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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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Steve And Robin Are Stuck in A Timeloop AU

Steve's lost track of which time loop this is.

Had lost track pretty much instantly, because it turns out when people die repeatedly in front of you, it kinda takes precedence in your memory.

Besides, Robin has a list in her head, memorized via some kind of musical code, alongside all the dates and times they wake up in.

(Steve doesn't see what difference it makes if they wake up at 7:15 am the day of the Championship or 8:25 am, but Robin's insistent that even the slightest variations could mean something.)

He’ll have to ask his soulmate when he finds her though, because presently Steve has determined they're having one of their weirder loops.

Typically, when the two of them get kicked back in time, they wake up the day of the Championship game. Occasionally it will be the day right before or the day after, but sometimes?

Sometimes they’re sent back someplace, some time, that isn’t related to 1986 at all.

Thus far, the Starcourt loop had been the worst.

("If it happens a third time I'm killing myself." Steve had told Robin after they’d failed that one.

Robin didn’t even look at him, the two of them huddled up together in Steve’s bed. "No you're not Dingus, not without shooting me first."

"How come I have to shoot you!? Is it because I'm a man? That's not very feminist of you."

"No its because you've seen me shoot, I would miss!")

Steve had even woken up in an odd place. Not his bed or the couch, but the driver's seat of the Beamer, seated in the high school parking lot.

It made him immediately uneasy.

The chair is reclined all the way back, the mass of cars indicating it was a school day. Steve struggled to recall when he's ever taken a nap in his car as he got out of it, trying to decide how he wanted to go about things.

Felt his pocket and was surprised to find it full of a packet of smokes.

The sheer implication of that had him pulling out a cig and lighting it before the knowledge that he'd officially quit buying his own cigarettes in 1985 sank in.

Panicked and chainsmokes three, before deciding his best course of action was his usual one.

Find Robin.

Which of course means that he found Eddie instead.

xxx

He’d started his first lap, walking out if the parking lot and round to the more shaded, empty parts of the building when a voice he knew yelled.

The kind of yell he’d grown intimately familiar with, the one Eddie used when he was terrified and using anger to hide it.

Steve turns automatically, following the taunts and loud, pained breathing until he finds a handful of jocks encircling the metalhead. He's down on one knee, snarling like a wildcat caught in a trap while some guy Steve barely recognizes holds him by the hair, laughing.

Red coats his vision instantly, and any thoughts Steve had about being stuck in time (sort of) vanish from his mind entirely.

The world shrinks down, to that white knuckled grip on Eddie's hair, the way it’s pulling the older boy’s face up so that Steve can see the straining muscles in his throat.

The protective creature that lives in his chest and likes to punch it’s way out of problems awakens, and a thrum goes through Steve as he feels its demand for blood.

"Hey fellas " Steve calls joyfully, striding directly into the crowd. "What’re we doing?"

Two part before him like fish seeing a shark,and a faraway inner voice identifies them as members of the swim team.

Which likely meant the other two were football players, and for all the tackling they did they were surprisingly easy to scare, if you knew how to play it right.

Steve absolutely knew how to play it right.

"Fuck off Harrington. This isn't your business." The one holding Eddie's hair spits.

"Well that would be where you're wrong." Steve was still keeping things conversational as he positioned himself, arms nice and loose at his sides. He lets the thing that lives inside him, who made him turn right back around all those years ago and charge back into the Byers house, out a little more. Feels the need to protect, to save, to destroy the things that are his, fuel him. "Seeing as all of Eddie's business is my business."

Eddie stares up at him, wide eyed at the declaration.

Feeling entirely out of control of his body, Steve sends him a wink.

"Since when!?" The other football player asks.

"Since now." Steve declares cheerfully--and then smiles.

It isn’t a nice smile.

Thoroughly unnerved, his swim team members shrink back. He’ll have words for them later if he has time--Steve can't ever recall the swim team members being dicks but who fucking knows.

His memory wasn't the best before he and Robin got stuck in time.

"You fucking into drugs now or wha--" Their ringleader, still holding onto Eddie by the hair, doesn't get to finish his sentence.

Mostly because his mouth is too busy catching Steve's fist.

Fighting, he knows, is something he does best when it's too the death and he's armed with something.

Bonus points if his opponent is a horrific monster from another dimension.

He has gotten better though, and here the rapid pace he sets feels almost too easy.

The first guy goes down on the ground before the rest pick up on it, giving Eddie time to lurch backwards as Steve turns and torpedoes into the next jock.

This one gets in a good shot--Steve staggers with a blow to his side but it's not enough to wind him. He keeps to his feet and advances, delivering one more punch before the swim team guys are trying to call him off.

"Come on man, you're gonna kill them!"

Steve almost laughs-- he hasn't come close to killing either idiot-- but backs away, keeping himself between them and Eddie.

They wave their hands, getting ahold of their bloodied friends as they slowly ease between them and Steve. Make apologizes and promises that it was a poor joke, Munson just got to them, hot heads you know?

Steve snarls at them to fuck off, and glares until they're gone.

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks him, and Steve turns to find him on his feet, leaning heavily against the brick wall of the school.

As far as he can get away from Steve.

"Our football quarterback can't hit for shit." Steve informs him, having finally placed an least one of the guys. "It's probably why we always lose."

Eddie gives him such a freaked out face it almost makes him laugh a second time.

The effect isn't helped by the fact that Eddie's normally long mane is hovering just over his shoulders, the curls somehow poofier than normal. Clearly he’s still trying to grow it out, but it just makes him look like one of those frazzled dogs.

Adorable.

On instinct Steve reaches out to playfully pull a few strands, then freezes when Eddie flinches from him.

"Sorry." He keeps his hands up, as he takes in Munson's face. "Shit dude, he got your nose good."

There's blood smeared under it, and given the look of the skin surrounding it?

Eddie's gonna have an impressive bruise soon enough.

Steve gets a glare sent his way. "Why do you care?" Eddie spits, back very much still up, and-- right.

Right.

Time travel.

"I'm really bad at explaining it." Steve warns, running a hand through his hair. He did this part plenty without Robin (meeting Eddie that was--Robs usually tackled Nancy.) But he also typically did in it 1986, and with at least three of the kids, not whenever they currently were.

"We usually start with facts only you'd know, but I don't actually know when I am right now." He finishes, and realizes immediately that it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

"When you are?" Eddie asks, because of course he clocks that part immediately.

"Ye--eah." Steve says, dragging out the word.

He looks at Eddie desperately, like the metalhead will tell him the exact information he needs.

Eddie just stares back.

"Look, it sounds really stupid when you say it out loud." Steve says finally, because fuck, it does!

"Comparable to all the other times you talk out loud?" Eddie snips, voice full of venom.

"Shut up.” Steve replies automatically, but his tone holds no heat. He’s too used to trading banter with Eddie that is friendly. “I'm gonna preface this by saying I can prove it."

"Oh wow preface. Such a big word for you! Did Nancy Wheeler teach you that one?"

"Robin actually." Then, "Nancy?"

The look Eddie gives him could melt steel beams. "Yeah man. Nancy Wheeler. Your girlfriend."

"Oh--oh god." Steve says, because that means they're way back. Possibly to the beginning.

Or worse, before he and Nancy had broken up.

"I can’t handle that breakup a second time." He says wide eyed, the panic gripping him for a second. “I could-no, no I could get Robin to tell her!”

Because that sure would work.

Steve can just imagine it now. Robin, sauntering up to Nancy and going ‘Hey, we really haven’t met yet but you’re gonna dump Steve, if you haven’t already and to cut through all the drama, I’m here to just tell you on his behalf that it’s over. What was that? A coward? Why yes, he is one!’

You know, provided she didn’t just laugh in his face and then cuff him over the head when she realized he was being serious.

“Dude.” Eddie says, sinking a world’s worth of judgment into the single syllable.

“Yeah, you’re right, bad call.” Steve says, and whatever Eddie was expecting it clearly wasn’t that.

“Are you on drugs right now?” Eddie finally asks when Steve reverts back to looking to him as if he’s going to help. A bad habit, and one Steve knows he needs to stop doing.

Even if Eddie, in the original timeline and every one after they got him on board, eventually becomes someone Steve can rely on like that.

“You can tell me if you are, man, you know I won’t judge.” The hateful air around him is fading into something more confused, and then into something else entirely. The persona Eddie pulls when he’s hurt and trying to hide it with jokes and rants. “Unless you and your buddies bought from someone that wasn’t me, in which case I get exclusive rights to judge.”

He’s shifting as he finally stands up off the wall, and Steve doesn’t miss how he hugs one hand to a rib.

Shit.

He needs to get Eddie up to speed and he needs to do it fast.

Steve sighs and just starts listing Eddie Munson Facts like an unprepared kid who was called on in class.

"Okay, so your uncle collects mugs, right? And--fuck I don't know when you get all the tattoos,” Steve makes a vague gesture around his chest, “but you have bats on your arm and you gave them all names."

Eddie's eyes pop wide again, jaw slacking as Steve volleys off a few more Munson Facts.

"You have this weird fear about red ribbon necklaces because of a book you read in third grade, your first guitar has this giant ugly--sorry dude, but you cannot write legibly to save your life, 'This machine slays dragons' quote across it and--oh!"

He was so fucking stupid. The answer was literally staring at him in the face, dangling around Eddie's neck.

Steve snapped his fingers excitedly. "The guitar pick on your neck is your moms!"

Eddie’s mouth open and closes like a fish, long enough that the smile slowly slides off of Steve’s face.

"How the fuck do you know all that?" He manages after a long, tortuous moment, looking like he’d been sucker punched.

Again.

With the most pained look his face can manage, Steve finally answers. "Time travel."

Eddie blinks.

Then blinks again.

"Time travel." He echoes faintly.

"Yeah. I'm from 1986, where things kinda got really fucked up."

"No kidding?" Eddie says, right before he erupts into giggles.

"Did they get you in the head?" Steve asks, abruptly concerned, as Eddie collapses back against the wall in a growing fit of laughter.

Concussed Eddie was not a road he wanted to go down but Steve knew better than anyone what happens if you ignore such things.

"I think my weed just hit." Eddie explains as he wipes away a tear, and Steve wants to shake him, but knows it won't get him anywhere.

"That's great. That's just great." He grumbles, hands going onto his hips. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get you a bandage. And then find Robin.”

Robin, Steve decided, could handle a high, concussed Eddie.

#I do write more than pre steddie #but some days it doesnt feel like it #not even gonna lie this not-fic was just an excuse to write six million meet cutes #steddie #pre steddie #time loop au #stranger things #Eddie Munson #steve harrington #drug mention #hurt/comfort #sorta

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yandereforme · 2 months

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OK, I was in a boring lecture with my classes, and my brain came up with an idea.

Everyone knows that trope where the main character is stuck in a time loop. Like, they are stuck, reliving the same life over and over and over again.

What if that situation happened? With the bat family becoming Yandere?

Let me explain. It starts out with the normal story of neglectful bat family. You’re probably Bruce’s kid through a one night stand of his. Then you mom tragically dies and she leaves it in her well that you are Bruce’s. Then you go to live the Manor and none of them really have time for you or pay that much attention to you, etc. etc..

You probably die due to an accident with a rogue or maybe you get into a car accident or something. The point is you die, and instead of going to the afterlife, you wake up in the car driving you to the manner for the first time.

You end up slowly living your life in a loop of one year. Overtime, you become more and more independent of the family. I’m going to say this is like your seventh life, because that’s where things get interesting.

This time, you’ve decided to just throw the whole thing out the window. You’ve tried getting to know them. You’ve tried just actively avoiding them. You’ve even tried running away very young, and you even joined them as a vigilante during your fifth life. Nothing has stopped you from dying every single time. So this time, you deciding to fuck things up. Do whatever the hell you want. And what you want is to cause some chaos.

You deliberately fuck with them. You make references to things you shouldn’t know, but always talk your way out of any situation. You casually mention things about certain vigilante, that you know will cause, drama, and deliberately ask your brothers to be around you during a certain time when you know they’re going to be on patrol. You decided that you’re going to just have fun, and like being a little chaos gremlin.

This sort of behavior is what causes the family to fully notice you. And overtime become Yandere for you. They also keep having these strange dreams where you die in front of them. They remember themselves saying things to you that they never did. All while puzzling at your knowledge of them.

You become a puzzle to them. And after a while, you have a fully Yandere bat family obsessed with you.

You must be thinking “ OP, if the reader dies again, everything go back to normal?” Well, you are wrong. Because every life that you live after that one, they will remember more and more things, and become more and more obsessed with you even from the get-go.

During the seventh life, you caused some serious chaos and left a giant impact on them. When you return to the manor for the first time in the eighth, they are going to look with you with more interest than they normally would, because something in their gut is telling them that they need to pay attention to you.

Basically, the simple version of this is that they were very neglectful of you in your first 6 lives, and didn’t pay much attention to you until your seventh life, which you decide to fuck with them. Unfortunately, you girlbossed too close to the sun and left an irreversible impression on the soul. No matter what you do, in every single life they are going to become more and more obsessed with you.

#yandere #yandere batfam x reader #time loop au #funny #gremlin reader #this came to me in the middle of a boring class #Now I will unleash it onto you

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the-kr8tor · 9 months

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Under the clocktower

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Synopsis: Hobie's stuck in a time loop where he keeps seeing you die over and over again. He tries to find a way to escape the loop, at the same time saving you from your fate.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, TW death, TW injuries, TW violence, established relationship. Time loop AU, angst.

My masterlist

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Hobie opens his eyes, the blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.

His body feels heavy somehow, his lungs sit weirdly in his chest, his eyes wide and alert. It's like he swung around the city while asleep.

He shakes it off attributing it to not sleeping well. Shutting off the stove he sighs at the burnt omelet. He briefly sees the clock on the stove in his peripheral- 8:00 am

Good thing he reached the kitchen before the fire alarm went off, he grabbed a nearby rag to fan away the smoke. Suddenly hearing wet feet squelch across the wooden floors, Hobie instinctively looks towards it.

"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, your hair wrapped in a fluffy towel. Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, hitting your hip against the table. You're sure it would leave a nasty bruise.

"It's too early to burn down the flat, don't you think so, love?" Hobie puts his hands on his hips, annoyed that he woke up so early. Sweats hang low on his waist, an old band shirt ripped at the sleeves, his arms and midriff on full display.

"Ow, sorry Hob," you rub your aching hip, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy" you close the small distance.

"You better be sorry," he grabs you by the waist, inching his hand toward the hastily wrapped belt of your bathrobe. "I'm still bloody tired" he says with a yawn.

"Aww, my poor baby Hobie," you cup his cheeks, "let me kiss it better" you peck the corner of his eye, your soap and strawberry scented shampoo fills his senses.

While you're distracted, he slowly unties your robe. Noticing the sly movement, you grab at Hobie's wrist. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"

"Ah shit, that's today?"

"Yep, can't be late" you kiss his lips quickly before he escalates things. "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.

"Good luck" he pulls you back by your hand, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way around" Hobie kisses your knuckles while looking into your eyes.

You chuckle, "I know what you're doing, Hobie Brown. It's not gonna work"

"Worth a shot" he finally lets you go.

The doorbell rings, both of you looking at the intrusion. Who could that be this early?

"I've got it, Love. Can't have you answering the door in your robe can I?" Hobie winks at you tiredly, which makes his eyelid move slowly.

"Very sexy, babe" you shake your head as you head back towards the bathroom.

Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.

"Ohh, hey!" He looks disappointed "Morning neighbour!" Hobie winces at how chipper this man is this early in the morning.

"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.

"Ah," he subtly looks behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"

"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, disinterested at whatever information he was about to share. He just wants to go back to bed.

He shuts the door with a bang.

"Who's at the door?" Your muffled voice rings out.

"No one, just your neighbour!" Hobie yells out so that the man outside hears it.

He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, quickly handing it off.

"Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.

"Welcome"

Hobie plops himself back on the bed, he groans when his back cracks. He falls asleep to the sound of your humming.

Chaos rains downtown, buildings crumble around Hobie while he pursues Green goblin. Everything went bad so fast, he didn't see it coming. Green goblin cackles menacingly while she randomly throws bombs below her hoverboard.

She went completely off the rails when Hobie got a few punches in, desperate to get away, she just started chucking random stuff at him, conveniently one of them was a bomb. The explosion threw him off, Goblin got a few blocks ahead of him, but Hobie's determined.

He swings after the flash of green, he hears the familiar chime of big ben - 6:00pm

Goblin leads him towards the tower bridge, it's packed with vehicles because of the rush hour, that's not good.

"Catch, Spider-Punk!" Goblin chucks another bomb below her, she clearly knows this one will surely cause chaos on the bridge.

With his quick thinking, Hobie grabs the bomb with his web, slinging it away from the crowd below. A shockwave resonates through the old bridge, its old wiring swings letting out a metallic groan. puffs of green smoke cloud above the area.

Hobie hears screams below him, looking down he sees the crowd scrambling away from danger. His senses send electricity through him, he looks back toward Goblin, she's now just hovering in place, in both of her hands she holds belts full of spherical bombs, she holds it against the edge of her hoverboard, threatening to let go.

"Don't you dare!" Hobie webs up both of the belts holding the spheres, ready to fling it away. Before he could do just that, the clips holding the bombs give out, time seems to slow down as Hobie watches in horror, the little balls of destruction falling down like rain. Goblin's shrill laugh pierces Hobie's ear drums.

He ignores the crazy lady, instead he goes after the green orbs. He webs as much as he can reach, quickly throwing them off the bridge, they go off the second they hit the water below. He keeps repeating this process till he's sure he got all of them out.

He lands breathlessly on the concrete, he points towards the nearest end of the bridge, guiding the remaining people off the bridge. Roaming his eyes above to see where Goblin could be.

His senses go off again, Hobie's ears perk up towards the faint ticking sound. He sees the ball bounce off a taxi, it doesn't go off, instead it just lands down the concrete with a clink. He eases up a bit, figuring it might be a dud. Until he looks inside the black taxi, Hobie sees your terrified face against the taxi's window, you're struggling to open the door.

Electricity pulses through him, sounding off alarms. The whites of his mask widen when the sphere stops ticking.

It's not defective, it was just counting down.

You finally notice him, frozen in fear. He tries to reach you, but the shockwave from the explosion stops him, Knocking him down.

The sheer force of the explosion flips the taxi, tethering close to the edge of the bridge. Green smoke covers Hobie's vision, he can barely make out the silhouette of the dark car, he throws caution into the wind, he doesn't look for more ticking bombs, instead he quickly runs toward the creaking metal.

He finally reaches you, as the car finally falls. Hobie quickly webs up the trunk of the car sticking its end on stagnant cars, and columns. He hears your muffled screams inside the deathtrap.

"Hobie!" You desperately scream for him, clinging to the car's headrest, the taxi swings against the wind. You can see him trying to pull you up.

Seeing Goblin wreaking havoc, you see her throw more bombs towards fleeing civilians, you make the conscious decision to yell at him to help them instead.

"Hobie! On your left!" Your throat burns trying to get his attention.

Thanks to his spidey senses and your desperate pleas, Hobie understands quickly, he ties the web he's holding onto a nearby truck, hopeful that it sticks until he can get you out.

"I can do both" Hobie whispers

He yanks Goblin down from her hoverboard with one precise shot of his web, she falls hard on the concrete. In one swift movement Hobie grabs his guitar on his back, using it as a bat, he swings it against the ticking bombs, before its countdown ends.

They explode in mid air, green clouds rain over the historic bridge.

Hobie runs back to you, on his way he notices that Goblin recovered and is nowhere to be seen. He'll find her later, right now he needs to save you.

He swings towards the edge where he last saw you, the only thing he sees is the cold rushing water swallowing the taxi.

His breath hitches in his throat. His knees threatened to collapse under his weight.

"No, not you" he weakly says.

Before he follows you towards the black depths, Hobie sees the Green Goblin rise up from under the bridge right in front of him, a sickenly bloody smile on her face.

"Got your little birdy, spidey" she shakes your terrified form, her claw-covered hand covers the bottom half of your face painfully, your feet floating a few inches off her board.

"Mmph!" You yelp for him as you try to reach him with your hands.

"Let them go! Or I swear I will tear you apart!" Hobie barks out, he doesn't recognize his own voice.

"Oh, okay!"

Your terrified eyes look back at him.

One minute you were in Goblin's hand, the next you were falling to your demise.

Electricity cackles around Hobie, he leaps off the edge, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Shooting a web towards you, he curses gravity, his web merely a hair's width away from your form. Your fingertips graze its ends.

Your head hits the water in a horrible cracking sound.

A cold splash hits Hobie's masked face, he braces for impact.

The water hits him like a truck, but he shakes it off, adrenaline pulses in his body like never before. He tries to find your form under the dark water.

It's dark and quiet under, the only thing he could hear is his own heart thumping in his chest. He hopes to hear yours too.

He roams his eyes, his eyes squinted looking for your familiar silhouette. Hobie finally spots you, slowly floating down towards the endless void. He swims down as fast as his limbs could, his air is running out, he's afraid yours might be too.

He grabs hold of your arm, Hobie quickly brings you against his chest, he ignores the absent beating of your heart.

Reaching the surface was an uphill battle, but he finally got you out. Stopping by the riverbank, he doesn't waste any time doing CPR.

He dares to look at your face, Hobie lets out a pained sound when he sees your dull eyes looking up at nothing, your lips slowly turning blue. He counts in his head to keep track of his chest compressions.

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

" C'mon lovey, breathe for me please"

25 26 27 28 29

Your lips are now a harsh blue color, he whispers your name like a prayer.

He quickly puts his lips on yours to breathe into it, he does it twice, desperation increasing in every breath he gives you. He counts again.

10 11 12 13 14 15

He lets out a pained sob, he bites his lips to stop more from coming out.

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

"I can fix this" he ignores the aching in his arms.

26 27 28 29 30

He breathes into you again and again. He takes a step back to examine you, no reaction.

Desperation, fear and anger flows through every crevice of his body. But his mind fills with you, only you.

He takes his stance again-

Silence

Searing pain ebbs out of his chest, crimson flows from the wound, Hobie finds himself impaled on Goblin's hoverboard, his back trapped in between a wall. Green Goblin lets out a victory screech.

He groans out, his blood seeps through his mouth, gagging on it.

He's dying.

How poetic he thought, dying mere minutes after you. You once joked that you're soulmates, he now thinks you're right.

"I DID IT, I KILLED SPIDER-PUNK!" Her laugh slowly fades away, like he's walking away from her.

He imagines that he does and instead of your lifeless body waiting for him, he imagines that you're standing there, smiling at him. His only wish is that you both end up at the same place.

Big Ben's clock rings out again.

"I should've tried harder," He murmurs. Darkness embraces him like an old friend.

Hobie opens his eyes, sunlight tears his red eyes open. He quickly sits up breathless. He grabs his chest, kneading it with his knuckles. He smells something burning.

Hobie gets up, heading towards the smell. He stares at the pan - omelette or what it used to be an omelette.

"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, almost hitting your hip against the table. Hobie stops you mid slide with his web shooters. You would've hit the table pretty hard.

Why did he know that?

You look towards Hobie looking dumbfounded. "Hobie, why are you just standing there? Turn it off!"

He snaps out of his stupor, turning down the knob he looks at you, his breathing heavy.

"Shit, sorry for yelling, Hob" you grab a rag to fan the smoke out.

You look at Hobie, he has a weird look on his face. He hugs you suddenly, his face landing on the crook of your neck. Hobie recognizes the smell of your soap and strawberry scented shampoo, he takes a deep breath.

That was just a dream, right?

"You better be sorry"

"Aw, my poor baby Hobie, did I wake you up with my culinary skills?" You rub his cheek with your thumb, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy. Let me kiss it better" you crane your neck to peck the side of his head.

Just a dream, right?

Hobie anxiously fiddles with the belt around your robe, you take it as flirting. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"

You pull away from his warmth, cupping his face, you look directly at his eyes. Hobie briefly sees your lifeless eyes staring back at him.

You take his lack of response to being sleep deprived. "Can't be late" you kiss his lips "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.

He calls after you, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way -" your doorbell rings.

"Could you get that for me?"

Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.

"Ohh, hey!" He looks behind Hobie completely ignoring him, staring at your bathrobe clad body "Morning neighbour!"

You wave at him awkwardly while you fix your robe to cover yourself up more.

Hobie notices, his eye twitches at the realization. He closes the door slightly, so he's blocking the creepy neighbor from you.

"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.

"Ah," he subtly tries to take a peek at you behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"

Hobie's ears perk at the last word. He stares at the man suspiciously.

"What did you say?"

"Ensaymada, it's a pastry with-"

"I know what the fuck that is, it's their favourite, why the fuck-"

A dream, right?

"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, he shuts the door with a bang.

He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, tossing it off.

"Oof, Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.

Hobie slowly walks back towards the bedroom, he sits on the foot of your bed. He feels tired, wondering what the hell is happening to him. He lifts his shirt to look at his chest, no sign of a wound. He looks around your room, nothing seems out of place, it's the same cream colored walls, the same bed, and dresser, the same lab coat hangs on it, ready for your first day at work.

Hobie plops down, his muscles aching for relief, he starts to drift back to sleep, until he hears you humming the same tune, in the same cadence. Hobie's eyes open in a flash.

"This already happened"

–-

Hobie goes about his day, knowing what happens today, he has the advantage. He can save you this time.

Hobie anticipates every move Goblin makes, he dodges everything she throws at him. Bombs still get thrown about, but now he has the time to react before it causes chaos.

She can't get a single hit in, watching every precise movement he makes, knowing her every move before she even does, it terrified her, so she just flies away crossing the Thames, she sees an opportunity to stop Spider-Punk from chasing her.

Goblin in her desperation, haphazardly throws every single one of her bombs below, Hobie tries to fling them away but he couldn't stop every single one of them from detonating. Loud booms and green smoke cover the iconic bridge.

What did he do wrong?

Spotting you from above, Hobie dive bombs towards you, he's a few feet above you, he reaches out to you, your fingers brush against each other as a bomb explodes near your feet.

Hobie opens his eyes, he feels a harsh heat staying on his face, like a lingering taste.

"FUCK!" He screams, "this can't be happening" he holds his head in his hands.

"Babe you okay?" You come out of the bathroom, smoke fills Hobie's nostrils like some kind of cruel joke.

"No! My breakfast!" You rush out.

He follows you, as you fan away the fumes, Hobie hugs you from behind.

"Hey grumpy, sorry about that" you lean against his chest, you crane your neck so he could slip his head on the crook of it.

Hobie smells your familiar scent along with a hint of smoke, he promises into your skin that he would try harder to save you, no matter how many tries it takes him.

"Are you okay? You seem out of it"

"Just tired, lovey"

"You know that I love you, right? I'm right here, you can tell me anything"

"I know"

He left your flat at the same time as you, following closely behind your cab. He's paranoid that Goblin knows that she's in a loop too and might try to get the upper hand.

Hobie finds Goblin before she could find him. He leaves her body beaten on the pavement.

How she reacts with his questions with every angry hit, it's safe to say, she doesn't know about the day resetting.

Hobie continues on throughout the day, Big Ben rings its bell - 6:00pm

This time instead of the Green Goblin surprising him, it's the Vulture.

They fight, and eventually end up on the bridge. They clash against each other, Hobie doesn't have the advantage of precognition this time, but what he has is pure unadulterated anger.

Hobie tries everything, but you still fall. Grasping your limp body, he lets the vulture take his revenge.

The clock chimes again

Hobie opens his eyes. This time he doesn't waste time, he swings away immediately, leaving you confused.

He finds Goblin, then the Vulture, but still another Villain replaces them.

Hobie almost beats the Lizard but alas with his enhanced healing he gets up over and over again. Hobie, exhausted and bleeding, watches you cradle his limp body, Lizard's massive shadow falls over you.

You both die in the hands of the Lizard.

>47

Hobie opens his eyes, he starts to count how many times he looped back.

No matter how he keeps killing and trapping all the villains that somehow keeps replacing each other on that bridge. More and more obscure ones start filling the role of your murderer. They seemed endless.

You and Hobie have been impaled, electrocuted, burned, and tossed into a vacuum of space. And yet he keeps coming back to the same day, on the same bed, waking up to the same smell.

He ignores it, he wonders what he did to deserve this. Seeing you die over and over again is hell. That must be it, he's in hell, he doesn't believe in it, but after hearing your pained screams, and countless times he tried to revive you, he's starting to believe in it.

You jump out of the shower, running towards your stove, you don't notice him awake.

After seeing you alive and well, he's sure this isn't hell, because if it is you wouldn't be in it.

>81

He tries something new, he confronts your weird neighbor, he lets his anger get the best of him. Hobie dumps the bag of sugar on his head, letting it fall on him like snowflakes.

You still drown, he still gets killed by Goblin.

>104

He wakes up with anger boiling inside him. Why can't he save you? Why is he so slow? Why can't he figure out what's causing this time loop? He lashes out on you leaving you sobbing on your floor.

You die in his arms this time, thinking that he doesn't love you.

He curses himself, as he lets the uncontrollable fire consume him.

>141

He invents various gadgets made from scrap, to aid him in fighting. He wasted the entire day creating them.

Hobie uses them once, but he still fails. You still fall, he gets burned.

At least he gets to bring his hardwork in the next loop right?

>142

Hobie opens his eyes, his gadgets are nowhere to be found.

He curses his optimism.

>173

He has every villain's attack pattern memorized and predicted, he stares at Vulture's lifeless body on the pavement.

He finally beat one on the bridge.

Breathless he looks behind him, he stares at your wide eyes, your white lab coat is a stark comparison to the chaos around you.

He did it, now to get you home.

Hobie was just staring at you, in a split second, you're hanging from Goblin's hoverboard, the sharp end of it sticking out of your chest.

"NO!"

Goblin laughs as she throws numerous bombs at him, Hobie falls on the bridge, his right arm no more.

"I almost had it" he weakly says as the dark waters of the Thames engulf him.

>212

Hobie's falling apart at the seams.

>237

Hobie opens his eyes, his muscles feel like they're being torn away from his bones. His eyes grow heavier with every revival. His ears are still ringing from the bell's endless chiming.

He needs help, so he goes after you in the kitchen. "Hey" he says morosely.

"G'morning, grumpy-" you turn around, gasping at the sight. Taking in his slouched posture, sunken eyes, his signature smirk notably absent. He looks exhausted.

"Hobie?" You ask, as if you weren't sure it's really him. "What happened? Are you okay?" You slowly close the distance, careful not to startle him.

"Baby?" Grabbing his shoulders, he falls forward with a thud.

"I think-" he clings to you "I think I did something wrong"

Your heart breaks for him "could you tell me what it is?"

He pulls away "I'm stuck, I don't know what to do" he cups your face, for a second, he sees blood covering it, your once bright eyes turning white, then your face comes back to normal "Please, help me"

"Let's sit down, yeah?" You lead him towards your emerald couch. Was it always this colour? It reminds him of the smoke billowing from Goblin's bombs.

He puts on a brave face, "what I'm about to tell you sounds crazy, but please stay with me" and so he tells you everything, starting from the beginning to end.

He thought not telling you of your death might help you swallow it down better, so he doesn't, instead Hobie tells you that he keeps dying over and over again.

After rambling you look at him, emotion unreadable on your face.

"I believe you," you kiss his hollow cheeks "I believe you" you put your forehead against his, grounding him to reality.

"I'm so fucking sorry, it didn't work out, our plan" he murmurs.

"What? Hobie, how many times have you asked for my help?" You pull away, cringing at your tone, he might interpret it as anger.

"This is the thirteenth time"

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Every single time I've told you, you always believed me, not once you didn't. But I've never asked you, why do you always help me?"

"Because, I love you, Hobie Brown. You could tell me that whales could walk on land, or the sky is falling and I would believe you"

For Hobie the sky IS falling, every time he sees you die, his world ends, and he's powerless to stop it.

"I have every reason to help you, because I can't lose you"

That's a first from you. Hobie never thought of it that way. He was too focused on saving you that he forgot to save himself.

Hobie thinks of something he has never done before in a couple of hundred rotations.

"So, what if we don't do anything? We just stay here, doing nothing" Hobie asks.

"We've never done that before?"

"Never, it could work. Us staying out of danger" determination sparks in his eyes.

"Then let's do just that" you smile.

Hope sparks in Hobie's veins. It has to work.

So you don't do anything all day, you don't go to work, he doesn't do his patrol, Hobie doesn't open the door.

You do your usual things at home, eating together, cleaning the flat to pass the time, savoring each other's presence.

Hobie feels his soul slowly get stitched back together again. This could work.

Your alarm rings out, he glimpses at it 6:00pm

His heart thumps in his chest loudly, he's sure you could hear it too from where you're cuddling into him. You make a fist, before rubbing your knuckles over his chest, your way of calming him down.

You're both gonna make it to tomorrow, he's sure of it.

"I don't know how this could end, but I want you to know that I love you so fucking much. If we make it to tomorrow, know that I will continue loving you every day" he wipes a lone tear on your cheek. "If we keep reliving the same day over again, I will love you in every cycle"

You crane your neck to kiss him, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Your lips never reached his.

>238

Hobie opens his eyes, He lets out a guttural scream.

You rush out of the bathroom, concerned.

He tells you what's happening again.

You have the brilliant idea to leave, just leave the city till the sun rises the next day.

You borrow a car from a friend, grabbing a few necessities, you drive off.

Hobie watches you from the passenger seat, the sun bathes you in its light, giving you a halo of soft light around your head. He smiles tiredly, this could be it.

Once the two of you hit the outskirts of London, darkness wraps him in an embrace.

>239

Hobie opens his eyes.

They tried a train this time. Everything seems to be moving smoothly.

Until the train skids to a violent stop, derailing it. Bags and people start flying around. He tries to web them into place.

He grabs your body shielding you. The train lights shut off, bathing them in darkness while their bodies get thrashed around.

Hobie hears a harsh cracking sound.

The train finally stops, its emergency light turns on, he sees you in his arms bathed in the dim light. Why are your eyes closed?

Hobie feels something warm hit his hand, He lifts his hand away from the back of your head, gore covers his hand. Hot crimson seeps into his clothes.

Not again.

Why does he need to see this again?

Why?

Hobie weeps, as he cradles your body. He lifts his head towards nothing but at the same time looking at you.

"Why aren't you helping me?! Why are you just sitting there watching all of this-"

>240

Hobie opens his eyes. The blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.

>276

He hates that he's getting desensitized everytime you breathe your last.

But no matter how many times he changes some things, he will always try to save you.

Hobie's exhausted, he feels his mind get numb with every rotation.

He feels like he's watching himself, like a ghost haunting his own body.

>348

He's accepted it, after numerous times trying to get out, he accepts his fate.

Hobie convinces you to stay home and spend time with him, he doesn't tell you why, but by just looking at him, you know he needs you now more than ever. So you stay.

The rigmarole starts where he convinces you to remain home, Hobie keeps you close, you do the exact same things together until it's time for the reset.

>349

He does this over

>356

And over

>381

Again.

>391

He stares at your blue walls, was it always blue?

Your neighbour doesn't knock anymore.

>414

He notices things looking different, your once pristine oak table now looks old.

Your white lab coat is now a slight yellow.

Your kitchen ceiling is covered in soot.

What's happening?

>449

Hobie can't help but look back at you burning a hole on the side of his head with your stares.

"What is it, love?" His voice hoarse.

"You don't look too well Hobie, are you okay?" Concern fills your voice. He pretends this is the first time you've asked him that question.

"Of course I'm okay"

Liar.

"Shut up" He blurts out.

"It's just that you haven't smiled the entire day. I'm sorry, okay, I- I'll drop it" tears prick your eyes.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't- fuck" he rubs his tired face.

"Please tell me what's bothering you" you sniff.

You're met with silence.

"You know I love you right?" You rub his arm, comforting him.

Those three words wake him up. He remembers now, his promise to you. But it comes with a harsh realization.

"I don't think I can save you"

He tells you everything, your deaths, every violent end, every pain that could've been prevented.

Every single cycle.

You look at him, tears threatening to spill out. "You've spent a hundred lifetimes with me?"

"I'm sorry for being selfish" he hugs you tightly, your body shaking. You finally let the tears fall. "I'm so fucking sorry"

You spend a moment in his arms, contemplating your own end.

"Hobie," you reluctantly pull away, "promise me something, okay?" He nods "promise me you'll let go?"

"We-I can keep trying"

"No, you have to stop. You need to go on without me" you cup his face "Don't let me stop you from moving forward" you kiss every inch of his face to soften the blow.

"I don't think I can," his eyes shine with unshed tears.

"Yes, you can, eventually" a sob breaks out of you "eventually you will, just don't you dare ever forget that I love you so much it hurts"

You duck your head to meet his eyes "promise me in the next cycle, don't tell me anything, and you can't convince me to stay with you the entire day, okay?" You wipe his tears with your thumb "you let it happen, just like the first time"

Tears flow out of you freely. He guides you to meet his lips one last time, memorizing every second of it. "I promise. Wait for me, yeah?"

"I'll wait for you no matter how long it takes"

Your alarm rings out.

>450

Hobie's eyes open. He jumps out of bed, turning off the stove before smoke could billow out. Hobie prepares your omelette for you.

He watches you eat happily. Hobie takes a mental picture of the scene.

He lets it happen, no matter how much it hurts his soul, but he promised you, so he lets you go.

You fall.

He fights Goblin until she can't fight him anymore.

Hobie wins, but your life is forfeit. Did he even win when he can't even fulfill the promise he made hundreds of rotations ago?

He dives after your body, he knows you're already gone the second your head hits the water.

Hobie places you on the same riverbank like he has done a hundred times before.

Hobie rubs his knuckles over your heart, he says his final goodbye. "I'll see you when I get there"

He hears sirens coming towards the riverbank, you'll be okay.

He hears the familiar bell.

Hobie swings back home to your flat. His knees give out from under him. He falls on your bed with a thud, sleep hits his exhausted body.

—

Hobie opens his eyes, your telephone rings endlessly in the living room. No burning smell, no hint of strawberry in the air.

He looks at your clock- 11:00 the new date mocking him in red numbers.

Hobie did it, he broke free but now he has to live in a world where you don't exist anymore. Your promise echoes in his ears like a mantra.

A/n: I've hc'd that Hobie would definitely find out he's in a time loop by the second reset lol. Hope you liked it! Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*the picture above is from pinterest*

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happysadyoyo · 6 months

Text

Fuck artist statements let's have some time loop and dangerous Moon @pillowspace

(coming back to this two days later and I'm still using this to avoid editing my artist statement rip)

Uh let's see, there's death again. This time it's not so explicitly written out but it's also suicide-ish so.

You've learned the hard way that Moon is dangerous.

It's hard to explain, the disconnect you had before. Maybe it's because the first time you rarely saw him, the generators in the daycare keeping him away and you, the obedient, oblivious worker, keeping to your schedule until the very end.

You had thought that first time maybe you'd died from the smoke. You'd been rather dumb, in hindsight, racing towards the fire when you realized the pizzaplex was on fire, looking for the attendant. They're an animatronic, so they theoretically would be fine right? Maybe the fabric of their costume would burn, but how hot would a fire have to be to melt steel?

Sometimes, when you struggle to sleep, you find yourself wondering about the other loops. Did you leave these timelines and move onto a new one, like a snake shedding its skin? Were there other yous left lying on a cold metal table in a cold tiled room for your family to identify? Did it hurt to die and your mind was just preventing you from remembering?

They're not thoughts you like very much, as you would start to ache like your body was remembering the ways you died. Warm metal fingers curling around your throat.

You sleep with the hall light on now, when those thoughts come up.

Currently though, you stand at the edge of a pool of light left by a lone pendant swinging overhead. You can see the red LED dots of Moon's eyes as he crouches just out of sight, watching you, and your throat starts to hurt.

"Can't we talk?" you plead, but other than the soft jingle of bells, there's no reply. You continue anyway, willing yourself to see through the darkness. "You weren't like this when we met Moon." That first time, times, before something in him snaps. "What happens to you? What changes?"

"Quiet now." Moon's hand grabs at the tightly knitted texture of your sweater, pulling the thick wool loose as you jerk back in shock. Your eyes dart to the red dots in the distance. Oh, oh, oh no, you'd been watching some sort of motion sensor or whatever, not Moon.

Your throat hurts from an unvoiced scream. You grab at your sleeve, feeling the ruined wool. Moon lingers at the edge of the light, constantly moving, squatting so he's almost shorter than you, swaying. It's silly, how he moves, and it almost makes you smile.

"I don't want to be quiet Moon. I want to help you." You wish you could read the animatronics better, but Moon had even less expressiveness than his daytime counterpart, and when he was like this, you weren't sure there really was anything to read at all. "I'm starting to think maybe that's why I'm still here."

"Still here because you're a rulebreaker and need to go to sleep." You heard once that Moon used to play the villain at the theater. As he hisses out words that by any reasonable measure should not be hissable, you can see why. Worse though, is him returning into the darkness, quite literally rolling away in a backflip. You can't see him, and you ignore those red dots because that's not Moon dammit.

"I definitely need a nap," you agree, scanning the room, trying to make out where Moon's bells are. "But I don't think you'll actually put me to sleep." Pause. "Moon? The kids in those posters. A couple of them were at the daycare. What... what did you do to them?"

"They were naughty and had to be punished."

There's a creaking overhead and you look up in time to see the pendant swing widely before you jump out of the way, the metal and glass structure crashing to the ground as the light went out with a pop. You don't quite make the tuck and roll like you'd hoped, and you sit up slowly, nursing your ankle as you try to stand and immediately drop down again. A sprain, probably. But there was no way you could run right now.

You pat your pockets down instead, fumbling for your phone, a lighter, some source of light, but a hand grabs the back of your shirt and you're hoisted in the air, unable to wiggle free from both the speed and the clumps of hair trapped in Moon's grip. If you move your head, it feels like you're being scalped. You kick out in vain, dropping your phone to grab at Moon's arm. "Moon! Let go!"

"No." He shakes you, and that hurts as hair is ripped out and your head flops uselessly back and forth. You grab at his arm again as he begins to move, almost dancing through the air. You'd been nearish the atrium before, but now he's taking you deeper inside. "She says you need to be punished."

"She?" You stop struggling. This is new. "Who is she?" But Moon doesn't answer. His grip tightens against your back and you find yourself staring up at him.

Moon is harder to read than Sun, and definitely harder to read than the other, more expressive glamrocks. But even in the dark, you could swear that right now he's... sad? Resigned?

Maybe he didn't want to do this either. You look down. The fall is a good thirty, maybe forty feet. Okay. "I know you don't want to do this Moon," you say softly, and he doesn't look at you. "That's okay. I'll figure this out next time."

"Wha--"

You wiggle free of your sweater to fall, staring up at Moon as he stares down at you, immobilized in shock. That's the last thing you see before your back hits a bannister, and there's fireworks in your mind and then blackness.

The quiet screech of your phone's alarm wakes you from sleep. You're curled up like some sort of hibernating bear, twisted in the blankets piled on your bed. One hand finds your phone and silences it. You know where you're at and when. Your back and foot throb when you try to remember why. You remember talking to Moon.

There's a she involved now. Who is she? Maybe she was the key to solving the loops.

You don't remember falling, just not wanting to put Moon through anymore pain. Maybe this would be the loop to end it, to break all of you free. You sure hope so.

But for now, you're going to spend a few more minutes curled up and safe, just until you're ready to face the day.

#time loop au #okay I guess I'll actually do grad school work now #I did some light editing since I was working on this originally friday and the internet went out #i thought it got deleted entirely!

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metalhoops · 10 months

Text

Read Part 1 Here

As small and unassuming as Eddie’s trailer was to others, it had always been his fortress. It was the last stronghold against the forces of evil, and the bastion of all things metal and macabre. It wasn’t much, but it was undoubtedly his. When you grew up with little, you clung to what you had.

He’d come to Wayne’s at an age when the world had begun to haemorrhage magic, leaving a realm devoid of colour in its place. His uncle worked hard to stoke the flames of his creativity, buying or borrowing what he could to keep Eddie’s dreams of castles and kingdoms alive.

He’d spent a small lifetime buried in tomes of fantasy and mythology. He’d whiled away afternoons flicking through books that let him choose the story, always managing to die before finding the right ending. As a child whose mother died young, it was nice to live in a world where death could be undone.

Eddie managed to cling on to that last spark of childlike wonder into his early twenties. His childhood had been a landscape inhospitable for the companionships of knights and the trickery of wizards, yet he’d made it work. That kind of alchemy didn’t fade easily.

Yet, with Chrissy’s death tainting his memories of the trailer, he understood his fortress, his kingdom, was nothing but rubble and blighted soil. He was Frodo, returning to The Shire after the destruction of the ring. Eddie’s Undying Lands came in the form of a small bungalow on the edge of town, paid for with government hush money.

The place wasn’t much larger than the trailer, yet it felt vast in the late hours of the night when Wayne was working and Eddie was alone. They’d only been in the house a week. He still felt as though he were in hostile territory. He sat on his bedroom floor with the curtains half-drawn.

He’d spent the past half hour drawing them open before pulling them shut. If they were shut, the place looked deserted. People would be less likely to try to peer in, but he wouldn’t be able to see if someone or something was coming. If he left the curtains open, people would be able to see in. Eddie told himself he was being paranoid until he watched a pair of headlights flicker in the distance down the isolated road.

Eddie was quick to action, darting into the entrance as a knock sounded on the front door. He grabbed a box cutter from the pile of unpacked boxes and peeked through the keyhole. You could never be too cautious, not when half the town thought you were a murderer.

Standing in the doorway was Steve Harrington, the former king of their ever-changing kingdom, looking lost and worse for wear. His hair, a Harrington point of pride, as good to Steve as a crown to a king, was a sodden bird's nest perched atop his head. Though that wasn’t all. One of his arms hung naked at his side. Steve hadn’t managed to pull it through his polo, leaving half his skin exposed, the other half covered in poorly wrapped bandages.

They’d both been hurt by the hoard of bats, but Steve's injuries eclipsed Eddie’s. Something about that fact sat wrong with him. It was as though he’d stumbled upon a wrong ending. He wanted to turn back and find a story where Steve was safe. Eddie dropped his makeshift weapon and swung open the door.

“Steve? Christ man, you’ve seen better days,” Eddie spoke, ushering Steve inside, locking the door behind him.

“I’ve had worse.”

Steve, like Eddie, appeared changed from what’d happened to them. He hadn’t known how to explain it. Most of what he knew about Steve Harrington was mythology, a collection of stories which changed depending on the teller. Yet, all those close to him, far closer to him than Eddie, had agreed something about him had changed. This Steve was a broken bone set wrong. Something about him always appeared to ache.

Buckley had hauled up in the Harrington manor with him after they were released from hospital, helping tend to his wounds and wash his perfect hair. She’d confided in Eddie when he had come to check up on Steve that he was forgetting things.

Perhaps forgetting wasn’t the right word. Robin spoke five languages, yet she couldn’t find the term to describe what was going on with Steve. He seemed out of place, like a sour note in a once sweet melody.

Maybe it was one concussion too many, Robin had justified, which was a collection of stories shrouded in contention. How many concussions had Steve had? Nancy swore Jonathan hadn’t hurt Steve badly during their fight. He’d been able to run away, after all. Jonathan admitted he probably had.

The kids all agreed Steve was knocked out cold after his fight with Billy while Robin recounted what’d happened in Starcourt. She’d later confess Steve had other concussions before Jonathan, though wouldn’t elaborate on their origin. Some stories only hurt the teller. Eddie had learnt how to read negative space. Occam’s razor told them it was the easiest explanation, but to Robin and Eddie, it didn’t feel like the right one.

Steve talked about things that’d happened weeks ago as if they’d occurred to someone in another life. Then there was the way he looked and spoke to Eddie. Every time he’d show up at the Harrington’s front stoop, Steve would look at him as though he’d risen from the dead, shook off the grave dirt and stumbled back into his life.

He had the feeling Steve was always seconds away from telling him something important, but he too, didn’t seem to have the language to convey it. When they stood together in silence, as they did that night in Eddie’s new fortress, he felt as though he almost understood.

“What brings you to my humble abode, Harrington?” Eddie asked, trying to keep his eyes from Steve’s exposed side.

“Mostly pride,” Steve admitted with a humourless laugh, ushering to his side, inviting Eddie to look. He did.

“I told Rob to go home for the night and uh...” Steve cringed as he tried to lift his hand up to pull it through his sleeve. Eddie stepped closer without meaning to.

“Shit, hold still. Don’t rip your stitches again or Buckley’ll hand my ass to me on a silver platter,” Eddie grumbled. His hand twitched, wanting to touch. Steve took a step forward, inviting him to. Eddie hesitantly brushed his fingers over the gauze, examining the bandages.

“When did you last change these?”

“Two days ago,” Steve admitted, leaning against the wall, trying to keep his balance. Eddie cursed under his breath, grabbed Steve by the wrist, and guided him to the bathroom.

“You don’t have to change ‘em. They’re pretty gross,” Steve protested.

“Which is exactly why I have to change them,” Eddie argued as he help Steve slide onto the bathroom countertop beside the sink.

“I’ll get Robin to do it tomorrow. She didn’t throw up after dissecting a frog in junior bio.” Eddie groaned and scrubbed his face with his hand.

“Didn’t know that was public knowledge, great.”

“Not many people knew. I just... we were in biology together.” Eddie knew they weren’t.

He knew every class he’d had with Steve Harrington, much to his chagrin. They’d had gym, history, and Spanish together. Like shiny plastic to a crow or jewels to a dragon, Steve always managed to capture Eddie’s attention. He’d like to blame it on the fact he found Steve attractive, but there were a handful of other hot jocks who made Eddie want to shove his hand in a blender. Steve had always been different to him, though he’d managed to keep his affections close to his chest. It’d never do him any good.

Steve had a habit of rewriting their mythology. Eddie had noticed him doing it often as a way of explaining away little things he’d have no right knowing, by fabricating new pasts. That was a piece of Steve’s new persona, which was reserved only for Eddie.

He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. He liked Steve. Hell, the more the two got to know one another, the more Eddie thought he could love Steve, but their relationship felt like an empty hallway in a horror film. It was devoid of any real threat, but it felt as though something was lurking just out of view.

Eddie blamed his feelings of love for the strange gravity between them. Occam’s razor. He wanted to kiss Steve. He didn’t know what Steve wanted. That caused tension.

“Why did you come here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Stevie. The door’s always open,” Eddie said as he peeled back the bandage.

He felt Steve stiffen and moved one hand to rest on the boy’s thigh. Steve’s hand covered his, lacing their fingers together and surprising Eddie. He tried not to look too closely at the wound. He found their first-aid kit and got to work, squeezing Steve’s thigh each time he pulled the bandaged taught.

“I miss you,” Steve said, once more sounding seconds from another confession Eddie knew wouldn’t come.

“I haven’t gone anywhere, dude. I saw you yesterday.”

Steve muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like,

‘I used to see you every day.’

Another past that’d never happened. A reinvention. To make matters worse, Eddie wanted to believe in that past. He wanted Steve to tell him their story, the one that lived only inside his head. Eddie would follow it. He’d do anything to stop the boy from looking so lost.

“Can I do something weird?” Steve asked, and all Eddie could do was nod.

Steve hooked his arm around Eddie’s neck, pulled the boy into the space between his dangling legs, and buried his face in Eddie’s hair. Steve’s hands balled into tight fists in Eddie’s shirt fabric, holding him so close he felt his bones creak like wooden floorboards underfoot.

“You don’t have to miss me, sweetheart. I’m right here,” Eddie assured, feeling the need to do something, say something to make everything better. Steve’s grip tightened.

“Do you ever feel like we’ve been here before?” Steve spoke, his voice muffled by Eddie’s skin.

He knew the answer Steve wanted. He couldn’t in good conscience give it to him.

“No,” Eddie confessed.

“But I wish we had.”

Steve pulled back so the two could get a better look at one another. Unable to help himself, Eddie leaned forward, trying to smooth down his hair.

“When you were seven, you scraped your knee so badly you walked with a limp for half a year and ever since you’ve hated the sight of blood,” Steve spoke, not daring to look at Eddie.

He felt his whole body go stiff. His hand in Steve’s hair froze. He was right, but Eddie couldn’t understand how he knew. He’d moved to Hawkins when he was twelve. His life before that was a mystery to the town.

“How?” Eddie began, but Steve wasn’t finished.

“You do that thing when you’re nervous. Yes, that thing you’re doing with your hair,” Steve observed. Eddie had taken a string of hair between his thumb and forefinger and half hidden behind it.

“And when you’re flirting,” Steve amended. Eddie’s brows drew together.

“Which you do with me, a lot. Took me forever to work out that’s what you were doing but give me enough time and a good enough thump to the head and I’ll realise it, eventually.”

Steve knew Eddie liked him. Shit.

“Took me even longer to realise I liked you too, but everything’s kind of screwed now, isn’t it?” Steve asked, his humourless, dry laugh coming back.

“Because every time I’m with you, I miss you. And I know that makes no goddamn sense, but I do.”

Eddie tried to unpick what Steve’s words meant, but he kept coming up short. Steve liked him. That much Eddie gathered. It was enough to send his stomach plummeting into his boots.

“Tell me what you’ve gotta tell me, Steve. I’m a big boy. I can handle it. Get some of that damn weight off your shoulders,” Eddie mumbled, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder and rubbing circles into the spot as though to prove a point. Instead, Steve looked at him with a crooked grin and uttered,

“Like Atlas, right?” He hadn’t picked Steve as a mythology geek. Eddie felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as though he were seconds away from putting it all together.

“We’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?”

“Not exactly, but almost.”

“Then why the hell don’t I remember it?” Eddie questioned, his voice growing strained.

“I don’t know. You never do. It doesn’t matter, it’s over.”

“What’s over Steve?”

“I’d ask you if you really want to know, but the answer is always yes,” He grumbled, nudging his face against Eddie’s hand.

Steve took a deep breath and told Eddie everything. He spoke about Eddie’s death, about being stuck in the same day for hundreds of repetitions. He told stories of Eddie’s death while brushing over similar terrors. Eddie knew he was getting a sanitised version of the tale, but still, he understood why the boy was haunted. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he were in Steve’s place.

Stories, where death could be undone with a simple flick of the page and another binary decision, were easy. In practice, with hundreds of little choices and thousands of ways things could go wrong, it seemed more akin to a nightmare.

“When you said you missed me,” Eddie breathed after a moment.

“Which version of me do you miss?” Steve’s brows pinched together, looking as though he’d been asking himself the same question.

“I don’t know. I think, shit. I think I miss a version of you that never existed. If that makes sense. I miss what I thought we could’ve been when everything was over. You’re alive. I’m alive. It was supposed to be easy after that.”

Eddie gave the boy a sad smile and nodded. To Steve, trapped in a never-ending cycle, Eddie had been his kingdom. He’d been a land to defend and a safe haven to return to. Yet, he’d wanted himself to be the same wide-eyed hero who’d left the empire, not the jaded veteran who’d returned home from war. They could never be the uncomplicated love story Steve had told himself to get through the days, but that didn’t have to mean things were ruined.

“Hey, Stevie? What’s your favourite movie?” Eddie spoke, causing Steve to really look at him for the first time since they’d started speaking of other timelines and death.

“Star Wars... The one with the teddy bears. Why?” Eddie got a goofy grin on his face, wondering how the hell someone who’d had the reputation Steve once had could love something as nerdy as Star Wars.

“You know a damn lot about me. Time we even the goddamn playing field.” Steve nodded and gnawed on his bottom lip. His eyes trailed down to Eddie’s lips. He didn’t have to know Steve well to know what he was getting at.

“Can I kiss you?” He questioned, his hand already tangling in Eddie’s hair.

His thumb ghosted over the space between his ear and jaw that always made his breath hitch. Steve knew how Eddie liked to be touched. That was a new revelation.

“We’ve kissed before, haven’t we?” Eddie questioned, Steve’s breath hot against his face.

“I haven’t kissed this version of you before,” Steve supplied with a smug grin.

“No fucking fair. You have the hometown advantage,” Eddie reasoned, and Steve let out a shocked laugh, a real one this time.

“You’ve never made a sports reference before.”

“So they’re surprises in me yet,” Eddie beamed, sick of the anticipation, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

The kiss was long and desperate. Steve clung to him, kissing him breathlessly, making Eddie weak at the knees. They had to pause when Steve let out a sharp inhale as Eddie accidentally grabbed his still-healing side. He muttered a slew of apologies, peppering Steve’s neck and jaw with kisses. He hadn’t shaved in days and Eddie felt a good kind of ache from the scrape of stubble against his jaw.

When they finally pulled apart, the two looked decidedly more dishevelled. Eddie caught his breath and whispered,

“You know, I’ve got Return of the Jedi on tape in a box someplace. You could stay over and we could... I don’t know, re-get to know each other,” Eddie proposed.

“I like the sound of that.”

#steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #time loop au #stranger things #fic #ficlet #multipost fic #drabble #a #again based on a post by #@theamazingbard #back by popular demand #metalhoops writes

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