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magical-reid · 6 months ago

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The Unexpected Connection

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: When Miss Popular offers to help Eddie Munson with chemistry, an unlikely connection forms between them as they bond over shared interests. The relationship deepens when she surprises Eddie and his friends with homemade cookies during a D&D campaign, leaving everyone shocked by her unexpected presence in Eddie's world.

The fluorescent lights buzzed above the cafeteria, casting their harsh glow over the crowded tables. You sat at your usual spot, surrounded by your group of friends. They were all in their usual cheerful chatter, gossiping about the latest trends and upcoming weekend plans. Your life had always been filled with sparkles and smiles, but there was something a little different today—a subtle unease you couldn’t quite place. That unease was Eddie Munson.

Eddie, the resident metalhead and Dungeon Master of Hawkins High's Dungeons & Dragons campaign. He was a mystery—a wild card who didn’t care about fitting in with the popular crowd. You, on the other hand, were the center of attention. Perfect hair, colorful outfits, and always with a group of friends at your side. You'd never crossed paths with him before, at least not in any meaningful way, but you had seen him around. He was hard to miss, with his long hair, denim vest, and that ever-present air of defiance.

But that didn’t stop your curiosity. The rumors about him were relentless—everyone in school had something to say about Eddie. Most of it wasn’t flattering. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what the real Eddie Munson was like, behind the leather jacket and the weird rumors.

And that was the exact moment you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned to see him standing there, looking unusually hesitant for someone who was oftenly seen as confident and untouchable. His usual cocky grin was replaced with an uncertain smile.

"Uh, hey," Eddie muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "You got a second?"

You blinked in surprise. “Sure. What’s up?”

He shuffled his feet, looking awkward. “I was wondering… if you could help me with something.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Help you? With what?"

“Chemistry,” Eddie said, his voice low as if he was embarrassed to ask. "I mean, I know it’s not the most hardcore subject, but I could use some help. I’m not exactly a whiz with numbers and reactions, y’know?”

You were taken aback. Eddie Munson, the guy who had a reputation for being a rebel and a troublemaker, asking for help in chemistry? It didn’t make sense. But your heart softened at the fact that he was even admitting it. It wasn’t easy for someone like him to ask for help.

“Okay,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I can help. Meet me after school at the library, alright?”

Eddie seemed genuinely surprised. “Wait, you’re actually willing to help me?”

You shrugged casually. “Why not? I don’t bite. And chemistry’s no big deal, really. Besides, I’m guessing it’s better than whatever you’ve been doing in class, right?”

He chuckled, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Alright, deal. See you then.”

You waved as you grabbed your things to leave, but before you could head off, Eddie called out.

“Hey, uh… you’re not like everyone says you are, y’know?”

You turned around to face him, smiling softly. “I guess not. You’re not what I expected either.”

His smile faltered, but you could see the hint of warmth in his eyes as you walked away.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The library was quiet as usual, and you found a secluded corner to set up your chemistry notes. You didn’t know what to expect when Eddie showed up, but when he did, you were surprised at how… out of place he looked. His black leather jacket clashed with the neatly organized bookshelves around you, and he scratched the back of his head, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Eddie said, settling across from you.

You smiled at him. “It’s not a big deal. Just think of it as another kind of campaign—only with chemicals instead of dice.”

Eddie snorted. “You think I can roll a natural 20 on this subject?”

“Not unless you roll a lot of patience,” you teased, tapping your pen against the notebook.

As you explained the basics of chemical reactions and bonds, you found yourself watching Eddie more than you realized. His intense focus, the way his fingers drummed on the table when he was deep in thought, the furrow in his brow as he jotted down notes—it was strangely endearing. He wasn’t like the other guys in your class. There was something more to him, and you were starting to see it.

“You’re really good at this,” Eddie said after a while, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “I thought I was gonna fail for sure, but now I think I’m actually getting it.”

You smiled at the compliment. “You’re not as bad at this as you thought. You’ve got potential, Munson.”

He grinned, but there was a slight vulnerability in his smile that you hadn't expected. “Thanks. You’re alright, you know that?”

The conversation turned to lighter topics, and before you knew it, you were laughing together—completely different from the icy encounters you’d imagined with him in the past. The chemistry lesson had turned into something else entirely. Something more... comfortable.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The weekend rolled around, and you knew that you had a D&D campaign with Eddie and the guys at the usual hangout. You hadn’t been invited to play, of course. That was Eddie’s thing. But you knew this would be your chance to do something a little unexpected.

You had made cookies—soft, chewy chocolate chip cookies—and you had a plan. You'd show up at the campaign and surprise Eddie. You weren’t entirely sure how it would go, but you thought maybe it would break the ice.

You arrived at the trailer park just as the sun began to set, your basket of cookies tucked under your arm. You knocked on the door of Eddie’s trailer, and when he answered, his eyes widened.

“You—uh, what are you doing here?” Eddie stammered, clearly surprised to see you standing in front of him with a batch of homemade cookies.

“I brought cookies,” you said with a smile. “I thought you and the guys could use a snack while you roll some dice.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Wait, seriously? You actually came here... with cookies?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully, stepping inside. “I figured it might be nice. I’ve never actually watched a campaign.”

The guys in the room—Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will—looked at you in shock. You could see their eyes widen in disbelief. They were all accustomed to you being there, but never in Eddie’s world. You were the popular, girly girl who didn’t belong at a metalhead’s D&D table.

“What’s this? We’re getting snacks now?” Dustin asked, blinking.

“Did she just bring cookies?” Mike added, eyes flicking from you to Eddie in confusion.

Eddie, still a little taken aback, blinked before shaking his head. “I, uh, I didn’t expect this. But, hey… you guys are gonna love these.” He took one of the cookies and bit into it. “Damn, these are amazing.”

You smirked. “Glad you like them. I figured the Demon Lord’s army could use a little sugar boost.”

The boys exchanged glances, and even Eddie’s usual cool demeanor melted a little as he let himself enjoy the cookies. For the first time, it felt like you were actually part of something. Part of Eddie’s world. And it was nice. Really nice.

You stayed for the rest of the campaign, sitting beside Eddie, chatting between rolls. It wasn’t the most glamorous, and you didn’t know all the rules, but it felt like you were finally seeing Eddie in his element. And you couldn’t help but smile.

#magical-reid #self insert #reader insert #fluff #Eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson reader insert #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert

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loveinhawkins · 1 year ago

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When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.

Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.

If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.

The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.

Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.

But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.

It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.

Almost every senior.

It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.

But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.

He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.

It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.

He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.

But actually sitting there is his own choice.

He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.

Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.

So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.

“Wanna sign?”

Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.

“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.

Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.

Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.

Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.

“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”

Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.

A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.

And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.

The bell rings.

Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.

Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.

But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—

“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.

It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.

Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.

“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.

Good luck, Steve. —Eddie

Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.

Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.

And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.

He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it altogether, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.

#back with the unexpected kindness in high school agenda #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

1K notes · View notes

vingtetunmars · 1 month ago

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Stevie Doesn't Know...

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Being Steve Harrington’s twin sister means always living in someone else’s shadow, under the surface, you're just trying to feel seen. That is, until a chance encounter with Eddie Munson sparks an unexpected connection.

part 2

Tags: Reader is Steve’s twin sister, roughly takes place between season 2 and season 3, SFW, overall fluff, meet-cute(?), secret relationship (in part 2), mutual pining, developing relationship, they're just soft for each other your honor. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: This is my first ever fic, so please bear with me. If you have any suggestions or thoughts feel free to reach out to me (please be nice 🥺). Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3k

masterlist

You never really hated high school. It just never quite felt like it belonged to you.

People smiled at you in the hallways—tight-lipped, polite, surface-level smiles that came with your last name. Harrington. Like it was a crown you wore, passed down from Steve.

To most people at Hawkins High, you were just the quieter, smarter, slightly more tolerable version of your brother. “Steve’s sister.” Never mind the fact that your GPA could bench-press theirs or that you ran student council meetings with enough bite to scare actual adults. They didn’t care. You weren’t a real person to them—you were Steve’s sister who didn’t make a mess and remembered to smile.

So you smiled. Every morning. Even now, as you moved through the hallway past rows of metal lockers and neon-colored posters for the winter formal, the same fake grin tugged at your lips.

A locker slammed shut next to you.

“Council meeting’s still on today, right?” asked Mindy, the senior secretary who wore her cheer uniform like it came with a superiority complex.

You nodded. “After seventh period.”

“Cool, cool,” she chirped. “Oh! And hey, there’s a party at Kyle’s tonight—his parents are out of town again.” She grinned, clearly not inviting you just yet. “You should totally come.”

You opened your locker, swapped out your English textbook for Chemistry, and waited.

“And like—” Mindy added quickly, her voice pitching upward, “If Steve’s around, bring him?”

There it was. Right on schedule.

You gave her a practiced smile—half-assed, barely curled at the edges—and shut your locker. “I’ll let him know.”

You didn’t say yes. You never said yes. You just walked away, the sound of your Converse on linoleum echoing down the hallway like punctuation.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Seventh period passed in a blur of equations and doodles in the margins of your notes. After the council meeting, you finally stepped outside, the air already cooling into that signature late-fall crispness. The parking lot was nearly empty.

You considered heading home. You could’ve taken the long way, past the neighborhood where the autumn leaves were still clinging to the trees. You could’ve gone to the arcade. Or the library. Or just—anywhere that didn’t involve someone asking about your brother.

But you didn’t expect to find him sitting on the curb, chain smoking like he wasn’t technically banned from school property after last week’s fireworks stunt in the boys’ bathroom.

Eddie Munson.

The freak. The guy who played guitar like his soul depended on it and made people uncomfortable just by existing too loudly. You’d seen him in the halls before. You’d sat two rows behind him in Honors English last year until he flunked out. You weren’t friends, not really. Just two people whose orbits occasionally overlapped.

He didn’t see you at first.

You almost kept walking. You almost didn’t say anything at all.

But then—

“You know you’re gonna die with those lungs, right?”

His head snapped toward you, brows raised like he expected a punchline. He looked you up and down, eyes lingering on the school ID clipped to your lanyard.

“Oh,” he said. “Royalty speaks.”

You snorted. “Hardly.”

There was a beat of silence. He blinked, like you’d just said something in another language.

You tilted your head. “What? You think I’m gonna write you up or something?”

He shrugged, flicked ash from his cigarette. “Dunno. Just surprised you acknowledged me. Usually your kind has blinders for the unwashed masses.”

You raised a brow. “You mean people who sit alone after school chain-smoking Marlboros in the parking lot?”

He looked at you again, this time with more curiosity than sarcasm. “You’re not as much of a Harrington as I thought.”

You shrugged, offering the tiniest smile—this one not fake, but not fully real either. “Guess you don’t know me.”

He took another drag, then said, “Not yet.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The thing about Hawkins High was that everyone fit neatly into their little boxes. Jocks. Cheerleaders. Band geeks. Burnouts. Even the ones who tried not to belong ended up in their own category—like Eddie Munson, who made being an outcast feel like a damn art form.

You weren’t supposed to talk to him. Not because anyone said it out loud, but because it just wasn’t done. You were student council. Straight-A’s. Some teacher’s favorite. You were a Harrington.

So when you found yourself walking into the library during study hall, the last thing you expected was to spot Eddie Munson camped out in the farthest corner—feet kicked up, a tattered fantasy novel in hand, and a sketchbook open in his lap like a secret he wasn’t ready to share.

You would’ve left him alone.

But then he glanced up and said, “Look who it is. Council Queen.”

You sighed. “Do you ever not give people nicknames?”

Eddie leaned back in his chair like the whole world was a stage. “Only the ones who are boring.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So I’m not boring?”

He seemed to consider that for a second. “Not yet. You’ve got potential.”

You rolled your eyes and sat a few chairs away—not close enough to seem like you were seeking him out, but not far enough to ignore him either. You pulled out your notes and started reviewing for an upcoming history quiz.

“Lemme guess,” Eddie said after a beat. “American Revolution?”

“World Wars,” you replied without looking up.

He let out a dramatic groan. “Man, I barely passed that class. Too many dates. Not enough dragons.”

You stifled a laugh. “Well, there were enough battles, if that helps.”

“I dunno,” he mused, tapping his pencil on the edge of his desk. “Would’ve paid more attention if it had orcs or something.”

You shook your head but didn’t tell him to shut up.

After a few minutes, you noticed him glancing at your notes. Not in a copying kind of way—more like he was genuinely trying to make sense of what you’d written.

“You know,” you said, “you could probably pass this year. If you actually tried.”

Eddie gave you a skeptical look. “What makes you think I want to?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” you replied, gesturing to the stack of books on the table. “In the library. During study hall. You could be skipping.”

He blinked like he hadn’t considered that you might notice details about him.

A pause settled between you. Not awkward. Just… curious.

“Alright,” he said eventually. “You got me. I’m trying. Might as well graduate before the world ends.”

You smiled at that. Not the fake smile you gave to party girls who only wanted Steve’s number. A real one. Small, crooked, surprised.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you said, turning back to your notes.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, then smirked and opened his book again.

And for the rest of study hall, you sat there—quietly, separately, but somehow in the same kind of peace. Like two kids who had accidentally wandered off the map and didn’t hate the company they found.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Suddenly, he's everywhere.

One day, you passed him in the hallway and gave him a nod. The next, he was already sitting in your usual study hall corner when you walked in, a second chair dragged out for no one in particular. After that, it was lunch outside behind the bleachers—he said the cafeteria made his skin crawl—and you just… started showing up there too.

You never planned it. It was like some weird, unspoken schedule only the two of you understood.

Eddie would make fun of your neatly labeled folders. You’d mock his absolute refusal to use lined paper. He’d tell you about his latest campaign, sketching monsters in the margins of his algebra homework. You’d quiz him on history while he threw pencils at squirrels and pretended not to care. But he always remembered the answers.

There was something safe about being around him. No pretense. No performance. No Steve’s sister nonsense.

Just you.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

It was one of those strange after-school afternoons where neither of you had anywhere to be.

You were sitting across from Eddie in the back corner of the library, pretending to work on student council flyers while he doodled little bats and swords in the margins of a notebook he wasn’t even pretending to study from.

Somehow, the conversation wandered—casually at first—from school stuff to the past, to old reputations that still lingered like cigarette smoke.

And then Eddie said, without looking at you, “You know, your brother used to be a real dick to guys like me.”

You paused, pen hovering mid-air.

“I know,” you said quietly.

He didn’t say it cruelly. Just plainly. Like it was a fact he’d carried around long enough that it didn’t burn anymore.

You shifted in your seat. “He’s not like that anymore.”

“I’ve noticed.”

There was a beat of silence, then you added, “Still, I’m sorry. For how he used to be. He’s my twin, yeah, but he doesn’t speak for me.”

Eddie looked at you for a moment—really looked at you.

Then he shrugged, smirking a little. “Honestly, I stopped holding that against you the moment you made fun of my Dio shirt and didn’t follow it up with a hair flip and an insult.”

You huffed a laugh, a little relieved.

“I don’t do hair flips,” you said.

“Exactly my point,” he replied, tapping his pencil like he’d solved a riddle. “You’re not him. Never were.”

You blinked.

That shouldn’t have meant as much as it did.

But it did.

Because most people only ever saw you as a footnote to Steve’s reputation—his smarter, quieter, more polite twin. A fun twist on a familiar character. Even the compliments felt borrowed.

But Eddie? He said it so simply.

You’re not him.

You felt seen in a way you hadn’t expected. And honestly? It left you a little speechless.

Eddie went back to doodling like he hadn’t just rearranged something in your chest.

You stared at him for a while longer, wondering when exactly things had started to shift.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You were just trying to kill time. Saturday afternoon, no student council meetings, no tutoring sessions, no expectations. You walked into the music store on Main for the quiet, for the rows of records and the occasional hum of something being tested over the speakers. You liked it there. It felt like a place that didn’t need you to be anyone.

The bell above the door jingled behind you just as you were flipping through a bin labeled Classic Rock / Staff Picks.

“I’m not stalking you, I swear,” said a familiar voice.

You looked up, and there he was. Eddie Munson. Denim vest, unruly curls, a tiny tear in his shirt sleeve like always. He looked like he belonged in a record store. You didn’t.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not.”

“I mean, I could be,” he added with a smirk. “But I feel like that’d ruin the whole ‘slow burn indie drama’ vibe we’ve got going.”

You snorted. “You think we’re an indie movie?”

He nodded toward the back of the store. “Only if there’s a scene where we judge each other’s music taste in complete silence.”

You followed him.

It wasn’t planned. It never was.

You browsed together for a while after that, shoulders bumping now and then, fingers almost brushing in the cramped aisles. You argued about The Clash vs. Talking Heads. He talked smack about synth-pop when you admitted you kinda liked it.

“I feel like you’re the kind of person who secretly likes Fleetwood Mac,” you said.

He scoffed. “Secretly? Nah. I’m man enough to admit ‘The Chain’ kicks ass.”

You laughed. A real one.

He stared for a beat too long.

You pretended not to notice.

Eventually, you ended up near the little listening station in the corner, headphones too big for your ears, vinyl spinning on a dusty turntable.

He watched you tuck your hair behind your ear as you adjusted the headphones and dropped the needle.

Your eyes closed. You swayed slightly. He didn’t know what you were listening to, but he knew he’d never seen you look more yourself.

Like the version of you no one at school got to see.

You opened your eyes, caught him staring.

He didn’t look away this time.

“What?” you asked, half a laugh in your voice.

He shrugged. “You’re just…”

He trailed off. Words fumbled somewhere between his mouth and brain. He looked down, suddenly very interested in the scuff on his boot.

“…Different than I thought,” he finished lamely.

You watched him.

He looked like he was waiting for you to laugh at him. Or roll your eyes. Or say something biting.

But you just said, “You too.”

There was a pause.

Then he asked, “You wanna go get fries or something?”

You blinked. Not in disbelief. Just in surprise that he asked.

Like this wasn’t just some weird afterschool friendship you both stumbled into. Like it could be more. Like maybe it already was.

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

By the next week, you were swapping cassette tapes like they were secret codes. Eddie gave you one labeled For Better Days in black Sharpie. You gave him a mixtape called Study Fuel that was half Bowie, half The Smiths. He said it was pretentious. He listened to it anyway.

He started walking you to your car when no one else was around.

You started waiting for him by his locker after seventh period.

It wasn’t a thing. Not officially. Not yet.

But when his pinky brushed yours one afternoon as you passed him a note—stupid, doodled lyrics and inside jokes—you didn’t pull away.

And when he looked at you after, not smirking but watching, really watching you like he saw something no one else did…

You looked back.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Harrington house was quiet that night — just the low hum of the fridge and the soft hiss of the shower running upstairs. You were sprawled on the living room floor, textbook open in front of you, pretending to study while the same sentence blurred in your vision for the third time.

You were smiling, just a little. That kind of soft, absent smile you didn’t realize you were wearing.

“You’re either having a mental breakdown,” Steve said from the doorway, “or you’re into someone.”

You glanced up, startled. He was leaning against the doorframe with a glass of water in one hand, looking entirely too smug for someone who couldn’t pass pre-calc without divine intervention.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so nosy.”

“And you’re being weird.”

He walked over, flopping dramatically onto the couch, water nearly sloshing out of the glass.

“I’m not being weird,” you muttered.

“You’re smiling at your homework. Geography homework. That’s suspicious.”

You tried to glare, but he saw right through it. Always had.

He let the silence stretch for a second before speaking again—quieter this time.

“Seriously, though. You seem… I dunno. Lighter.”

You blinked. That caught you off guard.

“I do?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Like… you’re not carrying the whole damn school on your back for once.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared down at your textbook and let that settle in your chest.

He waited.

That’s the thing about Steve—he could be a pain, but he was patient with you. Always had been. You could tell him anything, and he’d listen. No judgment. Just a quiet, solid kind of love.

But still, this one was yours.

For now.

So you just said, “Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

Steve gave a slow, knowing nod.

“Well,” he said, “whoever or whatever it is… keep it. You deserve to feel good.”

That time, you didn’t hide your smile.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He leaned back with a grin. “Now come make popcorn. I’m starting a movie and I need emotional support.”

“You mean you need someone to explain the plot to you.”

He pointed at you dramatically. “Exactly.”

You laughed, closing your textbook and pushing up from the floor.

Whatever was blooming between you and Eddie… it could stay secret a little longer.

For now, it was enough that you knew.

And Steve knew you were okay.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

It started awkward.

Not just regular-Eddie awkward, but nervous Eddie. A rare breed. You spotted it immediately: the way he kept bouncing his leg under the cafeteria table, the way he scratched at the back of his neck like his skin didn’t quite fit.

You were sitting outside again, a half-eaten apple in your hand, a history notebook open but ignored between you.

He cleared his throat once. Then again.

“Hey, uh,” he started, staring hard at the pavement. “So—okay—this is probably stupid.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Great opener.”

He gave you a look. “Let me finish.”

You waited, biting back a smile.

“There’s this… thing. Thursday night. At the Hideout.” He was fiddling with a piece of string from his jacket sleeve now, twisting it around his finger like it owed him money. “Corroded Coffin’s playing. Just a couple of songs. It’s not, like, a real gig. Mostly drunks and a few dudes who mistake us for Sabbath.”

You tilted your head. “Are you… inviting me?”

He winced. “I don’t know. Am I?”

You blinked, then grinned—slow and amused and maybe a little fond.

“Well,” you said, “I guess that depends.”

“On what?”

“Will I get to say I knew you before you were famous?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up, caught somewhere between disbelief and delight. “If you come, you’ll be part of the origin story.”

You tossed your apple core into the trash and stood up, slinging your bag over one shoulder. “Thursday,” you said. “I’ll be there.”

He nodded, visibly trying to play it cool. “Cool. Yeah. Totally cool.”

You laughed on your way back inside.

He watched you go, wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe he’d just pulled that off.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Hideout smelled like beer and cigarettes and old amps. The stage was barely six inches off the ground, the crowd maybe a dozen people deep, most of them nursing cheap drinks and ignoring the music.

You stood near the back, your hands tucked in your coat pockets, heart doing stupid things in your chest the second Eddie stepped onstage.

He was different up there.

Still himself—loud, cocky, electric—but amplified. His voice rough and raw, his guitar loud enough to shake your ribs. He didn’t look like a high school burnout up there.

He looked right.

You didn’t cheer like the drunk guy near the front or yell like the girls in the corner.

You just watched.

And he saw you.

Halfway through the second song, between lyrics, he looked right at you. Not at the crowd. Not at the door. You.

And he smiled.

Not that showy grin he wore like armor. A real one. Soft. Open.

It ruined you a little.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

After the set, you found him outside behind the bar, sitting on an upside-down crate and smoking a cigarette like it was the only thing keeping his hands steady.

He looked up when he heard you approach, eyes a little wide, hair wild with sweat and adrenaline.

“You came,” he said.

“You weren’t half bad,” you teased.

He scoffed. “We were loud. That’s about it.”

You sat beside him, knees bumping. “You looked happy.”

He went quiet. The good kind.

“I was,” he said eventually.

You turned to look at him. “That’s rare?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Kinda.”

The air buzzed between you, quiet and heavy, like the end of a song that hadn’t quite faded.

And then he said, almost too softly, “I kept looking for you.”

You blinked. “During the set?”

“Yeah.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

He shrugged, eyes flicking to yours. “Made it easier.”

You didn’t think.

You just leaned in.

And for once, Eddie Munson didn’t run his mouth. He didn’t joke. He didn’t fumble or flinch.

He just met you halfway.

The kiss was slow and tentative at first, both of you careful, like you weren’t sure this was allowed. Then it deepened—warmer, steadier—like you were both finally breathing after holding it in too long.

When you pulled back, he stared at you like you’d just rewritten the laws of gravity.

“Okay,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “That was…”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Neither of you said it out loud, but it was already understood.

This was real. This was yours.

And it was a secret worth keeping.

Part 2

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fics #kar's fics ☆

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lanalosty0uu · 4 months ago

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Take A Chance With Me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

part i | part ii | part iii

summary: why can't you for once, disregard the world and run to what you know is real? take a chance with me, Steve Harrington.

a/n: slight angst!!! fluff, hopeless romantic reader

general master list

inspired by the song:

══════════════════════

The first time you saw Steve Harrington smile, you knew you were in trouble.

You tried to play it cool—because that’s what you always did. You were the laid-back one, the nonchalant one, the girl who didn’t wear your heart on your sleeve. But every time Steve flashed that easy, lopsided grin, something twisted in your chest, and you had to force yourself to look away before your feelings bled out for everyone to see.

But Steve Harrington had always been in love with Nancy Wheeler. And for the longest time, You had accepted that. You kept your head down, kept your heart guarded, and kept herself at a safe distance. You told yourself that it didn’t matter—that his laughter wasn’t the sweetest sound you’d ever heard, that the way his eyes crinkled when he was amused didn’t make your stomach flip.

But then Nancy broke up with him.

It wasn’t quiet, and it wasn’t subtle. Word spread fast in Hawkins High, and your heard the whispers long before you saw the fallout. Nancy Wheeler dumped Steve Harrington at Tina’s party—drunk, angry, and loud enough for half the school to hear. Steve had been trying to keep his cool, but you had seen him storm out, jaw clenched and eyes dark, and you’d wanted to follow him.

You didn’t, though. You told yourself it wasn’t your place.

But on Monday, when Steve slumped into his seat next to you in history class, looking like a kicked puppy, you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt.

“Hey,” you said, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “You look miserable.”

He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the desk. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You wanted to say more—perhaps calm him down a little bit, but the words stuck. Instead, you nudged your notebook toward him. “You missed the notes from last week. If you want to catch up.”

Steve blinked at you, like he wasn’t used to anyone offering him kindness. “Thanks,” he said, his voice soft.

That afternoon, you found him sitting alone behind the school, a cigarette dangling from his fingers and his head tipped back against the wall.

“That bad, huh?” you asked, dropping down beside him.

He didn’t even flinch. “You heard.”

“Everyone heard,” she said gently.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Figures.”

You sat in silence for a minute before Steve spoke again. “I don’t get it. I did everything right. I was good to her, you know? And she—she said I wasn’t enough.”

Your heart twisted. “Steve—”

“I don’t even know who I am without her,” he said quietly.

You wanted to tell him. You wanted to say he was kind, and funny, and brave. That he didn’t need Nancy Wheeler to define him. But for your own sake, you kept it inside, because this wasn’t about you.

“You’re still you,” you said instead. “And that’s enough.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you—and for a second, you thought maybe he saw you truly.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

And that was how it started. You offered to help him with his notes because he clearly hadn’t been paying attention in class. You made stupid jokes under your breath just to see his lips twitch upward. You asked him about his day, and when his eyes finally met yours—warm and grateful—you thought, maybe. Just maybe.

══════════════════════

Days turned into weeks, and their easy companionship settled into something familiar, something you weren’t sure how to define. You studied together, sat next to each other in class, and sometimes Steve would find you at lunch when his usual crowd wasn’t around.

One afternoon, you were studying in the library when Steve’s laughter filled the quiet space. Your breath caught. You would’ve died for that sound. And as his eyes met yours, bright and full of warmth, you wondered if he could see the way you were falling apart.

“You’re kind of a lifesaver, you know,” he said, his voice low.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your heart thumped painfully against your ribs. You wanted to say, “You don’t have to,” wanted to tell him you’d always be there, that you’d run to him without question. But instead, she forced a smile and said,

“What are friends even for?”

But God, you wanted to be more than that. You wanted him to take a chance—with you.

The lines between friendship and something more kept blurring. He started sitting closer, his knee brushing against yours under the table. His eyes lingered a second longer when he locked his gaze on yours. Once, when you were laughing too hard at one of his jokes, he reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, and the simple touch burned through your skin.

══════════════════════

“Y/n,” he said one day after class, his voice hesitant. “Do you wanna—hang out? Like, outside of school?”

You blinked, your heart slamming against your ribs. “Like—just us?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you want.”

Of course, you wanted. But you played it cool. “Sure,” you said, smiling. “I’m free after six.”

You ended up at the diner, sharing fries and laughing like you’ve known each other forever. The weight that had been sitting on his shoulders since the breakup seemed lighter, and you hoped, even prayed, that maybe you had something to do with that.

As he walked you to her car later, Steve hesitated. “y/n,” he started, his voice soft. “I—thanks. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled that soft, lopsided smile that made your knees weak. “I kinda do. You’ve been… really great.”

For a second, you thought maybe he’d close the distance between them. Your breath caught, your heart pounding. But then he just squeezed your hand and stepped back.

You knew—they were almost there. But almost was never enough.

But you weren’t done trying.

You found excuses to spend more time with him. Inviting him to study at your house when your parents were working late, suggesting movies you knew he’d love, brushing your fingers against his just a little longer than necessary when you passed him something. Every time he smiled at you, every time his eyes softened, you felt hope bloom.

══════════════════════

One night, you were watching a movie in your living room when Steve’s arm brushed yours on the couch. He didn’t move away.

“You ever feel like,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the screen, “you’re waiting for something? But you don’t know what?”

Your heart pounded. “Yeah,” she whispered. “All the time.”

He turned his head, his face inches from yours. “y/n…”

The phone rang, breaking the moment. You closed your eyes, swallowing disappointment, and reached for the receiver.

When you hung up, you found him watching you. “I should probably go,” he said softly.

“Steve—” you started, but the words stuck.

“Thanks,” he said again, his voice gentle. “For being here.”

And just like that, he was gone.

They were almost there.

But she wouldn’t stop reaching for him.

and she wouldn’t stop wishing for him to take a chance with her.

p.s: my first ever one shot! i’ll make more fics and one shots inspired by songs! hope u guys like it ^^ also, if any of you would like to be added on my general taglist, feel free to request! <3

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apomaro-mellow · 2 months ago

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Divine and Damned 1/? Read on AO3

a/b/o; cult fic; Steve has been hiding his omega nature and living as an alpha. When his family moves to Hawkins, he catches the eye of town freak, Eddie Munson. Steve finds himself drawn to Eddie, unaware that the Munson family has plans for him…

Hawkins appeared like most other towns. Schools, neighborhoods, post office, library, the usual. The people were just as average. But among them lived a group that operated by different rules. A group that had secrets. A group that had no formal name but simply called themselves

The Family.

----------------------

Life had been pretty easy for Steve up until he underwent puberty. That was when his first heat hit and all of his problems started. His parents called it a stroke of luck that it happened during the summer. They hid him away the entire week and even after that, Steve wasn’t allowed to see anyone until the suppressants they gave him took effect.

He was the only son of Richard Harrington. He couldn’t be an omega. And Steve had done a pretty decent job of keeping up the ruse until he let someone get too close. It had been one of his house parties and someone went into his bathroom, finding the pills and scent blockers. It didn’t take long for the rumor to spread and for his reputation to be ruined.

Steve thought having the cat out of the bag would force his parents to accept it at least. But no such luck. They simply moved. Easy as that. From small town New England to small town Indiana. And so Steve began his senior year with no friends and hiding who he truly was again. With his broad shoulders, he was able to pass for an alpha. And after wowing the athletics department and joining a couple teams, he cemented his place in the hierarchy of Hawkins High School very quickly.

That was the version of Steve that Eddie first laid eyes on.

Eddie had heard that a new jock had joined the flock but it wasn’t until he happened to be by the field that he saw him. Long legs hidden under sweatpants that stretched as he ran laps around the football field. The late August heat had him wearing a crop top that stopped mid-torso. Eddie’s first thought was that perhaps Hawkins was getting the ball rolling on co-ed integration in sports. But as he continued to watch, he realized he must be mistaken. None of the other players were treating him like an omega.

In fact, despite his newness to the school’s ecosystem, others seemed to defer to him. So he must be an alpha. But Eddie found beauty in all, regardless of gender and designation. And Steve Harrington was a work of art.

He told his uncle so that very day at dinner.

“Hm, and you’re sure he’s an alpha?”, Wayne had asked.

“I didn’t get the chance to get up close and take a whiff, but he must be”, Eddie said. “That or a beta.” He swallowed. “I know I’m meant for an omega-”

“Your destiny says nothing about an omega”, Wayne said. “And even if it did, if you’re drawn to this boy, follow that feeling. Your mother was drawn to me first. But that led her to my brother. We are all guided in ways we can’t begin to comprehend.”

------------------------

And so while Steve was not an omega, Eddie watched him all the same. He hung around with Jason and the rest of the basketball team. But Eddie noted that whenever he swooped in to save a freshie or member of his club, Harrington was suspiciously absent. They didn’t share any classes together, so Eddie was only able to steal looks outside of those times. He wasn’t subtle at all as he stared at Steve in the lunch room but he didn’t care. He wanted to see what Steve would do.

What he did was ask around. Who was the guy who was always staring at him?

“Him? That’s Eddie Munson. He’s a freak”, Tommy had answered. It was definitive and didn’t leave room for much questioning. But Steve was curious.

“Why’s he a freak?”, he asked.

Jason replied this time. “Munson, his family, and some others…they’re not normal.”

“How do you mean?”, Steve urged.

Jason just shook his head. “You stay clear of him and you won’t need to find out. They should’ve been run out of town a long time ago.”

That just gave Steve more questions. He turned to look at Eddie and found that his gaze still hadn’t wavered. Even as his group of friends spoke, some even getting rowdy, Eddie’s eyes didn’t stray from him. Steve couldn’t look away either. Tommy stood and glared in Eddie’s direction.

“You got a problem, freak?!”

Eddie’s lips parted and he licked at a fang. Steve suppressed a shiver. Blockers kept his omega scent from leaking but he tried not to work it too hard by feeling arousal. He turned his back on Munson then, bringing up a game they had to change the subject. They all eagerly latched onto that.

-----------------------------

The game ended in their victory and there was going to be a party at Tommy’s to celebrate. But before that was the most daunting part of Steve’s life. The locker room. His blockers weren’t powerful enough to hide his scent if he got aroused. But regular sweat from exercise was fine. It just smelled of salty adrenaline without being infused with his natural scent. Honestly, it had been so long, Steve forgot what he really smelled like.

No, his smell wasn’t the problem when it came to this. It was being in such close quarters with his friends and having to hide a particular part of his anatomy. Steve typically got away with it by a number of strategies. Being the last one in the locker room, undressing at a snail’s pace, distracting the others with gestures and conversation.

So far, it had worked and he was able to undress and shower alone without anyone noticing anything. But tonight, Tommy was snapping at him to pick up the pace.

“There’s omegas hot and ready and heading to my place. I bet that game has ‘em soaked!”

“You know if an omega is wet before they get to you, it means they’ve been fucked already”, Andy grinned. “Nah, the drier they are, the tighter they are.”

Tommy’s nose scrunched. “Jason, you hearin’ this?”

“Only whores get wet at the slightest touch. And I don’t lay with whores”, Jason said. “The girl I marry is gonna be pure as snow because she’s saved herself just for me.”

Steve raised a brow. “You’re saving yourself for marriage?”

“Why would I save myself? It’s the wife’s duty to be pure.”

“Wish there were more dude omegas in this town”, another teammate piped up. “I heard their pussies are the wettest.”

“They’re sluttier too.”

“Steve, c’mon!”, Tommy urged.

“I’mmmm actually gonna go home and shower first”, Steve said, putting his jacket on and grabbing his bag.

“What? Dude just run in the shower and let’s go.”

Steve smirked, putting on the charm. “The hair doesn’t happen on its own. You’re not the only one who wants some pussy tonight.”

He got away with that and after showering, doing some actual primping, and taking another dose of suppressants, he went to Tommy’s. The party was already jumping and the house was filled with teens, both from Hawkins and even a few from out of town. This was Steve’s element. He loved to drink and smoke and no one suspected a thing about him. It was easy to forget who he was when he was three drinks in.

It was easy to ignore when he’d see someone like himself being crowded around and then led away to a room. Or like now, when a cheerleader was slumping across the couch and some guy picked her up and took her upstairs. It wasn’t happening to him and wouldn’t happen to him so why should he care? Why should he follow them upstairs? Why should he call out to make sure she was okay?

“Hey!”, his voice left his mouth without permission as he stood in the doorway.

“Fuck dude, get your own. Or like, close the door and wait your turn? I’m not gonna be long and she’s ready to go.”

She was almost completely passed out, as evidence of her groaning and how she was trying to turn to her side but was unsuccessful. Steve wanted no needed to say something else to save her. But what was he supposed to say? And the guy was already unbuckling his belt, Steve’s presence clearly didn’t matter. Then he smelled something burning.

“There she is.”

Eddie Munson appeared next to Steve, then shouldered his way into the bedroom. The guy paused in undoing his pants to see who else had barged in.

“Fuck off!”

Eddie wasted no time in scruffing him and pinning him to the wall. “That little bitch owes me money. So you can either give her to me, or I can beat it out of you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply as he turned and threw the girl over his shoulder and left the room. Steve’s lips are still parted and as Eddie passed he realized the burning scent was him but there was something else to it. He followed behind, unsure of where Eddie was going or what he was doing. People gave the alpha a wide berth until he found who he was looking for. Or rather, she found him.

“Simone! Oh my god!”, another cheerleader ran up to Eddie. “Let go of her, you freak!”

“Wait, no-”, Steve tried to speak up because there was clearly a misunderstanding but Eddie just grinned wide, baring his fangs.

“Keep a closer eye on your little lambs. I almost got a bite outta her.”

Why wasn’t he telling them the truth? The whole party turned to behold the spectacle and it wasn’t right. Eddie wasn’t the one they should be scorning. Eddie didn’t overstay his welcome, leaving the party before a mob could be formed to kick him out. The ordeal stayed in Steve’s head, even when the party ended and he went home.

He tossed and turned in bed, fixating on Eddie’s scent. It was something warm and familiar and yet he couldn’t place it. It was driving him mad and he tried to think of something else. But he kept coming back to that moment. That girl, completely helpless and Steve was useless.

And then there was the base fear underneath it all.

That Steve could have been her.

If he was living as the omega he was, would he be considered just as disposable as her? The way his friends talked was seared in his head. It was how everyone talked about omegas in the locker rooms and anywhere else that was split by designation and gender. Steve had known this for a long time. But when he had to face the truth of how others viewed omegas, it was like a slap each time. Even Jason, who went to church, didn’t hold them in any sort of high regard.

But Eddie… He had swooped in and saved her like it was easy. Would he have extended the same kindness if Steve was in that position? Somehow, the idea began to form and that was what finally calmed Steve enough to go to sleep.

In a world where he was openly an omega. Maybe things wouldn’t be great. The guys he called teammates and friends would leer at him. Maybe one would even get handsy. Or it could be exactly like tonight. Steve having a great time until he drinks a little too much…or maybe someone slips him something…He’s taken upstairs against his will, completely at the mercy of whoever has him. And that’s when Eddie steps in, pushing the assailant away and holding Steve close as he carries him to safety.

Steve is asleep by then and his dreams are formless but the sensations are there. Surrounded by the scent of a safe alpha. The birds were chirping in the bright early light as Steve moaned himself awake. The morning felt warm and syrupy and he couldn’t tell why until he began to wake up more.

He realized his lower half tingled and his cunt was throbbing with the aftershocks of an orgasm. He just had a wet dream. A notion that was mortifying on its own made even worse when he remembered his dream. So it was even worse than he thought.

He just had a wet dream about the town freak.

Part 2

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #cult fic

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joequiinn · 1 year ago

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PREVIEW | You Can Have My Hate | b.h. x reader

Summary | Unfortunately, you got stuck with Billy fucking Hargrove as your partner for your final assignment in history class. Also unfortunately, Billy discovers you have a killer body underneath all those baggy clothes…

Author's Note | Billy is a disgusting little man and i love him dearly. as the title says, this is a preview of something i've been working on! the fic is already at 6.5k words and still isn't done, so i decided to put out a little snippet to see if there was any interest, so please let me know if you'd like me to finish the fic!

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, curvy + large chest reader, foul and suggestive language, canon typical Billy bullshit, awful behavior from both Billy and reader, minor allusions to sex but nothing happens (yet)

Music Inspo | Closer by Nine Inch Nails

WC | 1.9k

You let me violate you | You let me desecrate youYou let me penetrate you | You let me complicate you

“Damn, little miss straight-laced,” Billy’s hooded eyes slowly crawled down your body, the corner of his mouthing pulled back in a lecherous smirk, “is that what you’ve been hiding under all those baggy clothes?”

God, you hated Billy Hargrove. Absolutely despised him with every fiber of your being. You knew you should’ve begged your history teacher for a different partner, should’ve gotten on your knees and pleaded for literally anyone other than Billy fucking Hargrove to work on this assignment with you. An idiotic football player or a bitchy cheerleader would’ve been better than this. But no, you didn’t beg and you didn’t plead, so now you were stuck, and god if this wasn’t about to be the worst couple weeks of your life.

Ever since Billy showed up in Hawkins at the beginning of last semester, you detested him. Everything about him screamed disrespectful, hateful asshole, and so having two classes with him meant you had witnessed your fair share of this behavior. Why so many girls wanted to fuck him and why so many boys aspired to be him was a mystery to you, because you could see from the start that he was a no good piece of shit.

But, in a way, you were lucky because you were literally a nobody. And nobodies went unnoticed, which meant not having to deal with bullshit from 90% of your peers. Hell, when your history teacher was pairing everyone off and told Billy who his partner would be, his response was an amused “who?” as if he didn’t believe this person - you - even existed. He had gone the entirety of the school year not having a single clue that you existed, and damn you wish it had just gone on a little longer. You literally had one more month left of senior year, one more month until you never even had to think about Hawkins High again, and the last thing you wanted was to spend half of that month in misery while trying to put up with Billy fucking Hargrove.

This assignment shouldn’t have even been worth shit to you, considering that your grade was nearly perfect and it was your last big project before graduation, but that’s where your history teacher hooked all of you - if this assignment wasn’t completed, then you guys wouldn’t be able to receive your diplomas. Or so he said to deter kids like you from flaking on it - you didn’t know if your boring old history teacher had that kind of authority, but you weren’t about to risk finding out.

And for kids like Billy? Kids who didn’t give a shit, who were already struggling to pass? The grade on this assignment was make or break. Not that it affected you any, of course - Billy could fail his senior year for all you cared. But shockingly enough, he was the one to make a point of its importance to you, the one to emphasize that he had to pass this class and graduate. It was curious to you, since you’d never once seen Billy care about school, but perhaps he was also beginning to feel the fire under his ass to leave Hawkins.

So, for the past week now, you’d been meeting with Billy at the school library, trying your best not to rip out your hair while you did the majority of the work. Hell, you could’ve told Billy just to fuck off and let you work on your own - you’d still let him put his name on the assignment and everything. But for whatever reason, you didn’t and so now you were subjecting yourself to tolerating his bullshit.

And that’s what you were doing right now, sitting across from Billy in the library and using every fiber of your being not to lose it on him. He had been particularly difficult from the moment he sat down, his foot bouncing impatiently and his expression condescending each time you tried to talk to him. He was making it very clear that he’d rather be anywhere other than here. The warm temperature of the library combined with your frustration at Billy was causing you to feel a little toasty, so you caved and tugged your large sweater over your head, leaving you in a tight, black tank top that left little to the imagination.

And said tight, black tank top is exactly what Billy was ogling, making you sneer and immediately regret taking off your sweater.

You never liked showing off your body, never liked the attention it drew you. You wouldn’t say you were self-conscious necessarily, you didn’t hate the way you looked in the mirror or anything like that. But you were very aware of how men looked at women’s bodies, and as someone who hated most forms of attention, you weren’t going to have any of that. So you wore baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, hid your frame under clothes that were always a size or so too big. It kept eyes and hands off of you, and you preferred it that way.

But damn it, it was so hot in the library that afternoon and you weren’t thinking clearly. You couldn’t believe your own stupidity - you just had to take off your sweater in front of Billy fucking Hargrove, a boy who only ever saw women as either sex pots or prudes. His lewd gaze was making you feel even more hot under the collar, but shit did you want to put your sweater back on already despite the heat.

“Will you please focus, Hargrove?” You begged in an exacerbated tone, trying to cross your arms over your chest in a way that wasn’t obvious while looking back down to the textbook open in front of you.

“You expect me to focus now, after you whipped those out?” Billy took such obvious joy in knowing that he was making you uncomfortable. He leaned forward on the table, his eyes once again traveling a salacious path down the curves of your body, “It’s Friday night, I got a pair of double D’s sitting across from me, and you’re asking me to focus on a damn essay?”

“Shut up.” You threatened between your teeth, trying not to raise your voice and draw attention. Your eyes were dark with frustration as you stared at Billy, who simply looked back at you like he didn’t give a damn, like he was just waiting for you to cave to him.

And how the hell could he tell you wore a double D?

You sank in your seat a little while attempting to cross your arms even more aggressively in front of your chest, feeling your cheeks growing red. Billy gave you that smooth, lazy grin that you’ve seen him use before, his eyes hooded as he leaned back in his chair. The feeling of his indecent gaze on your body practically made your skin crawl.

“Fine, Hargrove,” You quickly grab up your belongings and shoot to your feet, fumbling with your bag and sweater to make sure they kept your chest covered, “if you wanna be a prick who won’t focus, we’ll do this next week.”

You started to march out of the library, to retreat to safety. You didn’t like the way Billy was looking at you - it was objectifying and disrespectful and vulgar. Billy never once gave a fuck about - or even noticed - you before, but the second you remove a stupid barrier of clothing, suddenly he’s oh so interested. He was such a pig.

But shit, why was it also… kind of hot?

No, it was not hot.

You couldn’t let yourself even entertain that thought because there sure as shit wasn’t anything hot about it. It wasn’t hot that he objectified you, it wasn’t hot that he drank your body in with impropriety, it wasn’t hot that his tongue ran slowly along his lower lip as his eyes met yours with practiced allure.

No, no, no! You could’ve kicked yourself. Nothing about that should’ve been hot, god damn it.

“Oh, come on, killjoy,” Billy grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around to face him, having followed you through the library. His grip was firm as you looked between his face and hand and back again.

The library wasn’t exactly busy on a Friday afternoon, but you looked around to find that the librarian and another student both looked in your direction. It made you even more nervous to know that eyes were on you; what if you got in trouble, what if the librarian reprimands you both for being disruptive? You looked back to Billy, your brows furrowed in annoyance as you whipped your wrist out of his hold with hostility.

“I’m serious, if all you want is to slack off and look at my tits that’s your business.” You immediately clamped your mouth shut, your eyes widening slightly - that is not what you meant to say at all. Oh god, why the fuck did you say that? Shit, you should’ve just told him that you’d regroup next week, that you weren’t going to put up with him. But no, instead you said arguably the stupidest thing you could, and it was clear on Billy’s face that he was relishing in your stupid words, enjoying them even.

He looked back down at your body, luckily hidden behind your bag and sweater, “My business, huh? Sounds to me like permission to stare.”

“No.” You answered firmly; your cheeks and neck felt so fucking warm. You tried to get back on track, tried to shake off the stupid thing you said just a moment ago, “I just want to finish this project. So, go home and jack off to your Playboys all weekend, and then maybe we can actually get some work done next week.”

Despite your jabs, Billy still grinned wickedly, dipping his head a little as he took a step closer, his voice low, “So, that’s what you’re thinking about, huh? Me jacking off? You enjoying that thought?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find some quick response to that, but you couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. A sound of disbelief left your throat as you gaped with loathing at Billy for a moment. God, you felt like a damn fish trying to breathe out of water. With a glare in your eyes, you clamped your mouth shut, which seemed to be a great amusement to Billy, whose smile widened as a laugh escaped him.

“God, you make it so easy.” He said, shaking his head, “You gotta lighten up, you know?”

You sigh loudly, eyes still staring at him harshly, “Whatever, Hargrove.”

You attempt to walk away once more, but yet again Billy snatches your wrist, “Wait, wait, wait…”

“Stop acting interested in me all of a sudden,” You try to shake your arm out of his hold again, but this time Billy’s grip is tighter, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Look,” his tone was firm as he instructed, “let’s go back over to the table, get some more work done, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you studied his face, “I don’t need a ride.”

“You don’t have a car.” He countered immediately.

“I don’t need a ride from you.”

“You don’t, but isn’t it generous that I’m offering?”

“More like devious.”

“I’ll be a total gentleman.”

You laughed right in his face, “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things #a fics*

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eds6ngel · 1 year ago

Note

NERDY GIRL (book lover, does well in school, loves to study) DATING EDDIE MUNSON. BOTH LOSING THEIR VIRGINITIES TO EACH OTHER. THANKS, BETH, ILY :33

not so shy now, are we?

eddie munson x afab!fem!reader.

summary: after borrowing a copy of 'jaws' from hawkins library, you are shocked to find the explicit material written across the pages. however, your body reacts in a different way than you intended, which doesn't go unnoticed by eddie...

warnings: HEAVY SMUT!! fem!reader. afab!reader. queer!reader. switch!eddie & switch!reader (they are both dom and sub at different times.) unprotected p in v (r is on birth control.) fingering. A LOT OF DIRTY TALK. mentions of dildos, straps & silicone bodies. mentions of porn. pet names (sweetheart, my love, honey, baby.) swearing. established relationship. one mention of religion/god. some fluff & comfort at the end [2.9k].

a/n: thank you for requesting, my love! i kind of went off on this (i was feeling kinky today :')) so i hope you don't mind that!! we stan kinky virgins in this house and they deserve some love. so, low and behold, kinky eddie and reader ♡

You and Eddie were sat top-to-tail on his bed, lying beside each other as you read away.

Your knees were tucked up to your chest, your borrowed copy of Jaws from Hawkins Library laying in your lap.

Eddie, on the other hand, was sprawled out like a cat, his copy of Fellowship of the Ring held high above his head, the boy squinting to read the words.

You had urged him to get his eyes tested, even offered to pay for the appointment due to the Munson’s financial insecurity, but he wholeheartedly refused, claiming it would “ruin his look.”

You tried your best to convince him it would just make him look sexier, but he brushed you off with a “Thanks, sweetheart” and carried on with his far-sightedness.

You had seen Jaws when it had first come out in theatres over ten years ago, your seven-year-old mind blown away by its visuals and story.

So, when you picked up the book, you expected the story to be pretty much the same, more focused on the descriptive writing than any major plot differences.

But, as you came to a certain scene, your mind started to race.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust.”

You and Eddie hadn’t gone any further than humping. It never ended in anything, just something to satisfy yourselves whilst you made out.

You quickly looked over at your boyfriend, his attention deeply focused in on his favourite book.

Raising the book from your lap, you hid your face behind it, softly biting your lip as your eyes scanned the following two sentences.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly.”

However, despite your best efforts to cover your face, Eddie had already felt the bedsheet moving against his legs. Looking away from his own novel, he takes note of the way your thighs squeezed together, the content of the pages in your respective hand obviously causing a stir in a certain region of your body.

A sudden smirk appears on his face as he thinks of an idea, beginning with a simple gesture to capture your attention. He takes his sock-covered foot and rubs it against your bare one.

The feeling of the fabric against your skin makes you jolt, almost snapping the book shut as you peer over the top of it to see your boyfriend’s face.

“How’s the book, sweetheart?”

You gulped, forcing a smile on your face and nodding furiously as you replied, “Yeah! Yeah… Um, really good! It’s, um… really good, yeah…”

You notice the way he folds the corner of his page, placing the book on his nightstand and crawling up the bed to sit beside you. Out of instinct, you hold the book close to your chest, your mind unable to close it fully due to the urge to continue reading the steamy scene.

He lets out an exaggerated yawn and casually drapes his arm behind your back. “I’m bored of my own book. Read some of yours to me. I’m interested.”

Bored of Fellowship? That couldn’t be right. He was up to something here.

“Um… I’d rather not!” you squeak out, trying to conceal the dirty words on the page in front of you, “I just… don’t feel like reading aloud today.”

He nods understandably, however, that same glint remained lurking in his orbs. “I understand, baby.”

However, so distracted by the beauty of your man, he delicately removes the book from your hands. The action was so incredibly light, Eddie placing it in his right hand whilst his left rested on top of your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay, let’s see here… What beautiful words grace this adaptation of a truly wonderful film?”

You throat closes up as you are reminded of what you just read a mere few minutes ago. It was currently summer in Indiana, so the freeness of your skirt allowed you to feel how wet you already were beneath your panties.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust,” Eddie spoke, his tone becoming deeper and more sultry, his hand slowly travelling up your inner thigh.

The words sounded sexy enough coming from your own inner voice, but with Eddie’s? You didn’t know how long you were able to contain yourself.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly,” he continued, his hand now reaching over your panties, feeling the wetness leaking through.

He chuckles seductively, “Didn’t know Jaws was this explicit sweetheart, but it seems like you were enjoying it regardless.”

God, for a virgin, he already knew how to push your buttons, somehow finding your clit through the fabric and rubbing delicate circles around it.

“Eddie… please,” you whine out, mouth slightly parted as you look at him with pleading eyes. He switches hands, placing the book upside down beside his own and using his right to continue focusing on your bud.

He cups your cheek with his left hand, turning you on your side as he kisses you softly, gentle moans releasing from your lips as he ever so slowly pleasures you.

You can feel him leave your clit, moving his hand upward before stopping at the band of your panties.

“This okay, baby?” he mutters in between kisses, to which you break away to softly reply, “Very okay.”

Your lips connect once more, your hand cupping his cheek as he delves beneath the restriction of your underwear. Inside his own mind, Eddie was floating. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening, and that oddly, he was exemplifying so much confidence.

He relished in the adoration of how wet you were. He doubted that it was merely the underwear that underestimated the amount, you had gotten wetter since he began pleasuring you. You were wet for him.

“Holy shit, baby,” he groans, looking down to see where his hand was buried beneath the fabric of your simple, black panties. His fingers were soaked, travelling lower until they reached your tiny, little hole.

Your face was buried into his neck, nodding frantically as you lifted your leg up higher, giving him access. He felt your head move against the side of his face, his cheek leant against it as he slowly sank one finger inside of you.

The stretch felt so fucking good. The coolness of his ring could be felt against the entrance of your pussy, the tip of his finger softly rubbing against the spongy spot at the back.

He could feel your hot breath against his neck, small whimpers escaping your lips as you simply whispered “More, please. Need more…”

He knew exactly what you meant, but didn’t want to break you. You were tiny, and he would punish himself forever if you even felt an ounce of pain caused by him.

“Don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, his breath coming out in pants.

“You won’t, my love. Please… Just… I need you so bad.”

And how could he deny that begging? He was one step away from floating to heaven. And if he was being honest, he would happily die this way if it meant you moaning away in his ear.

So, without hesitation, he pulled his finger out, and entered again with two, pushing deep into your pussy.

The stretch was beautifully delicious, the burn being extremely pleasurable as he attacked that spongy spot once again.

He was being delicate, you could recognise that easily. But, that wasn’t something you wanted. What your boyfriend didn’t know is that you were kinky as hell. And the rougher he did it, the more satisfied you would be.

But, Eddie wasn’t all that innocent either. His trips to Family Video were strategically planned so that Robin was on shift, knowing that it was a lot easier (but not completely devoid of awkwardness) if he got his hardcore porn whilst she was working the front counter, rather than someone like Steve Harrington.

“Harder. Please, Eddie, please!” you sobbed into his shoulder. With how full you were, it was almost painful with his slow pace. All you wanted was for him to drive into you with force.

With your cries of frustration, the inner dominance of him struck out, him gritting his teeth and biting on your earlobe, “Yeah, you want it fuckin’ rough, sweetheart?”

“Want nothing more, baby. Please give it to me.”

And with that, he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at lightning speed. With each thrust, the palm of his hand smacked perfectly against your clit, increasing the amount of pleasure you felt.

You were able to give him hickeys on his shoulder purely by biting down whenever he hit particularly hard. Each pull of his skin lended itself with a harsh hiss from between his teeth.

“Is this what you imagined when you were reading that book, baby, huh? Thought about my fingers pumping into you like that?”

Oh god, he was a dirty talker too. You nodded frantically, almost screaming when he stopped pumping, pushing his fingers as deep as they would go and shaking them up and down. The sloshing sounds coming from your pussy made you both moan in unison.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, before continuing to blabber, “Course you did. You think about me often, don’t you, sweetheart? Think about me when you’re alone at night, filling yourself with those sweet toys you have underneath your bed.”

You honestly didn’t even know he knew about them. But, it was hot nonetheless. Knowing that he knew about the nine-inch dildo sent shivers down your spine. God, what if he even saw the strap? The bottom half of a silicone body that you practiced fucking into?

“Always think about you, Eddie. Wanna be fucked by you so bad.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” he moans into your ear, “Think about you too, you know. Never cum so much until I thought about you bouncing on my cock.”

You let out a harsh whine as you felt yourself teetering close to the edge, but Eddie says it before you, “I know you’re about to cum, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

“Gonna cum so hard for you, Eds.”

He can feel you getting tighter and tighter, struggling to move his fingers inside of you, “Then show me, baby. Let go for me.”

And with that cooing, you let out a silent scream, followed by a loud moan as your legs shook violently, tightening around Eddie’s arm, locking him in place as he slowly pumped his fingers, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“So good for me, baby. So fucking good.”

As you came down from your high, you placed delicate kisses over the marks you had made on his shoulder, Eddie slowly pulling his fingers from you.

But, you gently lifted his hand to your mouth, taking both digits and sucking them clean, exaggeratedly moaning over them and rolling your eyes back on purpose. You felt the strain of his jeans against your thigh ages ago, you were deliberately trying to wind him up.

“Fuckin’ hell, honey. Why didn’t we do that sooner?”

You giggle, biting your lip as you breathe out, “Didn’t know you were as kinky as me.”

“That day I didn’t come into school because I was ‘sick’ was because I came four times after seeing your sex toys the night before. I couldn’t walk all day.”

“Oh my God,” you breathlessly laugh into his shoulder. “Well…” you begin to place soft kisses on his jaw, “I could make that fantasy of yours become a reality if you’d like.”

Eddie felt his dick kick against his jeans. Looks like his body was giving him an answer before he got his head straight.

“Please, baby” he practically whines, “But, don’t expect it to be as sexy as it was a second ago. I doubt I’m going to last longer than a couple minutes.”

“Don’t care,” you say, beginning to un-do his belt buckle, pushing him down onto the mattress softly, “Just need to feel you fill me up.”

Eddie moaned at your dirty words, but had to make sure of something before you started. “Birth control, right?”

“Yeah. On the pill,” you reply, capturing his lips in your own.

Thank God. He could not be dealing with a mini Munson just yet.

You slowly remove his jeans and boxers, tossing them across the room as his cock smacks against his stomach. He was delicious. Had to be around six inches long, girth about the same, curved slightly to the right. He was going to fit amazingly inside of you, you just knew it.

You positioned yourself on top of him, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing him against your wetness, remembering that practicality was still needed, even if you just wanted to fuck yourself stupid.

You look up at him, checking he was okay, “Ready?”

He nodded, “Always for you, baby.”

And so you began, sinking down onto his beautiful cock, Eddie letting out a choked moan beneath you. If a God truly did exist, you would definitely be thanking him for creating this gorgeous specimen falling apart in front of you.

You leant down, whispering and panting in his ear, “Tell me when to move, baby.”

Eddie grabbed onto your waist, preparing himself for what’s to come, “Move, sweetheart. Jesus Christ.”

And so you did, beginning to slowly lift yourself up, before slamming back down onto his cock. Both of you let out deep groans in sync, you immediately picking your pace up, struggling to contain yourself.

The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room, combined with your whines and Eddie’s deep moans. You pressed down on his chest, using it as leverage to increase your deepness.

Not realising your eyes had been closed the entire time, you slowly opened them, seeing Eddie’s mouth in the perfect ‘O’ and his bangs sticking to his forehead, his eyes closed in delight.

“Open your eyes for me, baby. Need to see your pretty eyes.”

He opens his eyes, almost instantly looking down to where your bodies connected.

“Better than you imagined, huh?” you taunted, your dominance seeping out, “Your cock wasn’t ready for how good this would be, was it baby?”

He shakes his head, completely submitting to you, “Never, baby. Feels so fucking good. Feels like I’m fucking dreaming.”

You try to thrust as hard as you can, assuring him that he wasn’t dreaming at all. That this was all very much real. That his first time was this rough. That his girlfriend was kinky as shit.

Suddenly, you feel his cock begin to twitch inside of you. You mockingly laugh at him, “Your poor baby says otherwise, honey. Think he wants to cum. Am I right in thinking that? He wants to fill me up?”

God, something about you referring to his cock in the third person was about to send him spiralling over the edge. He could barely form words, too pussy-drunk to be able to speak. “Y-Yeah. Gonna cum.”

“I can tell, baby,” you say, leaning forward and whispering into his ear, “Cum in me, please. Really need you to fill me up.”

And with a supported groan, his warm cum splashed against your inner walls, sticking to you as he twitched and moaned.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy,” you whispered as he came down from his high, his dick becoming soft inside of you.

As you lifted yourself off of him, his cum began leaking out of you, the both of you marvelling at the sight.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs out happily, watching it drip into a pile just above his cock, gently caressing your hip.

“We just did that,” you giggle, grinning happily as you collapse onto Eddie’s chest, kissing him silly, smiling against his lips.

“That was… something else.”

“Better than you expected?” you ask, a sudden shyness washing over you, almost a hint of self-consciousness, afraid you took things too far.

“Never dreamed it could be that good in a million years,” he sighs. “Sorry I didn’t last long.”

She grabs his wrist, looking at the object encompassing his wrist, “Seven minutes isn’t bad at all for a first timer!”

Eddie began chuckling, “You looked at my watch before we started?”

You hide into his shoulder, “Wanted to see how well you would do.”

He places a soft kiss on your forehead and laughs, “You nerd. I love you so much.”

You smile softly, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks, “I love you too, baby.”

And with the both of you tired out from your day’s events, you fall asleep peacefully wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that if there’s one place you’d both like to be for the rest of your lives, it would be here.

requests are open! if you would like to send me any asks, check out my character list and send me anything that i have specified is appropriate!

taglist: @cosmorant @ye0nvibezzn @tlclick73 @superlegend216

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #eds6ngel

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toseesoclearly · 6 months ago

Text

ST5 Approximate Timeline

EDIT (1/3/2025): I went ahead and put this all in a shareable Google Doc that I'll keep updated in more real time because honestly formatting this post was extremely annoying and we already have new information. You can find that here!

I've been taking notes on the pap photos, set reports, combined with the more official BTS photos we've been getting from Ross, Netflix, etc, and I thought I'd take a pass organizing it into a timeline, based on character groups/outfits, locations, and times of day. None of this is "new" information but hopefully still interesting for people as an attempt to take a bigger picture view of the season. I've tried to include links to sources - definitely leaning a lot on the work of byrhop on X, will80sbyers here, and various Reddit users tracking this stuff. TY!

I tried to mostly stick to things we have visual confirmation for and not overly speculate/editorialize, just organize by probable timing. Of course some (or a lot) of this will be incorrect, but I wanted to share it as we enter the ST5 promo era and more "data points" emerge. I would love for feedback on what you think I've gotten right or wrong, and what I've missed. (aka someone please help me crack why multiple distinct character groups seem to go to the hospital and lab 45 separate times and also when tf does the WSQK van get outfitted with the antenna. I'm losing my mind)

I may keep this updated as new stuff comes out, or may tend to my Google Doc version and repost after the next round of promo. TBD!

Do not read this post if you are avoiding spoilers.

Pre-season flashbacks (during the first episode)

Steve and Jonathan work together on some wires/equipment, probably part of setting up the Radio Station (strangerwriters pre-viz)

Steve turns to look toward the camera and cocks his eyebrow (strangerwriters pre-viz)

Cold Open

Season cold open is a flashback to S1 Will in UD Castle Byers, probably before the Demogorgon takes him to the Library. Like all previous season cold opens, this likely will end on a “twist” that we won’t have full context for until mid- or late season. (strangerwriters script snippet, Ross Instagram)

Day 1

Before/While the boys are at school

Mike (outfit #1) sits in his room at his desk, looking contemplative (Ross Instagram)

Karen cooks breakfast in the Wheeler kitchen, she and Joyce talk (Netflix filming wrap BTS photo)

Hopper, Joyce, and El train at the junkyard during the day (Netflix filming wrap BTS photo, Ross Instagram)

Joyce and Hopper are at Hopper’s trailer during the day (wearing the same outfits they did at the junkyard) (Stranger Things Day BTS photos)

Steve and Robin are at the Radio Station in the 20th “scene” of ep 1 (Ross Instagram)

Murray makes a delivery in the Bradley’s Big Buy truck to the Radio Station during the day, Jonathan, Nancy, and Joyce (outfits #1) are there. (pap photos)

Hopper (randomly seemingly in his second outfit) also shot radio station daytime exteriors that seem in line with Day 1, but maybe just with Joyce? (pap photos)

Nancy wears her pink sweater and jean jacket inside the Radio Station, opens a door (Ross Instagram)

School Day

Shot of students arriving at Hawkins High in the morning - there is a military presence outside (July BTS video)

Mike and Dustin have an encounter with the jock bullies outside the High School (pap photos)

Dustin, Mike, Will, and Lucas discuss something in the hallway (July BTS video)

In the cafeteria, Mike is listening to his radio and writing something down while Dustin, Lucas, and Will crowd around him (July BTS video)

Probably after school ends, the boys are at the picnic table in the woods outside the high school. Mike initiates a hand stack with Lucas, Will, and Dustin (July BTS video)

While the other boys are talking at the picnic table, Will experiences something supernatural (probably an early S2-style “True Sight episode,” per Reddit user kauan1983 here) and walks away, ending up at Hawkins Middle School. He looks at something in the Middle School hallway with his hand on the back of his neck. Mike and Lucas run into the school after him. (July BTS video)

Scenes at the elementary school with Holly and Derek, their class is reading A Wrinkle In Time (pap reports, photos)

After School

Lucas visits Max, still comatose, at the hospital, holds her hand (<3). There is a radio/tape player next to her bedside and the Hounds of Love cassette tape (Ross Instagram)

Mike, Will, and Holly bike by the military compound in downtown Hawkins on their way to the Wheelers’. Mike's radio is affixed to his handlebars (this could also be in the morning, going from Wheeler House to school - especially if the Byers are at the Wheelers' in the morning for some reason) (pap photos)

At dusk, Dustin bikes to the cemetery and the jocks harass him at Eddie’s vandalized grave (Ross Instagram, July BTS video, pap photos)

Radio Station

Mike, Will go to Radio Station from either school or Wheelers’, meet up with Joyce, Hopper, Robin, Steve, Jonathan, El; Dustin, Lucas eventually join them

Mike and El talk on the radio station roof during the day or at dusk, Mike appears to be cheering up or encouraging El. They seem to get interrupted and both look with concern out toward the field. El yells something to someone on the ground? (pap photos, video, video 2)

Nancy, Robin, Joyce, El, Will (maybe Mike behind the group). El says "there's too many," shot ends on Will looking worried (Ross Instagram) *Feel like this has to be at the radio station around here with this grouping? IDK. is this related to why El and Hopper may not be at the group meeting?

Group meeting in the Radio Station basement bunker where Will and Joyce seem to present to Jonathan (maybe also presenting, seated at projector), Robin, Steve, Nancy, Mike, Lucas (no Hopper/El?). Nancy in candy striper outfit, so either coming from or ready to go to Hospital (July BTS video)

Joyce and Robin look at the fuse box in the dark Radio Station basement (July BTS video)

Night 1, leaving Radio Station

Will on bike at the high school track at night (Ross Instagram, placed here bc it was very early weeks of filming though that’s not necessarily a real indicator) (is this a vision or a flashback? Or could be related to the “Will is having nightmares and waking up across town” leak from here)

At night, Lucas and Mike leave the Radio Station on bikes (both outfits #1), maybe go to the Wheelers (Stranger Things Day BTS) (do they know about the attack at the Wheeler House, or are they just going home?)

Jonathan (outfit #1) drives in the WSQK van (no antenna) downtown at night. Steve and Nancy rumored to be there but we don’t have pics (pap photos/reports)

Wheeler House

Karen takes a bubble bath and drinks wine (Ross Instagram Weeks 9-10, StrangerThingsTV Instagram)

Lights flash in Holly’s room as she crouches on the ground (she's still in outfit #1) (July BTS video)

Holly looks upset/afraid in the Wheelers' kitchen (July BTS video)

At night, there is an attack at the Wheeler House, Karen is injured and Holly is taken (prop leak, rumors)

(approx. ep 1 / ep 2 break)

Night 1: Someone is transported to Hospital in an ambulance, likely Karen from the Wheeler House. Exterior hospital lights flicker (pap photos/videos)

Day 2

Hospital

Karen, Mike, Nancy, Joyce, Jonathan, Will, Lucas, Robin, Steve, Vickie filmed at the hospital, seemingly for this visit but maybe not all of them (doubles descriptions)

Inside the hospital, Nancy looks at Mike with concern. Mike turns to look at something off-camera. Time of day and their outfits are unclear (July BTS feature)

During the day, Robin spends time in Hospital room #110. Vickie is present. *This could also be Day 1, but that seems like a lot of hospital back and forth (StrangerThingsNetflix Instagram photo)

There may be an attack at the Hospital based on set photo of a bloody shoe, probably Joyce’s, where you can see the hospital floor (Ross Instagram)

Episode 2 / Day 2 daytime currently a real black box as far as I can tell, especially if the ep 1 cliffhanger is the attack on the Wheelers. I’m going to slot in a lot of military with kids stuff here - particularly if Holly is actually taken by the military, and not anything supernatural/directly UD related (what I’m currently leaning toward)

Steve’s car gets outfitted with the antenna? Dustin is pretty MIA in this zone, let's guess he's involved

Maybe El and/or Hopper do a lil trip to the UD because El at least was definitely filming UD scenes in Feb (also in the July BTS video) that I haven’t slotted in anywhere definitive but since they end up right back there ca. ep 4 that feels weird to me? If Holly is taken into the UD, maybe El and/or Hopper go right after her.

(approx. ep 2 / ep 3 break)

Radio Station during the day

Nancy (in her candy striper dress), Jonathan (outfit #1), and Steve (outfit #1) stand near the Wheeler station wagon outside the Radio Station. There are bikes in the back of the car. Coming from hospital? (Netflix filiming wrap BTS photos, confirmed to be ep 3)

Turnbow Mansion

There may be daytime scenes, probably in an earlier ep, with Derek in not his rainbow sweater, and Mrs. Turnbow in athleisure (pap photos)

The Turnbows (mom, dad, teen daughter) walk into their home around dusk (pap photos)

Erica, looking very formal in a white collar with black bowtie, eats dinner with the Turnbows (Netflix filming wrap BTS photo)

Lucas, wearing his jacket and with his backpack on, stands at the foot of the stairs to the second floor while the lights flicker (July BTS video)

Steve’s car (w/ antenna) gets to the Mansion first, then the WSQK van (no antenna) arrives at dusk driven by Joyce, with un-IDed stand-in in the passenger seat (adult man, Hopper or Jonathan or Murray? IDK) in passenger seat (pap photos, pap photos 2, pap photos 3, pap photos 4)

Robin, Steve, Mike, and Jonathan are in the Turnbows’ garage. Sneaking in? (Netflix filming wrap BTS photo)

At night, Will is outside the Mansion in his second outfit (pap photos)

Nancy and El are reported to have filmed at the set, but we don’t have pics. (pap reports, pap reports 2)

Radio Station at Night

From the Mansion, at least some of the gang drives to Radio Station (versus directly to Farm). Putting here based on the fact that Frank Darabont was directing and this was a night shoot, so logically seems to slot in after the mansion.

There is an action scene at the Radio Station at night, maybe involving both supernatural & military. Will is on roof in his second outfit, and Steve, Jonathan, and Dustin are there. A male voice screams at Steve to run (pap video, pap photos)

(approx. ep 3 / ep 4 break)

Mike, Joyce, Will, and Lucas are in the Radio Station bunker in their second outfits (Netflix filming wrap BTS photo, confirmed episode 4)

The military invades the Radio Station, with Alex Breaux’s character leading the strike team (July BTS video)

El stands in front of some blinds in an industrial-looking storage room/area with wood paneling on the walls, probably inside the Radio Station. Sarah’s hair tie is around her wrist but fraying. (Ross Instagram, July BTS video, Netflix filming wrap BTS photo, confirmed episode 4)

Steve’s Car in the UD

In their second outfits, Steve, Dustin, Jonathan, and Nancy enter the UD at the McCorkle Farm while in Steve’s car (outfitted with an antenna on the roof), probably at night. They scream as they move between dimensions, and the car seems to be falling. (Ross Instagram Weeks 15-19, strangerwriters pre-viz). *This likely happens at the end of Day 2, since these four were not spotted at the farm during the day AFAIK - if they all arrive at the Farm during nighttime on Day 2, maybe the Steve car group goes right to the UD

While in the UD, Steve, Dustin, Jonathan, and Nancy (with a gun over her shoulder) stand together looking into the distance while red lightning flashes (July BTS video)

Steve and Dustin explore a vine-covered interior somewhere institutional, probably the UD Lab (July BTS video, Netflix filming wrap BTS photo) *this happens in ep 6 bc Shawn Levy is directing, but grouping here with the Steve car UD stuff for now

In the UD, Steve’s car speeds toward Roane Hill Cemetery (pap video)

El and Hopper in the UD

During military attack on Radio Station, Hopper and El steal a humvee, then end up in the UD (and maybe picked up a kid? lol another moving piece I cannot get a handle on) (pap photos, video, July BTS video)

Hopper is in the UD with a gun (July BTS video)

El is at the UD Lab (Millie Instagram photos)

Day 3

McCorkle Farm (Right Side Up)

WSQK van (no antenna) is maybe at the farm at night (Ross Instagram)

Erica, Derek, Mike (outfit #2), Will (outfit #2), Robin (outfit #2), Joyce (outfit #2), Karen (not photographed), and Lucas (not photographed) are at the farm during the day (pap video, BTS photo, Cara Instagram, pap reports)

Robin and Derek are inside the barn, maybe at night (Ross Instagram)

Derek’s Transformers sheets and GI Joe lunchbox (maybe with a bullet hole) are at the farm (Ross Instagram)

Derek and Erica stand next to each other inside the barn. Erica is wearing the same sweater she wore at the Mansion, but no longer has on the collar. Time of day is unclear (July BTS video)

Mike carries a shovel and walks with Will at dusk (tunnel time?) (Noah Instagram)

At some point around here, there is a flashback to a 13 yo Jonathan with 8yo Mike and Will. Young Mike is the only one with lines. Is this part of a Will vision? (casting call)

Downtown

Murray and Robin (second outfit) drive the Bradley’s truck downtown at night (Netflix filming wrap BTS photo, confirmed to be ep 4)

Maybe Day 3 night: Robin, Mike go through tunnels to rescue kids (including Derek) from Downtown Hawkins military barracks at night (Maya script leak) *How does Derek end up at the military compound so soon after the Farm if this is here (unless he goes with them? weird)...I cannot figure this one out...

(approx. ep 4 / 5 break)

Days 4-???

Hospital

Robin (outfit #2) follows ambulance to Hospital, driving Joyce’s car with Lucas (WSQK sweatshirt). They’re being pursued by the military and the yellow Beetle drives behind them (daytime). Blue and yellow bikes are parked outside (pap video, pap video, video 2, video 3)

The hospital is evacuated and lights flicker. The employees stand outside (pap video, video 2, photos)

*Nancy’s double (in candy striper outfit) might be there but Robin in her Farm outfit and Lucas in the WSQK sweatshirt make me think if that is Nancy and not another candy striper with similar hair, that may be for a different, ep2-ish scene? But IDK. (pap video, pap photo of the Wheeler station wagon on set)

(approx. ep 5 / 6 break)

Hospital interior: Lucas, Demogorgon or creature SFX stand-ins (Shawn Instagram)

Various ep 6 locations

Radio Station interior: Lucas, Joyce, Robin, Dustin, El (Shawn Instagram 1, Shawn Instagram 2, Shawn Instagram 3) *Dustin and El both seemingly here is extremely confusing to me. I kinda don't know what to do with this one

High School exteriors/the track, maybe at dusk (Shawn Instagram 2)

During the day, Murray is outside in his Bradley’s jacket, talking into a radio (Shawn Instagram)

Mike (in his second outfit) is at Hopper’s Cabin, maybe during the day (Shawn Instagram)

First Baptist Church (UD)

Night shoots at the vine-covered First Baptist Church: Vecna, Hopper, El, Linda Hamilton, military, Nancy, Steve, Jonathan, maybe Dustin all reported to be on set but no pics of anyone except Hopper AFAIK. Will rumored during a separate, later shoot (pap reports, filming rumors)

An old timey car at the church set indicates a likely Vecna flashback (pap photos)

Steve’s car arrives at the Church (pap video)

Hopper drives the military humvee to the Church (pap photo, video)

See Part 2 here!

#stranger things 5 #st5 #st5 leaks #st5 spoilers #st5 speculation #will byers #st5 timeline

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thebestandworstdayofjune · 1 year ago

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everybody’s goin’ off the deep end (s.h. x reader)

A/N: Long time no see! I wrote this in the midst of Steve Harrington brain rot, I hope you enjoy! If you prefer, you can find it here on Ao3!

Summary: Your life has always been simple. Not necessarily easy, but simple. You know your way around the world you live in. You love your dad, your friends and your exceedingly nerdy babysitting charges. When you’re assigned to be Steve Harrington’s tutor because he is one step away from being kicked off the basketball team, you can feel things beginning to shift in your small town. And that’s just the beginning.

Friday, November 4, 1983

“I think it’s time we admit that this is hopeless.” Steve Harrington looked positively morose, hunched over his Hawkins High School issued copy of Macbeth for the third Friday in a row.

You did your best not to laugh, but he just looked so ridiculous leaning back in his chair far enough that the front legs rise off the ground, shoulders slumped and pencil tapping against the table rapidly. “It’s been ten minutes, and we’ve only made it through two pages.” If you hadn’t been anticipating the slam of the front two chair legs on the floor, you would have jumped out of your seat. You had several times in the past few weeks, even.

But by now, you had the routine down. For the first fifteen minutes, Steve would joke and grumble, hoping that you would offer to cut your session short. Had he been assigned any other mandatory tutor during the meeting with Ms. Chen, the school counselor, and two out of three of his basketball coaches, he would have had a shot. But you’d had one too many reluctant students stuck in front of you at a library table in your time to give in to his whining.

“Exactly!” He tapped his pen against the copy of Macbeth in front of him on the desk, accentuating his point. “Two pages in ten minutes is a horrible track record!” His eyebrows drew together, as they always did when he was particularly pouty. “Besides, Mrs. Brown already spoiled the whole thing.” You raised your eyebrow, continuing to make notes in your already extensively annotated copy. “Calling it a tragedy in class kind of ruins the ending, you know?” You missed the way Steve’s eyes sparkled as you threw your head back in laughter.

“That’s just the type of play, Steve. There’s comedies, tragedies, like Macbeth, and histories.” You glanced over to see Steve slumped over the table, his cheek resting on his hand. “It might be helpful to write that down.” He blinked, seemingly confused for a moment. “For the test?”

“There’s going to be a test?” Steve looked mournful.

“I know that Mrs. Brown went over the syllabus on the first day of class. And there have definitely been tests over the other two books so far. What do you mean what test?” You looked up from your folder, where you had been shuffling through past syllabi to find a lopsided smirk on Steve’s face. “You can’t do that, Steve!”

“I’m offended you bought that! You know I’m taking this seriously.” He looked slightly sheepish at the realization you might not believe him. You took a moment to consider. You’d started studying together a few months ago, and Steve had been remarkably punctual, and had yet to cancel a session. He’d only forgotten to bring his work once and remained apologetic the whole session, even when you’d reassured him that it was fine. You’d spent the hour hunched over your notes with him beside you, you providing insight into the short story from class while Steve did his best to make you laugh.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes grew wide, mock astonishment clear on his face. “An apology?”

“Oh my god, shut up, Harrington.” You playfully roll your eyes, before sliding your own copy of Macbeth towards him. “Trade me.”

Steve glanced down at your copy, grinning. “Do they know you’re defacing school property, Ms. Clarke? I’m not sure that your father would approve.”

“My dad spends all day trying to convince middle schoolers to retain information about layers of the Earth’s crust. He’d just be glad I am taking an interest in an academic pursuit.”

“Even if it’s English?”

You smile to yourself, remembering the year you had to admit to your dad that your Science grade was not what it should be. You’d built being that daughter of Scott Clarke, science enthusiast and Earth and Biology Teacher extraordinaire of Hawkins Middle, up in your mind to be a heavy burden to bear. You’d been so afraid to hand your report card over, but he’d diligently ignored your C- and instead waxed poetic about your perfect English score. “Finally, someone to round out the knowledge base in this house!” He’d beamed and loaded you into the car for ice cream with an urgency unbecoming of the situation.

“Especially if it’s English.” You leaned over the table, quickly finding where you and Steve had left off in your copy and pointing it out to Steve. “Start there, let’s try again.” You made it through the next two scenes, with only minor detours, usually when Steve found one of your annotations particularly amusing.

The door to the library squeaked open, breaking your focus. Nancy and Barb hurried over to your table, crowding around your study materials. “Macbeth cannot possibly be so interesting that you forgot we had plans.” Nancy joked, Steve’s arm settled over the back of the chair. Nancy insisted it ‘wasn’t anything serious’ but you caught them making moon eyes at each other the last few times that your tutoring sessions ran over, and you could have sworn that last week he slipped his number into her notebook when he thought no one was looking.

You glanced up at the clock, cringing internally when you realized you were, in fact, fifteen minutes late to meeting your best friends in the parking lot. Across the table, Steve let out a heavy sigh. “We were a little too into the ghost of Banquo in here.”

Barb gave Steve a weird look. You were almost sure that she was going to say something, her eyebrow was quirking up in the way it usually does when she is about to be snarky, but the moment passed, somewhat awkwardly, but passed all the same. “I’ll see you next week, Steve.” You stood up from your chair, Nancy and Barb following your lead. Steve started to slide your copy of Macbeth back to you across the table. “Keep it, maybe you can get through a few chapters on your own before I see you again.”

“You firing me, Clarke?”

“I don’t think I have the power to fire you from mandatory tutoring, Harrington.”

Steve gifted you a rarity, one of his genuine smiles that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly before standing up and heading for the library doors. “See you on Monday, Ladies!” He offered the three of you a joking salute and a wink before heading for the parking lot.

“Doesn’t he know we are all going the same way?” Barb said, breaking the silence of the library. The three of you dissolved into giggles, and you took your time packing your book bag, not not in the hopes that you would avoid running into Steve again in the parking lot. As much as you loved Nancy, it was almost painful for you and Barb to watch her try to keep whatever is going on with her and Steve from the two of you.

______________________________________________________________

“What about this?” Nancy held up a pink blouse off the rack, eyebrows raised.

“It’s nice, Nance, but I just can’t understand the urgency.” You laughed. The three of you’d had plans to head to Benny’s for milkshakes, as you did every Friday, but on the way Nancy had begged to stop at Pam’s, the clothing store downtown. Reluctantly, you’d parked your dad’s car out front and let her drag the two of you inside. Nancy ducked her head, blush taking over her cheeks as she put the shirt back. Her dismissive muttering could barely be heard over the store’s speakers, blaring the new Cyndi Lauper single.

“Oh come on, Nance.” Barb rolled her eyes, snatching the blouse off the rack again. Nancy’s eyes were wide as her head snapped up to meet Barb’s gaze. “You are horrible at this. Just tell us what’s going on with Steve!”

Nancy grabbed for the shirt, but Barb was holding it over her head while you did your best to hold in your laughter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nancy grabbed for the shirt, looking back at you over her shoulder clearly asking for help. All you could do was shrug.

“We saw him put his number in your notebook, and the last two times I called your line was busy! It’s never busy!” Nancy’s blush was creeping down her neck. She gave up the fight for the blouse, looking at you accusatorially. Another shrug, and a nod had her looking like she was going to stomp her foot.

“I just-“ she paused, taking a deep breath “I need to make sure that Steve Harrington isn’t going to steal both of my friends.”

“Barb what are you talking about?” On some level, you could understand why she was worried about Nancy. It wasn’t typical for the three of you to have secrets. But you’d tutored countless people, or joined different after school activities, and she’d never worried about the state of your friendship before.

Barb hesitated, suddenly looking ashamed. “Nothing, it’s-” she dropped the hanger back on the rack, her hands twisting together nervously. “It’s nothing, swear.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. You and Nancy shared a look, not entirely convinced.

Without a word, the two of you wrapped your arms around Barb sandwiching her between the two of you as you had done since preschool whenever someone was having a hard day. It had been a while since you’d had reason for a best friend sandwich, but when Barb wrapped her arms around the both of you, leaning her head on top of Nancy’s, you knew you’d made the right choice. “You should get the shirt, Nance. I think Steve will really like it.” Your voice came out muffled, and you couldn’t see Nancy’s face because it was smushed into your arm, but you would have sworn that you felt her smile.

______________________________________________________________________________

You pulled into the Hawkins Middle parking lot doing your best to keep your smile from turning into a grimace. Nancy had been stuck debating between two options at Pam’s for a solid twenty minutes, and after Barb’s minor breakdown, you hadn’t felt it was the time to rush anyone. You threw the car into park and barely managed to stop yourself from sprinting as you headed for your dad’s classroom. The tension left your chest when you heard the screaming from down the hall. In any other situation it would have had the opposite effect, but hearing the AV Club chattering away meant that even if you were running late, your dad is running later.

“Like I said boys, it should be here next week but there is just no telling for sure.” Your dad had run the Hawkins Middle AV Club for as long as you could remember, but he had never had such an enthusiastic membership. In years past, you’d stop by a meeting or two after outgrowing the appropriate age for club participation, but you’d babysat for a few of the kids before, and you had a special soft spot for them. The unanimous, synchronized exclamations of “Bea!” as you rounded the corner led you to believe the feelings were mutual.

Bea was a nickname that had pulled double duty since you were little. Bea, as in short for Beatrice, your middle name after your grandmother who had passed long before your arrival, and Bea as in bumble bee. You were a Bea to everyone, but when your dad used the name, you both knew the difference. You gave everyone a warm smile and a small wave, plopping down in a desk close to the door.

“As soon as it comes in, you all will be the first to know.”

“And the only ones to care.” Mike muttered, causing you to hid your smile behind your hand, in an effort not to encourage them. The boys almost instantly began to speak over one another, calling dibs on who got the first go, where they should call first. Your dad gave you a smile that said ‘there’s nothing I can do about this’.

You coughed a few times, gaining the boys’ attention. “You guys do know you are cutting it close if you want to be somewhere with cable, so you can catch the new episode of that Dungeons and Dragons show. It comes out on Fridays, right?” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, before they started hastily shoving books into backpacks and tearing out of the room. You stuck your head out of the doorway, calling after the boys to remind them you would see them at the Wheeler’s on Sunday. You were planning on studying for your chemistry test with Nancy. You had probably fifty vocab words to make flashcards for, not to mention the equations and elements you needed to know for your test next week. They waved without turning around before sprinting out the doors of the school.

______________________________________________________________________________

Sunday, November 6, 1983

You’d been able to hear the boys screaming in the basement from your spot on Nancy’s bed for the last few hours. You had a rare weekend off from babysitting, as most of your regulars were currently 9 hours deep into a Dungeons and Dragons campaign in the Wheeler’s basement. Weekends without a babysitting gig were more frequent now that the boys were old enough to bike home from school alone. You would watch Lucas’s little sister on occasion, and Holly more regularly, but it was far more common to end up at the Wheeler’s with Nancy for a while and then offer give the boys a ride home. They would take you up on it if the weather is bad but more often than not, they preferred to race home.

You and Nancy had been pretending to study for the same amount of time. You’d arrived with the best of intentions, your bag heavy with notecards and textbooks, but Nancy had a new copy of Tiger Beat, and then she’d launched into an hours-long grievance against Steve having yet to take her on a real date. Apparently, grabbing a milkshake after school didn’t count, “we do that all the time anyways”, and a makeout session in his care was not cutting it either, “besides it was only like, one time”. Ever since Barb had weaseled the confession out of her at Pam’s, it was like the dam was broken. You’d managed to corral her into focusing on studying for all of ten minutes while you secretly contemplated if it was over stepping to bully him into just asking her to go steady if it meant you got your study partner back, when her new blue phone started ringing on her bedside table. She popped up to answer it, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You’d made double the note cards she had and you still had two chapters to go. You’d largely tuned her out until you heard Steve’s name.

Your eyes snapped to Nancy’s, a blush already having taken over a vast majority of her face. You heard some murmuring from your spot across the bed, but nothing that you could make out clearly. Maybe he was finally working up the nerve to invite her on a proper date. Her shoulders deflated, and the blush was quickly receding from her face when she looked at you. Without a word, she held the phone out to you.

You frantically shook your head, she shoved the phone farther across the bed, causing the base to tumble onto the floor, pulling the handset out of her grasp with it. You both scrambled for the phone but Nancy was quicker, snatching it off of the floor and holding it up to your ear. “Hello?” You asked, wincing when your voice came out squeakier than you were used to.

“Hi, I, uh, I called the number you gave me but your dad answered. Said you’d be here.” Steve sounded almost bashful, which was not something you were used to hearing from him.

“Did my dad say something to you?” Nancy leaned her head closer to the receiver, and you adjusted to make more room for her.

“Just that learning is a voracious and exciting river, and you have to give yourself over to the current, or something.” Nancy started to giggle, you gently shoved her back against her pillows.

“Yeah, that sounds like him. Did you,” you pause, struggling to sound less surprised than you were, “need something, Harrington?”

“I just,” he paused, and you could almost see the way his gaze gets stuck on the ceiling while he tries to work up the nerve to say something he is worried will make him sound stupid. “I needed to know what was up with Lady Macbeth’s weird bloodstain monologue. All you had in the margins was that she was ‘wickedly fucked’. Don’t get me wrong, you’re right, I think anyway, but why is she so crazy all of a sudden.”

You sighed. You’d given him your number after he’d canceled a session during lunch after you and your dad had already arranged the car schedule one too many times, and begged him to call if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it as soon as he could. It wasn’t exactly for study emergencies, not that you had ever really expected Steve Harrington to have one. “She and Macbeth have swapped how they were at the beginning. Remember how you said he was being a bitch and she was a badass for plotting Duncan’s murder?” You could hear his hair rustling against the speaker, and you could picture him nodding through the phone. It didn’t seem like the time to remind him there was no possible way you could see him. “Well, now she is regretting rushing in and being brash, and he has fully accepted what the witches said at the beginning.” “That it’s his destiny to be the king?” “Yep, you’ve got it. The whole thing is about how power and ambition is corrupting.” More rustling. “Steve, are you nearly done with the play?” “I finished it, that one part was bugging me that’s all.”

“You finished it?!” You winced at the surprise that was clear in your voice. Nancy had not looked this confused since the time you told her the boy’s campaign had actually been interesting the last time you watched them as a group after Joyce got called in for a last minute shift, and Jonathan had photography club, rendering him unavailable. You shrugged, not sure how to explain it.

“Your notes were really helpful, and funny. I didn’t mean to but, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just, you said that reading Macbeth was worse than taking sandpaper to your eyes.” He’d looked like Mike when he was ten and realized that you had tricked him into finishing the steamed broccoli his mother had left for dinner, the picture of theatrical disgust.

“I said your notes made it better, didn’t I?”

You blinked a few times as Nancy scooched back to your side. “Well, I guess we will have a lot to talk about on Monday, then.” “Yeah, yeah. Um, tell Nancy to have a good night.” He went silent for a moment, and you searched for the right words. “And you too.” He added, derailing your train of thought.

“Sure, Steve, goodnight.” You placed the phone back on the base as if it were a live bomb. “What was that?”

“What do you mean what was that? You’re the one he was calling!”

You gasped. “If one of us is more accustomed to receiving phone calls from Steve Harrington, it’s going to be you!”

Nancy rolled her eyes, a signal as clear as ever that she was gearing up for what she liked to call a lively discussion, and you hated to admit was an argument. Before she could, the phone rang again. You held your breath, preparing to hear Steve’s voice through the phone. Thankfully, it was Barb calling to ask if Nancy needed a ride to school tomorrow, she did, and if they had been studying for Kaminsky’s test, sort of. The conversation quickly devolved into talking about Steve after Barb asked if Nancy had heard from him. Nancy was recounting the awkward conversation you’d just finished and you were doing your best not to help when there was a knock on the door frame.

You glance up to see Dustin standing at the threshold of Nancy’s room, holding a pizza box. He shook it enthusiastically. “There’ two slices left if you want ‘em, sausage and pepperoni!”

You are about to nod enthusiastically when Nancy tells Barb to hold on. She leaves the phone on the bed and shuts the door in Dustin’s face. “Nance!” You frown at her, and you’re off the bed and out the door before she can respond. “Dusty, wait up!” You call when you get to the top of the stairs, catching a glimpse of his hat disappearing around the corner. You find him in the kitchen, depositing the pizza box on the counter. “Did you finish the campaign?”

“Nah, we just got to the fight with the-”

“With the demogorgon? Mike was telling me about it when I was here watching Holly last week. He seemed pleased with the planning.” Dustin shrugged, looking unusually gloomy. “Is this about Nancy?” Another shrug. You throw an arm around his shoulders, walking him to the backdoor. “She didn’t mean it, she’s having a weird night.”

“Seems like she’s been having a weird year.” He mumbled, pulling the door and stepping outside. “There’s something wrong with your sister,” he announced, making his way over to his bike, where it sat in the Wheeler’s garage.

“What are you talking about?” Mike huffed, exasperated.

Lucas was quick to chime in. “Yeah, it’s because she’s been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington.” His gaze shifted to you, looking guilty.

You held your hands up in the air in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I’m just trying to keep him from getting kicked off the basketball team on account of his English grade.” A touch of mirth made it’s way into your eyes. “Didn’t you hear, we might actually have a shot at State this year.” The boys dissolved into giggles, kicking up the stands on their bikes, fully aware that you had never the willpower to know anything about the school’s sports teams.

“The day that you care about the basketball team is the day that Will rolls two nat twenties in a row.” Lucas laughed. Will was a notoriously bad roller.

You ruffled Will’s hair, discreetly checking to make sure all of the boys had their bags and the flashlights on their bikes turned on. You’d been called late at night over forgotten homework one enough that you did your best to confirm they had anything before they got too far down the street. Lucas rolled his eyes. “We have everything mom.” The rest of the boys shook with laughter.

“Let’s see how you feel being woken up at eleven o’clock over missing math homework, and then we can talk. Are you sure you guys wouldn’t rather have a ride home?” The boys shook their heads in unison, rebuffing you when you asked fi they were sure.

They confirmed one more time that you had no updates about the new radio your dad had ordered for the AV club, before beginning to pedal away. “Be safe, boys!” You called, stepping inside, leaving Lucas and Dustin’s unified “We will!” And the sounds of Mike and Will talking softly drifting in from the garage behind you.

You quickly said your goodbyes to Mr. And Mrs. Wheeler, stuck your head in to say goodnight to Nancy and gave Holly a hug before heading out to your car. By the time you got home, your dad was in bed, a note on the fridge reminding you about your early wake up time for tomorrow, so that he could be at Hawkins’ Middle to receive a package. You were thoroughly tired by the time that your head hit the pillow, but somehow, a pit had formed in the bottom of your stomach. It wasn’t often you tossed and turned, but when you did, you were an old pro. You lasted fifteen minutes before crawling out of bed and setting yourself up on the couch, a cup of tea and a worn old copy of A Wrinkle in Time your dad acquired in high school. It was your favorite bedtime story growing up and it usually did the trick even now. You read until your eyes got heavy and your tea grew cold, before dragging yourself back to bed in the hopes of feeling more like a well rested, responsible, functioning human in the morning. If you were being honest, the chances of that were slim.

next chapter

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #Steve Harrington #Joe Keery #Joe Keery x reader #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things

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theemporium · 2 years ago

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[7k] single dad!steve, wednesday!reader and a meddling kid that may be hawkins' best wingwoman.

Steve Harrington was barely eighteen years old when he was handed an eight month old baby and told he was a father.

It had been a few weeks out of his high school graduation. He was in his house, a pot of instant noodles with a fork sticking out of it abandoned on the coffee table as he watched whatever mediocre game show that was playing on the television. The doorbell rang—an odd occurrence at eleven in the evening—but he got up and answered it regardless.

Except, there was nobody he knew on the other side of the door—just a basket with a baby inside and an envelope taped to the edge with his name sprawled on it.

In a panic, Steve had called Hopper. Later on, he would feel bad for waking the man up and dragging him out of bed at such an odd hour, but he was young, confused and stressed out of his mind that somebody had left a child on his doorstep.

With Hopper there and being the voice of reason, he finally got the guts to open the envelope that explained everything. It was from a one night stand he had at some houseparty last year, one that clearly resulted more than he bargained for. She was from out of town, a friend of a friend’s cousin who heard about the party, and she was already back home when she took the test. She thought she could do it. She thought she could raise a child on her own. But eight months in after a difficult pregnancy, she couldn’t take it anymore. She just couldn’t do it anymore.

Despite the twist in his gut and the guilt he felt that she had to do this all alone, there was not one apology in her letter. No apology for dumping this on him or not contacting him when she found out. No explanation as to why she kept it a secret. Just a simple note at the end that said the baby’s name and that was all.

Aurora Harrington.

He was surprised she had even given the child his surname in the first place.

That night was full of breakdowns, tears and an emergency call to Joyce Byers who made her way over as soon as she could to help the young teen wrap his head around the fact that he was a father. He had a child. He had his family.

Steve had always imagined starting his own family, having kids with the love of his life after they moved into their dream home with a family dog who the kids would grow up with. Never once in his vision did he expect he would be eighteen, unprepared and alone.

But he wasn’t really alone.

He had Hopper and Joyce. He had Robin and the gang of kids who seemed less stressful to deal with now that he had an actual baby who was reliant on him. He had support systems who backed him up during the following months as he discovered fatherhood.

And most importantly, he had his daughter.

Despite his conflicting emotions from that night, Steve would never change it for the world. Maybe he would have wished he met his daughter earlier, that he knew she existed earlier—but beyond that, he couldn’t find a part of him that was upset at the fact she had entered his life.

“Rory! What did we say about running?”

“Sorry, Daddy!”

Steve felt a warmth settle in his chest as he watched his daughter stop, quickly turning on the spot and rushing back to him (even though he said no running) and waiting patiently as he closed and locked the car. He grinned down at the young girl—now three, almost four and energetic as ever—as she extended her hand out for him to take.

“Please?” she asked in the sweetest voice ever and Steve was unable to resist the big, brown eyes staring up at him.

He extended his hand to her, watching as she wrapped her palm around two of his fingers before all but dragging him towards the Hawkins Public Library, a tradition that began long before she could walk. He obediently followed her, his other hand holding the books they had taken out last time as they made their way up the steps and towards the reception.

Orla—a sweet old woman who had been working in the library long before Steve himself was born—gave the father-daughter duo a smile as they entered the building, something oddly maternal about the simple gesture.

“If it isn’t my favourite members,” she greeted in a soft, quiet voice as they approached the desk. In a swift movement, Steve placed the books on the desk before lifting Rory up so she could see the older woman. “Did little miss sunshine enjoy the books this week?”

“Bleh,” the young girl stated, her nose scrunched in disgust.

Steve only laughed, shaking his head at his daughter before turning to Orla. “She said it didn’t make sense.”

“It’s a fairytale,” Orla said in a cooing voice for the young child. “It’s magical, it doesn’t need to make sense.”

“I wanted a dragon,” Rory said with a frown. “No dragons. Only horses. Boring.”

“Well, maybe you’ll find something better this week,” Orla sighed. The woman tried every week to throw a new princess tale or magical story at the girl, and every week she was unamused.

“Can I go look, Daddy?” Rory asked, her attention turning to her father as she stared up at him hopefully.

“Go on, sunshine, I’ll be there in a second,” he murmured and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head, the messy braids he had done that morning already coming undone. He placed her down, only to watch her run off not even seconds later. “No running, Rory!”

“No yelling in the library!” Orla scolded playfully, watching as Steve only blushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile.

However, young Rory Harrington didn’t listen to her father’s instructions as she ran towards the children’s section of the library where the shelves were shorter and the colours were brighter. Her wide eyes took in the cartoon characters painted on the walls and the colourful bunting pinned across the ceiling. She eagerly made her way towards the bright plastic chairs and massive beanbags, only to stop short when she noticed somebody was already there.

“Who are you?”

You froze for a moment as the young girl’s voice sounded through the quiet section. You turned to look at her, still kneeling on the floor as you worked through the books you had to reshelf, and your eyes narrowed at the accusation.

“Who are you?” You restored, watching as the young girl with sandy brown hair and big brown eyes tilted her head. And then she smiled wider than you had ever seen any child smile before.

“Rory!” she said her name excitedly. “My name is Rory!”

“Right,” you said with a single nod of your head before you turned back to the shelves.

“Aren’t you gonna say your name?” She asked curiously and you glanced back over your shoulder at her.

“No,” you stated bluntly but the young girl didn’t seem all that bothered by the tone.

“Why are you wearing all black?” She questioned once again.

You let out a sigh. “Because I want to.”

“Oh,” she hummed and nodded. “My Uncle Eddie does that.”

“Good for him, kid,” you murmured before you turned back to the shelves, hoping that if you just let the child rattle on, you could finish your work in this section and run off before the kid’s parents showed up asking the same amount of questions she was.

“He says angels wear black,” she told you, her voice still eager and animated as she spoke. “Daddy says he’s lying but Uncle Eddie never lies!”

You let out a thoughtless hum.

“Are you an angel?”

You paused, blinking as the question processed before you turned to look at her. “Am I an angel?”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, a dark angel. Cause you wear black.”

“A dark angel,” you repeated, wondering where this kid even came from.

“Or a witch!” She said with a gasp, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “Are you a witch?”

“Do you not have somewhere to be or…?” You trailed off, glancing past her as if you expected to see her parents wander over at any moment and apologise for their daughter’s behaviour.

“Nope! Daddy says I can pick three books this week!” Rory grinned widely, like that accomplishment should have meant something to you the way it meant to her.

“Maybe you should go find your daddy then,” you said to her. But she only giggled and shrugged her shoulders before she moved closer to you.

“You have black on your eyes,” she murmured in a curious voice only children have.

“It’s called makeup,” you deadpanned.

“I want some!”

“Ask your daddy.”

Almost as though you summoned him yourself, Steve came rounding the corner with his brows furrowed together, wondering what was taking his daughter so long to pick up a few books for the week. Just like his daughter had done, he quickly fell short when he noticed you in the children’s section.

“Oh. Hi.”

You raised your brows, unamused. But your reaction was the last thing on his mind when Rory ran over to him, arms stretched out for him to catch her and lift her, which he did.

“Daddy! I made a friend!” Rory smiled brightly.

“I see,” Steve murmured before clearing his throat. He looked at you with a more polite smile, one that matched his daughter’s perfectly. “I’m Steve.”

However, you simply nodded and turned your head back towards the shelves you were stacking. Steve frowned a little but didn’t question it—not that he got much of a chance—before Rory was wiggling to be put down again. She raced around the section, grabbing the books she had noticed last week before handing them to Steve with an eager smile, ready to check them out.

Rory gripped her father’s fingers, pausing before they walked away as she turned back to you. “Bye, Angel! See you next week!”

Steve blinked, guessing you had told Rory your name and gave you an awkward wave. “Bye, Angel.”

And just like that, the two Harringtons left, leaving you somewhat intrigued by the small family and the odd choice of nickname.

…

The second time Steve saw you was the next week when he returned with Rory, old books in hand and eager to choose new ones.

She seemed more excitable than usual and it was only confirmed when they entered the library, this time finding you in the reception seat instead of Orla. Steve barely had a chance to say a word before Rory raced over, turning to look at her father expectantly as she waited to be lifted.

“Angel! Angel!”

You lifted your head, catching a glimpse of the small child before you noticed Steve approaching the desk with a kind smile. You watched as he placed a small pile of books down before lifting his daughter, the signature Harrington smile on their faces.

“No yelling in the library,” you said as a way of greeting, but neither of them seemed bothered by it.

“Sorry!” Rory said, polite as ever even if her volume didn’t change.

“Inside voices, sweetheart,” Steve chastised his daughter in a soft voice and the little girl nodded.

You watched the interaction with a hint of curiosity as he kissed the top of the girl’s head before setting her down, letting her run off to the children’s section. He then reached into his back pocket, taking out his wallet and sliding out the small, plastic library card that he slid over the desk towards you.

“Just giving these back,” he said as he somewhat awkwardly pushed the pile of books in your direction.

“I assumed,” you said as you took the pile of books, your fingers tapping away on the computer as you began to enter his details into the system.

“So, are you new here?” He asked in an attempt to fill the awkward silence.

“To the town or the library?” You questioned, your eyes remaining on the screen.

Steve’s brows furrowed together. “Both?”

“Yes,” you stated simply and he found himself at a loss.

“Angel is a cool name,” he tried again, watching the way you worked so mechanically, almost like you were a machine yourself.

“A shame it’s not my name,” you replied.

Steve blinked. “It’s not?”

“Your daughter seems to think otherwise,” you continued. “I guess that happens when young humans are incapable of reading name tags.”

Almost instantly his eyes shot down to the name tag pinned to your black denim pinifer, taking a few seconds to read the name scribbled on the small tag before he mouthed your name, like he was testing it before he said it aloud.

“I think Angel still fits,” he replied lamely when he realised he had fallen silent, and that you had finished checking the books back in as you slid his library card across the desk.

“Do you have any books to check out?” You asked him in a somewhat monotonous voice.

“Do you always avoid compliments?” He retorted, the question slipping past his lips before he could even stop himself. But the short answers bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite understand himself.

“I didn’t realise my job description included maintaining mediocre small talk and aimless comments,” you stated and he knew you were right. He knew very well. But that didn’t stop the bitter taste left in his mouth as he was left grasping for a reply.

Thankfully, Rory approached the desk moments later with two books in her hands and Steve’s thoughts were torn away from you.

…

They saw you every week without fail at the library. However, it was over a month after that first interaction that Steve bumped into you outside of your workplace.

It had been a long day at work—an unexpected double shift when Kevin never showed up and supposedly called in sick—which left Eddie swooping in to take Rory for a few hours before Steve picked her up from the trailer less than thirty minutes ago.

It was coming up to eight o’clock and he knew Rory hadn’t eaten yet. He also knew it was quickly approaching her bedtime and he didn’t have a single clue what was left in the fridge back in the house, which meant an impromptu last minute grocery trip so he could grab the microwavable macaroni and cheese Rory liked.

He was truly a candidate for father of the year.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit up here?” Steve asked the young girl as he pushed the trolley through the automatic doors at the entrance. “You love sitting up here.”

“I’m a big girl, daddy,” Rory huffed out, but she still gripped the edge of his jacket like he requested. “I can walk.”

“If you get tired, just tell me, sunshine,” he said to her, knowing full well his daughter was as stubborn as they got.

Steve was fighting to keep his eyes open and his body moving as they wandered through the aisles of the grocery store, halfheartedly throwing things into the trolley that he vaguely remembered writing on the grocery list that was taped on the fridge. He was too stubborn himself to do two trips this week. If he forgot something, it would just have to wait until the next week.

“Do you want the strawberry yoghurts or the kiwi ones?” Steve asked, his tired brain racking on which one his daughter preferred this week. “Rory?”

Steve blinked as he glanced down to where she was moments ago, only to see the spot next to him empty. It was like a shot of adrenaline was coursing through him as he glanced up and down the aisle, seeing no sign of the young girl.

“Rory!” Steve called out, his voice a little more frantic as he abandoned the trolley and the yoghurts and began racing through the aisles they just left. The grocery store was by no means big, but in that moment it felt fucking massive.

“Rory, where—”

His sneakers screeched against the tile floor as he paused by the small bakery near the back of his store. There Rory was, standing there without a concern in the world, holding onto the edge of your dress like she did with him.

“Daddy! Look!” Rory cheered gleefully, unaware of the emotional distress her father had just been through. “Angel!”

“I…uh, I see that,” Steve’s chest was heaving as he walked towards you both, finally tearing his eyes away from his daughter when he was sure she was okay before looking at you.

“You lost your small human,” you told him.

And maybe it was the adrenaline rush or the stress or the fact Steve was just downright fucking terrified up until a few moments ago, but he laughed. He laughed loudly.

“Yeah,” he breathed out between chuckles. “I did.”

There was a pause.

“Thank you for looking after her,” he added quickly, his cheeks flushing a light pink.

Your eyes dropped down to the young girl who was still gripping your dress. “I didn’t really mean to,” you replied honestly. “She just seemed to…latch on.”

“She used to be a runner,” Steve admitted sheepishly.

“Admirable,” you commented with a nod.

Steve cleared his throat a little, shifting his gaze back to his daughter as he held out his hand. “C’mon, sunshine, we should leave Angel to do her shopping.”

But Rory just pouted. “I wanna stay with her.”

“My cat doesn’t like kids,” you stated bluntly as you tried to take a step away from the young girl, but her grip held tight.

“Kitty?” Rory’s eyes lit up.

“Rory, honey,” Steve sighed and walked closer, kneeling down to gently pull her hands off your dress. “We gotta go.”

Her bottom lip jutted out. “Daddy—”

“M’sorry, sunshine, but we gotta head home,” he murmured in a softer voice, all too well aware of the way your eyes were watching the interaction closely. “It’s your bedtime soon.”

“Story?” She asked hopefully.

“Your favourite one,” he promised and she quickly threw herself into his arms, a small oomph leaving his lips upon impact. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up effortlessly before he gave you a smile. “Thank you, once again. I know you said you did nothing but—”

“Message received, Steve,” you nodded.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, already starting to take a few steps back to head back to whichever aisle he abandoned his trolley in. “Have a good night, Angel.”

…

It was two weeks before Halloween when Steve came into the library alone, looking a little more dishevelled than you had ever seen him before.

It wasn’t unusual for Steve to be a bit of a mess. He was twenty-odd years old and a single dad, it wasn’t like he had his life together at all times. Hell, not even half of the time.

Sometimes it was just stained shirts when he didn’t have time to do laundry or mismatched shoes he didn’t pay attention to when he was running out of the house.

But this was something different.

His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was far messier than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes that made it look like he hadn’t had proper rest in days, and there was a weariness in his eyes that only a young, lost parent could ever really have.

“You look shit,” you said as he shuffled towards the reception desk.

Steve just gave you a sad smile. “Rory’s caught something from daycare, hasn’t stopped coughing or crying in days.”

He was somewhat surprised by the way your brows furrowed in concern.

“She’s sick?”

Steve nodded. “All week. But she demanded new books so a friend is watching over her while I grab some.” He paused for a moment, his eyes widening in realisation. “Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot the other books back home and—“

“Steve,” you said his name, a little softer than your usual tone. “It’s fine. You can bring them next week, or whenever she’s better. I’ll let you off this time.”

His lips twitched a little. “Going soft on me, Angel?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered but he could’ve sworn you smiled a little before your face returned to its usual expression of general disinterest. “Go and pick your books, Steve.”

Steve only grinned before he disappeared off to the kids’ section of the library, flicking through the books as he racked his brain on which ones they had already read and which ones were new.

You were still at the desk when he returned with a pile of seven books, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I couldn’t decide,” he murmured as he placed the pile down. “Plus, she’s been wanting more stories.”

You glanced down at the pile, your eyes flickering across the spines as you read the titles before you frowned. “No.”

Steve’s face fell. “No?”

“She won’t like these,” you told him.

His confusion only grew. “She won’t?” He repeated before shaking his head. How could you seriously know his daughter better than him?

You nodded your head towards the colourful board. “She’s given every princess book only two pumpkins,” you said as you pointed towards the themed reading chart the library had set up for the local kids. “She doesn’t like them.”

“She doesn’t?” He asked, sounding a little helpless.

“She prefers the witch books,” you said and pointed towards the chart where Rory had given each of the books at least three pumpkins or more.

“Oh.”

You watched the way the crease between his brows deepened, his shoulders tense and the rest of him even tenser. He looked like he didn’t have a single clue what to do and he was starting to beat himself up for it.

“I’ll give you a few,” you said eventually as you turned around, heading towards the small cart of books you had yet to reshelf. “I’ve been meaning to give them to Rory anyways.”

“You have?” Steve asked, the surprise in his voice not hidden. Or at least, it wasn’t hidden well.

“She has similar taste to me when I was her age,” you said as you placed a pile of around five books towards him. “That’s a good sign.”

“I’m sure it is, Angel,” he murmured as he took the books, giving you a warm smile. “You’re quite the lady.”

“Don’t you forget it, Steve,” you teased lightly, and he swore he saw another twitch of your lips.

His eyes softened. “Thank you.”

You simply nodded. “I’ll see you when she’s better, Steve.”

And that was the closest thing to a proper goodbye he had ever received from you.

…

When Rory was better, she came running into the library with a grin spread across her face and a themed Halloween headband pushing back her sandy brown hair.

“Angel!”

Steve opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue. But you got there first.

“Inside voices, Rory.”

Rory blinked before flashing you a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“You look better,” you noted, your eyes taking in the small child. Except for the paleness that remained even after one was sick, she looked mostly normal. And just as eager for the upcoming holiday than she was the last time you saw her.

“I am better, Angel!” Rory grinned up at you, barely able to stand still as she did. “Halloween is this week!”

“Is it?” You mused. “I had no idea.”

“It is! It is!” Rory clapped her hands together before turning to her father. “Tell her, Daddy!”

Your attention turned to Steve for the first time since he entered, only to find the boy already staring at you with an unreadable expression painted across his face. You waited for him to say something but he never did.

“Daddy!” Rory repeated, tugging on the edge of his jacket and he finally seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in.

“Huh?” Steve looked down at his daughter before he looked at you, his cheeks flushed a light pink. “Oh, yeah, Halloween!”

“Tell Angel how long, Daddy!” Rory insisted.

“Oh,” Steve blinked before clearing his throat. “Uh, five—”

“Five days!” The young girl finished for him.

Your lips twitched. “Well, now I know.”

Steve only smiled sheepishly in response.

Everything followed the same routine for their usual visits to the library. Steve placed the previous books on the counter, you signed them back in as Rory ran off to the children’s section to find some more to take out. Usually, Steve would stand by the desk and make aimless small talk with you that you always insisted was unnecessary, but always entertained regardless. However, when the youngest Harrington disappeared between the shelves, so too did the older one.

You tried not to let your curiosity peek.

Steve returned to the desk a few moments before Rory, holding his own pile of books that he placed on the desk, along with the three new stories his daughter wanted to take out. He watched the way your eyes scanned over the spines before your gaze met his, one eyebrow raised in question.

“New hobby?” You mused, and something in his chest warmed at the fact you essentially cracked a joke with him.

“No, uh,” he let out a nervous laugh, scratching the nape of his neck as he stared down at the pile of books with an odd expression—almost like they scared him. You think they genuinely did. “They are for me.” Pause. “To learn.” Another pause. “Rory wants to join the Hawkins Halloween Bake Sale and I can’t bake for shit.”

“Bad word, Daddy!” The young girl chirped as she skipped towards the desk, more books in hand that she wordlessly handed to her father.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve apologised with a sheepish expression.

“You can’t bake?” You questioned.

“Daddy says it’s very hard,” Rory answered instead, nodding solemnly like she agreed with her father.

“It’s not,” you said with a snort, and the sound warmed something in Steve’s chest.

“It is,” he defended, shaking his head. “It’s witchcraft!”

“It’s baking, Steve,” you said in that almost-teasing voice that made his lips twitch upwards. “Not rocket science.”

“It may as well be,” the boy grumbled under his breath.

“Can you help us, Angel?” Rory blurted out of nowhere, looking up at you with her big doe eyes that made it virtually impossible for anyone to say no to the young girl.

Steve’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he turned to you, already shaking his head before he could even utter the words out. “Don’t listen to her, we can cope on our own—”

“Please?” Rory continued, jutting her bottom lip out until you felt something in your chest tighten at the sight.

“When is the bake sale?” You asked, your eyes narrowing in question.

Steve said your name, uttered it out in a choked gasp but Rory continued to answer your questions.

“Halloween!” She cheered gleefully.

“I can help you bake on Saturday,” you said with an earnest nod. “I have the day off.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said in a softer voice, ignoring the happy cheers of his daughter beside him. “We don’t wanna bother you or—”

“You’re not bothering me,” you stated bluntly. “I want to help. I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

“Oh,” he murmured before nodding. “You’re sure?”

“Certain.”

Steve tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah, we’ll see you on Saturday then.”

…

The house was in shambles before you even arrived.

Despite no actual baking having occurred, the Harrington household was chaotic since the family had woken earlier that morning. It took a solid five minutes after ringing the doorbell before Steve opened it, swinging the oak door open as his frazzled state gave you a confused smile.

“You’re early,” he replied breathlessly.

You raised your brows. “I’m actually on time.”

His eyes widened as he cursed under his breath. “You are?” His eyes glanced down at his watch. “Shit, you are.”

“Is this a bad time?” Your eyes glanced over his lack of t-shirt and sweatpants laying low on his hips. “You seem…unprepared.”

“Yes…no!” Steve quickly shook his head, running a hand through his head as he pushed his hair away from his face. “No, it’s just…Rory is just really excited to bake.”

Excited was an understatement. Rory was practically bouncing off the walls, grabbing random ingredients from the cupboards and placing them around the house. Steve had spent most of the morning running after her, trying to put things back in the right place whilst also trying to keep his daughter in one place for longer than thirty seconds.

It was endearing, in a way. It was endearing to watch the way the father-daughter duo interacted, and the way they seemed to move like a practised routine. You watched them with a look of interest as Steve tied the small apron around Rory’s waist and placed the costume chef hat on her head before he even put a shirt on himself.

To be fair, he still hadn’t put a shirt on.

“So,” Steve clapped his hands and gave you a smile that matched his daughter’s excited one. “Where do we start?”

And when Steve Harrington told you he was hopeless at baking, you genuinely thought he was exaggerating.

He was very much not exaggerating in the slightest.

“So, I add the salt now?”

“I—” You paused. “You think salt goes into cupcakes?”

He blinked. “They don’t?”

Rory snickered.

Your lips twitched upwards as you budged him to the side with your hip. “Let me do the baking, Steve,” you said as you nodded towards the bowls on the other side of the counter. “Just mix the colours into the icing.” You paused. “And wear gloves unless you want stained hands.”

He grinned. “Aye aye, captain.”

It didn’t take long to mix the icing together. Rory had helped him, and it had been a little messier than intended but the young girl was giggling and smiling the whole time so neither of you had much issue with the matter. Rory settled on the counter, legs swinging off the edge as she watched you work, piping up with random questions here and there.

And never once did you get annoyed with the young girl, staying as patient as ever.

Steve watched with a fond smile on his face, head in his hand as he watched the interactions between you and his daughter. He allowed his chest to warm as his daughter smiled wider than he had ever seen. He allowed his stomach to flutter as you smiled back at her—not a twitch of the lips or the hint of a smile, but a full wide-lipped smile.

Eventually, Rory decided she wanted to run off to play with her dolls while the cupcakes baked and cooled before you could decorate them. You wordlessly began moving around the kitchen cleaning, and Steve didn’t say anything as he began helping.

“Thank you, by the way,” Steve suddenly spoke up, sneaking a glance at you.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “For the cupcakes? They aren’t made yet, they could still be—”

“No, not for that,” he shook his head, his hand pausing his movements of swiping the counter as he turned to face you. “For making Rory smile.”

“She’s a happy kid,” you retorted. “It’s not that difficult to make her happy.”

“Yeah but,” Steve paused before he shrugged his shoulders. “Just…sometimes I think I can’t give her stuff I wanna, you know? Like today, moments like those. She’s been robbed of them and I just wanted to say thank you for giving them to her.”

Your face softened, and it was almost scary to see if it didn’t make his heart speed up. “You’re a good father, Steve.”

He let out a nervous laugh, his gaze dropping to the tile floor of the kitchen. “It doesn’t always feel like it.”

You stepped closer and then one more until there was little distance between you. Steve was almost caught off-guard when you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing softly.

“You’re the best father you can be for Rory,” you murmured, your voice just above a whisper but it was loud and clear for him. “And that is more than enough.”

Steve swallowed harshly, trying to rid himself of the lump in the back of his throat. He blinked a few times as he tried to rid himself of the tears welling in his lash line before his gaze dropped to your lips. And he should have looked away. He knew he should have. But you were so close and all he would have had to do was tug you a little closer with your joined hands, to dip his head down for his lips to brush over yours and—

“CAN WE DECORATE THE CUPCAKES NOW?”

You both jumped away from each other as Rory barreled through the door, clutching a pink teddy bear in her arms as she looked up at you and Steve expectantly.

You cleared your throat, smiling a little as you nodded. “How about you check with me?”

Rory grinned. “Okay!”

But despite himself, Steve found himself staring at your lips far more than he cared to admit for the rest of the day.

…

“Happy Halloween!”

Steve knew you were working the morning shift at the library on the morning of Halloween. He hadn’t asked you, far too shy to face you properly when every time he looked at your face he imagined kissing you senseless. He chose to ask Orla instead, who gave him a smug smirk and a knowing look when he asked the question.

He tried to tell himself that he was only asking because he knew Rory would want to show you her Halloween costume. He told himself he was doing a kind act for his daughter’s happiness, that he just wanted to see her smile. But in all honesty—and maybe it made him a bad father—a selfish part of Steve just wanted an excuse to see you when he had no real reason to.

“Happy Halloween, Rory—” However, you cut yourself short on her name when you peered over the desk to look at the younger girl.

“Guess who I am?” Rory exclaimed excitedly, practically bouncing on her feet as she looked at you with eager eyes.

Your eyes glanced over the little black denim pinafore dress she was wearing, taking in the black tights and black boots and black shirt underneath. You took in the costume rings she wore and what looked like messily applied black face paint on her lips. You took in the bright pink puffer jacket she was wearing over the costume, no double to battle the cold weather. You looked at her with such a fond expression, it always made Steve want to explode.

“Uh, a witch,” you guessed half-heartedly just to see the young girl squeal in response.

“No, silly!” Rory laughed and shook her head. “I’m you! I’m Angel!”

Steve watched the way you tried to fight the grin growing on your face. “Really? Woah, Rory, your costume is amazing.”

“Daddy helped me,” Rory answered proudly. “He said I look scary!”

You raised your brows as you finally turned to glance at Steve who was watching the interaction with an unreadable expression. “Do you think I’m scary, Steve?”

Steve shook his head. “That feels like a trick question.”

“It is.”

“Then I choose to not answer.”

You gave him a small smile before you turned back to the younger girl. “Shouldn’t you be heading to the carnival?”

“Daddy says you would want to see my costume,” Rory told you.

Steve blanched. “Woah, hold on a second—”

“And he says he wants you to come with us to the carnival!” Rory continued before she looked up at you, eyes wide and her bottom lip jutted out.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Steve let out a nervous laugh. “She’s a little confused—”

“I want you there too!” Rory added, the puppy dog eyes intensifying as you stared down at the same baby browns she shared with her father. “Please, Angel? I wanna show everyone who made the cupcakes!”

You opened your mouth to reply but Steve cut you off, a pink tint to his cheeks as he spoke. “Orla mentioned you finished at one,” he said with a knowing look. “We don’t mind waiting ten minutes while you clock out.”

“Someone would think you had planned this, Steve,” you said in that almost-teasing voice of yours.

He tried to ignore his pounding heart. “Maybe I did.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “I’ll meet you both outside while I grab my stuff.”

Steve tried not to let the relief show on his face, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t as subtle as he played it off in his head considering the small snort you let out before you turned back to your work.

He had tried to fight the mix of nerves and giddiness as he watched you walked down the library steps, offering to take the tray of cupcakes from his hold. But Steve just shook your head, telling you that you could be in charge of holding Rory’s hand instead before the three of you headed towards the town centre where the carnival was set.

It felt domestic and familiar, something that Steve was not expecting but it didn’t really surprise him either. Even if he hadn’t realised, you had somehow wiggled your way into the unit he created with Rory since the day he found her on his doorstep. And maybe it should have scared him or threatened him in some way, shape or form. Maybe it should have stressed him that his perfect, little dynamic was changing.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t.

Walking into the Hawkins’ Halloween Carnival with you holding his daughter’s hand and him holding the cupcakes the three of you made together felt as easy and simple as breathing air. It felt natural for him to take Rory’s hand after dropping the cupcakes off at the bake sale table, swinging her back and forth as you navigated through the stalls. It felt natural for the distance between you two to disappear after Rory ran off to play with some kids from kindergarten.

“I’m surprised the other kids aren’t scared of her,” Steve joked in a lighthearted voice, lightly nudging your shoulder with his own.

You scoffed. “She is far too chirpy to pull off the whole look.”

“My girl is a lil’ ray of sunshine,” he commented, almost proudly like he was seconds away from puffing his chest over the remark.

“It suits her,” you hummed as you nodded in agreement. “She matches her father well.”

Steve smirked a little as he snuck a glance at you. “You calling me a ray of sunshine, Angel?”

“I do have to give you a nickname in retaliation for the horrendous one you’ve given me,” you retorted, turning your head to look up at him.

“Rory came up with that,” he defended before shrugging. “Plus, it suits you.”

“I don’t think many people would call me an angel,” you remarked in a blunt tone, because that much was true. The dark clothes and aesthetic tended to intimidate people, but the candid personality seemed to completely put them off.

“They don’t know you like I do,” Steve countered back, his voice a little lower when he spoke. A little rougher too.

“And do you know me, Steve?”

His eyes darkened. “Yeah, I think I know you pretty damn well, Angel.”

A few beats of silence passed between the two of you. And if either one of you were honest, it wasn’t a setting either of you particularly thrived in. A carnival in the centre of town where almost every Hawkins resident was present at. With kids screaming and families laughing and the sweet scent of cinnamon thick in the air around you. With so many eyes around and yet none focused on you, not that either of you would care to notice. Not when you and Steve were too locked in your own world.

It was you who made the first move.

It was you who reached out to grip the lapels of his jacket in your gloved hands, to tug him closer and destroy the remaining distance between you, to pull him down so you can press your lips against yours.

But it was Steve who kept it going. It was Steve who wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. It was Steve who let one hand tangle itself in your hair, keeping a hold on the back of your head as he kissed you like it was his last moments on earth. It was Steve who kissed you like the world was ending and these last few seconds in the middle of Hawkins’ Halloween Carnival would be the last few moments alive.

It was you who had the balls to act first, but it was Steve who made it feel like the world was exploding in a million different colours around you.

“DADDY IS KISSING ANGEL! DADDY IS KISSING ANGEL!”

You could feel the curve of his smile against your lips before he pulled away, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour as he turned to look at Rory who was giggling and snickering at the pair of you. He heard a soft snort and turned back down to look at you, to memorise the amused smile plastered on your face as he kept his arms wrapped around your body.

“What?” He questioned.

You shook your head, tilting your head up to look at him. “You still think you know me, Steve?”

His smile widened. “I think I’d like to get to know you a little more.”

You could only let out a snort of laughter in response, and Steve was determined to hear it more often in his life, if it was the last thing he would do.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

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eddiexmunsonlover · 1 year ago

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One Step Away From You (Chapter 3)

ExBestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: After some encouragement from Steve and Robin, you decide to finally talk to Eddie, and it doesn't go so well. Nothing a movie night with Steve and Robin can't help to take your mind off of though. WC: 5.7k Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Angst. Eddie is a bit of an asshole and gets slapped for it. Fatphobic comment/bullying from Jason.

Thursday, September 19th, 1985

The past few days since your first day had been uneventful in terms of Eddie. You continued to avoid the lunch room and opt for spending lunch in the library. Robin has joined you once so far, promising to continue so you wouldn’t ‘get lonely’, as she put it. The handful of times you’ve seen Eddie in the halls, he’d see you and immediately avoided you. Refusing to look at you and even turning to walk in another direction. The 2 classes you have with him weren’t any different, not sparing a glance your way, and either being the first or last to leave class so he wouldn’t be walking out near you. The pressure of the guilt you carried only intensified with each averted gaze and you don’t know how much more you can take.

You know you have to talk to him, figure out a way to make this right but you don’t know how. Don’t know what you could even say to make him understand, make this right. You wonder if it’s even possible to recover the friendship you once had with him, but you know you have to try. Living without having him in your life while you were in Virginia was hard, but seeing him in class and the halls everyday now made it so much worse. More than you can bare, and you feel like you’re gonna crack.

A tiny folded note lands on your desk, catching you off guard. You reach for the paper, peeking up at the teacher as you unfold it.

The trials and tribulations of the French Revolution not entertaining enough for you?

You smile at the note, glancing to the seat to your left. Robin stares back at you, wide eyed and shaking her head at you teasingly. You look back down at the note with a grin, grabbing your pencil and writing a response.

Oh, yes. I’m having the time of my life, can’t you tell?

You pass the note back to her as the teacher writes on the board. Smiling as you watch her reaction.You’re grateful to have a few classes with Robin. She had missed the first few periods of your first day for a doctor's appointment. The next day when you saw her in your 2nd period World History and 3rd period Science class, you let out a major sigh of relief. Your friendship with Robin, and Steve for that matter, happened so naturally. You didn’t have to force it or feel like you had to act differently to be more likable to them. Other friendships in your past had been different.

Whenever you had started at new schools, you felt like you had to always be funny and make jokes to get friends. You’d always been told you had a natural humor to you, a humor you often felt the need to force to be more likable. It had worked too, other kids would be nicer to you. Who knew all it took to lessen your bullying was to make a joke about the teacher’s unzipped fly? It didn’t stop the bullying and teasing all together, but it certainly helped. Still, the ‘friends’ you had made from it were never the deeper, genuine friendships like you had with Eddie, Robin or Steve. That pressure was a weight that was finally off your shoulders now. You didn’t see a point in trying to make new friends for the one year you’d be here at Hawkins High, nor did you feel the need to. Your life feels full with the friendships of Steve, Robin, and the younger party. Well…almost full. That hole once occupied by the wild-haired, metal loving, DnD ‘freak’ of Hawkins aches and looms around, antagonizing you.

It continues to loom for the rest of the day, even into your work shift at the restaurant your Aunt Patty manages. The meager Thursday night dinner rush and small stack of dishes to wash doesn’t help to distract your thoughts, no matter how hard you try. You consider making a stop after work at Family Video to get advice from Robin and Steve about what you should do. You’re getting nowhere going back and forth in your own head. Maybe hearing the words from them will help give you the courage you need to do what you know you need to.

Slow business for the night leads to you getting out at a decent time, an hour before Family Video closes. You hop in your truck and drive the mile down the street to your friends’ workplace. When you pull in front of the store, you and Steve’s cars are the only ones in the parking lot. You’d been betting on it being a slow night for Family Video too, giving you the privacy you wanted for the conversation you need to have.

You’d never talked about Eddie to Robin or Steve throughout your friendship since the beginning of the summer. You know they had to have known about it, though. Steve even mentioned it once at some point at Scoops Ahoy when he tried to remember you from school, “Didn’t you use to hang out with Munson?” You’d simply walked away, the need to organize the back freezers suddenly becoming an urgent task. Steve thankfully let it go and forgot about it quickly, never bringing it up again.

You smile as you see the two through the glass doors, standing behind the counter and bickering about god knows what. The ringing of the bell on the doors grabs their attention, eyes landing on you. Robin dramatically lays her upper body limp across the counter and groans.

“Oh, my savior. Steve is boring me out of my mind and we haven’t had a customer in like, an HOUR.”

Steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips. “I am not boring, thank you very much.” He whines before offering you a soft smile, leaning on his forearms against the counter as you approach. “How was washing dishes?”

You grumble in response, “About as exciting as watching paint dry. Decided to come and provide y’all some clearly much needed entertainment.” You say with a smile that quickly falters as you look down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the counter, “I um- I actually came to talk to you guys about something… maybe get some advice.”

Robin quirks up at that, standing at full attention. Steve straightens up a little too, nodding his head at you. This is the first time they could recall you ever coming to them for advice, tending to keep most personal things to yourself.

“Of course, what’s going on?”

“So, I don’t know how much you guys remember me from before, like from the last time I lived here. But um, I used to be really good friends with Eddie… Eddie Munson. Best friends actually.”

When Steve’s eyebrows furrow, Robin’s eyebrows rise, eyes widening in recognition.

“Wait, Eddie? As in ‘Freak of Hawkins’?”

“Yeahhhh, I remember seeing you guys in the halls at school. Two cute little outcasts against the world.” She smirks as she stares off, lost in memory. Your eyebrows scrunch together, scoffing out a laugh as you shake your head.

“First off,” you point a finger at Steve. “Don’t call him that, I caught your tone. And uh, in case you didn’t realize Stevie boy, you yourself are friends with a ‘freak’.” you say gesturing toward yourself.

“And secondly,” you turn your attention to Robin, mouth open as you ponder what to say. “Cute? Ya know what, let’s move on.”

“Anyway… we were really close. But, after I moved back to Virginia we lost touch.” You pause, shaking your head at yourself, “No, I lost touch. I uh, stopped returning his calls. It…it was just too much, too painful to hear his voice.” You stare off into the comedy aisle, collecting your thoughts under their gaze you didn’t want to meet just yet. “I didn’t expect him to still be here when I moved back, but he is. And uh, it’s clear he’s upset. I mean he has every right to be. He even overheard that girl Debbie that used to come to Scoops talking to me in class about working there. So now he knows I was visiting in the summers and didn’t see him-”

“Wait, Debbie Harris? She was supposed to call me…” Steve mutters the last part under his breath before Robin snaps her fingers in his face.

“Focus, Steve!”

He gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing ‘sorry’ as he brings his attention fully back to you.

“Look. Long story short, I don’t know what to do. I can’t take having him avoid me and clearly hating me just- in my face everyday. I miss him. I know I need to fix this, I just… I don’t know how.” You finish, running your fingers through your hair.

Robin and Steve stare at you in silence for a moment, you can practically see the cogs turning in their brains.

After a moment, Steve leans a little closer toward you. Eyes squinting as he reads your face.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up in shock as your mouth hangs open. You quickly scoff out a laugh, shaking your head as you try to play your reaction off.

“I-Well of course I do. He was my best friend for like 6 years!”

Robin tilts her head slightly as she meets your eyes, both giving you a look that says they see right through you. You feel your throat tighten, cornered by knowing eyes.

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea coming here-” You begin to say, throwing your hands up as you take a step back from the counter.

“No no no. Come on” Steve says, beckoning you back. When you do, he continues. “Look, the only way you’re gonna fix this is if you just talk to him and try to explain your side of things.”

“I know.” You say, sighing as you lean your arms against the counter. “I’m just afraid that whatever I say, it’s not gonna be enough. You know?”

“Well if you guys were as close as it seems, he knows you. Maybe it’ll be easier than you think for him to understand?” Robin adds, a sympathetic and encouraging smile on her face. Steve nods in response.

“And I mean sure, he’s angry. But he probably wants to fix things just as much as you do.” Steve finishes, looking at you with genuine care in his eyes. You take a deep breath, allowing a small smile to appear on your face as you look at your friends and nod softly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I think I just needed to hear it from someone else. Thanks guys, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” you say, thankful to have them in your life.

“Don’t mention it, Y/L/N” Steve says, offering a wink and a smile. You can only roll your eyes at him playfully in response.

“Well, I know you guys gotta close up shop here soon,” you say as you glance at the clock on the wall. “Butttt, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do one of our movie nights tomorrow after work?”

Robin and Steve turn towards each other. You laugh as Robin begins to bounce on her heels,

“Yes yes yes!”

“It’ll be a late one, but I’m down.”

“Good,” you smile. “Aaaaand if I remember correctly, it’s my turn to pick.”

Steve groans in response, “Fine, but nothing too gory this time. I can handle some horror but ugh, no guts please!” his face scrunches in disgust, shaking his head as he turns to finish some closing tasks.

“Don’t worry, Stevie. I think I’m feeling something different this time.” You laugh as you grab your keys. “Thanks again, guys.” You bid them farewell so they can finish up closing for the night.

Steve and Robin gave you just what you thought they would, the validation of your own thoughts on what to do, and the push you needed to actually do it. They helped to calm some of your anxiety about it, but not all. You just need to figure out when to talk to him. Maybe you could go over to the trailer to talk to him? It definitely wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have at school. Tomorrow wouldn’t work; you knew from the boys that they had Hellfire after school on Fridays. You had to work and hang-out with Steve and Robin anyway.

Nope, can’t do Saturday either. Maybe Sunday? Yeah, Sunday. I’ll just walk over to Uncle Wayne’s and talk to him. It’ll turn out better than you think it will. It will. You try telling yourself, attempting to carry Rob and Steve’s optimism.

It’ll be okay. You reassure yourself as you spare a glance at the trailer across the street. Noticing a dim light through the curtains of a window you knew too well, before you shut and lock your front door.

Friday, September 20th, 1985

Putting your conversation with Eddie off until Sunday helps to alleviate some of your anxiety. Your schoolwork and handful of quizzes you have today takes your mind off him as well. Starting at Hawkins High weeks after the year began meant you already have work to catch up on. As tedious as it is, it’s a welcomed distraction from worries about salvaging your friendship with Eddie. You’ve spent every afternoon this past week trying to complete your catch-up work, determined to get good grades that’ll help you get into college and a step closer into full adult independence. You’ve put a solid dent in the stack of schoolwork too, as well as your stash you brought with you from Virginia, needing some way to cope with the stress. You’re going to need to find someone you could buy from here in Hawkins soon.

After a last-minute study session with Robin in the library during lunch, the stress leaves you in dire need of a quick smoke break before your next class. You say goodbye to Robin, wishing her a good shift and sharing excitement over the continuation of your movie nights before leaving the library. You walk down the near empty hallway with a few minutes to spare before the bell signaling the end of the lunch period rings. You reach into your bag to fish out your cigarettes as you approach the back doors of the school near the football field, an unofficial smoking spot for students.

Just as you begin to inhale the fresh air, it’s knocked out of your lungs as you step outside and collide with someone. A simple case of someone heading to go inside as you go out, you assume.

“Oop, sorry-” you begin immediately, falling short as your eyes rise to look at the person you’d nearly shoulder checked.

Shit. Both your eyes widen, your mouth falling open as your brain stumbles in shock, trying to figure out what to do. In the split second of recognition, Eddie’s features harden, jaw tightening. He moves to continue to walk past you toward the door you just came out of.

Now’s your chance! It’s not the ideal circumstances, but when a chance like this falls into your lap you can’t let it pass. Just as his hand grabs the door handle, your own reaches to grab his arm.

“Eddie, wait!” you feel and see his entire body tense under your touch. You take a deep breath as your grip on his arm loosens and begins to pull away.

“Can we please just talk?” you plead, voice soft. You hear him laugh in disbelief before he turns back to face you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me?” he asks. His voice is as hard as his features, eyes glaring at you. Your breathing begins to quicken, gulping as your throat runs dry.

“Y-yes. Look Eddie, I’m really sorry. I guess I thought I was doing what was best for me, and for you. I-”

He scoffs, taking a small step closer to you. “And who are you to decide what’s best for me, huh?” his voice raises slightly. You feel your chest tighten, convinced that the blush that has no doubt started to cover your cheeks has spread there too. You feel the rise and fall of your chest as you take quick, short breaths. “You know, I really thought you were different. But you showed me you’re just like everyone else. Just throw me to the side like trash when you’ve had your use of me, right?” he finishes through gritted teeth.

You feel so fucking small. Others have made you feel this way before. Mainly your mom and some bullies in the past, but never Eddie, and that made it feel so much worse. You can’t stop your eyes from beginning to water with tears, biting your bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

“No…No, Eddie I swear it wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just-” you voice comes out weaker than you’d like, embarrassment and guilt overtaking your mind and body.

“Well you did! You think you can just take that back like it’s nothing?” you flinch involuntarily as his voice rises further in anger and hurt. You stare up into his burning eyes as a tear falls from yours. You stand there, staring at each other for a moment before you speak up again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie” your voice betrays you, cracking as you force the words out of your dry throat. You can’t think of anything else to say under his fiery gaze, your brain turning into a jumbled mess. He shakes his head at you, jaw tensing.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to hear it. So why don’t you scurry off to your new boyfriend, ‘King Harrington’!” he seethes out in bitterness, “and don’t give me those crocodile tears, Y/N. It’s not gonna work this time.” he scoffs, shaking his head at you in a mixture of anger and disbelief. You look at him in shock, unable to believe those words just came from his mouth.

He knows why you tend to avoid confrontation. Why you turn red and tears burn your eyes when someone raises their voice at you, or when you decide to be vulnerable with someone close. Eddie had been the only person you ever felt truly safe to be vulnerable with. Past experiences left you misunderstood, belittled, lectured, and emotionally neglected, but never by Eddie. He knows how much it takes for you to cry in front of someone. How much it takes for you to let yourself cry in front of someone. He knows, but he can’t stop himself from saying the words that’ll drive a knife right through your heart. All rational thinking out the window, his anger taking the driver’s seat.

His words transfer the same feelings onto you. Lighting a fire within your body, blazing behind your eyes. It barely takes a second for the wave of anger to crash onto you. Before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots out and connects with his cheek in a loud smack. It takes Eddie a moment to register what just happened as he stares at the brick wall his head is now facing. Did you really just slap him? You’d never hit him like that before, nothing beyond playful slaps or punches on his arm. He knew you harbored anger and aggression inside from your past just like he did, but he’d never seen you lash out on someone like this, and certainly not him. He can’t say he should really be surprised, given the hurtful words hurled from his mouth. That thought doesn’t extinguish his anger though, as he turns his gaze back onto you.

“Fuck you!” You snap, pointing your finger in his face. It’s all you can muster saying in the moment, your whole body on fire and vibrating in anger.

You push past him, throwing open the door back into the school just as the bell ending lunch rings. You quickly wipe your tear-streaked face with your hand as you stomp down the hallway. You take deep breaths, attempting to calm your breathing as you follow the hall to the front doors of the school. You need that smoke break even more now than before, especially if you’re gonna have to sit through a few more hours of quizzes and classes… with Eddie. You light a cigarette as soon as you step out the doors. Pacing back and forth in a short line, hoping the nicotine will help to calm your nerves.

You expected him to be angry, you could see it from the moment your eyes met on your first day, but you never expected him to stoop so low. Poking at the sensitive spots of your psyche you’d only revealed to him. Maybe you deserved it, maybe this is your karma personally delivered by the very person you hurt. You scoff as you think over his comment about Steve. Your new boyfriend, “King Harrington”? The fuck is he going on about? You figure he’d seen you, Steve, and Robin in the parking lot after your first day. Including your hug with Steve. You didn’t know hugging a guy automatically made him your boyfriend.

You finish the cigarette as the warning bell rings. You check your face and makeup in your compact mirror, taking another deep breath before venturing back into the school. You aren’t sure how you’re gonna be able to focus at all, thoughts still racing through your mind as you enter your English class. You refuse to meet eyes with anyone. Although you wouldn’t be meeting Eddie’s anyway, as his seat remains empty through the entire class period, as well as in your last class of the day.

Eddie once again secludes to his spot in the woods behind the school. Pacing, smoking, and failing to attempt to focus on last minute touches to tonight’s Hellfire campaign. After a short while the sting on his cheek fades, but still leaves a red-hot warmth in its wake. Maybe he deserved it for hitting a sensitive spot of yours, or maybe you deserved it after breaking his heart. He can’t make up his mind on which is right, telling himself he doesn’t care either way.

You waste no time darting out of your last class when the bell rings, grabbing the last of your things from your locker in record time. Your body had calmed slightly over the last 3 periods of the day since your fight with Eddie, but not your mind. You ruminate on the words said over and over, thinking of different things you wish you had said in the moment. You’re so consumed in your own thoughts you barely register the laughs and voice of some meathead standing at his locker with his buddies just as you begin to pass them.

“Watch out boys, it’s Miss Piggy” he snickers to his other jock buddies huddled around him, giggling like he just said the funniest joke on earth. Jason Carver. You just barely recognized the twerp from when you used to live in Hawkins. Though you’d learned to filter most of it out, you’d caught a few comments and looks from him here and there in the past week you’ve been here. You’d just ignored him, deciding it wasn’t worth your acknowledgement.

Well, not today. You might regret it, but he caught you at the wrong goddamn time.

“Jesus Christ. Grow the fuck up, Carver.” You snarl, rolling your eyes as you continue walking past them.

“The hell you just say to me?!”

Without missing a beat, you throw a middle finger in the air back at them. Not even sparing a backward glance, as much as you’d love to see the look on his face, as you step out the front doors and make a beeline for your truck.

You hop in, quickly turning your key in the ignition.

You’re thankful it’s Friday and you don’t have to give the boys a ride. They’ll be occupied with Hellfire after school, meaning you don’t have to deal with Dustin’s prying questions once he reads you like a damn book.

You head home to pack a change of clothes and grab the movie you picked for movie night before changing into your work clothes.

For the first time in your life, you’re hoping for a busy dinner rush at the restaurant. Anything to keep your mind busy and distracted from the persistent thoughts of him. You get your wish, tonight is no exception to the usual Friday night dinner rush. A steady flow of dishes coming back to the kitchen for you to clean. Unfortunately, not even the music on the radio in the kitchen or non-stop motions of dishwashing are enough to keep the thoughts of him from bursting through your mind.

However, the busyness of the night does help to quiet the thoughts slightly, and makes the hours go by quickly. Before you know it, it’s 11pm when you’re done with your closing tasks. Clocking out, you enter the cool September evening air with a pep in your step, excited to meet up with Steve and Robin. Knowing their presence alone along with one of your favorite comfort movies will help to lighten your mood a bit.

You know the two should be preparing to close around now. You pull into the Family Video parking lot at the perfect timing, just as they’re locking the doors. They throw excited waves your way, before climbing into Steve’s car and driving toward Steve’s house, your car following closely behind. You roll down your window, letting the cool night air wash over your warm face, and turn the radio on to the local rock station.

Given the passing hours and prospect of movie night, you’ve mostly calmed down since your fight with Eddie. Body no longer on edge and shaking with anger. Your heart still carries a heaviness to it, and your thoughts mostly remain the same. You hate how hard it is for your mind to let things go, to not constantly ruminate about things.

Caught on a one-way street

The taste of bittersweet

Love will survive somehow, some way

You haven’t been able to let the feelings of hurt and anger from Eddie’s words go yet. You know they’ll stick with you for days, maybe weeks. Hell, maybe you’ll never be able to let it go. Every word he said floats through your head. Now that you’re not as activated, you recognize he was only wanting to hurt you back for hurting him. You figure his comment about Steve probably stemmed from jealousy. Maybe he thought you replaced him with Steve. The accusing him of being your boyfriend part still confuses you, but you decide it’s something maybe you won’t ever understand.

One love feeds the fire

One heart burns desire

I wonder, who's crying now?

You don’t blame Eddie for wanting to hurt you back. Still, part of you feels like you didn’t deserve the spiteful comments. As you replay his words in your head for the 100th time today, the sting in your chest doesn’t lessen, now threatening to spread to your eyes. You cough, rapidly blinking to stubbornly push the tears away before they can even well in your eyes. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you take in the words of the Journey song playing on the radio.

So many wrongs or rights

Neither could change their headstrong ways

And in a lover's rage

They tore another page

The fighting is worth the love they sav-

You hastily turn off the radio, choosing to sit in silence for the few remaining minutes of the drive to Steve’s. You’ve managed to live without Eddie in your life for 2.5 years now. Sure, it’s hurt like hell, and this time you have to actually physically see him. But you can continue to live without him, you decide. Maybe holding onto the hurt from his words will help, make it easier to move forward without him. You don’t know, but you’re gonna have to try. That much is clear.

You take a deep breath as you park your car behind Steve’s in his driveway. Gathering your things, you’re greeted by hugs in the middle of the driveway. You avoid talking too much about your day outside of work, opting to redirect the conversation to their days as Steve unlocks the front door, laughing at their stories of clueless customers.. If they’ve noticed your avoidance in talking about your day or an off-ness to your demeanor, they don’t mention it.

You needlessly ask Steve if you can shower to rid yourself of the smell of grease before the movie, already knowing he’d say yes. Turns out it’s just what you need, walking back out to the living room in your pajamas feeling more relaxed. Steve and Robin have changed too, sitting on the sofa replaying the events of their shift. You notice the coffee table is already filled with your staple movie night snacks and drinks.

“So, what bloody slasher will I be forced to endure tonight?” Steve asks as you round the couch to stand in front of them.

“No bloody slashers tonight, Stevie.” You laugh as you reach for your movie in your overnight bag. “Tonight, we will be watching… Grease 2.” You announce with a smile, completely shocking Steve. Robin nods in agreement to the movie, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she gets comfortable in her seat on the couch. As a band kid, you knew Robin would be down for it, loving practically any musical.

Steve, on the other hand, was skeptical.

“Grease…2? The nowhere near as good sequel?” He asks with furrowed brows and a slight frown.

“Steve, have you ever even watched it?” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips.

“Well, no… but I’ve heard-”

“Let me just stop you there. Look, I love the original Grease just as much as anyone. I’ve watched it at least 100 times. I even had to buy another copy of it cause I burned through the first one watching it so much. It’s a classic, yes. However, I personally prefer the sequel.” When Steve’s face continues to meet yours in confusion and disbelief, you continue. His and Robin’s eyes follow you as you slowly pace back and forth in front of them. “It’s… campy, and fun! The songs are fun, the character’s are fun. And it works because it doesn’t take itself too seriously. AND the gender reversal with the guy being the one who’s chasing after the ‘cool’ girl, learning how to ride a motorcycle and changing his style to win her attention is, I think, a perspective shift much needed in this day and age.” You ramble, pointing at Steve as his eyebrows rise, Robin watching you in amusement.

“So yes, we will be watching Grease 2 because it is one of my comfort films and you know what… I really need that tonight.” You sigh as you finish, finally stopping your pacing. You watch as they take in your words, the shift in tone and demeanor at the end. Before they can say or ask anything, you quickly start up again.

“And besides, Steve, are you really going to let the opinions of others influence your own before you’ve even given it a chance?” You ask, looking at him expectantly. “And you’re really gonna tell me you don’t want to watch 90 minutes of Michelle Pfiefer looking totally hot and badass while singing and dancing?” you finally finish, hands on your hips as you look at him. Robin looks at Steve with a grin, completely amused as she throws more popcorn into her mouth.

“Yeah, Steve. Are you really going to let yourself be a mindless follower and conformist?” Robin pokes, smirking with a mouthful of popcorn.

Steve sighs, realizing this is yet another argument he will not win against you.

“You’re right, you’re right. Okay, I’ll keep an open mind!” he states, raising his hands in surrender.

“Good.” You state with a self-satisfied smile as you pop the tape into the VHS player, plopping down on the couch in the middle of the two.

Watching one of your favorite comfort films with your best friends gives you just what you expected, completely taking your mind off the events of the day. Drinking your favorite soda and eating your favorite snacks. You and Robin sing and shimmy along to the songs, laughing at the stupid jokes and silly characters. A few peeks at Steve show he’s fully immersed, specifically in the scenes with Pfieffer, just as you predicted. You even catch him laughing at a few points throughout the film, especially during the ‘Reproduction’ number. Towards the end of the film, you feel Robin’s head rest on your shoulder. You start to feel yourself growing tired as well, the stress of the day and late night hour setting in. As the film finishes you look at Steve, waiting for his opinion.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. I still think the first one is better though.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” you say to him with a soft smile. “Thanks for giving it a chance anyway, for me.”

“Anytime.” he smirks at you before stretching with a yawn. “Well, I think I’m gonna call it a night. The spare room is open for you as usual.”

“Sounds good, besides the fact I have this big sleeping baby on my shoulder.” you giggle as you take a peek at Robin, soft snores escaping her open mouth.

“I got this” he states as he gets up, gently maneuvering Robin’s body off your shoulder and towards the arm of the couch.

You yawn and stretch as you stand, telling Steve goodnight as you head upstairs to the spare bedroom he’s let you crash in after every late movie night over the summer. You groan softly as you snuggle under the cool comforter, feeling the sweet release of sleep quickly approaching. This night was just what you needed after today. All worries pushed away to deal with later.

(If there are no Grease 2 lovers, I am dead. )

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson slow burn #one step away from you

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fishfooddude · 1 year ago

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Married Life

Steve Harrington x Reader (technically self-insert but like barely lol)

Just a little fluff starring my favorite Hawkins resident.

Directory

Stranger Things MasterList

Meeting you in college was the best accident Steve had ever made. He’d gotten lost in the main building while looking for his actual class. You sat in the front row of the lecture hall, nose in a book, waiting for class to start. You hadn’t noticed Steve until he sat beside you; you shot him a grin and returned to your book. He casually glanced in your direction throughout the specialized sociology elective. He was enthralled and knew you’d be the next Mrs. Harrington from the moment he saw you.

Your relationship started like any classmate dynamic; he’d asked to borrow a pen or if you knew the time. He’d ask to copy your notes or borrow a piece of paper. By mid-terms, he’d worked up the courage to talk to you about anything other than sociology. “Hey, Y/N, do you wanna study together sometime?” Steve suppressed his overwhelming urge to squeal when you'd agreed to it.

The two of you sat in the library, reviewing notes for approximately 10 minutes before diving into more interesting topics. He took mental notes of everything you’d said you enjoyed; he’d causally start bringing you coffee or snacks. There was something about Steve you found intriguing and after months of friendship and a string of bad dates on your end. Steve gathered the courage to ask you on a real date. You agreed Steve was a nice guy and wasn’t ugly- or weird. It was a simple first date; the two of you went to the movie theater on campus, and then he walked you back to your dorm. After that, you were hooked.

The two of you seemed to do everything together. He’d walk you to class and drop you off at work. He was always willing to spend time with you even if it was 'inconvenient' for him.

He challenged your point of view, and you challenged him as well. He didn’t understand why you’d chosen to major in sociology but loved how you lit up when you spoke about it.

Going to Hawkins for the first time was interesting. You hadn’t known about Steve’s high school reputation but were thoroughly amused at Robin’s retelling of embarrassing story after embarrassing story. His parents adored you fresh out of the gate; you saw his Dad pull him aside on your last night. While you hadn’t heard what he told the young man, you noticed how his face had lit up. As you were getting ready to return to school the next day, you had to find out, “He told me to marry you because a woman like you is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.”

After graduation, you and Steve finally rented a small apartment together. You had both landed jobs you loved, and everything was perfect except for one thing. Your last name…

Steve wanted to plan the perfect proposal. He spent months looking for the perfect ring and asked every woman in his life for their opinion. After buying what he hoped would be your engagement ring, he had to figure out how to ask you. A romantic weekend away? A simple but elegant dinner date? At the beach? Or at a park? He thought he had a perfect plan, but one day, you two were walking through a parking structure trying to find his car, and it was the moment. Steve stopped and fished the ring box out of his jacket pocket. You turned around when you realized Steve wasn’t beside you anymore.

“So this wasn’t what I planned on doing, but, Y/N, will you marry me? I know we're in the middle of a fuckin’ parking lot, but this is what I want. I want to be with you forever; this may be the least romantic or special way to propose to the woman of your dreams, but it feels right.” you laughed at first, but as he got down on one knee, you realized he was serious. “Yes, Steve, I would love to be your wife.”

#stranger things #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagine #steve harrington headcannon #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot

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cha0ticspacebi · 2 months ago

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After moving to Hawkins, Indiana, things with my boyfriend began to change. In an effort to reconnect with him I invited him out to a local dive bar. Instead I met a bartender who would change my life for the better in so many ways.

Chapter 1 ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. Series Master List

Pairing: Post Canon! Eddie Munson x Witchy! Artist! Female OC

Word Count: 4.9 k

Series Tags: Eventual smut MDNI 21+, slow burn, canon divergence AU, Eddie is a soft sweet traumatized boy, rockstar Eddie, Bartender Eddie, female OC is a witchy, aspiring author/artist, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, additional tags will be added.

Author’s Note: This story is a labor of love between me and my good friend 🦇 🖤 They play an incredible Eddie! We’re writing an ongoing RP together and I am so enamored with this story I just had to share it out as a fic. This story is written in a very different format than my usual work. It’s going to be posted exactly as we wrote it together, separated by our names. I’m so proud of the work we’ve done together. This story is incredibly important to me and has made me fall in love with writing all over again.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Indianapolis was always my home. Growing up there my whole life never really needing to venture outside of the city for much. Everything I could ever need or want right at my fingertips. Even after high school graduation, class of ‘84 baby, I always believed nothing could pull me from the city.

And for a while that was true.

February 1988 is when my boyfriend Jackson came to me with an idea. He was my high school sweetheart. After six years together I’d follow him anywhere. Putting my faith and trust in someone who had never steered me wrong before was easy. One day after my night shift at the Indianapolis Public Library I came home to our shared apartment and he planted the idea.

“Hey so I’ve been thinking,” he rubbed the back of his head with that boyish smile I fell hard and fast for, “I kinda think it’s time we settled down. I found a really good gig down in Hawkins.”

At first I was surprised but a few key points from his proposal stood out. He wanted to settle down. Did that mean maybe starting a family? The thought alone gave me nervous butterflies. He said he already found a job so that must mean he’s been thinking about this for a while, “What kind of job is it?” I asked.

He explains that he’d still be doing construction, helping to rebuild old buildings that collapsed during the earthquake back in spring of ‘86. While I’d never actually been to Hawkins, Indiana everyone in the midwest knew about that earthquake. It was such a freak and unusual event that it got media coverage for months and months after. From photos that the news had shared it looked like a quaint small town, “As long as the library is still standing I say let’s do it!”

So less than a week later we were all packed up and leaving our current lease earlier than anticipated but starting this next stage of adventure in our lives together couldn’t wait!

We’ve been here in Hawkins now about six months and from that first night onward everything began to change. It started slow. Extra work shifts and late nights meant most of my time was spent alone, which typically wouldn’t have been an issue. I don’t mind being alone. Especially when I get into a groove on one of my paintings or the latest chapter of my fantasy novel. Popping in my favorite metal mixed cassette and letting the creativity flow through my limbs was never a problem because I knew when Jackson got home from work he’d come wrap his arms around me, kiss my cheek, before the two of us would spend the rest of our night together.

Now it was excuse after excuse, “Sorry. It’s gonna be another late night, they need me to finish this” or “I was just so tired when I came home last night I slept on the couch”. With every passing day my heart ached, yearning to be close once again to the boy I’d been so enamored with. I could feel him slipping through my fingertips like water. Everything came to a head one night when I vowed to try one more time to reconnect with him, hoping to recapture his attention.

One rare night that he was home early I attempted to engage him in a casual conversation, “Hey so I found this really cool looking bar in town yesterday. They have local bands that come and play, the food and drinks I saw people having looked really good. We should check it out sometime.”

He reluctantly agreed at first but then, much to my surprise he seemed to really like the idea. Even going so far as to suggest going tonight, “Yeah ok, let’s go. I’m gonna stop at the yard first, drop a few things off and then I’ll meet you there. Let’s drive separately.” At this point I was willing to take what I could get from him so I didn’t press the driving issue. I flashed him a big smile before getting dressed and heading out the door, “Ok! I’ll see you there.”

Heading to the bar alone wasn’t something I’d ever done before. All times prior to this I would’ve been with Jackson or friends on the rare occasion that they came down from the city. Having moved away from all of my friends and only really having the older ladies down at the library to keep me company, this was a very new experience. Pulling into the parking lot, I took a deep breath before heading inside.

The atmosphere was lively for a Tuesday evening. Jackson wasn’t among the handful of patrons milling about at the bar or the tables, but that wasn’t a surprise considering his truck wasn’t outside in the parking lot and he did say that he was going to stop at the yard before heading here. Maybe something held him up. I’ll get a drink while I wait for him, I think to myself as I take up an empty seat at the bar.

Standing behind the bar I see a sight that gives me butterflies in my stomach for the first time in a very long time. His long brown curls bounced slightly as he walked back and forth tending to the folks at the bar. My eyes follow him and watch as he mixes a drink for a elderly woman sitting a few seats down from where I am. He hands the woman her glass with a big bright smile, before I get a great view of his eyes when he greets me.

Then my throat goes dry. For a moment I nearly forget why I’m here in the first place. “Can I um–” I clear my throat as I smile politely back at him, “Can I get a long island iced tea please?”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Once the city turns against you, it's maybe best to keep running. I didn't make it too far, though. Just outside of Hawkins, really. I couldn't really stand to just abandon Wayne, abandon my friends after all they've done for me. Shared trauma really does tie people together. With the hush money from the government, I was able to get a place of my own. Nothing state of the art. Another trailer works just fine. It's what I'm used to. But this place is called Rolling Acres.

Thankfully, getting a job was easy. It's still in Hawkins, but the drive isn't terrible. Mostly working nights as a bartender at The Hideout. My band and I still play there, too. Still on Tuesdays. I avoid working there on weekends, though. It gets too busy with people my age. Best to just avoid them. Everyone else doesn't seem too bothered with me, though.

It was one of those nights at work where it wasn't terribly busy. Just the way I liked it, chatting and laughing with the regulars and getting decent tips. I catch someone walk in and come sit at the bar at the corner of my eye while fixing a drink for an older woman who tends to get a bit too comfortable with me when she's had too much, making the drink sweet and barely putting any alcohol in there for taste. Turning to you, my eyes flick up and down quickly to take you in, knowing immediately that you're not from around here. After asking what you'd like and you tell me a Long Island, I grin. "Got a favorite choice of vodka?"

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Your voice has a huskiness to it that makes my brain go fuzzy. The grin I see looking back at me, a sort of pleased looking smirk asking me if I have a favorite vodka. I shake my head, “Not really. Let’s go with the dealer's choice. Whatever you would recommend.” I look at your shirt trying to find a name tag but I don’t see one. I wonder briefly if you’ve worked here so long that you are just known by everyone anyways. Hawkins is a pretty small town.

I look around the bar while I wait. It’s got a warm feeling, like after just a few visits one might be considered a regular already. My eyes flit anxiously back and forth between the tables wondering if Jackson is maybe already here and just didn’t see me come in. I try not to let the nerves that he might not show up creep into my expression. The glass clinking against the table startles me. I look back and get another great view of your warm brown eyes. I nod and take my first sip, “Perfect! Thank you. It’s just what I needed.”

I sip my drink at a snail’s pace, draggin out each swallow of the harsh liquid. Hope fills my mind everytime I hear the door chime ring and I turn hoping to see my boyfriend’s face but instead it’s just another local who waves to their party upon entering. Before I know it my drink is halfway gone and still no sign of Jackson. I let out a heavy sigh and try to distract myself. I look around and notice lights illuminating the stage at the back of the bar. I turn back towards the bar hoping to see that you aren’t busy. Wow, I think to myself, how cliche. Drowning the poor bartender in your sorrows huh? I motion with my hand trying to get your attention as I point with my glass towards the stage, “Hey! Do you know if there’s anyone playing tonight?”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

My grin widens when you say "dealer's choice" because that means I get to make a traditional Long Island. "It'll take a few minutes, but I promise you won't be disappointed." I assure you with a wink before I get to work on your drink, pulling out the ingredients from the bottom shelf where I keep the good stuff when I want to make fancier drinks.

I talk with the customers as I make your drink, rolling my eyes as they tease me for pulling out the fancy liquors. “Hey, hey, come on. It’s rare when someone lets me do my own thing.” I chuckle and shake my head, picking up the tequila and pouring it in the mixer. “Excuse me for getting excited.”

My eyes wander to you every now and then, seeing that you keep looking around. Is she waiting for someone? I think to myself. Of course she is, look at her. How is she not single? When I’m finally done with your drink, I set it in front of you. “Enjoy, sweetheart. If you hate it, it’s free.” But I feel proud when you say you like it. “Let me know if you need anything else. Probably won’t make you another one like this cuz it’s a bit strong, though. Gotta make sure you get home okay.”

I leave you alone, getting back to work and taking care of other customers as they come in. It doesn’t go unnoticed to me that you seem to still be sitting alone the longer you are here, seeing your hopeful expression when someone else comes in before it falls in disappointment.

You stay at the back of my mind as I clean up a spot on the bar once the customers have left before you’re getting my attention. After hearing your question, I smirk, draping the rag over my shoulder. “As a matter of fact, it’s my band playing tonight.”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

I hear you say that it’s your band playing tonight and suddenly a bunch of questions flood my mind. I sit up straight holding my delicious drink you made for me in my hand, forgetting for a moment about why I came out tonight in the first place, “Oh my god really? What kind of music? I’m a big fan of metal and hard rock myself. What instrument do you play?”

The front door to the bar opens again and I hear the chime that signaled yet another person entering. I turn, once again hoping that I’ll see Jackson’s face but no. My good mood from talking with you drops as I take a big gulp from my glass and stare at the ice with a heavy crestfallen sigh.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

I can’t help but chuckle at your excitement, hearing your rapid fire questions and I can’t help but find you adorable. “Lucky for you, we play heavy metal. And I play lead guitar.”

When you turn to the door again, seeing the light that was briefly inside you leave, it leaves a small pain in my chest for a moment. Clearing my throat, I point to your drink. “Would you want another? I can make you another Long Island, but not the same way as last time like I said earlier. Don’t want you on your ass, you know?” I say to try and lighten the mood and to see you smile again.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

I try to smile when you ask me if I’d like another drink, “Yeah that sounds great. It’s a shame I drove myself here because that was the best drink I’ve had in a long time. I guess that just means I’ll have to come back sometime and see you again.” My lips curl up in a smile that spreads all the way to my eyes and nose, causing it to crinkle with delight. “What time does your show start?”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

I admire the way your nose crinkles when you smile, happy to see that twinkle in your eyes once again. “Guess so, sweetheart.” I say softly with a small grin before looking up to the stage when you ask when we go on. “Just a few, actually.” I take your empty glass and pull out another one from under the bar to make your second drink. “The guys are setting up now, so I’ll be up there just as soon as I finish your drink. Gotta serve the pretty girl first.” I say with a wink before I take the shaker in my hands after sealing it and start to shake your drink. After a moment, I pop the seal and pour it into the glass and set it in front of you before putting a little umbrella in it to get you to laugh.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Your little grin you flash me as you call me sweetheart and start making my drink, sends the butterflies in my stomach fluttering up into my chest. Their wings flitting faster and faster when you call me pretty. I feel my bottom lip twitching, itching to curl up and be bitten between my teeth. I shamelessly stare at your arms while you shake the metal shaker and pour my drink into a fresh glass. The little umbrella you stick in makes me chuckle, “Aww, how’d you know that was my favorite color?” I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip, “Still a winner! Thank you good sir, you really know how to treat a lady.”

While I wait for your show to start I continue looking around the bar, definitely trying to force my eyes to look at anything but you. I notice some of the customers you were talking with earlier were staring at me and looking away quickly when I make eye contact. I suddenly feel like an outsider. From what I’ve seen, everyone here, the staff and the customers, clearly have that small town mentality where everyone knows everyone. Except me. I don’t know anyone. Even though I’ve been here for over 6 months, I haven’t really made any friends. Something about the way you smiled at me made me think that it’s time to change that.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

"Happy to serve you, sweet girl." I flirt with a wink. I have to go up, but if you need anything, that's Tracy over there." I gesture to the female bartender who is clocking in. "She may not be able to make drinks like me, but she's a close second. Don't let her know I said that. Enjoy the show, yeah?" I stand up, walking backwards and not taking my eyes off you for a moment, my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. I give you a small grin before finally turning around and making my way to the stage to help set up the rest of the equipment.

Jeff nudges me when I get on the stage. "Who's the girl, Eddie?" He asks, looking your way briefly. I shrug. "Don't know. Pretty sure she's new to town." Gareth chimes in, "She definitely is, looks a bit lost. Is she waiting for someone?" I’m too busy slinging my guitar strap over my head to look over at Gareth. "Didn't ask." I try to keep the conversation short, not wanting to be bombarded with questions just for talking to a pretty girl. "She's pretty," Barry voices after a second. "Are you guys just gonna gawk or are we gonna play?" After finally getting their attention away from you, I take the front and speak into the mic. "Uh hey. Most of you know who we are but...I do see a few new faces so I won't be an asshole and not introduce ourselves." I look at you and send you a wink along with a wide grin. "We're Corroded Coffin, and we're here to melt your fuckin faces. Hope you guys are ready."

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

When you take to the stage and introduce yourselves, I find myself captivated by your presence. Even from my seat at the bar I catch your little wink and I can’t help but wonder if that little wink was for me. I mean I’m certainly not aware of who you or who your band is so maybe I was your target audience with that comment.

I lose myself in your sounds as the concert gets underway. I’m suddenly really happy that Jackson isn’t here yet because he hates my taste in music so I know he won’t enjoy this experience as much as I am. I dance a bit in my chair, moving my head and drumming my free hand against the tattooed thigh exposed from the skirt I’m wearing. You sound so good up there that I don’t even hear the person behind me calling my name.

“Hey! Hey Erica!” Finally I hear Jackson calling my name as he approaches. I pull my eyes away from yours and turn to those of my boyfriend, “Oh hey, I was staring to get worried that you’d gotten lost or something. Sit down, the show just started.”

He frowned as he looked at the stage, “You know I don’t like this loud death shit. Come on- let’s get out of here!”

I felt myself torn. I want to stay and watch the rest of your show but I know I should be wanting to go with my boyfriend, I think about the bright happy grin you gave me just before leaving to go perform. But you’re just a stranger. I shouldn’t be worried about disappointing you by leaving early. But I am. Jackson was starting to get impatient, “Come on! Pay your tab and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I pout and swallow the rest of my Long Island and call over the bartender who now stood in your place. She smiles and asks me if I need anything. I hand her enough cash to pay for my two drinks and give you a generous tip, “Can you make sure the sweet curly haired bartender gets this tip please? Thank you!”

I try to sneak one last glance at the stage as Jackson grabs my hand and leads me out of the bar through the front door. I find myself hoping that you don’t think I hated your music since I left early. I’ll have to come back another night and let you know how much I enjoyed what I was able to see.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Whenever I play, all of my worries from the past few years melts away, the only thing that matters being the music and my band. All the judgmental faces that I feel looking at me disappear and I feel at peace.

My eyes seem to wander to you every now and then, wondering if you’re enjoying the set and grinning a bit wickedly when I see you dancing in your seat or drumming to the rhythm. It leaves a giddiness inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time and I try to ride this feeling for as long as I can.

When I see a guy get your attention, I falter the smallest bit, going unnoticed by everyone listening except for Jeff, Gareth, and Barry. I make eye contact with Jeff briefly, him giving me a look to ask if I’m okay and I nod curtly as we continue with the song. I watch the interaction between you two, noticing how impatient and annoyed the guy looks before you’re suddenly finishing your drink and giving Tracy money. Is she leaving? But we just started! And I can’t figure out why I’m starting to feel a bit disappointed as I watch you leave with him. But when you look to the stage a final time, hope fills my chest even as you do leave. And I know that I’ll see you again.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Jackson’s tight grip on my hand releases with a harsh flick once we are outside in the parking lot. I’m searching his face desperately for a clue as to where his annoyed mood came from. He wasn’t overjoyed when we left the apartment, but he certainly wasn’t this pissed off, “Hey what’s wrong? I thought we were going out to have a good time tonight.”

We stand in between where his truck and my car are parked beside one another. He looked down at me with a look I’ve never seen on his face before, “Seemed like you were having a perfectly good time without me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I try not to raise my voice at his sudden defensive tone, “I spent all night waiting for you to show up! What did you have to do at the yard that was so important?”

He goes silent. I cock my brows up at him waiting for him to answer my perfectly valid question, “Well? Hm? You pulled me away from a show I was really enjoying just so we could stand out here and argue?”

His tone is so spiteful as he practically spits his next words at me, “Looked to me like you were enjoying the bartender more than the music.”

My jaw goes slack at his accusations, “Jackson what the hell are you talking about?” I look away from him for just a split second when I see a few people stopping and staring. My voice lowers, “Can we please continue this conversation at home?”

“I’m not going home,” the words fall from his lips so low and quickly that I almost don’t catch them.

“What do you mean you’re not coming home?” I fail miserably at keeping the shakiness from my voice.

He stiffens and rushes out a curt explanation, “While you were gone I moved all my stuff out. I only came here to tell you goodbye. The apartment is yours, here’s my key. Goodbye Erica.” And with that he was slamming the door and speeding away.

I stand there alone dumbfounded, I feel my body slide to the ground against my car door. I don’t know whether to yell, scream, cry, or all of the above. Instead I crumble. I don’t know how long I sit there on the ground wishing the earth would just open up and swallow me whole.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

While the music still plays, it gets louder and fading with every swing of the entrance opening and closing, at one point the music crescendos when the doors open and a man falls with a thud onto his ass. “That’ll teach you, you bastard.” Tracy spits at his feet, about to head inside before she sees you crying. She remembers you from earlier, how you were kind enough to leave Eddie a generous tip before you left with a guy that no doubt just broke your heart. “Oh, honey.” Tracy coos as she makes her way over to you and squats down to you level, placing her hands on your arms. “Why don’t we go back inside and I make you some tea? I bring my own from home.”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Cha0ticSpaceBi .* :☆ﾟ. ──

I can feel my vision clouding as the tears well up in my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want that asshole to have the satisfaction, not that he’d know one way or the other considering he took off like a bat outta hell. I can’t allow myself to wonder how he was able to move all his stuff out so fast. The possibility that he had…help…is too much right now. I try everything to convince myself to stand again when I hear a friendly sounding voice getting closer. I look up and see, what was her name again? Tracy, the nice bartender. What’s she doing out here? She offers to take me back inside for tea. I don’t think I can even speak let alone stand.

I simply nod my head with a sigh as she helps me up back into the bar and leads me to the back kitchen area. My ears feel like they are filled with cotton because she tries to say something to me but I don’t respond. I feel like a zombie.

But I can hear your music. I know you're still playing because I can hear the sounds above all the noise in my head. Tracy hands me a warm cup and I somehow manage to sip it slowly and thank her. We stand there together for a bit and I start to feel a little better. But then I hear clapping.

Is your show over? For some reason I start to panic. You can’t see me like this! The thought of your sweet smile and warm brown eyes fill my mind and I can’t bear to have to see me in this state, I need to go before you finish, “Thank you so much for your help. I really appreciate it. This tea was delicious. I really should get going.”

I hurry back through the bar and out to the parking lot, hiding my face on the off chance you could see it from where you are. I don’t try to look for you, instead making a beeline for my car.

Back at my apartment I breakdown. I hug my pillow and after hours of tears my mind wanders back to you and how kind you were to me. The last thought I have before exhaustion takes me is that I didn’t catch your name.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ Eddie .* :☆ﾟ. ──

As we continue to play, I pay attention to the crowd more since you left, to the band. I feel alive tonight, more so than how I usually feel during a gig, and I don’t really know why. After a couple more songs, I notice a drunk guy getting handsy with Tracy. I know I don’t have to worry about her though, continuing my set as she punches him before throwing him out of the bar. It makes Gareth laugh from behind the drums and I laugh during an instrumental break.

After a few moments, Tracy comes back inside with…is that you? You’re still here? Why do you look so sad? What happened with that guy? Luckily, we only have two more songs left before we finish our set and I can ask you what happened, ask you if you need anything. It worries me when I notice just how distraught you look all the way from the stage and it makes me happy to see how caring Tracy is being.

When we finished our final song, I say a quick goodnight to everyone before I start to help the guys break everything down a bit too quickly and frantically. Gareth notices it and rolls his eyes. “Just go talk to her before you break something.” I smile at him gratefully before turning around, seeing you quickly making an exit. I try calling you but I realize I don’t know your name. “Shit, hey!” I call out as I try to follow you outside, but, once I’m out there, I’ve lost sight of you, not knowing which car is yours. “Damn it.” I sigh to myself as I run a hand down my face.

It’s a bit of a drive, but I soon make it home to my trailer in Rolling Acres, thinking about you most of the drive and hoping you’re okay, wishing I had at least gotten your name before I went on stage tonight.

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson roleplay #Eddie munson x female OC #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson fanfic

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farmergirlimagines · 6 months ago

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Chapter 9: Castle Byers

Masterlist ~ Through Static and Shock

>>>Thank you for reading! Please comment and let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates of this story. I post a new chapter each Monday, Wednesday and Friday!

See you all next update!

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The air in the library seemed to hum with a quiet sense of finality after their conversation. Donna watched as Nancy and Barb, each in their own way, tried to settle back into the routine of school, but the weight of the unspoken things between them still lingered, a shadow that refused to fade.

Donna sighed, running a hand through her hair as she pushed the cart along the aisle. She’d been trying to keep herself occupied, trying to push through the tension that seemed to wrap itself around the library, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, something that needed to be addressed. And it wasn’t just about Joanna’s sudden disappearance. It was about everything—about the changes happening around her, the distance between her and Nancy, the quiet, uneasy moments that felt too heavy to ignore.

Finally, as she reached the end of the aisle, she turned to face her friends. “I think I’m gonna go see Joanna after I make sure the kids get home,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I know it’s weird that she’s been missing all day, and it’s not like her. I don’t want to leave it hanging. She might be fine, but… I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Nancy looked up from her notes, brows furrowing in surprise. Barb, too, glanced at Donna, her pencil halting mid-air as she processed the words. It wasn’t that they didn’t understand—Joanna’s absence had been eating at them all day—but it was a matter of timing.

“You’re not going alone, are you?” Nancy asked, her tone cautious, though there was a trace of concern in her voice. “I mean, we can come with you. I don’t think… I don’t think it’s a good idea to be out there on your own.”

Donna gave her a small, reassuring smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Nance. You guys have the Decathlon coming up, don’t you?” She glanced at Barb, who nodded, her expression a mixture of determination and exhaustion.

“Yeah, but—” Barb began, her words trailing off as she exchanged a look with Nancy. It was clear both of them were reluctant to let Donna go off on her own, but the Academic Decathlon loomed large in their minds. They were counting on each other, and backing out now would feel like abandoning the team.

“We can’t skip it,” Nancy added quietly, a hint of guilt in her voice. “You know how important it is. It’s not just for us, it’s for Hawkins High. We’ve been working so hard for this.”

Donna nodded, understanding. She knew how much the Decathlon meant to them, how hard they’d worked to get to this point. It was just another one of those things that had to happen, whether or not the world felt like it was falling apart. “I get it,” she said, her voice soft, almost too soft. “You’ve got your priorities, I get that.”

But the uncertainty still gnawed at her. The unease that had been building in her chest all day wasn’t something she could shake. She needed to know what was going on with Joanna. She needed to make sure she was okay, to ease the growing worry that had been brewing since the morning.

Barb hesitated, glancing down at the notebook she hadn’t been paying attention to for the last few minutes. “We’ll be okay,” she said after a beat, her voice firm but soft. “You’ll be okay too. Just… just check in, alright?”

Donna gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, appreciating the sentiment but not quite able to return the reassurance. She didn’t want to admit it, but she wasn’t entirely sure everything would be okay. Not with everything going on.

“I’ll call if anything happens,” Donna said, turning to leave. “But don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. Just... take care of yourselves, alright?”

Nancy and Barb exchanged a glance. “You too,” Nancy said softly, her tone barely above a whisper. “And hey—if anything changes, let us know. We’ll help if we can.”

Donna gave Joanna and Nancy a final, somewhat forced smile as she grabbed her coat and turned toward the door. She had to do this—for herself, for Joanna, for the gnawing feeling in her gut that wouldn’t leave her alone until she had answers.

The library’s warmth seemed to drain from her the moment she stepped outside. The cool air wrapped around her, heavy and still. There was a strange quiet, a tension in the atmosphere that made her footsteps sound louder than they should.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself as she headed toward the bike rack. Her mind raced. What if something really was wrong? What if all the strange feelings and signs weren’t just coincidence? The thought made her chest tighten.

As she pedaled faster to the racks at Hawkins Middle, faint voices reached her ears. At first, it sounded like harmless chatter, but the closer she got, the more the sharp edges of cruelty cut through. She quickened her pace, her protective instincts kicking in when she recognized the voices of Dustin, Mike, and Lucas.

The schoolyard buzzed faintly with the sounds of distant conversations and the squeak of sneakers on pavement. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin huddled by the bike racks, adjusting their backpacks, their easy camaraderie interrupted by the arrival of Troy Walsh and Trevor Mott.

Troy strode toward them with the swagger of someone who thrived on intimidation. His auburn curls caught the sunlight, but his smirk was anything but warm. Trevor followed close behind, his pale blue eyes glinting with mischief as he cracked his knuckles for show.

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!” Troy crowed, clapping his hands together. “Step right up and witness the freak show!”

Mike froze, his grip tightening on his backpack. Lucas took a step forward, his shoulders squaring, but Troy was already circling them like a predator.

“Who’s our headliner today?” Troy sneered, his gaze landing on Lucas. “Midnight?” He shoved Lucas hard in the chest, making him stumble.

“Or maybe Frogface?” He jabbed Mike, who stumbled back against the bike rack, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“Or how about…” Troy turned his attention to Dustin, his smirk widening. “Toothless!” He delivered a light punch to Dustin’s chest, making him grunt.

Trevor laughed and pointed at Dustin mocking his lisp. “Yeah, Toothless! Do the arm thing!”

Dustin’s jaw tightened, and he slowly shrugged off his jacket and backpack, letting them fall to the ground. He twisted his arms, the loud pop of his joints making Trevor gag theatrically. “That’s disgusting!” Trevor exclaimed, stepping back.

Troy snorted. “You’re such a freak,” he said, shoving past Dustin and Lucas as he and Trevor laughed and sauntered off.

Their brief moment of levity was cut short when Donna’s voice rang out behind them, sharp and commanding.

“Hey! Do we have a problem here?” Donna stormed across the yard, her coat billowing behind her. Her eyes locked onto Troy and Trevor, who had paused mid-laugh to turn around.

Troy raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What are you, their babysitter?”

“Older sister,” Donna shot back, her voice cold and steady. She stepped in front of the two bullies, her height and confidence instantly commanding their attention. “Listen here, you little rats. If I ever see you lay a hand on my brother or his friends again, you’ll wish you hadn’t. Got it?”

Trevor scoffed, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his pale blue eyes. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

Donna didn’t flinch. She stepped closer, gripping Trevor’s shirt and forcing him to look up at her. “You really wanna find out?” she said, her tone daring.

Troy and Trevor exchanged uneasy glances, the bravado draining from their faces. “Whatever,” Troy muttered, shoving Trevor’s shoulder as they turned and walked away, muttering under their breaths. Donna watched them retreat, her glare fixed on their backs until they disappeared from sight. Only then did she turn back to the boys, her expression softening instantly.

“You guys alright?” she asked, her voice steady but kind.

Dustin nodded, his trademark grin beginning to return. “Yeah. Thanks, Donna. You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”

Mike and Lucas chimed in with their thanks, relief evident in their voices. Donna placed a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You guys stick together, alright? And if those jerks even look at you wrong, you let me know,” Donna said, straightening up. “Now, let’s get moving before I give them a reason to regret being born.”

The boys laughed at her playful threat, their spirits lifting as they followed her to the bike rack.

As they rode toward Lucas’s house, the mood lightened. Donna couldn’t help but grin as Dustin pedaled up beside her, puffing his chest out like he was about to say something important.

“You know,” Dustin said, “if I had superpowers, I’d totally zap them with a laser beam or something.”

Donna smirked. “A laser beam, huh? What about a freeze ray? Or maybe a giant robot?”

“Nah, lasers are cooler,” Dustin replied confidently.

“I’d go with the giant robot,” Lucas interjected from behind them. “One step, and they’d run screaming.”

Mike chimed in, “What about invisibility? You could just sneak up behind them and—bam! Scare the crap out of them!”

Donna chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she shook her head. "You guys have some wild imaginations. But honestly, Dustin's already got a secret weapon."

Dustin’s face lit up, his grin spreading wider as he leaned forward. "What? My charm?" he asked, eyebrows waggling playfully.

Donna snorted, ruffling his hair affectionately. He swatted at her hand, his expression one of mock annoyance, but it didn’t stop the grin from tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Nope,” Donna replied, her tone teasing.

Before Dustin could protest, Lucas cut in with a grin of his own, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “No, your sister.”

Mike and Donna burst out laughing at the same time, and even Dustin’s face froze in mock-offended shock. His eyes widened for a beat, then narrowed in a playful scowl as he crossed his arms, clearly trying to hide the grin that threatened to escape. “I’m gonna get you for that,” he muttered, though the effect was ruined by the barely contained laughter in his voice.

They reached Lucas’s house, and Donna slowed her bike to a stop, the tires crunching softly on the gravel laying along the bottom of the driveway. “Alright, Lucas. Home safe. Don’t let those idiots ruin your day, okay?”

Lucas nodded, flashing a small wave before jogging up the steps to his front door. Donna watched him until he disappeared inside, then pushed off again, pedaling alongside Dustin and Mike.

The quiet between them stretched longer than usual as they made their way toward Mike’s house. Donna glanced at Dustin, who rode silently beside her, his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Hey,” Donna said, breaking the stillness. “You’re being suspiciously quiet. What’s up?”

Dustin shrugged without looking at her. “I just… sometimes I wish I could do more, you know? For Will.”

Donna slowed her pace, her expression softening. “You’re doing plenty, Dusty. More than most would. And besides, you’ve got me. No one messes with my brother or his friends and gets away with it.”

Dustin’s lips twitched into a small grin, a flicker of confidence returning to his face.

As they turned off Lucas’s street, Mike leaned closer to Donna, his voice low and urgent. “Hopper came to school today.”

Donna’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

“He wanted to talk to us,” Dustin chimed in, glancing around as if to ensure no one else was listening. “Pulled us out of Mr. Clarke’s class. Asked about Will—like, if we’d seen or heard anything weird.”

Mike nodded, his face drawn with worry. “He didn’t say much, but you could tell he’s freaked out. He even mentioned looking in the woods.”

Donna tightened her grip on her handlebars, her mind racing. “And what did you guys tell him?”

“The truth,” Dustin said with a shrug. “That we don’t know anything. We told him Will usually takes Mirkwood home. We even offered to help, but he told us to stay out of it.”

“But he’s looking for something,” Mike added, his voice wavering. “Or someone.”

Donna’s eyes narrowed, a mix of concern and determination hardening her features. “Alright,” she said firmly. “If Hopper’s involved, this isn’t just a missing kid situation. You two stay out of trouble. And if either of you hears or sees anything—anything—you come to me first. Got it?”

Both boys nodded, their trust in her evident. But as Donna cast a quick glance toward the distant woods, a knot of unease tightened in her chest. Something about this didn’t feel right.

When they finally reached the Wheeler house, Donna knocked firmly on the door. It wasn’t long before it swung open to reveal Karen Wheeler, a woman in her late 30s with soft, light brown hair and a warm, welcoming smile. She had a calm presence, her sharp eyes quietly assessing the trio with the protective instinct of a mother. Dressed in a simple yet elegant floral blouse, Karen exuded a natural grace—someone who clearly cared deeply for her family but also held a quiet wisdom, with an instinct for understanding the unspoken emotions of those around her as though there was more to her than the role she played at home.

Her smile wavered slightly into curiosity as her gaze flickered between them. “Donna, boys,” she greeted, her voice kind but questioning. “Everything alright?”

Donna nodded quickly. “We’re good, Mrs. Wheeler. Just dropping these guys off.” She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and added, “I heard about Will, so I biked them home. I was wondering—would it be okay if Dustin stayed over for a bit? I need to head to the Byers’ house to check on Joanna.”

Karen’s concern softened into a kind smile. “Of course, Dustin can stay. Are you sure you’re alright, Donna?”

Donna forced a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Just making sure everyone’s where they need to be.”

Karen nodded, her motherly instincts settling. “Alright, boys. Homework before dinner, understood?”

“Yes, Mom,” Mike groaned, grabbing Dustin by the arm and pulling him inside.

“Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler,” Donna called as Karen waved her off. She lingered for a moment, watching the boys disappear into the basement.

“Take care, Donna,” Karen added as Donna swung back onto her bike.

The cool evening air rushed against Donna’s face as she pedaled toward the Byers’ house. Her unease deepened with every turn of the wheels, her thoughts swirling with Hopper’s questions and the boys’ quiet fears. As Donna disappeared down the road, the fading hum of her bike tires blended into the rustle of the evening breeze.

The Byers’ house stood quiet and dim, its edges softened by the deepening dusk. Inside, the faint buzz of the old refrigerator was the only sound breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the home.

Inside, the faint buzz of the refrigerator hummed in the background, the only sound breaking the stillness as the evening wore on.

Joanna sat cross-legged on the couch, her fingers mindlessly tracing the stitched edges of the worn cushions. She could hear her mom, Joyce, pacing in the kitchen, the clinking of a glass against the countertop betraying her unsteady hands.

Joanna’s chest felt tight as she glanced toward the doorway, her mother’s shadow stretched long and thin across the linoleum floor. She knew what Joyce was working up the courage to do. It had been brewing all day—the distant way her mom had spoken, her restless movements, the phone cord coiled and ready at the edge of the counter.

“Mom?” Joanna called softly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the fridge.

Joyce froze mid-step, the glass in her hand hovering just above the counter. She turned slowly, her face a mixture of exhaustion and determination. “Yeah, sweetie?”

Joanna hesitated, unsure of how to phrase the question that had been gnawing at her all day. “Are you… gonna call him?”

Joyce’s shoulders sagged, and she set the glass down with a soft clink. Her fingers moved to the phone cord, twisting it around and around like she was trying to ground herself. “I have to,” she said finally, her voice cracking. “He needs to know what’s going on. In case—” She stopped, her throat tightening on the word she couldn’t say.

Joanna stood, her bare feet sinking into the worn carpet as she crossed the room to stand by the doorway. “He’s not gonna care, Mom. He never does,” she said, her voice quieter now, but steady.

Joyce’s eyes met hers, a flicker of pain flashing across her face. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But he’s still your dad.”

Joanna crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as she watched her mother pick up the phone. The rotary dial clicked and whirred under Joyce’s fingers, the sound loud in the otherwise silent house.

As the phone rang on the other end, Joanna’s stomach twisted. She knew how this would go. She could already picture Lonnie’s dismissive tone, his shallow reassurances, the way he always made Joyce feel small. The silence was broken by a soft whine. Chewie, their scruffy mutt, sat by the back door, his tail thumping nervously against the floor.

“Chewie, not now,” Joyce muttered, brushing away a stray tear. But the dog whined again, more insistent this time, pawing at the door.

Joanna frowned, stepping closer to kneel beside him. “What is it, boy?” she asked softly, scratching behind his ears. Chewie's eyes darted toward the backyard, and he let out a low, uneasy whimper.

“I’ll take him out,” Joanna offered, her tone quiet but firm. She needed a moment to step away from the tension, to clear her head.

Joyce waved a hand distractedly. “Fine. Just… don’t go far, alright?”

“I won’t,” Joanna replied, slipping on her jacket. She grabbed Chewie’s leash, clipping it to his collar before leading him out the back door.

The cool evening air hit Joanna immediately, a stark contrast to the heavy tension that clung to the house. Chewie tugged at the leash, his nose darting from one patch of ground to another as if he could sense something she couldn’t. Joanna followed him, her breath visible in the crisp autumn chill.

“Come on, boy,” she coaxed softly, her voice breaking the stillness of the twilight. But Chewie stopped abruptly, his ears perking up as a faint sound floated through the air—a voice, distant but unmistakable.

“Will? Will!”

Joanna froze, her heart skipping a beat. That voice.

“Jonathan?” she called, her voice trembling as she released Chewie’s leash. The dog bolted toward the woods, barking wildly, his dark shape disappearing into the shadows.

“Jonathan!” Joanna shouted again, panic creeping into her tone as she hurried after Chewie. The crunch of leaves and snapping of twigs beneath her boots was almost drowned out by the growing urgency in her brother’s voice.

“Will! Where are you?” Jonathan’s cries grew louder as she stumbled through the underbrush, catching glimpses of him cutting through the dark tangle of trees.

“Will!” Joanna shouted, her voice echoing alongside Jonathan’s, but the forest seemed to devour their cries, offering no response.

Jonathan pressed forward, his jaw tight, his sight bouncing off branches and moss-covered trunks. Joanna scrambled to keep up, her breath hitching in the cold air.

“Jonathan…” she began, her voice shaky, but he shook his head sharply, not turning to face her.

“Will!” he shouted again, louder, his voice raw and desperate.

And then she saw it—through the trees, a familiar silhouette took shape. Castle Byers.

Joanna’s breath caught as her eyes landed on the ramshackle fort nestled in the woods. It was like stepping into Will’s imagination brought to life, a refuge made of weathered planks and patched with mismatched tarps and sheets of rusted metal. Even now, as shadows stretched long across its walls, there was something magical about it.

The handmade sign on the front still read “Castle Byers” in Will’s neat, earnest handwriting, the paint slightly faded but full of pride. To anyone else, it might look like a rickety structure barely holding itself together, but to Will, it was something far greater.

Joanna hesitated at the edge of the clearing, her boots crunching softly on the carpet of fallen leaves. Jonathan didn’t stop, his flashlight beam cutting straight to the fort’s entrance.

“Will!” he yelled again, his voice cracking as he yanked open the makeshift door. The dim light of his flashlight spilled into the interior, illuminating the world Will had built.

The muffled sounds of shouting seep through the walls of the Byers’ modest house, rising and falling like waves crashing against a fragile shore. Outside, in the overgrown backyard, Jonathan hammers nails into a wooden frame with sharp, deliberate strikes, each one echoing louder than the shouting in his ears. Nearby, Joanna kneels in the dirt, rummaging through a battered toolbox. A few feet away, Will sits on the grass, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. His pale face is drawn, his wide eyes fixed on nothing in particular as the argument indoors escalates.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lonnie! You don’t care about me, about them, about this family!” Joyce’s voice rises, raw with frustration.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap, Joyce! I’m the only one holding this place together!” Lonnie’s retort cuts through the tension like a jagged blade.

Jonathan’s grip on the hammer tightens, and he drives the next nail in with a little too much force. Joanna glances at him, her lips pressing into a thin line, then shifts her gaze to Will. His small frame seems to shrink under the weight of the shouting. Setting the wrench in her hand aside, Joanna crawls over to her little brother, her movements slow and careful.

“Hey,” she whispers, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t listen to them, Will. They’re just being… stupid.” Her voice is soft but firm, like a thread trying to tether him to something solid.

Will doesn’t look at her. “I hate it when they fight,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Joanna’s heart clenches. She squeezes his shoulder gently. “I know. We all do.”

Jonathan straightens from his work, swiping a hand across his forehead to clear the sweat that’s started to bead there. He glances over at his siblings, the lines of tension in his face softening slightly. “Jo, can you help me hold this beam? It’s easier with two people.”

Joanna nods, giving Will’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Come on, let’s help Jonathan build your castle.”

“Castle?” Will blinks up at her, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, Castle Byers,” Jonathan replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “A place just for you. Somewhere to go when… you know, when things get loud.”

Will’s gaze shifts to the half-built structure. For a moment, curiosity flickers in his eyes, pushing aside the fear. He rises to his feet and pads over to Jonathan and Joanna, his movements hesitant but intrigued.

“It’s going to be your safe spot,” Joanna explains, steadying a wooden plank as Jonathan prepares to hammer it into place. She casts a quick glance back at Will. “No yelling allowed in Castle Byers, right, Jonathan?”

Jonathan nods, his voice warm and steady. “Right. Only peace and quiet. And maybe some of your drawings.”

Will steps closer, his small hands reaching out to touch the rough wood. “Can I paint it?” he asks, his voice soft but tinged with hope.

“Of course,” Joanna replies, her grin widening. “It’s your castle. You can do whatever you want with it.”

Jonathan looks up from the beam he’s hammering. “We’ll grab some paint after school tomorrow. What color do you want?”

Will tilts his head, considering, then looks up at the sky. “Blue. Like the sky.”

Inside the house, the shouting grows louder, and the sharp sound of something shattering echoes through the walls. Will flinches, his hands dropping to his sides. Jonathan immediately crouches in front of him, his hands resting gently on Will’s shoulders, blocking his view of the house.

“Hey, don’t worry about them,” Jonathan says, his voice calm and low. “They’re just… figuring things out. We’ll make sure you have this place, okay?”

Will’s lips tremble. “You think they’ll stop fighting?”

Joanna hesitates, glancing at Jonathan. The truth lingers unspoken between them—Lonnie won’t stop, and Joyce is nearing her breaking point. But they can’t tell Will that. Not now.

Joanna kneels beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I don’t know, buddy. But even if they don’t, you’ve got us. Me and Jonathan—we’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Jonathan nods firmly, ruffling Will’s hair. “Always.”

Will’s eyes glisten, but he blinks the tears away and nods, his trust in them unwavering.

Hours pass, and by the time the sun begins its slow descent, Castle Byers stands tall and proud in the backyard. It’s simple—a sturdy wooden frame with a weathered canvas draped over the top for a roof. Jonathan steps back, hands on his hips, surveying their work with quiet pride. Joanna adds the finishing touch: a small wooden sign above the entrance with “Castle Byers” scrawled in uneven letters.

“There,” she says, stepping back. “What do you think?”

Will’s face lights up with a smile that’s pure and unguarded. “It’s perfect.”

He crawls inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor and running his hands over the wooden walls like they’re made of gold. For the first time all day, he looks at ease. Jonathan and Joanna sit outside the castle, leaning against its walls.

Jonathan breaks the silence, his voice low. “You think he’ll be okay?”

Joanna leans her head back against the wood, staring at the darkening sky. “He has to be. We’ll make sure of it.”

As the sun sets and the shouting inside the house finally dies down, Castle Byers remains—a fragile sanctuary built with love and hope, standing steadfast against the chaos of their world.

Inside Castle Byers the floor was layered with old blankets and a fraying rug, forming a soft patchwork that begged for someone to sprawl out and escape. Flashlights and strings of Christmas lights hung from the wooden beams above, casting a golden glow when powered on.

The walls were alive with Will’s creations: maps of fantastical lands, drawings of creatures that seemed plucked from another world, and snippets of his imagination made real with pen and paper. Comic books, dog-eared and well-loved, were stacked in one corner, next to action figures arranged in a careful formation. Trinkets that others might dismiss as junk—old bottle caps, shiny rocks, bits of string—were displayed like treasures, each one holding a story only Will knew.

Joanna crouched down, her fingers brushing lightly over a pile of comics. She picked one up—The Amazing Spider-Man—its cover showing a web-slinging hero mid-swing. A smile tugged at her lips as her thumb traced the creased spine. This one was his favorite. He’d read it so many times the pages were starting to tear.

Her gaze drifted to the corner where a small stack of movie ticket stubs was tucked into a makeshift pocket made from duct tape. The sight made her chest tighten with bittersweet warmth, and her mind wandered back to that night, the one where she’d bent the rules just to see him smile.

“Password?” Will’s voice called out from inside the fort, muffled but brimming with authority.

Joanna’s grin widened as the memory took hold. She could see him as clear as day, cross-legged in the warm glow of flashlights, surrounded by comic books, a stash of snacks, and an air of self-appointed dignity.

“Hmm…” she’d said theatrically, tapping her chin. “Rebellion?”

“No,” Will replied, giggling.

“Renaissance?”

Nothing.

Joanna narrowed her eyes, feigning deep concentration. “Ratatouille? No, wait—Radagast!”

A pause, then Will declared in a regal tone, “You may enter.”

Joanna had pulled aside the blanket with a dramatic flourish and crawled into the fort, holding her hands behind her back. “Oh, thank you, kind sir,” she said with an exaggerated bow that made him laugh. Then, with a sly grin, she revealed the tickets. “And now, behold… ta-da!”

Will’s eyes had widened as he read the tickets. “Poltergeist?! But Mom said I couldn’t watch it!”

Joanna had shrugged, her expression casual but mischievous. “Well, Mom’s working late, and so is Jonathan. That means I’m in charge tonight. Besides, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Will hesitates, his excitement battling with guilt. “But…”

“Relax, buddy,” Joanna says, leaning closer and lowering her voice like they’re plotting a secret mission. “If Mom finds out, I’ll take the blame. You can say I forced you. Deal?” She winks, then adds teasingly, “Just don’t have nightmares, okay? I’m not staying up all night because of you.”

“I won’t,” Will insists, his resolve firming up. “I don’t get scared like that anymore.”

“Oh really?” Joanna arches a brow. “Not even of clowns?”

“Nope.”

“What about…” Joanna hunches over dramatically, her voice transforming into a rasping cackle. “The Wicked Witch of Hawkins?!” She wiggles her fingers, her laugh so over-the-top it makes Will groan and swat at her.

“Stop it, Jo!” he cries, though he’s giggling too.

“Never!” Joanna cackles, pouncing to tickle him until he’s squirming and laughing uncontrollably.

Finally, she lets up, ruffling his hair as he clutches the tickets. “You’re braver than me, little brother. But hey—if you chicken out, I won’t tell anyone.”

Will shoots her a determined look. “I’m not gonna chicken out!”

“Good.” Joanna crawls out of the fort and stretches. “Now, come on. We still need to pick up Dustin and Donna. They’re not gonna want to miss this.”

Will tossed his comic book into the pile beside him and scrambled out of the fort with newfound energy. “I’ll race you!” he shouted, already halfway across the yard. “Winner gets to pick the movie candy!” “Oh, it’s on!” Joanna laughed, bolting after him. Their laughter rang out across the yard, bright and unrestrained, a fleeting moment where nothing else mattered but the chase and the promise of adventure.

That laughter echoed in Joanna’s mind, faint but vivid, as if it were carried on the wind. She blinked, the warmth of the memory dissipating as her gaze settled back on Castle Byers. The once-vibrant fort now looked colder, emptier, its wooden walls steeped in silence.

Jonathan stood frozen in the doorway, his flashlight beam sweeping over the interior. Joanna took a shaky breath as she came up behind him, her heart aching at the sight of the familiar sanctuary.

“Will…” Jonathan whispered, his voice breaking like the memory she’d just clung to. His fingers tightened around the flashlight, his knuckles white as if sheer determination could conjure Will from the shadows.

Joanna hesitated, her chest tightening with the weight of the present. She placed a hand lightly on Jonathan’s arm, grounding herself as much as him. “Jonathan,” she said softly, her voice trembling, but steady enough to remind them both where they were—here, now, in the twilight, searching.

He didn’t look at her, his focus pinned on the empty space in front of him, but she could feel the unspoken emotions running between them: fear, desperation, guilt. Joanna swallowed hard, stepping closer to him, her eyes scanning the fort as if some piece of Will might still be hidden inside.

“He wouldn’t leave this,” she murmured, her words half to herself. Her gaze landed on the handmade sign above the door, the fading letters spelling “Castle Byers.” It felt like a promise, a piece of Will left behind, and it made his absence all the more glaring.

Jonathan’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a hard line. Without another word, he stepped away from the fort, his flashlight swinging back to the dark woods beyond. Joanna followed, the memory of Will’s laughter fading as the present pulled her firmly back into its grasp.

“Will!” Jonathan’s voice rang out again, raw and desperate, cutting through the heavy silence of the forest. Joanna added her voice to his, the two of them calling into the night, their cries swallowed by the endless trees.

Branches scratched at Joanna’s arms as she pushed through the trees, her breath quickening. The forest was growing darker, the shadows deep and foreboding, but she pressed on, her fear for her brother overpowering her own.

Joanna’s eyes darted around the darkening woods, her pulse racing. Chewie stood nearby, his tail stiff as he sniffed the ground, letting out low, uncertain barks.

“Jonathan,” she said softly, placing a hand on his arm. “We’ll find him. But not like this, not alone in the dark.”

Jonathan hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I can’t just sit around, Joanna. He’s out there. Somewhere.”

“I know,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “But we need to stay smart. Together.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the situation hanging heavy between them. Then, from deeper in the woods, a faint sound—almost a whisper of movement—made both of them turn sharply.

>>>Thank you for reading! Please comment and let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates of this story. See you all Monday!<<<

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mynameis-noe-body · 2 years ago

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Anon request: Now that university has started what about a story where reader is studying for her exams so she and jim haven't seen each other for a week and jim start missing her so bad so on a friday night he decide to sneak up on her window and make her a surprise and spend the night and saturday morning together.

This Friday night

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Five long days at college, taking lectures, taking notes and enduring long political rallies from the most enthusiastic students. They were unavoidable if you wanted to have a social life at university. For many of them, the idea of returning home every weekend after algebra and experimental physics classes, carrying all their notes and driving across the United States to see their family again, was crazy, but you lived so close to the campus. Enough to decide to return to Hawkins and meet all your friends. So, that's what you did. While your fellow students were split between the silent, dusty corridors of the university library and the tequila-soaked nightclubs, you returned to the sleepy town where you were born and raised, to spend an evening at The Hideout — attending Eddie's concert, visiting Robin and Steve at the video store and avoiding Billy's advances whenever you decided to go swimming in the pool. You usually enjoyed having dinner with your family; your father was an incredible cook, and on Saturday evenings he enjoyed cooking for you and your mother: lasagna, fried aubergines and courgettes, ravioli with sauce, stuffed peppers, baked breaded fish fillets and so on. However, you knew when you came home that weekend that you wouldn't find them. With a resigned sigh, driving your station wagon home, listening to the latest Talking Heads LP on the radio, you sped on towards Hawkins thinking about what sad frozen food you were going to have for dinner that Friday night.

That same Friday, Jim had made his usual tour of the city centre; he had received a call from the supermarket in the afternoon to clear a traffic jam, and in the end he had parked the pick-up, entering the store for a case of water — and maybe a case of beer. He didn't expect to meet your mother at that time of day, when she usually worked in the typing office across the street. Jim and your father were longtime friends, they had met in high school and again after Jim's comeback. He had always been kind, welcoming. So the Chief had also met your mother, and you. You were just a girl when he met you for the first time — sweet sixteen, denim jacket and teased hair, pink lip gloss and backpack full of notebooks — and at the time he certainly hadn't noticed you. And he wouldn't have noticed you if you hadn't blossomed into the beautiful, young woman you had become; Jim was crazy about you. There was no other way to put it. You were damn beautiful, so incredibly smart and all your smiles were bright and clear, so pure. When Jim joined your father to watch the football or baseball championship, he would observe you sideways walking around the house always with a book under your arm, and he would just have time to move his eyes back to the TV screen, and start his lips to the beer can, before you passed through the living room, kissing your dad on the forehead and greeting him. Jim almost never spoke to you... it was already difficult to control his growing erection every time you squeezed his shoulder with your soft hand, smiling at him and asking him if he wanted something to eat. When you had enrolled in college, you had chatted like two adults for the first time, during the barbecue organized by your father. You had spoken full of enthusiasm for your future plans, he had listened to you, smiling at every word. And then, you were interested in him. Jim wouldn't have expected this; that a pretty, young, intelligent little thing shoes any interest in his life was new. You asked him about New York and his daily life in Hawkins, if he had any trips planned for the summer, and what was the last movie he watched at the cinema. Trivial things, perhaps, but it had been nice spending time with you.

So, when Jim saw your mother in the aisles of the supermarket, he immediately stopped her to ask about your weeks at college.

"What a lovely surprise to meet you here!" your mother had exclaimed. "My daughter is coming back this evening, we have just enough time to say goodbye and then my husband and I have to leave... we wanted to spend the weekend with her, but her grandmother is giving us a lot of trouble! We'll spend these days with her, in Richmond."

His eyes opened in surprise. "Free house from Friday to Sunday?" he commented, ironically. "I should expect calls then, Saturday night."

The woman laughed. "Oh no! She's a good girl, you know. And besides, exams are approaching! Surely, she'll want to be alone."

Jim thought about that last sentence all evening. She'll want to be alone. Hawkins was a quiet town, nothing alarming had ever happened... sunk on the sofa of his bungalow, overlooking the lake, Jim glanced at the time again. Nine thirty. It was already dark. The pizza box was lying empty on the coffee table, the beer was finished and yet another dull western was playing on the TV. He didn't like the idea of you being alone. And truth be told, he liked the idea of you having company even less. I'm going to check. He shook his head. It was a bad idea, although… oh screw it. I can do what I want. I'm the Chief of police. Jim grabbed the car keys and drove to your house.

At home, you had already finished dinner. In the previous days you had organized your studies, enough to be able to enjoy a relaxing weekend in complete solitude. Maybe you'd call Robin the next day, but for now... you had your ice cream, an adventure movie you rented at the store, and a half bottle of dessert wine. You didn't need anything else. You were about to finally sit down on the sofa, when someone knocked on the door.

"Coming!" you chirped, skipping towards the entrance. You would have expected anyone but him. Oh shit, you wanted to whisper under your breath. Jim Hopper. Your father's best friend... was it really so cliché to feel such a visceral attraction to a man so older than you? But you couldn't help it. Jim was attractive — his entire presence was intoxicating. His massive body, his eyes so cold and deep at the same time, his hands so big — you had to force yourself, knowing you were blushing as you admired every inch of his body. You cleared your throat and smiled. "Chief Hopper, I wasn't expecting you!" you licked your lips, for a moment. As if to savor something sinful, which you knew was forbidden. “Have you come to arrest me?”

Jim grinned. He leaned against the doorframe, shrugging. “Not until you give me reason to put you in handcuffs.” The way you blushed — so visibly — was tremendously arousing. "Your mother just happened to tell me you were home alone. I just stopped by to make sure everything was okay."

You smiled widely. "Very thoughtful. I was about to watch a movie, actually. Come join me, come on." You turned your back to him, expecting him to follow. Hearing the door close behind him, you allowed yourself a deep breath. "Take a seat!" you exclaimed.

Jim didn't expect this. His muscles had reacted before he could even think — and thinking would have been harmful. Every single thing about that situation suggested a forbidden outcome… but he walked into the living room, sitting on the couch and stretching his back a moment before seeing you arrive with a six-pack of beer in your hand.

“Hope it's enough” you said, sitting down next to him.

Too close. Jim took a deep breath and smiled tightly, grabbing a can. On television you were watching Indiana Jones. "God, this teen movie gives me headaches" he said, shaking his head.

You laughed. “The choice was between this, Rocky and Gone with the Wind.”

"Christ, that Harrington guy is busy at the video store..."

His laugh sounded deep and lovely. You looked at him fascinated, turned towards him without paying any attention to the television, while he lit a cigarette. You would have loved to be that same cigarette, held between his lips, wet from the tip of his tongue... Jim barely looked at you. "What's up?"

You shook your head, smiling. “I missed this.”

"This what? Hawkins?" he blew out a cloud of smoke. "Indiana Jones?"

“Having you at home” you replied, whispering with a smile. Curling your legs up on the couch cushion, Jim noticed how close you were; the long shirt had ridden up enough to show your smooth thighs — he wanted to squeeze them in his entire hand, caress them everywhere, bite into them until he left marks. You're sick, Jesus Christ. But your smile grew bigger with your soft laugh. "Yes, having you here. I enjoyed talking to you, those few times."

"Yeah?" his voice was rough. And while you wondered if it's because of the cigarette, he knew it was only because of you. “Don't you prefer Steve's videotapes?”

"Don't be mean, Steve is a good guy."

"And that's what you're interested in? The good guys?"

“Not really” you said. You inhaled deeply, moving closer slowly, now you could almost touch each other. "The boys I'm interested in should be..."

Your hand caressed the collar of his shirt. Jim looked at you intently, unable to look away from your oh-so-scarlet cheeks, your lips so inviting, your breasts hidden under your shirt. He wanted to touch you everywhere — and it was so wrong, so transgressive, he madly wanted you. And you weren't doing anything to stop it.

"What should they be like?" he breathed.

You looked down, suddenly shy. "Well, would be better if they were the Chief of Police in Hawkins, for example."

Jim let you do it. In fact, he imperceptibly spread his legs when you decided to get on him, straddling his lap. You were beautiful, devastating. He wanted to tear every inch of fabric from your body and wrap you around himself... but his hands resisted, squeezing your hips with enough force to leave a mark. He was fucking hoping to leave them.

“You don't know what you're doing, kid.”

You grinned. "I haven't been a kid for a while, Hop."

Your lips fell on him, attacking him with all your passion. His hands were everywhere. They tore your shirt, took your soft young breasts in his palm, squeezed the firm and sensitive nipples between calloused fingertips until you squeaked. A small creature in the jaws of the wolf. Jim was ravenous. His tongue pushed into your mouth, he tasted every nuance of your skin, letting his mouth slide over your cheeks, your neck, he bit your lips and sucked them between his. It was delicious, sinful, wrong — fucking perfect.

Jim took off his shirt, unzipping his pants as the rest of your clothes fell to the floor. You were crazy, stuck together — he pulled you against his chest, slamming you into the couch cushions, falling on top of you and attacking your neck. His mouth was rough and his beard scratched every corner of your skin. "Christ — sweetheart. You're driving me crazy."

You moaned, he almost came at the sound of your desire-filled breaths. “Yes — oh, please — I want you so much, please.”

"'s that so?" Jim left bruises on your skin with every kiss, gripping your hips tightly as his lips slid south of your body. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your buttocks. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Get fucked on this couch?"

But you shook your head, your legs slowly opening, begging for his hands on your sweet sex. "No — just you. Jim, please. Touch me!" your desperate moan.

You felt his smile on your skin. He left a trail of small kisses on your groin, before caressing your soft lips and bathing your intimacy with his fingertips. You clung to him, to the feeling of his strong, intense body against yours; Jim was immense, his massive chest pushed you against the pillows, you had no escape. God, it felt good to be his. Lying beneath him, his two fingers swirling around that knot of nerves, you moaned deliciously and trembled.

Jim kissed you again. “Do you really want this?” He growled. "You want my fingers inside you? Do you — oh, you're so fucking wet, baby — do you want me to fuck you here, now?" and you nodded, opening your legs against his, begging for his touch. He chuckled, before digging into your neck and kissing you, sucking leaving red marks everywhere.

“Jim” you breathed his name.

"What is it, baby?"

"Jim — please. Your fingers, I wanna come!"

And his fingers entered you, thick and delicious, arching perfectly against the point that released all your pleasure. You clung to him, breathing in the scent of his body. He pushed them harder, deeper, squeezing and biting your shoulder, your breast, he swirled the tip of his tongue over your sensitive nipples. And when you were perfectly wet, completely shaken by the pleasure... "Good girl. Come — come for me" he growled.

And so you came, on his fingers. You kissed him, with all the passion and desperation of the moment, sliding your fingers over his bare chest.

“Darling, you kill me” Jim whispered against your lips, between kisses.

You smiled. "Not yet, love. Let me—"

You climbed on top of him, climbing up his body and sliding over his every muscle. Jim was big, and exciting, absolutely delicious. And you wanted to use your lips on him. His fingers combed through your hair as you moved down, tightening it tighter and tighter. "Oh fuck — baby, if you do that — ah — I don't think I can resist. You are, god —"

"I know, love." You kissed his bare thigh. "You don't have to resist. Just let go."

God, he was big. Thick and so — oh so hard. Fucking aching. And you would have alleviated all his pains: your lips opened on him like flower petals, welcomed him in the soft warmth of your mouth and, breathing deeply, wetting yourself up to your chin with saliva, you took him all. Jim groaned loudly, gripping your hair until it hurt, but it was perfect. You were completely his, and at the same time you had total control over his pleasure. You just wanted to taste him on your tongue. And you sucked it, without breathing, letting yourself be guided by his voracious, greedy hand, pushing you hard to take it all the way down your throat.

"Ah — god, sweetheart, you're going to make me — oh shit, I'm going to —"

Yes. You all wanted it. And you kept taking it all, sucking, licking until...

"Fuck!"

And with his orgasm, silence fell again.

You and Jim found yourselves a couple of hours later still naked, tired, exhausted to be honest. You lay next to each other on your bed, the sheets sweaty and undone just like the two of you. But Jim held you close to his chest, caressing your bare back and there was nothing you could want more.

You kissed his neck, and felt his smile. "Stay this weekend."

He inhaled cigarette smoke, and nodded. "I'll stay as long as you want."

"And I'll be back next weekend too."

Jim laughed. He kissed you hard on the lips and turned off the light, to sleep with you. Every weekend with you would be beautiful... he closed his eyes and kissed your forehead. He didn't confess to you that every minute spent together — as crazy as he was with desire — would be absolutely, totally perfect.

#jim hopper x reader #chief jim hopper #jim hopper x you #hopper #jim hopper smut #jim hopper #anon ask #request #stranger things

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