Ex- deadbydemand893

Steve Harrington

Don't let me go part 1

Don't let me go part 2

Don't let me go part 3

Eddie Munson

Thru hell and back part 1

Thru hell and back part 2

Thru hell and back part 3 soon

John Murphy -The 100

Fire and rain

Tryst -Fakes

Late night visits

Erik Campbell-Final Destination Bloodlines

Death, Desire, and Double Trouble ian x erik x reader

part 1

Death, Desire, and Double Trouble ian x erik x reader part 2

That night, That lie, That fucking kiss part 1

That night, That lie, That fucking kiss (roadtrip edition) part 2 (new✨)

Wet dreams

Birthday boy

Ex's & Oh's (new✨)

Mosh pits & Real bruises (new✨)

Too many nights (new✨)

Say a prayer ,but let the good times roll (new✨🫣)

Part 1

Say a prayer,but let the good times roll(new✨🫣)

Part 2

Mirror games(new✨🫣)

Bend me ,Break me,Fake date me(new✨🫣)

Part 1

Toxic till we die

Panty Thief

Level Up and Bend Over(new✨)

Beg for it

Trick or Tease

You better run part 1

Always for you

Camping chaos

Lights down low

Gamer boy(my fav)

Enemies to lovers?

You BOUGHT ME WHAT?

Kissing lessons part 1

Kissing lessons part 2

I MISS YOU

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary:Loving Steve was easy.

Accepting that he’d never love you back wasn’t.

Vecna finds you right in the middle of that and makes it worse.

Warnings:18+,typical violence, blood, supernatural elements, trauma, angst, mutual pining, emotional distress,slowburn

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Ok. Here’s what you knew so far:

— the In-Between was real and very much coming for your ass.

— Max was alive, hiding, and being hunted by whatever Vecna had left behind.

— you were still painfully, catastrophically in love with your best friend.

Fucked was an understatement.

“Dustin, it’s late,” you groaned, one hand bracing against the Wheeler’s couch like the cushions were the only thing holding your spine together. “Let everyone sleep. We’ll make a plan in the morning, okay?”

The entire house had been dragged awake the second you all stumbled back in, and your brain was still ringing like a busted record. You did not have the energy to play any more of Scooby-Doo and the Gang for the night.

“Yeah, man,” Steve said ,already behind you. Of course he was. “She’s about to faint. We can do this tomorrow.”

His hand found your waist like it belonged there. Warm. Familiar. Too gentle for someone who’d almost died in the woods hours ago. You melted back into his chest before you could stop yourself.

Your low groan made him lean closer, lips brushing the top of your head.

Which was wildly unfair. Borderline cruel. How was he still this soft?

“You need to sit down, sweets,” he murmured into the back of your neck.

A shiver ran straight down your spine.

“I’m fine,” you lied,because lying was easier than turning around and looking at him properly and completely falling apart.

Instead, you just placed your hand over his, like you were the one steadying him.

“Death does not wait for beauty sleep, Steve,” Dustin said loudly, snapping the room’s attention back to him. Then he looked at you, worry softening his voice. “I promise. It won’t take long.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

You dropped onto the couch next to Robin. Steve followed, sitting close enough that your knees brushed.

Hopper lowered himself into a chair with a grunt, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the whiteboard like it had ruined his chances of ever sleeping next to Joyce again.

“Go on, kid,” he said.

Dustin lit up.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ve gathered till now.”

Robin leaned forward. “Oh my god, he’s doing a presentation.”

“It’s a field guide,” Dustin snapped, grabbing the marker like it was Excalibur. “This is life-and-death important.”

Nancy crossed her arms. “Just talk, Dustin.”

“I am talking,” he said, offended. “Okay. Title-”

He wrote in massive letters:

THE IN-BETWEEN

Dustin Henderson’s Field Guide

(with “Helpful” Notes by Rockin’ Robin)

Robin pointed immediately. “First of all, I did not consent to that credit.”

“You absolutely did,” Dustin said. “You grabbed my notebook and wrote ‘THIS SUCKS’ on every page.”

“It does suck.”

Steve’s hand slid to your wrist, thumb pressing lightly at your pulse. Grounding. Checking.

You pretended not to notice.

Dustin paced like a stressed-out substitute teacher.

“Official name: The In-Between.

Unofficial name: Psychic Limbo. Brain Purgatory.”

Robin squinted at the board. “We are workshopping because ‘In-Between’ sounds like a yogurt flavor.”

“Hear me out,” she added. “If I die in a dimension named after dairy, I will haunt everyone.”

“You already haunt me,” Hopper muttered.

Dustin powered on.

“Okay. What it is. The In-Between is a psychic middle zone between real Hawkins and the Upside Down. You don’t walk into it. You don’t open a door. You-”

“Emotionally trip and fall through reality,” you said tiredly.

Dustin pointed at you like you’d just passed a pop quiz. “Exactly!”

Robin added, deadpan, “Like when you say ‘I’m fine’ and absolutely are not.”

“Hey,” you snapped.

Robin smiled sweetly. “You literally said it five minutes ago and Harrington ate that up.”

“No,I did not.” Steve started, then paused, squinting at you. “When she lies, her ears turn red. Look.”

“Oh my god,” Robin breathed. “That is cute.”

“Can you both shut up,” you said weakly, sinking lower into the couch and briefly considering letting a demodog swallow you whole.

“NEXT,” Dustin said loudly.

“How you get there,” he continued, writing fast. “Triggers include: Vecna touching your brain. Being extremely emotionally compromised. Unresolved trauma.”

Robin gagged dramatically.

Nancy shot her a look. “Robin.”

“What?” she said. “It’s literally written down.”

“It’s relevant,” Dustin shrugged.

“What it feels like,” he continued.

He listed it out, reading as he went: gray vision, lagging sound, pressure behind the eyes, nosebleeds.

“And everyone else thinks you’re spacing out,” he finished.

Robin added, “You are not spacing out. You are getting brain-fucked and not in a sexy way.”

Jonathan blinked. “Jesus.”

“Language,” Hopper said.

“You’ve said ‘shit’ twelve times tonight,” Robin replied.

“That’s different.”

“Important mechanic,” Dustin said quickly. “Your body stays behind. Your brain goes joyriding.”

Robin nodded. “Worst taxi service imaginable.”

Dustin pointed at you. “That’s why you froze in the woods. Your body stayed. Your mind slipped.”

Steve’s thumb pressed harder against your wrist.

“You don’t do that again,” he murmured, so quietly only you heard it.

Your chest ached. “I didn’t-”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know.”

Dustin’s voice dropped.

“Why Vecna cares. He doesn’t live there. He lurks. He waits for people who are already cracking.”

Nancy inhaled slowly. “So if it knows her-”

“It can follow,” Dustin finished.

The room went still.

“Why you are a problem,” Dustin added carefully. “Affectionately.”

“You don’t just fall in. You slip in and out. The door recognizes you. And it doesn’t want to close.”

Robin tried to joke. “Congrats, frequent flyer.”

“Stop saying that,” you muttered.

“I’m coping,” she said. “It’s this or vomiting.”

“Side effects,” Dustin said. “Nightmares. Dissociation. Zoning out,hard to tell when it’s supernatural or just… normal.”

“Bleeding where bleeding shouldn’t happen,” Robin added. “No, hemorrhoids don’t count, Hopper.”

“And,” Dustin finished, “Steve Harrington going feral.”

Robin pointed. “Scientifically documented.”

“I am not feral,” Steve said.

“You carried her like a wounded princess,” Dustin snorted.

“Bridal-style,” Robin added.

Steve’s ears went red. “Shut up.”

You slid a little closer to him out of pure self-preservation.

“How to get her back,” Dustin said. “Physical grounding. Someone saying her name. Emotional anchors.”

“And Steve grabbing her and refusing to let go,” Robin said.

“Hey,” Steve protested weakly.

Robin smirked. “You haven’t let go once.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Final warning,” Dustin said, serious now. “The In-Between isn’t safe. It’s a cracked door. And something on the other side knows her name.”

Robin leaned back, smile gone. “Okay. That part? I hate.”

No one joked.

Not even her.

And Steve’s hand stayed right where it was,steady, warm, and unwilling to let you slip anywhere he couldn’t follow.

Nancy was the first one to move after the silence settled.

She straightened, like she always did when fear started creeping too close to, hands braced on the back of a chair as she pulled everyone’s attention back in.

“Okay,” she said, calm but firm. “We don’t spiral. We don’t rush. We make a plan and we stick to it.”

Dustin nodded immediately. Robin followed a beat later. Jonathan leaned forward, listening. Hopper lifted his head, already on board.

Nancy was the first to break the hush.

She straightened, instinct kicking in the way it always did when things threatened to spiral. Her eyes flicked briefly to you—softening—before returning to the room.

“We assume the In-Between is unstable,” she said evenly. “We treat it like a breach, not a shortcut. No one goes poking at it unless there’s absolutely no other option.”

Steve’s arm tightened just a fraction.

“We keep an eye on Vecna’s patterns,” Nancy continued. “If he’s circling Max, he’ll circle us too.” Her gaze found yours again, gentler this time. “Especially you. Which means you’re not alone. Ever.”

You nodded, even though your eyelids felt heavy, your body lagging a few seconds behind your thoughts.

Hopper pushed himself upright with a grunt. “Alright. Teams.”

Everyone perked up a little. Familiar ground. Structure helped.

“Joyce and Murray keep digging into Vecna,” Hopper said. “Patterns, history, whatever weird-ass breadcrumbs he’s leaving behind.” He glanced at Nancy and Jonathan. “You two are with me—helping El train.”

Jonathan nodded. Nancy didn’t argue.

“Dustin, Robin,you’re research. Radios, maps, nerd shit.”

Robin gave a lazy salute. “Copy that, Chief.”

“And Harrington,” Hopper added, his eyes flicking to you,slumped, swaying,before landing on Steve. “You’re on babysitting duty. No pushing. No stress. Nothing that reopens doors or wakes up trauma.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. “Copy that.”

Hopper huffed, glancing at you once more. “Poor kid”

“Alright. Meeting adjourned. Get some rest.”

You shifted, your head tipping forward before you could stop it.

Steve felt it instantly.

“Hey,” he murmured, barely above a breath. “Easy.”

You didn’t answer. Your body had already made the decision.

Your head came to rest against his shoulder, your breathing evening out almost immediately. The adrenaline finally burned off, leaving nothing but bone-deep exhaustion.

Robin noticed first.

“Oh,” she whispered. “She’s out.”

Dustin smiled, small and relieved. “Guess that answers the ‘is she tired’ question.”

Steve didn’t move. Not a muscle. He just adjusted slightly, making sure your neck was supported,one arm secure around you, the other still at your wrist like a habit he hadn’t even realized he’d formed.

Nancy softened. “She’s been running on fumes.”

Everyone dispersed slowly, carefully, like noise itself might wake you.

Steve waited until the room was nearly empty before standing.

He lifted you smoothly,one arm under your knees, the other at your back,like it was second nature.

Robin glanced back over her shoulder. “You know, if this were a movie-”

“Robin,” Nancy warned.

Robin grinned. “I’m just saying. It’s very heroic.”

Steve ignored her.

You stirred faintly as he carried you down the hall, face turning into his chest on instinct, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and laid you down gently. Shoes off. Blanket pulled up. He hesitated for half a second before brushing your hair back from your face.

Your breathing stayed slow. Peaceful.

For the first time all night, you didn’t look like you were fighting something invisible.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, hand resting lightly on your arm, his thumb brushing once,just to be sure.

“Yeah,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “I’ve got you.”

And for now ,that was enough.

Steve Harrington × fem!Reader

Summary:

Loving Steve was easy.

Accepting that he’d never love you back wasn’t.

Vecna finds you right in the middle of that and makes it worse.

Warnings:18+,typical violence, blood, supernatural elements, trauma, angst, mutual pining, emotional distress

Chapter 1

Note: i don't usually write part 2 but i promise in the next part it will be smut🤭

Chapter 2

You wondered where it all started:

the ache, the pain, the loneliness, the gasp for air whenever a touch from him became too friendly, too much for you. It burned holes into your skin, like it was meant to be there, but he couldn’t take a hint because that’s just how he was. Steve. The good guy. The babysitter. Always caring for others instead of himself. How could you not fall for him?

But the thing is, you did. You fell without warning and without a parachute, and here you were, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness because you allowed yourself to.

Maybe it started back in fifth grade, when he approached you with a wicked smile and big-ass hair that barely showed his eyes, asking for a pen to write a prom question for the girl he liked (not you). You remembered falling for his bravery back then,how careless and full of shit he was. Still, it fit his personality like a glove.

“That’s so cheesy, ew,” you snorted back, rolling your eyes and letting him know how stupid the move was. Still, a part of you wished it was you who’d received the note, your skin buzzing at the image of circling yes on the paper with your green roll-ball pen.

“And what? Chicks dig it,” he said with a cocky smile, sending you into a spiral of laughter. He really did look like a rooster ready to mingle.

“What a goofball,” you whispered, lost in the way his eyes sparkled with adrenaline.

Maybe it was back in ninth grade, when you had to tutor him in math and his hand lingered a second too long on your wrist, telling you to stop and speak English because he couldn’t understand shit.

Maybe it was prom, when he abandoned Tammy Thompson just to dance with you to your song,even though he loudly proclaimed his hatred for Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun,after your asshole of a boyfriend broke up with you.

Or maybe,just maybe,it was the night he climbed through your window in the middle of the night, breaking down in your arms as he cried about Nancy being with Jonathan and how he’d never be able to love again. You wondered the same thing, your heart breaking into tiny Lego pieces as you hoped he wouldn’t hear it. That night, he fell asleep in your arms, whispering, “You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

And just like that any hope you’d ever had of kissing Steve Harrington vanished .

You used to sit alone in your bedroom at night, fantasizing about him finally getting over his first love and seeing what was right in front of him. But what was really there?

A fucking mess of a girl.

The girl who almost got possessed by Vecna trying to save the little boy she babysat.

The girl who couldn’t speak for three months, terrified that whatever lived in the Upside Down would drag her back.

The girl who-

Loved her best friend.

And felt guilty for it.

The spiral of your thoughts was violently murdered by the sharp buzz of the walkie-talkie.

Of course.

Evil didn’t exactly respect emotional breakdown schedules, did it?

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the wall.

“Great,” you muttered to no one. “It couldn’t wait five minutes for my sad moment.”

The walkie crackled again.

“Alright, older kids-get your asses up,” Hopper’s voice barked through the static. “El sensed movement in one of the tunnels near the east gate.”

You physically recoiled.

Your stomach twisted just at the sound of it,dark tunnels, wet earth, the smell of rot and iron, hours of walking in circles pretending you weren’t one bad noise away from screaming.

“Wow,” you whispered bitterly, dragging a hand down your face. “Fuck me, right?”

The walkie buzzed again, louder this time.

“NOW, you muppets. That’s an order.”

You sighed, pushed yourself off the bed and marching toward your own execution.

Twelve minutes later, you were crammed into the backseat of Steve’s car, knees knocking with Nancy’s on one side and Robin’s boots digging into your shin on the other.

Up front, Steve and Jonathan were already deep into a full-blown argument.

“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan snapped, rubbing his temple, “just take the road by Mr. Clemens’ house,it’s faster. Why are you so damn stubborn?”

Nancy smiled faintly at Jonathan’s frustration, amused, fond, comfortable. You noticed it immediately. You always did.

The way they fit together without trying made something tight twist in your chest.

Steve scoffed.

“Because I got, like, two hours of sleep and almost died at the hands of a sixteen-year-old yesterday, Byers. I’ll take whatever route I want.”

He ran a hand through his hair,messy, tired, unfairly attractive.

Then he glanced at the rearview mirror.And caught your eyes.

Your brain betrayed you instantly.

For half a second, you weren’t in the car,you were back in that room, his shirt lifted, his skin warm under your fingers, his voice low and teasing. ‘I don’t want to move’ .

His words,your suffering.

You harshly rubbed your eyes.

“Eyes on the road, Harrington,” you muttered, pretending very hard that you weren’t internally combusting.

His lips twitched.

“Fine,” he said, exaggeratedly serious.

Then-without warning,he drifted the car hard around a corner.

Everyone screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK, STEVE?” Robin shrieked, clutching her chest like she was checking to see if her heart had evacuated her body.

Steve grinned, entirely unrepentant.

“What? A little adrenaline is good for you. You all looked pale.”

He glanced at the mirror again.

Winked.

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt,but your pulse betrayed you.

God, you hated how easily he got under your skin. Hated how you noticed everything about him without meaning to.

The way his hands moved on the steering wheel,confident, sure.

The way he shifted gears too fast, like he enjoyed the danger just a little too much.

The way his jaw tightened when he focused.

You’d watched him drive a hundred times.

It never got easier to ignore.

Your cheeks warmed. Your heart kicked violently against your ribs.

You turned toward the window, silently begging your brain to behave.

It didn’t.

Steve Harrington wasn’t just driving the car.He was driving you absolutely fucking insane.

He drove like the Upside Down had personally ruined his life, and tonight he was returning the favor.

He sat behind the wheel like he might as well commit a hit-and-run on Vecna himself.

The car hit loose gravel and skidded.

Your body reacted before your brain did. You lunged for the seat, fingers digging into cracked vinyl, knuckles turning bone-white as the back end fishtailed.

“Steve,” Nancy said sharply from the back seat. “Slow.The hell. Down.”

“I’ve got it,” Steve shot back, grin tight, eyes locked on the road. “Relax.”

Robin leaned forward between the seats, gripping both headrests like she might be flung through the windshield at any second.

“Relax? Steve, we are one bad pothole away from becoming a supernatural cold case. I have a date. With Vicky. A real one. If I die before it happens, I will haunt you so so aggressively.”

Jonathan muttered from the front, jaw clenched

“I hate this car. I hate this plan.I hate my life. I hate everything about tonight.”

Then Steve shifted gears.

His arm flexed, muscles pulling tight beneath his sleeve, veins standing out as he wrestled the wheel like it was trying to fight back.

Your attention snapped to him instantly.

God. Focus.

The road narrowed further.

Fog began to roll in,thick, low,curling across the asphalt like something alive.

“That fog is not weather,” Robin said quietly.

“No,” you agreed. “It feels like it’s watching us.”

Steve’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. They caught yours.

“You good back there?” he asked, tone lighter than his expression.

Heat crept up your neck.

“Peachy,” you said dryly. “Please never drive again.”

A corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’ve still got sarcasm,that’s good. And no, that’s not going to happen.”

The engine died.

Steve was out first, already moving, grabbing the bat from the trunk

“Alright,” he said, voice all business now. “Buddy system. No splitting up. No wandering. No hero shit.”

His eyes landed on you when he said it.

Your pulse kicked.

“The hell is that look for?” you shot back, hopping down, boots crunching over leaves. “I have never done anything reckless in my life.”

Robin barked a laugh. “You tried to stab a demodog with a broken oar.”

“It was an emotional moment” you snapped. “For both of us.”

The air felt heavy,metallic,pressing against your lungs.

Every sound was too loud: twigs snapping, something wet shifting beneath the soil.

Steve walked just ahead of you, close enough that you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his grip tightened on the bat every few steps.

Too close to ignore.

Every time he stopped abruptly, you nearly collided with him.

A low growl rolled through the trees.

Everyone froze.

Steve moved instantly.

His arm shot out in front of you, stopping you cold. His body shifted just enough to block you completely. His hand hovered at your side, then settled therelike he hadn’t even thought about it.

“Don’t move,” he whispered.

You could feel the heat of his hand even through layers of fabric, the unconscious press of his thumb as if anchoring you to the moment.

There was nothing intentional about it, and somehow that made it worse.

Then the wind shifted.

Cold slammed into you as the world tilted.

Someone said your name,or screamed it. The sound stretched and warped, pulled thin until it barely sounded human.

And then you weren’t there anymore.

Your body stayed behind,but your consciousness tore free like it had been waiting for permission.

The In Between swallowed you.

Color drained instantly. Everything felt submerged, like you were underwater but still breathing.

You hated this place.

Ever since Vecna cracked your mind open and left fractures behind, you could do this,slip through reality’s seams. El called it a gift. A new way to fight.

It didn’t feel like a gift.

It felt like trespassing.

Your mouth filled with blood. Pressure built behind your eyes, sharp and relentless, like something was trying to force its way in.

You weren’t alone.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You spun.

Max stood in front of you,but not right. Her edges flickered, her skin pale and wrong, eyes too alert for someone trapped in a hospital bed. She looked like a memory.

“It knows you,” she said urgently. “It can feel you crossing.”

“Max,” you pleaded. “Wait up-how are you-”

She faded before you could finish.

Reality slammed back into you.

You gasped.

Arms caught you before you hit the ground.

“Hey--hey, stay with me,” Steve’s voice broke, shaking. He held you upright, firm but careful, like you might shatter if he gripped too hard.

“Jesus. You scared the shit out of me.”

Your vision cleared just enough to see his face,pale, eyes wide, panic barely contained.

His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing away blood with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“You just froze,” he said quietly. “Your eyes-there was blood-don’t ever do that again.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Steve didn’t let go.

“Fuck,” you muttered. Your head was spinning, and the sight of blood wasn’t helping. You tried to stand too fast and failed miserably. “We have to go.”

“You’re barely keeping yourself steady,don’t be stubborn,” Jonathan’s voice came from behind you. Everything felt miles away.

“Guys, if the one person here with psychic powers says we have to go, we fucking run,” Robin said, already pacing like she was seconds from bolting. “What are we still doing here?”

You were half there. One foot still in the ground.

“You with me?” Steve asked quietly.

His hands stayed on you,one at your waist, the other cupping your face like he needed to make sure you were not about to slip through his fingers again.

His thumb brushed your lips, slow and soft, wiping away blood you hadn’t even noticed.

You swallowed. Your legs felt like they’d give out if he so much as shifted.

“Yeah,” you rasped. “I’m here.”

Robin let out a breath she’d clearly been holding. “Cool. Great. Love that. You just went full haunted doll for a second there.”

Nancy stepped closer, eyes sharp, already assessing. “What happened?”

“I-..it dragged me back there,” you said. “And I saw Max. She ran. I think she’s trapped, and whatever’s hunting her there is coming for us.”

Jonathan swore softly behind you. Robin paced, wired and frantic. Nancy watched the trees, gun raised.

Your head rang. The In Between clung to you like fog, whispering at the edges of your thoughts.

Steve noticed.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning closer without realizing it. “You don’t have to-”

A scream tore through the trees.

High. Inhuman.Too close.

Everyone spun.

“Fuck-we gotta move,” Steve barked. “Now.”

The woods exploded into motion.

Something crashed through the underbrush to your left. The ground shook as the fog thickened, curling up your legs..

You stumbled.

Steve caught you again, reflexive, pulling you back against him before you hit the ground.

“Steve!” you snapped, adrenaline surging. “Let go,I can run.”

“Like hell,” he shot back, already shoving you behind him as something lunged out of the fog.

It was wrong.

Too tall. Too thin.Not something you encountered before. Limbs bent where they shouldn’t, its mouth opening far too wide as it shrieked, the sound ripping through your skull.

Jonathan swung first, axe slamming into its shoulder. The thing howled, staggering back,but it didn’t fall.

“Why does nothing ever just DIE the first time?!” Robin shouted.

Steve charged.

Bat met bone with a crack that echoed through the trees. The creature reeled, collapsing into the fog with a wet, choking sound.

“Is it down?” Nancy yelled.

You didn’t answer.

Your vision blurred again.

No. No, no, no-

“Steve,” you gasped.

He turned just as your knees buckled.

This time you didn’t slip fully into the In Between, but it brushed against you. The world doubled whispering your name .

Steve caught you mid-fall.

“Stay here,” he demanded, voice low and furious with fear. “Don’t leave. Not again.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” you snapped, breath hitching. “It’s pulling me.”

Another scream echoed,closer.

Nancy swore. “We’re surrounded.”

Steve tightened his grip on you, jaw clenched.

“You stay with me. Don’t go anywhere I can’t reach.”

Your heart slammed painfully against your ribs.

“You sound scared ,Harrington,” you said softly.

His breath hitched once. “I fucking am.”

The admission hit harder than any blow.

“Okay!” Robin raised her weapon, eyes wild but determined. “New plan! We fight our way back to the car before nightmare forest eats us alive.Okay?”

“On three,” Jonathan said.

Then the creature lunged again.

Time didn’t slow.

It shattered.

Reality split into jagged frames that all existed at once.

Steve planting his feet, shoulders squared, jaw clenched like he could physically hold the world back.

Jonathan slipping in the mud, axe tearing free from his grip.

Nancy shouting your name, voice sharp enough to cut through dimensions.

Robin firing blindly into the fog.

And you.

You saw yourself from the outside,body locked, eyes glassy, breath shallow. A door left cracked open.

Something inside you finally gave.

You dropped to your knees and drove your fingers into the mud. The earth burned,ice-cold like touching a live wire submerged in snow.

A violent tingling exploded up your arms, crawling beneath your skin.

You pulled.

Not up.

Not down.

Through.

The world screamed.

The In Between tore open like a wound that had never healed properly.

Colors inverted. Gravity forgot which way it was supposed to go.

The creature shrieked,not in rage, not in pain, but in recognition.

It knew this place.

It knew what you were doing.

Shadowed hands,latched onto it from beneath the soil, dragging it down . Its limbs stretched impossibly, mouth opening wide enough to break its own skull .

The earth sealed shut with a violent snap.

Silence hit like a concussion.

No breath except your own,ragged, shaking, real.

Everyone stared.

Steve was the first to move.

He crossed the distance in seconds and grabbed you, hands firm and shaking, like he needed to feel bone and muscle and warmth to believe you hadn’t slipped somewhere he couldn’t follow again.

“You warn me next time,” he said fiercely, voice rough and cracking under the weight of it. “You don’t do that alone.”

His eyes searched your face, frantic, desperate, like he was counting pieces of you to make sure you were still whole.

The forest stayed silent.

Like it was afraid of you now.

“You think I like not knowing if I’m going to come back to you?” you snapped, the words tearing out of your chest before you could stop them.

“I saw you being attacked. I just-” Your breath stuttered. “Maybe I do have a savior complex.”

For a heartbeat, Steve just stared at you.

Then something in him gave.

The tension drained from his shoulders in a rush. A breathless, almost disbelieving laugh slipped out of him,not humor, not relief, just emotion with nowhere else to go.

A small smile tugged at his mouth, like it surprised him as much as it surprised you.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice rough, eyes never leaving yours. “I noticed.”

His hands were still on you. He hadn’t realized he was gripping your jacket like an anchor rope, knuckles white, fingers trembling now that the danger had passed or maybe now that it hadn’t.

His thumb brushed your wrist, checking your pulse like he still needed proof you were still here.

“I think,” he said quietly, every word heavy, “that if you disappear on me again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The words hung between you, raw and dangerous, vibrating with everything neither of you had ever said out loud.

The air felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Another roar echoed in the distance.

Reality snapped back into place .

Nancy’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and commanding. “We’re moving. Now.”

No one argued.

Steve didn’t let go of your hand when he turned, tugging you forward through the trees.

His grip was desperate, enough to say I’m not losing you again.

The car lights finally burst through the fog.

Hedidn’t slow until you were practically thrown against the door, his body still angled protectively in front of yours, bat raised, breath coming hard.

Only when everyone piled in doors slamming, engine roaring to life did he finally release your hand.

And even then, his knee stayed pressed against yours as the car tore away, like part of him was still braced for you to vanish into something he couldn’t follow.

“What the hell just happened?” Nancy murmured from the backseat, her voice barely holding together. Her hands still shaking in Jonathan’s grip as he tried to steady her.

“I’m going to fucking cry,” you said hoarsely, staring at nothing as the trees blurred past the windows.

“I don’t know how much supernatural shit one person can take.”

Steve glanced at you instantly, worry cutting sharp across his face.

“I’m fine,” you snapped before he could say anything, rubbing your temples hard “Just drive.”

“Fine?” Robin snorted, half-hysterical, half-impressed, trying to smooth her hair in the rearview mirror like routine could keep her sane.

“Babe, no offense, but you literally resurrected a ghost from god-knows-where, bled from your eyeballs, and still saved our asses. That’s not fine, that’s a headline.”

Jonathan let out a shaky laugh that died immediately. “You said Max was there?” he asked, voice strained. “She’s trapped or..what exactly is going on? Because last time I checked, she was in a coma in the hospital.”

The word coma made your stomach twist.

“I think…” You swallowed, the taste of blood still lingering. “I think she’s hiding. From something. From someone.”

The car felt too small. Like the walls were listening.

“If Max cut herself off from the Upside Down and made an exit thru the In Between,” Steve continued, slowing his words like he was building the thought as he spoke, “if she closed the door from the inside… it wouldn’t just block El.”

Everyone went quiet.

“She’d be hiding,” he said. “Not unconscious. Not gone. Hidden.”

Jonathan frowned, lifting his head slightly. “You mean like… choosing not to be reachable?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, jaw tight. “The In Between isn’t just a place,it’s a channel like Dustin said. A frequency. El reaches people because they’re still tuned into it, even when they don’t know it. But Max…” He exhaled hard.

“She already survived Vecna once. She knows what it feels like to be pulled apart.”

Robin leaned forward between the seats. “So she didn’t just get trapped. She slammed the door and dead-bolted it.”

“Exactly,” Steve said. “If she shut herself off completely,mind, memory, fear…there’d be nothing for El to grab onto. No echo. No signal.”

That made your chest tighten.

“But that kind of shut-down,” Nancy said slowly, “it’s not passive. It takes control.”

“And it takes energy,” you added quietly, rubbing your temples. “A lot of it. That’s why I felt her,not El. I don’t need a signal. I slipped through the crack she left behind.”

Steve glanced at you, concern deepening.

“She warned you to run,” Jonathan said, voice low. “Not to save her. Not to help.”

“Because if she fully reconnects,” you said, the realization settling heavy and cold, “whatever she’s hiding from reconnects too.”

The car seemed to hum around the thought.

“So Max isn’t gone,” Robin said softly. “She’s holding the door shut with her bare hands.”

“And if she lets go,” Nancy finished, “everything on the other side comes flooding through.”

Silence swallowed the car.

Steve’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

“That’s why she told you to run,” he said. “Not from her.”

“But from what’s waiting for her to open the door.”

You caught your reflection faintly in the window ,eyes ringed red and black, face pale, expression distant.

Bloody Mary.

The thought made your skin crawl.

Nancy straightened suddenly, snapping back into command like it was the only thing keeping her sane. “We bring everyone in,” she said firmly, already grabbing the walkie. “This isn’t a ‘figure-it-out-later’ situation.”

“You’re gonna get yelled at by Hopper,” Robin muttered.

“I don’t care,” Nancy shot back. “Max is involved. Vecna’s involved. And whatever you are becoming,” she added, meeting your eyes through the mirror, “is involved too.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Steve’s hand came back blindly, resting on your knee,warm and solid. He didn’t look at you, but the touch said everything: stay here, don’t drift, don’t disappear.

Outside, the forest receded but you could still feel it.

Watching.

Waiting.

And somewhere between worlds, something had learned your name.

it hurts because it’s true.

it’s the kind of story queer people have been telling ourselves forever,where love exists in the margins, in pauses, in everything that goes unsaid because saying it might cost too much. it’s will loving mike in a way that feels inevitable and impossible at the same time. it’s will choosing silence over rejection. again. and again. and again.

that’s not just narrative tension. that’s queer adolescence.

the ache is in the way will looks at mike like he’s already lost him. the ache is in the van scene, where love is disguised as encouragement because that’s the only shape it’s allowed to take. the ache is in mike being framed as will’s home while the story insists on pointing somewhere else. the ache is watching a queer character give everything emotionally and ask for nothing in return,because he’s learned not to.

and people say “don’t read into it.”

but queer people have always read into it. because we had to. because subtext was the only place we were allowed to exist.

byler is :

-the slow burn of realizing you’re different before you have words for it

-it’s loving your best friend and praying it doesn’t ruin everything

-it’s the terror of wanting more

-it’s the grief of knowing you might never be chosen,not because you’re unlovable, but because the world isn’t ready.

and that’s why it hurts so much.

because we’ve been will.

because we’ve been mike:confused, scared, clinging to what’s familiar.

because we recognize the pattern: the queer kid who loves too quietly, too kindly, too selflessly, and gets called “strong” instead of loved.

but here’s the thing they never account for:

the ache didn’t break us!it made us creators.

it made us write fics where will gets joy without earning it through suffering. it made us imagine mike choosing him openly, deliberately, without excuses. it made us say: no actually, queer love doesn’t have to be tragic to be meaningful.

canon can hesitate. canon can chicken out. canon can look away

byler lives because a community decided that longing deserves an ending. that tenderness deserves a future. that even if the story refuses to say it out loud, we will.

so yeah. it hurts.

but the ache is proof we’re still feeling.

still hoping.

still rewriting the world into something softer.

love to all my byler shippers

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary:Loving Steve was easy.

Accepting that he’d never love you back wasn’t.

Vecna finds you right in the middle of that and makes it worse.

Warnings:18+,typical violence, blood, supernatural elements, trauma, angst, mutual pining, emotional distress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Chapter 1

The moment the words left Steve Harrington’s mouth, something inside you cracked so loudly you swore the whole Upside Down could hear it.

“Because I care about you, Nance. And fuck,if I have to prove it by getting killed by a goddamn demodog, I will.”

Steve ran a trembling hand through his hair. A nervous gesture.

A vulnerable one.

And you knew,because you’d memorized him in a thousand tiny pieces,that he only did that when he was scared of losing someone he couldn’t live without.

He meant it.

God, he meant every syllable

He looked in love.

Just… not with you. You wanted it to be you.You wished it hurt less to know it wasn’t.

Steve Harrington would die for Nancy Wheeler.

And he would never love you the way you loved him.

The acceptance hit you like a demogorgon’s claw,swift, brutal, leaving you bleeding on the inside.

The devotion in his voice wrapped around Nancy like armor, like warmth, like the kind of love that made fighting monsters seem easy.

And she heard it.Everyone heard it.

Even the vines seemed to pause, as if the entire realm fed on suffering and found this taste especially sweet.

Slowly, your heart began to ache,that slow-burning, white-hot ache that starts in the lungs and crawls toward the throat, making it impossible to breathe without tasting salt.

Jonathan’s worried gaze cut into you like a blade. It felt like everyone knew,how pathetic you were, hovering at Steve’s side, waiting for him to finally see you. You swallowed the bile in your throat. Everything spun. Steve’s declaration in the Upside Down only drove the knife deeper.

Tingles crawled up your neck, tightening around your throat as silent tears slipped free.

Stupid. Fucking dumbass.

One-sided love never works. Someone always dies of a broken heart.

Will had sobbed those words into your shoulder a month ago after watching El and Mike together, and God - you understood. You knew the pain. And still, you hoped.

Robin nudged your elbow gently, misreading your silence for fear, not heartbreak. “Uh, guys? Maybe save the love declarations for when we’re not literally in hell?”

Dustin’s voice followed, higher, nervous:

“Pass me the walkie -hello?-HEY, you okay?”

A hand shook your arm.

You hadn’t realized your vision had blurred.

Tears slipped down your face without heat, without sound.

As if even your tears knew how foolish you’d been.

The Demogorgons howled somewhere deeper in the forest of bones and ash.

The air vibrated.

“They’re close,” you whispered, and the words trembled like they belonged to someone dying.

And finally-finally-Steve looked at you.

His eyes softened instantly, that stupid, ruinous gentleness he carried only for the people he cared about.

You hated how quickly you melted under it.

You hated how much you still wanted him to reach for you.

“Sweets? Hey-why’re you so pale?”

He’d always been like this.

Gentle. Worried. Protective.

The boy who checked the room for monsters before letting you sleep.

The boy who held your shaking hands until dawn after every nightmare.

The boy who whispered, “I’m right here, you’re okay,” in the softest voice you’d ever heard.

And you-foolish, desperate, lonely you-

mistook it for love.

“Look at me.”

You did.

Because you always looked at him.

But you wished you hadn’t.

He looked at you the way a boy looks at someone he needs to protect.

Not someone he chooses.

Not someone he wants.

Not someone he loves.

Because I care about you, Nance-

The line replayed in your skull, looping until the air tilted sideways.

“Sweets,” he said again, reaching out to cup your cheek.

You jerked back-not from him, but from the sudden, electric sting behind your right eye.

A piercing, hungry pain.

Like something was burrowing inside your skull.

You grabbed his arm, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, searching for an anchor, for anything that wasn’t pain, wasn’t heartbreak, wasn’t the burning knowledge that you had never been enough for him.

And then-

The voice.

He will never love you, my child…

Vecna’s whisper slid into your mind like ice water down your spine.

You will always be second. Always unwanted. Always unseen.

A low, satisfied growl.

It is why you break so beautifully.

“No-stop……get out”

The words stumbled out of your throat, breath strangled and sharp.

Thunder cracked across the Upside Down sky.

The ground shuddered.

Your knees buckled.

Steve shouted your name.

But none of it mattered.

The moment Vecna touched you, you remembered the truth:

You loved Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington loved Nancy Wheeler.

And your heart,your fragile, trembling, hopeful heart,was the perfect wound for a monster like Vecna to slide his claws into.

Your scream tore the world open.

And then-

-------

YOU WOKE LIKE YOU EXPECTED HIM TO BE THERE.

For one ruined, pathetic second, you reached out fingers searching the dark, searching the empty space beside you,searching for him.

But your hand met nothing.Just cold sheets.Just colder air.

And somehow that hurt more than the nightmare.

“Fuck,” you whispered, reaching blindly for your clock.

4:56 a.m.

Perfect. The witching hour for emotionally unstable idiots.

You dragged your palms over your eyes, trying to scrape away the image burned behind your eyelids:

Steve looking at Nancy like she was the goddamn sun and he was auditioning to be Icarus.

Steve touching you only out of instinct ,reflex, kindness, habit.Never want.

Steve gripping your arm while you broke, having absolutely zero idea that your heart cracked open under his fingers because his eyes were somewhere else.

Someone else.

You squeezed your eyes tighter.

But the memory stayed.It always stayed.

Tattooed under your ribs like a warning label.

That night carved you open in ways no monster ever had.You bled inward,quietly, constantly,where no one could see and where no one thought to look.

Everyone assumed you were fine.That Vecna never touched you.That you were somehow immune to psychic torment, heartbreak, and emotional combustion. Very funny.

But Vecna didn’t need your childhood trauma or your deepest fears.He had your love life.

Which, frankly, was tragic enough to power him indefinitely.And that was the juiciest feast Vecna ever had.

You curled into yourself, knees to your chest, breath shaking out of you like broken glass.It was easier to drown in the ache than pretend you weren’t still suffocating in it.

Eighteen weeks.

Eighteen weeks of pretending.Of lying-to Robin, to the others, to him,to yourself.

Finally, you threw your blankets off and stood.Sleep clearly clocked out early.

You grabbed your cigarettes off the dresser.

Yeah,bad habit, lungs dying, etc.

But after fighting off interdimensional murder-lizards, a nicotine addiction didn’t even crack the Top 50 of your problems. Besides, the air in the Upside Down probably already mutated your organs. Might as well finish the job.

Outside, the cold slapped you in the face.You let out a breath, watching it fog into the night.

You flicked Hopper’s old lighter, the one he gave you with explicit instructions to “burn any goddamn thing with teeth.”You chuckled.Darkly.

When did everything turn into this slow-motion train wreck?You used to care about grades, crushes, who to kiss at parties.Now your hobbies include PTSD, nicotine, and not getting possessed by supernatural assholes.

Speaking of which,Vecna had been living rent-free in your head for so long that at this point, you could probably list him as a tenant.Roommate from hell. Literally.

You took a drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs, letting the sarcasm bubble just enough to keep the sadness from swallowing you whole.

Your thoughts spiraled again,because of course they did,circling him.

Steve.

His stupid hair.

His stupid hands.

His stupid voice saying your name like it meant something,right up until it didn’t.

You closed your eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

A hand landed gently on your shoulder.

You didn’t jump.

Trauma had replaced your fight-or-flight with tired resignation.

“How you holding up?” Jonathan asked, voice low, matching the dead-of-night hush.

He lit his cigarette without waiting for an answer.

Of course he didn’t.He’d known you long enough to understand you only answered questions when it involved life, death, or the Demogorgon eating someone’s head.

That’s how you two became friends:

Sharing cigarettes behind the bleachers, hiding from teachers and reality.

“Been better,” you muttered.

Jonathan huffed a soft laugh,one of those yeah, same laughs that only people who’d been mentally dragged through hell could produce.

He didn’t push.He never did.He just stood there, sharing the quiet, sharing the smoke, sharing the night.

And for a moment,a very brief, fragile moment,you were grateful someone was there with you.

Even if it wasn’t him.Even if it would never be him.

The porch creaked beneath your feet, the wind cutting through Hawkins like it had bones of its own. The smoke curled from between your fingers, drifting lazily into the cold, and for once, your brain wasn’t screaming. Just humming.You took another drag, exhaled slowly.

Jonathan tilted his head.

“Nightmare?”

You almost said no, but he gave you the Byers Look,translation: don’t bullshit me, I’ve survived worse.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” you muttered.

“Same one?”

You nodded.

Same shit, same night, same people.

“When Will had those, I told him to try sleeping with the lights on. Worked until Mom made us sit in the dark for a week. Apparently trauma ain’t cheap.”

Your laugh was small, but it was real.

For a second, you forgot the heaviness in your bones. Forgot the way your heart had become an open wound with a beating center.

You forgot Steve Harrington existed.

…For about three seconds.

It should’ve been a quiet, broken, peaceful moment.

But then Jonathan’s face flickered,barely noticeable,his eyes darting behind you toward the driveway with a silent oh shit expression.

You frowned. “What?”

Jonathan didn’t answer.

Instead he looked at you the way Robin did whenever you said Steve’s name out loud,braced for emotional impact, waiting for you to be swallowed by the earth again.

You turned.

And there he was.

Steve Harrington. He looked like the exact reason your heart hadn’t healed in eighteen weeks.

Walking up the driveway like he owned the night.

He and Dustin were clearly coming back from another failed patrol in the woods, trying to help El find Vecna’s hideout. Judging by their faces, unsuccessful.

His hair was a mess,that stupid, perfect, irresponsibly tousled mess that made your chest burn.

He wore a soft sweatshirt, sleeves shoved up just enough to expose forearms so attractive they should come with a government warning.

And then there was his face,that worried, searching, stupidly soft expression,the one that tricked you into thinking he cared about you differently than he actually did.

“Hey,” Steve said, breath puffing white in the cold. His eyes flicked between you and Jonathan suspiciously. You reminded yourself-again-to stop interpreting every tiny thing he did. It was all in your head.

“Why are you awake? It’s-” he checked his watch, “-ungodly o’clock. Jesus.”

Your heart tried to leap out of your body and bury itself six feet underground.

Jonathan muttered, “Get some sleep, okay? I’m gonna… go check on the kids.”

Giving you the most may the odds be ever in your favor look before fleeing inside.

Coward.

Steve stepped closer, hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping over you in a way that definitely wasn’t romantic but still made your pulse sprint.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

The worst question in the English language.

You forced a laugh. “Define ‘okay,’ Harrington.”

He frowned,that gentle, sweet, heartbreakingly concerned frown,that frown that always cracked you open a little more than you wanted.

“Nightmare again?” he asked, plucking the cigarette out of your fingers and taking a drag. Your cheeks burned instantly. You hated how intimate it felt,his lips where yours had just been. His stupid soft pink lips. You couldn’t stop staring at them like you were hypnotized.

If he knew…God, if he knew…you’d drop everything just to kiss him, to sit in his lap, to feel him under you, warm and solid and his hands everywhere on your body.How his lips would feel when they bite your neck,how kissing for hours till your lungs can’t take it anymore and you have to gasp for air.

You tried to keep calm.But your face heated anyway,flushed, burning, exposed.

Steve’s lips curved in a small smile, like he caught the edge of your reaction and didn’t mind it one bit.

“It’s the usual,” you muttered. “Monsters. Despair. Emotional implosion. You know, casual stuff.”

That smile grew just slightly, and you hated how it made your stomach flip.

He drifted toward you,because Steve always gravitated toward warmth, and god help you, you were stupid enough to be his.

He did care about you.Not the way you wanted.But enough to ruin you anyway.

His eyes softened.

“You should’ve called me”

His fingers brushed your cheek, warm and slow, like he was trying to memorize you through touch alone. You leaned into it without thinking, breath catching as heat rushed into your skin.

Warm.

Your breath caught and he didn’t pull away.

“Sweets, you know I’d come,” he whispered.

That right there was why you were screwed.

Because he meant it.

Because he would’ve shown up.

Because he always showed up.

You forced your gaze away. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“You never bother me, and you know that.” he murmured,quiet, honest, too much.

You looked away. “It’s fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“You never sleep anymore,”

He searched your face,every line, every tremble. His eyes dipped briefly to your lips.

Your breath hitched.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

He touched your arm lightly, fingertips brushing your sleeve,barely anything, but your whole body lit up like someone struck a match against your skin.

“You’re freezing,” he said.

“You’re dramatic. I’m fine.” you asked, and before you could think, you leaned your forehead against his chest.Hoping to hide your flushed face. Even if you couldn’t have his heart, you couldn’t live without this,his warmth, his presence. Steve melted into you instantly, arms wrapping around you, holding you tight. Something was different. He clung to you like he was trying to undo something bad.

His nose brushed your hair before he placed a soft kiss on top of your head.

You tried not to fall apart at how gentle it was.

“How was the search?” you whispered into the fabric of his sweatshirt, your fingers curling into it.

“Bad,” he murmured into your hair. “Dustin almost drove my car into a tree. Kid’s a menace. My life flashed before my eyes like twelve times.”

Your grip on him tightened. He winced, stepping back slightly.

“You’re hurt?” you asked, eyes scanning him.

“Nah, don’t worry. Just a scratch.”

He was a terrible liar. Always had been.

Your eyes narrowed. “Steve I swear to God-.”

He cracked. “Okay,maybe not nothing.”

“Come on. Let me check.”

You grabbed his hand,warm, large, familiar and your pulse jumped at the contact. You tried to let go.

He didn’t.

He followed you to the guest room, still holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like letting go would be a mistake.

He sat on the edge of your bed, watching you with an expression that made your breathing uneven,soft, tender, something like longing buried under exhaustion.

You swallowed.

“Lift your shirt.”

Heat flooded your face the instant the words left your mouth.

Steve’s lips curved into a teasing, wicked smile.

“Playing doctor again, are we?”

But he still lifted the hem,slow, deliberate,revealing warm skin, toned muscle, the faint trail of hair leading downward, and a red cut across his ribs.

Your breath caught.

Not at the wound.

At him.

At how close he was.

At how much you wanted to touch him everywhere healing wasn’t required.

“Be gentle ,” he teased, voice low.

You really, really tried.

You reached out without thinking.

Your fingertips brushed his side.

Steve inhaled sharply.

Not from the pain.

From you.

His eyes flicked up,dark, soft, stunned in that way he always got when he forgot to guard his feelings for a second.

“You okay?” you whispered, fingers still gently tracing the edge of the scrape.

He swallowed. “I… yeah. You just,fuck,your hands are cold.”

“They’re not, stop whining like a baby,” you murmured.If anything, they were burning.

You brushed along his ribs again, slow, tentative, scared of hurting him but more scared of how badly you wanted to touch the rest of him.

Steve’s breath hitched.His muscles tightened under your palm.

Like he was fighting something in himself.

You were too.

He watched your face,your eyes, your mouth, every tiny shift of your expression,as though he didn’t want to miss a second.

The room felt too small.Too warm.Too charged.

Your hand lingered on his side longer than necessary. You should’ve pulled away.

You didn’t.

And Steve didn’t ask you to.

Instead, he reached up,hesitant at first and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand against his skin.

His thumb brushed the inside of your wrist, slow and warm, tracing your pulse.

Your heart jumped so violently you were sure he felt it.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice rough enough to make your knees weaken.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m not,” you breathed.

“You are,” he said softly, eyes searching yours like he was trying to read every buried emotion you’d never say out loud.

His hand slid down your arm,gentle, careful,leaving a trail of heat that made your breath catch. When he stopped just above your elbow, he squeezed lightly, grounding you.

Or maybe grounding himself.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

The words landed between you like something dangerous.

Steve’s lips parted,just slightly and for a heartbeat, everything in his face cracked open.

Softness.Longing.Fear.

He looked at you like you were something he shouldn’t want but couldn’t stop reaching for.

“Come here,” he said quietly.

Not an order.A plea.

You stepped closer until you were standing between his knees. His fingers slid up your arm again, slower this time, deliberate, tracing along your skin like he was memorizing every inch.

Your breath caught when his hand reached your waist.

A soft, reverent touch.

A touch that felt like a confession.

“Steve…”

It came out a whisper, trembling.

He looked up at you, eyes dark and unbearably gentle.

“Yeah?” he asked,quiet, hopeful, terrified.

His other hand rose, brushing your hip, sliding around to your lower back, pulling you an inch closer without really meaning to.

You felt everything,his warmth,his breath,the slight tremble in his hands,the want he was trying so hard to hide.But maybe it was just in your head.But damn it felt good.

You leaned in, forehead nearly touching his.

He let out a breath that sounded like surrender.

“This is a very bad idea,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“But I can’t… I don’t want to move.”

His thumb stroked your waist.Slow.Possessive.

Intimate in a way that made your knees threaten mutiny.

You reached up and touched his face,your fingers brushing his jaw, tracing the stubble, the curve of his cheek. He leaned into your palm instantly, like he’d been waiting for that touch for years.

Your hand slid into his hair without thinking, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second.

You opened your mouth to say something,anything-

But that’s when a loud knock hit the door, sharp and jarring.

“STEVE?” Dustin’s voice came through the hall. “BRO, ARE YOU BLEEDING OUT IN THERE OR SOMETHING?!”

Steve closed his eyes and let out a groan that sounded like torture.

The moment shattered.

The heat snapped.

The world rushed back in.

Your heart thrashed in your chest.

Steve stood slowly, raking a hand through his hair, breathing hard like he’d just run a mile.

He looked at you,really looked and you could see everything in his eyes.

Everything he almost did.

Everything he wanted to do.

Everything he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want.

“Don’t… disappear on me after this,” he said quietly.

You swallowed.

“I won’t.”

But you weren’t sure if it was true.

His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you again.

Touch you again.

Finish what almost happened.

But Dustin banged the door again, and Steve stepped back, chest rising and falling too fast

This wasn’t over.

Part 2🤫

(Sorry for making them so short guys i ll try make them longer )

Hawkins, Indiana :

Before the Demogorgon Ruined Your Love Life

“I’m telling you, it’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever thought of.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face as Eddie strutted beside you.

“Frankly, my dear hater,” Eddie said, shoving his locker shut with his hip, “I did not ask for your approval. I merely gifted you with the privilege of hearing my genius plan.”

“You gifted-?”

You stared at him. “We’re late to bio, Munson. You’re about to gift us both detention.”

He threw an arm over your shoulders and redirected you smoothly down the hall,away from class, toward the exit.

“Then let’s skip,” he declared. “Smoke behind the bleachers. Build a Hellfire campaign. Become legends.”

You tried not to melt into him. You really did. But Eddie smelled like old books and cigarette smoke and the leather jacket he wore even when it was eighty degrees.

“I didn’t know you were so damn desperate to get laid, Munson,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed and not painfully, embarrassingly jealous.

Because the idea of Eddie being anyone else’s

God, you hated it.

“Oh, fuck off, sweetheart,” he laughed, flicking his curls dramatically. “You and I both know Chrissy Cunningham wants me. Bad. I’m just doing what I do best.”

You stopped walking.

Eddie took two more steps before realizing you weren’t next to him. He turned back, confusion flickering across his face.

Your voice came out lower than you meant.

Sharper.

A little meaner, because it hurt.

“And what exactly is it you ‘do best,’ Eddie?”

He smirked,slow, cocky, devastating.

“Drive girls crazy.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms so he wouldn’t see how your hands shook.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” you snapped.

Eddie froze.

The smirk faltered.

His eyes held yours for a beat too long,dark, unreadable, something burning behind them .

Then he stepped closer.

Not joking-close.

Not best-friend-close.

Close enough that his breath warmed your neck, his fingers brushed your wrist, and your heart nearly punched its way out of your chest.

“Good,” he whispered, grin returning but softer this time. “I’d hate to think my talents were going to waste.”

You swallowed hard.

“Asshole.”

“Your asshole,” he shot back instantly.

He didn’t realize what he’d said until your breath stuttered.

The air between you was still crackling—like the two of you had been caught standing too close to a lightning strike—when Dustin’s voice cut through the hallway.

“I mean-” Eddie stuttered, chest heaving just a little.

“What are you two fuckers doing?!” Dustin shouted. “Emergency meeting in Hellfire, let’s GO.”

You and Eddie flew apart so fast it genuinely felt like the universe had snapped you back into separate orbits. Your shoulder hit the wall with a dull thud.

“Shit” you hissed, pressing your palm to the spot.

Eddie was on you in a second. “Hey, hey-are you alright?”

His hand brushed yours, warm and careful, and that single touch sent a shiver down your spine so sharp you swore he felt it too.

You refused to look up. His eyes would tell you everything you were trying not to want.

“Don’t you have a date to attend?” you muttered, trying for annoyed and failing,coming out jealous instead.

He laughed softly, lowering his hand to the spot on your back that hurt. The pressure made you wince…and melt.

“And leave you limping around like that?” he said, voice low. “I knew I drove you crazy, sweetheart, but not in the medical sense.”

There he went again,making you feel special without even trying.

“Just-fuck off,” you said, rolling your eyes so he wouldn’t notice how your pulse jumped. “She’s probably waiting for you. Legs wide open.”

His eyebrows shot up, a spark of something surprised, hungry flashing across his face,but it vanished as quickly as it came.

You winked. “Anyway i should go to the club. Tell you later what Hellfire’s issue is. Have fun with your toy, baby.”

You sauntered down the corridor like you weren’t about to combust.You were going insane and not thinking straight anymore.Fuck.

Behind you, Eddie stood frozen.

“…Baby,” he murmured, the word tasting like trouble on his tongue.

He dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard.

You always drove him mad-he’d accepted that. The smirks, the way you said his name, the way you leaned just a little too close. But lately?

Lately it was worse.

The things he wanted..,

the way he imagined your waist fitting perfectly under his palms,

the way your breath would catch if he pressed you against a wall like that again,

the way your throat would look under his fingers...

No.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking the thoughts off like water.

“Get it together,” he muttered. “She’s your friend. Your best friend. Don’t be an idiot.”

But the image of your lips saying baby replayed, slow and sweet as poison.

He cursed under his breath, shoved open the exit door, and disappeared into the woods, every step feeling like he was running from the one thing he secretly wanted more than anything.

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Part 1

42 days.

Six weeks since the last time you saw Eddie Munson alive.

“Please, please stay with me.”

Those were the last words you ever said to him,begged, really,hands shaking, lungs burning, voice cracking like your world already knew what was coming.

Now you were here again. Same time. Same routine. Kneeling in the damp grass as you scraped dried fake blood from his gravestone. Something that once felt dramatic now felt… mundane. Repetitive. An after-school hobby no guidance counselor would know what to do with.

You came every day. Sat cross-legged, talked to him like he was just late to Hellfire again. Told him the songs he missed, the comics he’d hate, the bands he’d pretend to hate just to watch you get annoyed. And always:

“I miss you.”

Always.

“Paint or blood?”

The question snapped your thoughts apart. Dustin stood a few feet away, looking more worn down than usual Hellfire shirt ripped, exhaustion pulling at his face, curls frizzy like he’d been tugging at them all morning. You didn’t need to ask why. You already knew.

“Paint,” you scoffed, standing so you could pull him into a hug. The kid had been through enough. He didn’t need to see you fall apart too.

“Hey, kiddo,” you said, ruffling his curls the way Eddie always did. “How you holding up?”

“The same bullshit I go through every day,” he muttered, moving beside you to help wipe the stone clean. “You?”

“Oh, you know. Just doing my thing,chilling in the cemetery. They should start paying me at this rate. I’ve clearly shown my commitment to the craft.”

A smile cracked across Dustin’s face,small, tired, but real.

After a moment, Dustin’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper, like he was afraid the gravestones around you might listen.

“Do you miss him?”

“Every time I breathe,” you said,too fast, too honest. “He drove me crazy, but he was my best friend.”

The burn behind your eyes came fast. You blinked hard, refusing to let your tears win. Eddie Munson did not deserve to be remembered as a cold stone and overgrown weeds. He deserved smoke-filled garages, guitar strings snapping at 2 a.m., loud laughter, louder music.

Dustin sighed. “I always regret not telling him how stupidly talented he was. Like,disgustingly talented. Fucker could actually sing.”

You snorted. “Oh, don’t remind me. He used to trap me on that ratty couch of his and make me listen to the same verse fifty times. ‘One more time, sweetheart,’” you said, dropping into your best Eddie impression, head tilt and dramatic hair flip included.

Dustin cracked a smile. “That sounded nothing like him.”

“Shut up, yes it did.”

“Nope, sounded like Kermit the Frog.”

You shoved his shoulder, laughing,real, painful laughter that tugged at your chest the same way Eddie’s stupid grin used to. For a split second you felt it-him-like he was leaning back in that damn throne chair at Hellfire, smirking, ready to jump in with his own joke.

“He always talked about you,” Dustin said, tone softening. “Like… constantly. Last year he skipped two whole weeks of campaign planning because he was too busy trying to figure out your birthday present. He asked me if chocolates were too cheesy and if a mixtape made him look desperate.”

He paused.

“I told him yes to both.”

A small, sad smile curved your lips. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

And suddenly your mind was full,overwhelmed,with fast-cut flashes you didn’t ask for:

Eddie throwing a handful of popcorn at you for “disrespecting Dio.”

Eddie sprawled across your bed, pencil between his teeth, scribbling lyrics he swore weren’t good enough.

Eddie leaning close, closer, brushing hair behind your ear like it meant something.

Eddie whispering “Don’t look at me like that” with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eddie staring at you during Hellfire like he forgot other people existed.

Eddie dying in your arms-

You inhaled sharply.

Dustin’s voice dragged you back. “You meant a lot to him. More than he ever said out loud.”

You shook your head, a humorless laugh slipping out. “Well, he never exactly shut up, so that’s impressive.”

But the truth settled heavily in your chest.

You didn’t deserve those words.

Didn’t deserve the ache they left behind.

“Hey, Dustin…” Your voice came out quieter than you meant.

“Yeah?”

“You know what I regret?” you said.

Your eyes drifted back to Eddie’s name carved into stone,bold, wrong, mocking. If you stared hard enough maybe it would flicker, glitch, disappear. Maybe he’d step out from behind the grave with that shit-eating grin.

“Not telling him how much I loved him.”

It wasn’t a dramatic confession. It wasn’t whispered or broken. It wasn’t poetic.

It was raw.

And true.

And felt exactly like someone pulling the floor out from under you.

Dustin exhaled softly, almost like he’d known all along.

You must’ve been… what, eight? Maybe nine.

Old enough to know better, but too young to do better.

You rounded the corner of your dad’s liquor store, popsicle dripping down your wrist, when you saw him:

A scrawny little boy sitting cross-legged on the pavement, shirt too big, socks mismatched, absolutely butchering a beer cap with a rock.

“Why are you bald?” you blurted before your brain could stop you.

The boy snapped his head up, offended on a spiritual level.

“I’m not BALD,” he said, even though he definitely, absolutely was. “My uncle shaved it. It’s punk.”

“Punk?” you repeated, sitting beside him like this was the most normal conversation ever.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding confidently. “Like metal. Like… no rules. No parents. No bedtime. You just say ‘screw everyone’ and run away on a motorcycle.”

You blinked.

“…Do you have a motorcycle?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m manifesting it.”

You stared at him. Hard.

Because none of what he said made sense, but the conviction?

The confidence?

The feral sparkle in his eyes?

Fascinating.

Truly, deeply fascinating.

You watched him flatten another bottle cap, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“You’re weird,” you declared.

He grinned like it was a compliment. “Thanks.”

A beat.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

He held out a tiny hand,dirty, scraped, proudly clutching a bent cap like it was treasure.

You shook it.

And for the first time in your life, the universe tilted just a little.

________________________________________

The memory faded like a flashlight flickering out,warm one second, gone the next.

You blinked hard, forcing yourself back into the cold gray of the cemetery. Eddie’s name carved into stone. Dustin watching you with worried eyes.

Your jaw clenched.

Your fingers curled into fists.

“When we catch Vecna,” you snarled, every word trembling with rage, “I swear to God, I’ll make him pay.”

The anger wasn’t a wave.

It was a storm.

Loud, electric, shaking under your skin.

Your only light,the weird little bald menace from your childhood, the idiot who set spatulas on fire, the boy who kissed you breathless on your birthday….was gone.

Dead.

Or worse.

Lost.

Buried in the rot of the Upside Down.

“All alone,” you whispered, voice breaking. “He’s all alone down there.”

Dustin grabbed your sleeve gently, grounding you before the grief could take over completely.

“We’ll find him,” he said, voice soft but certain. “We’ll bring him back home.”

You swallowed hard, nodding even though the tears burned hot behind your eyes.

Because you had to believe it.

You had to.