passively as they try to remind her of the college acceptance letters waiting for her on the kitchen counter. Manages to sit up and smile just a little when Eddie brings Dustin and Erica by to see her. Cries with the two of them tucked under her arms, all three of them aware of how vulnerable they feel without a strong pair of arms wrapped around their other side.

Robin asks Eddie to hang back one day and makes a request. The next day he comes by with a clean needle and a pot of ink and Robin sits motionless as he engraves a sunflower inner her wrist, somewhere she'll always be able to see it. She always swore to Steve that she would never get a tattoo, too freaked out by the possibility of an infection, but those fears feel so distant now that the worst thing that could happen has come to pass. She catches Eddie with one of his own to match the next week.

------

A month goes by. She doesn't leave the house, even when Dustin comes by to beg her.

Then two. She can tell her parents are starting to really worry. They've given up trying to get to college and started trying to get her to think about therapy.

Then Five. She started going to work again. She puts on her Family Video vest and thinks about Steve. She walks through the door and imagines Steve leaning over the counter. Keith turns on Back to The Future and she goes home with a panic attack. She doesn't speak unless it's necessary, but she's trying to move forward. She knows it's what Steve would want for her, even on the days when it's not what she wants for herself.

And then Six months pass. There's a tap at her window.

She ignores it, at first. She refuses to go to a shrink, there are too many things she can't say to the ones her parents recommend, and she won't accept anything from those government goons who turned her best friend into a soldier. Into cannon fodder. Instead, she writes letters.

She sits down at her desk once a day and pours her heart out to Steve. She lets herself pretend for a few moments every day that he's just been dragged away by his parents for a few months. He's out there somewhere in the world relying on her to keep her updated on the kids and the drama at work and herself until she can go out and join him, wherever he is. Some days she writes about nothing at all, some days she rages at him for leaving her behind, sometimes she speculates about their future where she goes to college wherever he is and they get an apartment and two dogs. She seals every one in an envelope, tucks them in a drawer, and lets herself breathe in that perfect fantasy for just a moment. It's the best part of her day, and nothing can tear her away from it.

Except the tapping doesn't stop.

And Robin lives on the second floor.

And everyone she knows would just come through the front door.

She turns, so slowly, toward the window. The glare from her bedside lamp makes it impossible to see anything through it, but she doesn't need to.

There are fingers, claws, forcing their way under the sill. She sucks in a sharp breath as they curl upward, crashes to the ground as they start to pull.

She's scrambling back, getting ready to scream and make a run for the walkie she leaves on silent on her desk to call for help. To warn the others that their monsters are back before it mows her down.

But then the window gives way and she stops. Stops everything.

Because the thing in her window is wearing her best friend's face. It's wearing his hair and his moles and his stupid fucking sweatpants.

And at the end of the day it doesn't actually matter what he looks like. It doesn't matter if there are new hinges in his jaw to show off new, shark-like teeth. It doesn't matter mater if he can't say anything besides a hissed, garbled rendition of her name. It doesn't even matter when he latches onto her wrist, right above that little sunflower, and sucks, taking just enough blood to make her light-headed.

Because she can feel his heartbeat pounding along with her own, perfectly in sync.

Because she's not alone, anymore.

[jellyfishsthings]

The Unveiled Truth

Warnings: pure angst, no this is actually heart breaking, no you don't understand, hurt no comfort type of fic ... what was i thinking, plz have tissues near (i was going through a faze okay?), um lumax angst aw well i guess, Steve is devestated in this, no really like i wanted to give him a hug, Vecna attack, um the reader has a similar character to Max's this is extremely long ... just saying

The flickering fluorescent lights of the Hawkins lab cast long, distorted shadows across the linoleum floor. Dust motes danced in the weak beams, mirroring the chaotic swirl of emotions in Steve Harrington’s chest. It had been weeks since they’d barely clawed their way out of the Upside Down, weeks since they’d witnessed the sickening, bone-twisting assault on you by Vecna. Weeks, and he still couldn’t shake the image of your limbs contorting in unnatural ways, the guttural scream that had been ripped from your throat, a sound that still echoed in his nightmares.

You have been one of them for a while now. You were a force of nature, a whirlwind of sharp wit and unwavering defiance. You were a stark contrast to sweet, gentle Nancy, your fiery spirit a roaring flame compared to her quiet, methodical demeanor. While Nancy's strengths lay in her calm precision and calculated bravery, yours burned hotter, fierce and unrelenting. You could sense the lingering tension in Steve’s gaze when Nancy was around, a subtle indication that he might not have fully let go of his feelings for her. Jealousy simmered quietly within you, a tight knot you hid so well that no one could tell. It wasn’t Nancy’s fault—she had her own burdens to bear—but you couldn’t help but wonder if Steve still compared you to her in fleeting moments. The thought stung, yet you masked it with your trademark sarcasm and fiery determination, ensuring no one—not even Steve—saw the cracks beneath the surface.

You had always smelled like cherries and vanilla, a scent so distinctively you that it drove Steve crazy every time he was close enough for it to flood his senses, making him wonder if your lips would taste the same way. It was intoxicating, a subtle reminder of your presence that lingered even after you were gone. Your wardrobe seemed to consist almost exclusively of navy blue, your favorite color, a choice that made you stand out without even trying. The kids would always tease you for your obsession with sour candy, a snack you carried around like a lifeline. But you balanced it with a nurturing side, peeling fruit for the younger ones to ensure they got something with vitamins. These quirks made you uniquely you, an anchor for the group and for Steve, who found himself drawn to every small, vibrant detail of your character.

You had always seemed to be more like Max, ever since kindergarten when you had broken a boy's nose because he made fun of your braids. Why hadn’t he noticed you then? Yes you were a little weird and maybe a bit mean.. But it was you. You were sharp-edged and fiercely independent, but while Max’s wit was tempered by a quiet vulnerability, yours burned hotter, untamed and unapologetic. It was this fiery kinship that had drawn you together like magnets, each recognizing a kindred spirit in the other. Over time, your relationship had deepened, evolving from an unspoken understanding to something more familial. When Max’s world crumbled and she was left without a guardian, you had stepped in without hesitation, becoming her legal guardian and fierce protector. You were her anchor in the storm, her unwavering constant, and she was your reminder of why you fought so hard. Together, you were a force to be reckoned with, two flames burning brightly in defiance of the darkness.

But that was what made you, you. You were the one who didn’t back down, who spoke your mind regardless of the consequences, and you were always, always ready to fight. To Steve, you felt like a gasp of fresh air after years of suffocating in familiar routines. You cracked jokes during the most intense moments, somehow managing to lighten the weight of what they were facing. He found himself looking forward to those moments, to your sarcastic jabs and the way your eyes would glint with both mischief and determination. He had started to feel something akin to… well, he wouldn’t admit it, even to himself. Not yet.

It all happened so fast …

The nightmarish screeches of the demobats filled the air as Eddie swung his guitar in wide arcs, trying to fend them off. Their leathery wings beat furiously around him, teeth snapping inches from his face. He was holding his ground—for now—but it wouldn’t last much longer.

“Eddie!” you yelled, your voice cutting through the chaos. You were already moving, weaving between vines and broken debris as you fought your way toward him.

Eddie turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with panic. “Don’t! Stay back!” he shouted, desperation clear in his tone.

But you ignored him, your focus locked on the swarm closing in. As one of the bats lunged for his neck, you threw yourself forward, your shoulder colliding with Eddie’s and sending him sprawling to the ground. The bat’s jaws snapped shut on empty air, and you didn’t waste a second.

Grabbing a fallen metal rod, you swung it with all your strength, the improvised weapon connecting with a sickening crunch. The demobat shrieked and veered off, but more were coming.

“Get up!” you barked at Eddie, glancing over your shoulder. “We have to move!”

Eddie scrambled to his feet, his breathing ragged. “You didn’t have to—”

“Less talking, more running!” you cut him off, shoving him toward the others. Another bat dove toward you, its claws grazing your arm, but you swung again, warding it off.

Eddie hesitated, his eyes darting between you and the swarm. “I can’t just leave you!”

“I’ll be right behind you,” you promised, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “Go, Eddie!”

You followed a step behind, the demobats still on your heels. One managed to latch onto your leg, its claws digging into your skin, but you kicked it off with a grunt of pain, the adrenaline dulling the worst of it. Quickly catching up to him.

Eddie kept his running pace closer to yours, not wanting to leave you alone again, his expression a mix of relief and guilt. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.

You managed a weak grin, wiping blood from your cheek. “Sure I did. Couldn't let you miss your encore, could I?”

Despite the chaos still raging in the Upside Down, Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your smile fading as you looked toward the dystopian scenery, where the battle was far from over, desperately trying to find the others. “But you’re alive. That’s what matters.”

Steve was slicing through a tangle of vines with his axe, his face streaked with sweat and grime. Nancy fired off rounds from her shotgun, keeping the advancing creatures at bay.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Steve demanded, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder.

“Saving his ass!” you shot back, dropping beside Robin, who was crouched behind a pile of rubble. Your arms were shaking from exertion, but you tightened your grip on the pipe, ready for the next wave.

Eddie sank to his knees, panting. “She’s insane,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ran straight into a swarm of those things.”

Steve’s eyes flicked to you, a mix of anger and relief. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” you quipped, wincing as you wiped blood from your arm.

Nancy reloaded her shotgun, her expression grim. “We can’t stay here much longer. This place is crawling.”

“Then we fight our way out,” Steve said, his jaw clenched. He turned to you and Eddie. “Stay close. No more heroics.”

Eddie gave a weak laugh. “I think she used up all the heroics anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, another shriek echoed through the air. The swarm wasn’t done yet.

“Here we go again,” you muttered, rising to your feet. Whatever came next, you weren’t letting anyone else fall—not on your watch.

But then, Vecna happened.

It had started as a faint, ominous vibration in the air, an unnatural hum that seemed to press against their skin and burrow into their bones. Steve remembered the way you had frozen, your head snapping toward the source of the sound before anyone else had noticed. Your sharp intuition had always been unnervingly accurate, and in that moment, it had been no different. “He’s here,” you had whispered, your voice taut with dread, and Steve had felt the icy grip of fear coil around his heart.

The fight had erupted in a whirlwind of chaos. The Upside Down’s twisted, labyrinthine landscape seemed to come alive, vines slithering and snapping like serpents, the air thick with the stench of decay and ozone. Vecna’s presence was a palpable force, a suffocating weight that bore down on all of them. He had emerged from the shadows, his towering form grotesque and nightmarish, a grotesque mockery of humanity with his skeletal frame and raw, pulsating flesh. His voice, deep and resonant, had filled the air, a chilling blend of mockery and menace that sent shivers down Steve’s spine.

You had been the first to charge, your fierce determination blazing like a beacon in the suffocating darkness. Steve had shouted for you to wait, to come back, but you hadn’t listened. You never did. Armed with nothing but your wit, a spiked bat, and an iron will, you had hurled yourself at Vecna with a defiance that took Steve’s breath away.

“You’re not taking any more of us!” you had snarled, swinging the bat with all your strength. The strike had connected, sending a sharp crack through the air, but Vecna barely flinched. Instead, he had turned his hollow, glowing eyes on you, a slow, sinister smile spreading across his inhuman face.

“Foolish,” he had hissed, his voice slithering into their ears like venom.

Then it began. Steve would never forget the way the air around you seemed to ripple, the invisible tendrils of Vecna’s power wrapping around you like a vice. Your body had gone rigid, your eyes wide with a mixture of terror and defiance as you struggled against the invisible force. Steve had lunged forward, desperate to reach you, but the vines had come alive, ensnaring him and the others, holding them back as they watched in horror.

“No! Let her go!” Steve had shouted, his voice raw with desperation. He had thrashed against the vines, his hands bloodied from trying to tear himself free, but it was useless. Vecna’s power was absolute, a cruel, unyielding force that left them helpless.

Your screams had shattered the air, a sound so raw and primal that it cut through Steve like a knife. He had watched, paralyzed, as your limbs contorted at impossible angles, your body lifted off the ground as if you were a puppet on invisible strings. Blood had streamed from your nose, your mouth, your eyes, the brutal display a horrifying testament to Vecna’s power.

Even in the midst of your agony, you had fought. Steve could see it in your eyes, the fierce determination that refused to be snuffed out, a quality so reminiscent of Max’s own indomitable spirit. It was as if every challenge you faced only stoked the fire within you, a fire that had drawn Max to you in the first place. That shared intensity had been a cornerstone of your relationship, creating a bond that transcended mere friendship. Max had once confided in Steve, admitting that seeing you fight so fearlessly reminded her of the strength she’d always aspired to have. It wasn’t just admiration—it was a sense of kinship, a shared understanding of what it meant to stand tall in the face of despair. That similarity had driven you to become her protector, her legal guardian when she needed someone most. And now, as Steve looked at you, even amidst your pain and brokenness, he saw that same fiery defiance burning bright, refusing to be extinguished even by the horrors of Vecna’s wrath. You had spat defiance at Vecna, your voice trembling but unbroken. “You’ll… never… win,” you had managed to choke out, your words a final act of rebellion.

Vecna’s laugh had been a terrible, hollow sound. “Oh, but I already have,” he had replied, and with a final, brutal twist of his hand, he had sent you crashing to the ground, broken and motionless.

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as Steve stumbled forward, his vision blurred by tears and the harsh glow of the Upside Down’s crimson skies. Steve had felt the world collapse around him. The moment Vecna released his hold, the vines had slackened, and Steve had stumbled forward, his knees hitting the ground as he skidded to your side. He had gathered your limp body into his arms, his hands trembling as he cradled you against him. Your skin had been cold, your breaths shallow and ragged. “Hey, hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “You can’t… you can’t leave us. You can’t leave me.”

There was blood everywhere, staining your navy blue jacket and pooling on the ground beneath you. Steve’s heart pounded in his chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos around him. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

“Stay with me,” he had pleaded, his voice choked with tears. “Please, stay with me.”

“Steve,” Nancy’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. She was at his side in an instant, her hands pressing against one of your wounds in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. “We need to move. Now.”

“She has to be,” Steve said fiercely, his jaw clenched. He refused to entertain the alternative.

Together, they managed to lift you, your body limp and unresponsive, and began the arduous journey back to the portal. The vines still lashed out at them, as if the Upside Down itself was trying to keep you, but their determination fueled them. Steve carried you in his arms, his grip tight and protective, not knowing if he was doing more damage to your broken body, while the others fought off the monstrous creatures that pursued them.

Every step felt like a battle, every breath a struggle. The weight of your body in his arms, so unfamiliar and heavy, was a constant reminder of how fragile life was. Steve’s mind raced with memories of you: your laughter, the way you rolled your eyes at his bad jokes, the fire in your eyes when you argued with him about the best songs on a mixtape, the way his car smelled like cherries and vanilla after he would pick you up from your shift at the arcade, the terrible sailor jokes you made back when he worked on Scoops Ahoy and he snuck extra sprinkles on your ice cream every single time, that time you were talking with the kids about a science discovery and he couldn’t understand for the life of him a single word that left your mouth, you had his undivided attention from the way your eyes sparkled with excitement and your cheeks were slightly red from talking too fast . He clung to those moments like a lifeline, using them to push forward, to fight harder.

They had somehow managed to escape, dragging your seemingly lifeless body through the gate. The journey back to Hawkins lab had been a blur of panic and adrenaline, Steve’s focus entirely on keeping you alive. The doctors had taken over, their faces grim as they worked to stabilize you, and Steve had been left to sit outside, his hands stained with your blood, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and despair.

He could still feel the phantom weight of your limp form as he carried you through the gate back into the real world. They’d rushed you to the lab, the doctors scrambling to stabilize you, their faces tight with a mixture of concern and grim resignation. They had managed to stabilize you, somehow. Against all odds, you were still alive, clinging to life like a tenacious weed pushing through cracked concrete. A miracle, they called it.

But for Steve, miracle didn’t quite cut it. It felt more like a curse. He’d sat by your bedside for hours these last few weeks, watching over you. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only constant companion in the sterile room. You were still unconscious, your breathing shallow and labored. Next to Max’s broken form and Lucas’ constant crying. He couldn’t blame the boy as he cried in his arms for hours, those first days as they desperately waited for the doctors to tell them how you were. You seemed to have taken a greater hit than Max, his heart for a moment both felt heavier and lighter, Max wasn’t in as much pain as you, then the terrible realization came, what if that pain was enough for you to lose the battle with life? What if Max woke up and you were gone? What if the opposite happened, you didn't even know that Max was hurt. What if? What if? Those were the words that plagued his mind and gave him panic attacks.  

The guilt was a living, breathing entity, gnawing at the edges of his sanity. He had failed not only as a leader but as someone who, he was finally willing to admit to himself, cared deeply about you. He hadn’t been able to protect you; they hadn’t been able to break through to you. They were so close, and yet, they couldn’t change a thing. Even the fact that you were still breathing felt like a cruel joke. To see you like this, broken and vulnerable, was unbearable.

He’d tried to talk to you, even when he knew you couldn’t hear him, pouring out his anxieties, his fears, his burgeoning feelings, hoping somehow that you could feel his presence, that you could hear him. He told you about the day he first met you, how annoyed he’d been by your constant sarcasm, and how that annoyance had slowly transformed into a begrudging fondness, and eventually, something more. He still couldn’t say the word. He apologized for not being faster, not being stronger, not being able to keep you safe. He even found himself talking about Nancy, the ghost of the girl he’d once loved, a shadow that loomed large over him. He admitted that he still missed her, a part of him unable to fully let go of the past, but the feelings he was developing for you were different. They weren’t tied to old memories or lingering what-ifs; they were vibrant, alive, like a new kind of sunshine breaking through after years of gray. The contrast left him torn, battling with himself in quiet moments, though he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t ignore. You made him feel something new—a reckless, hopeful kind of love that he wasn’t sure he deserved but couldn’t resist. It was all a garbled mess of emotion that he couldn’t contain.

His heart broke every time he heard Lucas talking to Max the same way, promising over and over that he was waiting patiently for her to have that movie date she had asked him to go to all this weeks ago. He had a new list of films every time he read the titles along with their description and cast, always glancing up every now and then hoping that she would react in any kind of way. After a while he took a slight change in her heartbeat as her approval but then it happened on a romcom and Lucas made an off-joke about her getting soft and sentimental, which led to another hour of crying.

Robin had tried to talk to him, to comfort him, but it was no use. She knew the depth of his pain better than most; she'd seen the way he always put himself in the middle of danger, like some self-appointed shield for everyone he cared about. Robin had been the first to notice how deeply Steve's connection to you had grown, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. She had also noticed how the dynamics between you, Steve, and Nancy created a quiet tension. Robin, ever observant, had picked up on the subtle glances Steve cast in Nancy’s direction and how your jaw would tighten in response, though you hid it masterfully. To Robin, it wasn’t just about lingering feelings—she could see that Steve was caught between the shadow of his past with Nancy and the undeniable spark he shared with you. Robin, ever the voice of reason and humor, often mused to herself about how tangled human emotions could be, especially when jealousy simmered just below the surface, cloaked by your fiery determination to never let it show. To her, you weren’t just a vital member of their team but the glue holding so many of them together, a force as unyielding as Steve’s stubborn sense of duty. She had often commented, with her signature dry humor, on how you seemed to balance Steve’s impulsiveness with your own fierce, calculated determination. It was that balance, she believed, that drew him to you. "She’s like you, but smarter," Robin had joked once, her tone teasing but her meaning sincere. Now, as she watched him unravel in your absence, she understood just how much that bond meant to him, and she ached for her best friend in a way that words couldn’t fix. She could see the raw pain etched on his face, the way his eyes were always shadowed with a mixture of grief and self-reproach. She’d seen the way he looked at you, the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, and she knew that his feelings ran deeper than he was willing to admit, even now. 

Robin admired your resilience and how you poured yourself into protecting Max and the others, even when it clearly came at a cost. She had noticed how you balanced the intensity of your emotions with small acts of kindness, like peeling fruit for the kids or offering sour candy to calm nerves. Robin had once joked that your fierce energy was matched only by your oddly nurturing habits, a combination that left Steve utterly smitten.

But as Robin observed the dynamic unfolding between you, Steve, and Nancy, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for you. She could see how Steve’s lingering glances at Nancy, no matter how fleeting, weighed on you. She saw how you carried that burden silently, refusing to let your vulnerability show, even though it was clear to her that Steve’s feelings for you ran deeper than he likely realized. Robin wanted to nudge him, to make him see what was right in front of him, but she held back. This was something he had to figure out on his own.

Robin had once confided in you, sharing her observations with a mix of humor and seriousness. “You and Steve are like two stubborn magnets, both refusing to admit how drawn you are to each other,” she had said with a smirk, but her eyes were filled with sincerity. “Don’t let his cluelessness stop you from being yourself. He’ll figure it out eventually—he’s just slow, you know?”

Despite Robin’s reassurances, the ache of jealousy still simmered within you. You hated that it was there, hated how it made you question yourself in moments of quiet. But you also knew that Steve wasn’t the type to dwell in the past forever. The way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching, the way he lingered near you, drawn to your fiery energy and the scent of cherries and vanilla that seemed to haunt his every thought—those moments gave you hope. Even if he couldn’t say it yet, you felt it in the way his fingers brushed against yours during moments of quiet, in the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

And so, you stayed by his side, just as he stayed by yours, both of you navigating the tangled web of emotions that surrounded you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and as you lay in the Hawkins lab, fighting to recover from Vecna’s assault, Steve knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t lose you. Not now, not ever.

One evening, as the twilight seeped through the window, painting the room in hues of soft blues and purples, Steve found himself alone with you once more. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing over your hand, your skin cold against his. He traced the line of your wrist, the fragile bones outlined under your pale skin, the fragility of your life a stark reminder of his failure.

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper in the quiet room. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have… I should have done more." He swallowed the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "You were… you are… something. I know this is probably stupid, and you probably can't even hear me, but… you make everything better. Even things I didn't think could be better." He closed his eyes, letting a single tear escape and trace a path down his cheek. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please come back to me. Please.”

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, holding your hand, lost in the maelstrom of grief and regret. He did something he hadn’t done since he was a little child. He prayed. He never was a religious man, but for you, he would do anything, anything to bring you back. He didn’t hear the footsteps approaching the door until it clicked open, a doctor entering with a grave expression on his face.

“Mr. Harrington?” he said quietly, his voice resonating through the quiet room.

Steve looked up, his heart pounding with dread. “Is she…?”

The doctor nodded slowly, his expression a mix of solemnity and amazement. “Her vitals are… improving. There’s been a change. A small one, but… she’s responding.”

Steve stared at him, dumbfounded. He looked at your face, and it was like a miracle. A small twitch in your fingers, a small shift in your expression. He felt hope surge through him, a sudden, fierce, and desperate hope. He watched, breath held, his whole world narrowed down to your small movements, praying, hoping that you would open your eyes and see him.

The road ahead was still long, and he knew you may never be the same, but right now, in this moment, all that mattered was that you were here, fighting, and that as long as you did, he would be right beside you. And this time, he vowed, he would do everything in his power to protect you, to keep you safe, and to make sure you were never hurt like this again. The guilt would still be there, a constant shadow, but now it was mixed with a fierce, protective love he never knew he possessed, a love that was determined to see you through this, no matter what. He had failed you once, but he wouldn’t fail you again. He wouldn’t. He would help you and support you when you woke up,when, because you would wake up, he refused to accept a life without you, you were too stubborn to let death win this fight. He would do anything, feed you, clean you, cheer for you when you will finally take your first step. He would be there for every step on the way, he vowed to every thing he held dear, to every deity that ever existed and will ever exist. 

He wouldn’t give up. The way you wouldn’t. 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Dustin skidded into Eddie's hospital room, where Robin and Steve were both sitting with him. He still hadn't woken up since he broke free from Vecna's mind control and saved the entire town.

"Max is awake!" Dustin exclaimed.

"What?!" Steve and Robin exclaimed, jumping out of their seats.

"And guess how she was woken up?!" Dustin asked and waved himself away, unable to wait for their answers. "Lucas was all sad and crying because the doctors wanted to shut life support down, so he gave Max a kiss. . .that's when she woke up! Of course, she immediately scolded Lucas for making a move on her while she's asleep, but that's Max. Steve, I need you to kiss Eddie."

"What?!" Steve shrieked. "Why me?"

"Because out of all us, you're the one who looks more like the prince from Snow White," Dustin said, as if they explained everything.

"Oh my God! That's why you looked so familiar! All this time!" Robin exclaimed with wide eyes. "And Eddie does kind of look like Snow White. . . The boy is right. You have to kiss him. We have to know if Eddie is a Disney princess."

"Yeah, because that sounds logical," Steve said dryly.

"I did see a bunch of crows try to follow him into school one day," Dustin said.

"Hmm. Do you have photographic evidence?" Robin asked.

"No."

"I'm not kissing him!" Steve exclaimed.

"It's just a friendly kiss between two friends, Steve," Robin rolled her eyes.

Dustin noticed the way his eyes moved towards Eddie's and the way his cheeks turned slightly pink. . .the way he fidgeted. Oh.

"You know what, you don't have to do it, buddy. We're just messing with you," Dustin said. "We're not going to force you to do anything that you're not comfortable with. We can try other things to wake him up. It was just a silly thought."

"Wow, how manipulative of you," Steve said with his hands on his hips. "Fine, I'll do it."

"I wasn't - "

"I said that I would do it," Steve said, and then he went soft. "Anything to wake up the Hero of Hawkins, right?"

They watched him move closer to the bed and he looked at them for a moment.

"Do you want us to leave?" Robin asked, and Steve shook his head.

Steve sucked in a breath and exhaled. He bent down so that he was level with Eddie's face.

"Alright, I don't know if you can hear this, but I hope this is alright that I do this. We kind of want you around, man. Honestly, if it helps you to wake up, then I'm willing to try anything," Steve said.

Steve moved closer, and for a moment, he thought he saw a smirk grace Eddie's lips. It was gone, though, as soon as he cleared his throat. Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's, appreciating how soft and plump they were. God, they were so soft and nice against his own. He could feel his heart rate increase. He went to pull back, but suddenly, a hand slid into his hair and pulled him back into the kiss. Eddie was wake and kissing him. Steve gasped, causing his mouth to open slightly, giving Eddie the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Steve’s eyes fluttered close, and he deepened the kiss, letting his own tongue dance with Eddie's. Suddenly, he felt Eddie grab him by his hips and pull him directly on top of him. Eddie grasped his thighs, maneuvering so that way he was straddling him. Steve broke the kiss, looking down on him in surprise.

"Hey," Eddie grinned wickedly.

"Hey."

"So, that was something," Eddie said and paused. "By the way, it's more than okay that you kissed me."

"I knew you were awake," Steve muttered as Eddie began caressing his thighs. "I didn't expect this."

He turned his head, suddenly remembering Dustin and Robin, but there was no one else in the room. He turned back to Eddie.

"I didn't expect this either," Eddie said. "It's a nice surprise."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Eddie said. "You know, while you're up there, you could rip off that shirt and show me those tits again."

Steve laughed, smacking his chest playfully.

"What kind of gal do you take me for?" Steve asked.

"The kind of gal who rips of their sweater and throws it at a guy," Eddie cackled.

"Oh, yeah. I did do that," Steve said, biting his lip and blushing.

He stared at Eddie for a moment, as if deciding something. He grabbed the back of his shirt, and with one quick motion, he pulled it off. He tossed it somewhere in the room. Eddie looked at him with dark eyes and began moving his hands upward. His hands moved over his scars, and he gently caressed them for a moment before moving his them again. Eddie's hands landed on his chest, and he rubbed his thumbs over Steve’s nipples causing him to shudder before placing his palms over them. Eddie squeezed. With his hands still cupping Steve’s chest, the door opened, and Wayne Munson walked in. All three of them froze.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," Eddie said cheerfully.

"Eddie."

"You know, if this is the kind of service that hospitals provide, then I'll gladly move in," Eddie said.

"You act like I don't know who Steve is when he's the one who carried you here and never left your bedside," Wayne said.

"Aww, Stevie."

"I'm going to go now. Not because I'm prejudiced but because I want to continue to look at you like you're still that curly haired bug eyed baby who couldn't say spaghetti," Wayne said. "I'm glad it worked out for you, Steve. I'll be heading out now."

Wayne quickly left after he said all of that. Steve turned to look at him and Eddie scowled.

"What? It's a hard word," Eddie said defensively.

"You still can't say it, can you?" Steve asked.

"I'll say it however I want to," Eddie said. "They're all just made-up words anyhow."

Steve laughed. He moved until he was lying down next to Eddie and was curled up against him. He squeezed him.

"You're so cute," Steve said fondly.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for waking me up."

"Anytime."

". . .My sweet prince. . ."

And so, with a sigh, Steve closed his eyes, and this time, it was his turn to sleep because for the first time in a while, it felt like he could.

[ven0moir]

I am a byler but bychance happening even in a minor way could mirror the jancy/stancy stuff from earlier seasons. Which would be especially appropriate given that the boys will be looking for missing holly like they looked for missing will. will being the nancy this time and chance being his steve, but this time the bully won’t be redeemed like they originally were going to do with steve but decided to do cause they liked Joe so much. It is a perfect way to show that will has truly ripped off the band aid and that he feels he has no chance, it gives him some agency and another experience of romance (of sorts) outside of Mike, it makes it so audiences can’t label Will some sort of homewrecker lol, and it most importantly will a good device to wake up the audiences to show that Mike does feel that way about Will when he shows typical jealousy and romantic pining. Something they need to fully lay into this time they can’t be subtle anymore. and yes chance would be the perfect vessel to use for vecna to sort of ~seduce~ will to the dark side so to speak. like literally lol that would be appropriately and deliciously creepy I mean vecna seems to stop at nothing to get Will for whatever reasons (my guess is some powers?) so why not be sneaky deeky about it and lure him to you under the guise of cute boy

you're so real for this, anon, and touched on some very solid points.

"it could mirror the jancy/stancy stuff from earlier seasons." ✅

"will could be the stancy to chance's steve but the bully isn't redeemed this time" ✅

"giving will agency after crushing his heart" ✅

"good narrative device to wake up the audience by SHOWING mike's reaction to them" ✅

"vecna strategically using chance to weaken will's stance with the party" ✅ without bychance, the byler reveal is reduced to mike having a gay awakening/realization ( either during a life-or-death situation a la mileven or via a vecna-induced dream sequence ) at whatever point, which i've heard the GA talk about in arguments AGAINST byler. that's the only way they see it happening, and they don't buy it. and with reason bc either it makes byler mileven 2.0, or it retcons mileven which isn't a very smart way to resolve their storyline. mileven deserves its justice too there's just something so compelling and rich to me about this. because if we think about it, if he sees bychance together at one point, yes, there's the jealousy aspect of it. but the thing is, mike is entering s5 with advantage. will's the one utterly in the trenches. Mike has: 1. el's letter where she talks about will painting for a girl that he likes. 2. said painting, which was done by will, was a gift for him accompanied by a super tender speech. ( he just needs to see beyond the lie attached to it, if he hasn't already ) and it's definitely not the same thing to see will with a girl, than it is to see him with a boy. seeing him with a girl would mean all hope is lost. but with a boy? especially if this is contrasted to the other two Very On The Nose hints he has? yeah, it hits different. he has the literal bigger picture in his hands. chances are mike's realization won't be "omg im gay and in love with will" it'll be "oh ... my god .... will is in love with me ...? WILL'S ... IN LOVE WITH ME? LIKE FR FR ....... ITS NOT SOME STUPID CHILDHOOD DREAM OR FANTASY, THIS IS REAL!?!?!" and he'll probably still have no guarantee, but THAT realization, that there's a *real chance* he and will could be together if he's brave enough will MOTIVATE him into action, as opposed to FORCING him to it. and AFTER we've witnessed his behavior ( show don't tell wink wonk ), then THAT is when it'd make sense to use vecna as a narrative device for whatever else the story needs or have him confess or whatever else. and sure, the duffers might've figured something else out without chance or a temporary love interest for will to achieve this purpose. but they're towing a thin line between making byler feel deserved vs making will feel like he was a second choice/like byler was a last minute plan. i don't anticipate to be right ofc! but the way we've been picking up on bychance evidence lately makes it feel very intentionally and strategically placed. like, they *want* us finding it ... and it's just way too logical imho. it fits within the narrative like the missing piece of the puzzle.

[lavenderstobins]

i am thinking about the wayne adopting robin au. eddie not leaving with dustin and running to distract the bats to buy steve and nancy more time. eddie's last thought being that at least robin won't see him like this.

steve and nancy hearing the clock chime and thinking max is dead. them rushing to eddie's trailer and finding eddie in dustin's arms and his pulse is so faint but it's there, and they heave him out through the gate, and steve can only think about what robin's going to say.

the three of them getting eddie to the hospital and then looking for max, and steve's chest is so tight he thinks he's going to die, and then he sees max and he's so relieved because she's ALIVE, she's fine, but she won't look him in the eye. erica's in tears.

steve looking around for robin and she's not there. steve finding out that robin, who had also been targeted by vecna and had gone with max to help keep her safe, had ripped off her own headphones when jason had broken max's. steve learning that robin's heart stopped.

steve struggling to cope with both eddie and robin being in comas. steve watching wayne rush into the hospital and break down in tears at eddie's bedside, and again at robin's. steve who barely leaves robin's bedside to begin with.

steve, two weeks later, finding out that eddie's woken up, and having to tell him not only is his sister in a coma after being dead for a few minutes, but that he also can't see her because he's a suspect for her attempted murder.

[abibliophobiaa]

sea, swallow me

i don’t know, i was feeling some type of way, because i have been struggling to write lately. might be something i continue. angst under the cut. eddie munson x g/n reader. (1k words). s4 events, such as reminders of eddie’s sleep, but he is not dead here.

——

“We found him.”

Three words. Three words. That’s all it takes.

Three words and you’re spiraling, spinning, racing to grab your things and rush out the halls of the gymnasium after a limping Dustin.

Pain flares in your body. Where you landed as you leaped through that gaping hole in the trailer ceiling. The ceiling that’s ripped in two now. The same place where you tried to go back to days ago, if only to search for Eddie’s things. His mom’s records.

He would want his mom’s records.

But like him — everything was gone.

Everything is gone.

Empty. Broken. Utterly scarred by a hateful world Vecna ripped apart.

You’re in tatters too. Broken clavicle. Scratches and scrapes. Rocks embedded in your palms from grasping them too tightly, screaming and weeping into the sky when Steve had tried to pull you away from him.

Away from Eddie’s mangled body.

So much blood, all the blood from his heart seeped into the earth. The same heart that beat for you.

You still recall laying against him in his room only days before, fingers laced together as tight as they could, dreaming of a future that seemed so bright. One where he graduated, you ran away, started a new life together.

He’d leaned over and kissed you. Whispered how much he loved you as he rolled over you, holding you gently like a lover. Fingers gliding over skin, removing you of clothes, kissing every part of you he revealed. And as you lay together after, promised you a forever that seemed destined by the stars themselves.

Some might think you were both mad. Two young adults, barely out of their teenage years, craving a freedom that their present lives wouldn’t allow them.

And for a time it seemed within grasp, standing on the edges of your fingertips, a wisp of a thing that turned into ash in the wind that day.

The day that changed everything.

Steve’s house is quiet when you enter. Your keys and shoes forgotten in the doorway, Dustin glancing over his shoulder to urge you on. Urge you toward whatever stands before you as you make your way to Steve’s room.

To the figure in his bed, staring up at a white ceiling, hair a disheveled mess and yet as you remember it to be.

You remember the way it always feels between your fingertips. The curls gliding across your skin, weaving between your fingers when he’d lay against your chest, basking in the mere peace of togetherness, tickling your shoulder when he would nuzzle your neck, the way it had felt against the insides of your thighs.

Steve calls your name softly. Nancy falls away from where she sits beside the man, her fingers pressed to the inside of Eddie’s wrist, mouth a firm line. There’s a hollowness to the way Robin regards you. A tentative curl of her usually upturned lips, an uncertainty you can’t quite place a name to bubbling up within you.

Steve tries again, and it feels like a warning this time, but you’re pushing into the bedroom. Pushing into Eddie’s arms, wanting to feel him, wanting to know he’s really there.

And he is. Solid body, thumping heart, unmarked skin where there were holes in his body. So many gnarled bites, pulsing beneath your fingertips that day, each one driving him closer and closer into his grave until they took him from you all together.

It shouldn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be here. There’s some sort of magic, maybe a dark one, that has brought him back to you whole. But you’ll gladly jump into hell all over again to bring him back.

Because for a moment he’s here and all those dreams, all those wants and desires, they’re a reality once more.

One that you’ll never take for granted.

You can start all over, get out of here, do all the things you’ve wanted to.

And then.

A sentence.

A question really.

“I’m sorry…I don’t — I don’t want to be —” Eddie swallows. You feel his throat bob against your head pressed to his throat. His perfectly untarnished throat. “Who are you?”

A lance.

That’s what it feels like as his words pierce your chest over and over again. The questioning in his voice, in his eyes as you pull back. His eyes that are darker than you remember. Darker with a red rim around the edges.

Eddie’s eyes…and also not.

Eddie features almost boyish now otherwise, despite that haunted look behind those irises. Not his nearly twenty one years. His head tilts to the side, regarding your features, roving over your form as he tries to line up pieces that don’t seem to fit together anymore.

A final blow. It’s a final blow as his fingers reach for yours, but come up empty, as he offers comfort to a stranger.

Steve calls your name once more. It’s a phantom of a thing. A whisper that bounces off the insides of your mind, but all you can hear is the roaring in your ears. A tumultuous sea that you pray — no beg — swallows you whole.

“I’m sorry —” Eddie rises from the bed, but Dustin is there with a hand against his shoulder. With eyes that offer sympathy you plead that the world would grant you now too.

Not this horror. Not this reality of an existence where Eddie doesn’t remember you.

A year of memories that feel like seconds ago to you spread out like tiny stars in a sprawling galaxy, but are gone like smoke behind the eyes that once looked through your soul.

Those same eyes that grant you sadness now.

They’re all staring at you that way.

Rimmed with pity.

A pity you don’t want.

“I just — I need a moment,” you gasp.

No one stops you. As you run down the hall, down the stairs, out onto the front stop.

The winds in your ears beckon.

The waves laugh as your knees buckle and you meet grass below.

And they swallow you as you scream.

——

[her-power]

Fixation on the Darkness (Part Four: Dark Romance! e.m. x fem! reader)

‼️🚨 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚨‼️

Trigger/Content Warning: Dark! Somewhat Souless! Eddie! Strong sexual content, blood play, unprotected p+v, choking, hair pulling, rough intercourse, fingering (f receiving, m receiving), masturbation, oral (f receiving *for now*), fight or flight responses, grief, thoughts of unaliving self & others, manipulation, violence, smut, some fluff, angst.

Summary: Full summary on Part One.

Word Count: 4.2k

Eddie Munson Masterlist

A/N: You guys are awesome and I love you and I’m so sorry this took forever. This is gonna have two more parts before it’s completed so it’s not over yet!

It had been a week since you saw Eddie. He didn’t come to your house, or make it known that he was there. You were getting worried; he had left your house so fast that night. You did what he had asked and told Dustin everything. Had explained to him about his soul, about how he made a deal with Vecna just to return to you. Dustin couldn’t believe it at first, and then started asking questions that you couldn’t answer. He asked why you hadn’t said anything before, and he wanted to tell Wayne, but you told him not yet. Not the way Eddie was now, you told him. He was too dangerous.

Another murder was committed, in the woods where Will Byers went missing all those years ago. It was a female, older, she wasn’t from Hawkins. The police said that she might’ve been a hitchhiker. It was the same scenario, barely any blood at the scene, body mutilated but her skin was pearly white. The police issued a curfew for everyone to be inside their homes at sunset, lock all the doors and windows. It was still Winter, and it got dark earlier, so your boss made you go home at two o’clock everyday.

It was freezing tonight, the heating system in your house was older than dirt and the highest it would get was maybe 70 degrees. You bundled up in a large sweater, wool socks and leggings. You stare blankly at the television, a rerun of I Love Lucy was on, but you didn’t pay attention. You were too worried about Eddie.

You didn’t know why, the Eddie who loved you and who you loved was most likely trapped inside his torture chamber in another dimension, and soulless Eddie was most likely roaming the town feasting on not so innocent individuals who maybe did deserve to die.

He was mean; he was dangerous, he was…

He was still yours.

A loud thump from outside startles you from your thoughts. You freeze on your spot on the couch, your eyes fixed on the front window. The thump is heard again, and you sprint off the couch. Stupidly, you go to the window and peek behind the curtain to get a view of your porch. The porch light was dim; the bulb needed to be replaced, but it didn’t stop you from a shriek escaping your lungs as you catch the silhouette of a person hunched over on your steps. The soft light reflects of the eyes and your heart is in your throat.

Eddie.

He’s moaning your name.

“…open…the fucking door!” His voice is muffled, and the only reason you sprinted to the door so fast was because he sounded like he was being maimed from the inside out. He was in so much pain, and you can see just how much as you open the door. He’s bent over your front steps, his fingers gripping at his stomach, a stream of blood was falling like a river through the gaps in his fingers. He’s paler than normal, he looks gaunt, monstrous.

“Please.” He begs, meeting your eyes and you run to him, practically dragging his body into your house, slamming your door shut. He collapses in the foyer and your eyes widen at the severity of his injuries. He’s covered in dirt, scratches adorn his cheeks, his neck. His shirt is ripped to shreds and dark with dried blood. He’s still gripping his stomach and you kneel down in front of him, trying to pry his hand away.

“No.” He groans through his teeth.

“Let me see.” You tell him, pulling his hand free and you gasp. There is a three-inch long gash across the middle of his stomach, any deeper and his insides would be on your floor. “What happened? Why aren’t you healing?”

“I don’t know.” He groans as you gently lean his back against the wall, looking more closely at his wound. “I think it was an animal, or some…thing. Just out of nowhere. I couldn’t see what it was it dashed through me like lightning…ow! Fuck! Don’t fucking touch me, you—“

You grip his chin hard in your hand and he flinches, almost smiling as you stare into his eyes with a hard stare. He was too weak to fight you back, and you used that your advantage. “I could just leave you here to bleed to death or do myself a favor and take that knife from my kitchen and slit your fucking throat because you’re already half dead, but I’m not gonna do that. You came to me for a reason, do you want my help or not?”

He grins, his teeth stained with blood. “I like it when you’re rough, should I bend over so you can fuck me too?” Your grip tightens on his chin, a low chuckle rumbles in his throat.

“Why aren’t you healing?” You ask him again.

“I don’t know.” He mumbles again and you pull your hand away. He’s skin was almost gray, you get to your feet, find a dishrag and soak it in water from the faucet. You kneel in front of him and his hand snaps up to grip your wrist hard. His eyes stare into yours, and you can almost see the pleading behind them.

“Let go of me.” You tell him.

“A rag soaked with water isn’t gonna heal me, princess.”

“It’s so you stop bleeding on my fucking floor, let go of me.”

You pull your wrist out of his grasp and he growls but doesn’t fight you. He flinches when you place the rag on his wound; you gently wipe his skin, and blood continues to pool from the gash. You’re worried now, what could’ve caused this injury?

You meet his eyes again, your heart racing. “Will my blood heal you?”

His eyebrows come together. “What?”

“My blood. If I give you some of my blood…will that…help you?”

He smirks at you, flinching again as a wave of pain hits him. “Won’t…know…until we try.”

You sit back on your bottom, moving your hair away from your shoulder, exposing your neck, your heart racing. He carefully moves towards you, and you tilt your head to the side. You close your eyes, feeling his breath close to your neck as his cold hand cups the side of your face. He startles you when you feel his lips press lightly against yours. It was a gentle kiss, a kiss you were more familiar with when it was your Eddie. He pulls away from you, and stares into your eyes. You have no words.

His fangs grow as he smiles and the peaceful feeling you had was now gone, replaced by some fear…excitement. His teeth graze your neck and you shudder. Before you have a second to think, he bites down and you feel your entire body become hot. He grips your hair, slowly moving on top of you as he continues to drink from your vein. You were trying to speak, but all that came out was a soft moan as an unexpected wave of pleasure forms in depths of your lower belly. He was grunting softly as his tongue laps the blood up from your neck. 

He was taking too much, you realize. Your head was buzzing, your fingertips were numb, you couldn’t feel your legs. “Eddie…”

He doesn’t hear you, he’s too busy enjoying this. Your nails dig into his back and you try to find as much strength as you can to get him to realize. You lift up your foot, and kick him hard in the leg, and you scream out his name. He flies off of you, you’re certain it was reflex because you’re not that strong. His back hits the cabinet doors, and you can’t move. Everything was getting dark. He says your name, and you try to focus.

His eyes are brown again.

“No. No. Oh no. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands lift your head up and you blink back tears. “I’m gonna fix this, I’m gonna fix this.” You focus as he bites into his wrist, and you see the crimson fall from his veins.

“I don’t want to be…like you…”

“You won’t.” His voice sounds so far away. “Just drink, drink baby.”

You feel the blood against your lips and you weakly open your mouth, feeling its warmth drip slowly down your chin. He’s gently angling your head back so the blood goes down your throat, everything was still getting dark and you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

“Stay with me. Stay with me!”

He came back, your Eddie. He came back to you, but how long would he stay this time? How long until the monster that wears his face comes back to finish the job? You could already feel the affects of his blood, it was almost unbearable and it made your stomach churn but you couldn’t move.

“Are you…healing?”

“Yes.” His voice is shaky. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay.” You mumble, your eyes flutter and smile. “I can rest now.”

“Your color is coming back…”

“Eddie…”

“I’m here baby.”

“I can’t kill you…”

“Sweetheart…”

“There’s been more murders…curfew…what attacked you?”

You couldn’t hear his voice anymore, you were so sleepy. You felt lighter as you drifted off, calmer. You were Princess Aurora who just pricked your finger on the spindle, in a deep sleep; awaiting a kiss from your true love.

When you awoke, the sun was rising. Your body was sore; was last night a dream? You sit up, throwing the covers off of you. You feel your neck, there was no feel of a mark, or bandage.

“Finally, she arises.”

You yelp, almost falling off the bed but Eddie catches you. You stare at one another deeply, his discolored eyes staring into yours. You want to scream, wishing they were that beautiful brown again. Although, there wasn’t anything menacing about this stare; it was almost like he was studying you, like that good part of himself was slowly filling himself back up again as he looked at you.

He smirks at you.

“Boo.” He says and the breath from his lips causes your hair to move. You rip out of his grasp, pulling the covers back over yourself.

“You almost killed me.” You snap at him.

He grins, pacing around your bedroom, running his fingers along the top of your dresser. “But I didn’t. Your little boyfriend was there to save you. I was trying to figure out the blocks in my memory at the most random times, and then I realized it’s because of other me. He really gets bent out of shape when it comes to you, it’s gross.”

“Must suck, not being able to love someone that deeply.” You narrow your eyes at him.

He growls and he’s in front of you, you didn’t have a second to blink. His breath is against your lips as he leans in close to your face. “I know exactly how to love deeply. You have been unconscious for three days, if I wanted to kill you I could’ve. And if you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, your Eddie lives in the deep, deep depths of my dead heart so I can feel his love for you.” He almost looks pained as he’s telling you this, you hold his stare. “I could never kill you, and if you died... That’d be the end of me. Of us.”

You blink and almost smirk. “Bring him back then.”

“What?”

“Bring back my Eddie. If you really love me, you’ll bring him back.”

He laughs. “I’m not made of magic.”

“Aren’t you?” You counter. “He seems to pop up in stressful situations, he knows how to get out of that trap Vecna holds on you.”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t say his name.”

“Why not? He’s weak, practically dead, right? Why are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not.” His tone changes, it scares you and he smiles. His hand reaches up to smooth out your messy hair, he moves his mouth closer to yours. “I’m afraid of you.”

You tilt your head up to meet his eyes, awkwardly leaning back on the bed. “Why me?”

“So many fucking questions.” He sneers his lips barely grazing yours. “No matter which way this ends up, you will be the death of me.”

“Bring him back.” You whisper.

“No.” His cool fingertips glide up your neck and you shudder, your eyes fluttering closed. You feel his lips against your chin. “Tell me…” He kisses your skin gently and heat floods your cheeks. “How did he make love to you?” He moves behind you, his hands gliding around your throat before resting on your shoulder. He kisses the back of your shoulder, and you gasp quietly. “Was he soft? Did he worship every-“ you let out a moan as his fingers grip your hair in a ponytail and roughly pulls you back against his chest. “Inch of this beautiful skin?” You feel his tongue dance along the vein at your throat, his grip tightening its hold on your hair.

“Get your hands off of me.” You say through clenched teeth. Your nails digging into his thigh, but he doesn’t release his hold on you. His free hand glides over the fabric of your t-shirt, under the covers that shields your lap, and you hold your breath as you feel his fingers dance against your clit. He moans softly against your throat, and you lean your head back against his shoulder as he moves your lips apart, feeling the wetness that pooled inches from his fingers.

“Did he whisper that he loved you? Telling you how beautiful you are?” He rubs faster on your clit, and you moan loudly. The grip you had on his thigh loosens, and you knead at the fabric of his jeans gently.

“Y-yes.” You breathe out.

“Mmm.” He coos in your ear, and you turn your head towards his. His presses his lips against yours, kissing you sweetly as his other hand cups your cheek. You open your mouth with his, his tongue like silk against yours. Your hand moves lower to his crotch, and he lets out a breath into your mouth as you rub his erection through his jeans. You deepen the kiss, turning your body so you’re straddling him, his hand still not leaving in between your legs. He tries to pull away from you, but you pin your body closer to his. Your hand finds his zipper, and you miraculously expose him with just the flick of your fingers. And before he could object, you push his hand away from your clit and lower yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him burying in your cunt. He moans loudly, and you rock your hips. His hands grip your thighs hard as you pick up your rhythm, your skin was prickling with a sensation you couldn’t quite make sense of.

“You are one dirty girl.” Eddie whispers against your cheek, his breath hot. “Show me how you’d make him come.”

You groan, your head falls back and sweat forms behind your neck. You reach behind you, cupping his balls in his hands and he lets out a small laugh, his knocks his head off of your headboard as you continue lower and lower until your finger is at the opening of his ass. He gasps as you slide your finger into him. “Oh…my…”

“God?” You say, leaning forward to bite his lip. “I thought he didn’t exist.”

He whispers your name, and a low growl starts in his throat as you pump your finger faster, the angle causing him to rock his hips faster into you, causing you to scream out. He pushes his mouth to yours roughly, his fingers curl in your hair as he forces you on your back. He slams into your hard, your nails claw at his back through his t-shirt. Your blood sang, your entire body was vibrating, you wondered if maybe his blood was the cause of it. You feel your orgasm approach your core, and you feel him trembling.

A sudden thought pops into your head as he continues to move above you. If he wouldn’t bring your Eddie back himself, there had to be a way for you to bring him back. He seems to come back during stressful moments, but what if you could get him out of the upside down for good? Pull him out by using dark Eddie’s mind. You needed help though. You glance around your bedroom, your eyes fixing on the ceramic lamp that sat on your nightstand. His blood gave you a superhuman strength that he doesn’t even know about, and you knew if you used all the strength, especially while he was vulnerable, you could knock him out. His head was buried in your shoulder, and you carefully reach your hand towards the lamp. You realized how morbid this was, knocking him out while he was buried inside you.

Could be worse, you thought.

You are able to get a good grip on the base of the lamp, you turn your head to the side, squeeze your eyes shut and bring the lamp down as hard as you can onto his head. The lamp shatters in your hand and you knew immediately you had cut it; he goes limp on top of you.

Holy shit, it actually worked.

You wiggle out from underneath him, pushing him off the bed and onto the floor. You poke him with your toe. He didn’t even budge; you were relieved when you could see his chest rise and fall. You zip him up in his jeans, for his modesty. Blood drips from your hand as you stand over him, just watching him.

The taste of copper hits your tongue and you realize you’re licking your blood off of your hand like a starving dog.

What the fuck.

You rush to the bathroom, rinsing off the blood from your hands and wrapping it with a small towel. You get yourself dressed in decent clothes and go back to your bedroom where Eddie still laid unconscious. You pick up the receiver of the telephone and dial a number, you keep your eyes focused on him, your heart pounding in fear that he will wake up.

The person picks up on the other end.

“Dustin. I need your help. Bring bungee cords and duct tape.”

***

Dustin stares at Eddie’s unconscious body, he’s been staring at him with his eyes wide and puppy like for the last five minutes.

“Dustin?”

“Yeah?” You startled him, and he meets your gaze. “Sorry, it’s just…he’s…alive.”

“I know…well, partially, I guess. We have to get him downstairs.”

Dustin nods, you go by Eddie’s legs, and Dustin goes by his head. You both squat, grunting and you feel your legs almost give out as the two of you lift him off the ground. You didn’t think this through, Dustin scolds you as you awkwardly make your way towards the stairs. It was a struggle getting halfway, Dustin had lost his footing and the two of you squeal when you end up dropping Eddie down the rest of the way. The two of you just stare at the ground where he laid.

“Well, if he was waking up. He isn’t now.” Dustin says with a chuckle, and you groan, awkwardly dragging Eddie into the living room. Dustin gets a wooden chair from the kitchen, and you sit him upright. Dustin wraps the bungee cords around the chair legs and Eddie’s, continuing to look up at him to make sure he was still there. Your heart broke for him, for so long Dustin held onto a guilt that he couldn’t properly explain. Now, he still felt that guilt, and it was because Eddie didn’t come back as himself.

After the two of you had securely and tightly tied Eddie to the chair, you weren’t sure what to do now.

“Do you think this is gonna work? Do you think you can bring him back?” Dustin asks you.

You move Eddie’s hair from his face, his breathing coming out in soft waves. “They don’t like heat, right?”

“Right.”

“I have space heaters in the garage, go grab them.” You peel off your sweatshirt, going to the thermostat, turning the heat up to 90 degrees, it might work, it might not. It was a wait and see. “If he kills us, at least we know that we tried.”

“He won’t kill us.”

“You don’t know who he is now.” You look at Dustin. “He’d kill me out of love if it came down to it.”

“And you still love him?”

“Always.” You look back to Eddie. “Go get the heaters.”

You sit on the couch across from him, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. You hear the side door slam as Dustin goes into your garage.

You had a realization.

If this didn’t work, you knew you would have to kill him.

You didn’t want to admit that to yourself or to Dustin.

But you couldn’t do this anymore.

You missed Eddie. You missed the boy who walked into your life when you were fourteen years old who made you a flower out of guitar picks. You missed the man who carried you home from a house party when you were too drunk to walk. You missed the way he’d take strands of your hair between his fingers, tucking them behind your ear. You missed the way he would give you a certain look when you knew you were being crazy and unreasonable whenever you got into an argument. You missed the way he would kiss you. Really kiss you.

If you had to survive another minute with this Eddie, you’d rather suffer with the grief all over again than have to deal with a monster.

You take in a deep breath when you hear Dustin walk back in, and you feel the sweat pool behind your neck.

This was suicide.

But sometimes, you have to do crazy things for love.

The house was scorching, it had taken only fifteen minutes before the heat started to take full effect and Eddie began to move. Dustin was bopping his leg, the nerve settling in as Eddie groans. You had a knife next to you on the nightstand, ready to use it if needed. He lifts up his head, his hair falling into his face as he realizes his hands are tied tightly behind his back.

“What the…” he struggles in the restraints and then meets your eyes, and then Dustin. He laughs, a squeaky chuckle. “This is kinky, tying me up like this. Are you gonna watch?” He asks Dustin, his eyes lifeless and cold, a smirk on his lips. Dustin doesn’t move, his words are stuck in his throat. You move closer to Eddie, squatting in front of him.

“Bring him back.”

“That’s what this is about?” Sweat drops from his neck, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “You could’ve asked nicely.”

“I have.” You growl. “And I’m tired of asking. I’m tired of you.”

“Aww, break my heart.” He teases and struggles again. “You think these are gonna hold me? You’re stupid if you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I do know what you’re capable of. You almost killed me.”

You feel Dustin’s eyes on you, but you ignore him.

“But didn’t you want a forever ever after?”

“Not like that.”

“Pity.” He lets out a groan, his jaw clenches. “Turn the heat off.”

“No.”

He goes to launch for you, his fangs out but Dustin did a good job with the knots. You laugh at Eddie.

“Scared?”

“Not even close.” He growls, his eyes menacing, his teeth bared.

“Good.” You turn the knob on the space heater all the way up, the heat blasting and he lets out a sound you’ve never heard before. He struggles more, the veins in his neck bulging, his shirt was soaked with his sweat. “Bring him back!” You scream.

“Fuck you!” He yells at you and screams in pain. “Ughhhhhh, turn it off!”

Dustin jumps back. “It’s hurting him!”

“Don’t you fucking dare touch that!” You snap at Dustin who had reached for the heater.

Eddie lets out a psychotic chuckle, his fangs still exposed. “You’re both dead when this is over.”

You grab him by his hair, making him look at you. “I thought you couldn’t live without me?”

You take the space heater and push it against his chest. He screams, loud, painful, and he thrashes so hard he falls back to the floor. The chair breaks underneath him, but he’s still screaming. You push Dustin into the kitchen, the knife in your hand as Eddie struggles to break free. You keep Dustin behind you as you walk backwards when Eddie gets to his hands his knees.

He gags.

And then he vomits.

Black liquid spills out of his mouth and onto your floor, you both watch with wide eyes as his body heaves and it kept coming and coming.

Until it stops. 

His body is still heaving but he’s not moving, not trying to attack you, not screaming anymore. You couldn’t see his face; his hair shielded it like a blanket. You move towards him, but Dustin grabs your arm, fear in his sweet eyes.

You free yourself from his grasp and walk closer to Eddie. Your hand still gripped the hilt of the knife as you walk closer, hearing him breathing heavily, catching his breath.

His head whips up to you and you jump back.

His eyes.

They were brown.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 15

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | AO3

-----

Eddie can hear the sound of thunder overhead, the smell of rot fills his nostrils, and the taste of bile lingers at the back of his throat. Part of him has been fucking terrified beyond comprehension since the moment he went out onto the lake, but it's been kept at bay - barely - with reminding himself that the others are right there, with distracting himself by talking to Steve.

But he must have gotten separated from them, because when he looks desperately around the filthy, decaying forest, he's all alone.

"Steve?" he calls out, his heart pounding in his ears. "Robin, Nancy?"

There's silence, except the distant shriek of the demobats and a low, otherworldly growling, growing closer.

Shit.

He lurches forward, stumbling his way through the forest as he tries to remember where he was supposed to be going - the Wheelers' house, to get guns, or was it to his place, to go through the gate? He's so focused on where he's going that he doesn't pay close enough attention to his surroundings, and it's not long before he's stumbling over something.

A something that immediately grabs his ankle.

Eddie looks down, panic already filling him at the expectation of seeing a vine wrapped around his foot, of knowing that he'd alerted Vecna.

The thing on the ground is distinctly more humanoid, though, and Eddie has a brief moment where confusion wins out over panic - until a crackle of lightning streaks across the sky at the same time as the thing looks up, and he meets Chrissy's wide, vacant eyes.

Eddie screams, so loud he can feel it tearing through his throat the way he usually associates with a particularly good night at the Hideout. He scrambles back, forgetting what had drawn his attention to the ground in the first place, and nearly trips over himself when his ankle is held tight.

It's Chrissy's hand.

Her arm is broken and bent, stretched out at an angle that shouldn't be possible, fingers swollen and rotting, and yet her grip around his ankle is solid as steel.

You left me, echoes in his mind, cutting through his screams.

But not through his terror, and he keeps trying to yank his foot from her grasp even as he's shouting, "I'm sorry, Chrissy, I'm so fucking sorry, please-"

Chrissy's mouth opens in a silent scream as she stares up at him, neck broken and distorted, and she drags herself closer to him, her other hand reaching for him - though that arm is all twisted up behind her, and she can't quite make it.

"Please," he begs again, giving one more desperate yank of his leg.

It works, incredibly, but he wasn't expecting it, and he ends up on his ass on the ground in front of her.

Eddie tries to push himself up, but now she's so much closer, and she's able to grab his leg and drag him towards her.

"No no no no no no," he chants desperately, fingers scrabbling at dirt and leaves, trying to get a hand hold.

"Eddie?" someone calls, and he nearly weeps with relief as he realizes it's Steve.

Eddie starts to call back, but his hand slips and he's pulled closer into Chrissy's grasp, and he shrieks.

"Eddie, it's okay, I've got you," Steve says.

Something grabs his hand, and Eddie instinctively yells and tries to rip his hand free - but then he looks back, and realizes he recognizes the hand grabbing his.

Steve.

"Steve?" he asks, because he can't see him, fuck, he still can't see anything but Chrissy's bleeding eyes and the Upside Down and -

"It's all right, Eddie, you're okay. You're safe now, I've got you," Steve is saying, and Eddie doesn't -

The world tilts and fractures, and when he looks down at his legs, there's only sheets and blankets tangled around them.

His throat hurts, his shoulder and wrist hurt, his sides and stomach and legs hurt, just - fuck, everything hurts, and it's not helping that he can barely breathe and he feels like he's having a fucking heart attack and all he can see is still Chrissy's broken body and -

"Breathe," Steve says, and if Eddie had enough air for it he'd laugh, because shit, what does Steve think he's trying to do, and -

Steve's still holding his good hand, and abruptly he finds it pinned to Steve's chest, with Steve's other hand pressed palm flat against Eddie's own chest.

"Breathe," Steve says again. "In and out. In and out."

He times each word with the rise and fall of his chest, and Eddie can feel it expanding and contracting under his fingers. Steve's palm moves every time Eddie manages to pull in a breath or let it out, and slowly, instinctively, his breathing starts to match Steve's.

"You're safe," Steve's switched over to saying. "You're not alone, I'm right here."

"Where'd you learn how to do this?" Eddie asks when he's got his breathing under control again, when he's come back to himself enough to remember that he's not in the Upside Down anymore.

Steve quirks a little smile. "You're not the only one who has nightmares about all of this."

Eddie doesn't ask if Steve means himself, or one of the other members of their party. He kind of assumes that the answer is all of the above.

"You didn't have any at the hospital," Eddie points out.

Steve shrugs - or shrugs as best as he can, when he's got one hand over Eddie's and the other still pressed to Eddie's chest. "Neither did you."

Eddie considers that for a moment, not sure what to say. He didn't - it didn't occur to him to wonder why until now that he's had one. The meds, maybe, or that his fears seemed to come out as he was waking up instead of when he was unconscious.

But mostly, he doesn't say anything because Steve looks like he's considering admitting something, and Eddie remembers that Steve will keep talking if Eddie stays quiet and attentive and doesn't judge him.

"It's better when I have someone with me," Steve says finally. "Or not just someone, I guess, but one of you guys. My nightmares are about - well, they're about a lot of things. But it usually ends up in me not being able to protect someone. It helps having them right there to remind me that it's not real, that they're okay."

And just like that, the thing he felt like he was just missing when he kept seeing people in Steve's hospital bed clicks into place. "Does everyone know?"

Steve makes a face. "Robin and Dustin do. I think Erica and Max have figured it out. Nancy… she knows how it was that first year, I think she might know more now, too."

He remembers Nancy telling Steve he needs to rest, asking it's worse now, isn't it? He takes a closer look, then, seeing the exhaustion in the slope of Steve's shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. "Were you having one tonight, too?"

"Nah." Steve finally pulls his hand away from Eddie's chest, scrubs it over his jaw. "I, uh. Hadn't gone to sleep yet."

Eddie isn't sure exactly what time it is, actually. Late, he guesses, but not tipping into early morning, since the room would be pitch black if it weren't for the soft light of the lamp. He thinks about scolding him, teasing a little that Steve is supposed to let Eddie look after him too.

"Stay in here, then," is what comes out, and Eddie - yeah, okay, guess he's going to have to stand by that.

Steve drops his hand, looking at him with a furrowed brow. "What?"

"You said it helps, right?" Eddie tries to look a lot more careless than he feels. "And obviously we discovered that I do a lot better with someone here when I wake up, too."

With Steve. With Steve here when he wakes up, specifically, but Eddie doesn't want to think about that.

Shit, he's developing a pretty hefty list of things he doesn't want to think too closely about. It's probably going to come back to bite him in the ass, later, but as long as it waits until he's done recovering from his actual bites, he can deal.

Steve's looking at him in a way that seems familiar - almost like how he'd looked at Max, Eddie thinks, when she'd shoved her way into his hospital bed. "Yeah, all right. Just let me go get the walkie. I already talked to Robin and checked in with Henderson, but I promised him I'd keep it close."

He's gone and back before the shadows in the room can grow too uncomfortable, before Eddie starts to feel eyes on the back of his neck, before he's too afraid to look up or look down - but only just.

"So, uh. How do you want to do this?" Eddie asks.

Steve bites his lip, like he knows exactly how he wants to do this but isn't sure he wants to say it, and he sets the walkie on the nightstand before he lets out a soft breath. "Can I have the side closest to the door and the window?"

"Oh." Eddie'd kind of been wondering if Steve might offer to sleep on the floor, or the reasonably comfy looking chair. His brain is scrambled mush right now, and he doesn't know what to do with the fact that Steve immediately jumped into sharing the bed with him.

And putting himself between Eddie and the main points of entry, though that at least he'd kind of expected with what he now knows of Steve.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees hurriedly, because he can see the little scrunch developing between Steve's brows, and he doesn't want him to think that Eddie's uncomfortable with that. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Good. That'd help."

Fuck, what is wrong with him?

It just makes Steve look a little relieved, though, and Eddie scoots over to one side to give Steve room to climb into the bed next to him.

"You want another dose? It's been long enough," Steve offers.

Part of Eddie thinks he should ration them more carefully, despite the fact that Steve already dumped almost all of his pain meds into Eddie's, but - fuck it, he still aches everywhere, and he nods.

"Thanks," he says, accepting the pills and glass of water when Steve hands them over.

Steve doesn't ask if he wants the light on still, which Eddie is kind of grateful for - he's also grateful for the fact that he has to lay on his back to be at all comfortable, and can't be tempted to roll over onto his side to watch Steve.

Steve is right there. He's wearing pajama bottoms and a long sleeved shirt, so there isn't any risk of Eddie seeing the writing on his skin, and - fuck it, Eddie tips his head to the side so he can watch him anyway.

Steve's eyes are closed, head tipped back against the pillow as he lays on his back, too. If he can feel Eddie watching him, he doesn't give any sign of it.

After a long handful of moments of Eddie just looking, memorizing the shape of his nose and the line of his jaw, Steve breathes out.

"Night, Eddie," he murmurs.

"Night, Steve," he whispers, taking that as his cue to turn his head away.

He thinks it's going to take him a long time to fall back asleep again, with the dueling distractions of the lingering effects of his nightmare and the acute awareness of Steve Harrington sleeping right next to him, but - he's out between one breath and the next.

—

He's shocked awake by something he can't place, but at least it wasn't a nightmare. He doesn't feel terrified, just warm and sleepy and - kind of in pain, ugh, the meds must have worn off. Eddie hopes it's been long enough that he can take more.

There's a static feedback sound coming from a few feet away, and an equally staticky voice saying, "Come in Hawkins crew, over."

Must have been what woke him up.

Eddie's all set to ignore it, but his source of warmth - Steve, his brain supplies, though he's still too groggy to do anything with that thought - is moving away. He grumbles, wiggling as much as he can to scoot closer to him.

"It's Mike," Steve tells him, grabbing the walkie from the nightstand and bringing it closer.

Eddie can hear a chorus of other voices coming from it, louder now that it's right by him.

"Nooooo," he complains, even though Steve's already responding. "Wanna g'back to sleep."

"Jesus, Steve, do you have some girl sleeping with you?" Mike's voice demands from the walkie.

"That didn't sound like a girl, brochacho," another voice says helpfully.

"Yes there's someone with me, no it's not some girl," Steve says, and Eddie can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "It's-"

"Gross!" Mike shouts, and fuck if that doesn't feel like a douse of ice water all over, shoving Eddie the rest of the way out of sleep.

He sits up, gingerly, feeling a little sick to his stomach.

"You want to take a second to think about what you just said, Michael Wheeler?" Steve's voice is cold with disappointment, somehow managing to make that both a question and a statement.

Eddie resists the urge to look over at him. There's a long pause, where he can't hear anything but the unsteady beat of his own heart, then -

"What? No, not gross because it's a guy, that's - I don't care, that's not - gross because it's Steve!" Mike says, sounding just a little bit frantic - and his voice just a little bit more distant, like he's talking more to someone with him than to the walkie.

He feels a rush of relief, and he lets himself sit for a moment before he risks looking over at Steve. He looks - tired, in the faint light of the morning sun streaming through the blinds, but the pale yellow catches in his sleep rumpled hair, and Eddie has to look away again.

"Walkies are supposed to be for party members only, Steve!" Mike hisses, directly into the walkie this time.

Eddie latches onto the easy distraction that provides, looking back at Steve and making grabby hands for his walkie. Steve raises an eyebrow at him, but he hands it over without protest.

"I did not spend all year welcoming you into Hellfire just to get kicked out now that I'm in the party for real, Wheeler," Eddie says, putting on his best I am your DM and is this really the choice you want to make voice.

"Eddie?" Mike asks after a moment of silence, sounding confused. "What're you-"

He must put together some guy sleeping with Steve and Eddie on the walkie, because the next sound is a shriek that's half static feedback and half Mike Wheeler.

"No!" Mike shouts. "Steve, what the fuck, come on, first my sister and now my DM?"

He sounds so indignant that Eddie can't help it - he cackles, despite the ripples of pain it causes, and he can hear laughter from a few different voices spilling out over the walkie.

"Get out of my life!" Mike demands.

Steve takes the walkie back from him. "Is that any way to talk to your step-DM?"

The smug look on Steve's face only makes Eddie laugh harder, and he smacks at Steve's shoulder. Steve's laughing, too, more like a soft little huff than Eddie's near rib cracking glee, but Steve is smiling so wide his whole face lights up with it, and he's looking at Eddie like he's the best thing he's seen all week, and -

Hell if that doesn't make Eddie feel on cloud nine, like if he can make Steve look like that, he can do anything.

It almost makes him feel like maybe he has a chance. Like maybe, even though he'd resigned himself to having a platonic soulmate the moment he saw I'm not in love with her show up on his skin, he might have something, here. Mike Wheeler clearly thinks he and Steve are fucking, and Steve hadn't hurried to deny it, hadn't pulled away from him - he'd just played into it, and now he's leaning into Eddie's space and giggling with him, and Eddie lets himself hope.

In the background, there's still distant protests coming through the walkie, but someone more adult shaped must have grabbed it from Mike, because someone sounding closer to Eddie's age says, "We're almost to Hawkins, guys. Another hour or so and we can be at Nancy and Mike's."

"Yeah, it's going to be longer than you think," Dustin says. "It's a little bit of a mess out there."

There's a pause, then, "Sorry," someone says, very quietly - a girl, probably around the same age as the freshmen.

The walkie blares with static from a handful of voices trying to reassure her - Eddie can only make out Steve's, since he's there in person.

"Hey," Max says, cutting through it. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead. No sorries."

"No sorries," the girl - who Eddie is guessing is El - echoes, and this time there's a trace of something like a smile in her voice. "Thank you for your message. I need you, too."

"It was Steve's idea," Max says, very clearly deflecting.

El rolls with it, though, very seriously saying, "Thank you, Steve."

Steve's ear turns a frankly adorable shade of pink, and Eddie has to look away before he does something stupid like bite it. "I'm glad it worked, and everyone's okay."

"Party meet up at my house?" Mike says, a little bit of an edge in his voice - like he's worried, like he wants to see for himself that everyone is actually okay.

Eddie hasn't actually seen the kid in action, but he gets the feeling it's similar to the paladin he'd played at Hellfire.

There's a chorus of agreement to meet at the Wheelers' in two hours, then Steve sets the walkie back on the nightstand and slides out of bed, pausing to stretch. It makes his shirt ride up a little bit, and Eddie's feeling just reckless enough to let his eyes linger, greedy for the strip of skin it'll reveal.

He sees mostly gauze, though, and the reality of why he was in bed with Steve Harrington crashes back into him.

"How's your pain?" he asks, instead of saying how're you feeling. There's still wiggle room for Steve to get around it, of course, but at least it won't let him deny he has any at all unless he wants to flat out lie.

Steve makes a face at him. "Exactly how you think it is, man, probably a few steps below yours."

And - all right, fine, well played. Except for the fact that Eddie has no fucking shame about acknowledging that he hurts, that everything hurts, so really, Steve played himself, and Eddie grins at him. "Hurts like a bitch, then? Great, glad we're on the same page, here. I'll be sure to radio Robin and Dustin and tell them to send you home after a few hours so you don't collapse again."

"Almost collapse, Eddie, I almost collapsed."

Eddie's pretty sure the look he gives Steve tells him exactly what he thinks of that distinction, because Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't insist on it.

"You're okay with staying here today, then?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, I know I'm basically on house arrest for a little while, I'm not going to fight it. Besides, I, uh. I'm not sure I could even if I wanted to," he admits. "I know me surviving the first time was as much of a deus ex machina as the Great Eagles carrying Samwise and Frodo out of Mordor, I'm not about to try to test it by over exerting myself now."

Steve's frowning at him, brows doing that cute fucking scrunched thing that he does when he's thinking, and shit, it's too early for this. "Does that make me the great eagle in this metaphor?"

Eddie huffs out a little laugh. "Guess so. Thanks for carrying me out, by the way."

He gets a little shrug in response, Steve's gaze shooting away like he's trying not to show whatever he's feeling about getting thanked for that. "I'll be your deus ex machina any time, Munson."

That's -

Hmm.

Somewhere Eddie's not sure he wants to go right now, when both of them are still all bitten to hell. So he says nothing, looks down at his own hands until he can hear Steve moving again.

"Gonna go make us some breakfast. Yell if you need anything, all right?"

Eddie flashes a thumbs up at him, then begins the careful process of getting out of bed and shuffling over to the bathroom. Moving around doesn't take as much out of him as it did yesterday, but it's slow going. Still, even though it takes far longer than he'd like, he's not winded by the time he takes a piss, splashes water on his face, uses some of the brand new deodorant stashed there - seriously, who keeps toiletries still in their packaging in their guest room? - and makes it back to the bed, so he's feeling pretty pleased with himself.

Steve comes back up just a little bit after with a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of juice, shoving what looks like an entire half of a piece of peanut butter toast in his mouth.

"Didn't save any toast for me?" Eddie teases, reaching out for the plate.

Steve sets the juice down on the nightstand and hands the plate to him, waiting until he swallows his toast before he says, "Soft foods only for now, I read the doctor's instructions."

He thinks about complaining, just because he can, but decides it's not worth the effort and just shoves a forkful of eggs and cheese into his mouth instead.

Steve heads out to go get dressed, returns when Eddie's just about finished, wearing jeans and a blue sweater. There's a few books tucked under one arm, and he shoots Eddie a little smile.

"So you don't get bored," he says as he drops them into Eddie's lap.

Eddie looks down, half expecting to see books on sports facts or something, but - no, it's fantasy. Dark Tower: The Gunslinger, To Ride Pegasus, So You Want to be a Wizard, and even the first Lord of the Rings book stare up at him. Eddie seizes on that last one, holding it up with an affronted look at Steve.

"You acted like you didn't know what Mordor was!" he accuses. "Is this like that thing where you keep saying Dungeons and Dragons wrong even though I know you know what it is?"

Steve smirks at him, and for a moment Eddie thinks he's not going to answer, but then he's shaking his head with a soft laugh. "Nah, that one's Dustin's. He made me borrow it when he found out I've never read it, but it's such a slog to get through."

Eddie gasps, flinging a hand to his chest like he's been mortally wounded, and collapses back against his pillows.

Steve just laughs at him, but that's a good enough response for Eddie, and he grins back.

"Need anything else before I head out?" Steve asks, collecting the empty plate from him.

"Nah," Eddie says. "I'll have plenty to occupy myself seeing what Steve Harrington thinks is a better read than Tolkien."

Steve leaves the walkie talkie with him, promising to radio when he's there and when he's on his way back, and then he's gone. Eddie can hear him tromping down the stairs, the sound of the garage door opening and closing, and if he closes his eyes -

Well.

He doesn't close his eyes for long, because if he does, he lets himself feel like it's almost domestic, like this is them - like Eddie's lazing around with a good book after being delivered breakfast in bed, like waking up to Steve in the morning and listening to him head out is something they do.

The walkie blares to life, and Eddie reaches for it as Dustin's voice calls out to him and Steve.

"Steve just left," Eddie tells him. "Just me for now."

"Switch to channel four?" Dustin says.

Eddie gives an affirmative, switching over. "What do you need, Henderson?"

There's silence for a moment, which immediately gets Eddie's stomach twisting into knots as he thinks oh fuck, what is it, then -

"You guys are doing okay, right?" Dustin asks.

He sounds so small, so unlike the confident, brash kid that Eddie knows, and it gets Eddie right in the soft underbelly that's getting harder and harder to pretend he doesn't have.

"Yeah, we're doing okay. You were right about Steve making breakfast," he adds, because he doesn't really want to expand on what okay means, and he kind of figures telling the kid that he was right about something will get him going off.

Sure enough, Dustin's voice brightens. "See? I told you."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie says, but there's no heat in it. "Harrington makes a killer breakfast and rips apart demobats with his teeth, who'd have thought."

"He what?" Dustin screeches, and it's then that Eddie remembers Dustin wasn't there for that part, and there probably wasn't time for anyone to catch him up to speed.

"With his teeth," Eddie repeats, throwing a little flare to it. "Then he swung one around by its tail and slammed it against the ground, again and again, and when it still wouldn't give up he pinned it down with his bare foot and tore it in half."

"Holy shit," Dustin breathes out. "And Max thought he was insane before."

Eddie snorts. "Insane is one word for it."

"And you didn't believe me when I said he was a badass," Dustin retorts smugly.

"Forgive me, oh enlightened one, for not being immediately sold on the idea that the coolest of cool kids is secretly a badass monster hunter."

Dustin scoffs. "Steve isn't a cool kid. He's just Steve."

Eddie makes a noise of disbelief, exaggerating it a little because Dustin can't see his raised eyebrow.

"Steve is a dork," Dustin insists. "If you don't believe me, ask him about our secret handshake."

"Secret handshake?" Oh, Eddie can't wait until Steve is back so he can badger him about that one.

"Uh-huh." The kid sounds even more smug now. "We made it Steve's senior year. It's got a lightsaber battle."

Steve's senior year? All right, yeah, okay, he's accepted that Steve's different than how he thought he would be, but - maybe part of him had just kind of slotted that into Steve changing after high school, that he graduated and moved on and didn't care about being popular anymore. Being forced to think about it now means being forced to reconcile the image that Eddie had of him last year, to realize that Steve Harrington had a secret handshake with lightsaber battles at the same time that he was getting crowned prom king.

It forces him to acknowledge that he never knew Steve Harrington at all, that probably everything he assumed about him was wrong. That everything Eddie assumed about his soulmate might have been wrong, that he -

"-the walkie talkie on?" Dustin is saying, and Eddie snaps himself back on track and forces himself to listen. "Just so you can be a part of it, too?"

Oh.

Eddie considers that for a moment, but honestly, the idea of being looped in via walkie talkie while the rest of the party does their thing immediately sends him back into the time he spent in the boathouse with the walkie as his only connection to them.

"I'm probably just going to sleep, man, I'll catch up with everyone when you can all come over here."

"Oh. Are-" Dustin cuts off, and Eddie has a moment of panic before his voice picks back up again. "Steve's here! I'll still keep the walkie with me just in case, okay?"

And then Eddie's alone, really alone, for the first time since they all came to his rescue out at Skull Rock. He thinks he should - feel some kind of way, thinks it should be catching up with him now the way it hadn't caught up with him when he'd had a similar thought last night.

It doesn't.

He doesn't know if he should be grateful for that or worried that it's going to sneak up on him, but he doesn't really want to think too hard on that at the moment.

Instead, he takes another dose of pain meds, gets comfortable with one of the books Steve'd brought for him, and dozes off reading about a teenager who finds a book and discovers a whole new world of magic that'd been right there all along.

Taglist (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

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Part 16

[hbyrde36]

Chapter Two

Ch 1 <-

WC: 4574 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation, depression | Ch 2/10 | AO3

One week to the day after Eddie Munson narrowly escaped an almost certain death, he woke up from a coma brought on by major blood loss.

Not that he knew that at the time, but later on he’d overhear a few chatty nurses talking about him when they thought he was asleep, and eventually he’d be talked at by a doctor who looked like he’d rather be treating anyone else. 

Eddie came to gradually at first, and then all at once, as if the hand on the dial of reality had slipped, going from one, to two, to one hundred without warning, leaving him squinting up into a painfully bright light. His thoughts were syrupy slow, and it felt a little like his limbs weren’t quite attached to his body… or maybe his body wasn’t quite attached to his brain.

Blurry fractured images flashed through his mind. Rows of small sharp teeth, the spokes on a bicycle wheel, blood—so much blood. 

Nothing that made any sense.

For a hysterical moment, when his eyes finally managed to adjust, he thought he was in school. The drop ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights reminded him of the classrooms he’d been rotting away in for the last too-fucking-many years. But just when he was starting to wonder how the hell he’d managed to fall asleep on the floor in English class, and why anyone hadn’t woken him up, he finally registered the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

Oh. 

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

One realization led to another, and more sounds quickly began to fill his ears. The whoosh and whir of other unseen equipment around him, the heart monitors incessant beeping becoming faster and faster as he took it all in, broadcasting the rate of his heart as it raced inside his chest—a chest housing a dull ache that was becoming sharper and more insistent by the second.

A broken rib. He'd put money on it. It wouldn’t be the first time, but how had he gotten a broken rib?

Eddie swallowed hard, or tried to, anyway, but only managed to choke on the tube he’d only now realized was jammed down his throat. In a panic he went to reach for his face, fully intent on ripping the thing out himself, but he couldn’t move more than a few inches before his wrists caught, the bite of metal into his skin and the clang of handcuffs rattling against the rails of the bed telling him everything he needed to know about his current situation.

Namely, that he was fucked. 

It all came back to him in a rush. Chrissy, Vecna, Dustin, the bats.

A face swam into view as he continued to struggle against his bonds, a familiar man looking down at him with concern coloring his features.

“Relax, Munson. You’re gonna hurt yourself. I know it feels like you can’t breathe, but you can. You're okay. Someone will be here any second to get it out, I promise.”

Eddie might not have known it from the face alone, and the guy looked completely different than the last time he’d been busted for speeding, but Eddie’d been chased out of enough house parties to know that voice anywhere. 

Former Police Chief Jim Hopper. 

Former, because he was dead.

And Eddie, well—the last thing he remembered, he’d been dead too, or in the process of getting there at least. Is that why he was seeing the late chief now?

No, that didn’t make any sense. If he was dead why would he be in the hospital—or handcuffed to the bed for that matter?

So what the hell had happened? 

This was literally a nightmare come to life. Worst case scenario shit. To somehow have survived being torn apart by a swarm of demobats, only to end up shackled to his own hospital bed, in a town that hates him and thinks he’s some kind of devil worshiping serial killer.

A nurse in blue scrubs arrived seconds later, just as Hopper had promised, gently removing the tube and shutting off the ventilator while Eddie was still busy trying to wrap his brain around it all. The woman, apparently unfazed by the resurrection of a well-known dead man, attempted to stare the chief down over Eddie’s bed in some kind of silent standoff, but eventually conceded. She gave Hopper a shallow nod before taking one last glance at the various monitors, exiting the room with a quiet, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Eddie tried to speak but the only noise his wrecked vocal cords could produce was a harsh croak. Hopper was right there yet again, bringing the tip of a bendy straw up to Eddie’s mouth without a word. Eddie glared over the cup as he took a sip. The cool water was like heaven and it was only out of sheer spite that he managed not to moan at the feel of it soothing his painfully raw throat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Eddie finally choked out.

The ghost of a smile crossed Hopper's lips. “Do I look dead to you?"

“No, but you do look like shit.”

“Could say the same thing about you, kid.”

Eddie had so many questions, beginning with how was Hopper even there right now? And why? 

Was he there to interrogate him about Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick? If so, then why was he being so... nice? Hopper had always been kind-of a dick to him if he was honest, but that was to be expected when you were a small town drug dealer. And Eddie had definitely heard the saying ‘death changes a man’ before, but he didn’t think this was what they meant.

Hopper sighed heavily and dropped down into a chair next to the bed. "How about I talk and you just listen for now?”

Eddie scowled reflexively, but his sore throat was grateful.

"First, if it isn’t obvious, I’m not here in any official capacity. Powell let me in to see you as a personal favor. I don’t think he would have agreed to it under normal circumstances, but coming back from the dead has its perks. Look, we don’t have a lot of time, but I know you didn’t kill that girl, or any of the others. I know all about Henry Creel and the half-baked plan you knuckleheads came up with to go into the Upside Down and kill the bastard.”

Eddie's eyes went wide, it was so far beyond anything he’d been expecting to hear that his brain just short circuited for a second.

"Don’t look so shocked. I know all about the otherworldly dimensional shit, my kid’s the one with the superpowers, though I guess you probably haven't met her yet. So, did I miss anything?"

Something finally clicked, and Eddie felt a little slow for not having figured it out sooner.

He vividly remembered the news reports, and the chief’s picture in the paper. He’d died a hero, rescuing others in the fire at Starcourt. But Eddie knew now that the incident at the mall had been no simple fire. He didn’t really know the details, only that it had to do with all the rest of the weirdness, and he’d definitely overheard Robin make some vague references to Russians.

“Did they?” Eddie asked.

Hopper tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Did they, what?”

“Kill him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they got him.”

Eddie let out a long breath, nodding mostly to himself. 

Good. That was good at least.

"A-and how am I—” he stuttered out, gesturing to the all of himself, wrapped up in bandages, and hooked up to monitors and an IV drip. “How did I get here?" 

"You almost didn’t. Steve… he found Dustin sitting with you and they thought—” Hopper trailed off, clearing his throat. “But, he started CPR and somehow they got you out of that place and into the back of an ambulance. Honestly, the whole thing sounds impossible. It’s a miracle you survived."

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, and the sound of the heart monitor, which had begun to even out as they talked, picked up speed again as the implications sank in.

So he had died, or close enough. It’d been over, curtains, time to pay the riverman and all that, and Steve fucking Harrington had taken it upon himself to reach through the veil and drag him back?

Eddie’s vision swam, the room around him spinning, and suddenly far too bright. He felt like he was going to pass out. 

This was not supposed to happen, it was supposed to be over.

Eddie was so lost in his anger at the fucking audacity that he didn’t notice the nurses barging in until they were practically hovering over him. 

“What’s going on in here?” One of the new arrivals asked, shooting an accusing glare at Hopper.

“Nothing, we were just talking.”

“Well I’ve got alarms going off in the nurses station that tell me maybe that’s enough talking for today.”

Hopper grit his teeth but didn’t argue, meeting Eddie’s eyes over the nurses heads as they poked and prodded him. "I’m sorry you had to hear it from me, and I'm sorry about the cuffs, but I swear we’ll figure this out and get your name cleared. Just hang in there."

Another week passed, the time going painfully slow now that he was conscious and had absolutely nothing to do, and no way to distract himself from his thoughts.

Apart from a few kind souls, most of the nurses gave him a wide berth, popping in and out, completing their tasks with cold clinical efficiency. The doctors weren’t much better, telling him he was healing well without going into any specifics. They didn’t volunteer any information, and Eddie didn’t ask, only speaking when he absolutely had to.

None of it mattered.

His body may have been healing, but inside Eddie had never been more shattered.

He was increasingly surprised with each day that passed, that no one had shown up to interrogate him yet. He supposed he probably had Hopper to thank for that one, and not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but he was grateful. He wouldn’t have had the first idea what to say anyway, even if it would break up the monotony. No one would believe the truth, and he had no way of knowing what cover story the others might have come up with.

On the seventh day post coma Eddie received his first and second visitors. 

First, in a surprising turn of events, was officer Callahan. Who, after a stilted and insincere apology removed Eddie’s handcuffs, informed him that he was no longer a suspect in any of the murders, and rushed right back out the door without waiting for a reply.

Which was fine. Eddie had nothing to say to a man that had allowed him to be hunted down like a fucking animal anyway.

His second visitor, and the one person on the planet that could make Eddie crack a smile despite it all, was his Uncle Wayne.

“My boy,” Wayne spoke softly, leaning over Eddie to draw him into a gentle hug. “For a while there I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I'm sorry,” Eddie said, as Wayne settled himself into the visitor’s chair that had sat empty since the day Hopper left.

He meant it too, even if the apology was woefully inadequate for the amount of worry he’d caused the older man. He might have wished things had turned out differently, but he still didn't like the idea that he’d hurt his uncle. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault that he was so fucked up.

“Wayne, I swear, I didn’t…”

“I know you didn’t, son. I didn't believe it for one second no matter what those two yahoos with badges said.” Wayne scoffed, shaking his head. “Good thing about Hopper though, hmm? I still can’t believe he was working undercover. Imagine faking your own death like that. He really went to bat for you, y’know. Not sure why it was even necessary, mind, what with the injuries you came in here with. It's not hard to believe you were hurt by the same monster who killed those poor kids.”

Eddie’s heart jumped up into his throat. “Monster?”

“They can call him a serial killer all they want, but people can be monsters too. Word’s not only for those things in your dice game.”

Eddie sagged back against his pillows in relief. For a second there he thought someone had told Wayne the truth. Not that the old man couldn’t keep a secret, but he didn't need to be burdened with the brutal reality of what Eddie and the others had faced down. Not now that it was over.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know it’s called Dungeons and Dragons, old man.”

“I admit nothin’,” Wayne chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed himself to his feet. 

Eddie threw him a questioning look. Were visiting hours over so soon? Did his uncle have to go back to work already?

"It’s good to have you back, and much as I’d like to keep you all to myself, there’s a lot of other people wanting to see you too if you’re up for it,” Wayne offered in answer.

Eddie blinked up at him. "Huh?" 

“What’d you think, Ed, that they’d all just left you here to rot? You’ve got a waiting room full of folks down there who seem to care about you a whole lot. Between 'em all checking in on you and that red-headed girl, those poor nurses at reception haven’t had a moment’s peace.”

Actually he kind of had thought that, to be honest. It was hard not to when he'd been stuck in isolation like this. The red-headed girl could only be Max, and Eddie felt like such an ass. He’d been so busy feeling sorry for himself that he hadn’t considered if anyone else had been hurt.

Something must have shown on his face, because Wayne reached out and took his hand, squeezing. “She’s okay, went home a few days ago. It’s been a little quieter around here since then, until today at least, but I swear that little fella Dustin sleeps here some nights, and Steve hardly ever leaves.”

Dustin he almost understood. They were close. He loved that little shit, and death-bed request or not, he could think of no one better to watch over his sheepies when he was gone, sorry Gare.

But Steve.

Eddie’s jaw tightened just thinking about it. 

What was Steve playing at? What right did he have to sit here day after day. Hadn’t he played the white knight enough to boost his own ego, or asswage whatever misplaced guilt or whatever the fuck had made him think Eddie needed, or deserved, or even wanted saving?

He’d spent the entirety of the last week sinking further and further into himself, drowning in despair, self-pity, hopelessness. Finding out he was no longer a suspected murderer had done very little to make him feel better. He was still stuck here in this shithole of a town, in his shithole life, with even less prospects for the future than before. 

He’d be a high school dropout now, because let’s face it, even if Higgins would be willing to let him repeat his senior year for a fourth time, Eddie was done. Surely all these days he was missing would push him over the edge. Those hard fought D’s becoming F’s in the blink of an eye. There was no point in trying anyway. Diploma or not, no one would hire him now. Hopper might have gotten him off the official hook, but Eddie knew how the world worked. Memory for hate was long and though he was innocent, though he would never spend a day in jail, the god-fearing people of Hawkins would always treat him like a murderer.

That was the life Steve had condemned him to by interfering, by taking away his only way out, and Eddie was so fucking angry. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive the other boy for what he’d done.

He wouldn’t have minded seeing Dustin. He probably owed the kid an apology for bleeding out in his arms and maybe causing him a lifetime's worth of trauma, but didn’t know how he’d manage that without the others tagging along. 

“I don’t know, Wayne. I’m pretty tired,” Eddie said eventually, and didn’t even have to fake a yawn. This was the most excitement he’d had since he woke up, and he was still on a lot of drugs that made his bones feel heavy and his eyelids droop.

His uncle gave a sympathetic nod, releasing his hold on Eddie’s hand. “That’s okay, I’ll just go tell them you’re not up to it right now. They’re used to waiting around anyway, maybe later we can—”

“Can’t you just tell them all to go home?!” Eddie snapped, cutting him off. Instantly feeling terrible for raising his voice at the last person in the world who deserved it.

Wayne’s eyebrows flew up. “But… Ed, they’re your friends, aren’t they? They’ve been worried about you. I’m sure they’d like to see with their own eyes that you’re—”

Eddie looked away, dropping his gaze to stare down at the place where his IV disappeared into his skin as if he was suddenly fascinated with it. 

“Listen, I don’t know the half of what you’ve been through, but I’m not stupid,” Wayne went on with a sigh. He rounded the bed, perching himself near the end of it where the rail was down. “I know it’s not as simple as that story Hopper’s pushing out. And those kids down there? They’ve seen some things, and I got a hunch that you have too. Don’t push 'em away now. You’re gonna need each other to get through this.” 

“I don’t care,” Eddie said softly, still not looking up, eyes burning with unshed tears desperately trying to escape. 

“Ed.”

“I’m sorry. I just—I can’t see them, okay?” The first tear rolled down Eddie’s cheek, hanging on to the end of his chin for a moment before splashing down on his chest, absorbed instantly into the thin material of his hospital gown. He didn’t even know why he was crying. 

“Maybe after I get out of here, but for now, I—” Eddie cleared his throat roughly, but still couldn't force the rest of the words out.

“Alright, son. It’s alright.“ Wayne patted his leg and stood, making his way over to the door. “I doubt they’ll listen, but I’ll try and convince them to go on home.” 

Wayne visited every day until Eddie was discharged about another week later. If anyone else continued to hang around the waiting room day-in and day-out, his uncle didn’t mention it, and Eddie didn’t ask. 

The broken rib would still hurt like a bitch for at least a few more weeks, but his stitches had all been removed, and his wounds were healing nicely, or so he was told.

The wounds that could be seen anyway. 

He’d have one hell of a scar on his stomach, among others, and one side of his mouth would always pull a little funny when he smiled, but he would make a full recovery. The doctors sent him home with nothing more than instructions on keeping the various areas clean and a mild prescription. 

Read: non-narcotic.

He supposed he’d have to find some other way to try and numb himself then. 

The trailer was new, a bit bigger, and boasted two whole bedrooms so at least neither of them would have to sleep in the living room anymore. Their old home had been taken into custody by some “shady government types”, according to Wayne, but he’d salvaged as much of their belongings as he could before they’d hauled it away. 

Eddie's new room looked almost identical to his old, if a little cleaner and sadly lacking his sweetheart hanging in her place of honor on the wall, lost to the Upside Down.

It must have taken hours, days even, for the old man to get it set up like this and Eddie knew he should have been grateful—should be thanking his uncle profusely for this and everything else he’d done for him since the moment Eddie had been dropped on his doorstep.

But he didn’t feel grateful. 

He didn’t feel much of anything, and prayed it would stay that way.  

“How’s he doing?”

Eddie woke to the sound of voices speaking quietly nearby. He must have fallen asleep in front of the TV again. He remembered finishing the last drops of cheap vodka from the bottle, stashing it under the couch cushions before blacking out at some point during a rerun of The Twilight Zone.

He remained still. Too tired to move anyway and not wanting whoever was there talking to his uncle to know he was awake. 

“I don’t know, Chief, “ Wayne whispered, the obvious worry in his voice making Eddie’s stomach roll, or maybe that was the hangover. “He won’t talk to me, hardly leaves that couch. I got these kids calling day and night and he won’t talk to them either, flat out refuses to come to the phone. He’s drinking—a lot I think. I don't even know where it’s coming from. He must be running out when I’m asleep, or maybe he’s getting it from someone here in the park. I’m sure he thinks I don’t know, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, Wayne. What he’s been through, it’s…” Hopper trailed off, blowing out a soft breath. “Maybe he just needs some time.”

“Yea, maybe,” Wayne agreed, but not like he believed it. 

“I did want to check on you both,” Hopper went on. “But that isn’t the only reason I stopped by.”

“I had a feeling.”

“I’m trying my best to get the story out there, to let the community know Eddie is innocent, and now that I've been reinstated I can promise he won’t get any trouble from my guys—” Hopper hesitated. His voice sounded muffled, and it wasn’t hard for Eddie to imagine him rubbing at his face with tired hands.

“But?” Wayne prompted.

“But, public opinion is hard to sway. There’s been a lot of… pushback. It’ll die down eventually, and I’ll see if there’s anything more I can do, but it might be best for him to keep laying low for a while.”

“I hear ya.”

“You call me if you run into any problems around here or in town. Either of you.” Hopper said.

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps coming closer, as if the two men were walking towards the front door. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe even as he continued to pretend to be asleep.

“Thanks, Jim, and thanks for helping my boy.” 

The door creaked as it opened, and a bit of sobering fresh air blew gently over Eddie’s sweaty face.

“If even half of what I hear is true, he’s a good kid. I’m sorry if I gave him a hard time before.”

Wayne chuckled softly. “Not like he didn’t deserve it.”

There was silence in the air for a beat, and Eddie thought maybe Wayne had gone outside with the chief, until Hopper spoke again, his tone solemn. “He doesn’t deserve this though.” 

“No,” Wayne breathed, “no he doesn't.”

A few days after Hopper’s surprise visit, Eddie finally took one of Dustin’s calls.

He wasn’t exactly feeling any better about things, but he was tired of the looks Wayne was giving him whenever he refused to come to the phone. He didn’t know what the look was exactly. There was definitely disapproval in the set of the old man’s jaw, but his face also carried worry, sadness—even pity. 

It wasn’t a great combination. 

Eddie had also smoked the last joint from his own stash, drank himself out of booze, and ran out of cash to buy more. He couldn’t afford so much as a six pack.

He was growing restless, bored, and with no way to medicate himself he was no longer immune to the crushing guilt that had been steadily building since he’d refused visitors at the hospital.

“Eddie?”

“Hey, Henderson.”

Eddie braced himself, expecting to get shit for almost dying and then falling off the face of the earth, but Dustin was—careful.

“H-how are you?” The kid asked. 

Eddie pulled the receiver away from his face and let his head thunk against the wall, thinking he’d have preferred getting yelled at.  

“Oh, y’know… getting there. Healing, day by day, all that jazz. I’m—I’m alright.”

God, he sounded like an idiot.

Dustin let out a whoosh of air on the other end of the phone. “Good, that’s–that’s good. It’s really great to hear your voice.” 

“Yeah, you too, man.” Eddie smiled to himself, and even though this entire thing was making his skin crawl a little bit, he found that he really meant it. “Listen, Dustin, I'm sorry about everything, and going MIA like that. It wasn’t fair to you.” 

There was a beat of silence in Eddie’s ear, a muffled sniffle. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Dustin said finally, his voice a little thick and nasally. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Which couldn’t have been further from the truth, but the kid didn’t need to know that.

There was a rustling noise in Eddie’s ear, and something like a horn, but was probably the kid blowing his nose. And Dustin sounded a little more like his usual self when he spoke again. “So, I know how tired you’ve been, but—”

“What?” Eddie asked, dumbly.

“You’re usually sleeping when I call, so I just thought—”

“Yeah—yes, right.”

Not the most graceful save, but spending days on end drinking, only to be suddenly involuntarily sober had left Eddie’s brain feeling like cotton candy.

“Well, now that you’re feeling better, I thought we could finally have our, we saved the world, party.”

“You say that like it’s a thing. Is that a normal thing you-all do?”

“Of course! You gotta celebrate your victories.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please? Will’s back in town too. We have so much to fill you in on! I was thinking maybe we could even play a quick one-shot now that we’re all back together. Steve wouldn’t mind if we took over his dining room table. He might even watch!” 

Well, that answered the question of where this godforsaken event might be occurring. 

Eddie remembered Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all raving about Will the Wise, and in another life he’d have been thrilled to finally meet the kid and play, but for one thing, he was in no condition to run a campaign yet—or maybe ever again.

And for two…

Steve.

“Absolutely not.”

“Eddieeeee,” Dustin drew his name out, long and whiny.

“No.”

There was no way Eddie was voluntarily getting within a five mile radius of Harrington or his stupidly big house. 

“Come on, forget the game then. Just say you’ll come to Steve’s on Friday.”

“I’m sorry, but the answer is—”

“Please?” Dustin begged, his voice taking on a watery quality again. “I really need to see you.”

And fuck, how was Eddie supposed to say no to that? He should have never picked up the phone. 

“Alright, fine. Tell me what time this shindig is and I’ll be there.”

Chapter 3

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

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