#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."

[multi-fandom-imagine]

🔥𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐝 || 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 ||

A/n: got asked by a few people to write a Dad!Eddie about my little HC post so here it is 🫡

The floor creaked beneath your sneakers as you shifted nervously in the small, familiar trailer. The smell of cigarette smoke and motor oil hung in the air, grounding you in the reality of where you were—even if your heartbeat felt like it was floating somewhere near the ceiling.

Eddie was sitting cross-legged on the couch, still in his ripped jeans and band tee from earlier that day, lazily strumming an unplugged guitar. His curls were messily pulled back in a bun, and a half-empty bag of Doritos lay forgotten on the coffee table beside a scribbled Dungeon Master’s notebook.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, eyes flicking up to you with a tilt of curiosity. “You’ve been pacing like we’re waiting for Vecna to pop out of the damn toaster.”

You took a shaky breath and turned to face him fully, pressing your palms together in front of you. “I, uh… I need to tell you something. And I need you to just… let me finish before you freak out or jump or laugh or—I don’t know—explode.”

That got his attention. He slowly set the guitar down, eyebrows drawing in concern. “Okay… You’re kinda scaring me now.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Complete, pure, absolute silence for a few seconds. You couldn’t even hear the birds outside anymore. Then Eddie blinked once. Twice.

“…You’re… pregnant,” he repeated, as if tasting the word.

You nodded, heart hammering. “Yeah. I found out two days ago. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I was scared you’d freak, or think I ruined everything or—”

Suddenly Eddie was off the couch and in front of you, grabbing your hands.

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you serious?” he asked, his voice breathless—like a kid finding out he gets to go to a metal concert for free.

You nodded again, eyes wide. “Yeah, I’m—Eddie, I’m serious.”

He let out a stunned laugh, almost like a gasp, and then suddenly picked you up off the floor, spinning you in a clumsy circle with a loud whoop. “Holy shit! I’m gonna be a dad?!”

You clung to him, half-laughing, half-crying. “Yes, you crazy metalhead—you’re gonna be a dad!”

He set you down but didn’t let go, his hands cradling your face, eyes shimmering with tears and wonder. “Oh my god, baby, this is—this is insane, but it’s the best thing anyone’s ever told me. Better than hearing Metallica live. Better than rolling a nat 20 when I’m down to one hit point.”

You snorted. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Our kid is gonna be a nerd. A badass, little Hellfire baby.”

Your eyes welled up again, overwhelmed by his joy. “You’re not scared?”

“Are you kidding? I’m terrified,” he grinned. “But I’m excited. Like, can’t-stop-grinning, heart-is-about-to-explode excited. I get to do this with you. We’re gonna have a little gremlin with your eyes and maybe my hair—though I pray they don’t get all my hair.”

You let out a teary laugh as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Hey,” he whispered, more serious now, thumb brushing your cheek. “We’re gonna figure it out, alright? Me and you. We’re gonna rock this parenting thing. And I already love them so much it hurts.”

“I love you,” you whispered back, voice cracking.

“I love you more. And I love our little bean, too.” He dropped to his knees, hands on your hips, and kissed your stomach with reverence. “Hey, kiddo. It’s your old man. Can’t wait to meet you.”

You ran your fingers through his curls, feeling more grounded than you had in days.

💀.

It was week's after your revel to him, Eddie still buzzing with excitement as he knew the next person he had to tell his Uncle.

The man who was more of a father than his actual father was, the man who raised him when both of his parents left.

Wayne was in his usual spot—reclined in his old chair, cup of black coffee in hand, the local news murmuring in the background. The smell of fried onions still lingered from dinner, and the trailer was bathed in the soft orange of a Hawkins sunset pouring through the window.

Eddie had been pacing for ten straight minutes. Hands shoved in his pockets, then out. Running through his curls, then tugging at his bangs. He’d stopped at the fridge twice and hadn’t opened it either time. Finally, Wayne let out a long sigh and glanced over.

“Boy, if you wear a hole in that floor, you’re fixin’ it yourself.”

Eddie froze mid-step, then turned to face his uncle with wide eyes. “Okay. Okay. Um. So. I’ve got something to tell you. And you gotta promise me you’re not gonna, like, have a stroke or drop dead or something, alright?”

Wayne sat up slightly, brows knitting in that calm, quiet way he always had when Eddie got dramatic. “You get arrested?”

“No! No, Christ—no! Not that.”

Wayne gave him a long look. “Well, that’s a relief. Then what is it?”

Eddie rubbed his hands on his jeans, then pointed to his chest. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

Silence. God was this how you felt when he didn't answer?

A long pause. The kind that made Eddie’s stomach twist.

Wayne blinked. “You’re gonna be a what?”

“A dad,” Eddie repeated, his voice breaking into a half-nervous, half-joyful laugh. “Like. A baby. A tiny human. With ten fingers and ten toes and— Jesus, I think I’m having a panic attack—but a happy one!”

Wayne stared for another beat. Then slowly stood up, setting his mug down. “You’re serious.”

Eddie nodded quickly. “Yeah. She told me today. I thought I was gonna pass out. But then it hit me, y’know? This is real. And it’s scary, and I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but—Uncle Wayne, I’m so excited. Like I feel like my heart’s gonna explode in the best way.”

Wayne was quiet again, just looking at him. Then—finally—his stern expression cracked into something gentler, something proud.

“Damn,” he muttered, stepping forward and placing a strong, calloused hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I always knew you had it in you. Didn’t expect this exactly, but… You’re gonna do just fine, kid.”

Eddie blinked. “Wait, you’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Wayne huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Eddie, I raised you long enough to know your heart’s bigger than that loud mouth of yours. You love deep. And if you say you’re in this… I believe you.”

Eddie’s eyes welled up despite himself. “Shit, old man, don’t go getting all emotional on me.”

Wayne gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You better start savin’ for diapers, though. And no naming the poor child after a damn rock band.”

“No promises,” Eddie grinned, sniffling as he wiped his cheek. “But hey… Uncle Wayne?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be a grandpa.”

Wayne’s mouth twitched into a rare smile as he muttered, “Guess I better find my damn overalls and start baby-proofing the damn trailer.”

💀.

Eddie fidgeted in the waiting room like he was about to be called into a courtroom instead of an ultrasound room. His leg bounced, rings clinking against one another as his fingers tapped out an anxious rhythm on the chair’s armrest.

You, on the other hand, were trying not to laugh at how nervous he looked—even more nervous than you, and you were the one growing an actual human being.

“You okay, Munson?” you teased softly, nudging his knee with yours.

He turned to you with wide eyes. “Okay? I’m not okay. I’m spiraling, babe. I mean, what if the baby already hates me? What if I pass out? What if I cry and Wayne finds out and never lets me live it down?”

You reached over and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “You’re gonna be amazing. And if you cry, I’ll kiss you and call you the bravest man I know.”

He softened instantly. “You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m already on the edge of an emotional meltdown.”

Before you could reply, a nurse appeared in the doorway, smiling warmly. “Munson?”

“That’s us,” you said, squeezing his hand.

Eddie stood like he’d just been called on stage—chest puffed out, nerves still visible, but walking tall. He followed you into the room, eyes scanning every medical tool like they might bite him.

You hopped up onto the table, your shirt pulled up to reveal your bump, the one Eddie would spend hours talking too, and Eddie sat beside you, still holding your hand like it grounded him. The ultrasound technician chatted kindly, explaining how everything would work, but Eddie barely heard her—he was watching you.

Then the wand was placed on your belly, the cold gel making you squeak and squirm a little.

And then—there it was.

That sound.

The thump-thump-thump of a tiny heartbeat filled the room like a thunderous drum solo in Eddie’s ears.

He froze.

Eyes wide.

Mouth slightly open.

And then he completely lost it—his other hand flying up to cover his face as tears filled his lashes.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, voice cracking as he leaned closer to the screen. “That’s them. That’s my kid.”

The grainy image flickered on the monitor, and the technician pointed. “Right there—that’s your baby. Measuring right on track.”

Eddie leaned in, like getting closer might help him memorize every pixel. “It looks like a little alien. A beautiful, metalhead alien.”

You laughed through your own tears. “Our little bat.”

“Little bat,” Eddie echoed, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “God, I love them already. I’d die for them. Like—right now. No questions asked.”

“You’re gonna be such a good dad,” you whispered.

He looked down at you, teary but beaming. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Eddie leaned down to kiss you gently, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m all in, sweetheart. Me, you, and our little bat. We’re gonna make the weirdest, loudest, most loved little family Hawkins has ever seen.”

The technician smiled and handed you both a printed image. Eddie took it carefully, like it was sacred, then looked at you with glistening eyes.

“I’m gonna frame this and hang it in the van. Right next to my Dio poster.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Classy.”

He kissed your hand. “Only the best for our kid.”

💀.

Thunder cracked outside the window, the rain battering the glass in rhythmic waves as nurses bustled in and out of the delivery room. Harsh fluorescent lights had been dimmed, but they couldn’t soften the intensity that had taken over your body.

You were drenched in sweat, hair clinging to your face, hands clenching the rails of the hospital bed with white-knuckled desperation. You’d been in labor for hours—hours of back-breaking pain, of yelling and pushing and cursing Eddie Munson’s name to hell and back.

And Eddie? He hadn’t left your side once.

“Okay, okay, you’re doing amazing, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice raspy from emotion, his hand tangled in yours. “You’re a fuckin’ rockstar. You hear me? A goddamn warrior queen.”

“Shut up—don’t you dare—call me—a queen—right now!” you panted, tears springing to your eyes from the sheer pressure.

Eddie nodded quickly, eyes wide. “Yup. Got it. No queens. Just—just my badass banshee of a girlfriend who’s about to bring our kid into the world, holy shit.”

You barely had time to snort before another contraction hit. Your entire body tensed, and Eddie instinctively moved closer, brushing back your damp hair, grounding you with the soft press of his lips to your forehead.

The nurse peeked at the monitor and smiled. “It’s time. One more push.”

Your eyes locked with Eddie’s.

“Ready?” he asked, voice shaking, eyes glassy.

You gave a fierce nod, then bore down with everything you had. The pain ripped through you like fire, your scream filling the room—until, finally, finally—

A cry pierced the air.

Tiny, loud, and absolutely perfect.

The doctor lifted your baby, declaring joyfully, “It’s a girl!"

You collapsed back against the bed, sobbing from exhaustion and relief as the wailing newborn was placed gently onto your chest. Your hands trembled as they cradled her, this tiny, warm, slippery bundle of life with scrunched eyes and a furious cry.

Eddie was completely still beside you—eyes wide, mouth open in awe, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon.

“She’s…” His voice cracked, and he reached out with a shaking hand to brush his fingers along her soft, wrinkled cheek. “She’s so little. And loud. Holy shit.”

“She gets that from you,” you whispered hoarsely, cradling the baby against your chest.

Eddie laughed—a wet, broken sound—and bent over, kissing the top of your head before resting his forehead there, his hand now covering both of yours. “You did it, baby. You brought our little bat into the world.”

The nurse returned, smiling gently. “Want to hold her, Dad?”

Eddie blinked like he’d just been slapped. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” you whispered with a teary smile. “Come meet your daughter.”

With a reverence like he was holding a sacred relic, Eddie lifted her into his arms, cradling her so carefully it almost broke your heart. His rings looked enormous against her tiny, balled fists. She was swaddled now, her angry cries quieting the moment she was tucked into his chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice soft and raw. “I’m your dad. And I am so in love with you already. You and your mama—my whole damn world.”

Tears spilled down his cheeks as he rocked gently, humming a slow, off-key version of Master of Puppets, of all things. The nurse gave him a strange look, but you only laughed—exhausted, aching, and completely overwhelmed by how much love filled this small hospital room.

Eddie looked back at you, eyes shining. “We’re gonna be so good to her, baby. I swear it. She’s gonna grow up knowing she’s got the weirdest, most devoted, most ridiculously in-love parents in the world.”

And as thunder rumbled once more outside, your daughter let out a tiny sigh and fell asleep in her father’s arms.

Week's have passed until Eddie actually allowed the gang to come and see his little bean and to actually let you get comfortable.

Wayne Munson stood stiffly in the doorway of Eddie’s room—well, it wasn’t really just Eddie’s anymore. The walls were still covered in band posters and scribbled campaign maps, but now there was a bassinet tucked into the corner, soft blankets draped over the edge, and a stuffed bat with tiny black wings nestled next to it.

He held a blanket under one arm, his flannel shirt freshly pressed, his hair combed back for the first time in years. He respected Eddie's ask, stayed away for a week until you and the baby settled and now he was finally getting a better look since the hospital.

“She asleep?” he asked, peering in.

Eddie looked up from the rocking chair, a grin spreading across his face. He was wearing his usual ripped jeans and an old Dio shirt—but now he had a tiny pink pacifier hanging from the neckline like a badge of honor.

“Nah. Just pretending. She’s dramatic like her old man,” he said softly, cradling the baby against his chest. “Come meet your grandniece, old man.”

Wayne stepped in slowly, his boots thudding against the floorboards. He stared at the bundle in Eddie’s arms, his face unreadable. Then he lowered himself carefully onto the edge of the bed, looking down at her with a slow, astonished blink.

“She’s tiny,” he murmured, voice thick. “And she looks like you.”

Eddie chuckled. “Poor kid. Hopefully she grows outta that.”

Wayne leaned forward, one calloused finger gently brushing the baby’s soft cheek. “She’s got your eyes, though. Big and curious. Gonna be trouble, I can tell.”

“She already is,” Eddie whispered proudly. “And I love every second of it.”

Wayne didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared at the baby with a quiet, stunned reverence. Then he nodded once, firmly. “You’re doing good, son. Real good.”

Before Eddie could respond, there was a bang bang bang at the trailer door, followed by a chaotic chorus of voices:

“EDDIE OPEN UP—WE BROUGHT GIFTS AND PROBABLY DISEASES!”

“Don’t say that, Dustin, Jesus—”

“Should we have washed our hands?”

“I’m gonna hold her first!”

“Not if I clothesline you, Henderson—”

Eddie grinned and stood, still cradling the baby as he moved toward the door. “Ready to meet your weird uncles , little bat?” he whispered. “Brace yourself.”

He swung the door open, and the Hellfire Club nearly fell inside.

Dustin was holding a balloon that said “Welcome, Tiny Demon Queen!” and Jeff was carrying what looked like an actual battle-axe wrapped in a pink ribbon. Gareth had a pack of baby onesies—each with chaotic slogans like Future DM and Critical Cry—and Mike looked like he was about to faint from nerves.

“You guys are insane,” Eddie muttered, laughing.

“And yet you invited us,” Dustin grinned. “Where is she?!”

Eddie stepped aside so they could see. The whole room went silent.

The tiny baby girl blinked up at them from the crook of Eddie’s arms, wrapped in a fuzzy black blanket with little bats on it, her face soft and peaceful.

“Holy crap,” Gareth whispered. “She’s real.”

“No shit she’s real!” Jeff elbowed him.

“She’s so small,” Mike muttered. “Like… how is she real?”

“She’s perfect,” Dustin said softly. “What’s her name?”

Eddie glanced at you, who had just appeared behind him with a warm smile and tired eyes.

“Her name’s Coralee,” you said. “Coralee Munson. But Eddie calls her Little Bat.”

“Coralee,” Jeff repeated, nodding. “That’s metal as hell.”

“Can we hold her?” Gareth asked, practically vibrating.

Eddie held up a finger. “Sanitize first. If you even think about sneezing, you’re out.”

Everyone eagerly doused their hands in sanitizer provided by Wayne, who somehow had it ready like a hawk watching the chaos unfold.

One by one, they got their turn—awkward arms, nervous stares, terrified awe. Dustin nearly cried. Jeff talked to her in a fake dragon voice. Gareth swore she smiled when he mentioned Metallica.

When she got passed back to Eddie, she gave a tiny, sleepy whimper, curling her hand around one of his fingers.

“She’s got you wrapped already,” Mike smirked.

“Damn right she does,” Eddie beamed, brushing her hair gently. “She’s the newest member of Hellfire, after all. You better make room on the roster.”

Wayne just shook his head from the kitchen, sipping his coffee, watching them all with the softest damn smile anyone had ever seen on his face.

And in the middle of it all—surrounded by chaos, laughter, and love—Coralee Munson slept peacefully in her father’s arms.

[estrellami-1]

Home

Ao3 link

“You never really grew out of it, did you?” Eddie asks, sardonic laugh ringing out across the dystopian landscape.

Steve’s heart stutters in his chest. “What?” He whispers.

Eddie shrugs, teeth clenched in a sharp grin. “That whole show up there. Tearing a bat in half? Overkill. Not impressive at all. Just peacocking, trying to get us to admit that you’re still the king.”

“N-no, I-”

“N-no, I-” Eddie mocks, something sharp in his eye. “C’mon, King Steve, aren’t you gonna let me have it? What, are you scared a queer is gonna beat your ass?”

“I don’t care about that-”

“No? Then Byers is lying, is that what you’re saying? Y’know he hates you, too.” Eddie’s nails are sharp, elongating into talons, and Steve’s heart thumps twice before settling into a regular rhythm again.

“No he doesn’t.”

“Oh, there he is!” Eddie-not-Eddie crows, arms spread wide. “All hail the king!”

Steve stops walking, watches as Eddie-not-Eddie grows, watches as his face twists into a gruesome facsimile. “Y’know, you’re almost right about one thing,” Steve says lazily, reaching a hand behind himself.

“Oh? Not everything?” Vecna taunts. “What, pray tell, am I almost right about?”

“In all the ways that count, I am still King Steve.” In one smooth movement, he draws his bat out from behind himself and embeds it in Vecna’s side. “Now!” He yells, and El ripples into existence, throwing her arm out in front of her. Vecna is yanked on invisible strings backwards until he’s impaled on Eddie’s spear. Behind Eddie, Nancy shoots Vecna in the head as Eddie runs out of the danger zone, flicking his lighter for Robin. She steps up and throws a Molotov at Vecna’s feet, another one ready should she need it.

Bats swirl in the sky as Vecna dies. Everyone readies their weapons again, but the bats descend on Vecna, feasting on the helpless lord of the Upside Down.

“Wow,” Steve says, “ironic much?”

Robin lets out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. There’s movement in the corner of Steve’s eye, but by the time he turns to look, he’s already being tackled.

“Christ,” Eddie whispers, “I hated that, I hated that so much, you’re never allowed to be the bait again, sweetheart, you hear me?”

Steve just laughs, wraps his arms around Eddie in return. “The good news is I won’t need to anymore,” he tells Eddie. “That was it. Now we’ve just gotta get out of here.”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, but doesn’t move. “I didn’t mean a damn thing I said.”

“Eddie,” Steve tries, but Eddie just clings harder. “Baby. I know. I know you think I’ve changed. I know Jon doesn’t hate me. I know you thought me ripping the bat apart was really impressive.”

“Fuckin’ Ozzy,” Eddie murmurs. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “Now c’mon. Let’s get out of here.” He grins and lowers his voice so the girls can’t hear. “You can make it up to me. Show me just how impressive you really thought I was.”

Eddie freezes, then scrambles up. “Well then what are we waiting for?” He demands, pulling a laughing Steve up. “C’mon, let’s go!”

“Okay,” Steve giggles, finally catching his breath. He slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulders, then wraps his other arm around Robin’s. She’s holding hands with Nancy, and Steve grins at her. “Let’s go home.”

[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

[littlemissvenom0]

𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒆

(Steve Harrington x Reader | Reader’s POV) ➤ [TW: PTSD, panic attacks, flashbacks, trauma responses,, very emotional themes]

I don't even remember the knife falling from my hand.

One second, I was cutting fruit at the kitchen counter, laughing gently at something Dustin said. The next second, the walls twisted — the ceiling warped — and that familiar, suffocating blackness crawled in.

I gripped the countertop to steady myself, my whole body going stiff.

“Dustin,” I rasped out, panic already gripping my voice, “you need to leave. Now.”

“What?” His eyes widened behind his hat. “No — no way. I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll call Steve—”

“Dustin.” My voice cracked — broke into something desperate and terrifying even to my own ears. “I’m not in control when it happens. Please. Just go outside. Please.”

He hesitated — too long — but one look at my trembling hands, and the color drained from his face. Without another word, he stumbled toward the front door and bolted outside.

I made it three steps before my knees gave out.

The world around me melted, and suddenly it wasn’t my house anymore — it was the Upside Down, or Vecna’s lair, or some nightmare realm stitched together from all the worst things I'd ever seen.

The dark walls oozed.

The ground breathed under me.

And I was alone.

I didn’t even realize I was screaming until the noise tore my throat raw.

By the time Steve got there, the house was silent.

He found me curled in the kitchen corner, crumpled into a ball, dry tear tracks down my cheeks, face hollow. Dustin was standing outside, pacing, red-eyed, cell phone clutched so tightly it looked ready to crack.

“She told me to leave," Dustin blurted when Steve ran up. "She said she’s not in control when it happens. She tried to tell you before — but you didn’t listen, Steve.”

Steve’s stomach dropped.

Slowly, he approached where I sat — unmoving, vacant, barely breathing.

He knelt a few feet away, hands open and trembling.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly. “Hey, it’s me. It’s just me.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

When I finally did speak, my voice was empty.

“I still feel him, Steve.”

He shook his head fiercely. “No, no, sweetheart, listen to me. He’s gone. It’s just the trauma, that’s all. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But all I could do was nod weakly, my head lolling forward with exhaustion.

Steve gathered me into his arms that night and didn’t let go. He promised he’d never leave again.

I almost believed him.

The next few days blurred into a haze.

Robin visited first — bringing my favorite snacks, movies, a blanket she said was "magic." Eddie and Dustin pulled up just as she did, eager to hover around me like protective older siblings.

I hated that they saw me like this.

Small. Broken.

But secretly, somewhere deep inside, I clung to the warmth they brought.

I was slicing apples when the next blackout came.

It started with a twitch in my vision. A cold burst up my spine.

Robin knocked. I heard her. I swear I heard her.

But my body wouldn’t move.

The air thickened — buzzed — and before I could scream, I was ripped from reality again.

Robin’s POV:

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Robin called through the door, grinning as she balanced two pizzas and a movie under one arm. “We brought reinforcements!”

No answer.

Robin frowned.

Eddie glanced at her, brow furrowed. Dustin’s face paled immediately.

“Maybe she’s sleeping?” Eddie offered half-heartedly.

Robin’s heart pounded faster.

Something wasn’t right.

She dropped the pizzas — ran to the window — pressed her face to the glass.

Her scream ripped through the quiet street.

“SHE’S FLOATING!”

Inside, against the kitchen wall, (Y/N)’s body hung midair — twisted — hands clawing at her own throat, her face a shade too close to blue.

“EDDIE, BREAK IT DOWN!”

Eddie slammed into the door with his shoulder — once, twice — but it barely budged.

“MOVE!” Robin shouted, shouldering him aside. With a raw scream, she launched herself at the door.

It burst open with a crack.

They rushed in — Eddie, Robin, Dustin tripping over each other — reaching up, grabbing at (Y/N)’s legs, trying to pull her down — but she was stuck, trapped in invisible chains none of them could see.

Robin wrapped her arms around (Y/N)'s waist, sobbing. “Come back, come back, please—"

Then, without warning, (Y/N) collapsed, hitting the ground hard.

Eddie caught her before she cracked her head on the tiles.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t even blink.

Dustin’s lip trembled violently. “She… she tried to tell Steve. She told him she still felt Vecna…”

Robin cradled (Y/N) against her chest, rocking her gently, whispering nonsense words through her own choked sobs.

Eddie whipped out his phone, frantically calling Steve — no answer. Called Nancy — no answer. Called Jonathan.

He answered on the second ring.

"Jonathan! We can't find Steve! Nancy either! (Y/N)'s— she’s—"

Jonathan cursed under his breath. “I’ll be there in five.”

Steve’s POV:

Steve sat awkwardly in the parked car, drumming his fingers against the wheel.

Nancy was talking. He wasn’t listening.

Then — god — she leaned over and kissed him.

For a second, out of old reflex, he kissed back.

But guilt punched him in the gut — hard — and he pulled away.

“No — I can’t — I’m with (Y/N),” he muttered, voice hoarse.

Nancy frowned.

Steve didn’t care. He fumbled for his phone — six missed calls, three voicemails — Eddie’s voice frantic, Robin crying, Dustin screaming.

(Y/N)'s hurt.

(Y/N)'s hurt.

(YOU DIDN’T LISTEN!)

Steve jammed the keys in the ignition so hard they bent.

He floored it all the way to (Y/N)’s house.

When he pulled up, Jonathan was already there. So was Dustin, Eddie, Robin.

Steve slammed the door and ran to the porch.

His heart stopped.

There — on the couch — was (Y/N). Barely there.

Her body slumped against Robin’s chest, her face blank, her skin covered in bruises — angry purple handprints wrapping her neck, splatters along her arms and legs like she’d been grabbed — like something invisible had dragged her across hell and back.

She looked up — dazed — and for one awful second when Steve reached out, she flinched away from him.

Steve froze, horror gutting him.

“What happened?” His voice cracked.

Dustin stepped forward, voice shaking with rage.

“She told you. She told you she still felt him. But you — you brushed it off.”

Steve couldn’t breathe.

He sank to his knees in front of her, reaching out again — slower this time.

“Baby,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Tears welled in her wide, disoriented eyes — but she didn’t respond.

Didn’t say a word.

Robin rocked her gently, murmuring into her hair.

Eddie wrapped Dustin in his arms as the boy sobbed helplessly.

Steve pressed his forehead to (Y/N)'s scraped knuckles, silent tears sliding down his face.

He had failed her.

The girl who had trusted him — the girl who needed him to listen — and he hadn’t.

Now he wasn’t sure if he would ever get her back.

Part 2

[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 💜

[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, Lucas is trying to keep a siff upper lip for his sister, 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 and Max, or the barely concealed fear in Eddie and Erica, or the building weight of responsibility growing in Lucas and Dustin's too old eyes. 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 hollow 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 her to think about 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

navigation

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.