I need a Stranger Things fanfic where an escaped lab test subject runs into Eleven during her Season 2 arc with Kali and then ends up heading back to Hawkins together.
I’ve rewatched the show so many times and i Just finished It, I’m desperate for this kind of story 😭
I need a Stranger Things fanfic where an escaped lab test subject runs into Eleven during her Season 2 arc with Kali and then ends up heading back to Hawkins together.
I’ve rewatched the show so many times and i Just finished It, I’m desperate for this kind of story 😭
Summary: Steve Harrington bleeds in ways no one sees. Loving him means learning to stay quiet, to stay close, and to hope he comes back every time.
Steve Harrington bleeds quietly.
Not the kind of bleeding you see- the kind that stains shirts and leaves scars you can trace with your fingers. No, his wounds live somewhere deeper.
Between jokes.
Between smiles.
Between the space where fear settles and never leaves.
Everyone thinks he’s fine. The babysitter. The hero. The one who always comes back.
But I’ve seen his hands shake when the house finally goes silent. I’ve seen the way his laugh cracks when no one’s listening. I’ve seen the way he flinches at sounds that remind him of monsters that were never supposed to be real.
I sit beside him on the hood of his car, late at night, Hawkins empty and bruised. The stars feel too far away, like they’re afraid of us.
“You okay?” I ask, even though we both know the answer.
“Yeah,” he says automatically.It’s the word he uses like armor. It’s the lie he’s perfected.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to be strong all the time. That he doesn’t have to save everyone. That he’s allowed to fall apart.
But Steve Harrington doesn’t fall apart. He holds everyone else together with bleeding hands and a crooked smile.
So instead, I lean closer. Let my shoulder brush his. Let him know he’s not alone without saying the words that might break him.
He exhales-slow, shaky. Like he’s been holding his breath for years.
And in that moment, I realize something terrifying: loving Steve Harrington means loving someone who will always run toward danger, and praying every time that he’ll come back.
He smiles at me then-soft, tired, real. And I wonder how many times a heart can break quietly before it finally gives up.
Prompt: Is it Over Now? (Taylor’s Version)(From the Vault)
Summary: Eddie and the Reader meet for the first time in person. After a whirlwind weekend, the Reader is left with more questions than answers.
Warnings: unrequited love, emotional distress, heartbreak, implied intimacy, brief mentions of past relationships, lingering sadness, unresolved feelings, longing
Author’s Note: This is part two in a four-part one-shot series that begins with I Never Told You. This series is loosely based on an actual experience that didn’t have a happy ending, so while the emotions are raw and heartfelt, the journey will reflect the bittersweet nature of love, longing, and the words left unsaid. Thank you for joining me on this emotional ride — I hope it resonates with anyone who’s ever had to let go of something they couldn’t quite reach and been left wondering, “What If.”
You’re standing in the arrivals terminal, fingers tight on the handle of your suitcase, heart a mess in your chest as you scan the line of cars for his van. It’s weirdly familiar but foreign; after all those late-night calls, the banter, the laughter, the unspoken things — none of it quite prepared you for this moment. You finally spot him, the van’s rusty paint and “Corroded Coffin” bumper sticker giving it away, and there he is, leaning out of the driver’s side, grinning.
“Hey!” he calls, waving you over with that boyish enthusiasm he’d show only to you. It’s sudden, raw, and a million times more real than any screen ever was.
You manage a half-smile, shuffling over, the handle of your suitcase jerking as you try not to trip over your own feet. You’re a bundle of nerves, cheeks warming up at just the sight of him. The moment is fleeting as he helps with your bag, gives you a quick hug, and nudges you into the passenger seat, barely more than a heartbeat, before he has to drive away. The rush, the swirl of smells in his van — a mix of old leather and Eddie's cologne — it’s almost too much, too fast.
“So…how was the flight?” His question comes as he pulls out of the terminal, glancing at you with the same easy grin you recognize from countless video calls, but there’s something about it here, in the close confines of his van, that has you glancing away.
“Oh, you know,” you say, trying not to fumble over words, “turbulence, overpriced coffee, the usual.” You laugh, though it sounds thin to your ears, your fingers fiddling with the fraying edge of your sweater as you look out the window, desperate to act casual.
But Eddie doesn’t seem fazed, filling the silence with his own tales, stories that come tumbling out like he’s known you forever, while you barely manage a laugh here or a nod there, trying not to analyze every twitch of his hand, every look he sneaks over.
The temptation to reach for him, to feel his hand in yours, keeps dancing at the edge of your mind, but each time you almost reach out, you pull back, afraid of what it might mean — of what it might change.
The scenery shifts, trees thickening as he veers off the main road, the small town of Hawkins behind you. “Thought I’d take you somewhere cool first,” Eddie says, eyes flicking to yours with that glint of mischief you love so much. “Got a nature trail I think you’ll like.”
You nod, smiling despite yourself, fingers clenched tight on your seatbelt as the van eases to a stop in a small gravel lot. The woods loom large around you, leaves crunching underfoot as you both step out.
It’s quiet, peaceful, and a little easier to breathe here, surrounded by trees and the crisp October air. As you walk, you almost blurt out what you’ve been dying to tell him for months now — that he’s everything you didn’t know you needed, that maybe these two years have been leading up to this. But before you can even find the words, he’s speaking, his tone softer, gaze far away.
“Me and the girl I was seeing… we, uh… called it quits,” he murmurs, kicking at a loose stone in the path.
“Oh…” You swallow, feeling that familiar ache unfurling in your chest, the confession you’d planned dissolving before you. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”
“Nah, it’s… fine. Kinda inevitable, really,” he says, but there’s a weight in his words. You nod, though everything in you sinks, the words you’d practiced dying on your lips. Now isn’t the time.
The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the trail as you head back to his apartment, and by the time you’ve finished dinner, it’s easy to sink into the comfort of his presence, laughter breaking through the lingering tension.
He insists you take his bed, but you end up curled beside him anyway, breathing steady in the soft silence as you lie awake, the warmth of him too near, too impossible. Somehow, you fall asleep beside him, his arm brushing yours.
The next morning, he takes you to a diner for breakfast, filling up on pancakes and coffee before heading to the bookstore. You roam the aisles together, trading book recommendations, and he laughs as you light up at the rare first editions on display. You’re like two kids exploring the shelves, losing time until he drags you to his favorite record store.
The store is a chaotic blend of genres, vinyl covers spilling over shelves, and it’s easy to let yourself get lost in the noise, the closeness of him by your side as you flip through albums together. You catch him glancing at you once or twice, an odd look in his eyes that he quickly hides behind a smirk or a joke. It keeps you wondering, thoughts churning, but you push it down, telling yourself he’s still getting over his breakup.
At Spirit Halloween, the eerie decorations and creepy animatronics distract you both for a while, laughter echoing through the aisles as you try on absurd costumes and take pictures, Robin joining you later. She’s quick to warm up to you, and you find yourself talking easily with her, sharing little jokes as Eddie watches you, a quiet smile on his face.
The night settles around you like a heavy blanket, shadows softening the edges of Eddie’s apartment, casting everything in a warm, secretive glow. You’re both sprawled on his worn-out couch, a stack of empty takeout containers scattered on the table, and the low hum of a vinyl record spinning in the background. Eddie’s laughter has faded to a comfortable silence, but his gaze lingers — warm, thoughtful, almost hesitant. He’s close, his arm resting along the back of the couch, his eyes holding yours in a way that makes your heart stammer in your chest. You feel it, the gentle weight of his attention, how it sends warmth spreading through you, wrapping around every corner of your mind.
He clears his throat, fingers drumming lightly on his knee before his voice cuts through the quiet. “Hey… can I kiss you?”
The air stills, and for a moment, everything inside you freezes, disbelief mixing with the heady rush of want that coils in your chest. Your pulse drums, quick and unsteady, and every warning you’ve told yourself, every reason to guard your heart, fades like distant echoes. There’s nothing in this moment but the pull of him, the wild, reckless promise in his eyes, and the way your entire body leans forward, answering him. “Yes,” you whisper, the word barely a breath, but it’s all he needs.
Then his lips find yours, soft but sure, and the world dissolves. His kiss is a quiet question, slow and gentle, then insistent, and your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His hand slides around your back, fingers pressing against your spine, anchoring you to him, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill down your skin. The kiss deepens, his mouth exploring yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless, dizzy, like you’re both unraveling and coming together all at once. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this is going to hurt, but in the heat of his touch, you can’t make yourself care.
Hours blur and melt into each other, and by the time exhaustion pulls you both under, the last thought that dances across your mind is how perfect it all feels, how alive you feel wrapped in his arms, knowing you’re about to lose this.
The next morning, dawn filters through the blinds, spilling over his sleeping face. You slip from the bed, moving quietly to the bathroom, steeling yourself under the cool spray of the shower, rehearsing the words you’ve wanted to say all weekend. Today’s the day, you tell yourself. You’ll tell him everything.
You go through the motions, folding your clothes into your suitcase, brushing your fingers over little memories from the past few days — his laugh, the way his hand felt in yours, the warmth of his gaze. But as he drives you to the airport, your heart in your throat, the silence in the car starts to stretch thin, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.
Finally, just as you’re working up the nerve, he breaks the silence, voice a little too casual. “Hey, so… my ex texted me this morning.”
You freeze, breath catching, and every ounce of courage, every moment you’d built up over the weekend, shatters like glass. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “She… I don’t know. She wants to talk things over when you leave. Try and… I don’t know, sort things out, I guess.”
Your chest tightens, the ache blooming sharp and sudden, but you force a smile, nodding as if you understand. Inside, though, every word you’ve been holding onto slips away, and all you’re left with is the hollow space where they’d been.
The airport appears in the distance, the moment closing in. You open your mouth, the urge to say something clawing at you, desperate to leave him with a piece of what you feel, but the words stick, the weight of everything that’s changed sitting heavy in your throat. “Thanks for the weekend, Eddie. Really. It… it meant a lot.”
He looks at you, something flickering in his eyes — confusion, maybe regret — but he nods, his smile soft, genuine. “Yeah, it meant a lot to me too.”
And then, before you can let yourself say anything more, you pull your suitcase from the backseat, giving him one last, lingering look. There’s so much you want to tell him, so much you ache to say, but you hold it in, swallowing the words, letting them settle painfully in your chest as you walk through the terminal doors.
It’s only when you’re seated at your gate, the minutes ticking down, that you finally let yourself feel it. The ache unfurls, bittersweet and raw, knowing that while he’ll always mean everything to you, you’ll keep loving him — silently, painfully, and completely. You turn the memory of his kiss over in your mind, replaying the warmth of his touch, the way his eyes held something unspoken every time he looked at you. Part of you wonders if he felt it too, even just for a moment.
But then the reality hits, sharp as a knife: his ex’s message, the way he spoke about her with a hesitant hope in his voice. The hope that he might go back to her, that maybe she’s the one he’ll choose in the end. And you’re left here, the weight of your silence and all the unsaid words pressing down on you like a stone.
A thought flickers, quiet and unsettling — Was that it? Was that my one chance, and did I miss it? You bite your lip, holding back tears as you wonder if the weekend, fleeting and fragile, was all you were ever meant to have. Did he feel something real, something he’d only bury again the moment you walked away? Or was it just you, holding on to a dream, hoping for something more that might already be slipping away?
As they call your boarding group, you glance back one last time, almost expecting to see him there, running to you with all the things you’re dying to hear. But the terminal is empty, and you turn toward the gate, feeling the ache settle deeper, hollow but heavy.
And as you walk down the jetway, the question lingers, hanging over you like a shadow: Is it truly over now?
🎆🎇🗽🦑🦑Bruh y’all don’t know how excited I am for this!!🦑🦑🗽🎆🎇 (squid emoji was the closest thing that I could find to resemble the mind flayer or demogorgon lol😂..). When I saw my timeline blessed with this post I just about flipped the table when I was playing Cards Against Humanity with the fam #strangerthings #strangerthings3 #strangerthingstv #strangerthingsfandom #strangerthingsbinge #netflixbinge #thegoodstuff #qualitytv (at League City, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsGRnGcHzE0E8BrRNr5LkK21jA0arnOrxSIH140/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=34sp7a15kz3c
