#steddie time loop

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

{ the song (I Just) Died In Your Arms came on at work today and then this happened. }

Warnings: aftermath of time loops, like years after, hurt/comfort, angst, allusion to sex and loss of virginity (its really more of a fade to black situation tho 👍🏻)

🍒🍒🍒

"Eddie?" Steve calls, dropping his bag and all his crap by the door, and toeing off his shoes.

"Kitchen! Rob's at Chrissy's tonight so I thought we'd do dinner and a movie?" Eddie's voice calls, and Steve can already smell something cooking. Hears the sizzle of a something as well, and the radio playing something, the sound just a low rumble in his ears.

"Sounds good. Watcha makin?" Steve calls, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch, he knows Eddie will grab it later and hang it by the door. He leaves it there anyway, smiling to himself at the thought as turns toward the kitchen.

"Oh just the ol Eddie Munson special. Gourmet grilled cheese. It soothes the- Steve? You okay?" Eddie's voice is quiet now, Steve's sure his eyes are wide too but he can't see them. Not really.

He's staring at the radio. The low murmur of music finally hitting him, stopping him in his tracks, his blood running cold, like icy fingers trailing down his back. That fucking song. He could kill whoever wrote it. Who needs a song about someone dying in their arms?

"Steve?" Eddie asks, again. Steve nods. Takes one step backwards. And then bolts for the bathroom.

He hits his knees hard, slaming down in front of the toilet, losing the small amount of food he'd had for lunch, his stomach heaving. He's shaking when he stands, his knees buckle twice on the short walk from the bathroom across the hall to his room. He shuts the door softly when he hears Eddie's footsteps coming.

"Steve? Are you okay?" His voice is small, and Steve can see him, with his long sleeves pulled down around his hands, worrying the material between his fingers as he shuffles from foot to foot outside Steve's door.

"I'm fine Ed's. Just, keep cooking. I'll be out in a few for the movie okay?" Steve calls, yanking his clothes off and grabbing one of Eddie's old t-shirts that he'd stolen maybe a year ago. Eddie had never asked for it back. And Steve liked the way he blushed when he saw Steve wearing it.

Eddie does, sort of. He goes back to the kitchen, turns everything off, and then walks back to Steve's room. He slides down the wall outside his door and sits on the floor. He can hear Steve moving around in there, just shuffling around his room doing god knows what.

He does this sometimes. Eddie never knows what to do. Or say. Or how to stop it. He tries. But Steve won't talk to him about it. Just ignores that it happens. Or talks to Robin. They share little looks, he sees them, never knows what they mean.

It makes him uncomfortable sometimes, like they're telling jokes behind his back. He knows they're not. That they wouldn't. But there's something. And until now, he's never asked, never pushed. Just sat back and worried and tried to ignore the feeling that he'd done something wrong.

"Steve?" He asks, voice low. He hears Steve stop moving.

"Yeah?" He calls, sounding suspicious, or nervous maybe, or like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"You know I'm not stupid right?" Eddie's chest burns, fire crawling up his throat, his eyes burning.

"I- what?" Steve answers, voice muffled, Eddie can almost see him standing in the middle of his room, staring at the door.

"I'm not stupid. I know something's wrong." He presses his finger to the floor, rubs at a knot in the wood, listens to Steve walk closer to the door.

"I told you I'm fine. Really it's-"

"Don't lie to me." Eddie cuts him off, doesn't yell, doesn't even raise his voice. He thinks he hears Steve gasp on the other side of the door. Can't be sure.

"Please just-" he closes his eyes, clears his throat, wills the tears away. He's so tired of crying about this.

"Just talk to me? I know- there's something you're not telling me." He hangs his head, worries at his shirt sleeves, his hands in his lap.

"It's been three years. And I thought it would stop ya know? Thought maybe I was imagining things. Or just, had to get used to the enigma that is YouAndRobin. But that's not it, is it?" He lets his head fall back and hit the wall.

"It's me. It's something I'm doing. Or like, multiple things? And I've tried to stop. Ya know? Tried to figure it out on my own cuz you guys clearly don't wanna share." He sighs.

"But I just keep fucking up. And then you guys give each other those looks, and lock yourselves away for hours, or fucking days, at a time. And I try so fucking hard not to do those things again." His voice is strained now, he clears his throat again, tucks his knees up under his chin and keeps talking, knows if he doesn't say it now he never will.

"But it's fucking impossible to figure out what I'm doing wrong if you won't talk to me Steve. I just- I feel like I'm hurting you somehow and you just- you just fucking sit there and take it and pretend it not happening when it really fucking clearly is! And it makes me feel insane!" He shoves his lips against his knee, tries to hide the whimper that claws its way out of his throat. He closes his eyes, tries to breathe, opens his mouth to speak again and hears the door open.

He looks up, watches Steve look forward and then down, finding Eddie on the floor, his own eyes shining like Eddie knows his are too.

"It's not you." Steve says, whispers really. And Eddie can't help the eyeroll. Or the huff. Looks away from Steve, drops his chin onto his knees and closes his eyes again, pushes the palms of his hands against his eyes.

"You're lying." He croaks, voice tight.

"I know you are. I just don't know why." And he hates it, that whine in his voice. And then Steve is on his knees, next to Eddie, his hands hovering near him as Eddie glares at him.

"I- I'm not. I promise I'm not. It's not you. It- it's complicated. I don't-" he sighs.

"Just say it! Just try!" Eddie's hands flail, his voice desperate as he looks at Steve. He stares for a moment, eyes wide, and then falls to sitting next to Eddie, his own knee tucked up to his chest, back resting against the door frame.

"I watched you die." Steve says, quiet. Eddie frowns.

"I know. And then you carried me out of hell and saved me. I know that. What are you-"

"No. Not- not that time." Steve shakes his head, grimaces when he looks at Eddie. He shakes his head, he doesn't understand.

"Before that. So many fucking times before that. Over and over. You died. No matter what I did. Or what I changed." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, shoved a knuckle into the corner of his eye. He let his head fall back as he looked at Eddie, his hands falling palms up on his thighs, helpless.

"You died. Over and over and over. And everytime. Every single fucking time. I ended up covered in your blood." He closes his eyes, opens them again. Says nothing else.

"I-" Eddie starts, stops, takes a deep breathe, moves one hand over his chest, resting his palm against the scar on his side, a nervous habit he has now. His fingers drum against the thick skin there.

"That's- you're talking about a time loop." Eddie says slowly, and Steve, he fucking laughs. There's no humor in it, just a bark, and a wry smile as he shakes his head at Eddie.

"What? You are, right? I mean that's- why are you smiling?" Eddie flails again, hugs his knees tighter. Steve just shakes his head again, bites his lip to hide a smile.

"Robin told me I should tell you. That you'd understand. Or like, get it. And I knew you would I guess, I just- couldn't." Steve sighs again, gives a little helpless shrug.

"Why not?" Eddie rests his chin on his knees, watching Steve. The tension he'd been holding in his shoulders for what seems like years seems to melt away.

"At first I was scared. That if I said something. It would start again. And then it just-" he takes a deep breath, smiles the saddest smile Eddie's ever seen and says,

"It just hurt too much." He shrugs again, a tear falling down his cheek. Eddie stares, watches his fall onto his shirt, watches it bleed into the fabric.

"Why did it hurt? Cuz of me? Cuz I keep reminding you of it somehow? Right? That's what all those little looks between you guys have been?" He wraps his arms around his legs tighter, his lip wobbling again. He knew he'd been fucking up.

Steve looks at him, brow furrowed, and reaches out, his hand warm when it curls around Eddie's bicep.

"I didn't know you noticed that. And I'm sorry. But no. It wasn't that. I mean maybe a little. Just small things. Like, deja vu, sometimes." He shrugged.

"But tonight it was the song. That stupid fucking song." He sighs, shakes his head and laughs again. The sound hollow in his chest.

"The... song." Eddie frowns, trying to think what song had been on when Steve came through the door. And oh, yeah.

"Oh. Kinda... right on the nose that one. Sorry. It was just on the tape I found. It wasn't even my tape. I think it was one of Dustin’s old ones." Steve squeezes his arm, heads him off before be starts really rambling.

"It's okay. You didn't know. You couldn't have. Cuz I didn't tell you. And I should have. I'm sorry." Steve bites his lip again. Eddie nods, sniffles, untangles his arms from around himself and scoots a little closer to Steve, their legs pressed together.

"Will you tell me now? All of it? Please? I need to know what happened. Kinda really wanna know how you saved me." He feels his cheeks burn, his ears too. He can't look at Steve. Not right now. Knows he'll see too much.

"I'll tell you. But not on the floor." He laughs again, a real one this time, and gets to his feet. He offers his hand to Eddie and pulls him to his feet. Their hands stay together, Eddie's cheeks burn with a fresh wave of color and Steve smiles, tugs him into his room, and tells him everything.

~°~

"A whole year?" Eddie's staring at the ceiling, knows he sounds breathless.

"Yep." Steve says, pops the P.

"And you spent it with me?" Eddie asks, sounds unconvinced.

"Yep."

"And we-"

"Yep." Steve huffs, turns onto his side and looks at Eddie.

"Hey. Look at me." Eddie swallows, isn't sure he can. He let's out a shakey breath and does it anyway.

"Hi." Steve says, smiling, his cheek squished against his arm curled under his head.

"Hi." Eddie echoes.

"You and me?" Eddie asks, his brow furrowed, his throat burning again.

"Yeah. I uh... I wasn't expecting it. Or maybe I was. I'm not sure anymore. But I'm glad it happened." Steve shrugs, reaches out, his finger brushing a curl away from Eddie's face.

"Why didn't you tell me? We could've- I mean I would've-" Eddie swallows, not sure what he would've. Steve smiles that sad smile again.

"Because I'm an idiot. I thought I had to like- let you make your own choices. Not- tell you what you did before. And you didn't remember. Because it- it didn't work, that time. I didn't-" he pauses, clears his throat, wipes at his eyes.

"I didn't save you that time. I lost you. And it- fuck it hurt Ed's. It hurt so much." His throat catches on a sob, his palms shoving into his eyes and Eddie can't take it anymore. He surges forward, wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him close.

"I'm right here. I've been here. I'm not going anywhere." Eddie whispers, presses the words into Steve's hair as he clings to him.

"How many times after that one?" Eddie asks, his hand in Steve's hair, soothing.

"Two. I lost you two more times and then it worked. I woke up by your hospital bed instead of at my house. And you were there. Alive. And Robin was alive. And Dustin and Nancy. Everyone. More or less." Steve's voice is muffled, Eddie can feel his shirt getting wet from his tears.

"Steve I-" he takes a shakey breath.

"I don't know what to say." He sighs, keeps soothing his fingers over Steve's scalp. He pulls back, looks at Eddie, his face wet and blotchy.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm just glad you know now." He shakes his head, sniffles, drops his head back onto his pillow, eyes on Eddie.

"This um... this other Eddie. The one you spent a year with." Eddie draws.

"He wasn't 'another Eddie'. He was you. Just, before we really met." Steve snorts, rolls his eyes.

"Right. Right. So this Eddie you spent a year with." Eddie says, Steve fucking giggles and squeezes his eyes shut, nose all scrunched up. He opens his eyes, blinks a few times.

"What about him?" Steve asks, his teeth dragging over his lip as he smiles. Eddie shrugs, best he can laying on his side.

"Was he... I mean was he really like me?" Eddie asks, his voice sounding, doubtful. Steve hums, thinks for a moment.

"He was. And he wasn't." Steve shrugs too.

"That's very descriptive." Eddie says, voice flat. Steve laughs, rolls onto his back and then back to his side to look at Eddie.

"He was... different. Calmer. Less traumatized. At the beginning anyway. But he was still you. Still stubborn. And loyal. And kind." His shoulder twitches again.

"Was he nice to you? This other me?" Eddie asks, chewing on his lip, eyes locked on Steve's face. His cheeks flush and Eddie feels heat crawl over his skin.

"He was yeah. After awhile. He was... very nice." Steve's voice is soft, low, that little smile tugging at his mouth.

"Did he love you?" Eddie doesn't mean to say it. Not really. But he can't stop it. He has to know. Steve said they'd been together. But it was just a year. But a lot can happen in a year, Eddie knows all too well.

Steve eyes go soft at the question, a fondness in them that Eddie knows well, his stomach flutters at the realization.

"He said he did." Steve nods, scoots a little closer.

"And did-" Eddie swallows roughly, blinks a few times,

"Did you love him?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. Steve nods, slow, his hair splaying against his pillow, his hand lifting to his mouth, teeth worrying at his thumb nail.

Eddie feels a breif spike of jealousy peak its head up and then feels ridiculous. And then he feels something else, something that blooms in his chest and wraps itself around his ribs warmly. Something he thinks might be hope.

"Do you-" he bites into his lip, hard. His hands shaking on the matress between he and Steve. Steve's hand moves away from his mouth, his knuckles brushing Eddie's before lacing their fingers together.

"Say it." Steve whispers, his eyes shining. He smiles at Eddie and Eddie can't not smile back. Can't not ask.

"Do you love me?" He hears his voice, hears how he clearly doesn't believe that. But Steve nods, a giddy smile on his face.

"You do? Why?" Eddie blurts, and Steve laughs, curls closer to Eddie, his hand cupping Eddie's cheek, thumb moving over his skin softly.

"I'm not sure I ever had a choice." Steve breathe between them.

"I think it was just always meant to be you." Steve moves his thumb over Eddie's lips, then up over his cheek again, wiping at the tear that runs over Eddie's skin.

"But he's not- I mean I'm not- we're not the same person. I don't remember it. I don't remember getting to have you. I did get to have you right?" Eddie asks, his chest shuddering as he tries to keep his breathing steady. Steve nods, crowds impossibly closer, his knee slotting between Eddie's own.

"You had me. You had me then and you have me now. And you are the same person. That's why me and Robin always give each other those looks. Because I told her everything. Anything I could remember. And you do things. Things that you did then. When you were mine." Steve smiles. Eddie laughs out a sob.

"When I was yours." He says, mocking, his voice wet and wobbly.

"Yeah. You were mine. Do you wanna be mine?" Steve's fingertips move over his face, like he's trying to memorize him.

"Pretty sure I've been yours since I woke up to you reading The Hobbit by my bed in the hospital." Eddie smiles, more tears falling.

"Dustin told me it would help." Steve shrugged again his thumb back on Eddie's lips. He nodded, closing his eyes to warmth of Steve's skin on his. 

"I wanna be yours." Eddie breathed, gasped when he felt Steve's thumb press into his lip.

"Yeah?" Steve was so close now, Eddie opened his eyes and he was right there, his nose almost touching Eddie.

"Please." Eddie wasn't sure what he was begging for, but he trusted Steve to give it to him.

"Yeah. Anything you want." Steve sighed, closing the space between them.

His lips hit Eddie's and his whole world tilts. Steve holds his head and kisses him sweetly and everything slams into him at once. Thoughts. Feelings. Memories. Memories that aren't his. Things he's never done. Not with Steve. Not with anyone.

But they crash into him, wash over him like a wave and blend into him like they're his. Things he said to Steve, the way he touched him, the way he loved him, during that year that never was. All of it filling him and becoming his. His and Steve's. Just another piece of their story, another peice of their love.

Eddie gasps, pulls back and finds Steve's eyes on him, wide, his brow furrowed.

"Did you?" Steve asks, his head tilting.

"I remember. Or... I saw it. I felt it. Or like, an echo of it. I love you." He laughs then, breathy and sweet, and Steve laughs back, nearly tackles him back onto the bed, arms curled around Eddie, face buried in his neck.

"I love you too." He sounds giddy. The way Eddie feels. He buries his hands in Steve's hair and pulls him up, so he can look at him. Steve comes willingly, looking down at Eddie with adoration.

"Our lives are so fuckin weird. You know that right?" Eddie asks, his nose scrunching. Steve snorts, bites his lip, and smiles.

"Oh yeah. But would you want it any other way?" Steve asks, his nose scrunching too.

"I'll take it whatever way lets me have you." Eddie says, his finger moving down the line of Steve's nose. He bites at Eddie's finger when he drops his hand on his chest.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to ask. And that you were stuck for so long. Back then." Eddie nods to the side, like that time in '86 is right beside them.

"I'm not. I learned a lot about loving you back then." Steve smiles down at him, pushes his bangs back off his head, Eddie leans into the touch.

"Oh yeah? Well I look forward to reaping the benefits." Eddie says, tongue poking into his cheek.

"Yeah? Well I look forward to taking your virginity. Again." Steve smirks down at him. Eddie squaks, tries to shove Steve off him and gets pinned to the bed instead.

"How dare you! I'm not even- that's- I mean... absolute hearsay!" Eddie stammers. Steve laces their fingers together and straddles him, leaning down over him, that smug look on his face.

"You trying to say you're not?" Steve asks, his tongue moving over his teeth.

"I- it's just- I mean that's not fair." Eddie squeaks, looking up at Steve with wide eyes.

"Seems fair to me. Like a really nice reward." Steve boasts, leaning closer and closer.

"It feels like cheating. Like not that kind of cheating. Just... I've never- done stuff. And you're just... you have. With me. That's not-"

"Hey. I'll take good care of you." Steve breathes, presses his lips to Eddie's genlty and pulls back, settles himself on Eddie's thighs.

"I know. I have the memory. But it's like... I dunno, like it's foggy. Like a dream. I can see it, in my head, but I can't feel it." Eddie sighs, looks away.

"Forget about it." Steve says.

"Oh okay. I'll just forget about the images I now have burned into my brain of you, naked, on top of me." Eddie scoffs, tries to take his hands from Steve's and fails, Steve squeezes his hands tighter.

"Why are you so strong?" Eddie kicks his feet, feigning attempts to break free. Steve laughs, lowers himself back into Eddie's face.

"You can hold tight to that new old memory. Or we can make some memories of our own. Pick one." Steve brushes his nose against Eddie's and smiles when Eddie bucks up into him.

"New memories. Absolutely. We should do that. Let's make new ones. We should do that right now." Eddie nods frantically, lifting up and trying to kiss Steve, both of them ending up sitting, Steve in Eddie's lap, finally letting his hands go to snake his arms around Eddie's neck.

"New memories. Got it." Steve kisses him, sweetly, pulls back, just a fraction of an inch.

"You've got shit memory anyway baby. I'll get rid of those in no time." He breathes the words into Eddie mouth like a promise. Eddie moans and grabs at his back, pulling him closer.

"Holy shit. Okay." He huffs, shivering as Steve presses him down onto the bed again, laughing against his lips.

"I'm gonna take this slow. Be real sweet to you." He peppers kisses across Eddie face.

"You're gonna fuckin torture me you mean?" Eddie whines, his hips jumping and stuttering everytime Steve rolls his down against him.

"Trust me. You'll love it." Steve whispers, his lips ghosting over Eddie's, teasing.

"I love you." Eddie says, both of them freezing. Steve just stays there, looking down at him, his eyes shimmering again. Eddie reaches up, wipes the tears away.

"I love you too." Steve breathes, his body dropping onto Eddie completely, tension leaving as he kisses Eddie, slow and deep, both of them moaning into each other's mouths.

Steve's true to his word. He takes Eddie apart slowly. And then puts him right back together. Three years of longing, and lost time, and impossible memories passing between them. A slow ebb and flow, like the tide, like the ocean and the moon, moving through them both, pulling them together after so long apart.

Steve falls asleep on his chest after, small sounds falling past his lips as he nuzzles into Eddie's skin. Eddie holds him there, one hand in Steve's hair, one moving slowly up and down his back.

He holds Steve close, watches him sleep, and thanks whoevers listening that he gets to have this. Have him. And thanks them again for bringing him through it all, all the monsters, and the time loops, and everything else. Just for him to end up in Eddie's arms.

Eddie's certain it's where he was meant to be all along.

[cuips-not-cute]

There's a sound of breaking glass. And a boy pressed against him. The momentum with which Eddie always shoves him back falters. Stops completely.

Steve doesn't even touch the wall.

Eddie'd dropped the bottle. And his hands are on Steve's face, caressing, touching, feeling.

"Steve."

He doesn't move. Eddie does, though, pulling him into the hug of all hugs, his lithe body shuddering.

He remembers. Eddie remembers.

"You're okay." Eddie breathes. "It restarted. You're okay."

And then Steve's hugging him back. Clutching at Eddie's leather jacket, fingers digging in. Eddie's skin is warm beneath it. His pulse thrumming in his throat, a steady beat against the edge of Steve's nose.

Steve doesn't have to do this loop alone.

excerpt from ch9 of my fic, cyclical❤️

[travelingtwentysomething]

Lol I've got mine now and I will absolutely be ready if there's ever a time loop

[attempting to flirt] if i was stuck in a timeloop id desperately explain my situation to you every single reset

[sp0o0kylights]

If there are two stranger things scenarios I will NEVER tire of it is

1) drugged Stobin at Starcourt crashing into Eddie/Hellfire/Hopper literally anybody but the kids

And

2) Hellfire having a totally average 80s sitcom style day as The Nerdy Kids until Steve and the plot come crashing in at Mach 40.

[paperbackribs]

Eddie is crouched against skull rock, everyone talking around him about fantastical creatures and he can barely breathe as they discuss terrible things like they're normal happenings.

Max has earphones resting at her collarbone and Eddie thinks he might go crazy with every opening beat from Kate Bush that he can only just hear over their planning, but somehow that still makes it worse.

His breath is wheezing in and out when he feels a heavy hand land on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, man," Steve Harrington asks him in the forest clearing like it's natural for the king to talk to the freak. He easily squats down, knee to knee with Eddie and regards him with a steady gaze. "This is pretty fucked, right?"

Eddie laughs wetly, rubbing at the corner of his eye even as he fiercely hopes that it stays dry. "Fucking A, yeah."

It's Steve's turn to be amused, exhaling in a short puff like he hadn't expected that Eddie would make him laugh. Especially, he muses darkly, in the middle of a man hunt against him.

"We'll get Vecna," Steve promises, looking down the barrel of Eddie's panic that will be soon to rise. "We always get 'em."

And it's the darndest thing, especially for Eddie who's open to the fantastical but closed to hope in the real world, but he believes him.

Steve stretches out an arm, resting his palm over the back of Eddie's hand, the sensation as new as he wants it to be familiar, and Eddie feels himself unlock, unfurling like a bloom turning to the sun that is Steve.

"You promise?" It's ridiculous. Eddie knows how stupid it is to ask a mortal boy to vow that their awful adventures will result in a happy ending. But gods' blood above, Eddie feels like a blessing now will unravel an unexpected truth within.

A moment passes. A millisecond. A half of a half of a half, but Steve regards him with a heavy weight. His hand rising and thumb barely grazing his cheekbone, "I promise, Eddie Munson. You will live beyond this moment. You will survive and thrive and leave this piss-ant town behind. I promise. I goddamn swear that I will make it happen if it's the last thing I do in this life."

Steve's eyes are blazing. In the dim light of the shadowy trees, Eddie is hopeless but to fall under his words and believe the earnest beat of them.

And, even after he wakes up one hundred days earlier, he has no idea why he has the vague feeling that if he encounters Steve Harrington today that he should trust him.

But he will.

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie gets stuck in a time loop but has no idea why, his day is normal, there's not even a test that day that he can use this to pass. After a few time loops he says fuck it let's start doing fun things, starting with talking to his crush, the lovely Fallen King Steve. After a few loops Steve starts talking back, soon there's whole loops with just them hanging out.

Little does Eddie know, Steve is in a time loop too trying to stop the Upside Down once again, he's just having a hard time caring when there's this sweet metalhead chatting him up everyday. Maybe he deserves to waste a few loops.

[tartarusknight]

Time Loop where it's Eddie stuck. He wakes up after dying by the bats and thinks it's just deja vu. Only during the third, he thinks maybe he's in hell. That he's forced to repeat the worst moment of his life for the rest of eternity. That maybe his dad was right and heaven and hell was real. That being gay was a sin and that now he's paying for it.

Yet by the fifth repeat, he tries something new. He thinks fuck it and does what he wants. He first with Steve Harrington who blushes easily and freezes like a rabbit in a headlight. He doesn't make Eddie feel like an abomination, in fact, it seemed to Eddie that he got flustered by the attention.

Which well, if this was hell, why give him a moment of light in the dark? So it isn't the only thing he does differently. No. When the bats come swarming in Eddie takes out a can of hair spray stolen from the camper and lights the fuckers on fire. He laughs even as one attacks him from behind.

He messes around during the next loop and the one after that and the one after that. But on the 10 or maybe 12th loop, he thinks that maybe it's not hell. How could it be when he gets moments with his friends and can flirt with a boy that might like him back.

So he starts to change more after that. The first thing he does is save himself. Being sick of his painful end, he gets him and Dustin out of the Upside Down the moment they get into the trailer. Then through the trailer and hidden a little ways down.

That's when he learns that not only does he die, but they still loose in the end. He's forced to accept that he had been dying for nothing. That they needed him alive and they needed a better plan.

So in the next loop he tells the group when he wakes up in Max's trailer. He explains it all and no one believes him. No one but Steve. Steve who tried to ignore Nancy's vision and repeated told Eddie through the loops that everyone would work out. Steve who raised a bitchy eyebrow at Dustin when the kid talked about electromagnetic fields and shit.

And as he tries again and again, he knows another constant. Steve trusts him readily.

[steddiehyperfixation]

let the sun rise

this is pure self-indulgent angst sorry. inspired by this post; written for @steddiebingo prompts: time loop + established relationship + saying goodbye | 2.9k words | T | ao3 |

Steve has been living the same three days over and over again. Just before the sun rises on Thursday, March 27, 1986, the day they’re supposed to defeat Vecna, he wakes up again in the Wheeler’s basement on Monday, March 24. He’s been at this for a long time now and he’s gotten pretty good at blending in with each loop, letting all the major events play out more or less they way they’re supposed to and being careful not to do or say anything that might make anyone think there’s something weird going on with him. But sometimes he slips. Sometimes, just sometimes, he loses track, the days all blend together and he says something he shouldn’t—a mention of Vecna’s plan that won’t be told to them until the sunrise that will never come, an offhand comment referencing a conversation that only happened in a previous loop and not the current one, or an exhausted complaint about going through something again. 

It’s always Eddie who notices these slips, always Eddie with his big worried eyes and careful attention who demands to know what’s going on with him and won’t let up until Steve either tells him the truth (which rarely ends well) or gives him a believable enough excuse (which is no small feat either; Eddie has always known how to see right through him). 

“I'm in a time loop,” Steve grudgingly admits this time, too tired to come up with anything else as he crawls into Eddie’s haphazardly remade bed, fresh bat bite wounds still aching. It’s been a while since he’s told the truth, and the loop will reset soon anyways. All they have left now are these few quiet hours while Nancy collects herself after her Vecna vision and the rest of them try to sneak in a couple precious hours of sleep. 

“Oh shit.” Eddie believes him instantly, always does. Still standing at the opposite side of the bed, he looks down at Steve with wide eyes. “For how long?”

“Dunno. Years, probably. It’s a three day loop and I lost track of how many there’ve been a long time ago,” Steve answers boredly, dismissively, hoping maybe this time Eddie won’t make a big deal out of it. “It doesn’t matter. It’ll reset soon and I’ll wake up on Monday.” 

“On Monday? Steve- sweetheart, why the hell didn’t you say anything sooner?” Eddie seems agitated already, hands moving fretfully as he speaks. So much for it not being a big deal. “You should’ve told me—the kids, Nancy, Robin—we could’ve helped you get out of it! We could-” 

“I don’t want to get out of it,” Steve cuts him off. It comes out a bit sharper than he intended, but it succeeds in giving Eddie pause. 

Eddie freezes, blinks, frowns. “What do you mean you don’t want to get out of it?”

“I asked for this,” Steve says. “I chose this.” 

“The fuck you mean you chose this?”

“I mean I chose it, Eddie. It's not a riddle.” 

(Steve couldn't cope after Eddie died. They got back from the upside-down, the hospital declared Eddie DOA, and Steve shattered. Not just his heart and his soul broke, but his mind snapped too. He put on a good face in front of the others, like a mask with artfully placed cracks to let only the appropriate levels and displays of grief through, but behind it he'd gone mad. He'd become obsessed. In private, he pored through books of ancient mythologies and occult rituals, lighting candles and chanting nonsense and spilling his own blood. Because if psychic kids and monsters from parallel dimensions exist, then surely there must be other things out there too—surely there must be something that could bring Eddie back. 

For weeks nothing happened, nothing worked, but Steve kept on trying, again and again, the very definition of insanity, until finally something did. Something came to him. In the dark, in the candlelight, the shadows gathered into a shape just at the edge of his peripheral. It hurt his eyes to try to look at it, and so he closed them. He didn’t need to see it, didn’t need to know what it was—spirit or demon or god; there was only one thing that mattered: “Can you bring him back?” 

It spoke to him in a soundless voice, words that bypassed his ears and slithered straight into his brain. I cannot, it said. 

“Then what’s the fucking point of you!?” Steve shouted, hands clenched into fists, fingers pressing into the gash in his palm.

I cannot raise the dead. I cannot undo what’s already been done. But I can give you more time, the thing whispered. He felt its presence move closer. I can take you into the past, let you relive the days before his death as many times as you need to. You will not be able to change anything, try though you might, but you can see him again, touch him and hold him as he was, alive. I can give you that, if you wish. 

Steve shuddered, the shadowy entity cold at his side. “Yes,” he exhaled. “Please. Take me back.”)

Eddie shakes his head, a refusal to accept that answer. “Why would you do that?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Steve sits up and reaches across the bed to take Eddie’s hand. “Just come here and get some sleep. Please.” 

“Tell me why.” Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand but doesn’t budge, standing firm. “Why the fuck would you willingly choose to relive three of probably the most stressful days of your entire life over and over again?”

“Eddie.” Steve tugs at his hand, begging him one more time to drop the subject. 

“Why?” Eddie insists. “Why would you do that to yourself?” 

“Because you die, Eddie!” Steve blurts out, emotion getting ahead of his better judgement. “Because you die tomorrow and there’s nothing I can do to change it except make sure that tomorrow never comes. Because if I let this next sun rise, it’ll be the last one you ever see, and we didn’t get enough time. We deserved more time. So- so I was given a choice and I took it, I had to. This was the only way I could be with you again. This was the only way I could keep you alive.” 

(That’s as much as he can say without giving away his insanity. He told Eddie the full truth once, only once, in one of the earlier loops when he was still half-mad, manically pouring out the whole story of his grief and obsession and witchcraft. Eddie had backed away from him as if from something monstrous. “Steve, you’re scaring me,” he said, and Steve made sure to never tell that story again.)

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie mutters vehemently. He drops Steve’s hand and turns away from him, raking his fingers through his hair and exhaling a sharp, heavy breath through his nose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Steve lets his dropped hand fall onto the bed like it weighs a ton, as heavy as the air between them and the words he’s confessed. “Please don’t get angry at me,” he pleads. He doesn’t want it to be a fight this time.

“What did you expect?” Eddie whirls back around. “You’ve been in this loop for years, I take it we’ve had this conversation before. So tell me, honestly, has there ever been a version of me that isn’t upset to learn that not only am I dead, but also that I’m the reason that you have been basically fucking torturing yourself for years?”

“No,” Steve admits. He doesn’t always act the same, so Eddie doesn’t always act the same—but whether it’s loud and angry or quiet and sad or somewhere in the middle, there has never been a loop where Eddie has reacted positively to any of this. And yet Steve still finds himself here, in loops like this one, desperate to make Eddie understand. “But it’s not like that. It’s not- I did this for you, so you could live!” 

That only makes things worse, it always does. 

“What, are you expecting a fucking thank you?” Eddie shakes his head, mangy curls flying. “You didn’t do this for me, you did this for you. Don’t you dare try to pretend like it’s anything other than purely fucking selfish. You haven’t given me any more life or any more time; I just reset, for you. You get to have all these extra years with me, but I’ll only ever have these three days with you.” His voice, though harsh and bitter, cracks; his eyes, though they blaze, are fractured and watery. “That’s not fucking fair, Steve. That isn’t right.” 

“It’s not right that you’re gone either! It’s not fucking fair that you died and you left me!” 

“Of course it fucking isn’t! But that doesn’t mean you go and stick yourself in a time loop, you idiot-!” 

“Fuck! Just stop yelling at me!” Steve sags back against the headboard, scrubbing his hands over his face and his stinging eyes. “I know, I already know. You’ve said all this before. I get it.” He drops his hands into his lap, tips his head back and closes his eyes as he sighs. He’s too fucking tired for this. Too fucking tired and in pain, and all he wants is to fall asleep in his boyfriend’s arms and wake up last Monday with this conversation erased from Eddie’s mind and a fresh loop ahead of him.  

Because Eddie’s wrong, he’s not torturing himself. Yes, they spend each loop in a near constant state of fear and stress, but they can still seek comfort in each other in the quiet moments; and even a panicked breath is still a breath, even a racing heartbeat is still a heartbeat, and Steve will treasure every second, every moment of proof he can get that they’re both still alive, together. That’s not torture when it’s all he’s got left. That’s worth everything. 

“There’s only a couple hours left of this loop,” Steve mutters wearily. “Can we please not waste it arguing with each other?” 

Eddie sighs in surrender, a slow, controlled huff like he’s still seething a little, but Steve can feel the worst of his anger beginning to curb into something softer. After a moment, the bed dips beside him and an arm slides around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He tugs Steve close and presses a kiss into his hair. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think you’ve just got too much heart for your own good, and I’m flattered that I mean so much to you. But…I also think that you need to let me go.”

Steve opens his eyes to Eddie’s soft, sad ones. It’s unbearable. He ducks his head, settling it onto Eddie’s shoulder and burrowing even further against his side. “Yeah,” Steve exhales a humorless laugh, “you’ve said that before too.” 

“And you’ve never listened,” Eddie says the obvious part out loud.

“No,” Steve confirms. His eyes close again, exhaustion pulling at him. “I don’t want you to die.” 

“Well, shit, sweetheart,” Eddie gives a dry, shaky laugh of his own, “I don’t want me to die either. I’m kind of really fucking terrified actually. I mean, given what we’re up against, I’m sure it’s gruesome and horrible—and don’t tell me,” he adds quickly when Steve starts to open his mouth to comment. “But you already know, don’t you, because it’s already happened for you. I’m already dead. I’m just…I’m nothing but a ghost to you now.” 

“No, you’re real,” Steve insists. He shifts to wrap both arms around Eddie’s waist and rest his head against Eddie’s chest, right over his heart. It’s beating a bit fast now—contemplating your own mortality will do that to you—but it’s beating, it’s beating. “You’re not a ghost. You’re alive.” 

“Only for these three days,” Eddie says, quiet with the effort of keeping his voice steady. “That’s not living, that- that’s not life, it’s just an echo of it. Countless echoes, but the real me is already gone. You have to let me go.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve holds him tighter, desperately, throat closing up with panic and grief just at the thought of losing him again. He buries his face in the dingy, unwashed fabric of Eddie’s Hellfire Club shirt like an ostrich burying its head in the sand. “Stop saying that. Just let me keep you.” 

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, and he holds him tighter too, his other hand coming up to run gentle fingers through Steve’s hair, “my Stevie, I’d let you keep me forever. But not like this. Not if I can’t keep you too, and especially not if keeping me is keeping you from living your life. I need you to live, Steve.”

“And I need you to live, Eddie,” Steve counters, mumbled petulantly into Eddie’s chest. This conversation is going in circles and Steve wishes Eddie would just let him sleep. He’d be lulled off in seconds by Eddie’s warmth and his soft hands if only he’d stop talking and making Steve want to cry.

“Steve-” 

“Stop,” he begs, voice breaking into something just short of a whine as it passes through the lump of emotion in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear this anymore. 

“Steve, look at me.” Eddie tugs lightly at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head, pushes gently at his shoulder to peel him away from Eddie’s side. Steve tries to fall back into him, but Eddie’s hand slides from his hair and holds his chin up with firm fingers, forcing Steve to remain locked in Eddie’s intense gaze. Which would be incredibly hot if only the circumstances weren’t so devastating. 

Steve has to look at him now, no matter how tumultuous an ache it leaves in his chest. Eddie’s face is tear-stained, water tracks tracing streaks in the layer of grime left there from all the trials of the past few days, but his expression is hard-set, determination and resolve pulled tight over all the quivering emotions behind it. Steve has never seen him look so grave, so serious and sad and scared all at once. And even like this, he’s beautiful. 

“I don’t want to die. There is so much more I want to do with my life, and if I have any choice at all in the matter, I’m gonna fight like hell to keep it; I can promise you that,” Eddie tells him, words a little rough around the edges with how much he means them. “But if everything you’ve told me is true—if I really am doomed, if I’m already dead—if I can’t live, then you have to. Not just the same three days on repeat, none of this time loop bullshit, I mean really, actually live. If you do anything for me, do that. Let the sun rise, let me have my last day, and go have the best fucking life.” He speaks emphatically, urging, demanding, pleading. His unwavering eyes never leave Steve’s, even as fresh tears well up and collect in beads on his lashes. “Please. Can you promise me that?”

Steve manages a tiny, noncommittal nod and pitches forward to pull Eddie into a kiss—if nothing else just to shut him up, but also, maybe, just in case this time it might really be their last. It certainly feels like a last kiss, has all the desperation of one, all the clumsy fervor and salty taste of tears.

But Eddie recognizes it as the evasion it is and doesn’t let him get away with it. Though he indulges the distraction with equal, if not more, desperation for several long moments, he soon pushes Steve back. “Promise me,” he says again, a bit breathlessly now but still just as serious. “I need you to promise me you’ll let the sun rise. Don’t just placate me, don’t just shut me up, promise me.” 

Steve’s stubborn tears finally spill over as for the first time he finds himself truly considering it. For the first time, his denial is not as immediate; for the first time, Eddie’s words and pleas have started to sink in somewhere he can’t ignore, and he knows, somewhere deep, that he should let go, he should move on. If only the idea didn’t make his whole body shake and the monster of his grief tighten its claws around his heart.

They look at each other with haunted eyes, hold each other with trembling hands. Just a couple of scared kids—Eddie scared to die and Steve scared to live without him, both of them trying hard to have the courage to face the inevitability. But Eddie has always been the braver of them (though he’ll never quite know it), and being in a time loop has made an excellent liar out of Steve. 

“I promise,” he says, with enough softness and sincerity that Eddie lets him kiss him and curl up close again without any more argument. They whisper goodbyes to each other instead of goodnight as they lay down to sleep, Steve settling his head back on Eddie’s chest and finally drifting off wrapped blissfully in his arms. 

He wakes up on Monday, March 24th, and he tells himself it’s only for a little while longer. 

[aurescentia]

dustin, trapped in a time loop:

dustin: i am stuck. in. a. time loop! what part of this aren't you guys getting?!

robin: psh, whatever. no you're not.

eddie: well, why not? wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen to us this week.

steve: okay. yeah, i believe it.

robin: dude. there's no way he's-

dustin: i'm telling you i am. every day, it's the same. we go to the War Zone, gear up, split up, every time.

dustin: then steve swoops in, saves eddie, and then they start making out. i've seen them slobbering all over each other probably fifty times by now, and i'm sick of it!

everyone else: ....

dustin: over and over again. they just keep kissing. it's driving me insane-

everyone else: .........?

eddie and steve: we gotta keep this kid stuck in a time loop 🤝

[lovelylittlegrim]

I don’t want to write a Steddie time loop fic BUT this part wouldn’t leave me alone. (Mentions of mcd, not written tho)

~~~

Eddie is frowning. “So,” he says slowly, “we’re in a time loop.”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“Because I keep dying?” His brows raise. “That— Yeah, that really fucking sucks to hear, Steve. Not gonna lie.”

Steve slumps against the side of the mobile home. “Yeah, it really fucking does.”

Steve scrubs at his face, feeling more exhausted than he’s ever been in his life. Seven loops, seven weeks of terror and blood and failure, and Steve doesn’t know if he can do it much longer.

“Man, you must be real tired of telling me about this,” Eddie says suddenly, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

“I’ve never told you before now,” Steve admits. He’d thought about it, but telling a guy he keeps dying doesn’t sound like the greatest idea. “I thought I could figure it out, or fix it on my own, but…”

“Wait,” Eddie stands up, mouth twitching into a grin. “So this is the first time you’re looping me in?” The grin turns into a wince almost immediately, “shit, okay, I’m just going to apologize now because I know I’m going to make that same joke in some way everytime you tell me about the time loops.”

Steve snorts out a quiet laugh despite the grief that clings to him a little harder every loop. “Sure, apology accepted.”

He’d rather have awful jokes than more blood on his hands.

He gets both.

Again and again and again.

~~~

(Okay, less funny than I imagined it being but I love the idea of Eddie munson making the same god awful pun or a variation of it every single loop he finds out. Steves tired of hearing it. He’s tired of eddie dying too tho.)

[cuips-not-cute]

"What did it feel like?" Steve asks sometime later, a new day ahead of them both. "Dying, I mean. Being dead."

Eddie pauses, dog-earing the page on his book to look up at Steve. He places it down on the couch beside him, scooting closer to lean his head down against Steve's shoulder.

"Not sure I remember, really." Eddie says. "I think it was dark. Like a big void. I'd be there in the real world and something would hurt, hurt bad, and then it'd just...stop. It'd go dark, and then I'd be slamming you into the wall again."

Steve hums thoughtfully. He'd died a few times, too. But he'd mostly just gone to that in-between place as the loops started up again. "You think that's what waits for us?" Steve asks. "When we do die?"

Eddie's quiet, his hand finding Steve's and lacing their fingers together, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "I don't think so," Eddie says finally. "I don't think I was ever really dead."

excerpt from the last chapter of my newly completed fic, cyclical❤️

or, read from the beginning <3

[jewishrat420]

Steve always thought Eddie was beautiful.

He never let himself linger too long on it in fear of what he might see if he let himself look. If he let himself dust off the dirt that lay on top of it, too overwhelmed by the possibility that he really hadn’t had himself figured out the way he thought he did.

But it’s true.

Like the sky knows clouds that filter in and out of eyesight, like the moon knows the unwavering devotion of the tide, Steve knows this to be a fact as irrefutable as the nature of gravity:

Eddie Munson is beautiful.

It’s in the way his hair bounces with every step. These springy, frizzy little curls that Steve desperately wants to know, intimately, the way he knows his own. Wants to compare them, wants to feel them in the spaces between his fingers, the sensitive parts that nothing else really touches.

It’s in the way he lights up a room as soon as he steps into it, a walking sun that burns so bright that he leaves the hole of every space he was once in great and gaping and singed at the edges. Everything he touches turns to gold, everyone he meets ruined for anyone else.

It’s in the way he carries himself. Tall when people are looking and small when they aren’t, like his body is a show that no one ever willingly buys tickets for but ends up seated front row at regardless.

Steve would buy tickets.

If he had known, if he had been brave enough when it really counted, he would have bought tickets.

There is no one like Eddie, and there never will be again.

But it doesn’t matter now.

Because Eddie is still beautiful, Steve thinks, even when he’s pale.

Even when his skin is sallow and sunken, even when his big brown eyes are tucked behind grayed eyelids.

Even when Steve himself was the one to shut them, but only after he spent nearly an hour gazing into their emptiness.

His hair is shorter now, the frayed edges trimmed by Wayne. He’d laughed as he did it, a sad little hitch in his throat, because apparently Eddie never let him cut his hair when he was younger.

When his blood flowed warm through his arteries, when his skin was still pink.

Wayne said he used to bounce his leg so hard that he was worried he was going to stab the scissors right through his thick skull.

So Eddie grew his hair out, split ends running wild.

But Steve still thought he was beautiful. Frizzy hair and all.

Steve’s never seen him dressed so fancy, not even for his own graduation.

But then again, he never got to try on that suit he borrowed from Wayne. Never got to see just how long the sleeves were, because he never got to be as tall as his uncle, did he?

No, Eddie never got the chance.

Never got the chance to he a normal boy with a normal childhood. To grow into the man he could have become and then into the world that was always too small to fit him.

Eddie Munson: born to die in Hawkins, Indiana.

If only he had tried just a little bit harder.

Fought just a little bit longer.

But he did his best, didn’t he?

Steve certainly thinks so.

Steve thinks he looks beautiful, now, still, always. He tucks a trimmed curl behind his ear, wishes he could have known what it would feel like if his skin were warm.

But it’s okay. He’ll know the feeling one day.

Next time.

Next time, they’ll try again. They’ll try harder.

Next time, Steve won’t be afraid to tell Eddie how beautiful he is.

Won’t be afraid of what comes after, because it will be different.

It won’t end with Eddie, sallow and skinny in a suit six sizes too big for him.

It won’t end with Eddie, pale and pretty as ever, laying in the coffin that’s been on reserve for him since the day he was born.

Next time will be different, see, because it won’t end.

They’ll do it right.

Steve will do it right.

And Eddie will still be beautiful, and Steve will tell him so.

x

original post

[lizard-ratt]

Again?

Because I am incapable of not writing new fics while working on my old ones, I have written a first chapter for a new fic idea. It's heavily inspired by Time Loop fics. I cannot promise it is good. Thank you for your understanding.

WC: 4,083

Content Warning: Death (he gets better, I promise), Descriptions of child neglect, phantom pain

Steve Harrington was six years old the first time he died. It was the first time he had been left home alone, though at that time it had been an accident. His parents forgot to hire a nanny while they went on a weekend trip. He tried to call, but he couldn’t remember what number to call, so he gave up pretty quickly.

Steve did remember his parents telling him to be good, so that’s what he did. He ate a lot of cereal, and he didn’t touch anything that didn’t belong to him. What he did touch went right back in its place, right where he found it. He was careful with his toys, but it was still really boring, so he swam a lot.

It was the middle of summer, sun beating down on the back yard, but Steve loved it. He could slip into the swimming pool and mess around for hours if he wanted to. He swam until he couldn’t anymore. On the way out of the pool, his foot gripped onto the pool ladder wrong and he fell. His head hit the corner of the pool and things went dark.

He woke up in his bed, pain pulsing behind his temple. He coughed and coughed, like he was trying to expel something from his lungs, but he couldn’t figure out what. They burned, too. He stayed in bed after that. He hurt too much to do much of anything, so he focused on not crying. Harrington men didn’t cry. Echoed in his mind over and over again. He didn’t realize what happened, and later the memory would be so fuzzy he wouldn’t make the connection. 

The next time it happened, Steve was home alone again. He was twelve years old, and there was no nanny. This time, it was on purpose. Apparently, a year old child was old enough to take care of himself, and Steve didn’t want to disappoint them, so he told them he could do it. They left him a hefty stack of cash for groceries, which he shoved into a shoebox underneath his bed, and told him to be good.

The week went on as normal. He tried to make himself something simple instead of ordering out (again), and it didn’t taste awful. He swam, having gotten over his uneasiness with the pool, finally. He took his bike out to Benny’s Diner and got a free slice of pie and a nice talk with Margaret for his effort. 

Steve was having trouble sleeping, about two days before his parents were set to come home. He wandered his way to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. From where he stood, sipping at it, he got a good view of the two men sneaking into the house. They wore all black and had giant, empty backpacks strapped to them. They looked like burglars.

Slowly, hoping to not get the men’s attention, he eased himself out of sight. Or, at least, he tried to. The man on the left caught the movement, and in one quick movement, the man had a gun pointed at Steve. 

Given the chance to predict what might have happened that week, Steve never would have guessed that he’d be held at gunpoint by an intruder. He also wouldn’t have guessed that he’d be shot, square in the face and wake up with a pounding pain behind his forehead. 

The pain was too much. It blurred Steve’s existence down to a single point, making it impossible to really tell what was going on. He might have screamed, cried, or a million other things. The pain didn’t fade, but after what could have been hours, Steve managed to become more aware of himself despite it. He was still in bed, drenched in sweat, and he figured that it was a nightmare. Right? That made sense. Nevermind the lingering pain and how real it felt. Nevermind how wrong the explanation felt.

Steve pushed himself to get up, ignoring the nausea that swirled in his gut at every movement. He dragged himself into his bathroom and took a cold bath. It helped, a little bit. It gave him enough relief to think.

Steve took his sweet precious time scrubbing the sweat from his skin, then got dressed and moved to his calendar. His calendar that marked how long it had been since his parents had left and when they’d be back. The one he could have sworn that he marked off every day. According to the calendar, though, his parents had left just the day prior. 

He shook himself off and decided he only thought that he’d marked the calendar. He fixed his mistake and moved on.

That week felt like it took longer. His headache took its time in fading away. (It did, however, fade. It eased from the explosion of pain behind his forehead to something much more manageable). His parents didn’t come home when they were supposed to. Steve wanted to call to ask what the holdup was, but they were clearly very busy. They were so busy they didn’t even call to let him know they’d be late, like they’d promised they would do. So Steve just let it happen. He tried cooking another meal, and it was edible. He swam some more.

The nightmare came back a few times, but none of them felt as real as that first time. They were hazy, the details were blurrier. Even though it felt real, it didn’t take him too long the next morning to tell himself it was fake. 

About a week after the first nightmare, he was in bed. He couldn’t settle. Something buzzed beneath his skin. 

He got himself a glass of water. 

As he stood in the kitchen, the buzzing in his skin got worse. Like he was waiting for something. The men came into the house, and they looked exactly the same. The same outfits, the same backpacks. Carefully, Steve placed his glass down and turned to run. He wasn’t quite enough. Shouts followed after him. He made it to the door, but something exploded behind him, and pain slammed into his back. 

He hit the floor hard. He tried to drag himself up, but his legs wouldn’t follow his commands. After a split second of observation, he found he couldn’t feel his legs at all. His ears rang, but through the haze, he could hear an argument. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, words too muffled to decipher, but it was angry.

Someone came up from behind Steve and flipped him over to his back. He whimpered as the pain flared so much worse. It was too much. He barely even noticed the growing wet spot beneath him.

The man was speaking to him. He said something, but Steve could barely make out the individual syllables, let alone the words that they were a part of. As gently as possible, the man lifted Steve up. It hurt, like everything hurt. Steve might have cried out as he was jostled. Finally, his ears cleared enough for him to hear what was being said. 

“-taking him to a hospital,” the man addressed the other burglar. “Do what you want. I won’t say anything, but he needs help.”

“I can’t let that happen.” Something else exploded, the man fell back, dropping Steve in the process. Steve, that time, heard himself cry. It was ugly. The other burglar walked forward, stopping a few feet away from Steve. He lifted the gun to point at Steve’s face.

“Sorry, kid. It’s just business.” A third and final explosion rang out. Steve woke up, and the headache was back.

His head screamed at him, but this time, his back screamed at him, too. His legs hurt just as bad, if not worse. With a shaky hand, Steve reached out and pressed a finger into his thigh and he prayed that it would work. 

A barely there pressure broke through the pain in his body, and that was enough to tell him that he could feel his legs again. He gave his foot a little jiggle and regretted it immediately. He stayed in bed that day, working his way through the breathing exercises that he’d learned from his P.E. teacher. Doing nothing but breathing made it pretty effective.

It took Steve a while to get to his calendar. When he did, he froze. He could have sworn that it was well past the day his parents had left. He also could have sworn that he had marked off every day for the last two weeks, but there in front of him was an unmarked calendar showing the last week in June. 

The question popped up: what if he did mark off the calendar that first time? What if that nightmare was real, and he got sent back in time and found himself back to the Monday of the last week of June? What if he did it a second time?

He kept a closer eye on things. He pried himself out of bed, dragged himself across the floor (it still hurt too much to move his legs) and took a cold bath. It helped, a little bit. He managed to feed himself. He didn’t swim, and he waited for some kind of proof that he was wrong, but it never came. His parents never called.

He hid that night. He hoped that he would wake up the next morning. He stayed underneath his bed, the pain in his legs had finally eased to a dull ache, and he didn’t want to bring any of the pain back. He hid and listened. He heard the two men discussing what they had found. He heard them call each other “Al” and “Randy”. He heard them discuss the value of what they found. 

His bedroom door creaked open.

“Jesus…” Al said. “The Harringtons must hate whoever lives in this one…” 

“I think it’s their kids,” Randy responded. “See? There’s summer homework on the desk.”

Steve heard papers being shuffled around. 

“I don’t think the kids room will have anything valuable,” Randy went on. “We have a good haul. Let’s get outta here.”

Al stopped him. “Not quite so fast. This isn’t just any kid. This is a spoiled brat. Check under the bed first.” 

Steve froze. Al wasn’t the one checking. Randy was clearly upset by Al’s actions before. There was a chance that Steve would be fine. 

Randy shuffled, kneeling down beside the bed. A flashlight beam hit Steve and he gave Randy a look, silently begging the man not to say anything. Randy froze, for a brief moment, he stared at Steve. He nodded gently, barely perceptible. He swept the flashlight beam up and down for a moment, then stood back up.

“Nothing. Just blankets and other kids shit.”

Al went quiet, then in a dangerous tone said, “Now why don’t I believe you?” 

“Because you’re a paranoid son of a bitch?” Randy fired back.

Steve could barely breathe. Al was a Bad Man, and if he looked under the bed, Steve was toast. He would die and wake up Monday, fresh pain burning through him, and he’d have to try all over again. He really didn’t want to try all over again. 

Apparently, luck wasn’t on Steve’s side. Al knelt down and shined a flashlight directly on Steve’s face. Steve shut his eyes before the bullet hit him in the chest. It made things a little bit easier. 

Monday morning, Steve decided to call the police. Problem number one was telling them something that they would believe. If he said something like he died and got sent back in time so he knows that two men named Al and Randy are going to break into his house and rob him, he’d get in trouble. Problem two was telling the truth. It’s illegal to lie to the cops. He could get in trouble for that, too. 

In the time it took to wait for the pain to go away enough to exist, he came up with a truth-lie. He’d tell the cops something that was true, but made them think something else happened. 

 He took a cold bath to help with the pain, then carried himself to the phone and dialed 911. 

“911 what’s your emergency?” A lady answered. 

“I think someone is going to try to break into my house,” Steve said. “There were these men and they talked about taking stuff. I think one of them had a gun.” 

“Okay, may I ask who I am speaking to?” She asked.

“Steve. Uhm, Steve Harrington,” Steve answered.

“Okay, and where do you live, Steve?” Her voice was soft, but professional. She kind of sounded like his teachers. 

He rattled off the address. “What’s your name?” 

“My name is Melissa. It’s nice to meet you. The police are on their way right now. Can you describe the men to me while we wait? Is there any way we might be able to identify them?”

Steve hesitated. Randy was nice. Randy wasn’t Bad like Al was. He didn’t have to tell Melissa everything, did he?

“One of their names is Al, I think. One of them called the other Al. Does… does that help?” 

“Yes, that does. What did Al look like?” 

He described the man. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall, a beard. He also described the first man, but only because the lady asked. He wasn’t supposed to lie to the police lady, either. 

“Ok. The police are a minute out. You have been a huge help. We will do everything we can to make sure you’re safe, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“You have been very brave, telling me all of this. You should be very proud of yourself.”

A knock sounded at the front door. “They’re here.”

“Okay. Go ahead and let them in. Stay safe and have a nice day.” 

“Bye.” 

Steve hung up the phone and made his way to the front door. There were two men there. One a little older and one a little younger. They looked at Steve like they were a little surprised that he was the one to answer the door.

“Hey, there kid. My name is Officer Andrews and this is Officer Callahan,” the older one said. “Are there any adults in the house?” 

Steve froze for a minute. That sounded like one of those trick questions, but he couldn’t fathom why it would be. “No, they’re on a work trip right now. I can give you their secretary’s phone number if you need to talk to them, though.”

That was the wrong answer. Both Callahan and Andrews got visibly more upset, but looked like they were trying to hide it. 

“Sorry…” he said. He hunched his shoulders, tipping his head down.

“It’s alright,” Callahan said. It wasn’t. “Can we come inside? We just have a few questions, then we’ll figure out what comes next.”

Steve stepped aside. In all honesty, he didn’t think he’d make it that far. He was waiting for them to yell at him for lying, but they seemed to be taking him seriously. He wondered how long that would last. 

He guided them into the dining room to sit down. Way too late, he realized he was supposed to offer them something to drink. 

“Do you, um, do you want something to drink? I can, uh, I can make coffee. We have water. Juice?” His voice got quieter as he spoke, in a way that would have had his dad shouting at him to speak up, but the cops just shook their heads. They still looked upset. 

“Tell us what happened, exactly,” Andrews ordered.

Steve nodded, swallowing his anxiety. “There were these men,” he pointed to where they came in every time. “They talked about taking stuff. One of them had a gun. They, uh, they didn’t see me. I like to hang out in the backyard, ‘cause there’s a pool and stuff.”

Callahan wrote in his little notepad. “Can you describe to us the men?” 

Steve swallowed again, mouth dry. “One was really tall. Dark hair. I think he had a beard? Uhm. The other guy called him Al. He was the one with the gun. Al looked really mean. Like he would, uhm, like he’d use the gun on the other one if he made him upset.” 

Callahan nodded seriously. “Do you think this Al is making the other man join him on the job?” 

That would make Randy innocent, right? He wouldn’t get in trouble? Steve grabbed on the chance with both hands and nodded, almost too much. “I don’t know anything else.” He told them.

Andrews reached out to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve flinched, and Andrews froze. At a slower pace, he placed his hand down, projecting his movements more. “You did good, kid. Do you have somewhere you can stay while we investigate this?”

Steve didn’t like that question. His parents were still out, and would be until he fixed whatever was broken. His friends were strictly for school, so he couldn’t stay over at their houses. He didn’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins or whatever. Did it make him a loser to say no? Would they be upset?

Steve took too long to answer, and Andrews nodded. “That’s okay. You can stay at the station until we can figure something out, for you. Okay?” 

Steve agreed. 

“We’ll get in contact with your parents,” Andrews went on. “We have you until then.”

They told him to pack a bag for about a week, including some toys and things to distract himself with. Andrews sat at the door while he packed, watching carefully as Steve gathered his things. Callahan was on the phone, trying to get through to the secretary and seemed to be having issues.

Steve knew it was rude to listen in on others’ conversations, but it was difficult to not keep an ear out, when Callahan was getting progressively louder. 

“Someone could be robbing the Harrington’s house, putting their young child in danger!” Callahan snapped. “He’s not making it up! That boy was terrified! He’s not just asking for attention, he saw a man threaten another with a gun.” A pause. “Sure, yeah, leave them a message. Have the day you deserve.” Callahan slammed the phone back on the hook. 

“Come on, Callahan, let’s go.” Andrews gently pat Callahan on the shoulder as they headed out.  

On the way to the station, Steve got to sit in a police cruiser, which was cool. He was in the back, where criminals went, but Andrews and Callahan assured him it was because there wasn’t any more room up front. He still felt uneasy sitting where bad people sat, where people like Al sat. 

“We’ll find the men,” Andrews tried to reassure Steve. “We’ll keep you safe.” 

Steve nodded, and followed quietly as Andrews guided him to a couch with a little table in front. 

“We’ll find someone who can watch over you. Until then, stay here. Okay?”

They left him there for a while. A nice lady checked on him every once in a while, but she was busy. Callahan and Andrews were coming and going a lot, and it was a lot. Steve stayed quiet, waiting. He was good at waiting. He could be quiet, make himself small, make himself unnoticeable. 

After what felt like years, Officer Andrews came up to him with a picture. “Is this the man you saw?” he asked. “The one with the gun?” 

It was a headshot of Al. The man was holding a sign that said, ‘Al Munson’. Steve nodded.

“Yeah. That’s him.” 

Andrews nodded grimly. “Okay. Thank you,” he sounded genuine. “You’re being a huge help. We’re still looking for a temporary guardian for you. Do you think you can wait here just a little bit longer?” 

Steve agreed. He was good at waiting. He was getting tired, but he could keep waiting. 

“Thank you, Steve.”

“You’re welcome.”

They left him there again. Through the windows, Steve saw it was getting dark, but he didn’t get into his pajamas. They brought him something for dinner, and they brought him a blanket so he could sleep on the couch for the night while they kept looking for someone. It was late at night, while Steve fought the onslaught of sleep that they brought in Al Munson and his son. 

They brought Al in first, shoved off somewhere that Steve couldn’t see. He could hear, though. He could hear Al’s angry shouts. He said mean words and insulted everyone in sight. He swore up and down that he hadn’t been anywhere near the Harrington house.

Next, there was the other boy. He was angry. He crossed his arms and didn’t respond to anything that the cops said. He even told them to “fuck off”, when they pressed. One of the cops, not Andrews or Callahan, looked very angry. They guided the boy over to Steve and told him to be good. Steve didn’t stare, because staring is rude, but he did take a passing glance. The boy was skinny, bony. His clothes were a bit too big on him and fit oddly. His hair was buzzed and he looked miserable. Steve wanted to hug him, but he got a feeling it wouldn’t be welcome.

“What’re you in for?” The boy asked.

“They said my house wasn’t safe,” Steve said, “and I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Are you the rich kid my dad was gonna rob?” 

Steve nodded. “He was mean to Ra-” Steve stopped himself. “He was mean to the other man.”

“Randy, right?”

Steve glanced around to make sure no one was listening in. “Yeah.”

They went quiet, both a little lost in thought. “What’s your name, Rich Kid?” 

“Steve. You?” 

“Eddie.” 

They sat together for a while. Neither of them had anything to say. After a little bit, an older man came in, looking harried. “Eddie?” he called. 

Eddie shrunk in his seat, head dipping low. 

The lady at the front desk pointed back to them, and the man’s gaze snapped over to Eddie. He rushed over and pulled him into a tight hug. The man only had eyes for Eddie, not even seeing Steve. “Eddie,” the man repeated.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie muttered into the man– Wayne’s– shoulder. 

Steve looked away, choked up. He didn’t think about his own parents, who were still unreachable, or his nanny who used to hug him like that. He didn’t think about any of it. It wasn’t important. 

Wayne gestured for Eddie to get up. Eddie followed for a few paces, but stopped. He turned to Steve and waved. Steve waved back, and they were gone. A little bit later, Officer Andrews came back and kneeled in front of Steve. 

“We found him,” Andrews said, like Steve hadn’t seen the entire scene play out. “He had written plans to break into your house, and the other man, a man named Randy Olsen, agreed to testify against Al. We’re going to make sure he goes away for a long time.” 

They did, eventually, find someone to watch over him. Benny Hammond of Benny’s diner, they said, had an emergency foster license and would look after him. He tried to ask about his parents, but the cops got all shifty. They said they were still trying to get in contact with them.

Steve liked it at Benny’s. Benny was really nice, and he gave Steve some ice cream, even though it was past his bedtime. He did ask some weird questions, in the tone that Steve’s parents got when they were testing him, but he couldn’t figure out what he was being tested on. 

“Do your parents leave you alone a lot?” he asked. 

“Do they hire babysitter’s?” he asked.

“Do they ever get too busy for you?” he asked.

Steve answered honestly, because Benny was nice, and lying was bad. Benny nodded through everything Steve said, then told him he was brave, but Steve didn’t know why. He didn’t do anything hard. Maybe because he went to the cops about Al Munson? But he would have said that before the weird questions. 

Steve still said, “Thank you,” because it was a compliment.

Soon after, Benny ushered him to bed. He told him to sleep in, since it was a late night. Steve thanked him for that, too. When he fell asleep, he was content.

[paperbackribs]

"I'll save you," vows Steve.

Digging punishing fingers against his eye sockets, Steve mutters, "I can do this. I just have to figure it out."

Eddie Muson stares down at the co-captain of the swimming team, his body crouched down amongst the fall leaves in the clearing behind the school. The bench Eddie normally deals at to the left of them while he watches the dude he'd discreetly watched at his swimming meets, who also looks like he's losing his mind, muttering to himself and rocking back and forth.

"Dude, what the hell?" Eddie exclaims even as he wants to slap a hand against his mouth because, what the fuck? Can't he even manage a modicum of courtesy to a pretty boy who has stumbled across his humble lair.

"I mean, what's wrong?" he mumbles around awkward teeth and tongue.

Steve surges up and leans forward so suddenly that Eddie topples, falling back on unsteady feet only to be met by firm hands under the small of his back as Steve snakes out sneaky fingers and holds him underneath, secure and unharmed.

"I will save you," Steve vows, hazel eyes dark, intent. And mouth so close they breathe secretive air hotly on Eddie's lips.

He trembles. Eddie feels the shiver of a world unseen ripple down his spine and knows that Steve's next action will change his future forever.

"I will," Steve repeats.

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie liked to joke sometimes to his friends.

"how's the time loop today, pass that test finally?"

"Jeff, stop using the time loop to ask out Heather she's not gonna date you."

"No matter how many times you see the twist of this campaign no time loop will stop your demise."

Never in a million years he ever thought he'd be looking at one Steve Harrington and hearing him ask.

"Are you in a time loop too?"

[tartarusknight]

What if we got a time loop scenario but a different flavor of it... Set after everything goes down during season 4. (Minus the Stancy bit and let Steve have a crush on Eddie)

Steve barely managed to get Dustin away from Eddie's body and everyone back through the portal. He feels Eddie's blood under his fingernails. As Nancy makes a makeshift bandage for Dustin's leg and Robin checks to see if they could make it unspotted to the woods where they hid the camper. But Steve just can't seem to look away from the blood on his hands. He heads to the bathroom silently and doesn't look up at the mirror, he knows he looks like a wreck. But what he does do, is begin the faucet to wash away the blood that feels like it seeped into his bones.

The world is quiet for a long moment and Steve braces himself against the cabinet. For the first time in a long time the world feels still. Yet, it's a terrible feeling. Waiting to hear from Max's team and all of them shocked from Eddie's death. Everything is just... Still.

He reminders the last time he had been in this bathroom, Eddie showing him to the actual first aid kit and carefully helping Steve pull Nancy's shirt from his wounds. Eddie's frown as the could see threads of the fabric left in the wound. But Steve knew he could deal with it. Yet Eddie didn't even let him try. He let Steve just lean and brace himself from the pain. Eddie got his hands bloody from helping him. Steve's hands were just bloody.

He looks up in the mirror. Looking back at him isn't his reflection but himself a couple of days ago. Steve can see himself watching Eddie work and both of their breath catches at the sight. Steve desperately wishes that he could be there, again. To not be in this same room with only a ghost of a memory.

He choked back tears and slammed the faucet off. He took one then two deep breaths before heading out of the bathroom.

Only for the world to explode into noise. He hears the kids all arguing and in front of him is... everyone. "What the fuck," Eddie's voice comes from behind him and he jumps forwards, looking back at the dead man. Only he wasn't dead. No he was alive and breathing and looking at Steve like he was the one in the wrong.

"Steve!" Robin sounds alarmed and then so does everyone.

Steve looks at the group, noticing how Max, Lucas, and Erica are there too when they should still be at the creel house. Why are they here?

Hands cup his face and it's Robin, her lips moving quickly but Steve doesn't understand. He doesn't get what's happening. Why was Robin still in her button up? Where did her cute red hat go? He glances down to see his own looks hadn't changed. No he looked the same but he was the only one.

"You-you were just- and my vest!" Eddie sounds panicked and Steve knows something then and there. He wasn't the only one who hadn't changed. He was the one that had changed.

After all these years someone had listen to his pleas.

Of course shit goes down but instead of a restart Steve has to survive to go back to the start. Slowly wounds begin to join the bat bites and Steve gets worse and worse. He gets Nancy and Robin to make a notebook of everything they do that he can take back with him since it's more like a door through time than a loop. But with every attempt written down, it helps.

Since Eddie had been in the bathroom at the same time, when they finally save his ass from the bats, he manages to walk into the past with Steve and the two of them work together to make sure they win, with no casualties. Oh and fall in love of course.

Steve, being hurt badly from previous loops is the distraction and uses speakers. He hides away until the bats drop down. Robin and Nancy fight Vecna with Eddie at the bottom below the window to cut off the head of the monster before he can get away. And Dustin with Lucas and Max to put the headphones on her just in time. Jason sees Max being set free and stops long enough for Lucas to knock him out. And it works...

But as everyone is celebrating Steve can't help but feel off. He doesn't know why he does it, but he heads into the bathroom once again. In the mirror is himself from the first try. Eddie pops in and can't see Steve's past self but his own. But as Steve leans a little closer he feels his chest go right and everything go black.

Eddie catches him but in his arms was the boy only clad in Eddie's vest. No the one who was one step away from being in a body bag. He pulls them both out of the bathroom.

But as Steve wakes, he doesn't have any memories of the tries. No the last thing he had done was fight the bats. It's now Eddie's turn to catch Steve up and tell him how it all happened. Eddie having to get Steve to fall for him again, like Steve had tried with Eddie 💕