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#and the leather jacket i am so so ill

clockwayswrites · 17 days

Text

Danny is a minx and I am not responsible for him.

Okay, so, you all voted and I, um, failed? We didn't get to cuddling. There should be cuddling coming? Idk, darlings, this was my third start on this and Danny took over. I've got no say in this anymore. Canon-typical violence, crude language, cross dressing, discussions of prostitution

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“You think you can fucking play us like that?!”

The shout carried easily through the crisp fall air. Red Hood sighed and changed direction away from his safe house and towards the noise.

“—fuck you up for that! Give us our fucking money back!”

“Fuck you,” snapped back a voice that Jason had come to recognize over the last several months. Right then the words dripped in fake, but damn convincing, heavy Crime Alley drawl, but Jason knew it all the same. “If yous don’t got it, don’t bet it. If yous don’t got game, don’t play it.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think a little girl like you gets to say how this goes,” a third voice growled.

Hood clung to the edge of the roof just long enough to drop silently into the alleyway next to the dive bar. From the quick glance sent his way he was only noticed by the damn minx, so he leaned casually back against the grimy brick wall and unholstered his gun.

“Right? Yeah! Yeah, bitch! You don’t get to say how this goes!” the first voice shouted again. The guy’s shoulders were squared up as if he was some sort of threat in his overpriced, knock off bomber jacket and ill fitting jeans.

It almost made Jason want to sigh.

Actually, fuck it, Jason gave in and sighed loudly, knowing how it sounded through the modulation of his helmet. Bomber Jacket and his buddy, I Swear This is Real Italian Leather, spun around and then cowered so quick Jason swore they gave themselves whiplash.

“So,” Jason said with every ounce of disinterest he could put in his tone, “how does this go? Because right now, I’m thinking that it’s you two who are gonna be going before I put bullets between your eyes.”

“Right, um, yes Red Hood,” Bomber Jacket cowered and grabbed desperately at his friend’s pleather jacket to pull them out of there.

“And gentleman,” Jason said, making them freeze in their steps, “next time you lose your money to a pretty lady, you leave her the fuck alone about it.”

They nodded frantically as they backed the rest of the way out of alley and then took of running.

“I think you made one of ‘em piss himself,” the minx said, looking from the alley way to Jason with those striking aqua eyes.

Jason just shrugged and holstered his gun. “Probably.”

The short, tight skirt clung to the minx’s legs, pulling up enough with the sashaying steps that Jason had to wonder how everything stayed hidden. He kept still as fingers tipped in bright pink nails walked their way up his chest to the red bat. Aqua peered up from below thick, dark lashes. “And did I hear right? You think I’m a pretty lady?”

“Hair is nice like this,” Jason said brushing a gloved finger through the black strands that just brushed the edges of the chin. “But surprised your cock isn’t hanging out of that skirt with how short it is.”

Danny let out a started laugh, resting his forehead against Jason’s chest for a moment before he patted it and backed up to a more respectable distance.

“Duct tape and body shapers works miracles.” The fake Gotham accent was gone and replaced with the faint Midwestern drawl that Danny only seemed to let out around Red Hood. “And don’t make that face, the duct tape is outside of the panties.”

“You can’t see my face,” Jason pointed out, a bit grumpily because he had been grimacing at the thought.

“I was still right though,” Danny said with a smug little smiling pulling on his cherry red lips. It was a good color on him. He leaned back against the wall and spread his legs in a way that Jason couldn’t help but follow with this gaze. “Everything is fine down there, Boss, just a little squished. Offer’s still on the table if you want to check out the good. No charge for my darlin’ knight.”

Jason snorted at the continued offer from Danny; it was practically as good as ‘bye’ between them at this point since Danny seemed to offer it every time. “I’m not going to be one of your Johns, Danny.”

“Told you no charge. Could just be two people who like sex,” he offered with a little shrug, but pushed himself off the wall to leave. No, Danny pushed himself up off the wall with a wince.

Jason was at his side in an instant. “One of those fuckers get you?”

“No, so no hunting them down,” Danny said. His voice was confident, but the way he actually leaned on Jason’s offered arm was worrying. “Just a bad John— ex John. That’s why I’m sharking pool instead of working the corner.”

As if Danny had to work an actual corner anymore. He appealed to a very specific type of client that could pay to have something pretty and convincing on their arm and still get what they wanted between the legs and in the sheets.

“You taking anything for it?” Jason asked.

Danny just shrugged. “Nah, Boss, nothing over the counter works on me really.”

“Clinic?”

Danny snorted. “As if. They can test for STDs and that’s about as much as I want a clinic near me.”

Jason resisted the urge to cuss at Danny. He got it. After all, he only trusted Leslie or Alfred really— or a family member in a pinch.

Maybe he could just bluster Danny into getting some help. “Right, come on.”

“What?” Danny asked, digging his heels (and fuck those were some heels) into the ground.

Not willing to put with that right then, Jason just swung his arm under Danny’s legs and scooped him up like he was nothing. Fuck the Johns really had to be able to throw Danny around if they wanted that sort of thing.

“Boss, Hood, what the fuck?!” Danny hissed.

“Safe fucking house is what the fuck so I can check you over.”

“Boss, if you wanted in the skirt—”

“Danny, shut the fuck up and let me make sure you’re alright, alright?” Jason asked, looking down at him.

Danny stared back with a frown. Then his sighed, like it was the biggest concession in the world to make. Finally he rested his head against Jason’s chest. “Fine, Boss, whatever you say.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, more gently than he meant to.

Jason had to suck in several careful breaths as he took in the wound splashed across Danny’s ribs. “No fucking John did that to you and if they did—” if they took some sort of hot poker to Danny’s side— “I’ll kill them if they did.”

#tbcontinued #dp x dc #dead on main #minx

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dungeonpuppykai · 1 month

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Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly.

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed.

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you.

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view.

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head.

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?"

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…"

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure.

"Please–!"

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face.

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare.

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so.

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run.

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled.

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size?

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable.

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth.

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly.

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs.

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air.

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table.

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper.

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over.

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either.

Just what the hell is going on?

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last.

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly.

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!"

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves.

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen.

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second.

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you.

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it.

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room.

. . .

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket.

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search.

For you.

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief.

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage.

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them.

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you.

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were.

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants.

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head.

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction.

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end.

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor.

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you.

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?"

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words.

Fuck.

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes.

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition."

"C- Condition, s- sir?"

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form.

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge.

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead.

"Sir–"

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety.

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue.

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock.

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling.

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now.

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next.

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!"

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to.

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle.

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact.

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration.

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while.

Then he told you that it would feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good.

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach.

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot.

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now."

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders.

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on.

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy.

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it.

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body.

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo.

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably.

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected.

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well.

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together.

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much?

That was, until one day…

. . .

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you.

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…"

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately.

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked.

But you were too little to know those things.

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house.

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need.

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior.

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes.

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat.

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake.

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place.

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky smut #dark bucky x you #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes

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bucksangel · 1 month

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okay you’re straight up ATTACKING ME!!!! It’s been two days and i’m still losing my mind (which is the natural response to seeing sebastian) this will be quick but it’s giving me soooo many ideas😫😫

pairing: alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

word count: 870

warnings: 18+ minors dni, mention of oral (f receiving), alpha!bucky being a complete menace, kinda dom/in charge!reader??, that’s it i think

It’s hard, so fucking hard trying to ignore him. It helps that you’re standing with your back to him, but you can feel his gaze - glare more like. He’s been like this ever since you woke up this morning: pouting when you refuse to kiss him, whining when you wiggle out of his hold every time he manages to wrap his arms around you, he even shuffled to the couch and flopped onto it with a dramatic huff when you slapped his hand away when he tried holding yours.

Bucky Barnes is a baby, but you’re too stubborn to give in to his wishes.

“Come on, darling,” He whines from the couch, and the low rumble he lets out soon after makes you want to give up the act, makes you want to sink to your knees and crawl to him, forgiving him for the earlier incident. “I said I was sorry, don’t you wanna come let your Alpha apologize properly? I’ll get on my knees -”

You cut him off by throwing a nearby pillow towards him, glancing over your shoulder for a brief moment to see that he’s now sitting up, resting one hand on his thigh with his other arm thrown over the top of the couch. It takes all your might to force yourself to look away and focus back on making your tea, but you do it anyway.

It lasts not even five seconds, because then Bucky pulls out the big stops, lowering his voice as he says, “Omega… Come on.”

With a huff, you turn on your heels, placing your hands on your hips and glaring at the man you’ve called yours for over two years. His pout is gone, replaced with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as he waits for the inevitable.

“No,” You say harshly, but your heart’s not in it. You want to forgive him so badly, but he needs to learn his lesson. “You threw away all of my underwear! What am I supposed to wear when I go out now?”

“First of all, I didn’t throw all of them away. I left you a couple of thongs and those sets I love so much.” Bucky’s musky Alpha scent is slowly filling the room, the sheer dominance he radiates is clear to anyone who comes in contact with him but it’s more prevalent now with his leather jacket hugging his biceps. “Plus, we hardly leave the house anyway. And you know very well how I feel about you wearin’ panties around here.”

It’s true, you do know. In the beginning of you two living together, you quickly learned it’s best to not wear pants. You don’t like wearing them in the comfort of your own home anyway - something Bucky is extremely appreciative of. But especially panties, they merely get in the way of his desire to fill you up at any chance he gets. And it’s not like you’re complaining, oh god no. The day you’re not ready to take Bucky’s cock at any given moment will be the day you die.

It’s just… You liked the pairs you had, and they were expensive. So for Bucky to just throw them away - even if you know he didn’t mean any actual ill-will by it - kind of irks you.

Though not nearly as much as the infuriatingly smug grin on his face as you falter, he knows you’re going to cave, you always do. You’re weak for him, always have been, and always will be.

It’s just good that he’s the same way. He’d jump fifty feet in the air if you asked him to, he’d go out at one in the morning and get you food if you even suggested you were hungry, and he’s proved time and time again that he’s worthy of being your Alpha.

But right now, all you want to do is continue to gripe and make him buy you more. But then an even better idea pops up, and it’s your turn to smile deviously.

“You’re right,” You start, crossing your arms over your chest and slowly walking towards him. “You and I both know how you feel about my panties, and I guess you did leave me the good ones. But a verbal apology isn't going to be good enough.”

“Ome-“

“No.” Your harsh tone shuts him up, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You’ve already ripped up quite a few because you’re too impatient to actually take them off. But throwing them away is too far.” Stopping about a foot in front of him, you have to will yourself not to laugh at the shock on his face.

“Your ‘apology’ will be me sitting on your face until you give me as many orgasms as the underwear you tossed out, okay?”

At that, Bucky straightens up one of his eyebrows raising as he leans forward with his forearms resting on his knees. “Omega, you have no idea how okay with that I am.” With that, Bucky shoots up, wrapping you in his arms and literally sweeping you off your feet as he carries you toward the bedroom.

It’s going to be a long day, and it’s a good thing you don’t have anything planned.

#biteofcherry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #bucky barnes drabble #alpha!bucky #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns drabble #my writing #my drabbles #˚ʚ friends ɞ˚#𖥔 ๋ .•⋆. love letters .⋆•. ๋𖥔

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Text

contains adult themes such as sex and sexuality, drug use, violence/assault, and misogyny; other things to be prepared for include complete irrelevance to the canon of stranger things, 17-year-old jason is trying to bang 15-year-old elle which makes me wanna peel my face off (but it's accurate to the film), reader is adopted and has some issues with her bio parents, mileven and lumax with background robin/vickie, and dad!hopper being MVP as per usual

note: significant sections of dialogue were lifted directly from the film, because why mess with perfection? I still took liberties with it, but for some of those really iconic scenes, please know that I'm not the reason those lines are so hilarious. credit for the scenes I transcribed go to Karen McCullah & Kirsten Smith, the screenwriters of 10 Things I Hate About You, who of course themselves based the work on The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare.

length: 20k words

for @get-your-fics midsummer night's writing challenge!! thank you for hosting rosie!

As his hand slid up her creamy white thighs, she could feel his huge member pulsating with desire…

Mike was looking down at his hands, interlaced in his lap, until Ms. Kelley shut her laptop. She smiled at him politely, and he smiled back. “So!” she began, checking his file again. “Michael—”

“Just Mike,” he nodded.

“Right. Well, we’re glad to have you at Hawkins High— it shouldn’t be too different from your last high school! You were well-behaved your freshman year, correct?”

“Uh, mostly… one or two tardies, that’s it,” he assured.

“Great! That means if you see me again, something’s gone horribly wrong.”

“Huh?”

“This is where kids with behavior problems get sent. Deviants, misfits, sluts, weirdos, creeps— they all have to come in and chat with me to get their shit straightened out.”

“Their what?” Mike repeated. “Are you— am I in the right office?”

“Not anymore, my novel isn’t gonna finish itself,” she announced. “So scoot.”

He didn’t, at first, too stunned.

“Scoot!”

He jumped up, trying to process what conversation just occurred, only to bump into someone as he backed out of the doorway. “Watch it!” a firm voice warned him, and he spun to look up in ill-suppressed terror at the guy he’d just collided with.

Mike was too intimidated to even choke out an apology; it’s hard to say where to start with what scared him most. Maybe the chains, maybe the leather jacket and denim vest, maybe the glare? Yeah, it was definitely the glare— that was what made Mike cower and dart away before it could get any worse.

“Ah, Mister Munson!” Ms. Kelley greeted with faux sweetness. “I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual.”

As her smile fell, Eddie’s grew. “Only so we can have these moments together,” he cooed, taking another step inside. “Should I hit the lights?”

“Oh, very clever, trailer park boy,” she offered flatly as she examined the incident report already in his file. “Apparently you exposed yourself in the cafeteria?”

“I was just joking around with my bandmates,” he promised. “It was a bratwurst.”

“Bratwurst,” she repeated, raising an eyebrow and glancing down— ostensibly at his handcuff belt buckle. “Aren’t we the optimist?”

A hint of Eddie’s resolve faded as she tilted her head and smiled at him cheerily again.

“Next time, keep your dangler in your Wranglers, mkay?” she suggested, chipper yet hollow.

Eddie shook his head as he left, leaving Ms. Kelley to return to her desk and re-open her computer. Examining her screen, she erased one word and replaced it.

…she could feel his huge bratwurst pulsating with desire…

“Hey! Mike, right?”

Mike turned, seeing another sophomore standing in front of him with a high top on his head and hightops on his feet. “Yeah!” Mike answered.

“I’m Lucas,” the other student offered with an extended hand for a shake.

Mike sighed with relief as he returned the handshake energetically, noticing Lucas’ basketball uniform. “You know, normally they send down one of those audio/video geeks.”

Lucas nodded; “Yeah, I know— I know what you mean.”

Right on cue, Dustin Henderson rolled by with the A/V cart. “Hey, Lucas,” Dustin nodded, “where should I put the radio equipment?”

Lucas coughed and brushed Dustin away. “Lucas?” he shook his head, pretending he had no idea who that could be, as he ditched a bewildered Dustin and guided Mike along down the hall.

As they walked past a crowd of popular seniors, Lucas motioned towards them.

“So, over here, you’ve got your basic beautiful people,” he explained, “unless they talk to you first, don’t talk to them.”

“Is that your rule or theirs?”

“Watch,” Lucas offered, nodding in their direction. “Hey there,” he greeted.

“Who are you talking to?” Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington asked with a sneer.

“See?” Lucas smiled at Mike, who shook his head as they moved along. “Anyways, you’ve got your Diet Coke drinkers,” he explained as he motioned toward a crowd of students all holding red cans. “Very edgy, don’t make any sudden movements around them.”

Mike nodded in understanding, trying to keep up— literally, since Lucas kept walking quickly, but also in terms of the explanation of Hawkins High’s social dynamics.

“You’ve got your basic stoners—”

A senior with long black hair and bloodshot eyes caught Mike’s attention. “Hey, nice threads, man,” the stoner complimented with a smile, “Ocean Pacific?”

“And your surfers—”

Mike gawked at the muscular, tan guy with a blonde mullet and, for some reason, no shirt on. “Does he walk around like that at school?” he wondered aloud, but Lucas didn’t notice.

“— even though the closest they’ve been to the ocean is when they drink Ocean Spray cranberry juice.”

As Lucas laughed at his own joke, they walked through the courtyard.

“And this is our fearless Hawkins High basketball team!” Lucas explained, setting his hands on one of the player’s shoulders as they passed their lunch table. “Go Tigers, huh?”

The players scowled at him as Lucas’ hand was shrugged off; he crossed his arms.

“Yesterday I was their up-and-coming star,” Lucas recalled with a roll of his eyes.

“What happened?” Mike asked.

“Patrick McKinney started a rumor that my Converse were fake,” Lucas explained with a sigh.

“So they’re freezing you out?” Mike realized, offended on his behalf and concerned that everyone here was that superficial.

“I’ll get back in, don’t worry,” Lucas assured, but Mike wasn’t really worried about him so much as himself.

It was right then that Elle Hopper walked by, carrying with her the essence of youthful beauty and ingenue-ity. Her busy patterned jumpsuit was every bit as colorful as her spirit; she laughed lightly with the redhead at her side, a few words of a conversation about a trip to the mall floating through the air.

As time seemed to slow just for her, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending a wave of the scent of candy-sweet perfume right in Mike’s direction.

“Oh— wow,” Mike sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Who’s she?”

“She’s out of your league is who she is,” Lucas warned.

“And?”

“And she’s got this super scary dad— won’t let her or her sister date. Ever,” Lucas announced firmly.

“How bad could he be, is he a hardened criminal or something?”

“Worse,” Lucas shook his head, “he’s the sheriff.”

“That’s worse?” Mike frowned.

“A criminal will just kill you. The sheriff will actually get away with it.”

“So,” Ms. O’Donnell began, “what did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?”

Bethany Walters raised her hand instantly, and you rolled your eyes— because of course she would. “I loved it,” she cooed when she was called on. “I was soooo romantic!”

You grimaced, unable to stop yourself from commenting (a habit of yours). “Romantic? Hemingway?! Please— he was an abusive alcoholic misogynist—”

The rest of the class was already groaning and rolling their eyes, a few mutters of not this again here and there, but you kept going.

“— who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Yes, it was just like you to say something like that when Bethany was just trying to express a perfectly harmless opinion, but it was just like Jason to take it further. “As opposed to an unlikeable, self-righteous loser with no friends?” he quipped.

You weren’t planning on saying anything, but thankfully Ms. O’Donnell stood up for you anyway. “Quiet, Jason,” she scolded lightly— she was never that hard on him, because he was the star of the basketball team, but she also didn’t let him bully you that openly in class.

“I guess in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time,” you concluded, shooting Jason a look over your shoulder, who simply smirked back at you.

And if it was just like you to say something snarky and politically-charged, and just like Jason to use it to insult you, then it was just like Eddie to show up late as if it were no trouble at all. “What did I miss?” he asked with a smile as he burst in.

You answered instantly, without looking back: “The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

“Great,” Eddie nodded, spinning on his heel and walking right back out again.

“W-wait!” Ms. O’Donnell called out, but Jason spoke again and took her attention away.

“How about we make a new rule— don��t come to class if you can’t handle your PMS,” he suggested jokingly.

“Jason!” she snapped. “Watch your attitude.”

You smirked to yourself smugly, but that moment of righteous indignation didn’t last long.

“And you,” she added, turning her attention to you, “go to the office.”

“What? Why?!” you protested.

“Because— because you’re being disruptive!” she decided.

Sighing, you got up from your seat and slung your backpack over your shoulder. As Jason snickered at you gleefully, you ‘accidentally’ let your textbook swing into his face, smacking that shit-eating look right off of him.

It was only a minute-or-so walk to the office, where you heard Ms. Kelley calling out to her assistant as you walked in.

“What’s another word for engorged?” she asked her, stumping the receptionist.

“Tumescent?” you offered.

“Great!” she smiled, typing at her laptop; you had some inkling what she was using that word for, though you wish you were blissfully ignorant to her erotic exploits. “So, were you terrorizing Ms. O’Donnell’s class again?”

You frowned. “Terrorism is a pretty strong word for simply expressing my opinion.”

“How about the way you expressed your opinion to Billy Hargrove? By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, if you were wondering.”

“In my defense,” you smirked, “I didn’t know he actually had balls when I kicked him.”

“The point is,” he sighed, less amused, “you tend to make a bad impression on others, and that’s not actually something to be proud of. People see you as—”

“Opinionated?”

“The term used most often is ‘heinous bitch’,” she corrected.

The words themselves didn’t bother you too much— yes, they were sexist, but that was nothing new here— but the knowledge that people were actually saying this to Ms. Kelley gave you pause. Were you really so traumatizing that they had to discuss you with the counselor?

“So, you might want to work on that,” she offered. “Bye!”

You scoffed. “As always,” you began as you stood, “thank you for your excellent guidance. I’ll let you get back to writing about aching cores and quivering members.”

As you turned, quietly proud of yourself for standing up to her, you heard her ponder to herself, “huh… quivering member, I like that…”

In the parking lot, you and Robin were walking side-by-side to your car (since she’d gotten a ride from you today, and also every other day for the past year and a half) when you were nearly run over by Jason screeching up to the curb in his car; it was just like him: shiny and new, overvalued, a fabulous body with subpar machinery under the hood.

“Hey,” he nodded at you, flashing that taunting grin, “didn’t anyone ever tell you that you dress like a bog witch?”

“Aw, do you really mean that?” you beamed excitedly, and he frowned at his failed insult as he pulled his car up a little further. If only he would’ve kept driving straight forward forever— he would’ve gone over the edge of the quarry eventually; but instead, he stopped… in front of your sister.

“Hi, ladies,” he greeted suavely, “care for a ride?”

You and Robin watched from beside your car— it was just like you, too: classic, older on the inside than it was on the outside, and debatably in need of a polish— in horror as Elle and Max hopped into the back of Jason’s convertible with all the girlish glee of two ingenues in over their head.

“Well, that’s a… charming new development,” Robin frowned.

“It’s disgusting,” you spat, hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the engine over. As you pulled out of your spot, you nearly slammed into one of those varsity basketball dweebs speeding by on his bike. “Hey!” you shouted at him, leaning out your window. “Didn’t your mommy tell you to look both ways before riding that thing in the street?”

The kid cowered and biked away, and you shook your head as you pulled it back into the car.

“I swear, these kids are getting dumber every year,” you sighed. “I think there’s a little too much chlorine in the Hawkins gene pool.”

As Lucas pulled over by the curb by Mike, the new student stared at you and Robin driving away in the beat-up vintage. “Are you okay? She almost hit you,” Mike noticed.

“Oh, that’s nothing with your beloved’s older sister,” Lucas scoffed. “I’m lucky I still have all my parts.”

“Wait, that’s Elle’s sister?!” Mike realized.

“Uh huh, in the legal sense,” Lucas agreed. “Sheriff Hopper adopted them both when they were little— I assume he found his first daughter abandoned by a tribe of rampaging bitches or something.”

That was just one of many theories about how exactly your dad came to adopt you and your sister, though the real story was much less interesting; speaking of him, he usually got home from the station after you returned from school, with him working later in the afternoons and all. When he returned home that particular day, he found you reading Jane Eyre on the sofa, and he smiled at you.

“Hello, honey,” he greeted. “Make anyone cry today?”

“Not yet,” you returned, “but it’s only four-thirty!”

He hummed and leaned in to kiss you on the forehead as you turned your page. Right about then, Elle walked through the door— and you knew that she thought she would’ve just made it in time to beat Dad home by the cringe that crossed her face when she saw him. “Hi Daddy!” she beamed, trying to play it cool.

“And where have you been?” you asked, getting a grimace from her for your shameless sell-out.

“Nowhere,” she dodged.

But Dad missed the exchange entirely, still going through the mail. “What’s this?” he asked when he saw a massive white envelope. “It says Sarah Lawrence?”

You hopped up off the couch at lightning speed, snatching the letter away and shredding it open like a kid on Christmas— but not you, some other generic kid, because even when you were little you liked to open presents carefully (it helped you temper your expectations). “Oh my god!” you shrieked when you saw a massive congratulations. “I got in! I got in!!”

“Honey, that’s great,” your dad offered, “you can use that to negotiate better scholarships at Indiana State!”

You frowned. “I know you want me to stay here—”

“We decided that you would stay here,” he countered.

“You decided.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna leave?” he realized with a saddened frown.

“We can dream,” Elle mumbled to herself— but not quite enough to herself, because you caught it and you raised your eyebrows in challenge.

“Why don’t you ask Elle who drove her home?”

“Don’t change the…” Dad trailed off, turning to Elle as he took the bait completely. “Who drove you home?”

“N-now, don’t get upset, Daddy,” she pouted, “but… there’s this boy—”

“Who’s about as sharp as a marble,” you interjected.

“And I think he might ask me—” Elle continued, but this time your dad interrupted her.

“I think I know what he’s going to ask you. And I think I know the answer: No!” he announced proudly. “It’s always no! You know the house rules: one, no dating until you graduate. Two, no dating until you graduate! Pretty simple stuff!”

“Daddyyyy,” Elle whined, making you roll your eyes at her. “It’s so unfair!”

“You know what’s unfair?” he returned, looking at you too. “Last week I had to drive a girl to the hospital, she went into labor alone in her car on the side of the road— and she’s fifteen. You know what she said to me in between bouts of screaming in my backseat?”

“I’m a crackwhore who should have made my sleazy boyfriend wear a condom?” Elle assumed.

“No,” Dad frowned, “she said I should have listened to my father.”

“Oh, she did not,” Elle scoffed disbelievingly.

“Okay, no, she didn’t— but she was probably thinking it!” he insisted.

“Can we focus on me for a second please?” Elle pouted. Like everything isn’t already focused on you, you thought to yourself. “I’m the only girl in school who’s not dating.”

“No you’re not— your sister doesn’t date,” your dad reminded her.

You chimed in quickly: “And I don’t intend to.”

“And, why is that again?” he asked you with a pleased smile.

“Have you seen the unwashed champions of idiocracy that go to that school?!” you replied.

“God, where did you come from? Planet Loser?” Elle spat.

“As opposed to Planet ‘Look at me! Look at me!’” you offered in your best passé, vapid voice with your eyes rolled back halfway.

“Okay, here’s a solution,” Dad decided suddenly, making you both perk up. “Old rule’s stricken, new rule: Elle, you can date—”

She lit up immediately.

“When she does,” he finished, pointing at you.

“B-but, she’s a total freak! What if she never dates?!” Elle whimpered.

“Then you’ll never date! Oh, I like that,” he announced proudly. “And I’ll get to sleep at night— the deep slumber of a father whose daughters aren’t out being impregnated.”

His police radio went off and he sighed.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” he decided, directing his attention at you specifically for a moment: “We’ll talk about college later.”

Elle tried to get him to stay with a whine, but he was gone, and she was pissed at you once more. “Can’t you find some loser sad enough to wanna go out with you so I can be normal?” she pouted.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “guess you’ll miss out on some fabulously witty banter with Jason.”

“You suck!” she exclaimed as she stormed off.

“You suck!” you imitated her quietly before you went to your own room.

Mike’s patient, anxious waiting paid off when Elle sat down at the library table, setting down her books with a sigh.

“Can we make this quick?” she asked, sounding a little exhausted already. “Tammy Thompson and Tommy Hagan are having a horrendous, public break-up in the courtyard. Again.”

“O-oh, yeah, okay,” Mike agreed, still a little stunned that he was sitting across from the object of his affection. “I thought we’d start with pronunciation…”

“That’s the worst part,” Elle pouted, “I feel like I’m trying to cough up a loogie.”

“Well, then how about we start with cuisine?” he suggested, heart racing even though he’d practiced this a thousand times in the mirror at home. “We could go to that French place on the square, maybe Saturday night?”

“You’re asking me out?” Elle realized, gentle shock lifting into a wide smile. “That’s so cute!”

Mike’s eye twitched.

“What’s your name again?”

“Uh, it’s Mike,” he answered, “listen— I know your dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought if it was for French class—”

“Wait a minute, Mark,” she interrupted.

“Mike.”

“My dad just came up with a new rule! He says I can date if my sister does,” she recalled.

“Really?” Mike perked up. “Well, then let me ask you, do you like D&D? ‘Cause we should totally do a oneshot together—”

“Uh, big problem, Mick,” Elle reminded him, “my sister is a perfect specimen of freakazoid.”

“Yeah, I noticed she’s… antisocial,” Mike offered sympathetically. “Any idea why?”

“I don’t know,” Elle considered, glancing upward as she thought about it. “She used to be, like, really popular, but it was like she got sick of it. I’m pretty sure she’s just incapable of human interaction. That or she has a brain tumor or something. Either way, she’s a bitch.”

“Well, yeah,” Mike agreed half-heartedly, “but there’s plenty of guys who wouldn’t mind going out with a… difficult girl. I mean, she’s not ugly; and people do crazier stuff all the time! Jump out of airplanes, ski off cliffs, swim with sharks… it would be like extreme dating.”

Elle knitted her eyebrows together. “You think you could find someone that extreme?”

“Why not?” Mike shrugged.

“And you’d do all that for me?” she pressed softly, reaching out to brush her hand over his arm.

Mike would do anything for her to touch his arm like that again. “I-I mean, I could look into it…” he offered as his brain short-circuited.

And so he was determined. Which was why he and Lucas weren't actually paying any attention in science class that same day.

As they pretended to make progress on their frog dissection, Mike and his new friend were really scoping the room for local talent to potentially date Hawkins’ resident mega-bitch. Their search so far had only turned up men like themselves: that being men afraid to get the Hargrove treatment and have their future generations compromised. Turns out guys are generally pretty protective of their nuts.

“I told you it was impossible,” Lucas sighed, “no one will go out with her.”

Mike’s attention was taken by the partners two tables over— a massive, freckled kid with a leather jacket, and his buddy with a mess of rocker hair and a custom denim jacket; the latter was fooling around with butterfly knives, before using them to impale the frog carcass, because apparently the little pins provided just weren’t doing it for him.

“Hey, what about him?” Mike wondered, watching with a tilted head.

“Woah, no, you don’t want to mess with that guy,” Lucas shook his head, “don’t even look at him. He’s a criminal, he deals the harder stuff around school— you know, more than just pot. I heard he lit a state trooper on fire. He just did a year at Rikers.”

“Hey, well at least we know he’s horny,” Mike shrugged.

“I’m serious, he’s unhinged!” Lucas warned. “He sold his own liver on the black market for a new set of speakers.”

Meanwhile, the metalhead had taken out a cigarette and was leaning down to light it on a Bunsen burner. The display should’ve deterred anyone, but it made Mike smile optimistically. “He’s our guy,” he insisted.

The basketball team was joking around at lunch as Chance shared an X-rated story from his date the night before, and Lucas took a deep breath as he waited for the perfect moment.

When all the guys laughed at something Chance had said, Lucas quickly slipped in and tried to blend in as he laughed along.

“Oh my— oh my god,” he got out breathlessly as he laughed, “wow, Chance, you’re hilarious.”

He wiped his eye, still laughing as the rest of the table’s reaction died down and they all glared at him.

“Are you lost?” Jason asked coldly.

Lucas sighed. “No, I just… I thought maybe it was all water under the bridge by now.”

“It’s been less than forty-eight hours,” Andy noticed.

“Wow, nice counting, Andy— tomorrow we’ll work on shapes,” Lucas encouraged flatly.

Andy nearly jumped across the table, but Jason put a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“Actually, truth is, I came here to… make a suggestion,” Lucas added, making Jason’s eyebrows raise.

“Go on…”

“You want Elle Hopper, right? The sophomore?” Lucas continued.

“Yeah,” Jason shrugged, “she’s cute.”

“But she can’t date until her sister does,” Lucas went on. “Your problem could be solved if you found someone to take her out.”

Jason laughed. “Does anyone hate themselves that much?”

“Probably not, but people do like money…”

As Lucas bounced his eyebrows up and down, Jason seemed to put together what he was implying. “You want me to pay someone off to date her?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to, but it’s an idea,” Lucas corrected.

“Do you know anyone that desperate for cash and unfazed by the prospect of emasculation?” Jason returned.

“Meet Eddie Munson,” Lucas beamed, motioning to the opposite end of the cafeteria where Eddie was ‘subtly’ trading a bag of pills for a twenty-dollar bill with another student.

“Munson? The Freak? I heard he ate a live duck once,” Jason grimaced.

“Everything but the beak and feet! Clearly he’s a great investment,” Lucas beamed, but Jason remained suspicious.

“What’s in this for you?” he wondered.

“I think you know,” Lucas sighed, “I want back in— I know I’m still on the team, but I wanna be really on the team again. I miss you guys!”

“You miss your chance to be popular,” Jason corrected.

“Also that!” Lucas agreed in a continued upbeat tone.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Jason agreed cautiously. “Now, back to the loser table with you.”

As Jason shooed him away, Lucas moved across the way to the table where Mike was watching it all go down disapprovingly. “Why do we need to get him involved again?” he wondered with a shudder.

“Calm down, he’s just our money man,” Lucas soothed. “We let him think this is all his idea, meanwhile he’s busy dealing with Eddie and you have time with Elle.”

Mike sighed, concerned, but knowing he was out of other options. Still, in a battle for ‘the girl’, he didn’t feel equipped to face a popular, handsome senior.

But when Eddie looked at Jason, he didn’t see a popular, handsome senior; none of that mattered to him. He just saw: douche with a quaff. So, while he was out taking a smoke break on the stands by the soccer field, he was surprised to see that very quaffed douche approaching him.

“Hey,” Jason offered Eddie with a nod— that very nod that made girls want him and guys want to be him, but it was powerless on Eddie, who just glared back at him while exhaling a cloud of smoke. “How are you?”

Eddie blinked forward, barely aware of the Tiger-pride-green blur beside him.

Jason stammered as he tried again to break the ice. “I, uh, had some great duck last night—”

“Do I know you?” Eddie wondered. “Shit, are you buyin’?” He didn’t seem the type, but hey— as long as he had cash, he was Eddie’s type, customer-wise.

“Uh, no,” Jason shook his head nervously. “Well, actually, yes— but—”

“I don’t sell roofies, Romeo,” Eddie warned him.

“I’m not buying drugs!” Jason barked, a little too loud for something that’s supposed to be secret. “I’m buying a date.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Listen, Carver, you’re a good-looking guy, but—”

“No no!” Jason rushed out, face turning pink. “Not for me! For her!”

Jason pointed down the field to where you were running drills, sweating and determined, grunting as you kicked the ball across the grass. “The Hopper chick?” Eddie noticed.

“Yeah!”

Eddie laughed sharply, and so did his friend beside him. “Yeah, sure thing, champ— I’ll get right on that,” Eddie agreed sarcastically.

“Look, until someone goes out with her, I can’t bag her sister,” Jason explained with a sigh.

“What a shame,” Eddie stuck out his bottom lip, “how many years of therapy will you need to cope with this trauma?”

“I know you don’t care about me,” Jason crossed his arms, “but I’m thinking you care a bit about Andrew Jackson?”

“That racist son of a bitch? He was a piece of—” Eddie began, but then Jason pulled the twenty out of his pocket and brandished it proudly, making Munson shut his mouth.

“Whaddaya say?” Jason prompted. “For a crisp twenty, you could take out the lovely Miss Hopper—”

As they glanced down the field, the guys winced at the sight of you roughly body-checking another player, who fell to the ground with a cry.

“For a crisp thirty—” Jason began again, summoning a ten from his pocket.

“Well, now, let’s think about this,” Eddie pondered aloud. “You’re paying me to take her out, but I’ve gotta actually take her somewhere: we’ll say the movies. That’s fifteen bucks for two tickets. We get popcorn, that’s… fifty.”

Jason scoffed. He knew there was more than a little inflation going on in those numbers, but he also knew that the freak had him under his thumb in these negotiations.

“She’s gonna want Junior Mints, what do you know, we’re looking at seventy-five already,” Eddie smirked.

“What kind of gold-plated Junior Mints are you buying?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“What kind of girl is this chick’s little sister?” Eddie countered. “Is she really worth it, or are you just blowing hot air?”

Jason was powerless to even such an obvious trap— he could never say no to a dare. Eddie was really saying, are you chicken? And Jason could probably be talked into fighting a bear while only armed with a butter knife if it was all to prove he was not, in fact, chicken. “Fifty,” Jason spat, “final offer.”

A bill was produced from Carver’s designer wallet, and Eddie’s ring-covered fingers snatched it away and stuffed it into his pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you,” Eddie offered with a sarcastically-saccharine smile, but Jason only rolled his eyes and wandered off.

Just then, Coach Hastings blew the whistle. “Good hustle, girls, good hustle!” he offered to the team. “Take a water break!”

Seeing the group of players disperse, Eddie waited until you were on your way to the cooler to snuff his cigarette and jog up beside you. You shot him a look before he even said anything. “Hey there, girlie,” Eddie greeted you, “how ya doin’?”

“Uh, sweating like a pig,” you answered, wiping your face on your uniform, “and yourself?”

“You sure know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?” he laughed nervously.

You seemed amused, but in more of an at way than a with way. "My mission in life," you quipped. "But, hey, clearly I captured your attention. Lucky me."

He grinned as he watched you chug your water. "So I'll pick you up Friday then?"

You choked, laughing as you nearly spit the water right onto him. "Yeah," you agreed sarcastically as you wiped your chin, "sure, Friday."

"I'll take you places you've never been before," he promised lasciviously.

"Like where, the crackhouse on Miller Street?" you rolled your eyes. "Do you even know my name, screwboy?"

"I know more than you think," he challenged.

"Well, for that to be true," you returned, "you'd have to know more than the average eighth-grade dropout."

You turned to leave, walking away with a shake of your head. "Well that's easy!" he laughed as he called after you. "I did eighth grade twice!"

From across the field, Mike and Lucas watched you ditch Eddie with cringes on their face.

"We're screwed," Mike sighed.

"Now wait a minute, where'd all your optimism go? I wanna hear you upbeat!" Lucas beamed.

"We're screwed!" Mike repeated, a forced, cheesy smile glued to his face between two thumbs-up.

"That's better," Lucas approved, patting Mike on the back.

As you exited the local records store, empty handed due to the continued lack of good punk records available, you sighed at the sight of Eddie Munson leaning against your hood.

"Nice ride," he noticed. "Vintage fenders?"

"Are you stalking me?" you asked instead, brushing past him to try to unlock your door, but he slid in front of you with crossed arms.

"I was in the laundromat," he assured, tilting his head to the washateria across the street, "I saw your car, that's all."

"Funny, you don't strike me as someone who washes their clothes," you mocked.

"Well, if you must know, I was there to make a sale," Eddie admitted.

"And what are you here for, blocking my door?" you wondered.

"To say hi!"

"Hi."

You tried to reach around him again to get the key in the lock but he put his hand over it. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

"Not much of a listener, are you? I'm not interested."

"Are you scared of me?" he asked— not a threat, not hopeful or disappointed, just a genuine question.

"Why would I be?"

"I dunno, most people are."

"Well, I'm not."

"Okay, you're not scared of me— but I bet you've thought about me naked," he purred, leaning in a little closer.

"Am I that transparent?" you gasped, faux worry dropping into deadpan disdain. "I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby."

Just when he let you get into your car, finally, Jason Carver and his dick-compensation-mobile pulled up and screeched to a halt right behind you, blocking you in.

"The fuck?! Is there some kind of creep convention going on at the record store?" you groaned, laying on your horn. "Carver!" you barked as he hopped out and strolled by you. "Move your gaudy-ass car!"

"No, thanks," he smiled at you as he walked along towards the storefront.

You felt helpless, until you got a dangerous idea— and fed up as you were, you couldn't resist it. Flooring it in reverse, those vintage fenders of yours piercing right through the cherry-red paint and imported metal underneath.

Jason sure whipped his head around fast and gaped his mouth at the damage. "You bitch!" he screeched.

Hearing Eddie's belly laugh, you looked at Jason and offered him only a flippant shrug and a "whoops!"

"WHOOPS?!" your dad repeated, pacing around the kitchen as you sat at the table. "My insurance doesn't cover teen angst!"

You shrugged again. "Then tell them it was a seizure or something."

"Are you punishing me?" he wondered. "Because I don't want you to go to Sarah Lawrence?"

"Are you punishing me for standing up for myself?" you countered.

“No, but I’d prefer you didn’t do it in such an expensive way!”

You scoffed. “I’d prefer that you stopped making my decisions for me.”

“Well—” he began, but he was cut off by his police radio sounding off.

“Chief Hopper, come in— Chief Hopper, this is dispatch, we have a 10-54…” the nasal feminine voice came through.

You both sighed and he picked up the radio. “Chief here, I’ll head there now.” He turned to you with a pointed finger. “We’ll discuss this later,” he promised, or threatened, depends on how you look at it. As he left, Elle stormed in, fuming at you.

“Did you just maim Jason’s car?!” she yelped.

"Allegedly," you grinned. "Looks like little miss princess is gonna have to ride the bus with the unwashed masses.”

As Eddie shut his locker, he was startled by Jason glowering on the other side. “Shit,” Eddie blurted out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results,” Jason frowned.

“I’m working on it,” Eddie insisted, brushing Jason off as he grabbed his books and shut his locker.

“Standing by while she violated my car doesn’t count as a date,” Jason reminded him. “I don’t get any if you don’t, so you better figure out how to charm this chick or—”

“I just upped my price,” Eddie decided suddenly.

Jason had just turned to walk away, but that made him look at Eddie again. “Excuse me?”

“A hundred bucks a date, in advance,” Eddie announced.

“Forget it,” Jason dismissed.

“Then forget her sister,” Eddie shrugged.

Jason hesitated, wondering if Elle was really worth all the trouble. Maybe she wasn’t, to him— but the street cred he’d get if he deflowered her was. He groaned as he reached for his wallet, and Eddie grinned proudly. “You’d better be as smooth as you think you are, Munson,” Jason warned as Eddie snatched up the bill.

The interaction still had Eddie in a particularly bad mood during shop class, making Mike even more hesitant to approach him;

“Wh-why can’t you talk to him?” he asked Lucas.

“I talked to Jason,” Lucas replied.

“Yeah, but you know Jason,” Mike reminded him, “and Jason isn’t… unstable.”

“Just go, chicken,” Lucas rolled his eyes, shoving Mike forward— and he stumbled, but made his way over to Eddie’s workstation.

When he got a glare from under a curly fringe, Mike just blurted it out: “We know what you’re trying to do… with Hopper?”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” Eddie challenged.

“Uh— help you! We wanna help you,” Mike explained quickly.

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows together, standing up straighter and crossing his arms. “Why, exactly?”

Lucas appeared behind Mike, resting his hands on his shoulders. “You see, my friend here is… mildly obsessed with her sister, Elle.”

“What’s the deal with this girl, her tits shoot fireworks or something?” Eddie scoffed, and Mike nearly jumped on him for saying that— as if that fight wouldn’t be pitifully uneven.

“Mike’s love for her is… a little purer than that,” Lucas promised, “especially purer than Jason Carver’s.”

“Look,” Eddie leveled with the two of them, “I’m in this for the cash. Carver can plow whoever he wants.”

“Okay, there will be no plowing!” Mike exclaimed, voice cracking.

“Listen, Eddie— uh, Ed,” Lucas smiled, “this whole thing— we set it all up! We told Jason to pay you off, so Mike can get the girl. Mr. Popular is just a pawn.”

Eddie seemed to like that; maybe even someone as detached from the popularity hierarchy could still enjoy a little humiliation for the star point guard. “So, are you gonna help me tame the beast, then?”

“Are you talking about Hopper, or your hair?” Lucas joked, though he dropped his smile when Eddie glared at him. “O-okay, yeah, we’re gonna do some research, we can find out what she likes and stuff. We’re your guys.”

“In a strictly non-prison-movie way,” Mike added anxiously.

Mike and Elle were walking around the old bridge— she promised to show him the prettiest place in Hawkins, he thought about turning it into a line but he resisted the urge, and he delicately broke the pleasant silence. “So, have you heard about the party Steve Harrington is throwing at his parents’ lake house?”

“Yes,” Elle pouted, “and I really really wanna go, but I can’t. Not unless my sister goes.”

“I’m working on that,” Mike promised, “but she’s not going for my guy.” He paused before he continued, narrowing his eyes. “She’s not a, uh…”

"A friend of Billie Jean?” Elle finished.

“No, I’m not asking if she’s a Michael Jackson fan,” Mike corrected, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant!” Elle rolled her eyes. “Billie Jean King? Tennis player, women’s rights advocate, giant flaming lesbian?”

“O-oh,” Mike stuttered, “I don’t really watch tennis…”

“Or the news, apparently,” Elle sighed. “The point is, no, I don't think so. I found a picture of Rob Lowe in her drawer once so she's at least got some interest in men. Jury's still out on her bestie Robin Buckley, though…"

"But that's the kind of guys she likes? Pretty guys?"

Elle shrugged. "All I know is she said she'd never date a smoker."

“Okay, no smoking,” Mike nodded, “what else?”

“Listen, I try not to get too deep into my sister’s twisted psyche,” Elle sighed.

“But we need to know more!” Mike insisted. “We need to go behind enemy lines…”

Even though it was his idea, Mike felt a little out of his depth watching Elle go through your room; it looked sort of how he imagined it might, except for missing a giant cork board with pins and red yarn outlining your plan to cause men as much suffering as possible.

“Okay, here we go!” Elle announced excitedly as she rifled through a drawer. “Class schedule, reading list, concert tickets… ha! Black panties!”

Mike cleared his throat as she held up the offending pair of lacy underthings. “What does that tell us?”

“That she wants to have sex some day.”

“Couldn’t she just like the color?” Mike wondered, flustered.

“You don’t buy lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Elle insisted.

“Oh,” Mike nodded, perking up slightly. “So… can I see your room?”

Elle blinked quickly, getting a bit tender all of a sudden. “No… a girl’s room is very personal…” she explained shyly.

“Right,” Mike agreed nervously.

Two sophomores didn’t exactly blend in at The Hideout— it was a dingy old hole-in-the-wall, with grimey old bikers getting drunk in every corner… and Eddie, shooting pool by himself in the back. He straightened up when they approached him, nursing his beer with a raised eyebrow.

“We have information for you,” Mike explained.

“Don’t say it like that, it sounds weird,” Eddie frowned, “she’s just a girl, not a… spy or something.”

“Right,” Lucas agreed as Eddie took another sip from the brown bottle.

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Should you be drinking alcohol when you don’t have a liver?”

“What?!” Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“Nothing,” Lucas shook his head.

“The first thing is she hates smokers,” Mike explained.

Eddie groaned. “I’m gonna have to quit? Fuck, this is getting more unpleasant by the minute—”

“Just for now!” Lucas bargained.

"And there’s another problem: Elle said that her sister likes, uh, pretty guys,” Mike added.

There was a tense pause, until Eddie’s eyes widened. “Are you saying I’m not a pretty guy?”

“H-he’s very pretty!” Lucas smacked Mike on the back. “He’s gorgeous, look at him!”

“S-sorry, I wasn’t sure,” Mike mumbled awkwardly.

Eddie brushed off the insult quickly, taking a big puff off of his cigarette— maybe he appreciated it more, knowing he’d have to cut back for a while after this. Meanwhile, Mike pulled out a folded up piece of heart-shaped mini-notebook paper (borrowed stationary from Elle, obviously) and read the list aloud.

“Okay, ‘likes: Thai food, feminist prose, and—’” he cleared his throat before he continued— “‘angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion.’ Here’s a list of CDs that she has in her room.”

Eddie looked at the list in disdain. “So I’m supposed to, what, take her out for noodles and spoken word and sit around listening to chicks who can’t play their instruments?”

“Have you ever been to Club Nina?” Lucas wondered.

“Her favorite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Mike explained, and Eddie sighed as he pressed his lips together.

“I can’t be seen at Club Nina,” Eddie shook his head. “First of all, that’s rival turf, second of all—”

“She’ll be there, she’s already got tickets for her and Robin,” Lucas pressed. “Just… tolerate it, for a night. And maybe don’t deal any drugs there.”

“Can I at least do some drugs there?” Eddie frowned.

“As long as you’re not too out of sorts to do some major seducing,” Mike offered. “She has a pair of black underwear! If that helps.”

“I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?” Lucas elbowed Eddie playfully, who jerked away.

As stupid as it was, Eddie found himself still wondering about your alleged black panties as he walked into the club to look for you the next night. He found you horribly frustrating, sure, and the feeling was mutual, but picturing you in something like that was... not too terrible.

Eddie noticed the looks he was getting from the girls at Club Nina, and they weren’t exactly approving; a man invading their space was bad enough, but a metalhead in the land of the soft-rockers was turning heads.

He ignored it for the most part and sat down at the bar, ordering something light enough that he could keep his wits about him, but hard enough that he could tolerate this whole situation. Believe it or not, he didn’t actually like getting repeatedly insulted and degraded by you— it wasn’t even the sexy kind of degrading, just your incessant hatefulness chipping away at his dignity. But damn, he could feel the added weight of Carver’s money in his wallet, and he liked that.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for you to show up at the bar, ordering two waters like the lightweight you were. He pretended not to see you, but you didn’t offer the same courtesy, making a groan of disgust at him. “If you’re planning on asking me out again, just get it over with,” you pleaded distastefully.

He looked at you with an irritated frown, pointing at the band behind him. “Keep it down, maybe? I’m trying to listen.”

That seemed to throw you off, and he enjoyed your moment of bewilderment. “Did you leave your cancer sticks behind?” you asked.

“Yeah, permanently,” he nodded. “Turns out they’re bad for you.”

He shrugged, and you dropped the sarcasm for a split-second. “You did?” you pressed, surprised.

“You know,” he changed the subject instead, “these guys are no Adolescents or Souixsie and the Banshees, but they’re alright.”

“You know Souixsie and the Banshees?” you repeated, flabbergasted.

“Why, don’t you?” he joked. He got down another sip of watered-down liquor, before turning to face you directly. “You know, I was watching you before,” he admitted, yelling to be heard over the crescendo of the song, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy!”

Of course, that was right about when the song ended, and Eddie looked around the club as he realized the entire swarm of alt chicks had heard him. As they laughed at the scene, he smiled awkwardly and watched you get visibly embarrassed— good to know you had emotions other than rage, contempt, and boredom.

“Why don’t you come to Steve Harrington’s party with me?” he challenged, and the moment faded as the next song began.

“You never give up, do you?” you frowned, starting to walk away and back into the dancing crowd.

“Was that a yes?” he wondered.

“No!” you shouted back to him.

“Was it a no?” he added.

“No!” you said again, and he smiled.

“I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty, then!” he called to you, but you were lost to him again— for now.

Elle and Max, dolled up in their finest party gear, crept carefully across the foyer towards the front door. Elle knew all the creaky floorboards to avoid, yet even in their silence they seemed to trigger Chief Hopper’s sixth sense. “You should have used the window,” he announced as they deflated.

“H-hi Daddy,” she greeted as if all were normal.

“Hi,” he returned as he looked at them. “Where are we going?”

“Um, just a small study group of friends,” Elle insisted, and Max nodded along.

“Otherwise known as an orgy?!” Dad barked.

“Mr. Hopper— Chief, sir— it’s just a party,” Max soothed.

“And Hell is just a sauna!” he returned.

As you came walking down the stairs into the middle of the argument, oblivious, your dad snagged your attention.

“Are you aware of this party?” he asked. You simply shrugged, on a mission for snacks.

“People expect me to be there!” Elle complained. “I have friends waiting for me! Daaaddddyyy!!”

“If your sister’s not going, you’re not going,” he stood fast.

Of course, that turned her ire towards you. “Why can’t you be normal?” she whined.

“Define ‘normal’,” you challenged as you crossed your arms.

“Going to Steve’s party is normal!”

You scoffed. “Steve’s party is just a lame excuse for all the youthful morons of Hawkins High to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves the pathetic emptiness of their—”

Elle and Max interrupted to finish your rant: “meaningless, consumer-driven lives,” they groaned in unison.

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, and your shock gave Elle an opportunity to make one more plea.

“Can you just, for one night, forget about your crusade against all things enjoyable and just be my sister? please? C’mon,” she begged, stepping up closer, “please, do this for me.”

It was more sincere than you were used to from her, and it reminded you of simpler times, of when she thought you were the coolest big sister ever and she was your favorite person— before she was spoiled by the world and you were soured by it. Those memories were what convinced you to somberly nod. “I’ll make an appearance,” you agreed, and she squealed as she hugged you joyfully.

“Oh god, it’s starting,” your dad mumbled to himself in a daze.

“It’s just a party,” Elle promised him, but he stiffened up suddenly.

“I want you to wear the belly,” he announced.

Elle whimpered out her “Daddy, no!” but it was too late, he’d already gone to fetch it from the closet, and you watched with schadenfreude as he pulled out the padded faux-pregnancy jacket.

“Not all night,” he promised, “just around the living room for a minute while you contemplate the weight of your decisions.”

She held her arms out in defeat as he slipped it on over her dress, smiling proudly at his work.

“Every time you even think about kissing a boy,” Dad lectured, “just imagine wearing this all the time.”

“You’re such a space cadet,” she sighed.

“Okay, we’re going now,” you announced as you headed for the door, but he stopped you.

“Wait a minute: no drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, no getting in vans, no— no ritual animal slaughter!” he enumerated. “Oh god, I’m giving them ideas…”

You startled when you opened the door and saw Eddie standing there, fist raised as he was about to knock. “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“Nine-thirty, right?” he smiled, “I’m early.”

“Whatever, I’m driving,” you insisted.

He leaned to the side to look over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Who knocked up your sister?”

Lucas held on tight to his drink in a plastic cup as he attempted to keep Max Mayfield’s attention for at least a few minutes at a time.

“You know, I’m on the basketball team,” he reminded her with a grin.

“Right,” she mumbled, unimpressed, but he was a little too tipsy to notice that his lines weren’t working.

“Do you, uh, play any sports?” he asked.

“I skate, if that counts,” she shrugged.

“Oh, rollerblading is cool!” Lucas beamed, but Max rolled her eyes and walked away at his incorrect guess of what kind of skating she meant. “Ever been to Rink-O-Mania?” he called after her, sighing when he realized he’d officially struck out.

You brushed past him, knocking into his shoulder as he pouted. Eddie was still following you, for some reason, dodging dancing girls and kissing couples along the way.

Jason clicked his tongue at you as you passed by. “Lookin’ fresh,” he cooed, in that way that was mostly mocking yet probably a real come-on if you went for it: Schrödinger’s pick-up line, if you will.

“Oh my god, did you feel that?” you looked around at the air. “My pussy just dried up so fast it actually dropped the humidity in here!”

Jason seemed a little too interested in an update on your genitals, but you were already walking away, trying to lose him and Eddie now. “Hey, is your sister here?” he asked you loudly.

“Stay away from my sister,” you warned.

“I will,” he promised, “but, you know, I can’t guarantee that she’ll stay away from me…”

You shook your head as you shoved your way into another room of the Harrington’s massive lodge, accidentally stumbling upon two jocks wrestling and throwing punches on the floor. A crowd had gathered around the scene to cheer them on, and you sneered in disgust at the uncivil display.

“Hey, hey!” Steve himself appeared, trying to break it up. “Take it outside!”

One jock pulled the other up by his shirt, and the two of them went tumbling back— right through the window. They didn’t even stop swinging as they fell onto the grass, and Steve’s face went blank with numb shock.

“Th-thanks,” he mumbled to himself, and you gave him a pat on the shoulder as you passed by.

“At least we’re on the ground floor,” you offered him quickly, but a tap on your shoulder pulled your attention away.

“Hey,” Jason smirked as he let you get a good look at him with his arm around your sister’s shoulders, “look who found me.”

You weren’t even angry— which was a nice break, really— you were just worried now. “Elle, wait,” you called to her as they walked away.

“Please don’t address me in public,” Elle requested with a roll of her eyes.

“I just wanna tell you something!” you pleaded.

“I’m being a normal teenager for a night— you should try it,” she suggested, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd again.

Just in time for your impending breakdown, some guy walked by holding a tray of shots. “Shots, anyone? Ladies?”

You grabbed one with each hand and tossed them back in rapid succession. You reached for a third when Eddie reappeared, snagging it out of your hand. “What are you doing?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m getting trashed, dude,” you offered in a fake party-boy voice. “Isn’t that the point of all this?”

Eddie shrugged. “Think the point is to just… be yourself.”

You snorted. “You might be the only person who thinks I should be myself.”

At the same time that you were ditching Eddie again, Mike was finding Lucas. “Have you seen her around anywhere?” he asked as he scanned the crowd. For all his excitement to find her, he seemed to get overwhelmed when he saw Elle coming down the stairs with Max.

“Come on, man, relax,” Lucas assured as he patted his shoulders. Mike took a deep breath. “Just be yourself.”

Nodding, Mike summoned his courage and approached the girls. “H-hey, Elle,” he greeted politely.

“Hey,” Elle returned, “Mike, um— do you know Max?”

Elle grabbed the redhead and shoved her towards Mike so she could try to break away.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike nodded, “we have Math together, right?”

Max hummed as she crossed her arms; “Great,” she offered unenthusiastically.

“You, uh, look really amazing tonight,” Mike offered Elle, and Max cringed as he failed to take the hint.

“Oh— um,” Elle stalled, and Jason descended the stairs to slip his arm around her.

“And we all know I look amazing,” he interjected, making the girls giggle and Mike roll his eyes. “C’mon, Elle, let’s go— there are jell-o shots in the kitchen.”

He was already turning her around to guide her away, forcing her to look over her shoulder to wave at Mike: “See you around, okay?”

Mike watched helplessly as Jason took his dream girl from right in front of him— the blonde even offered him a thumbs up on his way out, to add insult to injury.

Eddie found you again in the study, starting to work on another drink. “Hey hey hey,” he interrupted as he gently lifted it away from you, watching you whine and make grabby hands for it. “Why don’t you let me have this one, hm?”

“No!” you pouted, jumping for it, but he held it up higher— it forced you to push yourself up against him to try to get it, and he forced himself not to notice how it felt to be close to you.

Someone walked by with their own drink, just about to have a sip when you snatched it away instead, running off before Eddie could set down the cup and catch up. “Shit,” he hissed to himself.

As he tried to navigate past other partygoers to get to the kitchen, he heard the blasting stereo change songs to something not actually awful (in his opinion): Def Leppard. Unfortunately, you seemed to like Pour Some Sugar On Me, too— considering you hopped up on a table and started dancing there instead.

“How’d you get her to be normal?” Jason laughed as he appeared beside Eddie— and he couldn’t decide if he was more disgusted by Carver’s glee watching you, or Carver’s chumminess with him.

“Hey!” Eddie called to you, getting through the crowd of cheering guys as quickly as he could, but you couldn’t hear him through the overwhelming sound and the haze of drunkenness. He watched you dance, a mix of concern, embarrassment, and arousal stirring in him as your moves became more and more suggestive. “HEY!”

When he shouted the second time, it didn’t quite get you to look at him but it did startle you, making you whack your head on the chandelier— which in turn made you stumble and fall. When you came down dramatically, he held out his arms and managed to catch you, looking at your startled, panting face.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, but you looked angry at him again.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, trying to wiggle out of his embrace, but failing.

“You’re not fine,” he groaned, “c’mon…”

He didn’t exactly carry you, mostly because you wouldn’t let him, but he didn’t let you walk on your own when he saw how wobbly your legs were.

The sounds of the party faded into the distance as you walked in the grass, up to the shore of Lover’s Lake where the Harrington’s had some rustic old swings hanging from under a massive tree by the water.

“I-I just need to lie down somewhere,” you insisted, stumbling again as Eddie had to grab at your waist to keep you upright.

“No, you can’t lie down right now,” he sighed. “If you lie down you’ll go to sleep.”

You pouted as he set you down on a swing. “I like sleep,” you protested.

“Can’t sleep if you might have a concussion,” he explained, watching you slump against the rope beside you.

He was about to fuss over you a little more, try to keep you awake somehow, but he saw Mike storming down across the grass.

“Hey,” Mike greeted as Eddie stepped past you slightly to meet him. “We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Eddie informed him, gesturing towards you.

“Well— it’s over, okay? All of this— the deal’s off,” Mike frowned.

“Huh?”

“She never wanted me,” he realized with a sigh. “She wanted Jason the whole time.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Listen— do you really like this girl?”

“Yeah!” Mike assured.

“And she’s worth going through all this trouble?” he pressed, stepping forward towards the new kid.

“I— I think so.”

“Either she is or she isn’t,” Eddie frowned, “and considering we made it this far, she must be— so you need to keep fighting for her! You’re twice the man that Jason is, if she’s got two brain cells to rub together she’ll figure out she’s better off with you. Capice?”

Mike puffed up his chest a bit. “O-okay!” he decided. “I’m gonna go for it!”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Eddie cheered, slapping Mike on the shoulder before he ran off back to the party.

Eddie was smiling as he turned to you, only to lose his grin and rush over as you started to fall forward out of the swing.

“Woah woah!” he yelped as he knelt down in front of you and held your face with both hands. “Gotta stay awake, remember, sweetheart?”

You stuck your bottom lip out. “You’re so patronizing.”

He smirked. “Leave it to you to use your vocabulary words when you’re totally shitfaced.”

When you fluttered your eyes shut, he lightly smacked your cheek, the rings hitting a little extra hard on your jaw as you groaned. “What are you hitting me for?”

“Because you might have a concussion,” he reminded you.

“And you want to add to it?” you assumed, awake enough for him to let go of your face, which he did.

“If you go to sleep now, you might not wake up.”

“You don’t care if I never wake up,” you dismissed.

He smiled at you, a little too amused by such a morbid sentiment. “Sure I do!”

“Why?”

He almost let his smile falter. “If you died, I might have to go out with a girl who actually likes me,” he answered.

“If you could find one,” you snorted, eyes still shut but face curling into a proud grin at your own joke.

“See? Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” he teased.

You sniffled and sat up a little straighter, so Eddie stepped back and sat down on the swing beside you.

“So, why’d you let him get to you?” he wondered, looking out across the lake sparkling under the glow of a half-moon.

“Who?”

“Jason. You’re normally so unaffected.”

“He always drives me crazy,” you admitted, “but messing with my sister is crossing the line.”

“Well, you’ve chosen some creative revenge,” he laughed, “by drinking through the Harrington’s liquor cabinet.”

You laughed along with him, a rare moment where you two overlapped— and not even in a negative emotion! “You know what they say,” you replied.

“What’s that?” he wondered. But you didn’t continue. He looked to the side and saw you falling down again.

“Shit,” he spat, leaning forward and catching you at your shoulders, tilting your face up to his. “Wake up! C’mon, look at me, sweetheart, listen to me— open your eyes…”

He was a little overwhelmed by the way you did exactly as he’d asked, fluttering your eyes open at him, something entirely new in them that he’d never seen on you before— or maybe anyone, at least this up close. “Hey,” you smiled softly. “Did you know your eyes are a little bit hazel?”

He smiled back at you, examining your face, wondering for a split second if he should go for it.

But before he could, you keeled over and wretched— right on his white Reeboks. “Shit,” he said again.

Elle was waiting out in the cool night air, her thin cardigan not doing much for her as she watched Jason drive off with a slew of girls in tow; he’d tried to get her to go to another party, but along with her curfew coming up, it turned out that he was sort of a dud. For all his alleged charisma as one of the most popular guys in school, he didn’t know how to talk about anything but basketball, plus his ‘boys’ and their misadventures— usually drunken ones. She tried to cut him some slack since he was likely a little tipsy, but she still couldn’t justify the way he talked about his ex-girlfriend. It was just tacky!

As she waited for you to hopefully reappear soon and drive her home, Mike brushed by. “Have fun tonight?” he asked, somewhat sharply.

“Tons,” Elle sighed, expecting him to stop and getting a little more shy when he didn’t. “Hey, um, Mike?”

He stopped and turned, and she gave him a pitiful look.

“Any chance you could give me a ride home?”

Eddie hadn’t driven a car as small as yours in a while— and it wasn’t even small, it just felt that way compared to his van.

You reached forward and turned up the stereo, a Patti Smith song getting louder as you did. “I should do this,” you announced.

“What?” he wondered.

“This!” you said again, pointing to the radio. “Make music, start a band! Aren’t you in a band?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you knew that,” he admitted.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do, too,” you decided with firm defiance. “My father would love that.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to worry about what your father thought,” Eddie noticed.

“Oh, so now you’ve got me all figured out?” you scoffed.

He shrugged. “I’m getting there.”

You deflated slightly as you looked out the window. “Nobody knows anything about me,” you admitted, “except that I’m ‘scary’ or whatever.”

He smirked slightly at your air quotes. “I’m not known to be particularly enjoyable either.”

When you looked at him, he felt a little penetrated by your stare, so he looked back at the road ahead.

“Look at us, having a little talk about real stuff,” he blurted out, trying to break the tension. “I mean, you’re usually so closed off and now I think you might spill your guts or something. Oh, right— you already did…”

And you stiffened up again. Right on cue.

Whereas your conversation with Eddie died a few minutes before you pulled up to your house, Elle and Mike’s only began when he put the car in park. “You never wanted to hang out with me, did you?” he realized, irritation tinting his voice.

“I— I did!” Elle lied, trying to be nice. But she was always trying to be nice, and that wasn’t enough; Mike scoffed in frustrated disbelief.

“You didn’t!”

Elle deflated. “Yeah… okay. Not really.”

“Well, then that’s all you had to say! You could’ve just said you weren’t interested and none of this would’ve happened— but then you wouldn’t have gotten your night with Jason. That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?”

“But I—” she began, cut off by Mike’s rant.

“You know, you can’t just treat people however you want because you’re beautiful. Lucas told me you were vapid, and I defended you! I— I learned French for you! And then you just—”

She cut him off with a kiss— a sweet kiss, not too short, but exactly the sort of kiss two sophomores should share in a car after a party. When she pulled away, she smiled a little, and Mike blinked at her a couple times.

“Goodnight,” she offered softly, getting out of the car and walking up the steps to her front door.

Mike turned to face forward again, dumbfounded expression morphing slowly into a grin. “And I’m back in the game!” he beamed, pumping his fist triumphantly.

As you walked into class, you tried to avoid the eyes on you— but you couldn’t, just like you couldn’t avoid throbbing in your head.

“Nice moves last night, señorita,” one of the stoners in class nodded approvingly as you came in.

“That was radical, dude,” a surfer boy offered with a ‘hang tight’ hand symbol.

And then there was Jason. “What do you owe you for the table dance, babe?” he taunted.

Shuddering, you sat down as Ms. O’Donnell began. “Settle down, please,” she begged the class. “Whatever happened outside of school hours is not to be discussed now. Wouldn’t you rather hear about your midterm assignment?”

The class groaned in unison.

“You’ll be writing a sonnet,” she explained, “in the style of William Shakespeare.”

When you raised your hand, you saw the look on her face, and you knew what she was expecting. And you didn’t blame her. You spoke when she pointed towards you. “Should it be in iambic pentameter?”

She seemed suspicious of such a simple question. “Um, no, it doesn’t have to be,” she replied. “Why?”

“I just wanted to know…” you mumbled sheepishly. “Is that so wrong?”

“Um, no,” she decided. “That’s a good question, Miss Hopper… and it doesn’t. Thank you for asking.”

She wasn’t the only one shocked by your sudden interest in her teaching, and you noticed the way the entire class was looking at you. “What?” you scoffed, and you shook the moment off as Ms. O’Donnell began lecturing again.

Mike and Eddie sat beside each other as they watched your soccer practice from a safe distance. “What’d you do to her?” Mike wondered.

“What? I didn’t do anything— did you see how drunk she was?” Eddie shook his head. “What made you think something happened, anyways?”

“The fact that the plan was working,” Mike answered.

“Why do you care? I thought it was over.”

“It was,” Mike agreed, smiling, “until she kissed me.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Eddie congratulated, “I told you to go for it.”

Lucas, meanwhile, was running the track— and he stopped when he passed the two other boys. “Alright, I talked to her,” he informed them, “I got the scoop.”

“What’d she say?” Mike wondered excitedly.

“Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns,” he announced with a sarcastic smile. “That’s a direct quote.”

Eddie sighed, looking a little defeated.

“H-hey,” Mike tried to comfort him, “maybe she just needs a day to cool off?”

But the three of them had to lean away to dodge a soccer ball that came flying over, narrowly avoiding nailing Eddie in the head. When they looked up together at the source, they caught your glare coming their way.

“...or two,” Eddie added.

You groaned as you sat with Robin on the bench, watching the prom committee hang up posters all over the courtyard for the wretched event.

“Can you imagine going to that brainless display of teenage vapidity?” you rolled your eyes.

“Uh, I can,” Robin admitted, “if I had a date.”

“I thought things were going okay with Vickie,” you frowned at her.

“Well, yeah, they’re okay, but it’s not like that, yet,” she explained.

“You’re sparing yourself by not going,” you insisted, “the whole thing is a patriarchal sham anyways.”

“Even if you go with a girl?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “because you’re still supporting the institution. It’s basically a mating ritual you have to dress up for!”

“Alright, we won’t go,” she promised. “I didn’t have anything to wear, even if I knew how to ask Vickie…”

“You’re looking at this all backwards,” you sighed, “we’re not missing out— we’re making a statement!”

“Oh, great,” Robin beamed sarcastically, “something new and different for us!”

Across the courtyard, Elle was busy reviewing her Science homework at a table when Jason popped in beside her. “Hey there, cutie,” he cooed.

“Hey…” she mumbled, focusing still on her textbook, in fact she hadn’t even looked up at him.

“Studying hard, huh?” he noticed, trying to prompt her again.

“Can I help you?” she wondered flatly.

“Well, it would help me a lot if you say yes when I ask you to prom,” he quipped.

Elle only sighed, turning the page in her book. “You know the deal, Jay— I can’t go if my sister doesn’t go.”

“Good thing she will.”

That got Elle to tear her eyes away from cell biology so she could look at the senior beside her. “Since when?!” she gasped.

“Let’s just say,” Jason purred, scooting closer to her, “I’m taking care of it.”

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek as Jason rambled about the money he’d just handed him. “That’ll cover flowers, limo, tux, the whole enchilada. I don’t care what you do, just make sure she gets to the prom.”

Eddie suddenly handed the money back. “You know what? I’m sick of being a pawn in your little game, okay?”

Jason scoffed at the money. “Then make it two hundred,” he decided, summing another bill to add onto the small pile in Eddie’s palm.

Hesitating, and then sneering, Eddie stuffed it into his pocket. The money felt like it would burn a hole through the denim if he left it there too long— he went to the music store first, wondering if he should spent it; wondering if he should try to talk to you instead of just watching you play around on a bass you’d borrowed from the wall of instruments.

In a moment entirely out of character for him, Eddie just couldn’t muster up the courage to do it, to tap you on the shoulder and get your attention. He could stand on tables in the cafeteria and make a fool of himself playing at the Hideout for whatever crowd of drunks accidentally stayed for Corroded Coffin’s show, but he couldn’t just… say hi to you. You just looked so at peace sitting there on the amp, rocking your head between the big headphones that dwarfed your face; he was happier just watching you play for a few minutes, leaving before you opened your eyes and noticed him.

He watched you from between the stacks at the bookstore, too, swallowing as you flipped through Sylvia Plath. What was it that was making him so nervous to approach you all of a sudden? It’s not a crush, is it? No… no, it’s probably my natural aversion to pain.

Just when he was afraid you were about to leave and he would miss his chance, he jumped up from behind Adult Non-fiction and surprised you before you could head for the door. “Excuse me,” he smiled, “have you seen The Feminine Mystique? I lost track of mine.”

You looked appropriately disappointed and unamused, but he was used to that by now. “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“I heard there was a poetry reading,” he replied, not even trying that hard to sound believable, since you’d never believe it. You knitted your eyebrows together and opened your mouth, apparently searching for the exact words to cut him down.

“Y-you… you’re so…” you started a few times, and Eddie grinned as he realized he’d stumped you for the moment.

“Charming?” he finished for you.

And in a moment entirely out of character for you, you gave up, shaking your head and trying to step past him to walk away. He side-stepped and planted himself in front of you.

“Irresistible,” he offered instead.

“Unavoidable,” you corrected.

“Inevitable,” he agreed with a wink. “Love always is.”

“Love?! Jesus Christ,” you spat, laughing sharply at how absurd it was.

“You do realize you’re not as mean as you think you are, right?” Eddie wondered, following you closely as you kept marching towards the door to leave.

You spun to look at him as you replied, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ooh,” he winced playfully, “someone still has their panties in a twist.”

“Don’t even for a minute worry that you have any effect whatsoever on my panties,” you snapped.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” he encouraged.

“Other than my gag reflex, not much,” you frowned.

“Gag reflex, huh?” he purred, and you grimaced as you rolled your eyes.

“God, you’re barbaric!” you announced as you shoved a book into his chest— The Feminine Mystique, of course— and utilized the moment he spent looking at it to exit the store. He didn’t even really process that you were already gone until he heard the little bell on the door chime, and he sighed.

Eddie just wanted to get his lunch in peace, but those two pipsqueak sophomores flanked him as he moved through the line. “What’s the word?” Mike asked.

“Well, you were right— she’s still pissed,” Eddie replied.

“Sweet love, renew thy force!” Lucas exclaimed, and Eddie made a face at him.

“Don’t say shit like that to me, people can hear you,” Eddie warned him.

“Look,” Mike interjected, “she’s embarrassed! Sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity and even the score.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie departed the lunch line early— he didn’t want green bean casserole anyways— and left Mike and Lucas to look at each other. “Don’t say shit like that to him,” Lucas soberly instructed Mike, “people can hear you.”

They were right, though, and the next day, he acted on their advice.

You were out on the field with the team, running drills, clearing your head in the only way you knew how. Of course, Eddie couldn’t stay out of your head for long— or out of your way.

You didn’t notice the speakers turning on at first; you heard it, but you didn’t think much of the static buzz of silence. It wasn’t silent for long, though, and everyone turned their heads when they heard an electric guitar begin playing. You looked up in the bleachers, and widened your eyes at the sight of Eddie hopping up into view as he played, a long black cord trailing behind him. The marching band had left some of their equipment up after practice, including the microphone intended for the national anthem singer, and Eddie leaned into it as he began to sing along with his own playing.

“I gotta tell you what I'm feeling inside, I could lie to myself, but it's true—”

“Oh my god, is that—?” you heard a teammate of yours whisper to another, and they were all looking at you suddenly— and so was he.

“There's no denying when I look in your eyes,” he continued to sing, “girl, I'm out of my head over you…”

You turned around when drums and bass began to play as well, from the other side, and you laughed at the sight of the other members of Corroded Coffin— the logo made in tape on the kick-drum was a good sign that that’s who they were.

“And I lived so long believing all love is blind,” Eddie continued, “but everything about you is telling me this time, it’s forever—”

You finally recognized the KISS song and laughed in some impossible combination of disbelief and unsurprise: because of course Eddie would pick a KISS song to serenade you, but oh my god, was he really serenading you right now? In front of everyone?

“This time I know, and there’s no doubt in my mind,” he sang passionately as he played, “forever, until my life is through, girl I’ll be loving you forever…”

The other musicians were singing harmonizing vocals, and your team was staring at you in shock as Eddie pointed at you in a break from his guitar playing; they knew before then that he was singing to you, but apparently even further confirmation continued to blow their minds. You couldn’t believe it either, because, you know… it was you, and this was some kind of modern-fairytale bullshit, and you realized that you only never wanted it because you never thought it could happen. Romantic surprises, sudden music, kisses in the rain? Maybe for other girls— girls like Elle— but never for you.

Except here it was happening to you. “I never thought I’d lay my heart on the line,” Eddie sang into the microphone, “but everything about you is—”

It came to a literal screeching halt, and everyone covered their ears at the feedback from the speakers. Vice Principal Owens apparently didn’t take too kindly to the noise and disruption, as he appeared on the side of the field to chew Eddie out. “What is the meaning of this?!” he yelled, and the drummer bailed first, tossing his sticks and grabbing a hi-hat and tom and making a break for it. As the soccer team cheered and clapped for the performance, Eddie unplugged his guitar and sprinted from the Vice Principal. “That’s school property! That’s school equipment you stole!”

You laughed as the chase began, and Eddie caught your gaze for a second to give you a shrug as he swung the Gremlin over his back and dove off the bleachers.

“I hope you enjoy detention, Munson!” Owens yelled his threatening promise as he shook his fist— obviously incapable of keeping up with a freak on the run.

Coach Hastings stalked the columns of uniform plastic seats-and-desks, eyeing his quarry of quivering detention-goers. A split-second of eye contact with one of them, before the kid jolted and stared down into his lap, made the coach smile somewhat menacingly and approach his desk.

“You look nervous, son,” he noticed with a grin, and the boy hesitantly blinked up at him.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed.

“You’re sweating like a pig,” the coach continued.

“Y-yes, sir,” the student agreed again.

“Your eyes are red! You’ve got pot, don’t you?”

Apparently too scared (and stoned) to deny it, the kid awkwardly pulled a baggy out of his pants pocket and let Hastings snatch it away.

“I’m confiscating this,” he announced as he took it, marching back down the row and snagging a snack bag of Cheetos on his way as well.

Eddie scoffed slightly to himself as he saw it; not exactly a subtle plan, especially to Eddie, whose occupation at the school’s main dealer gave him unique knowledge of the coach’s habit.

He was just preparing to space out for an afternoon of mind-numbing boredom when you came in through the door, and he sat up slightly in surprise.

“Um, sir?” you got the Coach’s attention, meeting him at his desk at the front. “I… have some ideas for practice tomorrow.”

“Now’s not the best time, Miss Hopper,” he replied quickly.

As he turned his back to the class, you made quick eye contact with Eddie to motion to him, pointing towards the window. He sat up further, but tilted his head. “The window!” you mouthed.

When Hastings turned around to look at you again, you played it off with a forced laugh.

“Y-you know, we have that really big game soon against the Paxville Poodles…” you began again, stalling poorly. Eddie quietly got up from his seat, just as Hastings made a move to turn around, and you unthinkingly reached out and grabbed his arm, making him look at you suspiciously. “Your bicep is huge!” you blurted out. “Wow— and look—” you grabbed the other— “this one’s even bigger. You don’t take steroids, do you? Because I’ve heard steroids can cause some shrinking of the, uh, package.”

The other students murmured and snickered to each other as Eddie crept around the back of the room, towards the open window at the front; you repositioned yourself and Mr. Hastings to keep Eddie’s path exactly behind him.

“But I didn’t come here to talk about your package!” you added.

“God, I hope not,” the coach agreed.

Eddie’s next step made a bit of noise— that damn chain on his jeans wasn’t very quiet— but you stopped him from turning to look by talking more. “The point is, they always beat us,” you continued, “and I’ve got this plan to help us win this year!”

“Which is?”

“That… thing you taught us!” you answered chipperly as Eddie kept creeping towards the open window.

“What thing?” Hastings wondered.

“Misdirection.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I taught you that?”

“Yeah! You, o-or, you know, Siegfried and Roy— anyway—”

When he tried to turn his head over his shoulder, you had to reach out and grab his chin to turn his bewildered face towards you.

“They look left, we go right! Bang, we score, we win,” you tilted your head and smiled wide. Panic was setting in because you really thought Eddie would’ve made it out by now— he was close, but not there, and the coach was clearly losing his patience.

“But, how do we make them look left?” he wondered. Eddie was halfway out the window, no looking back now… literally, meaning he didn’t see what you were about to do.

“Uh— like this!”

A rush of adrenaline compelled you to do it— or maybe it came right after you did it, honestly it was all a blur— and you lifted the bottom of your shirt up to your chin. The classroom gasped, the coach’s chin dropped, and you cringed internally as you realized how far you’d gone: but you didn’t regret it, yet. Actually, it was pretty funny, if you thought about it… not that you had exactly thought this through.

Hastings stared at you, dumbstruck and more concerned than aroused, the thoughts of what the hell is wrong with this girl? and oh god, am I gonna lose my job? obvious on his face. The detention attendees began to whoop and holler as you dropped your shirt and Eddie was long-since freed. “Okay!” you said with a thin voice, clearing your throat. “Well, now that you’ve seen… the plan… I’m gonna go… and show the plan to someone else. Okay.”

He said nothing, watching you walk away, and the classroom applauded you on your way out.

“I can’t thank you enough for breaking me out,” Eddie smiled as he paddled the rickety canoe.

“Oh, I do that all the time,” you dismissed jokingly.

“How’d you keep him from seeing me?” he wondered.

You snorted a bit. “I, uh, dazzled him with my… wits.”

Eddie shrugged and looked out at the water on every side, pulling the oars in now that you were stuck in the smackdab middle of Lover’s Lake. “So, what’s your excuse?” he asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“For acting the way we do.”

You considered that for a second, glancing out over the lake. “Maybe it’s, like, daddy issues— ‘cause I don’t know my biological parents or anything. Elle’s write her letters and stuff but mine don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Okay, maybe it’s that,” he nodded, “or…”

You sighed. “I don't like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?”

He smiled, clearly proud of himself for getting you to fess up. “So you disappoint them from the start and then you're covered, right?” he suggested, and you shrugged.

“Something like that.”

“Then you fucked it up,” he laughed.

“Huh?” you frowned.

His eyes seemed to sparkle more right before he said it— did he have some way of voluntarily doing that? “You never disappointed me.”

You smiled a bit, but hoped he wouldn’t see that stupid, girlish emotion on your face. “What about you?” you countered quickly. “What’s your damage?”

“Oh, gosh, where to start,” he began, tapping his chin as he looked up and to the right like he was picturing it all, and you laughed. “Daddy’s in prison, mommy’s… god knows where— last I heard she was in Washington?”

“Wait, the state, or D.C.?” you asked.

“I don’t even know!” he chuckled..

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got no clue where my mom is, either,” you shrugged.

“I know misery allegedly loves company but, no, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“There were a lot of rumors about what your parents were up to,” you admitted. “Cult and traveling band were both popular.”

“Well, there are a lot of rumors about a lot of things,” he replied, “but they’re all bullshit.”

“So, the state trooper?” you challenged.

“Ridiculous,” he shot it down. “You made out with a chick at a party?”

“Fantasy,” you rolled your eyes. “Of theirs! Not mine— I don’t wanna kiss anyone in public. The duck?”

“Hearsay,” he smirked. “Billy Hargrove’s balls?”

“Well, that one’s actually true,” you admitted, “but he deserved it! He groped me in the lunch line.”

“Ah, don’t tell me that,” Eddie warned, “or I’ll go kick ‘em back up again myself.” He clicked his tongue and tossed his fist as if to demonstrate.

“Why were you held back again? I know the porn career’s a lie.”

“Do you?” he challenged.

You tried not to get too flushed imagining that. You were strictly against porn, on feminist grounds, but… it was an interesting mental image.

He laughed first, then you followed suit. “I missed a lot of classes, yeah, but I don’t have any good excuse. I— to be honest, I have a lot of trouble with reading. It takes me hours, gives me a headache… so I keep failing English. And it’s not like I’m making ‘A’s in anything else…”

You tilted your head as you looked at him. “Eddie, are you dyslexic?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m bisexual,” he corrected.

“Dyslexia is a learning disorder, it causes difficulty in reading,” you explained.

“Not even gonna react to the bisexual thing, huh?” he pressed.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” you encouraged.

“No cure for it,” he shook his head.

“For the dyslexia, dumbass!” you snapped, and he laughed.

“Okay, okay, I will,” he promised, “if you go see about getting that stick up your ass surgically removed.”

You rolled your eyes, but you still couldn’t stop a smile from filling your face. “I thought you didn’t mind it.”

“I don’t,” he smiled. “‘Cause I know you’re actually just a hopeless romantic under all that venom.”

You glanced down at the floor of the boat, at Eddie’s Reeboks across from your worn-out Converse. You heard him whisper your name, so you looked up again, and he pulled you into a sudden kiss.

Kissing in a boat on Lover’s Lake— a little on-the-nose, maybe, and another one of those things you never expected to happen to you. You never expected to like it so much, either, but you smiled into it and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pulling you back with him, he fell into the front end of the canoe with you on top of him, kissing you harder.

Unfortunately, you both got a little carried away… and when he tried to roll you onto your back so he could lay above you, it knocked the small boat off-balance and sent you both tumbling into the lake.

You came up with a gasp, and a laugh, as Eddie came back facing the wrong way and yelling your name fearfully— like you’d drowned in the last three seconds. Hearing your laugh, he spun around and put on a self-effacing smile before swimming a little closer and kissing you again. You let him, even though that warm feeling in your chest was just getting hotter until you worried it would burn you up from the inside out; you brushed dripping, limp curls out of his face and grabbed him by the back of the neck to keep him close.

Half-dry from the journey home, Eddie walked beside you up to your front porch. Not exactly wanting to bring in a lake-damp drug dealer, you guided him to sit next to you on the steps, and he seemed to look somewhat reverently out at the surrounding neighborhood. “Beats the trailer park?” you assumed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “but it’s not as bad as people think it is— I guess neither are we, though.”

“Okay, then tell me the truth,” you requested.

“The truth? I’m afraid of the dark,” he grinned.

“No, something real,” you protested.

“Okay…” he agreed, lowering his voice and leaning in to kiss your neck. “You’re sweet.”

You smiled, and he moved around to kiss the other side, giving you an eyeful of his fringe.

“And sexy,” he added. “And completely hot for me.”

“You’re… very self-assured,” you giggled, “anybody ever told you that?”

“I tell myself every morning,” he agreed with a smile, “part of my daily affirmations.”

Your eyes drifted over his face— over his gentle eyes and soft lips and strong jaw— and you wondered how you never noticed how perfect he was before.

“Go to prom with me,” he said suddenly.

The moment left and you felt a little suspicious. “Um, are you asking me, or telling me?” you wondered with a raised brow.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” he promised.

“No it won’t, it’ll be a circus of patriarchy and the hypersexualization of the American teenager,” you insisted.

“It’ll be fun if you come with me,” he clarified. “I thought you liked doing what nobody expects? The only one who expects you to go to prom is me.”

“Why do you even wanna go to the prom?!” you wondered.

“Maybe I’m more conventional than I look!” he defended. “Maybe I only never went because I never had a beautiful girl to take.”

“I don’t buy it,” you scoffed. “Why are you so insistent on this? What’s in it for you?”

“Do I need to have a reason to want to be with you?”

“You tell me,” you challenged.

“You know something? You need therapy,” he frowned. “Maybe a shrink can help you unpack this inability to accept affection. Were you not hugged as a child or something?”

“Right,” you snapped, “because all my problems are caused by being adopted— I forgot.”

“I didn’t— that’s not what I was saying,” he defended.

“So, what are you saying? If I’m not madly in love with you, something must be wrong with me?”

“I think if you don’t trust me by now—!”

“By now? One kiss and you’re totally trustworthy?” you tilted your head.

“We kissed twice,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, my mistake,” you scoffed, leaving the question of whether the number or the kisses were the mistake hanging in the air. Shaking his head, Eddie pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his vest pocket.

“Damn it, they’re soaked,” he groaned as he opened it.

You snatched it away. “I’ll throw them out for you,” you offered sharply as you stood up and stormed inside, slamming the door behind you.

Max Mayfield startled when she opened her locker, a flood of folded papers spilling out— origami stars. She tilted her head as she knelt down, picking one up to unfold. Because you’re funnier than people realize, it had written inside in somewhat poor, yet meticulous, handwriting. Wrinkling her eyebrows together, she snagged another from on top of her textbooks. Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in class, listening and thinking. It was cheesy, but she bit her lip as she imagined who this… extravagant secret admirer might be. About to unfold another, Lucas leaned beside her at the lockers.

“Huh,” he noticed, “wonder who did all this just to ask you to prom.”

As he crossed his arms in front of his chest, she noticed the band-aids around the ends of many of his fingers. “Basketball injury?” she assumed.

“No,” he denied sheepishly, “just, uh, papercuts…”

She smiled as she raised an eyebrow at him. “So, you think this… stalker guy is asking me to prom?” she noticed.

“I— um, I assume,” he shrugged.

“That’s presumptuous of you,” she laughed.

Across the hall, Vickie was emphatically agreeing to Robin’s more tree-friendly prom invite: no letter or origami or notes or anything, just the courage to finally ask, and that was all she had wanted anyways.

All across the school, plans were being made, except for Elle: she had more options than most for her date, yet was forced to choose none because you were still resisting Eddie with what little fight you had left in you.

After catching her glare each time you passed in the hall at school, you decided to attempt a peace offering at home.

You hesitantly knocked on her bedroom door after dinner. “Come in,” she called from the other side, but her annoyance was obvious. Especially when you entered and found her sitting on the bed, reading a book, ignoring you completely.

“Listen,” you sighed, “I know…”

She didn’t shut her book or look up at you. You sat down near her feet and carefully took the book away; she crossed her arms as she finally returned your gaze— though hers was much sharper.

“I know you hate having to sit around at home because I’m not, you know, popular or dating or anything,” you informed her.

“You don’t care,” she rolled her eyes.

“I do care!” you insisted. “But I believe you should do things for your own reasons, not someone else’s.”

“I wish I had that luxury,” Elle snapped, “but I can’t do anything because you don’t want to! You know I was the only sophomore asked to prom? And I can’t go because you’re too uptight and feminist-y to just go out with that Eddie guy.”

You frowned. “How do you know about Eddie?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sixteen, I’m not stupid. And everyone heard about him serenading you on the soccer field anyways.”

Your cheeks warmed at the memory. “Well, that’s not the point. I can go out with him if I want, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to prom.”

“Prom is actually gonna be fun you know, it’s not this horrible institution that you think it is,” Elle promised. “And Jason asked me and—”

“He never told you we went out, did he?” you interrupted, and Elle’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking, right?” she assumed; you shook your head. “You and Jason?!”

“For a few months, freshman year.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s sooo cute,” you answered with a Valley-girl-voice, but it didn’t do as much to diffuse the tension as you’d hoped.

“You hate him!” Elle noticed.

“I do now.”

“What happened?” she wondered, and you looked away because you thought it might be easier to say it if you weren’t looking right at her. Even if she hated you, you didn’t want your little sister to think of you in the way she might when you admitted it.

“Well…” you trailed off, but she beat you to it.

“No,” she sighed, “you didn’t— you did it?!”

“Once,” you interjected firmly, as if that made it any better. “Just once, because, you know, everyone was doing it. I wanted to be cool— I wanted to feel normal. But afterwards, I told him I didn’t wanna do it anymore because I wasn’t ready. Aaaaand he dumped me.”

Elle blinked at you in bewilderment.

“After that, I decided to never do anything else again just because everyone else was doing it. I haven’t since! Well, except, you know, going to Steve Harrington’s party and getting wasted.”

“How did I not know about this?” Elle wondered. Apparently she confused being popular with being omniscient.

“I warned him that if he told anyone, all the cheerleaders would find out how small his dick is,” you snorted. Elle didn’t seem as amused, though.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she wondered.

“I wanted you to make up your own mind about him,” you replied.

“Then why did you help Daddy keep me hostage here?!”

She got up off the bed and stood, frustration switching to anger, and you wrinkled your eyebrows as well. “Because I wanted to protect you!” you replied.

“By not letting me experience anything?” she countered.

“Not everything is worth experiencing, Elle!” you snapped. “Not everyone can be trusted!”

“I wouldn’t know!” she announced furiously. “You were too busy worrying I’d make the same mistakes as you to let me make my own!”

She stormed out of her own room and left you alone in it with a slam of the door. You sat on the bed for a minute, considering what she’d said. Noticing the picture on her nightstand, you sighed at the shot your dad had taken of the two of you, years ago, in line at Disneyland. She used to think you hung the moon back then… why couldn’t things still be that easy?

You glided down the stairs quickly, holding up the end of your dress, and passed Dad as he watched TV. “Bye, I’m going to prom,” you offered him flippantly as you passed.

“Ha ha, very funny,” he returned flatly. Of course, when he caught you and your outfit in the corner of his eye, he realized you were serious.

Before he could even ask what was going on, you were out the door. He would’ve chased you in search of more information, but he was distracted by Elle marching by next in her sparkly, colorful gown.

“What’s that?” he asked when he saw the midriff-baring garment.

“A prom dress!” she answered joyfully.

“I seem to be hearing that word a lot lately,” he frowned.

The doorbell rang, and Elle scampered across the foyer to answer it. On the other side, Mike was waiting in a suit with a corsage in hand ready to give her— but he stalled when he got a look at her all dolled up (even more than usual). “Wow,” he beamed, “you look… bitchin’.”

She smiled and started to leave with only a wave to her dad, but he crossed his arms. “Stop,” he insisted, and Elle sighed as she froze. “Turn.”

The young couple turned, Mike looking a bit anxious as Elle prepared for the usual.

“Explain,” Hopper demanded.

“Well, you know how you said I could date if my lovely, wonderful big sister dated?” she batted her eyelashes. “Turns out she found this guy who’s sort of perfect for her, which is sort of perfect for me, because Mike invited me to the prom—” she squeezed her date’s hand for emphasis— “and I really wanna go and I’m technically allowed since she’s going, and I know you’re a man of your word so you’ll stick to the rule you made. Right?”

There was a heavy pause; Mike extended his hand to the Chief politely. “Nice to meet you,” he greeted.

Elle took his hand instead and guided him out the front door. Powerless, Hopper stepped up to the open doorway and watched them run to the waiting limousine together. “Back by eleven, you hear me?” he called out. “One minute past and the entire police department will be looking for you!”

They got in the car and drove off as he watched with a sigh.

You’d sort of been expecting Eddie to wear a t-shirt with a tuxedo pattern printed on it… maybe that’s what everyone expected of him. But he was wearing a real one, in a dark cranberry color that seemed to bring out that little bit of hazel in his deep brown eyes.

It was stupid how easily his one simple glance over your body could make you fight the urge to blush. You knew you looked good, you actually felt good, but it was different to see Eddie acknowledge it. “Wow,” he offered with a wide smile.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “uh, you too.”

He handed you a rose before you hooked your arm in his to walk inside to the decorated gymnasium.

“Where’d you get a tux?” you wondered.

“Wayne had one,” Eddie shrugged.

“Really?” you pressed, and Eddie laughed.

“Hell no, he couldn’t even help me with my tie! I… had a friend help me get this,” Eddie admitted, internally disgusted with himself for referring to Jason Carver as a friend. Then again, he was disgusted with himself for doing this for Jason’s benefit at all, but at least there was a real benefit for himself, too: the only girl he’d ever really fallen for walking arm-in-arm with him to prom. “Where’d you get the dress?” he wondered.

“Oh, um,” you blinked quickly, “I guess I really was a hopeless romantic deep down after all… ‘cause I had a nice dress in the back of my closet, just in case someone ever wanted to see me in it.”

There was a little moment of pause as Eddie imagined you saving a dress like this for someone special, hardly believing it was him.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have questioned your motives for asking me out,” you blurted out suddenly. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

He’d never seen you so… humbled? And it made his heart twist. “Don’t sweat it,” he encouraged, “you’re here with me now— that’s all that matters.”

Jason was already wearing his tux— and a sparkling-white smile— as your father opened the door. “Hello, Mr. Hopper,” he offered charmingly, even though anyone with half a brain knows to call him Chief Hopper. “I’m here to pick up Elle for the prom?”

Saying nothing, the Chief shut the door as suddenly as he’d opened it.

As you walked in to the room, dancing and general merriment in every direction, you caught Elle and Mike dancing cheek-to-cheek not too far off— and your sister offered you a quick wave and a gentler smile than you’d seen on her (directed at you, at least) in years.

Robin and Vickie, as always, were dancing to the beat of their own song, ignorant and uncaring to the judgment of others; Lucas guided Max to the dance floor, and you were one of many who noticed how good the unlikely pair looked together.

You were so caught up in it that you almost didn’t notice the music changing to another song— your favorite song. Eddie nudged you with his elbow and pointed at the stage, where the band from Club Nina joined the musicians already playing, and you gasped. “Oh my god!” you choked. “It’s—!”

“I had a friend help me with that, too,” Eddie grinned at you, drinking in your ecstatic excitement. You looked like a kid in a candy store as the lead singer waved at you; first humbled, then unabashedly joyful… so many new emotions that Eddie wasn’t used to seeing you show, but he liked this one so far. He liked how beautiful you were when you let yourself be openly happy— it reminded him of the way you looked dancing to this song at that club all those weeks ago. He hadn’t just been putting on the moves, he really thought you looked sexy when you let go and enjoyed yourself. And now you looked that way again, but you were dancing with him. You looked, and felt, freer than ever.

Elle was on her way to freshen up in the girls’ room— because the last thing she needed now was a lifting false lash with everything else going so perfectly— when Andy and Patrick stopped her. “Woah, hey,” Andy said as he grabbed her shoulder, “what’s going on?”

“What?” she wondered.

“Where’s Jason?” they pressed.

“I dunno, probably off somewhere picking his nose?” she replied sarcastically.

“Oh my god,” Patrick laughed. “I knew he couldn’t do it!”

“Huh?” she asked.

“He was so sure he could pop your cherry tonight,” Andy explained, bemused, “but he was full of shit— as per usual.”

Elle stepped back. “What a creep!” she spat, but they weren’t even paying attention anymore, just chuckling to each other about how they wouldn’t let their team captain live this one down for a while.

As for Jason, he wasn’t too far away after all— he was angrily storming through the dancing crowd towards you and Eddie. “Hey, freak!” he yelped just before grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him aside, though not quite far enough away. “What’s Elle doing here with that pipsqueak?! I didn’t pay you to take out her sister just so some little weirdo could get with her instead.”

Eddie whipped his head around, praying to whatever deity would listen that you hadn’t heard, but it only took a split-second to see the look in your eyes. And there was a third emotion he’d never seen on you before: real heartbreak. No anger, no rage, just devastation.

“Wait,” he pleaded as you began to walk away.

“I can’t believe I was right about you,” you replied with a shake of your head, “the first time.”

Jason let Eddie go to unsuccessfully chase after you; he was disinterested in the Freak versus Bitch drama unfolding once again, much more focused on getting back at Mike Wheeler for screwing him over.

Lucas tried to intercept him, but he got shoved roughly to the ground on the way to Mike. “You messed with the wrong guy,” Jason informed him with a sneer, “and now you’re so done. You and that prissy bitch.”

“Watch what you say about her,” Mike warned angrily, but Jason wasn’t exactly intimidated— in fact, he almost looked amused right before his fist collided with the sophomore’s face. Mike crumpled to the ground, not exactly a match for Jason’s strength… but then again, neither was Elle, and she was the one who swung back— right in the nose.

“That’s for making my boyfriend bleed!” she explained as he clutched his face. “That’s for my sister,” she added as she kneed him in the gut, “and this… is for me.”

A swift kick to the crotch sent him to the ground, and Elle stepped over him to offer a hand to Mike. He took it, looking up at her in awe as she helped him stand again. “Uh, boyfriend?” he noticed.

It was the kind of move you would’ve been proud of, if you were there to see it; apparently ball-kicking ran in the Hopper family, and not just in the soccer sense.

“Please, let me explain,” Eddie begged as he chased you out of the gym.

“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory!” you returned sharply. “It was all a set-up, by fucking Jason! I should’ve known it was too…”

Too good to be true. You couldn’t admit that, you’d already given away so much. “It wasn’t— that was just how it started!” Eddie promised. “But I really fell for you.”

“Yeah? Funny what money can do to a person.”

“I never cared about the money!” he insisted, and when you spun around to challenge that, he grabbed your shoulders. “I only cared about you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” you sneered, and he did want to show you— he wanted to wipe that all-too-familiar look off your face and go back to how things were. He kissed you, hard and forceful, but you pushed him off with a whine. “I hate you!” you spat as you managed to fight him off— not that he was trying that hard to force you to stay, he knew that was wrong… though he wished he could. He wished he could hug you tight enough to keep you here until you would listen, but you were too stubborn for it to work anyways. It was that stubbornness that made him resent you in the beginning, then it was one of the things he fell for— and now it was the reason you were walking away, and he was just watching you go, unwilling to hurt you anymore.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna come?” Elle asked again, pityingly, as Mike held her hand. You shook your head. “Okay, well, we’ll miss you.”

It was sweet, but it was a lie; a young couple didn’t want you chaperoning their movie date. Lies can be so sweet that way, the best ones usually are. You watched them walk together down the sidewalk, knowing it wouldn’t cheer you up to go with them. “Is she gonna be okay?” Mike whispered to his girlfriend, though not quietly enough.

“I hope so,” Elle replied softly.

As they left, your dad appeared and sat next to you on the steps, groaning as his older joints made it a bit more of a task. “Where’s she going?” he wondered.

“To meet a bunch of bikers,” you offered quickly. “Big ones… full of sperm.”

“Not funny,” Hopper frowned. You gave him a look, and he smiled slightly. “A little funny.”

It still wasn’t enough to make you smile back, and you looked forward at the houses across the street again.

“So… the dance,” he remembered, “was it groovy?”

Even that couldn’t make you crack a smirk, though you wanted to. “Some parts…”

“Which parts?” he wondered.

“The part where Elle beat the crap out of some loser,” you recalled— the stories around school were already glorious. You were pretty sure the rumor that she pulled some Karate Kid moves and spin-kicked him in the face was just a rumor, but you liked picturing it anyways.

“Elle did what?” he gasped.

“What, are you afraid she’s taking after me?” you challenged.

“No,” he answered quickly, “I’m impressed.”

You looked at him again, soaking in that all-too-rare approval. It’s not that he wasn’t affectionate… well, he wasn’t, but it was only because he had trouble expressing himself. It made his eloquence going forward even more unexpected.

“You know, fathers don’t like to admit when their daughters become capable of running their own lives,” he explained. “It means we’re obsolete… we’re spectators. Elle still lets me play a few innings— you’ve had me on the bench for years— and when you go to Sarah Lawrence, I won’t even be able to watch the game.”

You were about to complain about the baseball metaphor until you realized what he was really saying. “When I go?” you repeated excitedly.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind now! I already sent them a check,” he answered with a slightly mischievous smile. Exclaiming in joy, you threw yourself on him for a tight hug.

“I assume you’ve all prepared your sonnets for today?” Ms. O’Donnell looked over the room. She frowned when she saw Jason sinking into his chair. “Mr. Carver?”

“Uh… I, uh, have a doctor’s note,” he explained.

“Oh— well, regardless, sunglasses are not permitted indoors,” she reminded him.

Sighing, he took the aviators off, and the class snickered at the sight of two black eyes on either side of his bandaged nose.

“Would anyone else like to read theirs for us?” she encouraged, and you waited a second before raising your hand.

That seemed to surprise everyone— most of all Eddie, who lifted his head from where it had been resting on his desk. Some of your classmates assumed the worst— here we go and time for a feminist lecture that rhymes and all that— but some seemed to sense what was really coming. Ms. O’Donnell, pleasantly surprised, stepped aside to let you come stand at the front.

You opened your notebook and did your best not to look at everyone looking at you.

Clearing your throat, you began. “I hate the way you talk to me,” you read aloud, “and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.”

Your reading was particularly flat and unemotional, just hoping to get this over with, yet at the same time, so many emotions were flooding you inside.

“I hate your stupid white Reeboks, and the way you read my mind— I hate you so much it make me sick, it even makes me rhyme.”

You spared one half-second glance up, and even just in your peripheral you saw Eddie’s face, and you had to fight getting choked up.

“I hate… I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie,” you whimpered, voice breaking, “I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when— when you make me cry.”

As a hot tear crossed your cheek, you fought the instinct to defiantly wipe it away— for once, you wanted to feel this, and you wanted to be seen even at your most vulnerable.

“I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call,” you continued, approaching the end. “But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you; not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

The way Eddie was looking at you was just too much; the way everyone was looking at you was just too much. You stormed out of the class, leaving them in stunned silence, crying harder as you ran down the hall.

Your face was dry by the time you got to your car; maybe you’d let Eddie play with your heart and invade your mind and cry way too much, but you decided that was over now— no more tears over boys. Especially dumbass, annoying, sexy, horrible, gorgeous boys who play you for a fool and have the audacity to fall for you in the process.

You were about you open your driver’s side door when you saw the sparkling white resin in the front seat, and you bent down, greeted by the Fender Stratocaster you’d been eying resting in your seat.

Reaching in through the open window, you pulled it out delicately and inspected it like it was magic— because maybe it was.

“Nice, huh?”

Eddie’s voice behind you made you jump and spin, and he smiled at you expectantly as he shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted back on his heels for a second. “A Fender Strat?” you noticed. “Is this— is this mine?”

“I figured you could use it,” he shrugged, “when you start your band. Or join mine.”

You smiled slowly as you looked at it again, and then back at him.

“Besides, I had some extra cash,” he explained. “Some jerk paid me to take out this amazing girl…”

“Yeah?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but, uh, I kinda fucked it up. ‘Cause I totally fell for her.”

You loved the way he looked with a flush tinting his cheeks. “Really?” you pressed.

“Of course,” he grinned. “Very rare to find a girl who’ll flash someone to break you out of detention.”

It was your turn to feel your face warm, then, wondering how long ago he found out about that. Dropping your forehead into one of your hands in embarrassment, you laughed shamefully at the memory, hardly believing you’d done something so impulsive. As risky as it was, you actually kind of liked the person you were when you were with Eddie.

With a gentle grip on your wrist he moved your hand away from your face, the other tilting up your chin so he could kiss you. You let him, for a moment, but before you could properly melt into him you carefully pushed him back by his shoulders.

“You know you can’t just buy me a guitar whenever you screw up, right?” you asked.

“I know,” he agreed, “but hey! There’s always drums, bass, tambourine… triangle…”

You snorted your laugh and he kissed you again. You pushed him away again. “And don’t just think you can—”

He kissed you again, a little harder, and you gave in to it willingly.

Yeah, all that cheesy romance stuff? Sappy poems, public serenading, making out in front of everyone as the bell rang and the day ended? Turns out it really can happen for a girl like you. It can happen for a guy like Eddie, too; neither of you expected it to, but it did. And as you spent the rest of your senior year getting to know him better, you found a lot more things about Eddie Munson that you would've hated if you learned them before— but they only made you love him more instead.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #10 things I hate about you #mileven #lumax #rovickie #stranger things fanfiction #AMidsummerNightsWritingChallenge

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dckweed · 2 years

Text

ugh you guys ok so ive been in such a pissy mood lately and im still on season two of stranger things and ok so remember when i said i was gonna do a billy hate fuck smut???? well this is it. you're welcome :)

also please feel free to request, i also added billy to the list of Stranger Things characters that can be requested!!

billy still ain't it bc i think he's a total dick but the part where he cried after that interaction with his dad had me feeling bad for him just a teeny bit. and also dacre is just godly for me. but i in no way simp for billy.

warnings: rough sex for sure, maybe some hair pulling, scratching, possible biting, idk if ill make it a nice ending or if ill make it like they definitely hate each other fr but this is your warning for either of those, maybe some bruising bc i feel like this is gonna be really really rough idk if im missing anything else but p much this is probably going to be pure word porn so if you're a MINOR DO NOT READ THIS!

anywhore, i give you:

'FUCK THE HATE AWAY' billy hargrove x female!reader

Look, you hadn't meant to end up in this position, in the middle of your families kitchen, at your breakfast table no less, riding the hell out of Billy fucking Hargrove of all people, but god, you honestly didn't have control of yourself at this point.

How did you even get here? No seriously, how the fuck did you get here? You thought really hard, completely ignoring the pain burning in your thighs from the way you were moving, it really was quite the workout. You thought back to earlier in the day, how Billy who was oddly enough in your home-ec class had ended up being your pairing for a project. You honestly couldnt help the eye roll when his name had been called with your own, he hung out with your brother quite a bit and you knew how he acted. You thought he was an asshole, a bully.

He didn't seem to have a problem with the pairing though, hell, he probably thought that you would do the whole thing for the both of them, which you honestly didn't mind because at least then it would be done right, but you were shocked when he told you to meet him at his car after you finished getting things from your locker. Your brother was at football that day, and you honestly didn't want to wait around for him, so you begrudgingly took the opportunity of the ride home.

"So, what exactly are your expectations?" You ask, getting into the passenger seat, the black leather warm on your thighs. It had been an oddly warm day for the fall, and the sun has been shining down on it all day. You look at him as he gets into the driver's seat.

"What do you mean?" He asks, already an annoyed tone to his voice, you could practically feel the eye roll come on. He threw the car into drive and reversed out of his spot before you even had your seat belt on.

"I mean, are you expecting me to do the work?" You ask, turning to face the front, you were surprised how well he knew the way to your house, he'd only been there a handful of times and it was easy to get lost in the neighborhood. "Because if so, I was already planning on it, you didn't have to drive me home just to tell me."

Billy scoffs. "I was already planning on driving you home, I owed your brother a favor." He says, his hands fidgeting for a cigarette. You were already on his damn nerves. God, you irritated him, you and your perfect fucking voice, and your perfect smile and your perfect attitude. He didn't understand how you could be so nice all the time. "And, for the record, I am capable of doing a project like this. How hard could it be?"

You sighed, knowing damn well you were in for a long, long afternoon. You really hoped he was more the stand back and observe type, although to your disappointment, he was completely hands on.

It didn't take long to get home, and you went upstairs to throw your bag in your room and take off your jacket, staying in your skirt and blouse. By the time you had gotten back down to the kitchen he had already shrugged off his leather coat and threw it onto your kitchen table, he was in the middle of rolling his sleeves up when he turned to look at you, long hair trailing down his back.

"So, where's the flour?"

For nearly two hours the two of you worked, nicely enough at first, although it slowly became tense as the pair of you were at your wits end with each other. Your need to be in control, and his carefree attitude weren't mixing well and you were quite frankly ready to beat him over the head with your mom's rolling pin.

You had just pulled your third attempt at your project out of the oven, the edges burnt completely black. It had stayed in for ten minutes too long, Billy having forgotten to turn on the timer. "Dammit, that was the last of the flour and cherries!" You say, completely exasperated and almost in tears. You really wish he had just let you do it.

Billy just looks at it shrugging. "Honestly I don't even know why you're panicking so hard about it, it's not like we don't have the whole weekend to get it done." He says nonchalantly, as if he didn't comprehend that you weren't the type of person who didn't wait the whole weekend to get things done perfectly the first time around.

"The whole weekend? Are you insane? Im not spending the whole weekend working on a pie with you," You say, stomping your foot as you whine.

Billy looked at you, taking in your bratty attitude. He wasn't ashamed to admit, it kind of turned him on a little bit, all though, that also could have just been due to the fantasies he'd been having about how to shut you the fuck up the whole time you'd been working together. God you liked to talk alot.

He just shrugs and you groan.

"I fucking hate you and your stupid procrastinating personality, Hargrove." You grunt out, hands crossed over your chest. He leaned against the counter, red shirt unbuttoned half way, his sleeves rolled up. You weren't one to deny that he was damn good looking, but you still couldn't stand him.

Billy smirks, straightening up. "Likewise, sweetheart." He winks, looking at you as he takes a step closer. He was honestly going to grab his jacket to head out, he figured he'd let you cool off and see you tomorrow. You stepped closer to him, almost as if you were challenging him.

"And just where do you think you're going?" You ask, looking up at him, uncrossing your arms and putting your hands on your hips. "I didn't say we were done yet."

Billy had to admit, the bossy attitude was fucking hot right then, and he was definitely horny after what he'd been thinking about. "Bossy is a hot look on you, sweetheart." He says, stepping just a little bit closer to you. You roll your eyes, not expecting him to grab your chin in his hand, his fingers squeezing your cheek. "That was rather rude, Y/N, don't be a fucking brat."

You couldn't help the immediate turn on, god it had come out of nowhere and you generally wouldnt have let this happen, but fuck you were frustrated enough as it was, you didn't need to be left horny too. "And what are you gonna do about it, hm?" You ask, eyebrow raised at him.

Billy takes that as his invitation and thank fucking god because he wasn't planning on ending the weekend without fucking you at least once, he may have found you annoying as hell but you were definitely the hottest girl in school, and you had never paid him the time of day before now. Without another moments he closed what little bit of space was between the two of you and planted a rough, sloppy kiss on your mouth.

You groan at the sensation, moving your mouth with his almost too eagerly. He takes his hand off of your face, letting it travel down to the top of your blouse with his other one, taking a good grip at the collar and yanking on it. All of the buttons pop off and scatter to the ground, you make a noise of surprise and pull away but he reaches his hand behind you, smacking your ass roughly.

"Shut up." He grunts, letting your hands unbutton his shirt the rest of the way before starting to push you backwards towards the table, undoing his belt the entire way. He could already see how flustered you were and god damn it looked sexy on you.

Your back hits the table, and you shrug your blouse off of your shoulders, your bra straps too, letting it slide down to your torso, leaving you exposed to him.

You hear him suck in a breath his eyes on your chest, you half expect him to start playing with your breasts, it's what most guys you had been with had done, and you made a shocked noise when he used both of his hands to push you to your knees, his cock right in front of you, hard and ready, waiting to use you.

"Suck." He grunts out, taking a fist full of your hair. You do as told, taking him into your mouth eagerly. He throws his head back, a low sigh coming from his parted lips. "Fuck.." You Bob your head, taking him in farther every time, coating him with your saliva. You use your hands, wrapping both around him as you twist and suck, within a few moments he's thrusting his hips gently into your mouth, his hand gripping your hair tightly, fucking your face until you're a drooling, slobbering fucking mess all over him. "Sweetheart, you look so fucking perfect getting your mouth fucked like that, and i could come all the way down your fucking throat but, id rather fuck you first, because where the fuck is the fun if we can't both fuck the hate away?"

He pulls out of your mouth, and you groan. His hand drops your hair and goes to your throat, wrapping around it as he pulls you back to your feet. "On the fucking table," He says, pushing your skirt up your hips and pulling your panties down your legs as you settle onto the table edge, your legs spread nice and wide for him, your arousal shining in the light. "Such a little fucking whore aren't you, who knew that little miss perfect liked to be used like a toy?" He asks, he let his fingers roam up your pussy, hearing your small moan at the contact, fuck it was hotter than he had expected it to be. "Can your pussy take my cock as well as your mouth can? Hm? Can I fuck you good and hard?"

You give a breathless noise, looking up at him, legs already hooked around his fucking waist, eyes trailing down the exposed skin of his muscled torso. He really was as hot as you'd heard. "Fuck me already, Billy." You whine out, not in the mood for games, afraid you'd get caught by your brother or parents, but too turned on to stop him.

You didnt have to wait long, within moments he's pushed himself inside of you, his cock filling every fucking inch of you perfectly, your pussy swallowing him up perfectly. "Fuck.." You heard him groan again, his hips thrusting lightly at first before giving a long, sharp snap of a movement that has you throwing your head back, a string of curses escaping your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, your table creaking and croaking underneath the weight of the two of you, him leaning over you, planing rough, wet kisses over your mouth to keep from screaming too loudly, he was afraid your neighbors would hear, or your brother if he decided to come home early. You pawed at his skin, your nails digging in and scratching down his chest as he lifted your hips in a way that made you arch back up into him, unable to help your bodies responses to him.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart." He groans out, picking you up completely and moving backwards to the chair behind him. Still bouncing you on his cock as he did. He say, giving your ass a nice two handed squeeze before slapping once, twice, leaving red marks he was sure. "Ride it, baby."

That was how ended up here, riding his cock like it was the last thing you'd ever do. Fuck you hated yourself for it, but god your pussy had never felt better. He leaned his head down, taking one of your tits in his mouth, his tongue rolling around your nipple, sucking on it the supple flesh. He couldn't receiving himself, he had to give it a nice hard bite. he smirked, feeling you shudder against his body, a squeaking noise coming from his mouth as you scratch your nails down his chest again, causing him to moan, slapping your ass roughly once more.

He could tell you were close to coming, he could tell by the look on your face and the way your body was moving against his own. He wasn't too far off either. He reached a hand up to your hair, tangling your hand in the locks as he angled your head against his own, watching your eyes. "Such a good fucking whore riding my cock like a fucking pro," He says, he figured you deserved some praise. "good fucking girl, gonna cum all over it, hm? cum all over my fucking cock like a good little slut..there you go, good girl." He grunts, your hips stuttering and a silent moan escaping your mouth. He wasn't too far behind, and within moments he lifted you off of him, leaning you back just enough that he could come all over your stomach, ruining your skirt as the hot, thick spurts hit it. "Fuck.." He sighs, sitting back in the chair, letting you catch your breath for a moment.

You looked like a goddess to him, you looked perfect with your hair messy, and your face red and flushed, but relaxed and calm looking. You looked at him, unable to stop the giggling that escaped your lips. He looked at you, eyebrow raised.

"I'm sorry." You says, a small smile on your face as you stand up slowly. You figured he wasn't the hanging around type, and you didn't want to keep him from whatever his plans were. "This just totally wasn't how I expected this to go."

Billy chuckles, pulling his jeans up and buckling them. "Glad I could be of service." He says, grabbing his jacket off the table. "I'll be back tomorrow, I'll bring cherries and flour." He says grabbing his keys.

He walks past you, giving you a light pat on your still exposed ass, he caught sight of your brothers car through the living room window as he came to the hallway. "He's home." He calls over his shoulder, sending you running up the stairs with a squeak.

@bloatedandlonly

#stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things s2 #billy hargove smut #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove

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neonghostlights · 1 year

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I'll Follow You

A/N: I wanted this to be a one shot, but it ended up just being a sad blurb. Words weren’t wording like I wanted them to, so I hope it makes sense. I meant to post this earlier, but I finished Queen Charlotte and got sad.

Warnings: Death, talks of the afterlife, hospital, mention of illness, mourning, pain, my blog is 18+ only, Minors DNI

You opened your eyes to see Eddie standing over you. The lighting in the room was dimmed for sleep, yet his skin glowed like he was bathed in full moonlight.

There was a small, easy smile on his face as he held out his hand to help you out of the bed.

You reveled internally at the ease of being able to stand. You hadn’t felt this good in years.

It was amazing how he looked just like you remembered him. His hair long, his favorite hellfire shirt on, and his leather jacket. His guitar pick necklace hung around his neck proudly, the same one you had taken from his body as a reminder, and then passed down to your son when he was old enough.

He said nothing as you took inventory of your body. Something felt different from when you had fallen asleep. You had been sick and in pain. But now, you felt the best you had ever felt in your life.

Your hands and arms once wrinkled from age had smoothed back to their youthful appearance. Your hospital gown that you had fallen asleep in was now your favorite dress from the summers of the ‘80s.

You looked and felt twenty again.

You looked at Eddie, speechless. Eddie had died in your arms over sixty years ago now. Yet, he stood in front of you just as beautiful as the day he left.

“Am I dead?” You ask softly, too afraid that you would wake EJ who was asleep in the chair beside you.

“Yeah, baby. You’re dead.”

“Oh,” you replied, brows furrow as you looked at your body lying on the bed. You looked to be sleeping peacefully; an elderly woman resting after eighty years of life.

Using the hand that was still clasped against yours, Eddie pulled you in close for a bone crushing embrace.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair. “You did such a good job.” He gestured towards a still sleeping EJ. Poor thing had been taking care of you lately and running himself ragged.

You were glad he wasn’t awake for your end.

For so long, it had just been you and your son. When you were able to, you left Hawkins behind and took your son to a place where no one else knew Eddie’s name. Where he wouldn’t have the curse of the Munson last name hanging over his head.

He could just be EJ Munson.

A normal kid in a normal town.

“It wasn’t easy. He’s so much like you, Eddie,” you said with a laugh, remembering your son's rebellious teen years that mirrored his fathers.

How many times had he woken you up in the middle of the night to the sound of him practicing his guitar or listening to you and Eddie’s old tapes at an eardrum bursting volume? You couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad. It was just in his blood.

Eddie pulled back, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. A kiss that promised you an eternity for more.

“I wish I could have been there for him. If I knew…I wouldn’t have cut the rope,” he said solemnly, staring at the graying curls on his son's head.

EJ was a grown man, with kids of his own now. Yet, he always made sure his fathers name was passed down, and that everyone knew he was a hero.

“Shh, it’s okay. You two will get to meet some day right?” You replied softly.

“I was still there. Even though you couldn’t tell. I was right there beside you for the good and the bad,” he said.

He didn’t have to tell you that for you to know. You had always felt Eddie was never truly gone. You would feel him when the wind would pick up when you visited his grave, or his favorite songs would play on the radio when you were crying over him.

“I know you were,” you admitted. “I could always feel you.”

Eddie gave you a hopeful smile before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Just as beautiful as I remember. You ready to go? You’ve got some people waiting to see you on the other side,” he said.

It had been so long since you had seen some of your friends. Nearly sixty years since the final battle with Vecna had claimed some of their lives.

Eddie wrapped an arm around you, leading you out of the hospital room.

You heard the chair creak behind you before a choked sob. You wished you could turn back and comfort him. But he would be okay.

“I can’t believe you named him Edward James Munson Junior,” Eddie said playfully, turning your attention from the sound of nurses rushing in and out of your room.

“Hey.” You jabbed him with your elbow, “Of course I would name him after a hero.”

He just laughed his beautiful laugh that your memories hadn’t done justice for as he pulled you down the hallway towards the blinding, comforting light that would be the doorway to your eternity of happiness.

An eternity with Eddie.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb

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rainymoodlet · 11 months

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adriana moreno for juniper’s bachelorette by @wrixie!!

she was made at 3am in a ouid haze i promise we all just had a joint vision of hot pierced partner for juniper fhshhdd

adriana moreno is a del sol valley-based auto mechanic who’s looking for love and a chance to settle down!! after years of focusing on her garage and her own career, she’s realized that the nuances of the dating world have slowly passed her by: but that doesn’t mean she’s out of the game entirely!! juniper doesn’t know what’s comin’! 🧨

full name: adriana moreno

age: young adult (28 years old)

sexuality/pronouns: lesbian, she/her

traits: (bodybuilder) hot-headed, maker, outgoing

adriana likes: handiness, cracking ill-timed jokes, refurbishing old cars, driving w/ one hand on the wheel, experimental food, any dog on this green earth, being the mom friend, not taking anyone’s crap, not backing down in a confrontration, leather jackets

adriana dislikes: dancing (she has two left feet), appeasing sims, introverts, coffee with cream, doing anything “for the aesthetic”, disingenuous people, cartoons, synth/electronic music, karaoke, and performing for a crowd in general

* she also has all her in-game likes and dislikes accordingly!

she’ll be a private dl for wrix if chosen!! i am so excited to see another bachelorette challenge on my dash and to see another olevera challenge to boot! 🥹

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 edit #ts4 bachelorette challenge #junipersbc #sim: adriana #||#i know i have more prioriiitieees 😩 but i got hit by the cas bug!!#if chosen you can do whatever you like w her visually!! i tried to do a more maxis-match style for her!#i am so excited to see the entries for this bc #and i really hope y’all join me in makin’ a sim!!#i’m planning on doing sim reqs after the first rose ceremony so keep those in mind 👀#once i get them… done 😭#but yeahhh adriana!!! 🥹 she’s a lesbian mechanic and is tired of bein single!!#who wouldn’t want a chance w juniper 👀#if you’d like any more info i can ofc give it!!#lorelei for rebouks’ taught me to use the same cc across all outfits so there’s a small amount of cc #so she’s fully packaged and ready to go! 💪

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acewitch-writes · 4 months

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Hello! I recently found your account, and I went on scrolling down and down...and now I hope you know how grateful I am. Thank u- Merci. About 90% of the content you share here has made me feel so much better. I realllyy hope wonderful things happen for you. I've been a fan of hp since 2001, but I'm not really a social media person so I haven't been active in the fandom. I had no idea what was happening here until recently..two months ago to be exact (other details are not important) and omg.. I ended up in a discussion with some I think, new fans. tbh I thought, "Great! I'm good at this, I read all the books more than once Let's talk :)" and omg their very first question was "What do you think about Regulus?"

I was like, "Who?" *dying from secondhand embarrassment bc It turns out I'm not that good at this

but as the discussion continued, I became more and more baffled bc "Why was everyone talking about Barty, Evan, and Regulus? who is daddy Remu? and what do you mean people ship James Potter with R.A.B.? What?"

I swear for a moment I thought "Did the writer publish a new book? Did I miss something? " tbh, I respect everyone's opinion it's none of my business but I'm still shocked. The only thing that bothers me is everything that happened with this new Wolfsar

omg, for most fans around my age (or at least people I know), Sirius was the complete portrayal of a bad boy- a rebel, with boots, tattoos, a leather jacket, and a fucking motorcycle. so this new Sirius is like a stranger to me, and that's okay. Mein issue is kinda with this new Remus T T my beloved .

They (the fans I was talking with) told me Remus is "tall, so handsome, SO strong, and hot-headed person because, yk he's a werewolf." I was like "hot headed? excuse me?" I tried to explain to them that Remus being a werewolf is a metaphor for illnesses like HIV, it's not some superpowery gift. they didn't believe me, but then they literally looked me in the face and said, "Then why would Sirius like someone like him? He's poor, short, and ugly." I swear I wanted to cry right then and there.

What is this mindset that makes some people think that a person should be, Idk, hot and flawless to deserve to be loved? Yes I don't think Remus is tall and super hot and perfect and isn't it fine? and I am 100% sure he's so beautiful. not like Sirius ofc but he has this "warm, cozy, and soft" sort of beauty. and I don't think he was a coward (ok maybe he was a liitle) but I guess it's easier for us, humans, to take the worst or weakest moment of a character and amplify it until it defines them entirely. and omg I'm so sorry for my rant and my bad english. but once again thank you for your beautiful soul <3 thank you

Hi anon! I, too, am baffled by the recent obsession with Regulus in this fandom. I think Jegulus is fine as a crack ship, but it has become so mainstream that many fans have just gone ahead and canonized it to the point that you'll be vilified for not accepting it as canon. I underestimated how popular the "best friend's brother" trope was, apparently. I also think it appeals to many fans as a Marauders Era version of one of the most popular ships of all time, Drarry.

This new version of Wolfstar is my biggest complaint with today's fandom, too! I get that the Marauders have very limited canon information and therefore we have more creative freedom to flesh them out, but I really believe that it has gone way too far. Sirius and Remus in today's fandom don't bear any resemblance to the characters they're based on. Remus is just a generic alpha werewolf OC and Sirius is his generic himbo femboy love interest OC. They don't even share a physical description with their Canon counterparts, and their personalities and character traits are so far removed that I can't even fathom how we reached this point as a fandom. How can you claim to like these characters if you have to change everything the source material says about them?

You're English is great, by the way! I completely agree that Remus has a cozy-and-warm sort of beauty. He made a point to distance himself from the stigma surrounding Lycanthropy because it was the focal point of his shame and self-loathing. And I just adore Wolfstar's dynamic from this lens, with the intimidatingly beautiful, confident, headstrong Sirius Black, who could have his pick of anyone he wants, choosing this ordinary guy because he's cozy and soft and it's exactly what Sirius wants after surviving the harsh ideals and abuse of House Black.

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periwinklemoonlight · 5 months

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I AM VERY INTERESTED I LOVE HEARING THOUGT PROCESSES AND ITS SO CLEAR HOW MUCH PASSION AND CARE WAS PUT INTO YOUR ZINE PIECE

AHH THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! i have so many thoughts i dont know where to begin LMAO ill start with the outfit designs first!!

to start things off, every design has one specific colour in mind to represent that hermit! pearl - blue, gem - green, impulse - yellow, doc - black/gray, and grian - red! (everyone's nails are painted their colour) every design was deliberately punk-inspired, since during the king arc the soup group was a force of resistance against the monarchy's tyranny :P therefore, the soup group are the main focus of the art and their designs are intentionally made so that they stand out more from the other two, though i made sure they were all unique in one aspect or another :] let's go character by character now! (i'm including all my initial design sketches + some inspo photos too)

pearl - she's the lead singer of soup group, along with playing the electric guitar! her design features a double tank top + low rise big pant combo, moon motifs of course, and two distinct shades of blue! The darker one is seen throughout her hair and outfit, while the lighter one in her moth antenna is reflected in her guitar. the main inspiration for her look was avril lavigne, which is also what influenced me to add those fun blue hair streaks :D on her shirt i wanted to have a sort of skeletal moth/butterfly design!!

gem - the keytar! i wanted to make sure that gem and pearl's designs looked very distinct from each other, so i went for a slightly different vibe with gem's! her design is based more off of the plaid skirts, big boots, and fishnet looks i found while looking through early 2000s lip service magazine scans (as well as some hayley williams looks!!) :D additionally, shes got vine tattoos over her body to call back to her nature elf vibe this season!

impulse - the drummer of course!! for his look, i wanted to go a little more anarcho-punk (since its a much older punk style and hes the oldest member of soup group LOL), so his vest jacket has got a bunch of diy additions like patches, pins, paperclips, and chains, along with a bunch of spikes!! in my mind, the back of his jacket has probably got a whole lot more patches, spikes, and studs :] beyond that, i made sure to give him lots of piercings (though my options were limited since s9 impy has a beard lol), and stretched earlobes for fun!! ideally his pants would also have a lot more patches and fun bits, but since his legs would be entirely covered by his drums in the final piece i went for something simpler

doc - an opener and feature on the song! since he's not part of the soup group, his design is quite a bit simpler than the others in terms of both look and concept :] his look is monochrome save for his robotic red parts and green skin, but still looks interesting thanks to that fun leather jacket :D his look is purposefully more reminiscent of a 50's style greaser, i wanted to go for an older fashion style to make him look more intimidating/mature, as well as set him apart from the look of soup group since the perimeter was an independent nation in the king arc!

grian - another feature/opener! design wise? hes literally just green day i can't even lie like the pun was perfect and also the black shirt + red tie combo is iconic and also fits his look so effortlessly it had to be done LMAO also, if you look closely in the final piece you can see he's wearing eyeshadow! this of course is again because hes grian day /silly. but to be real, i think this style also fits him really well since the tie + spikes & studs combo gives the look that sorta rebellious vibe that was all over his videos during the king arc :]

AND NOW FOR THE INSTRUMENTS!! this segment is thankfully much shorter

pearl's guitar is of course a nod to my design for her and her moth wings! butterfly guitars are harder to draw than you'd think LOL

gem's keytar has got a vine design all over it to match her tattoos

impulse's drum set has got the soup group punk band logo! the logo design may honestly be my favourite part of the piece, i feel like i really nailed what i was going for :D

and thats it! i'll edit this post or rb with any details i missed if they come to mind! thank u for reading anyone who has made it this far <3

#elle's design talk

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life-winners-liveblog · 5 months

Note

*taps mic* Hello? Can you hear me? (Except Martyn lol imagine going from the best listener to someone who is deaf)

Hi I just got here and am being very entertained by you guys

Gri I would try to help you work through your trauma but all efforts have been futile so far so instead take this leather jacket and sunglasses (to match timmy!), a sun holographic picture, as well as these cookies 🍪 (<- those are cookies shortbread is a biscuit)

Scott, be careful try not to burn yourself out, take these paints and easels, (fake) coral jewellery, a star/night sky holographic picture, and some poppies

Pearl, I would give you something, but someone is very mean and won't let me, so I'm sending you some sunflowers, a puppy and some bones, a moon holographic picture, and a clock

*If possible, I yank on Martyn's hair* *a note then appears with the following writing* Martyn, I don’t even care about the fact that you betrayed your Scott, it made sense for you, was a good ending moment and he didn't even mind (was probably his favourite version of events that could have happened). No, I'm mad at you because of how apathetic you are. I'm sorry that you find it "easy" to move on, but others feeling emotions about their past is not weak. It's human. You are quite literally my second-least favourite person and the other person has the same illness as you but worse. You get a pufferfish, a (toy) axe, a cake, and a holographic picture that seems to change images. Sometimes it shows the sea, sometimes it shows trees, sometimes Mars, sometimes a meteor, sometimes a black hole (ooc: etc etc just all the different Martyn winner interpretations lol I'm not writing all of them)

Jim-jam! Nice to see you! You get poppies, a wooden doll, a frog and bucket, and a holographic picture of a canary

Scar! It's been a while since anyone has sent you anything buddy so you get 3 more llamas, 15 more camels, 19 more pandas and 81 more jellie cats. Oh and a holographic picture of cacti

DL!Scott you fucker you are my least favourite you apathetic son of a bitch. You get the poison effect

SL!Jimmy you get cake for being the in-between person, as well as a ghost plushie and a holographic picture of a doggo (if you look closely there's a canary)

To the rest of the losers, I'll give them some weighted blankets. One for everyone :)

-Saph <3

LimL!Jimmy: This is still not Judge Judy and Executioner... But thank you...

~~~~~~

Grian: ugh... I don't know how other me can confortably wear this all day.

LimL!Jimmy: Grian why are you dressed like me?!?! Do this mean you want to join the Bad Boys??

Grian: Uhhhhh... not really? The whispers -

LimL!Jimmy: Why not?!? You could be an honorary Bad Boy!!!

Grian: ... Fine, whatever.

LimL!Jimmy: Yeah yeah yeah!

~~~~~

Pearl: Ooooh nice! Let's see, how does this holographic thing work?

Scott: Oh they sent me one of those as well! I think... you do it like... this!

Pearl: Mansplaining moment.

Scott: What!?!? I was just... you asked...and I...

Pearl: Calm down Scott, it was just a joke... why are you so jittery.

Scott: ...Maybe the whispers are right, I do need to relax a little.

~~~~~

Martyn: Well screw you too I guess, that hurt... and I never said that feeling about the past is weak, what I find weak is letting said emotions submerge you completely like Grian does, now I have seen how he was, I saw his passion but when I look at him now I see none of that, he is not weak because he misses Scar, who cares about that, he is weak because he wallows in his own self pity and misery constantly... He couldn't have done anything differently and he can't go back to change anything so why does he insist on acting like a wet wipe.

#asks #trafficblr #traffic series #grian #scott smajor #pearlescentmoon #martyn inthelittlewood #author answers #/I am afraid i can't allow you to poison me/#/And I also remember an oath between us that this behavior would stop/#/Now now... I'll let it go this once... It would be cruel to punish you for something under no ones control... like stupidity/#//Uh//#//Scott sure is a prick isn't he?//#//Well It's going to take a while to deliver all this blankets//#/Then go/

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