#for those not in the know that’s who everyone calls ‘Cassette Girl’

[oakwolves]

When I make my infinity train fan site and there’s an entire section filled with lore dedicated to a character that had exactly one line in the entire show

[lovebugism]

I had this idea about eddie dating reader who is obsessed with pop boy bands! tysmm

i'm so obsessed with this idea bless you anon — the town freak tries to impress the local cool girl and, in true eddie munson fashion, it doesn't go as quite expected (friends to lovers, fluff, shameless it reference, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie stands across the counter at Family Video and lays a collection of cassettes on top of it. 

Steve blinks once at the tapes, then twice up at him. “…What is this?” he wonders, visibly dumbfounded.

“Do you interrogate every customer that comes in here?” the wild-haired boy quips, digging into the pockets of his leather jacket for some wadded-up bills. “Just scan it.”

“New Kids on the Block? New Edition?” Steve announces as he bags each plastic case. His chiseled features twist in confusion. “Who are you, and what did you do with Eddie Munson?”

“It’s not for me, dingus.”

“First of all, don’t call me that. And second of all, who the hell is it for then?”

“Someone. No one,” Eddie mumbles, shrugging and shifting his weight on his feet, doing a terrible job of hiding his sudden sheepishness. “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “A girl?”

“…Maybe.”

“A pretty girl?”

Eddie scoffs an unamusing laugh. “Sure. If that’s the only way your pea brain knows how to describe someone as… uncanny, and demonic, and fascinating as she is.”

Steve’s brows pinch in a subtle horror. He’s not sure what most of those words mean, but they don’t really sound like compliments. He just shrugs and decides not to press it any further. “…Okay.”

“She’s just into this stuff, okay?” Eddie confesses, gesticulating wildly with his ringed hands. “And I wanna like the things that she likes— Is that so bad?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s very, very bad,” Steve answers without thinking twice. He passes him the plastic bag full of tapes with a sympathetic glint in his eye. “’Cause that means you’re in love.”

————— 

Eddie stands outside the arcade in wait for you. He knows you always come to The Palace on Fridays — right before the school day ends, so you have a couple hours of peace before the snotty middle schoolers run you out with their post-P.E. stench.

He wears a set of headphones over his untamed curls and a walkman clipped to his jeans. It plays a pop song he’s only ever heard on the car radio. Steve’s radio, specifically. He’s heard you hum it a time or two, and it’s the only time he’s ever been able to stand it — as if he needed another reason to prove Steve right. 

He was head over heels, disgustingly, wretchedly, completely, utterly, and totally in love with you.

Propped against the driver’s side door of his van, he exhales smoke from his lungs and sees you walking down the sidewalk. 

Your pink tights swish at the knees while your plaid skirt, in a grass green color, flutters around your thighs. Your sweater’s bright blue, and the only thing halfway matching the rest of your outfit is the bright emerald dinosaur pictured on the front of it.

You beam at the sight of him. “Teddy? What are you doing here?”

“I’d guess the same thing you’re doing here, sweetheart,” he quips, playing cool as he snuffs out his cigarette with the heel of his worn sneaker.

“Normally, you’re busy on Fridays… I’m starting to feel like you’re stalking me.”

Eddie’s deep brown eyes narrow, twinkling with dark chocolate. “And how would you know that I’m busy on Fridays?” he teases, tilting his wild head to his shoulder.

You shrug, faltering for a blink of a moment. “Corroded Coffin always performs on Fridays. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, maybe just you and the… four other drunks that happento come to the Hideout on Fridays,” he jokes with a boyish laugh.

“Touché,” you concede, smiling wider. “Whatcha listening to?”

You reach out for him, taking the headphones from his ears like you always do. You place them over your own head and expect to hear something loud and heavy — that’s what you usually catch him listening to, anyway. A wide smile blooms on your lips when a familiar song fills your ears.

“New Kids on the Block?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, voice distant with disbelief.

Eddie had been expecting this. He’d spent ten minutes praying this exact moment would happen, but he stumbles over himself about it anyway. “Yeah. Uh, Family Video— They’re selling tapes and stuff now— To keep from going out of business, I guess,” he stammers, laughing awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck. “So, I don’t know. I guess, I thought I’d—”

“Buy it for yourself?” you finish for him, with a knowing grin on your petaled mouth. “And then try to impress me by waiting outside the arcade I go to every Friday? Even though you’re usually busy practicing?”

You see right through him with little effort. Mostly because you’re one and the same — hopelessly in love and tripping over yourselves with it.

Eddie nods, then laughs. “Yeah, actually. That’s— That’s the half of it, yeah.”

Your smile quietens when you slip the headphones back over his head, fingers brushing his curls and palms grazing his flushed cheeks. “Maybe we can go together sometime?” you offer and step back from him again. “I can show you where they kept the real music. You know, make sure they got the right stuff to listen to.”

His chest swells. He almost forgets to breathe. 

He never, in a million years, would’ve expected his first unofficial date with you to be at Family Video, of all places — but he’s grateful for it nonetheless. He figures he could go just about anywhere and be happy as long as he could look over and see you standing right beside him.

Eddie nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Sure. Yeah. That sounds— That sounds good.”

“I’ll call you when I’m free,” you tease and walk on by him. 

You’re always free. He knows that. You’re always everywhere and nowhere all at once. Even now, standing right in front of him, you’ll disappear like you’d never been there at all. You just like to keep him guessing, really, and he knows that, too. It’s why he melts for you so easy.

“Okay,” he nods, rapid and utterly dumb.

“I’ll see you soon. Maybe.”

He watches you meander towards the entrance of the arcade. Words start to bubble in his throat. They spill out before his brain can decide whether or not to actually say them. “Please don’t go girl,” he blurts while the lyrics of the same song croon in his ears.

You spin around and blink wordlessly at him. You don’t look confused, but you don’t look impressed either. Eddie can’t gauge the emotion on your face, and he falters.

“That’s the... That’s the name of… of one of their songs,” he stammers.

He blinks, and you’re beaming again. A golden laugh spills from your lips, like honey and summer and sunshine. “I know, Teddy,” you grin — voice as warm and as fond as your glittering gaze. 

He grieves when you turn away again, walking into the arcade without looking back at him once.

Eddie doesn’t breathe again until you’re gone, forgets how to until you’re done clouding his vision.

You’ll be the death of him yet.

[sehodreams]

sex money feelings die - first visit

the start ↬ first visit ↬ second visit

WC: 2.6k

TW and Tags (permanent for the story): rich client!Anton x stripper!reader, smut, fluff (?), a touch of angst for the moment, inexperienced reader, fingering, kissing, lots of silly conversations.

Summary: Working at a night club was difficult in many aspects, your sleep schedule was messed up for life, your feet were more used to high heels than sneakers and you had to lie about where you went to work those nights. Still, even with all those cons, you didn't hate your job, you had more than enough to pay your bills, feed your brother and save money for his college. However, what happens when your boss makes you do the one thing you asked to never do.

When you arrived to the dressing room your anxiety won over you and you practically inhaled the granola bar Sungchan had gifted you, thanking him in your mind because if you hadn’t tasted something sweet, you would’ve cried right there in front of all the girls that had just arrived.

Anton Lee, Anton Lee, Anton Lee.

Your mind kept repeating his name like a stuck cassette. You knew him, everyone knew him, he was the highest payer and religiously came every Friday. It was impossible to not recognize him in the crowd even between the numerous young guys and expensive suits.

He was one of the few customers the girls actually fought for, leaving big bills and sharing his expensive bottles with the people that kept him company through the whole night.

You’ve danced for him a couple times, and he was completely hot, sometimes leaving you all flustered with how his eyes inspected you when you moved, but you never maintained a decent conversation him, even less accepted one of his drinks, always rejecting him with a smile and calling the other girls with more experience to entertain him, like Shotaro had said to the group, he was important and the place would suffer if he left, because just like a guide, his posh friends would leave with him too, so everyone had to entertain him with the best.

‘’What’s going on in that little head?’’ Sungchan asked behind you, following you to the VIP room Anton booked every time he visited.

‘’Just that I should’ve choose a simpler set today, you know him, he likes the innocent type’’ you sighed. All the girls that spent the night beside him wore soft makeup and light lingerie, while you preferred the smokey look you had learned when you started and bought the darkest tones for your looks. You were wearing your typical black set when you remembered what he liked, but you didn’t feel like changing just for him, your dark image was part of you there, and you wouldn’t leave who you were behind just because he wanted you to be his personal company.

You played with the tie of with your black robe, still feeling a kind of shyness you knew was silly to have at that point, but that was always there, following you every time you stopped being you and became the confident girl collecting man hearts like cards your clients knew.

‘’You look as gorgeous as always, angel’’ Sungchan said trying to calm you down. You were sure he didn’t know what Shotaro had ordered you to do, he’d never smile and let you enter that room otherwise.

You chuckled. ‘’Why do all of you still call me angel?’’, you were curious, months had gone by and they all called you the same nickname, not that you minded, but it seemed to come so easy for them to say that word, and maybe when you were a waitress it made sense, you used to wear the uniform like a good girl, shirt covering you to the neck and light makeup that made you stand out in the dramatic place full of neon lights, loud music and drunk people, but now that you had the aura of belonging there under your heavy makeup and your provocative outfits, you didn’t understand why they continued calling you like that.

‘’Once an angel, always an angel, doesn’t matter how you look now, you’re still the same good girl walking around.’’

Your eyes almost got wet, how could he say that so easily? if only he knew what you were about to do inside that room, you were sure he’d never call you that again.

‘’Thank you Sungchan’’ you said when he opened the door for you, and after walking in and looking back he mouthed a silent I’ll be here to then close it behind you.

Anton was already there, and unlike other days, none of his friends were on his side.

You thanked God, at least he had the decency to do his business in private.

No sound came out of your mouth when you saw him. He was gifting you his typical sweet smile, confident and elegant, his lips pushing a delicate curve on the end of his smile, cat like and a touch mischievous. You couldn’t give him the same smile, and maybe he waited for you to talk first, because when he saw you wouldn’t his smile flattered a little.

‘’Good afternoon’’ he finally said. His voice was soft, sure he never had to be loud before, you thought about it before, how he and his friends had that gentle tone when they asked for things until they got drunk, getting to the conclusion that they never had to demand loudly anything since their wishes were constantly being heard by the people around them, people that served them.

Now you were one of them too and that realization made you uncomfortable.

The warm and mature fragrance of his cologne filled your lung, not helping your nerves calm at all, and when the room started to feel hotter, you opened your robe with the hope of gaining some of the imaginary confidence you always had on stage. Your eyes never left his while you did it, slowly letting it slide under your arms until it fell to your feet, and when you saw his throat gulp and his eyes flutter, you wished you hadn’t wasted your favorite black lacy set with little gold details on him, because he seemed to enjoy it a bit too much.

Shotaro had asked you to wear something more comfortable since you weren’t supposed to dance, so you grabbed the old stilettos you used to wear while serving drinks, and since they were less high than usual you thought it would be less tempting, but the combination of them with your black stocking made your legs look a lot more seductive and less intimidating to him, having the contrary effect without you noticing.

You advanced to him and he uncrossed his legs to welcome you over his lap with much pleasure.

Before going in you had decided you’d give him the most boring and bland sex of his life so he never felt the need to call you alone, and if it was fast, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? You wanted to end it as fast as you could and go home to shower again, having for complete the night, with the hope of forgetting him, and he forgetting you, for your next shift.

Your hips timidly moved over him and his hands found your waist almost immediately, letting them rest over the naked skin between the pieces of cloth with a lot more confidence than you, watching you move over him with apparent knowledge. To be honest, your experience was completely amateur, having fucked only one guy one time, you tried to think in the many choreographies you had practiced and the numerous adult videos you watched, with the goal of getting him aroused and quickly finishing the job.

‘’So beautiful’’ he appreciated, making you press your nails in your palms. The granola bar you pushed in your throat minutes ago to calm your anxiety started to revolve inside your stomach, making your forehead sweat of nervousness. You should’ve remembered to not eat before that because every time you felt that kind of tension you felt yourself about to puke, but now it was too late, and he could easily see your discomfort all over your face. ‘’Are you okay?’’ he asked preoccupied, hands not pressing as hard as before and stopping you instead.

‘’Yes, sorry, let’s continue’’ you apologized, trying to go back to the activity you had started of moving your hips to lure him.

It didn’t work, soon you really felt yourself about to gag and jumped away from his body to not puke over his designer shirt, sitting next to him in the large velvet couch.

He grabbed one of the water bottles that were neatly arranged over the little table next to him and opened it for you, putting in your hand to then pat your back just like mothers did to their kids.

You drank half the bottle and he laughed.

‘’You’re so funny.’’

Your eyebrows frowned, what did he mean with funny? He was supposed to find you ravaging, fuck you and leave you after getting what he wanted, not to see you as his comedy relief when disgust bashed you. Well, wasn’t that supposed to happen? But he was there, next to you, laughing and patting your back to stop your nauseas.

‘’I didn’t think you would want your company tonight to be funny’’ you said almost angry.

He stopped laughing and, feeling the indignation coming out of your mouth, agreed with you to not offend you anymore.

‘’Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, I just wanted to know you better in privacy’’. He seemed to understand you, but how could he? He was the one who put you in that situation, and just as fast as you felt bad for using a rude tone with him, you felt yourself getting heated again.

Suddenly a song started playing and the neon lights reflected lines around you two. They blinded him for a second, not used to them as much as you, while you felt a sense of comfort finally cooling your angriness.

Exhaling a long second your frown fell and, even with the sexy song sounding through the speakers, the provocative energy of the place couldn’t reach you anymore, making the silence between you two too torturous to start again.

‘’My name is Anton, Anton Lee’’ he said, trying to break it.

‘’You know how to call me’’ You never used your real name inside the local, every girl had a stage name that used with the clients and yours had been assigned by Shotaro.

He wanted to call you angel at first, just like everyone did, but you didn’t want to have such a pretty and innocent name when you were about to take your clothes off.

‘’I see’’ he wanted to hear your real name, but he knew you wouldn’t give it to him so easily. The expectations for tonight were more about hearing you talk about what you liked and what you did like you did with your regulars, he had concluded from all your rejections that you would never give him what he wanted just like that, that’s why he got surprised when you walked to him so decided, not that he hadn’t liked to see such a pretty girl open her robe and walk to him with such intense eyes, it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen in his life, but not what he intended for his first night with you. ‘’I think angel fits you more, if you don’t mind me calling you that, I’ve heard how the others do it.’’

Working there you had received all kind of requests from men, to asphyxiate them with your tits, to spit on their faces, one even asked you to kick him in the balls, but somehow, they were a lot easier to answer than this one.

To accept or not, you didn’t know what to do. It was just a nickname, not even your real name, and still fell it too personal to say yes.

‘’It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I would like to hear your thoughts about it at least, I really want to know you better.’’

‘’I don’t get it, what do you mean with know me better?’’ He smiled, happy to finally hear you talking with him without being angry or cutting.

‘’I’ve heard you talking with your regulars, and it seemed like you have many things to say.’’

You frowned. ‘’Do you mean how I talk with them about what food and music I like?’’

‘’Yes, exactly that, I just want to hear about you, what you like, what you hate, what you care about, what you don’t care about, anything.’’

‘’That’s really vague, I don’t know what about me could be interesting to you.’’

His eyes searched around the room trying to find anything to talk about without you sounding desperate to escape from.

‘’Maybe, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you about to throw up over me?’’

You glared at him, ‘’I do mind, no thank you.’’

Baffled with your answer but still amused he shook his head with a smile, ‘’I see, well, thank you for telling me.’’

For the first time since you entered that room, you laughed and felt relaxed beside him.

You didn’t mean to, but even you found funny how he accepted everything you said when it was supposed to be the other way around, you should be the one saying yes to everything he said, but here you were, bitterness filling your mouth with every sentence that came out of it, and his answering with honeyed words.

The way your eyes closed, and your lips pressed to not show your teeth was the most adorable thing he had seen from you directed to him. He had always been envious of your regular clients and how they always got to see you giving them your attention while dancing for them.

He hated to go out of the VIP room, the place reeked like cheap perfume and national cigarettes, odors he wasn’t used to in his little perfect world, and you preferred that space to the room full of bottles that costed more taxes than the whole drink menu. How did he end in that place? Even he can’t remember it exactly, he just recalls one of his friends telling him he had found really pretty girls coming here, and even if the clients weren’t as exclusive as him, your coworkers were all gorgeous enough to work in any other place they wanted, except that, just like he had discovered not long ago, not many places offered as much security like this one.

He had seen other clubs a lot more upscaled than this corner, but none of them watched their girls as much as this place, and most of them were brothels too, so he kind of guessed why all those pretty girls, including you, preferred this place to those snob clubs.

With his happy grin he exhaled after making you laugh, proud of himself.

The pleasant harmony didn’t last long, soon one of the security guys that always followed you opened the door, interrupting the moment that had just started to become enjoyable for you too.

‘’Time’s up’’ Sungchan said with the serious and strong face he showed to all the clients, so they didn’t mess with him.

The neon lights were replaced by the yellowish warm one of the chandelier above you two, music over thanks to the button outside he pressed when the time finished, to signal that you had to leave for your next client or show. He did it so the clients didn’t force you to stay, and you usually followed him immediately, but this time you didn’t know what to say or do, you weren’t sure if to tell him that you hadn’t started yet or how to tell him that Anton had paid for your company the whole night without sounding suspicious.

At the end you didn’t need to.

‘’Time’s up’’ Anton repeated.

‘’But we haven’t…’’ before you continued, he smiled at you and nodded.

‘’Until next time’’

Shotaro gave you that night what you usually did in an entire week.

the start ↬ first visit ↬ second visit

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Five

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.7K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

Staff parties weren’t exactly illegal, per say, but they were definitely hidden from Murray and the plugs to the security cameras always accidentally got yanked out. It wasn’t breaking and entering if several of you had keys, right?

Those last on shift would open the back door after closing, the fire exit left ajar with a piece of broken brick, letting in the crowds of older kids that had nowhere else to let loose in small town Hawkins. It was almost perfect, no windows, the arcade room big and already dark, the neon glow of the machines providing dark corners for people to hide in and do god knows what. 

The smell of old popcorn and Axe body spray was overtaken by smoke, tequila and too sweet perfume, weed and cheap beer. The cars that would no doubt be left overnight were hidden around the back, parked precariously close together, sitting waiting for a lucky make out session or more. 

You were already there when Steve came in, a little before midnight, carrying crates and kegs with Argyle and Jonathan Byers, all of them laughing at something the pounding music was covering up. The front desk was covered in mixtapes, empty cassettes and random sets of car keys, a lighter or five, the beginnings of a rolled joint. Some people were playing on the machines, the coin slot jacked open by Robin so no one had to pay, others were in the spaces between the games, dancing, grinding, drinking. There were couples in the photo booths, lip locked and lovesick, hands under shirts and their intertwined legs visible from behind the curtain. 

The stained carpet got sticker as the night grew later, spilled drinks making the air smell sweet, lukewarm beer in red solo cups forgotten about, a condom packet on the console of Mario Bros, some girls underwear hanging from the joystick of the Asteroids machine. 

Maybe it was the bubblegum vodka Robin was pouring you, maybe it was the way Eddie was coaxing, teasing, pulling you into the circle. Maybe it was the way Steve hadn’t spoken to you all night but he couldn’t stop his eyes from finding yours in the low light. 

“Truth or Dare, my dudes!” Argyle announced, tanned cheeks flushed under the lights, the small group of you gathered at the back of the arcade. “Join or forever be a pussy,” he declared. 

The group groaned, nudging each other so drinks spilled over wrists, overheated skin, bodies pressed together in the hazy smoke. People lounged against the machines, girls against boys, hands around waists, cross legged on the old sofa that Murray had never had a chance to get rid of. 

It’s where you were, perched on the arm of the cracked leather cushion, body leaning into Eddie’s shoulder as he laughed at the way you were pulling on Robin’s belt loops, vying for details about her and Nancy’s last date. But then the game began and suddenly Billy Hargrove was downing his drink and stripping off, hands cupping his junk as he made a sprint around the arcade, grinning at the whoops and cheers he received. 

Robin had to raid the staff office, finding the grossest thing she could in the tiny kitchenette everyone forgot about, pouring three day old yoghurt into her drink to chug. 

Eddie had to admit to whether or not those Prince Albert piercing rumours were true. (They were and he announced this into his can of beer with red cheeks, overwhelmed at the sudden attention Chrissy Cunningham was giving him.)

You had to steal some screws from Murray’s desk chair, the outcome unknown until Monday but you already knew the creaky, old thing would collapse to the floor if anyone even touched it. 

And then Eddie was calling Steve’s name and asking him, “Harrington, truth or dare?”

Maybe it was the way Steve was frowning at Eddie’s arm over your shoulder, maybe it was the way there’d been a red headed girl lingering by his side all night, but suddenly, all your attention was on him. 

He looked unfairly good, hair soft and messy, a blue crew cut sweater rolled up to his elbows, jeans on the edge of too tight. He was cocky about it, eyes glancing lazily to Eddie, a small smile on lips that he hoped told the other boy he wasn’t intimidated by him. Or the arm he had around you. 

Steve took a slow drag of the joint Argyle had handed him before answering, chin tilted up, blowing out the smoke to the painted black ceiling, his gaze still on Eddie, like he was sizing him up. From beside you, Eddie smothered a laugh, leaning into your shoulder only to whisper, “you’ll thank me one day.”

Before you could ask what the fuck that meant, Steve was passing the joint to Jonathan and grinning at Eddie, that same wide, pretty smile he gave you when you were doing your best to piss him off. 

“Dare.”

Eddie beamed, dimples on show and looking too smug. He pulled away from you, slouching back into the couch cushions, thighs spread wide, making a show of it all. You rolled your eyes, wondering what had happened between the two of them that was causing such a stand off. 

“Feelin’ brave, lover boy?” Eddie asked, eyebrows raised. Steve narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. “Kiss the girl you’re most attracted to.”

The room rippled with amusement, soft laughs and sniggers, tittering from the girls who hoped they had a chance. Steve tried to play it off, head tilted as he appraised Eddie, still leaning against the Dig Dug machine. The lights made him glow peach and sunshine yellow, the loading screen had your name still at the top, Steve’s just below. 

“What?” Steve asked and something told you that he was trying to stall. You watched him lick his lips, a nervous habit, a hand running through the front of his hair. 

“I think he wants you to kiss the girl you think is the prettiest,” Argyle decided to clarify, eyes reddened and another joint rolling between his fingertips. “Lucky for you, my brother, you got plenty of options.”

Eddie grinned as Steve faltered, eyes locking once more. Eddie shrugged, teeth flashing. “You heard Rapunzel, who’s got your panties in a twist Harrington? Why don’t you show her some love, huh?”

The group tittered again, whispers floating between the smoke and the lights, bets exchanged and several girls dug around in their purses for their lip glosses. The redhead who’d been keeping close to Steve the whole night set her cup of wine down on top of a machine, readying herself. 

Instead, everyone fell silent when Steve took a few steps towards you. The music was still playing, a faint pop hit from the boombox someone had sent up on the front desk. You stared at the boy, wide eyed and incredulous whilst Eddie let out a low whistle. 

“Damn, would you look at that?” He tutted, smiling wide. “Harrington is feeling brave.” 

You were frozen, bewildered as he came to stand in front of you at the couch, your knees pressed to his thighs. You stared at him, lips parted as he seemed to hold his breath, wary. 

“What’re you doing?” You muttered, far too aware of the eyes on you, Eddie grinning, Cheshire catlike beside you, Robin gawking from behind Steve. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Steve mumbled back, gaze flicking from yours down to your lips and back again. “You heard what your friend said.”

“You think I’m the pret-”

Steve groaned, eyes rolling, like it pained him to admit to it. “God, shut up,” he said gruffly, but his cheeks were tinged pink and he placed his hands on the tops of your knees, a more gentlemanly touch than you’d expected. 

His hands were warm, ridiculously large, spanning your entire kneecap, fingers and thumb curling around the sides of your thigh. You watched him swallow, his breathing short. Someone whistled, a low, playful sound that had you feeling too warm, like you’d been caught in the playground, behind the bike sheds with your crush. 

Steve squeezed slightly, body burning under his touch, but you brought your gaze back to his and you saw him lift his brows, just a little, just enough. You got the meaning, brown eyes steady on yours. 

‘Can I?’

You tried to ignore everyone around you, the way their breaths were held as the tension in the air crackled and fizzed. It’s as if there was an electric current running round the circle, wires ripping through ribs and hearts, starting and ending with you. It made your skin buzz, a tingle you wondered if Steve could feel too. 

His thumb pressed into the inside of your knee and you thought that maybe, he just might. 

You nodded, your heart in your throat. 

It was like the music had stopped as Steve leaned in, your legs spreading just slightly, enough for him to edge closer, one hand skimming a little bravely up your thigh. You heard someone swear, a shocked thing, just as your eyes closed. Steve's nose nudged yours, his breath a little shaky and smelling like smoke and spearmint gum as it landed on your lips. 

You tilted your head up, chin lifting, just a little. Just enough for your top lip to catch Steve’s bottom, a shocking touch, a barely there thing but it made your heart jump and your lips part, expecting more. Wanting more. 

Steve’s hand squeezed your knee, bracing himself, holding onto you before he could take the next step and dip his face closer to yours, pushing his lips against—

The front door banged against the wall as it burst open, flashlights shining through the low light, cutting into the haze of smoke and neon as the music was abruptly cut off. Hopper, chief of police, and some of his officers were standing in the doorway, framed by the flashing lights of their patrol cars parked out front. 

Blue and red flashed over the walls and someone found the light switch, killing the atmosphere as the yellowing overheads flickered on, buzzing from age. People groaned, stubbed out joints kicked under arcade machines, half empty bottles clattering as those underage tried to hide them behind the desk, in their bags and between machines. 

Hopper looked less than impressed, moustache twitching as he took in the sight. He swept his flashlight over the wide eyed faces, sighing heavily. 

“Okay,  party's over,” he announced. “Everyone line up.”

[mikareo]

⌗ ROMANTICISM ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ there are so many words he wishes he could take back, and he realizes now that he loves you. he loves your colorful laugh, beauty, and passion - all he needs now, is to tell you...and say those three little words. (part two of rationalism - must must read first!!!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, rin hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, swearing, immense fluff, , kissing, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, happy ending!!! author's note; this was originally supposed to end with reader getting into a car accident and d-wording the day of her art gallery...but i changed my mind :D

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does. 

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Rin wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers. 

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Sae’s call is distant from the turning gears within Rin’s brain. He’s sure that his brother has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Rin feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk. 

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Rin had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Sae continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Rin hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Rin care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Sae scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Rin stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Sae holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his older brother chuckles, causing Rin to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Sae continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Rin takes his brother’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him. 

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Rin’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other. 

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears. 

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth. 

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Rin doesn’t even know. 

It could’ve been when you showed up to his game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Rin!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Isagi - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rival from that day. Rin was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good. 

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things. 

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Rin’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Rin, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard. 

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Rin! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Rin’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Rin feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Sae to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Rin on the back. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!” 

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Sae eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Rin knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along. 

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Rin’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing. 

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Rin knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you. 

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Rin can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ���hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago. 

Rin has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you. 

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back. 

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Rin hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him. 

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before. 

“Rin?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Rin, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?” 

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Rin Itoshi.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Rin fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you. 

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Rin relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Rin’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right. 

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Rin can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls. 

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Rin almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful. 

Rin brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it. 

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay. 

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it. 

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they're a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own  - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him. 

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel. 

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Rin cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss. 

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

read the final part here. THANK UUUU

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹���｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[acewritesfics]

Every Part of Me | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: Yes

Warnings: Fluff. Established relationship.

Word Count: 1,210

Stranger Things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N had a crush on Eddie Munson since they were in middle school. She had no idea his feelings for her were mutual. They weren’t exactly friends, but they were friendly until Eddie summoned the courage to ask her if she wanted to go see a movie with him when he stopped by her weekend job. He was taken aback when she agreed without hesitation. Their first date had been a little awkward, as nerves had gotten the best of them both. Eddie thought he’d ruined his chances with her by coming across too strongly, but those worries vanished when she called the next day, asking if he wanted to go out and do something that afternoon.  

Three months had passed since their first date, and it was a Tuesday, which meant Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing at The Hideout. Y/N hadn’t been able to attend one of his gigs in the 12 weeks they’d been dating, so she was determined to go this Tuesday. She was the go-to babysitter on her street, but tonight she told everyone she had plans that took priority. She was finally going to see Eddie perform for the first time since middle school. She told her parents she was going to spend the night at a friend’s house working on a big project due on Friday. If her parents discovered where she was going, she would be grounded for the rest of her life even though she is 18.  

Y/N had gone straight to Eddie’s trailer after school to get ready for tonight. While Eddie was in the shower, she looked around his room, noting the metal band posters, dungeons and dragon's figurines, fantasy books on his shelf, all his cassette tapes and vinyl records, and, finally, his most prized possession, his electric guitar, hanging in front of his mirror. Everything in his room reflected him, and almost everything she cherished about him.  

Her attention is drawn to a shoe box partially hidden beneath his bed. She picks it up, unsure whether she should open it. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she reached for the lid when Eddie, who was walking into his bedroom, prevented her from opening it. His hair is wet, his wavy hair more defined, and he’s wearing nothing but black ripped jeans. He walks past her, picking up the clean Metallica shirt that was laying on his bed and shifting his gaze to the shoe box that was now sitting on his bed.  

“It was sticking out from under your bed. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be there,” Y/N explains before he can say anything, nervously awaiting his reaction.   

“It’s okay,” he says as he pulls on his shirt before putting on his leather and denim jackets. That box had been under his bed for a reason: he didn’t want anyone to see what was inside. It was too personal for him to share with just anyone.  

But, seeing the girl sitting on his bed, he knew he could show her what was in the box. He had an unwavering love for her and daily found himself falling more and more in love with her. He couldn’t show anyone what was inside the shoebox if he couldn’t show her.  

He picks up the box and puts it on his lap as he takes a seat next to her. “No one has seen what’s in this box except for me,” he says as he loosens the lid, “but I want to share it with you."   

"You don’t have to, Eddie,” she assures him, lovingly looking at him, touched that he would want to show her something he had never shown anyone else before.   

“I want to,” he says, assuring her. “I love you, and I want you to know every part of me."   

"I love you, too,” she says as she moves closer to him, kissing his shoulder and resting her chin on it.  

He turns his head, kisses her cheek, and lifts the lid of the box. He pulls out some Polaroid photos of a woman and a baby first. She was incredibly beautiful, with her thick, mousy brown hair and large brown eyes. Every day, she found herself getting lost in the same set of eyes.   

“Is that your mom?” she asks, peering between him and the woman in the photos. She noticed the resemblance. The same thick wavy hair, brown doe-like eyes, nose, and smile.  

“She is,” he says, nodding and smiling down at the photos. “I was young when she died. There aren’t many memories I have of her, but I do have these."   

"She was beautiful,” she says. “You look exactly like her."   

"You think I’m beautiful?” he asks, a smirk on his lips as he looks her in the eyes.   

“I do,” she says, both their cheeks turning a light shade of pink.  

He gives her a kiss before placing the pictures in the box and picking up a locket necklace. “Uncle Wayne stopped my father from selling this and gave it to me, so I kept and hid it.” He opens the locket to reveal that it is empty. “She never had the chance to put photos in it, but she wore it every day.”  

The locket was made of gold and had intricate flowers and leaves engraved on it. It was a gorgeous piece of jewellery, and she could see why Eddie’s mother wore it all the time.  

“Uncle Wayne told me that when I meet the right girl or have my own daughter, my mother would want me to give it to her,” he says as he closes the locket and looks at her. “I think my mother would have adored you,” he says. “And I believe she would like you to have it."   

"Eddie,” she exhales, raising her head from his shoulder, taken aback by his words.  

“Hear me out before you reject me,” he says, moving the box aside while still clutching the locket. “I’ve known you were that girl for a long time. You put up with my antics, don’t judge me for being a nerd with diverse interests, and accept me for who I am. You are the sweetest, most patient, kindest, most beautiful person I know, and I absolutely love you more than anything else in the world, including D&D. I want you to have it, and I believe my mom would as well. So, please, have it because I’m falling more in love with you every day and you’re my present and future.”  

Y/N couldn’t think of anything to say in response to his confession. Instead, she pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss, her heart bursting with the amount of love she had for the young man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with over the last three months. Eddie returns her kiss, unlatching the locket and clasping it around her neck.  

After breaking the kiss, Y/N’s hand moves to the locket. “I love you so much, and I’m honored that you chose me to wear something so meaningful to your mother,” she said.   

“I love you, too,” he says. “And you’re the only one I want to wear it."   

She smiles and kisses him once more. 

[stumachersfavoritegirl]

His Favorite Girl <3

Stu Macher x Reader

Disclaimer: The use of Y/N pertains to you inserting your own name. The main character in the story is you, but you just have a a different description. Imagination is fun girlies ;3 I also deeply apologize for the late post, life has been very stressful for me right now and whenever it becomes overwhelming, it's hard for me to think about anything else, which includes "My Favorite Girl" but, don't worry, I'll still be posting it because it's definitely a solitude for me. But, I won't be giving a schedule for it anymore because I feel like that ruins the trust between me and you guys <3 Thank you for understanding and enjoy!

Chapter 2: D-dont...you walk away from me

I tap my pencil on the desk repetitively, anxiously waiting one more minute before the final bell of the day rings. I'm biting my lip as my thoughts race, it's becoming a reality and not another dream my mind thought up. Stu Macher is actually going to the Brew to meet me, and no one else. Not Tatum, Billy, his friend group, me. I've never felt this special before, it was a feeling I didn't want to end. I've never had a boy be vulnerable with me about how they felt, let alone about me. I mean, just yesterday I was a nobody to him. Now, he's meeting me in janitors closest alone, saying my name, thinking about my breast? I mean, holy fuck! Who am I right now that Stu Macher knows me, likes me, wants...me? It's almost overwhelming, the feeling of being wanted by someone you'd never thought you'd have for years. It's too unbearable actually, almost... too good to be true. My thoughts are cut off by the final bell, and I sigh as I finally gather my notebooks in my backpack. A smile uncontrollably forms on my face, as I imagine him looking at me in awe as he walks into the brew. Me sitting there with my hair down, no glasses, skinny jeans and an old tank top of my moms that she doesn't know I took...what? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Probably some cashmere sweater my mom has in her closet too, so my chubby arms can still be covered, while my cleavage is basically full frontal. I blush as I sling my backpack over my shoulder, beginning to exit the classroom. I wonder if he'll be wearing the same thing, or maybe he'll change like me. I wonder if we'll only talk about school work, or maybe we'll talk about us. I've been dying to ever since the janitors closet. All those things he said, what did it mean? My minds been racing since. I still can't believe he was looking at me like that, his pupils were so dilated, I felt like I was staring into his soul looking into them. I make my way into the hallway and walk towards the exit of the school with everyone else. Students begin to scream however, and everyones voices combined grows too loud, ruining my thought process. I roll my eyes, reaching for my cassette player and headphones in my backpack. I grab it, zipping my bag closed, when I look up and see Billy Loomis. He walks pasts me and our eyes meet before he looks away and chuckles, covering his mouth. I furrow my brows as he pasts me, looking down as I rest my headphones on my head. What was that look about? I drag my fingers across my face, trying to pinpoint any food residue on it. When I feel nothing, I reach for my hair, running my fingers through it. Hmph, nothing stuck in it. I let my tongue linger over my front teeth to feel any food stuck in between. But when I feel nothing, my face scrunches together. What could he have been laughing at? I roll my eyes as I exit the building, pressing play on my cassette player as I walk down the school entryway stairs. As I put my cassette player away, I see Tatum and Stu again. His arms are wrapped around her shoulder as a pre rolled blunt rests in his hand. His other hand is flailing around as he talks to Tatum, and she walks beside him with a lollipop in her mouth, toying with it using her tongue.

He looks down and sees this, and he bends down to lick her lollipop. She scoffs, preparing to pluck him in the head with it. He takes off before she can though, and she follows him as she screams out, laughing "Asshole!" He giddily laughs as he runs away, shockingly in my direction. My eyes widen as I see them approach me, and I swallow as I press my lips together. I subtly look up to meet his gaze as he passes me, and he doesn't even look at me. He continues to laugh as he runs by, his smell washing over me again and my knees almost buckle. She runs after him, towards me and her eyes throw daggers at mine. I quickly look away from her, but she makes a note to bump my shoulder as she passes me. I sigh as I rub my shoulder, rolling my eyes. I've literally never hated someone more. I turn to look at them , and he runs back into the building as she's close in pursuit, yelling after him. I shake my head in disbelief as I face forward and continue walking home. Why didn't he look at me? I mean, how could he go from standing over me...confessing his feelings for me, being completely vulnerable with me, to running past me, not even looking in my direction? That was really really weird, and a knot forms in my stomach, trying to depict what it meant.

///////////////////////

As I open the door to the Brew, I look at the clock inside, 4:00 on the dot. I smile to myself as I look around, trying to find his piercing blue eyes. When I don't see them however, I walk to the nearest table, placing my backpack and cassette player on the table before I take a seat. I tuck my wild curls behind my ears, looking around again, dreading that I didn't bring my glasses for emergency purposes. I feel a slight breeze and cover my exposed cleavage with my mothers cashmere sweater, snapping my neck towards the door. It's an older couple, both with canes, laughing as they walk in together. I smile as I look down, feeling as though I'm invading there privacy by staring. I continue to smile as I imagine that being me and Stu eventually. I shake the thought though, and as the breeze continues I decide to grab a small coffee as I wait for him. Looking at the clock again as I get up, it's 4:04. I figured he'd get here before me to see if I was on time or not. I try to calm down though, as I tell myself it's literally only been 4 minutes. Even if it were 10, did I really even expect Stu Macher to show up on time to discuss school work? Granted, he asked, but he never really seemed like the academic type. I kinda liked that about him though, his carefree spirit. He never seemed to let anything bother him, even a bad grade or detention 4 nights in a row. He just kinda, went with the flow of life, something I always admired about him. Something that always made me drawn to him. As I reach the counter, I pull out $1.05 to pay when I feel a sharp breeze from the door again. As I turn to look, I notice it's one of the kids from my school. His hairs blonde and spikey almost, his big brown eyes sweep the crowd of the Brew until they land on mine. I think I've seen him in science class a few times, other times he's blatantly skipping. I flash a friendly smile his way, but he doesn't return one. He quickly looks away as he heads to sit down. I feel like everyone is acting so weird towards me today, and I straighten my squished eyebrows as I approach the register to order.

As I wait for them to make it, I look in his direction and see him sit by the chair next to me. I face forward to grab my small coffee, and head back to my seat. Our eyes meet again, and he quickly averts his again, while pulling out school supplies. I place my coffee on the table as I sit back down, scratching the back of my neck as I continue to look around for Stus tall frame and brunette short hair. I take a quick sip from the coffee, sighing as I pull out my school supplies. I'll just get everything ready for his arrival, maybe I should've gotten him a coffee too? I mentally face palm myself as I pull all my English notes and Algebra textbooks out, pulling out two pencils, two Crayola highlighters, and a Hewlett Packard calculator. I align everything on the desk neatly to pass time, glancing at the clock again. 4:10 now...sheesh, I mind as well have took an extra 10 minutes to do my makeup. I could've used a wand of mascara, my eyes couldn't be more squinted from the lack of sleep I've been experiencing lately. I keep having repeated nightmares of Stu rejecting me in front of the whole school in the cafeteria after realizing I've had a crush on him since Sophomore year. He tells me that, "He'd never like a weird, fat, and boring loser like me. Not even in my dreams." and then as soon as the entire cafeteria erupts with laughter, I'm always startled awake by my alarm clock, covered in sweat, gasping for air, and on the verge of pissing myself from embarrassment. His words will always echo in my head shortly after I'm awake, and they almost begin to echo now, as doubt fills my mind. Why is he so late? But, I shake the thought though, pursing my lips together as I take another glance at the door. Any minute now, he'll walk in. He'll be sweating from running to make it on time, our eyes will meet as he swings open the door, and he'll flash me a sly grin before walking towards me. I'll probably blush and look away, wondering why I was so nervous about this afternoon. Any minute...

/////////////////////////

10 minutes turns to 3 hours, and before I know it, I'm rolling my eyes as I witness another person walk into the Brew that isn't him . Wow, if this isn't straight out of my regular scheduled nightmares, then I don't know what would be. Stu Macher completely just stood me up. This isn't even a date, which makes it worse! I'm literally just supposed to be helping him study, and he couldn't even show up for that? I fight the tears threatening to pour out my eyes as I begin to pack my supplies, aggressively throwing them in my backpack as I mumble to myself. "Fucking prick. How dare he act like that towards me? Like he had the biggest infatuation with me for months, then stand me up only a few hours later. How could he? I mean, what did I ever even do to him? What have I ever even done to anybody? I'm one of the nicest people at that school, I deserve to at least be treated like a person. I mean, at least-" as I get up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder in a huff, my eyes lock with the boy from school again. He's almost looking at me worried, but this time, there's too much rage in me to avert my eyes. This time, I stare directly back at him. "What the fuck are you looking at?" I yell aloud, and his eyes widen before he looks back down at his textbook.

The whole Brew flashes their heads at me, and feeling embarrassed by my outburst but too angry to show it, I completely storm out, swinging the door open and letting it hit the wall behind it. It starts to rain as I walk home, which makes me even more livid. I stomp my way down the street as I continue to mumble more curse words amongst myself. "This is exactly what I get for ever thinking a guy like Stu Macher could ever have any interest in me. I should've known everything was too good to be true! He's never even looked in your direction until today, but had the nerve to have me believe he had some type of serious interest in me? I mean, he couldn't even look at me on school grounds a few hours ago! As soon as I noticed that, I should've made the decision to never come. That was literally the biggest sign I could've seen, that he isn't actually into me. This must just be some sort of game, this has to be. He told me not to be late, just to never show? Who am I even kidding? Why did I ever expect another outcome? This isn't a fairytale Y/n. I'm a loser, he's popular. Our worlds don't even mix. " The rage fills my throat, and I scream aloud, letting all the anger, sadness, pain, and rejection I feel out into the rain. Fuck Stu Macher, Fuck Woodsboro High, fuck everyone! I'm sick of being the nice, quite, good girl. I'm so sick of being everyones target for an easy ego boost, for sadism, for the next human joke. It's my turn to be a fucking asshole.

///////////////////////

As I walk along the school grounds, I notice news anchors scattered everywhere. It's 7:50 am as I rush to my first class, walking by each of them as I listen "-are doing drugs they buy in the classroom. And that they're involved in the occult..."

“Occult?”

"The small town of Woodsboro, California was devasted last night when two young teenagers were brutally murdered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest have been made and the murderer could strike again."

My eyes widen as I continue to look around, noticing every student is paired up with someone. All of them talking amongst themselves. All of their faces, were plastered with worry…with fear. I overhear a few of them as I pass by. "Oh my gosh, I had social studies with Casey."

"-Steve was one of the best football players on our team. What are we gonna do about next weeks game-"

"I heard, they found Casey gutted like a fish. Hung up by her own intestines!"

"I heard they found Steve and Casey chopped into pieces with their body parts scattered all over her house."

I furrow my brows as I continue into the school building, resting my headphones back on my head to drown everyone out as I process everything. I think… Casey Becker and Steve Orlin are dead! I can't believe another murder happened in Woodsboro. We all kinda assumed it would stop after Cotton Weary was arrested. What happened to Mrs. Prescott was horrific and everyone was relieved when he was issued the death penalty. But now, it looks like there still may be a murderer amongst us. I enter English class at 8:00 on the dot, but this time, Mr. Tate doesn't bark at me. He doesn't even raise his head to acknowledge me. I quickly make way for my seat, when I notice Stu Macher isn't in his. I quickly hang my backpack over my seat, pulling out all of my supplies and placing them on my desk before I sit down. I look around at everyone, noticing how silent it is. Usually people would be talking, loudly listening to music, passing notes, laughing amongst each other. But this time, it was different. You could feel the death, the darkness everywhere you looked. I sigh deeply as I face forward, opening my textbook when I notice a post it note sticking out of one of the pages. I flip to the page, dragging my fingers along the familiar messy red thick ink as I read.

"I couldn't make it to the Brew, but I need want to see you before lunch today. I need I'd like to talk to you. It's important to me. Be at our spot by 11:55."

First of all, the audacity! He had me wait 3 hours for him, just for him to not show, and he really thinks I'm gonna show up for him now that he “wants to see me”? I scoff as a chuckle sneaks up and out of my throat. Prick. I should have him wait there for me for an entire hour. I should have him feel exactly the way I felt last night, stranded and abandoned. I rip the post it note into small pieces, allowing each piece to cover my desk and the ground below me, not caring if it's drawing attention. I start to care however, when I notice Stu walk into class. "I know I'm late Mr. Tate. The news anchors are crowding the whole entryway! I almost got tackled to the ground just for a simple little interview." He says, chuckling as he walks backwards to his desk. "Mr. Macher, please quietly take a seat. Some students are trying to mourn in peace." Mr. Tate motions his hand to the crowd of students sitting down, all pouting, staring at a wall or out the window. Stu shrinks into his shoulders as he grits his teeth, mouthing an "oops..." as he pretends to tip toe to his desk. When he passes mine, he looks down at the post it puddle I've left scattered around for anyone to see. He almost stops in his tracks, and our eyes meet. He furrows his brows almost, and smiles like he's accepting a challenge, but I stare back at him angrily, my eyes read that there's no game being played on my end. He quickly squints at me, almost like he's trying to figure out a puzzle, before he continues his way to his seat. I listen as he drags out his chair loudly, plopping into it. I slightly turn my head to look at him, and he’s staring at me so hard, I almost melt right into my seat. I quickly face forward again, swallowing as I tap my pencil on the desk silently. Damn, I definitely didn’t mean for him to see that. I thought he was skipping class today…I mentally face palm myself as I bite my lip, tapping my pencil faster as my anxiety builds. Holy shit, what if that ruined everything? What if he thinks I hate him now? What if he doesn’t wanna talk to me anymore because he thinks I tried to embarrass him by ripping up the post it? What if he-wait, fuck him.

I almost forgot I’m angry at him, in fear that he was angry at me. But I don’t want to be fearful of that. Good riddance he saw it, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Maybe, he’ll finally stop taunting me with his modelesque good looks, bright blue eyes and lean muscular frame. Maybe, he won’t want to torture me with being fake study buddies anymore to boost his already inflated ego. Maybe- “Ms. Y/n. I just told Mr.Macher to keep quiet for the sake of everyone else! What makes you any different?” I taste blood as I stop biting my lip, realizing I’m tapping my pencil on the desk so loud it’s drawing everyone’s attention, including Stu. I purse my lips together as I sink into my seat, looking around and locking eyes with Stu again. He’s grilling me at this point, and feeling rather impudent, I dramatically roll my eyes as I sweep the rest of the post it pieces onto the floor. I rest my head on my hand as I sigh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as a student comes in, handing Mr. Tate a piece of paper. The whole class faces forward, and everyone’s attention is drawn to Mr. Tate. “Kaitlin Bennett, the principals office for questioning.” Everyone turns towards her, and she stands up flustered as she walks towards the exit. I rub the back of my neck, feeling as though it’s burning, and I look behind me to face Stu again, who's still looking at me, sneering. I face forward and watch the girl shimmy past all the students sitting, throwing a small smile at Mr.Tate before she and the other student exit the room. I look down at my textbook again, deciding to just study for my english exam this week. I adjust my glasses as I continue to read, but with everything going on, I easily get distracted. Why did they call that girl to the office for questioning? Do they think she did it? She doesn't look like she'd kill anyone, let alone two. I heard a lot of people saying the crime scene was pretty brutal, no way she did that.

I raise my brows, trying to get back to my english work when suddenly the student behind me passes me a note from under my arm. I slightly jump, never receiving a note in class, I'm startled by the sudden gesture. I quickly turn around, but the student behind me is buried in a Harry Potter Novel. Understanding the concentration that kind of book takes, I quickly face forward, not wanting to interrupt them. I sigh before opening the letter, recognizing the bold sloppy red ink by now,

"See me at our spot after class. Walk there before me, I'll be behind you. I need to talk."

I roll my eyes as I close the note. Jesus, someone is persistent. I crumble the note into a ball before tossing it onto the floor. I refuse to give him any satisfactory communication today after yesterday. I refuse to give into the daze of Stu Macher. I refuse. I hear someone clear their throat behind me, but I don't turn around, expecting our eye contact to turn me into stone.

///////////////////////////

The bell finally rings, and I quietly close my textbook to avoid more eyes on me this period. I gather all my books in my arms as I stand up, grabbing my backpack to place it on my desk. I open it, throwing all my books and school utensils inside before zipping it closed, and tossing it over my shoulder. I exit the classroom, and as I walk around, I notice almost everyone is either mourning, or gossiping about how crazy this recent murder was. Especially after last years. You can tell some of them were Casey or Steves friends, while others are just excited that something is going on to talk about. I look down as I continue towards my locker, when suddenly, I feel someone grab my arm, hard and almost yank me forward. I look up to protest, and it's Stu. "Don't draw attention..." he says with a suggestive tone, and obviously fake smile plastered across his face. "...just walk." I obey, afraid of any retaliation if I didn't, and I walk beside him. We walk past my next class and down the janitors corridor. A few eyes glare at us, but none linger for too long. I think everyones just too focused on the murders to care about regular school gossip. I should be too, but how can I ignore something like this?

He's everywhere to me but almost no where at the same time, it's almost impossible to not think about him for a second. We enter the same janitors closet we were in before, he leads me in with one hand before looking both ways and entering behind me. The rooms dark again, and I feel completely vulnerable just standing in the middle of it. He closes the door behind him, and I hear him slightly groan before he turns the light on, turning around to face me. I'm completely flustered again while I stare up at him, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I whimper beneath him. "Y/n..." he speaks to me softly, almost singing my name. He backs me up against a wall, and leans his hand against it, towering over me. My knees almost buckle from the music in my ears. My name coming out his mouth is almost dreamlike, and I pinch my thigh to make sure everything is real. "I know you made it on time to the Brew yesterday. I like that, you listen." he says, smirking as he gestures at me with his index finger. He taps me in my chest before letting it drag down my cleavage, past my belly, and almost at my pelvis.

"But, unfortunately I couldn't make it due to that little rumor you spread of us. I mean, Tatum was pretty pissed. A lot of things are out of my control when her rage is involved." He taunts me with this, playing with a loose strand of my hair in his fingers as he maintains eye contact with me, the slyest grin on his face. " I mean..." he pushes himself off the wall, stepping away from me as he begins to circle the room. "I know you've had feelings for me for some time now, but maybe I should've emphasized how much secrecy would be important in this situation." He completely faces me now, "I thought, maybe I'd be able to trust you?" His question sounds almost threatening, but a frown is plastered across his face, and his eyes are soft as he continues to look at me. "It wasn't m-me Stu. I-I would never discuss anything w-we do to anyone, I mean, I d-don't speak to a lot of people here."

"Then who do you speak to?" His demeanor hardens now. He looks me up and down, almost like he's trying to read me, "I mean, n-not really a-anybody. No one. I swear." I find myself being awfully eager to please him, and I loosen my shoulders as the last word leaves my mouth. He sucks in his breathe before mumbling a small, "mmm" placing his hand on his chin as he says it, almost smiling before he says, “I had a good feeling I could trust you then.” He’s smirking as he says this, and anger begins to boil inside of me. How can he even accuse me of being untrustworthy, when just yesterday he left me waiting for him in a Brew, alone for 3 hours! How could he even sit here and stare at me like I'm the problem here? "W-what about me?" I manage to spew out, almost in a whisper, but he hears me. He begins to slowly walk towards me, "What about you?" he asks me, leaning back against the wall over me. I hesitate at first, scared of where this could go, but he grabs my cheeks with his right hand, lifting my face up to look at him. "Speak." His face is inches from mine, and I close my eyes. Moaning silently as I bite my lip, wishing he'd just kiss me already and forget about fucking Tatum. I open my eyes before I continue, completely flustered at his domineering demeanor towards me.

"I thought I could t-t-rust you last night, you left me stranded there alone for 3 hours. It was so emba-"

"You waited for me for 3 hours? " He snorts almost, and my face burns completely as it forms a snarl, gritting my teeth before I mutter, "fuck you." I begin to push past him.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it huh? Hey!”

Before I can exit the room, he grabs my arm, hard. I wince at the pain and franticly look up at him, shocked at the sudden aggression. "D-dont...you walk away from me." He says, calmy. His eyes are closed as he says it, but he opens them to look at me, his smile is gone and his stare leaves my heart pounding out of my chest. I swallow as I look back up at him, and he swings me back up against the wall before grabbing both my shoulders. "I'm...sorry. OK. I should've let you know somehow that I couldn't make it. That was on me, that was my fuck up." He maintains eye contact with me the whole time as he says this, sweat beads begin to form on his forehead and his lips are almost dripping with spit. "Just...don't-walk away from me. We aren't done talking." His head is slightly tilted to the side, but he slowly lets go of my shoulders before he begins to run his hands along my arms. "Now, let's make this date happen, huh? Tonight's not a good night for me unfortunately..." he says, tilting his head to the side as he grits his teeth and widens his eyes, but he smirks as he continues.

"...but tomorrow, after school ofcourse, we can meet. Finally. Let's say, your house around 9." I purse my lips, wanting to protest at the time stated but too afraid for his reaction. "Be a good girl and agree...right?" He says, rubbing his thumb against my bottom lip as he gently nods his head, waiting for me to do the same. I slowly nod my head as my lip quivers. "Good." He slowly inhales as he drags his finger down my lip, to my chin and down my throat. He lets it trail along my collar bone before he leans in, I feel his breathe against my neck as he rests his hand on my shoulder . "I'll make sure to make it up to you tomorrow night." His breathe lingers against my ear, and I close my eyes before accidently moaning aloud. I quickly open my eyes as I purse my lips together, and my heart begins to beat through my chest and out my ass. I quickly clear my throat as I look down, and he backs up before chuckling slightly. "Don't feel the need to hide that later on, ok?" He says, smirking as he bites his lip, exiting the room. I'm left standing there alone again in a puddle of my own juices. Could he be anymore of a tease? I take my hair out its ponytail, as I migraine attacks my skull. Why does he have to be so confusing? And why am I so turned on by it? I run my fingers through my hair, replaying the entire moment. It was supposed to be a moment of power for me, but instead I surrendered to him, just as Tatum did yesterday. But, it's almost like I couldn't resist him, like I had to obey him. Who am I kidding? Why even spend this entire experience being upset with him over one small accident, when I could instead enjoy this entire moment in it's glory?

Stu Macher was finally speaking to me and there was no way I was letting one little form of miscommunication get in the way of this ecstasy ride. I mean, whatever time was wasted yesterday will be made up tomorrow night, right? I inhale sharply as I run my hands over my face, squinting my eyes together as I swallow. Ok, get it together. I take one last breathe in, before exiting the janitors closet. As I enter the school hallway, I realize I meant to tell him my address. Shit, then my parents will be home...I sigh, realizing this might not go as dreamlike as I hoped it would. The late bell rings and I pick up my pace as I head to my next class, I have to figure out a way to get my address to him, I have to make tomorrow night happen, I have to finally spend time with him. I mentally face palm, angry at how flustered I was in the moment that I didn't even tell him my address. How could I let that important piece of information slide? Ok, I have the rest of this school day and tomorrow to get my address to him. It has to happen, not matter what, there can't be another miscommunication that gets in the way of us. That gets in the way of my future.

[misscammiedawn]

"My voice"

Such a simple concept. Most don't have to think about theirs. It comes free with your culture and upbringing. A part of who you are. As sure as any freckle or scar.

It's supposed to be a familiar reflection of the self. As much you as your face or your name.

Most people don't struggle to feel at home with theirs.

But our voice was always the first stranger. Dysphoria before we had a word for it. Before the transition. Before recognizing the dissociative disorder. There was always this wrongness to the words coming out of our mouth.

We've lost count of how many times we have had to "learn to speak".

Our father would tell us we didn't say our first word until we were three. "And you never stopped making up for it" he would joke.

We don't remember early childhood. We know there was a lot of shutting us up. We were late to start speaking. We were early to stop.

No matter how many words we said, everyone preferred we stay silent. Those developmental years. That developmental voice... they were learning to speak. Not to communicate.

Then there was the eternal warring camps. The parents who despised one another and tried to rough out any signs of the other within us.

Our working class cockney dad who wanted us to know we were born poor and we die poor. How he hated seeing us read for fun. How he would order us to stop trying to put on a "refined "posh" voice when we tried to tidy our tone or use words one would call pretentious.

Our mother who put on airs of refinement and elegance in a manner we always admired. Certainly we did our clothes shopping at Primark but we did so with dignity.

He preferred a pint of Carlsberg and she drank a dark and bodied Merlot.

They're why we don't drink at all.

Always punished for speaking. Always doing it wrong.

It's a wonder we learned at all.

But we did learn. We used to record our voice on a crappy cassette player we picked up down the line. Record ourselves DJing between songs we recorded off of the radio. We remember one of the tapes had Jennifer Paige's 'Crush' on it so we were at least 14 years old when we did this.

We stuttered. We lisped. We stumbled over ourselves.

But it was a safe environment. Alone in our bedroom. Animatedly trying to emulate the Geezas and Rude Boys on the airwaves. A kid listening to Spice Girls and B*Witched while trying to mimick the toxic men introducing the music.

It's the little ironies that get you over time...

We learned to perform using words. It weren't conversation or nothing. But it was speaking. And that's how we learned to speak in our teens.

We kept up the habit. Long before the slowest of cows 'invented' Lets Play we recorded ourselves playing Mega Drive games. We even still have a few of them.

Do we have a clip?

[Audio Clip of a late teenage us playing Sonic 2]

It was our mid-20s we learned to speak again.

Moving to America and working retail put us in a position of being criticized for talking too fast. For not pronouncing things right. For using unfamiliar slang and shorthand.

So we learned to slow it down.

We blunted our tone. Emphasized the letters h and g when they hung out inside of a word instead of 'ung a'ght.

Get enough people mocking you for saying "'alf'n'alf" and you eventually learn to say "half and half".

And so it would remain.

Certainly at this time of our life we experimented with tabletop. Tried to voice act at the table. Poorly.

[Insert horrible clip of character lines mashed together in a short clip]

But spare for slipping into our developmental voice when exposed to England, we would have remained like that. Talking carefully. Slowly. Barely recognizable as the cockney brat we were.

But then we decided to come out of the closet and transition to a feminine presentation.

...and we had no idea how to sound feminine.

All of the videos on the topic were US Centric and involved music theory that, to this day, we do not fully understand. What is a "glassy" tone when it's at home?! What is an R1 and an R2 register?

The enormity of the concept dwarfed us and we were going through some shit at the time of our transition. Both the social one where we would switch the mask on and off for safety and the public one where we awkwardly attempted to integrate some concept of what a woman is into whatever the hell we were.

The dissociative disorder couldn't hide under those conditions for very long. Particularly when we were able to effortlessly speak correctly at some times.

And couldn't for the life of us at other times.

2 years into it we had money enough to hire a tutor and she said that we skipped the waiting list because she heard our "audition" tape and realized we would fuck up our voice completely if we were allowed to persist like that.

And so... Seattle Voice Labs took us in with 6 months of private coaching.

Tongue up at the roof of the mouth like you're making a NYYYYY sound. Speak from the diaphragm. Add some breathiness to it. Make it a little nasal.

"When the sunlight hits raindrops in the air."

"When the sunlight hits raindrops in the air."

"When the sunlight hits raindrops in the air."

Repeat until you get it right...

But by this point? What is right?

Our accent is watered down enough by this point that the "SAATH LUNDAHN" has been washed out completely. We just have a "British" accent now.

Do we sound high pitched and youthful or breathy and lusty or quaint and serious?

Do we just work on our BBC Broadcaster voice?

To be honest we never worked it out. Fuck knows it didn't help that we were changing our reflection in the mirror, being called by a different name. Moved states. Moved homes. Friend groups. Careers.

What the hell remains after all of that?!

I... don't know.

I really don't.

But we'll keep on talking. Trying to find out what works.

(If you are listening to the audio version) This recording is not us switching or the different voices we use. Each of us have our preferences. Certain ways we like to wear our face and our voice. But just as there's no "Real Me" there is no "Real Voice" either.

No one version ever quite fits. Even if our gender dysphoria is soothed, there's a certain disconnect between our voice and whichever sense of self feels most comfortable at any given time and we don't hear that discussed in DID support groups enough.

So we wanted to talk about it.

It's good to talk sometimes.

We've spent a lot of time practicing.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Band Practice- Gareth Emerson x OC

Gareth Emerson x Ruby Briar

Description: Corroded Coffin’s band practice is cut short when some unexpected visitors show up. 

Word Count: 2.3k

The town of Hawkins had been essentially turned on its head within two days. In those two days, two murders had occurred with supposedly no suspects yet. It was a scary time for everyone. Parents weren’t allowing their kids to stay out, and the Hawkins Police put out a curfew for everyone. Not like they needed to anyways, people in general were afraid to go anywhere. 

That included Ruby’s parents. Anytime she wanted to go somewhere, she always had to call her parents every so often so that they knew she was safe. If they even let her go out in the first place, that is. She was surprised that her mother hadn’t kept her locked in the house at this point with how worried she was. Paranoia and unease was seeping through the town and she knew that nothing would go back to normal until these murders were solved, but who knew when that would be. 

Ruby had been in her room listening to her newest Metallica cassette when she faintly heard her mother calling her name downstairs. She debated on pretending like she hadn’t heard, but she knew that her mom would just keep calling her until either she walked upstairs to come get her or Ruby was annoyed enough to come down anyway. So, she decided to cut her losses and begrudgingly get up from her bed and walk downstairs. 

Mary, Ruby’s mother, was standing in the kitchen with their landline phone in one hand while the other was on her hip. She seemed to be talking to someone, but as soon as she noticed her daughter, she grinned. 

“Gareth’s on the phone,” she informed her, holding out the phone. Ruby perked up upon hearing her boyfriend’s name and she grabbed the receiver. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey Rue,” the boy greeted cheerfully. “What are your plans for the afternoon?” The girl was surprised by the randomness of his question, but she answered anyway. 

“Uh, nothing as far as I know. Why?” 

“Well, Corroded Coffin has practice in a little while and we decided to invite a few people to hang out. It’s not a lot, just a few guys from Hellfire and some of their friends. Wanna come?” Ruby hesitated. 

“I don’t know Gare… with everything that’s going on-” 

“That’s the exact reason that we decided to invite people. We all need a break from the shit show that’s been going on, what better way to relax than with music?” The girl considered his words, then pursed her lips. 

“Fair enough. Let me ask my mom real quick,” she pressed the phone’s receiver to her chest and looked at her mother. Mary now stood in the kitchen making a snack for Ruby’s brother Danny. 

“Mom, can I-”

“He already asked,” Mary cut her off with a small smile. “You can go as long as you’re back by curfew.” An excited squeal left her lips and she thanked her profusely before lifting the receiver to her ear once again. 

“I’ll be there in ten.” 

“Great, see you then.” Ruby hung up the phone then rushed upstairs to put on something presentable. After getting ready she ran downstairs and kissed her mom and brother’s cheeks goodbye before heading outside to her bike. 

Just as she assumed, it took her ten minutes to get to Gareth’s house. She already knew the route by heart so she arrived right on time. Upon climbing off her bike she began pushing it to the garage, which had the door open. It seemed that everyone else was already there because the band was already set up and people sat on the couch and various chairs in the admittedly small space. Gareth was the first one to notice her, and a small smirk appeared on his face. 

“Finally find time in your schedule to bless us with your presence, princess?” He asked jokingly as he stood from his drum set. 

“I had to move some things around, but I think I can manage a few minutes,” she retorted in the same tone as she leaned her bike against the side of the garage. They met each other halfway for a quick kiss, which made the others jokingly gag. 

“Get a room,” Jeff teased, making Ruby roll her eyes. 

“Hey, it’s not our fault that you’re lonely. Grow up,” she retorted jokingly, plopping down beside another Hellfire member, Aaron. The other occupants of the room ‘ooh’ed and Jeff flipped her off before facing Gareth.

“Are we starting yet?” 

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Gareth mumbled as he retook his seat behind the drums. “We’ll start with ‘Gravestone.’” Jeff and Grant nodded, waiting for him to tap his drumsticks together three times before beginning to play. 

Ruby was having fun listening to her boyfriend’s band play while she talked to her friends. They were talented, no one could deny that. The garage’s energy was beginning to climb, but that quickly went away when a black Jeep Cherokee suddenly pulled up. Immediately almost all noise ceased aside from Jeff quietly strumming while Gareth idly made a beat. The others watched as Jason Carver, Andy Johnson, Patrick McKinney and Lucas Sinclair all climbed out of the vehicle and began making their way over to the garage. Ruby stood up unsurely, followed by Gareth, who kept his eyes on the approaching boys. 

“You’re a little early, fellas. Show’s not till next week,” he informed them coolly. 

“Oh, that was music?” Andy questioned sarcastically, but Jason casually held up a hand to stop him from saying anything else. 

“We’re looking for Eddie,” he said, shoving his hands in his varsity jacket pockets. “He’s in this band, if that’s what you call it?” 

“What do you care?” Gareth questioned. 

“That’s our business,” the blonde responded simply. Rather than answer him, Gareth’s eyes focused on Lucas, who stayed closer to Jason’s car. 

“Lucas? What are you doing with these douchebags?” Jason turned to face the boy in question. 

“You know these freaks, Sinclair?” Lucas, to Hellfire’s surprise, shook his head. 

“Uh, they know my sister,” he responded awkwardly, refusing to meet any of the club’s eyes. “They tried to recruit me to their… club… cult.” Ruby couldn’t believe her ears. 

“What the hell, Lucas?” She questioned defensively, taking a step towards him. Before she could say or do anything else, Jason stepped in front of her. 

“We’re just trying to find Eddie,” he repeated. Though he was calm and polite about it, Ruby could see his jaw subtly clench and the unreadable look in his eyes that made her nervous. 

“Well, you have eyes, don’t you?” Gareth asked, pulling his girlfriend to the side and taking her place. “He’s not here.” Jason’s jaw unclenched, and for a moment Ruby believed that would be the last of it. It was wishful thinking. 

Without warning Jason suddenly pushed Gareth, making him stumble backwards. The boy yelped in surprise, but before he could do anything else the blonde all but slammed him face first into the ground, knocking over his drums in the process. Ruby gasped in surprise and moved to break up the fight but was suddenly grabbed from behind. It was Andy, who lifted her into the air in order to miss her frantically kicking feet. 

“No!” She screamed. 

“Let her go!” Gareth yelled, attempting to get up. Jason quickly put a stop to that by stomping his foot down on his left hand, making him cry out. 

“Get off of him, you psycho!” Ruby screamed, still trying to hit and kick her way out of Andy’s arms. 

“Andy, dude, put her down,” Patrick demanded with wide eyes. Andy barely spared him a glance. 

“Where is he?” Jason questioned at the same time, putting a little pressure on Gareth’s hand. 

“I don’t know,” the boy grunted. Ruby nearly punched Patrick in the face when he got close to her. Rather than hold her down like she expected, he was pulling her away from Andy’s vice-like grip. Thankfully Andy finally got the message and set her down, but he still kept a tight grip on her arm as Jeff and Grant yelled at Jason to let their friend go. 

“Where is he?” The blonde repeated, this time yelling. When Gareth only grunted again in response Jason added more pressure. It looked like his hand was about to break, and judging by the cry he let out, it probably wasn’t that far off. 

“It’s gonna be pretty hard to play drums with a broken hand,” Jason threatened in a menacing way that actually scared Ruby. After a few excruciating seconds of Jason continually adding pressure Gareth’s resolve broke. 

“Dustin!” He finally yelled. 

“What?”

“Dustin Henderson,” he clarified through labored breathing. “He was calling around looking for Eddie. Maybe he found him.” Jason grinned and removed his foot, making Gareth gasp in relief. 

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asked, tone polite once again. “Now, where do we find this Dustin?” 

“He lives on 602 Kettlewood Drive,” Ruby answered for everyone, making Jason look at her. “We’ve been to his house a few times.” She hated giving away Dustin’s information like that, but with the interest of both her and Gareth’s safety, she hoped he would understand. Jason nodded at her then turned away, acting like nothing had happened. 

“Let’s go, guys.” With those three words both Patrick and Andy let Ruby go, the latter shoving her to the ground, before following their leader. As the girl began to gather her bearings and stand, her eyes caught sight of Lucas again, who sat in the backseat and was already looking at her. Their eyes met, and she noticed him offering her an apologetic look. If looks could kill, Lucas would be six feet under in a nice oak casket with the glare she shot him. She couldn’t believe that lying little son of a-

“Are you guys okay?” Jeff asked worriedly, leaning down a bit to help Ruby up. 

“Talk about a cult,” she scoffed rather than answering him, watching the Jeep drive away. “They follow him like dogs.” 

“Tell me about it,” retorted Gareth, who was still laid on the ground. Ruby and Jeff were quick to help him up, then the girl carefully grabbed his left wrist. 

“Let me see it,” she instructed. Gareth allowed her to examine his hand while the others watched on in silence, awaiting the results. Having a dad who was a doctor truly came in handy sometimes. She carefully pressed on different parts of his hand, relieved when she felt it all intact. 

“Well, it’s definitely not broken or fractured, but it’s definitely gonna be bruised and a little swollen. I doubt you’ll be able to play anymore today,” she informed him, earning a nod from the others. 

“I doubt we would’ve continued playing anyways. Those douchebag jocks always know how to drain the energy from a room,” Gareth mumbled with an awkward grin. Everyone nodded again, and Ruby looked around. 

“You guys should probably head home,” she muttered. “It’s getting close to curfew and I know for a fact you guys live farther from Gareth than me.” The guys looked unsure, but ultimately nodded and began heading in separate directions. 

“Come on, let’s get you some ice and painkillers,” Ruby said once everyone was gone. The boy nodded and led her inside, making sure the garage door was closed before they stepped inside. Ruby, having been here more times than she could count, practically knew his house like the back of her hand. That made it easy for her to locate the ice packs in the freezer and the bottle of ibuprofen from the bathroom. Gareth sat at the dining room table silently as he waited for her to return to him. 

After grabbing a glass of water as well, she walked over to him and set everything on the table. First, she had him take the ibuprofen with the water, then she laid his injured hand on the table and pressed the ice pack to it. The boy hissed at the contact, which earned him an apologetic look in return. 

“Are you okay?” She asked softly, taking his free hand in hers. 

“Peachy,” he responded, tone light which let her know that he was at least partly joking. She giggled in response, lifting her free hand to rub her occupied arm absentmindedly. Andy’s grip on her arm earlier would definitely leave a bruise. Gareth noticed the movement, and his eyes flicked up to hers. 

“Are you okay?” He asked in the same gentle tone she used on him just a moment ago. The girl nodded. 

“Yeah. Andy’s got a strong grip though," she answered simply. 

“Let me see it,” he demanded softly. The girl hesitated, but did as he said and pushed her sleeve up to her elbow. The gesture revealed a small but still noticeable bruise beginning to form on her forearm. She was (unfortunately) right. Ruby watched her boyfriend’s reaction carefully, trying to gauge what he was feeling. Gareth’s eyes darkened at the sight and he gripped her hand. 

“I’ll kill him,” he mumbled, trying not to sound too angry. 

“There’s no need to,” she retorted quickly. “Jason and his stupid lackeys got what they wanted, I doubt they’ll be back.” A small huff left the boy’s lips and he shook his head. 

“For their sake, I hope so.” A small, fond smile formed on Ruby’s face and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. 

“I know that you’ll protect me,” she answered simply. The gesture made his cheeks turn pink and he grinned, though he tried (unsuccessfully) to hide it. That made her giggle again, and she watched as his smile widened. He faced her once again with an affectionate expression and gently squeezed her hand. 

“I’ll always protect you.”

[the-tired-tenor]

My live reactions to the Anti-Woke games list

TL;DR: go buy Ikenfell, Tactical Breach Wizards, Subnautica or Celeste!

For those of you not chronically online (lol you're on Tumblr, who am I kidding), a group has recently released a list of games containing "woke" themes. Obviously, I'm gonna link to it and suggest you buy one of the games in red, but here's my live reactions for you to enjoy under the cut. I swear to g-d these incels have the thinnest skin known to man or beast:

Bloons?? The fucking monkey balloon popping game???????? How… what. What even.

Hogwarts legacy is WILD given JKs descent into madness

Oh man I gotta reply Subnautica again, that game slaps

LMAO From Software stay winning, Miyazaki says this foot fetish is rated E for everyone

Cassette Beasts is completely unsurprising.

Wait, Cloth Hollow Knight was a lesbian?????? Where did that get revealed???? I love her?!

LMAO at Portal 2, these are truly the softest little boys imaginable

I don't think I've ever seen a straight Stardew fan; I can't believe it's not red

STAR WARS BATTLEFRONT IS INSANE LMAO????? Guess it's woke to acknowledge that women play video games

Hardspace Shipbreaker mention eyyyyy

LMAO at Spider Man MM. Once again, the thinnest skin imaginable

Yeah, completely unsurprised to see Celeste here. You go girl

DREAM DADDY MY BELOVED LMAO. My only contact with this particular piece of media is Arin promoting it in a Starbomb album

I don't know what “Hustle Cat” is, but I feel a need to find out

You're telling me a game called “Super Lesbian Animal RPG” exists and is woke? I'm shocked, truly

AMOGUS

How is The Outer Worlds not red? Did they miss the whole anti-capitalist theme of the game?? They're not just thin-skinned, they're also stupid (not shocking).

Ditto Armored Core VI; I guess it's missable but like you kinda have to try

Outer Wilds my beloved, I forgot that literally everyone all the hearthians were NBs

Wouldn't have expected a game called “Super Punchy Face” to be woke, but good for them

IKENFELL MY BELOVED. Yeah this game is queer as hell, it's also super indie so I'm glad they didn't miss it.

Yeah obviously vampires are gay. Come on now.

Huh, I hadn't considered No Man's Sky, but yeah I guess? Lol.

Every RPG is woke, shocking. I'm so surprised.

Again, could not be LESS surprised by Stephen Universe.

For one beautiful, shining moment, I forgot that Apex existed.

More gay vampires yeehaw

Age of Empires DE??? Wow.

LMAO do NOT come for Tales of the Shire like that and get your information wrong you dumb fucks; Tolkien LITERALLY described one of the races of hobbits as having brown skin. The lack of literacy is ASTOUNDING.

KOTOR stay winning

UNEXPLAINED DIVERSITY for No Rest for the Wicked, an early access game we know little about the lore of??? I'm deceased LMFAO

Ninja Pizza Girl sounds rad as fuck

Wartales is kinda wild ngl

NOT THE KFC DATING SIM IM DEADDDDD

Overcooked on the list???? For a disabled raccoon????????

Wingspan is insane lol

Another Crabs Treasure mentioned RAAAA

Oh shit Wizard with a Gun is woke? I'm gonna need to buy that

They missed Tactical Breach Wizards. Shame.

And the list: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1AVTZPJij5PQmlWAkYdDahBrxDiwqWMGsWEcEnpdKTa4/htmlview?pli=1#

[rewiredthethirdblog]

Comment by pepperjones926 on Reddit

The New London School Explosion. On the afternoon of March 18, 1937, the shop teacher at the school in New London, TX turned on an electric sander. Unbeknownst to him, there was a massive natural gas leak under the school. The sander sparked, which ignited the gas and caused a massive explosion that killed almost 300 students and teachers. It was absolutely horrific. The force of the explosion was so great that a two ton block of concrete crushed a car parked 200 feet away. This event is actually why natural gas has a smell now. They started adding it after the explosion so that something like this couldn’t ever happen again.

My grandfather was actually one of the survivors of the explosion. He never talked about it, even to his own family, so I didn’t really know too much about it (other than the fact that he’d survived) until after his death. Toward the end of his life, he’d suffered a series of strokes that left him pretty physically incapacitated, so my dad had given him a voice-activated tape recorder and suggested maybe he could record his memoirs for his grandkids to listen to someday. As it turns out, he did. We have hours and hours of cassette tapes of him telling the story of his (actually very interesting) life, including a big section on the New London school explosion. For the sake of everyone’s privacy, I’ll call my grandfather Papa and use an initial for anyone else.

Papa was in eighth grade when it happened, in his English class at about 3:00 PM on a Thursday afternoon. At the beginning of class, Papa and his buddy T had been messing around and being loud in the back of the classroom (as eighth grade boys often do). His teacher, Miss M, had enough of their disruptions and made Papa switch seats with another student. He moved into the girl’s desk in the front row, and she moved back into his desk in the back of the room. When the school exploded, they were taking a test on the book Ivanhoe. Papa was knocked out for a short time, and when he woke up, he couldn’t see anything because the dust was so thick. He looked down and saw that his pencil had blown clear through his hand. When the dust cleared, he saw that the whole back of the room was gone. I won’t go into details, but there were bodies (and parts of bodies) everywhere. The students in the front half of the room survived. The students in the back half did not. That included Papa’s friend T and the little girl who’d been forced to take Papa’s desk because of his misbehavior at the beginning of class. If he hadn’t been acting up, he would have been killed and she would have lived. He carried the guilt of her death until the day he died.

Papa’s classroom was on the second floor. There wasn’t any way to get to the room other than the open cavity of the explosion. After the few seconds of initial shock wore off, he and another classmate jumped into action. They were the only two kids in the class who hadn’t been badly injured. They made a tourniquet out of a sock and a shoelace for a girl with a severe injury to her arm and dug out their teacher, who was alive, but badly injured. By then, men were running up underneath the hole, so Papa and the other boy started lowering the injured to them. Then those who could walk, including Papa, climbed down. He ran off to look for his older brother, B, to see if he was OK.

As it turned out, B had been supposed to be in Geometry class. However, he and his buddy had snuck out to go fishing. The explosion happened as they were opening the door to head out to the parking lot. The force of the blast sent them tumbling head over foot across the lot. They were both banged up and dazed, but they survived. The rest of their Geometry class was killed. I don’t know that there’s a moral in the fact that both my grandfather and his brother survived because they were misbehaving that day. I do know that it weighed very heavily on both of them for he rest of their lives.

There’s a lot more to his story about the day and the aftermath (most of it absolutely horrific), but I won’t go into all of it here. A few small tidbits though:

- Papa and the boy who helped him rescue the other students from their classroom were both awarded medals and certificates of valor for their actions that day.

- Nearly every family in town lost a child - some all of their children. I’m sure you can imagine the extreme toll this took on everyone’s mental health. Papa described New London in the months following the explosion as a “town with no children.” To help with the healing process, the oil companies actively recruited families with kids to transfer in, so that there was some sense of normalcy when school started again in the fall.

- Papa had played French horn in the school band. However, when school started up again, he was asked to switch to trumpet, as the entire trumpet section had been killed.

A few years later, my grandfather went on to fight in World War II, and he saw some of the worst conflict in the Pacific (including Peleliu and the liberation of Manila). But he said that nothing he saw during the war was ever as bad as what he saw the day of the explosion. I’m always amazed that more people don’t know about it. It was major international news at the time.

EDIT: Holy cow! I’m overwhelmed by the amount of interest this has brought. Thank you for all of the awards and comments! To address a couple of things people mentioned in the comments:

- There is a small museum at the site of the explosion in New London. If you’re ever out that way, I do recommend checking it out. It is very well done and incredibly moving. My grandfather’s story, while amazing, is just one of many that day.

- A couple people mentioned the telegram from Hitler. Yes, it’s there at the museum. This was a few years before he came into full power, but he was an up-and-coming political figure in Germany at the time. I looked it up online. The original is in German, but the translation reads, “On the occasion of the terrible explosion at New London, Tex, which took so many young lives, I want to assure your Excellency of my and the German people‘s sincere sympathy. - Adolph Hitler, German Reichs Chancellor.”

- I don’t know the details, but I do know from some things my grandmother said, that Papa had some PTSD, both from the explosion and the war.

- We did get the recordings converted to digital files, which we have stored in several safe locations. A number of years ago I under took the project of transcribing everything and putting together a book of my grandfathers total memoirs. In addition to the school explosion, he really lived a fascinating life. As a little kid, he was present for one of the most famous circus disasters of all time (the Corsicana elephant rampage), and he saw some of the fiercest action in the Pacific as an engineer for the Army Air Force during WW2. He also went from being the dirt poor son of an oil field worker to a pretty successful salesman. Later in life, at the same time my dad went to graduate school, Papa decided to go back to school and get his masters as well, which led to a career shift to become a college professor, and he taught in both Louisiana and Hong Kong. He was really a very interesting guy. Sadly, he had his two strokes when I was pretty young, and he died when I was 14, so all of my memories of him are of a pretty ill man in a wheelchair. Working on transcribing his memoirs, I feel like I got to know him better after his death than I ever did in life. I am so thankful for that. I compiled the memoirs into a book that we published just for family members. In addition to my grandfather’s personal photographs (he kept a camera with him all throughout the war), there are a number of pictures that I pulled from online, so we couldn’t publish it as it is due to copyright issues. But maybe someday I will go back and reformat everything to submit to the Library of Congress or for wider distribution.

- You want a happy story about him to help counter the explosion? This is a good one. :-) At the start of WW2, while he was in basic training, a girl named Kitty sent her brother Keith a goofy picture of herself splashing around in the creek behind their family farm in TX. The picture of Kitty caught the attention of Keith's bunkmate, Papa, who decided to write Kitty a smart alecky note of his own, jokingly criticizing her manners for showing her ugly bare feet in public. Kitty was not amused. She wrote him a scathing letter, and received a very apologetic note from Papa in response. This began a written correspondence that continued throughout the war. Papa wrote faithfully from some of the most remote, dangerous locations in the Pacific. She sent him news of the home front and taunted him with descriptions of fried chicken dinners. He sent her pictures of crocodiles and told her of the orphaned children he cared for after the Liberation of Manila. When Papa came back to the US in 1946, he made a trip out to the farm to see his old friend Keith and to finally meet Kitty face to face. That was on a Friday. They were engaged the following Wednesday and were happily married for over 50 years.

Edit #2 for a typo.

Edit #3 - u/The_Essayist_8 brought this video clip to my attention, and it’s a pretty good account of the event. There are firsthand survivor stories, including one quite similar to my grandfather’s situation, only this man traded seats with another student so that he could sit near the girl he liked. He survived, the other student did not. Worth a watch, but be warned that it’s pretty heartbreaking. https://youtu.be/aKt01p3DJRw

[berry-loves-yandere]

hi sweetie! Can i request a yandere will byers x reader were reader rejects will and he kidnaps them? thank you so much love! <3

feel free to ignore this request :)))

Ofc <3

𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊!

Yandere Will Byers x AMAB!reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, possessive behaviours, obsessive behaviours, delusional Will byers, toxic relationships, stalking

(Y/N).

The Golden boy of Lenora Hills.

The boy everyone liked, not one person hated him.

Will loved him too.

He learned to move on from Mike and began obsessing over (Y/N).

He would sketch little pictures of (Y/N) in the classes they had together.

He'd watch (Y/N) laugh with his close friends during lunch.

He saw (Y/N) defend Eleven from her bullies.

He watched (Y/N) constantly.

(Y/N) was nice to him and Eleven and invited them to have lunch with him.

They became closer friends which Will adored.

Will began leaving letters and some of his drawings in (Y/N)'s locker.

Will would watch as (Y/N)'s eyes widened with shock as he read the letters.

Good shock with the first few letters but then dread every time he opened one.

Will was confused at why (Y/N) looked almost scared of the letters.

Eventually, on the last day of school before spring break, Will decided to confess to (Y/N).

"Hey (Y/N)? I need to talk you. In private." Will requested.

"Um, sure? Is something wrong?" (Y/N) questioned, slightly concerned.

"Everything's great! Just follow me." Will replied.

(Y/N) nodded then followed Will to an empty room.

"So what did you need to tell me?" (Y/N) asked.

Will took a deep breath before speaking.

"I'm in love with you!" He confessed.

(Y/N) rubbed his left elbow with his right hand and slightly frowned.

"Will. I'm sorry. I'm not queer. I don't like boys. But can we still be friends?" (Y/N) rejected him.

"You're lying! I know you are! And you liked my letters! I saw it in your eyes! Every letter and drawing I sent you!" Will exclaimed.

"You... sent those?" (Y/N) slowly spoke, terror clearly expressed on his face.

Will rapidly nodded with excitement, completely ignoring (Y/N)'s terrified expression.

The letters had started off sweet and endearing with little corny poetry tidbits and compliments.

" You look so handsome today! "

" Your new haircut looks amazing on you! "

" Roses are red, violets are blue, if I told you I liked you, would you say the same to me too? "

" Your laughter sounds like music to me, it's sweet and I love listening to it! "

Then slowly became creepy and possessive.

" Your new shampoo makes your hair smell great! "

" Would you mind if I keep your colonge? It smells and reminds me of you. "

" I don't like seeing you talk to other people. "

" Don't talk with Betty anymore or I'll seriously hurt her "

" I saw the Beatles poster in your room. I guess you're a fan, right? I can buy you any cassette you want. "

" Your diary is adorable. Especially since you talk about liking guys and girls. Maybe I have a shot with you after all! "

"You're my stalker. You're that fucking creep who's been going through my stuff." (Y/N) started speaking again.

"No! I'm not a stalker or a creep! I swear!" Will denied what (Y/N) was saying and walked closer to him.

"Don't come any closer you freak!" (Y/N) yelled.

Hearing (Y/N) call him 'freak' made something snap inside of Will.

Will grabbed a random textbook off a desk and slammed it into (Y/N)'s head, knocking (Y/N) unconscious.

Will's anger died down and he saw what he did.

He quickly checked (Y/N)'s pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he registered it.

No one was at school except for the janitors.

And a brilliant idea struck Will's mind.

"He can be with me forever!" Will squealed before heaving (Y/N) onto his back.

He carried the other boy to his home then quickly went into the basement.

There was a little room he used for painting pictures of (Y/N) that none of his family found yet, so he gently placed (Y/N) in the room before rushing to grab some blankets and a stuffed bear as well as some rope.

He tightly tied (Y/N)'s left ankle to a hook in the wall and his right wrist to the hook as well.

Will softly stroke (Y/N)'s cheek then played with his hair.

"Just like a regular couple..." Will muttered to himself.

He carefully gagged (Y/N) so no one would hear him screaming and take him away.

Then Will left and locked the room to appear as normal to the rest of his family.

When (Y/N) finally woke up, he was confused and looked around, only to see paintings of himself covering the room's walls.

He tried to stand up but the ropes on his limbs are too tight for him to move.

(Y/N) tried to scream but it was muffled by his gag.

He frustratedly tried to loosen his gag and the ropes on his limbs but to no avail.

His frustration and anger caused tears to form in his eyes.

He heard footsteps and began screaming, not caring that it was muffled, he thought someone would help him.

But instead of help, Will walked through the door.

"Hello (Y/N). I brought you dinner. Tomorrow is gonna be an exciting day! My friend Mike is coming to visit! And if you play along, I'll let you come and have fun with us, okay?" Will offered as he placed down the plate and removed the gag.

(Y/N) didn't scream at Will or get angry, he just cried.

"Oh! The ropes must be too tight! I'll take them off. But you have to behave, okay? And now there's no need to cry, alright?" Will said as he removed the ropes.

(Y/N) just continued to silently sob.

Will wiped the boy's tears, kissed his forehead and smiled down at him.

"Now we'll be together forever!" He stated.

[lou-lj]

love songs

Robin Buckley x fem reader

Summary: You’ve liked Robin since a year and it’s time to confess

A/N: It’s like 1am while I’m writing this so I hope it makes sense, all I can say is I love Robin and I think mixtapes are very cool. That’s it thanks for listening.

Robin Buckley, she was smart, funny,pretty and knew how to make anyone smile. She had this incredible charm, that made you want to listen to her forever. You didn’t talk to her that often, what would you even say? Hey I’m Y/n and I am totally in love with you since I’ve sawn you last year in algebra!? Yeah definitely not. But you had to do something, your friends where getting annoyed at how you’d drool over her, whenever she laughed, or talked, or practically just existed. Also you didn’t want anyone to tell her, before you got the chance, cause that would be even more embarrassing. But just telling her was a risk at itself, you where both girls and what if she rejected you? You’d most likely feel worse than before. “Make her something or buy her something that could just be a friendly gesture, but she could also get your actual meaning.” Your friend suggested. “I don’t know what kind of books she likes, maybe she doesn’t like them at all.” “Ok but music? Everyone likes music.” “To impersonal!” “Than I guess your a lost case, doomed to be lonely forever cause your to scared to even make the tiniest move.” You groaned in annoyance at the truth of her worlds. “Shut up and get out of my car.” She giggled while pressing a kiss to your cheek “Sure ignore the truth. See ya tomorrow!” She yelled while running up to her dads house.

A few minutes later you arrived at your place and took out the mixtape, your friend had made you, to put it back into its case. While doing so you got an idea, exited you got out the car and sprinted inside the house to call your friend. “ She picked up a bit confused. “Get your stuff ready we’ll make a mixtape tonight!” Running up to your room you packed all the cassettes you had into a bag and wrote a quick note to your parents, informing them that you’d stay the night at Ally’s. Than you got back to the car and drove to her.

She was thrilled to make mixtapes, Al loved them she’d do them all day if she could and took it very serious. First you picked out all the songs you wanted on the tape, than you’d made an order and lastly you had to put it all together. The whole process was finished at 3 am and to say you where exhausted was an underestimation. “Ok but what do I write on the card?” “Write whatever comes to your mind, I can’t do that for you too.” Annoyed you rolled you eyes, but settled for a short note on the inside.

The next day you started to overthink everything, was it to obvious? Will she like it and understand what you mean? Ally had to basically push you into the video store she worked at. And when you where inside you couldn’t go back. “Oh hey y/n, I’ve never seen you here before? What you looking for?” Nervously you fiddeled with the small case “Nothing actually but I… I guess I wanted to give this to you and I- I hope you like it.” You almost threw the tape onto the counter and immediately fled.

“Who was that?” Steve yelled from the back of the store. “Y/n was here, the girl out of algebra.” “Hot y/n?! Like y/n you talked about every other-“ “God shut up! Yes and she gave me this.” “A mixtape. Uh exiting let’s listen!” Robin looked round the store but it was empty, no one was there. The two of them got into Steve’s car and put the tape in. “Those are almost all love songs or could be interpreted as one, did she write anything?” A blush reaching robins face while reading the message “she wrote ‘These made me think of you ~y/n’ what do you think that means?” Steve grinned “That Robin means, y/n likes you.”

[writercole]

Millennial Mixtape Challenge

This year has been a lot of things for me - the realization that I’m getting old (I have a teenager), the publication of my first book, losing count of the amount of times I’ve watched Sons of Anarchy (I swear I’m in the double digits now), admitting to liking Tom Cruise in a movie. AND I’ve hit a thousand followers. Quadruple digits. 

In honor of this achievement, I’m putting together the Millennial Mixtape challenge. I had these songs on either a burned cd that I [redacted] songs for or a cassette tape that I [redacted] the songs off the radio for. I remember sitting in front of my stereo with a blank cassette in and ready…listening to American Top 40 with Kasey Kasem to get these songs. And he always talked over either the beginning or the end of the song.

Yes, I had trouble remembering the name and artist of these songs. Yes, I did google some of them. I did tell you I was getting old. 

Special shoutouts to: @moosekateer13​ for helping me remember some of these songs; @caplanbuckybarnes​ for promoting me so much on your own blog; @fictional-affairs​ for allowing me to corrupt our favorite characters so much; @jensengirl83​, @creatively-analytical​, @saiyanprincessswanie​, and @deangirl93​ for being their normal supportive, wonderful selves.

Anyway - Rules:

No underage smut, no toilet play. Those are hard lines and I won’t reblog them.

Write for whoever you want otherwise. I don’t care. Maybe you’ll introduce me to a new fandom, who knows.

Moodboards are allowed. If a moodboard inspires you to write a fic, tag the creator of the board as you inspo.

No deadline. For sign ups, for submissions. Hell, this is pretty much a perpetual challenge, I guess. 

More songs will be added as we go. 

No limit to participants per song.

No min or max words.

Write me something inspired by the song.

Lyrics do not have to be included but are a nice touch.

I just ask that you tag me in whatever you write.

Playlist here

My taste in music is diverse, to say the least, so there should be something on here for everyone!

Heartbreak Hotel - Whitney Houston ft Faith Evans & Kelly Price

Fantasy - Mariah Carey

Gangsta’s Paradise - Coolio

Baby, Baby - Amy Grant

Creep - TLC

Incomplete - Sisqo

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

I Can Tell - 504 Boys

The Real Slim Shady - Eminem

How You Remind Me - Nickelback

Where My Girls At - 702

Hey Ma - Cam’ron

Get Low - Lil Jon and the East Side Boys

Float On - Modest Mouse

Differences - Ginuwine

Complicated - Avril Lavigne

Unfoolish - Ashanti

Mesmerize - Ja Rule

I Go Back - Kenny Chesney

Pony - Ginuwine

In Da Club - 50 Cent

Family Affair - Mary J. Blige

Bottom of a Bottle - Smile Empty Soul

Halo - Soil

Truly, Madly, Deeply - Savage Garden

If Your Girl Only Knew - Aaliyah

Say My Name - Destiny’s Child

That Butt Thing - Horace Trahan and the Ossun Express

Platinum in the Ghetto - Lil Keke

Clocks - Cold Play

Straight Lines - Silverchair

Get Your Freak On - Missy Elliot

Sexy Back - Justin Timberlake

Slow Jamz - Twista

Milkshake - Kelis

Ms Jackson - Outkast

Brass Monkey - Beastie Boys

Toxic -  Britney Spears

As Long As You Love Me - Backstreet Boys

Come As You Are - Nirvana

Wait & Bleed - Slipknot

Last Nite - The Strokes

In The End - Linkin Park

Dilemma - Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Greenday

Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson

Fallin - Alicia Keys

Low - Flo Rida

I Kissed A Girl - Katy Perry - @downanddirtydean​

I Want You Back - *Nsync

Need You Now - Lady A

Nice & Slow - Usher

Picture - Kid Rock & Sheryl Crow

I’ll Be - Edwin McCain

Break Down Here - Julie Roberts

Let Her Cry - Hootie & The Blowfish

Are You Gonna Be My Girl - Jet

Beautiful Mess - Diamond Rio

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

Welcome To The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance

I Believe in a Thing Called Love - The Darkness

U Got It Bad - Usher

Raise Up - Petey Pablo

Falling Away From Me - Korn

Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

Country Grammar - Nelly

Waterfalls - TLC

No Scrubs - TLC

Thong Song - Sisqo

Bye Bye Bye - *Nsync

What a Girl Wants - Christina Aguilera

Get the Party Started - Pink

Baby Got Back - Sir Mix-a-lot

This is How We Do It - Montell Jordan

Tearin’ Up My Heart - *Nsync

You make Me Wanna - Usher

Summer Girls - LFO

Absolutely - Nine Days

Jumpin’ Jumpin’ - Destiny’s Child

Right Thurr - Chingy

Dirrty - Christina Aguilera

What Would You Do? - City High

No Diggity - Blackstreet

I’m Real (ft. Ja Rule) - Jennifer Lopez

Ghetto Supastar - Pras, ODB

Let’s Get Married - Jagged Edge

Come On Over Baby - Christina Aguilera

Tipsy - J-Kwon

Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice

There You Go - Pink

Holidae In - Chingy

Work It - Missy Elliot

Too Close - Next

The Way You Move - Outkast

Girl On TV - LFO

Crazy - Britney Spears

Dip It Low - Christina Milian

Jump - Kris Kross

Always On Time - Ja Rule

I Do!! - Toya

I wanna sex you up - Color Me Badd

Faded - SoulDescision

I wanna be bad - Willa Ford

He Loves You Not - Dream

Who Let The Dogs Out - Baha Men

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

Pain - Three Days Grace

Riot - Three Days Grace

Teardrops on My Guitar - Taylor Swift

Picture To Burn - Taylor Swift

Should’ve Said No - Taylor Swift

Monster - Skillet

Rebirthing - Skillet

I Will Not Bow - Breaking Benjamin

Polyamorous - Breaking Benjamin

Hot in Herre - Nelly

What’s Your Fantasy - Ludacris

Genie in a Bottle - Christina Aguilera

Miss Independent - Kelly Clarkson

My Baby - Lil’ Romeo

Where the Party At - Jagged Edge

Crazy - K-Ci and JoJo

Back Here - BB Mak

Candy - Mandy Moore

Larger than Life - Backstreet Boys

Shoot me an ask or DM or reblog to let me know if you’re participating! Obviously I’m all about the writers!

[liightsnow]

Working it Out by EnbyVarian

It just seemed normal to Steve, to have days where he felt more feminine versus masculine. To have days where he honestly just didn't care. To have weeks where for some reason, everything he wore felt completely wrong.

Read on AO3

1.

Steve knew he was going to regret taking the gaggle of children to the arcade. The migraine that followed them was already settling in his head as he parked outside of the building. The group all ran into the door, leaving Steve to lock the car and follow after them, already so done with all of these children.

He sees Max eyeing a dance machine. It's only for a split second but it catches her interest. The boys all walk past it. Max, despite obviously wanting to play it. Follows them.

The kids play for a good hour, jumping around to different games after they get bored of one. Steve can still see Max eyeing the Dancing game… Well, he’s never been one to disappoint. 

He walks up to the group and clears his throat to get their attention. “Who wants to beat my ass on the dance floor?”

Despite the groans of Dustin and Lucas, Max nods her head not wanting to make her excitement too obvious.

Max was surprisingly good at the game. Steve, though he struggled at first, managed to get a hang of the game pretty easily. Soon enough, the boys became interested, and Steve was more than happy to just watch the kids have fun.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, Steve being dragged around occasionally by Max to play the games the other boys refused to play with her. He'll admit it, they had more fun than he thought he would.

The night comes to a close and everyone gets into the car, Max forces her way into the passenger seat, much to Dustin's annoyance. 

"Why don't you pick a cassette, Red?" He says, knowing full well that he only has three in there. Despite that, Max has a genuine smile on her face as she chooses something and puts it on.

"Honestly, With Steve around it just doesn't feel like I'm surrounded by only guys." Max jokes as they start to drive off. The boys in the group all laugh but Steve really doesn't seem to care too much about it.

Truthfully, He's never really cared for being a guy. Growing up he was made to do stereotypical guy stuff, sports, etc. And he liked some of it... but he also did some traditionally feminine things, he cared a lot for his hair. Cooking was genuinely relaxing to him, despite the multiple times he accidentally cut himself... 

But none of that really... mattered right? He's a guy! And anyone can have any interest... 

But he also knows that he likes it when someone calls him pretty, and how sometimes being mistaken as a girl from behind just felt normal. 

Why does it matter anyway...? He's sure that most people feel this way, it's probably just one of those things you don't talk about.. it's fine. He's just.. Steve Harrington. 

He pushes the thought out of his mind as he takes the brats home.

2.

Working at Scoops was not as much of a pain in the ass as Steve thought it would be at first. 

It was surprising how many times the group of kids would stumble into the store, not buy anything and instead either talk Steve's ear off or get him to sneak them into movies.

Which was always accompanied by a sea of:

"Thanks, Mom!" (Plus Mike, who didn't thank him at all, the little shit.)

A month in, Robin finally got curious and decided to ask.

"Why don't you get the kids to call you dad instead of mom all the time?" 

He looks at her confused, he really didn't see why it mattered so much.. Obviously, he knew the gender difference in the names, it just struck him as odd that anyone even cared about it.

"I mean, it doesn't really matter right?" He shrugged before finishing his reply. "I don't really see how it would be any different." 

Robin just nodded, he can see that there were gears going on in her head. He doesn't want to ask, and if he had wanted to, a group of customers came in. Working doesn't stop his thoughts though. How was there any difference between being a 'Mom' or a 'Dad' other than the names! Shouldn’t they do the same things?

He grimaced at the thought that he really didn't know what a mom or dad acted like. He sighed, not going unnoticed by Robin. Steve bites his cheek and shakes the thought away.

Plus, he would make a good mom. Probably, maybe. 

***

Robin doesn't bring it back up until later in their shift, they're both closing that night. She sneaks up behind him after he locks up the shop.

"Hey, Dingus! Can you give me a ride home?" 

It wasn't surprising, Robin's been asking that a lot more during her late shifts recently. And he always agrees. Even on the nights where he had to pick up some of the other kids... like now. 

Tonight he's just picking up Max. 

He'd zoned out for most of the drive, drumming the wheel with his fingers at the beat of the music on the radio. He's brought back into the conversation, confused on the topic.. 

"I mean- I guess he's parental or whatever." Max snorts, he really doesn't get why it's important.. 

Robin snickers. "Okay sure but a mom? Really?"

"Hey! I think I'm a great mom. The shitheads are alive right?" He notices that he's at Max's house and stops the car. 

Max just rolls her eyes and gets out of the car. 

"Whatever, see ya!" She laughs as she goes inside, shooting a middle finger at Steve as she leaves.

"Do you really just, not care about it?" Robin asks, climbing into the passenger seat only seconds after they start driving. 

"Should I? I just don't see what's the big difference between them." He shrugs. "Seatbelt." He reminds her.

"I've heard Dustin call me his brother, it's really no different." Well, he obviously knew how the terms themselves were different.

Robin nods, clearly thinking about something again, looking at her face is proof enough. Though, Steve knows that he needs to keep his eyes on the road. 

There are only a few moments of silence before she talks again, which is how it normally is with Robin. 

"I mean- I know that most guys I know wouldn't really.. like being called those? And- I don't think I'd like to be called like... dad or something." 

Before he can respond she adds 

"Movie night?" 

He can't help but say yes, and they both end up forgetting about the talk after their first round of throwing popcorn at each other. 

Once she left Steve thought about it again... 

He'd be a good sister, brother, whatever any kids needed really. 

Being a single child, he's just happy he's able to actually figure out the whole 'sibling' thing 

3.

Getting closer to Robin is both a curse and a blessing for Steve.

Having a friend his age is amazing, especially when that friend is Robin. For the few shifts at scoops, it was incredibly awkward. He knew he’d seen her in classes before, but other than that he had no idea who she was..

Being Steve though, she knew him quite well. 

‘King Steve’ was a title he hated more and more by the day. He hadn’t even really been popular when it came to the end of high school. Dating Nancy, leaving Tommy and Carol. Billy was the major downfall, so the fact that the title still floated around him everywhere stung. 

It was easy enough to get her to actively enjoy her shifts with him, and now he even considered her a close friend. He just hated how he knew this would be far from the last time he’d need to convince someone he’s a different person than from high school. 

Realistically, he knew he had changed. There wasn’t any argument about it, Steve before the upside down would never be caught dead letting children hitch rides to the arcade in his car. Despite that, he feared that maybe he really didn’t change at all.

Does it even count as changing if he’s just doing so people see him as a better person? So he can feel like a better person? 

He doesn’t know, and his thumbnail hurts, where he’d been absent-mindedly biting down the nail while he spiraled into his own thoughts. 

“Hey Dingus, you should try nail polish,” Robin says, it’s a joke but Steve doesn’t take it as one. He looks at his thumb with a frown pulling on his face.

“Do you have any?”

Robin was obviously confused at the quick agreeance, but she didn’t say no to painting his nails in the back during their break.

Steve hadn’t thought about the paint on his nails the rest of the day. After it dried, he got back to work and black paint moved out of his mind. 

At the end of his shift, he looked at his nails. It really had stopped the biting, well there wasn’t anything wrong with wearing it he decided. So, the next day Steve went out to the closest store and bought a few separate colors, even though he does like the black nail polish, a little varieties good.

***

Babysitting Will Byers. It wasn’t what Steve had planned for his Saturday night, but it did beat being alone in his house. 

Joyce had called him early in the morning, something about both her and Jonathon being out for the night. Steve didn’t blame her for not wanting the kid to be alone. He knew if he was the kid's age, he wouldn’t want to be alone. He doesn’t even like that now..

Steve anxiously looks at the clock as he leaves the house, the fear of somehow being too late or early ate at him even as he left at the perfect time. Arriving at the Byers house was easy, almost autopilot. He walked to the door and knocked, it opened immediately to show Joyce.

“Thank you so much for this Steve!” She exclaims kindly, not hesitating to pull him into a hug. 

He’s caught off guard by it, he never seems to get along quite to well with adults. He hugs he back hesitently and follows her into the house. Wills sitting on the sofa, doing homework as some sort of kids shows in the background.

Joyce leaves after saying bye to Will, giving Steve one last glance before she fully went out of the door and to her date with Hopper.

Will wasn't a kid he was particularly close too, and he could see him uncomfortable about the whole situation. So Steve simply joined him on the couch.

He could see that Will wasn't working on homework, it seemed to be some sort of sheet? Steve assumed it was for DND, so he decided to ask. 

"So, how's your campaign going on, little dude?"

The way his eyes brightened would make Steve feel good about himself for weeks to come and he knew it. Soon enough, Will was on a tangent. First he started by complaining about how it seems no one else is interested in the game anymore.

Steve frowned at that, he didn't want to learn about the game, but if the other little shits won't play with Will, it looks like it's up to the babysitter. 

Steve listened intently to what Will was talking about, while most of it flew over his head, some of it stuck. He decided to pipe in every so often.

"So.. a bard is basically like a musician right? So how do they do the magic stuff?" He asks, it's not greatly worded but Will never seems to mind. In fact, it looked like he enjoyed the questions.

The pair talked for a good two hours about the game, back and forth with questions and answers until Steve was confident he knew at least the basics. Something he never thought he'd be proud of.

"I didn't know guys could paint their nails." Will speaks softly, looking at Steve's fingers that are painted an ash black color. 

"Kid, do whatever makes you happy." He shrugged and looked back at him.

"Want me to paint yours?"

3.

Dustin, despite being a thorn in Steve's side daily, the kid was also very... very observant. Weirdly so at times.. It didn't help that the little shit rarely had a filter on good days. 

So the little shit notices how Steve smiles a bit wider at being called 'Stevie' and it's used as a bargaining tool for a good while, Steve doesn't actually care about the apparent "Blackmail" Dustin always joked about having on him. It was fun watching the kid act like he knew Steve's dirtiest secrets though.

"It just seems... I don't know, girly?" Dustin argues one day. "Like.. I think I've only met women named that. So it's funny I guess?

All Steve did was sigh and shake his head. 

"Dustin, it's just a nickname." Steve didn't want to think about how, honestly it just felt right.. and more comfortable at some times, because Steve felt right and comfortable too. It really is just a dumb nickname. 

"Why does it even matter that it's a girl nickname? And funny? You need a better sense of humor Henderson." He takes a moment, before continuing, interrupting Dustin before he could reply. 

"Shut it. Being called 'Stevie' isn't going to suddenly make me a girl or whatever! Being named Steve isn't what makes me a guy right?" The car comes to a stop outside of Dustin's house. "I just don't get why I should care that it's a girl's name? I like it, dude." 

It's quiet for a moment, Steve really hadn't thought he'd get this worked up about it, but hearing the same things from people was really starting to get exhausting. He didn't know how many times he had to say he didn't care.

"So.. Do you like being called Stevie more than Steve?" Dustin finally asks after the silence went on for too long. His eyes stared at the polish covering Steve's nails.

"Sometimes." He confesses, before shrugging. Dustin simply nodded and Steve could see that he was going to start asking even more questions. Steve decided to stop that before it even started.

"Now get out of the car before your mom thinks I kidnapped you or something." He snorts. Dustin leaves the car without another word. 

4. 

Billy dying was the last thing Steve wanted, really. No matter how much he wanted Max to be safe, none of it could fix the look on her face as he died. 

The shock was the main thing. Though it was quickly accompanied by anger, confusion and relief. Eyes staring down the corpse that was once her stepbrother. 

He'd been seeing her less and less recently, and when he did see her, she was always just listening to her Walkman. Steve really wished he could do anything to help her.

***

Steve's not sure when he started doing small things for Max. He'd take her to school some days, no matter how much he tried she continued to close herself off, listening to her music.

She called him at 9 on a random Thursday. When Steve answered he could almost feel her anger through the phone. Obviously upset at herself for waking late and for her mom not being home. She sounded like she was about to fall asleep again. Steve agreed to take her to school without a second thought. Not even taking the time to fix his hair before walking out the door.

Ever since Billy died, Max and her mom lived in the trailer park. The drive there was quiet; He didn't really feel like bothering with picking any music to play for the ride there. He pulled next to the trailer.

Before Max came out, Steve was caught off guard by the sound of a door slamming open on the opposite side of him. He turned and saw, who he believed to be Eddie Munson.

He honestly never knew the man. They'd often trade insults back and forth in classes they had together, but it honestly never felt… hostile?

And Steve hated it, almost as much as he hates the fact that Eddie spotted Steve and made eye contact with him. That fact that Eddie fucking Munson was walking towards his car with a smirk and a glint in his eye that made Steve weary.

He almost rolled up his cat window but decided that he'd just deal with whatever shit was about to come out of his man's mouth.

"Well if it isn't 'King Steve!'" Eddie finally makes it over, crouching to face Steve in the window. Steve doesn't know why he suddenly feels self-conscious about his hair.

Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname, he suppressed the urge to bang his head on the wheel. He's dealt with enough concussions for a lifetime at this point.

"Munson." He looks back at him with a brow raised. "What are you doing on my car?" He decides to just try and make the interaction as quickly as possible.

"I was just checking what the great king was doing along with my peasants, my lord." He bowed theatrically, the smirk he wore made Steve's stomach jump. "Seems a bit early to take anyone to the arcade."

Fuck Henderson, Steve completely forgot about that dumb club the two were both in.

Sometimes, no-no. All the time, Steve hated Dustin and his non-stop talking about him to others.

"Aren't you late to school Super Senior?" He shot back. This was more familiar territory.

"Sorry, what college do you go to Harrington?"

It goes on like that for a bit, Steve's tapping his fingers on the wheel, glancing at the door between insults.

"Don't you have like, some dungeons and dragons thing or something to get ready for, man?" Steve asks after a while. He's a bit worried about Max at this point.

It's like a fire is lit in Eddie's eyes as he starts going on about what he has planned for the next session of his campaign…

He's an animated person, Steve knew that. It was something he considered distracting all throughout high school. Eddie now though,  the way he looked so genuinely into what he was talking about…

'Wait what is he talking about?'

Steve does his best to focus on what Eddie's saying, but his eyes keep trailing down to the metal head's hands, which move with intensity as he speaks. He looks at the rings, they looked.. nice. He looks back up.

Eddie's staring at him, expecting a reply. The man still had the damn smirk on his face. It dawned on Steve that he hadn't even heard a single word, or even knew how long Eddie had been waiting for a reply. Luckily, he was saved from embarrassment as Max walked out of her trailer.

She looked exhausted, her hair was frizzy and she was obviously still blinking the sleep out of her tired eyes. 

Now, Steve had gone to school late a lot. Whether he was nursing a hangover from a party, or exhausted after coming back from sneaking out to smoke pot. He also missed his fair share of days, and freshman year couldn't be too important overall. 

A plan entered his mind before he even realized he was thinking of one. 

His car door closed roughly, Max looked apologetic at the force, so Steve decided to not mention it. Ignoring Max and Eddie's silent nods of greetings.

Alright, plan time. 

"Have you eaten?" He already knows the answer, but it's better to ask rather than just tell her that he's taking her to breakfast. 

"No, I fell back asleep." 

"Then breakfast? My treat." 

She didn't burst into some grand smile- he didn't expect her to -but the small smile as she nodded was enough to make Steve already feel lighter about the day. 

Steve turned to Eddie, surprised to come face to face with the man who was now leaning closer. He leaned back in surprise. His heartbeat quickened.. 

"Uh… Bye, Munson." He says after an uncomfortable amount of silence settled over them.

Eddie looks him up and down, before letting out a 'hm' sound as he leans back.

"See ya around, Princess Harrington. I love nail polish."

The name catches him off guard for a moment, he blinks and mouths it to himself. 

Catchy.

Steve rolls the window up, turning to Max.

"Now. Seat belt on and you can pick the music, cassettes are in the glovebox." He informs her as he starts to pull out of the trailer park. He got more cassettes a bit recently. 

She makes fun of his music taste like everyone does whenever they're in his car. It’s an endless cycle. 

"Wham!, A-ha... and a Cyndi Lauper Single?" She genuinely laughs at that. 

"Girls Just Want To Have Fun, is a great song, Max. Just because you don't have taste doesn't mean it's not good." He defends, No one disrespects Cyndi Lauper in his car. Not even Max. 

She just rolls her eyes and looks through a few more of the tapes before stopping. 

"The Runaways..." She pulls out the tape and looks at it. "Wow, you have.. 4 tapes for them?" She asks with authentic curiosity. He doesn't have time to be embarrassed before she puts in one of the tapes. 

They just listened to the music as he drove them to a diner. It wasn't too close to the school, but Steve doubted that Max would care. He turns the music down as he parks. 

He can see Max fussing over her hair in the mirror. 

"Want me to fix your hair up?" He reaches into the glove box and pulls out the hairspray and brush he keeps in there. 

You never know when you need to fix your hair. 

Max doesn't look sold on the idea. 

"I'll let you do mine after." He bargains, not knowing for sure if it would even work.

Max gives him a look that he can't decipher before turning to face away from him. At first he feels dread settle in his stomach. Then, 

"Can you braid it?" She asks once she's sitting comfortably, running fingers through her hair with a soft sigh.

He really doesn't have knowledge of braiding hair, but he does want to make Max happy. 

"I can try, can't promise it won't be shit though." 

In the end, it's a decent enough braid. He only had to restart.. 4 times. Though, he'd restart a million times over if it meant that he could keep Max's smile growing. 

Now his hair didn't go as well, he doesn't want to say that Max intentionally messed it up but…she knows his hair is never styled back like this. 

Breakfast happened in comfortable silence. The two of them ordered and ate without a word being said. Max started talking as she finished off her food.

"Every time I go to sleep I see him." 

She doesn't need to say anything else, he knows full well what she's talking about. He can feel his stomach sink, he couldn't fuck this conversation up. 

"And- I don't know why- or how..? But I feel... guilty." It's the quietest he's ever heard her speak. "Like I should've.. done something."

"Billy made my life Hell. An absolute Hell.. it was like I couldn't do a single thing right by him." She starts to breathe a bit quicker. 

"And.. I want to think that, maybe he could have been a good guy? But.." She started playing with the strings of her sweatshirt. While she took a moment to continue, Steve reached over and placed his hand on her arm softly. 

Max met his eyes again and he could see the tears that threatened to spill. 

"There wasn't a single moment where he even seemed nice." She grimaces. "He had to deal with... all of his dad's shit. I thought.." She let out a chuckle. "Maybe he just *pretended* to be an asshole." 

"There were so many nights, where I would just wish - pray - that something would happen. That.. he would just be gone one day." She finishes off her Orange Juice staring straight into the table, avoiding Steve's gaze again. 

The waitress comes before Steve can respond. Max stands and makes a quick rush to the car, Steve pays as quickly as he can. Not caring about the outrageously large tip he left as he went over and got in the car. 

He looks at her and can see her shaking shoulders as she tries to silence her crying. Steve took a breath. 

"Max, I don't think it's wrong that you wished all those things." That's what he starts with, he doesn't know if it's the right thing to say. 

"He.. he hurt you kid. And- I don't know how far that hurt goes, but that doesn't change the fact that he hurt you." He taps his fingers on the wheel before continuing. "He may have been your brother but that doesn't mean he ever acted like one."

"You wanted to be safe Max. And if safe was without Billy around then that isn't your fault." Steve looked at her, making sure to meet her eyes. "You're not the one who strained your relationship with him, alright Max?"

"He wasted out on an amazing sister, He had time, and maybe if he had more, maybe he could've been better." He gives her shoulder a little shake. "But he wasted the time he had with you by terrorizing you. He wasn't a good guy, and he wasn't good to you." 

She's quiet now, she takes a deep breath before starting to wipe the remaining wet from her eyes. 

"If you tell anyone I cried i'll make sure everyone sees your cassettes." She threatens. Steve can tell it's half-hearted, as long as she feels a little bit better. 

There's a beat of silence. 

"Want me to fix your hair again?"

*** 

He picks her up a few more times in the ongoing month. Though he never had another run-in with Munson.

It was a better day for Max, Steve could still see the sadness that was trapped behind her eyes as she laughed with Lucas and Dustin, but at least she wasn't moving away. He could overhear them, apparently, Dustin had actually managed to beat Max's high score. 

The day went on, and the kids continued laughing with each other, just having fun. 

Steve sighed to himself, he desperately wished that they could just always be this happy. If they didn't have to care about the upside-down, they could just be normal kids, struggling with high school, having dates, parties- 

Or maybe that was just him. He doubts any of his kids would even like doing those. Hell, it seems like only Lucas wanted to be popular. They might call themselves 'The party' but those shitheads would be torn to pieces. 

But it could always be different, they were tough kids. He knew Max would be fine, and as long as they all stuck together, They'd all be okay. 

He's pulled from his thoughts by someone pulling on his sweater, Max. 

"Can we talk? Alone?" 

And he can't say no to her. 

They walk outside of the arcade, just off to the side where people came by less. He could see her looking tense. A change from when he saw her just minutes ago laughing. 

"This is so dumb.." Max grumbled, kicking the toe of her shoe on the ground. She let out a long sigh, Steve could tell it was more for the effect rather than anything else. 

"Dustin said I should stop...." Steve couldn't hear the second part of it, she looked away and talked into her sleeve. 

Dustin.. He loved the kid, he really did, but sometimes the boy just didn't know when he found a boundary. 

"I didn't hear the second part, but I'm sure it's fine Max." He assures her, Steve puts a hand on her shoulder and gives her a small smile. 

"Sometimes I say you're like a sister to me." She says it fast and uncertainly. "It's not in a serious way or anything." 

There was something in her voice that made it sound like she did actually mean it that way. 

"I don't even know what a big sister acts like anyways... but you aren't Billy." 

Something in his chest swelled, a sister huh? 

He hadn't really thought about it before, having a sister. He remembers growing up and seeing all of his friends with siblings, Steve knows he used to wish for a baby brother when he was younger when his parents would leave him alone with nannies, not letting him go outside because they were 'worried'. 

"Max." His voice is soft, crouching down to look at her.

He can't read anything on her face, she's definitely just waiting for a bad reaction and Steve can feel his heartbreak at that thought.

"I think you're a pretty good sister, kid." He says it completely seriously. He wants her to know, that it's completely okay.

"Let's both learn what it's like to have a sister, how about it?" He suggests, and he knows he said the right thing.

Sister.

The word brought a smile to his face as he drove home that day, as he made dinner for himself in his empty house. As he lay in bed that night, he closed his eyes and let himself think.

A dangerous thing to do if you're Steve Harrington.

He had come to terms with something after the Russians, after the conversation with Robin in his car. After every conversation really. 

He doesn't think anyone else feels the same way about their gender as he does- or at least... anyone he knows?

It just seemed normal to Steve, to have days where he felt more feminine versus masculine. To have days where he honestly just didn't care. To have weeks where for some reason, everything he wore felt completely wrong.

The thoughts feel terrifying, isolating like he's learning how to swim all over again and is still struggling to tread the water....he could easily ignore the feelings that bubbled in his chest up after being called princess after someone mentions that he could really look feminine if he tried. 

He already got weird looks because of the nail polish, the idea of even trying anything else made his heart race faster than he'd ever felt before. 

Steve groaned, tossing and turning in bed as he desperately tried to get into a comfortable position. Soon he opened his eyes and moved downstairs onto the couch.

Falling into a dreamless sleep sounded amazing right now.

As long as it means he isn't alone with these thoughts.

6.

Robin was always his saving grace when it came to his thoughts. 

Once he and Robin got jobs at the Family Video, movie nights became a lot more common between them. Normally it's in the back room of the store, during the slow hours of school nights. 

Other times, they'd go to Steve's house. Robin didn't stay the night often, not when it was just the two of them, her parents were scared about their daughter being alone with a guy. 

Sleeping after everything was almost impossible for the both of them, being together seemed to calm down the both of them better than anything else. So, Robin started lying about where she was sometimes. She had enough friends in band that she was sure would help her with excuses. 

So, almost every Monday, Wednesday and the occasional Friday, Robin would stay over at Steve's house. He'd make breakfast in the mornings, then take her to school. It was nice, to have someone else in the house. 

When it was just Steve, the house felt cold. Devoid of all life, cleaned to perfection. Really the only sign of life would be the shoes that he takes off at the door. 

The halls felt like they stretched forever at night, the floor creaked and empty, and the lifeless shell of a house felt more like hell than the upside-down.

Even just adding one person seemed to give the house more colour. The hallways seemed to stretch a little less far, despite no change in temperature, the house was warm with the two of them. 

Some nights, Robin wouldn't be able to come over. Steve would wait by the phone until 2 am when she eventually called. He couldn't count the amount of whispered conversations on the phone. 

Their talks would be endless, it was almost like no matter what, they never ran out of things to talk about. A lot of the time, it was normally Robin going off about something she learned recently. Steve would listen, and actually, ask questions. He'd say it's because it gets her mind off everything... which is true. It's also, nice to hear his best friend is happy and passionate about something. 

He'd never say that though, he's not some sap. 

It's the 15th of December. Steve looks at the clock as it changes to show 03:45, he lets out a tired sigh as he runs a shaking hand through his hair. 

He's sweating, awoken from a nightmare just moments ago. Every time he closes his eyes he can see it all again. 

If he says anything he can put Dustin in danger, he can't do that. 

He did do that. He managed to put every single one of those kids in danger.

He opens his eyes with a shaking breath, he glances towards the phone before quickly looking away. He can't bother anyone- it's way too late for that and he knows it. He closes his eyes again.

Steve takes a deep breath, in and out slowly a few times. 

He lays back, relaxing slightly before his mind begins to wander.. 

'Most guys I know wouldn't like to be called those..' 

Why? He wanted to ask that so badly. What was the problem? So what if sometimes, it's nice to be seen as feminine? Nice to be seen as pretty. 

Plus, they're just words. It's not like changing the pronouns would change the feeling. 

'Oh, Steve? She's over there!' 

'This is my girlfriend, Stevie.'

Steve never opened his eyes more quickly. He sits up and looks at the clock with a panicked expression. 

04:30 

He has a shift at 7, and going back to sleep now ensures he'll sleep in too late. Which is made worse seeing how he's Robin's ride to work too. 

He decides to suck it up and have an early morning. 

-- 

If Robin notices the softer, more feminine-looking sweater Steve's wearing when he picks her up, she doesn't mention it. 

Actually, neither of them talk during the entire ride. Which is incredibly strange with the two of them. Steve pulls stray strings from his sweater. As they stop at a light he talks. 

I'm freaking out Robin. I'm scared of the things that I'm thinking about myself. I know you won't care but I'm fucking terrified. I don't know what's happening. 

"I'm me-" that is not what he wanted to say at all. 

The light turns green and he goes forward. Whatever he could talk about it later. Actually no, what was he even thinking? This would be a horrible idea. 

He's just- he's not some freak. He's just himself. He's a boy

Could be a girl sometimes 

"STEVE- Pay attention to the road!" 

He doesn't let himself think anymore until they get to Family Video. 

Pros about the job: He and Robin get a lot of talking time getting it ready for opening. Half of the time the store is completely empty. 

Cons about the job: He and Robin get a lot of talking time. And Sundays are always empty. 

It takes about an hour before Steve can't hold it in anymore.

Not a single person has come through the door, the movie that's playing doesn't even catch Steve's attention. 

Robin wouldn't care, she's fine. Maybe she'll understand?

He chews his lip and rushes to flip the Open sign to Closed. Before Robin can even try and question anything, he's dragging her into the backroom. 

"Rob- I uh.. okay so-" He runs a hand through his hair and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts.. 

What did he even want to say? 

It felt like his... 

Her? 

Steve was confused and took a moment to think 

'This is Steve, he's fun' 

'He' just didn't feel right, not now. 

'Steve? She's working today.' 

It just felt so much better right now. 

That's one problem... slightly solved, but she was still glaring at the giant problem she had created for herself. 

What was she going to say? 

“Today I feel like a girl, But yesterday I didn't?” 

"Wait- what did you just say?" Robin had a hand on Steve's wrist, it was gentle and a bit calming, seeing as Steve has accidentally said that aloud. 

Well fuck it? 

"I feel like I'm going to throw up.." She starts, moving her hands to her face. She doesn't want to look at Robin until all of this is over with. 

"I don't understand this Robin! I- I know I'm not *supposed* to like being like... called girl? But sometimes I like it- and it just feels right?" She finally takes her hands away, only to once again fix her hair before looking anywhere but Robin's face as she continued. 

"But I'm not.. always a girl? I'm a guy, And- honestly, usually, I just don't.. mind anything?" Her voice is strained and she can't help but fear for the worst. 

"I don't even know what I'm trying to explain here!" 

Robin takes a moment, obviously still processing everything that's been said to her. She nods a few times and grabs Steve's hands. 

"I- I don't know either, but nothing would stop me from being your best friend dingus." She lightly punched the others shoulder and let out a loud sigh. 

"...You think we could get away with sneaking off?" Robin surprises her with the offer. 

That day the two of them drive a few towns over, someplace with a slightly larger selection in clothes and makeup. Robin insisted that 

"Well if you're a girl today then you should fully feel like one."

Steve thinks that Robin saying that might have made her feel even better than the copious amount of shopping they did. 

She had never been so happy that her parents were never around. As she and Robin piled clothes onto the living room couch. 

There were some things that she knew she'd never really be able to wear anywhere. At least not without a few- no, a lot. - of stares. Most of it just edged on the line of androgyny... actually now that she looked at it. 

"If I wear any of this I'll look like I went through your wardrobe." 

"And is that a bad thing, Stevie?" 

"Can you call me that?" She waits before realizing she needs to most likely give more information. "Uh- when I'm.. a girl I guess? Call me Stevie. I like it." 

***

***

Steve and Robin come up with a system of sorts. Just an easy way to convey Steve's pronouns without having to say them aloud to everyone. 

Three bracelets. Purple for she/her, blue for he/him and a mix of the two for any. Robin made them one night, she said couldn't sleep, or call so she wanted to do something productive. 

When she gave them to him, he cried, thanked her and then proceeded to get high in his living room with the joint she brought with her. She said something about a dealer from high school who lived in the trailer park. He instantly knew and thought about Eddie..

Once again, Robin Buckley is his saving grace. 

Though, she did send him into another crisis that same night. 

- 

The whole night had been normal, nothing quite out of the ordinary. The two of them sat on the couch, Robin using Steve as a human pillow. Steve was comfortable in their position, laying back with Robin basically acting like a blanket. 

"So-" Robin starts talking, mouth full of popcorn. "Are you still technically straight?" 

That makes them think, well yeah? They liked girls. 

"I think so?" A soft chuckle accompanied the response. 

"You're not like... Bi or anything?" 

They had no fucking idea what that was.

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

Eddie Munson/F!Reader -COMM

WIP Wednesday - tagged by @flaggermuser <3

Sticky grass fumes tickle your nose as Eddie stubs out the joint in the ashtray behind him. You’re sitting across from him, back against the dresser, legs akimbo while he’s stuffed between the corner of his bed and a milk crate he calls his bedside table. As if on cue, you snap your fingers and he clicks his lighter, burning the end of a cigarette between his teeth. 

Eddie grins, clicking the zippo closed and flips you the bird, one dimple in his cheek in a lopsided grin. You throw him an air kiss and pluck up a caseless cassette with a hum.

“Who’s this?” It’s unnamed, just a pentagram drawn on the paper-tape label. It’s seen better days too. Looks like someone melted the corner with a cigarette and half the label is mushy with an old water stain… or you hope it was water. Gross…

“Dunno, sweetheart. Could be some majorly underground shit… or total trash.” Eddie exhales a plume of smoke, blowing it off to the side where his window is cracked. It’s chilly outside, but the two of you can generate heat when booze, weed and music combine, so the backdraft is welcome.

You watch him flick ash in an old coffee mug filled with who knows what, and shrug. “”Found that baby at the bottom of Camelot’s dollar bin. But like,” he takes the final swig off his second beer and swallows a burp, “dumbasses also had Trouble’s ‘Skull’ on tape in there too, so what the fuck do they know, right?”

“Spooky. Kinda gives off some Evil Dead vibes,” you muse, setting it aside to resume picking through the cassettes between your legs while Eddie snaps the tab on a beer. It hisses and you hear him curse, followed by the telltale slurp as he sucks up the foam noisily. 

You glance over, just with your eyes, vision blocked by your heavy lashes, only to quickly look back at the pile of music when your heart flutters at how red and wet his lips looked gathering up the yeasty foam before it can spill over the can. You’ve been doing that more lately, stealing glances—greedy glances he could easily catch if he so much as looked up at the wrong time. 

“Ready for round two there, princess?” He asks. 

You nod, unwilling to look at him, instead fingering the new tapes he grabbed from the record store. It was a ritual for you two, going back freshman year (well, your freshman year) at least five years or so. First Saturday of the month Camelot Music refilled their dollar bin with garbage and hidden treasures. Eddie would hit it up after crawling out of bed around noon, and you’d grab ten bucks worth of snacks, enough to cram over the weekend. As the years passed, this ritual grew to involve beer, grass and, more recently… hard liquor. But tonight? Well, Eddie scored big time: some more unlabeled shit, the Trouble tape he mentioned, Witchfinder General, even an unraveled Black Sabbath that’d seen better days. 

You're too absorbed in the menagerie of metal when he places a cold beer can against the side of your bare knee. It shocks your weed-heightened senses, making you jump and squeak. Eddie cackles like an ettercap when you jerk your leg up, shooting him a glare. 

“Dickhead,” you curse, failing to keep the smile off your lips, “… you know how tender I get after smoking.”

“Mm’yeah, why you’re the best to smoke with. Plus,” Eddie settling back against his bed with a grin, “Serves you right for bustin’ out the daisy dukes all the time.” Eddie snorts, but there’s something bitter to it when he adds, “Sixty degrees outside and you’re mooning the whole trailer park like it’s summer break. Real Ms. Michelle Pfeifer of you.”

“I like these shorts, Eddie,” you flip him the bird and throw in some wet eyes, putting on the bratty girl act that always makes him chuckle cause, in his words, 'you're too metal to play the innocent card.’ And while Eddie doesn’t laugh, he does flash you a dashing grin that’s so wide his cheeks dimple into trenches. It almost makes his sweet, chocolate orbs look devilish—almost.  “Yeah, well… everyone likes those shorts, sweetheart,” he says offhanded, grabbing another beer for himself, eyes suddenly averted to his lap.

You frown, looking down at your other outstretched leg laying across his chip-crumbed floor; it’s bare to the upper thigh, your foot shoved in a red high top. Nothing to go all ham over, you think, rolling your leg by the ankle to watch the muscles flex beneath a curvy layer of fat.

“Dude,” you suddenly blurt, kicking his outer thigh with your converse, “I’ve literally worn these all through highschool and you’re bitching about them now? Besides, if memory serves, you were the one who cut them for me in the first place.”

“Yeah,” he groans, rolling his eyes, “… and that was freshman year and you outgrew them two years back. Time for a new pair.”

You grab your beer and drop your other leg back down, taking a sip before resting the chilly bottom on your thigh. 

“They totally still fit. And I’ve never heard you complain about them… well, except that one night with that bartender at The Hideout. Jesus, do you remember how he-“

“Ugh, don’t fucking remind me.” Eddie’s nose scrunches up, looking grossed out before chugging half his freshly popped beer in a few swallows. “Barry better fire that fucking creep. Should have heard the shit he was talking about you… never wanted to cold-cock someone so bad. Pretty sure Gareth had a goddamn aneruysm.”

You perk up, not all that surprised by Gareth getting pissy, what with his short fuse and all, but there’s something violent to Eddie’s words. Plus the half-empty beer can starts to dent in his fist, a little clue to what might have been said and how he feels about it even now. Things like this have been happening more and more—the whole possessive or protect vibe. Honestly, it’s hard to tell, but you know Eddie doesn’t like it when you get hit on, especially when you go on dates…

With a swallow and another sip of beer, you venture to ask, “Like what? Uh, what did he say about me?”

Eddie’s face pinches. He glares into the corner of his room, looking pensive, then scoffs. 

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Never mind,” he mutters, taking another swig that has his adam’s apple bobbing. He finishes his beer quickly and crushes it with a grunt. It gets tossed to the corner near an overflowing trash can of crumpled up paper and chip bags with an air of defeat that makes your chest tighten.

You eye him quietly, then blush when he looks over, gaze starting at your knees, skimming up your thighs, stomach, chest and finally meeting your eyes. He clears his throat, looks away for a second, swallows, then looks back and asks, “Anything catch your eye, sweetheart?” 

Yes, you think, growing hot again, much like the last half-dozen times you and Eddie have done your monthly weekend hangout. You look down, tracing a few cassettes, then peak up at him beneath your lashes. He’s looking between your legs, but the trajectory of his gaze is further up than the pile of tapes. You try not to blush any harder—try not to let it get under your skin—because he’s already three beers in and sometimes his eyes wander when he’s tipsy. It can’t be helped, you reason. You’re a girl and he’s a guy. Even if you’re both best friends and nothing more, it's totally… normal… and nothing to look into or obsess over or question or…

“Umm, let’s try…” you pick up the naked tape with the sharpied-pentagram, “… this creepy fucker. Kinda lookslooks like someone jizzed on it.” 

You force a casual grin and wag your eyebrows. “Maybe we’ll raise the dead and you’ll end up fighting off hot zombie chicks.”

Eddie finally grins, snatching the tape out of your hand. “If they’re as hot as Trash, then I’d rather fuck than fight.”

“Gross, Munson. Think of the STDs.”

“Sex is hotter when there’s risk involved, princess.” 

“Yeaaah,” you force a good-natured smirk, “you’d probably get your dick bitten off, though.”

Eddie chuckles, and knocks the side of your knee with his reebok. “Are you saying you’re worried about my dick again?” 

“No,” you lie, and not well judging by the wrinkle between Eddie’s brows.