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stevie-petey · 17 days

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episode one: suzie, do you copy?

Steve sighs. “Those kids are manipulating your power over me to get what they want.” “You call it manipulation, I call it bonding.” Another sigh escapes Steve. “You’re going to be the death of me.” “And yet you stay.” You tease. “And yet I stay.”

Summary: you help nancy sneak through jonathans window, the party uses you for your "in" with steve, and you sorta become the reason dustin almost blinds lucas. meanwhile, steve tries, and fails, to make you his girlfriend (this will happen all summer), but have no fear ! dustin intercepts a russian code and makes everything even harder for everyone. what a sweet brother <3

Rating: general, swearing

Warnings: allusions to violence, swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 9.6k

Before you swing in: shes here !!! season 3 of come home <333 im so excited for yall to read what i have planned, and thank you so much for being so patient as i planned the season out and started the chapters :) season 3 is pure chaos and i hope yall love what ive created, im proud of the changes i made <3333 we get some more insight into bug this season, which i also hope yall love !

June 27th, 1985.

A summer breeze gently creeps into Jonathan’s room, bringing the scent of dandelions and your childhood with it. It’s early evening and Jonathan hums to himself quietly, laying in his bed as he lazily skims through a comic he stole from you last week. You’re next to him as you carefully cut pieces of construction paper to glue onto the posterboard. Dustin comes home from camp in a few days and you want his welcome home banner to be perfect.

In the other room you hear the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of Joyce and Will laughing at whatever movie they’ve put on in the living room. Hearing their laughs makes you smile; it’s been so long since you’ve heard them laugh.

The tune that Jonathan hums now becomes a familiar one, and absent mindedly you begin to hum along with him. The cool summer night’s air encases the two of you, as if it senses that you want to freeze this moment forever. You’re in the Byers home, pressed against Jonathan’s side as you hum together an old song from when you were both fourteen and thought you had the world all figured out,

It’s nice, having this moment all to yourself with him. Moments alone with him have become few and far between, and it saddens you to think about.

There’s a new mall in town, Starcourt, and within a few months of it opening, Bookstrordinary has slowly been edging out of business. The entire town of Hawkins quickly fell in love with the mall, but with this love came the abandonment of downtown Hawkins.

Mrs. Waters can barely afford to have you work more than a few hours a day, so you’ve been spending your days visiting Nancy and Jonathan at their internship at the Hawkins Post or hanging at Scoops Ahoy to see Steve and Robin. While your friends have been lovely, you can’t swallow down the fear that you’ll lose your job by the end of summer.

As if somehow reading your thoughts, Jonathan puts down his comic and pokes your cheek. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask if you and Nance thought of anything else to try and save Bookstrordinary.”

You glue down a letter and try to distract yourself with the miniscule task. Nancy has been brainstorming a million ideas to try and help Mrs. Water, and while you appreciate her effort, it’s no use. Swallowing down even more dread, you shake your head at Jonathan. “No, nothing. Nancy offered to help organize a book drive to get more customers, but…”

“It wouldn’t be enough.” Jonathan finishes for you.

“Not nearly enough,” you sigh, desperately wanting to change the topic now. “But besides me possibly losing my job soon, how has yours been at the Hawkins Post?”

Now it’s Jonathan’s turn to sigh. “It’s… okay? I guess. I–I mean, definitely not what I expected it to be. The hours suck and the men are awful, but…” he shifts uncomfortably and looks away from you, embarrassed. “A job is a job.”

You rub his arm, understanding what he means. The Byers have always struggled with money, but ever since Will went missing two years ago and Jonathan lost his last job at the Hawk movie theater, it’s only gotten worse. They’ve tried hiding it, but last week you sneakily paid for Will’s ice cream at Scoops Ahoy while no one else was looking.

“I get it, bee.” You reassure him, hating that he even feels embarrassed in the first place.

Jonathan smiles and leans into your touch, appreciative of the fact that you know his family well enough by now to understand all he’s too ashamed to say. The two of you sit quietly for a few moments before he tries to lighten the mood with something else. “You excited for your birthday, bug?”

“Ugh,” you shake your head in disgust, which Jonathan laughs at. He knows you’ve never really liked your birthday. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s in a few days, so you gotta suck it up.” Jonathan flicks your forehead and you swat your hand at him. “Besides, I bet $5 that Steve has some grand proposal planned for your birthday this year. He’s spent the entire summer drooling over you.”

His words make you blush furiously. “He has not–”

“He definitely has,” Jonathan tries to flick you again but you dodge, giggling. “I’m surprised he hasn’t publicly declared your love for you yet. I think there’s a betting pool going around the party.”

You gasp. “You’re lying!”

“Nope. Lucas and Max both lost last week, they bet mid June. Now it’s only me, Nancy, Will, and Dustin in the running.”

“What about Mike and El?”

“Mike didn’t want to encourage you dating Steve and the party agreed it felt unfair to have El gamble seeing as how she’s, ya know, still getting used to being in society.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. The idea is so bizarre and lovely, knowing how invested everyone is in your alleged love life, and it makes the worry you’ve been feeling fade away. “Can I join the pool? If I actually lose my job, I’ll need the money.”

Jonathan scoffs at you. “That goes against every gambling rule–”

“Please? I could be poor soon!”

“No, it’s not going to happen–”

“But–”

A knock on the window cuts you off. The two of you look up at the sound and find Nancy standing outside, waving and smiling. You hurry over to let her in, happy as always to see her. She’s been spending more and more nights at Jonathan’s, always sneaking in through the window.

It’s disgusting, and you couldn’t be happier for them.

Jonathan helps the girl climb through the window and greets her with a kiss to the forehead. “Hey, Nance.”

She smiles up at him with a shine in her eyes, and you know it’s time to leave. It’s getting late, anyways. You start to gather your banner supplies as you greet Nancy yourself. “Welcome back, Wheeler.”

“Hello to you too, Henderson.”

You wink at the girl and quickly ruffle Jonathan’s hair. “I’m going home, bee. My mom wants me to help prep Dustin’s room and I wanna have his banner done by tomorrow.”

“Bike home safe, please.” He says with a stern finger pointed at you.

Rolling your eyes, you give a mocking salute to Nancy and Jonathan. “Use protection, kids. I’m too young to be an aunt.”

Nancy gasps while Jonathan practically trips over his own two feet at your words, and you laugh. You leave them alone to compose themselves, closing the door to Jonathan shouting, “That wasn’t funny!”

You’re still giggling to yourself when you walk into the living room and see Joyce and Will sprawled on the couch. Their movie has just finished, the credits are rolling as you stand next to the TV and wave goodbye to them.

“You leaving so soon?” Joyce asks, surprised to even see you leave Jonathan’s room in the first place.

“Yeah, gotta finish up Dustin’s welcome home banner,” you hold up your supplies. Then, through the house’s thin walls, you all hear Nancy’s soft giggle. At the sound, you lean in close to Joyce and Will and dramatically whisper, “Plus, between the three of us, company came, so…”

Will’s eyes widen. “Yuck!”

Joyce chuckles, remembering how in love she was at Jonathan’s age back then. “Would I be a bad parent if I told Nancy she could just use the front door?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s fun watching them think they’re getting away with it.” You steal a piece of candy from the bowl Will had been eating out of, and he holds it up higher so that you can grab more. “Thanks, little bee.”

“You think it’s fun teasing Nancy and Jonathan now, Y/N, but when you’re the one sneaking in through a boy’s window one day…” Joyce shrugs, a twinkle in her eye. “You’ll understand.”

Will looks up at you with his own evil glint in his eyes, and before you can stop him, he turns to his mom and says, “I wonder how high Steve Harrington’s window is.”

You pretend to attack Will and he giggles as he flees his seat and runs to the other side of the living room. “Will Byers I will spit in your cookies–”

Joyce covers her mouth and gasps. “Y/N, are you hiding a boyfriend from me?”

Quickly you stop chasing after Will, terrified of the idea of the woman thinking you’d hide anything from her. “What? No! I’m not dating Steve–”

“Yet!” Will exclaims from across the room, but his retaliation is followed by a shriek as you chase after the kid again.

“If you keep this up, I’m telling Steve to stop letting y’all sneak into the movies!” You threaten as you chase the boy around the room.

Joyce watches in amusement, she’s never been able to take her eyes off of you when you’re with her boys. Will dodges a grab and you stumble, giving him just enough time to hide behind his mom’s armchair.

He pokes his head out at your threat, his eyes now uncertain. “You wouldn’t really tell Steve that, right?”

Catching your breath, you collapse onto the couch and shake your head at him. “No, little bee. I wouldn’t.”

You’d never do that to Will. He’s been so keen on spending as much time as possible with the party this summer, spending each and every moment planning DnD campaigns and biking all over Hawkins to spend mere seconds together. Will has spent all summer trying as hard as possible to be a kid again because so much of his childhood was stolen by Upside Down.

Will slowly gets up from behind the armchair and sits next to you, relieved. “Okay, good. We wanna see a movie tomorrow night and I already promised everyone you’d get Steve to let us in. That would’ve sucked.”

You and Joyce laugh at the boy’s response, and it feels so good to have this moment with the two of them. You allow it to wash over you for a second, the Byers home has always had such a comforting effect on you, before getting up and gathering your things once more. “I really should go, though. My mom is waiting.”

Joyce and Will say goodbye and tell you to be safe on your way home, and it warms something within you. As you bike down their driveway home, you inhale the summer night’s air and wonder, days before you turn seventeen, how much longer you have left of just this: being a little kid going home after a long day.

–

When you get home, Tews greets you with an angry meow.

The cat had been a Christmas gift for your mom from you and Dustin, seeing as how you accidentally killed Mews. Your mom had cried seeing the little kitten, and had cried even harder when your brother suggested the stupid name “Tews.”

But it stuck, and now Tews glares at you as you take your time feeding her.

In Dustin’s room you can hear your mom rustling around, frantically cleaning the place as if it currently isn’t the cleanest it’s ever been since the kid has been gone all month. After you feed Tews, you make your way over to your brother’s room to help with cleaning.

A few hours later, you’re laying in bed, exhausted from your long day. Dustin’s banner sits on your desk, right next to the phone that resides in the corner. Yawning, you glance at the clock, but when you see the time, you smile.

The phone rings.

“Right on time, honey.”

“Aren’t I always, angel?” Steve’s voice soothes your aching bones, his words like honey, the very thing you’ve come to associate with him.

Phone calls have become more and more common between you and Steve. You’re not sure when this tradition formed, but when you aren’t at Scoops and he isn’t at your house infiltrating your family, you’re on the phone with one another.

Hearing Steve’s voice puts you at ease, and it wasn’t long before you started calling each other before bed every night.

“How was your day?” You ask him, spinning the phone’s cable around your finger as you lay in bed.

Steve lets out a dramatic groan. “I swear, after you left today, Robin intentionally amped up her taunts. It’s like you’re her buffer or something. The second you leave,” you hear him snap his fingers, “she turns against me!”

“Robin would never do that.” Your voice is monotone as you say this, which only makes Steve groan dramatically once more. Robin would most definitely do that; you both know this.

“You two are the worst together.”

“Yeah, well,” you pull your blankets up to your chin and readjust into a comfier position. Your eyes feel heavy and Steve’s voice settles over your body. “Prepare for more pain tomorrow night. Will and the party have grand plans to sneak into yet another movie.”

Steve sighs. “Those kids are manipulating your power over me to get what they want.”

“You call it manipulation, I call it bonding.”

Another sigh escapes Steve. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“And yet you stay.” You tease.

“And yet I stay.”

You bite back a smile; you can almost perfectly envision Steve laying in his own bed, phone pressed to his ear with his hair messy and eyes half lidded as he talks to you. You wish, more than anything, that you could be there with him right now; instead, you fall asleep to the sound of Steve’s voice, slightly raspy from his own exhaustion.

–

The next day you wake up to an empty house. Your mom has been spending her summer at Hawkin’s pool, like all the moms in town now do, to admire Billy at his new job.

It grosses you out to no end, and when your mom comes home some days swearing that Billy winked at her, you have to swallow down the phantom pain of his fingers wrapping around your windpipe.

By the time you get to work, Downtown Hawkins, as always, is a ghost town.

It’s been this way ever since Starcourt opened, and as you park your bike and lock it up, you can’t help but be unnerved by how quiet everything is. It was only a few years ago that you had to scream at a crowd of onlookers when Jonathan and Joyce had had that fight when they had found Will’s body in the quarry.

Now, walking slowly towards the front doors of Bookstrordinary, all you hear is silence in the once lively area. There are posters scattered throughout the old town, but they’re worn from the sunlight and torn from the weather. It’s a depressing sight.

Mrs. Waters greets you kindly when you walk in. “Hello, dear.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” You give her a quick peck on the cheek as you quickly swipe your card to clock in. The bookstore is empty. “Any new shipments today?”

The old woman shakes her head forelonly. “Afraid not. We still haven’t sold last month’s shipment.”

You duck your head down and curse. This is the second shipment you weren’t able to sell. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.”

“Oh, don’t be!” She walks over to you, her wrist shakes as she uses her cane. She has aged so much these last few years. “I’ve owned this store for thirty years, dear. I’m just happy that I can give you and Alex a job before you kids go off to college. Besides, it’s given me something to do these last few years without my husband…”

The woman’s eyes glaze over, something that has started to happen more and more now, and you grab her arm gently and give her a little shake. “Hey, Mrs. Waters. You still with me?”

She blinks, looks around in a confused daze, before breaking into her old smile once more. “Of course I am! Now, sort some books while I ward off those debt collectors with this cane.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you can’t help but laugh at Mrs. Waters as she waves her cane around madly and gives you a wink. She hobbles back to her office and leaves you alone with the books and the ghost of Downtown Hawkins.

Only two customers come in during your four hour shift, and by midday Mrs. Waters releases you so that she can give Alex a few hours of work as well. She’s trying her best to keep you both hired for as long as she can, so she splits your hours. What she doesn’t know is that Alex now has a job at Hawkins’ pool and only comes into work because he just can’t bear to quit, and neither can you.

You bike to the mall, sad and needing a pick me up. Jonathan’s teasing from last night echoes in your head. How could you possibly think about your birthday when your boss is slowly losing both her mind and her business?

At the mall, your feet unconsciously take you to Scoops as they always do. This has become your favorite part of your dreary days: going to Scoops after work. The smell of ice cream greets you as you walk into the shop.

Robin sees you first and waves excitedly from the register. “Y/N!”

“It’s me!” You run up to the counter and lean over it to squeeze the girl into a tight hug.

There’s a loud crash from the backroom and just as you’ve pulled away from Robin, Steve bursts through the doors and leaps over the counter to join in on the hug. “Thank God you’re here, Robin was about to make me clean the tables.”

You giggle while Robin scoffs, pulling away. “It’s your turn, dingus.”

Steve, still hugging you from behind, hums. He begins to rock you back and forth in his arms, which only makes you giggle more, while he pretends to think about what the girl has said. “Nope, don’t remember it being my turn.”

Robin gives you a pleading look to back her up, and you reluctantly slide your arms over Steve’s and release his grip. He groans in complaint at the loss of your touch, and you roll your eyes at him as you turn around to now face him. “C’mon, let’s go wipe the tables so dear Robin can man the register in peace.”

Steve groans even louder now as Robin cheers, and you snatch the rag from his pocket and begin to wipe down the tables. He follows eventually, moaning and groaning as he cleans next to you, and you hit your hip against his. “Hey, at least you’re getting paid for this.”

“I give you free ice cream!” He argues, pieces of his hair falling out of his adorably dorky sailor’s hat that he has to wear for this job. It’s incredibly endearing, and as he hunches over to scrub at a particularly dirty table, his thighs strain against his probably too short shorts and you can’t help but stare at them. As you admire this spectacular show, Steve catches you and flicks your nose. “Quit ogling me and get back to your free labor, angel.”

“I wasn’t ogling, I was simply admiring.”

Robin gags from behind the register. “I can hear you guys, you know!”

You and Steve both stick your tongues out at her before going back to work.

The hours pass by quickly after that. The midday rush of tweens and teens alike infiltrate Scoops, so Steve helps Robin fling ice cream while you get comfortable in your designated booth in the corner. You’ve hidden a supply of comics underneath one of the booth’s cushions and you spend your time catching up on the latest Spider-Man arc.

You’re so engrossed in what you’re reading that you don’t notice a body slide into the booth next to you until the person speaks.

“Spider-Man, huh? Heard he’s a pretty cool guy.”

Startled by the stranger’s voice, you almost drop your comic in alarm. When you see that it’s just Jason Carver sitting next to you, you place a hand to your chest and inhale quickly, trying to settle your rapid heartbeat. “Christ, you scared me.”

“Sorry!” He genuinely looks apologetic, so you wearily set down your comic and straighten up.

You’ve never spoken to Jason before, even though you’ve been in the same classes ever since eighth grade. He’s always ran with the popular crowd, being a jock and all, and you’ve always ran with Jonathan. However, despite being on the basketball team, Jason has never been mean to either of you, so you figure it’s safe to offer him your attention.

“Can I ask why you’re here?” You cock your head at him, feeling your hair fall over your shoulders.

Jason smiles at you, in a sort of cute and charming way. “Stopped by to get my little sister some ice cream,” he points to a little girl next to him, who waves at you, and you wave back. “Then I saw you sitting here all alone reading one of my favorite comics, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to such a pretty girl.”

You blush at his bold words. You’ve never received such attention from anyone before, at least not anyone normal thanks to Billy, and you’re not really sure why Jason seems to be paying attention to you now. He’s had years to do this.

Jason sees your sudden shyness and chuckles. He stands up and offers you his hand. “Why don’t I buy you some ice cream, maybe you could help me show my sister around the mall–” Steve’s shoulder collides roughly into the teen’s, causing him to stumble into his sister’s ice cream cone and get chocolate ice cream all over the front of his pants. Jason looks up at Steve and balls his fists in anger. “What the fuck, Harrington?”

You quickly cover the little girl’s ears, though she giggles.

Steve shrugs as he looks at Jason. “Sorry, man. Didn’t see you there.” Then, he turns to you, and offers his own hand. “Anyways, I think it’s time for your daily free ice cream, angel.”

Jason’s eyes narrow as you accept Steve’s hand and spare him an apologetic glance. Before you leave, you dig some cash out of your overalls and hand them to him. “For your sister’s new ice cream cone.”

He sighs and accepts the money. Jason knows that Steve is still holding your hand as he stands behind you, but he has nothing else to lose at this point. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I didn’t stand a chance, did I?”

Steve twirls you with your interlocked hands, causing you to giggle, and guides you to the ice cream counter. As he leaves, shouts behind him, “Not at all, buddy!”

You know you should feel bad, but Steve twirls you again and all you can do is giggle breathlessly as Jason Carver walks out of Scoops with his sister in tow.

–

Later that night the mall is busier than ever, and as you’re gossiping with Robin about Steve ruining Jason’s pants, you’re interrupted by Mike’s grubby little hand repeatedly hitting the bell.

Seems it’s time for their movie.

You flick the kid’s head, which Lucas, Max, and Will snicker at. “Enough!”

“Ow, Y/N!”

“Thanks,” Robin sends you an appreciative smile before she calls towards the backroom, “Dingus, your children are here!”

Within seconds, Steve opens the sliding windows and sighs when he sees Mike and the party. “Again? Seriously?”

“I warned you.” You say, shrugging at his annoyance. “Let the kids have some fun.”

Mike rings the bell again. “Do what Y/N says.”

Steve sighs in defeat and motions for the kids to follow him behind the counter. “Fine, but only because I’m nice, not because Y/N said so.”

“Right.” Everyone says, not at all believing him, which Steve chooses to ignore.

You all follow him through the back entrance of the mall. Checking to make sure the coast is clear, Steve waves the kids inside. “I swear, if anybody hears about this–”

“We’re dead.” The kids all respond, voices monotone with annoyance after hearing this threat a million times.

However, before they all leave, Will gently tugs at your hand to get your attention. “Are you coming with?”

You want to say yes, but then you catch Steve’s eyes and he silently pleads with you to stay, and you know you can’t tell him no. Squeezing Will’s hand, you shake your head. “Sorry, little bee. I promise I will next time, though.”

Mike scoffs in disgust, disappointed in you. Your relationship with Steve has always confused him, and you’ve only gotten closer to the teen since Dustin left for camp. He pities what the boy will think when he comes back to his sister all lovey-dovey with an idiot like Steve Harrington.

Once the kids leave, you go back into Scoops with Steve and settle into your booth once more. Grabbing your comic, you flip to where you left off before looking up at the teen and saying, “you have me for another hour. I can’t be out late tonight, Dustin comes home tomorrow and I promised Mike I’d be up at like seven to let everyone in.”

Steve salutes you and hops back behind his counter to help Robin with some customers. You smile at his antics and go back to reading. A few minutes pass, Spider-Man has just kissed MJ, before the lights above you start to flicker and then go out completely.

Everyone in the mall gasps and murmurs in a slight panic as they’re thrown into darkness. The hair on your arms stands up; you no longer trust lights that flicker. Robin catches your eye and gives you an odd look when she sees the fear on your face.

“Scared of the dark, Y/N?” She teases, not understanding what you really fear: what lies below Hawkins.

“That’s weird,” Steve mumbles to himself as he goes over to the light switch. He starts to flip the switch repeatedly, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s an idiot sometimes.

“That isn’t gonna work, dingus.” Robin says, looking over at you once more as if to silently ask, why are you attracted to him?

You shake your head at her as Steve continues to flip the switch, now only quickening his movements. He stares Robin down as if to challenge her. “Oh, really?”

Nothing happens, because contrary to what Steve may believe, he can’t fix what is likely (and what you hope) is simply a blackout from the summer heat. He flicks the lightswitch a few more times before the generators kick back on and Scoops Ahoy is once again lit up.

Steve raises his eyebrows at Robin and smirks at her, pleased. “See? Let there be light.”

You drop your head to the table, now also questioning why you’re attracted to the guy.

However, when it’s time to head home and Steve walks with you to your bike outside, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a good night; you know that this is the reason you’ve fallen for him: his kindness. With his kiss lingering on your cheek, you bike home.

–

When Steve gets back from saying goodbye to you, he’s met with a nosey Robin.

She stands against the counter with her arms crossed. There aren’t any more customers in the shop, they closed about ten minutes ago, and Steve was really looking forward to driving home and taking off his stupid uniform.

Robin, however, clearly has other plans.

“What did I do now?” He asks her, not daring to take any step closer.

“Why haven’t you asked Y/N out yet?” Steve’s eyes widen at the question and Robin knows she’s got him cornered. “I’ve spent hours with you guys, and it’s driving me insane that you haven’t manned up!”

“‘Manned up’?” Steve sputters out, completely offended.

Robin throws her arms out in front of her. “Yes! I mean, it’s so obvious that you’re in love with her and that she’s in love with you. Just… Just get it over with!”

Blushing, Steve slumps against the wall and closes his eyes. As much as it pains him to admit it, he knows that Robin is right. “It’s… complicated.”

“Well, go on.” The girl now hops on the counter and sits on it. “Explain it to me, then.”

“Y/N used to be in love with…” Steve stops, unsure if you’d want him to be telling Robin this. “Someone.”

She rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows she was in love with that Byers kid.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, uncomfortable with the reminder that at one point, everyone in Hawkins truly believed you were destined for Jonathan. “Well as I’m sure you know… He got with Nancy, who–uh, I had been with.”

“Okay, so what?”

“I–” Steve isn’t sure what Robin doesn’t understand. “I needed… time?”

Robin frowns. “After Nancy dumped you?”

“Technically I dumped her–”

“What does this have to do with Y/N?” Robin presses.

Steve groans and rubs at his eyes. He’s tired and wants to go home to call you and go to bed with your soft voice in his head. “Y/N understood that the breakup with Nancy hurt, and–well. She told me she’d wait for me. I guess. While I figured my shit out.”

Robin thinks this over for a minute. “Okay, I think I can understand that, but–wait, when did this all happen again?”

“... December.” He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the girl’s inevitable anger.

“Harrington!”

There it is.

“I know, okay?” Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “I’m over Nancy, I’ve been over her since at least April, but… But what–what if Y/N has lost interest in me now? What if–maybe I made her wait too long, or–or what if she thinks she’s just Nancy’s replacement?”

Steve is rambling now, months of his anxious and insecure thoughts now spilling out. “I mean, it’d kill me if–if I ever made her feel second to anyone! She’s… She’s incredible and–God, I don’t even know why she likes me and I’ve spent this entire summer trying to–I don’t know… Figure out how to confess my feelings to her in a way that matters, ya know? Like, a grand proposal to show her that I’m crazy about her.”

Robin is silent for several minutes after Steve’s frantic spiel, he’s panting by the time he’s done. Then, finally, she says, “Dude… You’re way overthinking this.”

Steve winces. “I mean, her birthday is in a few days. I can… I can ask her to be my girlfriend then. That’s romantic, right?”

“You’re hopeless.”

–

“Dusty comes home today!” Your mom’s shrill voice wakes you up as she prances around the house getting ready. You roll over in bed and stretch, tired but excited to see your brother again after a month of being apart.

You get out of bed and press a kiss to your mother’s cheek before telling her to drive safe. Glancing at the clock, you see that you have just enough time to shower before the party arrives. The entire thing had been Mike’s plan and you were more than happy to help arrange everything.

After you’ve gotten ready, you hear three swift knocks on your front door and you answer it. “Right on time, Wheeler.”

Mike salutes you as he and the others walk in. El gives you a hug and Max high fives you as the boys start setting up the robots. The six of you get started on the plan: place all the robots in Dustin’s room, all hidden in various corners, and then use El’s powers to control them and guide him to the living room so that you all can surprise him.

It’s a brilliant plan, one only a Wheeler could think of.

It takes you, Lucas, Mike, and Will to successfully hang up Dustin’s banner that took you all week to make. There’s cursing, yelling, a few trips, and multiple snickers from El and Max while the four of you struggle to hang the thing, but eventually you manage to secure the banner into place in the living room.

Just as you’ve finished hanging it up, you hear your mom’s car pull into the driveway and you quickly shove the kids into a closet. “Quick! That’s my mom’s car, hide!”

Lucas yelps and Max punches his shoulder to shut him up, but thankfully you manage to close the closet door just in time before Dustin walks in. You hide behind the couch, quiet so as not to be seen by him, and carefully listen for his footsteps to retreat down the hall and into his room.

Once he’s gone, you scramble towards the closet and open the door. “Okay, he’s in his room, time for step two.”

“Did we all really have to hide in the closet?” Will asks, rubbing at his shoulder that had been shoved into a hanger.

“Yes, now shush and hide behind the wall so he doesn’t see you.” You order, and the kids all listen. Once you’re all pressed against the wall, you nod at El. “Ready?”

“Ready.” She responds, closing her eyes. Static fills the air and you hear one of the robots turn on in Dustin’s room. Then the other one turns on, then the monkey, and soon all the toys have been activated by El’s powers.

Mike pokes his head around the corner. “Okay, now start leading the robots here.”

Blood slowly begins to drip from El’s nose and you feel bad that she’s doing this, but the kids all look excited, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little giddy yourself. The noise from the robots grows louder as El draws them out from the room and towards you guys.

You hear Dustin’s uncertain voice following behind them. “It’s just a dream… You’re dreaming.”

Then Mike whispers to El, “Now!”

The robots all die in the center of your living room and slowly everyone starts to creep out from behind the wall. Lucas is holding his own poster he made and you hand everyone party noisemakers. Dustin is investigating the robots and doesn’t hear you stalk up behind him. Max silently counts to three, and on her signal, you all blow your party noisemakers and surprise him.

Dustin screams and immediately holds up his Farrah Fawcett spray, blinding Lucas as he continuously sprays it. The poor boy screams as well and the rest of the kids back away, out of the line of fire. However, as soon as your momentary shock wears off, you manage to snatch the hairspray out of your brother’s hand and save Lucas.

“Why is Farrah Fawcett your weapon of choice?” You exclaim, shoving a still screaming Lucas towards your kitchen so that you flush the spray out of his eyes. Max joins, rubbing soothing circles into the boy’s back.

“Why would you scare me like that after the hell we went through this year?” Dustin shouts back at you, clutching at his chest.

Dustin’s words make you stop for a moment and think. Huh. He has a point. “Yeah, we should’ve thought about that, honestly.”

“A little help here?” Lucas brings the attention back to him and you apologize, helping him once more to flush his eyes out. As you and Max tend to him, Dustin tells the others to follow him to his room so he can show them what he built at camp.

Max splashes some more water in Lucas’ eyes. “Better?”

The boy stands up and wipes his face, though he’s careful not to touch his eyes. “Still stings.”

“I feel like I should call someone…” You mumble, Your first aid knowledge doesn’t include Farrah Fawcett in the eyes.

Lucas blinks a few times and looks around. He leans in closer to Max’s face and for a moment you’re scared he’ll kiss her, but instead he chooses to be an idiot. “Is that a new zit?”

You wince and Max’s eyes widen in disbelief. She looks at you and you both seem to come to the same agreement: grabbing the back of Lucas’ neck, the two of you shove his face back into the water. “What is wrong with you?”

Lucas screams again and you leave Max to deal with him, laughing to yourself as you go see whatever creation your brother has brought home. You love Lucas, you do, but you have no idea how Max puts up with his boyish antics.

Inside Dustin’s room, you find him and the others hunched over a collection of wires and metal pieces. You walk in and join them.

“I would like you to meet Cerebro.” Dustin presents his creation, but you honestly have no idea what it’s supposed to be.

You squint at it. “It’s… Pretty?”

“What exactly are we looking at here?” Mike asks, unimpressed.

“An unassembled, one-of-a-kind, battery powered radio tower!” Dustin explains with a proud smile on his face.

A beat of silence passes before Will carefully asks, “So… It’s a ham radio?”

Dustin’s excitement only grows. “The Cadillac of radios.”

“Still not understanding, buddy.” You now voice, usually always lost when it comes to the more AV stuff the party likes.

“This baby carries a crystal-clear connection over vast differences.” Your brother clarifies for you, and you nod along. “I’m talking North Pole to South. I can talk to my girlfriend whenever and wherever I choose.”

You, Mike, El, and Will all look at each other in shock at the word that has just left Dustin’s mouth. “Girlfriend?”

Your brother nods, looking all smug, and you immediately berate him with a million questions. “What’s her name, where is she from, how long have you been dating. Tell me everything, now!”

“Relax, dear sister. Her name is Suzie, and I’ll explain in a second. We can even talk to her if you guys help me set Cerebro up on Weathertop hill.”

You’re the first to start grabbing all the supplies, giddy and eager to hear more about your baby brother’s girlfriend. It’s almost too good to be true. Mike, Will, and El follow along and soon you’re all holding materials for Cerebro as you follow Dustin out of the house.

As you all leave, Mike starts asking questions again. “Wait, so her name is Suzie?”

Dustin nods. “Suzie, with a ‘z’. She’s from Utah.”

“People from Utah actually exist?” You ask, which the others laugh at.

“Girls go to science camp?” Will asks.

You give him a stern look. “Anyone can go to science camp, Will.”

“What Y/N said,” Dustin continues explaining his girlfriend. “And Suzie does, she’s a genius.”

“Is she cute?” Mike can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Think Phoebe Cates, only better.”

You re-adjust one of the poles for Cerebro in your arms. “Can we focus on her being smart instead? I think she sounds lovely.”

From the kitchen, Max sees the four of you open the front door as she helps Lucas with his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to talk to Dustin’s girlfriend.” Will informs them.

Lucas whips his head up from the sink as he and Max exclaim, “Girlfriend?”

“I know, right?” You say, motioning them to follow.

–

“Alrighty, one scoop of chocolate. That’s a buck twenty-five.” Steve hands the ice cream cone to the girl he’s currently serving. She’s pretty enough, and when he notices her Purdue shirt, he can’t help but say something about it. “Ooh, Purdue! Fancy.”

The girl smiles and hands Steve her change. “Yeah, I’m excited.”

“Yeah, you know… I–I considered it. Purdue.” He types the code into the register and places the change inside. “But then I was like, you know what? I really think I need some real life experience, you know, before I hit college. See what it’s like.”

The girl and the friend she’s with exchange weird glances, and Steve knows he’s rambling like an idiot. “Uh, what I mean is… You’re girls, right? How would the two of you like to be asked out by a guy?”

“I’m sorry?” Purdue girl asks, looking at her friend, creeped out.

The cash register begins to beep at him and Steve hits it a few times to shut it up. “Sorry, uh… Anyways, say you’ve seen this guy every day for like, months, and feelings are shared, you know, as they are. Then time passes and the guy never makes the move because he’s, well, he’s an idiot–”

“Yeah, totally.” Purdue girl interrupts him and her friend giggles.

“Exactly, so… This was, like, so fun. This little chat. Anyways, what do you think? How would you want the guy to ask you out?” Steve puts on his most charming smile, hoping that the girls will say that maybe he isn’t crazy for waiting so long to ask you out. As he hands them their change, he drops part of it. “Oh, sorry about that. Uh…”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna be asked out.” Purdue girl says as her friend snorts.

“Sure, but I mean, it’s complicated, you know? And–”

Purdue girl interrupts him once more. “No, I’m sorry, but it sounds like you missed your chance and you’re like, really weird.”

“But the guy isn’t me!” Steve shouts as the two girls leave, only embarrassing himself even more. He sighs, closes his eyes, and wonders how he got here.

“And another one bites the dust.” Robin announces from behind him. He turns around and watches as she marks another tally underneath the you suck column of her whiteboard. Next to it is the column you rule, which currently has zero marks. “You are oh-for-six, Popeye.”

Steve crosses his arms. “Yeah, I can count.”

“You know that means you suck and that Y/N isn’t the problem here, you are, right?”

“Yup, I can read, too.” Steve swallows down his annoyance, he knows he’s only done this to himself.

“Since when?”

“It’s this stupid hat,” Steve complains, as if this is the only appropriate answer. “I’m telling you, it’s making everyone think I’m some pathetic guy who can’t ask a girl out.”

Robin leans against the window. “Yeah, company policy is the reason that you’re an idiot for not asking out Y/N.” She thinks for a moment and tries to offer the teen some advice. “Ya know, it’s a crazy idea, but have you considered telling the truth?”

“What? That I’m hopelessly in love with her? Sure, I’m such a catch who couldn’t even get into Tech and whose douchebag dad is trying to teach a lesson, now making three bucks an hour with no future.” Steve laughs at himself. “A catch who, by the way, could’ve been hers back in December had he not been a complete moron? What a great truth.”

Robin frowns, now feeling bad for making him feel this way. While she doesn’t understand everything, she gets that Steve has had a difficult few months. Taking pity on him, she points out some girls approaching and tries to lighten his mood. “Hey, twelve o’clock! Maybe they’ll see your side of things.”

Steve turns around and sees the girls as well. “Shit, okay. Okay, I can do this! I’m going in.” He quickly snatches the sailor hat from his head and tosses it to Robin. “Screw company policy, I’m getting advice about Y/N one way or another.”

For a second, Robin has hope for him, but then he opens his Scoops Ahoy greeting way too loud and then immediately starts to ramble about you, and she sighs in defeat and marks another tally underneath the you suck column.

–

Hiking up a giant, grassy hill in ninety degree heat while hauling heavy equipment for a giant radio that your brother built to talk to his alleged long distance girlfriend definitely wasn’t what you had in mind today. In fact, you mourn the fact that you aren’t working today.

You’re only here to hear about Dustin’s girlfriend, honestly.

“Aren’t we high enough?” Lucas pants, voicing what everyone else is thinking.

Dustin shakes his head. “Cerebro works best at a hundred meters.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure people in Utah have telephones.” Max quips.

You wipe sweat from your brow and cringe, you feel disgusting. “Max, you’ve always been so wise.”

“Suzie’s Mormon.” Says Dustin, and you almost trip over a rock.

“You’re dating a Mormon?”

Lucas talks over you. “Oh, shit. She doesn’t have electricity?”

“Oh, that’s the Amish.” Max corrects him, and you get flashbacks to when you had to correct Steve about Nazis and Germans.

Will frowns at you. “What are Mormons?”

“Scary people–”

Dustin interrupts you. “Super religious white people. They have electricity and cars and stuff, but… Since I’m not Mormon, her parents would never approve.”

“Please don’t become Mormon,” you beg, dripping even more sweat. “I need someone sane in our family.”

“I won’t,” Dustin reassures you, though he has a far off look in his eyes. “But it’s all a bit Shakespearean, don’t you think?”

“Shakespearean?” Max laughs and you also can’t help but giggle.

Dustin doesn’t let your teasing deter him from reminiscing, though. “Yeah, like Romeo and Juliet.”

“They both die, Dustin.” It’s important to you that he knows this.

“But they were also star crossed lovers.”

“Who killed themselves.”

Below, Mike shouts to the rest of you, “Hey, guys!”

You all turn and you frown when you see just how far he and El are, both of them empty handed and dry as a daisy in the summer heat. When Mike sees that he has all of your attention, he taps at his watch. “This is fun and all, but, uh…”

“I have to go home.” El announces, her arm intertwined through Mike’s.

Dustin points towards the top of the hill no less than a few yards away. “We’re almost there.”

“Sorry, man. Curfew.” Mike shrugs, he isn’t really sorry and you all know it. He then grabs El’s hand and they descend down the hill, giggling and enamored with one another.

With a gleeful laugh, El says goodbye. “Good luck!”

Dustin looks down at his watch. “Curfew at four?”

You’re startled by the time, having assumed it was at least closer to six. Hopper may be an overprotective grump of a man, but not even he is crazy enough to enact a curfew for El at four in the afternoon. “That… Doesn’t sound real.”

“They’re lying.” Lucas explains, frustrated.

“It’s been like this all summer.” Will says bitterly, something that you take note of.

Max nudges you with her shoulder. “I think it’s romantic.”

“It’s gross!” Will voices again.

You bite your lip. “I don’t know, it’s your guys’ last summer before high school and…”

“It’s bullshit.” Dustin finishes for you, hurt in his voice. “I just got home.”

You flick him. “Language! But… I agree.”

Dustin watches with annoyance as Mike and El walk down the hill hand in hand. While he’s incredibly hurt that they’ve ditched him after being gone for a month, he remembers what Steve has taught him. People can suck, but there’s nothing he can do about it. “Well, their loss, right? Onwards and upwards, Suzie awaits!”

Max and Lucas groan at the idea of continuing the hike while you admire your brother’s perseverance. You’re proud of him for not letting Mike and El ruin his plans with the others. He’s excited to be home, and you’re more than happy to go along with whatever schemes he has planned.

You’re about to follow the others up the hill when you realize that Will hasn’t joined. You turn around and see that he has his hand around the back of his neck as he stands there, frozen. Then, he turns and faces Hawkins, stumbling back a bit as he does so, and you watch with a frown on your face.

“Hey, little bee, are you okay?” You gently place a hand on his shoulder, which seems to break him of whatever spell he’d been under.

“I’m fine,” he lies, and you don’t at all believe him. Will looks uneasy, as if he’s just seen a ghost. A part of you begins to worry, but you don’t push him. For all you know, it could be about Mike and his growing distance from the others.

“Well, c’mon, then.” You grab Will’s hand and together you ascend the rest of the hill.

At the top, Dustin drops his bag and sighs. “Made it!”

“Yeah, only took five hours,” Max pants out, stumbling the final few steps up the hill.

You collapse onto the ground and fight to catch your breath. “I run almost every morning. I think I lost a lung back there.”

“Why couldn’t we just play DnD?” Will collapses next to you.

Lucas grabs the flask of water, and as you struggle to get air into your lungs, you watch as he chugs the remaining water without a care in the world. Max watches as well, annoyed, and once again you pity Lucas. He’s such a boy.

Building the radio takes longer than expected. After your short five minute break, Dusin puts you all to work. There’s a million pieces to the thing and your fingers ache from screwing bolts into slots and extending poles. The sun has begun to set when you finally push the giant radio into an upright position. It’s easily fifteen feet high, and it’s an impressive sight that you can’t deny.

“Not bad, Dustin.” You admit, walking around Cerebro in awe.

“Ready to meet my love?” He asks everyone, and you all sit down next to him and eagerly await. Dustin switches the radio on. “Suzie, this is Dustin. Do you copy? Over.”

No one answers. All you hear is radio feedback.

Dustin scratches his nose nervously. “One sec. She’s probably… She’s still there.” Again, no one answers, and he ducks his head down in embarrassment. “Suzie… This is Dustin, do you copy? Over.”

More radio static follows in the absence of Suzie’s response.

You wince, despite trying to appear supportive. You can’t help it, this is embarrassing for your brother. While you don’t doubt that he has a girlfriend, you admit that this doesn’t look good for him. A long distance girlfriend who is hot and smart and magically needs a radio to communicate with? Unlikely.

“I’m sure she’s there,” Dustin tries to explain to you guys, now even more embarrassed. “It’s dinner time, and she’s busy…”

“Yeah, sure.” Lucas tries to be supportive and play along, which you appreciate him immensely for. Max nods as well, but Will just stands there silent.

“Maybe try again?” You encourage, trying to be nice.

Dustin nods and tries once more to contact Suzie, and it goes on like this for a while. He radios, no one answers, and eventually you and everyone else lay down in the grass as you wait for nothing.

Almost an hour passes and the crickets begin to chirp as the sun goes down and the moon comes up. Dustin is still trying to reach Suzie, but Max finally has enough. “Dustin, come on! She’s not there.”

“She’s there, alright? She’ll pick up.”

“Dustin��” You sigh, unsure how to tell him that you also want to leave. You had plans with Steve tonight, he invited you over to watch a movie and you should’ve left ten minutes ago.

Will lifts his head up from the grass. “Maybe Cerebro doesn’t work.”

“Or maybe Suzie doesn’t exist.” Lucas argues.

Dustin gasps. “She exists!”

“She’s a genius and she’s hotter than Phoebe Cates? No girl is that perfect.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose at Lucas’ words and wait for Max’s inevitable offense. He truly, deeply, is such a boy. As predicted, Max sits up and looks down at him with annoyance. “Is that so?”

Lucas shuffles up in panic, now realizing too late what he’s said. “I mean–you’re perfect! I mean, like, perfect–in your own way, in your own, uh, special way!”

“Lucas,” you hit his shoulder. “Stop talking, dude.”

Max laughs, pleased with herself. “Relax, I was teasing. I’m obviously perfect and Dustin is obviously lying.”

“Okay, no,” you now sit up. “He isn’t lying, it’s just a very unfortunate circumstance.”

Max doesn’t listen and instead offers Lucas her hand to help him up so that they can leave. “Come on, Don Juan.”

“Where are you going?” Dustin follows, not understanding yet what’s happening.

“Home,” Max huffs, before remembering that you’re there, too. “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye,” you wave at them weakly, knowing that this will only upset your brother further as she and Lucas slowly head home.

Dustin stands next to you now. “Well, guess it’s just us and Byers, Y/N,”

Will now stands up and awkwardly avoids your brother’s gaze. “Um… It’s late. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow we can play DnD, or something fun, like we used to?”

Dustin clenches his jaw. You know he’s close to tears, and it breaks your heart to watch. You stand up and rest your arm around him as he responds to Will. “Yeah, sure.”

“Welcome home,” Will says sadly before he starts to walk down the hill as well.

You anxiously watch as he leaves. “Be careful, please!”

“I will!” He reassures you, knowing that you’re still terrified of losing him again.

As you watch Will, Dustin whispers to himself, “Yeah, welcome home.”

His words break your heart even more. Forgetting about your anxiety over Will, you wrap both arms around your brother and hug him. He had been so excited earlier to be home and see all his friends after a month of being away. You understand that the kids are all growing up, but you had always hoped that they’d grow together, not apart.

“You still have all of July and August,” you try to comfort Dustin, desperately hoping that you aren’t lying to both him and yourself. “I’m sure they’ll come around.”

Suddenly the radio attached to Cerebro switches on and Dustin pushes you off of him so that he can get to the radio in time. He stumbles over his feet and trips, and you watch with amusement and curiosity.

He manages to finally untangle himself from the radio and answers. “Suzie, Suzie, is that you?”

You sit down next to Dustin and lean in close to the radio, excited to finally meet your brother’s girlfriend. Instead, you hear what sounds like a foreign language. It’s distinct, slightly muffled, but you know what it is. “Is that…”

“Russian.” Dustin whispers.

Everything changes, then.

–

You force Dustin to go home immediately. He wants to stay, see if he can find any more hidden messages, but you refuse. He’s elated, talking a mile a minute as you bike home, theorizing every possible answer as to why you heard Russian in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Dustin!” You yell at him, terrified that someone could be listening. “Not here, okay?”

He deflates, but pedals home alongside you.

You’re terrified as you bike home, a million thoughts are running through your head. You don’t at all like what any of this could mean; you’ve had enough sketchy government facilities and secret government agencies to last you a fucking lifetime.

When you get home, you order Dustin to go to bed.

“But Y/N, we’ve got to tell someone about this–”

“Tomorrow, okay? Just, please, Dustin.” You’re exhausted and confused and overwhelmed.

Your brother senses that you’re at your limit and reluctantly backs down. “Fine, but can we at least tell Steve tomorrow?”

Hearing Steve’s name puts something at ease within you. Tomorrow, you’ll go to Scoops with Dustin and ask Steve what he thinks about all of this. Comforted by the fact that you now have a plan forming, you begin to calm down. “I promise we’ll tell him tomorrow, okay?”

Dustin nods and heads to his room, wishing you a good night. When you hear his door click shut, you slowly head to your own room. You’re terrified, and there’s only one thing you want to do to lessen the fear that scratches at your throat. After crawling into bed, you call Steve.

He answers immediately. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, his voice like an exhale of a summer’s day. “I… I’m sorry I missed our movie night.”

Steve laughs softly. “Angel, I’m just happy you’re okay. I was getting worried there.”

You close your eyes. “It’s been a weird day.”

“Did something happen?” Steve senses that there’s something you aren’t telling him, which worries him.

“Dustin… He may have found something, but I just–I don’t want to talk about it just yet. I… I don’t want to jinx it,” you squeeze your eyes tight and will away the fear you feel. “I–I’m just, I’m so exhausted, you know?”

“Y/N, are you in danger–”

“No,” you dispel any fear that Steve may feel. “I promise I’m okay, I just really need to hear your voice right now, okay? Can you just talk to me, please?”

“Of course I can.” Steve agrees without any questions asked, and you love how he trusts you enough to do this.

Exhaling the remaining fear, you allow the warmth from Steve to hold you through the night. “Thank you, honey.”

“Anytime, angel. You know that.”

And you do.

Steve begins telling you a story from today, how he dropped an ice cream cone on a toddler and enraged the mom, and you fall asleep that night to the sound of his voice over the phone.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #fluff #angst #nya #m's writing

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rrrick · 3 months

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Bill Withers wrote the song "Ain't No Sunshine" at age 31 while working at a factory, making toilet seats for airplanes. Using his own money, he would record demo tapes and play at various clubs at night. When he debuted with "Ain't No Sunshine", he refused to quit his day job, believing that the music business was a fickle industry. Fortunately for him, the song turned out to be a massive hit. When it went gold, the record company gave him a gold toilet as a gift, marking the start of his new career.

In 1985, at age 47, Bill Withers decided to walk away from it all. He felt that the record companies he worked with were constantly trying to exert more and more control over how he should sound if he wanted to sell more albums. He felt pigeonholed and no longer wanted to be part of the music business. In 2015, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He claimed to have no regrets and provided the following reflection on his later life: "I've always been serious that way, trying to evolve to a more conscious state. Funny thing about that, though. You tweak yourself, looking for more love, less lust, more compassion, less jealousy. You keep tweaking, keep adjusting those knobs until you can no longer find the original settings. In some sense, the original settings are exactly what I'm looking for—a return to the easygoing guy I was before my world got complicated, the nice guy who took things as they came and laughed so hard the blues would blow away in the summer wind."

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supernovafics · 5 months

Text

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen.

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s.

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together.

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening.

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.”

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago.

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table.

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was.

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.”

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment.

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all.

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said.

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face.

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered.

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.”

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs.

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable.

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night.

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight.

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food.

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking.

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well.

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time.

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this.

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did.

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents.

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly.

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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sunflowergirl522 · 2 years

Text

Love Shack

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie’s favorite song is Love Shack and you’re the reason why.

Word Count: 1685

A/n: Au where Love Shack came out in 1985 instead of 1989 because I literally could not get this idea out of my head.

“Alright gang, favorite songs now so we can make a mixtape in case the rest of us get put under Vecna's curse.” Steve’s hands are on his hips as they all stand in the middle of the closed music shop that Nancy worked at. Steve had made the executive decision to come after Vecna got Nancy and they couldn’t find anything to break her out of the trance.

Eddie stops paying attention as everyone starts to try and pinpoint their favorite song, starting to get shy about his own. Because he knows exactly what it is without having to think twice about it and how it’s going to shock everyone that he’s with. As Robin goes on about a few songs that are her favorites and tries to pick just one he zones out too busy thinking about why it’s his favorite to care about anyone else's.

The first time you had made Eddie listen to it he had been picking you up on his way home from band practice. After he honked his horn to let you know he was there you came rushing out of your house with a giant smile on your face.

“Eddie! Baby you gotta listen to this new song, it's so good!” You exclaimed while jumping in the passenger seat and taking a cassette out of your pocket.

“Oh yeah? This isn’t some of that poppy shit you listen to is it?” He laughed while you slapped his chest at his comment.

“My music is not shit! You just have to give it a chance.” You chuckled along with him and before he could say anything else you took his Metallica tape out and started putting the one in your hands in. You started skipping to the song you wanted while glancing at him. “Get ready to have your mind blown.” That was something he would always tell you before introducing you to something new. He had shaken his head and tore his big brown eyes from you and onto the road when he started driving to the trailer park. As soon as the beat to Love Shack had started he was ready to start teasingly complaining but stopped himself when you started to sing along to it already knowing the words. Your smile was infectious and he had even caught himself tapping along to the beat on the steering wheel halfway through the song.

“So…” You had prompted when the song ended, turning the volume down, “what did you think?”

“It was okay.” He shrugged, causing you to gasp and whip your head towards him.

“Okay? Eddie bear this song is revolutionizing! I haven’t been able to stop listening to it, it makes me want to get up and dance.”

“Mmhm, that why you kept bouncing around in your seat making it seem like people were having sex in the back to anyone who saw us at a red light?”

“Shut up!” You laughed while taking his hand that had been resting on your thigh. “It’s probably my new favorite song.”

Love Shack had started to be his favorite song when it began playing at a party you had dragged him to. He didn’t want to go, telling you that the two of you would have a better time back at your house or his trailer but you wouldn’t listen to him. Your friend had invited you and Eddie, if it would’ve been just you with an invite you would’ve skipped it but you figured with him being invited it was a good way for everyone to get to know the real Eddie. Turned out he was invited because of his drugs and neither of you were having fun from your spot at the dining room table. Eddie had just been ready to ask if you wanted to go for the third time when the all too familiar beat started to play from the living room. You had gasped dramatically and jumped up from your seat on his lap.

“Dance with me?” He couldn’t refuse your doe eyes as you grabbed his hand and pulled him from his seat ignoring the guy who was about to come buy some weed.

“Sorry man, I'm closed.” Eddie had said to him when he tried to stop him from following you into the next room.

Normally he would hate being pulled into a crowd of drunk high school kids but seeing as you went from sighing and regretting coming to beaming and having fun he didn’t mind it so much. Especially when you started laughing and shimmying your shoulders while you danced to the song. That’s the exact moment he started to love the song. You looked so carefree and happy and anything that gave you that much happiness was worth his time and adoration. He couldn’t help himself but to bounce around with you twirling you every once and a while. And in that moment he didn’t care that he was surrounded by people he hates and that hate him, they had all disappeared the moment you beamed up at him as he pulled you closer to him.

Admittedly Eddie had heard Love Shack time and time again because months later you were still just as obsessed with it, if not more. And so he really shouldn’t have been surprised when the mixtape you made for the road trip to move you into your college dorm was just Love Shack on repeat. You honestly had thought that he would turn it off after the second time it started playing but he didn’t. Instead he just made a face and went ‘really? Again?’

“Is this whole tape just Love Shack?” He had asked after the third time it started playing.

“Yep!”

“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckled at how proud of yourself you looked as he turned it up and bobbed his head to the music. By this time you had a whole dance to the song that you did in your seat while trying to get Eddie to join you each time the van stopped. The whole trip was filled with your singing with Eddie joining in just during the ‘knock a little louder’ parts and when it came to the part of the song where it goes ‘you’re what’ because he loved hearing you mimic the ‘tin roof, rusted’ in response.

“Why couldn’t you have graduated this year so you could be here with me?” After you were all moved in you clung to Eddie next to his van not wanting him to go anywhere.

“Well sweetheart I might’ve if it weren’t for some pretty girl always stealing my attention away from schoolwork. Couldn’t concentrate with you sitting so close to me in so many classes.” He teased you, resting his chin on your head and holding you close. “I’ll graduate this year though and then I’m home bound to you and we’ll get that apartment you were talking about. Just wait you’ll see, it’s gonna be our year. ‘86 baby!”

“Wish I didn’t have any roommates so you could stay the night.”

“Me too Princess. But you’ll see me this weekend when I pick you up for the gig the band got.”

“You better.” You mumbled into his chest before pulling away from him. “Okay I need to let you go now or I’ll convince myself to just go back with you.”

“You want your tape before I go?”

“No you keep it, I made two so I could keep one in the van.” He smiled at you pulling you back towards him in order to slant his mouth over your own.

“I’ll take good care of it. See you in a few days Sweetheart.”

“Bye Eddie bear, don’t be late this weekend.”

It was cemented as his favorite song only a few weeks ago when you called him from a house party. It had been the middle of the night and the phone ringing woke him up after just falling asleep.

“Hello?” He yawned into the phone.

“Eddie bear!” Your voice was slightly slurred and he could hear the sounds of people and muted down music in the background. He knew you were going to a party tonight so he wasn’t expecting a call.

“Y/n? Why’re you calling? Is something wrong, did something happen?” He was sitting up ready to get dressed and make the drive to get you until you started laughing on the other side of the line.

“No silly. They’re playing our song! Listen!” You must have held the phone out because the music gets louder and he can recognize Love Shack.

“Our song?” He had murmured to himself a grin forming on his lips at the thought of it. “Yeah it sounds like they are baby. Did you call me just to tell me that Sweetheart?” He spoke once the music quieted down again.

“It made me think of how much I miss you so I ran to a phone to hear your voice. It’s not the same hearing our song without you, it never is.” There it was again ‘our song’.

“Hey, did you know I listen to it when I’m feeling sad or when I miss you?” He could tell you were starting to pout and knew that would help cheer you up.

“Shut up no you don’t!”

“I do, it’s in my stereo right now because I listened to it today.”

“You’re so cute Eds. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go enjoy the rest of your party, I’ll see you when you come home for spring break.”

“Yeah, don’t forget it’s the week after yours! Bye Eddie.”

“Bye baby.” And he fell asleep that night knowing it would be his favorite song since it was considered your song.

“Eddie hey! What’s your favorite song man?” Steve snaps his fingers in front of him pulling his attention back to the task at hand.

“Oh you know, Love Shack by the B-52’s.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“What?” The group breaks into chaos with wide eyes in shock that the well known metal head picked a pop song.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction

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amaryllidaceaee · 4 months

Text

dates

hi im autistic and i like numbers and dates so im gonna think abt that with petrigrof to think about a timeline because its fun

Since this is an early mobile phone

mobile phones became available to the public in 1983

and this (came out about: HMMM its giving me early 2000s like early early 2002 but correct me if im wrong) like I remember round cd players like this but also to be fair we had flip phones until 2018 so we were behind ig

cheers ran from 1982 to 1993

(also fun detail from stakes the song marceline sings with two bread tom is from a sit com that ran from 1985 to 1990 as well)

also if hes doing an exhibit about the 1990s they already happened

Also fionnas phone is from 2000 so 2000 happened and made phones

So yeah like a lot of ppl i think the mushroom war took place in the 2000s and betty and simon probably met in the early 1990s maybe even late 1980s if we think abt it hooray her headphones also give early 1990s

BUT IM NOT DONE

The average age for a grad student in the us is 33 so lets say they are in their late 20s early 30s when they meet in 1993 (im just making stuff up now) im gonna say shes 27 or 28 since its implied she is Currently a grad student and im ignoring marcys scrapbook because that will never make sense) and hes already graduated that and is doing a phd okay so say hes 30 more or less in 1993

If a person is 30 in 1993 that means they were born in 1963 and in 2003 they would be forty so simon and marcy would take place in 2010 if hes approx 47 and marceline is 7 she would have been born exactly in 2003 when the war and apocalypse happened which yknow my maths and estimates not great but i think is interesting anyway. Im gonna say he puts on the crown in the year 2000 and betty also disappears into the future in 2000

Also if betty is 28 (born 1965) when they meet plus 7 years means she is 35 when she goes into the future and 37 in come along with me

also if finn is 16 when elements takes place and shes on mars all through to temple of mars that means she spends a year on mars more or less and about 2-3 years in the future/ooo

If simon reverts back to before the crown that would make him 40 lets say and 52 in fionna and cake

Also if simon puts on the crown in 2000 and he leaves marceline when she is 11-10 years old it takes him approx 14 years to get to that point which is just interesting but also sad

more fun things

996 years from 2010 is 3006

finn is born 2992 (if he is 14)

also shermy and beth (if its 1000 years from 3009) would take place in 4009 making marceline 2006 years old by that point

#sorry this is a mess and i still have more to say #simon petrikov #adventure time #betty grof #petrigrof #fionna and cake #ok nothing im sayings making sense so its not a serious thing #they are slightly older than women being able to open their own bank accounts #in the usa that wasnt until 1974 #its not official so dont eat me its like a fun thought exercise

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crepesuzette2023 · 3 months

Note

Your top 5 favorite Mclennon quotes?

Hi Anon, thank you for asking! The following aren't quotes I'd construct into any kind of 'proof' (whether I'm into this or not is another set of footnotes, which I'll spare you), but quotes that illustrate that John and Paul's relationship was fascinating and intense, and puzzling to themselves and others (incl. yours truly). 1.) “Meeting Paul was just like two people meeting. Not falling in love or anything. Just us. It went on. It worked.” — John Lennon - The Beatles by Hunter Davies

2.) “Lennon had attitude, and, taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times, they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were ‘superior human beings’.” — Bob Wooler in Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In

3.) “John and Paul paired off - only to find themselves stuck together for life. For John, Paul was the boy who came to stay; for Paul, John was the song he couldn’t make better” — Rob Sheffield, Dreaming The Beatles

4.) TELL ME WHO HE IS. Early song by Paul McCartney, included in The Lyrics (2021). Written in the late 50’s/early 60’s, according to the caption. (photo of journal page)

Tell me who he is Tell me that you’re mine not his He says he loves you more than I do Tell me who he is

Tell him where to go Tell him that I love you so He couldn’t love you more than I do Tell me who he is

5.) John Lennon's word association list from 1976 New York: great Elvis: fat Ringo: friend Yoko: love Howard Cosell: hum George: lost Bootlegs: good Elton: nice Paul: extraordinary Bowie: thin MBE: shit John: great

BONUS TRACK: “I had signs that the group was gonna break up, because… I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away."— Paul McCartney (1985), link to interview here

PLAY IT BACKWARDS: "LONDON (AP) — John Lennon wrote vitriolic comments about fellow-Beatle Paul McCartney in a picture biography of the famed pop group, providing new evidence of the tensions between them, the Observer newspaper said Sunday. [...]

"Lennon marked almost every one of the 76 pages with corrections and comments, including one that the Observer took as an indication the group already was experimenting with drugs in the 1960s. [...]

"In an entry noting McCartney’s marriage to Linda Eastman, Lennon crossed out “wedding” and wrote “funeral”, the Observer said. [...]

"But in a final tender moment, the Observer said, Lennon wrote under a photo of himself with McCartney: “The minutes are crumbling away.” (full article.)

#mclennon #John Lennon #Paul McCartney #asks

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

Note

soulmate au where you can hear what song your soulmate has stuck in their head. Steve gets confused as to why he always hears heavy metal, because he always thought he'd fall for a girl who listens to cheesy romantic pop music, and Ed gets frustrated from all the Top 40 songs constantly playing in his head

Since my last soulmate AU was sad I should do another fluffy one so Ty for the prompt.

Eddie doesn't really remember a time a song wasn't playing in his head. He assumes there was probably a time when he was little bit his memories of childhood are fuzzy at best anyway. However, no matter how loud he plays his metal songs, the poppy top 40s songs of his soulmate will often drown them out. It almost drives him insane, until one day all the songs stop.

In the cold winter of 1983, Eddie Munson wakes up one day with no song in his head. This wasn't completely unusual, his soulmate was often an early riser but the holidays were coming up so people slept in more. What was strange however, was there was no song, all day. No song the next day and no song for weeks. Eddie knew something very bad had happened to his soulmate and he didn't know what to do.

Steve will often tell people he does bad at school because his soulmate plays the loudest music. When Steve was a kid the songs would only be now and then but since Steve was nine there was always some loud metal music rattling around his brain. Steve would spend years looking for some cool metal chic, but all the girls he met liked cute pop songs.

Steve was suspicious that Nancy was a secret metalhead when he fell head first in love with her. She wasn't, he wasn't surprised she always had indie music playing in her head. After he faced the Demogorgan, Steve didn't feel like listening to the radio, the staticky sound put him on edge, he sat in his room, all the lights off so they wouldn't flicker, and held his nail bat tightly. He would listen all day for the sound of danger, the only noise he heard was his soulmate. When his parents returned a few weeks later he had to go back to normal.

When Eddie woke up to some dumb song he heard on the radio once, he almost cried. His soulmate was ok.

In 1984, Eddie's soulmate had another blip, Eddie held his breathe, but the songs would return and his soulmate was ok.

In 1985, Eddie's soulmate had the dumbest songs in his head. Weeks after the fire Eddie would figure out he heard the same songs playing in the mall. He was glad he could still here them, his soulmate was still ok.

In 1986, Eddie felt bad for his soulmate. He'd been practicing Master of Puppets for weeks as soon as it came out, his soulmate must be sick of it. When everything started happening, Eddie's soulmate was quiet, Eddie hoped he was ok, that he wasn't dead somewhere like Chrissy.

Eddie silently apologised to his soulmate as he played his favourite song once more, he hoped they would forgive him if said song saved the world. As Eddie laid bleeding out in Dustin's arms, he wished he could hear a dumb pop song one more time. Maybe his soulmate was waiting for home on the other side.

...

....

.....

Eddie blinked his eyes open, the lights were bright, wait, bright lights? Eddie looked around as his eyes came into focus, he was in a hospital, he was alive. That wasn't the only surprising thing, Steve Harrington was asleep in a chair next to his bed.

"Hey, pretty boy, wake up."

"E-Eddie? EDDIE! Fuck you're awake! You're ok!"

"Yeah, seems like it, I'm guessing I have you and the others to thank."

"Yeah, couldn't let my soulmate bleed out in that hellhole."

"Soulmate?"

"Dustin told me what song you played."

Steve flicked Eddie's arm.

"Um OW! I'm injured here Stevie have mercy."

"That's for making me listen to that song for weeks, Eds!"

"Well it saved the world didn't it?"

"Yeah I guess it did."

"Plus you made me listen to cheesy pop songs sweetheart so we're even. You um, I thought you were dead sometimes, there would be no songs for weeks, I thought Vecna had killed you when there was no songs again this time."

"Don't like listening to songs when all this shit is going down, distracts me. I don't think my head has ever been as quiet as on that drive it the hospital, don't do that again ok?"

"I promise, Stevie, gonna be stuck with my loud as fuck music for life."

"Sounds good to me, Eds."

Guess Eddie's soulmate was waiting for him on the other side after all.

#stranger things #soulmate au #steddie #steddie au #steddie soulmate au #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #stranger things season 4 #ty for the prompt #ficlet #steddie ficlet

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

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#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things music #crazy for you #this song was released as a single for the soundtrack of the 1985 film Vision Quest #a romance film starring Matthew Modine ironically enough…#the movie would have came out the spring before ST3 #imagine mike seeing the trailer in the theater with crazy for you blaring in the background….

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word-wytch · 1 year

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 8

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 8/? 5.5k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Eddie goes to a Halloween party on business while you have a different sort of celebration.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: heavy grief, heavy angst, depictions of depression, sibling death mention, drunk driving accident mention, drugs, alcohol, bullying

Saturday, October 26th 1985

There was a shadow on your heart.

It was there from the moment you woke up. A fog that made you not want to leave your bed. Not want to do anything at all.

You didn’t, not for a long while until your bladder forced you to. And when you did, you would move from room to room in a daze. Eyes unfocused, hair and teeth unbrushed. You would search for your motivation all day, what there was left of the day anyway.

You hoped that you would find it. Somewhere in the pile of dirty dishes or in the half eaten microwaved breakfast burrito that you could barely stomach, still sitting on your table getting stale and dry — waiting for you to come back. The quiet, hopeful part of you thought that maybe you would.

Maybe it was somewhere in the pile of papers you still had yet to grade, or in the laundry you still had yet to fold. Maybe if you sat in front of the TV long enough the right song would find you on MTV and you would feel something else besides numbness and self-loathing.

David Bowie couldn’t do it. Neither could Whitney Houston. Michael Jackson tried too, over and over. You were tempted to reach for the remote if you heard “Thriller” one more time.

You wanted to murder the sky. Grey and indifferent, the pale, cold light only amplifying the heaviness inside you. Was it mocking you? Casting down drizzle, unable to expend enough for rain?

You knew what day it was. You figured after 17 years it would be just another one, but feared for the same all at once.

Numb as you felt, your head was anything but empty. There was all sorts of noise in there. It was loudest when the commercials came on. There was one in particular — an ad for Pumpkintown, a local attraction at one of the many farms that surrounded Hawkins. Every half hour you would hear little voices sing the familiar jingle, see their bright puffy coats as they ran through corn mazes, see their little, uncoordinated hands painting pumpkins and eating kettle corn.

Grief, as you would come to know it, was loudest in the great what if. In the wondering what might have been if things had turned out differently. Would you have nieces or nephews? Would you be on your way to Pumpkintown with them instead of sitting alone on your couch wanting to cry? You would never know.

The phone rang. It cut through the air, shrill and intrusive. You sat there for a few rings, contemplating letting it go but you were afraid the noise would just return moments later. That it wouldn’t leave you alone.

You peeled yourself off of the couch and slugged into the kitchen. The breath you took before picking the phone up off the receiver was ragged.

“Hello?” you answered, your first word all day.

“Hi dear, it’s mom.”

“Hey mom.” You wondered if she could hear the difference between a feigned smile and a real one.

She wasn’t really listening though. Not that there was much to listen to in the weak “Oh yeah?”s and the handful of “That’s nice”s you had to offer. She would talk about her book club and the drama she overheard from a friend of hers. She would talk about canning vegetables and the pumpkin pie she made the other day, how you really ought to come over and have some before it’s all gone.

“Anyway, thought I would just catch up with you,” she said finally. “How are you?”

The question surprised you. You wondered for a moment if you should answer honestly.

“Oh, you know,” you said with a sigh, twisting the cord around your finger. “Just thinking about Mickey.”

It was a name that was rarely said anymore. It was met with silence, rare for her.

“Yes, it is that day,” she said finally.

You knew she couldn’t have forgotten. You wondered about the noise in her head too, if gossiping and canning vegetables helped quiet the great what if. She hardly ever spoke about it since it happened. That always bothered you.

“I miss him,” you said weakly.

Her sigh filled another pause. “I do too.”

______

Eddie flicked his lighter and ignited the end of his cigarette. He leaned up against his van in Gareth’s driveway and took a long drag, looking around the neighborhood at the carefully groomed lawns. The wet, fallen leaves brought down by the wind the only thing that littered the pristine sidewalk.

He exhaled the smoke into the damp night air, watching as it wafted across the driveway, up toward the glowing street lamps.

The garage door startled him when it opened.

Gareth hobbled out, lugging an amp. “Hey man, sorry it took me so long. Jeff left this here for you, he got his fixed so he doesn’t need it anymore.”

Eddie tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette and slid open the side door of the van. “Thanks, uh, you can just slide it in behind the back seat.”

Gareth waddled over and set the amp down with a heavy thud as Eddie opened the driver’s side door and crawled in. He took another drag of his cigarette as Gareth fussed with the amp, sliding it back in the cabin behind the long bench.

The movement paused for a moment. “Dude what’s up with all the napkins back here?”

Eddie whipped his head around. “Don’t touch those.”

Gareth looked at him — wary and wide-eyed as he slowly exited the side of the van, coming around to take the passenger’s seat like he was afraid to even ask.

Eddie held the cigarette between his lips as he dug through the pile of tapes in the center console. “Bingo,” he said, popping Motörhead’s Overkill into the tape player and slamming it shut. He flicked his wrist and the Chevy Nomad roared to life.

Eddie banged his head as Gareth air drummed the solo to the opening track. He cranked the shift stick and hit the gas to back out. They took off, cruising down the dark suburban street with a roar and a rumble.

“I just stopped at Rick’s right before you so we’re gonna have to roll as we go,” Eddie shouted over the music, tapping his hands against the steering wheel to the beat.

“Sounds good man,” Gareth shouted back, hammering at the dashboard with his hands.

By the time they arrived, the party was already raging. People still arriving in droves, parked cars piling up in the woods and down the long street outside of Tina’s house. Typically Eddie liked to arrive fashionably late, but after he and Gareth had to wade through a sea of bodies just to find Tina, he was having regrets about that. The thing was, Eddie needed a place to be for his operation. A table and a place to sit and roll was not only preferable, but rather necessary considering the party size.

Thankfully she wasn’t wearing a wig or a mask or they might have never found her on the back porch. Instead her mousey brown hair was styled in a 60s bob and tied back in a headband, completing her go-go girl look.

She led them into the packed living room.

“Move, dealer needs the table,” she shouted over the music, nudging the guy in the toga parked on the loveseat with her white go-go boot.

Her demand was met with looks of annoyance, but Tina just stood there with her arms crossed until they resigned, leaving only wet rings behind on the glass coffee table.

“All yours, boys.”

Would people know where to find him? Should he put up a sign? He supposed the best he could do was Tina’s word of mouth and their ongoing operation for everyone to see in the middle of the living room.

It turns out that was all he needed. They would sell for $5 a pop. And probably quicker if Gareth wasn’t so shitty at rolling.

“Woah, woah, man that’s like way too much. Here—” He took the overflowing paper out of Gareth’s hands and demonstrated. “You gotta use the filter as a guide, and start with like half as much dude.” Eddie rolled it in his fingers until it evened out, then he tucked the paper behind the filter licked along the edge to seal it, twisting the end in a final flourish. “See? Like that.”

Gareth snorted and took a swig of beer. “Ok Edward, master of the roll.”

Eddie gave him a look, doing a piss poor job at hiding his smirk. “I mean the point is to make money, man. If you roll them too fat it not only looks terrible but we’re just giving away weed.”

Gareth sighed and looked at him over the can at his lips. “Got it, sensei.”

“Good ‘cause we’re selling fast.” Eddie loaded up the grinder, feeling the grit of the resin as he twisted it in his hands.

His mind wandered, as it always did, to you. He thought about you at a Halloween party. Wondered what sort of costume you would have. Probably something smart like Nancy Drew, or geekishly obscure like Jane Eyre, or maybe you would go the fantasy route and be Arwen, elf ears and all.

He wondered how you would be at a party. Pensively sipping your drink, making keen observations about the partygoers. Maybe you’d have fun too, after a few more. After a song you liked came on and he dragged you out of the corner to dance like fools.

He wished that you could be here. Well, maybe not here watching him sell weed but maybe in another timeline. In the absence of the wall that was built between you long before either of you had any say in it.

Eddie tapped the contents of the grinder out onto his rolling tray and got to work.

There were so many people that had come by his table that they were all starting to blend together. How many devils, ghosts, and cowboys would he see before the night was over? It was yet to be determined and the night was very young.

What was hard to miss was the gang of jocks in leather jackets and white t-shirts, hair slicked back like greasers. There were at least five of them, and they all came in at once together like some wannabe boy band, lead by none other than Jason Carver.

It was also hard to miss the angel standing next to him. Literally. Chrissy Cunningham in huge feather wings, a tight white dress, and a sparkling gold halo.

He was certain that his gaze would be lost in the sea of people. He hoped that it would be. Hoped that they would walk right past and never even see him.

But Chrissy did. By some split second miracle, some sixth sense.

Her eyes found his from across the room. She smiled at him, bright and blinding.

______

The darkness in the room alarmed you when you opened your eyes, struggled to rather. Bleary and squinting against the white light from the television, you rubbed the sleep from them.

You sat up on the couch and wiped the drool off your face, wondering what time it was. The clock on your wall said something like 8:30, but it was hard to tell and your eyes were still adjusting.

Your stomach growled and you thought about the breakfast burrito still sitting on your kitchen table. It was still the last thing you had eaten. You ran your tongue across your teeth, scummy and in need of brushing. The pile of laundry was still there too, sitting crumpled in a basket next to you. The papers still sitting in a pile on your coffee table, untouched.

“Thriller” was playing. Again. Your hand itched for the remote but it was buried somewhere in the couch so instead you just sat there. You sat there and watched like you had done half a dozen times already today. You watched as Michael Jackson danced around like a werewolf in his red suit, unable to peel your eyes from the screen.

You watched him and thought about Eddie Munson at a party.

Thought about him in a darkened basement, the air thick with smoke and sound. Crowded with people like him who wanted to get away, muffled music coming through ceiling from upstairs. He would be there, strewn across a couch or leaning against a wall. Cigarette in one hand, beer in another. He would bring the bottle to his lips and look at you with those dark eyes. Lids heavy as the buzz washed over him, relaxing deeper into the space he occupied. He would drape his arm across the back of the couch, beckoning you to sit closer.

It was easy to imagine. How easy it would be to slide up next to him. To lean in a little too close. To feel the heat from his body as he talked about music, his bright voice filling the space between you, what little there was. To catch the scent of his clothing, of his skin as he leaned closer to talk over the noise, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

How easy it would be to turn your head and catch those lips in yours. Soft, plush, and needy. You imagined how his tongue would feel as it coaxed against yours. Smoke acrid, the taste of beer still lingering on it.

It was easy to imagine those strong hands of his, how they would feel gripping your thigh or your hip as he pulled you closer. Those tendons and bones you recalled so vividly when he’d graced you with the chance to touch him. You could imagine how they would feel other places.

It was easy to imagine that just about any girl would see him and want the same thing.

And who would he be to say no? To some girl dressed as a cat or a rabbit barely wearing any clothes, looking at him like she wanted to take a bite.

Your stomach lurched.

It would be easy. Easy for them to find a quiet place to take things further.

You imagined, for a moment, what it would be like to be her. To be in that darkened basement, amidst the laughing and shouting and chaos of others around you too wrapped up in their own world to notice how his hands are wandering. How his lips are wandering too. Dizzying as they track across your jaw, down your neck. How his tongue lathes at the skin there, the buzz from the drink in his other hand only amplifying the need you can feel in his teeth.

He would look at you with those dark, lust-blown eyes and you would know exactly what he wants. He would mutter in your ear and let his palm slip from around your waist only to take your hand. To lead you out of the darkened basement to a bedroom, or out to his van.

You imagined those strong shoulders of his. How they felt under his t-shirt and how they would feel without it. If he would even bother to remove it or if his need would render that too inconvenient.

It wouldn’t be that hard — to find a spot to sit in the back of his van. Dark and quiet save for the deep bass and muffled voices from the party raging on in the distance. To lose what little clothing you had on and crawl atop his lap. To wrap your arms around those solid shoulders as his curious fingers explored you below.

How could he help himself? When you’re right there, wanting him so evidently. When it’s something he can feel with his fingers and taste on his tongue when those fingers leave your heat. Who would he be to stop himself from giving you what you want?

And his voice. Would his voice still be as bright as he sunk himself into you or would it be colored differently — shaded with hoarseness as his heavy sighs filled the space between you? How would it color the thick night air as the pressure mounted inside of him? Would he use his words? Would he be able to when the pressure was too much? What new colors would there be then?

It was easy to imagine.

So easy that it made you sick.

It sat in the pit of your stomach and gnawed at any fleeting hunger you might have had when you woke up. Like a tapeworm.

It whispered things to you. That he would be better off with a girl his own age anyway. That you were a short-lived fascination in his fast life. That he would grow tired of you too. Things that sounded truer the longer you sat with them in the darkness of your living room.

There was shame too. Shame for even letting yourself get to this point. For feeling this way about your student of all people. For having hope to begin with. After all, he had done so many things to give it to you.

You thought about all the parties you never went to. All the darkened basements you were never led away from. All the colors that you never got to hear, and taste, and touch in sacrifice for good behavior.

It was an experience that you would give anything to have.

You thought about Eddie Munson and his boyish smile. The way his hand felt when it took yours. The kindness in his eyes. The shame you saw in them too.

You thought about him coming home from the party. Cruising down a dark, winding road in his van, taking the curves and bends with a reckless abandon, fueled by the music pounding in his speakers and the vices in his veins. You thought about his wild hair catching the wind from the window he lowered to taste the rush of being alive.

You thought about him taking one of those bends too tightly. How top-heavy vans could be. How slick the roads were. How easy it would be not to notice someone else coming around the corner.

And just like that you were in your pyjamas again, barefoot on the carpet of your childhood living room. Your heart pounding into your throat as you watched your parents from behind at the front door. The flashing of red, white, and blue from outside the big front window the only light in the darkness. It streaked across your family photos and painted the paneled walls.

You wondered what they would say about him. What all the other teachers would say when he didn’t show up to school on Monday. What the whole town would say when their papers and televisions told them he would never show up to school again.

Would they change their tune or would it only make them sing it louder? That he was always trouble. That it was his own fault. That it was only a matter of time. That he had no future anyway. You could almost hear Ms. O’Donnell. Almost hear the half-hearted comments from the others about what a shame it was, the truth of their feelings masked with a weak display of sympathy for a day or two.

Would he amount to nothing more than a warning? A cautionary tale at school assemblies? An example of how not to be?

Your hands gripped the couch, stomach churning.

It was easy to imagine. As easy as it was to remember.

______

Eddie had never been to a house party that wasn’t obnoxious. Obnoxious was kind of the point.

He wasn’t sure if it was the shitty music, or the fact that people kept kicking the back of the loveseat he was stationed at, or the drunken caterwauling from the sexy inmate in the corner as she sloshed her drink all over the carpet. Maybe it was the kick drum that pounded in his chest and forced him to smell the beer on the breath of his buyers as they slurred their orders.

He brought his own can to his lips and took the last swig of the warm beer that remained in the bottom of it. His arms felt like jello. Even still, he wished that he was more numb than he was. His mouth was cotton dry and Gareth still had not returned with the drinks that he said he was going to get half an hour ago. He was well past the point of agitated.

The whole room was packed shoulder to shoulder and smelled like cigarettes, beer, and sweat. He was cornered in it, but he couldn’t leave his goods sitting out without someone to watch them and he couldn’t leave either or he would forfeit his spot. Where was Gareth? He was going to strangle him.

Eddie glanced around the packed room, his heart kicking up in a panic. Hindsight pierced his haze. He should have brought Jeff too, but he hated these kinds of house parties. Now that he was alone with a table full of drugs and a lunchbox full of money, he was starting to realize how dangerous that was.

That’s when he felt a dip in the seat next to him.

Chrissy Cunningham leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh, crushing her feather wings behind her. Her gold garland halo sat crooked atop her head.

Eddie’s stomach dropped.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly, “Mind if I sit here? My feet are killing me.” She stretched her legs out, smooth and polished. The rhinestones on her stilettos caught the light as she kicked them off.

“Sure,” he said hesitantly, glancing around again. “You don’t think your boyfriend would mind?” He couldn’t hide the suspicion in his voice.

Chrissy rolled her eyes and propped her plush cheek against her hand, her elbow resting on the back of the white leather couch. “He’s outside doing keg stands, I don’t think he even noticed I left.”

Eddie sat back a little in his seat, unconvinced. “I uh, brought a friend too but it seems like he ditched me.”

“Oh no,” she mumbled, scooting closer. “I can keep you company.”

He froze, noticing how dangerously close her red drink was to her white dress. The way her hand jerked as she struggled to keep it balanced. “You uh…you ok?”

“Yeah ‘m good, ‘m good,” she muttered, “Thanks for asking.”

Drunken hollering filled the silence between them as Eddie racked his brain over what to say next. The packed bodies in the dim living room swayed to Rockwell’s one hit wonder.

I always feel like

Somebody’s watching me

“Nice costume.” It was the best he could do.

“What are you dressed as?” she teased, playing with one of the pins on his vest.

Eddie swallowed, glancing down at the pearl white nail polish on her delicate fingers as she twisted the pin. “Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer.”

Chrissy batted her eyes at him. “Mm yeah, you are friendly,” she breathed, scooting even closer. She tucked her legs underneath her and rested her head against her arm on the back of the couch.

He could feel the heat from her body. Smell the sugary drink on her breath as it ghosted over his face. He was close enough to notice the patches on her lips where the red had rubbed off onto the cup. Close enough to see how the redness in her eyes intensified the green irises under her hooded lids.

She was sitting so close that he failed to notice how many greasers were crowding around the table. In fact he didn’t until one of them said something.

“Hey,” Jason barked. He reached over the table to snatch one of the joints, his smile dripping with acid as he waved it in front of Eddie’s face. “How much to leave my fucking girlfriend alone?”

Eddie felt his ghost leave his body.

“Jason—“ Chrissy balked.

“Get up.”

“I was just looking for a place to sit, these heels are—“

“I said get up,” Jason spat.

Chrissy stumbled off the couch, pulling down the white, skin tight dress that had ridden up her thighs. She almost tripped over her shoes.

“Why do I keep catching you and my girlfriend together? Hm?” Jason rolled the joint around in his fingers. A few gelled strands of his slicked back hair had come as unhinged as he was.

Eddie rolled his eyes to mask his panic. “Calm down. She’s been sitting here for like two minutes. Jesus.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know,” he said, looking around, “There just aren’t any other seats in this whole goddamn house are there?” He laughed dryly. “Not a single one!”

Eddie’s eyes flashed to Chrissy. Would she say something? Did Jason know she invited him? Was it a secret?

It was the panic in her eyes that told him. “Apparently not,” he said curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” He gestured to the joint in Jason’s hands. “That’ll be five dollars.”

“Oh I’m not finished with you, freak.”

“Jason—“

“Why don’t you go find a seat somewhere else, babe.” His words were a gentle venom.

“I’m fine,” Chrissy choked out.

“You know I’d really hate for those pretty feet of yours to get a blister,” he threatened. “Why don’t you go find Tina and have her get a chair for you, hm?”

Chrissy looked hesitant, eyes meeting Eddies for a split second before darting back over to Jason. Met with only daggers, she picked her heels up off the carpet and stormed off.

“Now then,” Jason said as he took her seat on the couch. The jocks in jackets crowded closer, closing off the table from the rest of the pulsing room. “Why don’t you tell me,” he started, grabbing Eddie’s lighter off the table to ignite the the joint in his fingers. “What makes you think you can talk to my girlfriend?”

Eddie seethed, his chest pounding, and not from the kick drum anymore. Where is the fuck is Gareth?

“What makes you think you’re above paying for shit like everyone else?” He snapped back. “Your daddy teach you that?”

An audible ripple of shock emanated from the jocks in jackets.

“Wow look at that boys, he’s as funny as he is brilliant,” Jason retorted. “Let me ask you something else, freak.” He leaned in close enough for Eddie to smell the beer on his breath. “What the hell were you doing with our English teacher after school the other day?”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. “I—“ he steeled his face for the lie, “Jesus I just saw her in the hallway, man. We were both leaving, why the fuck does it matter?”

“See my buddy Donnie over here has a few questions for you too.”

Eddie looked up. That’s when he recognized him. The athlete. The cigarette.

“You a little hall monitor now, Munson? Huh?” Donnie uttered, earning jeers from the others.

“See I have a theory” Jason leaned even closer, blowing smoke in Eddie’s face. “That you’re turning into a teacher’s pet.”

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Eddie spat. “You can keep the joint.”

“Ooh see that boys?” Jason laughed. “So defensive. You know what I think? I think the freak has a big fat crush.”

The crowd erupted, practically tripping over themselves now.

All Eddie could offer was dry laugh, shaking his head. His voice caught in his throat, face hot. Gripping the seat of the couch was all he could do to stop his hands from shaking. Where the fuck is Gareth?

“See look, he’s not denying it!” Jason announced to his cronies. The response was uproarious laughter. “You’re a real fuckin’ perv aren’t you?”

Eddie seethed. “You’re an entitled cocksucker in the way of my customers.”

Then there was the commentary from the peanut gallery. Even over the music he could hear it.

“He can’t even get girls his own age,” Patrick muttered.

“Yeah he’s so old he’s going after the teachers now,” wheezed Donnie.

Eddie felt the blood drain from his face. Felt a deep shame bubble up from the pit of his stomach.

“You know what, I’m out. You can tell Tina who’s fault it was.” Eddie flipped open his black metal lunchbox with one hand and grabbed a handful of joints with the other, tossing them in unceremoniously.

“Woah woah who said we were finished?” Jason said through a crazed laugh. “You’re here to make deals right? Well I came here to make a deal too.”

Eddie offered him nothing more than a glance, packing away his grinder, his papers, his filters.

“Here’s the deal,” he said leaning in closer. “You stay the fuck away from my girlfriend, and I won’t make your life even more of a pathetic nightmare.”

Eddie bit his lip. Better get her a collar then so she knows who she belongs to.

It killed him not to say it. Physically hurt him not to. He wanted to spit it in his face but the lunchbox in front of him full of drugs and money kept his mouth buttoned. They could steal it all if they wanted. They could steal it all right now and get away with it too.

Jason grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, forcing Eddie to face him. “Do we have a deal, freak? I know you’re good at deals.”

“Deal,” Eddie spat,“Now get your fucking hands off me,” he said with a shove.

Jason sat back in his seat, smoothing his hand through his hair. “See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

______

Eddie stormed through the house. He surged through the kitchen, the dining room, the basement. He pushed through the sweaty bodies packing the stairwell and banged on all the bedroom doors, only to open them to half naked couples yelling at him from the darkness. He had been at this for twenty minutes now and still no sign of Gareth.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to just leave him. He was about to.

But then he thought about you. He thought about your brother. About how wasted everyone at this party was and how Gareth would find his way home. Eddie had sobered up plenty.

He thought about the looks on all their faces when they mentioned you. A familiar shame twisted in his gut. He knew the serpent well. Felt its sting since he could remember. The sting that came from bringing an ugly self-made peanut butter sandwich to middle school and unwrapping it in front of kids who’s moms packed notes.

Today the sting came from clean cut jocks at a normal party dressed in normal costumes looking down at him and his table full of drugs and saying that his heart was ugly too. That the flutters it felt when the kindness in your eyes soothed him like a balm were monstrous and disgusting.

When he finally saw the glow of Gareth’s face by the fire pit he couldn’t tell if he was more relieved or enraged by the sight of him. Beer in hand, yucking it up with some chick dressed as Velma from Scooby Doo.

Eddie marched over to them, fuming. “We’re leaving. Now,” he barked.

“Dude what the fuck?”

“Thanks for leaving me back there for the past hour.”

“Well I wasn’t gonna sit there all night, that was kind of the deal.”

“Oh yeah? Well you could have at least told me. At least come back and let me take a piss for fuck’s sake. You know I can’t exactly leave drugs and money unattended.”

Gareth sighed, glancing over at Velma with a wince. “Sorry man, I kind of got sidetracked. Cindy this is,” he gestured in annoyance, “Eddie by the way.”

Eddie, tight lipped, waved his hand unceremoniously.

“Come on, just sit and hang out with us.”

“I don’t wanna hang out, I just wanna go,” Eddie said, looking around anxiously.

Gareth looked him over, eyebrows knitting. “Did something… happen, man?”

Eddie glanced at Cindy, at the wary concern painting her face. He shifted his eyes toward the other people packed around the fire, laughing and drinking. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

Gareth met him with a wide-eyed mixture of disappointment and worry. “Come on, man. Give me like half an hour?”

In the waning of his rage, Eddie could feel the exhaustion setting in. Feel how thirsty he still was, how his ears were ringing from the noise, how his chest still rattled from the fear. His eyes turned to pleading. “Please.”

Gareth sighed, defeated. “Fine.”

______

A/N: Fun fact, I use a real calendar from 1985/86 to outline the story and I checked out of curiosity what day the Halloween party her brother attended would have been and it actually was Saturday, Oct 26th 1968. 1985 and 1968 use the exact same calendar. I wasn’t even planning on making it the exact anniversary but it just worked out that way.

Another fun fact, Eddie dealing at Tina’s Halloween party as a plot point and the fact that Jason and the boys were dressed like greasers was inspired by one of my absolute favorite fics Oh, Baby by @inknopewetrust. Seriously, go read it. One of the best.

Thank you so much everyone, you know what to do — If you loved it, share it and let me know!

I really do try my best to respond to all your comments. 💋

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @newlips @chainsawmunson @trashmouth-richie @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @ruby-dragon @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @jo-harrington @chaoticgood-munson @edsforehead @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @carolmunson

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #don't stand so close to me

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

Text

Sweet Hibiscus Tea.

Yan Shalnark x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a day of finally trying to face your social anxiety, you walk home alone. The roads are empty, quiet, and eerie. But you are almost home now, aren’t you? You are not going to cry anymore. Just when you think life is starting to turn around for you, it goes in the exact opposite direction.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, misogyny, not SFW implications, psychological horror elements, manipulation, panic attacks, Shalnark being an asshole, unhealthy relationships, and stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

Can be considered to be within the Hier Encore universe.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham

Things She Said by Chris Garneau

Baby Bride Rag by Roar

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost and Pals

Valentine, Texas by Mitski

I’m Yer Dad by GRLwood

Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez

Freaks by Surf Curse

Neighbour by Mother Mother

“You stay soft, you get beaten; only natural to harden up.” — Mitski, Stay Soft

*~*~*~*

Regardless of how much time has passed, this convenience store always remains the same.

There is always the familiar, tired face of the clerk behind the cash register, her gaze never on you or any other customer who walks in and out of the doors, a simple, muted hello being the only proof that she noticed you.

The lights dim and blink without fail, fading from white to a shade of daffodil to dark flaxen before disappearing and resurfacing yet again as alabaster. No matter how black the night sky is, the less-than-bright illumination never changes.

Neither does the rest of the scenery.

Next to the payment area are two vending machines, with one not functioning. It is dead, with the glass broken by a punch that left a large gaping hole in the dead center. Once when you accidentally touched the front wall while bending down to get your can of lemonade from the working one, it left a sticky residue that had you rubbing your palm on your sweater for what felt like an eternity. It somewhat helped, you guessed, but it also stained your clothes. The vending machine to its right was always out of most sweet drinks, often leaving you with the choice of coffee, lemonade, green tea, or water.

You don’t buy any snacks aside from strawberry Pocky and, if you are lucky, a chocolate bar.

But you do buy meals here because it is cheap. Usually fish with miso or a salad, but there have been times when you can find a premade sandwich.

The total cost comes to between 500 to 1000 Jenny. There is always a poster that claims the cashier is the employee of the month, though you are certain that she is the only one who works there.

The only thing that ever changes is the calendar behind her. The past dates are crossed out in red ink that is in the form of thick, scraggly lines. They remind you of the drawings you used to make as a child when your father was too busy screaming outside your door and your mother was too powerless to do anything but cry and yelp as he hit her. One time you drew them fighting, and when one of your maids saw it, it inevitably found its way to his desk.

Needless to say, he was not happy by any means.

*~*~*~*

The calendar behind the worker reads the 17th of April, 1998. On this day in 1985, your first and only ever friend, the head gardener’s apprentice, went missing. When you eventually gathered up the courage after waiting for hours outside, you went to your father’s room to ask where she was.

“She has been removed from the premises for distracting you instead of doing her job.” The answer you got was to the point, because when has he ever been warm to you? “I made sure that she had learned her lesson before she died. She was in pain the whole time. It was a shame to put a bullet between her pretty eyes. But at least she had a bit more use to me beforehand.”

You cried and cried until you threw up.

That is when your mother, the usual bandage over her left cheek this time, came in and sat on your bed gently, sadly.

She patted the area next to her and slowly you stood up from the floor where you kneeled as you sobbed and went over. She asked you if you wanted a hug and you said no. She responded with a simple nod, respecting your answer. But then what she said next turned your tear-stricken face into a glare.

“She’s alive.” She muttered, along with thanks to God and a hold of the cross on her neck.

“...What?”

Your mother shushed you when she heard footsteps coming to the door. When the sound eventually leaves further into the hallway, she leans into your ear while pointing to your vanity. Your gaze leads you to the dusty cat statue made of garnet.

It got shattered a little while ago when a maid cleaning your room accidentally made it fall to the floor. You felt bad for her as she was a new hire, so you never told anyone aside from your mother. You knew that if your father, the head of this household, ever found out he would punish her severely, even when he did not care for the statue at all. You got to choose, if you were lucky, which part gets whipped or cut off.

“Yes.”

Her short answer leaves you almost jumping up out of your seat. “...Huh?”

“At last week’s banquet, she caught the attention of your father’s wealthiest business partner.” She turns to the curtains covering the lone window in your room, her back now facing you. “She was tricked into boarding a car when the driver claimed you were inside waiting for her. To the partner in question, she is nothing but another pretty face to add to his collection.”

At the slight turn of the doorknob next door, you two go as still as wax people in a museum. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Why? Well, he certainly did not want you rebelling against his decision.”

“But I have never rebelled against him before.”

“I know.” Your mother lets out a sharp laugh, salty and sour. “I know you are always trying to be good, trying to stay under the radar. I know, I know because you are a lot like me. but now I am going to teach you a lesson about your father and the world at large. Remember that a man’s resentful attitude will always result in a woman’s agony, physical or otherwise, always. However, when things go right for a man, a woman is either praised like a dog or ignored until something goes wrong because it is never enough.”

You can’t breathe. “But why? Why, why, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do or could have done. No matter what, your faults will always be found. That is how most men are raised, to find, and how most women are raised, to hide.”

“...”

“Men’s hearts are such cruel, small things. Oftentimes they can only fit themselves in them, but there have been times where even they cannot fit.” She is still holding onto the cross charm on her gold necklace, firmer than she has ever held you. “They are cold, are or are almost dead. There is no room for people like you and me. No room at all. All they see us as is something to own, something with no feelings whatsoever, and whose only purpose is to please no matter the cost. Such pigs, all of them.” She murmurs some prayers that you cannot hear. “I want you to be better. I want what is best for you, what I never have been able to accomplish; run and live.”

She opens the drawer beside your bed, and you don’t do anything to stop her. It is not like you can hide anything, from her or anyone else in this house. Whatever is buried eventually resurfaces. She pulls out your rarely used bible, a thick layer of dust on the leather cover. It smells and makes you cough. She doesn’t though.

“At least your father does not force you to read this day and night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It is one of the few things I appreciate him not doing, I do not want you to grow up hating the church.”

“I know.”

“He has made you hate a lot of things already.”

She turns the pages, dust flying around the cold air.

“He made me hate a lot of things too. Blankets, steaks, cameras. The color white, the color black, the color red. The sounds of belts unbuckling, the sound of laughter, the sounds of doors opening and closing and locking.”

You don’t say anything, only looking at her hands. Only in the dark can you not see her scars, her blooming wrinkles, and the bruises that are always fresh.

You don’t say anything, because you have learned from a very young age that you are her only listening ear. You are the only one who keeps her head on her shoulders. You don’t say anything, because she is right. He has made you hate plenty of things. But, but, but. But you can’t hate him, and you can’t hate your mother.

You can’t hate her, because who knows what she would do when she finds out that no one cares about her pain in this hell?

“Mother.” You mutter, putting your head on her shoulder as you scan the text on the page that she selected. She does not stop you.

“Yes, [First]?”

“Do you hate me?” You ask, trying so very hard to not let her see the tears that threaten to come out of your eyes. “Because… because… if I wasn’t conceived, you wouldn’t be here hurting, would you?”

You could swear that you heard her heart skip a beat.

“...I would not be here, yes.”

She is honest, for once. You know at least some of this situation is all your fault.

“Do you hate me?”

“...”

“Mother, please answer me.”

You hear a sniffle as she starts mumbling the words written. “‘A gracious woman gets honor, and violent men get riches.’”

You choose not to press on the subject. You don’t want her to suffer anymore.

*~*~*~*

You buy an orange-flavored Ramune soda, a pack of pork ginger instant ramen, and strawberry Pocky.

The total would come to about 600 Jenny if your quick calculations are right. You could get something extra, like a topping for your ramen or some chips. But would it be wise? You have never been someone who finishes their plate after you had ran away, so what if you just waste your money?

So, you decide not to get anything else.

You walk to the cash register.

You hear an explosion from the back of the building. Small sparks of white and orange. The lights go off before you can place your chosen items down, and you can hear the employee cursing under her breath. The breaker. What happened?

“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” She grumbles, putting her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing. “No raises whatsoever. Only one here. Without me, this place wouldn’t be working, ungrateful pricks.”

Fighting the way your heart rate shoots up, you decide that talking to her would be best. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone aside from your boss, right?

Maybe your anxieties would quell, and you can eventually graduate to talking to your co-workers, that would be a dream come true for you.

You haven’t had a friend, a real friend, ever since Rose was taken from you all those years ago. You still cry whenever you think about her. You miss her. Is she dead, is she alive?

You still blame yourself. If only you hadn’t talked to her, maybe she would still be with you. What kind of adult would she have been? A kind one, a responsible one? You would still be friends at least, wouldn’t you? Or would she grow to hate you, if she didn’t already?

You keep telling yourself that she wouldn’t and didn’t, but that is not what your mind tells you.

Is she dead?

You could picture a rotting corpse six feet under. An unmarked grave. Glassy, dead, amber eyes looking upward to anyone who looks down, helpless, pleading. You always liked them, always complimenting them much to Rose’s shy chuckles. She was so pretty, that much was true. You could only imagine how beautiful she would have been as an adult.

Her looks were a personal gift from God, the heavens, and the angels.

But if she didn’t have them, would she not have been treated like she was in the estate?

“Erm, excuse me,” You mutter, taking a few steps forward. “If you want I can go check it out.”

It is what Rose would do. She always liked helping others. You just wish that people would have appreciated it more and seen past her appearance. It was a double-edged sword. It helped her become the head gardener’s apprentice but also caught the attention of both your father and his business partners. You felt bad for her, and still do.

The employee turns around, her confusion prominent despite the dark.

“Erm,” You mutter, looking down at your hands and entangling your fingers in one another. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

It takes a few moments to respond. Her surprise was unexpected, as you never spoke to her outside of asking her if she had change or telling her you hoped that she had a good night. Rose would be better at this kind of thing. You once had a dream that at a fast food joint, an adult her would order for you and correct the staff when they put pickles on your burger. It’s what could have been, funny moments like that. She had always been the one to take charge, you following her like a lost puppy.

You miss her so much.

So much.

The worker slowly nods. “...Okay.”

“...It’s in the back, right? The breaker.”

This is so awkward. Rose would be better. You wish she was here. Or your mother. Anyone.

“...Uh. Um… I like your eyeliner.” As soon as you say that, you curse at yourself, not wanting to sound like a creep. The woman’s confusion becomes even more prominent.

“...Thanks, and yeah, it’s in the back.”

“...Okay.” Jesus Christ. You turn away from her, the heat on your cheeks hot enough to be mistaken for a fever. This is not what Rose would have done.

“...You can leave your stuff here.” She says, and you quickly spin your heel and put your items on the counter. “It’s not like they are going to grow legs and run off, so relax.”

“...” You both chuckle, and you feel slightly better. “...Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“...” You start walking. “Wrong way.”

You stop.

It takes you a few seconds for you to move back to first base and go off in the opposite direction. As soon as you open the creaky steel door, strong rain and cold wind greet you, along with a loud clap of thunder and lightning.

Perhaps you could go back and get your umbrella from the stand by the door. But that would be even more awkward.

“Stupid. Stupid.”

“If we are lucky, the wind simply detached it or something. Not the best at this sort of thing, though.”

“I don’t think breakers detach.” You could picture her shrugging and scoffing at your murmur. “Sorry. Sorry. Just… sorry. I’m the best at this sort of thing either.”

You close the door behind you and start looking amongst the pitter-patter of the raindrops and gusts that nearly make you fall over.

Stupid. Why do you make everything so weird? Rose would have been so much more charismatic. It was one of her strongest traits after all.

Stupid.

It’s hard to see. Trying not to trip over stones and cracked cement, you grip onto the wall and walk forward. Soon, you feel something.

“Ew, ew, ew!” You cry out, quickly moving your hand away from the slimy slug. “Ew!”

“You okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Just a bug. Yeah, just a bug.”

You hear a chuckle. Stupid.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, almost bowing your head. “Sorry! Really!”

Making sure you don’t touch the slug again, you keep moving.

Eventually, you find the breaker. But it wasn’t what you were expecting by any means. The damage almost looks like it was done on purpose, the way it was open and covered in soot. Did something get to it?

The breaker that exploded was a mass of melted metal that had been blown apart from the intense amount of heat and pressure. It was now barely recognizable as a single unit–parts of it scattered across the cement path and others having been fused and becoming something else entirely. The metal had been melted and blown upwards in the sheer force of the explosion, coating parts of the wall, wet grass, and roof with small, solidified droplets of metal. The ground around the remains of the breaker is burnt and scarred with traces of the immense fire that had consumed it.

It seems the rain put it out.

“No hope for this, huh?”

“Hey,” The employee calls out. “How bad is it? If there is nothing you can do, come back inside.”

So, you do.

The way she turns at you is robotic almost. A smile is on her face that was not there before. She nods when she sees you. Something tells you to not approach.

“It exploded into molten metal.”

“Oh well.”

Under the stormy skies, her gaze turns pale. Her eyes, seemingly captivating, lack any hint of vitality, while her lips curve in a disarming and saccharine manner. A shiver runs down your spine as you meet her gaze, every fiber of your being urging you to flee. Deep within your primal instincts, an innate awareness stirs, recognizing the smile as a charade, a mask of humanity that ventures into the realm of unease: akin to an artificial being adorned with synthetic flesh or a wax figure encased in glass. Those lifeless, white eyes, coupled with a forked tongue and an unsettlingly beautiful countenance, leave you with an undeniable sense of mistrust.

“You’re not mad? Really? Um…”

Something is off. What happened? She looks more like an imposter than anything else. But if she is, where did the real cashier go?

“Don’t worry.” She says, her voice oddly chipper and no longer confused by your awkwardness. “It’s fine. I’m quitting anyway, so it’ll be my boss’ problem.”

You turn your head. “Really?”

She nods. Something is off.

“Like really?”

You blink multiple times and you don’t think she does. She just stands there. Slowly, she nods. Something tells you to run yet again.

“Um… um… okay. Okay. I’ll just pay and leave. How much does it come up to?”

She shakes her head.

“Um. I have to pay. It’s thievery if I don’t.” You get closer. “It’s the law.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t just not pay.” You say, taking out your wallet from your sweater pocket. “That’s stealing. It’s wrong.”

Every action she takes is measured and precise, and she seems to move like a machine rather than a person. It’s as if she’s been programmed to act and talk in a certain way, and she doesn’t seem to have the ability to break out of that. She simply stares at you, not speaking.

Run.

You undo the metallic button, hearing the shuffling of paper Jenny within your wallet. “Um. Let me pay. Please.”

She simply shakes her head again.

“It’s fine.” The employee says, the smile still plastered on her face. There is quite more than a hint of blankness and detachment in her expression. She speaks in a mechanical and emotionless manner, her words delivered as though repeated from a script of carefully chosen sentences. Her movements are quick and precise, putting your chosen items in a plastic bag. There is no life or energy in her actions, instead, she moves like a mindless machine, performing her tasks before her without showing any personality of her own. Is it better to just accept it?

What should you do? What shouldn’t you do? Is she joking? Should you leave?

What would Rose do?

One of her hands grasps onto the plastic handles and she holds it out before you. There is no authenticity or warmth. Her eyes are blank. What happened? Should you ask? Should you just take the bag without saying anything further?

“Okay,” You murmur, obeying her silent command. “I hope you don’t get into any trouble though.”

*~*~*~*

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Did you find anything?

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Feitan found her heels nearby along with some blood, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

You (9th May 1996 17:45)

Nothing yet

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

Try checking the stores nearby.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

From the blood trail, she is most likely injured from running and trying to fix herself up in some sort of shelter.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:48)

She may have also discarded the rest of her clothes, not just the heels, and is currently wearing something else.

You (9th May 1996 18:15)

I found a dress and jewelry at the bottom of a lake

You (9th May 1996 18:18)

(image sent)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

That’s it.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

Disappointing. I’ll send over Pakunoda to ask people nearby.

You (9th May 1996 18:20)

You (9th May 1996 18:21)

Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll find her soon :)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I wasn’t crying.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I just thought she came around already.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:23)

This will set our heists back weeks.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:24)

She has planned this out for more than a year, it seems.

*~*~*~*

Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. You can’t hear anything else. The sounds sting your ears like an aggravated hornet.

The darkness around you is solid, more so than the cracked, aged concrete path beneath your shoes. There is a tiny light in the distance; a streetlamp.

Silence.

“...”

“Have a good day!”

“...Thank you.”

Let there be light.

“Um…” You can’t see anything. The sounds… stopped. “...Time to go home.”

But the pain stays.

It feels like a drill.

It hurts.

“...” You feel deaf and blind. No, maybe something even worse. “...”

You turn around, to the dark convenience store, and you see the cashier still staring at you. “Have a good day!”

“...”

“[First]?”

…How does she know your name? Did you say it to her in the past?

When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

“[First], dear.” She starts waving as you look at her. “[First]. [First]. [First]. [First]. [First]!”

There is nothing but emptiness. Is your name all she can say? What happened to her? It is like she has regressed. Like a storm cloud in summer, you do not wish for this pain. Now you feel deaf and blind and mute now.

You almost wish that you were dead. All there is is pain. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm.

Interruption. The sounds returned. Is this good? Is this bad? Does it matter at all?

You walk. You don’t speak. Only walk. You can’t breathe. You can only move. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun.

Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm.

A hand clamps over your mouth.

You drop the plastic bag from shock, and then you finally hear something other than those sounds; glass shattering.

“Sh…” A voice, calm, along with the smell of oranges. “It’s okay.”

“...!”

“Don’t scream.”

The touch of lips, a man’s lips, on your ear, thin and hard.

“Breathe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

But you can’t. The wind goes down your throat. It is suffocating. You can’t breathe. You smell oranges and something rotting, blood.

It stinks. It fucking stinks.

Christ. Get away. That stink. That fucking stink. Your body rejects it by continuing to not breathe.

“Sh… Breathe. Just breathe, for me, for you, for us.”

“...St… Sto-”

“Sh…” The voice is sweet, not at all sour, like candy. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just breathe. You’re going to pass out.” The lips and the scent of his breath are like salted leather in a butcher’s shop, stinky and rotting. “Calm down. Don’t worry.”

“...Sto… Si-”

“Breathe. Sh… It’s okay. Breathe.”

“...Ge… Sti…”

“Sh… Breathe. Breathe, [First]. Breathe. [First]. Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t worry about all this. Breathe.”

When you finally do, you gasp, desperate. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

Get off of me, I can smell you.

“There we go!”

Your vision clears up a bit. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

“Just keep breathing.”

“...Huff…”

You can smell him. You can practically taste him, with his mouth so close to you.

“Whew! That was a close one!” The man exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

Pain. Get off of me. I can smell you, I can hear you, I can taste you. Get off of me. Please.

The pain still stays, in your chest and your ears, and your head. Oranges. Blood.

Get off of me.

Please–

A pain in the back of your neck and you go limp.

Darkness. Then pain again. You can’t move. You can only breathe. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm.

*~*~*~*

SAINTSHORE SPACE THEATRE

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF RANDOLF URASLEF, GRETEL JAMES, AND QUINCEY J. ORATICE

PAUL DONSHEL CELESTE BAKER ANNE CROAKS

AND

THE GREAT COMET THEATRE COMPANY

SWAN LAKE

ADAPTED BY MUSIC WRITTEN BY PYOTR ILLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

INSPIRED BY THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF JULIUS REISINGER

WITH THE WONDERFUL CAST OF

(IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

Odette, the White Swan………………………………………………………….JEAN YVETTE

Odile, the Black Swan……………………………………………………………...JUNO LILOU

Prince Siegfried……………………………………………………………(the name is illegible.)

The rest of the list’s names cannot be read just like Prince Siegfried.

“She is simply beautiful. Just so beautiful. Simply wonderful, perfect.”

As the spotlights ignite, their scorching beams engulf you, causing you to shield your eyes with futile resistance. The sheer force of the light overwhelms your feeble defense. An ethereal audience erupts with exuberant cheers, applause, and whistles, resonating from vacant seats. Champagne flutes collide, men erupt with hearty laughter from their very core, and women unleash piercing screams akin to banshees.

The temperature rises and the noise intensifies, repeatedly, enveloping you in a symphony of overwhelming sensations.

Onlookers casually share their thoughts.

“Get off the stage, we want to see the play, not some stagehand!”

“Boo!”

“Fuck off!”

You run off crying.

“Where is that Odile girl?”

You run into a dressing room. One used by a woman wearing a black dress. She is so pretty. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls off her bare shoulders, clearly just done with a flat iron. There is a burning smell in the air. Smoke. When her gold eyes meet yours, she marches towards you and slams the door shut.

You can almost hear sobbing coming from the other side. Cries.

“So lonely…” The woman mutters. “When will it ever be enough?”

The voice sounds familiar. Her eyes. Her hair.

Nostalgia. Memories you would much rather forget. The basement. The imaginary ripping of clothes and tears and men’s laughter.

“I can’t do this much longer…”

Someone else knocks on her door. You want to scream.

“Come out, dearest.”

The devil. Tall with curved horns and a forked tongue. You want to warn her.

You want to save her. “I’m not going to harm you, I am going to make you happy.”

You are so focused on whether the woman opens the door or not that you do not notice what happens next until it is too late. A clawed hand on your mouth. A tongue licking your ear. Tasting your sweat. Your tears. Laughter. The rest of the world disappears, and the only one there aside from you is the one behind you.

Sh… Sh… Sh… Sh… Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm.

Get off of me. Please.

“Breathe. It makes things more fun for me.” The voice echoed like you two are in a cave.

You gasp for air, and the smell of blood and oranges fills your nostrils.

“...Huff…”

“That’s better.”

You turn around. There is a body of a man.

But the scaled, furred, horrifying face of a demon.

“Good.” He says, smiling his sharp teeth. “Deep breaths, in and out, come on.”

You do what he says. He praises you again, you think. But you can’t hear it. Either that or you simply do not pay attention to it. What happened to the woman?

“...”

“We should go.”

The woman. The devil, this other… thing.

“...Rose…”

The demon laughs.

“Wake up.”

*~*~*~*

The first things you hear come from a happy man’s voice. “My boss’ girlfriend ran away more than a year ago you see, and he’s been heartbroken ever since. I want to prevent that kind of loss from happening to me. Real pretty one, too! He didn’t expect it, but I don’t blame her. After all, she’s been held captive for more than a year, she had to try to escape eventually.”

…The first thing you feel is lace on your neck. A collar.

It does not tickle or hurt. It itches.

A cold hand plays with it, and it almost chokes you. At your discomfort, the man laughs.

“You are so cute.”

Something metal is on the collar, and it blinks a small red light.

#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #shalnark #hunter x hunter #hxh phantom troupe #hxh x reader #hxh shalnark #shalnark ryusei #shalnark x reader #yandere shalnark #ultraviolet.

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eyeodyssey · 5 months

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When it comes to books that act as ephemera for the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s plays, most collectors would seek out items like the retrospective 2-MINUS magazine Ameya Style or the volumes of Theater Book and June that featured contemporary articles about the TGG’s plays. The information included in these books is incredibly valuable as many production stills, descriptions and even whole screenplays were printed in these publications. That isn’t to downplay the importance of other adjacent books though, such as the Suehiro Maruo magazine Only You, which features a digest version of Galatia Teito Monogatari’s screenplay. There are even more magazines that have since been shrouded in obscurity, two of which acted as the direct source of several of the most iconic images affiliated with the Tokyo Grand Guignol. The above image is from the October 25th, 1985 volume of Emma magazine. My knowledge of these publications is pretty much nonexistent outside of the fact that on the auctions I found this (and the next featured book) on, both volumes were listed as “photo magazines” or something like that. They definitely contain pictures, that’s for certain. Either way, this photo was a specially shot production still derived loosely from a scene in the TGG’s first play, Mercuro (1984). Despite the close association, this photo is usually given with the play, there was no scene in the original screenplay where Ameya emerges from Kyusaku Shimada’s torso. It was said on the Twitter account TGG_Lab that this scene was based on a variation of the play that was performed at an event hosted by Peyote Workshop known as End of the Century Live, said version of Mercuro being a loose descendent of the iconic televised performance of the play that was shown on Tokumitsu Kazuo's TV Forum. Both renditions were heavily abridged variants of Mercuro’s most iconic special effects scenes, with the televised version specifically being a crossing of the openings of act one and act two. One thing of note is that near the end of the article on the side, a special teaser is given for the upcoming December 1985 debut of Litchi Hikari Club.

youtube

The next photo spread is of a similarly iconic production still, this one being a direct capture of (what was likely) the opening of the first act of Litchi Hikari Club. In said opening scene, an execution is conducted to the tune of the S.P.K. song Culturcide wherein the light club hang a student who crossed their strict rules. This student is apparently different from the one who is blinded by a spotlight later on in the same act. This photo is from the April 11th, 1986 volume of Focus, a magazine that happens to contain a fairly interesting coincidence. In my prior essay regarding the parallels between Litchi Hikari Club and the futurist movement, I mention how Ameya at one point cited an airplane accident as a direct influence for Litchi’s story. According to his recollections, the accident occurred not long after the televised performance of Mercuro, which was in 1985. While I originally had a hunch while writing the essay, I’m fairly certain the airline accident he’s referring to was the Japan Air Lines Flight 123 crash on the 12th of August, 1985. The time frame matches Ameya’s descriptions, and to this day it’s still recalled as being one of the deadliest airline accidents in history. In the same volume of Focus that this image came from, an article is featured a few pages earlier that concerns the accident. A description of Litchi's opening can be read in this excerpt from a lengthy Twitter thread by user Shoru Toji where she gives an in-depth description of the play's 1986 rerun and the subculture around it: I saw Litchi Hikari Club on March 27th, 1986, the first day of its rerun, at a live house called Super Loft KINDO. It was a renovated iron factory in the Tokyo Metropolitan area. The place was previously destroyed by Hanatarash with a live set where he went through the space with a bulldozer. If I recall correctly, the hall was illuminated by fluorescent lights from a high ceiling with exposed steel frames. The walls were painted black. The curtain separating the audience seating from the stage was a set of white sheets, like the kind you’d find in a hospital. There was no announcement when the play was ready to begin. Instead, the fluorescent lights suddenly went out, and a set of speakers in the ceiling emitted hissing noises. The stage was dimmed to the opening queue of Culturcide from the Seppuku Dekompositiones EP, and I thought to myself “This is SPK!”. And with the sounds of synchronized stomping and a ringing flute, the curtains were drawn back to show the scene of a line of students marching through the darkness in single file with lights hoisted over their shoulders. The way the lights aligned in their rows reminded me of spotlights. They marched all about the stage, going right, left, forward and to the back, all at once in an orderly manner. They were taking orders from a man standing on a podium. That man was Tsunekawa in the role of Zera. He stood with an overhead spot bathing him in red light. He pointed in many directions, with the students loyally following each command he made. Eventually, the left side of the stage began to loudly rattle with the starting of a U-shaped quarry conveyor belt. Another student is carted into the stage from the belt, screaming “Please, don’t do it! Please, forgive me!” as he’s suspended upside down from the belt. The light club place their lights in the back of the stage and hang their first victim at the front with a chain.

Sources: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

#norimizu ameya #tokyo grand guignol #litchi hikari club #suehiro maruo #lychee light club

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munsons-maiden · 2 years

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𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

So, this turned into a fix-it fic. But I promise I’ll fix it. I hope reading this story can bring you as much comfort as I found while writing it. This chapter might be the most suspenseful one I’ve ever written, and it contains one of the sweetest, most romantic scenes I’ve ever written. - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world that might be more persistent than you’d thought: Evil…and love. The story is told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending, fluff, smut

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (in the later chapters, so you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, attempted assault, bullying, canon-typical violence

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10 k (yes I know I said this one’s going to be shorter but...I got carried away)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of attempted assault, Jason Carver, canon-typical gore & violence, blood, bullying, past trauma, murder (Chrissy & Fred), allusions to smut

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | There will be a song in this chapter, so if you want to listen to it while reading, the starting point is indicated with a little star*. The song is I Remember You by Skid Row - I know it was released in ‘89 but it’s always been one of my favorites and it fit the scene so well, so...let’s all pretend it was already released in ‘85.

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

[Tuesday, July 2nd, 1985. BEFORE STARCOURT.]

At first, there was only darkness.

An ocean of it.

You were adrift, the waves of darkness carrying you, making you float –

But no. This was no wave.

Your eyes fluttered open when you were placed on something hard and cold, and beneath the blur in your vision, your eyes met a pair of blue ones, hard and cold as steel.

“Stay very still,” a hollow voice whispered. And you remembered. Billy, calling you to the supply room of the community pool at the end of your shift to help him carry some cleaning supplies. The hit to the back of your head, the darkness closing in on you as a pair of arms caught your fall.

The second voice, a female one. Hurry. We don’t want to let him wait.

“It’ll be over soon,” Billy Hargrove whispered, his breath stirring your hair.

The world was spinning like a carousel, round and round and round as you tried to move, tried to fight against whatever it was he’d tied around your wrists, your ankles, writhing on the cold concrete beneath you like a fish caught in a net.

A second pair of eyes came into focus, hazel ones.

Heather.

Her gaze was as hollow and flat as Billy’s as she ripped the tape from your lips.

And too late, far too late, you realized where you’d seen this hollowness, this burning abyss of Evil in their gazes, before.

One year ago, in the hazel eyes of a little boy fighting against the demon who’d nestled in his mind, fingers tapping away instructions in morse code to close the gate and end it.

Something stirred in the shadows.

Something wicked.

Something…huge.

And the scream stuck at the back of your throat never ripped into the stale summer-night air before something pressed over your mouth, freezing darkness forcing its way down your throat, into your body, your mind, talons of black smoke hacking away at your mind, deeper and deeper and deeper as you tried to keep it out, to fight it, your mind scrambling and writhing like a field mouse in the claws of a bird of prey –

And the world faded to black once more as a voice made of a chorus of whispers echoed through your mind.

You belong to us now.

[Sunday, March 24th, 1986. NOW.]

With the message of Jason and his friends having started hunting for Eddie, you’d refused to leave Eddie alone in the boathouse, but after everything that had happened with poor Max yesterday afternoon, he’d insisted on you joining your friends. And thus, you’d spent the night on the ratty old couch in the Wheeler’s basement, the RT unit cradled to your side in case Eddie needed to call for help.

The few hours of sleep you’d managed to get had been filled with nightmares. Of Jason and his friends finding Eddie. Blood pooling over the rotten floorboards of the boathouse. Fire consuming the tiny old building, the woods, everything, Hawkins and everything you loved devoured by flames.

You’d made Eddie swear not to tell any of the others about what you’d realized, the knowledge that you’d been Vecna’s first victim. Right now, Max needed all of you – and however you’d unconsciously evaded Vecna’s curse, whether it had been Eddie’s mixtape which you still listened to every night or something else – the only thing that counted was that Eddie had found the key to break, or at least pause, the curse.

And while under Vecna’s horrid spell, Max had invaded the monster’s own mind. You’d spent the day planning the further procedure, taking turns in trying to reach the Byers and Mike in California – to no avail. Nancy didn’t let on, but you could tell her already frayed nerves regarding Jonathan and his insistence to spend the spring break in Cali had started to grow into something akin to anger.

All the while Steve hadn’t stopped throwing her glances, which only seemed to evade Nancy’s notice. Even Dustin had started rolling his eyes.

It was late afternoon now when Nancy dropped you and Robin off at the corner of your street.

The police had announced a townhall meeting regarding the murders of Chrissy and Fred, and it made sense for at least one of you to attend to see how far the cops had come on their hunt for Eddie.

You’d volunteered to attend, and Robin had joined you.

The rest of your friends – Steve, Nancy, Lucas, Max and Dustin – would go to Creel House. What for, neither of you knew. It might have been a shot in the dark – but a shot in the dark, as Robin had already stated, was better than not shooting at all considering the stakes.

It had been three days since Chrissy had found her gruesome death, since Eddie had been forced into hiding; two days since Fred Benson’s mutilated, broken body had been found in the middle of the road through the woods to Forest Hills – and one death since Max had barely evaded the same cruel fate. She wouldn’t have, without Eddie’s wit and Lucas’ sharp memory which, you were certain, was rooted in the love he still kept harboring for Max.

“Hey,” Steve said softly as you and Robin climbed out of the Wheeler’s car, “Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” you said darkly. “If anything happens…”

Robin held up the RT unit the two of you would be borrowing from Max for the time being. “We’ll be in contact. Good luck with Vecna.”

When Nancy sped off and the two of you began to walk the remaining steps towards your home, the golden afternoon light of another beautiful spring day casting shadows across the asphalt as the perfume of peonies and roses filled the warm air, Robin finally broke the silence.

“What happened between you and Eddie?”

Her voice was soft, curiosity glittering in her blue eyes as she threw you a sideways glance.

You’d been anticipating this question ever since you’d found Eddie at Reefer Rick’s.

And still, you weren’t ready to answer it. You’d probably never be.

“I mean, yeah, he didn’t cop out when Jason started spreading lies about the two of you,” Robin added when you didn’t reply right away, “He stood up to Jason. Which was, like, super bitchin’. But you can’t tell me that’s all there was to it. I see the way you look at him when you think nobody’s watching. And I see the way he looks at you.”

“He does?”

“Like a puppy who’s been scolded, kicked, and locked outside in the rain. Either that, or it’s just those huge dull doe eyes of his,” Robin teased, giving you a gentle nudge with her shoulder. “But I figured there’s a story. A little bit like whatever’s going on between Nancy and Steve right now.”

“You noticed that, too,” you exclaimed.

“I think whoever didn’t notice by now should get their eyes checked.”

“I don’t think Nancy and Steve noticed, to be honest.”

It was strange yet beautiful to witness, the way Steve still cared for Nancy.

The way Lucas had never stopped loving Max, who – you were certain – still loved him in return.

When you’d walked out of Eddie’s trailer, his life, that freezing November night, you’d known the feelings for him which had taken root in your heart the night he’d saved you in the woods, which had grown and bloomed into a whole garden underneath the sunshine of his gentleness and smiles, the way he’d made you laugh and the way he’d been there, without ever asking anything in return…they would never wilt or die. You’d known that Eddie would always be the one.

Yet still, it scared you, how strong these feelings for him still were. How they��d seemed to grow fiercer these past two days. Eddie Munson had every right and reason to despise you – yet he’d proven that he still cared for you. Maybe it would have been easier, if he’d learned to hate you in the four months which had passed.

“I don’t think he ever stopped loving her,” you said softly.

“He didn’t. He never stopped,” Robin agreed, her voice holding a strange tone as she glanced at you.

“It’s beautiful. To know that even though Evil persists, love will, too.” There was a lump in your throat and a fierce stinging pain in your chest.

“So, will you tell me the story?”

A mirthless huff escaped you. “There’s no story, Robin. We were friends for two months, and then we weren’t.”

I killed whatever it was he’d been feeling for me at the time. And I did it because I was foolish enough to think it could keep him safe.

“Did you sleep with him?”, Robin blurted, and you nearly tripped over your feet.

“Robin!”

“It’s a legit question,” she protested defensively, waving her hand with Max’s RT unit.

“I’d appreciate if you couldn’t yell it across the whole damn neighborhood, though.”

“So, you did?”

“Please, please stop.”

“Just saying, I’m getting vibes between you and Eddie. I’m sensing tension.”

“That’s the imminent death we’re all rushing towards like a speeding truck.”

“Romantic tension,” Robin clarified, adding with a sultry wink, “Sexual tension.”

“WHAT?!”, Dustin’s horrified voice echoed from the RT unit in Robin’s hand, and you let out a horrified gasp.

“Robin! Turn it off!”

“Sorry!”, she exclaimed, fumbling with the button at the device’s side, “So sorry, that was a total accident.”

“Seems like the RT wasn’t the only thing that was turned on,” you could hear Steve’s muffled voice through the static in the background. He sounded decidedly annoyed.

“Oh god,” you groaned, ripping the damn RT unit from Robin’s hand to switch it off as you threw her a death glare. At least she had the sense to wince.

You could only hope that none of the others in the car had heard you and Robin. And that Steve and Dustin had the decency to keep what they’d heard to themselves.

“Sorry.”

“If Eddie heard any of that conversation on his RT, I’m coming for you, Robin,” you announced trough gritted teeth, stabbing the device’s antenna at her, “I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“Holy shit,” Robin gasped as you reached the driveway to your house, your glare still firmly fixed on your friend.

“Yeah.”

“No,” Robin breathed, all the humor gone from her voice as her eyes widened with shock, and she grabbed your shoulders to turn you around.

To your car, parked at the side of the road in front of the house.

The windshield had been smashed in.

And smeared across the whole driver’s side in deep crimson paint that looked eerily like blood, someone had left a message for you.

SATAN’S SLUT.

A horrified gasp got stuck at the back of your throat as you stepped closer, and your focus caught on the thing dangling from your rearview mirror, your hand trembling as you leaned across the hood to loosen the silken bow-tie with which it was strung up like a macabre present. Nausea churned in your guts as you opened your hand to examine what it was.

Because there in your palm, the thing which had dangled from the rear-view mirror…it was a voodoo doll. It was crudely made, of scraps – but the mess of black wool spilling around its face left no doubt over who it was supposed to be, its black button eyes crisscrossed with angry slashes of red yarn, a familiar red demon’s face like the one on the Hellfire Club’s shirts painted on its chest.

And the thing they’d strung the doll up with, tied around its neck like a hangman’s noose…it was your green silk ribbon. The one Jason had pulled out of your hair the night he’d attacked you in the woods, before Eddie had swept in to save you.

I always thought you looked prettier with your hair down.

The deep, vibrant green had faded in places, the soft silken edges frayed, but you’d have recognized it everywhere. Barb and Nancy had given it to you when you’d joined the cheer squad, as a good luck charm for the first game you were cheering at. You’d always worn it ever since, for every game, until that night.

The night you and Eddie had defied Jason.

Someone had gone back to the clearing to retrieve it, like a sick souvenir.

And scrawled across the shattered windshield in those bright red letters, rivulets of paint having run down the shattered glass and dripped onto the dashboard, was another message.

HUNT THE FREAK.

“Jason,” Robin breathed, but you shook your head.

“No. Jason doesn’t get his hands dirty. That’s the work of his cronies. Andy and Chance and the rest of them.”

Which meant that they knew, or at least suspected, that you knew where Eddie was hiding.

“The message is clear.” Robin sounded as sick as you felt.

“It’s not a message,” you breathed. “It’s a threat.”

Your fingers folded over the little doll in your palm, the soft silk of your hair ribbon, as you turned to face your friend.

“We better get going to be on time for that townhall meeting. And we better make sure that nobody ever follows us out to…to his hiding place. Because if they find him…” You trailed off, bile rising in your throat at the thought of what would happen if Jason and his friends got their hands on Eddie, the memory of the nightmares which had plagued you the whole night, a sickening omen that mustn’t become reality. Eddie’s blood soaking the boathouse’s floorboards. Ravenous flames devouring everything, devouring Eddie; the flames of hatred and fury blazing through Hawkins like a wildfire out of control, out for Eddie’s blood.

Her expression dark, Robin finished your sentence. “They’ll kill him.”

[Monday, October 28th, 1985. THEN.]

“Okay, what about Day Of The Dead?”, Eddie wanted to know.

The two of you were sitting on the top of the picnic table at the clearing, sharing the sandwiches you’d brought to evade the ‘death trap dressed in cheese’ Eddie used to call the lasagna the cafeteria had started to serve on Mondays. My working theory is that they just keep the leftovers of the week before and then use it to stuff the lasagna, Eddie had concluded at one point a few weeks ago, and you’d agreed with him.

The air was cold, but the sunlight shining through the now naked branches of the trees surrounding the clearing was warm on your face.

It had started with a note you’d slipped into Eddie’s locker. Meet me at the clearing for lunch? He had, and spending the Monday and Wednesday lunchbreaks together at the clearing had become an unspoken agreement between the two of you. Eddie, considerate as ever, had been worried about the location, considering Jason’s attack had happened in this exact spot…but it was where you’d first met Eddie as well, where you’d spent countless lunchbreaks in your freshman and sophomore year with Barb and Nance. So many happy memories clung to this place – and you didn’t want to let Jason ruin it with one horrible one.

The woods had become your safe haven; the grey space in between the black-and-white world of Hawkins High that kept you apart to avoid further bullying.

“Wait, or what about The Shining?”, he added as an afterthought, tearing you from your thoughts.

The two of you had been busy discussing the choice for your next movie night for the past ten minutes. Ever since that first study-Saturday when you’d spent seven hours napping in Eddie’s bed while he was playing the guitar for you, the low-budget horror movie you’d watched, had turned into a second Saturday movie night, and a third one, and finally into another unspoken ritual which had turned Saturday into your favorite day of the week.

It wasn’t exactly about the movie you were watching. Most of the time, you were chatting anyway, or laughing about the impressions Eddie did of whatever character was on screen right then.

Saturday would only be the fifth movie night – but it felt like these evenings had been part of your life since forever.

It felt like Eddie had been part of your life since forever.

You scrunched your nose. “What about Sixteen Candles?”

Eddie groaned. “A romance movie?”

“Well, we’ve watched every horror movie Family Video has to offer.”

“We’ve watched three horror movies,” Eddie deadpanned. “I’m sure your friend Harrington will be able to find some more. Else, he’s not exactly qualified for the job.”

You snickered. “Are you planning to demand to talk to a manager?”

“Nah, I’m not a snitch. I might hire someone to demand to talk to a manager, though,” Eddie grinned mischievously, squinting against the sunlight.

“We need to start later, though, this Saturday,” you said slowly. “It’s a game day. I’ll be cheering until…”, you did the math in your head, “Nine pm. Roughly.”

“Can I ask you something?” It sounded strangely hesitant.

“Sure.” You closed your eyes, angling your face for the sunlight to caress your cheeks as you nodded, waiting for Eddie to go on.

“You barely talk about cheerleading. And every time you do, you sound…not exactly happy. I was wondering…shouldn’t something you do in your free time be more fun?”

“Are you worried about my forced conformity?”, you asked playfully, but when your eyes flew open to meet his gaze, there was curiosity shining in Eddie’s eyes, and underneath, a dim shadow of concern.

It was astounding, how someone who’d only known you only for two months, could read you as well as an open book.

“I’m not going to lie,” you began softly, hands fiddling with the buttons of your coat just to have something to do, “You know, when I joined the cheer squad back in sophomore year, I did it because I thought it’d keep me safe from bullies. I…middle school wasn’t…a good place for me.”

It had been Hell. You fought down the memories, focusing on Eddie’s face as he waited for you to go on.

“I didn’t know that,” Eddie said quietly.

“I never said anything. I was too scared to make it worse.”

“What did they do?”, Eddie asked softly.

Your gaze fixed on a blackbird scouring the dread, fallen leaves on the ground for food, you said, “I guess it wasn’t anything special. They did what all bullies do. Under the lead of Stacy Campbell.”

“Wait…” Eddie began cautiously, “Wasn’t she…?”

“One of the people who died in the fire at Starcourt. Yes.” The blackbird ruffled its wings, sunlight tinting its feathers a beautiful shade of midnight-blue as you took a pause to grasp your next words. “They called me names, smeared bubble gum in my hair, said horrible things, threatened me. Mean notes during class when teachers weren’t looking. Sometimes she would sic some of the bigger guys in our class on me to hit me so I wouldn’t take the same way home as her. She lived in my neighborhood.”

There were other memories fighting themselves to the surface of your memories, like zombies rising from their graves. Stacy’s laugh as she’d shoved you into that supply cabinet, the door falling shut. The blinding pain and the tears as your hand shot out to hold the door open, fingers getting caught between the door and the frame as Stacy had locked it anyway. The darkness, your screams, fist pounding against the wood as you begged for them to let you out.

If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll kill you.

The friendly face of the old janitor who’d found you in his broom closet three hours later, cowering in the dark, knees hugged to your chest. Sacred and helpless. So utterly fucking powerless.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, fought the zombies back into their graves where they belonged, where they could rot six feet under. “There wasn’t anything special they focused on, really,” you went on, “I guess they picked me because I never fought back. I always thought if I just sat it out, it would…”

“Pass,” Eddie said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“And did it? Pass?”

You threw him a soft glance. “Did it pass for you?”

He thought about that for a moment. “It did, in a way. I mean, I’ve been different ever since I can remember. And at some point in middle school, I realized that the situation wouldn’t change. I was branded a freak, and I was a freak. I am a freak. It was either changing myself to be normal, or to change my attitude. And since I was too stubborn to give up my whole damn self, I opted for the latter. I started wearing the freakiness like a shield in battle.”

“And you still believe you’re not brave,” you smiled.

“That wasn’t bravery. That was just good ol’ stubbornness.”

“Well, I picked number one, in a way. I changed part of myself, if you will.” You scoffed. “The irony of joining the cheer squad to avoid being bullied only to end up being bullied anyway isn’t lost on me, by the way,” you claimed with a mirthless little laugh, before you added, “But I actually fell in love with cheerleading.” You smiled, tilting you head as you watched the blackbird spread its wings and flutter into the air. “There’s just something about the atmosphere, the tension before a game. When everyone is thrilled and exited and ready, and everything can happen. I imagine it’s not so different from D&D, in that regard.”

“Well, I rectify that it’s the players I hate about the basketball sports, and not the game in itself,” Eddie snickered. “Apart from the fact that the thought of spending your time throwing balls through laundry baskets seems damned dreary.”

“Lucas Sinclair is a basketball player.”

“He’s never played a single game,” Eddie stated, “He’s a basketball benchwarmer, to this point. Though Sinclair is different. He’s one of us, not…”

“Not one of them?”

“Yeah. Sounds stupid, saying it out loud.”

“I get what you’re trying to say. But…I’m one of them, too.”

“Are you, though?”, Eddie grinned. “As far as I can tell, you’re hanging out with a freak right now. Maybe that makes you a freak, too.”

“That wouldn’t be bad thing,” you said softly, mirroring Eddie’s grin before averting your gaze again. “I fell in love with the dancing. But since that day in the woods, with Jason…I feel this…rage. Because I don’t want to cheer for him. I don’t want anyone to cheer for him. I want people to see how ugly he is inside, and the fact that none of them ever will see beneath the mask of guys like Jason makes me want to scream and cry and throw up all at the same time. I don’t want to cheer for him, but…”

“But leaving the cheer squad would mean he won.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “And I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of me giving up something I love. To stay means that I’m still in control. It means I wont back down. And I hope that, whenever he sees me cheering beside Chrissy, who actually has no clue what type of guy her boyfriend is, there might be a tiny part of him afraid because I know who he truly is. If there’s one thing that scares guys like Jason, it’s the prospect of someone actually seeing past the polished, self-righteous façade.”

“There’s no shame in running, though,” Eddie said softly. “You know that, right? I’m not brave. I’m not half as brave as you. I don’t stay when it’s easier to run, and I’m sure as hell not one to fight, but you know that leaving the cheer squad wouldn’t be defeat if it brought you the peace of not having to cheer for that prick.”

You bit your lip, before echoing Eddie’s words, “It’s not bravery. It’s stubbornness. There’s a difference.”

“Wise words,” Eddie drawled. “Where did you hear them?”

You chuckled. “Some dude.”

For a moment, Eddie just looked at you, expression unreadable – before, with a swift motion, he pierced an invisible dagger through his heart, letting himself fall off the picnic table and into the pile of fallen leaves on the ground, your incredulous laughter ringing out over the clearing.

“Some dude!”, Eddie echoed, splaying his limbs on the ground like a starfish, “SOME DUDE!”

“You should have joined the theatre club!”, you exclaimed on a laugh.

“What does a dude have to do to switch the title dude for friend?”, Eddie asked, sitting up, dried leaves falling from his curls all around him as he combed a ringed hand through the strands to shake them out, “Murder? A blood pact? A holy oath?!”

“A holy oath sounds quite fitting to earn that title,” you teased, and Eddie sunk to his knees in front of you, head raised to glance up at you as he placed a hand over his heart. For some reason, the sight made a swarm of butterflies take flight in your belly.

“I solemnly swear – what do I swear?”

“It’s your oath!”, you laughed, “Earn that title, Munson.”

“I swear to follow you into Mordor when the Shire is burning,” Eddie announced, his grin wide and tone solemn.

“I don’t know even know what that means!”

“Because you still didn’t read the goddamn Lord Of The Rings! One day I’ll just read it to you.”

That didn’t sound bad at all. You loved Eddie’s voice. You loved its timbre, the way he used to draw out and drawl random words to give his sentences a lilting melody. You could have listened to him for hours.

Eddie’s expression grew stern again, a sudden fierceness flashing in his dark doe eyes as he said, “This is gonna sound fucking dumb but not once did I ever think that somebody would join the cheerleaders just because they loved dancing.”

“Well, probably because you can’t exactly dance to Heavy Metal,” you taunted playfully.

“Ha! That’s a lie. You can dance to everything.”

“No way. I’m listening to that mixtape every night to fall asleep and there’s not one single tune on it which would even remotely classify as dance-able.”

“Then you’re doing it wrong,” Eddie protested playfully, “Every song is dance-able if you’re committed enough.”

“I’m a cheerleader”, you protested, “I am committed. And I will go down with this: Heavy Metal is not dance-able.”

“Fine. Let’s make a bet,” Eddie drawled, rising back to his feet, “If I prove to you that you can dance perfectly fine to a random Metal song, I get to pick the movie for Saturday. If you’re right, you get to pick the movie.”

“One movie? I want five.”

“Three.”

“Aw, scared I’m gonna win and make you watch all the romantic movies you so fiercely denied me?”

“Um, yes,” Eddie nodded, “Hella scared. Do you we have a deal?”

“It would be the first deal ever since you talked me out of buying your drugs,” you winked, before you added, “Deal. Three movies. Bring it on, Munson.”

“Ah, that victorious little grin will vanish in a second, monster slayer,” Eddie grinned as he pulled his Walkman out of his lunchbox.

Holding up the headphones, he sunk into a theatric little bow as he asked, “May I, fair lady?”

“You may,” you replied with a barely suppressed grin as you hopped down from the tabletop, watching as Eddie stepped closer, gesturing for you to clip the Walkman to your jeans before slowly raising the headphones. His dark eyes rested intently on yours as he left it for you to take them or let him place them for you. You opted for the latter, giving him a smile as you inclined your head in a silent permission.

Gently, his eyes never leaving yours, Eddie placed the headphones over your ears, careful not to tug at your hair in the process, and your heart did a weird little flutter in your chest, sparks erupting beneath your ribs like sparklers on New Year’s Eve at the strange intimacy of the gesture.

Was it the gesture itself, you wondered – or was it simply the fact that it was Eddie who was placing the headphones over your ears, this tenderness in his eyes as he watched you, the way the heel of his right hand briefly, as fleeting as a spring breeze, brushed your cheek?

As if caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing, though, Eddie pulled his hands away, ripping you out of your thoughts, and with heat flaring in your cheeks, you reached down to press play on his Walkman.

The first notes of the song floated through the headphones – the tinkling of a guitar, surprisingly soft for a metal song, and his smile growing playful once more, Eddie held out his hands for you as he asked, “Care to dance, monster slayer?”

*Woke up to the sound of pouring rain The wind would whisper and I'd think of you, a voice began to sing as you placed your hands in Eddie’s – and a jolt of electricity zapped through you at the touch, your heartbeat accelerating as he slowly pulled you a little closer.

Close enough to catch a whiff of his scent on the autumn breeze brushing over the clearing, playing with Eddie’s dark curls, the sunlight painting brushstrokes of light brown into the strands and making patterns of shadows dance over his face.

“And all the tears you cried – they called my name And when you needed me I came through”

Eddie led you into a slow dance, your hands resting in his, heartbeat pounding its own rhythm in your ears alongside the tune floating through the headphones.

It was a beautiful song. It was happy and heartbreaking, cheerful and haunting all at the same time.

Paint a picture of the days gone by When love went blind and you would make me see I'd stare a lifetime into your eyes

Eddie’s eyes were sparkling in the pattern of sunlight falling through the foliage above, making the umber of his irises shimmer in hues of maple syrup when the light hit them, and the flash of his smile as he glanced at you was as radiant as the autumn sun overhead, like sunrays on your heart.

So that I knew that you were there for me Time after time you were there for me

A soft giggle escaped you as, with the bravado of a dancer in a Victorian ballroom, Eddie led you into a twirl.

Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you

“You tricked me!”, you exclaimed on a soft laugh, “That’s not Heavy Metal!”

“It’s Skid Row. It’s definitely Metal,” Eddie grinned, before he started to sing along – how he did it, you had no clue since you were the one wearing the headphones.

“And through the sleepless nights, through every endless day,” his dark voice drawled, running over your senses like syrup, so beautifully dark as he hummed along, “I wanna hear you say, "I remember you."”

“How are you doing this?”, you marveled, and for a moment, Eddie actually looked confused.

“Do what?”

“Sing along, perfectly in tune. You don’t even hear the song.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I know it by heart. I hear it in my mind.”

We've had our share of hard times But that's the price we paid

He gently led you into another twirl, this one a little bolder – and you briefly lost your footing, stumbling against Eddie’s chest when you came out of the twirl, his free hand shooting out to grasp your elbow in an attempt to steady you as you laughed.

“Sorry!”, he said softly – and something in his eyes changed at the sudden closeness, a shift you could feel resonating within your own chest.

And through it all we kept the promise that we made I swear you'll never be lonely

For a heartbeat, you watched each other, closer than ever before, one of your hands resting in Eddie’s and his other still gently clasping your elbow, that strange new expression in his dark eyes as they briefly, for a moment so fleeting that you thought you’d imagined it, flitted down to your lips.

Through the sleepless nights, through every endless day I wanna hear you say, "I remember you."

There was a pull, like a tug towards him, two magnets drawn to each other as you leaned closer, closer towards Eddie, following this strange gravity, closer until the tip of his nose was nearly brushing yours and the faintest whiff of his scent of leather and cigarettes and chocolate caressed your senses alongside the autumn breeze on your cheeks, your heart stopping and time freezing like that moment on a roller coaster, when the cart had reached the highest point and you were waiting for the drop, the thrill tickling your stomach and your heart racing as Eddie leaned closer –

Something hit him in the face, making him stumble a step back and letting go of you as he started laughing, brushing the maple leaf away that the autumn wind had blown against his cheek.

And with your heart stumbling and your mind spinning like a carousel on a Carnival, you joined in the laughter, realizing only now that the next song had already started playing.

And that you’d completely forgotten the time.

It was a curious thing, how time warped whenever you were with Eddie; slowing down and speeding up all at the same time when you wanted nothing but to freeze it, to put the seconds into polaroids so you’d never forget a single one of them.

“Oh god, we need to go back,” you exclaimed as you took off the headphones, extending the Walkman for Eddie, whose cheeks held a dusting of pink – but that might as well have simply been a trick of the sunlight filtering through the crimson leaves above – as he took the device.

“I gotta wait a few minutes longer,” Eddie winced, “Drug deal.”

“Okay,” you grinned, “So…see you Saturday.”

“See you Saturday,” he echoed, looking as flustered as you felt. You’d already turned to dart away as Eddie’s triumphant shout rang out from behind, “By the way, I won! I get to pick the next three movies!”

“That wasn’t real heavy metal!”, you laughed.

But your mind wasn’t on the movies. It was replaying that moment in your mind, over and over again. Of Eddie, his lips mere inches from yours. His eyes, flitting down to your lips for the glimpse of a second.

Of what might have happened between the two of you, had it not been for that single maple leaf carried by the wind.

And the realization that you wanted nothing more than turn back the time for a few minutes, catch that leaf, crumple it in your hands…and kiss him.

[Tuesday, July 2nd, 1985. BEFORE STARCOURT.]

You woke on the ground of the old steel mill, beneath the light of the summer night’s stars twinkling down through the cracked, dirt-caked overhead lights. Heather and Billy were gone, leaving you alone.

But no. You weren’t alone.

It talked to you.

The voice in your mind that wasn’t one but millions whispered to you. Horrible things. Commands.

You rolled to your side, hands splayed on the dirty concrete, eyes fixed on the weeds sprouting from the cracks on the ground as nature reclaimed the corpse of the abandoned steel mill, pushing yourself up –

Even in the pale light of the stars, you could see them. Veins, an abysmal black like that thing in your head, creeping over the back of your hands, spreading up your arms, up, up, up. Over your body, writhing underneath your skin.

And finally, the scream which had been locked at the back of your throat ripped free.

But you knew what came next.

You knew what it had made Will Byers do.

And you needed to make sure to stay away; far, far way, where you couldn’t harm your friends.

You didn’t have much time to lock your body up, before the Mind Flayer could do the same with your mind.

Before it would make you dance on its strings.

[Sunday, March 24th, 1986. NOW.]

When you and Robin reached the townhall, the sun was already sinking below the horizon, painting brushstrokes of deep crimson across the heavens. It looked like the sky was on fire. It looked like the sky was bleeding.

Through the broken windshield of your car, you could see that the parking lot was already packed, the last few people climbing up the stairs towards the entrance as you parked the car at the side of the road.

There had been no time to scrub off the paint.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You didn’t care anymore what anyone would think about you. If they wanted to think you were in league with the devil, you wouldn’t change their minds. All you cared about was to keep Eddie safe until you’d all found a way to clear his name.

And if not…you didn’t want to think about it.

About the blood and the flames in your dream which felt like an omen rather than a nightmare now.

The sense of doom in your chest intensified with the chorus of angry voices rising through the closed wooden double doors of the assembly room when Robin and you marched through the foyer.

The assembly had already started. Crowded as it was, the room was even more claustrophobic, with its low ceiling and pale artificial lights even more glum than when you’d been here last time, three years ago. When Will and Barb had gone missing.

Nobody paid the two of you any heed as you snuck through the doors and took two of the few still vacant seats in the last row at the back of the crowded, stuffy room just as Chief Powell declared from his place on the podium, “…to impose a curfew of eight pm, effective as of now.”

An angry murmur travelled through the assembled crowd.

“Hide from him?”

“A curfew?!”

Letting your gaze roam over the rows, your gaze briefly locked on the throng of Jason and his basketball friends occupying one of the front rows, their green letterman jackets sticking out of the crowd. For the first time, Jason’s presence actually made you feel overpowering relief – because if he and his cronies were here, they hadn’t found Eddie yet.

“We’re already hiding!”

“Why haven’t you caught him yet? Out children are in danger!”, an angry female voice rose from the front row under nods of assent, and on the podium, Powell and Callahan threw each other a worried glance.

“We are doing everything in our power to find him,” Chief Powell tried to soothe.

“This town has turned into a goddamn tinderbox,” Robin whispered.

She was right. These people were scared. They wanted an easy explanation, because easy explanations bore easy solutions which would bring back normality. They wouldn’t be calmed by rational arguments, because they didn’t care about rationality. They wanted this nightmare to be over.

Hawkins had turned into a powder keg.

A single spark…and everything would go up in flames.

The chorus of angry murmurs and in-between-shouts rose as Chief Powell added, “In the meantime, as we said – the curfew will be enforced for your own safety until we get a hold of Eddie Munson –“

“We want that psycho freak gone!”, someone in the crowd hissed.

“We should say something,” you breathed, but Robin’s hand shot out to keep you in your seat as she hissed, “And what? They won’t listen. They’re not interested in the truth.”

“I can’t keep sitting here, letting them say all these things – “

You cut yourself off at a flash of green in the front, and your heart plummeted to the floor as Jason Carver rose from his seat.

“No. We have waited long enough,” Jason exclaimed, his voice laced with barely contained rage.

No. No, no –

“Fuck,” you heard Robin mutter under her breath.

“Jason,” Chief Powell began, “Why don’t we talk about this in private –“

“Why? So you can keep me quiet? So you can keep the truth from coming out? I don’t want to listen to any more lies and excuses!”

“That’s enough.”

“I agree, that’s enough!”, Jason called out, and agreeing shouts rose in the crowd. “I think we’ve all had enough!”

And the assembly hall erupted in applause as Jason strode towards the microphone in front of the podium while your blood froze in your veins with fear, with rage, with hatred.

“These murders,” Jason began, “These murders weren’t simply murders. They’re ritualistic sacrifices.” He paused, his steely eyes scanning the crowd as he let his words sink in, fuel to the fire of their fear. “Have you not wondered about all the strange things happening in our midst? The deaths, the fire at the mall? Have you never asked yourself whether this town is cursed? It is. It is cursed. There is evil in our midst. Evil growing in our beautiful town.”

With a meaningful pause, Jason pulled something out of the back pocket of his jeans, the rustle of paper carried through the room by the microphone clutched in his hands as he unfolded it, before he held up the printout.

Even from the back of the room, you recognized the picture.

It was the yearbook photo of the Hellfire Club.

As if on cue, Jason’s friends rose from their seats, stacks of more printouts in their hands and stern expressions on their faces that barely concealed the self-righteous gleam in their eyes as they started distributing them.

“They call themselves the Hellfire Club,” Jason announced, his own expression a mix of graveness and something else, something you couldn’t quite decipher from your spot. “And their leader, the puppet master behind all of these things…it’s Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson killed Chrissy. And he killed Fred. And if we don’t stop him, he’ll kill again!”

“That’s bullshit!” Erica Sinclair shouted, jumping up from her chair, her mother already reaching out to pull her down again, “Hellfire isn’t a cult! It’s a club for nerds!”

“A club! That’s what they want you to think – but it’s a lie!”, Jason shouted. “A lie to conceal the truth! This club – they’re protecting Eddie, allowing him to continue his rampage.”

The stack of printouts had reached you and Robin, the black letters WANTED scrawled across the top with black sharpie glaring back at you from across the photo.

Of Eddie, his grin frozen in black-and-white, still radiant in the achromatic blur of the printout as his hands formed devil’s horns over his head to match the demon’s grimace on his Hellfire shirt.

Jason’s voice calmed, the shout morphing into a slow, strained tone as he said, “Last night…I became overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness. But then, I remembered. I remembered Romans 12:21: Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

The silence which had fallen over the room, sinking in the air as all eyes were fixed on Jason, all the attention zoning in on his words, was even more sickening than the words, the lies, he was spinning.

Lies, you realized, which Jason had started to believe himself.

“Eddie Munson,” he said slowly, his eyes roaming the enraptured crowd, drawing out the words to make them sink deep, “Is a monster. And monsters need to be defeated. They need to be slain!”

You waited for Chief Powell to intervene, to stop Jason, stop him from building his lynch mob, but the assembled officers just watched, confused and rattled and powerless.

And something inside of you, something buried deep in your heart ever since that night in the woods, ever since Jason had pulled that green silk ribbon out of your hair and forced his lips on yours, his hands beneath your skirt before Eddie had ripped him away from you…it snapped.

In this daze of blinding, white-hot fury, your feet carried you to the front of the room, approaching slowly, your chin raised and eyes levelled at him with defiance, rage overpowering that sickening feeling you felt in your chest whenever your eyes locked with Jason’s because this time, you wouldn’t let him get away with his lies.

Not this time. Not today.

And for a split second as his eyes met yours, there was a spark of something in Jason’s steel-blue ones, flashing beneath the self-righteous fury.

Fear.

“Lies?” you echoed his words, and the room fell quiet at the dangerous calmness in your raised tone, the ice in your demeanor as you came to stand in front of Jason. “Lies, to conceal the truth? That sounds awfully familiar, Jason.”

The ice in your veins had turned to fire blazing through your veins, scalding flames filling you when you turned to face the crowd.

And you finally dared to raise your voice.

Not for you, but for Eddie. For the gentle, kind-hearted, dorky young man with the beautiful doe eyes and the sunshine smiles. The person who, with his kindness and his heart of gold, his quirky humor and gentleness, had caught you when you’d been teetering on the edge of an abyss you’d never have been able to climb out of on your own. For Eddie, who’d jumped on that damn cafeteria table to face Jason for you when you hadn’t found the courage to do so yourself.

For Eddie, the boy who’d left his handprint on your heart and his kiss on your lips, the boy you still loved more than anything else.

“Do you want to know the truth about our golden boy Jason Carver?”, you spoke up, and your gaze met Robin’s. Erica’s. Karen Wheeler’s. They would believe you. Three people in this room, at least, would believe you. You swallowed. “Last year, on a night in September, Jason Carver followed me out into the woods after a basketball game. He attacked me. And he would have hurt me, hadn’t it been for Eddie Munson.”

Whispers rose as you let your words sink in, the gravity of them, before you went on, “I know you are angry. I know you are scared, terrified. But what’s happening in this town – it’s not Eddie. Eddie Munson is not a monster. He’s innocent.”

“That boy is good for nothing!”, someone shouted.

“He’s selling drugs! Hard drugs!”

“Yeah?” That was Erica, jumping to her feet again before Mrs. Sinclair could grab her, hands curled to fists at her sides. “How do you know Eddie’s been selling these drugs, Mr. Fletcher?”

There were a few snickers as Mrs. Sinclair managed to pull Erica back down to her chair again.

Before you could go on, Jason was at your side, the microphone in one hand, the other settling on your shoulder before you shook it off, shied away from his touch as he said, his tone dripping with this horrid, false compassion that made your stomach twist, “I didn’t want to do this. But I see that my silence has done nothing but harm. That maybe, if I had spoken up about what Eddie Munson has done, even before he lured poor Chrissy to his home to kill her…I could have prevented it. But Chrissy is not the first girl falling victim to his evil. Last year…it is true. I followed her into the woods,” Jason gestured at you, pausing, before he said, “It was after one of our games. She looked terrible. She was scared, she looked sick. Terrified of something, when she ran into the darkness. I wanted to make sure she was okay, that she was safe alone out there. You all know the story. You all know what happened next.”

A few of the other students in the crowd nodded their heads, leering grins, disgusted smirks, dirty stares leveling at you like arrows as some of them started to snicker.

This couldn’t be happening.

Your gaze met Robin’s, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief at the scene, both of you frozen in your places as Jason went on, “That is why I followed her. And I caught her with that freak.”

Disgusted whispers floated through the air, giggles and snickers.

“It was a…compromising position. And Eddie Munson…he snapped. He punched me, and he threatened to sacrifice me to Satan.”

“He’s lying!”, you called out, rallying all your willpower to keep the despair from your voice, the tears from your eyes, steel yourself. But you could tell people didn’t care. You could tell they wouldn’t believe you, just like you’d thought. Like you’d known, even back in September.

The last sliver of hope you’d been clinging to was snuffed out as, with a tremble in his voice, Jason exclaimed, “He has twisted her mind with the sick things he was making her do with him. Unspeakable things. Just like he did with poor, sweet, innocent Chrissy.”

“Don’t you see that he’s lying?! Eddie never harmed me! Eddie never laid a hand on anyone! It was Jason –“

“Why didn’t you go to the police station to report the alleged crime you say Jason wanted to commit?”, Chief Powell asked quietly.

“Would you have believed me?”, you spat. “It was Jason Carver’s word against mine. Who would you have believed, Chief? Hawkins’ golden boy and basketball star – or a cheerleader and a freak?”

“I believe you!”, Erica hollered, rising back to her feet with fire in her eyes, as Robin rose from her own seat. “And I!”

Ignoring their shouts, drowned out by the rising noise in the room, Jason turned to face you.

“I am sorry,” he said, voice booming through his microphone, and for a confused moment, you thought he was confessing what he’d done, what he’d tried to do – but the plea in his voice didn’t reach his eyes.

They were hard and frozen like shards of glass, glinting with hatred as you refused to avert your gaze, refused to back down and give in to the nausea, the sickening memories of his lips pressed against yours to silence your screams for help, his hands on your body, his weight pinning you in place.

But there were other memories rising to combat them.

Of Eddie, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so gentle and sweet, his fingertips caressing your skin, the tenderness and warmth shining in his eyes as he looked at you, watched you to make sure you were okay; his umber eyes so warm and soft, so different from the sharp ice of Jason’s.

“I’m sorry,” Jason repeated, “I might have been able to help you. I might have been able to help Chrissy, had I known back then.”

And when his words filled the air, you finally realized what it was, glittering in his eyes.

Madness.

Because in the twisted narrative Jason had built for himself, he was the hero. He was the chosen one to slay the monster and save Hawkins.

And he’d started to believe his own lies.

Bile rose in your throat, acidic and bitter as Jason whirled around to face the crowd once more.

“And I say: We’ve waited long enough! If the police can’t do it, we can. Together. Rid our beautiful town of Evil. And hunt the monster hiding in our midst!”

There was a beat of silence. A silence so all-encompassing that you could have heard a pin drop at the back of the room.

A second ticked by, two, three.

And the room erupted in rage-filled cheers.

[Wednesday, July 3rd, 1985. BEFORE STARCOURT.]

You screamed. You thrashed. No matter the agony of these talons of black mist hacking away at you caused, dissecting your thoughts, your very essence, piercing your mind like the needles of a lepidopterologist the fragile wings of a butterfly.

Fight. You needed to fight.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry for help and scream with this blinding anguish of the thing which had taken home in your head, poisoning your thoughts, guiding your muscles.

Cowering at the floor of the Community pool’s supply room, hiding away from the scalding light of the sun, locked and muted in your own mind, there was nobody who would have heard your screams, even if the Mind Flayer had allowed for them to escape.

But your strength, the thing which had kept you fighting the shadow in your mind through the whole night, was fading, dying like the flame of a candle in a storm, a last remaining spark clinging to its wick as the monster scoured your memories.

The worst of them.

One by one, examining them like the tapes in a video store.

And finally, it found one.

[Sunday, March 24th, 1986. NOW.]

Frozen in place, you watched them leave. The families of Hawkins, the neighbors and strangers alike had turned into an angry mob, out for blood, guided by Jason’s madness, his elaborate words like the tune of the Pied Piper’s flute luring an army of rats. Another hivemind.

They weren’t interested in the truth.

They were interested in vengeance, in someone to blame, a scapegoat to slaughter to create the illusion that Evil had been defeated by Good.

They wanted the killer to be Eddie. Because he was different. Because he was a freak.

It was as simple as that.

There, elbowing her way against the stream of people filing out of the townhall in the middle of the assembly, was Robin, your friend’s blue eyes a tether to keep the overpowering panic clawing at you at bay for now.

“You faced him,” Robin whispered as she reached you, pulling you into an embrace.

“We don’t have time for that,” you breathed. “We need to get to Eddie before they do. We need to bring him out of this Hellhole town, and we need to do it now. You need to get the others, Robin. Grab the RT, and alert the others. Do you hear me?”

“What about you?”

“I’ll go to the boathouse. I’ll tell him what happened and we’ll all meet up there, okay?”

I need to see him. I need to go to him.

Robin understood. You could see it in her stern expression as she pulled away from the hug.

“I’ll meet you there.” She squeezed your hand. “We’ll get him out of this mess. It’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay.”

You both knew it was a lie.

[Wednesday, July 3rd, 1985. BEFORE STARCOURT.]

You couldn’t remember how she got here.

How you got here.

But you knew the girl writhing on the ground, struggling against the jump ropes binding her wrists and ankles. The duct tape over her mouth was muting her cries for help as you watched her try to struggle free of her restraints, the wheat blond color of her hair dulled by the dirt on the old steel mill’s floor, sticky with the blood running from a cut on her temple.

There was a vague memory, blurred by freezing black smoke. Of a fist, veins writhing beneath the skin like creepers, landing a punch.

And finally, the girl’s head whipped around. Her panicked, bloodshot eyes met yours, recognition flashing in her gaze beneath the tears rushing down her cheeks.

“Do you remember me?”, you asked quietly.

Of course she did.

How could she not? She’d worked so hard to make these three years of middle school living Hell for you.

“Because I remember you, Stacy,” you said.

Every little cruelty.

Every hissed word.

Every pinch and bruise and scratch you’d hidden from the teachers, home, because if they found out… If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll kill you.

The thing poisoning your mind made sure you did remember.

The freezing talons in your mind dug deeper, replaying the memories, over and over again like a broken slide show. Every second of pain and shame and humiliation and fear.

All the ways this girl on the ground had terrorized you, had terrorized others.

You tried to fight the memories, fight the thing freezing your muscles in place, commanding your limbs, sending agony through your veins – but it was stronger. So, so much stronger. And you were so incredibly tired of fighting.

You’d only wanted her to stop.

To leave you alone. Leave you be.

The shadow showed it to you again, locking you up in the memory just like she had locked you up in the dark.

Your screams as the door to the supply closet was slammed shut. The sound of the lock snapping drowned out by your sobs as you pleaded them to let you out, the gleeful laughter of Stacy and her friends, the pain in your hand because your fingers had gotten caught in the doorframe as you’d tried to stop them.

The powerlessness.

The fear you’d felt that day, in these hours, and the all-consuming rage afterwards.

That very same rage blazing through you right now, a wildfire that couldn’t be contained any longer, unleashed by this ancient evil thing in your head.

“This is what you wanted”, the chorus of voices that was one whispered.

Purred.

No. No, no, no. That’s not what I wanted. That’s not what I am.

“I made you a gift.”

I didn’t want to do it. You made me do it. You made me do it –

The shadow in your mind made you kneel next to her, made your eyes hold hers, take in the tears on her face as it guided your fingers to rip away the duct tape, releasing her whimpered pleas into the stale air.

I’m sorry, you wanted to tell her.

“Liar”, the shadow whispered.

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to do any of this.

“I see your heart, little liar. I see everything you’re hiding from the world. From yourself. We are alike. We are so much more alike than you think.”

Something moved in the darkness, the space the pale moonlight seeping through the cracked window pane didn’t reach.

Moved towards the spot where it made you kneel beside Stacy.

“Hold very still,” it commanded with your voice. “It will be over soon.”

The thing in the shadows stalked closer.

And it made you watch as it got Stacy, her screams of terror muted as the black smoke forced itself into her mind.

And deep down, beneath your terror…you knew the Mind Flayer was right.

There, in the crevices, in the deepest, darkest corners of your heart…was a part that felt a glimmer of satisfaction when the monster got her. Locked her up in the dark, muted and helpless and sobbing, just as she’d done with you.

Broke her mind like she’d broken a tiny part of yourself that day.

And this part, this tiny little piece feeling glee as it watched…that belonged to you, not the monster. All you.

Even if the Mind Flayer left, even if your friends would be able to save you…there was a part of you, deep down, that was just as rotten and horrid as this evil thing. And that part…it could never be burned out of you.

And that was the most horrifying thing of it all.

[Sunday, March 24th, 1986. NOW.]

You counted the seconds ticking by, bleeding into minutes, simply to have something to do as you cowered in the bathroom stall, waiting for the angry crowd to file out of the building and the parking lot to make sure nobody would follow you to the boathouse.

Blood was rushing in your ears, adrenaline accelerating your heartbeat to a painful wild thumping as you battled the nausea in your guts, the flood of images your racing mind was conjuring – one more gruesome than the next, all the horrible possibilities of what would happen if they ever found Eddie.

If Jason found Eddie.

When the last voices and footsteps in the foyer beyond the bathroom door had faded, and the eerie silence of a graveyard had settled over the place, you dared to let out a trembling exhale and pushed yourself to your feet.

It felt like sleepwalking.

Out of the bathroom, through the townhall’s foyer, into the twilight of the parking lot, illuminated by the last dying rays of sunlight and the orange glow of the street light which had flared to life.

There weren’t many cars left in the dimply lit space, but as you were about to dart around a lonely parked Range Rover, voices were cutting through the early night.

Familiar voices.

Jason’s voice.

“…list of all places where he could possibly be hiding.”

You hunched down behind the car’s driver’s side, huddling against the cool metal as you squeezed your eyes shut to combat the fresh wave of panic as, above the roar of blood in your ears, you listened.

“What are we gonna do when we found him?” That was Patrick McKinney.

“Talk to him,” another voice, Chase or Andy or one of Jason’s other henchmen crooned. “We just want to know what he did to Chrissy.”

You didn’t need to see their faces – you could feel their self-righteousness, the malicious smirks on their lips. The thrill of the hunt sparking in their eyes, like a pack of wolves chasing a deer.

“Got a lot of stuff with you to ask the freak a few questions,” one of them quipped, and snickers rose into the night, lacing with the all-too-familiar clattering sounds of iron and wood.

Gathering all your courage, you straightened a little, just enough to throw a glimpse across the range rover’s hood to where Jason and his mates had gathered around Jason’s own car, the trunk wide open to reveal an assortment of baseball bats and crowbars that made bile rise in your throat as you sunk back down, hands splayed on the asphalt to tether you as one of them said, “Can I see that list?”

“Not much on it yet. Why, you got something to share with the group?”, Jason questioned.

There was a beat of silence before the second voice said, “I think he’s hiding at Reefer Rick’s.”

Your heart froze in your chest.

No.

No, no, no, no –

“Reefer Rick’s?”, Jason inquired.

“2121 Holland Road. He’s Eddie’s supplier. He’s in jail but some of the old drunks always hanging around the lake insist he’s back home and now my parents are totally freaking out.”

“So, we’ll add it to the list?”

“No,” Jason said slowly. There was grim determination in his voice. “We’re heading there right now. Let’s go and hunt ourselves a freak.”

Their hoots and cheers at Jason’s words rose into the darkness, like the chanting of a crowd during a game of basketball.

They would kill him. They would kill Eddie.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

Eddie was still at the boathouse, not knowing that Jason had found him, waiting because you’d told him you’d come to him with new food supplies after the townhall meeting so when he would hear the car, he wouldn’t run. He’d open that fucking door and let Jason in because he’d think it was you.

You needed to warn Eddie, let them know they’d found him – but realization sunk in that there was no way because…you’d handed Robin your RT.

Your car. You needed to get to your car. To somehow make your way past Jason and his cheering friends without them noticing, to somehow get to the boathouse before they did, with their bats and crowbars and the violence in their twisted minds and the hatred they’d been harboring for Eddie and people like him long before anything had happened to Chrissy.

Panic dazing your mind, adrenaline barreling through your blood, you scooted backwards, away from the range rover and the voices as your mind was racing with despair, trying to find a way past.

Breath bated, you tiptoed backwards, step after careful step – and bumped into something.

Someone.

Whirling around, you came face to face with Andy Warren. Jason’s right hand.

The smile he gave you beneath the shadow his baseball cap threw across his face was wicked as his hands gripped your arms, ripping you up to your feet.

No.

No –

You struggled, writhed in his grip, but Andy was stronger, his fingers digging into your skin as he dragged you out of your hiding place and towards the others, towards Jason.

“Jason,” Andy called out with a drawl, and Jason’s head whipped around, cold eyes gleaming as they locked on yours.

“Look what the tide brought in. Looks like we caught the freak’s little slut.”

---

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | So, in the next chapter, you’ll finally learn what happened that November Night. I can’t wait for you to read it. I’m impossibly sad that this has turned into a fix-it fic, but as I promised: I’ll fix it. There will be a lot more bonus chapters after this one, and I’ve plotted the ending of this story in a way that allows for me to rewrite Season 5 as a possible sequel. My hopes are still up that Eddie might return, but if he doesn’t...I’ll just write him into it. In the meantime, thank you for reading, and I hope this story can give you some comfort, lovelies. Stay tuned for Chapter 7 - it’ll contain 3k words of pure smut and I think you’re gonna love the angst. Happy ending guaranteed, of course ♡

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 ♡

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