#and if vecna’s still floating around or whatever

[litrallytyrus]

me thinking byler still has a chance in season 5 ….. yah i’m already putting on the clown makeup dw

[steddieasitgoes]

Eddie, who, as a child, struggled with making decisions, so Wayne gifted him a Magic 8 ball that he could turn to for guidance. Eddie spends most of his childhood carrying around the Magic 8 Ball, using it to decide between mac and cheese (ask again later) or chicken strips (signs point to yes) at lunch or whether he should go talk to the new kid Gareth (without a doubt). 

Eddie slowly starts to make his own decisions but keeps onto the Magic 8 Ball for important, life-changing questions. He asks if he should drop out of school after failing his first senior year (my reply is no) and then again if he should repeat said senior year (it is decidedly so). He even asks if he should start working for Reefer Rick (reply hazy, try again) -- it’s the one time he chose to ignore the ball’s advice. 

Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t have his Magic 8 Ball on him when the witch hunt starts. He wishes he could ask it if all this hiding and running is going to be worth it. But for once, Eddie has to rely on his own decisions. So he keeps going. Lets Dustin and his friends take him under their wing and protect him. Has to trust that Nancy’s plan is going to work and that Steve is going to make Vecna pay when he nods his head at his request. 

It’s hard trusting other people without having something to double check the universe’s whims on, but he has no choice. 

When he survives and gets sent to the hospital, the Magic 8 Ball is one of the first thing he asks Uncle Wayne to bring him from home. The first question he asks: was any of it real (without a doubt). Oh, how he wishes it was all a dream.

The second question he asks later when he’s all alone: will I get over my crush on Steve (very doubtful). Not pleased with the answer, Eddie pushes the Magic 8 Ball aside and rolls his eyes. What does it know anyway? 

As his recovery continues, Eddie comes to rely on his Magic 8 Ball less and less because he has a group of friends around him who are there to offer their guidance. The Magic 8 ball stays perched on the small hospital table though, always in reach if he needs it. 

He nearly tells Wayne to take it home one night, but he’s glad he doesn’t because in the morning he wakes to find Steve shaking the ball in his hands. 

“Didn’t strike you as a Magic 8 ball kind of guy, Harrington,” Eddie teases, voice thick with sleep and whatever drugs are still coursing through his body. 

“M’not usually, but I needed a little guidance with this question.” 

“Oh yeah? And what does the magic ball say?” 

“It just says yes.”

"Ah, the most definitive of Magic 8 Ball answers.” 

“So I should trust it then?” 

“That depends,” Eddie says, stretching out on the uncomfortable hospital bed. “What did you ask it?”

"I asked it if I could kiss you.” 

Without thinking, Eddie sits up and snatches the Magic 8 Ball from Steve’s hands. He ducks his head, closes his eyes, and mouths his question before violently shaking the Magic 8 Ball. 

It is certain.

“What did you ask it?” Steve asks, stepping closer to Eddie’s hospital bed.

“If you were being serious.” 

“And? What did it say?” 

Eddie turns the Magic 8 Ball so Steve can see the little triangle floating. When he looks up, he sees Steve barely containing the smile breaking out on his face. 

“Guess you better kiss me, Harrington,” Eddie teases. “Don’t want to upset the Magic 8 Ball gods.”

[lunartadpole]

Eddie learned about two months into dating him that Steve is an active sleeper.

He was always a bit hurt when Steve wouldn't stay the night at the trailer park; dreaded watching Steve's car drive away after a night in. At first, Eddie thought it was a hit and run situation, a one night stand that spans more than one night. And yeah, it makes sense; King Steve probably just wants a new way to get his dick wet, got tired of all the babes and such. Of course this thing they have - whatever that is - isn't serious. It makes sense and still, Eddie's hurt.

But then he starts noticing things. Like Steve's reluctance to leave but his refusal to fall asleep no matter how late it is. And it's not just with Eddie either. He's noticed that Steve always seems to clock out early at any overnight event their little group have - DnD nights in Wheelers basements, Dustin's sleepovers, hell, even Buckley's movie nights. Steve is always first to arrive and first to leave.

Eddie just can't figure out why.

He goes as far as to ask Robin. Because if anyone can give any insight into the mysterious life of Dethroned King Steve Harrington, it's Buckley. But even she has no idea. She says she hadn't even noticed.

He gets his answer a week later.

They're in Eddie's trailer. Steve drove around after his shift, they're lounging in his room, Steve sitting up again the headboard, Eddie practicing his guitar, and it's midnight, bordering on Steve's usual check out time. But Harrington's been complaining about a rough day at work - something about being swamped and Buckley ditching her shift for boobies, Munson! She ditched me for boobies - and Eddie can see his eyes fluttering and his head lolling before quickly shooting up again. Rinse and repeat. Until Steve finally begins to bustle up and leave.

Eddie begs him to stay, half because he wants him to and half because there's no way it's safe to drive home when you're two fleeting seconds away from dropping comatose. They argue back and forth, Steve typically reluctant and a bit…nervous? Scared? Eddie doesn't know. And it doesn't matter because he wears Steve down and soon enough Steve is wearing Eddie's pajamas and the two of them are cuddled up in bed together.

Using Steve as his own personal Teddy bear, Eddie sleeps soundly that night.

At least, until about three in the morning.

Ever since Vecna, Eddie hasn't been the heaviest of sleepers. So when he hears banging in the kitchen rattling through the thin membrane walls, he's upandatem pretty quickly, abruptly women up to the fact that his boyfriend isn't beside him in the bed anymore. Another bang comes from the kitchen.

Okay, he's panicking.

Armed with the old tire iron he keeps by his bed for just an occasion like this, Eddie creeps towards the kitchen, mind racing. Who the fuck is here? Did someone break in? Something? From another dimension? Images play in head like worn film, images of Chrissy Cunningham floating in his living room, the sound of her bones snapping eerily similar to the banging now.

What he is met with in the kitchen is nowhere near as scary, but ten times more weird.

Because Steve 'The Hair' Harrington is in the middle of his kitchen surrounded by what little pans and pots the Munson's own.

"Uhm…Stevie?" he calls, ever so softly. And then louder when he doesn't get a response. "Steve?"

Steve stands like a ghost in the shadows. Eddie can't help but stare at his face, so relaxed unlike anything he's ever seen before.

Then. He speaks.

"I swear I left it here…" Steve mumbles, to himself or maybe to the dark shadows surrounding. The words come out slow and monotone. Hushed, slurred together in a broken string of consciousness. It does nothing to ease Eddie's worry.

"Left what here?" he asks, looking around at the mess for some item of Steve's he might've lost. All the while Harington just stands there, dazed.

Then. "Flowers. Told Eddie I'd get him flowers."

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, pushing forward into his boyfriend's space and thoughtlessly cups his face in his hands, making him look at him. Steve's eyes are just barely open, and they're glazed over with this lost, far off look. He doesn't look at Eddie, rather through him.

And somehow, Eddie catches up, a scoff of disbelief leaving his lips. Who would've thought?

"Okay, alright sweetheart," the grin is prominent in his voice, dripping with fondness. "You're still asleep, huh?" Something inside him surges and he finds himself grazing his other hand faintly across Steve's forehead to brush his bed hair out of his face. His eyes are all the more clouded over in sweet nonsense as Eddie pushes his hair into something that doesn't resemble a sad brown mop.

"I can't…remember where…" Steve mumbles, trying to break free from Eddie's hold but ultimately failing. He lets his head drop against Eddie's neck.

"Okay, let's get you back to bed, alright?" Because that's what you're supposed to do with people who sleepwalk right? Never wake a sleepwalker, that's what they say isn't it? "Hold my hand, it's OK Stevie." Pressed up close against him, Eddie breathed in the smell of Farrah Faucet spray and citrus shampoo and led Steve back into his bedroom, hand in hand.

"How about you try to stay in bed now," he says, leading Steve as he leans against him, skin warm and citrus and weary against his own, feeling a little too much like something Eddie wants to keep holding onto.

"Got somewhere to be,"

"Not right now, cmon," Eddie gently eases Steve down onto the bed, and surprisingly, Steve lets him. Not long after, Eddie is beside him, holding onto him tight once more.

In the morning, Steve wakes up confused, like he's surprised he managed to stay in one spot all night, but doesn't mention anything about sleepwalking. He does ask Eddie, "Did you sleep well? I didn't wake you, did I?" and Eddie just kisses him, tells him, "Best sleep I've ever had. You should stay around more often."

And when Steve agrees, Eddie decides not to bring it up.

It happens a few more times after that. Not all the time but more often than not Steve will stay over Eddie will wake up to him wandering about the house. The majority of the time it's stupid stuff; Steve sluggishly pacing around the room, Steve mumbling sweet nonsense to himself, Steve trying to take a shower in the hallway. Pretty harmless stuff.

Except for the time it isn't.

That time, they're in Steve's house, big and empty. That time, Eddie wakes up at 4am and just barely catches sight of Steve's fleeting figure down the stairs. Like most times before, Eddie is quick to follow him down the stairs towards the living room, staring blankly out the window. A metallic glint flickers across Eddie's eyes. His eyes widen with concern when he realises it's a kitchen knife. Steve doesn't move, but he's breathing real heavy, like he's just waiting for something to happen.

"Steve, darling." He begins, hating how his voice is cracking. "Will you come back to bed? Please?"

This time, Steve shakes his head. Frantic. Paranoid. Eddie watches his grip on the knife tighten.

"Can't." Comes the raspy, hoarse reply. "The lights. It's out there. Swear I saw it. I swear-!"

Softly, Eddie shushes him before he can get more worked up. He stays put a good six feet away, entirely out of self preservation. Harrington's deadly with a weapon in his consciousness and Eddie wouldn't like to find out what he does in his sleep, thank you very much.

"Saw what, love?"

"I heard a thud. It's so cold."

Oh. Oh shit okay.

Eddie isn't unfamiliar with nightmares. God, after what he saw it'd be weird if he didn't have them. After Mike's apparently real psychic ex-girlfriend cut ties with The Upside Down, Eddie was a mess. He couldn't sleep, plagued with visions of terror bat's tearing away at his flesh bit by agonising bit. He can't count the number of times he called Steve in the late hours of the night in need of reassurance. To tell him that it is over now.

Steve was a rock for him. Eddie almost envied him, with how easily he managed to readjust back into normality. Never did it cross his mind it might've all been a facade.

"Steve," Eddie begins, firmly and unwavering. Slowly, he begins to etch more into Steve's space. "Listen to me. The gate is closed. Vecna and the rest of his little hell beasts are gone."

In front of him, Steve doesn't move. He doesn't even appear to have heard Eddie at all.

Eddie swallows, trying to push the thought that maybe, after so near death encounters, Steve's finally gone mad, come undone at the seams, and this is what his mental state has come too: armed with a scarily sharp knife, ready to fight any sudden movement.

"Do you think you could put down the knife, dear?" Eddie suggests lightly, gently touching the outside of his hand incase Steve needs some sort of anchor to come back to. Underneath the edges of his fingertips, Steve's touch is warm, his pulse comfortingly steady, and Eddie holds onto it, selfishly, a little longer than he should have, that tightness he is becoming so acquainted with returning to his chest. He then slips his hand further within Steve's own, carefully taking the knife from Steve's grip and interlocking their fingers as if it were the most natural thing ever. As if it had always been that easy.

"There we go," Eddie praises as he places the blade down on the coffee table. "See? All better now."

"Better…"

"You're safe, Steve. I'm safe. Everyone is safe. Those things can't hurt you anymore."

"But- the lights-"

"Are fine." Steadily, Eddie begins to back out of the room, gently pulling Steve along with him. "Now let's get you back to bed, yeah? You still gotta get your full twelve hours of beauty sleep don't you?"

A dopey smile ghosts across Steve's lips as he huffs a laugh. It's barely anything. But it's enough for Eddie.

"Yeah you do," he teases. They're in the bedroom now. Eddie guides Steve underneath the duvet. As soon as he hits the soft cushions, he curls around himself like a child, protecting himself from the intangible cold or phantom nightmares, while refusing to loosen his grip on his boyfriend's hand. Eddie feels his throat close.

He has questions. How long has Steve been having these nightmares? How many of them result in sleepwalking? How many of them are violent enough to grab a fucking kitchen knife? Why didn't Steve tell him sooner?

But they can wait until morning.

[plutoswritingplanet]

White Rabbit (Peter Ballard x Female!Reader)

PART 2

a/n: how close can i get to writing monsterfricking before being called a monsterfricker?

Warnings: NON-CON (nothing too explicit, but still, be warned, be safe), bathroom-donging (once again), extensive use of a 80′s rock song as a plot device

Summary: Vecna’s Curse finally comes to take what’s his. Only thing is, he doesn’t look like the monster your friends described. 

Edit: Y'all are actually insane for giving this fic so many notes. There will be part two, most certainly, after the finale comes out. I will tag everyone in notes and in my askbox. With peace and love, what the fuck

There is a clock, ticking inside your head. It's sound filling every crevice of your brain, seeping into every fiber of your being, rattling every bone in your body until you're unable to move. You know what it means, you've seen what comes after it. The mutilated corpses of a cheerleader and that press kid are burned into your consciousness. Then, Max, floating above the graveyard, her blue eyes rolled grotesquely into the back of her head.

You haven't told anyone, as the team runs around Hawkins, looking for any clues that could help them stop Vecna's Curse.

Speaking of which, you are yet to see the abomination causing your imminent demise. It terrifies you to your very core, but under that overbearing feeling, there is another one. Curiosity. Danger feels heavy on your shoulders, and you love it, the thrill it gives you. Besides, shall things go south, you have a recorder by your side, "White Rabbit" by Jefferson's Airplane recorded on a small cassette, ready for trouble. "You can do this", is a mantra you've been telling yourself for hours now, you can survive.

The Wheeler house is lively with worried chatter, parents lamenting over their kids, in trouble again, and with the Hawkins Police nonetheless. You're sitting in the living room, head hanging low, fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt, which is currently covered in stains of various origin. Moss, mud, some blood, although you don't know where it came from. All the fault will undoubtedly fall on your shoulders. Being the only adult on scene, the only one getting caught. You curse under your breath, thinking of your friends, old and new, currently stuck in the Upside Down. Leaving you to handle everything else on the surface.

It has been a hassle, the interrogation. You got put into a stuffy room with Officer Calahan, who was strangely excited at the prospect of potentially locking up a bunch of kids, for whatever reason. It won't happen, obviously, but you're not here to break his bubble. He asks you questions with an aura of sarcastic authority, giving you patronizing nods, whenever you answer. You want to punch him, not only because your friends are currently in mortal danger, and you could do so much more to help them, if he'd just let you out. There is also the sound of a ticking clock, coming from behind his back, and the suspense drives you insane.

And a spider. Fat and dangerous, it traverses the expanse of the man's shoulder, but when you blink, it's gone.

- Can I use the bathroom? - you ask, voice barely containing all the emotions you were feeling.

The Officer looks at you, startled, as you had just interrupted another one of the monologues. He blinks, as you turn your head, and blinks again, processing your words.

- Yeah - he sounds dumbfounded.

Before the man can say anything more, you bolt out of the room, to the corridor basked in warm light of the ornate chandelier. The ticking is louder here, seemingly just a smidge away from your ear, and slowly, as if not to startle the hallucination, you turn your head left. There, on a cream wall, where normally a lovely family photo of the Wheeler's would hang, you find a round face of a grandfather's clock, staring back at you. One hand comes to life, lazily sliding from one minute to the other, a rusty clank of the mechanism filling your ears. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you force your eyes away from the clock.

The world spins around you, as you fall through the bathroom door, closing it behind you. Your hands shake, as you reach for the recorder, fingers fumbling around the headphones you hastily pull over your ears. One click later, and a familiar base enters your brain, the sound of the clock barely recognizable beneath the drums.

- One pill makes you larger - you mutter under your breath, leaning heavily on the sink.

You try to control your breathing, focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest, still muttering the lyrics, like a prayer. The feeling persists, however, and you begin to sway in your place. The mirror shows your disheveled reflection in an almost mocking manner. Hair is sticking to your sweaty face, there are tears framing your eyes, and you're ghastly pale, worryingly so. Unable to focus, you close your eyes, shutting your eyelids tight. trying to block out everything but the music. Specks of light dance beneath your eyelids, and you try to follow their irregular paths, anything to bring you back.

Yet, that ticking sound is persistent, almost impatient. Waiting for the song to end. And with a click of finality, it does. Your heart jumps to your chest, as silence finally engulfs you. Your right hand flies to the Cassette player, fingers immediately finding the rewind button. Your eyes stay shut, as you listen to the whirling of the tape. And the ticking, always the ticking. Finally, it stops. A breath of relief shakes you.

- Don't play it again.

Your eyes fly open, as you give a startled gasp. The bathroom is empty, only your wracked figure reflected in the mirror. But something is wrong, you can feel it at the base of your neck, where the hairs stand up on guard. It doesn't feel like the Upside Down, doesn't look like it too, and yet, you can't shake the ever present sensation of indescribable dread.

Slowly, your fingers skim the play button, the plastic ridges dig into your skin, as you press down.

Then, something catches your hand. Delicately, like it's holding a flower.

You nearly scream, thrashing in the bathroom, turning harshly towards the shower, nails digging into the porcelain edge of the sink. Empty. Nothing.

Your heart stammers out of your chest, blood rushing through your ears in a suffocating display of panic. And the clock keeps ticking.

You're terrified now, properly. Screw all feelings of curiosity from earlier, you're pretty sure you can live without knowing. And so, even more feverishly, you fumble with the recorder, finally hitting the play button so hard, you nearly break your finger. The drums start again, and as the base joins it, you fall to your knees onto the floor, breathing heavily with relief.

- God - you sigh - Why me?

- Why you, indeed...

His voice is barely audible through the music, but you still feel it crushing through your skull. Your body freezes, as you glance up from the floor. There, just centimeters from you, stands a pair of white shoes. At least you think they're white, as the image keeps flickering in and out of existence, like a glitch on a homemade videotape. Your eyes drag up, over slender legs clad in white pants, white shirt tucked into them. Then, you finally see him. An angelic face looking at you from above. Beautiful, blue eyes, sharp features and lovely lips, all surrounded by a halo of blonde waves. An angel, truly.

You blink, and his image shifts out of existence just for a second.

- Who are you? - your voice sounds foreign in your ears, barely recognizable over the music

The man smiles a gentle smile, before kneeling down in front of you. His hands slowly creep towards yours, cradling them in a hold that is so warm and comforting, you want to melt into it without question. His eyes are so incredibly blue, it takes your breath away. And yet, despite the whirlwind of emotions, you can't stop staring into them. The man lifts your joined hands towards his lips. There isn't even a ghost of a breath, fanning your knuckles, as he places a kiss onto the bone. His image shifts again, violently, and a new feeling of slow dread creeps up your spine.

Then, a shadow passes through him, the kind facade falling into something much darker, much more sinister.

- I'm your worst nightmare - he smiles, teeth on full display, sharp and pointy.

You try to free your hands with a  yank, but he holds them close with little to no force, eyes leaving your face in favor of studying the way veins move beneath your skin.

- I have many names - he says, his voice is calm and melodic - Henry - his lips brush the outside of your left wrist - Peter - a swift kiss is placed onto the tips of your finger - One...

He lingers for a bit at the juncture between your thumb and your pointer, and you still feel no breath coming from him.

- Although, the name your friends have given me has a nice ring to it - he looks up, capturing you again with those blue eyes of his.

- Vecna - your voice comes out as a mere whisper, one you can't even hear amongst the song, slowly, but without stopping, coming to an end.

Suddenly, the man stands up, and you feel yourself being pulled up to your feet as well. It's not gentle at all, and you nearly trip, before finding your balance. Faster than you can comprehend, the man turns you around, so you're facing the mirror. You can see him fully now. He's almost a head taller than you, slender and elegant. Not at all the monster you have imagined, not the one Max told you about. He peers at your reflection, towering over you in his clean, white clothes.

- My name means very little to me now - he says again, hand coming up to tuck your hair behind, exposing your neck to him - I am very particular about the names of my victims, however - another smile has you shaking, as his wondering hands press slightly on your pulse.

You can't move, your legs feel heavy, like someone tied them down with rocks. Your heart is beating so fast, you can feel it in your throat, where his fingers drum delicately over your skin, to the beat of the song still keeping you alive.

- Chrissy - he hisses into your hair - Sounds sweet like candy, and in a way, that's how she tasted.

A shiver wrecks your body, as images of the Cheerleader's body flood your mind. Her eyes, sucked into her skull, her limbs in disarray.

- Fred - you can feel his hands on the insides of your arms, fingers dragging over your veins - Intelligent, although slightly tart, like unripe apples.

Your head starts to spin, breaths escaping you in quick puffs. They found Fred in the middle of the road, alone, abandoned, mutilated.

- Patrick - he dips his head into the crook of your shoulder, nose sliding up, towards your ear - Stern, but full of life, reminded me of walnuts.

"When logic and proportion, have fallen sloppy dead" the singer wails, and you know, your time is coming to an end. A small whimper escapes you, as slender arms encircle your frame, pushing your back into his body.

- Max - there is a spark of rage at the mention of your friends name, one, he catches in your reflection with a raised eyebrow - Strong, youthful, like mint. When I heard your name amongst thousands, I knew, you'd taste wonderful.

Your entire body starts to writhe, as the man gives your neck a long lick of his tongue, starting from your shoulder, up to the back of your ear.

- Oooh - he laughs to himself, as you watch him in the mirror, still unable to move - There is some kick to you, I can tell. Like hot peppers.

He dives down again, placing open-mouthed kisses to your feverish skin, teeth just barely scraping your pulse point.

- A name like this should be savored. This guilt you feel should be savored.

"Feed your head" the woman sings, the song swelling in your ears, so close to the end, you start to shake. As if on cue, the man slowly reaches up, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair, as he pushes them under your headphones. It takes one move, for the plastic to fall from your head, clattering to the ground.

Your eyes meet in the mirror as sudden silence engulfs the both of you. There is a victorious smirk playing around on his lips, as his right hands starts to twirl your hair around his finger. He rubs the strands, like he's sampling a fabric, bafore bringing them closer to his nose, and taking a long whiff of air.

- ...Or maybe cinnamon - me sighs, eyebrows scrunching together.

- Are you going to kill me now?

Again, images of broken bones and mutilated corpses fill your mind, you can almost imagine the wet cracking.

The man laughs, stepping away from your trembling body for just an inch, the loss of his body behind you makes you sway in place. There's this weird flickering glitch running over his figure, intensifying for a moment. He takes a long breath, you can see muscles work under any visible sliver of skin, and as he relaxes again, his form stabilizes.

That is when you realize, what you're looking at isn't real. He isn't real. This angelic, terrifying boy is just an illusion, a hallucination, meant to lull you into a false sense of security. And it almost works. Almost, because as you focus more on his eyes, they seem to become less blue, and more milky and veiny. More like a monster.

- Guilt is a fickle thing - his voice is lower, more raspy than before.

His head dips down behind you, and he plants a wet kiss to the base of you neck, teeth scraping against your skin in a way, that wrenches a whine out of your lips.

Your stomach churns with a feeling sitting too close to arousal, as his large hands begin to explore your body further.

- It never leaves, not truly. And you have so much of it. - a hand digs itself into your hip, then slides up, leasing the edge of your shirt.

- Stop.

He doesn't, fingers creeping under the fabric, squeezing the soft tissue there.

- You're supposed to protect your brother, but he keeps getting hurt on your watch. How many bones does he have to break? How many times have you failed him?

Tears spring to life in the corners of your eyes, as you try to turn away from your reflection. He's faster though, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look back to the mirror. Then, he cranes your chin to the side, forcefully, so that your face is closer to him.

- Those kids you've taken under your wing, I will devour them all, and you'll watch - he seems unmoved by your sobs, whispering the words into your wet cheek - Your father, poor father, never had the chance of seeing how much of a disappointment you really are.

His lips are soft as he kisses your tears away, tasting the saltiness with a grin. Like a chef, proud of his most delicious meal.

- I see it all, sweetness - the hand digging into your stomach climbs up, over your ribs, stopping just short of the underside of your breast.

- Please... - a choked sob escapes you, as your body tries to free itself from his iron hold.

- Shhh - he shushes you, you can't feel his breath on your lips, when he gives you a chaste kiss.

For that matter, you can't feel anything, that would suggest you're being held by a living being. There is no rise and fall to his chest, no smell, no heartbeat.

His form starts to flicker yet again, and suddenly, you feel something definitely not human sliding and swirling behind you. A constantly moving mass holds you in place and instinctively, you screw your eyes shut. You don't want to know how he looks like in reality, mind focusing back on the angelic man from before. Now, you can feel him breath, a low rumble starts in his gut everytime he inhales, like a beast ready to pounce.

- It takes - the voice coming from behind you is gruff and monstrous - A considerable amount of strength to keep this image in place.

Slowly, with every word, the man's voice comes back to the normal, melodic tone. The shifting mass on your back seizes its movements, and slowly, you allow yourself to crack an eye open.

Blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a halo of blonde hair stare back at you in the mirror's reflection. He gives out a small chuckle, shakes his head slightly, and bends down to take another long sniff of your hair.

- There's no need for you to see my real form - he mutters into the crown of your head - After all, it's not your fear I'm after.

His hands move with unexpected speed, as the both slide upwards, under your shirt, to cup roughly at your breasts. The sound you give out is pathetic at best, as this sliver of friction sets your whole body ablaze.

- It's your guilt - he forces out through his teeth, giving your breasts another sharp squeeze.

Before you have the time to actually understand the implications behind his words, you body is being pressed forwards. The ceramic edge of the sing digs painfully into the meat of your thighs, but the feeling is swallowed completely by a slender hand worming it's way into your pants.

Your entire body rocks back and forth, as the man, Peter, Vecna, plunges two long digits into you without warning.

You feel a raw whine climb out of your throat, as you clench around his fingers, hands flailing at your sides, looking for any sort of purchase. He lets you lean on him completely, one hand massaging your breast, before abandoning it in favor of gripping your pulse.

He works you steadily and greedily, pulling sounds out of you, you'd have never imagined were possible. It feels sick, your stomach tightens into a growing coil, as the rythmic pumping shakes you to your bones.

- I...please - your words come out slurred, as your vision swims around your head.

He chuckles, seemingly unaffected, and presses his thumb down on your pulsing bundle of nerves. The sudden jolt of pleasure wrenches a scream out of you, one, he swallows, forcefully craning his neck, and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss hurts, plain and simple. His lips, despite being pillowy soft, bite into yours with force you've never experienced in your life. Then, teeth appear, raking abused flesh, tongue forcing it's way into your mouth. It's too much, the whole thing starts to feel less like a nightmare, and more like an execution.

Your lungs scream for more oxygen, the tightening in your stomach accompanied by the sharp pain in your chest. And just when you truly think, this is how you are going to die, something entirely unexpected happens.

"One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small"

The song enters your brain like a dose of adrenaline, waking you from your stupor. Immediately, the hand toying with your insides, retracts, leaving you unfulfilled and disappointed. The emptiness carries, as his mouth detach from yours. You can't open your eyes, you refuse to do so, too overwhelmed to see.

- Remember this - the man says into your ear, his words slowly being drowned out by music - Remember this feeling, when I come for you again.

With that, you're being released, your limp body falling down onto the floor, where you're met with gentle hands of your friends cradling you.

- Jesus, we though you were a goner! - Lucas nearly screams in your face, as you try your best to focus on the kid's features.

- Yeah! You were flying under the ceiling - Dustin shoves a finger up, and your glazed eyes follow, looking at an unidentified spot above your head.

- Why didn't you tell us? - Max is gripping your shoulders so hard, you're sure it will leave a mark.

The kids, your kids, look at you with terrified faces, as you try to stand up, bones heavy, muscles trembling with unresolved tension.

- Didn't want to worry you guys...

It's a weak excuse, and right now you're not even sure if it's true. Dustin mutters something about you being an adult idiot, and in your heart you can't disagree with him.

- Just - Max slowly let's go of your arm - Keep the headphones on.

With that, the gang makes their way out of the bathroom, you following right after them. The coil in your stomach dies down, and with it, new, overbearing feeling arises in your chest.

Guilt. Crushing guilt of wanting something so wrong you can never recover from it.

And beneath the familiar drums, and the voice, and the guitar, you hear a gentle sound of a ticking clock.

[potentialheartofdarkness]

Steve wasn’t allowed to ever enjoy the first snowfall. He tried, tried to bundle himself up in sweaters and a hat and run out before his father was awake. He just never made it that far. His father would catch him, and spout bullshit about how he needed to stay inside because Harrington children didn’t waste time playing when they could be working.

Harrington children didn’t do a lot of things, Steve found out. 

Tommy and Carol dragged him out into the snow during their first year of high school, throwing snowballs and taunting each other. Steve just stood off to the side, unsure of what was happening and acutely aware that it could get back to his father, like everything else seems to. They didn’t notice him when he went inside, they never did.

He stared at it, watching it fall, and remembered what his father had told him. Remembered every lesson his father drilled into his head.

Harrington children don’t waste time playing, Harrington children don’t waste time partying, Harrington children don’t waste time speaking, Harrington children always marry the opposite sex. Harrington children don’t talk back, they do what they’re told. Harrington children are business men. 

Steve hoped one day these rules would turn out to be false, especially as he stared at one of his classmates tackling his friend in the snow. Buzzed hair and dark clothes, chains on his pants. The jeans perfectly sculpted to his body. The boy met Steve’s eyes and winked at him, cheeks frosted pink from the snow and laughter etched into his face. Steve turned away, the hope growing inside of him with the blush on his cheeks. 

After that, snow reminded him too much of the Upside Down. The aching cold that pierced through into his bones, and the snowflakes resembling more of the particles floating around then snow itself. He still loved it, the pain in his heart mending with each flake melting in the ground.

Enter the first snowfall of ‘86. 

Steve was awoken early in the morning by a pounding on his door. He’s halfway down the stairs by the time it starts up again, heavy fists slamming into the door. Too strong to be the kids, too strong to be Robin and she has a key anyway. Had to be....

“Good morning, Eddie.” Steve grumbled, opening the door, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “The fuck are you doing here so early.” 

“Its snowing.” Eddie said as if that explained everything and he pushed his way inside.

“Okay?” Steve shut the door, turning to raise his eyebrows at Eddie who threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“It’s snowing!” He repeated, more emphasis this time and Steve just stared at him blankly. “Don’t tell me you hate the snow.” 

“No, I actually really love the snow.” Steve mumbled, heading back upstairs with the full intention of going back to bed. Eddie followed him up, still talking. 

“So then why are you looking at me like I told you Vecna is back? Look I have a plan okay, we’re gonna go out and have fun and be children for the first time in forever and we are going to play in the snow.” He finished, reaching the landing with Steve and watching as Steve paused with his hand on the door handle to his room. “So, get ready. Cause, I’m not above standing out here and screaming at the top of my lungs until you come with me.” 

“What do I wear?” Steve asked him, voice not even above a whisper. He didn’t know what one was supposed to wear when playing in the snow, or how to act like a child.

“Whatever you want, as long as its warm.” Eddie’s voice was soft, almost like he knew what Steve was thinking, and Steve nodded before heading into his room. 

He was most grateful for Eddie, in his life. They’d formed a quick bond after everything, after Steve ignored his own injuries until he was sure Eddie was safe, then passed out in the hospital hallway. After he spent a week at Eddies side, then months helping him recover. Because of that, Eddie seemed to be more in tune to Steve and how he was feeling. He was always picking up on things Steve didn’t mention, could sense when he didn’t understand something and backtrack to explain. Only thing he didn’t pick up on were Steve’s, most likely one sided, feelings. 

Steve took a few calming breaths once he’d dressed in warmer clothes he wouldn’t mind getting damp, and threw open the door.

Eddie grinned when he emerged from his room, like Steve had brought the sun with him where he went. He let out a low whistle and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Lookin good, Stevie.” He swallowed and looked away. “If you’re ready to get your ass kicked by me, the snowball god, then lets get a move on.” 

“Oh you’re on.” Steve replied and Eddie cackled, full on evil laugh kind of cackle, as he dashed off down the stairs. Steve was right behind him. Soon they made it to the trailer park, where all the kids had set up near Max’s, walls of snow already built up to hide behind, and Steve had never felt his heart so full. Gone were the days where his fathers lectures would dictate what he would do. Here he was, a Harrington child, wasting time and playing in the snow. His team consisted of Dustin, self proclaimed snowball extraordinaire, Max, the stealthy, and El who was banned from using her powers. 

Eddie’s team was tough to beat. He had Will the Wise, Lucas, who’s aim had improved due to basketball practice, Erica, the sundae Queen and Mike. Erica who had in fact named herself that, had actually begged to be on Steve’s team, which he tried and failed to hold dear to his heart. They sent her over to Eddie’s team though to give them a fair advantage. Hearing that they would lose without her, Erica conceded and the battle was underway. The first time he got hit, was because he was too distracted watching Eddie, the snowflakes perfectly collected in his hair and the brightest smile on his face. He launched a snowball at Dustin, made its mark, and cheered, picking up Erica and spinning her around before tackling Mike into the snow. It reminded Steve of something, but he’d left himself open and Will struck him straight in the face with only a mischievous grin as a form of apology. Steve made a snowball, and launched it.

In the end, there was no clear winner. Both sides made equal shots, laughter heavy in the air, and for the first time in a very long time Steve felt light. Once the bitter coldness of the air and snow started to soak through their clothes, they parted ways. The kids going into Max’s trailer for hot chocolate and to wait for their parents to arrive, and Steve trailing behind Eddie into his trailer. He’d always liked the trailer, it felt more of a home to him than his own house. The mugs lining the walls, the clothes thrown over the chair and partly the couch. The papers spread across the countertops and stacked high near the cupboards. Wayne giving him a soft smile every time he stepped through the door, and a pat on the shoulder when passing him food. 

Steve had spent a lot of time here, enough to feel more comfortable here than in his own room. 

“Want some cocoa?” 

“Sure,” Steve smiled softly at Eddie and made his way to the couch. Feeling all the adrenaline leave his body as he relaxed. His first time playing in the snow, all because of Eddie. 

“So, Stevie.” Eddie began, handing him his cup of cocoa and flopping down next to him on the couch. He somehow managed to not spill a single drop of his drink and end up far too close to Steve as it was. He seemed to notice this and instead of doing anything to remedy it, he hooked his knees over Steve’s and stretched out his legs, leaving Steve to rest his hands on Eddie’s knees. Eddie leaned sideways into the couch before continuing his sentence, eyes fixed on Steve’s face. “How was your first time playing in the snow?”

“You knew about that?” Steve felt his cheeks flare red as Eddie used his legs to pull Steve towards him a little bit, not at all realizing what he was doing to Steve’s heart. 

“Course I knew, couldn’t worm it out of Dustin or Robbie though, Nancy was easier to crack.” He teased and Steve rolled his eyes. “Nah, I used to uh...” He looked away, into his drink and avoided looking at Steve as he tossed him a curious look. “I saw you a few times, at school.” He cleared his throat and the memory hit Steve like a ton of bricks. 

“That was you?!” He exclaimed and Eddie winced, like he was worried Steve was mad at him or something. “Man, if I’d known it was you then I would have-” He cut himself off and cleared his throat. “You looked different back then.”

“Yeah, Wayne’s razor became my greatest enemy after that year. Can you believe I thought I looked good with my hair all buzzed like that? If I ever want to buzz my hair again please take me out back and shoot me.” Eddie sighed dramatically before taking a sip of his drink. 

“You did look good. Obviously your hair suits you now too, feels more you this way, but it suited you then too.” Steve half-mumbled, unable to keep the words to himself and he watched as Eddie tried, and failed, to not choke on his scalding drink. 

“Did you have to wait until I was taking a sip you fucking asshole.” He cursed and Steve grinned into his own cup. “Wait.” 

“Anyway,” He interrupted Eddie before he could start anything and shifted a little under the weight of his legs. His heart hadn't slowed down its rapid pace, and given the way that Eddie was looking at him it wouldn't any time soon. “Thanks, for y’know. The snow day. It was fun, a lot of fun actually, surprised on how quickly time went by actually.” He finished his drink and Eddie swung his legs off of Steve, placing the cups on the table and standing. He offered Steve a hand, he took it. 

“C’mon, we didn’t build a snowman yet and there's plenty of daylight left.” If he could have, Steve would have fallen even deeper in love. They traipsed outside into the still falling snowflakes, and piled up a bunch of snow, Eddie showing him how to make the perfect snowman. Steve took his chance and dumped a bunch of snow on Eddie’s head, and took off running as Eddie shouted at him. He chased him around the front of the trailer before he got his revenge and it was Steve’s turn to chase him. He felt free, like he’d never had the time to fully experience freedom until now. He could have ascended into the heavens, and not known the difference. Every single weight off his shoulders had been lifted, even just for the moment. He tackled Eddie into the snow and they fell, giggling into a heap by the snowman they’d half built. 

Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

Eddie was beautiful. He always was, but it struck Steve now. With the snow and the pink cheeks and the crinkled corners of his eyes, wide and filled with joyful innocence. Every freckle, every line, every scar on his face. His eyelashes were wet, probably from the snow or from laughing, and there was something buried deep in the brown irises that sparkled with mischief. Steve was a weak man, his heart crumbled like a freshly made cake with too much flour. Eddie was like an eclipse, if Steve was the sun. The moon passing by him so closely he could just reach out and touch it, make contact for the first time in forever, however fleeting. People like him didn’t come around too often and fuck if Steve was going to miss it to continue living blissfully unaware with his sunglasses on. Intentionally holding the world at bay, just for a brief glimpse of something he might not have much longer.

“I’m going to kiss you.” He half whispered, the words only for Eddie to hear. A secret almost, between the two of them. Like if he whispered it quiet enough the wind wouldn’t steal it away and send it somewhere it shouldn’t belong.

“Okay.” Eddie whispered back, hands coming up to caress Steve’s cheeks lightly, the spark of joy back in his eyes before he met him in the middle and their lips met. It wasn’t perfect, it was cold, Steve’s knee was wet from the snow he was kneeling in. But it was perfect to him. Eddie had given him back something he never thought he would miss, and Steve loved him for it. 

“For the record,” Eddie began after they broke apart. “I’m in love with you.” 

“For the record.” Steve replied, brushing a stray curl out of Eddie’s face. “I’m in love with you too.” 

“God I wish it had snowed sooner.” Eddie rolled his eyes and Steve chuckled, pulling away and standing up. He offered Eddie a hand up and tugged him a little, causing him to stumble. Steve glanced around quickly, making sure there were no prying eyes (Max) before he kissed Eddie once more. 

“C’mon, I’m starting to get cold.” Steve headed towards the trailer door and Eddie jumped on his back, pressing a tiny kiss to his temple. 

“I know a way we can warm up.” He whispered lowly in Steve’s ear and if Steve picked up the pace a little to make Eddie howl with laughter, well that was his secret too. 

Maybe some good could come out of breaking his fathers rules, he thought later that night wrapped around Eddie and drifting off to sleep. He definitely knew what other ones he planned on breaking, but that was for the future. When they’d moved into a small apartment in Chicago in a few years, and the first snowfall was beginning outside as they were curled up by the fire and Steve voiced it aloud. It couldn’t be official, of course, not yet...but it was official to them, and maybe that’s all they needed. 

[byler-alarmist]

So I know we collectively hate time reset/dimension wipe theories about S5, but.....maybe it does need to happen?

Assuming the last couple seasons of ST weren't some elaborate manifestation by Mike to deal with the trauma of losing Will, there are some problems that seem like they can't be fixed without some kind of a reset.

El. Just El in general. Owens was able to give her a fresh start, a new name and a chance at being "normal", However, too many people know about her telekinetic abilities and the ability to open and close gates to the Upside Down. I think she would be in danger of being kidnapped and studied/used as a weapon forever. She can't just kill off/destroy the entire U.S. government (if only), so her file will probably be available for years and even if not, enough people know about her existence that bad actors could target her.

Now that the UD is merging with the RU, will it be contained to Hawkins? Will it spread throughout the country? The world? Even if it is all a hive mind, if they killed Vecna and somehow closed all the gates (it exhausts El to even close one) , would those spores or whatever still be floating around and infecting things in the RU? How could they ever get rid of all of it or ensure that it was all contained in the UD?

As long as both the UD and El exist, even if Vecna is defeated, scientists/governments will always track her because trhey will want to know more about/study/find lucrative applications for the UD. They would still want to use El or use her to find their own way to open gates.

If all this is true and Will/El/the Party need to destroy the UD to make sure no one ever crosses over again, is that really fair? Even if Vecna harnessed the dark particles and created dangerous monsters out for blood, it is hinted that the UD is not inherently malicious. Sure, the Party want to kill Vecna, but if he's gone and the creatures are just minding their own business, would they be fine with destroying it?

And even if they wanted to, could they? How? If it turns out we're right about Will having powers, how would he use them to destroy the Upside Down? I highly doubt his powers would be like El's or involve gates. If he had some kind of creation powers, would he just recreate the UD with glowy light particles and make it beautiful? But even if he did this, wouldn't scientists still want to find a way inside to study it with El"s gate-opening powers?

On the other hand if he (or someone else) has some kind of time powers,, when would they reset it back to? Or what would they go back in time to change? Is there something out of space and time that doesn't belong? (Somehow I am reminded of El saying she doesn't belong anywhere).

If Will or someone else wiped out the dimension that contains the UD (or banished it to another dimension), MKUltra would still have been doing their telekinetic children experiments, right? And if they went back in time, how far back would they have had to go? Back before Henry was taken to Brenner? Would El have been created at all if her mother wasn't part of the MKultra experiments?

Bonus thoughts about a reset: we know how much the Duffers love The Neverending Story. Spoilers for Neverending Story after the cut:

At the end of the Neverending Story movie, Fantasia (the world of fantasies and dreams a bowlcut kid has been reading about in his book) is destroyed by the manifestation of emptiness that is the Nothing. Bastian ({the bowlcut kid) realizes he has the power to make Fantasia (the world of his fantasies) anything he dreams.

After he takes ownership of his role as master of this reality (by giving rhe Childlike Empress a new name 🤔), the entire world of Fantasia is wiped out and it's just Bastian and the Empress together in a black void. All that remains is one grain of sand (a glowing particle, if you will).

The Empress hands the particle to Bastian and tells him his wishes will recreate Fantasia. He recreates it the way he imagined it, and notably brings back all the people who died as a result of the Nothing.

Even more tellingly, he exclaims:

"It's like the Nothing never was!!"

👀👀👀👀

[iridescent-petrichor]

don’t believe in much but i believe in you

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Warnings: sorta graphic description of gore

Words: 1.6K

After going after Steve through the gate to the Upside Down, you trudged through the forest of dead trees, trailing behind Eddie and Steve who had their focus on whatever hushed conversation they were having.

You glanced past them to Robin, walking beside Nancy. She was nervously glancing around, eyes darting from the inky black vines squirming on the ground to the sky, where visible clouds of some kind of particle would float past.

The sound of a dead branch snapping behind you makes you spin around, staring into the darkness, eyes straining to see if anything was there.

“Did you guys hear that?” Your voice was shakier than you expected, and it was the only sound to fill the now painfully tense silence.

When there was no response, you spun around again, finding yourself alone.

“...Guys?” You looked around at the near-empty forest around you, your heart practically pounding out of your chest. Where the hell did they…

A sickening whisper of your name sent a shiver up your spine, the voice coming from directly behind you. When you turned around again, there was still nothing to be found.

You fought the urge to call out for your friends, knowing it would be of no use.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your shoulder, turning you once more to face what you would consider your worst nightmare.

Before you stood Steve Harrington – or a terrifying, rotting version of him. His eyes were sunken, with bruises and blood covering his face and neck. In front of him was your younger brother. His body was limp, held up by the familiar black tendrils that were wrapped around him, climbing up towards his neck, pulsing in a way that made your stomach churn.

Right behind them was the rest of your friends, mangled or broken in a nauseating fashion. They were barely standing, held in place like puppets by the same tentacles that held Dustin up.

Even further back was a writhing mass that looked scarily similar to the mind flayer you fought in the mall less than a year ago.

You gagged, backing away from the disgusting scene in front of you, putting a hand over your mouth.

“Why did you leave?” The decaying Steve asked, moving easily around Dustin’s lifeless body, stopping only a foot in front of you, reaching his hand out.

Before he could touch you, you jumped back, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“You abandoned us.” He insisted, moving closer with every inch you moved back.

With a whimper, you spun around, sprinting as fast as you could in the opposite direction.

 “What’s her favorite song?!” Eddie shrieked, hands on either side of his head. He was pacing back in forth in front of your non-responsive body, cursing over and over again in his panic.

“Fuck, I don’t know!” Robin yelled back, wringing her hands together anxiously. She stood next to Nancy, who had her hands on your shoulders, trying to get through to you.

“I know it, I know it!” Steve interrupted, shoving himself to the front of the group, cupping your cheek so gently you would think he was afraid you would break.

“What is it then?!” Robin took a step closer to Nancy, grabbing her arm tightly in a futile attempt to stay calm.

“What good is it if we don’t even have a walkman?!” Eddie screeched, stopping his pacing to face Steve.

“Just let me think!” Steve yelled back, swatting Eddie away. “Just let me think!”

Everyone’s screaming only got louder when you lifted off the ground, floating up into the air.

 You stopped for a moment to catch your breath, daring a glance behind you for only a moment. The sight before you made your heart drop.

It was a massive army of flayed soldiers. Everyone that was taken on that night. And leading the charge was your friends and family, puppeteered by the black vines that surrounded you.

“Fuck.” You whisper, turning back around in your attempt to continue your escape.

That plan was cut short, however, as Vecna was now directly in front of you. In the distance behind him, you can see the remnants of a building being torn apart, floating lightly around four massive pillars.

Suddenly, you were floating. A newfound pressure on your neck lifted you high into the air, clawing desperately to keep yourself on the ground. You kicked and scratched, barely making contact with Vecna, who was bringing you towards the half-destroyed building. That’s when you see the other victims – Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick. You stifle a sob, continuing to thrash around in Vecna’s grip.

Then, you hear something. All around you, weakly singing a song you knew all too well.

Steve..?

 You and Steve were carpooling to work, as you often did when you worked the same shift. He was exhausted, too tired to even complain about having to work the morning shift the day after closing up. You, however, had much more energy than him, asking if you could play your own mixtape on the way there. He shrugged, letting you replace his music with your own in the stereo.

When the music started playing and you sang along with the widest smile on your face, Steve couldn’t help but grin. You leaned towards him, holding an invisible microphone and overexaggerating your dancing. He shoved you away, now with almost as wide a smile as you, risking a glance at you for just a moment.

“I’m trying to drive, dipshit.” He said, words lacking any malice.

“C’mon, you love me!” You laughed, leaning towards him a second time, singing as overdramatic as you could just to see him smile.

“If I could save time in a bottle-”

 “The first thing… that I’d like… to do…” Steve was desperate, trying to ignore the way his voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes.

The second he started to sing, the rest of the group fell silent, praying it would work.

Steve kept singing, eyes trained on you floating above him. Briefly, he thought about having to tell Dustin that you didn’t make it, but he pushed it away.

He couldn’t think about that yet. Not when there was still a chance to save you.

 It seemed even Vecna was caught off guard for a moment, looking past you to see the small opening out of the hell you were dragged into. You took the opportunity, grabbing one of the slimy tendrils on his neck and pulling as hard as you could. He lost his grip, reaching up to grab his now open wound as you fell harshly to the ground. You didn’t give yourself a moment to think, just scrambling up off the ground and stumbling towards the opening. It didn’t take long before you regained your balance, running as fast as you could despite the burning in your lungs.

Faintly, you could hear Vecna’s yelling cease. He must’ve recovered quickly, now using his powers to drop the debris around you. It was crashing down, nearly knocking you back to the ground, but you held strong. Pushing past the aching in your legs, you dodged the falling scraps of building, ducking under a massive grandfather clock that almost took your head off.

You held onto the singing, held onto Steve, held onto your friends waiting for you on the other side. Dustin was waiting for you to get back, no idea you were even in danger.

 It was a quiet day at Family Video, with no customers to keep you occupied. You stared into the empty store in boredom, not even noticing that Steve had slipped away. He’d run off to the back room, grabbing a boombox and slotting a mixtape into it. He snuck back to you, holding it behind his back before he pressed play.

You jumped when the song started, turning to Steve with a questioning look as he set it on the counter in front of you.

“This dance, madam?” He held a hand out, the wide smile on his face making your knees weak.

“Fuck off, Steve.” And yet, you took his hand, letting him pull you onto the shop floor.

He brought you close to him, slow dancing with you in the empty video store. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked up at him, part of you convinced you were dreaming and part of you terrified you were gonna step on his toes.

You were so enthralled in your anxiety that you almost didn’t notice him leaning closer until he stopped mere inches away from your lips.

“Can I?” He whispered.

You nodded, and that was all he needed before closing the gap between you.

 You reached out, stretching your arm as far as you could. It was so close, yet so far. Your legs felt like they were on fire, and Vecna was gaining on you.

As you got closer, you pushed forward, fingertips barely grazing the connection back to your world before you were plummeting to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice rang through your ears, lurching forward to try and catch you as you fell. He helped soften your fall, wrapping his arms around you on the forest ground.

Your eyes darted around, taking in your surroundings. You never thought you’d find the Upside Down comforting, but it was much better than the hellscape you just got out of. Finally, you let yourself relax, closing your eyes and leaning back against Steve’s chest, breathing heavily.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” He soothed, running a hand through your hair.

“You’re okay.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

WIP Wednesday

Technically Thursday for me already, but whatever! 🤣

I was tagged by the lovely @rainbow-nerdss to share a snippet from a WIP, so have a blurb from a "Steve gets vecna'd" idea that's been bouncing in my skull for a while. I'm currently writing a scene from it for the @steddieholidaydrabbles. I'm collaborating with the amazing @house-of-the-moving-image on some of these, so there'll even be art!!! 🤩

Steve's fingers twitch in the grass and Eddie's gaze flies to his face, half expecting to find his eyes wide open and sightless, half expecting him to start floating again and fuck, what will he do, he can't do shit, please, God, he can't-

But Steve’s eyes are closed, his face relaxed. Eddie sighs in relief. Then, following a sudden impulse, he reaches out and tucks the daisy into Steve's hair. 

He's no hero and he can't do anything to protect him, but he can make sure he rests while he can, can make sure he has music and beauty and sunlight surrounding him. It's what he deserves.

He deserves so much more.

The harsh snap of the tape ending almost makes him jump out of his skin. Steve flinches awake with an adorable little snort, hand flying up to pull the headphones off. His eyes dart around wildly for a second or two before they land on Eddie and he sags back to the ground. 

"Hey," he smiles, voice still sleep-slurred and hoarse. "Sorry, did I doze off?" 

The flower is still in his hair. 

Eddie snorts, pillows his arms on his knees so that he can hide behind them. 

"Are you kiddin' me, dude? You can sleep all you want." 

Steve hums vaguely and props himself up on one elbow, busies himself with opening the walkman and turning the tape. 

"Feels wrong though," he mutters. "Y’know… just chilling here while the kids-" 

"Stevie," Eddie says. Maybe it comes out a bit too harsh, because those pretty eyes blink up at him, confused and a bit hurt. He groans.

"The kids are old enough," he then continues, more softly. "They have Wheeler and Buckley with them. Not to mention Supergirl. You don't have to-" 

"-babysit them anymore, I know." Steve flops back into the grass, worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "I still feel useless, though." 

They stay silent for a while. The wind is getting chillier, now that the sun is dipping behind the trees, and Eddie is starting to shiver in his flannel. 

"Thank you, though," Steve mumbles. "For staying around, I appreciate it."

He sounds so small and lost and scared. Eddie plucks another flower so he won't have to look at his face. Hopes that Supergirl will tear Vecna's shrivelled black heart out through his ass and squish it under her shoe like a bug.

Tagging @sailing-through-hawkins @vegasol @rozzieroos - zero pressure, all the love ❤️

[flieslikeamoron]

potential AU: Chrissy dies somewhere other than the Munson trailer (maybe Eddie sees it happen, maybe he doesn't).

I've actually thought about this before, because when I was writing Sleight of Hand I was thinking... If Eddie had graduated post season 2 like he does in that fic, chances are Chrissy doesn't go to him for drugs. Plus Eddie wouldn't have been actively leading Hellfire. So in my head canon, whatever else does or doesn't happen from season 4, in that fic's AU he's never a murder suspect/fugitive.

But okay, the actual prompt. If we're saying that she doesn't die in his trailer (and he doesn't see her die). Well, the first thing is if she doesn't go to Eddie's, she makes it to the post game party. So most likely she dies at the party or when Jason is taking her home. Vecna wasn't killing these folks in front of large crowds, and she didn't seem like a party allll night girl, so I'm going to say she dies in Jason's car or when the two of them get to her house. Either way, Jason is the extremely obvious suspect.

2) Jason realizes the cops don't believe his ridiculous story about the devil floating his girlfriend around and magically snapping all her bones. They don't have evidence to hold him yet, but he can see where this is going. So now Jason's the one hiding from the cops. He convinces (some of) his basketball friends he didn't do it, and Lucas hearing his story is like... This sounds like the Upside Down is Upside Downing. So Lucas brings the party, or maybe just Steve at first since Jason would know him, to where Jason is hiding. 

3) Jason still thinks it was the devil so they have to kind of explain it in terms of... Yeah, Hell is under Hawkins. Sometimes demons get out. 

4) Patrick has stuck with Jason through all of this, and then he dies too. Jason is totally convinced that he's cursed in a "this is my fault" way instead of being able to accept that he's just standing next to people Vecna is killing. He feels like he's causing the people close to him to die or that it's his fault he hasn't been able to save them. Vecna can use this to get inside his head, so he's the final victim instead of Max. 

5) Jason launches himself head first at death trying to take Vecna down because he's always seen himself as the hero. Winners find a way to win! But everything that made him scary and awful on the show gets turned a bit with the vividness of his grief coming from watching Chrissy die right in front of him while he was helpless to stop it. And with his single-minded unhinged crusading being directed at an actual dangerous enemy instead of at a victim of happenstance. In this version, his death is a tragedy instead of a moment to cheer for.

Bonus) Does Eddie get involved in any of this if he doesn't see Chrissy die? Nope. But he's still alive, so he could always get dragged into it after the town splits open.

[ironwhoore]

i’m right here, i got you.

~~~~~~

summary: reader is under vecna’s spell

pairings: eddie munson x hopper!reader

id listen to radio gaga by queen while reading this

~~~~~~

“i’m going to stay here with eddie okay? wanna make sure he’s safe.” you tell robin, steve, max, el and dustin.

“whatever you do, keep your walkie on got it?” steve demands,

“yeah i know, be safe out there okay?”

“we will,” max smiles,

you’ve been hiding with eddie ever since he wouldn’t respond to any calls and with the news footage of his trailer you knew where he was hiding,

“y-you don’t hate me?” he has tears in his eyes,

“eddie why would i hate you? i know you could never do something like that!” you hugged him as hard as you could, “what happened?”

“you’re not gonna believe me,” he runs a hand through his tangled hair. when you give him an eager look that you’re all ears he inhaled deeply, “so i-i,” he exhales, “chrissy fucking cunningham asked me for weed and we went to the spot in the woods but-but then she asked for something stronger so i took her to the trailer to give her some and,” he lets out a broken sob, “i came out of my room and she was in like a trance or something i don’t know but, she-“ he pauses and looks at you,

“eds, ‘s okay, i’m listenin” you rub your hand on his back,

“you’re gonna think i’m crazy,” he laughs sadly, “she-she floated up into the air and her bones,” he takes a breath in, “they snapped. all of them. and her eyes, god y/n her eyes! they were sucked into the back of her skull. so-so i knew i had to get out of there, i would’ve been blamed for it and i-i didn’t want to go to jail and i was scared so, i ran.” eddie looks at you with tearful eyes, “i ran y/n like i always do, i-i could’ve just told the cops that i came home and she-she was in there but fuck.” you lean your head on his shoulder, “i was so fucking scared y/n you don’t understand. i had to get out of there.”

“eddie it’s okay, i would’ve done the same thing. that must’ve been scary, i’m sorry.”

that was 2 days ago, now eddie is screaming into the walkie for help, you were in a trance. just like chrissy. you got up and went to the bathroom, excusing yourself from the conversation you were having with eddie for a second, then you looked into the bathroom mirror for a few seconds after brushing your teeth, when you walked out you saw your sister el standing in a yellow flower field,

“el?” you run up to her, and give her a hug which she accepts lovingly,

“i missed you y/n,”

you pull back from the hug and look at her, she has shoulder length hair and she’s taller. you haven’t seen her in six months, you two wrote to eachother quite frequently, after deciding to stay in hawkins to graduate after your father’s death.

“i missed you too el,” you sniffle,

“you did?”

“what? of course i did!”

“you didn’t miss me y/n, you never came to visit.”

“el i didn’t have the mone-“

“no.”

“huh?”

“no, you feel guilty y/n. you don’t want to look at me in person because you’re guilty. you’d see me and break down because you know you let me down. you let dad down.”

“guilty? el what are you-“

“you’re the reason dad is dead.” she turns around and her back is facing you. you take the opportunity to grab a big rock next to your feet and put it in your pocket, because whatever this thing was, it was not your sister.

“you’re not el,” you speak up,

“what?”

“you’re not el, what the hell are you?”

it turns around and gives you a catlike grin, “you are smart y/n.” it’s still el’s form, but not her voice. this voice is much deeper, almost demonic.

“what the hell?” you walk towards it, and it’s form changes, a fleshy, tall figure.

“it’s time y/n. time to end your suffering, i know how everytime you go to sleep you cry. cry because you miss your dad, cry because you’ve failed eleven. but i can help you, i can end it.”

“no.” is all you say,

“what?”

“i said no.” you chuck the rock as hard as you can, it hits the figure in the neck and you bolt the opposite way of it. there’s a tree with a thick trunk that you spot, so you dash behind it hoping to wait until this thing leaves.

“you cannot hide from me y/n.”

“what do you want from me?” your breath has picked up a heavy amount,

“i’m taking what is mine back. and i need your help to do that.”

“i don’t want to help you, you creep!”

a familiar sound echos through out the field, it’s a song? you sit there for about a minute before lyrics start coming in,

“i’d sit alone, and watch your light. my only friend through teenage nights, and everything i had to know, i heard it on my radio.”

radio gaga by queen, you stand up and look towards where it’s coming from, there’s a light ahead, you see yourself in the air and eddie screaming,

“so don’t become some background noise, a backdrop for the girls and boys who just don’t know, or just don’t care. and just complain when you’re not there!”

you run towards it, almost tripping over your feet,

“you’ve had the time! you’ve had the power! you’ve yet to have your finest hour!”

you’re almost there, a yard away, when something crashes next to you making you fall. but you get up immediately and start running again,

“we watch the shows, we watch the stars. on videos, for hours and hours. we hardly need to use our ears. how music changes through the years!”

not even 10 feet away, you can make it, you can make it. you slip over your own feet and fall again, you’re pretty sure you’ve hurt your ankle, but you don’t care. you keep going until you reach that window to what you assume is reality, when you reach it you fall and hit the ground.

“oh god! y/n,” eddie rushes towards your side and pulls your torso into him, hugging you. you fling your arms around his neck,

“eddie,” you cry into his neck, “eddie!”

“oh fuck, are you okay? oh my god i thought i lost you,”

“im scared eddie, i don’t know what happened i-i saw el, and then-then,” your words were cut off by a sob tearing from your throat and you push yourself as close to eddie as possible, he puts his hand on the back of your head and kisses your forehead,

“i’m right here,” he soothes, “it’s okay i’m right here.”

~~

reblogs are appreciated!!!

[daintylovers]

congratulations the voices scream. you’ve finally done it this time. messed up so bad, that no one will take you back. not that they wanted too anyways. they had always been looking for a way to be rid of you. if they hated you so much, why make friends anyways? was it some sort of cruel joke?

you had been so fucking gullible. willingly allowing them to outwardly treat you like shit. all because, what, you wanted them to like you?????? how pathetic. the signs were glaring red the entire time. how they never told you what was going on, constantly keeping you out of the loop. telling stories but not letting you listen.

mikes betrayal sliced the deepest. he was never going to love you, the voices screamed. he never even liked you, they continued in whisper like tones. seeping into your consciousness. dominating any and all thoughts you tried to have. like ghosts, floating around the empty crevices of your skull. negative notions consuming what little space is left.

you had done everything to appease him. why weren’t you good enough? what was worse, is that you would have done whatever he said. still would, i mean shit if he told you to stand as still as a doll, you would be there, only blinking those big inky babydoll lashes for him.

but then again, if you were a doll, he would have just thrown you away. if he could do it so easily to a human, toys would be of no issue.

and it’s like he never even cared. you can spy him laughing to whatever lucas had been saying.

why had you even decided to get involved? everyone had warned you, warned of how he was emotionally unavailable. warned of how he was just going to break your heart.

naive and foolish. that’s all you had ever seemed to be. maybe that’s why he had picked you, he knew you were ripe. he wanted to bite through your skin and suck out your insides. all while you had to hold a napkin up to his dripping chin, wiping away the essence of your innocence. smiling as you did it.

stuck. stuck in the past. stuck in the present. no future pressing on the horizon.

no one is going to help you. to save you. the eternal dirt and dust of woe is going to fill up your lungs until you choke to death on your sorrow.

go on, doubt yourself. you weren’t good enough for him. you weren’t good enough for anyone. that’s why they all left. it was you who was in the wrong. you who no one could stand to be around.

go on, doubt yourself. it’s what he would have wanted. just as he had wanted to watch as you came apart on his command almost every night. just as he had wanted to get you attached to his life style, only to rip it away for seemingly no reason.

he always said he only wanted to make you feel good, to get rid of the ache deep inside your bones. yet now he was performing surgery to extract your bone marrow, only to fill up the empty spaces with more sorrow.

why should he not feel any of this? why does he get to be care free? did you really not mean anything to him? all those late night calls, how he cried to you about his past. all the times he asked for you to hold him after the nightmares, or when he would kiss your forehead and tell you that he loved you. that meant nothing? he couldn’t handle being alone most of the time, but now he could do it flawlessly?

something clearly was amiss. but how were you supposed to know? how would you know that he was also crying at night. sobbing, heart wrenching tears escaping because he had never meant to hurt you.

how were you supposed to know that he hated himself? that he only broke up with you to save you. to save you from the evils that seemed to follow him around like lost puppies. he would rather you be alive and hate him, then be dead and love him.

but he’s stupid. he’s ignorant. he did it all wrong. and now, with vecna on the rise, it would seem that you were a perfect contestant for him to use. which would mean that mike had been wrong. that the chaos would still hurt you.

he couldn’t save you. when he had tried to, he had so royally fucked up. you’re last days would be filled with suffering, because of him.

because he couldn’t just man up and tell you why he had all those nightmares. couldn’t tell you why the group would stop telling stories when you would come around. he had sworn them to secrecy. max has wanted to tell you most of all. but even she couldn’t handle mikes wrath if she had told. now she was going to lose her best friend. her brother had already been taken, and now this? it was going to be too much to bare.

he had isolated you from everyone you loved. taking away all your friends. the one source of happiness you had found while living in this shit hole. how could one person have so much influence? how could your first love, be so intent on making you suffer in loneliness? it seemed he wanted to isolate you enough to have you feel as though you lived in an asylum. the white noise of your thoughts blaring like warning sirens as danger crept is claws up your spine.

whatever happened next, would be his fault. and he would not be able to live with the guilt.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

No matter how stupid or futile this is, I have to do it, I have to write everything down. Maybe it will help me remember, although I have to say forgetting sounds pretty amazing right now. Still, I need to make sense of things, but at least clear my head.

Who am I kidding. This is not for me. It's for you and I so, so hope you will be able to read it. That you'll understand what I went through and why it had to end this way.

Right. Let's do it before this paper disappears along with this fucking day.

It's March 1986 and out of all the fucked up things that have happened in my life, this one takes the cake. Two murders with a curse, power of mind, whatever. People fall asleep standing, start floating, die with a crunch and there's no sign of it stopping, so that's fun. And by fun I mean really fucking horrible. It seems I'm writing the word "fuck" a lot. It helps a bit.

Nancy said, I mean, will say later today...that the guy, Vecna, Henry Creel, One, who honestly cares, plans to do some really messed up shit with Hawkins. And yeah, which villain doesn't have plans like that, but this one means it. Like, really means it. I saw it happen again and again and for some fucked up reason, some higher power chose me to fix this. Just adorable.

Why it chose me, I have no fucking clue. Anyone else would have been a better choice - Dustin and that huge brain of his would figure out not only what to do, but also why it's happening. He'd make sure Vecna would bite the dust during the second, third loop. Maybe it would be a week, but he'd get it eventually. Robin would run around like a headless chicken, but she'd start piecing things together. Nancy? She'd grab a gun or twenty and make sure everyone lives to see another day. Me? I can't get anything right.

I tried telling the others, but honestly, where do you start? You all die horrible and gory deaths. I've seen you choked, broken, torn apart, bleeding out, bones crushed to pieces, all that and more. I keep trying to fix things, but you don't listen to me and at this point, I don't even want to tell anyone because you look at me in that sad, pitying way, as if I was stupid - and shit, maybe I am, okay, not much going on under this fabulous hair, but the last time I tried telling you, you forced me to sit it out and nothing changed, except I just had to wait, listen to your screaming on the walkie. That has been the worst loop so far.

And what's even worse is how much I know about all of you now. I never thought the end of the world would take this long, but I've spent days changing things, piece by piece, but it still ends in bloodshed. But I keep the pieces of you all I've collected along the way and they make the stakes so much higher, so much more cruel. I used to think I know all of you but now I feel like I have some extra puzzle pieces that were thrown in the box and I need to keep them a secret. Day by day I keep learning about everyone...and about myself.

You hate yourself so much and I don't understand it. You do the best you can with the hand you're given and I admire it so much, even if I saw you in a completely different light only a few days ago. But ever since we met in that boathouse, you intrigue me. What you do for the kids, for Dustin...you need to survive this. You need to live because I can't imagine a world without you.

I'm going to try something different today. I used to charge with you, storm the Creel house, but this time I will have to stay behind. Maybe it's just a matter of time, maybe you just need a few more minutes, seconds...but I can't stand to see you die again.

If by any chance this paper makes it with all of you to the next day, I just want to say it was an honor to meet you. I'm so glad I could learn so much about you, understand you, learn to love you for who you are. Maybe it's a matter of a simple exchange and I'm willing to try, because to me you're worth it. I wonder if we could have been friends, maybe something more, if we were only given more time.

Hm. Can't believe I wrote that. Sorry, didn't mean to make this awkward, but marching towards certain death makes you brave.

Please take care of everyone, Steve. And yourself too. Especially yourself.

Love Yours Thank you for everything.

Eddie

[aemiron-main]

concept: will gets vecna’d & it’s got similar vibe’s to nancy’s vecna scene except instead of the lab, will is trapped inside the byers house on the night he disappeared, unable to get outside, forced to constantly run and hide from a threat that’s always right on his heels (demogorgon).

and it’s visual/physical representation of what it was like living with Lonnie, because Will just couldn’t run away from him because unlike the demogorgon, Lonnie lived there and would be there when Will returned, could only try and hide for as long as possible, knowing he’d be found at some point, but trying to delay the inevitable.

Will, folded in on himself and hiding in the living room cupboard, peering past the cupboard door and getting a good look at the demogorgon- and the demogorgon gets an even better look at Will as it grabs him, pulls him out of the cupboard, face opening wide, screaming and stretching into the image of Lonnie Byers. It flips between the two, impossibly close to Will’s own face as a hand with both the claws of a demogorgon and the shape of Lonnie’s heavy fists grabs the front of Will’s shirt violently, screeching into his face once more.

It sounds like the guttural, warped sounds of the phonecall Will made the night he disappeared mixed with every insult Lonnie’s ever thrown his way. Memories flash in front of Will- Mike’s face during the rain fight overlaid across Lonnie’s, both yelling at him about how disgusted they are with him, how much of a mistake he is, Lonnie’s words spilling from Mike’s mouth. And soon, it’s Joyce’s face, and Jonathan’s and El’s, and Hopper’s and Bob’s and Lucas and Dustin’s and the faces of everyone else he’s ever hurt or killed. Not only screaming at him, but begging for him to spare them from the pain, as if they were the ones in his grasp. Memories flash’s around him, too, the walls of the byers home twisting and contorting into the walls of hawkins lab, of Mike’s basement, of the library in the upside-down, all layered atop eachother.

The skulls and corpses of the upside-down- barb’s corpse, which Will had briefly seen, mesh with the fabric of Mike’s couch, and it melts from Barb’s corpse into Mike’s, stretched across the couch in a familiar manner, a couch which is somehow the Byers couch at the same time, and a hawkins lab hospital bed at the same time as that, all of them overlaid with a thousand other images of every moment of Will’s life, all condensed inside this tiny house, unable to escape, as if he never really left the house that night. As if every traumatic moment of his existence was a physical being, living inside the walls, part of the walls, just like the demogorgon trying to push past the wallpaper.

Will can still feel himself being lifted up by the creature, his body rising into the air in the real world, his ears bleeding, whether from being possessed or the sheer volume of the shrieking barrage of voices, Will isn’t sure.

And then he falls. He falls from an impossible height, much taller than Lonnie, or the demogorgon could have ever lifted him. And when he hits the ground, it turns into water, and suddenly he’s his own corpse, stiff and pale and cold, floating in the quarry. and then he sinks deeper, and deeper into the pitch-black water, and the quarry shifts into the void, the bottom of its depth changing into the surface of an endless black landscape.

and even now, when the demogorgon is gone, even when Lonnie was gone, gone from the vision but also gone from Will’s life all those years ago, Will still hides- but he hides from himself now, well aware that whatever’s inside of him. even though Mike is gone, Will still hides.

even in the middle of the void, completely exposed, will hides.

even in the middle of the field, completely exposed, surrounded by his friends and family, Will hides.

he lays there, crumpled, closed in on himself, knees tucked against his chest like how he hid in the cupboard. his arm’s twisted under himself at a deeply unnatural angle, and Will presses it against the ground even further, trying to make himself as small as possible, to hide, regardless of the ways in which he must distort and crush himself to do so.

he knows the demogorgon is gone. he knows it was never really there, never really in front of Will, that it was a vision- or, maybe it was there, maybe it was inside of Will, impossible to escape even once the vision ended, because he’s going to carry that trauma with him forever. in the same way that he flinches when somebody shuts the door too loudly despite Lonnie being gone, in the way that he sleeps with a nightlight on despite not being in the upside-down anymore, the fear comes from inside of him, not anything around him. he can’t escape it. he can’t outrun himself. so he hides.

distantly, he hears people calling his name. begging for him to respond. just like they all begged for his mercy, begged for him to prevent them from getting caught in the innate crossfire of his existence.

and yet, even now, here they are, still here, still stuck, stuck with Will just like how Will was stuck in the house. even now, will is unable to grant such a small mercy to those who’d done so much for him. even now, he’s still here. no matter how much he tries to hide, he’s still here.

[crappymixtape]

lost in you

lucas and max talk about their nightmares | ( 1.5k, fluff, talk of nightmares, trauma, angst, lucas x max )

L O S T I N Y O U 🎶 heliotrope, runnner

"Dammit!" Lucas' voice broke through the buzz of everyone else laughing and roughhousing around the living room. The music coming from the tv mocked him, bringing out a frustrated growl as he chucked the NES controller to the carpeted floor – dead. Again.

"You're cut off, Sinclair," Steve sniped from the couch, getting up to grab the discarded controller, "What is that like, the tenth time you've died? Everyone knows the goomba shows up there."

The look Lucas gave Steve from where he sat on the floor said plenty and he punctuated it with a mumbled, Asshole. Grumbling he shoved himself up off the ground and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl Dustin was holding on his way to the kitchen for a Coke.

It was Friday night, the best night of the week, weekend shining on the horizon as school and homework and early morning alarms faded with the potential of the next two days. Dustin, Mike, El, and Robin had started the night with a full bowl of popcorn until Dustin decided to throw kernels one at a time across the room at Eddie. The older boy then proceeded to make it full on war, the others following suit without needing much convincing.

“Okay, Henderson, that’s how you wanna play it??” rushing forward, Eddie grabbed the younger curly-haired boy in a headlock with a grunt.

“HEY. That’s not fair! Eddie, you can’t–– Mike help!” Dustin yelped, arms flailing, both of them laughing so hard their sides hurt as the bowl of popcorn popped out of Dustin’s hands and hit the floor, an explosion of little white puffs.

“No way, I don’t want another wedgie,” Mike quipped back before covering his head preemptively, El floating popcorn off the floor and over her boyfriend’s head. With a flick of her wrist it dropped out of the air and bounced off of his hair as she giggled.

Lucas could still hear playful bickering as he stooped down, opening the fridge to grab the last can of soda off the top rack. Cracking it with a satisfied pshhh he took a drink and leaned back against the counter.

The peals of laughter that filtered into the kitchen sounded normal. Made it feel like it was just another Friday night. Feel like it did before everything. Before Vecna. Before he’d held Max in his arms, begging and pleading with her not to die as she laid broken and bleeding on the floor.

He could still hear her voice, could still feel the way his hands held onto hers as if they were a lifeline, as if they were the only thing keeping her alive.

His eyes flicked up to look through the kitchen doorway, glimpsing her shock of red hair that was messily twisted into braids. Sweeping a hand across the carpet, Robin grabbed what popcorn she could and hucked it over the couch into Max’s face.

“Oh real mature,” Max sniped, but her lips were curled up in a grin as she ducked to run away from Robin and into the kitchen.

“Hey, stalker,” Max said so casually, so unbothered, as she came into the kitchen, moving to gently poke at Lucas’ ribs to get him to move away from the fridge.

“Hey,” his tone was flat and sounded far away. He tried his best to give her a smile, but it only half reached his lips and she straightened, abandoning her search for whatever she’d thought was in the fridge.

“What is it?” fridge door slipping shut as she took the half step to stand directly in front of Lucas, Max stooped a bit to try and catch his gaze that was aimed at the floor.

“What? N-nothing. It’s nothing, we should get back–” he shoved off the counter to walk past her, but her hands caught him at the chest and held him back.

“It’s not nothing,” Max knew better than that, she could read Lucas like a book and something was clearly bothering him.

He heaved a sigh from his lungs and shook his head, abandoning his can of Coke on the kitchen counter. If he told her what was really bothering him, what kept him up in the wee hours of the morning staring into the inky black of his room. Had him covered in a cold sweat, heart hammering in his chest. If he told her it would bring everything hurtling back into their lives.

“Lucas…” Max’s hands were gently taking his hands then into hers, tangling their fingers together in a rare show of empathy that was saved only for quiet moments alone like this.

Her touch grounded him, pulled him out of his head, and when he lifted his gaze his deep brown eyes met her bright blue ones. He clicked his tongue and bit into his lower lip, considering, but the way she was looking at him he wouldn’t last. “The nightmares,” he finally offered, voice quiet and smaller than normal, “They’re back.”

Max’s brows pulled together, hands giving his a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “I’m here,” she said simply, one of her hands releasing his to rest upon the line of his jaw, “I’m here.”

“I know, but you’re not. Not when it’s just me. Not when it’s in here,” his free hand moved to point a finger to his head, pulse fluttering in his neck as his heart constricted like it was being squeezed in a vice.

“Hey, hey,” she lifted her other hand then, both of them resting on either side of his face, pulling him down to softly bring their foreheads together.

“Henderson! I’m going to kick your ass!” Steve’s voice cut through into the kitchen as Dustin squealed in the living room.

Rolling her eyes Max wasted no time in grabbing Lucas’ hand and dragging him out of the kitchen. “C’mon,” pulling him out into the hallway she led him down to his room, “Idiots.” She didn’t bother flicking the light on as she closed the door behind them, the laughing and yelling in the other room blunted as it clicked shut.

“C’mere,” still holding his hand she led him over to his bed and gently pushed him to sit, taking up the space next to him as she tucked her legs into her chest.

She studied him for a minute, his face half lit from the street lamps outside his window and half in the shadows that crept up from the floor. Max wasn’t going to push him or tell him what to do, he would say something when he was ready, but what she did know was that he needed this. Needed quiet.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Max dropped her gaze to her knees, a scab forming there from when she’d fucked up an ollie earlier in the week. She let out a small huff and looked back up at Lucas. “I still get them too,” she said simply, her jaw set as she paused, thinking. “He’s not really gone. Not here, or here,” she said, first gesturing around them and then at her head just like Lucas had.

Turning to face her fully, Lucas left one leg dangling over the edge of the bed, but slipped the other one alongside Max. He didn’t say anything, but took her hands again, his thumb brushing softly over the bumps of her knuckles. “I’m sorry I can’t fix it,” his eyes lifted to look into hers again. They were sad, heavy, carrying the weight of things no teenager should ever have to shoulder.

Max’s brows furrowed and she shook her head. Keeping one leg tucked she looped the other over the top of his leg that was dangling over the edge of the bed. “You can’t be sorry for things you can’t fix,” she said, tone firm, but gentle at the same time, “So don’t be.”

Looping her arms around his neck she felt him cave, kicking his legs up onto to the bed and turning so he could put his head in her lap. “It’s bullshit,” he said against her stomach, voice muffled in the fabric of her shirt.

A small, dark laugh escaped her and she shook her head. “Yeah. It is,” her hands smoothed across his back, up and down his arms, over the back of his neck. “We’ll be okay,” she said softly, not really believing it, but hoping that by saying it aloud in the dark of his room maybe it would come true.

Lucas sighed against her, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close. They sat in silence again, listening to the sounds of Steve’s pool next door humming up through the open window, crickets singing their late night serenade to the moon.

Neither of them knew what was going to happen to Hawkins. To them. But for now felt normal. Felt okay. And that would be enough.

crappymixtape™ • stranger things masterlist // steve harrington masterlist

[kuumara]

kinda a part 2 of this (idk how to embed links or wtvr its calledsorry)

Mike's been here for what feels like ages. Terrified, even though he knows it's not real. Well it kind of is. He can already imagine himself floating in the air or whatever his body in the real world would be doing at this stage. That terrifies him even more. He wishes he could stop thinking, but it's like the thoughts aren't even his, but instead are being put there by someone. By him. Vecna.

He sometimes feels like that with Will too... Jesus Christ can he ever stop thinking about that boy?? His mind gets a... well, mind of it's own whenever he's with Will. Even more when he's without him. Thoughts of Will, of his eyes, his hands, his hair, his cheeks, his nose, his lips, his ears-

He hears footsteps. God damn it, Will's gonna be the end of him. Literally.

He runs out of the bedroom of the strange apartment he woke up in and down the seemingly endless hallway. Soon he realizes this was a bad idea. There's nowhere to hide, no rooms in sight. Just the hallway...

He runs and runs. He's never been good at running. Maybe when he was younger. Before that summer the Byers's left he was better at it. Jesus Christ that summer... He can't believe how stupid he was back then. He should've made it the best summer for Will. Sure, he didn't know it would be his last... normal summer in Hawkins, but still. He should've been nicer to him. Now he regrets it, regrets not being a better friend to Will while things were still relatively normal.

Of course, he apologized. But it was too late-Hawkins was already in shambles. Will didn't think that summer was that big of a deal and Mike nearly cried. He wishes Will would've hit him, or insulted him for it or something. But nothing-Will was seriously too good for him.

Anyway, his lungs were aching. But his legs weren't stopping. He wasn't in control anymore. So, he closed his eyes, and

Mike Wheeler woke up in a strange field. He felt like he just woke up from a ridiculous hangover- well, it's not like he's ever experienced one... Don't tell his mom.

The sun was melting his eyes, but he felt relatively okay. Safe, even.

He laid there for a little more. He liked how the grass felt. Hasn't touched grass in, like, two years. Since Hawkins got overtaken by Upside Down, and there's not any grass there.

Then, he stood up and looked around. Grass everywhere. Hills in the distance. A swingset not too far away from him.

He walked towards the swingset. Everything was bright. When he came closer to it, it wasn't so bright anymore. And he could make out someone sitting on the swings.

"Oh, thank God, I thought it wouldn't work-" Someone on the Swings said. With a sweet voice he could recognize anywhere.

"El?" Mike called towards the swingset. He was still fairly away from it. Someone on the Swings snorted.

"No. Will. El's with Lucas and Max."

"Oh." he muttered. He stepped closer and, it really was Will. In all his glory. Mike's mind went blank yet again.

"Are you- uh- real?" He said.

Will stood from the swings and stepped closer to Mike. "Well- yeah. I got inside your brain. Like- Vecna-vision style. Actually, Will-vison. Yeah." He chuckled. Mike chuckled as well. Soon they were both laughing. Then Mike finally got some sense into him.

"Wh- huh????? So you have, like, powers? Vecna powers? El powers?"

"Will-powers. Yeah... I kinda could also "spy back" on Vecna, in his mind, and see how he did his tricks. And after a while of doing that, I tried to do them too, and I- it didn't work. At first. Then I figured, if my mind doesn't have powers, and his mind does, and his mind invades my mind when I'm possessed, I can try to do it with the small part of my mind that isn't possessed... so I did, and it worked! And now I'm here! Saving your ass."

Will smiled at Mike. Mike smiled back. Yeah, that made sense- well, everything kind of made sense ever since the Upside Down stuff started. They've all become unfazed by otherwise unusual stuff. Oh, the demogorgons dance as a mating ritual? Mike's seen other animals do this too. Ted is Tiffany now? Mike's never liked having a dad anyways. Karen and Joyce were kissing? Mike can't relate.

"So- what the hell do we do now?" He said.

"Oh, right. You have to get, like, a flood of positive feelings. Well, just positive activity in your brain. That makes you feel positive. Because even though I can make you have a me-vision, Vecna's still the one controlling the bigger vision- uh, it's like a vision inside a vision. Like a- like a shield! An invisible shield from a cleric protecting his paladin," Will beamed. He was such a nerd. "Figured that out from Vecna's mind too, heh. It was too easy, like reading from a manual really."

"Yeah, but how do I escape it then? Can you make your Will-vision play my favorite music or something?" Mike joked. Half-joked. As I said, everything made sense at this point.

Will laughed- genuinely. And Mike blushed; he liked seeing Will laugh, or just generally happy. He liked it even more when he was the one making Will laugh and happy.

And when Mike thought that thought, and how pretty Will was when he laughed, Will abruptly stopped laughing and blushed- furiously is the best way Mike can describe it. Oh, right... If it's a Will-vision, it means Will knows his thoughts as well- that's embarrassing. So, Mike blushed as well.

Will cleared his throat, still blushing- probably because Mike couldn't stop his thoughts from thinking about how pretty Will looks blushing.

"Uh, so- I could do that, y-yeah... Just, let me try something..."

Will closed his eyes and started concentrating. Mike stared at him, because of normal reasons.

After a while of silence with Will's furrowed brows, Mike cleared his throat. He wanted to ask if Will's still there or if Vecna took over again-

"J-just a moment- I'm almost done, I-"

Then Will disappeared. And after a second, the grass and the swingset too. Mike was in a void. He was scared shitless, unmoving for at least ten minutes.

Then memories started popping up:

First, his first playdate with Will. He was so excited that day. Barely remembered it, but right now the details were fresh in his mind like it had all happened less than a minute ago.

Then, their first sleepover. Mike read Will a good-night story that time and Mike never forgot how precious Will looked, asleep after just five pages of the book.

Going to the pool. Meeting Lucas. Mike being jealous of Lucas when he hanged out with Will while he couldn't, but also Will being jealous of Lucas when he could play with Mike when he couldn't. First day of school. They were ecstatic when they found out they will be in the same class. Swimming practices. First D&D campaign. Watching new Star-Wars movies. Meeting Dustin. First D&D campaign with Nancy. Hugging Will in the hospital after he got found in the Upside Down. The apology.

Suddenly, Will was in the void with him. It was his-Will, he could tell. He was coming closer and Mike's head was full of love and joy this time. He just wanted to kiss him forever and let him know how much he loves him.

So that's what he did- When Will came close enough, Mike kissed him. On the cheek, first. He didn't want to be rude.

Will snorted and kissed Mike. On the lips.

Mike Wheeler woke up on the floor of his basement. The floor of his basement was covered with dirt. And a lot of stuff you could hurt a demogorgon with. Around him, three- no, four people: Nancy, immediately kneeling to him, Tiffany cradling his head, Jonathan, who had ran into the basement when Mike woke up (to come after Will, who was possessed five minutes ago and had broken free of Jon's grip to come see Mike wake up) and, at his feet, Will Byers with his nose a bloody mess, smiling fondly at him while the others a terrified expression on their face.

Mike smiled dumbly at nothing and everything. The basement erupted in cheers. They all hugged him.

"Will, you- you saved him! You're a genius!!" Jonathan exclaimed while hugging Will tightly. After the euphoria passed, Will and Mike of course told them what had happened in Mike's mind... Leaving out a few details. Mike and Will had talked about that part... in private.

[grey-sides]

Hi! can u write a harringrove story where Steve is getting lifted up by vecna and billy like cranks the radio up and gets him back? idk the idea just came to my head lmao

Hi!! Yes I can!! Here is it, warnings for S4, of course.

If you send me in a prompt, I will definitely try to get to them, but I'm going to be focusing most of my attention to other projects for a bit. So I may be slower fulfilling ideas for a little while.

Since the thing with Chrissy and Wheeler’s friend Fred, the little group Steve is part of has had a rule about going anywhere alone. No one goes anywhere, except like the bathroom, alone so there’s an accountability buddy. But Steve tends to think he’s above everything, like the Upside Down can’t hurt him because he’s gone toe to toe with a demogorgon. Or whatever those shits call it. 

They’re at the graveyard because Wheeler wants to visit her friend Barbara’s grave. She’s been getting the symptoms, the one Max broke into the fucking school to find because she’s insane and Billy loves her fiercely. Billy is waiting in the car because only Steve wants him there and he was not about to sit in the back of Wheeler’s station wagon on their way here. 

And Billy’s seen the shadow before, has done it’s awful bidding so he shouldn’t be surprised that this fucker has tricks up his sleeves too. If he wears sleeves. Billy would like to find him and punch him in his face either way. 

One minute, the little gang is watching Nancy sob over her friend’s grave and the next Steve is in the actual fucking air. Like one minute he’s on the ground where Billy left him and now he’s floating up near the trees. 

The kids start screaming, Nancy actually tries to jump into the air to grab Steve’s leg and Billy is lost for words. This is insane. He needs to get out there, he needs to do something. But screaming doesn’t seem to be helping and they don’t yet have any leads on how to break people out of this spell. Which means Steve is near to death and Billy is frozen in the car. 

He feels as frozen as he did before watching his own hands and his own body pack people into his trunk, feeding them to the monster. The kids are shouting theories from their fucking dungeons and dragon lore and Billy needs to move. Maybe he could climb a tree and tackle Steve to the ground. 

Billy’s not even certain that will work to pull him out of the trance, but he feels like he has to do something. If he can convince himself to stop staring and act. Just act. His eyes dart over to his hand which is moving of its own accord again, he swears. Billy finds himself turning the music up, blasting it louder than he usually does when everyone is in the car. Loud enough to be heard at the gravesite. 

For a while nothing happens, but Billy does manage to climb out of his car. He walks over to see Steve staring blindly up at the sky and the kids are still shouting at each other and at him, trying to figure out what to do. Nancy is still trying to grab Steve’s feet so Billy reaches up and hooks his fingers around his ankle. It’s a stretch, but it’ll have to do. 

“You’re not dying out here, Harrington!” he bellows, loud enough to be heard over Steven Tyler’s wailing. The song playing is Back in the Saddle, the same song that just happened to come on the radio the first night Steve kissed Billy. Billy hopes it still holds a little magic or something. 

Billy starts to sing along, staring straight up at Steve. His voice is a little hoarse, he doesn’t tend to actually sing along to songs much, but Steve needs him. Needs to know he’s not alone out here in this fucking graveyard. 

The kids start to join in, looking at each other when they don’t know the words. Billy knows the words by heart, practically has them tattooed on the inside of his ribs. This song will always mean something to him. Will always remind him of the taste of Steve’s strawberry chapstick that he swears he stole from Nancy. 

For a while, nothing happens, Aerosmith continues to play and Billy continues to sing along and he thinks about his heart breaking in two if Steve dies like this. Before they even know what to do to fix it. 

But Steve gasps and it’s like his strings are cut, whatever was holding him up has let him go and he falls straight down. Billy catches him, getting to his knees so Steve can roll over onto the grass, heaving great big breaths. 

“Steve!” Dustin shouts, the kid has tear tracks on his cheeks which Billy really didn’t expect. Billy probably has them too if he touches his cheek. “Steve, you’re okay!”

“I’m okay,” Steve pants and nods, he holds out a hand towards Henderson, looking over at Billy. “I’m okay. Aerosmith, the song, it like…punched a hole in the vision I was having. Let me see you all waiting here for me, shouting my name.” He shakes his head and smiles tentatively at Billy. 

Billy reaches for him again, touching his face gently. He’s doing okay, though Billy can feel his heart beating erratically where he has one hand pressed to Steve’s chest. “Glad I could help,” he says quietly. 

Nancy sniffles across from them and drops to the ground to hug Steve too, heedless of her skirt. She’s sobbing nonsense about how she should have paid better attention, but Steve keeps shushing her, he’s too kind like that. To ever think that someone should be looking out for him. But he has Billy now, they can watch each other’s backs.

When everyone has calmed down and they’re making their way back to the car, comparing song choices that might help in case anyone else gets caught, Dustin turns to Steve. “I didn’t know you were an Aerosmith fan.”

Steve flushes a little, curling his pinky around Billy’s where it’s not obvious. Even though it probably is pretty fucking obvious since Billy ended up holding him when he survived. Still, it’s the little things. “Billy got me into them,” he says and he looks at Billy. 

Contained in the deep brown of his eyes, there’s a galaxy, Billy is pretty sure. It’s probably why this fucker Vecna decided to target him because Steve is an emotional well, kept under tightly guarded lock and key. But Billy knows the secret now, the same secret that Billy’s known his whole life. 

Billy has found absolution in his music, whether it’s angry metal or soothing soft rock, it’s gotten him through. Through the fear of Neil and the fear of the shadow, through it all. And if music is Vecna’s weakness, well Billy has a whole hell of a lot of tapes and a fucking bone to pick.