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jo-harrington · 2 months

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Longevity (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Longevity (noun) - continuance; durability; permanence

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.06

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. (For now.) Fluff, a little angst, discussions of the future, vignettes/time jumps, smut, HEA.

Note: Alright here it is, and it is a HONKING CHAPTER. But how could I break it up into pieces when it's The End? I'm tucking my little babies into the dollhouse and closing it up so they can live on the rest of their lives. To Eddie and Store Manager, I love you both dearly and you were the thing that brought me back to writing and into a wonderful community of writers and readers. To everyone reading, thank you so much for your endless support. You will never know how much it's appreciated.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing. Seriously, go read it.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

April 1986

"Ope, if it isn't the man of the hour, Mr. Edward G. Robinson himself. We were just talking about you."

That was the greeting that found Eddie as he walked into Claire's after school on a lovely Thursday afternoon, ready to share some good news before his closing shift.

Great news, actually, if he was being honest. Life-changing news that he was sure would earn him a ton of kisses that he'd been craving after a long week of assignments and standardized tests.

Imagine his surprise then, that instead of finding you and Mindy behind the counter, chatting after a supposed "big visit" you'd told him that you had today, you still had company.

He skidded to a halt at the sight. Your guest smiled up at him with her hands on her hips.

Short in stature, blonde hair in pristine victory rolls, bold makeup that consisted of layers of glittery eyeshadow, and wrists adorned with stacks of multicolored scrunchies.

"It's nice to see you again Jen," he greeted your old Store Manager.

He'd only met her in person once, but had heard countless fond and semi-unbelievable stories about her from you--and apparently she'd heard the same about him, having greeted him with a bone-crushing hug the first time they met—so there was a familiarity and fondness there that they both indulged.

"What are you doing here?" he asked casually and crossed the distance to throw an arm over your shoulder and press a kiss to your temple. "I thought you said that you wouldn't be caught dead in Indiana."

You, Mindy, and Jen all broke out in a fit of giggles and Eddie felt a sudden sense of instinctual dread.

"Well then get ready to start planning my funeral kid," Jen announced. "Because you're about to start seeing a lot more of me."

"Jen just got promoted," you interjected finally.

"Oh yeah?"

"To District Manager. So she's gonna be my boss. Again."

"Oh, shi--shoot," Eddie felt like he'd been doused with cold water at the revelation. He peeled his arm from around your shoulder and took a wide step to put distance between the two of you. "That's...wow. Congratulations."

He'd been through a handful of DM visits at TapeWorld, never on his own, always under Kyle's cool guidance; however, he'd come to realize that the stiff authority figure of his District Manager Jeff was something to be feared.

So even though he was excited for Jen--your friend--on her promotion, the sudden realization that Jen--your boss--was standing here watching him make an idiot out of himself and possibly put your job at risk...

"Oh my god," Jen broke down in a fit of laughter. "Look at him, he's about to shit himself. Take a chill pill Ed, Jesus. I’m not gonna be a hardass until next week. If that.”

Once everyone had their fill of laughter, and Jen promised that she wasn't going to hold your relationship over your head--

"So long as you're not in here interfering with the business or making out on the sales floor or something."

--Eddie pulled you to the side and finally revealed his big news.

"So," he began excitedly. "It, uh, looks like I'm on the road to graduation. Like really graduating. Not just 'if I don't fuck it up in the home stretch' this time. I'm actually gonna graduate."

"Oh my god," you grabbed him by his jacket and shook him as joy bubbled in his chest from your reaction. "Eddie that's amazing!"

You asked him a few questions and your eyes sparkled proudly as he recounted his talk with his guidance counselor, and he couldn't help the smile that stayed on his face the entire time. Especially when you let out a shriek of joy and jumped around.

"We need to go and celebrate!" you insisted.

"I mean," he suddenly got bashful. "I haven't graduated yet."

"Still, it's big. You worked so hard." You looked back over at Jen and Mindy who were talking at the cash wrap. "I know you're closing tonight but I'm taking Jen out for drinks a little later. When you get out of work, meet us at the Hideaway. I'll get you the Wayne and a beer. And then afterwards, uh...if you wanna come back to my place? Like...actually celebrate?”

He grinned and nodded eagerly; you'd taken the words right out of his mouth.

---

His shift had gone by quickly and he’d joined you and Jen at the Hideaway with Kyle in tow. Kyle who was not only proud of Eddie and wanted to treat him to a beer for his efforts, but also intrigued at the possibility of schmoozing a pretty new face in town.

“Sometimes,” he announced with a flourish when he returned to StarCourt right before store close, dressed in the nicest clothes Eddie had ever seen him wear. “You need to take a chance. How many times did I tell you that kid? You miss all the chances you don’t take. That’s why it took you so long to get a girlfriend.”

Jen, unfortunately, laughed right in Kyle’s face when he kissed her hand upon introduction.

“I’m engaged, Romeo,” she informed him. “Sorry.”

“I don’t see a ring. You can let me down Jenny. Tell me the truth, I won’t be hurt.”

“You’re sweet. But it’s the truth. I just don’t wear the ring to work.”

“Alright, alright,” He sighed, then got a sly look. “Any chance you have a sister? Or a brother? I’m an equal opportunity man looking for true love.”

The night was filled with hearty food, rounds of beer, fantastical stories of retail hell and 4th Quarters past, and accomplishments on everyone’s part.

Kyle bragged about a new car he had just put a down payment on.

Your store had hit some Diamond Earring milestone that only you and Jen seemed to understand but the excitement was contagious.

Eddie got a round of applause from the table when you urged him to announce his big news to everyone.

Honestly he couldn’t care about Kyle or Jen’s reaction, it was seeing you look at him with all the pride and affection in the world that he basked in. He couldn’t wait for the actual graduation ceremony, for you to be front and center with Wayne and Rick and all of his friends. There to witness his hard work come to fruition…and for him to flip Principal Higgins off.

And then Jen stood up and announced her own accomplishment right before last call.

“So,” she cleared her throat and held up her glass and pulled something out of her coat. “I know I already celebrated back home and I don’t really know either of you, Kyle and Ed, but I know my little protégée here would be happy for me.

”Alongside my wonderful and well-earned promotion to DM, I also received my Longevity pin.”

She opened a little velvet jewelry box and showed off a tiny glittering purple pin with a tiny little diamond chip in place of the dot of the “I” in Claire’s.

“Ten long years,” Jen announced after a swig of her beer, “with the Purple Glitter Factory. And all I have to show for it is a pin, a little more money, and a lot more responsibility. God. Growing up sucks. But I’m very proud. And you’re next kid.”

She laid a hand on your head and you waved her off with visible embarrassment then disappeared to go and close out your tabs.

Later that night as you and Eddie settled into bed to sleep after some celebratory activities, Eddie laid awake and stared at the ceiling. Thinking.

“What are your plans for the future?” He asked after a beat.

“Uh,” you shifted your head on his shoulder so you could look at him. “Is this because of all of Jen’s talk of careers and stuff?”

“Yeah. And graduation. And all of that stuff. So? What do you wanna do…where do you wanna be…when you’re older?”

“God, I dunno. I got my associates in business because I was hoping it would help me get my own store. And I did. It also was so boring, I don’t want to go back to school. I guess the next thing is…actually take a vacation day now that I’m earning them. What about you?”

“Music legend,” he answered immediately.

“Uh huh.”

“Guess that’s gonna take some work though, huh?”

“No shit.” You rolled your eyes and then sighed as you settled against him once again. “There’s a reason you asked, Ed. What’s going on in that big head of yours?”

He ran his tongue along the seam of his lips repeatedly as he considered…everything that was laid out in front of him.

Corroded Coffin.

Tape World.

What about Hellfire? Damn, he knew Dustin and Will were the future of the club but…a few years down the line. What about next year? He was gonna have to pass the torch to Gare or Dave after he left. They weren’t ready yet.

And what was he gonna do after school was over? Could he see himself taking a class at TCCC? Maybe. Jeff had been showing him the Catalog at lunch the other day. There was a Creative Writing course that looked cool.

10 years.

That was half his life away. Impossible to imagine. Would there be flying cars by then? Space travel? He could enlist in Starfleet, meet Captain Kirk. Ok maybe that last one was stupid.

"10 years,” Eddie whispered into the top of your head as he rid himself of the fantastical thoughts. “That’s an awful long time.”

“Well it’s a good thing we have all that time to figure it out.”

We…

“Yeah. Yeah we do.”

He could only hope you’d still be there with him. One way or another.

---

July 1987

The spot lights were blinding and the air thick with humidity; his throat was dry and his fingers ached from how hard he was on the fretboard.

But the crowd was cheering and that’s all that mattered right?

No, what really mattered was the music.

And the band.

That's why he was up here with his friends, demolishing the bridge of The Sentinel, laughing and jumping and barely giving a shit when he missed a note or Jeff’s fingers fumbled or Gareth lost the beat for a second. He didn't even mind that the County Clerk had them censor out the "cuss words" of the songs they'd chosen.

It was exhilarating just to be able to play on an actual stage.

It had taken 2 years but they were finally playing at the Roane County 4th of July Festival. An actual gig. And not the first one they'd played, but certainly the biggest so far. Big enough and successful enough that Eddie expected it to be a standing gig for the foreseeable future.

The Polka Band from Kenosha hadn't gotten nearly half as many people and they were, by far, the most successful act of the night before Corroded Coffin.

There was a sea of friends, neighbors, families, and out-of-towners just below the stage, snacks and drinks in-hand, as they danced and jumped and headbanged to song after song. Rick and Wayne were out at Benny's getting all set up for the next stop on Corroded Coffin's "Independence Day Tour" but you were out there in the crowd with Mindy and her family, singing along and cheering louder than everyone whenever a song ended.

Which was why Eddie didn't hesitate to dedicate the final song of the set to you.

"This next one isn't our usual sound," he spoke into the microphone, words a little muffled as his lips brushed against it. "It's a little slow. Something you can dance to, so gentlemen please grab your ladies, tell them how much you love them. But before we begin...did you all know...it's almost Back to School time."

There was a series of boo's from the crowd.

"Now now, maybe yet not for you all, but definitely for a special someone out there," he shushed them and traded Sweetheart for his mom's old acoustic guitar. He plucked a few notes and then continued. "A special someone...who leaves me all alone every once in a while. Late nights. Lonely nights while I wait by the phone, as she and her team make magic happen and she forgets all about me. See I'm saying all of this because she's about to leave me high and dry this coming Sunday night, so I have to guilt her a little otherwise she won't let me surprise her with hash browns and coffee when she gets out of work.

"Queen of Glitter Kingdom," Eddie squinted and looked around the crowd until he found you standing there holding your hand over Mindy's mouth as she looked like she was about to cry. He pointed right at you. "My life, my world, my cheeseburger. This one's for you."

He and Jeff then began to harmonize their guitars for the opening of Beth.

---

"You're a shithead, you know that."

"Mmm...but I'm your shithead, sweetheart."

It was late. Wayne, Rick, and the guys had all left. You and Eddie were sitting across from each other in a booth at Benny's, as the last few fair-goers trickled in for a late night snack. Your own dinner sat half-eaten on the table between you--patty melts and an apple pie shake to share--as you talked and laughed and played footsie.

He and the boys needed to rush across town after their set was over so they made it in time for Ben's advertised happy hour, so he hadn't gotten the chance to get an earful or a kiss from you after his little spectacle.

Fortunately, you were giving him hell for it now, and although he was wiped, he gladly accepted your teasing wrath.

"Is Wayne still around?" You turned in your seat and looked at the sparse group of customers. "I'd like to make a return."

"Mmm...well I moved out in January so I think it's after the 90-day return policy," he said matter-of-factly.

"God damn it," you laughed and snapped your fingers. "And I think I lost the receipt too."

"Stuck with me forever," he teased in a sing-song. There was a beat and he straightened up in his seat and drummed a rhythm on the table with his knuckles. "So...I think it went well."

"I think so too," you agreed brightly.

"You know, Jeff found some...Septemberfest thing out in Jasper..."

Your eyes sparkled at Eddie's words, and he felt the flutter of butterflies deep inside of him that always kicked up when you gave him your excitement and encouragement.

“It’s not a competition or anything but there’s a prize for most popular act of the weekend. Audience ballot and everything. I think it would be cool.”

"That's great!" you grinned. "You should go for it."

"But it's Labor Day weekend."

"So?"

"Paulie's going for a promotion," he shrugged. "Kyle's gonna want us all there in case Jeff comes for a visit."

"And? I didn't know Paulie was planning on opening for Corroded Coffin. What's he playing? The kazoo?" you joked.

"Well no," Eddie shook his head. "But if he leaves...I mean, I'm the best bet for FTASM. I don't want to lose out on that for the future. That'd be...the money would be nice. Can do some repairs on the van. Maybe I'd get my own store someday too."

Your face crumpled--brows furrowed and lips pursed--and you didn't hesitate to shuffle out from your side of the booth and kneel beside him on his. You placed a hand on his forehead for a moment and then tilted his head back and forth.

"Uh, sweetheart," he placed a hand on your waist to steady you as you shuffled closer to pull the back the neck of his t-shirt to look for something. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to see if my Rockstar Eddie Munson action figure is broken," you explained.

"Uhhh."

"Or at least if I accidentally left him at the fair and picked up a Corporate Shill Eddie action figure instead?"

"What?" he laughed.

"How about Suburban Dad Eddie?" you asked. You straightened your posture, pulled on non-existent suspenders, and lowered your voice comedically. "Gotta prepare for tax season. Cut the grass. Do some repairs on the van."

"Stop," he pulled you down to sit beside him in the booth. "I just...don't wanna take the chance on that when I know the full time position is a sure thing."

"Ed," you shook your head at him. "I know you like Tape World but...promotions always come around, music is your dream."

"I know."

"Why did you tell me about this Septemberfest thing if you were not gonna go through with it anyway?"

"I dunno," he turned away from you and went to grab the shake. "I guess I just wanted to pick the thing...that you'd be most proud of."

"Listen here mister," you grabbed him by the chin and made him look at you, Apple Pie Shake be damned. "I'm always gonna be proud of you and support you in whatever path you want."

He nodded for a second and then stole a kiss from you with a soft "I know, thank you." You let yourself get lost in the feeling for a second, but Eddie knew that you weren't gonna let him distract you from the discussion at hand.

You put a hand on his chest and pushed him away, then stared him directly in the eye.

"So?" you asked. "What kind of future do you want?"

His eyes darted between yours--your gaze hard and challenging but nonetheless filled with hope and affection--and he had his answer.

---

May 1989

You could feel Eddie fidget in the seat beside you.

"Calm down," you muttered to him.

"Can't help it," he whispered back; you could tell he straightened out his posture, but his knee still bounced. "Too excited."

A name was called over the loudspeaker, then another, then another.

"Eddie seriously," Gareth was the one to give it a shot this time, leaning across you to put a hand on Eddie's knee and get him to stop fidgeting. "You're gonna shit yourself if you don't stop."

"Shit, sorry, this is only like..." he shook his head. "The most important thing I've ever done in my life."

You, Gareth, Jeff, and Dave all shot him skeptical and unamused looks.

"I don't have time to argue right now," he scoffed at the rest of you. "Shut up, here it comes."

"Peter Halliwell...Dustin Henderson..."

All five of you jumped to your feet and cheered and clapped, along with another group a few rows up that consisted of Dustin's mom, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and their respective partners.

It was a repeat occurrence several times over that afternoon, as you witnessed the Hawkins High Class of '89 cross the stage and receive their diplomas.

"That's my kid," Eddie wiped a fake tear as each of his former Freshman Sheepies were called on stage, but he was especially emotional with Dustin. And when the newest DM of Hellfire flipped Higgins off before running off stage? Eddie stood on his chair and whooped and whistled. “That’s my boy!”

“Sit down Munson,” Higgins spoke into the microphone, over an audience that had become uproarious with laughter.

“It’s tradition now, Higgy,” Eddie shouted, words amplified by the hands he’d cupped around his mouth; still, he jumped down and took his seat so the rest of the ceremony could continue.

“You’re unbelievable,” you giggled at his antics. “You do know that right?”

“I’m unbelievably loveable,” he replied, quickly accompanied by the scoffs and mocking fart noises of his friends. He leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “Unbelievably in love with you.”

“Uh huh.” His tongue snaked out and he licked into your ear obnoxiously. “Fuck off!” You pushed him away from you with a shrieking laugh.

It wasn’t long before that the real reason you were in attendance at the graduation walked across the stage. Because yes, the kids were your friends but you wouldn’t miss this for the world.

“Jane Hopper,” came the announcement and you, once again, got to your feet with a cheer, along with her family and friends in the next aisle of seats. Chief Hopper had his camcorder out and his shoulders visibly shook as he sobbed for his daughter, and you couldn’t help but feel your heartstrings pull.

If Dustin and the boys were Eddie’s little sheepies, you supposed Janey was one of yours. From a shy girl whose ears you’d pierced for the first time in your early days at StarCourt, to one of your die hard regulars who looked up to you over the years trying to emulate your style, to one of your associates when she came in for her first summer job at 16; you’d watched Jane grow and gain confidence and really come into her own.

That was the high point of your career as a Store Manager, and something you happily shared with Eddie: seeing the kids you took under your wing flourish.

“All the birds have flown the coop Mom,” Eddie teased as you sat down and actually wiped a tear from your cheek.

“I think you guys can cut the Mom and Dad bit now,” Jeff said matter-of-factly. “Until you guys have your own kids someday.”

That was something you and Eddie happily shared too.

The two of you looked at each other for a moment…before making the most exaggerated vomiting and gagging noises, unfortunately getting looks from the people around you.

“Pass,” you and Eddie announced in tandem.

---

After the ceremony was over, Chief Hopper invited everyone to the shared Hopper-Byers abode for a barbecue. And by everyone, it seemed like he literally invited the entire town to the lakeside cabin the family called home.

All of the kids and their friends and families, Benny was somehow there—had he closed the diner for the day? Good, he deserved a day off—a handful of Hop’s coworkers and friends, including Wayne and Rick.

There were hamburgers and beers, conversation and music overlapping one another.

Eddie was in his element though, and it warmed your heart to see him talk and spiel and be accepted by such a big group when, not so long ago, it seemed like he’d been shunned by them. Even now, you could see some hesitation as he stiffly talked with douchebag Callahan and Mike’s asshole dad, but he wasn’t sweating bullets or falling back on the pricklier parts of his personality. He even cracked a smile once or twice.

What would his life had been like if he’d had this all along?

It was silly to think about after you’d been dating for years but…would he have asked you out sooner? Would you even still be together now? You thought about the ways that the kids had grown into their own…but it wasn’t hard to also appreciate how much the two of you had grown side by side as well.

Especially when you considered the next step you were about to embark on together...

“You’re thinking too loud,” Eddie startled you as he snuck up behind you and dangled a fresh beer in your face. You shot him a scathing look but he easily recovered, back into your good graces, as he swooped an arm around your shoulder and pecked a kiss to your temple. “What’s got you all sour?”

“Not sour,” you shrugged and picked at the label on the beer bottle. “Just…I don’t know. Thinking."

"Always a bad idea."

"Reflecting.”

“Well you look like you’re about to tell someone to get fucked so…”

"Maybe I am," you grinned at him cheekily.

"As long as it isn't me." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "But you know it gets me going either way."

You slapped the back of your hand against his chest just as a gaggle of voices called your names.

Jane was the first one to run your way from across the yard, with Dustin and Lucas hot on her heels. They were all talking over one another, and Jane especially looked like she was about to burst into tears.

Eddie was the one to try to make sense of them, and he yelled a bellowing "shut up" that got them to stop their barrage.

"You're leaving?" Jane asked, looking directly at you. "Leaving Hawkins?"

"Uh," you paused and looked at Eddie, who held his hands up innocently.

"Gareth's got a big mouth," he reasoned.

"Of course he does," you rolled your eyes and then turned back to the kids. "Uh...yeah we are. At the end of the summer. I’m opening a new store. Again."

"What about you?" Dustin demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Eddie.

"Where my lady goes, I must follow," he stood tall and held a hand over his heart for a second, chivalrous as ever, before he took a sip of his beer and slumped back into his usual posture. "Besides, Corroded Coffin has a better chance in a bigger city. We're big fish in a small tank in Hawkins. Gonna pack up the van; give Chicago a chance to chew us up and spit us out."

Eddie and the boys bickered back and forth--gathering a small crowd of onlookers the longer it went--about the trip and the plans about where you'd all live and work while you stood there with Jane.

"How could you just leave?" she asked.

"Oh, honey, that's just...how it is," you reassured her. "I get a new assignment, Mindy takes over. And I'll be back to visit. Maybe you and Max will take a drive up for a weekend in the city."

"That'd be fun."

"It isn't goodbye."

"I know," she nodded somberly.

"Besides, you're going off to school in the fall," you reminded her. "You weren't meant to stay at StarCourt Mall forever, and I wouldn't want you too. You have a bright future ahead of you. I know it's scary, but it's all gonna work out. One way or another."

They were the same words that Jen had said to you before you embarked on your big adventure to Hawkins, and you were happy to pass the sentiment along to Jane.

"What about you?" she asked after a minute. "Your future? Are you afraid?"

That was the question, wasn't it? A new adventure, maybe in a more familiar setting but...a new challenge nonetheless. But you looked over at Eddie, who had both Dustin and Gareth in headlocks; his head was thrown back in obnoxious laughter and he gave you a shrug that said "how could I help myself" when he noticed you looking at him.

He was an idiot. But he was your idiot. And he'd be by your side for this next adventure, just like he promised he would be.

"No," you told her honestly. "I'm not afraid at all."

---

September 1990

"Alright, here's a question?"

"Shoot."

"When…is our anniversary?"

"Uhh...Ed..." You let the question hang awkwardly in the air, unasked, but Eddie could read your mind.

The two of you were symbiotic at this point; still, he was happy that you had no idea what he had in mind for the day.

"No hear me out," he took a few steps ahead and turned to walk backwards so he could look at you. "Because I really put some thought into it. If we're going by first dates, it's in January—”

“Like it has been for the past 4 years.”

“—but, if we're going by first kiss..."

"If we're going by first kiss, that was last week," you laughed and rolled your eyes. "So you’re late."

“Yeah,” he agreed wickedly wistfully. “I guess I am.”

Of course you remembered.

The two of you were walking. Exploring, actually, around the cemetery where your Papa enjoyed his eternal rest.

5 years and it was a lot easier now.

You still cried sometimes but the initial guilt was gone and you found enjoyment in spending the day traversing about the sprawling cemetery grounds, visiting this great uncle and that distant cousin, just like you did with Papa when he was still alive.

“Did he make sure he bought flowers for everyone he ever met?” Eddie had asked as you piled bunches and bunches of flowers into his arms at the florist that first visit after Papa passed, when you told Eddie of the tradition. “Aren’t they just gonna die?”

“This is why I don’t like flowers,” you explained. “They die. At least when they die here, the dead can still enjoy them.”

“Well shit, that’s a pretty metal thought baby,” he cooed softly and shuffled the bunches to hold them with some more care. “Can I put that in a song? I’ll dedicate it to you.”

He had and you’d cried when he first sang you the haunting ballad in the privacy of your living room.

Today, though…well you’d already made the rounds today. Only one stop left; the most important stop. Eddie had suggested taking the long way through the mausoleum—down hallways lined with plush red carpet and dated sofas and marble walls filled with the dead—partially for his own curiosity, and partially so he could build up the courage.

You were doing quite a good job distracting him from his nerves as you conversed easily—whatever thoughts popped up in either of your heads—and explained the differences between this Saint and that one as you passed their statues and depictions in stained glass. They all looked at him with serene eyes and he thought that meant this journey would be a successful one.

There would be no crying, if he could help it.

Maybe tears of joy? He could settle for that.

“So what has you thinking of anniversaries?” you finally asked as you sat on the tufted velvet ottoman in front of your grandparents' epitaph.

Eddie shrugged and looked around, absorbing the names and dates inscribed on the marble walls that surrounded him.

“Been a lot of milestones lately. It’s been a couple years since graduation, 5 years since your grandpa passed…” He trailed off for a moment. “Been a year since we moved…since we’ve both been at new stores.”

You gasped and he felt his heart stop in his chest.

“Is…are you thinking of quitting?” You asked with big eyes.

“What?”

“That new Hot Topical store they’re opening? Or whatever it's called? I saw you chatting with that District Manager in the food court the other day. Are you leaving TapeWorld? Eddie, that’s so exciting. You should…”

“No I’m not quitting,” he announced with finality, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“…nevermind then. Then what’s going on? You thinking of breaking up with me or something?”

“No.”

“Well I know you’re not proposing; you literally just wrote a song called Marriage is a Death Sentence.”

Your laughter echoed through the mausoleum but you stopped abruptly when Eddie didn’t join you.

He watched your expression change as you processed the thought. And when you looked back at him again he smiled nervously.

“Eddie…” you said hoarsely and then cleared your throat. “Eddie, you just wrote a song called Marriage is a Death Sentence.”

“About my parents,” he explained. “And how they did everything wrong.”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “A lot of people get it wrong. Marriage is a Death Sentence. Those are literally the lyrics. You’ve been singing it when you wash the dishes.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s catchy.”

“It is, isn’t it? But...while I was working on it...it got me thinking that…I mean…just because they got it wrong, and a lot of other people do, doesn’t mean we will.”

You said his name almost desperately now.

"A-and," he continued. "W-we don't have to get married but...I don't know. Spending the rest of my life with you sounds pretty great."

He pulled one hand out of his pocket casually and with it came a small ring box. He shook it a few times and held it out to you.

There were a bevy of emotions cycling your face, all of them undecipherable, until you settled on shock.

Good shock...hopefully.

“You’re supposed to get down on one knee I think,” you whispered again.

Yeah...good shock.

He let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah but what if it isn’t a ring? What if this is all just a red herring? What if I had to get one of my teeth pulled and it's in here?”

You let out a shocked laugh and your brows hitched together in question.

"Did you put a tooth in there?"

"I don't know...seems as likely as any other potential surprise."

“Is it another cootie catcher?” you guessed.

“Only one way to find out.”

He shook the box again.

You slowly took it from him, fingers deliberately brushing against his which caused his heart to race.

He felt lightheaded when you opened the lid.

You smiled so brightly, he swore you rivaled the sun.

“Oh…Eddie…”

---

December 1992

"So what'd you do?"

"What makes you think I did something?"

"I love you son," Wayne sighed and leant against the counter. "But you always do something."

It was Christmas. The worst time of year for both you and Eddie. Long shifts, angry customers, restless coworkers...but a standing promise to make it back to Hawkins for the holiday had been the light at the end of the tunnel. Especially since Wayne and Rick had come out to see you for the past few years.

It was tough but you and Eddie made it work; hit the road right after your Christmas Eve shifts had ended, fallen into bed as soon as you'd arrived at Rick's close to midnight.

And you didn't need to be back to work until the 27th.

It was a perfect little getaway.

Except it hadn't been perfect.

Because you hadn't been talking to each other past the standard "good mornings" and "see you tonights" all week. The drive had been made in silence. And you chose to sit as far as you could from him during Christmas dinner, opting to sit beside Wayne and chat all night, instead of right next to him like you always did.

And unfortunately, yeah...it'd been Eddie's fault.

Eddie knew that, and usually he could admit it easily. Fights between the two of you were few and far between, and you had a good track record for recovering from them. For some reason though, this time was different, and it was hard for him to admit how badly he'd fucked up.

Wayne could see right through the two of you, though. Especially through his nephew. No matter how good you thought you were at hiding it.

"There was this...big opportunity we could have had," Eddie began his explanation calmly. "But it wasn't a sure thing."

"Oh yeah?" Wayne hummed. "How big?"

"Big. Like...a once-in-a-lifetime thing. An underground show a buddy of mine heard about it through the grapevine. Said they were looking for an opening act. Wanted to throw me a bone." He hit the counter with his fist gently. "But...he got his wires crossed. Told me it was tonight. So it meant we'd need to miss Christmas. But it's really next week."

"Hmmm..." Wayne nodded sagely and kept listening.

Eddie suddenly felt uncomfortable at the tone though, and became desperate for his uncle to understand.

Understand that he hadn't meant to hurt you.

"Work's been hard this season Wayne," Eddie continued with an edge to his voice. "Made me realize that I don't wanna do this forever. I wanna make music. You know that. It's been my dream forever."

"I know it has."

"Me and the guys. Our dream."

"What'd you say to her?" Wayne asked suddenly, as he lifted the mug of eggnog to his lips.

His knowing gaze made Eddie fidget and harsh words echo through his memory.

"Why can't you understand? This is huge for us. How can we say no?"

"I didn't say you had to pass it up, I just said it was a shame that we'll miss Christmas."

"You don't have to miss Christmas, you can just go to your aunt's if you don't want to go to the show."

"You know what I mean. You know Wayne and Rick look forward to seeing--"

"Wayne and Rick would understand how big this is. Why can't you? Why the fuck do you care anyways? It's not like they're your family!"

Wayne swallowed a mouthful of eggnog and then his lips pressed together tightly with a long exhale. Eddie turned to watch you and Rick chatter while you organized the gifts into neat little piles; even though you were avoiding each other, seeing your smile made him feel a lot better than his uncle's intense stare.

"I fucked up," he croaked. "I know."

"How're you gonna fix it?" Wayne asked.

"That I don't know."

Wayne sighed and clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"I would suggest," he leant in close and his voice rumbled, the same way it always did when Eddie would get in trouble growing up. The few times Wayne needed to intervene at all. "I would suggest you start with I'm sorry."

---

Eddie stared up at the glow in the dark stars that were stuck to the ceiling of the old guest bedroom that used to be his designated room at Rick's once upon a time.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He couldn't sleep.

He might have spent most of his life in Hawkins but a few years in and around Chicago and he'd gotten used to the sounds of traffic and trains and people walking around late at night.

And it might've been easier if you were closer to him than you were, if the sounds of your sleep-deepened breathing and the soft snores you always denied were in his ear. Instead you were lying on your side at the edge of the full bed, as far from him as you could get, equally as awake as he was if your near-silent breaths were any indicator.

He turned his head and watched you for a moment before he took a breath of courage.

"Sweetheart," he whispered. When there was no response, he said your name, a little louder this time. "You awake?"

There was silence...heavy silence...and then you responded.

"Mmmhmm." You shifted to look halfway over your shoulder at him. "It's too quiet."

"I was just thinking that."

"Hmmm."

"I've got...a lot on my mind too."

"Yeah?" you turned fully now, lying on your back just like him; your shoulders touched but you refused to look at him. "What about?"

"I was thinking..."

What was he thinking? A lot of things. How to start an apology, how to fix this. How to make tomorrow better so your Christmas wasn't ruined.

"...that at least when we fight fight, we still talk to each other afterwards."

You scoffed and he closed his eyes, cursing himself and his big mouth.

"That...wasn't the right thing to say."

"No it wasn't," you sassed him immediately.

"It wasn't what I wanted to say either," he quickly added. "I wanted to say...that I'm sorry."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Aside from the fact that I know you too well," you began. "Rick was trying to get me to forgive you all night."

"Why did he think I did something?" Eddie asked incredulously.

"Because you always do something."

"God damn it, did Rick say that? Wayne said the same thing."

The two of you laughed together for the first time in days, and as you settled down, Eddie reached over and took your hand in his. He threaded your fingers together and rubbed his thumb back and forth to soothe you.

"I'm sorry that I...that I was a thick-headed, stubborn, big-mouthed idiot who hurt your feelings," he apologized. "I know that we've both been under pressure but there's no excuse. I could've been more level-headed, but I wasn't and I hurt you."

"Yeah well," you squeezed his hand tightly as you responded, "I guess I'm not innocent here either. I could have...been more excited for you, supportive. Instead of trying to make it about Christmas. I was thinking about how desperate I was to get away from work, excited to be back here. And it's no excuse. I'm sorry too."

"Yeah but I told you Wayne and Rick weren't your family."

"Well I told you--"

"Are we gonna fight again?" Eddie stopped you before you could get ahead of yourself. You huffed a soft "no" and melted into the bed, all tension in your body gone. "Did you like your Christmas gift?"

"Jesus." He could hear you rolling your eyes.

"Well did you?"

"Duh," you deadpanned. "Did you like yours?"

"Uh, duh," he parroted, a little more exaggeratedly. "You didn't give me a kiss though."

"Well you didn't give me a kiss either," you retorted, but you were already rolling over so you could close the distance and seal your lips against his.

The two of you showered one another with more whispered apologies and words of devotion before you got ahead of yourselves.

Clothes were shed, soft caresses shared, and lips lavished over the most sensitive parts of you.

You still liked it when you dragged your teeth along the shaft of his cock a little and got him to beg, and then Eddie returned the favor when he sucked a bruising hickey to your nipple that made you squeal and call him a god.

The two of you had lived on your own for so long that it was good fun trying to keep your voices down, or make sure the bed didn't slide across the hardwood floors with your passionate fucking.

And all slights were soothed when you reached the height of pleasure together, and whispered sweet words of affection and forgiveness as you descended back to earth.

Come morning, Wayne obnoxiously asked when the two of you were planning to hit the road back to Chicago.

"It's been a good while since I lost sleep thanks to your spirited activities," he noted, embarrassing the two of you in front of Rick. "No more fighting when you come back to visit in the future alright? I miss you dearly, but I can't say I miss that at all.”

---

April 1993

"It took you guys long enough," Dustin announced as he threw open the door.

“You know what, you try sitting in a rusty old shitbox with a bunch of musicians that still act like they're teenagers for 10 hours," you deadpanned and then pushed past the guys as they protested to pull Dustin into a hug. "Happy housewarming, congratulations."

It was Spring Break.

Well for the kids it was--although, they weren't really kids anymore were they--but for you and the guys, it was more like a long weekend. You'd scheduled yourself off for a few days, Eddie'd requested the whole week off, Jeff and Dave had traded shifts with coworkers, and Gareth simply quit his job.

"I'll find a new one," he reassured everyone, including his girlfriend, on St. Patrick's Day when he announced his departure before he and the guys had gotten on stage to play for a crowded pub in the suburbs.

It had been a headache and a half to get everything in order and everyone in the right place at the right time, but you were all here for one thing and one thing only.

Dustin's first apartment.

A Hellfire Club Reunion.

And a special one-shot that Dustin and Eddie had spent hours on the phone planning for the past few months.

Months.

You didn't think you'd been invited at first, but when Dustin told Eddie the full guest list, Eddie volunteered your attendance immediately.

Your forays into Dungeons and Dragons were few and far between; never a big campaign, only the one-shots that Eddie had put together here and there for the guys or a few coworkers who were interested. And this would be the first time that you played with such a big group. Or such an experienced group.

You were nervous.

"You'll do great," Eddie reassured you as he plucked snack cakes and sodas off the gas station shelves for snacks on the road. "I know the roleplaying is not your strongest suit, but it's just Henderson and the gang."

Now you were here and your nerves melted as you slipped further into mother hen mode the longer you looked around at what was obviously the apartment of college students. It was a familiar sight; you, Eddie, and the guys had all crammed into a duplex when you'd moved to Chicago and you'd had your fair share of pizza boxes stacked in the corners before garbage day and underwear of questionable origin and cleanliness tucked into the cracks of the sofa.

But that was a time long since passed and seeing it now made your fingers itch.

And your ears ring.

"...be here soon and I figured that you'd be here first to help me set u--Mom you ok?" Dustin stopped his chattering when he noticed you were frozen in the door of the living room. He glanced around the space that would soon host all of his friends. "Oh...yeah I should probably clean up a little more. To be fair, most of this isn't my mess."

You felt your eye twitch at his dismissive laugh.

"Jesus Henderson, didn't you just move in January?" Jeff asked when he saw the sorry state.

The boys all started giving Dustin shit, and Eddie had the foresight to put a hand on your shoulder and steer you back towards the door.

"We're gonna go take a quick smoke break; why don't you four nerds try to get this place looking a little more Hellfire appropriate in the mean time, m'kay?" he ordered them with faux sincerity. "We brought those props you asked for Dustin."

You heard the faint, sorry Mom, come from the boys as Eddie got you outside.

---

Eddie was extremely attentive and was quick to take charge of the ragtag group, running back and forth between the little stoop where you'd essentially set up camp right outside of the building, and back up to Dustin's apartment to make sure the cleaning and setup were underway.

"Hey listen, you boss enough people around at work," he reassured you when you insisted that you'd be alright to go back in. "You don't need to do it on your day off too."

You proved to be useful enough as the other started to arrive, little by little.

Max and Lucas had flown in from California and arrived via cab.

"It kind of sucks when the place you live is the place everyone else goes on vacation," Lucas laughed good-naturedly.

His younger sister Erica, who you remember from her days of buying scrunchies and glitter makeup, was now grown up and toted an entire kit filled with binders and notebooks and dice.

"It's my first ever Spring Break," she sniffed. "I could have been in Miami with my friends. But...I wouldn't miss this for the world, so it better be worth it."

Mike and Will drove up in the Wheeler's old station wagon, their siblings in tow in the backseat; Nancy and Jonathan had apparently been broken up for some time now.

It apparently had been an awkward drive for all of them.

Jane unexpectedly arrived with a new love interest friend and was beyond ecstatic to see you, barely letting you get a question in as she told you about everything she'd been up to.

Robin was unfortunately absent, but sent her regards along with the last person to arrive. Someone who you honestly didn't expect to see at all, but who had pulled up in a shiny new car, sporting a wedding band and a mustache: Steve Harrington.

"Look what the cat dragged in," you greeted with a smile. You pointed at the wedding band. "Seems like you don't need my relationship advice anymore."

"Same relationship," he chuckled and shrugged, suddenly bashful.

"No shit," you laughed. "Congratulations."

"Congrats to you too," he pointed to the ring on your own finger but you waved him off dismissively.

"Marriage is a Death Sentence. This is just...symbolic more than anything. We both know we're not going anywhere."

"Get more of a deduction on your tax return if you guys do tie the knot."

"Alright Ned Flanders," you rolled your eyes. "Taxes are a death sentence too. I'll ask Ed to write that song and dedicate it to you."

"By all means, I'm actually an accountant now. Maybe it'll get me some more clients."

You cackled.

You and Steve made some casual chit chat as you walked up to join the others now that everyone had arrived.

The apartment looked worlds different, especially with the abundance of candles that surrounded the table you all crowded around.

Dustin was taking the lead with this one, his DM screens in ominous abundance as he sat at the head of the table and filed through stacks of papers.

You looked around at all of your friends...really all of Eddie's friends who had become your friends, your family. It was nice to see them all in one place again.

Then you looked at Eddie himself, who looked right at home surrounded by them all. Laughing and spieling and picking on them with bright, glowing fondness that radiated off of him. You didn't think you could feel any more love for him, but suddenly in that moment, your cup overflowed.

He deserved this; deserved all of this...all of the love you all had to give and share with him because he loved you all so hard in return.

You took your seat beside him and grinned and patted your knee encouragingly.

"Perfect timing, sweetheart," he announced. "Hope you're ready to get absolutely obliterated."

Dustin hit a button on the stereo he'd set up beside him and everyone started to cheer as music and sounds created the ambiance of the adventure you were about to embark on.

"Welcome friends as we revisit a grand adventure of old tonight," Dustin began. "As we venture deep into Greyhawk and come face to face a great evil once defeated. Timelines have shifted, and what you might remember from the past is no longer what it seems; it will take great courage and strength to overcome challenges that you'd previously faced with ease. Are you up for the challenge?"

Everyone cheered again."

"Good," he said with a guttural groan, eyes rolling back in his head dramatically. "Then let us begin on our quest to face...The Cult of Vecna."

---

May 1995

It was like deja vu.

Maybe because he'd done this a thousand times, just not recently. It'd been years since he'd worked at the Mall, after all, and the muscle memory might have been a little out of practice, but it was still there.

He ran up the stalled escalator, long legs skipping every other step, until he reached the top, out of breath.

"Fuck," he bent over with his hands on his knees, panting. "Fuck. This is why I gotta quit smoking."

He'd taken the day off to surprise you; he and the guys were supposed to be recording today--their first album; it'd taken long enough--but this was bigger and he wanted to be there for you.

Needed to be there.

It wasn't every day that his best friend and beloved--the love of his life--his dear Store Manager...wasn't going to be a Store Manager anymore.

You'd both broken the news to each other on the same day. For weeks you'd only mentioned small developments in passing, never letting your hopes get too high just in case of a let down.

"We're getting signed," he announced as you'd collided into one another outside of your apartment building. "It's happening we're getting signed and we're gonna make a whole fucking album sweetheart!"

"Oh my god!" you shrieked. "Holy shit Ed!"

"No more weird touring schedules for fests, no more begging to get a song on the radio during the 3am broadcast, it's happening!" He cupped your cheeks and peppered kisses around your face.

"It's happening for me too," you laughed and tried to shake him away. "I got the job."

"What?!" he squished your cheeks harder until you jabbed him lightly in the stomach to get him to let you go.

"I got the job," you laughed, head tilted back as you announced it to the world. "Eddie, baby...you're looking at the new associate manager of Visual Development."

You'd spent the night indulging on a deep dish pizza, fucking making love, and talking about the future.

Maybe you could buy a house...maybe you could get a puppy...take an actual vacation someplace and not just a weekend trip to the Dells or wherever Corroded could find a gig...the possibilities were endless...

But from that moment on, it was a whirlwind.

The band had gotten started right away, signing contracts and working with the small label that had seen their potential and believed in them.

And now, a few weeks later, it was here. Your big day. Your last day as a Store Manager at Claire's, before you went off to their home offices to tell people what color scrunchie was gonna be big for the season.

There were a bunch of purple and pink balloons tied to the sandwich board outside of your store, and as Eddie got closer, he could hear snippets of conversation as your associates asked you about your new position.

"Have you seen your office yet?"

"Yeah, I have," you laughed.

"Is the desk pink?"

"No but the walls are."

"Do you get your own cell phone?"

"Probably not. I'm not the CEO guys. I'm just a manager."

"Are you gonna have to wear business suits?"

"No," Eddie answered for you as he quickly snuck up behind you. You jumped as his arms wrapped around your waist, but you quickly melted into the embrace. "But she's not gonna have to wear clothes from Seventeen Magazine anymore either."

"Yeah," you sighed. "It really sucks to wear clothes from the juniors department once you're past 30. They're just not made the same way."

"Gotta take your word for it sweetheart, I'm not 30 for another few months," he blew a raspberry against the side of your neck and squeezed you tightly in his embrace.

Your associates all sighed dreamily at the sight of the two of you canoodling—power couple who?—and Eddie was thankful for this once-in-a-lifetime chance that you wouldn't just swat him away for PDA while you were on the salesfloor.

"I'm sorry this is coming from the man who still dresses the same as he did when he was 17," you laughed and reached back to pluck at his battle vest that had only accumulated more pins and patches over the years.

"I'm very sorry that I'm not trendy, sweetheart." He kissed your cheek. "But I'm what you would call timeless."

"I'd like a divorce." You pulled his left hand away from your torso so you could attempt to pull the band off his ring finger. "Effective immediately."

"We're not married," he murmured teasingly in your ear. "Or did you forget?"

"You finally gonna seal the deal Munson?" you whispered back. "It's only been 10 years."

"Just so you can file for divorce? I don't think so."

"What if I trade you my longevity pin? I think it would look nice on your vest."

"How about...I take you to lunch first?" he asked, voice back to its normal volume. "And we negotiate the terms and conditions? She's got her big corporate lady pants on, trying to get me to sign a contract."

"I guess I could pencil you in," you feigned annoyance and then looked to your assistant manager. "Let me ask my secretary."

Both you and Eddie stared at them expectantly.

"Get out of here," they laughed at your antics. "Before I kick you out; so sweet, you guys make me gag sometimes."

---

The rest of your final shift was eventful, and Eddie sat in the chair of the Ear Piercing station while you chatted with your regular customers and received one visitor after another.

Old employees and coworkers, your mom who made you take a picture with the whole team, and then a very cheesy one with Eddie who dipped you for a kiss at the very last second.

Jen had come around close to 5 to bring even more balloons and a cake, and had made jokes that she was gonna have to haunt the corporate offices even more now.

"So we can talk shit, obviously," she joked.

Eddie had called Kyle up, who was now managing a store in Milwaukee, to tell him both bits of good news and Kyle had made the drive down to bring a sentimental gift to both of you on your last day.

A picture frame with a collage of polaroids from your years at StarCourt. There was a filmstrip from one of the photo-booths that depicted a younger you and Eddie, making funny faces and staring longingly at one another.

"You left this in the stock room once upon a time," he told Eddie as he pointed it out specifically. "That was before you were dating too. I squirreled it away and forgot about it but was gonna keep it in case you never got the courage to ask her out. And look at the two of you now."

"Yeah, Eddie watched you as you caressed the glass. "Look at us now."

"I still think I should have won the bet," Kyle sniffed bitterly.

You had scheduled yourself to close, and you were expertly restocking the scrunchie wall as the last few customers shopped.

Eddie kept snaking his arms around you and switching this scrunchie here for that one there, and you'd whine and complain about him messing up the color flow. Still, you never made any effort to stop him, and each time you stomped your foot petulantly, he would drop a smooch right on your cheek to "earn" your forgiveness.

"You know, this is what I was doing when we first met," you recalled after a few kisses. "Officially met."

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Restocking scrunchies."

"You sure?" he frowned and tried to think back. He vaguely recalled...bracelets of some sort...or had he just been looking at the jewelry. He'd been so nervous to ask you out back then...it was all a blur.

And he hadn't really even asked you out at that time either. Jesus Christ, what a loser he'd been.

Where would the two of you be now if only he hadn't fumbled on that first not-date? Right where you were now? Maybe broken up? A lot of the growing the two of you had done had been done with the soft buffer of friendship first...it almost caused his heart to ache to think that they might have caused an end to a relationship if things had been different.

Because now he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without you.

"You still haven't let me pierce your ears," you leaned in close to him, nose brushing against his, and teased him.

Eddie froze and then backed away.

"Well," he licked over his bottom lip pensively. "It is your last day...the last hour of your shift too...I think I could be persuaded."

You squealed and ran to get the forms ready. You didn't even let him fill them out, you just pushed him back into the seat he'd been occupying all day as you got it all ready.

"No more being afraid of needles babe," you cackled, the kind of cackle he'd only ever heard when you were being especially devious or evil.

"I have tattoos," he argued, trying to stand from the chair in protest, but you pressed your hand to his chest to get him to sit back down. "I have a ton of tattoos; if I was afraid of needles I wouldn't. Your logic is flawed."

"Yeah ok Spock," you dismissed his reasoning. "This one takes a chunk out of you though, so it's different."

"What argument are you trying to win here baby? Are you trying to get me to get my ears pierced or are you trying to get me to admit I'm afraid."

"Dealers Choice."

"You're lucky I love you," he grumbled.

You were silent for a while as you marked his ears, as you snapped on your gloves, and readied the piercing gun.

Was he afraid? No. He trusted you. But damn if the anticipation wasn't making him sweat a little.

Eddie closed his eyes as he prepared himself for the next step, but you paused and made one quick run across the store before returning.

"Alright I have one last important question to ask you," you began, and he peeped an eye open to see you standing there with your hands behind your back. "It's the age old question and I don't think we ever got a solid answer."

You revealed your plunder and then stared at him expectantly.

"Take your pick: broken hearts or gummy bears."

Eddie went soft as he stared at the two sets of studs backed by purple carding: little black broken hearts and the neon green gummy bears.

It was the age old question wasn't it? The first question he asked you before he even asked you out.

"See, if it was still 1985," he tilted his head back and forth, "I think this would be a hard one to figure out."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. But uh," he reached out and pointed to his choice. "Now it's a no brainer."

"Seriously?" you laughed.

"Seriously."

"And why are you, Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, the most metal band on Earth, picking the Gummy Bears?"

"Sweetheart," he singsonged, pausing for dramatic effect. "I think you know."

"I don't think I do," you parroted.

"Ugh," he scoffed and turned his head. "I guess I am the more romantic of the two of us."

"Answer the question, Cassanova."

"Sweetheart," he turned back to you, hand over his heart. "It has to be the gummy bears."

"Has to be?"

"Must be."

"Because..."

"Because I can confidently say that my heart is never gonna be broken if I have you around."

Your challenging gaze softened and Eddie swore that he saw tears at the corners of your eyes. For a moment he didn't know if you were gonna kiss him or start crying.

"Shut the fuck up," your associate shouted from across the store, ruining the sweet moment. "That was so adorable. Oh my god."

"Language Chels!" you scolded her good-naturedly.

And then, in those last few minutes of your career as a store manager, you kissed Eddie softly on his forehead...on his lips...and then punched holes right through both of his earlobes in rapid succession.

"Fuck!" He screamed. "Fuck!"

"I love you," you chuckled at him.

"Yeah. Love you too..." he grimaced. "Fuck! I love you."

---

Thank you for reading The Store Manager Verse.

#store manager verse #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fic

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yesimwriting · 2 years

Text

First Impressions

First ever final girl fic universe seperate fic!! all that means is that even though this is canon in the final girl fic world, it is a separate fic that stands on its own!! you don't need to read any part of final girl first!!

also if you’d like to request a fic that’s set in the final girl world, feel free too, just know that as of now there won’t be anything directly couple-y between Y/n and the boys, just specify in the request!

this is not part 6 of final girl, it's a separate little sort of prequel??

Summary: How Billy and Stu's feelings for Y/n first developed

----

Billy doesn't know when the official switch first flipped. He isn't sure when you went from being a pretty face with a sense of humor that he found a little more objectively funny than most to someone that started taking over his thoughts.

Maybe it did start that first day, when Stu kept making jokes that forced him to keep bringing up the 'hot new girl that Tatum wouldn't shut up about.’ After about the third comment about you, Billy realized that it wasn't really a joke. It was a testing of waters, Stu's not-so-subtle attempt to gauge Billy's opinion of you.

It wasn't like Stu wanted permission to like you, the two of them understood how they felt about others, about girls. But you were different, a thought that made something unfamiliar flare up in them. Feelings too possessive to be categorized as simply want. And too protective to be considered just ownership.

Maybe it did start the day he met you. The first words he ever heard you say didn't quite fit you, but they intrigued him enough to look at you twice.

----

Today is dragging on. It's not even lunch yet and Billy's trying to calculate if he can get away with skipping the rest of his classes. Maybe he'd grab Stu at the start of their shared 5th period and just go. They could get high or drive around for awhile or just cut early to watch a movie. Billy doesn't really know what he wants, he just knows that he doesn't want to be here. Looking through his locker and waiting for Sid.

Being around her is all hot and cold. Some days playing the good boyfriend is barely painful, making it easy to even actually listen to some of her stories. But on days like today, he has to be aware of all of his thoughts and impulses in order to avoid blowing up their plan. The one year mark is coming up soon.

"You know that much planning can make you sound like a psychopath." That's Sid. Billy can't see her yet, but she's still rounding the corner and her voice sounds light. The irony of her saying something like that only steps away from Billy would almost be amusing on a normal day.

"Psychopaths get shit done." A voice that's completely unfamiliar. Normally, he'd brush it off. He doesn't bother keeping up with many people outside of their inner friend group. He could point out a few faces from over the years, but no one else ever really stands out to him.

Just as Sid and the stranger round the corner, the unknown voice speaks again. "Uh--that's not the kind of joke you can make in front of someone you just met. Swear I'm not planning a mass murder, I'm just extra about planning my class schedule."

Billy turns away from his open locker, deciding that since he's this bored and the comment was somewhat amusing before the stranger started backtracking, he's intrigued enough to really look at them. Plus, Sidney seems to like them, so it's probably a thing he should be putting effort into anyways.

You're not what he was expecting. A true new girl. The true new girl. The girl most people glanced at a little too long this morning because when does anyone ever move to Woodsboro? And when does anyone start school here about a month into the school year?

You're holding a stack of heavy textbooks that seem like over kill and blinking up at him with eyes he doesn't think he'll immediately forget about. It's different than noticing someone he finds attractive. This is more intrusive.

Billy doesn't like that he doesn't instinctually dismiss you as high school background static.

His eyes eventually snag on what you're wearing. A sweater that doesn't seem to fit you that he recognizes instantly. He nearly tore it off Stu this morning before school when they both had half a mind to skip.

Billy's jaw clenches and he isn't sure if the sweater has him feeling territorial over Stu or if it has him looking at you a little differently. Maybe the sweater was a little situation Stu created for Billy to notice. A tiny, well orchestrated way to rile Billy up to get back at him for this morning. Or maybe a way to tag you, to tell Billy that he should look at you twice. It doesn't matter, he now knows for a fact that you'll be coming up later, the second Stu and him get a second alone.

"I believe you," Sidney breathes easily, a half laugh in her voice as she breezes past him, likely walking you towards their group's usual lunch spot. He doesn't like that a part of him hopes that his assumption is right.

----

Mr. James has been ranting about who knows what for the last fifteen minutes, and Stu hasn’t heard a word of it. He hasn’t even had a fully clear thought since you stumbled in three minutes late, mumbling an apology as you beelined for the first available seat you could find. It happened to be right next to him. So close Stu can see the doodles in your notebook. They’re cute, scribbled stars and swirls, but disappointingly un-telling. He didn’t expect to see you so soon after Tatum befriended you in the parking lot, and he didn’t think you’d look like this.

“I like your shirt better like this.” You look up at him like a deer caught in front of a moving car. “The neon green brings out your eyes.”

You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Oh, thanks, that was the goal.” You glance down at your shirt, crossing your arms in front of your chest self consciously. “This is a result of my annoying habit of not looking both ways before crossing the hall. Some guy ran into me and spilled his energy drink all over me, and he didn’t even stop to say sorry.”

“Wow,” Stu humors you because there’s just something about the irritated pout of your lips, “Rude.”

“I know!” You whisper-yell before cringing slightly at your volume.

“Exciting first day so far.”

Shifting in your seat again, you blink once, pen tapping against your notebook. “No kidding.”

“If I give you my sweater, does that count as me bailing you out twice today?”

Your lips part as you glare at him in a way that’s almost shy. Before you can tell him that pointing out a classroom doesn’t count as bailing you out, the two of you are interrupted.

“Mr. Macher, since you’re so interested in talking today, why don’t you tell us how many delegates attended the Constitutional Convention in 1787?”

Stu remains unfazed, turning away from you and towards the teacher. You begin writing something else down, and then, in a move so subtle and quick Stu almost thinks he imagined it, you tap the side of your foot against his. His eyes flit down towards the notebook that you’ve pushed to the edge of your desk.

“55,” Stu says confidently, reading the circled number off of your notebook.

Frowning, Mr. James continues, “That’s correct.” Pacing towards the bored, he asks another question, “And which state wasn’t represented?”

You’re quick to write out the next answer in order for Stu to read it out loud, “Rhode Island.”

Getting frustrated, Mr. James begins to press, “Where did they meet?”

“Philadelphia.”

At that, Mr. James lets out a sigh that’s more frustrated than it should be. Deciding that he can’t push this interrogation any further, Mr. James lets it go and moves on.

Stu smiles despite himself, finding it a little...cute that you outed yourself as a bit of a nerd. It’s something about who you are that you’ve finally revealed. He glances back at your notebook as you inch it even closer to him. He reads over the last thing you wrote: who’s bailing who out now?

You’re smug about it, too. It’s adorable, like being near a puppy. A puppy that Stu isn’t sure if he’d keep around or accidentally squeeze just a little too hard. He just met you, but something about your demeanor is just so innocent and you seem so soft. It’s distracting and oddly riling and he hasn’t quite made up his mind if he’s going to hold it against you or not.

God, if Tatum decides to really befriend you, this could be interesting. And if Billy were to meet you? Stu’s convinced that he’ll pick up on the fact that you’re something else just as fast. That realization leads to a train of thought that has him struggling to focus on acting normal.

----

Stu knows two things. The first is that something is definitely on Billy’s mind, and the second is that Billy can tell that Stu’s focus is elsewhere. Stu also knows that right now is a terrible time to get caught up in some girl just because he can’t stop thinking about your eyes and the cute little turn of your lips that was almost a smile.

And seeing you in his sweater for the rest of the day just did something to him.

Okay, technically that’s more than two things.

“You wanna order takeout?” The question comes out perfectly casual in a way that Stu knows Billy will interpret as suspicious. “We can save the movie you rented for when the food gets here.”

Billy nods once, absentmindedly, “Sure.” His fingers press into the cushion of the couch, but that doesn’t do anything to relieve his tension. Billy moves his hand, squeezing the back of his turned over arm and letting his nails dig into the soft skin of his inner wrist. The pinching pain is meant to snap him out of it. “What do you think of the girl Tatum was all over today?”

The question nearly sends Stu spiraling. It’s rare for Stu to be unsure on what kind of reaction someone’s looking for, but he’s out of practice with Billy. He can’t remember the last time he cared about monitoring his reactions in front of Billy. “What about her?”

“Do you think Tatum will keep her around enough for her to be a factor?”

Oh. It’s about the plan. Of course it is. Stu thinks of your face, your eyes, the almost smile. It makes his blood rush in a specific way, and he’s not sure if he’d rather see you tremble out of fear or arousal. Maybe there’d be time for both.

“Don’t know. Tatum thought she was nice, didn’t shut up about her, but she’s a little book-y, y’know?” Stu shifts slightly, just enough to seem like he’s slumping further into the couch. “She’s probably too naive to be a factor either way.”

Billy half shrugs. “Not sure, she’s reading Carrie.”

Stu almost points out that Billy isn’t usually the type to note details like that about people he doesn’t know or care about. “Think she likes scary movies?”

“There’s an easy way to find out,” Billy mumbles, only somewhat serious. He then drops his gaze towards his lap, nails digging just a little harder into his skin than before. “She doesn’t seem like the victim type. You know what she reminded me of with her too-nice-for-her-own-good, girl next door thing?”

Already piecing together what Billy’s getting at, Stu decides to play along. “What?”

At that, Billy throws him a somewhat scolding look. It’s a gentle chiding for trying to get away with bullshitting him. “A final girl.” With a slight sigh, Billy decides that he’s ready to bring up his real point, “You definitely thought so.”

The nail in the coffin hits Stu harder than he thought it would. Billy’s called him out on a lot over the years, but Stu’s never come this close to feeling embarrassed. He doesn’t get this difference, he doesn’t get why he didn’t just say something at the beginning. The two of them talk about girls they find hot all the time. Why are you the exception that makes him feel kind of awkward?

“What?”

Billy rolls his eyes before pointedly glaring at Stu in a way that can only be described as bitchy. “You think I can’t tell when you like a girl?”

The word like settles uncomfortably in Stu’s chest. “Jealous?” It’s a sad attempt at deflecting. “Like you didn’t think she was cute with the way you jumped in to save her just as I was getting her a little worked up.”

“You were making fun of someone and trying to make her uncomfortable.”

“Since when does that matter?”

Billy pauses, thinking through his potential responses. “I didn’t give her my sweater.” It’s a flat comment, barely more than an observation. “I wasn’t the one looking at her like I couldn’t decide if I wanted to pin her against the wall or hold her there with a knife.” Stu’s eyes darken slightly as his posture stiffens and Billy struggles to not look smug openly. “Surprised you didn’t come in here trying to get me to jerk you off to the thought of her all bloody and begging you to let her live. I bet you’ve been thinking about that since you saw he in the parking lot this morning.”

Stu finds it in himself to keep it together enough to say, “You’re there too. She’s crying and looks over at you with those wide eyes like she needs you.”

The comment serves as a ceasefire of sorts. A reminder that neither of them has a true upper hand when it comes to this kind of thing.

----

Maybe the change came the first time Billy was completely alone with you. The hall was empty, school had ended long enough for most club meetings to have started. Most of the people that linger after school have moved to the parking lot or behind the bleachers.

Billy recognizes the back of your head instantly. You’re starting to become more and more noticeable. It’s a new development, something he still isn’t sure how he feels about. It’s good to be aware, but it’s more than that. A small part of him seems to jump whenever he realizes you’re in the same room. It’s ridiculous. If Stu knew about the pinch of warmth that rises in him whenever he realizes that you’re around, he’d never hear the end of it.

He almost walks away, leaving you there as you groan in frustration at your locker. “You okay?”

You look up, eyes rounder than usual. You’re always a little fidgety, but today, you’re jumpier than ever. Stu threw his arm around your shoulders during lunch after making a joke that made you both seem like an old, married couple. It’s not rare for Stu to find an excuse to touch you, and you react to it a lot more casually than you used to. But today, you almost flinched. Something’s going on, maybe it has something to do with your mom’s boyfriend.

You called Sid up the other night late, asking her if you could sleep over because your mom was out and you didn’t want to be alone with him. Maybe your mom isn’t back yet and the thought of going back to that environment has you on edge. Billy gets that feeling.

“I think this locker has a personal vendetta against me.”

He nods, trying not to focus on anything particular about you. Still, though, there’s something a little endearing about your dramatics. “A vendetta? Intense.”

You pull on the lock again, trying to balance a bunch of binders and books in one arm. “Extremely.”

With the way you’re struggling, it’s only a matter of time before everything collapses. “Here.” Billy pushes the lock in, holding it in position for a second before pulling it down. “It wasn’t still locked, just jammed. The lockers here do that.”

You let out a relieved sigh. “You’re my hero.” It’s casual praise, a comment you’ll likely never think about again, but it leaves that strange warmth flaring through him.

“Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got it.” The shake of your head is polite, but the fact that you’re clearly struggling to keep your hold on everything is apparent. You don’t always accept help easily. Suppressing an eye roll, Billy takes the top two books from your stack. You give him a look before admitting defeat. “Thank you.”

You finish putting away the items in your arms before taking the textbooks back from Billy and making them fit into what’s left of the space. You then move to look through your backpack, taking out different colored sets of sticky notes and highlighters. It’s not really noteworthy until you start taking different sticky notes and highlighters out of your locker and putting them into your backpack.

“Didn’t you just put those--”

“Those were the note color combos for history, science, and english. These are the note color combos for my journalism class and math, plus my additional sticky notes for english reading that’s a book and not a textbook. I also like to use different highlighters for different levels of--” Billy’s watching you carefully as you cut yourself off. “I’m way more normal than this makes me look, I swear.”

It’s that half thought out defense that has Billy practically frozen in place. There’s just something so you about the way you cut yourself off, and Billy’s practically lost in it. You’re an open book when it comes to feelings, but he always finds himself trying to guess what you’re going to say before you actually say it.

Billy fights against a smile. “I don’t believe it.” Your mouth opens in a mock gasp. “Do you have a ride home?”

You zip your backpack shut. “I was gonna walk.”

He’s yet to see you drive and he’s starting to think you don’t have a car. It’s an unseasonably chilly day and you’re wearing something short with no jacket. Billy also doesn’t love the idea of you walking alone while looking like that. Too pretty, too noticeable, and there are some fucked up people out there.

In an impulsive move, Billy says, “I can take you.” The offer surprises you, you clearly weren’t expecting that from him. Billy can’t blame you for your confusion. It’s not that he’s cold towards you, he just hasn’t let himself get too close to you.

You’re a breath of fresh air to not just him. With the way everyone’s always all over you, Billy has let himself step to the sidelines a little. At least, that’s what he tells himself, but if he’s being completely honest, his thoughts around you are flighty and unsure. Sometimes if he thinks about it too hard it makes him feel like he’s a kid desperate for his mom to beam at him to make everything go away.

It’s twisting and weird and he’s not sure if it makes him want you closer to him or if it makes him want to just give in and force a knife through you just so that voice in the back of his head will stop. You can’t exactly reject him if he buries a knife into you first. But he’s been trying a little more recently.

It’s only been a short time and you’ve already gotten so comfortable with Stu and his brazenness. It’s starting to make Billy a little more relaxed. Enough to crack a smile every once in awhile and partner with you for a project in English class.

“Oh,” you hum after a second, “Thank you.” You take your time zipping your backpack up to avoid needing to look at him. “But you don’t have to do that. I’d hate to put you out.”

Billy knows that it’s likely you trying not to be an inconvenience. You never do accept help the first time it’s offered. You don’t know what you need. Despite Billy’s awareness, the slight rejection stings. That warmth you make him feel twists in his stomach in a way that burns.

“It wouldn’t be putting me out.” He pauses, trying to think through what he can say to get you to agree without making his offer sound too significant. “It’s cold, I can’t let you freeze.”

You shut your locker, letting yourself consider his offer. It was the right thing to remind you of. Even though it’s not exactly freezing here, it’s hotter in Texas and you’re not used to September feeling all that different than July. “One condition?”

“I’m doing you a favor.”

Playfully, you roll your eyes dramatically. Billy smiles at the gesture despite himself. “Don’t go around telling people I’m like some kind of weird sticky note freak?”

“Weird sticky note freak?” Billy repeats the words like he’s seriously weighing the pros and cons of your request. “Nope. Sorry. Have to tell everyone.”

The tension of uncertainty behind your stance disappears and the way you’re looking at him changes entirely. His joke surprised you in a good way. It’s a flash of a side of an easier going side of him. “Everyone, huh?” You tilt your head slightly as you consider what to say. “Wish I knew something embarrassing about you to...ensure your silence.”

He almost laughs. “Ensure my silence? You’d blackmail me?”

Shrugging comfortably, you reply, “I’d do what needs to be done.”

Billy takes a step forward, angling himself so that there’s a subtle implication that you’re trapped between him and your locker. You seem to pick up on it subconsciously, because the pure humor leaves your eyes. “Didn’t think you could be so mean.”

You blink, a tiny bit of shyness making itself apparent. Your proximity to each other is just as significant to you as it is to him. Billy can tell by the way you struggle to hold his gaze. The fact that the nerves are mutual makes Billy feel a little easier, a little warm in a good way.

“I’m multifaceted.” It’s practically a squeak and it sends a thrill straight through Billy.

He’s never been this close to you and yet it still feels so far. The urge to do something with his hands, to touch you just to know what the warmth of your skin would feel like beneath his fingertips, hits him hard and fast. Billy straightens in an attempt to break the spell.

It’s not enough, so he starts walking forward. “Come on before I see you do something really embarrassing like color code tabs in your binder.”

You turn quickly, trying to match his long, even strides. “That’s actually--” Silencing yourself with a slight huff, you glare at him. “And...that was a joke. You’re making fun of me.”

Instead of answering the question, Billy decides to push just a little more. “You know this isn’t exactly a sticky note level secret, but sometimes I color coordinate my pens based on each class I’m in. The ink matches my folders.”

“Haha,” you breathe sarcastically, heat rising to your face. “You have a really underrated sense of humor.”

----

Now that you’re here, so casually taking up space somewhere that’s just his, Billy doesn’t want you to go. Your uncertainty melted away after the first two minutes and you’ve been casually chatting away ever since.

You tried making fun of his music, but ultimately had to admit your disappointment that Billy’s taste isn’t worse. He apologized and promised that next time he drove you somewhere, he’d make sure to have nothing but the cheesiest pop top 20 available, that way you could bully him to your heart’s content. He also made sure to tell you that if you really want to make fun of someone for their choice of music, you should ask Stu to show you his CD collection.

After saying that, Billy watched your reaction carefully through the rearview mirror. You seemed to like the promise of future car rides.

You’re tapping your fingers against your knee casually, eyes focused on the window. The two of you are getting close to your place now, and something about your energy is beginning to shift downwards. You don’t want to go home.

Screw it, you don’t want to be home and after Stu’s stuffy energy today, Billy realizes that both of you could use a bit of a pick me up.

"Today’s Thursday, right?”

Turning your attention back towards him, your hand stills on your lap. “Yeah, why?”

“I forgot I told Stu I’d be at his place by 3:30 today. We were supposed to go get something to eat.” It’s a partial lie. It was an assumed thing that Billy would make his way over to Stu’s at some point, especially since it’s been a little while since they both had a free day. Between school and their girlfriends, it just hasn’t worked out. But they never indicated a time and Billy isn’t actually late. “We’re about to pass Stu’s house.”

Billy pauses, pretending that this idea just came to him. “Want to come with us? I can drive you home after and that way Stu won’t get into his whole thing when I’m late.”

You’re intrigued by the offer, he can tell by the way you’re cautiously studying him from the corner of your vision. “I don’t need to crash your thing.”

“You’re not crashing.” You don’t look convinced. “You’re our friend.”

At that, your demeanor seems to soften. The word friend leaves you beaming and that feeling flickers in Billy’s chest again.

“You’re sure Stu won’t mind?” You’re watching him freely now, eyes cautious. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“As long as you don’t bring out the sticky notes and try to color coordinate anything.”

Fighting down a laugh, you roll your eyes. “Sounds tough, but I think I can manage.”

----

Stu’s laying against his couch, Texas Chainsaw Massacre playing on the living room television. He’s only half paying attention, strangely apathetic.

The call had come this morning, right before he left for school. His parents were rescheduling their return, claiming that business was just too good for them to fly home already. Apparently someone offered his dad an in on some deal, and now they’re in negotiations for that. Stu barely believed them, considering that the business trip was in Vegas, and his mom has a pension for shopping in large cities.

He didn’t call them out for it. He never does. Lie or truth, it doesn’t make a difference why they’re not coming back. The point is they’re just not.

When Stu was younger, he used to complain a little, but that was quickly nipped in the bud by his father reminding him that he’s a man. He shouldn’t really need anything from his parents except assurance that his needs would be taken care of, and that’s definitely a problem they’ve never had. A large and safe roof over his head and enough pocket money to keep himself fed and entertained. What else could a teenage boy want?

Stu was half expecting some kind of call. It had been a little over a week with no communication and they always announce their return home a few days in advance. They never tell Stu about their delays until the day before they’re supposed to come back.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this or why it’s getting to him a little more today than usual. Maybe it has to do with the fact that his parents are coming close to beating their record for longest time traveling without so much as a weekend pit stop at home to change out their luggage. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s barely gotten any time with Billy this week. It doesn’t matter. The fact that he’s phased at all is stupid.

A knocking at his door snaps him out of his train of thoughts. Weird. A spike of hope strikes him with no warning. It could be Billy, but Billy never knocks. He walks in and doesn’t even bother to greet Stu verbally before sitting down next to him. It could be Tay, but he can’t remember making any plans with her or the last time she spontaneously popped by his place without at least calling first.

Stu opens the front door casually, because this is Woodsboro, and an unexpected knock is no reason for concern. His eyes immediately land on Billy, who’s standing there like there’s nothing weird about him knocking.

“You kn--” He cuts himself off after noticing that Billy’s not alone. Excitement pulses through him at the realization that it’s you. Stu has no idea how Billy pulled this off, but it’s a good surprise. A good enough surprise to get him to shake off the weird way he’s feeling. “Look who wandered onto my doorstep.”

Ignoring the consuming way he’s looking at you, you greet him normally. “Hi to you too.”

“Picked her up,” Billy jumps in, catching Stu up on his innocent enough lie as casually as possible, “She’s a stray, so she’s coming with us to grab something to eat.”

That paired with the subtle look Billy sends him is enough for Stu to piece together enough of the story to go along with it. “You’re late, but since you brought me a gift, I’ll let it go.”

You practically laugh at that. “Dramatic.”

Stu turns towards you, grinning at the excuse to grab you. He tugs on your arm, ignoring your protests as he pushes you against the doorframe. The sudden shift in mood isn’t something you’re expecting, but Stu can’t help it. Especially when he knows that he has your full attention. He can take seeming pushy if it means he’s the only thing you’re focusing on.

“Stu.” It’s too surprised and amused to be scolding.

His smile widens at the way you’re looking at him. “Take it back.”

You bite back a grin, watching him carefully. There’s an edge to his usual brand of chaos, but it’s not unnerving. If anything, a part of you feels the need to prove him wrong. “No.”

It’s not so much the blatant defiance as it is that smug look behind your eyes that sets Stu off. His hold on you tightens, and the way he tilts his head leaves a feeling you don’t understand pulsing through you. It leaves your face warm.

“No?” You blink at the question, chin sticking out just slightly in an attempt to hold your ground. “Brat.”

Still not giving him the satisfaction of your panic, you keep your voice steady as you react, “Dra-ma-tic.”

Billy straightens, watching the exchange cautiously. He understands that look behind Stu’s eyes better than Stu does. You’re teetering on the edge of either Stu forgetting that this is a delicate situation and crossing a line or something even more dangerous. But this is the most like himself Stu’s been all day and you’re smiling. It’s a moment that’s so domestic Billy’s not sure how he hadn’t managed to get you here sooner.

Releasing one of your arms, Stu places a hand on your side. Billy studies the contact carefully before Stu starts to move. His fingers move quickly, up and down your side as you laugh and squirm. It’s cute and easy going, but considering Stu’s mood today, Billy isn’t sure how long it’ll stay that way.

“What were you saying?”

“That--” You cut yourself off with a loud laugh that’s almost a gasp as Stu’s hand brushes against your side. “That you’re the--the most even temper-tempered, understa--understated person I’ve ever met.”

Stu pauses, hands squeezing your hips once before releasing you, but he makes no move to put any distance between you. “I’d love to believe you, babe, but you don’t really seem sorry.”

That does frazzle you enough to get your eyes to widen. You laugh or maybe even yelp as Stu’s hands move to grab you again. You turn quickly, nearly stumbling as you try to dodge him.

Stu could probably grab you and force you back into place easily, but he lets you have your small victory. It’s more fun with a little bit of a chase, anyways.

Billy places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you steady as you fight against a nervous giggle. “Help.”

He’s never had such a good excuse to pull you towards him. Maybe Billy should have been the voice of reason. After all, this is your first time all doing something after school and scaring you off really is a possibility. But he can’t help himself. In one smooth movement, Billy turns you and presses your back into his chest. “You know in the movies nothing gets you killed faster than begging for help.”

You’re barely given a second to register his words because Stu’s on you in a second, tickling you before you can read too much into the lowness of Billy’s voice. He rests his chin against your back, briefly hiding his face into your neck as you squirm.

Billy looks up, meeting Stu’s gaze as you fondly tell them that they’re, “Literally the worst,” in a voice that’s so sweet they’re surprised they hold it together.

It’s in that moment, that silent exchange, that they both come to a mutual decision. You’re theirs now, and even though you don’t know it yet, nothing’s going to change that.

#scream #Scream 1996 #scream imagine #scream x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #Poly! Ghostface x Reader #poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #Stu Macher #stu macher x reader #Billy Loomis #billy loomis x reader #final girl fic

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writing-for-marvel · 1 year

Text

Every Step of the Way

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: After struggling through the entire week, Steve’s there to comfort you when you need him the most.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: severe depression is depicted, Steve and reader being naked in a shower together but nothing sexual, major hurt comfort vibes

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: this is 1000% self indulgent, I wrote this when I was in a really dark place, struggling to even just get out of bed every day and I needed Stevie there to comfort me. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Opening your eyes seems like an effort too great for the amount of energy in your reserves.

Every breath is a heave, as if trying to gasp for air with an anvil sitting on your chest.

The backs of your eyes sting with tears at the thought of needing to get out of bed. You don’t want to face the day, don’t want to be the early bird catching the worm. You want to stay under the covers and sleep, that’s all you have the motivation to do.

Dirty dishes are stacked next to your sink, they’ve been accumulating since early in the week and you’ve just not had the energy after working and making dinner each night to actually wash them yet.

Clothes litter the floor of your bedroom, but you’ve put off going down to the laundry room for the past few days, with each new sunrise promising it’ll be tomorrow you’ll find time to do it, but that tomorrow never comes.

The bathrooms need cleaning, the floor needs vacuuming, surfaces need dusting - you put off doing them last weekend to focus on other household chores, but this weekend has come around and you’re not any more inspired to complete them.

You hear keys rattle in your front door, the sound startling you enough to finally open your eyes, but not sufficiently concerning to warrant leaving your bed. The only person who owned keys to your place was your boyfriend and though you didn’t want him to see the mess you were living in, there wasn’t anything you could do in the two seconds it would take for him to open your door.

As if instinctually he knows you’re still snuggled up in bed, you hear his heavy footsteps striding steadily towards your door.

Bracing for the furious displeasure you have been conditioned to receive from ex partners when they discovered you in a relapse, you pull the covers tighter around yourself as if to shield you from what was about to happen.

“Stevie…” Your voice is soft, vulnerable as he enters the room, but it’s not pity nor annoyance you see in his eyes, which you had been expecting, but instead they are brimming with concern.

“Hey darling.” His honey voice is slow and smooth, soothing the jittery anxiety ricocheting through your mind and chest. “Not feeling too good?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head anyway, clutching the duvet closer to your chin. Steve pulls his shirt over his head, rounds the bed and climbs in next to you.

“C’mere.” His strong arms envelop you and pull you into his strong chest, the weight of them on your back and his musky scent, which now consumes your senses, is the secure reassurance you’ve been needing all week that you’re not completely alone in this brutal world.

He doesn’t ask what’s the matter with you, doesn’t ask why you’ve barely answered his messages all week, why your home is a complete mess or why you’re laying in the dark at noon on a weekend. He doesn’t make you justify your change in behaviour, why you kept him at arm's length, doesn’t scold you for your absence as other people have done in the past. Instead, he kisses your forehead, whispers that you’re safe with him as he gently rubs his hand up and down your back.

He could have easily chastised you for withdrawing into yourself and not seeking help, could have pointed out the state your home was in, or mentioned that you smelled in need of a shower, but he does none of that. Rather, he tells you over and over again that you’re loved, ingraining the notion in your mind so that you won’t ever forget, placing kisses over every inch of your face he can reach while still holding your body close.

The sound of his beating heart lulls you to a peaceful sleep, feeling safe and treasured, and for the first time this week like you don’t have to carry the weight of expectation and hollow desolation all on your own.

* * *

When you wake, the warmth provided by your sturdy boyfriend is missing. Distress fills your chest for a moment, thinking perhaps Steve coming to soothe you to sleep was a figment of your imagination, until you hear the faint sound of movement from the main living area.

With an effort you believe rivals running an entire marathon, you push the sheets off yourself, heave yourself out of bed and trudge into your kitchen, but not before noticing that the clothes that were strewn over your bedroom floor this morning were no longer there.

Once your eyes adjust to the light you notice Steve hunched over your sink, elbows deep in soapy water doing your dishes. Part of you is thankful, you’ve been needing to do them all week and just hadn’t found the energy or motivation. But another part of you, deep in your chest, feels ashamed - you have to rely on your boyfriend, who has a hectic enough life of his own, to do something as simple as washing your dishes. How pathetic.

“Steve, I can do them.” You declare, lumbering over to the counter, feeling somewhat relieved to see there’s only half the number of dirty pots and pans as was there when you left them last night.

“It’s okay darling, I’ve already got my hands wet…”

“I don’t want you doing my dishes for me, Steven.” You don’t know why those particular words leave your mouth, because seeing the dishes you had failed to clean the last few days finally have the grime scrubbed off them alleviates some of the hefty gravity pushing you chest so tight you almost can’t breathe. But it also makes you feel incapable, worthless and weak.

You’re not sure what quality it is in your voice that indicates it, but Steve immediately removes his hands from the bubbly water, dries them quickly on the back of his pants and pulls you into his chest just as tears you didn’t realise were coming start silently streaming down your cheeks.

“Shhh, it’s okay, deep breaths for me baby.” His large hands rub soothing circles around your back as your tears dampen his shirt. You try your best to follow his instruction, slowly take deep breaths and calm the flow of untameable misery pouring out the corners of your eyes, but your throat starts constricting and each new tear running down your cheeks evokes two more.

You just want it to end. You want to be able to function like a regular human being without exhausting all of your energy reserves by simply getting out of bed.

You just want to be normal. Be someone Steve can be proud to call his girl. Not someone who struggles to do the simplest of tasks.

When Steve senses that your flood of emotions isn’t subsiding, he shuffles with you in his arms towards your bathroom, whispering that the warm water of your shower will help refresh you.

He helps lift you onto your bathroom countertop, kissing away the stray tears on your cheeks before turning on the shower. While he tests the temperature of the water with one hand, his other maintains hold on yours - even just the connection to him helps in your attempts to calm yourself down. He’s here for you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

When the temperature is just how you like it, Steve helps you strip off your clothes and directs you under the stream. You let the water wash over your face, taking some of your worries with them, as Steve steps in behind you.

You can’t tell the difference between your own teardrops and drizzle of the shower as you look up at your boyfriend, grateful for the care and tenderness he’s shown you while you’re at your lowest. No one else has stuck around when they’ve seen you like this, but in this moment you feel nothing but pure love.

You place a gentle kiss to a scar on his bare chest and Steve kisses your forehead in return - a silent message to thank him for being there for you, and him to acknowledge that though you’re unable to voice your gratitude at the present moment, he understands it’s there.

Once Steve washes your hair, knowing the steps of your routine perfectly, and the rest of your body, you step out of the shower feeling like the load you’ve been carrying for the past few weeks has been washed off your back.

Steve smiles as he pulls his own shirt over your head, kissing your nose once your head pops through the hole. Now your tears have settled, you can appreciate the affection overflowing in his baby blues, fondness you don’t believe you deserve, but cherish nonetheless.

Forgetting all about the dirty dishes in the cold, soapy sink, Steve directs you back to your bedroom, climbing in after you and pulling you once again into his strapping chest.

“Darling, you don’t have to carry this burden alone. I’m here for you, and I love you, you don’t ever have to face this by yourself again.” Steve speaks softly into your hairline, the intent and conviction in his voice enough to drive you to tears again.

“But it’s not like I have that much on my plate, I should be able to do simple things like housework. I just… I just can’t. I can’t explain it, my brain just doesn’t allow me to.”

Steve pulls away from you slightly so he has an angle to look at you directly in the eye. It looks like it physically pains him to see you struggling so much.

“My love, you are the strongest person I have ever met. I am so proud of you everyday that you are here with me, that you keep battling your own mind. You’re my fighter, my best girl, and I’m here to help you through this difficult patch. For better or worse. In sickness and in health, I love you.” He punctuates his declaration with a sweet kiss, reinforcing his words.

“We’re not married Stevie.” You point out, but he simply smirks at you.

“Not yet.”

Before Steve Rogers you believed love was tumultuous and torture, that it was meant to tear you in half, because you cared about the other person so ardently it left you bloodied and bruised. But Steve proved to you that wasn’t love - love isn’t supposed to feel like you’re going to war, instead it’s comfort, it’s a reassuring embrace of someone who has seen your battle scars and tells you it’s time to rest.

Love is solace.

And Steve Rogers is certainly your solace.

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