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mytheoristavenue · 2 years

Note

Your Gareth fic is literally amazing! Well I mean your writing is but anyways! You don’t have to but I was wondering if you could do a pt.2 to lessons (the gareth fic) cause it was just so good and I really need Eddie’s reaction to hearing his cousin is now dating his best friend :-)

I got so many asks for this one so I just had to do it!

ST Gareth Emerson x Reader - Sneaky 🍋

Warnings: Slight smut, NSFW, MDNI, aggression, angst, language

Summary: (Takes place after the events of 'Lessons'.) You and Gareth had begun to date after that date in his garage, and now struggle to keep your hands off each other in front of Eddie.

Gareth glanced at you with a small smile from across the game table, as if you were giving him luck for his dice throw. As the die flung from his hand, the group cheered, recognizing the face it displayed as a twenty. You congratulated him with a nudge of your foot beneath the table, letting your shoe travel up his leg. He never once broke eye contact with you, save for checking his result, and his grin never faltered.

Eddie's eyes narrowed, his left twitching in annoyance. He'd been suspicious of you both for the few weeks that had passed since your drumming lessons. Every time he'd tried to ask one of you, Gareth would laugh it off, as if it were some ridiculous joke, and you'd gag on air, pretending to be revolted by your secret boyfriend.

"Are you kidding, man? Only in my dreams."

"Bleh! Ew, as if! You act like I have no standards at all!"

In reality, you found Gareth anything but repulsive. In fact, you were having trouble being separate from him, even here, sitting opposite form him was hard. Of course, you didn't mind sitting beside Dustin, but you'd much rather be beside the drummer, possibly even close enough to slyly tease him under the table.

After the game had wrapped up, you stretched, rubbing sleep from your eye, before standing up and grabbing your purse. "I'm tired..." you complained with a yawn. You watched as Gareth raised his arm to drape around you, and quickly slipped out of his reach. You both blushed at the close call and he stuck his hands to his sides.

"C'mon, nerd," he chuckled coolly, in an attempt to pass the awkward moment. "I'll drive you home." You nodded, turning to leave with him, only for the strap of your purse to be caught, halting you.

"Not so fast," you cousin chuckled suspiciously. "Wayne wants me to drive you, he made dinner and wants us home ASAP." Eddie smirked, turning to your boyfriend as he let you go. "That means your on babysitting duty, Emerson." Gareth's smile dropped, glancing at the freshman (and middle schooler) beyond his shoulder.

"What?" he protested, thinking up an excuse for why he couldn't take the kids home. "That's bogus and you know it! I can't fit five people in my car, it's not even big enough to fu-!" Suddenly, Gareth's eyes snapped to your wide ones, promptly shutting his mouth. Eddie glared at him accusingly.

"Big enough to what? Fuuuuh?"

The junior's palms began to sweat as he searched the room for a lie. "Fuhhh....Fucking-" he mumbled, trying to buy himself some time. "Fucking get groceries!"

"Groceries?" the DM cocked his brow.

"Yeah." your boyfriend stammered, twiddling with the hem of his flannel. "I can't even go get groceries for me mom, 'cuz the backseat's too small."

"Uh-huh." Eddie nodded, dropping the conversation for now. "Whatever, just take the Sinclairs home and I'll take Wheeler and Henderson."

Gareth sighed, relieved as the tension had faded. You did as well, walking to your cousin's van and hopping into the passenger side.

----

You wiped chicken grease off your lips, setting your napkin down beside your plate, answering your father's question about your last math test. "Yeah, dad, I passed the test." you smirked, eyes wandering to Eddie beside you. "Unlike someone we know."

Your cousin slammed his fists against the table. "Shut the hell up, (Y/N)!" He turned to his uncle, desperately. "Wayne are you just gonna let this little shit talk to me like this?"

The older man let out a tired sigh, simply wanting a peaceful dinner with his kids. "Stop it, both of you." he commanded lowly. "You two can't get along for ten minutes, can you?"

Eddie muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and kicking away from the table. "Can't see how I can get along with someone I can't trust."

"And what is that supposed to mean." Wayne cocked a disrespected brow.

"I just mean that your darling little princess is fucking my friend behind both of our backs and lying about it!" the flunkie snarled at his own outburst, satisfied that you were at last, getting in trouble with your dad.

"(Y/N) Munson..." he muttered quietly. "Are you sneaking around with this boy? In my house?"

You could feel tears well in your eyes, your heart struck with betrayal. "No!" you lied. "Even if I was, why does it matter? Ed brings home three different girls a fucking week!"

"(Y/N), Ed is older than you," Wayne tried to reason. "He's a man, and men have certain needs-"

"And I don't?! And if he's such a fucking man, why can't he either graduate, or just fucking drop out and get a job?" you argued, all of your now standing, and the tension thick as butter.

"Hey, you little bitch, don't fucking talk shit about me like I'm not fucking here!" Eddie defended himself.

"Yes, I know you're here, Ed!" you screamed in his face, ignoring your father trying to pull you apart. "I'm always fucking aware of you being there, because your constantly hovering over me and ruining my life! I couldn't have a boyfriend even if I wanted to because you'd chase him away! You're friends are the only ones I have because everyone at school is fucking scared of you and don't want anything to do with me! Oh, but I forgot, I'm the bitch for stealing your friends, right?!"

There was a beat of silence after your rant, the only sound being your heavy breathing. Tears had long since began streaming down your face and you felt all your pent up aggression coming to a head as you stormed off to your bed room, slamming the door behind you. "I fucking hate this family!"

You flung yourself onto your bed, weeping as it creaked beneath your weight. In truth, you wanted very badly to confess your relationship with Gareth. Eddie trusted him enough, and you're dad would love him if given the chance, and he was so sweet to you. It deeply pained you to have to keep him a secret. You sometimes dreamed of having him over for dinner, or your father taking pictures of you both the night of prom, but those all required your family to be aware of the love you shared.

Suddenly, your pity party was interrupted by a very soft tapping on your window. You lazily got up, parting the curtains to reveal a mop of chestnut curls and a warm smile. You opened the window, wet eyes widened. “Gareth, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.” he answered, his hands perched on the window sill.

“Are you crazy?” you sneered, worried to be by your still angry family.

“Crazy for you.” he snickered, climbing into your bed room.

“No, no, no! You can’t be here, it’s too risky!” you exclaimed, trying to hold him back, with little luck.

“Babe, relax, I’ll be quiet.” he grins, plopping down on your bed, cringing at the racket the springs made beneath him. “Starting now.” Your boyfriend watched you pace back and forth as you stressed, fingers tangled in your hair. As quietly as he could, he stood, stopping your in you tracks, but you failed to look at him. “Hey, are you okay?” Your gaze finally met his and he was enlightened to your bloodshot and glossy eyes, lashes stuck together and cheeks stained with tears. “Holy shit, have you been crying?”

“I got into a fight with Eddie...” you confessed, collapsing against his chest.

“About me?” he asked knowingly, his heart overtaken by guilt. You hesitantly shook your head, responding without looking back up at him.

“Us. Me, mostly. He told my dad that I was ‘fucking you behind his back’ and he believed him.”

“But...” he began, struggling to find a wording that wouldn’t upset you further. “You are?”

“No,” you whispered sadly. “I’m not. The sex isn’t what I’m scared of them finding out about.”

“What is it than?” Gareth muttered, his hands rubbing soothing stripes along your spine.

You finally brought your stare back upwards, and he met you halfway, now both gazing lovingly, if not a tad concerned, into one another’s eyes. “I’m in love with you, Gareth.” You had said it with such certainty that it almost scared him. Throughout the few weeks you’d been together, you’d both always avoided the ‘L’ word, nervous to commit to the relationship too much, only for the initial puppy love to dissolve and leave nothing left.

Gareth could feel static crawl along his skin and all the blood in his body seemed to congregate behind his face. “W-we agreed not to say that yet.” he mumbled, instantly regretting his reply when he noticed the fat tears bubbling up in your eyes again.

“Y-yeah, s-sorry. Just forget I said-” you brushed it off, trying to break away from him.

“But!” he corrected, pulling you back to him. “I-I love you too...” he stuttered, gaze averted. “I-In love, I mean. I-I don’t really know the difference.”

“You really mean that?” you whispered, eyes watering again, but this time from unbridled joy.

“I do. At least I think I do. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.” he rambled timidly, scratching the back of his neck.

----

You sighed against Gareth’s lips as he softly shoved you against the wall, cursing under his breath when his actions caused a picture to fall down and clatter against the floor. You hushed him, giggling as he claimed your lips again, strong hands cradling your delicate face as if it’d break if he let go. “Fuck, I’m so lucky to have you.” he breathed against your throat as he laid kisses across it. “So pretty, so loving.”

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he made quick work of finding your most sensitive spots, having mapped you out perfectly in the handful of times you’d been intimate. “Gareth...” you whispered, tangling your dainty fingers into his curls, fertilizing a growth in his jeans with the tugging of his locks.

“Love it when you pull my hair.” he groaned quietly. “Better stop unless you want me to really get rough.” You gave him a submissive smile, yanking harshly at the back of his scalp, earning a shuddering whine from him. He playfully glared at you, gripping you by the hips and hoisting you up. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now!”

----

Beyond the safety of your room, Eddie and Wayne still sat at the table, having still not moved from your outburst earlier. “Son,” the older man began. “I know you haven’t had the easiest life, especially with everything that’s happened this year.” His voice trailed off as his gaze wandered over to his nephew, who stared absently at the ruminants of his cousin’s plate. “But neither has (Y/N). That little girl looks up to you, ya know.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “And I’m trying to protect her-”

“That ain’t what I said.” his uncle interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “She don’t need your protection all the time, though. Sometimes, she just needs you to support her, be nice to her.” he lectured quietly. “I had to learn that the hard way.”

“It’s just so hard when she keeps shit from me, ya know?” Eddie argued, running his frustrated fingers though his long chocolate curls. Wayne nodded, standing up and walking to the fridge to rummage though it.

He found a pair of beers, and set one down in front of Eddie, who immediately cracked it open. “Maybe she’s worried to disappoint you?”

You cousin rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Doubt that, she’s never been afraid to get on my last nerve.”

Wayne finally sighed, glugging a good portion of his beer before responding. “I won’t force you to apologize, but I think she’d appreciate it.” With that, he stood, a few of his joints cracking with age as he did. “I’m headed to bed, if you need me, holler.” As the old man shut his bedroom door behind him, Eddie was left alone under the soft yellow glow of the over head light, staring at your left overs. He sighed, standing up to clear the table.

He pondered what his uncle had said, coming to the decision that it was a good idea to apologize. He recalled fond memories of your shared childhood as he scraped leftovers into plastic bowls to save for tomorrow. He chuckled to himself at a particular instance that had occurred when he was eight and you were five.

----

Tears streamed down Eddie’s cheeks as he peeled the left leg of his jeans, blood of a skinned knee sticking the denim to his opened wound. He cried out for an adult, covered in mud and pitiful, having slipped in a creek near your home. Instead, you came running to his side from over the hill, soft, thin hair and ruffled dress flopping about as you did. You sat beside him, taking a pair of scissors to put his pants into shorts, before pouring water from a bottle to wash away the dirt from the muscle. He watched as you dirtied your dress, using it to dry his injury, before wrapping it in a cool, clean roll of gauze.

After playing doctor, you helped your cousin hobble back up the hill into your house. Once inside, you turned on the tv and asked him to put your favorite movie into the VHS, as you didn’t know how. While he was distracted, you ran to the kitchen and retrieved a bag of pecan sandies, before pouring them out onto a plate, complete with a glass of milk to share. When you returned, the pair of you sat and watched the entirety of the tape, consuming the snack whole.

----

From that moment on, the pair of you had always bonded over pecan sandies and milk. It was your tradition. You did it when your mother left, and when Eddie lost his parents, and when you got stood up at your middle school dance, and the first (and second) time that he flunked graduation. Most recently, you shared a plate when Eddie came home from the hospital after the ‘Earthquake’, and he was repeatedly awoken by nightmares of Chrissy dying in your living room. He thought of all the times you’d been his backbone, even being his kid sister cousin as his eyes wandered to a bag of cookies in the open cabinet. You’d be eating pecan sandies over this argument, he decided. Maybe if he offered you this kindness, you’d open up to him with the truth about your feelings for Gareth?

Speaking of Gareth-

----

“Oh, fuck, Gareth,” you breathed, your head falling against the wall with a quiet thud as your secret boyfriend fucked into you, sandwiching you between himself and the wall opposite of your bedroom door. “I-I love you.”

“Love you too, princess.” he replied, breathlessly and muffled, red flannel between his teeth in order to keep him quiet. “So fucking pretty, gonna make me cum.”

Eddie smiled, filling with hope. Cookies, and large glass of milk in hand, he made his way to your bedroom door, knocking on hit loudly, calling out. “Hey, uh, (Y/N)...Can we talk?”

You and your boyfriend parted like oil and water, desperately trying to make yourselves decent as your cousin knocked again. “Shit, shit, shit!” Gareth whispered, and you shared his sentiment.

“C’mon, (Y/N), I know your not asleep.” your kin begged, twisting the nob slowly and pushing your door open. You , as well as the intruder in your room both held your breath, several feet apart, hair tousled, faces red and sweaty, and clothes disheveled. To top it off, your room reeked of sex. “I brought you some...cookies.” The sound of ceramic shattering against the ground rang out through the trailer, deafeningly loud as your cousin stood in your now open doorway.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

#stranger things #gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson smut #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson fic #stranger things smut #eddie munson #munson!reader #gareth #gareth simps #gareth emerson x munson!reader #gareth emerson fluff

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dadsbongos · 2 years

Text

a warm body

Stranger Things x Horror Movie Collection

American Psycho / Halloween / Scream / Friday the 13th / Fear Street / Jennifer’s Body

13.7K words

warnings - sexual allusions lol!, descriptions of wounds/violence (blood n gore n such), bimbo reader bimbo reader <3, jennifer’s body au

summary - You drag Robin to The Hideout in hopes of fulfilling your fantasy of hooking up with a boy in a band. Hijinks ensue and suddenly you’re a succubus that only your bestest friend can satiate.

“Hey, we’ve gotta go to The Hideout tonight.”

“Ew,” Robin gags, “Enough of Munson, okay? I’m sick of going to their gigs.”

“It’ll be fun,” you pout and lean your head against the locker next to Robin’s, “besides, there’s a new band showing up today. Heard it straight from Gareth in the lunch line - Bombed Grave, or some shit. Should be good.”

“Oh my God,” Robin shakes her head, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, “You need to get over this fantasy of being a groupie, it’ll get you killed.”

“It will not get me killed, it’s just a one-time thing, you know?” you fiddle with one of the rings Robin had gifted you a couple of years back, “Some stupid boy in a stupid band and me, just once. It’d be fun. And then it’s over.”

You shrug like it’s simple - like you’re talking about a piercing.

“Well, as long as I’m here - no stupid boy from a shitty band is getting anywhere near you,” Robin grins sardonically.

“Hey,” you stick out your bottom lip, elbowing Robin in the side, “I’m a big girl now, I can take care of myself, Rob,” then just to tease, you throw out, “Mom.”

“Don’t call me ‘Mom’,” she groans.

“Then don’t act like I need a savior,” you look away, immediately finding the gaggle of math club members staring at you.

Robin watches as you wave and giggle and they nervously return the gesture.

Robin hates to call you an airhead, but sometimes you didn’t think things through. Going to The Hideout every Tuesday in an effort to sleep with a band member, she suspected, was one of them.

“Fine, okay,” Robin doesn’t know why she puts up a fight anymore, she always gives in. Perhaps it’s just the illusion of debate - the back-and-forth - that she likes, “I’ll go. And I won’t be your little savior.”

“Okay, then!” you perk up, reaching into the collar of your cheer uniform and pulling out your half of a BFF magnet necklace.

It was your part of a heart-shaped strawberry charm. You held it out proudly and Robin, despite how much she’d pretend to hate it, couldn’t help but pull out her own half. She connects your pieces and watches you light up at the way they click.

“I’ll drive you home to drop off your shit and change,” you pause, narrowing your lashes, “And I need to borrow a shirt,” she raises a brow and you just shrug, “People dig the short cheer skirt, but the uniform top makes it a little too real.”

“Gross,” Robin shuts her locker as the minute bell shrills.

“Uber,” you bump her shoulder with yours, “‘kay, I gotta go. See ya!”

“See you later!” she sighs once you’ve left.

What shirt could she possibly lend you that you didn’t already steal?

Every cute shirt - or article of clothing period - she owned was most likely already stashed in your closet. Not that Robin necessarily minded, it isn’t like she wore those clothes very often (or at all) anyway.

Robin has no fucking clue how you and her stayed friends after elementary school. She was adopted by the Hawkins’ middle school band and you became one of their beloved cheerleaders. Your rise to popularity was swift and unmatched by even King Steve himself and even now, you haven’t fallen from your pedestal.

She assumes it’s because you, unlike most other popular kids, are actually really nice. Chrissy Cunningham is your cheer co-captain and if it weren’t for Robin, you two would be the most iconic duo since Sonny Crockett and Ricardo Tubbs.

Now, as you’re both seniors, Robin remains a band geek, and you queen of Hawkins High (if not all of Hawkins itself), and you two are still tied at the hip.

Seriously, how Robin is your little friend after X amount of years, is an absolute cold case to her, but she’s not about to give it up.

So, Robin just bites her tongue and goes to her Spanish 3-4.

“No, no, no, no,” you pause your cycling through clothes and Robin looks up from her peeling black nail polish, your head is tilted and you pull out whatever has caught your eye, “When’d you get this?”

Robin’s cheeks flush and she huffs, reaching out to rip the offending sweater from your hands, “Oh my God, just put it down!”

“No!” you whine, clutching the pink fabric to your chest, “It’s adorable. I like it.”

You hold the sweater up. Robin usually buys her clothes in bigger sizes than what she actually is, that’s why you like borrowing her clothes - it’s rare to find something of hers that won’t fit you too.

It was something you’d have to work with - just a plain pink sweater with red hearts. And it’s not like it’d go with your cheer skirt.

You throw the garment over one shoulder and move to where Robin stored the skirts she doesn’t wear anymore.

“See, this always happens,” Robin rolls her eyes, all in good fun, and leans back on her elbows, “‘Just a shirt,’” she mocks, “You’re a little thief.”

“Whatever,” you chuckle and pull out a short, black skirt, “As if you were gonna wear these.”

“It’s the principal of the matter,” Robin stands, sighing loudly and draping her arms around your shoulders.

“Okay, turn so I can change,” when she doesn’t move, you shrug, “Fine. Don’t.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Robin has ever seen you change, but it never fails to make her squawk and cover her eyes before giving up. You’d be lying if you said that her watching you change never sent a spark through you.

“What’s even your plan?” Robin tilts her head, trying her absolute damndest to keep her eyes above your collarbones, “Hook up with who? The guitarist or the singer? And then what? Just go after a painter?”

“I dunno,” you grin, “Maybe I’ll keep chasing bands. Maybe it isn’t a regular guy I want, but Eddie Munson, and now I’m just trying to fill the void,” Robin wretches dramatically, “Okay, okay. I’m kidding.”

Eddie’s nice. You don’t have a reason to dislike him, you just didn’t think he was your type beyond a quick fantasy. Not that you spend all day thinking about how he isn’t your type, mainly because if you do that then you have to confront what - or rather, who - is your type.

“What about after, though? Are you still gonna drag me around so you can screw with guys who don’t deserve you?”

“Haven’t thought much about it,” you move to look yourself over in Robin’s full body mirror, “Best friend approval?”

Robin hums as if thinking, eyes narrowing and lips pressing thinly before she ultimately nods, “Best friend approves.”

“Yay,” you cheer under your breath, grabbing your purse from her vanity and skipping over to her bedroom door, “Ready?”

She looks around as if there’s anything of importance that she could possibly be leaving behind. Everything she needs is already at the door, ready to flutter out and right into the arms of some guitarist. Or vocalist. Anyone but the drummer.

“Maybe the drummer,” you announce to Robin, parking in front of The Hideout.

“How low will you go?” she gasps, scandalized, then giggles when you shoot her a glare, “I’m just saying, bunny, it isn’t that big a deal if you go with the drummer instead of the guitarist. I bet 99% of people won’t even know who you’re talking about if you tell them who you’re with. Just saying.”

“You know what I think?”

The both of you climb out of your car and Robin tilts her head, watching as you wait to hear your doors lock.

“Hm?”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get out there.”

Robin scoffs and you bounce up to the door, lugging it open for Robin to enter the dingy, dim, dank bar.

You see Eddie immediately and Robin hates to say how jealous it makes her when you squeal and throw yourself on him with a giggly, “hi, Eds!”

“Hey, bubble-brain,” his eyes flick to Robin, “Someone’s outta their element.”

“Huh?” you rear back and nod, “Oh! Yeah.”

Robin tries smiling at Eddie, but it comes out strained, her hands packed in her pockets and clenching tightly. Her rings indent her skin and she can feel her teeth digging into the thin stretch of skin inside her cheek.

“Hey,” you reach into her coat pocket and take her hand, “if you really don’t wanna be here, we can go.”

She considers it.

Honestly? Honestly - she’d rather be back at her house, with you. Eating ice cream with bad romcoms stuffed full of cliches she makes fun of but always cries to at the end. With you, though. It’s only worth it if it’s with you.

“I’m fine,” she looks over at the bar, then past your shoulder, “You go look for your boy toy,” her brows shoot up at Eddie, “Munson, wanna help a girl out?”

“I’d be honored,” he bows and you peck Robin’s cheek appreciatively before bounding further into the bar. Eddie is observant - it’s one of the things Robin hates most about him - and he pulls out a fake ID while staring right at her.

The bartender knows Eddie - hell, everyone in town knows Eddie - and she knows that he’s only twenty. But hey, then again, he’s twenty and it isn’t like she’s being pressed to card the people they serve anyway. Because nobody even gives a fuck.

“What’s your damage, dingus?” Robin can hear how tired she sounds but there’s no room for her to try and pretend she’s anything else, “Staring’s rude.”

Eddie orders before looking down at Robin, “I think you should get it over with and just take her home.”

“You’re crazy!” she swats his shoulder, “Also, shut up.”

Eddie finding out Robin is a lesbian was a massive accident. She didn’t know he was behind her and Steve during Ferris Bueller and kept whispering about how hot Ally Sheedy was. It was way after hours at Starcourt, how was she supposed to know anyone else was there?

But he kept her secret.

“I’m just saying,” Eddie hands over a glass ripe with condensation, “You’re gonna watch her flirt her cute little sweater off with some douche, and then you’re gonna whine and ask me to drive you home. ‘Cuz if you go with her, she’s gonna drop you off and you’ll have to walk through the door alone knowing the one you love is about to get her shit rocked.”

Robin stares down at the cocktail. If she was a little smarter, she would’ve asked what it was before taking it. It’s clear, if a little auburn. Just a tad.

She doesn’t even know what to say, “It’s my sweater. She’s ‘borrowing’ it.”

Eddie coos, pouts, and pats her head, “Poor thing. You’re so fucked.”

Robin takes a cautious sip of the cocktail and her face immediately screws up, she gags and holds the glass away as Eddie laughs, “Dude, what the hell is this?”

“Moscow mule,” he clinks his glass to hers, “Vodka. Ginger. Lime. Enjoy and don’t drink it too fast.”

“Won’t be an issue!” she huffs, watching his stupid vest’s stupid Dio back design disappear into the crowd, “Atthay assholeyay.”

She takes another sip, somehow more careful than last time, and that’s when she sees you. You’re talking up the lead singer of the other band and he’s eating it up because who wouldn’t?

You’re sweet and, yeah, simple, but you’re more than that. You’re not just a best friend, you’re her one. Her person. The Nancy to her Margaret. The burger to her fries. The Shaggy to her Scooby. You two are Wham! You stay up until midnight just to call and wish her a happy birthday. She holds back your hair and helps you out of your heels when you go overboard at your popular friends’ lame parties. You feed each other soup when the other is sick.

You try really hard. All the time. Doesn’t matter what it is. School, cheer, dressing, befriending, shopping, whatever it may be - you try like someone will die if you fail. It’s intense and admirable to her at the same time.

And right now, you’re trying really hard to get the singer to like you. Robin would bet her entire college fund that it’s working, too.

So she stays out of your way and pretends that seeing that stupid guy’s hands pet over her sweater on your body doesn’t make her silently languish.

This time, her drag of Moscow mule is longer. Stronger. And she thinks that somewhere in the back of her head, or perhaps the back of the bar, Eddie is laughing.

“They’re not good,” Robin mutters as soon as you’re back at her side.

You wrap an arm around hers, yanking her shoulder into your chest, “Yeah…” you sigh, “but he’ll do. Not like he’s gonna be my boyfriend after this or anything, so no need to pretend.”

Robin has hated every single one of your boyfriends.

“You, uh,” she swallows the marble in her throat, “you giving him a ride?”

You giggle and she groans, “Jeez, Rob, talk about forward.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she tosses her head back and when you just keep laughing, it’s almost like things are how they should be.

Then your cheek presses to hers and you nod, “You need a ride home?”

“No,” she clenches her eyes shut, “Munson said he’d give me one.”

“Aw, he’s such a sweetheart,” you pull away, one hand wrapping around hers, “Call me if you need anything, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Robin watches you reapply her favorite gloss that you own, “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Impossible,” you search the crowd and wave over your beau for the night, “Seriously, though. I’m a ring away. Maybe just gimme an hour or two before you have an emergency.”

“Sure,” Robin knows she’s being curt, but it’s not like she can help it. She can, but she shouldn’t. If she talks in longer sentences then everything will come loose and all her secrets will be like a rippling wound.

Eddie hangs an arm over Robin’s shoulders and laughs in her ear, “Hmm, did I get it word for word? Or did I get it word for word? I need to be reminded.”

“Shut up and get me another, Munson,” Robin shoves her glass into his chest.

To her, boys were ugly, red, agitated zits (except maybe Steve, who was a smaller, healing zit). To you, they were momentary fun when Hawkins felt a little dry. If she wasn’t so desperately wishing she could be the boy you give a ride, then maybe she’d be happy for you.

You wait for your car’s heater to thaw at Hawkins’ chilled night air before pulling away from the bar, “Your place or mine?”

“Actually,” the singer, Robbie he’d told you, lays a hand on your thigh. Toothy grin and pink lips on display, “there’s this cute little place in the woods. Think you’d like it.”

Robin didn’t like drinking. It gave her a headache and made her stink. Made her have to sneak back into her room just to avoid her parents finding out. Made her mind somehow less aware of her words.

So she laid in bed - face down in sunset sheets and stripped to her shirt and underwear - with one hand on the bedside table phone. Her fingers were wound tight around the receiver in a wavering display of determination. She wants to call you.

Make sure you got home safe. Make sure that idiot didn’t hurt you. Make sure you’d sleep well.

But you’re probably busy, so she also wants to leave it be.

Her fingers don’t move though, and when the sheets grow too hot with her breath being shot back in her face, she angles her head to the side. Her hair falls into her eyes and over her cheeks; she can’t be bothered to fix any of it, so it remains.

Fuck it.

You said to call, right? You want her to be able to call, right? Yeah, of course, you do. Robin knows you well, and she knows you don’t say things you don’t mean.

So she picks up the receiver and her fingers fly about the numbers in muscle memory. Turning onto her back, Robin blinks up at the ceiling as the phone rings.

A few streets down, your bedroom window is still open from when you forgot to close it before school. Inside your bedroom is an egg-shell white nightstand on the side of your bed not pressed to a wall. On the nightstand is a bubblegum pink phone gifted to you by your parents. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Robin blows a stray hair from where it’d tangled into her lashes.

Four times.

The line beeps and your family’s voicemail message plays.

She slams the receiver down and picks it back up. You usually don’t let the phone ring more than twice - even if you don’t want to take a call; you have the balls to either pick up and say so or simply pick up the phone and immediately hang up. So she dials your number again and sighs.

A handful of blocks away, there’s a forest that hides Lover’s Lake. A few miles from Lover’s Lake is Skull Rock. Against the side of Skull Rock is a young girl - you, in a torn pink sweater that wasn’t even yours - bound and screaming through a gag. You watch, wide-eyed and seconds away from pissing yourself, as Robbie unsheathes a knife, his drummer readies a printed prayer to Satan.

In your bedroom, a pretty pink phone sends its unlucky caller right back to voicemail.

Robin groans, scratching at her stomach, and lets the receiver tumble back into place.

She debates calling again. You probably aren’t even home.

You probably aren’t even home.

The thought makes her turn back onto her stomach and groan louder into her pillow.

The night is dark and cold. Robin hates the cold. It reminds her of the dead - of how her Aunt Shauna looked so pale and plastic in her casket. Young Robin made the mistake of touching Aunt Shauna’s hand and now teenage Robin has to deal with the consequences.

It’s agony.

She awakes with a shiver and looks to where her peachy curtains are dancing gently in the wind from an open window. Of which, she was sure she shut.

Robin rises from bed and yawns, one hand on the window frame and the other rubbing at her drool-crusted cheek. Just as she goes to shut the window, she sees it - right on the ledge of the frame are two big bloody handprints.

That’s when she wakes up a little more - realizes that her bedroom door was open when it’s normally shut. She hears it then, too, the rustling in her kitchen downstairs.

Someone’s inside.

Robin scurries to her closet and pulls out the bat full of nails that Steve insisted she keep for him. Her bare feet touch cold wood and her legs shake as she makes her way to the kitchen. The lighting there is limited to the bulb inside the fridge.

There’s more rustling. Things unwrapping and ripping open. Tupperware lids thrown across the tile and the sounds of something - an animal - eating straight out of the containers.

She wants to run, but her parents are upstairs and even if they don’t get along at the best of times, she’s not going to let them be attacked by… by…

There’s a sharp gasp of pain and her resolve is wavering.

Then the thing comes up, and it casts a human shadow on the wall opposite the fridge. A feminine silhouette dances across the ugly pistachio paint.

A croak. A cough. A call.

“Rob…in?”

It’s broken and pained and inhuman, but it’s your voice. Undoubtedly.

Robin’s bat clatters to the ground, just narrowly missing her feet and she runs into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” she clasps her hands over her mouth, eyes wide at the sight of you.

You’re fully leaning against the counter, arms limp at your side and head slid against the side of the fridge. You look like hell.

You swallow, sputter, and blink at her miserably, “Robin.”

“What…” her eyes roam - sweater torn open down the middle and stomach gaping with blood and prickled flesh, shoes missing, socks ripped and stained with dirt and blood, skirt weathered to threads at the end and thighs slashed. She can’t look you in the eye, “What the fuck happened to you?”

She flies forward, hands cradling your face. She can feel her heart in her stomach and throat simultaneously.

You’re so out of it, your eyes don’t even seem to be seeing her. They stare straight through, like she’s not even there.

You smile and that’s when she sees the blood staining your teeth, it spills out between your split lips and you giggle when she gasps.

“Oh my God,” she backs away, head on a swivel to find the paper towels, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God- “

You wrap your arms around her waist, chin leaning on her shoulder and temple pressing to her cheek, “Robin…”

“Yeah,” Robin extends her arm, fingertips just brushing the paper towels, “I’m Robin - and I’m gonna get you cleaned up. Then we’re going straight to the hospital,” she stops, “Or should we go to the hospital now? We should go to the hospital now.”

“Uh-uh,” you tut, squeezing her tighter, your tone drops a little lower - how it does when you flirt, “Are you scared?”

“Scared of you?” Robin tries worming from your grasp but you’re holding too tightly, “I’m not- I could never. But we need to go, right now. You’re really hurt and I can feel you bleeding on me and you’re- “

“Good,” you coo and stumble back. There’s a rumble, you belch, and then your jaw drops open - black mucus-tar amalgamation spills out. It spots and bubbles and Robin throws herself backward - spine cracking against the doorway. Her hands clamp over her mouth to muffle the scream that rips her throat sore.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she slides down to her ass, hands covering her ears. There are tears and her chest burns and she can’t breathe. The air is too thick and she squeezes into herself, as if it’d make her physically disappear.

She starts rocking. It’s all she can do.

This is a nightmare. A nightmare. A horrible fucking dream.

When she opens her eyes, everything is the same. The fridge door is tossed wide, there’s blood smeared on her counters and floor, and the thick muck you tossed up is spreading across her floor.

But you’re missing.

Bloody footprints lead from the fridge to the where kitchen meets hallway - then vanish. Her bat is gone, too.

“What the fuck?” her eyes bubble with tears and she collapses onto her side, legs pulled tight to her chest, “What the fuck?”

The room smells like death. It’s cold. So very freezing cold.

“Hey,” you look tired, books hugged tight to your chest as you approach Robin and Dustin at her locker.

“Hey,” Robin stares. Eyes almost cartoonishly popping from her skull.

She knows what happened was real. She spent hours cleaning and scrubbing and showering. Unless that was all part of the dream.

Jesus, Hawkins was fucked up if that was passing as a mere nightmare now.

Dustin nudges her with his elbow and shakes his head, then turns to you, “Are you… feeling alright?”

“God, no,” you frown and droop into the locker beside Robin’s, “I’m breaking out and I pulled out so much hair in the shower this morning. I thought I was about to go completely bald.”

“Maybe you should go home,” Dustin leans down to see your face when your head hangs, “You really don’t look good.”

“I’m fine, Dusty,” you pat the boy’s shoulder before turning to Robin, “I think I have to cancel tonight, though,” you pout and if it were a normal day, she’d just want to make that dismal expression go away, “Gonna stay in and hope whatever this is passes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Robin looks into her locker and pulls out a random textbook, she slams the door shut and clicks the lock back into place, “No worries, just…” you looked like something from a horror movie last night, “What happened last night? After you left.”

Dustin figures this conversation isn’t for him and wanders off when he spots Eddie in the crowd - wishing you well as he goes.

You shrug and scoot closer, “Normal stuff. I mean, nothing even happened with that guy,” you shouldn’t be lying, but it isn’t like she’d believe the truth, would she? “He figured I was a virgin and when I corrected him, he - like - demanded that I bring him home.”

But you didn’t correct him. Didn’t have the time. Didn’t get the chance.

Now you’re hoping that Robin figures last night was all just a nightmare - and from the look in her eyes, you know she’s teetering on that edge.

She wants to ask, you know that. You know her. If she wasn’t so terrified of speaking last night into reality, then she would. But asking would make it real. Outside of the gates and monsters and girls with telekinesis, Hawkins was normal and there was a certain level of abnormality that a person could take before they snapped.

And you and Robin both knew that this was just outside her limit. So she doesn’t ask and you don’t tell.

Instead, you yawn and shake your head to keep yourself awake, “Anyway, I gotta go to Mr. Peters’ math. See ya later?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, though. Her lip balm tints her lips a soft red and you like the way it looks. She accepts the kiss you press to her cheek, “See you later.”

In the meantime, you catch Sully Vacks outside of your shared first period. You drag him away from the door by the sleeve of his varsity jacket.

He looks at you weirdly and you already know it’s more about your lack of makeup than the fact you’re a living zombie wanting to take him somewhere private. Well, private-ish.

Sully isn’t a nice person. He dated your fellow cheerleader, Stacey Bennett, for a while and you knew firsthand about the explicit polaroid pictures he’d taken of her without her permission. And you knew secondhand how he shared them with the football team.

You can justify this to yourself. To what remains of your conscience.

“Do you have any plans later?” you tilt your head and gently run a finger over his bicep, “If not, I was thinking maybe we could… hang out?”

You put on the show of what boys like and you watch, half there and half out of control, as he dumbly falls into your line.

But you remember how much he hurt Stacey, and you can imagine she isn’t the first (or last) girl he’s hurt. So you decide that you can justify this meal to yourself.

Like a cheat day - he practically doesn’t even count.

“So,” Sully’s brows draw tight as he looks up at Skull Rock, “you bring all the boys here?” then he looks at you, “Or am I special?”

You simper and loop your arms around his neck, “Which do you prefer?”

“I like to think I’m special,” he leans down, nose nudging yours.

You nod slowly, “You’re very special, Sully.”

He practically collapses into your kiss and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t amusing how desperate he was. Your hands settle over his chest, then sink lower, lower, lower until your fingers are grazing under his shirt.

“Is this okay?” you whisper against his lips, watching your work through your lashes.

Sully’s breath stutters before he nods, “More than okay.”

Your nails scrape his stomach, just enough to be there without hurting, “Good.”

Prey should be at ease before they die and prey should die quickly - it’s inhumane otherwise.

And the news spreads as Robin gets out of the double doors after the final school bell rings.

“Did you hear what happened?” Steve is glaring right at Robin, “No, I am not letting you walk home. Get in the damn car.”

“Steve,” Robin sighs, “how’d you even know I needed a ride? You stalking me now?”

He gives her a pointed look and she relents, throwing open the passenger door of his BMW and climbing in.

“I didn’t know you needed a ride but I wanted to make sure,” his brows furrow as he continues to wait outside the school, “Also heard your little girlfriend wasn’t feeling well.”

“She’s not- “ Robin smiles at the thought though and the retort dies under her tongue, “Also, what happened?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“Obviously not, dingus.”

“That varsity kid - Vacks? He…” Steve sounds winded, he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide, “His torso was torn open. Literally. Apparently, it looked like something was eating him.”

“Oh my God,” Robin’s hands fly over her mouth, slowly lowering for her to ask, “Do they know what did it?”

“‘What’?” Steve shakes his head, “No. That’s the weirdest part. It wasn’t like a wild animal did because it wasn’t those wounds that killed him,” Robin tilts her head. Steve looks out at the double doors and honks when some of his kids pile out, “Something snapped his neck. He died fuckin’ instantly.”

He puts up a finger to preemptively shush Robin as Dustin leans into the driver-side window.

“What?”

Steve nudges his head toward the backseats, “Get in.”

“No way,” Mike folds his arms, “We have to get Will and go to Hellfire tonight, we can’t just skip it.”

“Eddie will literally kill us,” Lucas tacks on.

“I can name something else that will literally, actually kill you,” Robin pipes up, earning a glare from Steve.

Mike and Lucas come closer to the car and Steve can practically see their hearts in their throats.

“It doesn’t look good,” Steve sets both hands on the wheel, “We don’t know what did it, but… Sully Vacks was more or less turned into a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“‘Don’t know what did it,’” Lucas shakes his head, “Yes, we do! Obviously, we do!”

Steve spots Max in the throng of people exiting Hawkins High, “No. Hopper said it didn’t look like anything we’ve seen, but I don’t want to rule it out entirely,” he drags a hand down his face and briefly wonders when his gray hairs will grow in, “Ask Mad Max if she needs a ride, will you?”

“There won’t be enough room,” Mike points out.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Steve grumbles, “Someone sits on a lap. I don’t care, you’re not staying late and I’m making sure you little shits get home.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Lucas backs away, jogging over to where his girlfriend is sitting on the curb, fiddling with her walkman.

“How the hell did you even hear about this?” Dustin stands straight.

Steve rolls his eyes, “I may or may not have gotten a call that I legally can’t admit to,” his gaze darts between the boys to Robin, “From someone that may or may not have been Hopper.”

“Is El with him?” Mike asks, and Steve hates to see the way his face deconstructs in worry.

“Yeah, she’s with him,” Steve waves them off, “Go get Will and come right back. Do you hear me?” when they walk away with no confirmation, he shouts out the window, “I’ll hunt you all down, I’m not kidding!”

“You’re a regular Mama Bear, Steve,” Robin throws her head back against the rest, mind flooding with thoughts of you. More specifically, if your sudden change has anything to do with the possibility of the Upside Down being open again.

“These kids have seen too much,” Steve grips the steering wheel as Lucas approaches his car, “If possible, I want them as out of this whole thing as possible. If it’s even a thing,” his shoulders are tense and his mouth is distastefully dry, “Hopefully it’s just some psycho.”

But he doubts it.

Lucas leans down, one eye closed when the sun hits it dead on, “Max says Eddie can give her a ride. I’ll hitch with them, too, so your car’s not crowded.”

“Alright,” Steve nods, “Radio in when you’re home. Tell Max, too. I want to know you two are safe.”

“Yes, Mom,” Lucas rolls his eyes, waving off Robin as he walks away.

Will, Dustin, and Mike come upon the BMW. Will shakes his head vehemently, his hand brushes the back of his neck and he continues shaking his head.

Robin takes note of how at ease Will’s body is. As if everything, aside from this new paranoia, was totally fine.

Maybe this isn’t the work of the Upside Down. Which would usually be good - great, even - but it would raise more questions than it answered.

Who slaughtered Sully? Why would they do it? Why were you so suddenly ill? And what the fuck kind of dream did Robin have last night?

The Upside Down was officially ruled out as an option to the spectacle of violence when neither Eleven nor Will felt that it was open. Things were… safe.

You’re just glad Robin excused you from the meeting, on account of you being “sick”, before you could even hear about it. You don’t know how long and how hard you can lie, but you don’t plan on testing it out.

You give it a couple days before you return to Robin’s side at school.

And a good sum of weeks before forcing the whole thing out of your head.

Books hugged to your chest and preppy little cheer uniform on in eager wait for the pep rally and game later, you bounce up to Robin and slap a hand on her shoulder, “Boo!”

She gasps and jumps and glares when she realizes it’s only you, “You’re evil.”

“You’re just easy to scare,” you move and lean against the locker next to hers, “So…”

“So…?” she shuffles a couple books around, then flips down the cover to a mirror plastered on her locker door, peering into the glass.

“Prom is coming up,” you lean in close, grinning as she flounders for lipstick.

“Yeah, in two weeks,” she shrugs, “I know your schedule of tryouts for people to be your date is usually packed, but I am not so lucky.”

You roll your eyes and pull a garnet red lipstick from your bag, handing it to her over her shoulder, “I can only go with the people the general population would approve of, so that sucks.”

It was true, you couldn’t bring a girl to prom in the way Robin couldn’t. Unless it was as friends. But everyone knew that if you brought someone to prom as a friend, then you couldn’t dance the way you would want to dance with your date.

Except Robin, but that was more cowardice to confess than anything else.

“We could just go together?” you watch her apply your lipstick and you can hardly find it in yourself to tear your eyes away.

“Nah,” she sighs and caps the tube, “I don’t wanna screw up your chances of being prom queen.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” you accept the lipstick she holds out and replace it in your bag, “You wouldn’t mess up my chances. And it’s not like prom queen is that big a deal to me, you of all people should know that.”

“But this is our senior prom, if you didn’t win then I know you’d be bummed,” Robin shuts her locker and leans back against it. Her face dangles in front of yours like a carrot on a stick, “I might just make Steve bring me.”

“Ew,” your head thunks back on the metal, “I have no idea who I’m going with. All the boys here suck.”

“Are you just realizing?”

You shove her shoulder and huff while she laughs, “As true as that is, I can’t have my judgment mocked.”

“Oh, of course,” she shakes her head, “I’m so sorry, your highness.”

“I forgive you.”

Robin mocks a curtsy and swings her bag over her shoulder.

Things between you and Robin are different. You feel like she knows and she feels like you should know.

Over the same night, with two perspectives, you two are bound into different corners of the same room.

You want to tell her. You want help, you’re tired of fighting whatever it is inside you that tells you to feed. But you don’t want to drag anybody else into this - both for their safety, and yours. If you assume wrong, and there’s no way to help this curse, then you’re already dead.

Robin wants to tell you about her terrifying dream. Or at least, she’s decided it was a dream. She feels like you have a right to know, but you don’t. And also, what a peculiar thing it would be - to tell you about it. You weren’t even acting like yourself, it’d be childish to hold it against you. It is childish to hold it against you.

But there’s a pit in her gut no matter how badly she tries to shake it off.

“Wanna watch a movie together later?” but you’re so sweet and she adores you so much.

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Robin looks up at the ceiling as if it would tell her what’s in stock at Family Video, “Anything specific?”

You hum as you think and she’s always found that adorable about you, “Something cute. I don’t wanna think too hard after what happened.”

“I got you,” she promises, “I’ll get a great movie. No thinking required.”

“Awesome,” you stop outside Mr. Peters’ room, “Alright, I’ll see you at lunch, right?”

“Definitely,” she punches your shoulder, “as long as you remember where the band table is.”

“I remember, I remember,” you swat her hand away and set a hand on the doorknob, “See ya!”

Robin nods dumbly, grinning lovestruck as she waves, “See you later.”

Fifth hour is a mixed bundle.

On one hand, your lab partner is Robin! That’s exciting. On the other, your teacher is Mr. Gordon Vacks. Sully’s father. That’s exhausting.

You wonder, though, if he’d be pressing people to bring justice if he knew what his son was doing with explicit polaroids he took and showed without permission.

Would he even care?

Probably not.

You discovered at a young age that most fathers don’t care what their sons do as long as they can brag to their friends how smart or strong or funny he is.

It might be unfair to lump Mr. Vacks in with such a crowd, but you have yet to be proven wrong (aside from Wayne Munson, he was more of a father than most biological dads in your opinion).

Another study day is laid upon the students. Another day for Mr. Vacks to spend grilling teenagers about if they saw anything, what they heard, where they were, and whatnot without having to worry about actually lecturing.

There’s a sick, twisted glee trapped between the rungs of your ribs every time he mentions his son. It’s bizarre and you don’t like it, but there’s something undeniable about it.

Your hand pressed to your mouth just to hide your growing smile, you act like you’re reading from the study guide while he speaks with Trinity Liú about Sully’s death. She last saw him with Jason Carver.

Good.

A paper pricks the side of your arm and you jump slightly, calming when you see Robin trying not to laugh at you.

You roll your eyes and take the paper.

ouyay okayyay?

“Pig Latin, really?” you whisper and she shrugs, trying not to giggle while you translate.

You pass the paper back.

fine. just worried i guess

As if.

Sully was a bastard.

But did he deserve to die?

Duh. He was awful. He was only going to hurt more people.

Well yeah, but did he deserve to actually die?

Did he?

You’re not so sure anymore. It makes you sick.

Robin passes the paper back.

ouyay ooklay icksay

Huffing, your reply is quick.

write like a normal person

She concedes and crosses out her previous statement. Replacing it.

you look sick

Are you sick because of your cracking mind? Or is it because you’re growing hungry?

You tilt your head and shrug.

i’m fine

Liar.

Though, now that you think about it. It’s been a good month of peace since Sully had to die, and now - you hate to admit it - you do feel weaker. You got a paper cut after feeding last month and it healed instantly.

You look down at your hands now, where you cut yourself removing a staple in homeroom, and it’s still a fine line of puckered, dying skin.

“You can tell me anything,” she whispers.

Not this. Robin doesn’t want to know this - she doesn’t have to know this.

Your eyes flip across the room. Past Robin. Past Trinity. Onto Andy - one of Jason’s best friends. He hasn’t done anything to you other than be annoying, but you know he bullies your friends.

Well, Eddie’s friends that are your friends by association. And the freshmen, who you insist are your friends.

Robin leans forward, brows knit tightly and lips pursed, “What’s wrong? Seriously, you’re being weird.”

“I’m fine, Rob,” she doesn’t look convinced. Not at all, and you don’t blame her. Your hand finds hers under the table and you squeeze, “Really. I’m okay.”

She doesn’t let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of hers.

Robin hates this feeling. She hates distrusting you. She hates feeling like you’re lying - because that’s not you.

You're her best friend. You’re more. You’re her one. Her person.

“I’m here for you,” it's the last ditch.

You nod, “Thanks, but really. ‘m okay.”

And it falls through.

She hates distrusting you.

When the bell rings, you’re quicker than her to pack up. You rush after Andy and she can’t surmise why. You have never liked Andy, never so much as muttered about how he was even cute. Robin wishes she could just look inside your head and see what’s wrong.

Why’re you acting like this?

Or is she being paranoid?

She hates this.

Robin chooses to stay on the sidelines when she sees you pouring the sugar over Andy. She won’t tie you down when you two aren’t even dating, but there’s no chance she’s going to sit there and listen to you hook up a date.

Eventually, you’re back at her side, “Sorry. Had to make plans for tomorrow.”

“You can…” she sighs, “you can go tonight, if you want.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Duh.”

It doesn’t fix what’s between you two - whether you’re hiding something or she’s paranoid - but it makes her beam. Pride and joy and love.

Movie nights are simple and easy.

This movie night is different.

You look awful - dried, bumpy skin and heavy bags under your bloodshot eyes. She doesn’t say anything, though.

“Okay,” Robin stands in front of your TV, holding up three videos, “We have: Sixteen Candles, Footloose, and Flashdance.”

“Uhm,” you wet your dried, cracked lips that persisted no matter how much balm you applied, blinking hazily, “Sixteen Candles.”

“Sucker for Ringwald,” she ‘tsk’s but pops the movie in all the same.

“Says the one who liked Vickie McNulty, that girl’s a carbon copy of Molly Ringwald. Have you seen Pretty in Pink yet? They’re the exact same.”

“Yeah, and I liked her. Past tense,” Robin emphasizes, returning to her rightful place beside you on the couch. She tosses an arm over the back and you drag yourself into the open space of her side.

Robin is warm while you shiver. Your skin is cold - like death. Like Aunt Shauna. She tries not to let it show and brings a family favorite throw blanket over the two of you.

Your eyes are already beginning to flutter shut and Robin can’t help but grin. There’s an adorable quality about you - no matter how tired or sick you look, there’s something in the air around you. Sunshine and bubblegum and a BFF necklace in the shape of a strawberry heart hidden beneath your shirt collar.

Robin checks the clock. The game isn’t for another two hours, she can let you sleep awhile.

But then you’re pawing at her shoulders, lips pouting and eyes pleading. The tactics you usually bulldoze through are now lathering thick over her like cement.

“What, uh,” she blanches, hands coming to entwine with yours, “what’re you doing?”

“Hm?” you simper, for real this time, “Playing.”

“Playing?” she quirks a brow.

You nod, leaning up to kiss her cheek again, but this time it’s different. No more friends and no more giggles. This is want.

Need.

You feel foggy, though. Like your actions aren’t yours and when you realize what’s coming, you also realize that they aren’t.

And when Robin’s caged beneath you on the couch, you’re entirely out of control.

The hunger is just a little too strong.

It’s need that makes you lean down - lips pressing to hers.

It’s want that makes her reciprocate.

Her hands are on your sides and you feel something burn at your skin. It's sparkling. Sensual and smooth. Robin keens into your lips and you feel a little better than before.

But Robin’s brows furrow and she pulls back.

She wants this, but it feels odd.

You don’t feel like you and this isn’t how she wants this to go down. But she also doesn’t want to outright reject you. So she settles for the middle.

A cowardly, stupid middle.

“Maybe not now,” she whispers, eyes avoiding yours.

You jump off of her and nod. You press your lips to gather the lasting taste of Robin’s watermelon chapstick, and you notice your lips are pillowy instead of rough. Your skin feels fuller. Firmer.

You think Robin notices by the way she stares at you. You look down at where you cut yourself removing that damned staple.

Completely healed.

“You can…” Robin clears her throat, “see him. If you want.”

You have to. You know that.

And rather than assume Robin is just conflicted, you accept this as rejection. Because what in God’s name would it be otherwise?

“Right,” you have a little under two hours until the game, “Right. Sure.”

“Sorry- “ Robin stands, hands outstretched for you when you begin walking away.

“It’s okay, Rob,” you pull on your shoes, head too full of thoughts about the next meal to even begin conceptualizing the fact that the girl you love is directly turning you away, “I’ll see you at the game.”

“See you at the game,” she wrings her hands, already regretting her decision, “Things don’t… they don’t have to change.”

“Yeah,” you pause before you leave, leaning over to press a cautious kiss to her cheek, “Bye, bye.”

“Bye,” she waves.

Why did she do that?

It felt wrong. Not the same kind of wrong in how it would if you had been high or drunk, but also not entirely different. It was like something was moving for you. She’s known you for a long time. She’s seen you - studied your movements and mannerisms and she knows how you behave.

She’s not being paranoid, there is something wrong and she’s convinced that the “nightmare” wasn’t a nightmare at all.

So why isn’t she stopping you from visiting Andy?

You wouldn’t hurt Andy. You’re a sweetheart, you wouldn’t. Bizarre happenings or not.

Robin doesn’t know what to do, so she calls Steve. Stupidly.

“What would you do if I told you someone was off?”

A few streets away, you’ve already got Andy on his knees at an abandoned construction site. You’re trying to think of things he’s said before. Things he’s done. Anything to justify this.

“Your girlfriend? Yeah, the whole group knows she’s been off her rocker lately.”

He’s pressing strangely kind kisses up your thigh as you wind a hand in his hair. It makes you salivate in sick and hunger all at once.

“She’s not my- ! Whatever, I’m just saying. I’m worried. I know we agreed that the Upside Down isn’t open but… I dunno. What if they were wrong?”

You kneel down to Andy’s level. You cup his cheeks in your hands - gentle and tender and loving. You bat your lashes and his lips quirk upwards.

“I guess. Maybe it took a new host?”

Your hands wretch his head. Sharp and quick. Prey shouldn’t suffer - it’s inhumane.

“Maybe. We shouldn’t mention this, huh?”

You feel disgusted. Just until your stomach growls and the hunger grows. No longer can you sustain yourself on watermelon kisses and sun-bleached hair and pretty freckles.

“Probably not. That sounds like a one-way ticket and I don’t think we’re ready to use it yet.”

There’s nothing you can think of. Not that you’re thinking while you eat. If you think while you eat then you have to present, and if you’re present while you eat - you think you might go completely mad.

“Right. I gotta go get ready for the game. I’ll talk to you later, Hair.”

Before he can get out a “don’t call me that!” Robin hangs up. There’s a dagger in her gut and she can only rub at the ache building behind her eyes - it’s overwhelming. It crashes over her - unlike the ocean as it fails to build. More like a firework, sudden and unforgiving. Bright. Loud.

It hurts.

Robin wanders to her room and tries to fight off the urge to check if her bat is there. She hasn’t looked out of fear. If it’s still missing…

She doesn’t even want to think about it, so she doesn’t. She thrives in blissful, selected ignorance. But a glance outside her bedroom window, still unclean of blood and split open, shows your car left on the curb. Abandoned. Not even the cherry charm you keep hanging on your rearview mirror is swinging. Completely untouched.

Robin, foolishly, saves her concerns until homecoming that night.

“Hey! Someone’s lookin’ better!”

You turn at the coo and smile sunshine bright at your favorite drug pusher, “Hey, Eds!” you wave him over with a pom-pom, “Thought games weren’t your thing?”

“They aren’t, but post-game athletes in need of recreational fun,” Eddie holds up his black lunchbox and jingles it in front of your face, “they are.”

Humming, you look over his shoulder to where the Hawkins band is lining up in front of the bleachers. Lips pressing and head tilting.

There should be enough time, and it’s not like you’ll have any fun with anybody else. Besides, if you go to prom with Eddie and Robin brings Steve - it’ll be a friendly reunion. A nice reunion. There should be enough time between feeds.

Your face falls.

Jason’s running around the gym. He asks basketball players, cheerleaders, teachers, band members, and stray students alike. Where’s Andy? Where’s Andy? Where’s Andy?

“Hey,” Eddie settles a hand on your shoulder, face gentle but prodding, “you good, bubble-brain?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, airy and tired, eyes fluttery, “Sorry. Just, uhm, worried. I guess. Nobody can find Andy.”

Eddie shrugs and purses his lips, as if he has no idea why that might be alarming, “Probably fucking off somewhere. ‘s gonna work out. He’ll be here.”

Robin bursts through the doors with Steve hot on her tail, she searches for something. Someone. You.

She grins despite the saran wrap bundled relationship you’re sharing and rushes to you. A keyring is looped around her finger, fitted with three keys - each one with a different fruit painted onto it - and a fluffy pink and white ball charm. Robin presses the keys into your chest, hand lingering just long enough for you to cage her hand there with yours.

Your heart thunders and you wonder if Robin can feel it. You wonder if she knows why.

“You left these at my house,” Robin mutters, eyes staying on your glossed lips just a little too long for a friend - for a girl, “along with your car,” her voice is a little raspier than usual, you like it, “You should really keep better track of your things.”

“Right, sorry,” you release her hand and hand the keys to Eddie, “I’ll pick it up tomorrow morning. I’m kinda… tired.”

“Of course,” Robin nods shortly, then takes you by the arm and drags you away from the boys, “Look, bunny, something is definitely up. And- and don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely…” she laughs, hollow, “I’m into you, that way. I like you, like, a lot. I think I’m crazy for you, actually. Just- I wanna get this all figured out before we start anything.”

Nothing will ever be figured out. Not really, anyway.

But you nod slowly because you don’t know how much longer you have to be with her like this.

“I get it, Rob,” you reach out and clench her hand, squeezing with a saccharine smile, “‘m still gonna flirt with you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she grins, bottom lip tugging between her teeth.

You’re not dumb - lots of people think you are, but you aren’t. You know that the demon sleeping inside you was satiated by Robin’s touch and you now choose to keep that in your back pocket.

You’ve never gotten full off of mere touch, so the fact it happened with Robin will be a last-ditch effort. A just in case. For the worst scenario. You don’t want her in this more than she has to be. If she has to be at all.

You leave her side, prancing off to the line of cheerleaders in front of the bleachers.

Robin watches, face screwed in wonder. She’s not dumb, either. She can hear Jason asking where Andy is. She knows you were more than likely the last person to see him alive. She knows something’s wrong.

Upside Down host or not, you’re you now. That’s unmistakable.

She watches from the band section as you cheer with the others. It’s you. She can feel it. There are times where she can’t. Where she senses something else. Something off. Like a store-brand coffee or a cheap copy of a dress.

Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s a mix. Sometimes, rarely, it’s that dread from before. When you were keeping her down, she felt it. Darker. Twisted. A thick rainstorm, a deathly hurricane that smothers the sunshine.

But now, as you cheer on the Tigers and subtly wave to her with your sparkly green-and-yellow pom-pom - she knows you’re you. Undeniably and absolutely revocably you.

...

“Thanks again, Eds,” you’re in Eddie’s passenger seat by the end of the night. Your feet kick up onto the dashboard and twirl the ring Robin gave you around your finger, “So, how much did you make tonight?”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Eddie pops you in the thigh with the back of his hand, “And I made a shitload. Haven’t counted it all yet, but - it was a lot. Not that you’re seeing any.”

“Aww,” you lean over the center console, pouting dramatically, “you’re so mean.”

“Go tell your girlfriend about it,” he smiles at you. Big and fake and dumb.

“Oh, you know what- “ you fold your arms, lashes narrowing at the metalhead. Then, your eyes go lax and hands fall into your lap, fingers now picking at a peeling edge of cotton candy tinted nails, “Do you really think she likes me?”

“You two are so oblivious.”

“Well, I mean, I know she does, it’s just…” you look out your window, watching trees skim past the skyline, “I dunno. Maybe it’s the childhood friends effect.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind,” Eddie shakes his head, eyes lingering on your side profile for just a second longer, “I feel like I’m listening to a bad rom-com,” when you stay silent, he sighs. Over-the-top and thoroughly done, “Even if it is the childhood friends effect, it’s still there, right? You two are still into each other.”

“Yeah.”

But for how long?

How long can you hold yourself together?

“Wanna go to prom?” your voice is a little too distant, a little too caught up in your own thoughts, “I mean, I’ll be with Robin, but we need someone to bring us and I figure you’re going anyway.”

You gesture to the backseat of the van where Eddie’s black, metal lunchbox has been tossed - originally onto the seat but it tumbled to the floor as soon as Eddie started driving. He should really get his driving under control.

“Wow, just call me a chariot next time,” Eddie mumbles, hands knocking on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the radio, “Sure, I’ll take you.”

“Great!” you punch the ceiling of his van, quickly earning yourself a glare that could kill, “Thanks a lot, Eds.”

“Mhm,” he slams to a stop in front of your house and holds up a fist, “Don’t get killed by whatever thing is hunting hot teenagers, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you hope your voice doesn’t shake too much, hope your giggle isn’t too nervous, “You either, ‘kay?”

When you bump your knuckles with his, Eddie then moves to twirl his hair - voice drawling up comically higher to supposedly mimic you, “‘kay!”

“Oh, get a hobby,” you roll your eyes and hop out of the van, “Drive safe!”

“Never!” he shouts through the window, honking twice and speeding away.

You jump at the sound and flip Eddie off as he drives, fully knowing he may not even see it.

A few streets away, Robin is laid back in her bed. Eyes on the ceiling. She feels like she could call. Surely, you’re home. But the idea makes her sick - so she shuts her eyes and lets the thought die.

Her room is so cold.

Grossly so.

Robin doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, she falls into a fitful rest on top of her comforters. Cold and restless. Cold and unwelcome.

…

You’ve always been a firm believer that hell is just the day of prom. Over and over again. Even before recent developments that left you exhausted and drier than a bag of prunes without a good feed.

It’s a day chock full of last-minute promposals and athlete douchebags trying to somehow act too cool whilst begging you and your fellow cheerleaders to go with them. The begging is in subtext, but it happens nonetheless.

“You should probably skip that meeting with Ms. Moora,” Robin leans into you, watching as your gentle hands rub your temples, “Don’t look so good, bunny.”

“Yeah, I know,” you’re quiet, eyes scrunched at the volume of the cafeteria, “I feel like hell.”

Robin purses her lips, nodding while taking one of your hands and squeezing it, “Are you gonna be okay to drive?”

You sigh. Shrug.

“Yeah…”

You don’t have much of a choice.

Robin visibly cringes, “I dunno, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’ll be fine, Rob,” you huff, ripping away your hand to cover your eyes, “Sorry. I just. I don’t feel good.”

“I figure,” she laughs dryly, the glee dropping from her face just as quickly as it’d arrived, “Sorry, I’m only worried. You’ve been acting really weird lately, and with the… you know, everything going on. I have a bad feeling.”

“I’m fine, Robin,” you groan and lean back, head tilting towards the ceiling, “Really.”

“But how do we know?”

“The only victims have been boys, right? That’s gotta mean something.”

“Well, yeah, but still. Don’t you care?”

“About a couple douchebag athlete dickheads getting ripped open? No, not really.”

Robin pulls back, eyes wide, “What?”

You pry your hands down from your face, giving the confused Robin a once over, “What?”

“Dude,” Robin shakes her head, “how could you say that?”

Robin wasn’t ever a fan of the Hawkins’ meatheads, but there’s something about the venom with which you said such a thing. The way you’re so apathetic. It’s not you.

“It’s just…” you toss your hands up, “boys! Stupid, asshole boys. What does it even matter? There are a thousand other jocks just like them.”

“Okay,” Robin guffaws in disbelief, “but this isn’t like you. They’re still people. You just… I don’t- “

“People change, Robin,” you rub your cheek and groan at how dry it feels, your stomach stinging with emptiness, “It’s totally not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Robin furrows her brows at you, “I don’t like this change.”

“Well,” you stop yourself.

You cover your mouth as your brain finally catches up to what you just said. What the fuck did you just say?

“I don’t…” you blink, slow and tired, dazed and confused, “I’m sorry- I don’t know why I said that…” Robin leans down to lock eyes with you, taking your hands in hers, “Any of it. I don’t know why I said any of it.”

Robin cups your cheek, gently rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone, “I think you should have your parents call you out of school.”

Your cheeks are sullen and eyes sunken. You look dead.

Something in the back of Robin’s head whispers. Aunt Shauna.

“They’re both at work,” you run a hand over your face, frowning as you pull the hand away, “I could probably just leave now.”

“Will you be okay to drive?” you stand, pressing Robin down by the shoulders when she tries following.

“I can ask Eds, he doesn’t plan on coming back after his stupid lunch deals,” you nudge your head towards the Hellfire table - noticeably lacking in a boisterous leader.

“Alright,” Robin chews her bottom lip, reaching under the collar of her Jem and the Holograms T-shirt, “Hey.”

She holds up her half of a strawberry heart BFF necklace.

You smile, earnest but exasperated, and pull out your own half of the necklace - bending down to click it in place with hers.

“We’ll be okay, right?” Robin wants to go back.

Before your stupid band and before Sully Vacks got killed.

But you lie.

“Yeah, we’ll be okay,” you kiss her cheek, leaving it faintly red in your lipstick’s stain, “See ya.”

“See you later,” she can’t help but feel like there’s something missing.

Torn out and shredded.

You find Eddie at his infamous picnic table in the woods, finishing up a deal with Stacey Bennett. Excitedly, he waves you over.

“The queen of Hawkins High! How can I help you?”

“Can you give me a ride home on your way out?” you sit next to Eddie and plop your head on his shoulder, “I feel like slush.”

“Aw,” he pouts, packing up his lunchbox of drugs, “muck, even?”

“Mucus, actually,” you giggle when he gasps, apparently horrified.

“Alright, get her started for me,” Eddie hands over his keys, and you grin, jangling them as you skip off to his prized van.

Robin can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

It persists even as she gets a ride home from Steve. Even as she gets in her pantsuit for prom. Even as she applies her makeup. It burns, eating at the fraying edges of her brain. Or what’s left of it, at least.

A few streets away, you slam your window shut and shake your head at how long you must’ve left it open. No wonder your room is practically freezing cold. That’s it.

You turn back towards your open closet and pull down the dress you’d picked out with Robin mere days ago. It’s a salmon pink affair to go with her baby pink pantsuit. Eddie will be in his usual attire with the addition of a blazer and aggressively neon pink tie. You hear Steve bought a hideously Barbie pink suit because he lost a bet to Robin.

It’s a beautiful dress. Dips and hugs where you want it to - lacing on the skirt (which falls to your ankles perfectly).

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Absent eyes. Irritated skin. Lips chapped. You look ill. So unlike yourself that it’s hard to believe this face was ever yours. You can’t stop staring, though.

It’s odd.

It’s you.

You’re hungry.

Just to punctuate the damn thing, your stomach rumbles - your head feels light and for a split second, you can’t see. You stumble, one hand flying out to catch yourself on the vanity and the other clutching your dress.

You wish you never went to The Hideout.

You need to feed quickly. You don’t want to think about the people you’d be hurting. Your friends. Robin. Last time was too close a call, you can’t possibly risk it again.

A sharpness hits your gut like you’ve been pierced, you whine and fall to your knees. Your mouth runs dry and you can feel your muscles twitch.

You need to feed quickly.

Eddie had a crush on you last year - you know that. You feel bad because you like Eddie as a friend and want him happy, but that can never be you. Something inside you, though, can’t stop thinking about it.

The way he looked at you. How he’d bend over backwards for you. How he still lets you put your heel-clad feet on the dashboard of his van.

“Hey, pull up here,” you’ve got half of a BFF necklace pulled up to your chin, pressing the cold metal against your skin.

Eddie concedes, looking over at you, “Alright, bubble-brain, what’s going on up here?”

He pokes your temple twice before you catch his hand - he laughs when you glare.

“Wanna check out the abandoned pool house?” you nudge your head in the direction of the aforementioned pool house. Moss bitten and vine slathered. It’s cracking the higher you look and kids like to dare each other to go inside on Halloween.

“Mmm, I dunno,” Eddie rests his elbow on the center console, chin digging into the meat of his palm, “We sort of have somewhere to be.”

“So?” you lean forward, nose at his cheek, grinning when he flushes, “C’mon, there’s fun to be had before prom.”

He backs away, arms folding. He’s trying to smile like this is lighthearted, like he isn’t half considering it and half afraid of you laughing in his face.

“What about Robin?” his brows furrow. Tongue pressed to cheek.

“What about Robin?” you run the half-heart charm over your lip.

“No,” Eddie laughs again, but he’s breathless, “You- no. No way.”

“Eds,” you puff out your bottom lip, “Eds.”

“No,” he’s firmer this time, “Alright, we can check out the pool house, but nothing is happening, do you understand? I don’t know what the fuck your problem is right now, but you’re being weird.”

“Nothing’s my problem,” you roll your eyes and hop out of his van, speaking before shutting the door, “Now, let’s go before we’re late.”

Eddie watches you cross the yard, you stop before the door and turn back to him. Calling and waving your hand impatiently. He reaches into his glove box and pulls out a walkie-talkie Dustin forced him to start carrying (not that he knows why, but when it comes to Henderson, it’s easier to simply go with it). He keys into the proper signal before calling out.

“Harrington? Come in, Harrington. I know you like dressing yourself up, but this is gonna be important.”

…

Robin looks at the walkie, then where Steve is still in his bathroom - eyes narrowed at his reflection and fingers burying in his hair every two seconds.

“Hello,” the ‘o’ is stretched out, “pretty boy, I’ve got serious shit going on.”

It’s Eddie. Robin might not be allowed to get into Steve’s shit, but this seems like a fine exception. So she grabs the walkie off Steve’s desk and tunes in.

“Eddie? It’s Robin, what’s going on?”

“Your girl is actin’ fucking weird. We’re stopped at the pool house. I think you two should hurry here before she decides to leave.”

Robin drops the walkie and darts out of Steve’s room. If she was thinking a little more clearly, a little less pressed for time, a little smarter - she would’ve dragged Steve to his car.

But she’s got that bad feeling and Eddie might be in trouble and you might be the cause.

She fucking knew she wasn’t paranoid. She knew something was wrong.

You were the last person to talk to Andy, and she knew that and she kept quiet because she didn’t want to be wrong. No, she wouldn’t have been wrong - she knows that now and she knew that then. She just didn’t want you getting caught.

There has to be something else. There’s no other option.

Her feet ache in the platformed dress shoes she stuffed herself into - but she doesn’t stop running. Her lungs are fucking burning and her legs are screaming at her to stop.

Something told her it was wrong. She saw you at the end of the hall - she saw you grab Sully’s sleeve and she could feel it when you trapped her against the couch. You looked like she’d never seen you - like you were twisted. Inverted and crushed and ground up and spat back out. No life. No warmth.

She should’ve listened to the whispers.

Aunt Shauna.

You’re not you. You’re not human.

…

“I’m telling you right now, bubble-brain, if you don’t let go - I might think you’re gonna try something.”

“Hm? And if I do?”

“I already told you, nothing’s happening.”

Your hands have found a place on Eddie’s sides, he can feel your nails through his layers of clothes. Your face pressed to his back.

“No fun,” you pout. Your stomach growls - stronger, louder, more vicious. You pry yourself away to clutch at your tummy, “God- fuck-!”

Eddie turns, eyes wide, “Are you…” his hands hover just above your shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“Hungry…” you collapse into his chest, forehead pressing into his neck, “So hungry, Eds. ‘m so weak. Can barely fight.”

“The hell’re you fighting?” he tries laughing, really tries, “I doubt it’s that serious, bubble-brain.”

“Can you help me?” your jaw feels loose. Hanging by a string of muscle, the bones detached. Tongue dry and numb and gut clenching, “You’re a good friend, right? You care about me? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course, we are,” he pulls you back by the shoulders and if you were just a little stronger then maybe you could’ve broken away like you did with Robin, “We can go eat right now. Where do you wanna go? I’ll use that game money to buy you anything you want.”

“Eddie…” you groan miserably, another growl and it rocks through you - a whole-body spasm. You snap forward at the hips as you yelp in pain. It’s like having that stupid bowie knife locked and twisted and dragged through your stomach again and again and again.

Your hands come back up to his sides, beneath the overcoat. Fingertips skimming up his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you bury your face into the crook of his neck, nails digging sharply into his ribs and keep sinking even when he grabs at you and tries pulling away. Even when he screams - even when he rushes you into the wall. You take it and you don’t know how much longer you can, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s desperation and agony and you don’t think you can live like this anymore.

You can’t justify this life - you want to stop but you’re too scared to die.

Or rather, too scared to find out what happens if you stop trying to drown out whatever thing inside you feeds on flesh. At least this way you control the meal. Somewhat.

But now you’re picking Eddie.

Eddie is your friend.

You scream as he does and you hope someone finds you two. You hope they shoot you through the back and pierce your blackened heart.

He bleeds.

“Bunny!”

You dart away from Eddie at the sound of her voice.

Not her. Anybody, sure. But not her. Not Robin. The only one who loves you instead of the cheerleading prom queen, the only one you love. She can’t see you like this.

Her sweet, rasped voice carries outside and you hide in a dark corner; Eddie collapses back into the wall with hisses of pain and Robin smashes through a cracked, spotted window.

Robin crashes in with glass scraping her knees, slicing through the legs of her clothes. Her eyes find you though - just like they do at every party and the cafeteria and friend get-together. She finds you. Under the grime and darkness, she sees you.

“Bunny,” one hand scrambles in hidden view while the other reaches out for you, “you can come out, sweetheart, come on out.”

You try. You move an inch before Eddie gurgles in pain and your stomach wretches.

It’s too much. Why did she ask before shooting?

It should’ve been Nancy that found you.

“Robin!” you wrench back, hands covering your ears and eyes clenched. Your back hits the wall and you slide down to your ass, “Robin, Robin, Robin- !”

Robin runs to you, her shaky hands try and steady on your shoulders, “It’s okay,” she laughs, hollow and dry, eyes heavy, “it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here, bunny.”

“I don’t like this,” you whimper, legs pulling up as close to your chest as possible, “I hate this- “ you gasp and sputter, a scream is building beneath the surface, “I’m not me.”

“You’re you,” she presses a kiss to your forehead and her arms come around your neck, “You’re you right now, right?”

You nod weakly, hands coming down and winding into her overcoat, “I’m me.”

“You’re okay, bunny,” she kisses your temple and gently pries you away from the wall. Your back is exposed, “Everything will be okay…”

You sniffle and bury your face into the crook of her neck, “Robin- I- I don’t know what to do…”

She nods. Silent. Because she knows that if she opens her mouth now, everything will come spilling out.

“Robin, what do I do?”

Robin’s face scrunches and she kisses your cheek, “I’ll take care of it, bunny. Just let me take care of it, ‘kay?”

You go lax in her arms, a smile - finally, a real smile - spreads over your lips and you hug yourself impossibly closer. Her voice, raspy and scratchy and comforting, lulls you in like a siren’s song. And you hurdle towards her song like a lovestruck pirate - you hurdle right towards the whirlpool.

And you drown.

Robin cringes when you screech, but she digs the glass deeper into your back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- !”

Your hands scramble to her shoulders and you push and push and push until you can finally squirm out of her arms. You fly back into the wall, nudging the glass deeper. Your head rocks back and thuds into the dirt-caked surface as you scream.

You yank the glass shard from your back and watch the blood glint in the moonlight that leaks through cracked windows. Your eyes hesitantly flutter to Robin and you hate what you’re met with.

Wide eyes and heaving chest. She’s terrified. Terrified of you.

Then you look at Eddie. Bleeding and writhing in pain. His eyes can barely stay open long enough to properly watch you.

What have you done?

You drop the glass shard and it shatters across the concrete floor.

You like Eddie. He’s a good friend and a sweet person - an angel right to his core. If there was no way to justify hunting Andy and Jason - how in God’s name could you do it now?

Your knees ache when they hit the floor - a pain that rings up your thighs and nestles into your pelvic bone. Your forehead rests on the cold stone, dangerously close to the glass and you feel your stomach tighten. It growls and you wrap your arms around yourself.

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, head moving so your chin is on the floor and you’re staring right at Robin, “So, so hungry…”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Robin clatters forward, on her hands and knees, face lowering to yours, “You were full with me, right? Why didn’t you just come to me?”

Your lip wobbles and you can feel the budding fears rise to the surface.

Months pretending. Months wasted trying not to think about it. It’s not real. The missing posters, the blood you scrub away, the voice in the back of your head - none of it is real. The suffering, the hunger, the violence, all because some shitty metal band mistook you for their ethereal virgin. All because they wanted fame more than they valued their fellow man.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, Rob…” your eyes burn and there are tears that drag down your face, “Didn’t wanna risk hurting you…”

“You wouldn’t,” she cups your face, brows furrowing, “We- “

Eddie comes to a stand, still leaning against the wall, still cupping his hands over his bleeding sides.

“We can go.”

You and Eddie both look at Robin, but her eyes are trained on you.

She can’t go through with it. Not you, she can’t lose you.

You’re sunshine and bubblegum and a BFF necklace in the shape of a strawberry heart hidden beneath a shirt collar. You’re her one. Her person. The burger to her fries. The Juliet to her Romeo.

“We can go, bunny,” her hands fret over your face and she lifts you onto your knees, “No more Hawkins.”

“What about the others?”

She shakes her head.

“What about Steve?”

Robin has said it herself. Her and Steve are Platonic soulmates with a capital ‘p’. She isn’t very sappy, but sometimes when it’s his birthday or is feeling especially emotional, she spills it all. To you, to Steve. To anybody who’ll listen.

If you’re her person, Steve is her schmuck. If you were to drop dead, Steve would be your eventual replacement. The mere step-bestie.

They’ve gone to war together, been interrogated and tortured together, almost died together. Steve is more than a brother, he’s the entire family.

Robin steels herself and tries to shrug off the weight she’s slinging over her shoulders as she says, “What about Steve? There’s a million people like him, but… but there’s only one you, bunny.”

You don’t believe her, and you can tell that she doesn’t even believe herself.

“I should’ve never gone to that fucking bar…” you heave, throat tight and stomach aching, “Those fuckers - Robbie - tried sacrificing me as a virgin and now I’m- “ you reach for Robin’s leg, thumb brushing over the exposed red lines of where she cut her knees on the glass, “I don’t know what I am, but it isn’t human.”

“Just stay with me,” Robin picks up your jaw, cradling your head tenderly and forcing you to lock eyes with her, “If I can help, I will. You feel full with me, so just be with me, bunny.”

“What if I hurt you?” you sniffle, eyes wet and body limp, “I can’t- “

“You won’t,” Robin kisses your cheek, “And if you do, we’ll deal with it together. You’re strong, bunny, you’re smart - I know you can handle this.”

Your turn towards Eddie, “He knows.”

Robin’s hands go to your shoulders, pulling you tight to herself, tucking your head into the crook of her neck. She stares at Eddie. Pleading and weak and uneasy.

“Munson, I know you haven’t been around for a lot of Hawkins’ shit like we have, and we’ll explain later - but just- “ her breathing is shaky, she shakes her head, “Please, this wasn’t her. I swear, this wasn’t her.”

Eddie is silent. It’s bizarre. He looks between the two of you.

He doesn’t know where to go. What to say. He wants the old you back, whenever you changed he doesn’t know but he wants you back. He doesn’t even know if that’s entirely possible. He doesn’t know what to say.

How does he laugh this off? How does he wave this away? This isn’t you mistakenly hitting a fence when he was trying to teach you how to drive. It’s more than you passing out on his bed after a late night. Bigger than accidentally missing Corroded Coffin’s gig at The Hideout.

Robin hugs you closer, “I know we’re not best friends, but you have to know - it’s Hawkins. She’s sick with whatever fucked up curse is here.”

Eddie stands up from the wall, he pulls his hands away from his side to inspect the blood there. He’ll live, most assuredly, but he doesn’t know how long it’ll take him to forgive this.

Should he forgive this?

His hand shakes as he points at you - past Robin and right at where you’re trying to hide, “I want an explanation… and- and answers for whatever Hawkins’ curse you’re talking about.”

“Will you keep quiet?” Robin’s trying so hard to sound like she has the power, but it’s all bravado she never mastered. She’s pleading. Begging.

You look at him now. Shaking and horrified. You don’t look like the girl he knows.

“Yeah,” so he submits, hands raising in surrender, “I’ll keep quiet.”

He slides back onto the ground and Robin turns your head to her, she smiles and you try to return it. You really, really do try. But you’re tired and you’re hungry and you want to disappear from his pool house. From the world where you’ve done what you have.

“You’re starving, huh, bunny?” Robin brushes a thumb over your bottom lip before kissing you, “We should take care of you.”

“Do you hate me?” you clutch at her despite the question, desperate to keep her close even if she does, “For the… for what I did…”

“No,” Robin kisses you again, hungrier, harder, “Not at all, bunny.”

Dare she say it, she loves you.

And one day, you’ll tell her you love her back.

“Come on,” she stands and you take her hand. She squeezes - your skin is warm. You’re you, “Let’s get you taken care of, bunny.”

You’re warm.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley fic #robin buckley #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #jennifer's body #jennifer's body au #eddie munson x platonic!reader #i want this out of my drafts so bad #i'm so sick

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wild one pt eleven | stranger things; g.emerson

tag list babes || req rules / fandoms + characters || send me ?s || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

one + two + three + four + five + six + seven + eight + nine + ten can all be found by clicking. stranger things masterlist is here -it's gonna be updated shortly though.

AUTHORS NOTES;

As you can see, this story still has a chokehold on me. And this part, whew.. It was originally supposed to fall in the angst / hurt comfort category and yet.. Somehow it both did and did not and it's looong as hell too btw. A few things worth nothing here.. This is the first day of school for them. It's also the first Hellfire meeting. And sue me, I decided to throw Erica -and Will / El, into this as well as Max. It fits what I'm going for.

Guys I am still so blown away by you all, I've said it a thousand times, I do not post with any intention beyond getting ideas out of my head so every single time anybody bothers reading it -let alone likes/reblogs/reblogs with tags or comments, it just like... It makes me so happy and it motivates me and I cannot thank you guys enough for it -and for putting up with my ass.

SUMMARY;

-- us against the world.

PAIRING;

Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader -beyond female parts, outfit descriptors and personality traits I've randomly assigned, she is a mostly blank slate. I'm tryingggg omg.

WARNINGS;

the jocks are the warning. Bullying is heavily implied here. A punch is thrown. Several threats are made. A cheerleader decides to try and get into reader's head. A lil comfort moment. JSYK, Gareth and the two remaining members of Corroded Coffin have all been aged up to 18 so the gang will all graduate together. The Upside Down / deaths / Vecna don't exist for this but bullies and typical teenage stuff does.

TAGLIST;

@allelitesmut

@aurumbelis

@aries-arcade

@cole22ann

@chieflawyerpastatoad

@ebonybloom

@fandomfreakforever

@hcloangcls

@heyaitsklaudia

@hoeshii

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@icequeen1371

@krys-orion

@letsbedragonstogether

@louderfortheback

@littlestarfighter03

@musichealsscars

@oflavenderandevie

@secretsicanthideanymore

@scoobiessnacks

@suits-and-smirks

@thechoiceslookgrimm

@untitledarea

@untoldshortsofthefandoms are the only ones currently on my taglist. if you'd like to be on it, please click the link up top.

“She can’t be serious.” Caroline grumbles, blinking in disbelief when she spots you wandering into the school building, your step sister in tow.

“Him? I could make an allowance for screwing a freak if it was Munson. But him?” Megan scoffs and shakes her head.

“What the hell is she wearing?” Heather looks from you to Gareth and back again, a hand at her mouth as soon as she realizes what you’re wearing with your jeans and t-shirt. One of Gareth’s flannels. It has sleeves but it has to be his. It’s too big to belong to you. “Oh my goddd. She’s wearing his shirt.”

“Oh god, it gets worse.” Caroline rubs the bridge of her nose and pretends to gag. “Maybe she’ll get knocked up by the freak and have to drop out and then I won’t have to deal with her anymore.” she sighs. “I can dream, I suppose.”

You are completely unaware of the conversation between the other members of your squad because you’ve just spotted Gareth and you’re taking off at a run, flinging yourself at him with your arms around his neck. He’d spent the whole weekend involved in a campaign for DnD that one of Lucas’s invited him to play in, so you hadn’t seen him a lot because you spent most of that time babysitting or helping Angel out at the bar for some quick cash.

Gareth chuckles, an arm slipping around your waist to keep you steady, deepening the kiss as you pull his mouth against your own. “Hello to you too, sugar.”

You yawn as you lean against him, your forehead against the front of his flannel. He’s gone from an arm around your waist to holding onto both of your hands while you melt against him. “They start this shit show too early.”

Gareth chuckles at this. “We did stay up til two on the phone.”

“I wanted to hear you win the campaign, okay?” you pout when you look up at him. He chuckles and brushes his lips against your forehead. “How’s your back today? Max kinda told me about the spider in the shower incident. Plus I heard it. You have a really loud scream, y'know that?”

“I swear, Max can’t keep a secret to save her damn life. So she told you I nearly tore down the damn bathroom because Satan’s little pet was spying on me in the shower, hm?” you grumble, but you turn your back to face Gareth so he can raise up the flannel and your Motorhead shirt beneath it.

He laughs, “She kind of had to. I heard the noise in the background when she answered the phone last night.” He hisses and grimaces as he sets sight on the huge purpling bruise on your side. “Jesus christ! Babe, how in the hell..” he grazes a fingertip against the bruise gingerly, “Did you let Susan or Wes look at this?” he asks in concern.

“When I slipped while yanking down the shower curtain and it’s rod, I fell back into that tub in the bathroom me and Max are sharing.” you explain. “Susan looked at it, gave me some ice to put on it. Hurts like hell. She said if it starts to swell any worse or anything or it keeps hurting, she’ll take me to a doctor.”

“Shit.” Gareth shakes his head.

“Mhm.” you admit, yawning again as you turn back to face him and lean against him, nuzzling your nose into his neck. “You’re warm.” you mutter sleepily.

He tenses suddenly and you glance up just in time to spot Caroline, Megan and Heather staring in your direction. You roll your eyes and pay them no mind.

However, when the teacher peeking out into the hall catches you practically draped against your boyfriend and clears her throat, giving you a lecture about ladylike behavior and being too free with affection, you’re all sweet smiles and sheepish apologies until she’s back inside her classroom and then you’re mimicking her speech with perfect pitch.

“Can you believe that old bat is making us do that flour sack kid thing? I’m still struggling to figure out why I signed up for Home Ec.” you’re laughing when you say it. Gareth laughs. “You didn’t, remember? Even sending Wes up here to talk to them about letting you take auto shop class was shot down.”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe that he didn’t intimidate them into letting me somehow.” you’re pouting a little.

A throat clears almost obnoxiously behind you both and you turn to find yourselves face to face with Andy.

Gareth clenches a fist. He’s still itching to get his hands on Andy for three nights ago when you went to pick up Susan from her shift at the diner because Andy cornered you in the parking lot. He wanted to go and kill him that night, he was halfway out the door of his parents house to go find him at the ballfield where they hang out on the courts most of the time, but you barely managed to talk him out of it.

“You want something, Weber?” Gareth pulls you against him so close that there’s no space left between your bodies. Andy chuckles. “Y’know, sooner or later, she’s gonna get bored, Emerson.”

You try to step up to him but Gareth’s arms have an iron-clad grip around your waist. “Ah-ah. What was that you told me the other night when I wanted to kill him, babe?” he mutters against the shell of your ear. Getting obnoxiously close and touchy just to really rub it in with Andy.

Andy clenches his fists.

You clear your throat. “Why are you still standing here, shit for brains? I don’t play with boys when I can have a real man.”

When you say it, Gareth’s face flushes just slightly. And he bites back a groan because your body melts back against his even more.

He clears his throat and speaks up. “If I were you, Weber… I’d seriously consider leaving now. Because I wanted to fucking kill you when you cornered her outside the diner a few nights ago and honestly?” he taps his fist against his palm as he makes himself taller with a defiant smirk on his face, “I still really, really wanna.”

Andy steps up. This traps you between the two until Gareth pulls you back behind him and smirks. “Try it, Weber. C’mon..” he coaxes. “I dare you.”

“Oh I will, Emerson. But not here.” Andy’s eyes are darting around the hallway and he smirks. “You won’t be expecting it when it happens either.”

“Bullshit!” Jeff coughs to cover the word but it doesn’t work. He smirks at Andy and steps forward a little. Of the two boys, Jeff has height on Andy. And he knows that when in doubt, crazy works. So when he pretends to lunge, he snarls a little. Andy walks away and Jeff taunts calmly, “That’s right, Andy boy. We all know why you won’t fight either one of us.”

“The fuck, man? I had that.” Gareth grumbles, glaring at Jeff.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did that. You had time to calm down a little and you didn’t bash his skull in on the hallway floor, right?” Jeff points out with a mild shrug. “Nobody got expelled or killed.”

“I’m still going to get my hands on him sooner or later. Shit isn’t funny, the way he shows up whenever ___ is alone somewhere.”

“You do realize I chased him with a pool stick and he hightailed it… Right?” you ask as you snuggle against your boyfriend’s back. Gareth turns to face you so that you’re snuggled against his chest instead. “And you shouldn’t have fuckin done that, baby. What if he hadn’t run? Hm?”

You bite your lip and give him your best big-eyed expression. Gareth shakes his head calmly. “We’ve talked about this, babe. I’ll handle him.”

“But..” you start to argue but Gareth shakes his head firmly. “No buts.”

“No fair and no fun.” you grumble, making him laugh. “I’m not lettin you get hurt.”

“He’s got one brain cell to spare, baby. How? How is he gonna hurt me? He’s a chickenshit idiot.”

Gareth chuckles, shaking his head. “Give me begging eyes all you want, sugar. It’s just not gonna happen. Got it?”

“Fiiiiiine.” you grumble in a lower tone, “You and that stupid sexy firm tone.” which has him biting back a quiet groan when he hears you, his face all flushed.

“So that’s what Eddie was talking about.” he mumbles, mostly to himself. And this only flusters you, of course, that he’s noticed that certain tones he takes with you seem to make you calm down or behave.

Jeff and Grant are about to fall over laughing and Jeff asks Gareth through laughter, “You good? Hey.. Look.. Just don’t let that go to your head, man.”

– ( around lunchtime )

“Do you think she’s screwing the freak?” Caroline wonders aloud, a disgusted look on her face. “I mean, look at ‘em. They can’t keep their damn hands off each other. It’s disgusting.”

“She has his shirt. And last week at the mall, she had those hickies on her throat… If she hasn’t yet, she wants to. I mean look at her, it’s disgusting. He’s only with her because he can’t do any better than her and she’s only with him because she knows nobody else will have her.” Megan sips her chocolate milk as she stares at the table you’re sitting at.

What makes this whole thing so much worse in their eyes is since you’ve apparently decided that you’re not going to sit with the usual table this year, this has now given that weak little so-called captain Chrissy and your shared best friend Emma the audacity to abandon the table also. “They’re all traitors. And you know Jason isn’t going to stand for it, when he sees where she’s sitting, he’s going to have something to say about it. All we’re trying to do is keep the peace. Be a team. And it’s always those three, every single time. They always go against us.”

“I wish our old coach hadn’t ever let her, Emma or Chrissy on the damn team. The good news is our new coach hates the three of them.” Caroline smirks as she says it. “So maybe, we can find a way to use that to our advantage.” Caroline rubs her chin as she thinks it over. “I mean… she’s looking for any excuse to strip the title of Captain off Chrissy, you guys heard her.”

Jason wanders into the cafeteria and the second he spots Chrissy sitting with you and Emma over at the Hellfire table, he’s furious. Oh, he hides it, of course, but he’s only barely hiding it. He walks over and stops beside you three, clearing his throat. “Ladies, I think all three of you are a little lost?”

You and Emma share a look before bursting into laughter. “Uh, not that we’re aware?” you retort. Gareth doesn’t really stop to think about the implications of where his hands happen to be on your body at the time and neither do you. But he’s tense because Jason’s around and it never fails to piss him off when a jock pops up, so his fingers are kind of digging into the sides of your thighs since you’re sitting on the table in front of him.

“There are rules for that. Knock it off. Just because you have disgusting taste, ____. This doesn’t mean we should all have to see it…” Jason nods his head to Gareth’s hands and where they happen to be on your body in disdain before turning to Chrissy. “C’mon, princess. Let’s get back to our table.”

Chrissy’s response shocks everyone present.

She gazes up at him for a few seconds, seems to be thinking it over. You’re half assuming that she’ll do what he says because she usually does, just because she’s afraid to try breaking up with him again because of what happened the one and only time she tried to last year, but you’re wrong.

“I’m talking to my friends.” Chrissy says it with a firmer tone than usual and she takes a sip of her milk. “I want to sit here.”

“Leave these whores to whatever they’re over here doing. They’re going to drag you down, princess.” Jason’s voice is starting to veer more towards angry calm than calm and collected and as soon as you and Emma pick up on it, you share a concerned look.

Eddie breaks the silence. “Get fucked, Carver. None of us are bothering you. And there’s no law that says they have to sit there if they don’t want to.” and the smirk he gives Jason as he says it has Jason furious. “What’d you say to me, freak?”

Eddie has height on Jason. So he stands taller. Arms folded over his chest. Gazing down at him with a calm smirk. “You heard me, jockstrap. Or do I need to say it slower..” he chuckles, stepping closer, “So it sinks into that pea sized brain of yours, hm?”

“You’re the third time senior and you’re saying I have a pea brain, Munson? That’s rich.” Jason snorts, stepping up to Eddie. Smirking. “Real rich, comin from you, freak trash.”

“What’d you say to him?” Jeff is standing. Arms folded. Calm smirk. “You might wanna get back across the lunchroom, asshole.”

Gareth stands and gives a dry chuckle. “Unless you idiots just want your asses beaten to a pulp by us ‘freaks’ today. Because honestly, I’m dying to get my hands on one of you anyway.” as he says it, his voice raises and he locks eyes with Andy, smirking.

“Fuck it. I’ve been to Saturday detention a time or two, I don’t mind goin back.” Grant is standing too. Fists clenched. Smirking down at Jason.

Mike, Will, Lucas and Dustin share a look. Of the four, Mike, Will and Dustin stand. Max is gaping at Lucas and she shakes her head. “I can’t freaking believe you right now, they’re your friends.” she gestures at the three boys sitting opposite the two of them. “Have you lost your mind, Lucas Sinclair?”

“Do you seriously want to start this, man?” Mike gives Jason a mild shrug as he goes silent. “You’re clearly outnumbered here.” Will is smirking when he says it. Dustin chuckles and steps up beside Eddie, “You were saying, Carver?”

Chrissy’s breath catches in her throat.

Eddie’s probably one of exactly three people who seem to actually care about her well-being lately. He’s the one who was calm and rational with her a few nights ago when she sought him out hoping maybe he had something strong enough just to help her sleep at night. He let her sit in his trailer, explained to her what might happen. He even smoked with her just so she wasn’t all alone on this particular night and he was sweet about it. No judgment, nothing. Every time she’s tried to tell Jason how bad things are lately, he just tells her she’s fine and it’ll be okay. He doesn’t try to help or reassure her, he doesn’t seem to care. Eddie cared. Eddie listened. The last thing she wants is for Eddie to suffer because he makes the mistake to stand up for her. And she has no doubt in her mind, Jason will make sure he does.

“Okay, alright. I’ll go. I…” Chrissy calls out to Jason because all she can think is that he’ll do something, a fight will start and Eddie will wind up expelled.

“Chris, no.” you call out, shaking your head. “She was so close too.”

“Chrissy, damn it, he does this every fucking time.” Emma rubs her forehead. “I wish a meteorite would fall on your fuckin head, Carver. I really do.” Emma glares up at Jason’s turned back as she grumbles, flipping him off.

“Every single time she tries to get away, ugh.” you sigh and shake your head. “I mean, I get how he’s doing it and I know she’s scared because of it, but it still pisses me off. Because he knows what’ll work on her. It’s disgusting.” you frown and shake your head. “I wonder what would happen if someone anonymously went to like.. Hopper or somebody with his shit?” you muse, gazing at Chrissy across the cafeteria.

“I’m putting Ben Gay on his jockstrap. That’s it, I’m done with the way people just listen to him and eat up his every single fucking word. How does no one see he’s fucking poison?” Emma’s rant catches Eddie’s attention and he gazes at her quietly. Curious.

“You see it too, huh?” Eddie asks quietly, nodding to Jason.

“I’ve seen it since kindergarten? The asshole tried to kiss my cheek and I didn’t want cooties at the time, so I shoved him into a mudhole when he kept following me and trying to corner me. Then he starts to cry and has the teacher believing I shoved him for no reason!” Emma throws up her hand in frustration.

“Look, we only have to deal with their childish bullshit for a few more months and then we’re all out of this hellhole.” Grant speaks up quietly. Glancing at the two of you. Gareth nods in agreement, scooting you forward on the table a little.

“If I don’t go to prison first.” you and Emma both say it in unison. This has both Gareth and Eddie groaning at the same time as they palm their faces.

Mike raises a brow. “Why are either of you complaining? You’re both popular.”

Will gives him an elbow, shaking his head and Mike gestures at the two of you. “It’s true though! They’re not the ones getting shoved into lockers or…”

Gareth clears his throat, shooting Mike a warning glare and Mike glares right back. “Look, all I’m saying is from where Dustin, Will and I sit, you two have it made.”

You and Emma share a look.

“Whatever you think, Mikey.” you answer calmly. You see where he’s coming from, but what they go on to tell you next has you furious upon hearing it. Gaping. Because you knew that the jocks and the other girls on your squad were shitty human beings, but you didn’t know just how shitty they all were.

“I’m not wrong, though… Do they shove you guys into lockers? Or chase you home after school when you’re on a bike and they have cars to do it?” Mike states, despite Will shaking his head and elbowing him a time or two. “We said we weren’t saying anything, damn it. We were going to handle it, Mike.”

“Yeah? Well I just got sick of hearing these two, alright? They’re popular, they don’t know how shitty the other side of it all is, Will. Maybe they need t’ know.” Mike’s outburst has everyone at the table staring at him.

“They did what now?” Emma’s gaping. Glancing over at the jock table in the front of the lunch room. “Okay, kid.. You’ve got six seconds to start pointing fingers.” she taps her wrist patiently. “I need names, Mike, spit them out now.”

“Holy christ.. Max, are they doing this shit to you and El?” you’re gaping, glancing at your step sister across the table expectantly. Max shakes her head. “Not since El nailed Caroline’s sister in the head with that skate at the roller rink last year.”

“Will? Dustin?” you’re gazing from Will to Dustin, waiting. They don’t have older siblings, but since they’re always around Max, you worry about them too.

Dustin sighs, shoulders slumped. “They chased me and Will up to the hill last week. When we were going to try to power up Cerebro and see if we could tune it, get it to work for the AV Club meeting.”

“Does your mom know, kid?” you ask both boys. “Answer me.”

“If she doesn’t, she’s going to. I’ll make sure Gretchen tells Joyce when Joyce comes in for her usual trim in a few days. Perks of being the bookie at my mom’s salon, kid.” Emma gives Will a mild shrug. Will gulps. “No. I haven’t told her. You don’t have to, alright? We’ll… We’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t you have like… two brothers in our grade also? Have you even considered telling either of them?”

Will shakes his head when you ask him the question.

Max speaks up. “The point here, Mike.. ____ and Emma are not like them. Like, at all. Maybe if you’d pull your head out of your butthole, you’d see that.”

Eddie’s glaring daggers at the jock table because until Mike’s outburst, he didn’t have the first clue what the jocks were doing to the younger members of Hellfire. But now that he knows, he’s furious. Seething. Dying to get his hands on the jocks.

“Okay, here’s what you little shits are gonna do, alright? Next time they approach you, find one of us. I don’t care who. Just one of us. We’re gonna fix this shit, okay, kids?” Eddie speaks up. The younger teenagers all nod.

Lucas is conflicted.

And he feels like shit, because since he made the basketball team, he’s immune to the teasing and taunting. Clearly, his friends haven’t been and suddenly, the way they all seem tense around him makes perfect sense. And they normally tell him everything and yet, they haven’t told him any of this.

“Did you know any of this, Lucas?” Max asks, thinking about her conversation with you on the night of the Independence Day Carnival. Your warning. And it hurts, but lately, Lucas hasn’t been acting like the boy she cares so much about. And he’s barely been around his friends. Dustin, Mike and Will had to plead with him to ditch the team at the courts over the weekend to play DnD with them and Hellfire.

“No.” Lucas insists, gaping. “If..”

Max studies him intently, arms folded. “You’re sure? I mean… they’re your best friends, Lucas. How did you not notice it, hm?”

“We didn’t tell him because we know how much it meant for him to make the team, okay? We didn’t wanna…” Mike takes a deep breath, rubbing his face. “We didn’t wanna make him feel like he had to quit. Besides, we’re all gonna grow apart a little.”

“Bullshit, Mike.” Max insists. “You should have said something before now.”

“She’s right.” El speaks up quietly. “All of you. Friends don’t lie, remember?”

“El, c’mon.. We didn’t lie. We just handled it ourselves.” Mike pleads. But El is shaking her head. “It’s still a lie, Mike. Not telling is almost the same.” she gives Max a questioning look and Max nods. “It is.”

“And that’s not a smart idea with those assholes. Listen to me, little shits, alright? I’ve been around long enough to know what they’re capable of. Find a fucking adult adjacent person from now on. Even if it’s me or one of the guys.. Or even the two hellions present.” Eddie gestures to himself and the rest of his friends and then at you and Emma as he goes quiet. “I mean it. Are we clear, little shits?” he repeats himself firmly. “I can’t believe you three. Just gonna keep quiet and let them keep winning.” he’s shaking his head.

“Okay, shit.” Mike mumbles.

“I told you to keep your damn mouth shut, Wheeler.” Dustin grumbles. “Okay. We will.”

Will nods quietly. “We didn’t want to start anything.”

“I know, kid. But jesus, you’re all part of this club. If they’re messing with you, speak up.” Eddie gives the quieter boy a smile.

– ( cheerleading practice / hellfire meeting )

“I believe you two owe me something?” Coach Gentry corners you and Emma as you make your way into the gymnasium. The two of you share a look and Emma speaks up. “The pledge, right?”

Coach Gentry smirks. “I knew you two would come around. Go on, let’s have them.”

You laugh as you take it and tear it up.

Emma follows suit.

Coach Gentry grumbles, her patience worn thin. “All you have to do is sign the paper.”

“Nope.”

“Not happening.” you shrug, “Sorry.”

“Twenty five rounds around the gym. Both of you. Perhaps this will change your attitudes and help you remember what being part of a team means.”

“I think you should make them play in the powderpuff game this Friday.” Caroline is smirking when she says it, glancing at you and Emma. “Since neither of you ever bother signing up to play. Ooh, and what about the school carnival coming up in two weeks? Maybe they need to be made to do clean up, Coach Gentry?”

The coach is smirking.

If looks could kill, the look you’re giving Caroline Owens would have her six feet deep. Your jaw clenches.

“She does have a good point. Neither of you have ever participated in anything other than the Homecoming Parade, the food drive, the tutoring program last year and the car wash over the summer. I’m not your previous coach. There will be a bond with this team.”

“Seriously? Because we’re not up their ass working kissing booths?” Emma fumes as the two of you start to run around the court. You’re focused on just how much you want to strangle Caroline when you’re done with laps. As the two of you complete your last round and collapse in the bleachers, the coach wanders over with a fresh copy of the pledge for each of you.

Sharing a look, you both take it.

As the coach walks away, Emma nudges you. “You’re not signing this one either, right?”

“Nope. She can absolutely rot in hell.” you answer calmly.

“Good. I’m not signing either. She can’t make us do anything. And if she tries to throw us off for some bullshit reason, we’ll just quit.”

“After Friday, Em..” you start, trailing off. Emma nods and sighs. “It’s kinda sad, y’know? It’s all so fucked up. I mean we wanted to be like Veronica Sinclair and Danielle Wesson, remember? They were popular but they were truly nice people. We thought it was going to be so much fun.”

“Yeah, well.. We were idiots. When Veronica came home to wash clothes and spend the weekend, I talked to her. She said that she wanted to tell us both not to try out. I think that’s why she hammered it in so heavy when she was coaching us before tryouts that we didn’t need to let it change who we are. When I told her about the new coach, she said she’d talk to her mom or something, I think Mrs. Sinclair was on cheer or the old dance team back in the day.”

“Sucks.. Because if she’s going to talk to her mom about taking over the squad, I feel like neither of us will still be on it by the time that time rolls around.” Emma muses quietly. “Because after the stupid powderpuff game on Friday and the pep rally, I’m kinda done.”

“Me too. And there’s no way Mrs. Sinclair will get Coach Gentry to quit. And there’s no way we can run her off…” you trail off, going quiet.

Caroline shoves a clipboard into your hands and you and Emma sign up for the back to school powderpuff football game on Friday. She smirks. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“She doesn’t realize my father taught me a proper tackle when I was like… Five..” you’re laughing and shaking your head. Emma smirks, “Or that my mother taught me how to throw a ball so hard I can hit someone’s nose from a pretty fair distance. I mean.. They’re going into it to hurt us, so why not.. Right?”

“Exactly.” you laugh and pull yourself off the bleachers, holding out your hand to Emma. “C’mon. Let’s go shower and go down to the drama classroom.”

“Going to be a certain drummer’s personal cheerleader, hm?” Emma teases, but only partially.

“Maaybe.” you’re laughing softly. The laughter dies when you wander into the showers to find that your change of clothes has been soaked in water, the shower still turned on.

Emma’s swearing from behind you, holding out soaked jeans and a t-shirt. “They got you too, huh?”

You spot the red lipstick on your locker.

“Freaks Slut.” you laugh as you read it out loud. “Is this.. I mean is this all they can come up with? I always thought they were sharing one brain cell, now I know it.” you roll your eyes at the lipstick graffiti.

The door bursts open and Caroline laughs. “Aww.. what happened?”

Emma throws her wet clothing at Caroline and you walk over, stepping up to her. Smirking. “I could kick your ass, y’know. I could, but I’m not. Not yet.”

“Y’know, if I bat my lashes, he won’t want you anymore, right? He’s only dating you because you’re popular. Imagine if he thought he could have me… I mean…. We all know I’m better.” Caroline’s words are discarded as best as you can and you raise a hand as if you’re going to slap her. She grabs your wrist and smirks. “Who knows.. Maybe I will try my luck with him… I mean… Why should you have all the fun, right?”

You pull your wrist out of her grip and you shove her up against the locker, glaring hatefully. Maybe her words do bother you on some level. Maybe they’re kind of sitting heavy in your mind, but… You’re more pissed than anything that she just assumes she can do whatever the hell she wants with no consequence, especially with your boyfriend. Just because it worked on other guys, she thinks she can keep doing it and she can keep being gross and nobody will ever do anything to her about it. It disgusts you, it always has. She’s no better than the assholes on the football or basketball team who assume that if you smile at them one time, you want to crawl into their backseat. It’s just another reason you’re quitting the team as soon as Friday is behind you.

You’ve got a hold on her gray Hawkins Phys.Ed shirt and you slam her back against the locker a little, laughing. “You think so, hm?”

“Aw… are you upset now, ___? Wanna go cry like you used to?” Caroline taunts, smirking. Shoving at you. You stumble back but regain your balance and step up to her again. Her back meets the locker this time and it’s harder. You’ve got a hand at her throat when she smirks. “I’d rather die than let him anywhere near me. No worries, sweetheart. I mean… make no mistake. You were worried.”

You let her go and take a deep breath or two, but then that second wave of anger hits you as she’s walking over to her own locker so you decide you can’t just let it go, you have to do something. You tap her shoulder and when she turns, you send a right hook smashing into her nose.

“You bitch!” she’s got her hands on her nose, blood seeping through her fingers. “Oops.” you shrug calmly, “My fist slipped, sweets. Force yourself on him if you want, Caroline. I mean we all know you do it with everybody else because if not, nobody would touch you... But if I find out about it? Your nose is gonna be the least of your worries.” you’re glaring at her. A hand on your hip.

“It won’t be forcing if he likes it, ____. And we both know he will. He’s gonna get tired of you. You know it and I know it. You’re just a stopping point until someone better comes along.” she’s holding tissues to her nose and shouting at you as you walk out of the locker room.

Once you’re out in the hallway with Emma, she nods to the closed door at your back. “I think we both know what’s gotta happen, trouble. This shit?” she gestures to the door again, “This is not what we signed up for when we made the team. It’s just not worth it anymore. I know I said I didn’t want to miss the parties but fucking hell… This is too far out of hand. They’re like a nest of vipers.”

“Yeah. You’re right. We’re sticking around long enough to play in that stupid game against them on Friday and then we’re done.” you nod in agreement. “Because I want to tackle Owens one good time.”

“Ditto.”

The two of you take really deep breaths and wander down the hall, the squeak of your sneakers the only sound until you’ve turned down the hallway that the drama class is on. Emma stops in front of the door.

“You’re okay… Right? Like… you know Caroline Owens is full of shit, don’t you?”

You manage a weak smile and nod. And while you know she is, there are some parts of you that wonder… What if she’s not wrong? It’s just in your head and you’re doing your best to shake it out.

“Girl..”

“What?”

“Stop thinking about it, she’s full of shit okay? You’re amazing. And if there comes a time where he can’t see that, it’s his own problem.. Not yours, alright?”

“Okay, alright, shit.” you roll your eyes. “No need to get all fucking emotional about it, woman.”

“I’m gonna have to kick your ass again, aren’t I?” Emma asks, laughing softly. Shaking her head. “The woman has yellow teeth and a bird beak for a nose. Not to mention that one eye that kind of crosses itself sometimes, oh and, and.. She smells like mothballs… You’re seriously going to rake yourself through the coals about what she said?”

“Emma, I’m not, alright? I mean it.”

There’s a small chance that you might have been lying a little, but you seem convincing enough that Emma relaxes.

The two of you wander into the drama classroom and flop into empty chairs. Back out of the way so you’re not disrupting, but Eddie clears his throat, nodding to the table. “If you’re going to come in, come closer so you can watch the game unfold, huh?”

Emma’s giggling. “This guy would be an amazing ringmaster.” she mumbles, making you laugh a little. You drag your chairs over, sitting them by Gareth and Emma sits her chair in between Eddie and the Henderson kid.

Gareth can just tell something is bothering you. That you’re trying to pretend it’s not. So when Eddie calls for a break for a few minutes to grab drinks from the vending machine or snacks, he corners you when it’s just the two of you in the hallway.

“Hey.. C’mon, baby. Start talkin.” he’s pleading, stepping close. Doing that thing where he stands taller and dominates any sliver of space left between your bodies. You laugh softly. “It’s dumb. Trust me.”

“Ah-ah.. Out with it, sugar. Now.” he’s pleading in a firm tone again, caressing your cheeks. You roll your eyes and cringe as you tell him what happened in the locker room and what Caroline said to you as it happened. He’s gaping by the time you’re done, a disgusted look in his eyes. “She seriously said that.”

But then it clicks. It got to you for whatever reason.

He’s figured out by now that you’re not nearly as confident or as bold as you pretend to be ninety nine percent of the time. He pulls you against him, arms around you. “You’re the girl I want, alright? I mean that, sugar.” his forehead settles against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” you melt against him, taking a few shaky breaths. He sees you blinking because you’re trying not to cry and he lets you lean your head against his neck with your arms around him. “ ‘S okay, baby. I mean it.” he coaxes, calm and patient. “Shhh.”

You take a few more shaky breaths and pull away a little, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry.” you mumble.

“Babe, it’s okay.”

“I know, I just hate it when I get so frustrated or upset that I wind up crying.”

Gareth chuckles, his hands on either side of your face as his forehead settles against yours. “It’s okay. It’s better that you told me than just keeping it in.”

You nod.

“Do you feel better?” he asks, gazing at you in concern.

“Yeah.” you smile, a weak grin, but it’s real. Not strained like when you came into the classroom twenty minutes ago.

Caroline is glaring when she walks past you both in the hallway.

Gareth knows it’s probably low-hanging fruit, but he really wants to say something, so she knows that he’s not an option, even if it’s just to get under your skin. “It’s a shame.” he calls out to her, stopping her. She’s giving him a little pout and your fist clenches. Gareth smirks and continues, “Punch still didn’t help the beak situation, huh?”

“Fuck yourself, Emerson.”

“I’d resort to my hand before I ever tried to come to you. You’re kind of a doorknob, Owens.”

“What did you call me?”

“A doorknob. Everybody takes a turn?” Gareth shrugs and you’re leaning against him just so you don’t double over laughing and make the situation worse or anything.

“Asshole.” Caroline grumbles.

“Never said I wasn’t. If you’re smart you’ll leave my girl alone, alright?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gareth smirks. “You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”

“What are you gonna do, hm? Hit me?” Caroline gazes at you, “You see what you’re with, right? He just threatened me. Was he really worth punching me over, ___? Think a little. We’re only trying to help you out here. There are girls that would kill to be where you and Emma are and yet both of you are constantly destroying the bond between us girls. We’re supposed to be closer, not two against the rest of us.”

“He never said he’d lay a hand on you. Now me, Owens..” you step away from Gareth a little, stepping towards her. She backs up and you laugh. “Go home and fix your nose, Owens. You’re a waste of fucking time. The fact that you call yourselves a team is a joke. This isn’t what I signed up for. This is bullshit.”

“ The coach knows what you did and you’re probably going to get Saturday detention.” Caroline smirks. You shrug. “And? You act as if I’m supposed to be scared. Look, I’m sick of you. Sick of the bullshit. Detention is worth it if I get to punch you.”

Everyone is wandering back from the vending machines and you notice that Emma isn’t wearing Patrick’s lettermans jacket anymore. Not only that, she’s holding her hand against her chest.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, gazing at her in concern.

“Your friend, ah..” Eddie’s snickering. Emma takes over, rolling her eyes. “Let me tell my story, lug.” she’s laughing at him and shaking her head. “Patrick started to bitch because a) I’m at a Satanic cult meeting apparently, and b) I tore the pledge up again. So we started to fight. He admitted that he only wanted to date me because he has some bet going with one of the guys.”

“Okay but how’d you hurt your hand?” you nod to her hand and she laughs. “I-I.. shit, trouble, you know how bad I am at expressing my anger and frustration. I was going to punch him but I just.. I couldn’t. So I hit the locker.”

“But then she threw the damn jacket at him so hard it made his nose bleed because a button caught it.” Eddie’s now given up on holding back his laughter as he gazes down at Emma and shakes his head. Emma is flipping him off.

“I’m not the one who chose to hit a locker instead of the target of my frustration.” Eddie shrugs.

“I’m a pacifist, damn it. Gretchen is the one with the rage.”

“Pacifist my ass, Emma.” you’re laughing and moving back a little, settling back against Gareth. “You weren’t a pacifist this summer when you and Megan tied up at cheer camp.”

“She caught me on a bad day.”

“My ass. I think we both know you’re full of it. Pacifist. Riiight.” you’re laughing.

Mike clears his throat.

“Remember when you said to tell you if they’re gonna mess with us? There’s a truck full of jocks outside in the parking lot. Erica.. She was out there but Will spotted her and snuck out, got her in the back way. Now you know.” he says it as he turns to walk away.

“Who the hell is Erica?” Eddie rubs his chin, confused.

Dustin and Erica Sinclair turn the corner in the hallway with Will, all three out of breath. “They’re outside. All of ‘em.”

Eddie chuckles. Then he nods to Erica. “Who is this? Do I look like a babysitter, kid?”

“You told us to find more people.” Mike scoffs. “We found more people.”

“I meant in high school. Not with bedtimes, Wheeler.” Eddie rubs his temples, shaking his head.

“Next time be more specific, holy shit!” Mike throws up his hands. Will speaks up. “I can vouch for her, okay? She’s good. She played with me, Max and Lucas a few times when everybody else was gone or busy. We’ve uh… we’ve been teaching her.”

Eddie eyes the 11 year old warily and grumbling about it, he pushes open the door of the drama classroom.

“What about the assholes outside?” Mike asks in concern.

“We’ll sneak you guys out the back if we have to.” Eddie answers. “But the rest of us are going out the front, so all I can say is peddle like your lives depend on it. Or go hide in my van, fuck.. Guess I’ll drop you all off or something…”

“If you can’t fit them all, I’m stuck driving Gretchen’s big piece of shit Blazer.” Emma shrugs.

Everyone settles down around the table again and you wind up being pulled into Gareth’s lap at some point during the game. And then, when he rolls a good number, he won’t let you even think about removing yourself and you laugh.

One day filled with hurdles and annoying bullshit down. Quite a few more left. But maybe, you think to yourself, maybe everything will be okay…

– ( after the meeting )

Everyone is letting the energy out that they’ve held back for a few hours by the time the campaign is over for the night. Erica is excited, talking loud a mile a minute and Dustin is chuckling in amusement. Gareth wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. Max is talking with El, Mike and Will, fuming about a fight she had earlier with Lucas when he decided to blow off the first meeting of a club he’s been invited to so he could go play basketball with douchebags.

Eddie stops everyone at the door. “Guys, c’mon. Let’s see if the douchebags left, shall we?”

Gareth pulls away and smirks at you. “Stay put. I mean it, baby.”

“Gare…”

“Stay put. You and Emma keep them inside. They’ve been doing this to us since fucking sophmore year. We’re kinda used to it now.”

Erica nudges you and nods to Gareth’s retreating back as she smiles. “Did you finally tell him?”

You smile and nod. “I did.”

“Good. I told you, didn’t I?”

“Okay, little old lady.” you’re joking.

“Hey, what’s going on out there?” Emma nudges Will and Will peeks out the door.

“I think we might be lucky tonight. I think they’re gone.”

“If they’re not, tell me. Me and ____ will go out. This is probably all our faults, sitting with you guys at lunch earlier.”

“They’ve been doing this for weeks now, it’s not your fault. Either of you.” Will states quietly. Mike nods in agreement. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was just frustrated.”

“We get it, kid.” Emma shrugs.

“Yeah, we get it.” you add quietly. Smiling at the younger boys.

Eddie peeks back in. “They just left. One of the girls who stayed over for band stopped me and told me if we’re going, we need to book it. So everybody grab a ride. Probably a better idea if we don’t let you guys go home on your own tonight.”

“C’mon, Max. You and El and Will can ride with me and Gareth.”

“I live down the street from Henderson and Sinclair, Munson. I can take them home. We might even stop for ice cream since my little buddy nailed your asses to a wall in there.” Emma suggests, high-fiving Erica who smirks and sticks out her tongue at Eddie. Eddie chuckles. “It was luck. We’ll see how good you really are at the next one, huh?”

Erica claps her hands. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not. Fuck it.” Eddie chuckles.

Eddie and Mike gaze at each other warily. “Looks like you’re going with me, kid.”

“Will, I’ll call you and El when I make it in. We’ll talk about the thing with Lucas.” Mike calls out to his friends.

“Do it on the com. Patch me in, dude. I’m fucking livid.” Dustin calls out from the passenger side of Emma’s mom’s Blazer before getting in.

Gareth holds out his hands to you. “Keys, babe?”

“Oh come onnnn. I’m not that bad.”

“I love you but I have to disagree. You are.” Gareth is teasing and you pout but you put the keys into his hand.

Max, Will and Eleven settle into the backseat and as soon as you’re all in the car, you turn to look at Max. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just upset. Disappointed. Pissed. I can’t believe he really did that.”

“You know what we talked about, Max.”

She nods. “I know.”

Eleven speaks up. “Maybe he had a good reason.”

Will nods, agreeing. “Maybe..”

“ Call him when you get home, Max. Talk to him.”

“I dunno. He’s acting different lately. He tried to defend them earlier when we were all talking about the shit they’ve been doing to us. He tried to defend them.”

“Maybe he’s just lost, red. Give him a little time.” Gareth speaks up, catching her eyes in the rearview. “If he doesn’t come around though, I think maybe ___ is right.”

“Yeah. I hate it, but yeah.” Max takes a deep breath.

Once the Hopper-Byers cabin comes into view, Will and Eleven are climbing out. “We’ll call you later, Max!”

“Yeah.”

The ride back to the trailer you and Max live in, where Gareth’s truck is parked, is quiet. At one point, Gareth reaches down and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing. “You’re okay, right? It’s not still getting to you?”

“No baby.”

And it’s not. You lean across and kiss him on the cheek, then you lean your head against him. “What a first day, huh?”

“Yeah, well.. The shit you saw happen is the usual. I mean, kind of.” Gareth laughs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s not. They shouldn’t be able to just get away with this shit. I swear its like this whole damn town is so sports obsessed that they turn a blind eye to anything Jason and his band of assholes do. It’s always been this way and I hate it.” you frown. Gareth laughs. “It’s not gonna matter in a few months anyway, remember? We’ll be out of it.”

“Finally.” you answer, laughing.

He pulls your car to a stop behind Wes’s K5 and Max spots Lucas, grumbling to herself. You stop her.

“Hey.. Take a few deep breaths and then go over. Don’t just unload, alright? At least try to hear him out.” you advise. Max nods and gets out, making her way over.

You and Gareth get out and make your way over to his truck where you’re leaned against him.

“So Emma and I are done after Friday.” you tell him quietly. “Like, I can’t… I can’t deal with it anymore. It’s not the same as it was when Lucas’ older sister and the girl who lived two trailers down were the captain and co-captain. They’re all vipers.”

Gareth grips your jaw to make you look at him and he’s grinning a little. “Really? But why Friday?”

“Because I want to be able to legally drill Caroline Owens into grass on a football field. Yeah, apparently, she had the same idea, because she told the coach we should be made to sign up for more stuff and she mentioned it. So Emma and I didn’t exactly argue it.”

“Okay, she’s really not smart. I’ve seen you tackle before. If you still tackle the way you did in middle school..” Gareth cringes, laughing. “She’s going to regret it.”

The laughter dies away and you melt against him. “Gare?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Love you.” you yawn out sleepily. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Love you too.” and he’s grinning because hearing you say those three words back to him has made his night.

Maybe even his lifetime.

And he’s determined not to let anything happen to what you two have together.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader

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mx-jinxous · 1 year

Text

I’ve been throwing around this idea in my head and so far this is what I have written. I’m hoping to add to it down the road. This is a modern day supernatural au.

---

Eddie came back to dried blood covering his hands, Johnny Cash playing softly in the background. Turning his head to the side he noted the world was filled with trees as it sped past him, unfamiliar territory. His breath hitched as a hand wrapped around his, squeezing it firmly. Whipping his head to the side, ready to attack whoever was beside him, but still seeing his uncle. His eyes were on the road as he drove, one hand on the wheel as they drove through the terrain.

When his mind finally settled his breath picked up in a panic. The memories flooded back, the desperation of his uncle rushing them away as he called someone, both men stained in blood of Eddie’s latest victim. The grip on his hand tightened while Eddie covered his mouth. He remembered walking with Gareth after band practice, the sun beginning to set as they cut through the forest. Usually they practiced at the younger's house but his parents had forbidden practice that day as the local church pastor was visiting. So practice had taken place at another band member's home, which Jeff lived across town from the both of them.

They were just talking about their D&D campaign for tomorrow night, Gareth trying to wrangle information out of him. It was like he blinked and he was standing over Gareth’s body, covered in blood and stomach oddly full when he was just starving moments before. He panicked, ran home to Wayne. The next thing he registered was the truck ride, his stomach sinking as clarity came over him. He was covered in his best friend's blood, inside and out, and he'd left him there.

Without warning, he threw open the truck door, ripping away from Wayne, and meeting the earth below. His uncle had hit the brakes just in time to avoid too much damage, throwing the truck into park as he rushed to his nephew's side. He gathered Eddie’s curly locks as the young man gagged and tainted the ground with red liquid. He whispered comforting words to the young man as the ground became more and more red. It wasn’t until the gagging turned to whimpering did he pull Eddie back into a hug, letting him hide in his shoulder.

“I know kiddo… I know.” He hushed, rocking Eddie like he had when he was a child. “We have to keep going, though. We’re almost to the safe haven.” He received a nod, helping his nephew up on shaky legs and back into the truck. They sped back off into the forest, silence filling when Eddie’s shaky breaths lessened.

Five minutes passed before the silence broke, the metal head keeping his eyes on the trees outside. “Is he… did I-.”

“He was breathing when I got him to the hospital.” That’s all Wayne could say, that’s all he knew since they fled after taking Gareth to the hospital. Resting his head against the window, ducking into his jacket. The truck went silent once more, Johnny Cash the only voice filtering the space.

Graduating high school had seemed to be the largest obstacle in his life, up until puberty hit and sent him into a nosedive of issues. The moment he realized he couldn’t pretend anymore was a usual night of his senior year. He’d gone out to make a nice chunk of money for this new amp he’d seen at a local mom and pop shop. By the time he’d called it a night he’d been hungry. He knew his uncle had work that night and knew that he was running low on his stash.

He’d meant to stop by the nearest butchers before they closed, but a busy weekend night had kept him out later than intended. Wayne hadn’t bothered him to keep up since his ailment started to bloom after he hit puberty. He wasn’t freaked out the day Eddie came out of his bedroom, panicked over red eyes and extruding fangs with hunger pains that brought tears to his eyes. Instead he embraced his nephew, making deals with friends to obtain animal blood.

Since then he hadn’t skipped the butchers, so this loss of control was something new and terrifying. He’d felt the unusual hunger cramps at practice, but he’d decided to ignore it until he got home. His friend had paid the price for his ignorance.

The truck came to a stop not long after, pulling Eddie out of his head to see a three story log cabin that was easily five times bigger than their trailer. A scream echoed through the forest and to Eddie’s ear, making the young man look around. The surrounding forest was filled with children running around, playing some form of tag without a care in the world. Certainly the pure opposite of what the metal head needed.

“Come on kid.” His uncle ushered him out of the truck. With reservations, Eddie tucked his hand beneath his armpits, concealing the destroyed clothes beneath. He hadn’t had the chance to change as his uncle threw his life in a duffle and rushed him into the old vehicle to wheel them off to bum-fuck nowhere.

“You’re sure about this old man? There are a lot of kids around here, not really the most ideal place for an unhinged monster.” He mumbled as he tucked into himself, the scent of stale blood that had surely stained his shirt by now filtered his nose.

“I swear kid, these aren’t normal children. Some of them may be your age if not older. Hopper and Joyce are understanding and will keep you safe. Once I do some damage control I’ll be back for you, okay.”

“You trust me?” Eddie huffed as the kids seemed to note their visitors, one disappearing inside while the others watched.

“I do, son. I swear to you I’ll be back, I ain’t your dad. A month or two and you will see me back here with the rest of your stuff. Until then try and get along with them.” The metal head only huffed in response, looking anywhere but his uncle's eyes. He felt guilty for putting so much on his uncle's shoulders. “Come on.” Wayne said, giving Eddie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before throwing open his door. Eddie huffed, following his uncle out of the car.

“Wayne!” A voice boomed across the forest, the scurry of animals being heard in the distance as a smile plagued his uncle. He turned to face the man, who swiftly crossed the yard with open arms.

“Hop! God you don’t age do you.” Wayne pulled him into a hug, a woman following with two boys on her heels, one looking around Eddie’s age and one just a teenager. The man - Hop - backed away only for the woman to pull the older man into a squeezing hug.

“Oh Wayne, you’re a sight for sore eyes! We were so pleased to hear from you after so long, what’s it been, a decade?”

“Sixteen years, Joyce. I didn’t mean to go radio silent, I just… I had to step up and take care of my own.” Stepping back from the two, Wayne wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “This is Eddie.”

“Oh dear. When you said you had someone coming to stay for a while, I never assumed your son, or the fact that you had a kid.”

“Afraid not darlin’. This is my idiot brother's boy, but he’s more like my boy. Kenney was a deadbeat if you remember him from his brief stay here.”

“Oh yes, the asshat decided to pick a fight with Steve.” The eldest boy grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Hasn’t changed much. The only thing he ever did right is right here and he couldn’t even bother after a decade. We’ve hit a snag though. I appreciate you letting my boy stay.” Joyce stepped forward, grabbing Eddie by the arm, pulling him into a hug.

“Nonsense! Eddie, you are Wayne’s family, so you are welcome here. Come, let me show you to your room, it was your uncle’s when he was your age.”

“That’s kind of you.” He mumbled, pulling away and huddling behind his uncle. He twirled his hair in his fingers, watching the blood stained strand curl.

“Your uncle’s been in our family since we all were young, came from the same home. You are welcomed with open arms, but we will need to understand you and your gift more. Let’s go inside and get an understanding of your gift.” Hopper led the way, through the kids looking on in interest.

“Before we start, can we get you boys anything? A drink? A snack? It must have been a long trip.” Wayne looked over at his nephew, noting the way Eddie was withdrawn, taking it upon himself to answer.

“No, that’s alright Joyce. I’d like to explain and I’m sure Eddie would like to change his clothes. We didn’t have much time in our rush.”

“Of course. Have a seat and explain what happened.” They all sat in the small office, Eddie tucked against his uncle’s side like he had as a kid.

“Well Eddie’s ability is closely related to vampires. He’s lived by drinking blood since he was sixteen, and we try to keep his diet balanced between the blood and regular food, but last night something happened. He must have had a change in his metabolism that I didn’t account for or something. I don’t know the whole story, but -.”

“I was just so hungry. One minute we’re walking home from practice, the next I’m looking down at… he looked so scared and drained.” Eddie curled in on himself, shoulders tensing as Wayne wrapped an arm around his nephew.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson

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gramon-my-otp · 5 years

Text

To The End, With You - chapter twelve

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Synopsis: Russell and Gareth participate in the entrance ritual of the secret gay brotherhood of Britpoplar. The Gallagher brothers prank Damon and Graham in an awful way - which escalated to a surprising revelation between the two friends!

Alternative Universe fanfiction placed in the 1600s.

Words: 2040

Disclaimers: I understand that Blur, Pulp, Oasis, Suede, Elastica and other bands members belong to their own and have their own personality and personal lives. I am aware this is nothing but a work of fiction and the way the characters are represented are fruit of my imagination and do not correspond to their real thoughts and way of life. Fanfiction should not be taken seriously.

(After more than three years, I came back to finish what I have started. Thanks for the giving me motivation @skygramon I can’t do this without you)

Two cloaked individuals sprinted around the borough of Britpoplar at night. They were aware that there were eyes in places they would never imagine. The location chosen for a secret meeting was unfamiliar to them, but the path that led to it was infamous for the grieving memory it sparkled. It was where Simon Gilbert last walked alive - and they were there, the two cloaked men, holding hands. They stopped by the butcher shop, as it was instructed to them. A straight gated iron door opened before them, almost invisible in the corner of the slaughter house. Only then the blokes noticed a flickering light in a window above. A hidden room above the shop. The negotiators had already been waiting. The men entered and the iron gate shut closed. Damon Albarn received the visitors with a knife in hand, pointing at them.

“Identify yourselves”

They removed their own covers completely, revealing to be Damon’s fellow Russell Senior and his young lover, Gareth Coombes. Damon put his blade back and greeted them accordingly. The setting was unsettlingly silent. The glow of candles reflected upon the stairs behind them.

“Up we go”, asked Damon, gesturing with his arms and hands.

The blonde followed the couple climbing the stairs, heading to the bedroom. Another iron gate, and also a door. Anxiety built up in the two lovers hearts. They held their hands tighter, and carried on. On the edge of the bed sat Morrissey and Alex James. He wasn’t happy to be there, but as a member of the society he had to fulfil tasks when required of him. Russell wasn’t expecting to see neither of them there. He would never guess the so much respected librarian was homosexual, and he never cared for a poor lowlife profile such as Alex. He was speechless already. Gaz took a deep breath and gathered the courage to make his question:

“Are those the ones assigned to each one of us?”

“Yes”, answered Damon, behind them. “It was easy finding someone slim, tall, and young as you are for Russell. Believe me, it’s easier to get it done when the person resembles someone you like”.

“So, I have to lie down with fellow Alex, while he has to lie down with Morrissey”, Russell was repeating the obvious. He knew Damon wouldn’t volunteer because they were kind of close. Still, the thought of that passage rite was absurd, but necessary.

“Are you going to stay here and watch us?” - asked Alex, annoyed. “Aren’t we going to have a little privacy?”

“Mr. James… Somebody has to watch the surroundings. Damon had the idea that we leave as a group afterwards, pretending we’re drunk”, Morrissey explained. “I’m sorry this room doesn’t fit your needs, but it’s the only we could find in a hurry. Now, shut your mouth and do what you are supposed to!”

Gaz and Alex were tops, while Russell and Morrissey were bottoms. It was difficult for the couple having to have sex in those conditions, only to be accepted, protected by the community. Proof was necessary, and now they had it. The plan for them to leave in safety proceeded well. They were mistaken by drunkards lost in Britpoplar streets.

The sound of boiling metal and hammers crashing against steel filled the emptiness of the air under the hot midday sun. The Gallagher brothers had been reforming armor pieces for the soldiers for the last few days. Not that they cared for the army. In fact, they didn’t, but gold was gold. The payment was good and they needed it. They constantly thought about what Jarvis Cocker and Brett Anderson said to them. Honestly, they thought they were crazy and being paid for following people was something way over the line. They rarely did the patrols they were supposed to, and never saw anything that called their attention. That day, though, was their lucky day.

“Fuck, I’m bored!”, voiced Liam, dropping his working material. “Tired of doing this and bored!”.

“If you leave the hard work to me again, I will take your gold for meself”, warned Noel.

“You just try it!”, Liam raised his fist toward his brother.

When they were about to throw punches at each other, they noticed movement behind them. They see Damon walking past by with Graham, chatting joyfully. In the midst of the awkward silence between the Gallagher brothers, the two peasants ignored them. In fact, they didn’t even witness the foolish discussion. They were so focused and entertained with each other.

“Let’s fool with them just like we did with that Justin Welch moron last week” - suggested Liam, with pure mischief in his eyes.

“Do we really have to?” - Noel questioned, uninterested.

“Are you crazy?! Stop being a slackass and let’s go!”- Liam tried to encourage him.

“Alright, alright. They are full of shit anyway…” - Noel got moving then, and Liam went along.

Graham was actually having one of the most exciting afternoons of his life. Listening to Damon nonstop, telling stories of the town and sharing his adventurous experiences. He would either blabber about managing the gay community or how much he liked Justine. Graham couldn’t avoid thinking how big of a hypocrite and selfish Damon was at that matter. What the hell did he want in life? The answer was simple, Albarn wanted the whole world, he wanted everything. However, no man was able to play God, nor he was allowed to be larger than life just for the sake of good fun and self indulgence. Damon’s sins were numerous, as he was endangering both himself and all the people he cared about. Sooner or later, Graham would suffer from some kind of backfire. The blonde one had been spending the whole day with his friend, saying lots of things, but not what he really wanted to say. Coxon was fine whether Damon knew he was attracted to him or not. It was too dangerous to risk it all for an affair. He was more than happy with his friendship.

“Oi, mates! What a pleasure to see ya in this part o’ town!” - Liam came in grinning wide.

Graham froze from his arse up. He was aware of the Gallagher’s reputation.

“What’s wrong, newcomer? Shat your trousers?!?” - Noel already got a grip of the brunette’s shoulder.

If Damon decided to fight them he would surely lose. Graham was nothing but a scaredy cat - there was no way he was going to help out in combat. As Liam sunk his knee deep in Damon’s stomach, Noel punched Graham in the mouth.

“Damon, no!” - uttered Graham.

“I’m okay, Graham. He’s too weak for me…” - Damon could barely talk, and still he mocked the one who bullied him.

The two victims were dragged by their enemies to Britpoplar’s cemetery. It had both fancy tombs for the rich families and some areas to drop poor abandoned chaps. Last time Damon was there he stole Simon Gilbert’s body away, to bury him at his homeplace.

“Right! Let’s play a game!” - Liam held Damon by his hair, almost pulling it from his scalp. They kept climbing the hill on the cemetery until they found the tiniest stone mausoleum. It must have been built for a child, but the funeral never happened. The monument was there for a really long time, and the Gallaghers often took other young men there just to terrorize them, locking them up in the tomb for several hours. They were about to do it with Damon and Graham.

“Liam, I don’t know if they will both fit in! We never tried putting two at once!” - Noel was laughing at his younger brother’s psychotic necessities. He probably participated only for gags.

“Shaddap and help me”

The only way Damon and Graham could coexist in that horrid conditions were positioned against each other, face to face, squeezed in the vault between the stone walls.

“Let’s see how long it will take for them to figure how to get out” - the two friends in trouble overheard the sentence, as the voices from Noel and Liam disappeared with the distance.

It was so tight in there that their rib cages didn’t have enough space to breath. Their legs were nearly intertwined with one another. Graham’s crotch was against Damon’s thigh, as well as the same for the other way round. The whole situation was disturbingly inconvenient, and yet it could get a lot worse.

“Graham, are you okay?” - Asked Damon after noticing his friend’s face twitch. - “Can you breathe?”

Coxon could only nod positively, while a drop of sweat ran down on his forehead. Damon struggled to move his hands and looked all around the stone enclosure.

“That’s what Justin Welch meant with being abused by the Gallaghers! What a bunch of useless cunts! If he got out, we can too!”

Not that Graham was relieved with the idea of being free from that nonsense, but while Damon was slowly searching for a lump, a button, or a handle of any sort in the walls, it was hard not move accidentally against his mate, rubbing himself against Coxon’s body.

“Damon, I am sorry, I am so sorry, I can’t!”

“What are you…? Oh, my… Graham, you…”

That was it. Graham Coxon got a boner, and his stiffness was screaming inside his trousers, trapped between Damon’s thigh and below his own navel. Damon first reaction was to be in shock. Never in his mind he could imagine this chap longing for him, even though Morrissey had suggested so a few days prior. Graham was truly mortified. He refused to open his eyes and wished he was dead only not to hear what Damon had to say. Instead of what was expected, Damon suddenly burst into laughter. Graham discreetly peeked at his giggling face.

“That’s right! Laugh at me! I deserve to be humiliated!” - Coxon cried dramatically.

“Shut your mouth, Gra.” - Damon silenced Graham himself, surprising him with a warm, magisterial, and hopeless kiss. He forced his tongue inside the man’s mouth, relishing on his sweet taste and extreme insecurity.

Graham, at first, got so scared with Damon’s sudden move, that he fought it, refusing to believe that his life had come that - but as soon as Damon’s large tongue made way, his whole body simply swooned. He wanted more, and he didn’t want it to stop - but Damon had a million thoughts in his head. He started it, and he ceased it too.

“We shouldn’t, Graham, you’re my friend.”

“I… I think I am in love with you.”

When they thought they were never gonna leave that wretched tomb, Damon unexpectedly hit his elbow on a piece of the wall and dislocated, making it possible for them to push the stones apart and escape the trap. They literally fell on top of each other when they made it out.

“You don’t want to get involved in this, Graham.” - Damon was referring to joining the gay brotherhood. “I can't let you risk your life over me.”

“But - I am not confused anymore! I know now, I want this, and I want you!” - Graham embraced Albarn, still on the ground.

The blonde one held Coxon’s chin, as if he was about to kiss him again, but then let go. He got up and assisted his confidant afterwards.

“Try to imagine yourself with a maiden or something and get rid of this hard-on you’ve got, We’re going back to the university.”

Eventually, Graham’s erection faded away, but not because he imagined a naked woman - being rejected by Damon in that way had hurt him. He felt as if his feelings had been played with, like a dart game. Damon had hit bullseye, and his heart was now bleeding. Neither him or Albarn could sleep that night. Coxon was just too sad, regretting that he opened his heart to his friend in a moment of fragility. Damon, on the other hand, kept awake because of his guilt. He didn’t want to mess with Graham’s feelings at all. He was still resenting Simon’s death, and believed he couldn’t keep his brothers at the secret community safe. He loved Graham too, still, he wasn’t ready to put his life on the line for the sake of their feelings.

#gramon #fanfiction #to the end with you fic #britpop #I am back

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garretschuelke · 4 years

Text

Godan: Omega Wolf Blues, part 3

(As featured on Tuesday Serial. Read part two here)

The first day of December in Chicago was sunny and nearly cloudless—a stunning change to the previous month, in which the city was hammered with near-daily snow storms.

Chicagoan's, while still bundled up, obviously welcomed the changes,. Many of them took the chance to hang out at Millennium Park.

Some took selfies around The Bean, which was slick with melting snow, while others rented out skates and hit the McCormick Tribune ice rink.

Gareth, Nang, Callisto, and Lana were among the latter.

Two teenagers raced past Callisto, causing her to fall. Lana noticed this, and immediately skated over.

“Congrats on your first fall,” Lana said, bending over, “you lasted a tad bit longer than I expected.”

“Well, I've walked on ice before,” Callisto reached her hand up, “so I didn't think it would be that hard.”

Callisto's sleeve slid down, exposing her gray fur-covered arm. Lana quickly pulled her up. “Try to keep yourself covered up,” she said, pulling Callisto's sleeve back into place.

“Sorry, sorry!” Callisto said, hoping that Lana was not mad at her. She started slipping. Lana took her by the shoulders and led them to the side.

“It's cool,” Lana replied. “It's kinda funny though, seeing you hairless from, like, the neck up. It's like those YouTube vids of shaved dogs that I showed you.”

“Ew, no!” Callisto said, sticking her tongue out.

“Ruff ruff to you too,” Lana laughed, taking her vape pen out of her pocket.

“Where's Gareth and Nang at?” Callisto asked.

Lana took a hit as she looked around. “Right there,” she said, exhaling as she pointed at the center of the rink.

Gareth and Nang were holding hands, spinning around slowly. Gareth then pulled Nang to him, and they kissed.

“They made up pretty fast,” Callisto said, folding her arms.

“They've always been combative,” Lana said. “I'm pretty sure that's one of the reasons they're attracted to each other.”

“What're the other reasons?”

“Well, they're both superhumans, they both have fangs and claws,” Lana took another hit of her vape. She grinned. “Oh, and Gareth is really good in bed—Haruki and I can attest to that. I wouldn't feel surprised if she feels the same way.”

“Oh,” Callisto replied as she watch Gareth and Nang grab the two teenagers whose antics knocked her down earlier.

“You haven't slept with him yet?” Lana asked.

“What? No!” Callisto shouted. “I'm not into him like that!”

“Quiet!” Lana, said, putting her finger to Callisto's lips as she tried not to laugh.

Callisto moved Lana's finger away from her lips. “Aren't you weirded out with Gareth sleeping with other people besides you?”

Lana shook her head. “Nah, we're just friends. I have other lovers too—he just happens to be the one I live with and, you know, is probably the best out of all of them, being superhuman and all.”

Callisto nodded, and they both watched as Nang lectured the teenagers as Gareth looked on, laughing.

Callisto broke the silence. “So, who is this Haruki person I keep hearing about?”

Lana blew out a cloud. “You don't know?”

“I've seen a picture of him, you, Gareth, and another guy, and I've asked Gareth about it, but he got really sad and wouldn't talk.”

Lana sighed. “The other guy in the photo you saw in the living room was Tucker. They were our friends and housemates.”

“Where are they now?”

Lana took a deep breath. “Here's the sad part that Gare probably doesn't want to talk about: they were kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?”

Lana nodded. “By the Rudkuses—a gang Gareth then pretty much took down. He spent the entire year afterwards looking for them, fighting criminals, and doing other hero-related stuff, but he says he hasn't found any traces of them.” She took a quick hit of her pen. “It was me who convinced him to go back to Michigan to investigate his hometown's werewolf problem, since he was running himself ragged, and I thought him getting out of town for a bit would do him some good.” Lana threw back her hair. “From what he told me, it wasn't.”

Callisto looked at her skates, grimacing. Lana realized what she was implying.

“Hey, you're cool though!” She rubbed Callisto's back. “Really, Gareth and I like having you around!”

“Thanks,” Callisto mumbled.

Lana leaned into Callisto's ear. “I never told you this before, but I do get a kick out of shaving you. It reminds me of the cat I had when I was a kid would throw a shit fit whenever I tried to do it it her.”

Callisto giggled. Lana said “Uh, oh,” as she watched security confront Nang, Gareth, and the teenagers.

“Have you ever noticed that Gareth wears the same clothes all the time?” Callisto asked, referring to Gareth's black sweatshirt, gray sleeveless shirt, gray pants, and black combat boots.

“Yeah, he's not really much for fashion,” Lana said, “and, according to him, he never gets cold.”

“I mean, he wears the same clothes all the time,” Callisto nudged Lana. “Nobody notices?”

Lana shrugged. “Why would anyone care about some random gutter punk?”

Up in Chicago's skyline, Upton watched the four friends, streaming their activities to Mysta, who was using her tablet to check over the final preparations of her plan.

“All right, I think everything is good to go,” She put down her tablet, leaned back in her chair, and watched as Gareth and Nang were led off of the rink by security. “You ready to do this, Upton?”

Upton nodded his head.

“Good. Now go do what—” a figure flew past Upton's field of vision. “Wait, zoom in on whatever just flew by you.”

Upton did so, revealing it to be White Streak, who then landed on a rooftop overlooking Millennium Park.

“Hold on, Upton,” Mysta said. “Things are about to get more interesting.”

“I bet the security over at the Ribbon wouldn't let this shit fly!” Gareth yelled at the security guards who threw them out.

“Please don't ruin our access to that rink either,” Lana said.

Nang's phone vibrated. She took out it out and saw that it was a text from White Streak.

“Seriously,” Gareth said as he sat down on the bench and started taking off his skates. “I didn't act like that when I was his age!”

“Really?” Lana sat down, smiling. “You, of all people, weren't a dickhead when you were a teenager?”

“Nah, I was more moody and withdrawn,” Gareth then thought it over. “Actually, I only skated a handful of times before my Dad put an end to that.”

“Why did he do that?” Callisto asked.

Gareth grimaced. “Forget I mentioned that.”

“I got a text from Sanders,” Nang said, sitting down on the bench opposite of them, “he's waiting on one of the rooftops across the street.”

“Awesome!” Gareth began untying his skates faster. “Last chance, Lana, wanna join us?”

Lana shook her head. “Sorry, my shift starts in three hours.”

Gareth gave a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “Okay, I'll record it for ya.”

Lana giggled. “Thanks, since I obviously don't know how to torrent.”

“My bootlegs feature all the shaking, but none of the malware,” Gareth got up, dropped his skates off at the rental desk.“I'll see you later tonight.”

“I'll make sure there's plenty of salted pork left for you and Callisto when you get back,” Lana joked as she and Gareth hugged.

“What an angel you are,” Gareth kissed her on the cheek, and turned to Nang and Callisto. “Well, gang, lets hit up the nearest alley.”

Nang and Callisto bid Lana farewell, and followed Gareth outside. Callisto tugged on Gareth's sleeve. “We're really not gonna have to eat that stuff again, are we?”

Gareth snorted. “Fuck no!” he laughed. “That's just something Mary like to whip up for new housemates.”

Callisto sighed. “Good, I don't think my stomach could take another round of that.”

“Let's go down this one,” Nang said, pointing towards an alley.

Gareth and Callisto followed Nang across the street and into the alley. After making sure that there were no security cameras around, they ducked between two dumpsters.

“I'm surprised that we haven't been caught yet,” Callisto said as she and Nang put on their domino masks.

“If we were busted,” Gareth said as his fingernails grew into claws and his hair turned gray, “I would just claim I'm selling you two drugs.”

“Yeah, you know, normal stuff someone would do in an alley,” Nang said.

“Likewise, I could claim I'm prostituting myself.”

Nang pretended to gag. Callisto giggled.

“Admit it,” Godan tied on his mask, “you would gladly pay up to have me.”

“I haven't done it yet.” Nang looked around the corner. “Coast is clear.”

They sprang upwards all at once, hopping onto a fire escape. They then leapt onto different window ledges until they landed on the roof of the building.

“STREAK!” Godan yelled, looking around “WHERE YOU AT?!”

“OVER HERE!” White Streak yelled, waving from the building behind them.

Godan, Nang, and Callisto ran over and joined him. “Got the tickets?” Godan asked as they slapped hands.

“Yes sir, Mister Gray Wolf,” White Streak replied, showing them the tickets on his phone.

“What're we seeing?” Callisto asked.

“A documentary,”

“That's different from the usual crap we go to,” Nang said.

Back in her lab, Mysta gripped her armrest. “That's how we're gonna do it now, Upton. You ready?”

Upton nodded. He started to power up his thrusters, and released a tentacle, as he slowly descended.

“You really don't see the irony in seeing a documentary about mass surveillance?” Godan asked.

“What's the problem?” White Streak asked. “Not interesting enough for you?”

“No, I'm cool with seeing it—I just find it funny that an FBI agent is interested in seeing what is probably, in part, a critical documentary on an activity that you guys engage in every single day.”

“First of all, that's not my department. Nang and I are all about monitoring and stopping superhuman criminal activities here in Chicago.”

“Yeah, mass surveillance.”

“Not the type they're talking about in this film! Second, I do have my own reservations regarding surveillance policies.”

“I'm sure your bosses really cares about your opinion.”

Nang slapped Godan alongside the head. “Stop being a dick to the guy who is treating us to a free movie!”

White Streak released three tentacles. “All aboard the White Streak express! Next stop: Logan Square.”

Mysta watched as Nang allowed White Streak to wrap his tentacle around her. “NOW!” she commanded.

Upton darted towards the group. He shot his tentacle and wrapped it around Callisto. He veered upwards again, knocking over Godan.

“THE FUCK—” Godan yelled, scrambling to his feet.

“GARETH!” Callisto yelled. Godan looked over and saw Upton, hovering a few feet away, with Callisto struggling to free herself.

Godan froze, and blinked a couple of times. “Upton?” he said, staring at the gang leader he thought he had defeated over a year ago.

“Who the hell is that?!” Nang asked, whipping off her coat, revealing her usual uniform.

“I don't know,” White Streak zoomed in on Upton's face. “Wait, is that—”

“UPTON!” Godan, filled with rage, launched himself towards the android.

“Come back to base,” Mysta commanded. “Use one of our underground tunnels.”

Upton nodded, and headed southward, narrowly avoiding Godan's slash. Godan growled, and gave chase.

“WAIT UP!” White Streak yelled. He made sure Nang was properly secured, and they flew off after them.

“Upton...” Nang said, taking a small metallic tube out of her pocket, “that name sounds familiar.”

“I've briefed you on him before,” White Streak said, tying to catch up with Godan as he hopped from rooftop to rooftop, trying to grab the android. “He's the former leader of the Rudkuses.”

“Oh, yeah,” Nang twisted the tube, transforming it into her spear, “but Gareth said he killed him.”

“I believe him,” White Streak started streaming and recording what was occurring, sending out a signal to his FBI contact, “but it looks like Upton got himself the same type of “upgrade” that I did!”

Godan made another leap at Upton, who just raised his hand and fired an energy blast at him. It hit the Gray Wolf in the chest, sending him plummeting towards the ground.

“CATCH HIM!” White Streak yelled.

Nang shot a web at Godan, catching him by the shoulder. She braced herself. Godan grabbed the web and steadied himself.

They entered the Back of the Yards neighborhood. Upton sent out commands to a nearby garage, which immediately opened up. He flew into it, with Callisto screaming for help.

“He's not getting away from me!” Godan yelled, slashing the web line off of him. He landed, and dashed into the garage as the door closed behind him.

“Hang on tight!” White Streak yelled, bringing Nang closer to him. Nang shielded herself. White Streak aimed his arm at the door and blasted it. The door exploded, and they flew through the smoke.

“Excellent choice, Upton!” Mysta said, getting up from her seat and heading up onto the platform. “Now lead them here.”

“What is this place?” Nang asked, looking around. “Some kind of bunker?”

“Could be that,” White Streak said as they flew down the large, illuminated tunnel. His com buzzed, indicating that his FBI contact was trying to reach him. He accepted the call. “Red Seal, we got a problem: Upton's still alive—he's been turned into an android, and he has Callisto, the other wolf girl I told you about. Myself, Agent Tu, and Godan are in pursuit in some tunnel located in the Back of the Yards.”

“Let me see if I can tag him,” Nang said, thrusting her palm forward.

“DON'T!' White Streak yelled. “You might hit Godan!”

“Like that's ever stopped him before!”

White Streak groaned. “Lock onto my location,” he said to Red Seal. “What's that? Yeah, send her over too. I'll take whatever help you can manage.”

“Who's Red Seal sending?”

“Our new recruit.”

Nang rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on—not her!”

The tunnel suddenly became darker. A door opened. Upton boosted his thrusters, and entered. The door immediately closed.

“Goddammit!” Godan yelled, winding up, He punched the steel door, putting a huge dent in it. He recoiled, holding his hand.

“You all right, Wolf,” White Streak asked as he landed.

“I'll heal in a sec,” Godan shook his hand. “I should have obliterate this door with one blow.”

The lights suddenly turned back on, revealing the end of the tunnel to be lined with pods built into the wall.

“Oh, God,” Nang said, cringing as she scanned the unconscious, grotesque subjects encased in the pods.

White Streak gulped. “These are the same exact pods that I was imprisoned in.”

Godan's attention from the door changed towards a pod that was next to him. The subject inside looked like he had been stitched back together. He looked closer, and saw the subjects face, which featured noticeable fangs.

Godan's eyes widened. He growled, and got into a battle stance.

“What?!” Nang said, joining his side, her spear at the ready.

“It's Ruthven!” Godan said, “That vampire Wolf Savage and I took out in Kalamazoo!”

White Streak checked out the vampire. “He looks like he's in the worst shape out of all of them.”

“How is he even alive?!” Godan glared. “We blew him the fuck up!”

“How do you know he's alive?”

Lord Ruthven suddenly opened his eyes. Upon seeing Godan, he smashed himself again the glass, fangs bared, his screaming only slightly muffled by the preservation fluid.

“SHIT!” White Streak yelled, aiming his palm at the vampire as he jumped back.

Godan bared his own fangs, ready to fight.

“WELCOME, SUPERHUMANS!” Mysta's voice blared out of a speaker. A screen above the door came to life, showing her sitting at a desk, grinning. “You kept up pretty well with my Upton. Guess I'll have to increase his speed later.”

That's the woman I've seen on the news, Godan thought, remembering the night he thought he defeated Upton.

“Mysta Avon,” White Streak said, lowering his arms. “Thanks for revealing yourself like this—it confirms all the bureaus suspicions.”

Mysta laughed. “It seriously took the FBI this long to find about my activities?” She pressed a button on her console. “Looks like I was paranoid for nothing.”

“I saw her on the news before,” Godan whispered to Nang. “Who is she again?”

Nang glared at him. “Come on, Gar,” she said , shaking her head. “Famous Chicago-based scientist, entrepreneur, investor, philanthropist, head of Mysta Industries...”

“Weapons manufacturer, gangster, human trafficker,,” White Streak interrupted, “and my personal favorite: mad scientist.”

“That's me, all right,” Mysta confirmed, leaning back in her chair. “But enough talk about my rep—there's lots of things I admire about you, Godan: your strength, your speed, your durability, and that incredible healing factor,” Mysta sighed, seemingly lost in thought, “but your intelligence and morals could use some improvement.”

Godan growled. Nang put her hand on his shoulder and told him to calm himself. She heard the sound of marching behind them. She turned around and looked down the tunnel.

“What have you done with Callisto?” White Streak asked.

“Oh, she's right here by my side,” Mysta reached over and turned the camera towards Callisto, who was bound to the wall by her hands and feet, her mouth covered with tape.

“Let's get this door open,” Godan said, walking past White Streak. He put both hands on the handle, and began to pull.

“Oh, please try!” Mysta said, pointing the camera back towards herself. “I made that door with your strength level in mind—as I could calculate, at least. You've dented it a bit, so I was a tad bit off—but I still think I did a good job.”

“Godan, Streak,” Nang got into a battle stance.

“She's got a point,” White Streak said to Godan as he pulled on the door in vain. “If it's so strong that even you can't get through it, then we have a problem.”

Godan stopped pulling. “No shit, Einstein,” he muttered, breathing heavily.

“GUYS!” Nang said, backing up.

“You got two immediate problems, actually,” Mysta said, resting her chin on her hand.

Nang turned White Streak around. She then grabbed Godan by the hood and yanked him from away from the door.

“WHAT!” Godan yelled.

Nang pointed her spear down the tunnel. Before them was a group, decked out in black hazmat suits, marching towards them.

“What the fuck are those things?!” White Streak asked, raising his arms towards them.

“They're some kind of zombies,” Godan got in front of them, claws up. “I dealt with them last year.”

“Very scientific explanation,” Mysta said. “ I simply call them 'Assistants'. How about we see if you three can take them on while trying to get the door open?”

“I can't tell how many there are,” Nang said, readying her spear.

Godan spread his arms out in front of them.”You guys get the door open. I'll handle these freaks.”

“Think you can manage them all?” White Streak asked.

“Oh yeah,” Godan flexed his claws, “I'll tear them apart!”

“Wait, we need you to open the door though.” Nang said.

“You heard the mad scientist—the door was made to match my strength.”

“How the hell are we supposed to manage then? We're not as strong as you!”

All at once, the Assistants stopped marching. They reached into their side compartments and took out batons.

“Fine—work on it until I take them out. I need a break from yanking on that handle anyway.”

Nang nodded. Godan gave them a thumbs up, and rushed towards the Assistants.

“He needs a break,” Nang sighed, putting away her spear.

“Come on, let's get this door open,” White Streak said. He went up to the door and saw that the doors space was expanded after Godan dented it. He stuck his hands in it, got a grip, and began pulling on it.

Mysta hummed.”Maybe I should have equipped them with guns,” she said, zooming in on Godan, who was easily tearing through the Assistants. “No, that still would have been a bad idea, with all the subjects I have stored along the walls.”

Callisto tried to say something, but her voice was muffled by the tape.

“You're absolutely right!” Mysta looked down at her android. “Upton, I'm not mad—I should have been more specific—but next time you lead high-powered superhumans to me, please go though a tunnel that doesn't have any experiments, expensive tech, and whatnot in it. Got it?”

Upton nodded.

“ It's nice having a silent servant, but nothing beats honest feedback, right?” Mysta looked back at Callisto, who glared at her.

“Should have thought of this sooner,” White Streak said, backing up. He aimed his arms at the other side of the door, and unleashed a thin, steady stream of energy at it.

“My turn,” Nang said, cracking her knuckles and taking up where White Streak left off.

“How's Wolf doing?” White Streak asked, increasing the strength of his energy beam.

Nang looked down the tunnel. She saw the ravaged bodies of the Assistants littering the floor. Further back, she saw blood and body parts flying everywhere as zombies surrounded Godan.

“He's having the time of this life,” Nang said, as she began to pull.

“It won't be long now,” Mysta said. She switched to another camera, which showed a lone Assistant standing back, observing the battle. “Good, he's in place.”

Another baton hit Godan in the back of the head. Enraged, he roared, turned around, and swiped at the Assistant, cutting its head off. Another Assistant wrapped its arms around the Gray Wolf's neck and his foot in front of his leg, sending them to the floor. The other Assistants piled on top of them.

Godan gagged on the smell of decaying flesh and rancid blood. “All right, I'm done with this shit!” he mumbled.

He quickly got to his knees and, swinging his arms, sent the Assistants flying off. He broke away from the Assistant that had him in a choke hold, and put his fist through its head. Godan then sped around the area and cut off the heads of each of the remaining Assistants before they could recover.

“God, what a mess,” Godan said, wiping his claws on his pants and looking around. He saw the lone Assistant still hanging back.

“How many of you freaks did Mysta make?!” Godan yelled, preparing to charge at it.

The Assistant began walking towards him, revealing that it was wearing a gray hazmat suit. It took off its gloves, revealing claws.

“Well, this might be different,” Godan said, getting into a battle stance.

The door moved slightly. Surprised, Nang stopped pulling.

“Keep going!” White Streak yelled.

“Just catching my breath, boss!” Nang said.

They heard a loud crash. They looked over, and saw Godan flying towards them. They got out of the way, allowing the Gray Wolf to smash into the door.

“GODAN!” Nang yelled, kneeling down next to him.

“Thanks for the save, guys,” Godan mumbled, scrambling to his feet.

They looked over and saw the Gray Assistant rushing towards them, claws at the ready. Nang shot a web at it. The Gray Assistant easily tore through it.

“I've got him!” Godan said, getting up and charging at it.

“We should help,” Nang said.

“No, we almost got this door open!” White Streak unleashed some tentacles and began pulling at the door with them. Nang returned to her previous position and went back to pulling as well.

“Perfect!” Mysta said as she watched the fight between Godan and the Gray Assistant continue. “Well, maybe I'm calling it perfect too early, but it looks promising.”

A loud squeal caught Mysta's attention, and made Upton get into a battle stance. The door that White Streak and Nang were pulling on slowly moved, creating a larger gap.

“It's about to get really fun in here,” Mysta stood up and looked at Callisto. “I can tell you're just as excited as I am.”

The Gray Assistant stomped Godan's foot. “REALLY?!” Godan yelled, hopping back on one foot. The Gray Assistant suddenly appeared in front of the Gray Wolf, elbowing him the chin. Godan swiped both claws at it. The Gray Assistant jumped back.

“That Mysta woman made you smart enough to do cheap shots,” Godan said, peeling the fabric off the one claw that connected with the zombies hazmat suit.

The Gray Assistant did not say a word. It got into a battle stance similar to Godan's. Godan snicked, and rushed at it.

White Streak saw Nang begin to breath heavily. He stopped blasting at the door frame. “Let me handle the rest,” he said, nudging his way between Nang and the door. He took a hold of the gap with both hands, breathed deeply, and began pulling again.

Mysta sighed heavily, “I'm sick of waiting.” She bent down and opened her desks bottom cabinet. She took out a smooth, thin crown that looked like an upside down horseshoe, and put it on her head. She pressed the button on the back to turn it on, and closed her eyes. A few seconds later, a red light appeared in front of the crown, followed by a beep.

Mysta opened her eyes. UPTON, CAN YOU HEAR ME?, she asked telepathically. Upton looked up at her and nodded.

“Excellent!” Mysta pressed another button on her console. The door of the lab suddenly opened, sending White Streak to the floor.

Godan threw the Gray Assistant at the pod containing Lord Ruthven. He raised his fist and ran at it.

COME TO UPTON'S SIDE, Mysta commanded the Gray Assistant. The zombie nodded, stood up, and ran towards the lab.

Godan's fist went through the pod door. Lord Ruthven took the opportunity to bust through the nearly-shattered glass.

“SHIT!” Godan said as he was showered in fluid and glass. He grabbed Lord Ruthven by the throat and, ignoring the vampires claws piercing his shoulders, threw him down the tunnel.

“LET'S DO THIS!” Nang yelled, whipping out her spear. The Gray Assistant zipped past her. “Who's—” Godan then zipped past her as well.

“Congratulations, superhumans!” Mysta said, arms outstretched. Upton and the Gray Assistant stood in front of the platform, arms crossed. “You're all officially the second, third, and fourth guests to ever visit my underground lab!”

White Streak aimed his arm at her. “Mysta Avon, you're under—”

Mysta's desk phone rang. “Hold on a sec, guys.” Mysta picked it up. “Yes?”

Godan saw Callisto tied up. With a growl, he leapt towards her. The Gray Assistant leapt upwards in front of him. It threw a punch. Godan crossed his face with his arms and took the blow, sending him back to the ground. Nang immediately threw her spear at Mysta. Upton unleashed a tentacle and swatted it away.

“Okay, I'll send up some of my Assistants to stop her,” Mysta said. She saw White Streak shoot an energy blast her way. She pressed a button, which brought down a glass dome, encasing the platform. White Streak's blast dissipated upon impact. “Yes, yes, I'll contact the authorities—just relax, and tend to your gunshot wounds the best you can.”

Mysta hung up the phone. “Sorry about that—it seems I have an unwelcome guest upstairs.” Mysta narrowed her eyes. “Scratch that—TWO unwanted guests.”

A loud, pained scream came from the hallway. They all turned around and saw Lord Ruthven dashing towards them, eyes bulging.

“This is getting way too out of control!” White Streak said, Godan and Nang prepared themselves.

“I got this,” Mysta pressed a button that closed the door just as Lord Ruthven was near the entrance. The vampire smashed into the door. Mysta laughed. “There, that's better.”

“Like I said before, Mysta,” White Streak turned back around, “we're taking you in!”

“Let's get real here, Agent Sanders: none of you are leaving this place.” Callisto began to struggle. Mysta smacked her. “You're all MY subjects now!”

“LET HER GO!” Godan yelled, baring his fangs.

The center of Mysta's crown glowed. “I want you to try and stop me.” Upton and the Gray Assistant advanced towards them. “It'll be easier to control you when you're dead.”

Nang broke away from the group, grabbed her spear, got into a battle stance.

“Oh, you don't have an opponent, do you?” Mysta's crown blinked. “Allow me to change that.”

The door next to Nang exploded, sending her skidding across the floor. Godan bent down and caught her.

A large android, equipped with a minigun for one arm, and a flame thrower for the other, entered the lab.

“It's a Man of War!” White Streak said, unleashing four tentacles. “I thought we got rid of them all!”

“You did,” Mysta stretched her fingers. “this is just my take on them. What do you think?”

Godan focused on the face, which was half-scarred with burnt flesh. His eyes widened.

“His name was Fold—a muscle for the Rudkuses. You might remember his as the one who massacred everything in that Boystown convenience store over a year ago.” She looked at Godan, “including those two friends you been searching for, Gray Wolf of Chicago.”

Godan tensed up, and began breathing heavily.

“Calm down, Gareth,” Nang whispered.

“You know, I think I'll give Upton and my Assistant a break. This will be a good chance to see what Fold can do, now that he's a true berserker!”

Fold raised his minigun.

“GET BACK!” White Streak yelled. Godan and Nang did so as White Streak blasted the floor, creating a smoke screen and a crater. Fold began shooting at them.

“THE FUCK KIND OF MOVE IS THAT?!” Godan yelled, crouching down behind the debris.

“The kind of move you do when you don't know what to do next,” White Streak said.

“Godan may not be a fan of it, but I applaud your quick thinking!” Mysta said.

There was another explosion, destroying the door on the other side of the room.

“GODDAMMIT!” Nang yelled, covering her head. “NOW WHAT?!”

Mysta telepathically commanded Fold to stop. He did so, and everyone directed their attention to the smoking hole in the wall.

“Okay, who the hell just blew up my stairwell?” Mysta asked.

“Don't worry, I just blew up your door,” a voice said. “I didn't feel like messing with the lock.”

Out from the smoke stepped Dia, wearing a business suit and a utility belt, with a Desert Eagle in each hand.

“You've finally made it, Agent Patrick,” White Streak yelled.

“ 'Agent Patrick' ?!” Godan glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Unfortunately, he's not,” Nang sighed.

“Well, what a surprise!” Mysta clapped her hands. “Tell me, Dia, are those vampiric abilities I gifted you still working out? How about all that fur I removed—any grow back?”

Godan grabbed White Streak by his shoulder and pulled him in. “What are thinking, man?!”

“Hey, she wanted to become an agent after I had dinner with her. She's taken to it better than I thought she would!”

Dia saw Callisto hanging on the wall, and glared at Mysta. “Let my sister go, Doctor Avon.”

Mysta shook her head, and grinned. “You know, after all the good I've done for you, you could at least let me have one werewolf to play with!”

Dia began shooting at the glass. Bullets ricocheted everywhere—one of which hit Godan in the shoulder. Godan covered the wound with his hand, and growled at White Streak.

“I didn't say she was perfect,” White Streak said. They heard Dia shout 'SORRY!' at them.

UPTON, TAKE CARE OF WHITE STREAK IN THE OTHER TUNNEL, Mysta telepathically commanded. ASSISTANT, TAKE CARE OF GODAN IN THE MORGUE.

Upton and the Gray Assistant nodded. Upton blasted the debris they were hiding behind, obliterating it. Before anyone could react, White Streak and Godan were taken hold of, and whisked them away.

“STREAK!” Nang yelled, looking around. “GODAN!”

“You all right?” Dia asked, joining Nang by her side.

“Nang glared. “DO I LOOK LIKE I'M ALL RIGHT?!”

Dia backed away. “Excuse me for actually being worried about you!”

Fold walked up to them. He aimed his minigun and flame thrower at the agents.

“I should probably start worrying about things that actually matter,” Dia said, aiming her guns at the Man of War.

#garret schuelke #tuesday serial #godan #serialized fiction #fiction #superheroes #superhero fiction #pulp #chicago #bakunin incorporated

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