#hanahaki!eddie munson

[munsonburn3r]

Oh, Camellia, won't you take me away? - A Hanahaki!Eddie Munson story (sneak peek!)

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson had been a constant during your short time in hawkins, indiana, which made it that much harder when you had to leave. four years and a clinical trial later, you'd thought you'd conquered an otherwise fatal disease. what you weren't expecting, though, was the man that nearly killed you to walk back into your life, threatening to undo all of the progress you'd made towards healing - both physically and emotionally.

cw: hanahaki!au, angst, descriptions of light gore, childhood trauma, sexual themes and content

a/n: here is a snippet from the hanahaki eddie fic that has been bouncing around in my brain over the past week. feedback welcomed!

Water flowed out across the floor in a surge that mimicked crashing ocean waves. You cursed as you scrambled to right the plastic Procona and liquid sloshed awkwardly, lapping at your fingertips. It was a surprising amount from a relatively small bucket. 

“Everything alright out there?” called a gruff voice from the back office. 

You sighed. “Just fine, Bill! Minor spill. Nothing major.”

A muffled grumble could be heard from the owner’s space behind you, but you paid it no mind. It only took a few steps for you to grab the mop and start cleaning up the water all over the workspace floor, and to your relief, it really wasn’t as much as it seemed. 

The nearly four years you’d spent at Indiana Floral Company had seemed to fly by in a blink of an eye. You weren’t expecting an on the spot interview when you’d first stopped into the shop, but the owner Bill had been impressed at your willingness to learn and your natural eye for design and hired you immediately. Probationary, of course. 

So under Bill’s tutelage, your floral design skills blossomed. The basic knowledge of plants you’d brought from years of spending time gardening with your Grandma grew. You went from simply identifying lilies to knowing the difference between Asiatic and Oriental and their best growing seasons. You could identify roses based on subtle color differences and had learned how to take the most tightly closed bud and blow it open with a little humidity, a plastic bag, and very careful preening. And though you didn’t like to brag, you could match corsage ribbon to prom dresses better than anyone in town. 

As time wore on, Bill had shared that years of design had wrecked his body and that it was time to begin passing the torch. Since Indiana Floral Company was one of the top floral design studios in town, the responsibility embedded in passing said torch was sobering. But after a year and a half of earning your stripes, you landed a head designer role and began training to take over the small family business.

Humming a nondescript tune, you refilled the earlier bucket with water and flower food before chopping the ends off of a bunch of de-thorned roses with the guillotine-like stem cutter. A clunk thrummed out when you dropped the two dozen stems into the water. Each blossom peered at you with a center like a curled eye — delicate sandy cream — perfect for the event you were designing later this weekend. 

A ring of the bells on the front door broke your focus. You wiped your hands on the rag shoved haphazardly into your apron and turned at the sudden sound of Bill’s voice. 

“The 1:30 initial wedding consult must be early. You mind taking this one, kid?” His head peeked around the office door. “I started the file – it’s on the cash wrap.” He looked tired; the man should have retired two years ago. 

With a slight smile, you nodded. “Got it.”

It was impossible to see who had entered due to the amount of plants, gift items, and displays you’d designed around the small space (“customers shop with their eyes first, kid; you gotta draw them in before you let them see the price tag” Bill had said). But as soon as you rounded the front display, your stomach dropped clear out of your body and onto the floor. 

Maybe it was the habitual need to weave around the labyrinth of flora and gifts that had lowered your defenses. Or perhaps it was the fact that this was a typical boring Wednesday afternoon in April. Hell, it could have been the questionable sandwich you had for lunch that you found at the back of the minifridge. 

But one thing was clear: you hadn’t expected to see Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham hand in hand looking around at the array of merchandise you’d set out in preparation for Mother’s Day. 

“Hi!” A saccharine voice matched the sickeningly sweet smile on the strawberry blonde in front of you. “We’re here for a wedding consultation at 1:30. Sorry we’re a bit early — we didn’t want to be late!”

Time stood still. Or maybe that was just you — frozen as you stared the couple down with a look of surprise plastered across your features. You didn’t think you could move (or even speak, for that matter).

However, for the first time in almost four years, you felt your chest tighten and a sharp prickling sensation snake up your windpipe. You licked your dry lips (hadn’t you just put on chapstick?) and attempted to swallow with no success. Instead, your throat constricted, and there it was: an involuntary, yet ever so familiar metallic cough.

image credit: pinterest dividers: @saradika-graphics

tagging some moots that might be interested: @chickpeadumpsterfire @voyeurmunson @joshlmbrt @mediocredreams @littlexdeaths @anamelessfool

[disjointed-art]

The other print for inside the catch my breath bundle! Eddie finally got to play the song for Steve!

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A follow-up to my Hanahaki Platonic Stobin drabble

Platonic Stobin, Steddie, past Stancy || rating: T || wc: 2.7k || tags: dialogue heavy, VERY excessive use of italics, fluff and flirting and humor, no beta

~~~

His sides are ripped to shreds, insides only kept inside because of the torn, dirty scrap of sweater Nancy wrapped around him. Steve’s been downplaying it as much as possible, mostly to keep Munson calm, but Robin knows better.

What’s wrong with your back?

Steve sighs, trying to mute his thoughts into a scramble like they’ve practiced so well over the past nine months, but the scorching pain on his shoulder blades, feet, and arms makes it rather difficult.

Don’t you dare ignore me Steve Harrington.

She glares back at him from her spot next to Nancy. They’ve been walking for miles, every rock and crack in the ground digging into his feet with every step. Munson’s next him, going on about something like bats, or metal music. Steve’s not sure, he’s having a hell of a time focusing.

But the guy crowds into Steve’s space, dipping in and out of orbit like he can’t help being as close as possible. Eddie keeps looking at him. Steve’s never been great with eye contact, but can’t help it when Eddie starts saying things like “the kid worships you, dude” and “insists on the matter, in fact.”

Told you the kid loves you even though he has another older adult male friend.

Steve can practically hear her giggling, but she’s just balancing her out-loud conversation with their mind-reading conversation. She’s better at it than he is, talking to two people at once. Hell, sometimes Steve has a hard enough time keeping track of just one conversation.

Their new super powers had been a learning curve, to say the least. It’d taken them months to learn how to tune each other out when needed, which was more often than not. Working Family Video shed a new light on how absolutely down-bad horny Steve was for almost every mildly attractive woman who walked through the front door. Including Joyce Byers, to Robin’s horror.

Steve was cursed with Robin’s almost near-constant thoughts about her newest crush, Vickie. He’s never met her before, doesn’t remember her from school, but could describe what she looks like down to the small, rust colored freckle on the corner of her left eye, just below the lash line. 

But even with the extensive learning curve, they discovered some severe consequences of their powers almost immediately. 

The first day Robin came over, bloodied and crying, with him no better off, Steve was so shaky he’d dropped a mug, slicing his hand as he scooped up the pieces. She rushed over, said she heard his pain more than felt it, like loud static. 

So, no sharing physical sensations, just mind-reading. Which is great for me, considering how slutty you are. She’d laughed when he lightly knocked her on the shoulder, but she’d thought it with such fondness that he couldn’t be mad if he tried.

The worst of their situation came to light when Robin’s parents called her home, said a weekend away after Star Court was more than enough. So she’d left him alone in that big, empty house, suffering from a severe concussion and dizzy spells.

Which only grew worse the longer they were apart.

Steve didn’t have anywhere to go, now jobless with the mall gone, and none of the kids came to visit. So he’d holed himself up in his room. The headaches grew worse, handfuls of pills doing nothing to help.

By the fifth day, he was vomiting again, shaking and crying, head throbbing, nose bleeding into the toilet bowl all over again when there was a knock on the door. The knock might as well have been inside his skull, but he couldn’t move, could barely see past the haze clouding his periphery like it had after his fight with Billy. He cried as the knocking grew louder, more persistent, until it finally stopped.

He slumped forward, pressed his head into the cool porcelain. Lifting his hand to flush, he noticed a small, vibrant white petal floating amidst the red and black water, all of which, presumably, came out of him.

–can’t find it. Must be… rock. The mat?

Robin?

There was a click, then the sound of his front door opening. Slow, heavy footsteps up the stairs.

Dingus where the hell are you? Not in the bedroom… Please, Steve, I need help.

That got his attention, but as he’d gone to move, the bathroom door opened to a bloodstained Robin, eyes rimmed red, hair a mess, pale and gaunt like a ghost. She dropped to the ground next to him, practically draped herself over his back. And just like before, the pain receded so violently he vomited one last time. A full, yet slightly crumpled, flower floated amidst the yuck inside the toilet. 

It was a daisy.

“Daisies are my favorite,” Robin whispered. She held out her hand to him, dirty and covered in the same green stains as the ones on her shirt, and handed him a very small, miniature sunflower. “So I’m guessing–”

My favorite.

Eventually they’d figured out what works and what doesn’t. Talking on the phone everyday never helped, back to throwing up flowers after only a week. He’d started to pull the daisies out to dry, which Robin said was gross. She took them home with her anyways. 

But he’d borrowed Robin a sweatshirt that she took home with her, and by the fourth day, she was in better shape than he was, only a slight headache instead of Steve’s encroaching migraine. So they started exchanging clothes and quickly learned it wasn’t necessarily their clothes or possessions, but their scents. 

You smell kind of like sunflowers

“Robin, sunflowers don’t have a smell.”

She was face first in his pillow, day seventeen after a two-week family vacation to Key West, returning his comforter, and a myriad of t-shirts. They’d both gotten migraines, but no vomit-soaked flowers or bloody noses. So it was an improvement, overall.

I know they don’t. It’s more like, I don’t know, sunshine. Or fresh grass. A warm rain… like summer.

He’d jumped on her then, smothered her into his mattress until she was tickling him to get off her.

“What do I smell like?” she’d asked, casual but not quite casual enough. He smiled.

Like daisies. An open field full of wildflowers. A new song, or driving with the windows down. 

She smiled back at him, wide and genuine, packed full of love. And he knew, in that moment, he was happy to spend the rest of his life with her.

“Harrington,” Eddie cuts through his reminiscing. The guy looks like he’s trying not to be annoyed, which makes sense considering he’s attempting to be nice and Steve’s completely zoned out. 

Do you have another concussion? Is it rabies?

He sighs, quiet enough that hopefully Eddie doesn’t assume it’s aimed at him. No, Robs. Just a normal dingus-where-did-you-go zone out. Relax.

She shoots him another glare over her shoulder, but ultimately lets it go.

“Harrington, you still with us?” Eddie laughs it off like a joke, but his eyes are wide, and he’s pressing in close again.

He’s warm, and without thinking, Steve finds himself leaning towards him, too– like magnets.

What magnets?

Never mind, Robs, shut up.

“Yeah Munson, I’m still here.” Steve chuckles, and Eddie relaxes a tad. “Can’t get rid of me that easy. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Worse than an under-water tentacle monster dragging you through hell on your bare-back and almost choking you to death?”

When Eddie puts it like that, Steve really does have to think about it. “What about throwing fireworks at a giant, mind-controlling flesh monster and getting tortured under Star Court by Russian spies who shot me and Robin up with mystery drugs?”

DINGUS! If we haven’t told the Party about our super powers you can’t tell a goddamn stranger like Munson!

Eddie’s eyes are wide and dark again. He chuckles a little too loud, almost deranged. “Yeah, you know what, Harrington, that might be worse.”

They continue to walk in silence. Well, Steve’s silent. He lets Eddie ramble, talking about Dustin, something called a Munson doctrine. He calls Steve a ‘good dude’ at which Steve hopes the sky is dark enough to hide his embarrassed flush.

Eddie says something about the girls jumping in to save him, but he leans in again when he says it, and all Steve can think about is how close he is, the light brush of Eddie’s knuckles against the back of his hand–

What…?

– and the comfort that settles over Steve when he catches Eddie smiling at him. They stop in unison, Eddie leans in close to whisper like it’s a secret.

“But Wheeler, right there, she didn’t waste a second. Not one second. She just dove right in.”

Eddie’s barely shorter than him, just enough that he looks up at Steve through his dark lashes, big, brown, puppy-dog eyes hooked onto his own. He knows guys can be handsome, but he thinks Eddie might be more pretty than handsome.

I’m sorry? What the fuck is happening back there!

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two,” Eddie says, low and slow. His voice full of honey that soaks into Steve’s brain, the actual words lost in the overwhelming sweetness of everything that is Eddie. “But if I were you, I would get her back. ‘Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve can’t stop staring at his lips. They’re so pink and fluffy and biteable, so he leans in, like instinct tells him. Eddie looks surprised, but brushes his finger tips against Steve’s own. He whispers, “Steve…?” like it’s more revelation than question. Eddie’s so close that Steve just–

“Are you fucking kidding me, Steven?” Robin shouts, incredulous and much too loud. Eddie flinches away from him, hides behind his hair like a turtle shrinking back into its shell. Steve’s shoulders droop in disappointment.

Disappointment? Wait. Did I almost just kiss–

“Eddie Munson?” Robin finishes his not-out-loud sentence.

“Buckley?” Eddie asks, nervous as the girl marches towards them, her eyes locked on Steve.

“Yes, Dingus!” Robin completely ignores Eddie’s response in favor of barreling up to Steve, finger so close to his face he goes cross-eyed. “Yes, you were, and oh my god I can’t believe you!”

Robs, I’m kind of freaking out right now. Can you please relax?

“You’re freaking out?” she shouts. Nancy shushes her, but it goes unnoticed. “I’m freaking out! After all this time, after Tammy fucking Thompson, this is happening right now? With– with– ” Robin wildly gestures to Munson. “Goddamn, Steve, you reek of sunflowers right now, oh my god! Just like when Joyce came into the store.”

It’s as dark as it always is, but a flash of red lighting illuminates the red painted across Eddie’s cheeks as he bites on his lip, looking nervous yet almost bashful as he pulls another larger strand of hair across his face.

“Sunflowers? What’s happening right now,” he whispers to Nancy, who shrugs. She answers with a casual, “I’m not sure, they do this a lot.”

“That’s not fair!” Steve quietly shouts back at her. “What’s wrong with–” he glances at Eddie, who flushes again. He’s so pale I bet he’s red down to his…

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Robin throws her hands over her ears and pinches her eyes closed.

Steve forces a smile to cover his gay panic. Shit, am I gay?

“No!” Robin slaps both her hands on either side of his head, mushing his cheeks together. “You’re not g–” she mushes her mouth shut, catching her slip-up just before it tumbled out of her. “And that’s not what that kind of panic means, so don’t call it that.”

“Panic?” Eddie asks, stepping towards them. His eyes are trained on Steve, flashing down to his lips, then back up to catch his gaze. Steve sees something like hope buried beneath Eddie’s tough guy demeanor. “But I thought–” he glances at Nancy before quickly looking away.

Robin rolls her eyes at him, and Eddie backs off a bit. Except his look doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Me?” Nancy asks. “What about me?”

Robin, don’t–

But it’s too late, because at that question, everyone turns to look at Steve.

Over the past few months, Steve’s started growing out his hair. It’s not really in style, but he’s seen a few guys with long hair, and they looked really good. Right now, he wishes it was long enough so he could hide behind it like Eddie. But, then again, he’d also tried growing a mustache, since Freddy Mercury had amazing style�� Steve’s always like Queen.

Except my mustache never looked as good as his, so I bet long hair wouldn’t either. Maybe the short hair helps highlight it, like his cheekbones.

Jesus Christ, you’re so obvious. I can crack Russian spy code phrases enough to break into an underground military base but apparently I can’t spot a bisexual within five feet of me.

Steve sighs, dragging his hands down his face at Robin’s inside-mind rambling. Nancy, however, takes it to mean something much different. “Oh, Steve, no.” Her voice is pitying and too nice and it reminds him painfully of the last few months of their relationship. Like she’s talking to a child. “Steve, I’m so sorry, but– I still love Jonathan.”

“I know, Nance, that’s not–”

“Are you kidding me, Wheeler?” Eddie screeches. Steve really doesn’t understand how they’re so lucky that they haven’t been hunted down and eaten by now. 

Eddie’s thrown his hands up in the air, all theatrics as he gawks at her. She backs off, surprised, but quickly recovers and squints her eyes at him, crossing her arms as he continues to ramble. 

“After everything that’s happened? Steve ripping off his sweater, jumping out of the boat and beating a bat to death, then biting its head off, all while soaking wet. I mean, the way he spit that blood out.” Nancy cringes, and yeah, Steve feels the same way, knows he'll be tasting that black sludge in his nightmares. 

Now that’s gay panic.

I thought that’s not what that means, Rob

Ugh, I regret teaching you things.

Eddie’s still on a roll. “He was so… I mean,” Eddie throws his arms out towards Steve, showing him off like he’s a prized cow, “look at him, Wheeler! And you’re picking Byers?”

To Steve’s surprise, the glowering ferocity in Nancy’s face morphs into a coy smile, eyebrows raised in question to an answer she’s already figured out. Because that’s how Nancy Wheeler, journalist extraordinaire, gets her story. She reads people.

Before Eddie well and truly freaks out at the turn in Nancy’s demeanor, she winks at Steve out of the corner of her eye. “Joyce Byers?” She giggles and rolls her eyes. 

Then, in a mortifying turn of events, Nancy pulls a strand of her brown, curly hair in front of her face, forces her eyes open, doe-eyed and almost brown under the dark sky, looking up at him through her lashes, then darts her gaze to Eddie. 

Ha! You have a type! Wait, how did Nancy clock you faster than–

“Okay!” It bursts from Steve’s chest, loud enough it shocks the rest of them. They stand quiet, listening to the mundane noises around them, and breathe a sigh of relief at the resounding silence. “This has been fun, really, but why don’t we all just keep going so we can get the hell out of here and go find my– I mean our– no, the little shits.”

This is why they call you mom.

“I’m not a goddamn mom, Robin, how many damn times do I have to tell you guys that?”

“If you’re mommy, does that mean I’m daddy?” The words slip through Eddie’s mouth and, unfortunately, bury themselves into Steve’s brain. Now Steve’s not sure who’s blush is hotter, his or Eddie’s. He’d guess maybe Eddie’s, judging by the way the man grabs Nancy’s arm and hauls her away at a half sprint. 

She laughs at him, lighthearted, and slings her arm through his as they walk side by side. Steve watches as she leans her head towards Eddie’s whispering something into his ear that finally has the man’s shoulder’s relaxing. He bumps his shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture.

Robin turns to look at Steve, really look, with sad, concerned eyes and a twist to her mouth.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. It just caught me off guard I guess.

Steve places a light kiss on her dirty forehead. She smiles, grabs his hand in hers, and squeezes once.

“I love you too, Rob.”

[withacapitalp]

Daisies

Read it on ao3 instead

Eddie was never a deep sleeper. Years of living in cars and on couches taught him to always have an ear out. Always be able to wake up in an instant, always be alert, ready to fight whoever might be coming at you. Living with Wayne helped to ease that compulsion a bit, but in general, Eddie was never truly fully relaxed when he slept. Everything that had happened over Spring Break hadn’t helped matters in the slightest. 

So he was awake the second Steve started to choke. 

He was so quick that Steve was still asleep, curled up on his side in the absolutely adorable way that usually made Eddie smile. There was no smile tonight, just an anxious little whimper and a boy frozen in fear, because his partner was choking on nothing and not waking up. 

“Steve?” Eddie whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand and touching Steve’s shoulder. “Baby?” 

Steve continued to gasp, his chest heaving in a strange and awful way as he tried and failed to breathe. Eddie was about to do something more, anything to make him stop, when Steve’s eyes opened. He was the picture of panic for all of two seconds, before he was sitting up, roughly coughing. 

He hacked out a few more harsh sounding noises, before he spat into his open palm, taking a relieved breath as whatever was lodged in his throat came out. Eddie would’ve been relieved too, confused, but okay now that Steve was safe. 

And then he saw what was in Steve’s hand. 

A daisy. Steve had just coughed up a fucking daisy. And, judging by the completely blasé expression he had on his face as he looked down at it, this wasn’t the first time. 

What the fuck?

Eddie had seen Hanahaki before, just once. Some girl in middle school had fallen in love with a dumb jock, a classic move that had felt like a cliche to him at the time. When the jerk rejected her in front of everyone, she had collapsed to her knees in the middle of the cafeteria, spitting out thorny roses till she passed out. 

She lived, but just barely, and had gotten the surgery to remove the roses wrapped around her lungs. By the next week she was happy as a clam, living without a single memory of the incident that had left the rest of the school in total shock. 

Seeing it now gave Eddie the same exact feelings he had all those years ago. A deep sense of discomfort from encroaching on something that incredibly intimate, an odd mix of revulsion and jealousy, and a deep seated wish to be anywhere but where he was at this moment. 

It was even worse now that it was Steve. 

His boyfriend slid out of bed, quietly padding over to the ensuite without even so much as a glance Eddie’s way, leaving behind the flower. Steve didn’t shut the door all the way, so Eddie could hear him cough a few more times. As he did, Eddie picked up the daisy, examining it. 

It was just a regular daisy, white as snow except for a few spots of blood sitting innocently on its petals. Nothing special about it, nothing significant. Apart from the fact that it was Steve’s daisy.  

Steve’s daisy for someone that wasn’t him. 

“Who?” Eddie asked when Steve came back into view looking utterly exhausted. His voice was flat, lacking any of the emotion he usually had. It was like someone had torn his heart out, and now he was just hollow, hollow, hollow. 

Steve hummed in confusion, quirking his head to the side as he leaned his entire body against the doorway, blinking slowly. 

“Who is it?” Eddie clarified, holding up the daisy. Any trace of sleepiness vanished from Steve’s features. He stood up painfully straight, even took a step back, like Eddie had screamed instead of whispered. 

“I’m not mad,” Eddie rushed to say, trying to calm Steve’s quiet panic. He wasn’t mad, his heart was just shattering, falling to pieces on the floor between them. Was that better? “I…I just want to know.” 

He didn’t just want to, he had to. He had to know who had stolen Steve’s heart, or if it had ever been his to claim in the first place. Had Steve had the daisies the entire time? Was he just humoring Eddie anytime he said he loved him? Eddie didn’t want to think that Steve had entered into their relationship out of pity, or some sense of obligation, but any and all confidence Eddie had previously had flew out the window the second that daisy had appeared. 

Were they from Nancy?

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Steve muttered, avoiding eye contact as he played with a loose thread on his pajama pants. 

He looked oddly vulnerable there, half dressed and making himself smaller than he was, hiding in the doorway instead of curling up in Eddie’s arms where he belonged. On any other night, Eddie would coax him to bed with promises and teasing little jabs that made him both laugh. 

But not tonight. Tonight there were daisies in the bathroom sink and one in Eddie’s hand ruining everything they had built. 

“I deserve to know when my own boyfriend is in love with someone else,” Eddie hissed, harsher than he meant to. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and fuck, maybe he was mad. Not really at Steve, but at the world. The chaotic black universe that they lived in, whatever awful god lived out in the cosmos that had chosen to damn him specifically. 

Whatever deity existed that loved to give Eddie good things and snatch them away the second he got comfortable. 

“They aren’t- I’m not in love with someone else,” Steve protested weakly, still looking anywhere but at Eddie. 

Eddie scoffed, holding up the daisy between them, pinching it in between his thumb and forefinger like it was something exceptionally disgusting to hold. He had the rabid urge to tear the flower to shreds, destroy it before it could destroy everything they had. 

“It’s not like that,” Steve insisted stubbornly, finally looking up at Eddie with fiery eyes. He went to keep going but the determination disappeared and an odd expression overtook Steve’s features. He braced himself against the door frame, bringing one hand up to his mouth as another bout of coughing overtook him. 

Eddie watched Steve struggle, losing any of the merciless rage that had been rushing through his veins as he watched the love of his life attempt to take a breath. When Steve slid slowly to the floor, Eddie was there, kneeling beside him with a soft hand on his shoulder. 

“What can I do? Do you need me to call someone? You need a hospital, don’t you? This is serious, and you can’t breathe. Should I start doing CPR or the Heimlich or-” Eddie cut himself off with a jolt, biting his tongue to stop any more panicked rambles from escaping. 

He was spending way too much time around Robin. 

Steve shook his head, still coughing. Two more daisies tumbled out into his hand before he dragged a long breath in, letting his head tip back and hit against the jamb. 

“I took my meds,” Steve whispered, his voice ragged and painful sounding, “It’ll clear up. I just have to get out any ones that actually sprouted. It’s not dangerous, it just hurts.”

He said it so plainly, in such a Steve way. Like it didn’t matter at all that it hurt, or that it seemed pretty goddamn scary to choke on daisies on the regular. 

Despite everything that was happening, Eddie let out a soft little incredulous laugh, reaching over and kissing Steve’s forehead. It was probably a strange thing to do, all things considered, but Steve was smiling now, giving Eddie a starry eyed look that made it all inexplicably feel okay. 

“How long have you- why not just get the surgery?” Eddie asked, reaching out and grabbing the hand that wasn’t currently full of daisy blossoms, “It’s way safer-“

“No,” Steve said, soft, but firm. He carefully placed the blooms down next to them, toying with the petals before squeezing Eddie’s fingers and rubbing the column of his throat, his eyes far far away. “I won’t.”

Won’t. Not can’t. Steve would not do it, which meant whoever they were for mattered to him. Hanahaki surgery was one hundred percent- not only did it get rid of the flowers, but the emotions that had caused them in the first place. You never remembered the person who had made them grow. 

Eddie quickly ran through their friends, all of the people in Steve’s life. He could only think of one person who Steve could be in love with, one person who didn’t love him back. At least, not the way Steve probably wanted her to. 

“Nancy,” Eddie stated rather than asked, already knowing the answer. Steve still loving Nancy wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Nancy had made it clear that she didn’t love Steve like that, and they had both moved on. Maybe Steve could still love Eddie part of the way like this, maybe that could be enough. Having a bit of Steve’s heart was better than none at all. 

But Steve shook his head, still fiddling with the petals of his daisies. 

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Steve whispered, looking utterly miserable. He coughed half-heartedly, but no flowers emerged. When Steve was done he sighed, closing his eyes and worrying his lip the way he always did when he was trying to keep his emotions steady. 

Eddie was missing something. Something obvious. It should have been a big glaring neon sign right in front of him with the most basic answer in the world. But try as he might, he still couldn’t see who the daisies would be for if not Nancy. 

Who else could Steve love that didn’t love him back? 

He should stop asking. This wasn’t the time. His boyfriend was in pain in every way, and Steve didn’t need to be interrogated. They had all the time in the world, Eddie needed to just drop it. Steve would tell him, eventually. He always did. Getting secrets from Steve took a long time, but he always gave in at some point. Eddie just had to be patient, and kind, and everything Steve was so good at. 

“Then what’s it like?” Eddie asked anyway, his curiosity overtaking the selfless part of him that was cursing his own name. 

Steve contemplated his answer for a long time, spitting up another daisy before he finally began to speak. 

“When I was in third grade, our teacher had us raise caterpillars into butterflies to teach us about life cycles. Did you ever do that?”

“No,” Eddie immediately replied, confused and slightly irritated by the sudden change of path. What did butterflies have to do with Steve’s love life? 

“We should do it together. It was fun,” Steve said, a wistful little smile on his face as he stared out in the distance, “Everyone got their own glass jar with twigs and leaves and all that, and one little green caterpillar. We could name them whatever we wanted, and Miss Katie would put their name on the jar so we would know who’s was who’s. I named mine Beatrix after the woman who wrote my favorite story.” 

None of this mattered. Was Steve trying to distract him? It wasn’t usually the way he did things, but Eddie had also never expected he was hiding something like this. 

“Wh-“

“Eventually she became a butterfly,” Steve continued, steamrolling past Eddie’s attempt at asking what the hell was going on. He was speaking, and he wouldn’t let himself be interrupted. Eddie settled back, trying to hide how annoyed he was. 

“Beatrix was a monarch. She was so pretty, Eddie, I wanted to keep her forever. But Miss Katie said we had to let them go, or they would die. So we all brought our jars home, to let them free with our parents.” Steve was forced to stop here, another vicious round of choking producing three daisies, all bloodied. He placed them in a row with the other three, all six staring up accusingly at Eddie, like he was the reason they had appeared. 

But he wasn’t. That was the whole problem. 

“I knew exactly what I was going to do. There was this patch of daisies at the end of our garden. My mom had planted them when she and my dad first got married, and they were her favorite flowers. I thought she would like to let Beatrix live there, so we could see her till she flew away.” Steve explained. 

Eddie had seen the daisies before. The garden itself was mostly gone by now, just empty plots of dirt with chicken wire around them, but the daisies were still there. They had lasted almost till November, pretty drops of white that stubbornly bloomed for as long as they could. 

They looked just like the flowers Steve was coughing up. 

A dark pit started to form in Eddie’s stomach as he took in the implications, the dots beginning to form a macabre picture that made him wish he had listened to his better instincts before. He shouldn’t have asked, he shouldn’t have pressed, Steve should have told him this story when he was ready. 

But…maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe Steve would have carried this alone forever. 

“When I got home my parents were already gone. They had something they had to do, I can’t even remember what it was. The sitter was supposed to get there in an hour, but I was by myself. Just me and my butterfly,” Steve cut himself off with a single laugh that sounded more like a gasped out sob, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is so stupid.”

“No,” Eddie said firmly, holding Steve’s hand in a death grip, reaching out and taking the other one too just for good measure, pulling it away from his face so he couldn’t hurt himself, “it isn’t.” 

Steve gave him a millisecond long smile, instantly going back to the somber mask he was wearing before. 

“I wasn’t supposed to play outside if my parents weren’t home, but why should I listen? They weren’t here. They left again. My mom left again. She never used to leave before that year, but it felt like all she did was leave then. I went outside and over to the daisies, and I sat in front of them, just… just wanting my mama. Wanting her to come back, wanting her here with me, wanting her to love the daisies again like she used to,” Steve said, ducking his head down and lowering his voice till it was almost nothing. 

They both knew he didn’t just mean the daisies, but neither mentioned it. 

“I can still remember it, the first one. I thought I just had to cry, but couldn’t for some reason. Then I realized I already was crying, and there was still that feeling. The one you get when your throat closes, and you can’t breathe because there’s something blocking it up,” Steve untangled from Eddie, reaching up to his throat again. 

Eddie had seen him do it a thousand times. He had thought it was related to the bats, some phantom feeling of a tail still wrapped around his neck trying to strangle him. Even given a million years, Eddie never would have gotten to the truth. 

“I coughed up a flower. A daisy. It looked just like the ones right in front of me. I thought I was dreaming, but then I couldn’t stop coughing. I woke up by myself in the hospital,” Steve said, finishing his story with a whisper and a bitter little smile. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, trailing off. He had no idea what to say, how to try and help. He needed to help, needed to do something, but what could Eddie do in the face of over a decade of knowing his love for his mother was unrequited? 

“I love you,” Steve said, still reassuring Eddie, because that was who he was. He cared about everyone so much more than he cared about himself, even when they didn’t deserve it. “These don’t- they’re-“

“I understand,” Eddie replied, cutting Steve off as he reached over and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. Steve went easily, tucking himself against Eddie’s chest as he shook with another round of coughs. “Well I don’t know if I could ever understand, but I love you, and I’m here.” 

The coughs subsided, but Steve’s shoulders continued to shake. Eddie hugged him impossibly closer, laying his cheek on the top of Steve’s head and closing his eyes to block out the image of the daisies. 

“I love you. I love you, and I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

[theladycarpathia]

@hellcheeranniversaryweek

Day three - Hanahaki Chrissy’s with the wrong person. It’s killing her more than she realizes. 

The wet clump of daffodil petals almost chokes Chrissy as she gags over the toilet bowl. She coughs and coughs until she feels the mass begin to clear and she can spit out the remains of the yellow petals. 

That’s not good. Last time they were red chrysanthemums. If the petals are growing and changing, it means the affliction is getting worse. 

She slumps back against the bath, taking deep steady breaths. She never took breathing for granted before but it’s becoming more of a luxury these days. It’s getting hard to hide too - she’d been in class the other day when she’d felt another clump beginning to gather in her throat. She’d begged to visit the restroom and had only just made it in time to vomit blood-red petals down the sink. 

There’s a furious pounding at the door and Chrissy starts, grabbing desperately for the pull-chain. The toilet sends the petals vanishing down the drain in a whirlpool of water just in time as Andrew pushes in. 

“You’re supposed to knock!” Chrissy says furiously. Her mother had disabled the chain on the door a long time ago, under the guise of fearing that one of her children would get stuck in there. Chrissy had been old enough at thirteen to see through it for what it really was. 

Andrew stares at her, still slumped on the floor, with something like concern creasing his features. “Are you okay?” he asks hesitantly, whatever indignation he’d previously held lost. 

“Fine,” Chrissy says, rubbing at her face. She must be a hideous sight - pale and sweaty, the faint sheen of the recently sick. “I think something disagreed with me. Don’t eat meat from the cafeteria when you get to high school, okay?”

“Okay.” Andrews says and then offers her a hand up. She takes it, unsteadily getting to her feet. She knows from past experience that she needs to go lie down and drink nothing but water for a few hours. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Andrew asks, flicking his eyes over her. Chrissy tries to smile and hopes that she doesn’t have a petal stuck in her teeth. 

“Fine,” she lies and she can feel his eyes following her all the way down the corridor. 

She collapses onto her bed, after kicking her door shut. It also doesn’t lock - Laura doesn’t believe much in privacy in the same way she doesn’t believe in calories - but at least she has a door. 

She presses her face into the coolness of her pillow and breathes. She has homework and chores and she can’t do any of it right now. Her throat hurts, rubbed raw by thick petals and the occasional thorn and her chest aches from the heaving. She won’t be able to eat this evening but maybe that’s best. She feels as though Laura scrutinizes every bite, like she can see each one turning Chrissy into an unshapely, imperfect daughter. 

She fails at everything. Daughter. Sister. Girlfriend. 

She and Jason have been together since middle school. She doesn’t know how to be anything other than Jason Carver’s girlfriend. That’s all she’s known, and if she’d been anyone else, it would have been like fate and destiny laid out her life in front of her, each perfect step following the last. 

But she’s not perfect. The constant effort of trying to be was choking her. So she’d decided to do something about it. 

She hadn’t known. She’d gone to the woods at the back of the high school after practice and there he was. Eddie Munson. 

The next day she’d woken up to find a single petal on her pillow. That had been two months ago and each day, she spits up more and more. Every time she sees him - passing in the hall, sitting with Hellfire club in the cafeteria, when he waves at her during class - she feels another clump beginning to grow in her throat. 

Eddie Munson isn’t meant to be her destiny. Unfortunately, her heart says differently. 

There’s a sudden knock at the door and Chrissy jolts upright, heart pounding. “Come in!” she calls and Andrew pushes in.

“I made you some tea,” he says, holding out one of their mother’s delicate rose pattern cups. Chrissy takes it, fingers trembling. She must have looked awful for Andrew to do something like this. 

“Thank you,” she says and takes a sip, even though she knows that the liquid will scald her sore throat all the way down. 

It’s a recurring problem of her’s, proving to be a fatal flaw. She’ll put someone else’s feelings ahead of her own wellbeing. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Andrew asks, almost hesitant to leave. Chrissy swallows and tries to not wince at the pain.

“I’m okay,” she says, the lie as bitter as the tea. “I think I’ll just skip dinner and go to bed early. I’ll be alright tomorrow.”

But she knows that she won’t. There’s only two ways out of this. But if the love isn’t reciprocated, it will only kill her faster. She’s not sure if that will be kinder, the petals choking her before everyone knows the truth. 

She’s with the wrong person and it’s going to kill her.

I'm gonna go ahead and add this to 'never ending list of fics I mean to write'

Red Chrysanthemums - unrelenting love Daffodils - unrequited love

[mc-i-r]

Asphodel by @chrystalmethchristian

AO3 Art 1 (twitter)

A/N: I got to work with the lovely @chrystalmethchristian and @disjointed-art on the steddie big bang 2023! This was such a fun experience to have and I'm a little sad it's over but I'm so happy with how it came out! Please check out the amazing author and artist for this piece!!

Edit: I forgot tags I'm so sorry-

@small-teacup @estrellami-1 @merricatty @bookworm0690

[queers-gambit]

Hanahaki Disease collection masterlist

Japanese folklore ― fictional disease where the infected coughs up flower petals when suffering from one-sided love; ends one of three ways:

-> one: when the Desired returns feelings for the Infected. happy ending. -> two: when the Infected endures an operation to clear the flowers but in turn, forgets the Desired entirely. -> three: when the flowers prove fatal.

featuring: Eddie Munson, Felix Catton

total collection parts: 4

note: there are thousands of ways to write HD, these are just my variations. if you have you own idea in the form of a request, i am frothing at the mouth to hear it!

status: active and open

requests OPEN

universal warnings: requires maturity and caution. cursing, angst, unrequited love, depiction of physical illness, medical phenomenon, blood, borderline self destruction, Lord's name in vain, AU timelines, "best friends" trope. only Saltburn spoilers.

Eddie Munson

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

when Eddie tells his best friend he wants to ask Chrissy Cunningham to prom, she begins to cough out flower petals.

word count: 8.8k

🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 🎭 drama 🥰 romance 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon

read here

Tears in the Rain

feelings are confessed and a decision is made; only thing left to do is heal and be okay.

word count: 8.4K

🙊 general language and content warnings 🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt, s o m e comfort 💔 angst 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon 💛 proceed with maturity and caution

read here

Gone with the Sin

he loves another, and your fate is sealed.

word count: 8.9k

🙊 general language and content warnings 🎭 drama 🥺 hurt 🚫 NO comfort 💔 angst ☠️ character death 💛 proceed with maturity and caution

read here

Felix Catton

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

Midsummer Night(mare)'s Dream

when Oliver's obsession reaches new heights, you fear Felix might return the affection - resulting in bloody flower petals suffocating you.

word count: 12.9k+

🍒 author's favorite 🤮 depiction of physical illness 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon 🩸 depiction of blood / injury 🫠 depiction of self-destruction ⏳ alternate timeline ✝️ Lord's name in vain 🥂 alcohol consumption 🚬 brief illicit material use 🥊 brief depiction of physical aggression 🙊 general language and content warning 💔 angst 🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort ⚠️ spoilers ♻️ "friends to 'strangers' to lovers" kinda 🧂 Fix It Felix 👯‍♀️ "best friends" trope 🐍 dead parents / family angst 💛 requires maturity and caution

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 31 - Speaking Saturday: "I'm not going to beg you to love me."

i’m challenging myself to keep all these at either 127 or 1,270 words each, see day one for more of an explanation!

“You can’t keep going on like this, Eddie! You’re gonna die, you’ve gotta find them, tell them!”

Eddie hacks another horrible cough. Three petals fall into his hand this time. “Uh huh.”

The cough started not long after Eddie’d been deemed fully recovered and fully cleared of all wrongdoing in the spring break murders.

It started light at first, Eddie brushing it off as getting used to smoking again, but it’d just gotten worse.

After a good couple weeks of solid cough, Steve finally saw a petal.

All Eddie’s attempts at squirreling them away successful until that moment.

Eddie had contracted Hanahaki. Love blossoms, Death thorns.

And he’d staunchly refused any conversation about confessing to whoever it was he was stuck on, who he was literally dying over.

"Why are you being such an idiot about this?!”

“I’m being realistic, Steve.” Every breath sounds like it’s going through a cheese grater.

“Realis– Eddie. You. Are. Going. To. Die.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

That finally seems to set him off, “Of course I’m not! I’m fucking pissed that this is my lot in life. I survived the bats, the infections, the goddamn people of this town, and now it’s my stupid, lovesick heart that does me in?? I’m livid!”

Eddie hacks another cough, folding up on the bed with the force of them. A pile of ten blood-spattered petals sit on his lap by the end of his fit.

“So why not try?” Steve asks when Eddie’s breathing levels back out to its new normal level of wheezing. “If you’re already resigned yourself to dying, what’s the harm in telling them?”

Eddie studies him, his dark eyes are bloodshot, watering still from the coughs, then closes his eyes and shakes his head yet again.

“Damn it, Eddie.” Steve drops his head into his palms, “Do you think this is fun for us? Watching you wither away like this?” He picks his head back up, “Do you think Wayne is enjoying knowing that he got you back from the dead once only for you to turn around and walk back towards it?”

“I’m not going to do it, Steve, so stop.”

“No, this is asinine and you know it, Munson!”

Eddie’s face twists up in anger, “I’m not going to beg you to love me!”

Every fiber of Steve’s being freezes in place. His heart stops, his feet are made of ice.

Then, his head, blissfully quiet for only a moment, swirls back into a frenzy.

What?! Me?! I’m the one causing thi—

“I want you to leave.” Eddie’s whisper cuts his thoughts short.

“Huh?”

“Leave.”

“Eddie, no, wait, just let me–”

“Go, Steve!”

Steve’s legs pick him up in an instant. “Eddie, I—”

“I said leave, Harrington! Get the fuck out of my hou—” a fit of coughs breaks into his speech, and this time, Eddie reaches for the bucket, spewing his meager breakfast and bile into the bottom along with at least ten more petals. A final heave, and a whole rose makes an appearance.

Once done, he spits a couple times, then without looking up, says, “Go. Now.”

So he does. 

He walks down the hall and to the front door in a daze, his thoughts swirling.

Eddie’s in love with him?

He– Him?? Steve Harrington? He’s like, the complete opposite of what Eddie should be into. 

He’s driving now, not sure where he’s going.

But why? Why him? How is Steve supposed to help him??

That’s why he didn’t want to tell you, dipshit.

Of course.

The car pulls into Robin’s driveway.

What is he supposed to do now? He’s got to save Eddie’s life somehow, right?

“Dingus, what are you doing here?”

“I’m why Eddie’s dying.”

Robin’s expression shifts, she pulls him into the house and up the stairs to her room.

Steve sinks down onto the edge of her mattress. “Robin, Eddie’s in love with me. I’m his Hanahaki.”

“I know, I know,” She says, patting his back, “He told me.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do, Steve. Not unless you suddenly have a whole new preference in partners.”

Steve sits with that a moment. Did he? Eddie’s a good-looking guy, sure, that’s just objective. But…. he thinks about kissing Eddie, how his lips would feel against his, about the times he’d seen him naked while helping him recover, about how he’d feel against him..

Nothing.

Steve doesn’t want to kiss Eddie. Doesn’t want to do anything more with the imagined naked man in his head other than find him some clothes after helping get him clean and changing his bandages. 

He loves the guy, sure, but it’s only maybe more than how much he loves Jonathan. Meaning he’s on the Steve Scale of Caring just under all the shitheads.

“No. I don’t.”

Robin heaves a sigh, “Yeah, figured as much. What’d Eddie say when you told him?”

“..Told him what?”

“That you don’t feel that way about him.”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

Steve shrugs.

“You didn’t tell him you don’t have feelings for him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t let me.” He tells Robin what Eddie said, about throwing up and demanding he leave right after.

“What? What’s with the face?” “We have to get back to Eddie’s.” Robin shoots up, grabbing her back and pulling on some socks.

Steve follows, “What? What do you mean?”

“How many did he throw up? How many petals?”

“Uh, I dunno, ten maybe? A whole flower came out at the end.”

Robin’s eyes go wide, “Oh no.”

A rock sinks heavily into Steve’s stomach, “What’s “Oh no.”?”

“Let’s go!!”

She pulls him down the steps and back out the door, barely managing to pull her shoes on.

“Gotta hurry! We've got to get back to Forest Hills!”

So he steps on it, not quite sure what the huge rush is, but Robin’s expression tells him it’s serious.

“What is happening, Rob, why am I hurrying?” He asks desperately, screeching around the last corner.

“You rejected him, It’s going to take hold even faster now!”

Steve feels like throwing up, he presses his foot down even harder.

“I didn’t though. I didn’t say anything!”

“I don’t think it matters,” Robin says, flinging open the passenger door.

Steve follows, hopping up the porch steps and through the back door just behind her.

Her gasp doesn’t bode well. “Oh no.”

He pushes past her, into Eddie’s room. 

“Holy shit… Eddie!”

Eddie’s curled up on his side facing them in the door, paler than even an hour ago, chest barely moving.

There’s thick thorny vines snaking out of his face. two out his mouth, one out his right nostril, all three covered in beautiful, bloody white roses. 

The blooms do their best to cover his face, but his scrunched brow can still be seen.

“Eddie..” Steve whispers, reaching for his cheek.

He doesn’t touch him however, Robin’s voice startling him from down the hall, “Hello? Yes, Hi, I need an ambulance please, it’s thorns!”

Steve doesn’t know what to do.

He wants to yank the stems out, he wants to pick Eddie up and run him to the hospital himself.. But he’s frozen. 

All he can do is stare down at the slowly decreasing rate of movement of Eddie’s chest, and listen as the sirens get closer.

—

He’s in a coma. 

The beeping has been sounding in Steve’s head for weeks now, sat at Eddie’s bedside.

The vines are gone, held back by medication, but it’s only prolonging the inevitable.

“I hate you.” Steve lies.

The scratching in his throat is getting stronger.

🙃🙃🙃🙃

this is it!! the last day of Angsty August!! i can't believe i've posted something for every single day this month, holy shit

i'd say i'm not going to do this ever again, but i want to write something for every day in @steddie-spooktober so i'll see y'all then 😅

see the collection on tumblr | on AO3!

[steddieunderdogfics]

Breathing Black Dahlias by Mystirium_Inc

Breathing Black Dahlias by Mystirium_Inc

@mystiriuminc

Rating: Explicit

73,478 words, 21/21 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator chose not to use

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Sickfic, Eventual Happy Ending, Upside Down Disease, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, No Beta We Die Like My Faith in the Duffer Bros, Taking Canon Out Back And Pulling An Old Yeller, Internalized Homophobia, Bisexual Disaster Steve Harrington, Masturbation, Smut, Coming Out, Marijuana, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fanart, Love Confessions, Everyone Needs Therapy, Virgin Eddie Munson, Consent, Found Family, Upside Down Lore, Dirty Talk, Snark, Horny Dorks In Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub Undertones

Summary:

Sometimes it takes a coughing plague of black flower petals to realize you're in love with the nerdy metalhead you fought alongside at the end of the world. There's no way Eddie loves him back, right? (a.k.a Steve needs to learn that he's deserving of love) - Hanahaki Disease but make it Upside Down -

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

[acowardinmordor]

I'm never going to write it, so here, enjoy some suffering as I combine multiple fics and tropes into a bouillabaisse of angst.

----

Eddie isn't quite dead when Steve, Robin and Nancy get back to them. Since the gates are starting to weaken, it's a mad rush to get everyone through. Steve gets Nancy and Dustin through so they can at least sort of help catch Eddie -- who is entirely unconscious and lacking a lot of blood. The gate is narrowing, the Upside Down is trembling, and Steve doesn't ask, just hefts Robin up and gets her through.

She makes it, but by the time she lands and looks up to yell for him to haul ass, everyone can tell that Steve won't make it through. The gate is too narrow and they don't know, they won't risk finding out what happens if the gate closes on him.

It's closing with exponential decay, so the slow creep it started with becomes a rush, and he yells for them to get to the damn hospital.

Then he's gone.

And look, they're furious and horrified and yes, they want to go after him right this second, but Eddie is dying and Dustin's leg is broken, and they don't even know if Max is okay. Besides, its not like they know how to open a gate.

It's a few days before Team Cali gets to Hawkins, and everyone, including Max in three casts begs El to open a gate.

And she can't. Something about how Henry died, something about the hivemind and the interconnection to the whole world. She knows it's still there, but she can't reach it. She can't find Steve either.

So a few days becomes a week, and Will won't answer questions, because he knows what its like to be alone there, and telling the others when there's no hope of rescue is cruel.

Then Eddie wakes up, coherent for the first time after the infection and the fever and the pain meds. They tell him, and they try to prevent the survivor's guilt - which was already awful - from destroying him. Robin gets it. She was the last through. Steve could have gone first and left her there, but they both know he never would.

They bond over it in the next few weeks as he recovers and leaves the hospital with a few hundred stitches.

After a month, they hold a small memorial, even though they haven't reported it. Without a body, it would take more paperwork than any of them can bear to complete.

The G-men took the Munson trailer, so he, Robin and Wayne are at Harrington's place for now. And if Eddie snoops a little when the others are at work, learning more about this idiot that died instead of him, its understandable.

The way he has all the scraps of his relationship with Nancy, dwarfed by the notes and dumb gifts and mementos of the gremlins. The enormous first aid kit, right next to the enormous supply of hair spray. The box of things from before '83, shoved in a corner, but not forgotten. Post its with important dates. A bank statement showing that his parents left him the house, but no money to cover upkeep or taxes. A scratchy budget where Steve so obviously prioritized his friends over himself.

Eddie learns about Steve Harrington and wishes he could trade places. Eddie is selfish and an asshole and a failure, and he isn't worth what it cost to save his life.

No matter what Robin says about being last through, Eddie knows it must have taken longer to move him, so if it wasn't for Eddie, Steve would have made it. If Eddie had died instead of clinging to life --

When Eddie develops a cough, everyone winces in sympathy as his still achy wounds protest the movement. When his cough gets worse, they consider contacting Owens about Upside Down pathogens.

When he has a coughing fit while the others are out, and ends up with a few blood stained petals in his hand, it takes a few seconds for him to understand.

It takes a few more for it to really land.

He spends the next hour over the toilet, first vomiting, then dry heaving as he sobs.

Because see, Hanahaki might be rare and a remnant of ancient magics, but it's well studied. The sufferer has to be in love and pining. They have to have no hope of the person they love ever reciprocating.

It isn't always fatal. If they confess, and they're rejected, they'll die within a day. If they confess, and it's reciprocated, the flowers fade within a day. If they fall out of love, the flowers fade within a week. If they stay silent they'll live another month from the first petals.

There is a surgery that can remove the affliction and the affection. It's safe, it's a priority treatment in every hospital, and the only side effect is emotional disconnection from the person who caused it.

But none of that is what has Eddie sobbing.

Cause see there's another thing that science knows for sure. Hanahaki will not, does not, absolutely cannot bloom if the person they love is dead.

[munsonburn3r]

Ahhh thank you so much for the reblog! I definitely have some jabs planned for this mini series. Chapter one is nearly done!

Oh, Camellia, won't you take me away? - A Hanahaki!Eddie Munson story (sneak peek!)

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson had been a constant during your short time in hawkins, indiana, which made it that much harder when you had to leave. four years and a clinical trial later, you'd thought you'd conquered an otherwise fatal disease. what you weren't expecting, though, was the man that nearly killed you to walk back into your life, threatening to undo all of the progress you'd made towards healing - both physically and emotionally.

cw: hanahaki!au, angst, descriptions of light gore, childhood trauma, sexual themes and content

a/n: here is a snippet from the hanahaki eddie fic that has been bouncing around in my brain over the past week. feedback welcomed!

Water flowed out across the floor in a surge that mimicked crashing ocean waves. You cursed as you scrambled to right the plastic Procona and liquid sloshed awkwardly, lapping at your fingertips. It was a surprising amount from a relatively small bucket. 

“Everything alright out there?” called a gruff voice from the back office. 

You sighed. “Just fine, Bill! Minor spill. Nothing major.”

A muffled grumble could be heard from the owner’s space behind you, but you paid it no mind. It only took a few steps for you to grab the mop and start cleaning up the water all over the workspace floor, and to your relief, it really wasn’t as much as it seemed. 

The nearly four years you’d spent at Indiana Floral Company had seemed to fly by in a blink of an eye. You weren’t expecting an on the spot interview when you’d first stopped into the shop, but the owner Bill had been impressed at your willingness to learn and your natural eye for design and hired you immediately. Probationary, of course. 

So under Bill’s tutelage, your floral design skills blossomed. The basic knowledge of plants you’d brought from years of spending time gardening with your Grandma grew. You went from simply identifying lilies to knowing the difference between Asiatic and Oriental and their best growing seasons. You could identify roses based on subtle color differences and had learned how to take the most tightly closed bud and blow it open with a little humidity, a plastic bag, and very careful preening. And though you didn’t like to brag, you could match corsage ribbon to prom dresses better than anyone in town. 

As time wore on, Bill had shared that years of design had wrecked his body and that it was time to begin passing the torch. Since Indiana Floral Company was one of the top floral design studios in town, the responsibility embedded in passing said torch was sobering. But after a year and a half of earning your stripes, you landed a head designer role and began training to take over the small family business.

Humming a nondescript tune, you refilled the earlier bucket with water and flower food before chopping the ends off of a bunch of de-thorned roses with the guillotine-like stem cutter. A clunk thrummed out when you dropped the two dozen stems into the water. Each blossom peered at you with a center like a curled eye — delicate sandy cream — perfect for the event you were designing later this weekend. 

A ring of the bells on the front door broke your focus. You wiped your hands on the rag shoved haphazardly into your apron and turned at the sudden sound of Bill’s voice. 

“The 1:30 initial wedding consult must be early. You mind taking this one, kid?” His head peeked around the office door. “I started the file – it’s on the cash wrap.” He looked tired; the man should have retired two years ago. 

With a slight smile, you nodded. “Got it.”

It was impossible to see who had entered due to the amount of plants, gift items, and displays you’d designed around the small space (“customers shop with their eyes first, kid; you gotta draw them in before you let them see the price tag” Bill had said). But as soon as you rounded the front display, your stomach dropped clear out of your body and onto the floor. 

Maybe it was the habitual need to weave around the labyrinth of flora and gifts that had lowered your defenses. Or perhaps it was the fact that this was a typical boring Wednesday afternoon in April. Hell, it could have been the questionable sandwich you had for lunch that you found at the back of the minifridge. 

But one thing was clear: you hadn’t expected to see Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham hand in hand looking around at the array of merchandise you’d set out in preparation for Mother’s Day. 

“Hi!” A saccharine voice matched the sickeningly sweet smile on the strawberry blonde in front of you. “We’re here for a wedding consultation at 1:30. Sorry we’re a bit early — we didn’t want to be late!”

Time stood still. Or maybe that was just you — frozen as you stared the couple down with a look of surprise plastered across your features. You didn’t think you could move (or even speak, for that matter).

However, for the first time in almost four years, you felt your chest tighten and a sharp prickling sensation snake up your windpipe. You licked your dry lips (hadn’t you just put on chapstick?) and attempted to swallow with no success. Instead, your throat constricted, and there it was: an involuntary, yet ever so familiar metallic cough.

image credit: pinterest dividers: @saradika-graphics

tagging some moots that might be interested: @chickpeadumpsterfire @voyeurmunson @joshlmbrt @mediocredreams @littlexdeaths @anamelessfool

[disjointed-art]

I couldn’t take it anymore! I had to finally post it!!

Catch my breath epilogue: breath of fresh air

They did it! They survived death twice and are moving into their future together!

Official preorder date for the printed book is April 20th!!! I’m still working on the bundle extras but I can share the date I’m planning on finally!!! Couldn’t yesterday because it’s not a joke lol

[atimeofyourlife]

Whumptober day 4

rated:t | wc: 506 | prompt: Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?” |cw: minor emetophobia Steve has Hanahaki AU

Steve tried to keep quiet as he coughed over the toilet, bringing up mouthful after mouthful of bloodstained petals. He didn't want anyone else to hear or to know that he was struck by hanahaki. It had steadily been getting worse over a couple of weeks, and Steve knew he didn't have much longer before he would have to make the decision on the surgery. But he didn't know how to go about any of it without making anyone, especially Eddie, feel guilty.

A hacking cough forced it's way out of his chest accompanied by his first whole flower, a partially open black rose.

"Steve, are you in there?" He heard Robin call after a knock on the door. "You've been a while, everyone's getting worried."

"I'm fine, Rob-" He started but got cut off as he started coughing up even more petals.

"Please let me in. I need to know that you're okay?"

Steve leaned over to unlock the door, then had to throw himself back towards the toilet as the next round of petals made their appearance.

"Oh, Steve." Robin said as she took in what she could see.

"Lock it." Steve mumbled between coughs.

Robin did as asked before kneeling behind Steve to rub his back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Robin asked after Steve's coughing had slowed down.

"Didn't want anyone to worry." Steve admitted.

"Steve, we love you. Of course we're going to worry about you. Some of those kids were practically climbing the walls once they realized how long you'd been gone. They all wanted to come and see if you were okay. I didn't think you'd want them to see you if you were unwell so I convinced them to let me check."

"Thanks." Steve replied, leaning against Robin's shoulder.

"Do you know who it is?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Is it Nancy? Because I know she's still kinda with Jonathan, but I'm sure-"

"No. It's not Nance. I. It's Eddie." Steve said quietly, knowing it wasn't just him admitting having hanahaki, but also him coming out to Robin.

"Oh. Have- have you thought about telling him?"

"No. I, uh. I asked him out a few weeks ago. He turned me down, said he only saw me as a friend. It started after that. I don't want him to feel guilty or like he has to try to love me or that he has to be the one who saves me. It's not his fault." Steve explained, hating how it made him feel unlovable.

"What are you going to do?"

"I think I'm going to have to get the surgery. When you knocked on the door, I coughed up my first whole flower. So I know it's getting worse."

"Do you-" Robin started, but was cut off by another knock on the door.

"Steve, you in there?" Eddie's voice came through.

"He's sick, can you get everyone home?" Robin replied as Steve lurched back over the toilet, violently coughing up even more petals and blood.

all my whumptober fills

[arimakes]

Fill My Lungs With Sweetness

Chapter Three: I Wants To Stay Here

Post-Apocalypse Hanahaki | Steddie | E

Read from the beginning

[prettyboisteveharrington]

I want to see a Hanahaki au where Steve gets the decease and he instantly knows that it’s Eddie. Because it’s EDDIE. The guy is all big doe eyes and Steve want- he WANTS but he knows that he can’t have it. He doesn’t want to burden Eddie or anyone with it so he Hides it well for quite a while until one day he coughs up a flower so big it’s unavoidable and Dustin knows about the decease is but doesn’t know it’s Eddie .

Everyone thinks it’s Nancy and gets frustrated with Steve for not just confessing except Eddie who starts acting off. Just totally weird at least for Eddie because he’s pining hard for Steve at this point but Steve is dying because he loves someone else and Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that.

[corrodedbisexual]

Love blooms, love hurts, love prevails

Steddie | M | angst (but the bittersweet kind) with a happy ending | ~5.5k

AO3 link

The flower sickness is ruthless; its seeds grow on love, and if love is locked away in secret, inside the cage of one's heart, nowhere to go, it will eventually kill its host. When Eddie starts coughing up blooms for Steve, he has no choice but to confess his feelings. He never expected his straight friend to reciprocate; but at least his worst fears don't come true, Steve still seems happy to have him around. And, with his feelings out in the open, Eddie's no longer at risk of choking to death on another flower, so there's that to be thankful for. After overcoming some initial awkwardness, Eddie finds joy in whatever closeness he can have, in Steve just letting him love him in small, seemingly insignificant ways. Their friendship grows, eventually blurring the edges between platonic love and something more.

So, uh. I read this post about hanahaki with a twist and immediately became obsessed. I mean. OBSESSED. Huge thanks to OP @lovedumbandbroke for this inspo. I am kissing their brain.

@sidekick-hero thanks for the encouragement my dear! 🧡

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

"Son, you can't go on like this."

Eddie's uncle sits next to him on his bed, rubbing his back gently as Eddie still wheezes, struggles to get his breathing back to normal. A giant, fist-size peony blossom lies on the floor in front of him, looking pretty and innocent, as if it hasn't just nearly choked him to death. 

“Whoever it is," Wayne insists. "You gotta tell him. I know it’s scary.” 

“Terrifying,” Eddie croaks, wincing. Using his vocal chords right after another… incident, always feels like sandpaper on the inside of his throat. 

“I know, buddy. Look,” Wayne pulls on his shoulder, makes him look up. “What’s the worst thing you think will happen? Can he hurt you?”

“No.” Eddie shakes his head, confident. At least there’s one thing he’s sure about. “No, he wouldn’t. I think…” He takes a breath that’s suddenly a little too deep for his lungs, and he coughs again; thankfully, no petals come out this time. He takes another careful sip of water from the glass his uncle brought. “I think he just wouldn’t wanna be around me anymore. And that would really, really suck.”

They sit in silence for a moment. 

“Promise me you’ll do something about this, Eddie,” Wayne finally asks. “I just… I can’t keep wondering if you’re gonna make it through the night.” 

Eddie lets out a sigh, is grateful for the lack of coughing to accompany it, despite the burning in his chest.

“Yeah. Okay. I will.” He nods, determined. “I’ll tell him. Tomorrow. M’sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s my job to worry.” Wayne squeezes his shoulder once more before standing up. “I’m gonna make some mint tea, should be good for your throat.”

When his uncle leaves the room, Eddie picks up the flower, absentmindedly starts tearing the petals off of it, one by one. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, his brain stupidly supplies, and oh no, he’s not doing that. He throws the tattered remains of the flower across the room, experiencing mild satisfaction when it lands right inside the trashcan. 

Eddie flops back on the mattress with a frustrated groan. Fuck, he was so careful. His whole teenage life, he stayed far away from all the straight pretty boys, precisely for this reason. They were dangerous. Getting close to anyone that way was dangerous, he knew he had the seeds of the disease in him; his mother died from it, too scared of his father to do something about the feelings she had for another person. 

And just as he was almost safe, has almost graduated, almost out of Hawkins and on his way to Indianapolis or Chicago or any other place he had a real shot of meeting someone he could be with… Steve goddamn Harrington had to barge into his life, literally save him from the brink of death, and then stick around, god knows why, maybe just to torture Eddie with his stupid doe eyes and sunshine smiles. 

The rest on AO3