brokenl0re

🔥 - smut 🥀 - angst 🌹 - fluff

Eddie Munson

Multi-Chapter

To Hell and Back🌹🥀 Vampire!Eddie x Reader (ongoing)

Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down, but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead. Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.

One Shots and Imagine's

Pretty Sweet 🌹- Eddie Munson X Henderson Sister Reader

-Dustin Henderson always leaves Hellfire early to keep his older sister far away from Eddie Munson’s obvious crush. Still, one forgotten character sheet ruins everything and gives Eddie the perfect chance to finally charm her right in front of Dustin’s horrified eyes.

Behind Closed Doors🔥 🌹- Eddie Munson X Steve'sSister!reader

At Steve’s chaotic party, you and Eddie Munson circle each other like fire and gasoline—sharp insults, teasing glances, and a dangerous spark that refuses to die. Every interaction is a game of push and pull, and the tension between you is impossible to ignore.

Survive The Night🌹🥀Eddie Munson X Reader

When Chrissy Cunningham turns up murdered, the town of Hawkins spirals into fear. A red envelope marked YOU appears in everyone’s pocket. A killer is hunting them. As the group barricades itself inside the Wheeler house, paranoia spikes, friendships fracture, and the night dissolves into terror. But there’s a truth lurking beneath the panic—something far more intimate, far more calculated.

Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington

Summer Heat🔥🌹-EddieXSteveXFem!Reader

i’m sorry i’ve been gone for a while, the festive period was intense

masterlist

Summary: After a summer away, you return to Hawkins changed — confident, magnetic, impossible for Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson to ignore. A simple movie night spirals into a charged game of truths, buried confessions, and a rivalry that turns dangerously intimate.

WORDCOUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: 18+, drugs, alcohol, unprotected, swearing, p in v, mutual pining, somewhat inspired by the movie challengers, oral! f recieving, overstim! overall a dirty, why choose type fic, dirty, sweaty fic, I'm going to hell

When you pushed open the door to Family Video, the bell chimed the same way it always had, but Steve’s head snapped up like it never had before.

He went still behind the counter, VHS half-rewound in his hands. His eyes dragged from your hair—sun-lightened in streaks—to the woven bracelet on your wrist, to the way your tank top showed a little more tanned shoulder than last year. He blinked once, twice, forgetting completely about the tape clicking in protest beneath his fingers.

Eddie was already in the aisle, flipping through a stack of horror movies he insisted Family Video “criminally underappreciated.” When he glanced up and saw you, his smirk faltered for a heartbeat. His gaze tracked the same subtle changes—stronger posture, surer steps, shorts that actually fit differently because you carried yourself differently. His fingers went slack around the tape in his hands, and it slipped, hitting the floor with a slap.

“Uh—hi,” Steve said, voice doing a strange, soft dip he immediately tried to mask with a clearing of his throat. He brushed a hand through his hair, suddenly attentive, suddenly careful. “You, uh… back in town?”

Eddie leaned casually on the end of the shelf, arms crossing—but the movement was off, like he was stalling for time. His eyes lingered a fraction too long on the sun-kissed skin at your collarbone. “Didn’t think we’d see you ‘til next week,” he said, but there was something else beneath it—something edged with surprise and something dangerously close to awe.

You smiled, small but real. “Got home early.”

Steve straightened slightly. Eddie’s jaw flexed. 

You drifted toward the shelves, and they drifted too, almost unconsciously, one on each side. Steve hovered at your right, always a half-step closer than he used to be, as if drawn in. Eddie slid into place on your left, gaze flicking to your face whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

“A whole summer and no phone call?” Eddie breathed.

You glanced at him, amused. “Didn’t know you were waiting by the phone.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to grin but couldn’t quite get there. “Yeah, well… maybe I was.”

Steve shot him a look over your shoulder—half glare, half something more unsettled—before shifting a little closer, close enough that his arm brushed yours as he reached for a random VHS on the shelf. The movement looked casual, but the way he angled his body toward you wasn’t.

“You were busy,” Steve said, trying to keep his tone easy, unaffected. “Camp counsellor stuff. Kids. Bugs. Whatever.” He shrugged, but his jaw worked once, betraying him. “Didn’t think you’d have time to call.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want her to,” Eddie muttered, too quiet for anyone but you and Steve to catch.

Steve stiffened, but didn’t rise to it.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pretending not to feel the way both of them watched the motion. “There wasn’t much time,” you admitted. “Long days. Later nights.”

Eddie’s brows lifted, something sparking in his eyes. “Sounds… eventful.”

“It was work,” you said, though the way their attention sharpened told you they’d heard more in your voice than you intended.

Steve suddenly spoke up, a little too quickly. “You look—” He stopped, cleared his throat, then tried again, softer. “You look good. You look… happy.”

Eddie rolled a ring on his finger, studying you with an intensity that warmed your skin. “Yeah. Different,” he said, but not like it was a bad thing. “In a good way.”

You didn’t miss the way they both angled in, almost subtly enough to pretend it wasn’t happening. Almost.

Their rivalry didn’t flare outward—no jabs, no immediate sniping. Instead, it simmered, silent and electric, in the way Steve shifted closer as you reached for another movie, and in the way Eddie’s gaze followed the movement of your hand like it was something he hadn’t seen before.

The tension didn’t feel like it belonged to the old versions of them—the boys you’d left behind in June. This was newer, heavier. Rooted in the way you’d walked back into the store with a confidence you didn’t have when you left.

And they felt it.

Steve nudged your elbow gently. “So,” he asked, trying for casual but not getting there, “you picking something for the night? Or just teasing us with your presence?”

Eddie huffed a laugh. “She’s been gone a whole summer, Harrington. Let her take her time.”

You pretended to study the back of a VHS box, but the truth was you needed a second. Their attention—so focused, so deliberate—felt different than before. Before the summer, Steve would’ve flirted lazily, half-heartedly. Eddie would’ve joked his way around you, loud and exaggerated. But now?

Now it felt like they were both trying to catch up to the version of you standing in front of them.

You slid the tape back onto the shelf and stepped down the aisle. Footsteps followed immediately—Steve’s longer stride on your right, Eddie’s lighter one on your left. You didn’t have to look to know. You could feel them.

“So what are you in the mood for?” Steve asked, voice low, almost hopeful. His hand hovered near the small of your back but didn’t quite touch, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“Besides our company, obviously,” Eddie added, smirking, though it didn’t touch his eyes. Those were still studying you too closely, like you were a song he’d heard before but didn’t understand until now.

You rolled your eyes, but it came out softer than intended. “I came here for a movie, not interrogation.”

“Can’t it be both?” Eddie said.

Steve looked at him. “That’s not—” He cut himself off, exhaling, then looked at you. “We just… missed you.”

The words hung between the three of you, startling in their honesty.

Eddie’s shoulders slumped a fraction, as if he hated that Steve said it first but couldn’t disagree. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It was weird without you.”

You swallowed, suddenly warm all over. The room felt smaller, or maybe the two of them were just standing closer.

“I was only gone for a couple months,” you said, but the protest was thin, brittle around the edges.

“Long enough,” Eddie replied.

Steve’s gaze softened. “Long enough to come back different.”

You froze.

Eddie’s voice dropped, gentler than you’d ever heard it. “Long enough for us to notice.”

You opened your mouth, not sure what would come out, but before you could speak, Dustin’s voice carried from the front of the store.

“Hey, Steve! Did you finish rewinding—oh.” His steps slowed, eyes darting between all three of you. “Um. Am I interrupting something?”

Steve jumped back an entire step. Eddie straightened so fast he nearly knocked over a display. You blinked, heat still buzzing under your skin.

“No,” Steve said. “Yes,” Eddie said.

They glared at each other.

Dustin squinted. “Right. Okay. Well… good to have you back,” he said to you, still suspicious, before wandering off.

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was… charged.

You met their eyes, one then the other. “You two seriously need to relax.”

“Not sure that’s possible at the moment,” Steve said, almost under his breath.

Eddie smirked, but it came out softer this time. “Yeah, sweetheart. You kinda ruined that the second you walked in.”

You laughed under your breath, heat rising again. “I’m just here for a movie. That’s all.”

“That’s perfect,” Steve said immediately, stepping in before Eddie could. “We could—uh—hang out tonight. If you want.” He cleared his throat, staring very hard at the VHS rack. “Catch up. Since you’ve been gone.”

Eddie scoffed softly. “Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth. But if anyone’s hanging out with her tonight, it’s me. I’ve actually got the night free.”

Steve turned, eyebrows lifting sharply. “So do I.”

Eddie blinked innocently. “Crazy coincidence.”

“You don’t believe in coincidences,” Steve muttered.

“Not when you’re around, man.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your mouth. “Guys—”

“So what do you want to do?” Steve cut in, too eager to hide. “We could watch whatever you pick. Order pizza. Or I could cook—”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Cook? You? Come on, Harrington, don’t torture her on her first night back.”

“Oh, and you ordering the greasiest pizza in town is a better welcome?”

“At least it’s edible!”

They were facing each other fully now, squared off like they were ready to throw down in the middle of the romance section. Dustin peeked from behind a standee, then retreated instantly.

You let them go for a few seconds—long enough to watch the tension ping between them, jealousy and posturing and something else beneath it.

Then you cleared your throat. Loudly.

Both froze mid-argument and snapped their attention back to you.

“Okay,” you said slowly, “how about this?”

Two heads tilted, almost identical in expectation.

“You both come over.”

Their reactions were immediate and wildly different— Eddie brightened, eyes going wide and thrilled. Steve blinked, startled, then stood a little taller.

“Wait—both of us?” Steve asked, almost cautiously.

“If you don’t want to hang out then—” you started.

“No,” Steve cut in. “I want to. Yeah. Definitely.”

Eddie grinned like he’d already won something. “Sounds like a party to me.”

“It’s not a party,” you corrected. “It’s a movie.”

“Movie party,” Eddie said.

“Movie night,” Steve insisted.

They glared again.

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. “Jesus. You two can fight about what to call it later. Just show up.”

“When?” Steve asked.

“Eight?” you offered.

“Seven-thirty,” Eddie countered instantly, raising his brows at Steve like ‘Try to beat that, king.’

Steve rolled his eyes. “Seven-thirty is fine.”

You looked between them, warmth pooling in your chest—because despite the bickering, despite the tension, they both looked genuinely excited. A little nervous, too.

Like they were afraid to mess this up.

“Seven-thirty,” you confirmed.

At 7:28, your living room was quiet. At 7:29, you heard two engines outside at the exact same time.

You peeked through the window and had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Steve’s BMW glided to a stop at the curb, sleek and polished like he’d spent the whole afternoon detailing it. Eddie’s van rumbled in right beside it, loud and unapologetic, stereo still vibrating faintly through the closed doors.

They stared at each other through their windshields. Neither moved.

You could practically feel the standoff from inside.

Eddie was the first to climb out, boots hitting the pavement with a thud. He had a grocery bag dangling from one hand, something clinking faintly inside—probably not anything responsible.

Steve exited his car a half-second after, almost like he refused to let Eddie have the first step. He held a pizza box and a six-pack of sodas, everything balanced neatly like he’d practised walking with it.

Eddie eyed the pizza.

Steve eyed the bag.

“What’s in there?” Steve asked, nodding toward Eddie’s hand.

Eddie smirked. “Hospitality.”

“That’s alcohol,” Steve said flatly.

“That’s hospitality,” Eddie corrected, lifting the bag.

Steve lifted the pizza box in response. “At least I brought real food.”

Eddie scoffed. “Pizza isn’t food, Harrington. It’s a peace offering.”

Steve frowned. “Peace offering for what?”

Eddie grinned, leaning back against the van. “You’ll see.”

You swung open the front door before they could escalate.

Both turned instantly, straightening like two boys caught doing something much worse than showing up too early.

“You’re…” you looked at the clock behind you, “…early.”

“Seven-thirty sharp,” Steve said, holding up the pizza like a trophy.

“It’s seven-twenty-nine,” Eddie pointed out.

“And we arrived at seven-twenty-nine,” Steve shot back.

Eddie spread his free hand, triumphant. “Which is early.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Which is punctual.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Guys.”

Both fell silent.

You stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

They moved at the same time, shoulder to shoulder, each trying not to be the one who stepped through first. It would’ve been funny if the air between them—and you—didn’t hum with something warm and electric.

You pretended not to notice the way they subtly jockeyed for position, each trying to walk closer to you as you led them inside.

They followed you into the kitchen—Steve a quiet, controlled presence at your right, Eddie practically vibrating with unspent energy at your left. They set their offerings down on the counter at the same time, and the soft clatter of glass against cardboard echoed in the small space.

Eddie’s bag chimed as he loosened his grip, bottles knocking together. Steve’s pizza box landed neatly beside it, perfectly squared with the edge of the counter because of course it was.

You reached up to open a cabinet, your red cami stretching just slightly with the motion, denim shorts catching the warm kitchen light. The air was thick with late-summer heat, heavy and slow. You didn’t notice their silence at first—too focused on getting glasses down—but you felt it.

Two sets of eyes. Both were very aware of what you were wearing. Both trying not to make it obvious.

Eddie recovered first, because of course he did. He cleared his throat, snagged a bottle from the grocery bag, and popped the cap with a flick of his thumb against the countertop.

“You want one?” he asked, holding the beer out to you, the bottle sweating in his ringed fingers.

You turned toward him, brow raised. “Already?”

He grinned, leaning his hip against the counter. “What? It’s movie night. Movies go better with beer. Besides—” His gaze dipped, just for a second, tracing the line of your bare legs before snapping back up with a flash of teeth. “—it’s hot as hell in here.”

Steve shot him a look, sharp but silent. When his eyes drifted to you, though—well, the silence made sense. He swallowed once, subtle gaze flicking from the curve of your shoulder to the hem of your shorts before he caught himself and straightened.

“She doesn’t have to drink,” Steve said, a little too quickly. “There’s soda. Water. Whatever you want.”

You smirked, fingers brushing the beer Eddie still held out. “Relax, Steve. I can make my own choices.”

Eddie’s brows shot up, triumphant. Steve’s jaw clenched, not at you—but at the way Eddie’s grin widened.

You took the beer.

Warmth flickered across Eddie’s face, genuine and bright for a second before he masked it with a shrug. “Knew you missed drinking with me,” he teased.

“Don’t push it,” you said, but your smile softened the words.

Steve busied himself with the pizza, lifting the lid and checking it as if it needed inspection. “We should eat before the movie,” he murmured, not looking at either of you. But the tips of his ears flushed pink—betrayal of where his mind had been a moment ago.

You stepped between them to grab plates, feeling the temperature spike again as they instinctively shifted closer, one on each side, as opposing magnets pulled toward the same point.

ou balanced the plates in your hands and stepped out of the thick kitchen air. “Alright,” you called, “let’s pick something before you two start wrestling over who gets the front seat of the couch.”

Eddie snorted. Steve didn’t deny it—though he shot Eddie a look that said he absolutely would wrestle him if pressed.

You knelt in front of the TV stand and opened the cabinet full of your VHS tapes. The familiar dusty-plastic smell wafted out as you flipped through the cases, hearing their footsteps behind you—two separate rhythms falling into the same orbit.

They crouched down beside you without a word—Steve on your right, Eddie on your left, like it was muscle memory.

You grabbed a worn VHS and held it up.

“This one.”

Both leaned in at the exact same moment—and immediately froze when their foreheads almost collided in front of you.

Eddie blinked once, eyes sparkling as soon as he read the title. “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” He gave a low whistle. “You’re telling me you came back cooler?”

Steve straightened slightly, clearing his throat. “You rented that the day before you left,” he said, quieter. “You were halfway through when you realized you hadn’t packed.” He met your eyes. “You never finished it.”

Your heart flickered at the fact he remembered that detail.

Before you could react, you stood and slid the tape into the VCR. It clicked and whirred, swallowing the film with a mechanical hum. Behind you, neither of them moved, both rooted to the rug like they’d forgotten how to stand.

You turned, catching the split-second moment where Steve’s gaze swept from your red cami to your exposed legs, then away—quick, guilty. Eddie didn’t look away quite as fast.

You pretended not to notice.

Eddie recovered first, pushing up from the floor in a single fluid motion. He made a beeline for the couch, sprawling across one end like he owned the place, long legs dangling off the side, arm thrown over the backrest in blatant invitation.

Steve rose more carefully, smoothing the front of his jeans, posture neat and controlled even as something bright and sharp flickered through his eyes. He settled at the opposite end of the couch, sitting upright, polite—overly polite.

You stood in front of them with your arms crossed lightly. “You two done turning everything into a competition?”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes,” Steve said.

Another glare exchanged.

You sighed. “Then scoot.”

They both blinked.

“Scoot,” you repeated, pointing at the space between them. “I’m not picking sides.”

Steve moved immediately, pressing himself flush to his end of the couch to give you space. Eddie grumbled but shifted too, though his arm remained draped over the back—territorial in a lazy sort of way.

You sat between them, the couch dipping under your weight. The contact was immediate—your thigh brushing Steve’s, your shoulder grazing Eddie’s.

Steve froze for half a beat before exhaling. Eddie’s breath hitched, almost inaudibly.

The opening credits flashed across the screen: dirt roads, heat haze, a radio reporter’s grim tone bleeding through the speakers.

Eddie grinned. “Great choice, sweetheart.”

Steve gave a soft laugh under his breath. “Could’ve picked something lighthearted, you know.”

“You scared, Harrington?” Eddie teased.

“Of course not,” Steve lied, too quickly.

You settled back, taking a sip of your beer as leatherface’s shadow filled the screen.

Neither of them looked at the movie yet.

They were both looking at you.

The credits rolled in a wash of distorted sound and static, Leatherface’s last wild spin fading into the hum of your VCR. The room was dim now, lit only by the soft lamp on your side table and the flicker of the screen going blue. Six empty beer bottles crowded your coffee table—three different brands, because of course Steve and Eddie refused to drink the same thing without a debate.

Eddie let out a satisfied sigh, slumping deeper into the couch. “God, I forgot how fun that one is.”

Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, cheeks flushed just a little from the alcohol. “Fun is one word.”

Eddie nudged him with his foot. “Don’t pretend you didn’t jump at the chainsaw scene.”

“I didn’t jump.”

“You did, Harrington. Whole couch moved.”

“You kicked it, man!”

You laughed, stretching lazily, and both men fell quiet mid-bicker, their eyes sliding toward you like they couldn’t help it. Your red cami had slipped slightly off one shoulder, your hair mussed from leaning into the cushions, your legs folded beneath you in those barely-there summer shorts.

Outside, the chorus of cicadas buzzed the humid August evening back in. Inside, the air was thick—beer-warm, hazy with the kind of tension that didn’t fade even after a two-hour horror movie.

Steve glanced at the time but didn’t stand. Eddie drummed his fingers on his knee, restless but not leaving either. Neither of them made a move for the door, and you didn’t want them to.

“So…” you said slowly, “do you guys need to go?”

Both spoke at once.

“No.” – Steve “Hell no.” – Eddie

You bit back a smile. “Good. Because I’m not ready for the night to end.”

Their attention snapped to you—sharp, alert, heat blooming behind their eyes in real time. Eddie’s tongue flicked across his bottom lip. Steve’s breath caught, barely audible.

You stood, grabbing the empty bottles as an excuse to move. They both rose too quickly, as if afraid you might disappear if they didn’t keep up. You set the bottles on the counter, wiped your hands on a dish towel, and then tipped your head toward the stairs.

“Come on,” you said, a soft dare threading through your voice. “We can listen to music.”

A beat passed.

Eddie was the first to respond, expression slipping into something hungry-sweet. “Upstairs?”

Steve’s swallow echoed in the quiet kitchen. “Your… room?”

“You two scared to leave the living room?” you teased lightly.

Steve blinked, straightening. “No.”

Eddie grinned crookedly. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You did. Feet padding softly on the stairs, denim brushing warm skin, the house settling into late-night stillness.

Behind you, their footsteps followed—Eddie’s uneven, impatient rhythm; Steve’s steady but just a little too quick. You didn’t have to look back to know they were watching you climb—watching the sway of your hips, the curve of your spine outlined by the red cami, the bare stretch of your legs still tinged with summer.

When you pushed open your bedroom door, Steve exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Eddie looked around with open curiosity, eyes flicking over the posters, the tangle of books, the Polaroids on your corkboard.

But mostly, they looked at you.

You crossed to your small stereo, flipping through a stack of cassette tapes until you found one with a cracked case and handwritten label. You slid it in, pressed play, and warm, slow, hazy music filled the room—something with a pulse, something that made the hot summer night feel even heavier.

Eddie let out a low hum. “Good taste.”

Steve’s gaze softened. “Really good.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed. They stood there for a moment—uncertain, waiting, the electricity practically vibrating off both of them.

Then you patted the mattress beside you.

“Sit,” you said.

They did. One on each side, like magnets pulled to the same point. The bed dipped beneath their weight, the three of you close—closer than the couch ever allowed.

Music throbbed softly through the room. Heat pooled low in your stomach. The air between the three of you crackled with the exact kind of intensity you’d never admit you’d fantasized about.

Eddie’s knee brushed yours. Steve’s arm rested behind you, fingers grazing your shoulder blade. Neither pulled away.

You tipped your head back, listening to the music, letting the moment swell.

Eddie leaned back on his palms, foot bouncing to the slow pulse of the music humming through your room. Steve sat on your other side, closer than before, but trying hard not to appear like he was competing for space on your bed — even though he absolutely was.

The heat of the night made everything feel softer at the edges, edged with that warm, tipsy glow. Laughter lingered in the air. So did things unsaid.

You took a slow sip from the last of your beer, feeling their eyes on you even in the dim light.

“Hey, Eddie?” Your voice was low — careful, but teasing.

He perked up immediately. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

You traced your thumb around the rim of the bottle. “Are you still selling Molly?”

Steve’s head whipped toward you so fast you heard the bedsprings shift. Eddie blinked once… twice… then let out the kind of laugh that was all breath and disbelief.

“Well,” he said, running a hand over his mouth, “I didn’t exactly have ‘camp counselor sweetheart asking about party favors’ on my bingo card tonight.”

Steve stared at you, brows furrowed. “Why are you asking that?”

You shrugged, light and easy — but your eyes were anything but. “I dunno.” Your voice dipped. “Thought it could be… interesting. For all of us to loosen up.”

You looked between them — two boys who once absolutely would’ve tried to impress you by saying yes without hesitation. But now?

Now they looked older. Softer. Protective in a way that made heat curl low in your stomach.

“I didn’t know you two had gotten so responsible,” you teased, nudging Eddie’s knee with yours.

“You bring out weird things in people,” Eddie said with a crooked smile.

Steve nodded once. “Weird good things.”

You leaned back on your elbows, music pulsing slow through the room, brushing both their shoulders with your arms. “So,” you murmured, eyes sliding between them, “you’re telling me you don’t have any?”

Eddie’s eyes glittered. “Oh, I didn’t say that.”

—

The three of you sat in a loose circle, backs resting against the side of the bed, legs tangled in whatever direction felt natural. The room glowed in amber light from your nightstand lamp. The cicadas hummed outside. One of Eddie's rings lay abandoned on the carpet between you all, lost in a fit of laughter twenty minutes earlier.

All of your pupils looked wider, your smiles easier, your limbs looser—as if the whole world had exhaled and so had you.

Eddie leaned back on his palms, head tipped to one side as he looked between you and Steve with a lazy, lopsided grin. “I haven’t felt this… floaty in forever,” he sighed, kicking lightly at Steve’s ankle.

Steve nudged him back with a laugh that sounded freer than anything you'd heard from him in years. His hair had fallen over his forehead, his cheeks warm, his posture loose in a way Steve Harrington’s never was.

Eddie traced invisible shapes on the carpet with his finger. “This is nice,” he murmured.

Steve glanced at him, surprised. “You admitting that hanging out with me is nice?”

“I said this”—Eddie gestured vaguely to the three of you—“not you specifically, Harrington. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But the smile tugging at his mouth ruined the jab.

Steve scoffed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. Still nice.”

The way he looked at you on the last word made your breath hitch.

You leaned back against your hands, head tipping up toward the ceiling. “I’m glad you both came tonight.”

Two soft, near-simultaneous inhales hit the quiet at once.

Eddie leaned closer, boots squeaking lightly on the carpet. “Yeah?”

Steve shifted too, knee brushing yours. “Yeah?”

Your gaze flicked between them—two boys sitting far too close, shoulders relaxed, eyes wide and bright and focused entirely on you. Everything about them buzzed with the same warm looseness that thrummed under your skin.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

The quiet between the three of you was warm, loose, stretched thin like something waiting to snap. Music fluttered softly from your stereo, the kind of hazy, nostalgic melody that made everything feel heavier and lighter at the same time.

Eddie flopped backward dramatically, arms out. “Okay. Okay. If we just sit here staring at each other any longer, I’m gonna explode.”

Steve snorted. “You’re always about two minutes from exploding.”

Eddie pointed at him without lifting his head. “Exactly. Hence—game time.”

Your brows lifted. “Game time?”

Eddie sat up again, eyes sparkling. “Truths.”

Steve groaned, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. “Oh, great. That’s not a recipe for disaster or anything.”

“It’s perfect,” Eddie insisted. “We’re all—” he waved a hand vaguely, “—relaxed.”

You laughed. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Eddie clapped once. “Rules are simple: you ask a truth, everyone answers. No lying. No skipping.”

Steve looked at him suspiciously. “You came up with this way too fast.”

Eddie grinned, tapping his temple. “Chaos brain, Harrington.”

You tucked your legs under you. “Okay then. Who starts?”

There was one beat— two— and then Steve, cheeks still faintly flushed, leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I will.”

Eddie snorted. “Of course you will, King Steve.”

But Steve didn’t take the bait. He looked at you. Then at Eddie. Something bold flickering behind his eyes.

“Alright,” he said, and then—without hesitation—

“When did you lose your virginity?”

Eddie choked on absolutely nothing. You blinked. Hard.

“Whoa,” Eddie coughed. “We said truths, man, not biography chapter titles.”

Steve shrugged, trying and failing to look casual. “It’s not that intense. It’s just a question.”

“It’s very intense,” Eddie said.

You lifted your brows. “You asked it, Harrington. You answer first.”

Steve went still.

You watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his fingers picked at the hem of his jeans, the way he didn’t look away from either of you.

Then, quietly—honest in a way that felt disarming—

“Junior year,” he said. “Prom night.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “God, of course it was prom night.”

Steve shot him a look. “We’re playing truth or truth, Munson. That’s the truth.”

Eddie grinned, leaning back on his palms. “Alright, my turn then. I—” He blew out a breath. “—was a sophomore. Mutual decision. Wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t romantic either, but… it was good.”

Steve nodded, surprisingly gentle. “Cool.”

Both of them turned to you.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears. Their pupils were wide—not from anything chemical, but from proximity, from the beer, from the night, from you.

Eddie tilted his head, a grin on his face. “What about you, sweetheart?”

Steve’s voice was softer. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Eddie elbowed him. “No skipping!”

“You didn’t let her decline,” Steve reminded him sharply.

You exhaled slowly, feeling their attention like heat on your skin. Eddie looked over at you knowingly.

You exhaled slowly, feeling their attention like heat on your skin. Eddie looked over at you knowingly — too knowingly — the corner of his mouth curling like he already suspected the answer and was waiting for you to confirm it.

You drew a line on the carpet with your fingertip, pretending to think. “Mine was… sophomore year too.”

Steve blinked. Eddie froze.

You lifted your eyes to Eddie — just briefly, just enough.

“Mutual decision,” you added quietly. “Not dramatic. Not romantic.” A beat passed.” But good.”

Eddie’s grin faltered — not in discomfort, but in recognition. His lips parted just slightly, his breath catching as if he’d been shoved backwards into a memory he’d boxed up years ago.

Steve looked between you two, eyebrows pulling together. “Wait… what?”

Eddie didn’t look away from you. Didn’t blink.Didn’t breathe.

Your smile was small. Barely there. But it was answer enough.

Steve’s eyes widened. “You two—? When—? Oh my god.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “You slept with—? Eddie? Eddie Munson??”

Eddie lifted his hands. “Hey! Don’t say it like that! I can hear the question marks, Harrington!”

Steve stared at you, then back at Eddie. “Oh my god, you’ve been unhinged around her all night. This explains everything.”

Eddie’s ears went pink. “Been unhinged around her for years, man. Keep up.”

You nudged Eddie’s knee with your foot. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, voice softening, something warm flickering in his eyes. “But I remember it.”

Steve’s gaze snapped to Eddie, narrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, man, the girl you’re trying so hard to impress? We hooked up once behind the school gym after a math test’? Didn’t seem relevant.” 

Steve looked at you, cheeks flushed and jaw working, like he wasn’t sure how to process the new information — or his reaction to it.

You took pity on him, leaning back on your palms. “It wasn’t a relationship,” you said softly. “Just… a moment. A good one.”

Eddie’s smile returned, softer, with that small ache tangled in it. “A very good one.”

You fiddled with your beer bottle, staring at the amber glass — aware of Steve watching you, Eddie watching you, the two of them watching each other watching you.

The circle on the carpet suddenly felt smaller. Tighter. Hotter.

Steve swallowed hard. “Okay. Well.” He lifted his chin. “That was definitely a truth.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “You started this, Harrington.”

“And I regret it immediately,” Steve muttered, though his eyes kept drifting back to you — as if this new knowledge had rearranged something inside him.

Your lips curled.

And you asked—

“Well, now that we’ve opened that door… who was your best kiss?” The air in the room changed. Both men went still. This game was no longer playful. It was personal.

Steve’s head lifted first.

Not defensively. Not nervously. But with a kind of quiet, startled courage — like he’d just realized something he couldn’t keep to himself anymore.

His eyes flicked to Eddie, then locked on you.

And in a voice low enough that the music barely covered it, he said:

“New Year’s Eve. ’84.”

Your breath hitched.

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Steve didn’t break eye contact with you.

 “You kissed me at midnight,” he said softly, like it was a confession he’d been holding in for far too long. “Just a quick one. You’d been drinking Coke out of those red cups, and your lips were cold from being outside. You laughed right after, like it didn’t mean anything.”

His throat bobbed.

“But it did. To me.”

The room tilted — not from alcohol,  not from heat or the drugs, but from the way Steve Harrington suddenly wasn’t hiding anymore.

You parted your lips to speak, but Eddie cut in, his voice rougher, tighter around the edges.

“Same night.”

You turned to him slowly, pulse pounding.

Eddie leaned forward on his hands, gaze intense, pupils huge.

“New Year’s Eve, ’84,” he said, breath shaky but controlled. “You kissed me too.”

Steve’s head snapped toward him. “What—?”

Eddie didn’t look away from you.

“It was later,” he went on, swallowing. “After midnight. After most people had left. You and I were standing behind Wheeler’s garage because you wanted air, and I…” He huffed a laugh that wasn’t quite amused. “I didn’t think you even knew my name back then.”

You did. You always had.

“You were shivering,” Eddie continued, voice dipping low, “so I gave you my jacket. And you said—”

He broke off, eyes flickering over your face like he was afraid you’d deny it.

“You said I looked sad,” he murmured.

Your stomach twisted.

“You kissed me because you didn’t want me to start the new year feeling alone.”

Steve stared at you, blindsided. “You kissed him too?”

Eddie’s eyes never left yours.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She did.”

The room felt like it was vibrating — with truth, with want, with something deeper and older than you’d realized you’d been carrying with you for months… maybe years.

Your heart hammered.

“I didn’t…” You swallowed, breath unsteady. “I didn’t know it meant that much to either of you.”

Steve let out a shaky laugh. “It was my best kiss.”

Eddie leaned closer, elbows braced on his knees. “Mine too.”

And then, softer — a knife-edge of honesty:

“Still is.”

The words hung in the air — Still is.

They landed like a spark in a dry field.

Steve inhaled sharply, as if he’d been punched in the ribs. You felt the world narrow to the space between the three of you, to the heat of their gazes, to the memory of two different midnights converging into one very dangerous present.

Eddie watched you with something raw, almost pleading, beneath the bravado. Steve watched you like he’d just realised he wasn’t imagining the shift,  that he’d been right to feel it.

Silence vibrated.Then Eddie straightened, slow, deliberate, like he was bracing himself. He lifted his chin slightly, eyes flicking between you and Steve.“Alright,” he said, voice rough but steady, “final question.”

Steve tensed. You did too.

Eddie’s lips curled, not in a smirk but in something truer, more vulnerable — and more reckless.

“Do you,” he asked quietly, “ever think about kissing us again?”

You froze.

Because it wasn’t Do you want to? It wasn’t Have you thought about it? It wasn’t even Which one of us?

It was us — The question neither of them had dared to ask, the one that admitted something dangerous, Something shared.

Steve stared at Eddie as he’d just crossed a line until he realised he wanted the answer too.

His voice came out rough. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah,” Eddie cut in, eyes still locked on you. “She does.”

Your pulse thundered.

You looked at Steve first.  His jaw was tight, his eyes bright, his breath unsteady.  He looked terrified you’d say no. He looked even more terrified you’d say yes.

Then you looked at Eddie. He was leaning forward, barely breathing, fingers digging into the carpet as if the question itself was too much for him.

And suddenly, the truth, the most straightforward truth, felt impossible to hold back.

“Yes,” you whispered.

The sound barely left your lips before the air shifted. The restraint in the room snapped like overstretched wire.

For one heartbeat, no one moved.  Steve’s chest rose sharply. Eddie’s fingers curled into the carpet. You felt their attention like heat on your skin.

Then Steve leaned in. Slowly. Carefully. As though giving you a chance to change your mind. As though he’d waited too long to risk rushing it. His hand slid to your jaw, warm and trembling at the edges.  He searched your eyes once, and then his mouth met yours. It was soft at first, trembling with everything he hadn’t said; the kind of kiss that tasted like relief, like apology, like something he’d been holding onto since New Year’s Eve ’84.

Your fingers curled in his shirt. Steve deepened the kiss, still gentle, still unbearably sweet, sickly even

And Eddie watched. Not in shock.  Not in jealousy. But in hunger. Eyes wide, lips parted, breathing uneven like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you away or pull himself closer.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t interrupt.

He just waited until Steve finally forced himself to break away for air eyes blown, hand still cupping your jaw like he didn’t want to let go.

You turned toward Eddie slowly.

His breath hitched.

“Sweetheart…” he whispered, warning and want tangled thick in his voice. “If you kiss me like that, I’m not gonna be able to pretend I’m fine.”

You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in and kissed him. Eddie made a slight, breathless sound in his throat, surprised, wrecked, grateful all at once. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in, the kiss deeper immediately, rougher, more desperate than Steve’s.

He kissed you like a secret finally let loose. Like he’d replayed that New Year’s kiss a hundred times and never expected to get another.

You felt Steve’s breath against your shoulder close, wanting, undone by watching.

When you finally pulled back, Eddie chased your mouth for half a second before catching himself.

You were breathing hard. They were too.

The electricity between all three of you was a living thing now.

You looked from Steve—flushed, dazed, lips swollen, to Eddie, pupils blown, chest rising fast and something bold and trembling bloomed inside you.

You leaned forward, placing one hand on each of their cheeks, pulling them closer, first gently, then with certainty, until all three of your foreheads touched, breaths mingling.

Both boys froze.

“C’mere,” you whispered.

Steve leaned in at the same moment Eddie did.

Your lips met Steve’s again just as Eddie’s brushed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then Steve’s cheek—

And somehow, impossibly, the kiss shifted into the three of you— sharing breath, sharing closeness,your mouth moving from one to the other,Steve kissing you as Eddie kissed you, Eddie kissing you as Steve’s hand slid into your hair, all three of you tangled in the same hot, shivering moment.

It was clumsy. It was breathless. It was nothing you’d planned.

But it was right. God, it was right.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the taste of their lips lingering on yours like a forbidden promise. Steve's hand lingered in your hair, fingers twitching as if unsure whether to pull away or draw you closer. His eyes met yours, wide and searching, a flush creeping up his neck that spoke of the internal battle raging behind his composed facade. He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing your cheek in a hesitant stroke before dropping his gaze to the floor, chest heaving.

Eddie, on your other side, exhaled sharply, his body still pressed against yours, but his usual bold energy faltered. His hand rested on your thigh, grip firm yet trembling at the edges, as if testing the reality of the moment. He licked his lips, eyes darting between you and Steve, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he forced a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The air thickened with the weight of what you'd just shared, the couch creaking under the subtle shifts as everyone adjusted, bodies close but movements cautious, like stepping into uncharted territory.

You felt the heat building between you, your skin prickling under their lingering touches. Your hand reached out first, sliding up Steve's arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. He tensed at the contact, glancing at you with a mix of longing and restraint, his free hand clenching into a fist on his knee before relaxing. 'Hey,' you murmured softly, guiding his face back to yours with a gentle tug. He leaned in hesitantly, lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss, softer this time, as if savouring the risk.

Eddie watched for a beat, his breath catching, before his fingers tightened on your thigh, inching higher with deliberate slowness. He didn't push; instead, he waited, his body language screaming restraint as he nuzzled into your neck, lips grazing the skin there without fully committing. The hesitation hung between you all, a silent acknowledgment of the lines blurring, but the pull was too strong to ignore. Your other hand found Eddie's curls, threading through them to angle his head up, drawing him into the kiss with Steve's mouth still hovering near.

The room grew warmer, the summer night pressing in through the open window, carrying the distant hum of crickets. Sweat beaded on your skin as you shifted, pulling them both closer, your body the bridge between their cautious advances. Steve's kisses trailed down your jaw, pausing at your pulse point where he felt it racing, his tongue darting out experimentally before sucking lightly, testing your reaction. You arched into him, a soft gasp escaping, and that seemed to unlock something—his hands roamed bolder now, sliding under your cami to cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples with growing confidence, though his breaths came in uneven bursts.

Eddie, sensing the shift, moved with more intent but still held back, his palms skimming up your sides, bunching the fabric of your shorts. He knelt between your legs as you spread them slightly, his eyes locking on yours for permission, dark and dilated. When you nodded, he hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down inch by inch, exposing you to the cool air that did nothing to quench the fire building. His hesitation showed in the way he paused, hands hovering over your bare thighs, tracing patterns with feather-light touches before diving in.

His mouth found your inner thigh first, kisses wet and open-mouthed, working upward with agonizing slowness. Steve, from behind, pressed against your back, his erection grinding subtly against you through his jeans, but he waited for your guidance, lips sucking marks into your shoulder while his fingers pinched and rolled your nipples, drawing out whimpers. 'More,' you breathed, and Steve's response was immediate—his hand dipped lower, fingers joining Eddie's path, brushing your folds lightly, feeling how slick you already were.

Eddie groaned against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through you. He parted your thighs wider, tongue flicking out to taste you, starting with long, languid licks along your slit that made your hips buck. But he didn't rush, his movements deliberate, almost reverent, as if worshiping every inch. Sweat trickled down his temple, mixing with the dampness between your legs, the dirtiness of it all amplifying the sensations. Steve's fingers circled your clit now, syncing with Eddie's tongue, but he glanced at you often, seeking affirmation in your expressions, his dominance tempered by that underlying yield.

The overstimulation hit quickly—Eddie's tongue delving deeper, lapping at your entrance before sucking your clit with filthy enthusiasm, not letting up even as your body trembled. Steve's mouth claimed your breast, teeth grazing the peak before soothing it with sucks, his free hand holding you steady against him.

You were a mess already, wetness coating their fingers and chin, moans spilling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure built. 'Steve,' you gasped, reaching back to palm him through his pants. He hissed, thrusting into your hand once before stilling, waiting for more direction.

'Undress,' you urged, and he complied with shaky hands, shedding his shirt to reveal sweat-glistened skin, then shoving down his jeans. His cock stood hard and leaking, and you stroked him firmly, feeling him pulse under your touch.

Eddie pulled back just enough to strip too, his lean frame shiny with perspiration, tattoos stark against the flush. He dove back in immediately, tongue relentless, fingers now plunging inside you to curl against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

You guided Steve forward, positioning him at your entrance while Eddie continued his assault, lips and tongue working your clit without mercy. Steve rubbed his tip along your folds, coating himself in your arousal mixed with Eddie's saliva, his eyes flicking to yours in silent question. When you nodded, he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the stretch making you cry out. He bottomed out with a shudder, holding still, forehead pressed to yours, breaths ragged as he adjusted to the heat enveloping him.

Eddie didn't stop, his mouth sucking harder, fingers thrusting in tandem with Steve's tentative rocks. The dual invasion overwhelmed you, body slick with sweat, pussy clenching around Steve as the first orgasm ripped through.

You came with a sob, soaking them both, but they persisted—Steve thrusting deeper now, dominant in his rhythm but glancing at you for cues, Eddie overworking your clit until you writhed, a wet, moaning puddle in their arms.

'Your turn,' you panted to Eddie, pulling him up. Steve slipped out reluctantly, stroking himself as he watched, eyes hooded. Eddie aligned himself, sliding into your drenched heat with a guttural moan, filling you completely.

He fucked you harder, hips snapping with dirty precision, hands worshipping your body—squeezing your ass, thumbs digging into your hips. Steve leaned in at your urging, mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking until it throbbed, fingers returning to your clit to rub circles that pushed you toward another edge.

The room reeked of sex and sweat, bodies slapping wetly, the wrongness evident in their paused thrusts, the way Steve's hand hesitated before gripping your waist tighter,

Eddie's eyes squeezing shut as if fighting the intensity. But the pleasure won out, undeniable. Eddie pounded through your second climax, your walls fluttering wildly, before he buried deep, cum spilling hot inside you with a strained groan.

Steve took over seamlessly, entering your cum-filled pussy, the slick mess making obscene sounds. He thrust with controlled power, bottom edge showing in how he let you set the pace with your legs around him, but dominant in the way he angled to hit deep. Eddie, not sated, kissed down your stomach, tongue lapping at where you joined, then sucking your clit again, overstimulating until tears pricked your eyes. You shattered once more, a trembling, soaked wreck, moans turning to pleas.

Steve followed soon after, grunting as he came, flooding you further, the warmth mixing inside. 

masterlist

Summary: When Chrissy Cunningham turns up murdered, the town of Hawkins spirals into fear. A red envelope marked YOU appears in everyone’s pocket. A killer is hunting them. As the group barricades itself inside the Wheeler house, paranoia spikes, friendships fracture, and the night dissolves into terror. But there’s a truth lurking beneath the panic—something far more intimate, far more calculated.

WORDCOUNT: 10.4k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, VIOLENCE, ANGST, MILD GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS, SWEARING, DRINKING, STRAP IN. major character deaths

People always said Hawkins was small enough that everyone knew everyone. You knew that wasn’t true. You didn’t realise Chrissy Cunningham. Not really. Pretty. Quiet. Cheerleader. Dating Jason Carver.  Sweet in a way that felt too gentle for the people she surrounded herself with.

You’d talked a handful of times, mainly in the hallways, sometimes in English class, and she was always kind. Soft in tone, soft in smile. Which made what happened to her feel… wrong. Too ugly. Too deliberate for a girl like that. Disembowelled and throat-slashed in her neat, organised bedroom while her parents slept just down the hall.

No break-in. No stolen items. No defensive wounds. Just violence. Brutal, purposeful violence.

And in a town like Hawkins, where nothing ever happened, her murder hit like a fault line cracking straight through every routine you used to trust. Even your friend group — this strange, mismatched collection of people who somehow stuck together — felt the shift the moment news broke.

Steve had been hovering again.

You noticed it in the way he lingered — leaning against doorframes, standing a little too close, pretending to reorganise tapes at Family Video just so he could keep you in his line of sight.

When you grabbed your coat to have a smoke outside, he stepped in front of the exit before you could reach it.

“You’re not going out there alone,” he said, voice firm in that bossy-big-brother way he tried to tone down but never really managed. “Not with everything that’s been happening.”

You groaned. “Steve. It’s three streets.”

“And Chrissy lived two streets from here,” he shot back, lowering his voice like the words themselves might shatter something. “Come on. Just—humour me.”

Before you could argue, Robin popped up behind the counter, practically spilling a stack of returns in her rush to intervene.

“Steve,” she huffed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “You’re suffocating her. People can walk. Walking still exists.”

“I’m not suffocating,” he said, even as he hovered at your elbow like a golden retriever guarding a steak. “I’m… looking out.”

Robin shook her head, mumbling, “If you get any more protective, she’s gonna need a crowbar to pry you off.”

You snorted. Steve looked mortally offended. Robin looked pleased with herself.

A moment later, the bell over the door jingled again. Nancy and Jonathan stepped in with matching shadows under their eyes. They didn’t greet anyone at first — they scanned the place, taking stock, constantly two steps ahead of everyone else.

Steve went still.

You felt it before you saw it—the way the air around him tightened, the way his jaw clenched just a little too quickly, the way his smile slipped into something practised and painfully polite. He didn’t say a word, but the look he gave Nancy was soft in a way he probably wished it wasn’t. And the look he gave Jonathan wasn’t mean… just tired. Heavy. Like old bruises pressing against bone.

Nancy brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning closer to Jonathan as she whispered something, their shoulders almost touching. Whatever it was, Jonathan huffed a quiet, worried laugh, and Nancy touched his arm without thinking.

Steve swallowed.

Just a slight movement. Barely anything.  But it landed like a punch.

Nancy’s fingers tightened around her notebook when she caught sight of the “In Loving Memory of Chrissy Cunningham” paper taped by the register. Jonathan quietly shut the blinds, like he didn’t want the outside world peering in.

The younger boys arrived next.

Mike slammed the door shut behind him, demanding, “Did anyone follow us?”

Lucas rolled his eyes but checked the parking lot anyway — a quick peek through the blinds before dropping them again. Dustin set his backpack on the counter and started rummaging through it with military urgency.

“We need a plan,” Dustin declared. “We’re dealing with a maniac. A real one. No more messing around.”

Their voices were deeper now, their frames taller, but there were flashes — a frantic gesture, a worried glance — that reminded you of the little kids who used to ride bikes past your porch every summer.

Lucas paused, noticing the tension in your shoulders. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded because that’s what you were supposed to do.

Then the last one came in.

Eddie kicked the door shut with his heel, breath fogging in the cold as he waltzed inside like he hadn’t been watching the parking lot the whole walk up.

He flashed a big, cocky grin to the younger boys, unnecessary, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Those went straight to you.

“Alright,” he announced, tossing his hair back dramatically. “Which one of you nerds scheduled this emergency meeting while I’m supposed to be playing the Hideout? I brought Twizzlers, by the way”

“Chrissy Cunningham is dead, and all you care about is your little band and candy?” You huffed, anger flooding your veins, but Robin quickly grabbed your hand beneath the counter, calming you.

Robin gave your hand a gentle squeeze under the counter, her eyes flicking to you with that “don’t blow it” look she’d perfected over years of chaos. You let out a frustrated sigh, curling your fingers around hers for a second before pulling back, still tense.

Eddie, oblivious to the gravity in the room, let his grin falter slightly when he saw your expression. “Okay… fine,” he said, voice dropping just enough to show he knew something serious was going on. “Dead girl. Scary stuff. Got it. No candy jokes.”

Steve, still rigid by the doorframe, ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. His gaze bounced between Nancy and Jonathan, whose closeness felt like a deliberate push in a wound no one else had noticed. Every slight touch, Nancy brushing a strand of hair from Jonathan’s forehead, his hand lingering just a second longer on her notebook—made Steve’s chest tighten in a way that wasn’t just worry about Chrissy.

Mike, crouched at the edge of the counter with Lucas and Dustin, muttered under his breath, voice tight: “It’s… the same day. The same day Will went missing, years ago.”

Lucas’s eyes widened. Dustin froze mid-gesture, fingers still clutching a pencil over a hastily sketched map of Hawkins. Even Eddie’s grin slipped into a frown.

You felt it immediately—the unease, the weight of history pressing down. Hawkins had never fully shaken the old fear, the memory of Will’s disappearance lingering in corners of everyone’s mind, unspoken but always there. And now, Chrissy’s death brought it all rushing back like a gust of cold wind.

Nancy finally spoke, her voice sharp but steady. “We all need to be careful. And we need to be honest with each other. No secrets. Not now.”

Everyone went quiet, the room thick with unspoken dread. Then, one by one, each of you reached into your pockets.

Steve’s fingers brushed something small and flat before he pulled it out: a red envelope. He stared at it for a long beat, then slowly opened it. Inside was a single word, written in cursive black letters:

YOU.

Robin’s hand came next, shaking slightly as she withdrew her own identical envelope. Her eyes flicked to Steve’s, then to yours. Same red. Same black letters. 

YOU.

She dropped it onto the counter with a soft, almost terrified sigh.

Nancy’s envelope followed, her fingers steady, but her jaw tight as she read the word. Jonathan’s was identical; he held it a second longer than necessary, as if he were bracing for it to mean something else, something worse.

Mike pulled his out, muttering under his breath, voice tight and low, “It’s… the same day. The same day, Will went missing.”

Lucas froze, eyes wide, and Dustin let his pencil clatter to the counter as he stared at the red note before him. Even Eddie, usually so cocky, went pale. He flicked the paper open and back, as if confirming it wasn’t a trick of the light.

Finally, you took yours out. The red envelope felt heavier than it should. You unfolded it slowly.

YOU.

One word. Ten of you. Ten identical notes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Steve’s hand twitched. Robin’s fingers hovered over the envelope as if it might bite her. Nancy glanced at Jonathan, whose eyes shifted nervously to the blinds before returning to the note. And Eddie… all Eddie would look at was you. When your eyes caught him, his eyes quickly shifted focus.

It wasn’t a coincidence. Whoever had left these had singled you all out. And now the room felt smaller, colder, like the walls themselves were closing in.

Hawkins had always hidden its secrets behind quiet streets and small-town routines—but this? This was different. This was a warning.

And you were all marked.

Eddie shoved his hands into his pockets, pacing slightly, curls falling into his eyes. “Come on,” he said, voice loud enough to cut through the room, but with an edge that betrayed the unease he tried to mask. “This could just be a hoax. Someone is trying to freak us out. There’s no proof we’re next. It’s probably just someone being a total idiot.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “A hoax?” he repeated, voice sharp. “Chrissy Cunningham is dead, Eddie. This isn’t a prank.”

Eddie waved a hand dismissively. “Exactly why it could be a prank. Small town, scary story, freak people out. Classic setup. Doesn’t mean anyone’s actually coming after us.”

You stepped forward, voice low and firm, cutting through the tension. “We are the only ones who know what happened to Will Byers. November 1983.”

The room went silent. Jonathan stiffened instantly, fingers tightening on the edge of his notebook. His jaw set hard, eyes narrowing, a shadow of old pain flashing across his face. Will—his brother—had disappeared that night. He had carried that fear and helplessness for years. And now… this.

Dustin froze mid-motion, pencil still hovering over his hastily drawn map of Hawkins. Lucas and Mike exchanged sharp, worried glances. Nancy’s eyes sharpened, jaw tight, but all of them felt it—the weight of what you’d just said. Even Robin stopped fiddling with her envelope, gaze locked on you.

Nancy ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath as she tried to steady the room. “Listen,” she said, voice calm but firm, “We need to stick together. All of us. Sleep at each other’s houses. Don’t go anywhere alone. Not now.”

“Does that mean slumber party at Harringtons?” Eddie joked, looking over at Lucas and Dustin,

Steve frowned, stepping closer, hands on his hips. “Of course, we stick together,” he said, voice a little too sharp, eyes flicking toward Jonathan. “But we can’t just hide away forever. We need—”

“I don’t want to be around any of you right now,” Jonathan cut in, his tone cold, clipped. His hands were shoved into his pockets, jaw tight. “Not tonight, not while this… all of this is happening. I need space.”

Steve’s face tightened, anger flashing. “Space? This isn’t about you wanting space, Jonathan! This is about all of us staying safe—”

“You don’t get it,” Jonathan snapped, stepping back. “You don’t get what it’s like to have your little brother… taken from you. To know how fragile everything is. I can’t— I can’t be around people pretending they’re safe while there’s a killer out there!”

Steve’s mouth opened, then closed. He ran a hand through his hair, voice low and strained. “Jonathan—”

“No.” Jonathan’s voice cut across him, firm and final. “I’m staying away. I need to be alone. Don’t try to follow me.”

Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming hard behind him.

The room fell silent, the thump of his exit echoing in the still air. Steve stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides. Nancy let out a sigh, rubbing her temples. Dustin and Lucas exchanged worried looks.

Eddie muttered, voice tight, “Well… that’s… not great.” You glare at him.

Mike just stared after the door, tension written across his features. “He’s right, I mean, give him a break”, he said softly. “But… still. We have to do something. Together.”

You glanced at the envelopes in everyone’s hands—the black letters marked YOU. The threat wasn’t just outside. It was in the cracks of the people you thought you knew. 

“Look, our mom and dad are out of town,” Nancy glanced at Mike. “Robin and Y/N can crash in my room, Lucas and Dustin in Mike's, and the rest in the basement,”

Steve threw his hands in the air. “Great, I’m stuck in the creepiest room of the whole house.”

Eddie put his arm around Steve, “It’s okay, Stevie, we can cuddle, I’ll be big spoon.”

Steve recoiled as Eddie slid an arm around his shoulders. “Quit it, Eddie”

“I’m just helping you cope, Stevie,” Eddie said, grin tight, eyes darting nervously around the room. “Safety in numbers, right?” You couldn’t help but smile at his humour. 

Steve’s patience snapped. He shoved Eddie lightly but firmly off him. “Back off,” he snapped, stepping between Eddie and the counter. “This isn’t about your stupid jokes. Focus!”

Robin groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh my God, you two are insufferable. I’m definitely rooming with Nancy and Y/N”

Nancy waved a hand, trying to regain control. “Ignore them. The point is, we stick together tonight. Phones off, doors locked, windows shut. We need to be alert.”

Dustin’s pencil hovered over his map, shaking slightly. “I want shifts—someone stays up, someone monitors the doors, someone checks the street every ten minutes—”

“Relax, Dustin,” Mike said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure out shifts. Calm down.”

Steve finally exhaled, voice lower, steadying the group. “Alright. We stick together. We watch each other. No wandering. No secrets. We survive the night, that’s the plan.”

You met his gaze, and for the first time since Eddie’s interruption, the group felt like a single, if uneasy, unit.

“I… I need to go home and grab a few things,” you said, tugging at your jacket nervously. “I’m not sleeping in my work clothes”

Steve’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. “I’ll drive you,” he said, voice firm, like there was no other option.

Robin groaned, stepping closer. “Steve, I need a ride too. And I’m not cloning up the store on my own,”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but then Eddie leaned against the counter, hands stuffed in his pockets, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll drive Y/N. My van’s out front.. Saves time.”

Steve blinked, caught off guard. “Your van? Eddie, that thing looks like it’s held together with duct tape and prayers!”

Eddie shrugged. “Runs fine. Mostly. Come on, Killer on the loose, I’d take my chances with my van,”

Steve stared between you, Robin, and Eddie, torn between responsibility and protectiveness. “I don’t like it,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to like it,” Eddie shot back lightly, though his eyes flicked with something more serious. “It’s just a ride.”

You grabbed your jacket. “Steve, I’ll be fine. Really.”

He huffed, defeated. “Fine. But Eddie?”

Eddie raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“You drive carefully,” Steve said, pointing at him like a warning.

Eddie grinned. “Scouts honour.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You were never a scout.”

“Exactly,” Eddie said, smirking.

You followed Eddie out of the store, the air cool and still as the door shut behind you. The parking lot was quiet, unusually so, and every shadow seemed just a little too long.

Eddie unlocked the van and swung the passenger door open with a small, dramatic bow. “Your chariot awaits.”

You climbed in, settling into the worn seat as Eddie shut his door and started the engine. It growled to life—loud, rattling, stubborn—but alive.

As he pulled out of the lot, he gave you a quick side glance. “So… you good? Or should I prepare for you to freak out halfway there?”

You exhaled slowly, gripping your bag. “I’m fine. Just… let’s get home.”

You watched Hawkins slip past the van window, the familiar streets feeling suddenly alien under the dim streetlights. Your stomach knotted as you saw the yellow police tape flapping in the breeze around Chrissy Cunningham’s house, Sheriff Hopper standing nearby, murmuring into his radio.

—

“Home for the night,” Eddie said, voice low. He didn’t move, didn’t comment on the cigarette—just watched the street, alert, waiting.

You grabbed your bag and swung the door open, stepping onto the quiet driveway. Gravel crunched under your boots, oddly loud in the still night.

You offered a small, wry smile, then headed up the steps and through Nancy’s front door, the warmth of the house swallowing you like a small, fragile shield against the tension outside.

Inside, the quiet was almost comforting, but the weight of the red “YOU” notes lingered in your mind. Tonight, everyone would have to stay together—walls, doors, and windows couldn’t keep out what had already marked you.

The instant you stepped inside, Steve was there, pulling you into a firm, almost protective hug. “Hey… you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. It wasn’t overbearing—just a solid, grounding presence. You let yourself lean into it for a moment, letting the tension in your shoulders ease slightly.

When you pulled back, Steve’s eyes flicked toward Eddie, who was leaning against the doorway, smirking just a little. Steve’s look was sharp but measured, a silent acknowledgement of respect for the fact that Eddie had gotten you here safely. Eddie met it with a small, almost imperceptible nod, and that brief exchange passed like a secret between them.

Nancy appeared in the hallway, ushering you forward. “Come on, I’ll help you settle in,” she said, guiding you to her room. The warmth of the house was a slight relief from the cold, tense night outside. You dropped your bag on the bed as Nancy helped fluff pillows and make space for you.

From the living room, the younger boys’ voices drifted up, a comforting hum of normalcy. They were sitting around the coffee table, playing cards, the clatter of cards and occasional laughter grounding the house in something familiar. Mike peeked up from the game, giving you a small, encouraging smile, while Lucas and Dustin concentrated fiercely on their hands, trying to ignore the heavy mood hanging over the house. Eddie walked over, ruffling Dustin's hat

You sank onto the edge of Nancy’s bed, running a hand over the comforter. “Have you heard from Jonathan?” you ask.

Nancy’s hands paused on the pillow she was adjusting. For a second, her expression flickered—worry, frustration, something deeper tucked beneath it.

She shook her head lightly. “No. Not since he left.” Her voice was steady, but the way her thumb worried the corner of the pillowcase betrayed the tension she was holding in her shoulders. “I’m… trying not to push. He needs space, and if I start chasing him right now, he’ll just run farther.”

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach tightened. Jonathan storming off into the night—with a killer loose, with red envelopes showing up in your pockets—felt like the worst kind of gamble.

Nancy sat beside you, smoothing her hair back with a practiced motion. “He’s not stupid,” she added quietly, more to reassure herself than you. “He knows how to take care of himself. He just… doesn’t want to be here right now.”

Her voice dipped on that last part.

Downstairs, a burst of laughter cut through the tension—Lucas slapping a card onto the table, Dustin groaning dramatically, Mike insisting someone was cheating. Eddie’s voice rose over the commotion, loud and theatrical:

“Dustin Henderson, if you accuse me of rigging the deck one more time, I swear I’ll hex your dice for the next three campaigns—”

“YOU can’t hex dice, that’s not even a thing,” Dustin shouted back.

“Not with that attitude!” Eddie retorted.

Their voices floated up the stairs, warm and familiar and messy—something that didn’t belong to a night like this, but somehow made it a little easier to breathe.

Nancy let out a small, strained laugh. “At least they’re… being themselves.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Feels normal. Kind of.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand gently. “We’re going to get through tonight. Together. We’ll keep each other safe.”

You nodded, meeting her steady gaze. The determination there was a sharp contrast to the exhaustion around her eyes—but it was real. Solid. Nancy Wheeler didn’t crumble under fear; she built plans on top of it.

A sudden set of footsteps pounded up the stairs—then Steve appeared in the doorway, leaning on the frame.

“Just checking in,” he said, scanning the room, then you, then Nancy. “Everything good?”

“We’re good,” Nancy answered, folding her arms.

He nodded, relief flickering across his features before he glanced at you again—long enough to make sure you were really okay.

“Dinner’s… well, Robin’s trying to make grilled cheese,” Steve added, grimacing. “So if the smoke alarm goes off, nobody panics.”

From downstairs: “STEVE! IT’S NOT BURNT, IT’S JUST… ADVANCED!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “See what I mean?”

Despite everything, a small laugh slipped out of you.

Steve caught it—his shoulders loosened.

“Anyway,” he said softly, “take your time. But… don’t close the door all the way, okay? Just… in case.”

Nancy gave him a pointed look—one that said I already have a plan for tonight, Harrington—but he ignored it.

He pushed off the doorframe and headed back downstairs, the sounds of the group swallowing him up.

Nancy returned her attention to you, voice gentler now. “Get changed. I’ll grab extra blankets.”

Before she stepped out, she paused, glancing back at the phone on her bedside table “If Jonathan calls…  tell me  right away.”

There was something fragile in the way she said it, something that made your chest tighten.

Then she slipped out, leaving you with your bag, the muffled bickering from downstairs, and the soft hum of a house trying desperately to feel safe.

—-

The dining room lights glowed warm and low, casting soft shadows across the table. Plates clinked, silverware scraped, and the faint smell of slightly over-toasted bread hung in the air — Robin’s “advanced” grilled cheese.

Everyone was crammed around the Wheeler dining table, elbows brushing, knees knocking, the whole scene too domestic for the weight sitting on all your shoulders.

You sat between Steve and Nancy.

Which meant you were stuck squarely in the blast radius.

Nancy ate with precise, quiet motions, her fork cutting clean lines through her sandwich. Steve, on the other hand, tore into his like it had personally offended him — jaw tight, eyes fixed on something that wasn’t his plate.

Every time Nancy shifted, Steve’s eyes flicked her way. Every time Steve breathed too loudly, Nancy’s shoulders tensed.

The air between them was thick enough to choke on.

Nobody mentioned Jonathan.

Opposite you, Eddie lounged back in his chair, one boot braced against the table leg, chewing loudly on his grilled cheese like he was auditioning for a commercial. He caught your eye and wiggled his brows, clearly enjoying the discomfort radiating off the other two.

Robin sat beside him, sniffing suspiciously at her own sandwich. “Okay, be honest,” she said, pointing her crust at Dustin. “Is it bad? Because Steve said he liked it and Steve lies to protect my feelings.”

“I do not lie—” Steve started.

“STEVE,” Robin cut in, “you once told me my bangs looked fine when they made me look like a startled raccoon.”

Steve groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Can we not—”

“It’s edible,” Dustin declared, giving Robin a thumbs-up.

Mike shrugged. “Better than Mom’s tuna surprise.”

“Everything is better than your Mom’s tuna surprise,” Lucas muttered.

Nancy hid a tiny, involuntary laugh behind her napkin. Steve’s head turned toward her immediately — too sharply, too much hope in it — and she felt it. You felt it. Everybody felt it.

She forced the smile down, focusing on her plate.

Eddie leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Damn, Harrington. Thought you’d have moved on from pining by now.”

Steve choked on air. “I’m not— I wasn’t— Eddie, shut up.”

Nancy went rigid, Mike dropped his fork as Lucas sucked in a slow, painful breath.  Robin muttered, “Oh God,” into her sandwich.

Eddie just smirked at Steve like a cat that had found a weak spot in the fence.

You kicked Eddie under the table.

Hard.

He jolted, eyes widening. “Ow— okay, okay. Jesus.” He held his hands up. “Fine. No more romance commentary at the table.”

Steve didn’t look at anyone. His jaw ticked. His knee bounced hard enough that you could feel it through your chair.

Nancy finally spoke, voice soft, polite, painfully neutral. “Focus on the food, Eddie.”

“Copy that, Wheeler.” Eddie took a loud bite.

The tension didn’t dissipate — it just shifted, settling like static across the table. You could practically feel Steve vibrating beside you, and Nancy sinking deeper into her thoughts on your other side.

You slowly reached for your water.

You reached for your water glass, fingers brushing against the cool condensation—

—and another hand touched yours.

Eddie’s.

Just the barest graze of his knuckles against your fingers, a brief, accidental-on-purpose kind of contact as he reached for his own glass at the same time. His hand lingered for a second too long — warm, calloused, unmistakably intentional.

Your breath caught.

Eddie didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he took a slow sip, eyes forward, pretending nothing had happened. But then his gaze flicked up, quick, unreadable, almost flirting with the idea of touch again.

Across the table, Robin didn’t notice, too busy analysing the structural integrity of her grilled cheese.

But Nancy did.

Her eyes darted toward you, then toward Eddie, a flicker of something like curiosity crossing her face.

And Steve… Steve definitely noticed. His brows twitched, jaw tightening just enough to betray the brewing storm behind his forced calm.

Eddie caught Steve’s reaction out of the corner of his eye and smothered a grin behind his glass.

You pulled your hand back slowly, pulse ticking in your throat. The slight touch shouldn’t have meant anything — but the night was heavy, the tension thick, and Eddie’s warmth still tingled against your skin like electricity trying to find a way out.

Before anyone could comment, Robin clapped her hands loudly. “So!” she announced, practically yelling. “Dessert. Pop-Tarts. Who’s in?”

The whole table jolted.

And the moment, your moment, slipped quietly into the noisy, awkward scramble that followed.

But Eddie still watched you over the rim of his glass. And he knew you felt it. He knew.

—

A half hour later, the house had settled into an uneasy imitation of normalcy. Everyone had migrated to the living room, plates scraped clean, the empty grilled cheese pan abandoned in the kitchen sink. Lamps glowed warm against the dark windows, and someone had tossed a couple of blankets onto the floor.

Robin burst in from the foyer with a stack of VHS tapes in her arms, nearly tripping over Mike’s feet.

“Okay!” she announced dramatically. “Family Video provided us with some quality entertainment tonight. And by quality, I mean stuff Keith said nobody rents anymore, which makes them perfect for us.”

She dumped the stack onto the coffee table. Cases fanned out like a macabre hand of cards.

“Uhh, Halloween…. Texas Chainsaw Massacre…Friday the 13th,”

“Did you purely bring Slasher films?” I ask.

“I have a strange humour when nervous,” Robin shrugs her shoulders.

Robin began tallying votes with the seriousness of a presidential election. “Okay, so far we have: one for Halloween, one for Chain Saw, one traumatised Nancy—”

While she was distributing ballots made out of torn napkins, your attention drifted.

Eddie had slipped away from the main cluster of people. He wandered casually toward the dining room hutch—too casually—and crouched down like he was totally, absolutely innocent and definitely not doing anything suspicious.

You shifted in your seat, watching him pull open a polished cabinet door.

Nancy’s parents’ liquor cabinet.

Your brows rose as he rummaged inside, pushing aside untouched bottles of whiskey, vodka, and something fancy enough to have a gold label. Eddie glanced over his shoulder once, making sure Nancy wasn’t looking, then reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels like a raccoon discovering a treasure chest.

He held it up triumphantly—then froze when he saw your eyes on him.

Slowly… dramatically… he pressed a finger to his lips.

Shhh.

You tried not to smile. Tried and failed. His grin widened just enough to show he was pleased with himself.

Across the room, Steve snapped his fingers. “Hey! Y/N! You voting or what?”

You tore your gaze from Eddie just as he slipped the bottle under his jacket, whistling like the world’s worst undercover agent.

Robin waved a napkin ballot at you. “Last vote before democracy dies!”

Eddie sauntered back into the group, looking far too smug.

“Halloween,” you called out, eyes not leaving Eddie. And you couldn’t help thinking, Slasher movies weren’t the only dangerous thing in the room tonight.

The lights were off, except for the faint glow of the TV and a single lamp behind the couch, casting everything in warm, murky gold. The living room wasn’t meant to hold this many people — especially not this tightly — but nobody complained. Nobody wanted space tonight.

Blankets piled on the floor. Bowls of half-eaten popcorn sat abandoned on the coffee table. The opening credits of Halloween flickered across the screen, that synth theme crawling up your spine like cold fingers.

Everyone had squeezed themselves into whatever space they could claim.

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder on the carpet. Robin sat cross-legged in front of the couch, leaning back against Steve’s shins. Nancy perched on the arm of the couch like she was afraid to sink into comfort.

And you—

You were wedged between Steve and Eddie on the sofa, so close your knees brushed both of theirs whenever you shifted.

Steve sat rigidly, arms folded, jaw tight, pretending he wasn’t wound like a spring. He kept glancing toward Nancy, who steadfastly watched the screen as if concentration could hold her whole world together.

Eddie had slouched the second he sat down, legs spread, arm thrown over the back of the couch behind you. Not touching you. Not quite. But close enough that you felt the ghost of his sleeve against your shoulders.

The movie had barely started when Eddie’s fingers — the hand draped behind you — shifted.

Not obviously.

Just enough that his knuckles brushed the back of your shoulder.

Light. Casual. Testing.

Your breath hitched.

Steve noticed.

He didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched so hard you heard the faint grind of teeth. His knee jostled against yours, the tension rolling off him in waves.

On the carpet, Dustin whispered, “Dude, shh, this is the good part,” loudly enough that everyone heard.

You tried to focus on the movie.

The theme music thumped like a heartbeat. Laurie Strode walked down her quiet neighborhood street. Pumpkins glowed on porches. Leaves blew across the pavement.

A normal night that wasn’t normal anymore.

Robin tossed popcorn in the air and missed her mouth entirely. “God, I forgot how much I hate that mask,” she hissed.

“Kevlar-face Kirk,” Eddie whispered back. “He’s the patron saint of bad vibes.”

You snorted. Too loud.

Steve shot you a look — half fond, half jealous — that twisted something low in your stomach.

Your ankle brushed Eddie’s boot. You didn’t know who moved first. Neither of you pulled away.

Outside the TV’s glow, the rest of the house felt impossibly dark. The weight of the red notes sat heavy behind all of you — a silent threat, waiting.

But here, for a moment, you were warm. Pressed between two people who would die before they let anything happen to you.

Another tense scene played. Laurie walking faster. The shape behind her. The music building.

Eddie leaned forward just slightly, elbows on his knees. From the corner of your eye, you saw the neck of the stolen Jack Daniels bottle peeking from beneath his jacket, hidden between the couch cushions.

You nudged him.

He looked at you out of the side of his eye, smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Later”, he mouthed.

And somehow, that made your pulse trip faster than the slasher on the screen.

The movie continued, shadows stretching, screams sharp, tension thick.

And in the tight space between Eddie’s shoulder and Steve’s arm, you felt every charged second of it — every brush, every glance, every shift of breath.

—--

The Wheeler backyard was quiet in that eerie, suburban-after-midnight way — too still, too dark, too normal for a night like this. The porch light buzzed weakly above you and Eddie, casting a dull cone of yellow over the patchy grass while crickets hummed somewhere beyond the fence.

You and Eddie sat on the old wooden steps, a near-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting between you like some forbidden offering you’d both already accepted.

You flicked your lighter, took a drag, and let the smoke burn down your throat before curling into the cold night air.

Eddie plucked the bottle up and tipped it back, finishing the last swallow with a grimace. “Jesus H— that’ll put hair on your chest.”

You smirked. “Don’t think you need any more.”

He shot you an offended look through a curtain of curls. “Are you calling me hairy?”

“I’m calling you feral.”

Eddie grinned, unable to stop himself. He handed you the bottle. “Finish it. I’m pretty sure this is top-shelf stuff. Wheeler Sr.’s prized secret stash. The kind he hides behind tax documents and ‘don’t touch’ labels.”

You felt the ghost of his warmth on the glass. “Nancy’s dad is gonna kill us.”

“Nah,” Eddie said, leaning back on his elbows, boots braced on the step below. “He’ll blame the killer.” He paused “Or Steve. Probably Steve.”

You huffed a small laugh and took a swallow. The whiskey was warm and sharp, settling into you like a slow, dangerous flame.

Eddie’s eyes followed the motion of your throat as you swallowed. He didn’t bother hiding it.

The porch light flickered.

He lit his cigarette with a cupped hand, the flame briefly illuminating the cut of his cheekbones and the soft warmth in his eyes. For a long moment, neither of you spoke — trading the cigarette silently now that the bottle was gone, the muffled sounds of the slasher movie leaking through the living room walls.

Distant screams. Dustin yelling about plot holes. Robin’s dramatic commentary.

Eddie blew out a slow stream of smoke, watching it dissolve into the dark. “Y’know,” he said, voice low and honest, “I didn’t think tonight would feel so surreal.”

You nudged him. “Because of the murder?”

He shook his head, curls brushing his forehead. “Because of the company.”

Heat pooled low in your stomach — whiskey, smoke, or him, you weren’t sure.

He nudged your knee with his own. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured. “You’re gonna make me say something stupid.”

“Like what?” you whispered.

His smirk turned softer, closer. “Like how you’re the only person I’d risk Wheeler Senior’s wrath for… just to steal his fancy-ass liquor.”

Your breath hitched.

The porch light buzzed again. The night went very still.

Eddie’s fingers brushed yours as he took the cigarette back. Not accidental. Not subtle. His knee pressed into yours, warm and steady. He leaned closer — enough that his breath warmed your cheek, enough that his eyes flicked to your mouth and lingered.

You tilted toward him.

He moved in too — slow, deliberate, careful in a way Eddie Munson wasn’t usually careful.

Your noses nearly brushed.

His voice dropped, barely a whisper. “If we kiss right now, sweetheart… .”

Your lips parted—

SLAM.

The back door banged open.

“WHAT THE HELL!?” Steve’s voice cracked in outrage.

You and Eddie jerked apart so hard he almost toppled off the step.

Robin pointed at the empty bottle like it was evidence in a crime. “OH MY GOD, THEY’RE DRINKING.” Robin darted over, crouching next to m,e “You could have at least invited me, Y/N”. Robin grabbed the bottle, taking a sip

Nancy stepped onto the porch, robe tight, eyes wide in alarm before flattening into exhausted resignation. “Oh.”

Steve pointed at you like a stressed-out PTA mom. “ Are you two INSANE? Killer on the loose...”

Eddie, leaning a little too far to one side, raised a solemn hand. “Listen, Harrington… there is a killer out there. A killer. Alcohol is coping. We are coping.”

Robin nodded thoughtfully. “He… might have a point.”

Nancy sighed. Long. Deep. Bone-tired. “You know what? Fine. Fine. With everything going on? If there was ever a night to break into that cabinet…”

Eddie whooped victoriously — then nearly fell forward.

Steve groaned, already defeated. “If Mrs. Wheeler finds out, I’m blaming Eddie.”

“You always blame Eddie!” Eddie protested.

“Because it’s always you!”

Something cracked — tension, fear, dread — all splitting open at once.

And for the first time all night, you all laughed.

—

The living room was a mess. Glorious, drunken chaos.

Nancy’s cassette player blasted The Bangles, the familiar pop-rock filling the warm room. Steve was pacing back and forth, occasionally flipping the tape like he was DJing at Studio 54, his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled up. Robin was mid-spin in the centre of the room, flailing her arms like a jazz dancer who didn’t care if she hit anyone.

Eddie was grinning from ear to ear, moving like he owned the space, every step exaggerated, every gesture theatrical, as if the end of the world could start tomorrow and he wouldn’t care.

You were laughing breathlessly, holding onto his hands as he spun you around, stumbling together until he caught you by the waist. His face was flushed, eyes bright, and his grin was contagious.

“You,” he panted, leaning close enough that your noses nearly brushed, “are the best kind of trouble.”

You laughed, dizzy from spinning and warmth. “We’re all trouble tonight.”

He stared at you — really stared — warm, soft, and just a little wrecked.

“We could’ve kissed earlier,” he murmured.

“But we were interrupted,” You murmur, nose nearly touching his.

“Stupid interruptions,” his eyes looking at your lips.

You blinked, pulling back slightly from Eddie, and your gaze drifted across the room. Steve and Nancy were dancing together, bodies moving to the beat with that familiar mix of clumsy and deliberate rhythm. Nancy laughed, tilting her head back, her hair catching the light. Steve smiled at her, but every few seconds his eyes flicked toward you, like he couldn’t help himself.

Eddie followed your line of sight, his grin widening. “Look at him,” he muttered, low enough that only you could hear, “the great Steve Harrington, losing focus over you instead of Nancy.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your blush. “He’s not… he’s just… uh… making sure no one trips over a coffee table?”

“Sure,” Eddie said, mock-serious, his hands back on your waist as he spun you again, “that’s totally it.”

Steve, oblivious to your whispered exchange, finally broke away from Nancy for a moment, swaying closer toward the middle of the room. His eyes met yours just long enough to make your stomach flutter before he jerked back, pretending to check his footing.

You caught Eddie watching your reactions like a hawk, a teasing gleam in his eye. “You know he’s going to stare at you the whole night, right?” he murmured.

You smirked, leaning in close, the music thumping around you. “And you’re going to enjoy it, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah,” he whispered back, the warmth of his chest pressing against yours. He lightly pressed his lips against yours. 

You froze for just a second, heart hammering, before melting into the warmth pressing against you. Eddie’s lips lingered lightly, teasing, playful, but there was something electric in the press of them — a promise wrapped in daring. The music thumped around you, loud enough to mask the pounding of your heart, the chaos of the room fading into a blur.

Your hands instinctively found his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned in closer. The scent of him — cigarette smoke, whiskey, something distinctly Eddie — wrapped around you, making the air between you taut and impossibly close.

A sudden burst of laughter behind you broke the spell. Robin was twirling near the corner of the room, arms outstretched, and Steve and Nancy were spinning again, oblivious to everything except their own rhythm. Steve’s eyes flicked toward you once more, just long enough for a pang of awareness to hit your chest.

Eddie smirked against your lips, voice a low murmur. “Ignore the world. Right here. Right now.”

You couldn’t help it — a laugh bubbled up in spite of everything. You pressed your forehead to his, breathing mingling, hearts racing in tandem with the music. For a moment, all the fear, the tension, and the red envelopes seemed miles away, reduced to nothing more than background noise to this dizzy, intoxicating closeness.

And then, somewhere between another spin and another laugh, Eddie whispered, “Yeah… this is the kind of trouble I like.”

You smiled against him, warmth and mischief dancing in your chest, as the room swirled around you both — chaotic, alive, and perfectly, dangerously yours.

Eddie leaned in again, brushing his lips against yours lightly, teasingly, just enough to make your pulse spike. He pulled back slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Gotta take a leak,” he murmured, voice low and playful, though his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than necessary.

Before you could respond, he winked and slipped away, heading upstairs, leaving a trace of warmth and mischief in his wake.

You watched Eddie’s retreating back until he disappeared up the stairs, the faint creak of the steps marking his absence. Your fingers lingered where his had brushed yours, heat curling through your chest.

Steve appeared at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. “What the hell was that about?” he asked, voice low but sharp, clearly annoyed.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “Why do you care?” you shot back, trying to sound casual, though your pulse betrayed you.

Steve stepped closer, irritation written all over him. “I mean—come on. That was… I don’t even know. You’re kissing Eddie right here, in front of everyone!”

You leaned back, smirking a little, though heat crept into your cheeks. “Yeah, well… he’s not exactly subtle either.”

Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh, seriously? I mean—can you not?” His gaze flicked toward the staircase where Eddie had gone, frustration tightening every line of his body.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Relax, Steve. It’s just a kiss. No one died.”

Steve let out a sharp huff, clearly not convinced. “It’s not that it’s ‘just a kiss,’ it’s—ugh, never mind. Forget I asked.” He muttered the last part, muttering to himself, but the annoyed tension in his stance didn’t disappear.

You grinned, shaking your head. “Sure, Harrington. I’ll forget.”

Steve huffed again, muttering under his breath as he wandered toward the kitchen, clearly still annoyed—but you knew he’d be thinking about it the rest of the night.

Eddie reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, hands casually wiped on his black jeans, the slight smirk still tugging at his lips as if nothing had changed.

The warm hum of the living room felt a little too fragile when a sharp knock rattled against the front door.

Heads snapped toward it. Tension rippled through the group.

“Not again,” Nancy muttered, eyes narrowing.

Robin peeked around the couch, voice low. “Who… who would it be now?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides. “No way I’m opening that. Not without knowing who—”

Before anyone could finish, the door creaked open slowly. Standing there in the dim porch light was Jonathan. His shoulders were tense, eyes wary, but there was a faint relief in the way he exhaled when he saw everyone.

“Jonathan?” Nancy said, voice soft but sharp. Nancy softened, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend. 

The warm relief of Jonathan’s arrival barely registered before a piercing scream ripped through the house.

Everyone froze. The laughter, the music, the teasing—all of it died in an instant.

“Upstairs!” Steve barked, already charging toward the staircase. You and Eddie followed without hesitation, your hearts hammering. Nancy and Robin were right behind, fear etched into every line of their faces.

When you burst into the boys’ room, the scene was worse than you could have imagined.

Mike was sitting on the floor, shaking, tears streaking down his face, a guttural sob escaping his throat. His tiny hands clutched his knees as if they could protect him from the horror in front of him.

Lucas and Dustin lay in their sleeping bags, eyes wide open, throats slashed. The blood glistened under the pale light from the hall, stark and brutal. Silence seemed impossible to hold, yet the room had swallowed it all, leaving only a horrifying stillness.

“Oh God… oh God…” Nancy whispered, her hands flying to her mouth as she stumbled closer, her face drained of color. Robin had her hands over her mouth too, eyes wide, shaking.

“T‑They… they were asleep,” he whispered, staring straight ahead as if afraid to blink. “I—I woke up because… because something felt warm…”

Steve’s face tightened. “Warm?”

Mike swallowed, a strangled sob escaping as he wiped his nose with the back of his shaking hand.

“It… it was in my sleeping bag,” he choked. “Their blood. I woke up in their blood.”

Robin turned away, pressing her fist to her mouth. Nancy made a small, wounded sound, pulling Mike into her arms and clinging to him like she might shatter otherwise.

The room tilted. Your heartbeat skidded. Your stomach surged violently.

“I—” you gasped, backing away, chest tightening. “I need—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. You bolted.

You barely heard Eddie calling your name as you sprinted down the hallway, stumbling into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you. Your knees hit the tile hard as you braced yourself over the toilet. And then everything came up—liquor, grilled cheese, the sour sting of fear.

Your entire body shook. The sound of your retching echoed horribly in the small room. Tears blurred your vision, hot and relentless, as if your body was trying to purge the image burned into your mind.

A light knock came at the door. Soft. Careful.

“Hey…” Eddie’s voice, low and shaky but trying to be steady. “It’s me. Are you—can I come in?”

You couldn’t answer. You retched again instead.

There was a moment of silence. Then the door cracked open gently—Eddie must’ve pushed slow enough to avoid the faulty latch clattering. He stepped in and shut it behind him.

“Jesus…” he breathed, kneeling beside you. He didn’t touch you at first—almost like he was afraid to break you—but then he rested a hand lightly between your shoulder blades. “It’s okay. Just—just breathe. I got you. You shouldn’t have seen that”

Another wave hit you, violent and sudden, and Eddie’s grip steadied you so you didn’t fall forward.

When the retching finally slowed to miserable dry heaves, he grabbed a few tissues from the counter and wiped your mouth carefully, his touch soft but trembling.

“They were kids Eddie, kids!” you cried between gags.

When you finally managed to sit back against the cold tile, gasping for air, the muffled chaos downstairs hit your ears like a second wave.

Shouts. Yelling. The sound of someone slamming against furniture.

You stumbled to your feet, supporting yourself against the sink, and cautiously opened the bathroom door. The living room was a scene of utter panic.

Steve and Jonathan were facing off, chests heaving, fists clenched. Steve’s eyes were wide with anger and disbelief, while Jonathan’s jaw was tight, his whole body radiating restrained fury.

“You think you can just waltz in here and show up like you own this place?!” Steve barked. His face was red, his hands trembling with rage. “You—YOU did this! Didn’t you? You brought this nightmare here!”

Jonathan froze, shock flickering across his face. “What the hell are you talking about, Harrington? I didn’t do anything!”

“You expect me to believe that?” Steve shouted, shoving Jonathan back. “Lucas and Dustin are dead, Jonathan! And you just stroll in like it’s nothing? You always have that damn look—like you know more than you’re telling us!”

Nancy’s face went pale. She moved toward the wall phone, fumbling with the receiver, voice shaking. “We… we need to call the cops.”

She lifted the handset, then froze. Her eyes widened. “The wire…” she whispered. She tugged at it, yanking the cord from the wall. It was cut—cleanly, deliberately.

“No signal,” she breathed, panic threading her voice. “We can’t call anyone.”

Steve’s face tightened, fists clenching. “Great. Just… perfect.” His eyes darted toward the front and back doors. “We can at least get out, right?”

You all rushed to the doors, hearts hammering. Panic surged. Both were jammed. No amount of yanking or pushing would budge them. The locks hadn’t been tampered with—they’d been blocked from the outside.

Eddie’s grin from earlier was gone. He pounded a fist against the front door. “Shit! You don’t think… they're still in the house!”

You swallow, before looking around at all of your friends. “Or… it’s one of us,” you breathe. Everyone turned, looking horrified in your direction. 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as he pointed a finger at Jonathan, shaking with barely-contained anger. “One of us? Don’t act innocent, Jonathan! You just show up here like nothing happened, and now—now Lucas and Dustin are dead! What, are you gonna tell me you had nothing to do with it?”

Jonathan stepped back, hands raised, voice low but firm. “Steve, I swear to God—I didn’t do this! You think I’d just stroll in here after something like that?”

Steve took a step closer, eyes wild, chest heaving. “You always have that calm, quiet thing about you. Always acting like you know more than anyone else. Well, newsflash—maybe you did! Maybe you were waiting to show up until it was convenient!”

Nancy grabbed Steve’s arm, her voice sharp but trembling. “Steve! Stop accusing him! We don’t know anything yet!”

Steve yanked his arm free, eyes flashing with rage. “Stop telling me what to do, Nancy! I’m not blind! I can see the way he walks in here, acting like a hero, and meanwhile—” He gestured wildly toward the boys’ room upstairs, “—look at what’s happened while he’s been gone!”

Eddie stepped forward, voice low but cutting, trying to anchor the group. “Steve, calm the hell down. Pointing fingers won’t bring anyone back. None of us knows who it is.”

Jonathan walked over to Eddie, angry and red. “Eddie, I am not the fucking killer,” he shouted, his chest heaving, eyes wide in disbelief.

Eddie looked down, placing a hand in his inside pocket. The room froze, all sound cut except for the shallow breaths of the group.

“I know,” he said softly, almost too calmly. His fingers tightened. Then, with a single deliberate click—BANG.

Jonathan collapsed to the floor, eyes wide in shock. A piercing scream erupted from Nancy, her hands flying to her mouth. Steve’s jaw dropped, a mix of rage and disbelief twisting his face.

Eddie swayed slightly, gun still trained on Steve, the dim living room light glinting off the metal. “Welcome to Act Three, Harrington,” he said, voice steady, almost theatrical.

Steve’s fists clenched, stepping forward despite the terror in his eyes. “You… you’re insane. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Robin stumbled back, trembling. “Eddie… you… What are you doing?!”

Mike froze in place, tears streaking down his face, gripping the edge of the couch as the reality hit him.

Eddie’s grin returned, small, sharp, terrifying. “It’s just the beginning,” he whispered, lowering the gun slightly but never removing his aim. “And don’t think it’s over yet. Not until the curtain falls.”

Robin stumbled back, trembling. “Eddie… you… what are you doing?!”

Eddie’s grin returned, small, sharp, terrifying. “Oh, Robin,” he murmured, almost fondly, “you really don’t understand your role yet.”

Before anyone could react, a deafening shot rang out. Robin’s scream cut through the room, sharp and horrified. She collapsed to the floor beside Jonathan, eyes wide, blood blossoming across her chest.

Nancy’s cries filled the room, raw and unending, as she clung to Jonathan’s lifeless body. The warm, chaotic living room from before had dissolved into horror, the flickering light casting monstrous shadows over blood-soaked carpet and terrified faces.

Steve’s eyes snapped, his jaw tightening. “I’m not letting this happen!” With a roar, he lunged at Eddie, shoving him backward and trying to wrestle the gun free.

Eddie staggered, laughing, but it was uneven, unhinged. “Ohhh, Harrington… that’s the spirit!”

The gun fired—a sharp, deafening crack—and Nancy screamed. She staggered backward, a hand pressed to her chest, blood blooming across her robe. “Ahhhh!”

Steve froze for just a heartbeat, horror washing over him. “Nancy!” He dove to her side, hands trembling as he assessed the wound. Nancy gasped, tears spilling freely, clutching at him. “It’s… it’s okay… I’m… I’m okay,” she whimpered, though her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper.

Eddie smirked, finger still twitching on the trigger, but Steve’s rage surged. With a desperate, forceful heave, he wrenched the gun from Eddie’s grasp, twisting it away and slamming Eddie against the wall. The metal clanged against the doorframe. Eddie let out a strangled curse, fury burning in his eyes, but he was unarmed.

Steve spun toward you and Mike, adrenaline propelling him. “Come on! Upstairs! Now!”

You and Mike didn’t hesitate. You grabbed each other’s hands as Steve pushed you toward the staircase. “Hurry, don’t look back!” he barked, dragging both of you up the steps, adrenaline screaming through every vein.

Behind you, you could hear Eddie’s curses, low and dangerous, echoing off the walls. The living room was chaos—Nancy’s cries, the metallic clatter of the gun hitting the floor, and Eddie’s deranged laughter mixing into a horrifying symphony.

Steve shoved the bathroom door open as you reached the landing. “Get in there, lock it!” he ordered, yanking you both inside. You slammed the door behind you, fumbling with the lock as Mike clutched your arm, shaking.

You sank against the door, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. “He… he’s insane,” you gasped, voice trembling.

Steve pressed himself against the door, breathing hard, forehead slick with sweat. “Yeah… but we’re alive, at least for now. And we’re not staying down there with him.”

Mike whimpered, burying his face in your shoulder. You wrapped an arm around him, trying to steady both your own fear and his. Outside, the sound of Eddie pounding on the front door, calling your names, grew louder.

Steve crouched beside you, voice low and determined. “We’re getting through this. I swear. No one else dies while I’m here. Not on my watch.”

Eddie’s pounding on the door grew relentless, the wood rattling under his fists. His voice—low, taunting, unhinged—slid through the cracks. “Come on! You can’t hide forever! I know you’re in there!”

Steve’s eyes darted to the doorknob, to the walls, to the terrified faces of you and Mike. His jaw tightened. He leaned closer, pressing himself against you, voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

“I’ve always… always loved you,” he confessed, his forehead resting against yours, eyes fierce and desperate. “And I won’t let anything happen to you. Not while I’m here. Not ever.”

You froze for a heartbeat, the words hitting like a hammer—warm, raw, honest. You felt his hands tighten around you, pulling you close, shielding you from the chaos outside.

And then, in one motion so swift it blurred with adrenaline and shock, you drew a small knife from your jacket pocket into Steves back.

Steve’s eyes widened in disbelief as you pressed it against his back, just below the shoulder blades. “Y/N… what—”

You twisted the knife, and Steve gasped, stumbling forward, hands instinctively trying to grab yours—but it was too late. Pain and shock flooded his face, eyes locking with yours.

Mike screamed, clutching your arm, terror etched into every line of his small frame. “Y/N! No! Stop!”

Steve collapsed to the floor with a strangled cry, clutching at the wound, his mouth opening and closing like he had words but couldn’t form them. “Why… why… you?” he managed, voice ragged, disbelief and agony mixing into a single, haunting sound.

You stepped back from Steve, watching him crumple to the floor, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock. Mike’s small body pressed against yours, shaking, his sobs echoing in the small room.

For a moment, the world was silent—just your own ragged breathing and the distant, relentless pounding from Eddie outside. Then, almost casually, you reached for the lock on the door. With a twist and a soft click, it slid open.

Eddie’s grin widened before he even stepped inside, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. He strode in, slow and deliberate, soaking in the chaos you’d orchestrated upstairs.

“You made it easy,” Eddie said, voice smooth and low, like a predator savoring the kill. “I mean, really. Having all of you under one roof? I almost didn’t have to do anything.”

You glanced down at Steve, still gasping, half on the floor, half trying to push himself up. “It was too easy,” you murmured, voice calm, almost detached. “All I had to do was… nudge things along.”

Mike’s whimper turned into a shriek. “You… you’re not supposed to be doing this! You’re supposed to—” He broke off, tears blinding him.

Eddie stepped closer, looking at you with something that almost resembled admiration. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so… cooperative. But now? Now it’s perfect. All of them, right where we want them.”

You let your eyes meet his, a chilling smile tugging at your lips. “Exactly. It was too easy. Everyone thought the killer was one of the others… but we were always two steps ahead.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, Mike trembling between you, Steve’s groans punctuating the silence, and Eddie’s presence filling every shadow. The trap had closed, and the two of you had orchestrated it perfectly.

Hours earlier, the night was still young—or maybe it just felt that way, in the warped glow of anticipation. Eddie’s van rumbled down the quiet road, tires crunching on gravel, headlights slicing through the darkness like knives. You sat beside him in the passenger seat, knees brushing, heart thrumming with the pulse of what was to come.

“You ready for this?” Eddie asked, voice low, his hand brushing yours in a way that sent shivers up your spine. There was a grin in his tone, dark and sharp, like he could taste the chaos before it even happened.

You smirked, leaning close. “More than ready. Tonight… it’s going to be perfect.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, I still can’t get over it… your handwriting on the note we left for them. Seriously, ‘Y/N writes in cursive’—that’s cute, but also terrifying. You make even a threat look pretty.”

You laughed, leaning in, letting your forehead rest against his. “Pretty? That’s the idea. They won’t see it coming.”

“God… you’re going to make this fun,” he murmured, teeth flashing in the dim dashboard light. “I like that you even care about style while we’re… you know, planning murder.”

You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his ear, voice low and teasing. “It’s not just style. It’s intimidation. They’ll trust us… and never know it was you and me all along.”

The van idled at the edge of the driveway, shadows stretching long across the lawn. Outside, the quiet house waited, oblivious, as the two of you shared one last, heated kiss before stepping out. Hands entwined, hearts racing, the thrill of the night pulsed through your veins. You both knew—it had all been too easy.

Steve’s eyes widened, disbelief and pain twisting his face. “Y/N… why…?” His voice cracked, each word a mixture of betrayal and anguish.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped back, watching him slump to the floor, struggling to catch his breath. Mike’s hands trembled as he reached for you. “Y/N… what are you doing?”

Eddie’s grin stretched wider, eyes glittering in the dim light. He moved closer, brushing a hand across your cheek. “See? Told you it’d be fun.”

Mike shook his head, panic overtaking him. “No… no! You can’t—”

You tilted your head, knife gleaming. “I saved him for last,” you said softly, voice almost playful. “Those sad, trusting eyes… I wanted to remember them before it was over.”

Eddie leaned in, pressing a brief, cruel kiss to your lips. “Perfection,” he murmured. “It really couldn’t have gone any better.”

The room reeked of terror, the silence after the chaos thick and suffocating. Steve’s shallow, ragged breaths were the only sound that reminded you he had ever been there, fighting for them all.

Mike’s scream echoed as he realised the betrayal, your calm detachment cutting deeper than any blade

The last echo of screams faded into an unbearable silence, broken only by the shallow gasps of Steve on the floor, taking his last breaths. Mike sat frozen, knife still trembling in your hand, eyes wide with disbelief and terror.

Eddie leaned casually against the wall, slipping his jacket on, his grin sharp and unrepentant. “Well,” he said, glancing at you, “that was easier than I thought.”

You wiped the blade clean on the carpet, your expression calm, almost serene. “All of them… gone. Just like we planned.”

Eddie clapped his hands together softly, almost like applause. “Come on, then. Let’s get out of this hellhole.”

You followed him to the front door. The night air hit your face as Eddie swung the door open. His van was waiting outside, lights off, engine idling, shadows stretching across the lawn.

“You think anyone will ever catch us?” Eddie asked, glancing at you, his grin wicked.

You shrugged, knife still in hand, eyes on the fading lights of the town. “Not a chance. We’re untouchable, baby,”

“Your so sexy with a knife in your hand, god I love you,” Eddie breathed. You leaned over, placing a kiss on his cheek.

The van disappeared into the darkness, carrying the two of you—and the night’s horrors—far, far away.

masterlist

Summary: 18+, Eddie X Steve's younger sister

At Steve’s chaotic party, you and Eddie Munson circle each other like fire and gasoline, sharp insults, teasing glances, and a dangerous spark that refuses to die. Every interaction is a game of push and pull, and the tension between you is impossible to ignore.

WARNINGS: 18+, MDNI< its boutta get unholy up in here yall

WORDCOUNT: 5499

The music was loud, the kind of bass-heavy chaos that rattled your teeth and made Steve’s parties feel like their own small apocalypse. You were hovering near the kitchen, soda in hand, trying to avoid the sweaty crush of teenagers circling the living room when someone slid up beside you with a grin that could only belong to Eddie Munson.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Harrington,” he said, voice dripping with mock admiration. “Out here pretending you don’t want to be at your own brother's party?”

You arched a brow, taking a slow sip of your drink. “And you’re here pretending you don’t want to annoy me.”

He laughed low and long, like you’d just handed him the punchline of the century. “Touché. But let’s be honest—you do want to be here. And you secretly want to talk to me.”

“Secretly,” you echoed, voice flat but eyes narrowed. “Or you’re just full of shit.”

“Both,” he admitted instantly, tilting his head with that infuriating confidence of his. “I’m full of shit, and you love it.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, challenging him. “I loathe it. You are… how do I put this…utterly insufferable.”

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. “Insufferable? Please. I’m charming. It’s a talent.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a deliberate, slow sip of your soda just to irritate him further. “If you’re charming, I must be blind. Or deaf. Definitely both.”

Eddie’s grin widened, and you immediately regretted the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth. 

“I don’t,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction. You refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting that maybe, just maybe, he got under your skin in a way no one else could.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You narrowed your eyes, giving him a pointed look. “And I bet you say that to every girl at these parties.”

“Every girl?” he echoed, mock offense in his tone. “Darling, you wound me. I save my best insults for special people.”

You blinked, heat crawling up your neck before you could stop it. “Cute. Very cute. Keep insulting me like that and I might start thinking you enjoy this.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up like you’d just dared him to do something reckless. He pushed off the counter, closing a fraction of the space between you with a swagger that made you want to roll your eyes and maybe shove him—hard.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, lowering his voice to something annoyingly smooth, “if I enjoyed this any more, Steve would throw me out of his own house.”

You scoffed. “Please. Steve would throw me out first.”

“Careful, Harrington,” he drawled. “Keep talking to me like that and someone might think you want me.”

You scoffed and shoved his shoulder just enough to rock him backward. “Relax, Munson. If I wanted you, you’d know.”

Eddie steadied himself, ringed hands raised in surrender, but his grin sharpened. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a warning.”

“Ooh,” he breathed, stepping back toward you like you were gravity. “Even better.”

Someone yelled Eddie’s name from the living room—probably Gareth or Jeff or one of the other guys demanding he come defend his title in a very serious argument about Metallica—but Eddie didn’t move. Not yet.

He tipped his head, eyes dragging over your face with an annoyingly slow, annoyingly knowing sweep.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

“It never is,” you shot back.

Only then did he tear himself away, strutting off toward the noise—leaving you with your drink, a racing pulse, and the horrible realization that you were in trouble. Very big trouble.

—-

The music thumped from inside, but out here in the garden, it felt quieter, like the world had narrowed down to the grass under your feet and the dark sky above. You were swaying slightly, more from liquor than the wind, when you spotted him leaning against the railing, cigarette dangling between his fingers

“Eddie,” you called, voice sharp enough to cut through the buzz in your head. “Giving the party a break, or just trying to look like a tragic poet?”

He snorted, eyes glinting as he flicked ash onto the grass. “Tragic poet?” he slurred slightly, the alcohol loosening the usual edge of his voice. “Sweetheart, I like that. Want a cigarette?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe. If you promise not to lick it first.”

“Hey,” he laughed, the sound low and rough, leaning closer so the smoke curled between you, “I don’t lick my smokes. That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. That’s different.”

“Good,” you shot back, stepping forward just enough to grab the cigarette, your fingers brushing his. Sparks—or maybe alcohol-fueled hormones—shot up your arm. “I like disgusting. Makes life more fun.”

He grinned, tipping the cigarette to his lips, eyes half-lidded. “You’re a nightmare. I like nightmares.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you muttered, dragging a long inhale, holding it just to annoy him, “maybe someday you’ll believe it.”

Eddie leaned closer, too close, his grin mischievous and messy. “You’re drunk,” he said softly, voice teasing, “and meaner than usual. I like it.”

“Not drunk enough,” you shot back, voice low and rough, “or I’d set your hair on fire just to see you scream.”

He laughed, a low, rattling sound, tilting his head as if that idea excited him. “You’d get me hard before the fire, you know that, right?”

You snorted, bumping his shoulder. “Yeah, and I’d make sure you hated every second of it.”

He groaned dramatically, fumbling with the cigarette, still too close. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking. “But somehow, I can’t stop looking at you.”

Eddie’s grin softened, just slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief and something warmer under the alcohol-fueled confidence. “Same,” he admitted, leaning back just enough to give you room, but not really. “Same, goddamn it.”

You snorted, taking a long drag and letting the smoke curl around you. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson. Otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”

He tilted his head, eyes dark, grin sharp. “And I’d like it. Maybe too much.”

“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking as you flicked ash to the ground. “Annoying as hell, as usual.”

Eddie didn’t laugh this time. He went still—eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before dragging back up to your eyes. His grin curved slow, lazy, dangerous.

“You know,” he said, voice low and rough, “for a total pain in the ass, I can’t stop looking at you tonight.”

Your stomach tightened, heat coiling low, but you forced a scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh please.”

He leaned in, just a fraction, enough that you could smell his cologne and cigarettes, enough that your pulse stuttered. “Don’t ‘oh please’ me. You look good tonight. Messy, drunk, irritating… and I like it.”

You covered it with another drag of your cigarette. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson,” you said, exhaling smoke between you both, “otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”

Eddie tilted his head, hair brushing his shoulders, grin gaining a wicked tilt. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “the way you look at me? You’re not kicking me anywhere.”

Your pulse jumped. You glared at him to hide it.

He stepped the slightest bit closer—close enough his breath warmed your cheek. “And if you did…” his voice dropped into something low and filthy, “I’d probably like it. A lot.”

The night felt suddenly too warm. He leaned back just a bit, muttering under his breath, half to himself, half to the universe, “Of course it has to be Steve’s sister…”

You froze, smirk tugging despite yourself. “Excuse me?”

Eddie’s eyes flicked up to yours, mischievous and slightly guilty, but that grin stayed sharp. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, the cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers. “Seriously, you’re standing out here missing all the fun. You should go back in, you know… join the chaos.”

“I’m gonna head up to bed,” you said, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, giving him one last sharp glance over your shoulder.

He frowned, muttering, “Bed? You’re abandoning the party already?” His grin faltered into something sharper, more deliberate. “C’mon, you’re making me feel like I should be punished for being fun.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe you should.”

Eddie stepped a little closer, but you shook your head, flicking the cigarette away. “Anyway,” you said, voice softening just enough to make him catch it, “don’t get too comfortable with the party without me.”

You started up the stairs, pausing halfway to glance back at him. “Oh, and Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His grin was lazy, knowing, and entirely too confident.

“2nd floor,” you said, voice casual, like it was nothing. “Next to the bathroom on the left… in case you get bored of the party.”

His eyebrows shot up, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he watched you disappear down the hallway. “Next to the bathroom on the left,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head with that mix of frustration and excitement. “Of course it’s there…”

The party raged on below, oblivious, but upstairs, in that small, quiet hallway, the air felt suddenly charged. Eddie’s hand itched, as he dropped his cigarette on the floor, crushing it with his boot.

The music thumped from downstairs, but up here, the world had narrowed to the dim hallway, the faint smell of your perfume, and the heat that seemed to cling to him. Eddie ran a hand over his face, fingers tangled in his hair, trying to make sense of how someone could be so infuriating and magnetic at the same time.

He leaned against the wall, boots scraping softly against the wood floor, imagining what it would be like if he followed you up there. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them innocent. Every rational thought—the one telling him not to overstep, not to give Steve’s sister the wrong idea—was drowned out by a cocktail of alcohol, adrenaline, and desire.

“Next to the bathroom on the left…” He could feel that smirk still haunting him, teasing him with every step he took. He started up the stairs, boots thudding softly against the wood, each step calculated, purposeful, bringing him closer to you.

Halfway up, a shadow detached itself from the hall. Steve. His expression was casual enough, but Eddie could hear the curiosity in the drawl of his voice. “Hey—where’s Y/N?”

Eddie froze for just a second, weighing his options, then smirked and shrugged, turning on the charm. “Oh, uh… she said she wanted to crash early. You know, rest and all that. Party’s wild, gotta pace yourself.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but willing to let it go. “Alright, fair. Don’t do anything stupid, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie replied, voice smooth, eyes already darting toward the second-floor landing. Steve waved him off and went back downstairs, and Eddie exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip from his shoulders.

Once he was alone, the hallway felt different—quieter, charged, like the whole world had shrunk down to just him and the space between the stairs and your door. He paused for a fraction of a second, hand brushing the frame, savoring the thought of you just beyond it. He could hear faint creaks from inside, maybe the sound of you moving around, maybe not—it didn’t matter.

He leaned in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips, whispering under his breath, “Let’s see how impossible you really are, Harrington.” Then, tapping lightly on the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him.

The room smelled faintly like you—your perfume, your shampoo, something familiar that made his chest tighten in an annoying, pleasant way. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying you. You were perched on the edge of your bed, hair a little mussed, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, a cigarette dangling lazily between your fingers.

“You actually came,” you said, voice sharp but teasing, eyes narrowing with the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Of course I did,” he said, stepping fully into the room, letting the door close behind him. “You didn’t think I’d let you sneak off to bed without saying hello, did you?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging on your cigarette and letting the smoke curl around you like a shield. “I said I was heading to bed. Didn’t say anything about company.”

“Right,” he said, tilting his head, grin spreading slowly. “Company that doesn’t have to follow the rules of Steve’s little party chaos. Company that can do… whatever it wants.”

You snorted, leaning back slightly on your hands. “Careful, Munson. You’re flirting dangerously close to the ‘I hate you’ line.”

He laughed, low and throaty, taking a step closer so the space between you felt electric. “Good,” he murmured. “I like it when you hate me. Makes the chase… fun.”

Your stomach fluttered despite yourself, and you shoved him lightly with just enough force to rock him back on his heels. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” he countered instantly, smirk sharp, eyes gleaming. “Admit it.”

You blinked at him, chest tightening in a way that was equal parts thrilling and infuriating. “Maybe,” you repeated, voice low, teasing, “if I felt like it.”

Eddie’s grin widened, slow and dangerous, and he took another step closer, closing the distance until the heat radiating off him brushed against your arm. “Mm,” he murmured, dragging out the sound, “you know… you’re really good at this—making me want things I shouldn’t want.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you shot back, scoffing, though your pulse betrayed your nerves.

“Oh, it’s a warning,” he said, voice dropping low, rough, laced with that messy confidence you couldn’t ignore. He tilted his head, eyes dragging over your face with that maddening, calculating look. “The way you look at me, the way you’re just… standing there like you own my brain right now… it’s—fuck it—driving me insane.”

Your breath hitched, and you shoved him again, harder this time, though not enough to really move him. “You’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice sharp, to hide the heat coiling low in your stomach.

“And you,” he countered, voice dropping even lower, “you’re making me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about… right here, right now… and it’s making me fucking hard.”

Your eyes went wide for a split second, and he leaned in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. “Eddie—”

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, before closing the gap completely. His lips were on yours, claiming and bold, and the world shrank down to the taste of him, the rough scrape of stubble against your cheek, and the overwhelming electricity sparking between you.

You froze for a moment, stunned, before your body betrayed you, pressing forward, letting the kiss deepen. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place, and for all the teasing, the challenges, and the sharp words between you, this—this was unguarded, messy, and undeniably real.

His hands moved to your waist as he deepened the kiss.

“This,” you catch your breath. “This is a bad idea, Steve will kill you, he’ll kill me,”

Eddie chuckled low against your lips, the vibration sending heat straight through your chest. “Steve doesn’t need to know,” he murmured, voice rough, teasing, and dangerously close. He tilted his head, pressing just a little harder, fingers digging into your waist as if to anchor himself to you.

You tried to pull back slightly, fumbling for air, but he didn’t let you. “Bad idea, yeah?” he muttered, lips brushing against yours again in a soft, taunting graze. “Everything worth doing is a bad idea sometimes, sweetheart.”

You groaned, exhaling sharply, pressing into him despite your better judgment. “Eddie… we shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t what?” he teased, voice low, dangerous, brushing your ear as he nuzzled the side of your neck. “Tell me you don’t like this, and I’ll call bullshit on the spot.”

You froze, heart hammering, caught between the urge to shove him away and the undeniable pull of wanting him closer. “I—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted, grinning against your skin, “that’s what I thought.” His hands tightened at your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, harder this time, leaving no room for argument or hesitation. The world outside the room, Steve’s party, the music, the chaos,faded completely, leaving only you and him, tangled up in something reckless.

Eddie kissed you like he’d been waiting years for an excuse, mouth hot and greedy against yours, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him. The second your bodies collided, he exhaled something ragged, almost relieved, like finally getting his hands on you had knocked the air out of him.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric, dragging him closer until there was no space left at all. His rings were cold against your skin as he cupped your jaw and tilted your head back, deepening the kiss with an urgency that made your knees go weak.

He broke away for only a second, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat, breath hot as he muttered against your skin, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Your fingers slid under the hem of his shirt without thinking, feeling warm skin and the tense flex of muscle as he sucked in a sharp breath. “I shouldn’t be doing anything to you,” you managed, voice shaky. “This is—this is stupid. Steve will—”

Eddie cut you off with a laugh against your neck, low and breathless. “Steve’s not here,” he said, mouthing at your pulse. “And even if he was… you think I’d stop?”

You dragged him back up by his collar and kissed him again, harder this time. He groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing dangerously close to places that made your breath catch. Every pass of his hands felt deliberate, hungry, like he was mapping you.

He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed. The shift in balance made you grab onto his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make him shudder.

“Careful,” he murmured, lips brushing yours, “you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna forget how to be a gentleman.”

“You were never a gentleman,” you shot back, but your voice was barely a whisper.

“Exactly,” he breathed, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you. His hands settled at your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft dips there as he eased you down onto the mattress.

His hands crawled under your shirt and around to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a simple click. You gave him a somewhat look of respect, which he returned with a casual shrug before pushing your shirt up as he laid you down on the bed.

Eddie’s lips kissed up your stomach before landing at each nipple, giving them a light tug with his teeth, causing a sigh out of your mouth.

You lay there, still catching your breath, Eddie's weight a comforting press against you as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin. The afterglow hummed through your veins, but the distant thump of music from downstairs reminded you of the party raging on without you two. Eddie's lips curved into a smirk against your neck, his cock twitching inside you as if already stirring for more.

A sudden knock echoed through the door, sharp and insistent. Your heart leaped into your throat. "Y/N? You up here?" Steve's voice called out, muffled but clear. Panic flickered in your eyes, but Eddie just chuckled low, his hand clamping over your mouth briefly to silence any gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. He pulled out slowly, the slick slide making you bite your lip to stifle a whine. Before you could protest, he rolled off the bed, grabbing the duvet and comforter in a fluid motion. "Act natural, baby. Tell him you're fine."

You scrambled to sit up, yanking the sheet up to cover your chest as another knock came. Eddie dove under the covers at the foot of the bed, his hands immediately gripping your ankles and spreading your legs apart. The fabric tented slightly as he positioned himself between your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, Steve? What's up?" you called out, voice steadier than you felt. Your pulse raced, a thrill of danger mixing with the lingering ache between your legs.

"Have you seen my lighter? The one that says 'I heart Hooters'? I swear I had it downstairs, but it's gone. You didn't grab it or anything, did you?" Steve sounded annoyed, shifting his weight outside the door.

Under the duvet, Eddie's tongue flicked out, tracing a bold line up your inner thigh. You clenched your fists in the sheets, fighting to keep your expression neutral. "N-no, I haven't seen it," you managed, hips twitching involuntarily as his mouth reached your core. He didn't hesitate—his lips sealed over your pussy, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue delving into your folds to lap at the mix of your arousal and his cum still leaking from you.

"You sure? I need it for this joint everyone's passing around." Steve knocked again, lighter this time, like he was about to turn the knob.

Eddie's hands dug into your thighs, holding you open as he thrust his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it in slow, deliberate strokes. The wet sounds were barely muffled by the comforter, and you pressed your thighs together around his head, both to hide him and to chase the building pressure. "I'm sure," you replied, voice hitching slightly. "Maybe check the kitchen? Or ask someone else?"

He hummed against your clit, the vibration shooting straight through you, and you had to bite down on your knuckle to suppress a moan. His tongue circled the swollen nub, flicking relentlessly while one hand slid up to pinch your ass, pulling you closer to his face. He was devouring you, dominant even in secrecy, forcing your body to respond while you played innocent above.

"Alright, fine. But if you find it, holler. Party's dying without it." Steve's footsteps retreated down the hall, fading into the bass-heavy music below.

The second he was gone, Eddie growled against your skin, the sound possessive and hungry. He sucked your clit into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch off the bed. His fingers joined in, two plunging into your soaked entrance, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Good girl," he murmured, voice vibrating through you. "Keeping secrets for me. Now cum on my tongue before he comes back."

You shattered quietly, body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you, pussy clenching around his fingers while he licked every drop, unrelenting until you were spent and shaking. He emerged from under the covers, lips glistening, eyes dark with promise. "Told you this isn't over," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up to claim your mouth in a deep, tasting kiss.

                                                         —-

For the next few weeks, it felt like that night had rewired something between you—something dangerous, addictive, and impossible to undo. Eddie acted normal in public. You acted normal in public. But underneath every shared glance, every insult, every shove was the echo of his mouth on your skin and your legs locked around his waist. The two of you became very, very good at hiding it.

It started small.

After Hellfire, Eddie would offer you a ride home like it meant nothing. The moment the van doors shut, he’d grab the front of your shirt and drag you across the bench seat, pulling you into his lap. He kissed you like he’d been starving for days, hands everywhere, breath hot, windows fogging so fast you’d swear the air inside the van had turned molten. Sometimes the seatbelt would dig into your hip. Sometimes his rings would press into your thighs as he held you down. And every time, he’d murmur in your ear to be quiet or he’d make you louder.

The woods were worse. One night you slipped away from a bonfire with the excuse of “getting more beer,” and you barely made it ten steps before Eddie had you against a tree, messy and greedy. His rings were cold on your thighs, bark biting into your back, his hair tangled in your fingers as you tried to keep your noises swallowed.

You returned flushed, breathless, leaves in your hair, and Steve watched you the rest of the night with a suspicion that made your skin burn.

Then there was the trailer. With Wayne working double shifts, the moment the door clicked shut Eddie would pin you to the nearest surface—wall, couch, kitchen counter—and kiss you until your knees gave out. You’d pretend you’d stopped by to “drop something off,” but you never made it past the living room. Half the time you walked out with your shirt buttoned crooked and Eddie’s belt still undone.

The Harrington house was riskier. Much riskier. Which made it your favorite.

Sometimes, when the house was quiet and Steve had gone to bed, Eddie climbed up the porch railing and slipped through your second-story window like a man who’d done it a hundred times. He always came in a little breathless from the thrill, hair mussed from the wind. He’d cover your mouth with his hand as he kissed you, whispering against your lips to be quiet, sweetheart, before pushing you back onto the mattress with the softest, filthiest kind of urgency.

Other times were even worse.

Ten minutes before Steve came home from work, he’d have you in the laundry room, your back against the dryer, his hands gripping your jaw while the other fumbled with your waistband. You’d hear the garage door start to open, and the two of you would scramble into half-presentable shape, breathless and trembling, pretending nothing happened.

Or the upstairs bathroom—where you told Steve you were “fixing your eyeliner” and Eddie slipped in behind you, locking the door with a quiet click. He’d lift you onto the counter and kiss you like he dared the entire world to catch you, his fingers smearing your lip gloss, his breath warm against your throat as he murmured what he’d do if you weren’t both pressed for time.

It should’ve felt wrong. It should’ve been terrifying. Sometimes it was. But mostly, it was intoxicating—every stolen moment, every whispered insult, every time his fingers brushed yours under the table as if by accident, every time he muttered that you were impossible right before kissing you breathless.

You both claimed it was casual. Claimed it was just fun. Claimed no one would ever find out.

But sometimes Eddie looked at you in a way that made your stomach flip—like he remembered every sound you made that night, like he wanted to hear them all again.

And that look made one thing painfully clear:

Whatever this was, it wasn’t going away.

And it was only getting harder—much harder—to hide.

—--

You were already breathless, fingers gripping at his shoulders, the rhythm between you steady, familiar, addictive. Eddie hovered over you, curls falling into his face, breath warm against your cheek as he moved with you—slow, deep, like he wanted to feel every single second of it.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough, “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

You let out a breathy laugh, pulling him closer with your legs around his waist, as he kept drilling his hips into you. “You say that every time.”

“That’s because it’s true.” His forehead dropped to yours, his smile crooked, eyes half-lidded and blown. “You—you have no idea what you do to me. None.”

You were about to tease him for being dramatic when you shifted your hips just a little too sharply, and the motion broke the rhythm—one of those clumsy, breathless slips that happened sometimes when you were too lost in each other to care.

Eddie froze.

Not because of the pause, but because in the space it created—one beat, one breath—something spilled out of him he didn’t plan.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his cock twitching inside you, voice cracking slightly, “I—I love you.”

The room went still.

Your fingers tightened on his arms. His eyes widened like he’d heard himself too late.

“Wait—no, I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he stammered, panic flickering across his face. “Not—not right now, not during—shit—”

You stared up at him, heart pounding for an entirely different reason.

“Eddie,” you breathed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw flexing. “Just—pretend I didn’t say anything, okay? It slipped, that’s all, it’s—fuck, I didn’t want to mess this up. Not tonight.”

You were lost in him, breath ragged, heart hammering, fingers clutching at his shoulders when a sudden metallic scrape made both of you freeze.

"Hey, Munson, what you doing parked in front of my yard?"

Steve.

The van door swung open, and Steve’s eyes narrowed instantly, dark and furious. “What the hell—what are you two doing?!” he barked, stepping fully inside, voice rising over the music from the street.

Eddie’s eyes went wide, panic overtaking him. “Steve! No—wait, it’s not what it looks like!” he stammered, fumbling to cover you, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to shield you.

You scrambled, pulling the blanket and your jacket around yourself, cheeks burning. “Yeah! Totally innocent, Steve! We weren’t—”

Steve’s glare cut right through you both, sharp and accusatory. “I don’t want excuses, Munson. I… fuck I can’t believe you, my sister ?”

 He swallowed hard, anger thick in his throat, then shook his head, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to process something obvious. “…But… honestly? This—this is kind of obvious. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, the way you act. I knew it. I should’ve known months ago.”

Eddie froze completely, his face a mixture of guilt and relief, while you clutched the blanket closer, heart hammering, cheeks flushed for entirely different reasons.

Steve let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re both idiots,” he muttered, anger still simmering, but now tempered with a resigned sort of acknowledgment. “Just… be smart about it. 

The room hung in tense silence for a heartbeat before Steve stormed off, slamming the door, sleaving you and Eddie staring at each other, the air thick with heat, laughter, and something more dangerous than either of you had intended.

Eddie exhaled shakily, voice low and rough as he leaned in, brushing a stray curl from your face. “Well… that went… okay?”

You smirked, still breathless, still flushed, and shook your head. “Yeah, ‘okay.’ That’s one way to put it.”

Eddie coughs before turning to you. “ So what I said about, you know, how I said I love…”

Eddie leaned over you, chest pressed to yours, curls falling into his eyes, trying way too hard to look casual. He grinned crookedly, voice low and teasing, “So… that, uh… thing I said? Totally slipped. Didn’t happen. Forget it, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow, fingers tangling in his hair. “Oh really? Just slipped, huh?”

“Yeah!” he said, leaning back just enough to try and sound nonchalant. “Nothing. Forget it. Keep… keep doing whatever you were doing. Totally fine.” His attempt at casual was laughably transparent—heat still radiated off him, and the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

You smirked, pressing closer, lips brushing against his in a teasing, deliberate kiss. “Hmm… sure you want me to forget it?” you murmured against his mouth.

Eddie froze, eyes wide for a heartbeat, then groaned, leaning into the kiss, trying—and failing—to keep up the act. His hands found your waist, gripping, holding you close. “I… I didn’t mean it like that! I—shit, I wasn’t trying to—”

You cut him off, tilting your head and deepening the kiss, letting him taste your control for once. He let out a low, breathy laugh against your lips, curling around you anyway, surrendering just a little. “Fine,” he muttered, voice rough, “maybe I meant it. Just… don’t make it weird, okay?”

You smiled against his mouth, trailing your hands over his shoulders and down his back. “Weird’s overrated,” you whispered.

Eddie groaned, resting his forehead against yours, still trying to play it off, still trying to act like nothing had changed—but you could feel it, the way he kept leaning into you, the way his grip tightened as if letting go wasn’t an option. “Yeah… yeah, okay,” he admitted finally, voice low, half teasing, half raw. “Weird’s… fine. Just… don’t tell anyone I said anything, alright?”

masterlist

Summary: Dustin Henderson always leaves Hellfire early to keep his older sister far away from Eddie Munson’s obvious crush, but one forgotten character sheet ruins everything and gives Eddie the perfect chance to finally charm her right in front of Dustin’s horrified eyes.

Word Count: 1.5k

There was a reason Dustin Henderson always left Hellfire Club five minutes early, and it wasn’t because he had to make it back for curfew.

It was because you, his older sister,  picked him up. 

And because Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master with a flair for dramatics, had developed a hopeless, obvious crush on you the first time he saw you waiting by your car, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to whatever song was stuck in your head.

Dustin had caught the look instantly.

“Don’t even think about it,” he had warned Eddie that very first day, grabbing his backpack like it was a shield. “I’m serious, Eddie. She’s off-limits.”

Eddie had only grinned, popping the cap on his marker. “Off-limits? Henderson, she drove you here. She’s literally right there. In the parking lot. Breathing the same air as me.”

“Exactly the problem!”

And so a system was born—one Dustin upheld with military precision. Every campaign night: five minutes early. No exceptions. No stragglers. No chance for Eddie to “accidentally” walk out at the same time.

Until tonight.

Tonight, the dice betrayed him.

A natural 1.

Not in the game, oh no, Dustin had rolled a 20 for that, but in real life, fumbling for his bag and realising too late that he’d forgotten his character sheet somewhere in the mess of snack wrappers and graph paper.

By the time he sprinted back into the room, Eddie was already strolling toward the doors, humming something off-key, twirling his ringed keys around his finger.

And outside—right outside—you were leaning against the car, Hawkins’ sunset painting you in gold.

Dustin skidded to a halt. “No, no, no. Abort mission. Turn around. Eddie, don’t go out there!”

Eddie froze mid-step, eyes lighting up with the slow-building grin of a man who finally caught the monster he’d been chasing.

“Why’s that Henderson, you tryna hide something from me?”  Eddie looked ahead, over Dustin's shoulder, with a large grin on his face. “Ah, someone?”

Eddie didn’t wait for Dustin’s answer. He brushed past him with that maddening, self-satisfied swagger, boots thudding on the linoleum as he pushed open the doors. The warm evening light hit his face, and he squinted dramatically, as if he’d just stepped into some divine realm—your realm. You glanced up at the sound, lifting your head from whatever you’d been scribbling on a notepad, and your eyes met Eddie’s.

He nearly tripped.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly softer, suddenly shy, like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. “Uh—hi. Didn’t know you were the designated Henderson chauffeur tonight.”

You gave him a small, amused smile. “I’m always the designated Henderson chauffeur.”

Behind Eddie, Dustin groaned loudly, breaking the air. “Oh my god. Y/N disengage, get in the car, and drive”

Eddie ignored him entirely. “Well, lucky us.”

You raised a brow. “‘Us’?”

Eddie cleared his throat. “Uh—me. Lucky me.”

Dustin threw his hands up. “No. Nope. Eddie, abort. Retreat. Go back inside and pretend this never happened—”

You tugged open the passenger door for your brother. “Dustin, it’s fine, get in the car. Let him talk. You never let me meet your friends”

Eddie visibly perked up whilst Dustin visibly died inside.

Eddie placed a hand over his heart, staggering back a step like he’d just been given divine permission to breathe.

“You hear that, Henderson?” he said, eyes shining with theatrical triumph. “Your sister wants to meet your friends. Specifically me. Mostly me.”

Dustin shoved his backpack into the car with a force that suggested he wished it were Eddie instead. “I hate this. I hate both of you. I’m telling Mom.”

“You do that,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be devastated to hear that someone finds her daughter interesting.”

Eddie snorted, then tried to disguise it as a suave laugh. It absolutely failed.

You shut Dustin’s door before he could protest again and turned back to Eddie, crossing your arms lightly over your chest. “So. Eddie Munson.”

He straightened like someone had just called his name at roll call. “That is me. In the flesh. In the leather.” He gestured vaguely at his jacket. “And the denim.”

You fought a smile. “Dustin talks about you a lot.”

Behind the rolled-up window, Dustin slapped both hands against the glass. “NO I DON’T.”

Eddie beamed. “Oh yeah? All good things, I hope.”

“Depends what you consider ‘good.’” You smirked. “Lots of yelling. Something about unfair campaigns. A dramatic monologue about you killing his character two weeks ago.”

Eddie gasped, affronted. “I didn’t kill his character. He threw himself into a pit trap after I explicitly told him not to.”

Dustin yelled through the closed window: “YOU SAID IT WASN’T A TRAP!”

“I lied! That’s storytelling!” Eddie shouted back, no longer looking at him, still looking at you.

You laughed, genuinely, bright and warm, and Eddie looked like he could live off that sound for a year. He rubbed his palms against his jeans, suddenly restless. “So, uh… since fate has clearly intervened tonight—thanks for the nat 1, Henderson—I was thinking… maybe… if you’re not too busy sometime, we could… I dunno.” He shrugged, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Hang out? Maybe grab something to eat? Talk without your brother trying to tackle me?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it even though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away.

“That depends,” you said. “Would Dustin survive the shock?”

From inside the car, Dustin pressed his face to the window, eyes wide with horror. “PLEASE DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM.”

Eddie placed a hand on the car roof, leaning in closer, hopeful and helpless in the same breath. “I’ll take my chances.”

You cut him off. “Maybe.”

Eddie blinked. “Maybe?”

You shrugged. “Maybe we can hang out,”

Eddie grinned, slow and stunned and triumphant. “I’ll take a ‘maybe.’ ‘Maybe’ sounds like a strong ‘yes’ waiting to happen.”

Eddie’s grin was still stretching across his face, wide and triumphant, when he moved toward your car. He hooked his fingers around the handle like he had done it a hundred times before, although the truth showed in the careful and almost reverent way he pulled the door open. Inside, Dustin snapped his head toward him, eyes narrowed into the kind of death stare usually saved for mortal enemies or, apparently, potential brothers-in-law.

“Don’t you dare,” Dustin warned, his voice high with panic and disbelief. Eddie leaned down just enough to meet the younger Henderson’s eyes directly. The two of them froze, locked in an entirely ridiculous yet absolutely serious battle of wills.

Dustin’s glare promised violence. Eddie’s stare promised trouble.

The tension held for a moment. Then Eddie’s expression shifted slowly, showing a smug smile before he lifted his hand in one deliberate motion and flipped Dustin off right in his face.

“You absolute—!” Dustin sputtered, smacking his palm against the window with enough force to rattle the whole door.

Eddie had already stopped paying attention. When he turned back to you, the mischief fell away instantly. His posture straightened, and he pushed the door open a little more with exaggerated gentleness, almost as if he needed you to know he did have manners, even if he used them selectively.

“There you go,” he said, his voice softer. “Wouldn’t want the designated Henderson chauffeur to deal with any complications.”

You could not help smiling. There was something undeniably endearing about how quickly he could shift from menace to sweet. “Thanks,” you said, sincere despite Dustin’s meltdown.

“Anytime,” Eddie replied. The word came out like a promise, and his grin grew smaller and warmer. He looked like he was trying very hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet.

Inside the car, Dustin made a dramatic noise that sounded half wounded animal and half outraged brother. “I cannot believe this. He flipped me off. In front of you.”

You shut his door before he could work himself up further and moved around the car to take your seat behind the wheel. Through the windshield, you caught Eddie backing away with that same stunned, proud smile on his face. He lifted a hand in a small wave. You returned it before starting the engine.

The moment the car rolled forward, Dustin erupted.

“Why are you smiling?” he demanded. He twisted in his seat with an expression that accused you of committing several crimes. “He insulted me. He flipped me off. He is trying to date you. How is any of this funny?”

You shrugged lightly as you merged onto the road, fingers tapping the steering wheel in a rhythm you did not think about. “I do not know, Dustybun. Maybe because he is sweet.”

Dustin made a strangled noise and slumped dramatically into his seatbelt. “Sweet? Sweet? Eddie Munson is not sweet. Eddie Munson is chaos in denim.”

“It could be worse,” you said with a tiny smirk.

Dustin threw his hands up in complete exasperation. “How? How could this possibly be worse?”

In the rearview mirror, you caught one last image of the parking lot. Eddie was still standing there, fists raised, bouncing on his heels like someone celebrating a long-awaited victory. He looked absolutely thrilled.

PART ONE LINK:

PART TWO LINK:

PART THREE LINK:

PART FOUR LINK:

PART FIVE LINK:

"If you wanna save her, you're gonna have to trust a dead guy."

Season 5 spoilers:

Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead.

Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.

Word Count: 2392

Stranger Things fanfiction | Dark Eddie | Angst | Horror | AU

I woke to the feeling of being watched.

Not in the way the Upside Down watched you — not with hunger or malice or something ancient pressing against your skin. With care.

The red lamp was still glowing low beside Eddie’s bed, its light watered down by shadow, turning the mess of his trailer into something almost soft. Almost safe. The air was quiet in a way that felt earned rather than empty.

Eddie was awake.

He always was.

I shifted, my body heavy and sore in the slow, aching way that meant I’d actually slept properly slept  for the first time since Holly had been taken. His arm rested along the back of the mattress, close enough that I could feel warmth without being caged by it. He hadn’t moved it. Hadn’t dared.

Like he was afraid breaking the stillness might break me too.

“You’re staring,” I murmured, voice rough with sleep.

He flinched ,just slightly ,like he’d been caught with a hand in something soft and fragile and not meant for him.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” I shifted onto my side so I could see him properly. His face looked different like this — less haunted in the dim light, less carved into shadow. Still sharp. Still dangerous in that Eddie way.

I shifted under the blanket, the movement making the mattress dip softly between us. His head turned instantly.

“Hey,” he murmured.

It wasn’t teasing this time.

Not cocky.

Just real.

“Hi,” I whispered back.

The quiet stretched again, thick with the weight of everything we hadn’t said when our mouths were busy doing other things.

I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, suddenly shy in a way I hadn’t been hours ago. Eddie noticed. He always noticed.

“You don’t gotta hide,” he said gently. “I’m not—”

“I know,” I cut in, then softened. “I just… don’t know how to act right now ”, my head dips. “Holly is out there and I’m here…”

“…Holly is out there and I’m here,” I finished quietly, staring down at the tangled blanket like it might judge me too. “I don’t know how to be… this, when she’s still missing. It feels wrong. Like I’m not allowed to breathe until she’s safe.”

Eddie didn’t answer right away.

When he did, his voice was low and careful, like he was afraid certain words might cut deeper than any blade. “You’re allowed,” he said simply. “You’re allowed to feel warm and alive even if the world’s on fire. Especially then.”

I shook my head, tears burning hot and sudden behind my eyes. “What if something happens to her while I’m lying here pretending I can forget for even a second?”

“Then that second didn’t erase your love for her,” he said, a quiet urgency slipping into his voice now. “It just gave you strength to keep going.”

I finally looked at him.

Really looked.

He wasn’t teasing. Not hiding behind sarcasm or swagger or anything loud enough to keep the truth from touching him. He looked like someone who had lost everything and was still offering pieces of himself anyway.

“You think I planned any of this?” I whispered. “I didn’t ask for… for you. Or this. I didn’t want to fall into something when everything’s broken.”

His jaw tightened. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “But here you are. And here I am. Breathing anyway.”

He hesitated. Then reached out, not touching me at first. Just close enough that I could feel the heat of his hand at my wrist. A crackling noise came from the radio on his bedside table.

A soft click came from the radio.

Not static this time. Music spilled into the room instead—low, warped around the edges, but unmistakable.

I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany. I knew it from the first four counts.

The sound shouldn’t have worked. Nothing electronic ever did in this place. Yet there it was, gentle and out of place, seeping into the trailer like a ghost that had wandered out of the wrong decade. I froze. Eddie did too.

The music wasn’t loud. It didn’t demand attention. It just… existed. Warm and almost tender in a world that gave nothing away for free.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My hand drifted over the blanket without thinking and brushed against Eddie’s fingers. He didn’t pull away. If anything, his hand shifted closer, pressing into mine like the contact mattered more now that something else had intruded.

I tilted my head, glancing at the radio as the song played. “Has it ever done that before?” I asked quietly, my voice barely above the soft melody.

Eddie shook his head, eyes fixed on the flickering red light rather than the speaker. “No. Never.”

I swallowed, the tight knot in my chest tugging at me. “Could… could it be Holly?” I whispered, the thought catching somewhere between hope and fear.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand brushed mine again, grounding me when the possibility felt too big, too fragile. Finally, his voice came, low and careful. “I don’t know. But… if it is, we’ll find her.”

The soft strains of I Think We’re Alone Now filled the trailer, and we both began gathering our clothes, the quiet intimacy stretching between us like a fragile thread. I tugged my shirt over my head, glancing at him from under my lashes. “Eddie… do you think… last night was a mistake?”

He paused, pulling his shirt over his shoulders, then turned just enough to meet my gaze. His lips quirked into that crooked half-smile, half-smirk that always made my chest tighten. “A mistake?” he echoed, his voice low, teasing but warm. “Y/N… I’ve been dreaming about doing that with you since middle school. If anything, it was… exactly what I’ve wanted for years.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly, half in disbelief, half in awe of the way he could make the world shrink down to just us in a single sentence.

I tugged my shirt on, tugging the fabric over my shoulders as the music played softly, my mind half on Eddie, half on Holly. I met his gaze, voice quiet but steady. “When we save Holly… when we get her out… we will get out here the real world, all of it. And then… you can go home.”

Eddie froze mid-motion, his hands stilling over his shirt. His jaw tightened, and for a long, heavy beat, he didn’t answer. I held my breath, searching his face, but all I got was that familiar shadow passing over his dark eyes.

Finally, he muttered, almost to himself, “Yeah… I wish it were that simple.”

That single sentence, weighed down with things unsaid, hit me harder than any punch. I realised, with a sinking knot in my chest, that he might not be able to leave this place. The Upside Down wasn’t just a nightmare anymore — it was his cage.

I frowned, taking a cautious step closer. “What do you mean?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Why wouldn’t you just… come back with us?”

Eddie’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, then he looked back at me, dark eyes heavy with something I couldn’t quite name. “Think about it,” he said slowly, voice low, almost bitter. “Why haven’t I ever tried to get back through a gate before? Not once?”

I blinked, trying to read him. “I… don’t know. I thought… I thought maybe you were hiding, or—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I can’t. I can’t leave.” His hand clenched into a fist at his side. “The Upside Down… it’s the only reason I’m still… me. It’s keeping me alive.”

The words hung between us, heavy and sharp. The music in the background softened, almost reverent, as if the world itself had paused. I swallowed, feeling the weight of what he was saying settle deep into my chest. This wasn’t just about monsters or danger anymore — it was about Eddie, and the world that had claimed him long before I found him.

“You haven’t even tried,” anger fills my face.

“You haven’t even tried,” I said again, quieter now, the words shaking as they left me. My hands curled into the blanket, knuckles white. “You could’ve tried. You should’ve… at least once.”

Eddie’s eyes flicked up to mine, something sharp and pained in them. He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then thought better of it. His shoulders sagged just a little instead.

“I know,” he said.

The fight drained out of me all at once. What was left behind hurt worse.

I swallowed and looked away from him, staring at the far wall of the trailer, at cracks in the rusted metal that looked like they’d been there forever. “I just…” My voice broke. “I hate that this place gets to keep you. I hate that it’s already stolen so much from you and now it wants to pretend it’s the only thing holding you together.”

He didn’t say anything.

After a moment, I shook my head slowly. “But I also know you,” I added, quieter. “And you wouldn’t just give up. Not on something like this. Not on your own life.”

I finally looked back at him.

“And if you’re saying you can’t leave… then I believe you. Even if I don’t want to.”

His breath hitched slightly at that.

“You always were too good at seeing through me,” he murmured.

I gave a small, sad smile. “Someone had to.”

The music from the radio drifted around us, soft and distorted, like it was struggling to survive in a place that didn’t want it. Eddie reached out then, not grabbing me, just resting his hand against mine, warm and steady.

“We’ll get her back,” he said quietly. “I promise you that much.”

I laced my fingers through his, tightening my grip. “Then that’s what we do first,” I whispered. “Everything else… we’ll figure out after.”

He squeezed my hand once, a silent promise in return.

Eddie and I moved like shadows through the blackened, twisted landscape, avoiding the larger horrors and clinging to the rhythm we had settled into: step, pause, scan, repeat.

-------------------

Eventually, the trees thinned, giving way to a strange, suffocating stillness. Ahead, a wall rose from the ground, impossibly tall and thick, composed entirely of writhing, dark vines. They pulsed as if a heartbeat ran through them, sending soft, rhythmic thumps into the ground beneath our feet. The wall stretched endlessly in both directions, merging into the gray horizon that seemed to bend the light—or the absence of it—into a permanent twilight.

I stopped, breath catching in my throat. “It… it just keeps going,” I whispered. My voice sounded small, swallowed by the oppressive presence of the living barrier.

Eddie’s eyes scanned it carefully, sharp and assessing. His jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s not just a fence. It’s… alive. And it knows we’re here.”

I stepped closer, reaching out tentatively to touch one of the vines. It shivered under my fingers, a faint pulse traveling up my arm. My stomach lurched. “Alive… like it can think?”

Eddie shook his head, crouching slightly to the ground. “Not thinking like us. But it reacts. Defends. Senses.” He glanced back at me, expression dark, tense. “We’re gonna have to be smart. This isn’t something you just walk through.”

The sheer scale of it pressed down on me. Width, height, length… endless. Pulsating. Watching. I shivered, instinctively pulling closer to him, feeling the warmth of his presence anchor me amid the alien terror.

Eddie takes a knife from his jacket pocket, stabbing it directly into the wall.

Eddie’s hand tightened around the knife’s handle. He plunged it into one of the pulsing vines, and for a brief second, it quivered violently—almost as if it had flinched. The wall didn’t recoil or scream, but the pulse beneath our feet shifted, faster, uneven, like a heartbeat that had skipped.

I instinctively jumped back, my fingers tightening around his arm. “Eddie… what—what was that?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the wall. “Testing,” he muttered, voice low, strained with focus. I look at the knife, with a sense of longing.

“Let me try,” I mutter.

“Look Prom Queen, I’m not tryna doubt your girl power but…” I snatch the knife from him. “And she’s taken my knife,” he sighs.

I snatched the knife from his hand before he could protest. “Let me try,” I muttered, determination burning hotter than fear.

“Look, Prom Queen, I’m not—” he started, but the words died in his throat as I plunged the blade into the writhing mass.

At first, it seemed like it would yield, just like his stab had, quivering slightly under the pressure of the steel. Then—suddenly—the vine constricted, cold and unrelenting, around my forearm. The pulse beneath the ground stuttered violently, and a sharp pain lanced up my arm. I yelped, struggling to pull back, but it wasn’t giving.

“Y/N!” Eddie hissed, dropping to his knees beside me, hands gripping my arm. “Pull back, okay? Just… we’ll get you—”

But the wall wasn’t letting go. It was alive in a way I’d never imagined, not just pulsing but sensing, reacting. Slowly, inexorably, the vine began to draw me in. My heart hammered, breath catching as I realized I was being swallowed—arm first, shoulder next—into the wall itself.

The cold, slick pressure crawled up my skin as the vines shifted, opening around my arm like a mouth.

“It’s— it’s not letting go!” I cried.

Eddie braced his boots into the ground, hauling with everything he had. His grip burned against my ribs.

“I’ve got you! I’ve got you—don’t let it take you!”

The vines inched upward.

Shoulder.

Neck.

The wall wasn’t pulling violently.

It was absorbing me.

“Eddie—” I sobbed.

His eyes were wild now, dark veins standing out against his skin. “No—No—NO—!”

He yanked with a snarl that didn’t sound human.

The vines surged.

My body slipped from his grasp.

The world twisted cold and dark as the wall swallowed me whole.

My last glimpse of him was Eddie on his knees, clawing at the living barrier, screaming my name into a wall that did not care.

The wall closed. And then—

PART ONE LINK:

PART TWO LINK:

PART THREE LINK:

PART FOUR LINK:

"If you wanna save her, you're gonna have to trust a dead guy."

Season 5 spoilers:

Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead.

Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.

Word Count: 4447

Stranger Things fanfiction | Dark Eddie | Angst | Horror | AU

The first thing I felt was motion.

Not walking. Not falling.

Being dragged through space.

The truck lurched beneath me, the floor vibrating violently with every uneven turn of whatever dead road we were on. My head throbbed from where something had struck me earlier, and it took a few seconds too long for my foggy brain to catch up to the present. When it did, panic hit like a second blow.

Chains.

Cold, real, biting into my wrists and ankles. Heavy enough that even shifting sent a sharp clatter reverberating through the metal walls of the truck. My arms were pinned awkwardly at my sides, my feet locked in place on the ridged floor. I sucked in a breath and the air tasted wrong — stale, metallic, thick with oil and rust.

“Eddie,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I twisted my wrists uselessly against the metal. “Eddie—”

I turned my head as far as the chain would allow and saw him slumped against the opposite wall of the truck, arms shackled high, head tilted slightly forward. In the dim red emergency lights, his face looked wrong — too pale, eyes sunk deep into shadow, dark veins faintly marbling the skin around them.

For a terrifying second, I thought he wasn’t breathing.

“Eddie,” I said louder, panic clawing up my throat. “Eddie!”

His lashes fluttered.

“…Hey,” he rasped.

The sound of his voice hit harder than the truck’s jolting wheels. Relief punched the air from my lungs in one shaking breath.

“You’re awake,” I whispered.

“Barely,” he muttered, lifting his head with visible effort. “You, uh… you look worse.”

I let out a wet laugh that immediately broke into a sob. “I’m chained to the floor of a government truck in hell, Eddie.”

“Fair,” he murmured. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… valid.”

The truck hit a rut and the chains jerked hard, biting into my skin. A sharp cry ripped from my throat before I could stop it. My breath came too fast, too shallow, the walls suddenly pressing in too close, too tight, too everywhere.

“I can’t get out,” I gasped. “I can’t— I can’t move—”

“Hey,” Eddie cut in, his voice low and firm despite the strain behind it. “Prom Queen. Eyes on me.”

I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. “Eddie, I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, you can,” he said quietly. “You’re doing it right now. It just feels wrong because you’re scared.”

That somehow made it worse — but also real.

“Look at me,” he repeated, softer this time.

I forced my eyes to his.

His gaze was sharp even through exhaustion. Anchoring. Holding me in place when everything else felt like it was slipping sideways.

“Breathe with me,” he said. “In slow. Out slower.”

I tried. Failed. Tried again.

My lungs burned.

The panic didn’t vanish — but it dulled around the edges.

“There you go,” he said gently. “Good girl. Now again.”

I hated that my chest eased at his voice. Hated that he could still calm me even like this — shackled and half‑broken.

When my breathing finally steadied into something close to normal, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and tested the cuffs again, slower this time, more careful.

“Where are they taking us?” I asked, my voice thin beneath the grinding engine and rattling chains.

Eddie lifted his head slightly, eyes tracking the dark metal ceiling like he could see through miles of concrete and rot. “Someplace they don’t plan on letting us leave,” he said quietly. There was no humor in it. No edge. Just fact.

The truck swayed sharply and the cuffs cut into my wrists again. I flinched and sucked in a breath, fighting the hot sting that crawled up my arms. Panic threatened to rise again, but I clung to the sound of Eddie’s breathing on the other side of the truck. It was shallow. Uneven. Wrong.

“You don’t look okay,” I said, forcing the words out. “Eddie… you look worse than before.”

He didn’t answer right away.

In the low red emergency light, the dark veins beneath his eyes stood out even more, like ink bleeding into pale skin. His lips were slightly parted, his chest barely rising. He looked… hollow. Like something essential had already been taken from him.

“You’re starving,” I whispered.

His jaw tightened.

“…Yeah.”

The word landed heavy.

“For how long?” I asked.

He closed his eyes briefly, like even thinking about it hurt. “Too long.”

The truth of it made my throat tighten.

I looked down at my own hands — chafed, dirty, trembling in their restraints. I swallowed hard and then lifted my head again. “Then take mine.”

His eyes snapped open.

“No.”

“Eddie—”

“No.” His voice was sharper now, rougher. “Don’t even say that.”

“You’re barely conscious,” I said. “And if you pass out, then it’s over. For both of us.”

“That’s not a reason,” he muttered.

“It is when you’re the only one still breathing like this is a choice.”

He shook his head violently, chains rattling. “You don’t get it. I can’t stop once I start. It’s not like a sip of water. It’s not controlled. It’s hunger. It’s—” He broke off and swallowed thickly. “It’s ugly.”

“So is getting dragged off by armed men into a lab in hell,” I whispered. “But here we are.”

Silence swallowed the truck for a moment, broken only by the roar of the engine and the faint clink of metal.

“You never should’ve followed her,” he muttered, quieter now. “And you definitely never should’ve followed me.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I did. And now you’re here too. So we deal with it together.”

He looked at me then. Truly looked. Not like I was fragile. Not like I was prey.

Like I was choosing him anyway.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said hoarsely.

“You already are,” I replied softly. “Just by fading.”

The words hung between us, thick and trembling.

Eddie shut his eyes and leaned his forehead back against the wall of the truck, the movement slow, exhausted.

“…I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he whispered.

I met his gaze through the dim light. “I’m already afraid of everything else.”

The truck jolted again, carrying us deeper into something neither of us could see — or stop. And this time, Eddie didn’t pull away when he moved a little closer.

Eddie shifted closer.

The movement was slow and deliberate, as if his body itself was taking permission from his mind before going any further. The chains dragged softly across the truck floor as he leaned toward me, close enough now that I could feel his breath against my skin.

“Don’t look at me,” he said under his breath.

Not sharp. Not teasing. Raw.

I swallowed hard. “Eddie—”

“Please,” he whispered, and there was something in his voice that made my chest ache. “I can’t… not if you’re looking at me.”

I turned my head away, fixing my eyes on the scratched metal wall beside me. My heart hammered against my ribs as I held out my wrist with shaking fingers, the chain sliding when my arm moved.

I felt him hesitate. Then his hand wrapped around my wrist. His fingers were warm but rings cold. 

He lifted my hand slightly — not the way someone does when they’re taking something, but the way you move something precious, something breakable.

And then, his lips brushed against my skin. A kiss. Soft. Barely there. A whisper of contact that sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with fear. It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t taking.It was goodbye in a language neither of us spoke out loud.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

His breath lingered where his mouth had been.

My pulse jumped beneath his thumb as the truck lurched forward, dragging us deeper into whatever darkness was waiting ahead.

And for one fragile second…

I forgot the chains.

My breath hitched. His forehead tilted down closer, warm against my arm, and then his teeth pressed against me. Not hard,  a bite that was sudden, sharp, a sting that flared across my nerves before melting into a strange, spreading heat that left my pulse roaring. The chains rattled with the truck’s movement, metal clinking harshly against metal, but all I could feel was him, the tight, terrifying, intimate pull.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my focus inward. It was uncomfortable. Unsettling. My blood raced in a way that made my ears hum and my stomach churn, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Not when he was leaning so close, not when his hands gripped me with a tension that was half restraint, half desperation.

“I—tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, his voice raw and strained, as if the effort of holding himself back was costing him more than I realized.

The moment stretched. I could hear the truck shuddering, feel the chains bite into my skin with every jolt, feel Eddie’s every shuddering inhale against my wrist. Then the sensation spread — a tug deep inside, like something inside me had shifted slightly, a current running through my veins that made my knees go weak and my fingers tingle.

He stilled instantly, tilting his head slightly as if he could feel my reaction through the chain, through the faint warmth of my pulse against his lips. “…I’m sorry,” he murmured against my skin, the words so soft they might have been lost in the rumble of the truck, “I can stop.”

“No,” I whispered, my fingers clutching weakly at his sleeve, desperate. “Just… don’t leave.”

His hand lifted, bracing against the wall as his forehead pressed lightly to my arm. The tension in his shoulders, the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the tremor in his fingers — everything screamed that this was almost unbearable for him. Almost uncontrollable. The truck lurched again, chains rattling, and I felt it, the strange pull inside me, the blood pounding in my veins, the world tilting, and yet I stayed conscious. Still here. Still me.

“Eddie,” I breathed, and he jerked back so fast my pulse threatened to leave my chest with it, like he’d realized just how much he’d let himself slip. His eyes, darkened and fierce in the flickering light, were wide and terrified, reflecting the shadowed red of the truck around us.

“I didn’t mean to—” he started, voice low, strained, almost breaking. “I just— I couldn’t—”

I was dizzy, heart racing, breath uneven, but I managed a soft, shaky laugh through the panic. “You didn’t hurt me,” I said, voice trembling. “You stopped.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, like the weight of guilt and fear and exhaustion all pooled there in a heavy wave. “…I’m supposed to be a monster,” he whispered.

I swallowed hard, tasting fear and iron and the faint tang of his proximity, and forced a quiet, firm answer. “Then you’re doing a really bad job at it.”

A tension lingered between us — unspoken, thick, like the very air in the truck had pulled tight — and yet for the first time since we’d been captured, I felt something solid. Something like trust. Something like hope, fragile as it was, threading through the clamor of chains, the heat of blood, the oppressive sway of the truck around us.

Eddie leaned back, shuddering as the strength slowly returned to his limbs. I watched, half terrified, half mesmerized, as the color returned to his pale skin, his dark veins fading slightly, his shoulders regaining some of their former bulk. The chains rattled lightly as he tested his wrists, flexing fingers that had moments ago felt like they belonged to someone else entirely.

I sat across from him, still shaky, still slick with sweat and blood, and tried to process the shift. “You… you’re… really back?” I asked, voice trembling.

He gave a short, crooked laugh, one corner of his mouth pulling up like a shadow of the Eddie I had known. “Back enough,” he muttered. Then his eyes flicked toward mine, dark and intense. “We don’t have much time. We need a plan.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. My head still throbbed, my wrists burned where the chains bit into my skin. “Okay,” I whispered, “what do we do?”

He leaned in closer, chains rattling as he shifted. “Listen, Prom Queen,” he said quietly, almost casually, “they’re moving us somewhere else soon. Probably to a holding area, maybe to the lab. But we have a small window. They don’t expect resistance from… well, someone who looks like you.”

I stared straight at him, chest tight, pulse hammering. “Really, Eddie? Me? You think I look like someone who can’t fight back? Someone you have to protect?” My voice had more bite than I meant, but I needed the shield.

Eddie’s dark eyes darted away for a fraction of a second, then back to mine, veins dark around the edges. His lips twitched like he was about to say something, then stopped. Finally, he muttered, almost under his breath, “You… uh… you’re… really pretty, you know that?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He scratched the back of his neck, leaning awkwardly against the wall, the chains rattling with his movement. “I mean… uh… it’s not the time for this, I know, but… yeah. Pretty. And smart. And, you know… probably better at this than me.” His gaze flicked to the floor for a heartbeat, then back to mine, unsteady but intense.

I felt my chest heat, but I masked it with a sharp laugh. “Great. Thanks for the pep talk, undead Eddie. You’ve got me motivated and blushing all at once, okay back to the plan”

Eddie’s lips twitched into that half-smile that had once made me feel like I could survive anything. “We trick them. You’ll pretend to be—well, dead. They’ve already been feeding us these tazers, right? So we look the part. But the moment the doors open…” His hand gestured toward me, his eyes bright with dangerous focus, “we act.”

My stomach twisted. “And you? You—how will you?”

He flexed his fingers, shadows dancing across his veins as he tested his newfound strength. “I’ve got it. You just have to follow my lead, trust me. One wrong move and we’re done.”

I swallowed, nodding. “Okay. I can do that. But…” My voice wavered. “You have to stay in control. I can’t—”

“I know,” he interrupted, voice low, commanding. “I won’t touch you. Not until it’s necessary. We’re a team, yeah? But right now, you do your part.”

I nodded, biting my lip, trying to steady my fear.

___

Time passed in tense silence, broken only by the low rumble of the truck’s engine and the occasional scrape of metal against metal. My chest still ached, my wrists and ankles burned, but I focused on Eddie, on the plan, on keeping my panic from spiraling.

Then it happened. The truck slowed, a low clank of the rear doors unlocking reverberating through the metal walls. My stomach dropped. I froze. The faint red glow of emergency lights illuminated the floor, the chains, and Eddie’s sharp, unreadable face.

The back doors creaked open. A man in a uniform appeared, rifle at the ready, flashlight sweeping the interior. I barely breathed.

Eddie’s eyes met mine, dark and electric. A dangerous gleam settled there. He was alive, fully alive, but he had been waiting for this.

The guard stepped inside, crouching slightly, hands going to Eddie’s neck. My pulse thundered in my ears.

For a heartbeat, nothing moved.

Then Eddie acted.

In one fluid motion, he surged forward. His hand locked around the guard’s throat with terrifying speed and strength. The man barely had time to react — the rifle clattered to the floor, his body slammed into the metal wall, and he crumpled, unconscious before I even processed what had happened.

I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Eddie wiped his mouth slowly, dark eyes still scanning, still dangerous.

“Never… trust a fake corpse,” he muttered quietly, and I realized then that the entire time he had been conserving his strength, preparing for exactly this moment.

We moved fast. Chains rattled as we shifted to the edge of the truck’s interior, testing the cuffs. I pulled, twisted, tugged. Eddie pressed close behind me, whispering instructions, helping me leverage my weight. The metal cut into my skin, but we worked together, synchronizing our movements with sharp nods and hand signals.

“You’re going to push, I’m going to pull,” he instructed, his voice low and urgent. “Ready?”

I nodded, gritting my teeth. “Ready.”

On three, we strained. My muscles screamed, the chains groaned. The guard outside hadn’t noticed yet — the sound of his distant footsteps and muffled shouts from the road barely carried.

“Now!” Eddie hissed. He braced his feet, yanked with all his weight. The chains shuddered violently, bolts straining. My heart thudded so hard I thought it might explode.

The metal gave way with a loud snap, one cuff popping free from the floor. I twisted, kicking the last one against the side of the truck. Eddie lunged, levering it off.

We were free — at least, almost. But the moment had passed. Another guard might appear at any second. We had to move, had to think, had to get somewhere safe.

where the metal had dug in. Eddie’s presence at my side was both comforting and unsettling — steady, aware, and yet… different. Stronger, sharper, his senses clearly tuned to every rustle and twitch in the corrupted forest around us.

The Upside Down stretched out before us like a nightmare etched in color and shadow. Dead trees arched toward the bruised sky, their skeletal branches curling like blackened fingers. Vines moved faintly under their own will, crawling across the cracked earth and slick, rotted leaves. Every step I took made the ground squelch beneath my boots, a sick, wet sound that made my stomach twist.

“Stay close,” Eddie murmured, his voice low, threading through the unnatural quiet like a lifeline.

I tried to match his pace, though each step felt heavier than the last. The stench of rot and stormwater clung to my lungs, but the fear that had clawed at me before was tempered by his calm. “Eddie… how do you even see in this?” I whispered, craning my neck to look around, but the dim, sickly glow of the sky made every shadow stretch too long.

He gave a faint, crooked smile, almost invisible in the gloom. “You get used to it. Smell the air. Hear it. You can tell which way danger’s coming.” His eyes flicked to mine, dark and unnervingly sharp. “And besides… I have a pretty good idea where we’re going.”

The forest seemed to shift around us as we moved, trees twisting subtly in the corners of my vision, like the Upside Down itself was alive and watching. I could hear faint echoes — maybe my imagination, maybe something following — and each one made my chest tighten. Holly’s face flashed through my mind, pale and terrified, and my pace quickened despite Eddie’s steadying grip on my elbow.

“Careful,” he hissed, tugging gently. “Don’t fall. Don’t make noise.”

I swallowed, forcing my breathing to calm as we ducked under a particularly thick, pulsating vine. The ground slicked beneath my boots, and I almost slipped, but Eddie caught me in an instant, his hands strong and precise. “You’re fine,” he muttered, his voice quiet but firm, grounding me in a place that otherwise had no anchors.

We moved through the haze of death and rot, Eddie leading, and I followed, trusting despite every instinct screaming at me to panic. At some point, the forest started to thin, and the familiar crooked outline of his trailer appeared through the trees, warped but unmistakable. Relief surged in me, sharp and immediate. The trailer, fragile and human amidst the endless wrongness of this world, felt like a lifeline. And as the trailer’s warped metal walls loomed in the dim glow, I realized just how much I depended on Eddie — for strength, for guidance, and maybe, in a way I wasn’t ready to admit, for more.

We reached the trailer’s door, its warped metal groaning as Eddie nudged it open. Inside, the familiar dim clutter greeted us — shelves stacked with Dungeons & Dragons books, scattered dice, and makeshift whittled miniatures, the faint smell of smoke and oil lingering in the air. The shadows seemed less oppressive here, less alive, but the echo of the Upside Down still clung to the edges of the room.

“Sit,” Eddie murmured, gesturing to the worn futon pushed against the wall. I eased down carefully, every joint stiff and sore from the trek. He crouched in front of me, eyes scanning my wrist where the chains had cut deep, the skin raw and streaked with blood.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, tugging a strip of cloth from his jacket. He worked quickly but gently, wrapping the wound with careful precision. His fingers brushed my skin more than once, and each time a shiver ran through me. I tried not to notice, tried not to think about the way his touch lingered, the heat it left behind.

“You okay?” he asked softly, meeting my gaze. The faint red glow from the makeshift lamp flickered across his features, catching the dark veins around his eyes, the sharp planes of his face, and the vulnerability that sometimes peeked through his usual bravado.

“I… will be,” I whispered, my voice quiet, almost lost in the cluttered silence.

Eddie’s hand hovered over my wrist for a second longer than necessary. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You’re… pretty stubborn,” he said, his tone teasing but low, intimate.

I laughed softly, a brittle sound that caught in my throat. “And you’re… unpredictable.”

The moment stretched, thick and warm, the chaos of the Upside Down and the world outside fading for just a heartbeat. His eyes met mine, searching, and I found myself leaning closer before I even realized it. His hand slipped over mine, thumb brushing the back of my fingers. A shiver ran up my arm, and I let my hand stay there, letting the warmth of his touch anchor me in the small bubble of safety inside his trailer.

“Don’t make me get used to this,” he murmured, half a warning, half a confession.

“Get used to what?”

Eddie’s lips twitched, half-smile, half-smirk, and his dark eyes glimmered in the red light. “You.” he said softly, almost like he was testing the words on his tongue. His hand stayed over mine, the weight and warmth grounding in a way that made my chest tighten.

 Then, almost hesitantly, he lifted his other hand and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering at my cheek for just a moment longer than necessary.

Before I could even respond, he leaned in slowly, giving me time to pull back, though I didn’t. His lips met mine in a gentle, searching kiss, tentative at first, like he was testing the world to see if it would let him stay in this small bubble of safety with me. Each brush of his lips grew more insistent, more heated. His thumb traced slow, teasing patterns over the back of my hand while his mouth moved with a boldness that stole my breath. The red glow from the lamp flickered across us, shadows dancing over the sharp planes of his face as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head, pressing closer, his body heat radiating through me.

When he finally broke the kiss, just enough to let us breathe, his forehead rested against mine, breath mingling, eyes dark and unreadable, yet searching. “You’re… something else,” he whispered, almost hoarse, and I could only nod, heart hammering, pulse wild, knowing that nothing.

The air between us was thick, electric, heavy with heat and danger. Eddie’s hands slid from my shoulders down to my sides, fingers pressing firmly through the fabric of my clothes, mapping curves, testing boundaries. My own hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, craving the friction, the warmth, the pulse of him against me.

He kissed me again, slower this time, deep and demanding, lips moving with a dark insistence that made my knees threaten to buckle. His mouth trailed down my jaw, over my throat, and I shivered violently at the contact, every nerve ending alight. He hesitated for a heartbeat at the base of my neck, eyes dark, almost feral, before brushing his lips there in a soft, teasing press. I swallowed hard, chest rising and falling rapidly.

The trailer was filled with the sounds of ragged breathing, quiet gasps, each moment tethered to danger outside but utterly consumed by what was happening inside.

Finally, his lips ghosted down my collarbone, chest heaving, and he lifted his head slightly, eyes locked with mine. “You… you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, voice thick, almost pleading. And I knew exactly what I was doing.

The heat between us thickened until it was almost unbearable. Eddie’s hands roamed with a deliberate urgency, tracing along my sides, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I hesitated for a fraction, then let him, the tension between us too potent to resist. His dark eyes met mine, searching, daring me, and I felt the thrill of surrender.

Slowly, methodically, he helped peel my clothing back, brushing my skin with his fingers as he went, each touch electric. I shivered under him, hands tangling in his hair, feeling the press of his body through his own clothes. He leaned closer, lips never leaving mine for long, pressing kisses along my neck and jaw as he worked, every motion purposeful, intimate, teasing.

I matched his movements, tugging at his jacket, fingers brushing against the exposed skin beneath. The warmth radiating off him was intoxicating, mixing with the lingering tension of fear and adrenaline from the Upside Down. Every touch, every graze of skin against skin, made the space between us shrink, the world outside the trailer fading into irrelevance. 

“Y/N…” he murmured, voice rough, low, almost a growl as he paused to meet my gaze. His hands hovered over me for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and I felt the weight of him, the pull, the unspoken promise in the dark gleam of his eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, breathless, heart pounding...

PART ONE LINK:

PART TWO LINK:

PART THREE LINK:

"If you wanna save her, you're gonna have to trust a dead guy."

Season 5 spoilers:

Y/N was never meant to enter the Upside Down but when Holly Wheeler is dragged into it by a monster, she follows without hesitation. Now she's trapped in a rotting reflection of Hawkins… and the only one who can help her is a boy who should be dead.

Eddie Munson isn't human anymore. And Holly is running out of time.

Word Count: 4399

Stranger Things fanfiction | Dark Eddie | Angst | Horror | AU

----------------------

Holly was sinking.

Not falling — sinking, like the world itself was swallowing her whole.

Her tiny fingers slipped through mine again and again, no matter how tightly I tried to hold on. The floor beneath us was soft and alive, pulsing like a slow heartbeat, and everywhere around us the walls stretched and warped like they were breathing. I dragged her toward the light tearing open in the distance, my throat burning as I called her name over and over, but the sound came out wrong here — thin, broken, barely real.

“Holly!” I screamed, my voice breaking into nothing.

She cried out for me, her small body jerking violently as something unseen yanked her backward. The light behind her flared red and sickeningly bright, painting her face in shadows that didn’t belong on a child. Veins spread across the walls like black lightning, crawling closer to her feet with every second.

“I’m trying,” I sobbed, my nails digging into her skin. “I’ve got you — I’ve got you!”

But I didn’t.

Her tiny hand tore free.

She was ripped from my grasp and dragged screaming into the tearing dark, her voice echoing around me, not fading — multiplying. Coming from everywhere. From nowhere. The world collapsed inward as the gate sealed shut, flesh knitting itself closed where she had been.

And then she was gone.

I stumbled forward into emptiness, choking on my own breath, my chest tearing itself apart as I screamed her name into a world that no longer answered me.

I woke up gasping.

My body lurched violently against the thin mattress, my heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape.Bile burnt my throat as hands clawed at the sheets, my fingers curling into fabric that wasn’t flesh, wasn’t bone, wasn’t Holly.

The scream strangled itself in my throat and dissolved into a sharp, panicked breath instead.

The trailer ceiling swam into focus above me, warped and too close, lit faintly by the cold glow seeping through the window.

It was Eddie’s room. And Holly was still gone.

The door flew open.

It slammed against the wall hard enough to make me flinch, my breath hitching violently as a shadow filled the doorway. For half a second, terror seized my chest all over again — that split second where my brain couldn’t tell nightmare from reality.

Then I saw him.

Eddie stood in the doorway like he’d been dragged out of hell itself, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes wide and wild. The faint blue glow from outside caught the edges of his face, and I realized with a jolt that the veins along his temples and beneath his eyes were darker than they’d been before — not blue, not purple, but almost black, threading faintly across pale skin like cracks in glass.

“Y/N.” My name left his mouth raw and urgent. Not joking. Not teasing. Real. “Are you hurt?”

I pushed myself up on shaking arms, my head still swimming, my throat tight. “I— I was dreaming,” I whispered, the words sounding small even to my own ears. “I thought… I thought I lost her again.”

He crossed the room in three long strides and dropped down in front of me like his knees had finally given out under the weight he carried. His hands hovered near my legs, unsure whether he was allowed to touch, like he was afraid I might break if he did.

“You were screaming,” he muttered. “Look your here, none of that was real.”

I dragged a hand down my face, my skin slick with cold sweat. “It felt real,” I said brokenly. “Like it was happening over again and I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop it.”

His jaw clenched, something sharp and wounded flickering in his eyes. I watched the dark veins pulse faintly under his skin, shadowing movements that didn’t belong to him before. Whatever the demobats had done… it hadn’t let him go. It had stayed.

“You’re here,” Eddie said quietly. “You’re not in that house anymore. Holly is going to be saved. You’re breathing. I can hear it.” I tried to anchor myself to his voice, dragging air into my lungs in uneven pulls.

“I thought you were gone too,” I whispered. “In my dream, everyone was gone.”

Eddie’s face twisted like that hit deeper than anything else. He hesitated, before placing both of his hands on either side of my face

“I’m right here,” he said immediately. “Feel that, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not on you.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. Then I swallowed. “Your eyes…”

He froze.

“Do they look bad?” he asked softly.

“Not bad,” I said, even though my chest felt tight looking at him like this. “Just… different. Darker.”

He exhaled slowly and rubbed beneath one eye with the heel of his hand like he might wipe it away. “It happens when I get too worked up,” he admitted. “Adrenaline or… whatever passes for it now. It’s like my body flips a switch.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“Hey.” His voice gentled instantly. “None of this is your fault.”

Silence settled again, thin but real.

Then, quietly, “Do you want me to stay?”

I nodded without hesitation, not trusting my voice.

Without another word, Eddie shifted down to sit against the bedframe, close enough that I could see him breathe, like he was guarding the last thing in the world that mattered. The dark veins slowly faded from his skin as his breathing stilled, but his eyes never left mine.

I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the faint creaks of the trailer settling around us like a ship at sea. My heart had slowed, but my mind hadn’t. The question had been sitting in my throat since the moment I’d seen him again — heavy and rotting and impossible to ignore.

“Eddie?” I whispered into the dark.

He shifted slightly where he sat on the floor beside the bed. “Yeah, Prom Queen?”

I swallowed. “Did you… did you really do it?”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp. It was heavy. Like I’d placed something fragile between us and neither of us knew how to move without breaking it.

Eddie tilted his head back against the mattress and let out a slow breath through his nose. When he spoke, his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “Wow. Okay. Cool. Didn’t take long for you to ask.”

My chest twisted. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“I’m messing with you,” he said quickly, glancing up at me. “Mostly.”

Then he sobered.

“No,” he said simply. “I didn’t kill Chrissy Cunningham.”

My eyes burned. “I didn’t want to believe it. I just— everyone in Hawkins—”

“Yeah. I know.” His mouth twitched, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They turned me into the town’s favorite bedtime story real fast. Satanic cult leader. Witchcraft. Human sacrifices. All the good hits.” He shook his head. “Real flattering stuff, honestly. Makes selling drugs look downright wholesome.”

I let out a weak, shaky breath that almost passed for a laugh.

“What happened?” I asked.

Eddie inhaled and stared at the floor like it might answer for him. “She came by my trailer after the game like we planned. She was scared. Really scared. Worse than before.” His jaw tightened. “I gave her something to calm her nerves. Never anything heavy. Never something dangerous. And then…” He swallowed. “Then the lights started freaking out. And she did too. Like she was seeing something I wasn’t.”

My hands clenched in the blanket.

“She lifted off the floor,” he whispered. “Not metaphorically. Not drugs. Not a bad reaction. She floated. And I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t do anything but watch.”

Tears burned behind my eyes.

“And then,” he said quietly, “she broke. Right in front of me. And I didn’t even get to touch her. Didn’t even get to help.”

The room felt colder.

When he looked up at me again, his expression was raw in a way that stripped all the bravado away. “So no. I didn’t kill her. But I sure as hell had to swallow the horror of seeing it.”

My throat ached.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked like that.”

Eddie blinked and then scoffed softly. “Nah. You absolutely should’ve.” He glanced at me sideways, a familiar grin flickering back to life despite everything. “I mean, come on. You’ve known me since I was eating mulch and claiming I’d be a rock god by age twelve. If I were a murderer, I would’ve been way more dramatic about it.”

Despite myself, a tiny laugh escaped.

“Still,” he continued, smirking faintly, “I can’t believe you’d even consider it. Me? A psychopathic ritual killer?” He gestured at himself. “Look at me. I can barely commit to a haircut.”

I rolled my eyes weakly. “You did wear leather in a town allergic to difference.”

“And you danced with pom-poms and perfect hair in front of the entire student body.” He shot back. “If anyone was going to snap and go full slasher, my money was on you.”

I snorted before I could stop myself.

Then quieter, softer, “I never stopped being me, you know,” I said.

His expression shifted instantly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was safe.

And for the first time since Hawkins burned his name into the shape of a monster…

I saw Eddie Munson for exactly who he’d always been.

The quiet stretched again, not uncomfortable — just full. The kind that presses on your ribs until your heart spills out something you didn’t plan on saying.

Eddie shifted, fingers drumming once against his knee before stopping. His jaw worked like he was chewing on words that tasted wrong. Then he cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in a crack in the floorboard.

“…I used to watch you at practice.”

I blinked. “What?”

He winced immediately. “God, okay, that sounded horrific. Let me rephrase before you call the undead police.”

A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “Eddie—”

“I mean cheer practice,” he rushed. “From the bleachers. Or the hallway. Or accidentally on purpose when Hellfire let out early and I had no reason to be near the gym whatsoever.”

I stared at him, heat flooding my face. “You… watched me?”

He finally looked at me, face flushed, eyes bright in that strange Upside Down glow. “Not in a creepy way,” he insisted. “In a really stupid, painfully fourteen-year-old-boy way. You know. Quiet. From a distance. With absolutely zero game.”

I laughed under my breath. “You could’ve just talked to me.”

He barked out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, because the cheer captain and the town metal freak had so much in common.”

I softened. “We knew each other before. You weren’t just some guy in a jacket.”

He swallowed.

“I didn’t think you remembered me at all,” he admitted. “And every year it felt like you got further away. Different friends. Different world.” He shrugged lightly, like he could toss aside the weight of it. “So I just… kept you the way you were in my head. Maple Park you. Purple backpack. Scraped knees. Laughing so loud the boys wanted to be quieter.”

My chest ached.

“So sometimes,” he continued quietly, “I’d just sit there and think… great. She’s real. She didn’t disappear after all.”

I didn’t trust my voice.

“You were never invisible to me,” I said instead.

Eddie let out a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh trying not to break.

“Well,” he murmured, “guess that just makes me the world’s deadliest cheer fan.”

I reached forward before I even thought about it and nudged his arm.

“For the record,” I said, “I would’ve sat with you.”

He blinked at me.

Then smiled — slow and real and entirely Eddie Munson.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I think… I would’ve liked that.”

I hesitated, then glanced toward the small table near the wall — the one cluttered with candles melted down into warped little towers, scraps of wire, and the familiar shapes I’d tried not to stare at earlier.

“Eddie… I saw the pieces,” I said quietly. “In the hallway. The D&D ones.”

His shoulders tensed instantly.

“You weren’t snooping, were you?” he asked lightly, but the joke didn’t land. His eyes flicked away.

I shook my head. “No. I just… noticed them.”

For a second, he didn’t speak. He scratched at the back of his neck, jaw tightening like he wasn’t sure how much to say.

“I had to keep my hands busy,” he admitted finally. “Mind too.” He huffed under his breath. “If I didn’t, I’d start thinking. And in this place? That’s a real bad hobby.”

My gaze softened. “So you made a whole party.”

He nodded. “Every one from memory. Mike’s stupid little staff. Dustin’s hat. Lucas’ sling. I even carved Steve’s dumb hair into a knight once. Didn’t turn out great. Kept looking like a medieval pineapple.”

I smiled weakly. Then frowned. “You were… planning on seeing them again.”

He swallowed.

“I had a campaign ready,” he said. “Mapped it out in my head. Full arcs. Boss fights. Tragic near-deaths. Terrible accents.” He gave a faint shrug. “Told myself if I kept it ready, then… maybe that meant I would.”

There was something fragile in that confession, thin as glass.

“You really thought they’d come for you?” I asked gently.

Eddie shook his head slowly. “No. I thought I’d find them first.” His mouth twitched into a sad smile. “I figured if I ever got back… I’d walk up like nothing happened and go, ‘Gentlemen, Hellfire reconvenes tonight. No excuses. No dying.’”

My chest tightened.

“And if they weren’t there,” he added quietly, “at least I’d know I remembered them right.”

Silence folded itself around us.

“You didn’t forget them,” I whispered.

“Never,” he said immediately.

I hesitated… then said the thing that had stuck in my throat.

“You kept yourself alive for them.”

His eyes lifted to mine.

Then just as quietly:

“Yeah.”

Eddie glanced back at the table like she’d just pointed out something alive, then slowly looked back at me, one corner of his mouth lifting like he was trying to decide whether to joke or tell the truth.

I shifted on the edge of the bed, nerves buzzing under my skin. “If… if I was part of one of your campaigns,” I said, picking at a loose thread on the blanket, “what character would you make for me?”

He blinked once, like the question caught him off guard more than anything else I’d said all night. “For you?” he echoed, softer.

I nodded. “Yeah. If I was one of them. What would I be?”

He leaned back against the cluttered counter, crossing his arms, eyes narrowing slightly in that familiar way — like he was already building a world in his head. “First of all,” he said with a faint smirk, “you don’t get made. You’d roll your own fate. That’s kind of the whole point.”

I huffed quietly. “Okay, but hypothetically. If you were cheating.”

That earned a low laugh from him, the sound rough but real. “Alright. Hypothetically.”

He studied me like I was already a character sheet laid out in front of him. “You’d be something dangerous in a quiet way,” he said after a moment. “Not the loud, flashy hero. You’re the type that walks into a room and the mood changes without anyone knowing why.”

I swallowed. “That sounds… ominous.”

“It’s not,” he said quickly. “It’s powerful.”

He tapped his fingers against the counter like he was thinking. “Maybe a cleric,” he mused. “No. Too gentle. You’ve got more bite than that.” His mouth twitched. “A ranger. You survive when the map gives up. Or a warlock,” he added, glancing at me sideways. “You’ve got real ‘bad things are drawn to you for a reason’ energy.”

I frowned. “That is the opposite of comforting.”

“It’s a compliment,” he shot back. “Means destiny keeps tabs on you.”

I waited, my heart thudding way too loud in my chest.

“But honestly?” he said, quieter now. “I’d make you a multiclass. Someone who knows how to heal when it really counts… and still knows how to hurt things that deserve it.”

Warmth spread through my chest. “You make me sound cooler than I actually am.”

Eddie shook his head once. “No. I make you sound like you.”

I hesitated before asking the next thing. “…What about alignment? Am I evil in your little fantasy world?”

He didn’t even have to think. “Chaotic good,” he said immediately. “You don’t follow rules. You follow people. That’s different.”

The words sat heavy in the air between us.

Then he added, almost under his breath, “And you’d survive the campaign. No matter how messed up the world got… you’d still be there at the end.”

My chest tightened. “I don’t feel like someone who survives things.”

For once, he didn’t joke.

“That’s how you know you’re the hero.”

Eddie tilted his head, his grin sharpening as he stepped closer, the faint glow from the trailer casting shadows that made his sharp angles look almost predatory. “Y’know,” he said slowly, letting his fingers brush against the edge of the counter near me, “for someone who swears she’s never played, you’re asking a hell of a lot of dangerously specific questions.”

I blinked, a shiver running through me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned in a fraction closer, letting his hand lightly touch my shoulder, just grazing me, enough to make me notice. “Alignment? Multiclassing? Cleric versus warlock?” His smirk widened. “Prom Queen, that is not the vocabulary of someone who’s just ‘seen it around.’”

I swallowed hard, my pulse spiking. “I— I’ve just… picked things up. From people. Observing.”

He laughed quietly, that low Eddie laugh that always set my stomach on edge. “Uh-huh. Sure. And I learned guitar from ‘observing.’”

My cheeks heated. “Maybe I paid attention.”

“Oh,” he murmured, letting his hand slide a little from my shoulder to my arm, light, teasing. “So the perfect, shiny, all-American cheerleader has a secret nerd streak? Hawkins is not emotionally prepared for that revelation.”

I shivered at the contact, and before I could stop myself, my hand found his, letting my fingers tangle with his. “I was not perfect,” I muttered, trying to sound nonchalant.

He tilted his head, eyes darkening with amusement. “You danced with pom-poms and dated guys who looked like toothpaste models. That’s social gold, baby. But clearly…” His thumb brushed the back of my hand slowly, deliberately, “you’ve got your own… hobbies.”

I let a soft laugh escape, leaning into the touch. “Maybe I did.”

“Maybe,” he echoed, closing the small distance between us so our arms brushed. “So you did watch us then? From the outside looking in?”

I nodded, fingers tightening around his. “Sometimes. I didn’t understand it all, but it sounded like a different world. One where bad things still happened… but you got to fight them. Together.”

His grin softened, thumb tracing tiny circles over my knuckles. “Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Didn’t know I was running escapism 101 for Hawkins royalty.”

I let my hand squeeze his, leaning just slightly closer. “You are unbearable,” I whispered.

He leaned his forehead almost against mine, voice low and teasing, “And yet…” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, sending warmth down my spine, “…you know what multiclassing is. Somewhere in that cheerleader heart of yours… there’s a very tiny, very repressed dungeon dweller.”

I laughed softly, breath warm against him, my other hand resting lightly on his chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

His grin returned, more possessive this time, fingers lacing with mine. “Too late, Prom Queen. You’re already party material.”

The air between us hummed, the teasing laced with something heavier, warmer, and I didn’t pull away.

Then suddenly, a scream tore through the trailer, rattling the walls and making my stomach lurch. Then, over the creature’s shriek, other sounds rose: shouted commands, the clatter of boots, and the sharp, echoing cracks of gunfire. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Eddie’s eyes darkened, veins almost black around the edges, jaw tightening into a hard line. “Army supply drops,” he muttered, voice low, grim. “They keep sending stuff to the lab… operating out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the twisted, flickering landscape beyond the trailer walls. “In the Upside Down.”

I swallowed hard. “The army? They… go in there?”

“They do,” he said tersely, then his lips curved into a dark, almost feral smirk. “Lucky I didn’t get to them first.”

I froze, my pulse spiking. “Wait—what do you mean, didn’t get to them first?”

Eddie dropped my hand, leaving the room exiting out of his trailer with such pace. I leapt out of the bed and followed him out.

I scrambled out of the trailer after him, the door slamming behind me with a deafening crash that seemed to echo through the distorted landscape. The cold, heavy air of the Upside Down hit me instantly, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and the oppressive, pulsing stench of decay. Eddie was already moving ahead, his steps swift and certain across the uneven, spongy ground, vines brushing against our legs like grasping fingers.

“Eddie! Wait!” I shouted, my voice cracking with panic. “What do you mean you didn’t get to them first? What the hell are you talking about?”

He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes dark, veins almost black around the edges. “I mean exactly what I said,” he muttered, but his pace didn’t slow. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes, I would! You’ve been dodging me this whole time!” I hissed, fumbling to keep up, my hands slick with the residual blood on my skin and the cold sweat that clung to my temples. “What did you do to them? Eddie, I need to know!”

He stopped abruptly, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me to face him. His gaze pierced mine, sharp and unyielding, and the flickering glow from the Upside Down made the shadows in his eyes dance unnaturally. “You want to know the truth?” he growled, low and dangerous. “Since the bats infected me… since they bit me, the only thing that keeps me moving, keeps me alive, is blood.”

I staggered back, shock hitting me harder than the alien chill around us. “Blood? You mean… like…”

“Yeah,” he cut in, his voice dropping further, almost a whisper meant to haunt. “The only thing that sustains me now… is blood. Mine, yours, anyone’s. That’s why I can get to places no one else can, why I can hear, smell, move like this.” His hand grazed mine, brushing over the warmth of my wrist, lingering just a fraction too long. The pressure was intimate, possessive, and it made my chest clench in a mix of fear and something else I couldn’t name.

He scoffed softly, the sound bitter, almost a laugh without any humor in it. “You just had to follow her,” he snapped, dropping his hand from my wrist like the contact burned. His face twisted with a frustration that looked far deeper than anger. “Out of all the stupid, brave, self‑destructive things you could’ve done… you picked that.”

I flinched. “I wasn’t going to let her go alone,” I shot back, my voice shaking. “She’s seven, Eddie. She’s scared and who knows what that creature wanted with her.”

“And now so are you,” he growled, running a hand through his hair, pacing a short, sharp line in the dirt like a caged animal. “And now you’re here. Bleeding. Human. Breakable.” His jaw clenched hard. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

I lifted my chin, forcing myself not to step back. “I’m not sorry for trying to save her.”

“I didn’t say you should be,” he fired back, eyes flashing. “I’m just saying now I’m stuck with you. Which means I don’t just have to get one kid out of this hellhole… I’ve got to protect you too.”

“Protect me?” I scoffed weakly. “You just told me you drink blood.”

“Exactly!” he shot back, voice cracking for just a second before he tried to crush it down. “You have any idea how messed up that is? That I’m trying not to think about the fact that your heart’s pounding in my ears right now like a countdown clock? That you smell like copper and fear and something that still feels alive and warm and—” He cut himself off sharply, breathing hard. As he shouts, its as if his canine teeth are longer than usual. Vampiric and cunning.

My throat tightened. “So you hate me for being here.”

He looked at me like I’d stabbed him. “No,” he said, quieter now. Raw. “I hate that you’re in danger because of me. I hate that this place will chew you up if I screw up even once. And I hate that I can’t afford to.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and humming.

“I didn’t ask you to be stuck with me,” I whispered. “But I’m not leaving Holly. And… I’m not leaving you either.”

Eddie looked away, jaw tight, shoulders rising and falling like he was barely holding something inside. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s kind of the problem.”

I shook my head, anger finally slicing through the fear in my chest. “I didn’t ask you to save me,” I snapped, my voice cracking louder than I meant it to. “I didn’t ask you to look after me, or protect me, or whatever you think you’re doing right now.”

Eddie turned back to me sharply, eyes flashing.

“And hell,” I went on, blinking hard, “up until twelve hours ago, I thought you were dead. Just like everyone else in Hawkins did. A body in the ground and a name people whispered like it was a curse. You don’t get to act like I dragged you into this when I didn’t even know you were still breathing.”

His mouth opened like he wanted to interrupt, but I didn’t let him.

“I came here for Holly. Not you. Not whatever you’ve turned into. I followed her because she needed me, not because I wanted some dark hero to keep me alive.”

The words spilled out before I could stop them, raw and shaking.

“So don’t stand there and tell me you’re ‘stuck’ with me like I ruined your life. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose monsters or gates or you coming back from the dead. I chose a little girl who was scared.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and bruising.Eddie stared like I’d just knocked the air out of him. The anger drained from his face, leaving something quieter behind it—something raw.

“You really thought I was gone,” he said, soft.

I swallowed. “Everyone did.”

The words were still hanging between us when it happened. 

A sharp thwick cut through the air.

For a split second, I didn’t understand what I was looking at—just a thin wire-lined dart buried in Eddie’s shoulder, a flash of electricity cracking across his arm. He sucked in a breath that sounded wrong, staggered once toward me—

And then another bite of impact slammed into my side.

Pain exploded white-hot through my ribs. My legs buckled instantly, my nerves screaming like they’d been ripped inside out. A sound tore out of my throat that I didn’t recognize as my own as electricity flooded through me, violent and blinding.

Eddie dropped to his knees beside me, teeth clenched, a hoarse growl ripping from his chest as the current tore through him too. His eyes met mine for half a second—wide, furious, helpless—

“Run—” he tried to say.

But his body locked up. So did mine.

My fingers curled uselessly against the ground as everything seized at once, muscles convulsing, breath jerking in shallow, broken gasps. The world tilted and fractured, sound warping into a dull roar in my ears.

Boots crunched through the dead leaves.

Shapes loomed through my blurred vision,  dark uniforms, raised rifles, faces hidden behind masks that meant nothing in this ruined place. Voices barked words I couldn’t understand over the ringing in my skull.

Eddie collapsed fully onto the ground beside me, his hand twitching once toward mine before going still.

I tried to reach him. I couldn’t move.

The last thing I felt was cold flooding my veins. Then everything went black.

A/N thIs is my fave chapter yet, yes i know this burn be going extraaa slow but just think about it, its only been a couple hours, be patient!