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super-cosmic-library · 11 months

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loosely based on this post

tw: mentions of blood

Look, everyone had gone through a vampire phase. One Mrs. Stephanie Meyer had a heavy hand in that. And even if one had somehow managed to skirt the whole Twilight saga, there were a litany of other vampire books/tv shows/movies that came in its wake. Almost everyone in the 2010s wanted a vampire boyfriend. Even Robin, whose taste veered toward the more extraterrestrial side of paranormal fiction, had confided in Steve that she wouldn’t mind having an undead, blood sucking vampire girlfriend.

All in all, Steve didn’t get it. Why did nearly all of the girls in his grade fawn over the idea of getting with someone older than their great grandfathers? It was gross. Not to mention the fact that vampires didn’t have blood, so how would they even be able to get it up in the bedroom?

The whole mess baffled him to no end, and he was grateful when its popularity died down. He didn’t know if he would be able to take listening to Max and El giggling over Edward What’s-his-face.

His relief, however, was short lived. Just as the kids he baby sat started to enter high school, the Twilight saga had a resurgence of popularity all thanks to TikTok. Only this time, he didn’t just have to hear it from the girls. Max and El had gotten Lucas and Will to watch the movies with them, which led to them reading the girls’ copies of the books. And, look, Lucas he understood. When Steve was in high school, he would have done anything to please Nancy. (Luckily, she had been more interested in the rising popularity of the dystopian genre. He had thoroughly enjoyed listening to the Hunger Games series on audiobook.) But Will? Even if he was just doing it to bond with his sister, Steve thought the boy had more taste than that.

And when Lucas and Will became obsessed with it, so did Mike and Dustin. Again, Steve understood Mike, even though unlike Lucas, he was totally oblivious to his crush on Will. But Dustin? As far as Steve was aware, Suzie wasn’t allowed to read the series, even though the creator was also Mormon.

At least Erica was still at the age where she turned her nose up at any hint of romance.

But, you know, it wouldn’t be such a big deal if the kids obsession with vampires contained itself to the fictional world. He could deal with it better if it did. If then, they might be able to talk about other topics of interest. Hell, Steve would give anything to listen to the boys ramble all day long about their Dungeons and Dorks game. But Steve wasn’t so lucky.

Because while he loved the kids’ strong, creative imaginations, it meant that sometimes their fictional obsessions would spill over into the real world. And that. That was what he was really fed up with.

“I swear, it’s him,” Dustin nearly shouted over the other boys. “Same name. Same exact hair. He’s a vampire.”

Steve restrained a groan as he looked up from the dishes to see Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike at the dining table crowded around what appeared to be a high school yearbook.

“He can’t be!” Thank god, Mike was being the voice of reason. (Something Steve never thought he would be.) “I’ve seen him walk to his van in the sun, and he was totally fine. Also, on spaghetti day in the cafeteria, he ate, like, three slices of garlic bread!”

Steve had thought too soon.

“Then how do you explain this?” Dustin asked, gesturing to the page.

“Maybe it’s someone he’s related to?” Will offered.

“I don’t know,” Lucas said. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

Curiosity got the best of Steve. What could he say? Even if he hated this whole vampire thing, he enjoyed the weird little adventures his kids went on. Steve didn’t have many friends growing up. Hell, aside from Robin, he didn’t have many friends now. At least, friends his own age. It made his heart warm, seeing all of them getting to be a bunch of idiot children together.

But they didn’t need to know that.

“What are you little shits looking at?” He slung the dish towel he had been using to dry the flatware with over his shoulder, and made his way over to the table.

“Steve, we think our new DM is a vampire!” Dustin announced excitedly.

Steve put his hands on his hips (his signature mom pose, according to the kids), and rolled his eyes. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He didn’t say it to dull the kid’s enthusiasm. If anything, antagonization was their form of love language. Plus, Dustin always took the discouragement as a challenge to double down on whatever stance he took. Steve had to admire the kid for his confidence in himself. He knew first hand how easily that could be stripped away.

“Then how do you explain this?” Dustin slid the yearbook over for him to look at, pointing at the man in question. “He’s been in high school for years.”

Steve glanced down at the page. “Oh, Eddie Munson? He was in some of my classes last year. He was held back twice; though, that may have been because he almost never showed up to class. But that doesn’t mean he’s a vampire.”

“This is an old yearbook, though,” Lucas countered.

“If last year is old, then how ancient do you think I am?” Steve snipped. He pointed to the class picture that captured his likeness. “Look, there’s me. Does that mean I’m a vampire?”

“Steve, this isn’t your yearbook.” Dustin held the cover of the book up for Steve to read. There on the cover, in green and gold, were the words “Class of 1985.”

“What?” He snatched the yearbook from him, and flipped back to the page they had been studying. “No, that’s . . .”

He trailed off. Yes, that picture had captured his likeness; however, it was his father’s name that was written underneath. His father, who he was apparently the spitting image of.

“Maybe it’s his dad,” Steve tried, flipping through the pages. “Or his uncle. Doesn’t he live with his uncle?”

“We already checked the rest of it.” Mike snatched the book away from him. “He’s the only Munson in there.”

“His dad and his uncle could have not been in high school together,” Will countered.

“Thank you for being the only reasonable person here.”

Will blushed at Steve’s praise.

“I am telling you,” Dustin trudged on. “Eddie Munson is a vampire. And we’re going to prove it.”

~~~

Proving it ended up being more challenging than the boys had thought. As Mike had already proved, Eddie had no aversion to garlic or the sun. Crosses, Lucas pointed out, had no affect on him either, seeing as he wore one on his ring. So there went that theory. Dustin had even followed him into the bathroom one day to see if Eddie had a reflection in the mirror. He ended up having two Eddies stare at him like he was a creep.

Either none of the stereotypes were true, or--and Dustin was loathe to admit it--Steve was right.

There was still one more thing they could try.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Lucas said.

Dustin huffed. “Well, do you have any better plans? Because the only thing we haven’t tried yet is a stake to the heart, which is a dumb thing to begin with because that could kill anyone.”

“What about holy water?”

“And how are you going to get a priest to agree to bless a bottle of water?” Mike asked.

“My pastor might do it,” Lucas said.

“Let’s just try this first,” Dustin said. “And if it doesn’t work, you can call your pastor.”

The plan was simple, really. While they were playing DnD that afternoon, Dustin was going to “accidently” get a paper cut. Eddie’s reaction to the fresh blood would determine whether or not he was a vampire. It was fool proof.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Dustin was a fool. Who could blame him, though? Eddie was an amazing Dungeon Master. He knew just how to craft a story to suck just about anyone in. It wasn’t until they were packing up at the end of the session that Dustin remembered the plan. That probably explained the looks the other boys had been shooting him the entire time.

Dustin was just about to drag the edge of a piece of paper across this hand, when the drama room door banged open.

“Alright, you little shits. Get in the car. I’m already having a bad day, and I don’t need your moms blowing up my phone asking where you are.”

“Steve, why do you have a tampon in your nose?” Will asked.

Dustin glanced up at Steve, only to find that the man indeed had a bloody tampon in his nose.

“I had a nose bleed, and didn’t have any Kleenex in my car. It’s the only thing Robin or I had. And it works, so I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”

Blood.

Dustin nearly gave himself whiplash turning his head to look at Eddie. Eddie, who was staring at Steve with eyes that could only be described as ravenous.

“King Steve,” Eddie drew out as he approached Steve.

“Munson.”

“Now why’s a pretty jock like you carting around a bunch of nerdy freshmen?”

“I baby sit them.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yes, they are a bunch of babies.”

That was met with a round of protests from the kids.

“How hard was your nose bleeding? Aren’t tampons supposed to be super absorbent?”

Lucas was right. There was a ring of blood leaking down the tampon.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

Eddie, however, did not look okay. Dustin had never seen him so focused on one thing as he was with Steve’s nose. And that included DnD.

“Yeah, it just happens sometimes. I’ll be fine. Now come on, or Robin’s going to start honking.”

They were being corralled out of the building before Dustin could come to any concrete conclusions, but judging from the way Eddie had stared at Steve’s nose, he was sure their hunch was correct.

Now they just had to prove it.

~~~

Turned out, the best way to prove their DM was a vampire was to show up at his trailer unannounced. Catch him off guard while he was at his most comfortable. In fact, the hardest part about the whole thing had been trying to convince Steve to drive them over to the trailer park. In the end, he was a push over as always.

Dustin bounded up the steps to the trailer, the other boys close behind. He pounded on the door. “Eddie!”

A crash came from inside, followed by a grumbled “shit.” A few moments later, Eddie swung open the door.

“Couldn’t have given me a heads up?”

“We have some urgent DnD questions. Couldn’t’ve waited for you to respond.” Dustin and the rest of the boys pushed passed him into the trailer. Only Will hesitated, sheepish look on his face.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing!” Eddie called after them.

“Oh my god, have some manners,” Steve slammed his car door closed.

“Steve,” Eddie began. “They roped you into this?”

“They threatened to walk otherwise. Couldn’t let them get hit by a car or kidnapped.”

The four boys searched around the tidy trailer, not even trying to appear like they weren’t.

“What are you knuckleheads doing?” Eddie asked.

Steve, who they had not informed what they were doing, seemed to have caught on to their plan. “Not this again.”

“You know what they’re doing?”

“Guys, look!” Mike, staring in the fridge, exclaimed. The boys ran over to him.

“Hey, you guys, get out of there!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Yeah, knock it off. Let the man live in piece.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Will gasped when they saw the contents of the fridge. Yes, there was normal people food in the fridge--nothing to write home about. But stacked on the top shelf was the motherload: bags and bags of blood.

Mike grabbed one and held it out for Steve to see. “We fucking told you!”

“Eddie’s a vampire,” Dustin vibrated with excitement. “Eddie, you’re a vampire.”

“Eddie’s not . . . there’s gotta be . . .Eddie?” Steve looked to Eddie as if asking him to deny the kid’s claims.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and heaved out an exasperated sigh. “Looks like you caught me.”

“I fucking told you!” Dustin shouted at Steve.

“Language.” Steve snapped. “Eddie, come on. Be serious. Vampires don’t exist.”

“Telling the truth, Harrington.” Eddie flashed them his fangs. “I am a vampire.”

“You’re teeth aren’t normally that sharp,” Will said.

“I can control when my fangs come out,” Eddie said with a shrug. Then, to demonstrate, he retraced his fangs, so his teeth looked human again. “It’s been handy in hiding from mortals. In fact, you guys are the first to figure it out. Surprised it took this long for anyone to notice, honestly.”

“So you’ve been able to hide in plan sight for, like, hundreds of years?” Dustin asked.

Eddie slouched down onto the couch, understanding that he was about to be pelted with about a million questions. “More like forty.”

“Forty?” Will asked.

“I was turned in the ‘80s. ‘86, I think. I don’t know, the years start to blur together.”

“So, you’re just as old as our parents?” Mike scoffed. “Lame.”

“But I look much better than them.”

The boys took his nonchalance as permission to start their rain of questions.

“So do you have vampire powers?”

“How can you eat garlic?”

“Does the sun not burn your skin?”

“Do you have to get permission to enter new places?”

And on and on they went, only briefly pausing for Eddie to get a sufficient answer out. Meanwhile, Steve just stood by the door. Dustin could tell he was trying to process the fact that he had almost graduated with a vampire. Dustin could understand. Had he not already been convinced himself, the information would have taken a bit to accept.

When Steve finally came back around, he joined the group surrounding Eddie.

“Why are you still at Hawkins High?” Steve asked. “You were in class with my parents. Couldn’t have you gotten out and gone someplace people won’t recognize you?”

Eddie paused, actually giving that question some thought. The other boys let him think it through instead of feeding him more questions. They wanted to know the answer too.

“Well, I tried to once, but then Wayne started having health problems, and I didn’t want to leave him alone. When I realized that I had stopped aging, I decided to stay with him even after he recovered. Realized that if I don’t grow old, I’m going to outlive him. I’d rather spend the rest of his life with him, than in hiding and regretting it when he’s gone. As for people recognizing me: you’d be surprised how little attention the freaks of Hawkins get.”

The group sat in silence for a moment, letting his words sink in. Dustin supposed that if he were turned into a vampire, he would stick around to spend as much time with his mom as he could.

“Speaking of, where is your uncle?” Lucas asked.

Eddie smiled to himself. “Technically, he’s my little brother. We started doing the whole uncle/nephew thing when he got too old to believably be my brother. And he should be finishing up his shift at the hospital. Decided to become a nurse after finishing chemo. He has always been the smart one. Besides, it helps with procuring my stash of blood.”

Mike perked up at that. “So you do drink blood?”

“Yes.”

“But we’ve seen you eat real food.”

“You’re point?”

Mike huffed. “So do you need blood to live, or is it just a craving--like wanting a Coke?”

“I can eat real food, but it doesn’t fully satisfy my hunger. Only drinking blood does that.”

“Have you ever?” Steve gulped. “Have you ever drank blood from a person.”

“You offering?” Eddie smirked.

Steve flushed.

Weird.

As his friends continued to talk, Dustin’s mind wandered. It was no secret that Steve found men attractive. He was the biggest slut in Hawkins, after all. And Dustin had only ever seen him nervous around men who he thought were really hot.

Oh, Dustin could have fun with this. After all, didn’t everyone want a vampire boyfriend?

okay, well this completely got away from me. will I make this a series? mayhaps.

#steddie #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Eddie Munson the boomer vampire

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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armed your words with explosive devices and put the trigger on your tongue.

I never know if a kiss will kill me.

It's a joke.

Or at least, Eddie meant it as one.

He was flicking his hand out with the intention of pretending to "push" the weight off Steve's shoulders, following a joke about how he looks like he's carrying the whole world on his back.

Beyond the general air of a frazzled single mother, Harrington had been down to clown. He'd laughed at Eddie's first few jokes, even made a poor attempt at making one back.

So it surprised both of them when Steve flinches back, hard, sucking in a noisy breath.

For a moment he holds it in and Eddie mimics him, hand frozen midair.

They breathe out almost together as Eddie slowly lowers his hand.

"Steve." Eddie starts off, voice soft.

Steve jams his hand in his hair, face flushing red. "Sorry man, jock reflexes."

He catches the second Steve forces a smile back on his face, the way his desperate attempt at tugging on his own hair changes into a move designed to fluff it up. A laugh makes its way out of Steve’s mouth and to his credit, it sounds natural.

This, Eddie realizes with an abrupt clarity, is Steve caught wrong-footed in public. This is Steve being off and fixing it before he breaks down.

It’s a good cover, excellent even, and if Eddie hadn’t been watching for the signs, if he hadn’t started looking closer and closer at Harrington after finding him drunk and bloody in Tina’s bathtub, he might have brushed it off.

Thought of it as Steve being a jerk, a jock, a guy who didn’t want to touch the filth that was Eddie Munson and was now trying to hide it.The same way so many others did, because they’d learned the hard way that a pissed off dealer won’t sell you any drugs.

Eddie could even see him spinning this as having an off day. Maybe Steve was sore, maybe he was annoyed, maybe he was six other million things that he’d lead you to believe.

Worse than knowing that he’d have bought Steve’s cover though, is that Eddie recognizes this.

Has seen it before.

Or micro versions of it.

In class, when Steve’s asked a question he doesn’t know. In the hallways when someone tells a joke about his parents. In the parking lot when those kids snap at him, rolling their eyes and throwing their hands around.

Even the one basketball game Eddie attended, during his ill-fated attempt at joining the yearbook club before he finally started Hellfire.

There had been a moment where Tommy had briefly turned on Steve, got some of the other boys to snap and snarl at the King in the face of a bad score.

Called him stupid.

Spineless and gutless.

(Steve hadn’t even been the captain, back then.

They held him responsible anyway.)

Eddie had thought it well deserved--even funny at the time-- considering what made up a man like Steve Harrington.

Get big movie star hair, combine with no parents, and add tons of money. Shaken and stirred with little bits of never-ending popularity and girls swooning left and right over him, and you got Hawkin High’s most popular guy.

Good to buy you whatever you needed, with a famously sharp tongue that he used in place of his fists.

Grant still had nightmares over some of the names Steve had nailed him with.

He was the school’s most desired bachelor until Nancy Wheeler took him down, proved even kings could be cheated out of their kingdoms.

(One of the teenagers at the famed Starcourt fire, a hero in the papers for saving half a dozen kids. The pictures the news still occasionally shows often pin up those pictures of Steve, wearing this exact smile.

It’s the same one he’s wearing now, as Starcourt burns in the background of each and every photo..)

The realization comes with a flood of knowledge--that Steve knows how to hide his issues, that he’s had issues for far longer than whatever--or whoever--is beating him up.

Longer than Eddie himself had caught onto too--and Eddie had prided himself on seeing through people’s bullshit.

If he does what Steve wants, let’s this drop, Steve will go on acting like everything’s fine.

Just like everyone else does.

Eddie can’t do that. Has never been able to do that.

"We both know that's bullshit." Eddie says, and he knew calling it out would get a reaction, but he’s not expecting the sheer strength of it.

How Steve looks like he’s taken a punch, mask breaking fast on his face to reveal the hurt underneath.

"Don't--" He tries to start, tries to breathe again and Eddie's not sure what caused it, but he knows the beginning of a panic attack when he sees one. “Don’t, please--”

It’s the please that gets Eddie, the word sounding bruised. Like it hurts Steve to say it, that he only uses it as a hail mary that it may somehow help ward off whatever is coming.

Eddie fights not to put his arms around Steve.

Protect him from whatever the hell is happening.

"Hey." Eddie says, softly but clearly. "I’m sorry. Tell me what I did and I won’t do it again.”

They’re in the middle of the school parking lot and neither of them can afford to misstep here. Not in a town like Hawkins. Eddie has a choice to make--to sweep Steve to somewhere safer, or to give space, back off so the younger man can regain control of himself and pick this up later.

Steve takes a shuddering breath, hugs himself and bows his head.

Eddie wants to go to him, to touch and comfort, but instead just hovers ever so slightly closer. “I’m here.” He whispers, just loud enough for Steve to hear.

Steve takes the moment he needs, and Eddie knows he can at least give him that. Shield him from any onlookers with his own body. Use himself as a distraction if anyone comes up.

His cheeks are wet when Steve raises his head. He wipes his face, bites his lip.

It takes far less time for him to return to normal than Eddie would have ever thought, but then Steve Harrington keeps surprising him.

“Shit.” He says, voice in a sort of croak. He clears his throat once, harshly. “Sorry.”

“I set you off, this ones on me.” Eddie says, keeping his voice smooth and calm. “I don’t want to push you, but I need to know what I said to upset you, so I can prevent it from happening again as best I can.”

Steve looks up for a moment, away from him. Eddie allows it, acknowledges the move as Steve gathers the strength to face whatever hurt him enough to send him spiraling. This isn’t an easy thing he’s asking, and they’re in the worst place to do it--a potential audience can appear at any time.

Eddie doesn’t want to lose this thread, though. Knows instinctively, how important it is.

“It’s stupid.” Steve’s struggling to sound more normal, but the real surprise is that he’s starting to manage it. “It’s so stupid, but it’s--the word.”

Short-term memory recall isn’t exactly a talent of his, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice with D&D. He runs the conversation back, and there’s really only one option that makes any sense. He almost says it again, but catches himself.

Thinks quickly on his feet.

“Adult male cow crap?” He says, and tries to make his tone a little light. This is a calculated risk, Steve may very well believe he’s being mocked or teased.

The younger man snorts a laugh and thankfully doesn’t appear to take offense. “Yeah.” He drawls out, a tinge of embarrassment flushing across his nose.

It’s fucking adorable, and Eddie has to bite his lip to keep interrupting, inappropriate thoughts at bay.

“Nance--when we--” Steve huffs an annoyed sigh, arms having shifted long ago to more of a defensive cross, nails digging into his sleeves while he taps his foot, aggravated. “It’s fucking stupid man, but that word got tossed around.”

“Got it.” Eddie nods his head. “It’s gone.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” Steve says, and it's got an angry undertone to it. “I need to get over it anyway. It’s been long enough.”

The anger, Eddie decides, is self directed.

He cocks his head. “Do people tell you to do that a lot? To just get over it?”

Steve finally looks at him and to his credit the guy’s managed to go from actively falling apart to merely appearing cold and annoyed, as if the redness in his face itself is trying to help hide his emotions.

That hurt thing flickers in and out of his eyes though, covered by an edge of something else, something stubborn.

Yet again, Eddie finds himself wondering if he’s found Steve’s limit. If this is when he finally gets pushed away and threatened over all the things that have been revealed to him. Steve hasn’t made that move yet, but Eddie thinks that's mostly because Eddie keeps catching him off guard.

To be fair, his own reactions are, at times, catching him off guard. This defensiveness of Steve, the way he wants to go slam whoever has hurt the younger man into a wall, to try and make everything better for a guy he previously hated…

Eddie knows what’s gotten into him. It’s his own personality, combined with his own inner sense of someone lost and hurting. Someone who needs to be rescued.

He just never expected to have it pointed at Harrington.

“Maybe.” Steve admits finally. “Doesn’t mean they’re wrong though.”

Eddie can’t help himself. It’s a puzzle in front of him, dangled in the form of Steve and his weird injuries. Steve and his odd reactions.

Beautiful, gorgeous, straight Steve Harrington, who once pressed his cheek into Eddie’s hands and closed his eyes like he’d found a slice of heaven.

“Why?” Eddie challenges. He’s still close. Close enough that they’re going to have to pretend to be fighting if anyone else starts making noise. Eddie’s lost track of time entirely, can’t recall what period this is. Where he’s even supposed to be.

Hell, he never even asked why Steve was here.

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, like he had an answer but suddenly thought better of it.

He’s still tapping his foot.

“Why would they be wrong? ” And at first Eddie thinks Steve is turning the challenge back on him, until he clocks the confused crinkle in his forehead, right between his eyebrows.

Like a dog who just wants to be a good boy, and doesn’t understand why he’s being shouted at.

‘Eddie, for once in your fucking life, focus!’ He thinks furiously at himself.

“Because it hurts you. Because all of us “get over” things in different ways, at different paces.” He makes the quotes with his fingers, putting on a fun voice just to try and make even a small smile appear on Steve’s face.

It works, and Eddie grins despite himself and the seriousness of the moment.

“Doesn’t matter how stupid it is, Steve-O. Our brains don’t care.” He knocks on his own to make his point.

“I guess.” Steve says, and it’s not an agreement but Eddie will take it.

Will take anything Steve will give him, which just shows how badly he’s screwing himself.

Straight boys, even ones wrapped up in some kind of mystery and sprinkled with dozens of other things that catch Eddie’s attention like Steve’s his own personal brand of crack, typically don’t mean anything good for him.

This time, he just hopes it can mean something good for Steve.

Eddie might not know much, but he knows Steve deserves something good.

#steddie #hurt/comfort #angst #steve harrington #steve needs a hug #eddie munson #this is pre relationship #whumpverse #steve x eddie #pre S4 #or Alt s4 #this takes place like riiiight after s3 lol #0o0 fanfics #stranger things fanfiction

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gyuvision · 3 months

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defense -> [back to masterlist?]

wc ; 0.8k - pairing ; team captain bf osaki shotaro x fem reader

summary ; when the opposing teams captain hits on you right before a game, its without a doubt shotaro will be there to defend you.

contains -> swearing, degrading/name calling, fluff, small angst

🏷️ - @llearlert

with your boyfriend being the university’s basketball captain and you being head of the yearbook department, of course you’d attend all his games. not just to get your job done but to support him in what he loves.

but there were some downsides, no matter how much or how little it would bother you. the amount of girls jealous and talking behind your back or the amount of guys thinking you could do better was way more than you could count.

so when the opposing teams captain asked you out you couldn’t say you were surprised, all you could do was smile and politely say no. but what you weren’t expecting was for him to immediately switch up and degrade you.

“you think you’re all that don’t you? you really need to be humbled if you’d even consider rejecting me.” he scoffed, looking around at his teammates for them to back him up.

“i have a boyfriend, i mentioned it earlier..” you mumbled.

“woah! the dumb girl’s got lip now doesn’t she? i bet your boyfriend’s a nobody anyway.” the guy mocked immaturely.

you didn’t know what to say, frozen in fear. what could you possibly say to a group of guys over 185cm with such a mean look on their faces?

it was as if your prayers were immediately answered when shotaro stepped onto the court and went to stay by your side.

“she said she’s taken didn’t she? it’s not her fault you can’t take no for an answer.”

the guy glanced down to shotaro’s jersey, reading his number ‘01’. “captain?” he scoffed. “and who are you to her?” he questioned, gesturing to shotaro who now had his arm wrapped around your waist.

“her boyfriend.”

shotaro may have been shorter than the other players, but his aura definitely was more intimidating.

“whatever. we aren’t done here.” he reminded, before taking his teammates to their locker room.

“are you okay? did they hurt you? what did they say?-” he asked worriedly until you cut him off with a hug.

“im okay. thank you. you’re timing is always perfect taro.” you smiled, pressing a small kiss into his cheek.

you cooed at how fast his face turned into a rosy color, heating up at your touch.

“im gonna go sit down. are you gonna win for me?”

“when have i ever lost?”

and he indeed did not lose. you loved how competitive your boyfriend was, but he was even more competitive today if it meant beating those other guys for you.

you took small snippets on your camera for the yearbook (and some for you) of shotaro stealing the ball and scoring a three pointer, ultimately winning the game just as the clock ran out.

you were even able to capture him running up to the bleachers so he could hug you as the reporter announced your school would be going to the semifinals.

shotaro would happily be at your defense if it meant you’d smile at him like that every time.

#locker room archives ! ★#gyuvision #gyuvision - riize #riize smut #riize x reader #shotaro smut #shotaro x reader

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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Part 1 ao3

A series of notes passed during private study periods in Hawkins High School Library, circa January—May, 1985.

A sheet of paper hastily ripped from its notebook, folded over with a crease down the middle.

—Harrington, did you just turn down that girl?

—What are you talking about?

—Hey, you can’t blame a guy for being nosy. You were the one deciding to TALK in a SACRED LIBRARY.

—If you heard us, why are you asking?

—Okay, sound doesn’t travel that far.

—Why don’t YOU tell me what happened considering you know everything?

—Wow. Touchy.

—Fuck off.

—Sorry. Thought we were just joking around. Didn’t mean to be a dick.

—It’s fine.

—You sure?

—I wasn’t ‘turning her down.’ She’s on the Yearbook Committee. Asking for photos.

—Too many pin-ups to choose from?

—Baby photos.

—What’s the problem? Did you come out the womb holding hairspray?

—No.

—Table it or ditch it?

—?

—It’s something my uncle says. If he asks me about stuff I don’t wanna talk about, I can either table it for later or ditch it completely. But if something keeps coming up and I keep saying to ditch it, then it automatically becomes a table it for later.

—That’s smart.

—Yup.

—Table it.

—Okay.

—? Why do you keep scoring out stuff?

—Sorry sorry. I can only think of baby photos now.

—Not against them in general. Feel free to talk about yourself, Munson.

—Uh-huh. I could hear the sarcasm in how you wrote that.

—Ha. No, really. I don’t mind.

—Well, lucky for you, talking about myself is my favorite subject.

—Lucky me.

—I thought I’d lost literally all of my baby photos. When I lived with my dad, the house got flooded and all of them were hit. Water damage. I had to get my books spread out on a radiator so the pages would dry, and that kinda worked for some of them. Photos were goners, though.

—That’s awful.

—Hold your horses, cowboy. But then when I moved to my uncle’s—we’re at the trailer park in Forest Hills—I saw he had all these photos stacked on a bookcase, and I thought they were all really old, like from when he was a kid and stuff, and some of them were, but he had whole entire ALBUMS of me. Way more than my dad ever had.

—That’s cool.

—You’re so verbose, Harrington.

—I meant it. It’s just. I was just thinking.

—About?

—That’s not why I—I HAVE baby photos, that’s not the problem.

—Don’t sweat it, dude, you don’t need to tell me.

—It’s just. Rebecca, that’s who was talking to me, she kept going on about how everyone else has already sent in a baby photo or, you know, a photo from when they were a kid, and she was excited about it, it’s a whole new thing they’re doing for this year. They’re gonna do a special layout, old photos next to current ones, you know what I mean?

—Afraid I’ve never been privy to the wondrous goings-on of the Yearbook Committee.

—She said it’ll look weird if I’m the only one not doing it. But it’s—I don’t know. I know I could just pick any damn photo and send it in, it’d get the whole Committee off my back. But I think I’d feel weird at the thought of the whole year getting to see—god, this doesn’t even make sense, like I don’t mind them seeing at a photo of me NOW, but I don’t. I don’t like looking at old photos, I never have. I don’t know why. Guess I just don’t like looking back.

—Fuck what everyone else is doing. They’re YOUR photos. Forget the precious ‘layout.’

—Yeah, that’s sorta what I told her, minus the ‘fuck.’

—If it’ll shut them all up, you could send in one of mine. See who actually notices.

—No way.

—Yeah, I was just being stupid.

—No. Those are YOUR photos. Save them for your own Yearbook. Sounds like your uncle could fill the whole thing with pictures.

—Wouldn’t put it past him.

—Shit, is that the time? The bell’s gonna ring in five minutes. I’ve done NOTHING.

—The horror!

—I’m blaming you.

—Honored to be considered a distraction, Harrington.

A scrap of paper, hastily dropped into the pencil case of an unknowing Eddie Munson as the bell rang.

—Thanks.

#notes from hawkins high school library #epistolary fic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #eddie and wayne munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie

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moonchildreads · 7 months

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small town

Chapter 23 - Cum on Feel the Noize

IN THIS CHAPTER: Yearbook messages, unlikely friendships, and Corroded Coffin puts on a show [13.8k]

WARNINGS: mentions of dead parents (eddie's mom), child neglect (not very graphic, eddie as kid), underaged drinking (no one gets drunk), low self-worth

A/N: i know. i promise you, i know. but i did say i was never gonna abandon this fic, so if you didn't believe me, that's on you, buddy. blame my job for my two month absence - three new people joined my team and one of those left last week, it's been hectic. this is an extra long chapter as a sorry for making you wait for so long. i hope you are all okay and still interested in my dumb little story, we have a lot more to go before we say goodbye. <3 (btw lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist!)

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

Girls, rock your boys We’ll get wild, wild, wild

Monday, June 9th - 1986

The last Monday before graduation was Kyle Foster’s most anticipated day of the year; not because it meant that school attendance was officially an afterthought for most of the school’s population, but because it was the day the overpriced yearbooks he had been working on all these months were ready to be picked up, their pages waiting to be filled with doodles in colorful pens and silly stickers. He was particularly proud of this year’s edition, with its green leatherette hardback cover and bright photos printed in glossy paper, everything on them carefully arranged by the Yearbook Club with evident care and love for their craft. For a few hours, Kyle got to feel like he was hot shit. Teachers congratulated him and his fellow club members for their wonderful work, people he’d never talked to before in his life asked him to sign their yearbooks, and the basketball team kept patting his back in the hallways in between classes to thank him for the double spread with pictures of them lifting their championship trophy. Life was good, but even though he was enjoying his surely short-lived popularity, there was only one person Kyle was particularly looking forward to seeing. As faith would have it, he found that exact guy leaning against his locker waiting for him between third and fourth period, a yearbook under his arm and a piece of minty gum in his mouth.

“Hey, man,” Eddie greeted, pulling him into a bro-ey side hug that didn’t suit his personality in the slightest. “Nice work.”

“What’s up, Munson? Heard you’re finally leaving this place.”

“Yeah, about damn time,” the tall metalhead laughed, and Kyle thought he’d never seen him carry himself with such levity before. “Wanted to thank you, y’know? I mean, I know I kinda bribed you to do it but you came through for us and went above and beyond with the design and everything, so, thank you.”

“Ah, it was nothing, dude. Couldn’t ruin the yearbook by giving your club a shitty spread,” Kyle downplayed his work, but they both knew he had enjoyed the secret assignment.

“Well, then. Would the artist care to sign his masterpiece?” Eddie joked, extending his yearbook to Kyle with a jet black pen tucked into it.

Kyle nodded, surprised by the request, and went straight to the blank pages at the back. From what he could see, no one had signed it yet. He realized then this was Eddie giving him a definitive olive branch, whatever feud they’d had over his little debt more than ready to be buried in the sand and thoroughly forgotten. He quickly penned a generic “have a good summer!” message at the top corner, slowing down while writing his name when he felt Eddie’s hand slip something into his front jean pocket. Ah, there it is, Kyle thought, smiling to himself as the weight of the small weed baggie Eddie had promised in exchange for his rule breaking could be felt through the rough fabric. He gave the book back to his newest acquaintance before opening his messenger bag and retrieving his own, shocking Eddie with his silent offering. Kyle was not only accepting his olive branch but returning the gesture, and so Eddie signed his name in a little unoccupied corner, adding a smiley face with devil horns under it for good measure.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Foster,” he said genuinely, tucking his trusty pen into his back pocket.

“Likewise, Munson.”

“We look so fucking badass,” Gareth said, eyes stuck to himself holding a knight’s helmet under his arm in the Hellfire section of the yearbook.

“I know, right?” Jeff said, giddy. “Kinda wanna get it framed. You think they’ll give us copies if we ask?”

The Hellfire Club was enjoying a peaceful lunch outside, the day still perfectly warm despite the constant clouds that perpetually obscured the sky over Hawkins, Indiana. The older boys were doodling on each other’s yearbooks, laughing about bad portraits and accidental funny faces belonging to classmates, while Dustin and Mike quietly muttered to one another at the head of the picnic table. They looked like they were arguing about something important but no one else seemed to have noticed - if they did, they were giving them space to resolve it on their own. Pretending like she wasn’t eavesdropping while she wrote a heartfelt message in Donny’s yearbook, Dottie listened carefully, worried about Dustin who seemed to be particularly distraught at Mike’s disinterest in cooperating with him.

“I’m just saying, aren’t you tired of acting like you’re still upset with him?” Dustin asked.

“I’m not acting, I am pissed off,” Mike huffed. “I don’t get why you aren’t. He cut us off and he’s never coming back, get it through your head.”

“Well, maybe he feels like we cut him off. Have you even tried talking to him since Spring break?”

“No, why would I?”

“Mike,” Dustin was nearing his breaking point.

“What? Did you?”

“Yes!” he threw his hands in the air. “I called him the next day because I’m not an asshole!”

“If you talked to him, why isn’t he here then, huh?” Mike asked, icy. “Why is he still hanging out with them?”

“I said I called him, not that I talked to him,” Dustin grumbled. “He wasn’t home, he… he was at a party with the jocks- Look, all I’m saying is that I feel like shit, okay? I think we’re all being idiots right now and we should talk about it. This is just like what happened when we found El and-”

“This is nothing like what happened with El. He was just scared-”

“We were twelve, Mike. We didn’t know what we were doing, maybe- maybe he was right and we should have been scared! And maybe he shouldn’t have to be the one to always apologize first!”

“He ditched us!”

“Oh, grow up,” Dustin said, getting up from the bench with his yearbook in hand and hurrying to catch up with a redheaded girl who looked about his age.

Dottie watched how Mike gathered his things and disappeared into the cafeteria without saying goodbye, giving off moody teenager vibes to anyone who dared to cross his path. Meanwhile, Dustin was now animatedly chatting with his mystery friend near the doors - the girl he was talking to was signing his book and rolling her eyes at something he was saying, a shy but still clearly fond smile on her face. Dottie felt like she’d seen her before somewhere, but never talking to Dustin. She seemed nice, if a little sassy. I guess that’s why she’s friends with Dustin, she thought.

“Really? You got him a sweater? In June?” Jeff’s laughter brought back her attention to the table: she quickly doodled a little daisy next to her name at the bottom of her message and gave the yearbook back to Donny.

“He’s always wearing sweaters at the office, okay? And also, it’s not like he’s gonna grow two sizes before Winter starts,” Gareth defended himself. “It’s still gonna fit him in a couple of months.”

“What are we talking about?” Dottie asked, leaning her head onto Eddie’s shoulder as he stole one of her apple slices.

“Father’s Day. Gareth got his Dad a wool sweater.”

“It was on sale!”

“What did you get for your dad, then?” she asked Jeff.

“New slippers. His old ones were falling apart.”

“Very thoughtful. You?” she turned to Donny.

“Nothing yet. I kinda wanna get my Dad a funny shirt but I haven’t seen any good ones around. D’you think it’s too late to get one printed?” he asked at large.

“Oh, Eddie bought a cute one the other day!” Dottie said conversationally, looking up at the long haired boy from her place on his shoulder. “They had a bunch of graphic shirts at that store near Melvald’s, right?”

“On Mulberry? Sweet, what did you get?” Donny asked, munching on some grapes.

“Found this ugly thing with a brown Care Bear at the front that says World’s Best Grandma,” Eddie said, half a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Thought it was funny.”

“You’re gonna get your teeth kicked in if you wear a Care Bears shirt in public, dude,” Gareth snickered.

“Well, good thing I’m not gonna be the one wearing it then.”

Father’s Day was historically somewhat of a weird day for Eddie. When he was a little kid and still hadn’t developed a mouth filter, other moms at the park or strangers at a store would sometimes see him wandering around unsupervised, think he was lost, and ask him where his Mom was; he’d always reply with a simple “oh, no, my Mom is dead”, like the answer wasn’t absolutely devastating to hear coming from someone who hadn’t learned how to tie his own shoes yet. Like clockwork, they’d all sputter out an awkward apology, feeling sorry about unknowingly asking a young child about something so painful like losing a parent at such a tender age. A couple of times some of them went so far as to offer to buy him a snack, as if that could distract him from the tragedy of his Mom’s untimely death and, in turn, make themselves feel better about being nosy. Eddie, however, didn’t mind the questions. He liked telling people that Maureen was dead, because he learned very quickly that those were the only times people saw him as someone to take care of; just a little innocent boy having to grow up without the woman who’d loved him most, instead of shunning him as soon they inevitably found out he was Wyatt Munson’s devil spawn.

Another thing Eddie learned very early on, was that his Dad didn’t care about Father’s Day, mainly because most of the time he didn’t even care to acknowledge he had a son unless it was useful to him. And so, after the second year in a row Wyatt threw into the trash can the crafts Eddie had done for him at school without so much as looking at them, the drawings stayed in his backpack and the treats the teachers gave to all their kiddos to gift to the most important men in their lives got hidden in an old shoe box underneath his bed. There they waited until the older man passed out on his couch with a beer in his hand, and the littlest Munson got to eat them in secret without anyone calling him a pig for smearing chocolate all over his face and fingers. No, Father’s Day had always been a weird day for Eddie - at least until he moved in with Wayne.

The first Father’s Day Wayne and Eddie spent together came after almost eight months of living together. There had been a Halloween, a Thanksgiving, a Christmas, Eddie’s 9th birthday, and a Mother’s Day spent along with Grandma before that, but Eddie’s little stomach still churned with the thought of Wayne dismissing him on a special occasion like Father’s Day. He quietly waited in bed after the sun rose, ears perked up for any noise coming from the living room but the minutes ticked by and Wayne didn’t get up, busy catching up on some much needed sleep after a long week at the plant. The youngest Munson impatiently crept along the hallway until he reached his Uncle’s side, kneeling on the carpet next to his fold-out bed and observing his chest go up and down with each breath he took.

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie whispered, but the older man didn’t so much as flinch. “Uncle Wayne,” he tried a little louder, softly shaking his arm.

“Huh?” Wayne opened his eyes, startled to find his nephew’s tiny fingers wrapped around his forearm. “What’s going on? You okay, Ed?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, wild curls bobbing along with the movement. “I- I made something. At school.”

“Yeah? What d’you got there?”

Eddie lifted a piece of paper, the sun filtering through the moth-eaten curtains helping Wayne read along. Happy Father’s Day, said the handmade card written by a teacher and decorated by his nephew, each letter colored inside with a different crayon. Wayne’s heart sank when he realized he’d forgotten what day it was. He didn’t even know which hole Wyatt was currently being kept in, but he guessed he could call his Ma and ask her about it if Eddie wanted to pay his Dad a visit. Or at the very least, he could take the kid to the post office to mail his shitty excuse of a father a letter he most likely didn’t give a damn about. Wyatt hadn’t called once since he’d gotten himself locked up, and Wayne tried not to think too much about Eddie stiffening up whenever the phone rang when he first moved into the trailer with him. He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to have jackshit to do with his little brother anymore but he’d do it anyway even if he knew it was a bad idea, because Wayne Munson would have walked barefoot to the end of the world if it made Eddie happy, and God only knew that that boy deserved a small mercy for once.

Wayne peeled the card open curiously and felt his chest tighten up when he saw how wrong he’d been. Inside there was a crude drawing of two figures, one bigger than the other one: it was him and Eddie, standing on bright green grass, a big yellow sun with a smiley face at the upper left corner of the page, and a tree with juicy red apples to the right side. The figures were holding hands and Wayne was wearing a trucker hat - the same blue one that was resting on the kitchen counter next to his keys. At the bottom right of the card, written with the nicest calligraphy Wayne had seen from his nephew yet, was a simple I love you in purple crayon.

“You drew this for me?” Wayne asked, trying to get his emotions together.

“D’you like it? Miss Mullins gave us Hershey’s Kisses too,” he lifted a little paper bag that looked like it had been squished in transit. “I’m sorry I ate one without asking. I wanted to know what they tasted like, but I can buy you more! I have money left over from my birthday-”

“That’s okay, Ed. You can have as many as you want if you brush your teeth after,” the eldest Munson sat up tiredly and pulled his boy from the floor into a hug. “Thank you for the card. You’re very good at drawing, y’know that?”

“Miss Mullins says I’m good at art and music,” Eddie beamed. “And sometimes Math too but I get distracted. She says my reading’s not very good though.”

“You’re a smart boy, just keep practicin’ and you’ll get better,” Wayne said, feeling his nephew’s body sink into his arms the longer he held him. “Hey, how ‘bout you go get ready while I take a shower, huh? We can go get pancakes at Benny’s.”

“Really? Can I get whipped cream on mine? And chocolate chips?”

“You can get whatever you want, boy. Go on, go get dressed,” the older man ushered him down the hallway towards what used to be his bedroom and locked himself in the bathroom for a little privacy.

Wayne cried in the shower that day, much like he’d done after Thanksgiving dinner, when Eddie said he was thankful he got to live with him, even if it was just for a little bit. He got Wyatt to sign away his parental rights before Christmas came around after that. Wayne stuck the card to the fridge door with a carrot shaped magnet and drove himself and his nephew to Benny’s where Eddie ordered chocolate chip banana pancakes that Wayne ended up eating half of after the 9-year-old’s tummy became too full to keep going. Upon returning home, they spent the rest of the day watching cartoons and practicing Eddie’s reading during the commercials. When the littlest Munson fell asleep on the couch after the sun had set, his energy finally depleted, Wayne helped him put on his pajamas and tucked him to bed, stopping to kiss his curly head before he retreated back to the living room for a nightcap.

“Good night, son,” he’d said, turning off the lights, and for once, Eddie didn’t go to sleep wishing he was Wayne’s, because he knew he was and Wayne knew it too.

“You got Wayne a World’s Best Grandma shirt for Father’s Day?” Donny said, amused. “He’s gonna think you knocked someone up.”

“Of course not,” Eddie scoffed at him like he’d just said the stupidest thing ever. “He’d think I knocked someone up if it said World’s Best Grandpa, but it doesn’t say that, does it? Therefore, funny shirt.”

“You were there with him and you let him buy it?” Jeff looked at Dottie, whose cheeks felt like they were burning upon remembering Wayne’s resigned attempt at a Birds and The Bees talk two weekends prior.

“I… I thought it was funny too,” she admitted sheepishly.

“You two are spending way too much time together,” Gareth shook his head. “When did you even go shopping?”

“Last week after band practice,” Dottie said, mischief in her eyes. “Don’t tell my Dad if you see him because I told him I was at yours all afternoon so he wouldn’t snoop around and find his gift.”

“What did you get him?” Donny asked.

“A bunch of candy and a book. The guy at the store recommended it, he said it was pretty new. It’s called Ender’s Game, I think?”

“Oh, I read that one,” Jeff said, frowning.

“What, is it bad?”

“No, I think your Dad might like it," he shrugged. "But you know me, I don't like military shit.”

“How could we forget about you being Mr. Pacifist,” Gareth poked fun at him goodnaturedly and Jeff shoved him gently in return.

“Hey, speaking of band practice,” Eddie said, lips curling upwards as he leaned into Dottie’s personal space. “You think your Dad's gonna let you come to The Hideout tomorrow?”

“On a school night? Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, come on, no one’s even taking attendance anymore,” he pressed on.

“I’m pretty sure Mr. Russell took a nap in class today,” Gareth said, spreading a rumor he’d heard about the old Algebra teacher.

“He did. I was there, I heard him snore,” Donny nodded.

“There you go, darling. Not even the teachers give a shit anymore. So, what do you say?" Eddie batted his eyelashes dramatically.

"You know I wanna go, I just don't think he's gonna let me. Can't you wait one more week? He promised I won’t have a curfew anymore after graduation," she bargained.

"You say that like you don’t already know we’re gonna ask you to come next week too," Gareth said, grinning. “Besides, what kind of manager are you if you don’t come to all our shows?”

“Wasn’t aware I had signed any official contracts. Do I get health insurance?” Dottie joked.

“You get one box of kiddie bandages and we’ll drive you to the hospital if and only if any bones stick out,” Donny said.

“Wow, what a deal. I’m in,” she laughed.

“You’re gonna come then?” they all looked at her expectantly.

“Alright, fine, I’ll ask him. But if he says no you aren’t allowed to be mad at me because it’s definitely not my fault,” she finally relented.

“If he locks you up we’ll help you escape the tower, princess, don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, his breath ghosting the side of her head, and she shivered in anticipation for the new adventure that was to come.

James working past the time Hawkins High School let its students out had proven to be heaven-sent to the new couple looking for places to hang out without any prying eyes around. Eddie and Dottie were lying on her bed, hiding away from the world in her room, the radio on at a low volume playing Top 40 hits. Van Halen’s Why Can’t This Be Love was setting the perfect mood for Eddie to kiss his not-yet-girlfriend stupid - their movements still shy and exploring, neither of them rushing to get ahead of themselves. In recent days, they had progressed from chaste and giggly pecks to something much more slow and romantic, making the most of their moments alone to make each other feel comfortable and loved. Eddie hovered over her, tummy pressed against Dottie’s while supporting most of his weight on his elbows, his hands free to gently caress her cheekbones and jaw between kisses, stopping every so often to look at her dazed smile if only to will himself to believe that the girl he was so in love with was as equally smitten with him as he was with her.

Dottie let her fingers wander up his arms, one of her hands tangling in his unruly hair and occasionally pushing stray curls behind his ears to get a glimpse of those deep chocolate colored eyes she adored so much. Her other arm sneaked into his t-shirt sleeve, nails drawing barely-there patterns on the back of his shoulder, making him hum like the stray cats at the trailer park when they let him pet them after being fed. The delicate white curtains swayed calmly, brushing against the pillows in the windowsill, the gentle breeze outside rustling the leaves in nearby trees. Everything felt so peaceful, warm, and cozy. She felt like she could spend an entire lifetime like this, with the boy that had swept her off her feet so thoroughly that she almost felt like she was floating whenever he was around.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Eddie asked in a soft voice, index finger brushing down the slope of her nose.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Mhm,” she smiled, fondly. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous even,” he lifted his eyebrows and pouted, making her giggle at his antics. “I wanted to play a song for you tomorrow but the guys said it didn’t fit with the rest of the setlist.”

“Which song was it?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, curls tickling her. “I’m not telling you. We’ll play it in Indy.”

“I have to wait a whole month? That’s so rude!”

“It’ll be worth it, you’ll see,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss her again, and she accepted his love eagerly.

The low rumble of a car pulling into the driveway burst their cozy bubble, Eddie groaning as his head fell forward onto Dottie’s shoulder, making her snort loudly. He scrambled off her bed and dropped himself on her desk chair, fingers dancing on top of her scented Mr. Sketch markers before settling on the brown one and lifting it up to his nose to smell the cinnamon embedded in the ink. She watched him with an oddly enamored smile on her face, like him sniffing her stationery supplies was the most charming thing she’d seen him do yet. He twirled a marker between his fingers before drumming with it once on her yearbook resting unassumingly on her desk.

“Can I draw something for you in here?” he asked, tapping the hardcover again with the cap of the marker.

“Can I write something sappy in yours in exchange?”

“Knock yourself out, darling,” Eddie smiled, pulling his yearbook out of his ratty backpack and tossing it onto her bed where it made a soft thud upon colliding with her comforter.

When James climbed up the stairs to greet his daughter after a long day at work, he found both teens deeply engrossed in their tasks: Eddie’s long hair was draped like a curtain obscuring his sketch from view as he worked steadily with his chewed up pencil while Dottie was lying on her front decorating a corner of a page with her colorful pens. James leaned onto the door frame when she looked up, gifting him the same smile she used to give him as a toddler when he picked her up from daycare.

“Yearbooks are out?” the eldest Burke asked, nodding towards the book in her hands.

“Yeah! Ed’s drawing in mine but look, we got a full page!” Dottie said, rising onto her knees to show him Hellfire’s spread.

James sat at the foot of her bed, glancing at the glossy pictures in front of him. He couldn’t recall Dottie being so excited about a yearbook before, but he supposed she’d never really been a part of any club at her old school and this was an important first for her. There was Dustin front and center, arms and legs bent like a lifeless puppet being held by strings, Erica’s hand poised in the air as if she was the one controlling him while Mike and Gareth lifted her up in a princess-like manner, a tiara glinting on her head and a school flag draping down her back. Jeff and Donny scowled at each other dramatically, engaged in a lethal fight that Jeff was clearly winning, his sword pressed to the middle of Donny’s golden scepter. But it was his own daughter and the boy that kept smelling markers before he put them to paper a few feet away from him that really caught his attention.

Eddie lounged on his throne with a fake skull in his hand, rings twinkling in the room’s moody light, and legs spread out like he was a despot king about to order someone’s head to be cut off. Dottie stared at the camera with a mischievous smirk, hands cradled around a crystal orb, looking like she knew something no one else did and was more than ready to drop a cryptic riddle that would ruin your entire life. They were playing characters, just like everyone else in the picture: Mike was the loyal knight, Dustin was the terrifying jester, Erica was the bratty princess. Except Eddie’s arm was curled around Dottie like she was his most prized possession, devotion noticeable in his seemingly innocent posture. He might have been the one sitting on the throne and she on the chair’s arm as his trusty advisor, but it was very much clear to anyone that stopped to truly look at them that even though he was the King, she had him wrapped around her finger. It shouldn’t have been a surprise - after all, since 1953 the song did say God save the Queen, not the King.

“It looks super cool, right?” Dottie asked, eyes shining. “Jeff wants to ask the Yearbook Club if we can get copies, I’d love to put one on my corkboard.”

“That sounds great, honey! It’s very theatrical,” James agreed, scanning down the list of names: Edward Munson - Chapter Leader, Donatello Andrea Vitale - Treasurer, Jeffrey Thomas Patton - Secretary… “Who’s Lucas?”

“Huh?”

“Lucas Charles Sinclair?” he asked. “His name is on the list but I don’t see him in the photo.”

“Oh, that’s Erica’s brother. He was in the club before I joined, right, Ed?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, lips tight. “He, uh- he quit before Spring break. Conflicting schedules.”

“Ah, that’s a bummer,” James nodded, knowing first hand how scheduling was the greatest enemy of a D&D party. “Why isn’t Erica on the list though?”

“She’s still in middle school so she’s not, like, entirely allowed to be in the club actually?” Dottie grimaced. “But Eddie thought she should at least be in the picture. I mean, I’m there and she’s known these guys for longer than I do.”

“She only joined a couple of weeks before you did,” Eddie shrugged. “But a member is a member, no matter when they joined.”

“Spoken like a true leader,” James smiled, flipping the pages to find the senior portraits.

He reached the B section and immediately found his daughter, her red knitted sweater barely visible, the picture cutting off just below her shoulders. She was smiling in it, yes, but she didn’t really look happy. She seemed nervous, perhaps even a bit apprehensive. Her eyes were dull despite the bright lights behind the camera, and the little dimple below the right corner of her lip that she’d inherited from her Mom was nowhere to be found. In comparison with the wicked witch that had been staring at him in the Hellfire Club’s group photo, this girl looked like a shell of herself. Empty. Lost. Scared. Two months had passed between the two pictures, and one more since the last one had been taken, and James realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her glow as much as she did every day now. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked at her and wondered why he hadn’t done anything to prevent her light from dimming so much right in front of him. Bitterly, he realized the proper question wasn’t why he hadn’t done anything, but instead why hadn’t he ever noticed it had been dimmed in the first place up until that moment.

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” he muttered, pulling her into a hug and letting out a heavy sigh courtesy of his own inadequacies as a parent.

“You’re not gonna cry, are you? Because you’re gonna make me cry if you cry,” she said in a joking manner, tears already threatening to climb up to the surface.

“You’re just really big now and it sneaks up on me sometimes, that’s all. I’m getting emotional in my old age,” he laughed, turning back the pages to Hellfire Dottie - the happier Dottie. “Your hair looks really pretty like this.”

“Yeah. Feels more me, I think,” Dottie agreed. “I need to get the ends trimmed before graduation, though.”

“If it keeps getting shorter I’m afraid you’re gonna end up bald soon.”

“I’ll go to a salon this time, promise,” she laughed.

“Still can’t believe you just-” James did a cutting gesture with his index and middle fingers. “-went to town on it.”

“Wait, what? You chopped off your own hair? When?” Eddie asked curiously, reminding them both that he was listening to their conversation.

“I thought you knew about this!” Dottie said. “I had really long hair back in New York.”

“It reached the top of her jeans,” James added.

“No way! Why did you cut it?”

“I just needed a fresh start, y’know? New school, new haircut. It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she shrugged.

“Honey, you snipped it all off at the first gas station we stopped at on our way from New York. Almost gave me a heart attack when you came out of that bathroom.”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie stared at her in disbelief.

“Nope,” said James. “Had to take her to a hairdresser to even it out as soon as we got here.”

“In my defense, it didn’t look that bad. It was just… very layered,” Dottie said.

“You’re lucky you chickened out and didn’t cut it shorter or you’d be looking like a boy right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, I’m not a hair stylist. I’ll stay away from scissors and let the pros handle it next time,” she rolled her eyes at her Dad.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a shower,” James announced, returning Eddie’s yearbook to his daughter. “You staying for dinner, Ed?”

“No, thank you, sir, Wayne’s waiting for me. Just gotta finish this drawing and I’ll be out of your hair for the night,” Eddie said, lifting the book in his hands as if to demonstrate he wasn’t just wasting time.

“You’re never a bother, kid. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

“T-thank you, sir,” he said in a small voice when James walked past him and ruffled his hair affectionately as he left.

“Dad? Wait, hold up-”

Dottie launched herself into the hallway and caught up to her Dad when he was halfway through his bedroom door. She nervously looked up at him and James lifted an eyebrow, curious.

“Would it be okay if I went to The Hideout to see the guys play tomorrow?” she asked, chewing on her own lip.

“Honey, it’s a school night-”

“I know but the teachers aren’t even taking attendance anymore. And I swear I’m not gonna skip the next day! Please, I’ll be back before midnight.”

“Dot-”

“You know Jeff’s dad wouldn’t let him do it if he was coming back home at 3 am every week on school nights. Please let me go? I really, really, really wanna see them play.”

“Would you be riding with Eddie?” James sighed.

“Yeah, he’s Gareth’s ride. His drum kit doesn’t fit in Donny’s car.”

“Okay, you can go-”

“Thank you!”

“-but! You gotta be back by midnight, okay?” he said, stern. “I don’t care if the teachers aren’t doing their jobs anymore, school’s not out until Friday. You’re not on holiday yet.”

“I know, I won’t break the curfew, I promise-”

“And you can’t drink any alcohol either. If I have to pick you up from the station for any reason, you’re grounded until September.”

“I won’t drink a drop, Dad, I swear. I just wanna see the guys play,” she pleaded with doe eyes.

“Fine. You can go,” James finally relented.

“Thank you!” Dottie shrieked, hugging her Dad and shaking him in her excitement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

“Alright, alright, calm down. Just be careful, okay? And call-”

“Call you if anything happens. I know. Thank you,” she kissed his cheek and ran back into her bedroom where James heard Eddie scream “fuck yeah!”, followed by a loud thump and bright laughter.

That night after dinner, Dottie sat on her windowsill looking at the inside of her wardrobe, mentally putting together an outfit that wouldn’t make her stand out like a sore thumb in the dingy bar. Jeans and sneakers are fine, Eddie had said when she asked him about it, but she knew the guys dressed up for their gigs, and she wanted to fit in. Maybe she should have asked her soon-to-be-boyfriend to lend her one of his band t-shirts, but then again, Eddie had a tendency to get grabby whenever she wore his clothes lately, even if it was just a borrowed sweatshirt when she got cold during a movie night. It was better to be lowkey about this; they were already pushing it a lot lately with the secret daily hangouts and the doing errands together thing. Borrowing his clothes in such a public event like his own band’s gig was as big a declaration of love as they came.

Yes, it was best to keep this under wraps, for the sake of all their friendships with the rest of the boys. She’d wear her own clothes to her very first Corroded Coffin show, and she’d be extra careful with her yearbook when she gave it to her friends at The Weekly Streak to sign. No one had to know that Eddie had drawn a very realistic looking arrangement of daisies on a corner of a page, along with an incredibly telling message that would be hard to explain if anyone read it. However, nothing was stopping her from letting the words he’d written in his usual chicken scratch form behind her eyelids as she let sleep take her under, a perpetual lovesick smile tattooed on her face.Thank you for believing in me, darling, he’d said. I love you now and always. Your Endearing Eddie.

Tuesday, June 10th - 1986

If there was anyone in Hawkins who had bad timing when it came to scheduling business transactions that happened outdoors, it was Eddie Munson. He was in such a hurry to sell most of his stash before he was due to start his first ever real job at Thatcher Tires the following week that he’d failed to account for the permanent drizzle that haunted Hawkins most of the time, and thus, had to move from his preferred selling spot in the woods to the back of the East classroom wing, his back pressed to the warm brick to shield himself from the droplets falling from the sky.

While he was busy earning much wanted cash so he could take his still-not-official-girlfriend out on a date to celebrate their graduation, Dottie and Gareth were lounging in his van, side door cracked open to let some of the day’s heat out. The almost empty parking lot looked menacing surrounded by a thick haze, a moderate breeze directing the drops of water to hit the van’s windshield in a comforting rhythm. Gareth was, as usual, being a menace. He was going through Eddie’s tapes, exchanging their cases to mess with his friend, and never letting a song reach the end before he was skipping forward to the next one. Dottie would have complained about it if she wasn’t so concentrated on her knitting, the summer baby blanket she was working on spread out over her legs. She was in the middle of calculating if the soft cotton yarn she had left was enough to finish the row she was currently knitting when Gareth turned around in the passenger seat to catch her attention.

“You excited about tonight?” he asked, glancing at the songlist at the back of a mixtape.

“Yeah, it should be fun! Though I’m not sure what I’m gonna wear yet,” she put down her needles and stretched in her seat. “Eddie said sneakers and jeans were fine, but I don’t wanna look lost, y’know.”

“Pick the oldest, shittiest clothes you have and you’ll fit in just fine. Most of the drunks in there go after work, it’s always a lot of plaid, jeans, and dirt.”

“You’re not selling this to me very well.”

“I don’t have to,” he grinned. “Eddie says jump, you jump.”

“No, I don’t-”

“Hey, there you are!”

She was about to tell Gareth off when Chrissy appeared from the mist, shielding herself from the rain by holding her cheer cardigan above her head. Immediately, Dottie slid the van door open a bit more so she could climb in, moving all her knitting supplies to her lap so the strawberry blonde girl could sit next to her. Gareth looked at both girls awkwardly and muttered a quick hello before turning in his seat again and busying himself back with the mixtapes.

“I didn’t know you knitted,” Chrissy said, thumbing the corner of the blanket. “This is so pretty.”

“Thank you,” Dottie smiled. “It’s a gift for my Aunt, she’s having a baby in a couple of months.”

“Aw, that’s sweet! Let me guess, a girl?” she said, pointing at the baby pink yarn.

“How could you tell?” Dottie said with good natured sarcasm. “Her name’s gonna be Rose so… pink for Rosie! It’s not very original but I’m hoping she still likes it even though she’ll be born in the middle of summer.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it. I used mine until I was in preschool, there’s no age limit for a good blankie,” Chrissy said, kindly. “I wish I could do creative stuff like this, it looks fun. I tried to learn to sew when I was younger but my Mom’s so not a good teacher. She made me cry once because I forgot to put the presser foot down.”

“I could teach you a few things if you want,” Dottie offered. “I’m not an expert, but my Aunt is, like, the most perfectionist person on the planet and she taught me everything I know so…”

“You’d do that?”

“Do what, teach you?” the blonde nodded in response. “Of course! We’re friends! And it’s a great skill to have, it comes in handy more than you think.”

“We’re friends?” Chrissy asked, eyes suddenly shiny.

“After everything you’ve done for- Chrissy, of course we’re friends,” Dottie said, grabbing the other girl’s hand.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed out, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. “I feel so much better about asking you to sign my yearbook now, I didn’t know if I was being weird or not.”

“For future reference, we like weird here,” the brunette said in a stage whisper, leaning down to get her own yearbook out of her backpack. “Besides, I kinda wanted to ask you to sign mine too so we’re even.”

The girls exchanged books and quickly got to signing, aware that Gareth was pretending like he wasn’t in the same vehicle as them. He didn’t want to turn up the music and rudely drown their conversation, so he distracted himself by drumming on Eddie’s dashboard with two pens, wondering what on Earth had Chrissy done for Dottie that made her so thankful towards the cheerleader. Dottie grabbed her nicest black pen and found an empty space under Eddie’s message. He’d written Don’t be a stranger, Chrissy the Cheery (and thank you for the advice! See you at the wedding) next to a crude drawing in blue ink of a girl with a ponytail lifting one pompon and doing devil horns with the other hand.

After thinking about what she wanted to say to the cheerful blonde, Dottie settled on a nice simple message that was cryptic enough should anyone else read it, but also something that conveyed just how truly grateful she was for this new found friendship. Have a fantastic summer!, the note opened. Thank you for everything. Call me whenever! At the end, right next to her name and a little daisy, she wrote down her phone number. The word everything was underlined twice. When she gave it back to her rightful owner and saw the message Chrissy had written on pink ink on her yearbook, she let out a girly giggle. It was so lovely to get to know you, have a good summer! Let’s hang out soon, it read. Below, Chrissy had also written down her phone number. Both teens looked at each other with a knowing grin and hugged, not paying any attention to the metalhead who’d put them on each other’s path hopping onto the driver’s seat of his van, hair damp from the rain.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute,” Eddie said, grinning. “Did she sign it?”

“We both did,” Chrissy said, returning the smile. “How were the sales?”

“Great! I’m selling my last bit on Thursday and then I’m keeping the rest for myself. A man’s gotta have his vices.”

“What a shame,” the blonde shook her head. “Hawkins is losing its nicest dealer to the workforce.”

“I’m the only dealer you know, sweetheart.”

“Because you’re the nicest one, keep up! I’m gonna have to buy from sleazy dudes now, ugh,” she said while she gathered her things to leave.

“You should have enough to last you until you leave for your pre-season with what I sold you today,” he frowned, concerned that every time Chrissy bought from him, the amounts she asked for kept increasing.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said and shrugged, sliding the door van open and hopping off. “See you around, guys!”

The three of them watched her jog towards the school with her cardigan draped over her head again, her petite figure losing definition in the haze. Eddie clicked on his seatbelt - a habit he’d picked up since he started driving Dottie around - and pulled out of the school’s parking lot, winking once at the girl on his backseat when he put his hand on Gareth’s headrest to reverse into the open road. Dottie rolled her eyes at him, picking up her knitting needles once again. Gareth stared at the school building until it disappeared from sight before he turned to his friends.

“I still can’t believe Chrissy Cunningham is not only super nice to us freaks, but also smokes weed,” he said, making both of the other teens laugh.

James Burke did not think that moving to the town he had grown up in as a quiet wallflower would result in an exponential growth in his daughter’s social life, but truth be told, he wasn’t exactly upset about it. Before packing up her whole life and facing the Big Drive to Hawkins, Dottie had never once gone out for the night on a weekday, much less during the school year. But James had agreed to it, and Dottie had promised to be home before midnight, which brought them to the living room where the tired father sat in his armchair and amusedly watched his daughter pace the entirety of the room swinging her arms around with each step she took.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the carpet, honey.”

“Good. This carpet gives me allergies.��

James chuckled, following her with his eyes as she padded her way to the window once more and peered outside yet again despite knowing that she would hear Eddie’s van first before seeing it, as per usual. She sighed dramatically and resumed her pacing, glancing at the clock on the wall anxiously. Mildly embarrassed upon noticing that her friends were still perfectly on schedule, she took a few deep breaths and tried to get her emotions in control before their arrival.

“You know you can call me if you get there and want to leave, right?”

“I know, Dad,” she rolled her eyes at him. “Stop offering to pick me up from places, you know Eddie’s gonna drive me back whenever I ask.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t exactly comfort me as much as you think it does, honey. That van looks like it’s gonna die on him at any second.”

“Oh, come on,” Dottie argued. “He loves that van, he takes good care of it.”

“The fumes that come out of that thing say otherwise, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt since he’s gonna be a mechanic and all now.”

And speak of the devil, thought James, as the aforementioned smoky van appeared down the street while playing loud metal music. Dottie hurried to grab her keys and a jacket, ready to bolt out of the door and get to the damn dive bar already, but her Dad insisted on walking with her outside to say hi. Eddie and Gareth waved at them as they approached, lowering the music so they could greet the older man properly.

“Good evening, boys,” James said, hands on his hips in a typical Dad pose but with a friendly smile on his face. “How are we feeling? Excited for the show?”

“Hell yeah!” Gareth said, grinning. “We’re gonna kill it, the setlist is awesome tonight.”

“You let him add an Anthrax song to it, didn’t you?” Dottie laughed knowingly, sliding the side door open and climbing in.

“We’re closing with Metal Thrashing Mad,” Gareth looked at her with an expression of triumph.

“Sounds like it’s gonna be a riot,” James chuckled and turned to his daughter. “Have fun, but don’t get into too much trouble. Midnight, okay?”

“I’ll get back here by 11, sir, I promise,” Eddie said, nodding once.

“Midnight’s okay, Ed,” the eldest Burke said, putting his trust in the young man’s hands; Eddie nodded again in understanding. “Have a good show!”

The man patted the side of the van as a goodbye and headed back inside, privately enjoying how much he could make Eddie squirm with just a few well placed words. He liked Eddie, he really did - he was polite, unapologetically himself, resourceful, kind. He loved his friends and wore his heart on his sleeve. And he loved Dottie, that much was clear to literally everyone that surrounded the teens. James didn’t know what the situation was like between them at the moment, but he could tell something had shifted based on recent interactions he’d witnessed. In his opinion, there seemed to be some sort of deeper connection between them since that fateful party they had gone to just a handful of days earlier, but James had to admit, albeit a little reluctantly, that even though he had been on the lookout for signs of a romantic relationship developing, not a lot had truly changed.

Eddie and Dottie had always been unusually close even upon first meeting, that was an undeniable fact about their friendship. It was hard to pinpoint if anything romantic had blossomed between them when Eddie had been calling her darling since the very first moment he laid eyes on her, or when Dottie gravitated towards him at any given moment, even in rooms filled with other people. Their hugs, while always having lasted longer than a regular friendly hug, were chaste and innocent, their main purpose always to comfort and to reassure. Eddie’s hands always stayed above her waist, not even so much as accidentally dropping to her hips in James’ presence, and any compromising position he’d found them in was at best playful, certainly never inappropriate.

It wasn’t that James was particularly concerned with the nature of the teens’ relationship; after all, he had been a teen himself once, he wasn’t an idiot. If anything was bound to happen, they weren’t going to ask for his permission beforehand. No, his worries were more about the knowledge that Dottie and Eddie dating while having the same group of friends could make a potential fall out incredibly painful for both of them, and the poor man was just desperately trying to protect his daughter as best as he could. He already felt like he had failed her once, he couldn’t let her down again. And yet, despite being cognizant of the dangers ahead, James found himself trusting Eddie because if Dottie trusted him, how could he not trust that his daughter knew better than her own Dad did about the matters of her heart?

“Okay, be honest, guys. How do I look?” Dottie asked, shoving half her body between the front seats so they could look at her better at the first stop sign.

“You look gorgeous, princess,” said Eddie.

“Like a toddler,” said Gareth, at the same time.

“Gareth, what the fuck,” Eddie deadpanned, swatting at his friend’s chest.

“What? She’s lucky they don’t ask for IDs,” he said, doubling down.

“You don’t tell a girl she looks like a toddler when she dresses up, you asshat,” Eddie said. “See, this is why you can’t get a girlfriend, you know nothing about women.”

“How would you know any better, you don’t have a girlfriend either!” Gareth retorted, making Eddie snort. If he only knew…

“You two bicker like an old married couple, did you know that?” Dottie said, settling back on her seat.

“That’s because we are,” Eddie joked, grabbing Gareth’s hand and giving him a kiss on the knuckles, making his friend yank his arm out of his grasp while the older boy laughed loudly.

Everyone was in good spirits as they journeyed to The Hideout, but whether she wanted them to or not, Gareth’s words made Dottie pause. Both boys had told her dark, casual clothes would be okay when she’d asked them for advice, so she’d gone with a striped dark blue and white t-shirt and black jean overalls, her trusty Reeboks matching Eddie’s keeping her feet comfortable. She glanced at both of her friends through the rearview mirror and compared her clothes to theirs, but that would never be a fair fight: they were dressed for the stage, not to be a spectator like she was. Gareth was wearing a loose shirt with the sleeves cut out, leather bracelets with spikes decorating each wrist along with his usual rings perched on his fingers. He had a flannel tied at his hip and his jeans were incredibly distressed, something that his Mom hadn’t been too happy about when she found out he’d ripped them himself on their driveway with a sharp rock. Eddie sat next to him, tapping on the steering wheel lightly as they talked about the setlist, looking like a vision straight out of his wildest rockstar dreams in acid wash denim and chains. Admittedly, his eyeliner did look terribly smudged, but he more than made up for it with enthusiasm and a giddy grin etched permanently into his features.

There was no comparison and there would never be one. Dottie simply didn’t fit in. They were undiscovered rockstars, masters of their craft who had poured blood, sweat and tears into a yet unfulfilled dream, and she was just the high school friend who was lucky enough to meet them before they blew up. She tried to be excited for them, to join in on the fun, but all she could think about was how Eddie was destined for bigger things than to be chained to an elementary school teacher and the white picket fence she had always dreamed of when she was living in a tiny apartment with her Dad back in New York.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Eddie pulled into The Hideout’s parking lot next to Donny’s car, Gareth excitedly hollering out of the co-pilot’s window to get their friends’ attention. Donny took one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the side, and hurried to meet them along with Jeff, hugs and pats on their backs exchanged before immediately busying themselves unloading both vehicles. Dottie was quick to mask her discomfort by helping out; a task that forced her to stay focused was always a welcome distraction for her worried brain. The boys chatted loudly, their tired grunts filling the eerily empty parking lot as they moved heavy amps and Gareth’s drum kit into the bar through a service door to the side of the building, leaving Dottie to trail behind them carrying cables and drumsticks.

“Hey, you okay?” Jeff asked, taking a mic stand from her hands, back pressed to the metal service door to keep it open.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m just nervous,” she lied, her smile failing to reach her eyes. “Never been to a place like this before.”

“No one here bites, I promise,” he nudged her shoulder. “And if they do, we’ll fight them for you. You’re with the band, you’re a VIP now.”

“My heroes,” she said, pretending to swoon.

The small exchange might have gone unnoticed had Eddie not become finely attuned to the girl’s emotions even when she wasn’t sharing them out loud. Something wasn’t right, he was sure of it, and he was determined to find out what it was before their set started. He wanted her to enjoy this, to see him doing one of the things he loved most, to let her into a space that up until now had been sacred for him. The Hideout’s little stage wasn’t the Madison Square Garden, but with her in the crowd, he felt like it was the most important show he’d ever play in his entire life.

“I really like your shirt,” Dottie was telling Donny about his Iron Maiden tee, holding his bass for him as he searched for a pedal that had gotten lost in the back of his car. “The black makes your eyes pop out.”

“But I need my eyes,” he whined jokingly.

“You know what I mean, dumbass,” she laughed, softly hitting his leg with her sneaker.

“I was gonna wear something else actually but I couldn’t find it,” he said, frowning at his car’s messy floor. “I have this Halloween shirt- aha!”

“Did you find it?”

“Yep, it was under the mat,” he climbed out of the car and pulled his pants up higher. “My ass wasn’t showing, was it?”

“I would never let you show your ass in public,” Dottie said, giving him back his bass. “We got everything? What do we do now?”

“Yeah, we just need to set up and-”

“Hey man, can you start without us?” Eddie asked, sitting on the back of his open van and patting his pockets for his cigarettes. “Need her help with something.”

“Uh- yeah, sure,” Donny said, looking at both of them suspiciously and noticing how Dottie appeared to be as equally confused as he was. “Don’t take too long.”

Donny hoisted his bass case over his shoulder and disappeared into the building, throwing one last look at them for good measure. While Eddie busied himself lighting up a cig, Dottie shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously. What on Earth could Eddie want her help with right now? Was he… was he going to tell her to leave? Had he realized this was no place for her and didn’t want anyone to see she was with them? Or with him?

“Come ‘ere,” Eddie said, widening his legs so she could stand between them. “You gonna tell me what’s going on or do I gotta tickle it out of you?”

“You know I don’t like tickles.”

“Then I guess you’re gonna have to spill, don’t you, princess?” he flicked some of his ash to the side and wrapped an arm around her hips to bring her closer. “What is it, huh? My eyeliner’s that bad you can’t even look at me?”

“No,” she muttered, lips curling into a resigned pout. “You look pretty.”

“I look like shit. People might confuse me with a raccoon.”

“A pretty raccoon,” the right corner of her mouth lifted into a tentative smile and he took that as a win.

“If it’s not my eyeliner, what’s bothering you then? You wanna go home? ‘Cause I’ll drive you back right now if you want me to, just say the word.”

“No, no,” she quickly shook her head, curls bouncing around but her eyes were still stuck to his knees. “I wanna see you play.”

“Baby, I know something’s upsetting you. Talk to me, come on. We’ve been good at that lately,” he pleaded, thumb sneaking into the side of her overalls and under her shirt to rub comforting circles on her skin.

“It’s just-,” Dottie huffed, crossing her arms and curling on herself. “I feel weird, okay? I look like an idiot.”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie frowned.

“Ed, I’m wearing overalls.”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and? You look like a fucking rockstar and I’m some random toddler following you around. I don’t fit in, Gareth’s right.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck Gareth,” she opened her mouth to argue but he beat her to it. “No, no, fuck Gareth. He doesn’t know shit about fashion, never trust anything he says, okay? He used to wear polos every day before he met me, you knew that? He can’t judge anyone. And I love your overalls. You look adorable in them.”

“But I don’t want to look adorable!” Dottie stomped on the ground, which only furthered his point. “You look so badass, why couldn’t I look like that?”

“You wanna look badass? I’ll give you any of my shirts next time, I promise,” Eddie pulled her closer until she uncrossed her arms and rested them on his shoulders. “But don’t listen to that dumbass. I love how you dress. I really fuckin’ do, babe.”

“Yeah? The toddler thing gets you going?” she asked, melting under his earnest eyes.

“Nah, that’s all you, darling,” he stretched himself up to kiss her gently. “You get me going. And you always fit in with me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Nope, come on, you gotta say it.”

“Eddie.”

“I’m waiting,” he sang.

“You’re insufferable sometimes,” she rolled her eyes, but this time her smile was much more genuine. “Fine. I fit in with you.”

“Always.”

“Good,” he took one last drag of his cigarette and threw it away, lifting himself up to close the van doors and direct into the bar. “We’re gonna talk about this later though. I know you’re still thinking about it.”

“It’s scary how much you know me,” she mused, leaning onto his side for courage as they walked to the front door.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t pay attention to you?” he said, opening the door to let her in.

Boyfriend. He had called himself her boyfriend. They hadn’t discussed what they were yet; Eddie was adamant about asking her out properly on Graduation Day but it felt good to hear that he knew what he meant to her. That he wanted the same thing she did, even if her anxious heart got in the way sometimes. Dottie was so sure he’d get bored of her once he realized how truly boring she was, but failed to consider that in all their months together as friends, Eddie had learned to love their differences and cherished them deeply. Why would he want someone who was just like him? He was an idiot in his opinion, he’d hate it if she was equally impulsive, messy and brash as he was. She was soft where he was rough, logical where he was a dreamer, practical where he was ignorant. And in turn Eddie felt capable where she was inexperienced, bold where she was shy, and calm where she was nervous. Two puzzle pieces that are cut the exact same way never fit, and Eddie was confident in the knowledge that they were alike, yet different where it mattered the most. It was just a matter of time until she got to see things like he did, and he’d be damned if he didn’t help her get there faster.

“Dave! What’s up?” Eddie hollered as he approached the bar, a bald man with a bushy beard greeted him with a big smile.

“Hey, Ed! The guys told me the big news, I’m proud of you, kid,” Dave said, putting down his rag and a glass to pat Eddie’s back over the counter. “You brought a new friend today?”

“Thanks, man. Yeah, this is Dottie,” he introduced them. “Dot, Dave, he’s the owner - Dave, Dot. Treat her right, okay? She’s our manager.”

“No shit,” Dave laughed. “How did that happen?”

“I got them a gig in Indy next month and they offered me the job,” Dottie said, slipping onto a bar stool next to Eddie. “We should talk business sometime.”

“That’s my girl,” Eddie beamed, squeezing her hand before walking backwards to the stage. “Give her anything she wants, I’ll cover her tab!”

“So, you’re Eddie’s girl, huh,” Dave said, eyes glinting.

“I guess I am,” Dottie smiled, before her expression dropped in realization. “Could you- We’re not, like- The guys-”

“Secret’s safe with me, doll,” he winked at her. “I knew something was up when Ed started adding ballads to their setlist. Now, what’s your poison? On the house.”

“Would root beer be an acceptable choice?” she asked, cheeks burning under her skin.

“Depends. You want ice cream with it?” he threw his rag over his shoulder.

“I’ll never say no to a little vanilla.”

“Attagirl. I can see why he likes you,” Dave said, and disappeared down the kitchen door in search of a scoop of ice cream.

Dottie turned around in her stool to look at her friends happily setting up for their show, palpable excitement coursing through their veins. Gareth was hunched over his drum kit, tightening and loosening the skin until it was perfect while he heard the story Donny was retelling, Eddie laughing loudly and Jeff cringing while uncoiling a cable. They looked happy, barely controlled energy bouncing around the room much to everyone’s amusement. Two older men sat in a corner of the bar, mugs filled with frothy beer and a bowl of peanuts shared between them - they lifted up their drinks and smiled at her in acknowledgement when she glanced their way. Dave was funny, charming and a little bit kooky, all the right ingredients for a good bartender. He kept Dottie busy by telling her stories about every regular that was in the bar, and introduced her to the two men as “the boys’ boss, so no funny business with her”. Rudy and B.B. ate it up, calling her bosslady in all further interactions, asking her about their friendship with Corroded Coffin and telling her silly stories they had collected about her friends over their years as The Hideout’s only band with a permanent slot.

It was clear to Dottie that this was a family built on routine and comradery. They had nicknames for each other, knew about beverage preferences and medical conditions, asked about parents, wives and children. B.B. was all too glad to have someone new to show off the pictures he kept in his wallet, his five grandchildren looking up at Dot from the glossy paper as he shared names and little anecdotes about them proudly. When it was time for Corroded Coffin to finally start playing, everyone paid attention and even cheered when the first few notes of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid began. Dottie sang along to every single word that came out of Jeff’s mic, thinking about that very first time she’d seen them play in Gareth’s garage. This felt equally warm, homey, and handcrafted. A labor of love.

Corroded Coffin was a sight that begged to be seen. They were loud and unapologetic; they crooned to the outcasts, the freaks, the weirdos. Lee with his prosthetic leg and handlebar mustache, Rudy with his white hair and beer belly, Shonda with her leather vest and scary-looking motorbike parked outside. These drunkards were their very first fans, and they enjoyed the Tuesday night gig as much as anyone could enjoy first row seats to a Metallica show in a big arena. During a water break between songs, Lee asked for a Judas Priest song and the boys indulged him, Gareth immediately launching into a complex beat that made him break one of his drumsticks in half at the end. He looked the happiest Dottie had ever seen him.

The half hour show came to a close, and Corroded Coffin said their goodbyes with pure elation and sweat dripping down their faces. Dottie wanted to help them load everything back into the cars, but Shonda kept her busy and glued to her stool talking about New York and the best food places she had encountered on her travels. If Dottie recognized some of the mentioned spots as known queer hangouts she’d always wanted to go to but couldn’t because she was underage, she said nothing, but the knowledge only endeared the older lady more to her. When the guys had finished putting everything away, they surrounded Dottie at the bar and Dave presented them with a beer each. Yes, it was illegal to serve alcohol to minors, but no one cared. They’d earned those fair and square, and what was the big issue with a little toast between friends to the Hellfire Class of ‘86 who would be graduating in just a few short days?

“Since when do you go dry after a show, Ed?” Dave said, grabbing the bottle Eddie had pushed back into his hand.

“I’m driving her around tonight,” Eddie said, nodding towards Dottie who was lost in conversation with Jeff. “Her Dad might kill me if we get pulled over and I’m drunk, and I actually like being alive.”

“She’s got you whipped,” B.B. commented, making the rest of the older men laugh while Eddie’s ears burned red at the light teasing.

“Good for her. Someone had to do it at some point,” Rudy said, lifting his frothy beer to his lips, and truth be told, Eddie was more than happy to admit they were right.

Dottie was not expecting Eddie to pull over halfway between her house and Gareth’s after dropping him and his drum kit off, but it soon became clear that he wasn’t about to let her go to bed without talking about what had happened earlier. He was still a little jittery from the show, adrenaline starting to run off now that they were surrounded by the quiet of the night in a deserted street, truly alone for the first time all day. After reaching to click her seatbelt off, he helped her crawl sideways onto his lap, resting her weight half on him and half on the driver’s door, legs draped over the center console and stretching towards the co-pilot’s seat. Despite the fact that he’d just played a 30 minute set and still felt a little bit damp with sweat from his performance, he took the time to bask in the sense of calm that washed over him. This is the best part of my day, he thought, lazily pressing kisses to the side of her head as she played with his rings, a dazed smile on her face.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he whispered, pushing her hair behind her ear and making her squirm in delight when he pressed another kiss to her temple.

“I love you too. You’re my favorite rockstar,” she muttered back, nosing his cheek.

“You had a good time?”

“The best. Everyone was so nice.”

“They better be,” he said dramatically, lifting his hand into a menacing fist. “Or else I’d have to kill them.”

“Stop,” she laughed, arms wrapping around him. “I’m sorry if I worried you earlier. I was being silly and got too into my own head.”

“You gonna tell me what that was about? And don’t say it was about your overalls, because I know it wasn’t,” he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles gently.

“I don’t know, I guess… I was just thinking about the future, and-”

“Uh-oh. Is this it? Are you breaking up with me? Shit, I knew that old dog Rudy was gonna take you away from me.”

“Shut up,” Dottie slapped his chest lightly as she laughed and he pretended to be in excruciating pain, slumping against his seat. “I… I was just wondering if there’s gonna be a place for me, y’know? In your future? And I got upset thinking that maybe there wouldn’t be.”

“Why would you think that?” Eddie asked, uncharacteristically serious.

“I mean… I dunno,” she admitted. “You’re gonna be a huge rockstar and I’m just, like… your boring high school sweetheart that wants to become a teacher. Is that really what you want for your life?”

“Yes. I want you.”

“Eddie, I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, me too,” his hand came up to hold her face. “I’m not gonna become a rockstar, Dot. That ship sailed a long time ago.”

“You’re only twenty-”

“It’s not about my age. Jeff’s leaving Hawkins and he’s gonna be a fancy businessman with a- a fuckin’ pacifist non-profit org or whatever people do in West Virginia,” she snorted at his words and he continued. “Gareth’s probably gonna become the greatest studio percussionist in the world for all we know, and Donny has his family’s restaurant to take care of. We’re all going separate ways, and I don’t wanna do the rockstar thing without them. Like, that’s my band, y’know? I’m not gonna go solo, it’s all of us or no one.”

“I get that, I do but… I just don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams,” she admitted. “You’re gonna resent me if you do, and I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize that you are unhappy and you hate me.”

“I could never hate you and I’m not giving up on anything because of you, darling, I promise. Is it really that hard to believe that I want a normal, peaceful life with you?” he shrugged.

“But you hate normal.”

“No, I don’t. I thought I did but… I can’t be hanging onto a maybe forever, babe. I can’t do that to Wayne. I want to help him out, have a good job so I can pay for things around the house, move out before I turn 30. Give him back his goddamn bedroom, for fuck’s sake,” Eddie scoffed bitterly, thinking about his poor Uncle’s back after years of sleeping on that shitty fold-out bed. “I want to make his life easier. He deserves that much.”

“But you could help him out even more if you became a rockstar. You could- you could buy him a big house, and he wouldn’t have to work anymore, he could just retire,” Dottie pressed on. “Didn’t you want to get out of Hawkins? Travel the world?”

“Yeah, but I think I’d miss you too much if I was away on the road all the time. I’m already suffering about you going to Michigan and that’s only three hours away. I can’t get on a tour bus and not see you for eight months, you know I’ll die if you don’t kiss me regularly,” he joked.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be right there with you on the tour bus if you asked?” she joked back but her voice was so, so earnest.

“Darling, I could never do that to you. I could never ask you to give up on a full ride scholarship for me, fuck. You earned that shit, you have to go and get your degree so I can brag about how smart you are to everyone I talk to.”

“But who’s gonna keep the groupies away from you if I’m not there?” she whispered dramatically.

“I’ll chase them out, let the guys have all of them. Got the best and only groupie I need right here,” he squeezed her to make the remnants of her insecurities go away before kissing her forehead.

“I’m not a groupie though, I’m your manager,” Dottie reminded him. “I’ll have you know, Dave and I are gonna discuss business soon.”

“Yeah? You gonna look out for us? Read all our contracts before we sign them?” Eddie played along, smirking up at her.

“I’ll get you moved from Tuesdays to Thursdays, you’ll see.”

“God, you’re so hot when you know what you want.”

“Eddie!”

“What, my girl is the smartest manager in the world and I can’t find that hot? Fuckin’ sue me then,” he laughed and leaned in to kiss her, feeling incredibly lucky about the fact that she chased his lips for more when he pulled away. “I’m being serious, though. I know you don’t believe me when I say I don’t want that rockstar shit anymore, and this is way too brave of me considering we haven’t even gone on our first official date yet, but… I dunno. I kinda really like the idea of coming back home after a long day at work and getting to hold you like this. I used to think having a normal life was so lame because I never had it and now it’s all I can think about.”

Eddie had told himself throughout his whole childhood that he didn’t want to live like his classmates. He didn’t want to have family dinners every night like they did, because it meant he would have had to eat vegetables like broccoli and carrots instead of whatever unhealthy snack he could make for himself while his Dad was out of the house for the night. He didn’t want to have perfect attendance at school, because he liked whenever he could sleep in until late before “going on an adventure” on Wyatt’s Good Days. He liked spending his summers with his Grandma, stuffing his face full of ice cream and pie, and he liked when Wayne had a few days off from his job as a trucker and returned to Hawkins bringing dumb trinkets he had probably bought at a gas station on his way home, but felt like treasures to the youngest Munson. Eddie had told himself he didn’t want anything more than what he had throughout his childhood, because Wyatt said whining was for pussies and for girls, and his son wasn’t either of those things, are you?

It wasn’t until Eddie moved in with Wayne that he found out he really liked carrots because they were unexpectedly sweet and that he didn’t like grapefruit because it was bitter. He didn’t skip a single day of school for a month and his teacher put a gold star next to his name on the wall. His clothes were now always clean, and he didn’t have to wash ketchup stains in the school’s bathroom anymore to hide them from his Dad because his shirt would be hanging from the clothesline the next day like the offending red splat had never been there in the first place. Eddie thought that living in a real house was bullshit, because he lived in a trailer now and the trailer park was fun. He could feed and pet the strays and go to the playground whenever he wanted, and the people who lived there said hi to him when they saw him collecting flat rocks to skip at the lake when Wayne took him fishing on weekends, and sometimes the old lady next door would give him a bite of watermelon if he asked nicely.

But now Eddie was 20, and he wasn’t scared of admitting he wanted more. He wanted a water heater that didn’t randomly die on him, and a bedroom without mold stains, and Wayne to have the privacy he so very much deserved after 12 years of sleeping in the living room. He wanted a garage like Gareth’s, a backyard like Jeff’s, and a loud but loving family like Donny’s. And whenever he thought about those things lately, he always ended up dreaming about lying on a big comfy couch after a hot shower with his sleepy girlfriend pressed to his side and the decadent smell of a roast cooking away in the oven. No rush, no worries. Just love.

“I think about it too,” Dottie said quietly, jostling him out of his cozy fantasy.

“You do?” he asked, surprised.

“I never had a house until we moved here, I’ve always lived in small apartments before. And it’s not like that’s a bad thing, because it isn’t! I’m really grateful I always had a roof over my head. But I used to dream a lot about having a house like my grandparents when I was younger, and… I don’t know. When I think about it now you are there too. I know, I know it’s a lot, we haven’t even, like, talked about-”

“No, no, that-,” Eddie said, an unfamiliar warmth spreading in his chest. “That sounds really nice, darling. Tell me more? About our future house?”

“Well… it changes all the time. When I see something I like, I add it so it’s always different,” she said, cheeks warm at his soft gaze. “Like, it didn’t have a front porch until I met you, but now I know I definitely want one.”

“Why did you add a porch when you met me?”

“Because you have one! I love it when we sit outside when it’s rainy, it feels really peaceful. And also I think it’s really cute that Wayne waits for you there sometimes. I… I kinda wanna do that.”

“You wanna wait for me to come home on our front porch?” Eddie asked, grip tightening around her waist.

“Mhm,” she buried her head on his neck, closing her eyes like she could see themselves in the future. “We should get a swing, I can make cushions for it. And plant fruit trees in the backyard.”

“We could set up the basement to host D&D nights,” he continued. “And a dog. We should definitely get a dog.”

“Yes. A big dog.”

“A big black dog, and we can name him Ozzy,” he smiled.

“Aw, I wanted to name him Bilbo,” she pouted.

“You can’t name a black dog Bilbo, that’s a name for a brown dog,” Eddie argued.

“We can have two dogs then, one black and one brown.”

“That’s too much, we need space for the kids.”

“K-kids?” Dottie lifted her head and stared at him like he’d just grown two heads.

“I thought you wanted kids?” he was confused.

“I do, I just… I didn’t think you wanted kids,” she admitted. “And we’re still so young, it feels strange to talk about that.”

“I mean, I definitely don’t want kids right now but maybe in like… five years-”

“Ten,” she said, in a tone that left no room to argue.

“Ten years sounds great. We could have kids in ten years, right? I’m not gonna be a loser by then.”

“Eddie, you’re not a loser,” she frowned.

“Wait until after graduation to make big statements like that, babe.”

“You’re not a loser. You’re the best rockstar mechanic in the world and Ozzy, the kids and I love you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, wiping his face with his hand. “Princess, you can’t shit like that or I’m gonna ask you to marry me before our first date.”

“Ed?” Dottie said nervously; his hand fell from his face to her thighs and he looked at her. “Are we… are we moving too fast? We haven’t even been on a real date and we’re already talking about, like, marriage and living together-”

“We’re just goofin’ around, babe,” he said, grabbing her hand. “We don’t have to do anything until we’re ready. You gotta go to Michigan first and get your degree, and I have to move out of Wayne’s, we have time. I’m just, uh, putting my cards on the table early so you can yell at me if I start being stupid. That alright with you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s alright with me,” she smiled back at him.

“Besides, everyone at The Hideout knows you’re my girl now. That’s bigger than marriage - if we break up they’ll take your side.”

“Am I?”

“Huh?”

“Am I your girl?” Dottie asked, knowing the answer but still wanting to hear it from his lips.

“You know you are,” he pulled her into a kiss before singing softly. “My girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl… my girl!”

“You’re so silly,” she giggled, noses bumping in the dark.

“But I’m your silly. You’re mine and I’m yours, okay? So no more getting upset at whatever bullshit Gareth says. I’ll kick his ass.”

“It’s not his fault. My brain just hates me sometimes.”

“I’ll fight your brain,” he said, making her giggle again. “You’re It for me, darling. We fit in together. It’s just that easy.”

“Easy,” she repeated.

Eddie had told himself a lot of lies growing up, but the biggest one was that he didn’t want a normal, quiet life, because that was lame and he wasn’t going to conform to the system like everyone else did. He understood now that maybe, just maybe, having the most regular, happy, love-filled life he could get with his high school sweetheart turned elementary school teacher and a big black dog named Ozzy, in a house with a swing on the front porch, enough rooms for children that didn’t exist yet, and a basement where he could DM as many campaigns as he could think of, would probably be the biggest act of defiance he could do in the eyes of a town who thought he would never be deserving of the common luxuries everyone else got to have without having to fight for them.

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

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pearlypairings · 9 months

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Pssst.

Hey.

Hey you...

I did something, mmm, kinda out of the ordinary for my usual writing routine. AKA started a fic that's not hellcheer for once😅 forgive me Father Eddie, for I have sinned—

jonathan x chrissy | wip : 6k wc | slowburn, angst, eventual fluff | ch 2/?

summary: a photography commission from the unofficial Queen of Hawkins for her boyfriend sends introverted Jonathan Byers on a reluctant journey, discovering not all cheerleaders are the same. Some are very observant, thoughtful, and even full of self-doubt and responsibility like him...

read below the line for a preview :)

Jonathan carefully plucked the latest batch of photos from the first wash bin. The darkroom was bathed in red with the faint hum of the safelights burrowing into the background, Jonathan’s focus undeterred by the constant buzzing. Whenever he pulled those heavy darkroom curtains closed, he drifted into another world, a state of perfect flow for his work.

Last weekend he’d spent over 6 hours stalking through the woods, hoping to find the perfect overcast shadows over Skull Rock or a fawn grazing on the new growth at the edge of the pines. Instead, Jonathan had stumbled upon the ruins of a Hawkins High party, practically apocalyptic in nature with the way cans, bottles, and clothes were left strewn about the brush and the earth floor.

He had nearly rushed through the littered party ruins until a glint of the noon sun caught his eye. Under the cover of a weedy fern, a dainty gold necklace glimmered in the light, half-covered in patches of dirt and surrounded by a heavy shoe print, a thick-soled sneaker by the looks of the imprint. It was almost too poetic; the year of his graduation stuck out from under the dirt, bathed in a golden light, while the chain buckled under the dirt and grime of the life around it, like dismal foreshadowing.

Minutes ticked on as he adjusted his camera’s lens for a close-up, leaning back on his left foot to get the angle just right for the flare above the "86" pendant. He snapped two just in case—keeping his fingers crossed that he captured the foreboding atmosphere. There was something magnetic about it.

The rest of the afternoon he shot about a dozen more photos, including a rabbit poking its head out from its burrow which the older Hawkins folk would adore, a family of mossy stones congregating by a snaking vine, and a majestic hawk, brownish in color, opening its wide wingspan from its perch on the pine tree.

Not his best nature photography by his own scale, but there had to be something usable for the Hawkins Post, who always seemed in need of decent local photography to accompany their articles. He’d already been featured twice this past summer from his photos of the town fair and the downtown block party.

Jonathan had to wait until today to process the film; Tuesdays were when Mrs. Franklin unlocked the school’s darkroom for the school newspaper, The Weekly Streak, and the yearbook club. Jonathan had joined both groups in order to utilize the room for free and made sure to at least do the bare minimum for each club meeting. Mrs. Franklin turned a blind eye whenever he brought in his own film to develop, casually complimenting his artsy photos of sad, empty parking lots, once even slipping him a Lincoln to tuck a portrait of a distant stranger at Lover’s Lake into her spiral agenda.

Being a senior meant he only had one more year to take advantage of free film developing, a perk he never took for granted, since his part-time job at the Hawk barely covered the extra groceries at home—let alone stuff for Jonathan’s expensive hobby. Film added up pretty quickly, so whatever change was left over from his paycheck, he scrimped and saved until he could buy another 33mm cartridge from Melvald’s. The supplies for developing were way more than that and harder to conserve. With that somber idea in mind, he took care in transferring the first three photos from the prep solution to the next chemical mixture, not wasting a single scrap of this opportunity.

Some days he wondered if the acrid fumes helped or hindered him, the chemicals seeping into the air with a heavy, almost-metallic smell. As a freshman, it used to burn his nose, his eyes, any of the sensitive sources for sensation. Three years of experience later, he barely noticed any odor, having drifted with the humming of the safelights into the background of his awareness.

With the last slosh of the bath, Jonathan nearly jumped with the classroom light suddenly poking through the slit of the door creaking opening. If these photos were ruined, he’d have to start the painstakingly lengthy process all over again from the negatives. Fred Benson, another senior in the journalism club, had a habit of ignoring the “in use: keep out” sign and incidentally destroying all of Jonathan’s hardwork with his objectionable entrances.

Jonathan sighed, almost a groan by its volume, in exasperation. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Fred’s incessant questions right now; he always seemed to have special requests for his articles at the last minute. And while he claimed to prefer Jonathan’s work to the other student photographers, it never stopped him from making Jonathan retake photos of the same art class gallery or demanding another professional headshot for his college portfolio.

He covered the bins and snuck past the curtain protecting the developing photos, narrowing his eyes at the unwelcome thorn in his side. “Fr–”

“I’m sorry,” The voice that interrupted was sweet, meek even. Definitely not Fred’s weasley intonation and that caught Jonathan off guard. “Fred said it was okay to come in, but I should have waited—you look busy.”

Chrissy Cunningham shrunk her frame, her arms crossed over her cheer sweater, with the dip of her head showing off the blonde bangs perfectly coiffed over her brows......

More in the link:)

#jonathan byers #chrissy cunningham #jonathan byers x chrissy cunningham #who am i #it's angsty #totally opposites attract #but with more in common than they thought #photocheer #cheerbyers #jonissy #jason is an asshole #as per usual #stranger things rarepair #stranger things fanfic #the only way this works is if Eddie does not exist in this AU #bc obviously there'd be no competition against mr “mean and scary” <3

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abeinginsand · 1 year

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Scary has four memories involving her stepdad's old mirror. Out of the four, she's only looked at her reflection once. --- Parts: Prologue (Ron & TJ), Memory 1 (here), Memory 2, Memory 3, Memory 4 --- The first time is moving day. It was the worst day of the year because it officially meant that she and her mom weren't living alone anymore. Terry was carving a place for himself here and her mom was smiling more than she had in years. Scary was frowning the most she had in years.

After an hour of sitting on the couch and playing on her phone, she begrudgingly helped carry his boxes in to their house. Not because she wanted to help him or anything! Its just...he made a super dramatic sound like some wimpy cartoon character at one point. A pile of three boxes tumbling out of his hands and onto the floor. Loud enough for Scary to hear over the music blasting in her ear buds. It looked like he tripped over something and her mom was taking important phone calls in her office. So it was just the two of them downstairs and it would be....annoying if he hurt himself (or whatever). Scary sighed heavily, pushed herself off the couch, and walked over to him. Terry was already getting back up by the time she reached the mess of boxes. They both stare at each other once he realizes she's there. Terry breaks the silence first with a "Oh! hey sweetheart--I mean er um--Scary, you okay? Did you need help with something?" She furrowed her eyebrows and bent down, snatching two of the smaller boxes off the floor. When she stands up, Scary replies, "I don't know, Terry, seems to me that you're the one who needs help." Scary hadn't meant to say it like that but maybe if she adds in a glare he'll be convinced. Except all he does is rub the back of his own neck, smile, and thank her for the help. She doesn't get why he always seems so happy to talk to her... But at least for now, she doesn't have to think about the why. Unlike her mom, Terry says its cool if she plays her music out loud. So the two spend a few hours bringing the rest of the stuff in with her fav songs surrounding them. The last item that they end up carrying together is a floor length mirror. Mom's done with her work stuff so she's helping with it too. It seems well taken care of, so its easy to make out the strange engraving on the top of the mirror's frame: Stud. Sometimes, while they were bringing stuff in that day--Terry would talk about the items in each box. About worn soccer balls and costumes from his favorite productions. School yearbooks and a few books his own mom wrote. Pressed flower bookmarks, various posters, scrap books, family photos, and Pokémon card collections.. That's why Scary remembers so clearly that he got quiet when they brought the big mirror in. ----- Parts: Prologue (Ron & TJ), Memory 1 (here), Memory 2, Memory 3, Memory 4

#scary marlowe #terry stampler #terry jr stampler #dndads #dndads s2 #dndads headcanon #dndads fic #she changed her name but hasnt quit soccer yet for this fic timeline #abeinginsand talk tag #abeinginsand writing tag

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deafchild2000 · 1 year

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I refuse to believe Charlotte was never supposed to be a mermaid.

Was the timing shitty with mermaids already occupying the area? Yes.

Did it help that she formed a crush on a mermaid's ex and dated them (with permission, just to add)? Not really.

And did it help that said mermaids were being hypocrites dealing with their own issues and used her for a scapegoat before she fought back? Definitely not!

But I refuse to believe that Charlotte becoming a mermaid was never meant to happen.

It's fair game (I'm willing to admit) about Gracie's locket. She threw it at the bottom of the Moon Pool, so it's open to interpretation she didn't care for its fate as she wanted it out of her life (like Max & being a mermaid). But why keep drawings of Mako, the Moon Pool, and Max? Why continue to wear homemade jewelry? Why even tell Charlotte stories about the ocean if she didn't want any of that a part of her life!?

I can't help but believe she couldn't. Aside from my "Mako is Sentient" headcanon (which might have merit), the only thing I truly believe is that she subconsciously knew Charlotte would end up a mermaid.

Whether she was one of those individuals with that "special touch" or she & Mako Island had a magical link, Gracie knew that she couldn't avoid her past forever. If Mako indeed had a link and kept calling her back, she ignored it and probably kept Annette from going to the Gold Coast just in case. But if she knew she wouldn't live long to keep her family from going to Mako, then at least she should prepare someone who might come into contact with the island: Her own granddaughter.

And to add more fuel to the fire, every time the girls and Lewis tried to debunk her findings and steer her away, she only just got closer to the truth. (Lewis's fib about the lockets being mass-produced would've been clever, had it not been for Charlotte's mom - GRACIE'S DAUGHTER - being a direct line of source to tell her otherwise!) Not to mention having a picture mounted up would of course lead to the possibility - even so slim - that there's more to be found, hence worth the risk of stealing that film (And HER MOM who helped digitize the film as well!)

Seriously, if the writers had been smarter, all you need is a scene with Charlotte digging up Gracie's high school yearbook and (using her drawing) narrowing down the search for Max Hamilton before tracking down a phone number to call! Luckily, Lewis saved her the trouble and led her straight to Max himself thanks to her keen eyes and Lewis's track record with lies at that point!

But here's the real kicker: 2x13 "Moonwalker".

This is the shit here you can't make up! Look:

First: Charlotte finds Cleo just...standing there. Look, if the whole idea was for Cleo to find the moon pool, she'd have already been gone. Instead, she's just standing still as Charlotte approaches.

Next, notice how the camera pans between both girls. Charlotte is genuinely confused & concerned and Cleo is...appearing as if she's contemplating something before locating the land entrance to the Moon Pool (and if I really wanted to go there, I'd almost say she's listening for unspoken orders.)

She walked and literally dropped down the tunnel, and Charlotte chased after her like any sane person who was thinking " Follow her and see if she's okay!" And down the rabbit hole, she goes...

Seeing Cleo nowhere in sight, Charlotte follows the steps - literally - until she finds the Moon Pool. And there goes Cleo, in mermaid form, watching her from underwater in what I can tell is curiosity? Expectation? Anticipation? And not a moment too soon, Emma and Rikki join her.

Suddenly, they look worried as she tries to touch the moon pool once it's activated while Charlotte's just enchanted at the sight. But why? Cleo lured her there! But Emma exchanges glances with them before freezing the pool before Charlotte could touch it.

See this is where I see y'all antis come in and say "Well, that means Charlotte didn't deserve to be a mermaid" or "I guess that means even Mako didn't see her as worthy" but that's the point: The choice was taken out of her hands by the mermaids themselves! When the moonstruck phase was wearing off, they looked to Emma - who froze the pool before Charlotte could touch it!

This wasn't some "let-loose, drunk girl", power-overloading, siren-singing nonsense! This was some Otherworldly, puppet-master-pulling-your-strings entity bullshit calling the shots! And since we now know Mako can create sentient beings in S3, this just gets spookier in the long run!

Mako is a literal, magic place associated with mermaids. It would later create a Water Tentacle to warn them of an impending threat! And best of all, this happened 8 episodes before Charlotte had even a reason to connect Gracie with the island and mermaids. The reason she was even able to find the place was because of Cleo!

Mako wanted Charlotte there. It had to recognize a former mermaid through her (Gracie) & used Cleo to bring her to the Moon Pool. The girls were watching to see what she would do before something comes over them and stops her.

Why? Why stop her? What would have happened if it was just Cleo watching her?

But perhaps that's the biggest foreshadowing Jonathan gave us for the rest of the season:

Mako wanted her as a mermaid, but the occupants would refuse to accept her.

#h2o just add water #charlotte deserves better #cleo sertori #emma gilbert #rikki chadwick #Charlotte watsford #mako island

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hiddenobject-fanblog · 1 month

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His Soul (Chapter 9)

The Book

Summary: After saving the abducted collectors, you were trusted with Curioso's box. What seems like a dangerous possession slowly turns into an opportunity to learn more about this creature and his curse. Can you earn his trust, and possibly, his affection?

Pairings: Curioso/Reader, Curioso/The Detective

You woke up to your alarm on a quiet morning, which would normally calm you, but it felt like your nerves were on fire when you made a realization. You jumped out of bed and rushed out of your room first thing. You found Curioso laying on the couch. The TV was turned off and he instead clutched a large book in his hands, open to a page that looked something like a collage.

When you got closer, you recognized it as one of your high school yearbooks. When your steps became audible, the jester shut it instantly and sat up in surprise. He sat it down and turned to you with his smile which now appeared sheepish.

“Detective! Good morning,” His tone was nervous. You blinked at him, still trying to wake yourself up.

“Were you looking through my yearbooks?”

He glanced at the large edition sitting beside him and shrugged. “I got bored and then I got curious. You don’t have a lot to do around here.”

“Mm,” You waved him off and headed towards the bathroom. You could take care of your morning business now that you made sure he was still here.

While you were brushing your teeth, your eyes were blinded when a flash of light entered the room. You swung around to find the jester teleporting through the door to hold up a picture to you. “-I can’t believe you were in the photography club!”

“ Curioso !” You scolded, swatting at him and trying to keep some distance. Your bathroom was small and he was nearly 7 feet tall. Surely he knew what ‘personal space’ meant? “You can’t just barge in here!”

“The door was locked,” He responded simply.

“For a reason !” You exclaimed, twisting the knob and pushing him out. You slammed it behind him and rinsed out your mouth, grumbling to yourself the entire time.

“-You were in track & field, too? I didn’t think you were the athletic type,” His voice resumed from the other side of the wood. At least he wasn’t trying to get back in.

You dried your hands off and sighed. “Those days were long ago. I’m not as fit as I used to be.”

“Detectives usually aren’t,” He replied.

You opened the door and found him standing right outside, grinning down at you. You shook your head and swiped the yearbook from his hands, returning it to its proper shelf. You headed to the kitchen and he was on your tail, sitting on the counter again as he watched you make yourself some coffee.

“What’s for breakfast?” He pried.

You thought about it. “Eh…A bagel with some cream cheese, I guess. You don’t want anything, do you?”

“I can’t,” He replied sadly.

You sifted through your drawers. “Well…what did you use to have? Back in those good ol’ days?”

“Cereal. I remember having a lot of cheerios.”

That checked out, if his favorite dinner had told you anything about himself. You smiled to yourself as you toasted the bagel and applied some cream cheese. You sat down at your small table and he joined you from the other aside - a replication of what had happened last night. You found yourself appreciating the company…it was always so quiet and boring in the morning before you got to work.

“I think you mentioned something about setting some ground rules?” He reminded you.

“Oh. Right.” You swallowed your bite and drummed your fingers on the table. “Uhh…well, rule number one: You can’t invade my privacy, which means not teleporting wherever you want. If my door is locked, then I DON’T want you in there.”

“I apologize,” He offered with a humble bow of his head.

“Rule number two: No teleporting without telling me. And that includes if you’re about to barge in on me somewhere!”

His smile was coy.

“Rule number three: No touching any of the knives around here.”

“What? You think I’m going to try and kill you?”

His tone was teasing, but it sent shivers down your spine. While you were sure his intent wasn’t to ever KILL any of the collectors, you couldn’t get the imagery out of your mind. With Raymond strapped to that machine as sharp knives hurled at him…and when that poor woman, Julia Hadey, was close to burning alive after Curioso trapped her in a picture. This creature clearly had a sadistic side, and you didn’t want to ever see it again.

“Rule number four-” You tried to keep your voice steady. “You go back in the box when I tell you to. No fighting me on it.”

He sighed. “I assume that time is coming soon?”

“It is.” You stood to put your plate in the sink. “Oh, and…final rule: Don’t go through my things without asking.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad…”

You shook your head in amusement, excusing yourself to get dressed for the day. Curioso finally granted you some privacy and only greeted you when you stepped back in the living room. You motioned for him to follow you down in the office. He obeyed, albeit a little slow and clearly disappointed.

When you held the paper up that had the code to get him back in, a mechanical hand grabbed it from you. You were about to reprimand him until it flashed and a different order magically appeared on the lines. You narrowed your eyes and looked at him skeptically.

“I may have lied to you, Detective, and I’m sorry for that,” He handed it back to you and clasped his hands behind his back. “What matters is that I fixed it.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the box, pressing the symbols in the new order that he gave to you. You had a feeling he erased the correct code and was presenting you with a distraction, but the purple mist claimed its prisoner once more, and you were satisfied when he was finally brought back. Patting the top of it with satisfaction, you left to go get your office ready for the day.

----

Despite the pleasant morning you two had, there was still something important on your mind. You had to get this business done while you could - it was imperative that you had better control of this situation, and to understand the predicament you’d gotten yourself into.

You strode down into the office and threw on your coat, placing your hat on your head as you double-checked your pockets. As you were about to leave, you paused in the doorway. You didn’t need to inform Curioso where you were going, but you felt some sort of inclination to announce your absence, anyway.

“I’ll be out running an errand,” You raised your voice so he could hear. “I’ll be back soon.”

Without another word, you shut the door behind you.

---

Your eyes were focused as you drove to Andrew Collins’ house, the large structure looking better since the last time you’d seen it. The gates were clear of any thorns and roses that blocked it before. They easily opened the moment you pulled up. You called the owner an hour prior to ask if you could visit, and he seemed intrigued when you stated your business.

You paused to admire the clear sky above you as you stepped out of your car. You climbed the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell. It wasn’t long before Andrew answered you, and he smiled politely. He stepped to the side and motioned you in.

“Detective! What a pleasure to see you again. Please, come in.”

You helped yourself inside and hung your coat and hat on the rack by the door. It wasn’t long before you were looking around, dumbfounded. It was strange to see the place in no disarray at all, everything was lively and bright. The rooms and stairs were completely repaired and there had been no implication of any trouble here before. It looked like an eloquent place. Andrew noticed your admiration as he moved around you.

“We’ve been working on getting the estate repaired since Curioso’s… game caused such a ruckus.” He finished with a pause. “I’m having it listed on the market tomorrow. I’ve decided to move towns since we last spoke.”

Your expression grew interested. “Oh? What made you want to move?”

“As dangerous as it was, the game did enlighten me on a few things.” He led you over to the sitting area and motioned for you to take a seat. You gladly rested in a comfortable chair. “While collecting things was something that kept me financially happy, I realized it was no way to live. I’m going to leave my past behind me and start anew in the countryside, to find a way to help people.”

“That’s good to hear,” Your voice brightened at the news. “I hope things go well for you, Andrew.”

“As do I.” He cleared his throat. “I…understand you’re here to ask me some questions?”

“Oh, yes,” You replied, sitting forward and taking your gloves off. There was no need for them right now. “I understand you were the one who obtained Curioso’s box…and since you’ve given it to me, I’ve been curious about some things.”

His grin turned sheepish. “I apologize for giving it to you without asking.. I simply didn’t want it anymore, and seeing as you were the one to put him back, I figured it was you who deserved to have it. But I know it was a dangerous thing to gift someone-”

You waved a hand at him. “-I’m not here to accuse you of anything. I should actually thank you for the gift, as it made a great momentum of the case. I’ve taken good care of it.”

“I see. What is it you wanted to ask, exactly?”

“You received the box from a friend of yours, if I remember right. I wanted to ask if you knew about its whereabouts before then?”

“You mean Willy? He is an old friend of mine who owed me for quite a few… things . I didn’t expect him to give me that box, but I thought it was beautiful and erased all his debt for it. He claimed it was something special, but I hadn’t known what he meant back then.” Andrew paused to think. “-I’ve known Willy to take odd jobs and go different places from time-to-time. His latest employment at the time was at a local circus in his town.”

“Circus?” You repeated.

“Yes, he was one of the janitors there that cleaned after the performances. I didn’t ask too many questions, wanting to add the box to my collection right away. But I would assume he got it from there…I wish I could give you his number, but he disappeared after giving me that box. I haven’t been able to contact him since.”

You were disappointed, but carried on with the conversation. “-So you think Curioso’s box came from that circus?”

“I would have no better guess. And as for anything before that, I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

Your lips thinned into a line as you took this information in. It certainly looked like something that came from a circus - it was colorful and grabbed the attention of onlookers. And seeing as Curioso was a jester…maybe that idea wasn’t far-fetched. You only wished you could’ve asked this ‘Willy’ person yourself to know for sure.

“When you first got the box, it freed Curioso since your collection woke him up. Had he ever…spoken to you before that? Or was there anything amiss that you could see?”

“I’m afraid I saw nothing wrong at first. I had no idea there was anything even in it. I did try opening the thing, but the box didn’t budge, so I assumed it was a decorative item. I didn’t want to damage it in any way. It wasn’t long before Curioso jumped out of it…I had barely been in my house when he sprang out. It scared the life out of me!”

“What was your guy’s first interaction like?”

“He wasn’t friendly at all, if that’s what you’re asking. He told me he collected human souls and that I was to help him to obtain people. He threatened me when I refused - and I was too terrified to fight back. When I brought the other collectors, I learned what he was doing…he was collecting the dark secrets and vices of these people. I had no idea what they were like when I met them, but Curioso told me their deepest secrets and wrongdoings.”

“-He threatened you?” You were still surprised by this part of the story.

“He made it clear that if I didn’t work with him, my soul would be the next of his that he would cage and never let go. I was afraid to challenge him after seeing his powers. He seemed angry, Detective. I’m not sure if it was towards me , or the situation he was in. I think he holds a grudge against humanity, since his only goal was to expose the darkest secrets of those he was collecting.”

You drummed your fingers on your knee, trying to theorize for yourself. Curioso emerged from the box angry and determined with his goal…so you had to assume something happened to him to cause this. But why would someone be so vexed if they came from the circus? You knew some had poor treatment of their workers, but…he was just a box, wasn’t he? Why would he despise humanity so badly?

Andrew noticed your silence and stood from his seat. You were snapped back to reality when he reached over and grabbed something from a nearby table.

“When you called me about the case, I remembered something that I forgot to tell you about. When Willy gave me the box, he handed me something else. He told me it came with it but he had no clue what it was. I assumed it was some sort of instruction manual or how to clean it - but I never had the opportunity to read it, as Curioso hid it from me after breaking his box. While we were cleaning up the other day, I found it, and thankfully, it’s still intact.”

He handed you a book. You blinked twice as you took it from him - there was no title on it beyond a strange symbol on the front. You opened it and glanced through the pages, only to see odd diagrams and several pages of text. You’d have to read this later.

“Do you know what it is?” You asked.

“I’ve only read a little bit of the book, and most of it is cryptic. It must’ve belonged to some magician or educator, because it gave me a headache. I think it has something to do with the box…but I don’t know what . If Curioso hid it from me, then it must be important.”

“I see.”

“I regret that I have little more to tell you. I’ve checked in with the others and we are recovering rather well,” A grateful look washed over his face as he leaned over to shake your hand again. “I don’t know how to thank you for freeing me, Detective. It was mad to be in that monster’s control!”

A hum escaped your mouth, remembering something else you hadn’t asked about. “How exactly did Curioso know about me, by the way?”

He gestured to a newspaper sitting on the table. “I grab the paper every day to read during my spare time. Curioso happened to catch your name in one of the articles and demanded that I retrieve you for him. He seemed rather eager about it.”

That made sense. You completed a case not long before Andrew retrieved you for the missing collectors. You have that print at home among your other things with the cases to remember it by. You recall reading it several times that morning, beaming in your seat at the time, proud to have made it in the town’s publication again. You had a feeling it would bring more publicity your way…but you would’ve never predicted what happened next.

You grasped the book tightly in your hands, standing and tipping your head. “Thank you for your time, Andrew, and I wish you well.”

“And I hope the best for your business. Just be careful of Curioso. I’m not sure where he’s from and how to control that blasted box…I hope you can figure things out.”

“I’ll try,” You headed towards the front door and shrugged your coat back on. You couldn’t help smirking. “It looks like you’ve given me a new investigation.”

He sighed melancholy. “Hopefully it’s an easier one than the first I gave you. Good luck, Detective.”

----

You sat in your car for an awful long time, the book opened on your lap and your eyes narrowed in confusion.

Andrew was right - it was extremely cryptic. It was either written in another language or a code you couldn’t understand. Why would Curioso go through the trouble of hiding this thing if no one could read it? You struggled to understand its importance but you knew it held significant weight. Maybe, if you were lucky…the jester himself would tell you. But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen so easily.

You shut it with a defeated sigh and got out of your car. You locked it and headed into your office - unlocking the front door and announcing your presence with a tired groan. Trying to read that thing gave you a massive headache. You should probably lay down for a bit.

“Why do you have it?”

You were snapped to attention by Curioso’s voice, which came from his box that you left on your desk. It was glowing a bright purple…you didn’t know what that meant exactly. You approached it and tugged off your gloves casually. How he knew you had the book was beyond you…but you were going to try and tread carefully.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Tell me. Why do you have it?”

He sounded upset, so honesty sounded like the best route to you. “Andrew Collins gave it to me.”

“You visited Andrew?” Curioso’s voice was a mix between confusion and anger. This didn't bode well for you. “Why?”

“To check on him, of course. He’s not the first client I’ve visited after closing a case.” You moved to hang your coat by the door. “The others are doing fine, by the way. Nancy and everyone else. They’ve been recovering well since your ‘game’.”

The jester either didn’t care or decided not to address that for now. He was still hung up on your new possession. “You need to get rid of it. Do you understand me, Detective?”

“Woah. Hold on.” You held your hands up as you stepped towards him defensively. “What is it about this thing that you don’t like?”

“You don’t need it, ” He growled. You blinked a couple of times in surprise. That was a new sound.

“Maybe I do. Andrew told me it came with your box, so I should keep the collection together, right?”

A frustrated noise emerged from it and you were half filled with amusement. The other half was fear…as you’d only heard him this angry when you betrayed him. You much preferred his playful attitude over whatever was currently going on.

“How about you give it to me and I can hold onto it for you? That way, it never leaves the box!”

You crossed your arms, the word easily leaving your tongue. “No.”

“Ugh! Why are you being so difficult?! Just hand it over to me!”

“What is it, really?” You leaned on your desk so you were right beside him. “I have the funniest feeling that there’s something you’re not telling me here.”

“...”

“Andrew said you hid this from him the moment you broke free. You didn’t want him to see it. But..” You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion. “..He couldn’t even read it. So why bother?”

“...”

“What’s in this book and why do you not want anyone reading it?”

“...”

“Curioso, come on. You can tell me.” You waited a minute before adding, “-You can trust me.”

“ Get rid of it. ” He repeated. You could hear the strain he was putting himself through and decided this would be the most you would get out of him. You decided to approach something else in the meantime.

“Alright, then…” You leaned against the desk. “Andrew also told me Willy gave you to him from the circus. Is that true?

“I am not telling you anything until you get rid of-”

“Fine, fine, fine.” You snapped, growing impatient with this game. If he wasn’t going to answer your questions right now, then you weren’t going to pry. “Forget that I asked.”

As you were about to storm out of the room, his voice stopped you. “Detective…that part is true. But I am not willing to indulge you any more until you’ve listened to me.”

“I’m not going to get rid of this book just because you don’t like it.” You turned around impatiently. “Even if it’s bad, I’ve got to know what it is.”

He was exasperated at your stubbornness. “Why?”

“Because…it’s a part of you, and I want to know everything.” Your heart beat nervously as you said these words. “If you like seeing the dark vices of human souls, then I want to see yours .”

It was a fact you didn’t want him to know…that you were curious about him and his past. Where he could’ve come from and what he is exactly. You were determined to learn about this creature no matter how difficult it would be. And that included whatever was in this book. If it turned out that it had nothing to do with him at all…then you would apologize. But you had the greatest feeling that it was some secret he was trying to hide.

He grew silent, and you took this opportunity to leave. You’d have to find someone who could help you translate this book.

#hidden object #hidden object game #big fish games #curioso #fanfiction #whispered secrets morbid obsession #whispered secrets: morbid obsession #his soul #x reader #curioso x reader

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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Christmas countdown day 13:

Senator Steve and intern reader (BOC)

She took Steve to her family's Christmas party. It was just a gathering at her parents ranch and Steve has a time of his life with her family. You can make them get ready for the party in her childhood bedroom 😉 sweet and intimate at the same time. Now that they have kissed, there'd be more sexual tension between them.

Christmas Countdown day 13 — Attend a Christmas party

“You didn’t have to come to this,” you’re speaking from behind the privacy screen in your bedroom, the little unique item that speaks to the teenage years of your life that still stands in your childhood bedroom, “as Senator and future president I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Steve’s been busy flicking through your yearbook while he waits for you to get dressed, and he finds himself admiring who you were before you left home as much as he admired and loves you now. Even in highschool in a small town, you had a bleeding heart with the drive to help change the world. You’d been in leadership club and you helped run a few charity sales at your school, all local stuff that wouldn’t have meant anything to anyone outside of the town limits.

“Better things to do than spend time with your parents? And your dad’s best friend? Better things to do than drink cheap beer and pop-“ Steve raises his head and finds himself unable to breathe when you step around the corner.

Its not even anything significant or dazzling, its a plaid skirt and a red silk top that’s tucked into the waist of your skirt. Its not anything high class or designer, nothing that would have cost you or Steve thousands of dollars, and yet it stuns him.

You adjust the waist while he’s staring, mindlessly taking in every element of this moment so he can look back at it with unrestricted eyes. You are breathtaking, you are beyond measurable words.

You make feel Steve blissfully young again.

“-my parents have this tradition of hiding a pickle, fake of course, in the Christmas tree and whoever finds it first gets to open a present.” Steve only realizes that you’ve been talking to him when you step before him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He stands, the distance absolutely minimal between you. “You are just…”

He can’t speak, he can’t find the words to say, so instead he lets his actions speak for him. He lets his lips dance and graze against your flesh as he pulls you closer and pours every conceivable emotion into that kiss.

He allows his thoughts to be translated to the way his hands hold you, to the light in his eyes that search your own when he has to give you air. Steve let’s the steady thrush of silence and the radiating tension that coils in both of you like hot, heady iron.

“There is no where else I would rather be.” He slips a hand down your side around to your back, holding you steady as he drops his lips to the crook of your neck and breathes you in.

“Good, because you’re going to be the best thing about this party.” You lean into him, you kiss him back with just as much hunger and need, hoping for a few more minutes that get interrupted by the door opening.

“You may be consenting adults but I still want this door open.” Your stepdad grins brightly, teasing you and the senator like you’re nothing but horny kids.

“Dad-“ you groan and turn on your heel, staring down your dad as his grins widens.

“You knew the rules then, you know the rules now.” He shifts his gaze to Steve and clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Wanna grab a beer, Steve?”

“Yeah, thank you.” Steve winks at you in passing, stealing one last kiss before he leaves and joins the rest of the party.

#imaginedreamwrite’s christmas countdown #imaginedreamwrite’s countdown to christmas #Christmas countdown day 13 #countdown to Christmas Day 13 #breach of contract series: Christmas countdown day 13

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tastypurevanilla · 2 years

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ɢɪꜰ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛꜱ

ℙ𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴋᴜʀᴏᴋᴏ ᴛᴇᴛꜱᴜʏᴀ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ: ɴᴏ ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴇᴅ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1374 (ᴍɪᴅ)

ᴛʏᴘᴇ: ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʀᴅ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀʟꜱᴏ "ɪɴᴠɪꜱɪʙʟᴇ"

ʟɪɴᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

School had just ended and most students were going to their respective after school clubs or practice. You on the other hand, were getting ready to go take pictures of the basketball club for the first yearbook. You are the head of the photography and yearbook club, even though you're a first year.

There were only five of you in the club but you didnt mind. It meant you didn't have to deal with a whole horde of people. Currently you were on your way to the basketball court to take pictures of the team. Riko Aida, the boys coach, had asked you to come take pictures today since everyone would be there.

You gently knocked on the gym doors and waited a moment. It opened to reveal the megane captain. He looked around for a moment before going to close the door. "Um... Is Riko here?" You asked as he looked down to you, as if he just noticed you were there. "Where did you even come from?" He asked with a slight head tilt.

"I was here the whole time." You said looking down and playing with the camera bag a bit. "Riko asked me to take pictures for the yearbook." You looked back up to him when you heard another set off footsteps. The person who you identified as Riko smiled and pulled you inside the gym, leaving Junpei to close the door.

She blew her whistle and got the attention off all the members. "Alright, listen up. I invited the head of the year book club to come take pictures of your practice today." She said putting her hands on her hips. You on the other hand, had your sights locked on a blue haired first year who didnt seem too interested.

Kagami raised his hand and asked, "When is he gonna be here." Riko furrowed her brows and placed a hand on your shoulder, making you jump slightly and look over to her. "Kagami, he's been standing here the whole time." Most of their eyes widened as they just noticed the (h/c) male standing with a camera.

"You do the same thing as Kuroko." Kagami said, making you look up to him. Riko clapped her hands, "Right. Get back to practice." The team nodded and went back to what they were doing. Riko pulled you aside and thanked you for coming in to take pictures. You nodded and said, "They wont notice me so I can get some good shots. After today I'll go through and pick out all the good ones and print them out for you guys to look at."

Riko smiled and ushered you to do your job which you gladly did.

Practice had gone well, them playing a few 3 on 3's and you got some amazing shots. Someone who you liked to focus on though was the invisible bluenette who you have yet to meet. His passes were incredible. On top of that Kagami had crazy jumping power. You had several shots of him jumping by that point.

Riko called for a break and you sat down next to her to look at all the pictures you took. You deleted some of the blurry or messed up ones and kept looking through them. You heard a soft set of footsteps approach you and sit down next to you. You looked up to the male and smiled softly.

He seemed slightly surprised that you had acknowledged him but smiled softly back none the less. "Do you wanna look at some of these with me while you're on break?" You asked, moving the camera over so he could see them better. He didnt say anything and just nodded.

There were a lot of pictures that the two of you ended up looking through. The comfortable silence between you was broken when Riko called for everyone to get back to practice. You went back to taking pictures and soon enough, the time for practice had run out.

"I'll have a bunch of pictures for you guys to look at tomorrow." You said turning off the camera, letting it rest in its case. "Thank you again for doing this. If you ever want to come take pictures again, we have a practice game coming up soon." You nodded and bowed slightly. "I'll work it into the schedule. I still have other clubs to take pictures for but I'm sure I can go to that practice game."

You said placing your fist in your palm. "Awesome! I'll see you tomorrow." Riko said with a wave as you head off to your home. You decided to stop by Maji Burger to grab dinner and start transferring photos from your camera to your phone. You got what you usually got and decided to claim the corner booth.

A few minutes of you transferring photos and getting your food to eat, you noticed the same bluenette walk in. He seemed to have noticed you too which made you smile. A few more minutes passed when he came over to you and asked, "Is this seat taken." You shook your head and he sat down across from you. "Watching you play today was really incredible." You said looking up to him.

He was sipping on his milkshake as he shrugged. "Its just how I play. Since I cant do what the other guys do anyway." You smiled and paused the transfer. You picked up your camera and when he wasn't looking, snapped a picture of him drinking his milkshake. He heard the camera click and looked back over to you. You had a soft smile on you face as his cheeks lit up softly.

You went back to transferring pictures when suddenly Kagami set his stuff down and sat next to you, making you scoot closer to the wall. "Oh, I'm (Y/n) by the way." You said looking over to the bluenette. "Kuroko." He said gently. The red head nearly choked on his food when you spoke. "There was two of you here?" You and Kuroko both nodded.

"Its ok, he does that a lot." Kuroko said, scooting a little closer towards the inside of the booth. Kagami looked over your shoulder at the camera, seeing a picture of you practically underneath him while he was going in for a dunk. "When the hell did you get that picture?!" He asked loudly. You laughed, making your eyes close for a moment. "You were really into the 3 on 3 and that was what you needed to win."

You and Kagami chatted for a moment while Kuroko just stared at your smiling face. You glanced over to him which seemed to have caught him off guard cause he looked away with a soft flush on his face.

Almost an hour had passed of the three of you chatting about various topics when you looked down to your watch. "Ah, I have to head home. I have a photoshoot tomorrow morning." You said looking up to Kagami to let you out. He shockingly got the hint and stood up, allowing you to get your stuff and stand.

"I'll see you guys around. I'll be at the practice match so if we don't see each other before then, I'll see you there!" They both smiled, even if Kurokos was barely noticeable, and waved you off. You got about halfway down the block when you heard someone running behind you. You saw Kagami, full sprinting towards you. You decided to stop and step out of the way so he didn't run into you.

He stopped a few steps away, breathing a bit heavily. "You, forgot your wallet." He said holding it out to you. "T-thank you Kagami." You said taking it from him. He smiled and nodded, heading back to where he ran from. You noticed a slip of paper sticking out of your wallet.

Pulling it out it read:

You decided to shoot the number a quick text saying it was you and that you got the message. Said number confirmed it was Kuroko and you smiled as he sent another message.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

I would like to get to know you better.

-Kuroko Tetsuya

Let's meet up after-school tomorrow if you aren't too tired. :)

#tvp oneshot #tpv sfw #tpv knb #kuroko x male reader #kuroko tetsuya x male reader #kurokos basketball x male reader #x male reader #mxm #m4m

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spookman404 · 1 year

Text

The Last First Day NaNoWriMo C2 11/5/22

When I pulled into the parking lot for my first day of senior year, I didn’t get out, not immediately. I didn’t want to jump the gun like everyone else and get stuck cramming myself through the front doors. Instead, I parked my car at the back of the lot and let the engine run, warming my hands with the heat leaking from my truck’s less than impressive AC vents. I tried to sink as low as I could in my seat so I could people-watch in peace, only poking my eyes up high enough to see just over the top of my steering wheel.

I had a clear view of the front of the school. It was nothing special, but my peers would disagree. Droves of students stood out in the snow. They talked, joked, and shivered together, slowly filtering through the double doors and into the old brick building we called home, some more reluctantly than others. Eventually, when the crowd got thin and the clock ticked dangerously close to eight am, I finally decided to bite the bullet and start my last first day at Autrain High.

The crowd’s didn’t go away, they just filtered into the halls. As I weaved my way through the sea of claustrophobic bodies I couldn’t help but wonder why everyone was so worried about making a good first impression, especially when it came to the other seniors. It wasn’t like it mattered, it was our last year, it was a little late to be making a first impression. With our town being as small as it was, everyone knew everyone already, a new haircut, new clothes, or a new personality, wasn’t going to fool anyone.

Rodney was still a raging alcoholic just like his dad was, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t had a drop since sophomore year, Madison was still the overweight kid the other girls would rag on to make themselves feel better, they didn’t care that she’d dropped fifty pounds over the summer by obsessively skipping meals, and despite how hard he tried to get everyone to forget, Brandon was still a creep for going after other people in his youth group.

I could go on but I won’t. I don’t want to make it sound like my hometown was nothing but a bunch of depressing cases. It wasn’t. There were a lot of good people, it’s just that most of them don’t stay that way. It’s only natural. People eat eachother alive whenever there’s nothing else to do. Everyone wants a turn at being the big fish in the small pond.

The point is, people change, for better or for worse, and over the years I’ve learned the best way to avoid getting caught up in the drama that comes with it, is to not get involved. I kept my head down, and kept my friends close. Unfortunately that meant I had become a bit of a ghost myself. No one ever really looked my way or went out of their way to talk to me. Nobody really saw me when I sat at the back of the class or clung to the walls. I didn’t even eat lunch in the cafeteria. By all intents and purposes, I was invisible.

It had its pros and cons. On one hand people didn’t hate me, they had no reason to. I’ve managed to dodge every bullet that came my way over the years and make it all the way through highschool without so much as a rumor to my name. I never did any extracurriculars, never tried to branch out further than my comfort zone would allow, and the closest I’ve had to hanging out with my classmates were during group projects.

On the other hand though, I’m the guy people forget. The guy most people will jump at when they see my picture in the yearbook twenty five years from now. It really isn’t so bad until you realize you’re standing alone, holding a tray of shitty food from the lunchline, and have no one to gag over it with. That’s when it gets you, when you realize you're in a room crowded with people you’ve known since they were eight, and none of them know your name.

Some people though, a few, did remember me. I just wish it could’ve been anyone other than Jeremy Ringer.

He greeted me with a shoulder check and that wicked smile he flashes at everyone else. He said something too, something along the lines of a half hearted ‘oops’ or ‘sorry’. I can’t really remember. I’m used to ignoring him. I did catch one thing though as my milk splattered to the ground.

“Watch where you’re going.” He jeered, cutting the lunch line with his band of brothers.

“Wasn’t going anywhere.” I mumbled to myself.

By the time I picked up my milk it had already emptied out onto the tile, but it was nothing to cry over. Despite what the words said on the side of the carton, I doubted whatever it claimed was inside actually came from a cow. Regardless, I was left with a handful of soggy cardboard and not a trashcan in sight. The janitor must’ve been new because I couldn’t find one anywhere. Since I wasn’t planning on sitting in the lunchroom anyway though, I took the liberty of roaming around the halls until I found one. It took a while, but eventually I spotted a lone overflowing trash can sitting by the school's side doors at the other end of the corridor.

I crumpled the carton in my hand, instantly regretting my actions as milk dribbled from my palm, and walked my way over to it, glancing down the halls as I passed them by.

Empty. Empty. Band kid’s being weird. A couple breeding in the hallway. Empty.

Then I stopped.

Oh shit.

I ducked back behind the wall. Down the last hallway, sat on the floor in a bundle of faded flannel and shredded jeans, was Mason Graves.

I felt a little more milk dribble down my arm and swore under my breath. I’d squeezed the carton again in my panic, but I wasn’t worried about that. I was much more concerned with whether or not Mason had seen me.

Mason was the type of kid no one wanted to mess with. People have tried and failed over the years, but most of them regretted it. Once a particularly cocky kid, Patrick I think his name was, tried to trip him down a flight of stairs. People pointed and laughed as Mason quietly picked himself off the ground. He didn’t push back, he didn’t fight, he waited. That same kid missed school for a couple days, and came back with three missing teeth and a black eye. He never looked Mason's way again.

Mason was an enigma, someone that defied every law that governed this town and the people in it. He didn’t care if people talked about him, he preferred it. The more they talked the less they bothered him. He was the kid with the dead dad that people knew to stay clear of, but building up that kind of reputation over the years came with a few consequences.

Over the years he became the school’s scapegoat. Someone's car got keyed during the hockey game? Mason. Someone tagged the gym in the middle of the night? Mason. One of the shitty old cabins in the woods burned down over the weekend? Probably Mason.

The problem was, nobody could prove anything. You’d think someone like him would’ve had a rap sheet as long as his arm and a room reserved at the nearest juvenile detention center, but he didn’t. He was clean; Squeaky fucking clean. That’s why people were scared of him. Everyone knew he did all those things. Who else would it be? But no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t prove it.

I don’t really blame him. If anything I almost sympathized. After all that he’s been through, growing up the majority of his life without a dad, if he really was the one lashing out, I could see why. We were a lot alike now that I mention it. We both kept to ourselves, albeit for very different reasons. We were still fundamentally different though. If I was the school's ghost, Mason was its monster.

I wiped my arm on my pants. I would’ve used my coat but I wore my favorite today. Once I was dry and I realized I had been hiding for well over a minute or two, I gathered up enough courage to peek around the corner.

When I did I nearly backed out again. He was standing up, and for a second I even thought he spotted me, but he didn’t. He was looking for someone. I watched him from the end of the hall as he looked up and down the corridor, making myself small any time his eyes came my way. Then, a knock echoed out through the empty hall and I realized something. He wasn’t looking for someone, he was looking out for someone.

Turns out, that someone just so happened to be my library buddy Ginger Prescott.

As the door creaked open, Mason gave his surroundings one last glance, and nodded when he decided the coast was clear. When she stepped out, he greeted Ginger with a smile and open arms. I couldn’t decide what was stranger, the fact that those two were friends, or that I was seeing them together at all.

Ginger pulled away and got right down to business. They exchanged a few hushed words, but try as I might, I only caught a few of the more passionate parts. Words like ‘when’, ‘where’, and ‘who’ were tossed around, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of anything, not until their conversation came to a close and I heard Mason ask, “So, did you get it?”

Ginger didn’t respond. Not verbally at least. With a grin she slung her bag off one of her shoulders and unzipped it, burying her arm inside in search of something. I ducked a little as Mason one final cursory look, but relaxed when his attention settled back on Ginger.

“Here it is.”

She handed him the copy of Moby Dick, the one she picked out from the library, and Mason stuffed it in his drawstring. He patted her on the shoulder and said something that sounded like a goodbye, so I took the hint. As I heard the two of them come walking down the hall, I did the same, trying not to look their way as I made my way over to the trash can. I could hear the clack of Ginger’s heels drawing further and further behind me as I tossed the milk carton, but the second I reached to open the side door, they stopped.

I froze in place, my eyes locking on the snow falling just outside. All I had to do was walk out without a second thought. Sure, I looked a little suspicious living in weather like this, but If Ginger knows anything, and she knows everything, she’d know that I do that all the time. I didn’t move though, I couldn’t, because all I could focus on was her reflection in the glass of the door, staring daggers at me from down the hall.

I don’t know if it was the fear or the adrenaline that snapped me out of it but something did, and I pushed my way through the doors, taking my first few steps out into the snow. I tried to get out of the line of sight from the doors as soon as possible, so I held my tray with both hands and made my way down the short flight of icy stairs. When I miraculously made it to the landing without falling to my death, I felt my heart warm a little as I saw the picnic table. My picnic table.

It was a depressing looking thing, held together by loose nails and gnarled wood. It sat under a small metal roof that managed only to shield half of it from the snow. It was old, it was ratty, and it was defaced by decades of students with nothing better to do, but it was still there. I was sure it wasn’t going to be. Over the week leading up to school starting I managed to convince myself they’d thrown it out over the summer. I figured the years of being left out in the snow would’ve finally caught up with it, but it hadn’t. Thank god, at least one good thing came out of my first day. I don’t know why I let myself get so worked up about it. I walked through the same routine every year. It was almost like a tradition. On the first day of classes, I’d come out here and expect my table to be gone, but it never left. It was my second favorite part of the first day of classes. I spotted my favorite, stepping out of the snow dusted woods in nothing more than a hoodie and jeans.

“Kate!” I exclaimed, feeling my leftover nerves melt away.

“Hey!” She replied, sounding just about as excited as I was.

I set my tray down on the table, I didn’t care about it going cold, it probably already was anyway. I trudged out into the snow and met her half way through the clearing. I pulled her into a bear hug and immediately regretted it. She sucked the heat out of me and I swore, “Jesus, you’re freezing.”

She pulled away and apologized, “Sorry. The walk took a little longer than usual.”

As I walked her over to the table I asked, “Do you wanna head inside? Maybe warm up a little over lunch before you have to walk back.”

“Nope, I’m good. I’m used to the cold.”

She sat down at the table across from my tray in the same spot she always sat in, right at the end of the bench at the driest corner of the table.

“Are you sure?” I asked, sitting across from her, “It’s really no big deal. I’m sure nobody would care if I snuck you in.”

“No, I’m good, really. Thank you though.”

We go through that same little routine every time we meet for lunch. Every day I meet her in the middle, I freeze up when I hug her, I try to bring her inside, and she turns me down. Every time. She never told me why she didn’t want to set foot inside, but I didn’t really blame her, most days I didn’t want to either. It could’ve been a number of things, but I think most of what’s keeping her away is the possibility of running into anyone who remembered her, or worse crossing paths with Ginger. Regardless, I knew she was never going to take me up on my offer, but still, I asked her every day. I’d feel rude if I didn’t.

When we both settled into our seats, Kate didn’t linger any longer on pleasantries. She got right to the point.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

I did my best, but there wasn’t really much to tell. She arrived halfway through the first day, not much of anything happens until at least the end of the first week. She knew that, but she didn’t care. I think it was just an excuse to get me to talk, so I did. I told her about how I missed my first two alarms and had to skip breakfast. She wasn’t surprised. I mentioned that my Truck’s AC was dying again. She expected as much. I told her about how everyone was dressed to the nines and I cracked a joke that I settled for a decent seven. She laughed. I didn’t deserve it. Good times. Kate’s the kind of friend you can bump into after not seeing her for years and she’ll pick up right where you left off. The kind of friend you never want to lose.

We talked back and forth like that for a while, catching each other up on our summers. Her’s was much more entertaining than mine. When she isn’t homeschooling, her family takes her roadtripping. They all pile into an RV and drive around the country from may to august. She’s been from coast to coast more times than I’ve been out of state. Now, don’t get me wrong, it sounds amazing, and I am happy for her, but I kinda wish she skipped a year. She was my only real friend, which meant for about as long as I can remember, summer was just one long buffer between saying goodbye and seeing her again. Nothing really happened in between. It’s a brutal double edged sword, but I guess it does make our lunches just a little more special.

As the lunch period came to a close and I started to freeze to my seat, Kate asked the question I knew she’d been working up to for the past half hour.

“So, are you gonna go?”

“Go where?” I asked, taking the last bite of my PB&J.

“The senior bonfire. It’s this Friday.”

I knew she only brought it up because she liked living vicariously through me. She was always more into that sort of stuff than I was, school spirit and all that. For the short time she did spend in highschool she loved it, diving into anything that so much as remotely caught her interest. She somehow managed to balance debate club, writing for the school paper, and playing for the soccer team, all with a full course load. She was the most talented person I knew, and the only person who was just as interested in hearing me ramble on about the town’s ghost stories as I was, which is why when I shot down going to bonfire night, I knew exactly what she was going to say next.

“You know it’s being held in Hunt Woods right? Like the Hunt Woods.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware.” I replied, “The Hunt Woods.”

“So why aren’t you going?”

“Well, for one, I’ve been there before. Multiple times.”

“So?”

“So it’s not like I’d be missing anything.”

“You absolutely will be missing something. It’s your senior year. You don’t get another one. It’s missing stuff like this that you're gonna regret later on in life.”

“What? A bunch of drunken idiots standing around a fire for a couple hours? Maybe some douchebag with a guitar if I’m lucky? I don’t think I’ll be too hung up over it.”

“Come on.” She urged, “It’s one of your favorite spots. You used to go there all the time to try to catch the Hermit.”

It was a cheap shot, but I figured she’d take it. She knew I was a sucker for those woods. The Hermit of Hunt Woods was one of the few stories that I couldn’t debunk with the papers. There were just too many holes, inconsistencies in the details like the fact that while the murders happened only minutes apart, the bodies were found miles away from each other. Or the little detail that the murder weapon was never found, even thought the murderer himself confessed to where he hid it in his suicide note. Oh yeah, and the smoking gun. You can still hear the distant sound of a rope swaying in the wind somewhere off in the woods late at night, I know that for sure. I’ve heard it myself.

Still, I wasn’t sold.

“The Hermit isn’t just going to show up with that many kids around. I would’ve seen him already if he was that brave.”

“Who knows, maybe that's exactly what he needs?” She suggested, “He was a mass murderer after all.”

“Yeah barely.” I scoffed, “It was four people.”

“Chicken.” She teased.

“You make it sound like I actually believe in ghosts.” I argued.

“Yeah, it’s because you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes. You do.”

In an attempt to stop myself from arguing in circles, I reminded her, “I’ve never seen anything. Nothing big enough to convince me otherwise at least. Neither of us have. Until that changes I will continue to firmly label myself as a skeptic.”

She smirked, “But you still believe enough to try, don’t you?”

I sucked in another cold breath to argue, but I let it back out. She got me.

“You were always the one who believed in ghosts, Kate, not me.” I concluded.

I didn’t intend for what I said to come off as mean or cold, but I think that’s what she interpreted it as. Her eyes drooped and started to run her fingers across the back of her hand. She always did that when something bothered her.

I checked my phone and saw that we barely had a minute left.

“So you’re really not going?” She asked one last time.

“I guess not.” I mumbled.

The bell rang, cutting our conversation short, but neither of us got up. We weren’t finished yet. As kids began to flood through the halls inside, I admitted, “It’d be different if you were there.”

I could tell she didn’t like the idea, but before she could shoot it down, I followed up, “I don’t particularly like the idea of standing around and watching everyone else have fun. If you showed up though, it doesn’t sound that bad. I can’t remember the last time we’ve sat around a campfire.”

Slowly I saw her start to warm up to the idea. She still didn’t give me a direct answer, but I didn’t need one.

She shrugged, “If that’s what it takes, who knows, maybe I’ll stop by.”

I caught the smallest hint of a smirk on her face, and just like that, she had me.

“Then I’ll be there.”

#nanowrimo

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