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patchworkgargoyle · 4 months

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🩸 A Steddie Big Bang Fic 🌙

Chapter 3

story by: @patchworkgargoyle || art by: @mcdadarts || playlist to come by: @steves-strapcollection Rating: E || Words: ~4.3k || CW: graphic depictions of violence, blood drinking || Full tag list on ao3! || Posting: weekly Fic title from Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio NOW WITH ART!!! Thank you so much again, Gabe!! Please go check out his post and give it a reblog!

With a long, drawn out exhale, smoke oozed and twisted from Eddie’s lips. He watched it curl in the tiny vortices in the air and then dissipate into the rest of the haze hanging above his head in his bedroom. Iron Maiden blared, flat and tinny, through the speakers of the shitty tape deck he’d salvaged from the thrift store. He half-mouths, half-whispers along to the words, “Melting his face, screamin’ in pain, peeling the skin from his eyes…” and lazily shakes his head along to the increase in tempo, pillow messing up his hair.

It had been a good night. He’d made a few deals, enough to slip Wayne a bit of rent before he’d left for the plant and kept some for his new guitar fund. The thought made Eddie grin. Shifting, he glanced at the cut out ad from the metal magazine he’d snagged from the record store, taped up on the mirror. An old cigar box sat beside his Fender amp, propped open with the steadily growing stash solely for the Warlock. He couldn’t fucking wait to get his hands on it. Wayne’s old guitar was great, sure, but a Guyatone is no Warlock. Soon as he had his hands on that pretty thing, he’d be unstoppable. Y’know, figuratively.

Sighing, he flopped back onto his bed and recounted the money in his head, the calculations easy after all the times he’d run them through. If he’d had a motivator like this in school, maybe he’d actually bother to pay attention in math class.

Not that it mattered anymore. Kinda hard to attend class when sunlight burned his skin like gasoline on a bonfire. Turns out, being a vampire wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Eddie should’ve taken Louis de Pointe du Lac more seriously instead of rolling his eyes at the book and calling him dramatic. And he knew dramatic. Who wouldn’t want to live forever as a badass creature of the night? Well, he ate those words for sure.

He sings along to another song now, the rapid drumbeat pulling him out of his tiny pity party. “Now you’re alone but alive for how long? Dead men tell no tales,” he rasps out, throat dry from the smoke, but managed to wail along and play some air guitar with a small grin.

It would’ve drowned out the knock on the trailer’s front door, should have if not for the whole “vampire thing.” But little escaped his notice now. It was annoying when the neighbours in the Winnebago a few lots down wouldn’t do the decent thing and fuck quietly. It’s like they didn’t care that a creature of the night lurked amongst them. The nerve of some people.

The knocking came again, more demanding this time, and Eddie groaned loudly. Not bothering to turn off the cassette, he rolled out of bed with a frown and stomped down the hall. As he unlocked the door, he started speaking.

“If you’re not a petite blonde or looking to get high, you’d better have a great fucking excuse for–”

The words died out as soon as he saw Steve Harrington looking up at him from the bottom of Eddie’s stoop, half lit by the light from the kitchen, half shaded by Eddie’s silhouette. One of his eyebrows twitched up quizzically, as if Eddie was the odd man out here. He nearly laughed before his throat closed around the sound.

Not only was it weird to see Harrington gracing the Forest Hills trailer park with his presence; not only was it strange to see Harrington at his door when they’d barely even interacted before. It was fucking terrifying. Eddie knew what he was. Chrissy had told him. Steve Harrington, star of multiple Hawkins High sports teams in his day, rich and entitled asshole hailing from hoity-toity Loch Nora, hunted goddamn monsters on the side for funsies. And Eddie, of course, was one of those monsters.

Shit.

“Well, well, well. The Hair Himself at my humble abode. To what do I owe the honour?” Eddie asked with a tight smirk, bowing sarcastically.

“Uh,” Steve said eloquently. His eyes darted over Eddie as he straightened out of his bow, his confused eyebrow drawing higher. “Just hoping to buy some weed, man.”

Eddie hesitated. Weighed his options. “Fine. One sec,” he said, turning back inside. He went to close the door and leave Harrington waiting outside, but Harrington jogged up the steps, following like a lost puppy, and Eddie froze, staring at him.

“What, you’re really leaving me outside? It’s cold,” Harrington said. It must be, Eddie figured, though he didn’t exactly feel the cold anymore. But Harrington had shown up in a polo of all things, not a jacket or sweater to be seen.

Had he planned it that way? It was a good excuse to get inside, and if Eddie denied it he’d be an asshole at best, but look suspicious at worst. Or, y’know, more so than the rest of Hawkins already thought. Eddie might seem like he was hiding something. He hated being out-schemed.

“Bring a jacket next time,” he sneered, but left the door for Harrington to close behind himself.

Trudging to his room, Eddie heard Harrington follow a short distance behind. His heart beat faster than its usual sluggish pace, knowing he now had a whole-ass monster hunter in his home, had turned his back to the guy even. Jesus christ. If he survived this–if Harrington really was just after some weed–he’d thank whatever unholy thing probably held his undead soul captive for letting him see another night.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t got much left, so you might be S.O.L. if you’re looking for more than a few grams.”

“Got any pre-rolled? Kinda bad at doing it myself.”

“Of course,” Eddie muttered to himself. Then, louder and sarcastically sweetly, “I’ll whip one up just for you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” He heard Harrington give a short laugh.

In his room, Eddie gestured to the one chair least covered in dirty clothes. “Make yourself at home.”

Harrington stared down at the clothes pile before apparently deciding to lean against his dresser, arms crossed over his chest. Eddie fished his lunchbox out from under his bed–sending a few dust bunnies and crumpled campaign notes scattering–and sat on his bed with a huff, watching from under his bangs as Harrington awkwardly took up space. He’d started to aimlessly rifle through the various odds and ends piled on the dresser.

“You’re nosy,” Eddie commented dryly, and Harrington withdrew his wandering fingers, tucking them back under his arms. Unfortunately for Eddie, he could sense the flush of embarrassment that flooded Harrington’s cheeks, blood tingeing his cheeks just the slightest bit pink that might as well have been a flashing neon sign to Eddie’s ever-present hunger, even if it did smell a little… different. Must be something about hunters, and that thought pulled Eddie right back to the present. Telling himself to screw his goddamn head back on straight, or as straight as it could be, Eddie pulled out some rolling papers, weed, and a grinder and got to work.

“So what’ve you been up to these days?”

Eddie snorted at the question. “Don’t need to make small talk, dude, awkward silences are just fine with me.”

“I wasn’t- I’m just curious, Munson. Don’t see you around town much.”

“So you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” Eddie tried his best to sound not terrified. Maybe leaned a little too flirty, but it was hard to control the impulse when the thought of Harrington watching out for him sends a thread of panic down his spine. It might prove to be a decent distraction at least.

Scoffing, Harrington said, “Nah, you’re just hard to miss.”

That, at least, made Eddie laugh some. “Got that right,” he mumbled, shaking the grinder out into a rolling paper. “Been up to this, Harrington. Selling illicit substances to the not-so-sober populace of Hawkins. Maybe playing a few shows at The Hideout once in a blue moon.”

“That’s all, huh?”

He sounded casually judgemental, even stood there examining his nails, but Eddie didn’t miss the keen way those brown eyes met his briefly before glancing down to his chest. Eddie swallowed.

“What, not good enough for you?”

“Just saw you at Penny’s party last weekend, hanging out with Chrissy Cunningham is all.”

Eddie’s fingers paused around the half-rolled joint. He couldn’t look up. Forced his hands back into their habitual motions. “Yeah. I go to parties sometimes. Kinda part of the job.”

Silence stretched like frost between them, a chilly, widening divide, while Eddie finished the joint. Somehow he managed to keep his hands from shaking. Eventually, he had to look up, so he did and held the joint out across the chasm of the small room.

Harrington was watching him. Really, it felt like he hadn’t taken his eyes off Eddie since his first question, his gaze intense. His stomach threatened to drop through the floor.

“You guys go anywhere else that night?”

He blinked. “What- is that what this is about?” He stood and tossed the joint to the floor. “Did fucking Carver send you? Is that asshole seriously sending his old basketball buddy to come intimidate me because he thinks ‘his girl’ is fucking another guy? Well, newsflash shithead, we didn’t do anything!” Eddie glared at Harrington as he stomped towards him, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to calm the hell down. He really couldn’t afford to lose control. But he was tired of getting kicked around by these fuckers for no actual reason, and he sure wasn’t going to let them drag Chrissy through the mud either.

To his credit, Harrington stood his ground as Eddie stalked forward. “That’s not what this is–”

“Oh, it’s not?” Sarcasm dripped from Eddie’s words. “Good. Then get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.”

“Fuck you, Harrington. Get. Out–”

With a single step, Harrington got right in Eddie’s face. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, he brought his free hand to Eddie’s face and before he could pull away Harrington jabbed his thumb against Eddie’s lips. His upper lip. Pushing, he exposed Eddie’s teeth. Eddie froze.

Oh fuck.

“Weird how your teeth got pointier the angrier you got, Munson.”

Breath caught in Eddie’s lungs. Not that he needed to breathe anymore. But as his wide, panicked eyes stared into Harrington’s cold, single-minded stare, he still felt like choking on air. That thumb still pressed against his sharpened canine tooth, the warmth of it as shocking as it was… enticing. Eddie could feel the subtle pulse of blood under the pad and, unbidden and unwanted, he started to salivate. Goddamnit, this wasn’t the time.

“Listen–” he began, his tongue brushing against that fucking thumb and sending a wave of hunger through him right as Harrington tore his hand away from his mouth with a sneer. “Man, I swear, I haven’t done anything or killed anyone-”

“So that werewolf in the woods out back was, what? A ghost?”

“Sorry, werewolf?”

Harrington yanked him closer. “Don’t play dumb, Munson.”

“I’m not!” Eddie yelled, but Harrington wouldn’t budge. He could hear it, in his elevated but steady heartbeat, saw it in the set of his brow. Shit. Shit.

Whatever. He was just a fucking human. Trained to fight things like Eddie, sure, but that’s all. Eddie wasn’t.

The low light of his room grew brighter as his eyes changed. He could see, now, the faint jump in Harrington’s neck, but pushed it aside. Grabbing Harrington’s arm, hand still clutching his shirt, Eddie twisted, fast, faster than a human. The momentum, the speed, sent Harrington stumbling. His knees hit the bed, but before he had the chance to recover, Eddie ran.

As he sped down the hall, a low growl rumbled out of his room. “What the fuck. What the fuck!?” he panted.

Rapid footsteps thundered behind him. Eddie’s hair stood on end. Reaching the door, he went to throw it open, desperate to get the hell out of there, but Harrington slammed into him. A broad hand shut the door with enough force to knock mugs off the wall and rattle the window. Another landed on his back. Eddie’s face and chest hit the door. He let out a pained groan, wincing his eyes open.

There, right by his face, was the hand Harrington had been examining earlier. Only the blunt nails were growing. Thick brown hair started to sprout from the back of his hand as dark, curved nails–claws–embedded themselves in the metal of the trailer door with a muted squeak.

“What the fuck are you, man!?” Eddie’s voice broke, raw and breathless. The hand on his back grabbed his shirt and flung him towards the living room. Nearly tripping, Eddie floundered until he found his footing, spinning to face whatever Harrington was turning into as fear clawed its way up his throat.

Standing in front of the door, chest rising and falling rapidly, Harrington looked changed. Like he was mid-transformation. His hands were the worst, furry, animalistic. His eyes were flashing more golden than brown, and his face–

“You should already know. You killed one of my kind last weekend,” Harrington grit out, almost growling, his lips moving awkwardly around the strange array of canine and human teeth, his nose and jaw uncannily elongated.

“I told you, I didn’t do it!”

Harrington’s head cocked to the side, dog-like, as his eyes roved over Eddie’s face. They narrowed. Just as he opened his mouth, primed to say more, the door behind him crashed open. Both men jolted, and Harrington whipped around to face the sound.

He came face to face with a tiny, furious cheerleader wielding a wicked crossbow, the bolt pointed between Harrington’s eyes. Her hands shook, and her eyes widened when she saw what Harrington looked like, but she didn’t waver.

“Leave him alone.” Her demand rang through the room, her usually sweet voice strong.

Eddie wished he could collapse with the relief that flooded through him. Still, he stayed upright, tension keeping him at a knife’s edge. Harrington wasn’t budging, so Eddie leaned into a crouch to pounce if the asshole tried to attack Chrissy. Like hell was he going to let her get hurt, coming to his rescue again.

The trio didn’t move. It felt like a stand-off. Eddie hated it, hated staring at Harrington’s back and hoping he could catch any telltale twitch of muscle foreshadowing an attack. The fur on his arms kept receding and growing, like he was stuck, deciding whether to fully transform–into a goddamn werewolf–or revert back to a human. It was weird as fuck to watch.

“Chrissy, you shouldn’t be here,” Harrington eventually said, hands balling into fists.

“No, I really should be. Whatever you’re after him for, he didn’t do it. He doesn’t kill people.”

“He’s a vampire, of course he does.”

Eddie let out an indignant, “Hey!”

“Okay, and werewolves, what? Don’t lose control on the full moon? Don’t randomly attack people?” she asked. Her perky sarcasm nearly made Eddie laugh, couldn’t help but let a small snort escape. Yet, while she spoke, Harrington’s head tilted to the side again. Like he was listening for something. In the silence, Eddie caught it too. Bike wheels.

They came to a skidding stop and the bike clattered to the ground while a familiar voice cursed up a storm and bolted up to the trailer. A mop of curls barely contained by a cheesy trucker hat bounded in the open door, past Chrissy, shouting, “Wait! Wait, wait, wait!”

“Henderson?” both Harrington and Eddie said, the two of them glaring at each other.

“Yes, because apparently all of you need someone around with some actual goddamn sense!” Dustin waved his finger at all three teens, who looked at him with varying levels of annoyance, before landing on Harrington and pointing with the utmost sass. “Especially you, Steve! I told you Eddie was innocent. But did you listen? No!”

Harrington gave an offended scoff. “Are you kidding me? Dustin, it’s him. He’s a vampire, has the strength and speed to take down a whole werewolf if he really wanted to.”

That was news to Eddie, who didn’t bother hiding his surprise. Dustin immediately looked to Eddie, but instead of fear he looked fascinated. Awed.

“Really?” he asked, a grin breaking over his face. When he started walking towards Eddie, Harrington held him back with a decidedly human hand. Thank fuck the claws were gone. Dustin tried to shake him off, but the grip on his hoodie was too strong.

“Don’t go to him!”

“He’s not gonna hurt me, Steve, jesus christ you’re so overprotective.”

Eddie started to put his hands up, but went slower when Harrington began to growl again. “Listen, Harrington, I have zero interest in hurting Henderson. Or anyone. I swear on,” he gestured to the ceiling, and then the carpet, “whichever deity you’d trust more. I have no idea what you were talking about with this werewolf either.”

Squinting at Eddie’s chest again, Harrington gave a frustrated huff, and Dustin finally broke free from his restraint to speed walk over to Eddie. He didn’t even hesitate to grab Eddie’s wrist and start feeling his pulse, which Eddie protested with a half-hearted, “Hey!”

“You know he’s telling the truth Steve,” Dustin said. Harrington merely crossed his arms and went back to glaring at Eddie. In turn, Eddie pursed his lips and wiggled his head with mock triumph, letting Dustin do whatever poking and prodding he wanted to do just to prove to Harrington he could shove his suspicions where the sun don’t shine.

Chrissy, who watched the exchange alertly, finally lowered her crossbow and worked at getting the bolt out. “Why are you after Eddie, Steve?” she asked.

“The night of Penny’s party, Dustin and his friends found a dead werewolf in the woods a little ways away.”

“It was decapitated,” Dustin helpfully supplied, as if it were a fun fact and not a gruesome murder.

“Oh.” Chrissy paled. Meeting Eddie’s worried expression with her own, she said, “That’s pretty bad.”

“Doesn’t explain why you went after me, though,” Eddie said. “Do I just give off ‘werewolf killer’ vibes?”

Harrington’s jaw clenched and he stared at the floor. “You smelled like blood. At the party.”

“I what now?”

Sighing, Dustin planted his hands on his hips. “Yeah, because, clearly, he’s a vampire. Of course he’s gonna smell like blood.”

“I didn’t exactly know that, Dustin!” Harrington threw his hands up. “And where’d he be getting the blood from anyway?”

“Oh. Uhm. That would be me.” Dustin and Harrington turned to gawp at Chrissy. She’d leaned the unloaded crossbow against the open doorway and had started fiddling with the bolt, avoiding the sharp point. It was so at odds with her preppy, pastel sweater. She smiled at Eddie apologetically. “I might’ve insisted, since it’d help him eat regularly and he wouldn’t have to try and find it somewhere else.”

When Dustin turned to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at Eddie, he frowned and smacked the kid’s shoulder. Lightly. Light enough. “No.”

“Does Jason know?” Harrington asked, seeming tense. It didn’t ease when she shook her head, but he did let out a slow exhale.

“Is that the only reason you went after me? I just stank?”

It was Harrington’s turn to shake his head. “No, we found one of your weird band shirts there.”

“Oh yeah, like there aren’t other metalheads in Hawkins,” Eddie snarked. Not that he thought any of the ones he knew could take on a werewolf, if Steve’s strength was anything to go by.

“It smelled like you, man.”

“Which is exactly why my theory is that you’ve been framed!” Dustin said, completely interrupting Eddie’s bizarre realisation that Harrington knew what he smelled like. He held his index finger aloft. “Someone knew it was yours, planted your shirt there, killed the werewolf. Why? Maybe they had some sort of feud. Maybe they thought other werewolves would find the corpse and seek revenge.” Eddie had a flat expression on his face as he motioned to Harrington, but Dustin waved him off impatiently while Harrington rolled his eyes. “No, no. I don’t think we were supposed to find it. No one knows about Steve except for our group, and maybe one or two creatures we’ve helped. Creatures who definitely wouldn’t do this. The killed didn’t account for us. And, I think, didn’t account for you being a vampire.”

Eddie groaned. “Okay, great. Someone’s pinned a fucking murder on me! This night just keeps getting better!” Without anything better to do, and wanting to ignore the desperate desire to grab Chrissy’s hand and run, he flopped onto the couch hard enough to make the springs squeak and covered his face with his hands.

“But! You have us on your side now.”

Peeking through his fingers, Eddie took in the sight in front of him. Dustin, hands on his hips again and chest puffed out, grinned in a way that was somehow both egotistical and childish. Harrington looked only slightly less aggrieved than Eddie felt, but at least he looked fully human again.

Slowly, Chrissy walked over to Eddie and sat beside him. She took one of his hands away from his face and held it reassuringly, despite the clear furrow of worry between her brows. He gave her hand a squeeze, a silent thank-you.

“Fine. What do you propose, my little detective?” Eddie asked, taking a tiny bit of glee from the slight sneer Dustin made at being called “little.”

“I propose that we hide you away, make it so the real killer doesn’t know where you’ve gone, and see if that either flushes them out while they try to find you or if they commit another murder.”

“Jesus christ, Dustin, we can’t just wait around for another person to die!”

“I know, Steve, but that’s the cold, hard truth! We don’t know their next move. Hopefully they try to find you,” Dustin pointed at Eddie, “before they find another werewolf to kill again.”

Eddie didn’t miss Harrington’s pained grimace as he shuffled uncomfortably. The guy may have just pinned him against his own front door and flung him across his living room, but Eddie could, begrudgingly, sympathise. Harrington could very well be that next werewolf. Which, what a wild discovery that was.

“Did you know Harrington was a werewolf?” he whispered to Chrissy while Dustin and Harrington argued about the plan.

“No, not at all. Pretty sure Jason would’ve warned me if he knew, too. Though…” She pursed her lips and glanced at the subject of their gossip. “Maybe not. I don’t think he’d leave Steve alone if he knew.”

That seemed like a massive understatement. With what little Chrissy could relay about Carver’s reputation, Eddie knew that Harrington would be at just as much risk as Eddie would be if that asshole knew. Watching Harrington as he bugged out his eyes and shook his head at Dustin in frustrated disbelief, he also knew that he’d have a trump card over Harrington if he tried to rat him out to Carver or any other hunters. At least that was an upside to getting found out so disastrously.

Dustin seemed to win the argument, clapping his hands once and turning on his heel to face Eddie and Chrissy again. The kid really had a flair for the dramatic. “Alright. Eddie, you’re coming with us.”

“The hell I am,” he laughed, baffled.

“You need to. Either the killer got your shirt from somewhere, or they broke into your house and stole it. And pretty much everyone knows where you live, so. You can’t stay here.”

“And my uncle is, what, chopped fucking liver? What happens if he’s here, but I’m not, and the killer comes knocking?”

“I doubt he’s at risk. He doesn’t seem like a likely target. Unless he’s also a vampire?” When Eddie shook his head, Dustin continued, “There you go. Problem solved. You’re staying at Steve’s until we find this person.”

Harrington met Eddie’s offended look with one of resigned dread. “No way. Hide me at Chrissy’s.”

“I don’t think my parents would, uhm, agree to that.” Chrissy laid her other hand on top of Eddie’s. “Not to mention Jason.”

A low, whiny groan oozed out of Eddie as his head thumped back against the couch. It got louder when Dustin said, “Plus, if we saw you and Chrissy together, who’s to say the killer hasn’t?”

He felt like throwing a temper tantrum, fists flying and legs kicking, the whole shebang, if he weren’t being framed for murder. “Holing up at The King’s giant rich bitch mansion for who knows how long? Great. Wonderful. Always wanted to see how the other side lived,” he grumbled, not missing the loud sigh Harrington let out.

“Deal with it, Munson. This is the best we’ve got. I’m not thrilled about it either.”

“Oh goody. I’m an unwanted houseguest, even.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy started, “I know you’re scared, I am too. But… I do think they want to help. Their plan makes sense to me.”

Sighing, he dropped the sarcasm and dramatics. For now. “Yeah. I guess. Alright, Detective Henderson, I’ll go along with you and your loyal bloodhound.”

Dustin and Eddie both snickered at Harrington’s unimpressed frown.

#SO EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER #definitely one of my fave scenes #mcdadarts #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #vamp!eddie #werewolf steve harrington #stranger things #hideous thing sbb #steddie big bang #steddie big bang 2023 #steddiebang #steddiebang23 #sav scrawls stuff

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undreaming-fanfiction · 3 months

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You might have noticed that my BigBang still hasn't been posted, but that doesn't mean I haven't been working on it, just like my wonderful artists @mcdadarts and @m00n-arin have. I would like to give you a small teaser before the posting date on February 15th...

My Steddie Corpse Bride drabble seemed to get people interested in more. I heard you and because of that, I proudly announce that my BigBang fanfiction is...

With This Ring

(an excerpt from the first chapter, very reminescent of the drabble I posted over a year ago)

Steve wandered further and further into the forest, kicking at decayed wood and fallen leaves, his mood sour. “You want vows, I’ll give you some,” he muttered and grasped the wedding ring in his hand so tightly it made an imprint into his skin.

He stomped on a rotten branch, snapping it in half.

“With this hand, I will punch my father’s perfectly shaved face and get arrested, maybe that would postpone the stupid wedding for a day or two.”

His foot slipped on a wet patch of moss and he stomped on it in retribution.

“Your cup will never empty because if you ever marry into my family, alcoholism is the way to go, baby, and wine might not be enough to get through a single dinner with my parents, do you like vodka? You will need vodka.”

Steve’s suit got caught on a thorny bush and he swore, sending a bunch of nearby crows into a complaining match. He could relate.

“With this candle, I will set fire to our marriage certificate and set you free, at least for two days or so before our parents bribe someone to re-issue it on a fireproof paper.”

With that last word, he slipped on moss once again and barely kept his balance, only stopping against a stump of an old oak tree. He remembered spending careless summer afternoons there, in the small clearing with Eddie, laughing and humming tunes that his mind refused to forget. The same ones he still played whenever he could, gripping the memory tight and not letting it go. Eddie might have been gone, but his melodies would stay with Steve forever, no matter how dramatic that sounded.

The old oak tree used to be a place of comfort for him and Steve really needed some comfort. Uncaring whether his suit trousers would survive the damp and overgrown seating, he slumped down and closed his eyes, sighing. It really felt like his life was over before it had even begun.

He finally opened his palm to look at the ring, turning it in his fingers. It looked beautiful in the setting sun, gleaming and reflecting the dying rays of light. Such a small thing. Such a commitment.

“With this ring, I wish someone like you could be mine,” whispered Steve and hung his head down.

He would have been content sitting in the woods much longer, but several things happened that foiled his plan.

First, the birds stopped singing and the woods became eerily quiet.

Second, a strong gust of wind threw several fallen leaves into Steve’s face, obscuring his vision.

And third – a hand grasped Steve’s ankle and started pulling.

Steve yelped and tried to run, get away from that icy touch, but to no avail - the grasp of the hand, yep, definitely a hand, not a root or anything, remained firm, although he distantly noticed some of its joints cracking, as if they were finally getting some movement after a long period of stiffness.

Steve’s escape attempt had him yanked back, spinning around and then everything was a whirl of thick tree crowns, growing shadows and cowing of crows – and then his back hit the forest floor and everything went dark.

When he came to, he immediately wished he’d remained unconscious for just a little longer.

The pressure on his ankle was gone, but only because the hand found something better to do – digging. It started removing the soil around and soon another one joined it, loosening the soil…and disappearing into the ground.

A thud from underneath. The crows were louder and louder, flapping their wings and flying in circles over the clearing.

Another thud, roots cracking, the whole tree stump shaking and tilting back.

And with the third one, the roots snapped and those hands were back, but with them a head of messy dark hair, pale skin covered in mud, sticks and patches of moss, faded black clothes and a chain belt, a belt that Steve knew too well, this had to be his punishment, had to be a sign because he still tried to pretend that he hadn’t known from the second the hand with all those gaudy thick rings touched him, but now he couldn’t pretend any longer, the long fingers pushed back all those dirtied strands of hair and Steve was met with the deep eyes that haunted his dreams, the best and the worst ones. Only in those dreams, the eyes had a spark of life in them, the desire to exist, to fight.

These had none of it. Not anymore.

Crawling away from the horrifying sight, Steve hissed as something in his ankle snapped and with unexpected clarity, he remembered his recent half-baked plan to break his own leg. Finally, something going according to plan, he thought and felt a hysterical urge to laugh.

The figure spat out a mouthful of dirt and wiped his face, throwing his head back and letting out a dry, humorless laugh. His skin had a blue tint but, and Steve couldn’t comprehend why his brain would focus on that instead of the actual reanimated corpse in front of him, was surprisingly well-preserved. It would have been a wonderful Halloween costume and maybe others would have doubted, assumed that it was a prank, a sick joke, but Steve saw the undisturbed moss, the unnatural movements of those once graceful limbs, and knew.

What used to be Eddie leaned down, the clearing quiet except for cracking of joints and Steve’s uneven breathing, and picked up something shiny, something that caught the last ray of the setting sun before shadows enveloped both of them, the living and the dead. It was a ring – the ring that Steve must have dropped right before he fainted.

“Eddie-“ Steve whispered and he wanted to say so much, ask even more, but the words wouldn’t leave his lips. He just stared at his former friend and the ring he was holding.

Eddie’s pale lips spread into a wide smile, his dirtied teeth on display. “That for me, Harrington?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he examined the ring. His voice was rough, parched. “I expected at least one date first, perhaps a dinner. And the ring isn’t really my style. But,” he sighed with theatricality so familiar that it made Steve’s heart ache, “beggars can’t be choosers. Well then, King Steven the first of the House of Harrington…”

Steve couldn’t speak. He just watched as Eddie slipped the wedding band onto his ring finger.

“I do.”

The full fic will begin posting on 15th of February, unless the world ends. Or something.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie bigbang #corpse bride au

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