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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.6k] prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Wait a minute,” Steve grinned at you, eyes soft, something burning behind them.

The music was blaring, the lights low and the steady throb of the base made your heart thump, your bones vibrate. The living room was packed, the whole house rammed with teenagers who were looking to drink cheap beer and make bad decisions.

The floor was sticky and the air smelled like tequila and weed but Steve was staring down at you, leaning against the wall looking too pretty.

You could see the twist in his lips, the realisation hidden there and it made you feel too warm, like the heat from the party was sticking to your skin.

“Are you jealous?”

Your lips parted.

————

You hadn’t meant to interrupt Steve’s conversation with the girl. An unfamiliar face with big curls and bright pink lips, pretty in an MTV type of way. You hadn’t expected the flare of jealousy to ignite in the pit of your stomach, something sparking new and angry when she placed a hand on his arm, laughing.

Your chest had twisted, your legs carrying you over to your best friend before you could understand what was happening. You tasted like cherry vodka, the leftover buzz of the joint you had shared with Eddie making your body feel lighter than normal.

Stubborn and filled with something a little wild, you had pushed your way through the crowd, elbows in ribs as people danced around you, oblivious to the stormy expression on your face.

You were vibrating, eyes set on Steve, your best fucking friend.

The alcohol made you bold, the weed made you touchy and you slipped between them, gaze barely registering Steve’s surprised expression as you pushed yourself up onto your toes, just tall enough to wrap your arms around his neck and press your face into the crook of it.

You were a little too drunk, body still buzzing, head a little fuzzy but you knew it didn’t take him long to reciprocate, arms winding around your waist and pulling you to him, chests flush, legs tangled. You felt Steve’s smile, pressed against your temple and he forgot all about the girl as his hand found your chin, fingers tucked underneath so he could tilt your face up to look at him.

His smile was light but his eyes were warm with concern as he looked down at you, gaze roaming over your features as if he was searching for the problem.

“Well hey there, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you felt through his chest to your own. “You doin’ okay?”

Neither of you noticed the other girl huff and roll her eyes, walking away and disappearing back into the swaying crowd.

You nodded at him, smile soft and lazy and there was something inside you that was purring now that his attention was on you. His fingers were still under your chin and he thumbed at your bottom lip, affectionate and a little too flirty, the beer he’d chugged all night making him braver.

“You’re lookin’ a little spacey,'' he hummed, eyebrows raised in amusement when you giggled. “Who’d you get the weed from?”

“Eddie,” you mumbled, pressing your chin to his chest, looking up at him with big, bright eyes, his hand falling back to your waist. You watched him scan the crowd, finding the boy in question in the kitchen doorway, unlit joint stuck behind his ear, curls astray and hand raised to his forehead in a salute.

You couldn’t see, but Eddie raised his brows at Steve, wiggling them suggestively as he looked at the two of you. He winked, making Steve roll his eyes and hold onto you a little tighter.

“Alright,” Steve mused, comforted by the fact that Eddie was a trustworthy source. He’d watched the boy give you hits before, careful eyes on you at all times, knowing when to tell you you’d had enough, even when you were tequila drunk and argumentative.

“You wanna go home?” He asked, voice softer now, hand hot on your side, lazy in the way that it shucked up the edge of your shirt, thumb sliding over dip in your waist.

The way he said the word made you melt a little, ‘home’ as if it were a place for both of you. In a way it was, Steve’s six bedroom house sitting almost empty for most of the months, his parents out of town, travelling from meeting to meeting, choosing hotel rooms and six figure deals over their son.

But Steve chose you instead, putting fresh sheets in the biggest guest room, an extra toothbrush in its en-suite, ready for you to fall into drunk after parties, after too many lukewarm beers in Robin’s basement.

It only took a few months before you both realised that it was easier to put each other to bed if you slept together, two best friends who were just drunk enough, just high and lazy enough to fall into Steve’s room. You liked the way his sheets smelled like him, mint and something woodsy.

He loved the way you curled into him, sleep mussed and tongue stained blue from raspberry vodka, eager to lay yourself on his chest, to push your head under his chin and sleep.

You always woke up the next morning, legs bare, one of Steve’s shirts rucked up around your thighs, with the boy’s arm heavy across your face, his hand close to somewhere it shouldn’t be. There was always just enough alcohol in both of your systems for it to feel nice, natural, lazy and warm.

You revelled in the way he moved slow against you as he woke up, your body stretched out long beside his and he’d take the time to smooth your hair back from your eyes, both of you sleep messy and sore, pillow creases on your cheeks that wouldn’t disappear until noon.

So yeah, maybe it was home.

But as good as that sounded, you shook your head at Steve, not ready to leave your friends, the music, the thump of the bass that made your body buzz with something a little magic. Not yet.

Steve nodded, a little confusion in his eyes as he tried to work out your reason for interrupting but he brought a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, happy to have you against him.

“So, d’you just come over to use me as a pillow, huh?” His voice was teasing and light by your ear, but there was an accusation underneath it all that made you stiffen a little, body taught and suddenly you were pulling away, eyes anywhere but him.

He called your name, brow furrowed at your sudden mood change and he gazed at you, brown eyes roaming over your features as if he was looking for something that told him what he needed to know.

But then he stilled, eyes widening, jaw a little slack, like he’d found what he was looking for.

————

“What?” You finally managed to get out, and it ripped from your lip in a half laugh, half gasp.

“You heard me,” Steve said and it was low and warm, like there was a smile hidden there. “I asked if you were jealous.”

You wondered if the booze had made him bold, had given him this sudden confidence to ask his best friend such a thing. Maybe it was the dark, the low lights and shadows making him brave.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d known all along, you thought.

“Of her?” You asked, voice stuttering, words stalling, chest burning. You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder, in the general direction of the crowd. “Your little friend with the pink and the hair?”

You gestured vaguely to your own head, as if Steve didn’t catch onto what you were trying to convey. He laughed, a soft huffing sound that got mixed in with the music but you watched it fall from his lips and suddenly, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them.

You hated how sober you suddenly felt. The haziness from the alcohol and Eddie’s shared joint leaving your body and brain with every second Steve was staring at you. It was replaced with something electric, a live wire straight to your chest and it popped and crackled with something new and exciting. A sweetness swelled in your chest and it burst.

The boy nodded, smile smothered and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, uhuh, that one.”

The song changed then, the heavy bass melting into the walls and floorboards as something a little softer replaced it, throaty lyrics and a guitar that made your skin tingle. Maybe it was just the way Steve was looking at you.

“What if I am, Harrington?”

Steve blinked, jaw slack, lips pretty and parted in surprise. You felt like your face was painted with the same expression, hardly able to keep up with your own bravery and you wondered if there was something stronger in the joint Eddie gave you, if there was something else making you act up.

But Steve was reaching back out to you, hand extended, palm up and fingers reaching. He waited, patient and still as you looked at him, as if you were weighing up the options, as if you were wondering what would happen if you took his hand.

You looked up at him, gaze greedy, trying to find what you were looking for. You found it in his brown eyes, behind the charm and the spark, a glimmer of sincerity, of lovesick nervousness.

You reached out, slipping your hand into his.

“Well shit, let's go home and talk about it,” he whispered, voice a little tougher than before.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #prompt

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octuscle · 6 months

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Studying has been so stressful lately ? Have you got something to help me relax ?

Thursday morning, 8:00 a.m. You park the old Toyota Prius that you took over from your mother in the student parking lot. Thank God it's the weekend soon, you think. But you don't feel like going to the microeconomics lecture right away. Integration of AI in the pricing of inhomogeneous markets. Unfortunately, you're not one of those nerds who can jerk off to the lecture notes. But you have to go through it now. Before you go in there, you surf through Instagram a bit. An ad for Chronivac TimeTravel pops up. It looks silly… Kind of like a role-playing game. You have to choose a character. You think about how your dad always raves about his college days. Maybe it would be cool if it was 1983. And if you were a bodybuilder. A stupid meathead. You choose that as your character. You'll worry about the rest later. Your lecture is about to start. And you still have to fight your way through the group of activists protesting against the climate policy.

The lecture is really too complicated for you. AI is a complex subject. But in combination with microeconomics? Whoever came up with that… You breathe a sigh of relief when the lecture is over. As well as you can with your face mask on. This pandemic is really exhausting. But it's good that at least there are lectures in presence again. This videoconference crap is really not mature yet. Next lecture is Spanish for Business. That's more your thing. The professor is really hot. Good motivation to go back to the workout later. You've been spending every free minute in the gym for two months, and you're starting to see results.

During the lunch break you sit with the lads from the wrestling team. Wrestling is not your thing. But the lads look like bulls. And you like that. You talk about the legalization of cannabis in Canada. That would be a cool thing here too. You've pretty much given up smoking and alcohol since you got into bodybuilding. But you don't think there's anything wrong with a little weed now and then.

At 4:00 p.m., university is over for you for the day. You sit down in the five-year-old VW Jetta that you took over from your mother. It's really embarrassing. You feel ashamed every time you drive it to the gym. Let's see, maybe you can at least put a cool matte black finish on it…

The workout was awesome again. You totally forgot the time. You're back in your car at 9:00 p.m. and drive to your dorm. You turn on the news while you prepare your dinner. China's Vice President Xi Jinping is appointed vice chairman of the Communist Party's military commission. The 57-year-old is seen as a potential successor to state and party leader Hu Jintao. Boring stuff… You certainly don't have to remember that name.

The alarm clock rings at 5:00 am. Breakfast. And off to the gym. The car radio is talking about a possible invasion of Iraq. Many of your buddies from the gym were in the army or navy… Their nerves are on edge. You can understand if you still have friends or family who might have to go to war. But 09/11 must be avenged!

Before university, leg training is the order of the day. You are proud of your colossal thighs. Many of your buddies only work out the upper body. You have the best proportions here. You've only been lifting iron for two years. But for you it's not a leisure activity, for you it's a religion.

You're just in time for your lecture. Game theory. You take your pad and pen and start taking notes. A laptop would be really cool right now. But you know four or five people on campus who have one. It's just incredibly expensive… But you won't need much longer for your bachelor's degree in sport management. Then you will hopefully be able to afford something like that. And hopefully also a new car. Your Jeep Wrangler is a cool car. But it's also eleven years old. Built in 1980… At least it gets you to the gym at 4:00 p.m. reliably.

Some dumbass turned on CNN instead of MTV on the workout floor. Some shit with the Soviet Union. Apparently everything is falling apart there and the former Soviet republics are forming a new union. Boring shit. Fortunately, someone quickly switches back to MTV. Good Vibrations with Marky Mark. Cool guy. But quite a weakling. You do a double bicepz pose in front of the mirror. You've been here every free minute for almost three years. Maybe you should be in one of those music videos.

After your workout, you wanted to go straight to bed. But it's Friday night. 10:00 p.m. The lads ask if you'd like to go to the late show of the new film with Michael J. Fox. Back to the Future. Why not. The movie's pretty funny, too. Time travel. Strange conception… But you like the idea…

Saturday morning, October 22, 1983. At 10:00 you're back at the Gym. On the way here, you've been listening to the radio about peace demonstrations in Europe. The Russki is once again threatening nuclear war. And we are stationing Pershings in Germany. Bonnie Tyler's "total eclipse of the heart" is playing from the speakers in the gym. Fuck the Russki and fuck the Germans. You're all about getting your muscles burning. At 2:00 p.m., your shift at the counter begins. Tonight you and your pals are going to wrestling. That would be a cool alternative. You as the new Hulk Hogan! But until that happens, you help out at the gym on weekends. And during the week, you'll drive a backhoe on a construction site. Hey, it's a cool life. You don't want any other!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #tank top #time warp

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omgthatdress · 1 year

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Oh my god I hate Mattel so much.

They took the American Girl brand and gave it a lobotomy.

I was going to make a very very very very bad joke about one of the 90s girls getting an eating disorder after watching Britney Spears, BUT DECIDED AGAINST IT because eating disorders are something you don’t joke about, BUT. HERE’S THE THING.

Here’s the thing. Being a tween-to-teen-age girl in the late 90s early 2000s was BULLSHIT. You had 16-year-old Britney Spears singing “Hit me baby one more time” in her Lolita schoolgirl miniskirt and crop top showing off her perfectly flat abs, and then you went to school and had abstinence-only sex ed mandated by the evangelical right wing who gave out purity rings and told you that only sluts had sex before marriage. And then there was the issue of being a fat girl trying to find jeans that met her school’s dress code the days of low-rise jeans and belly button rings.

I ended up adoring Linkin Park because their music gave voice to the rage that I had inside of me because of all that. I wore men’s pants from Hot Topic not only because I thought they were cool, but they actually fucking fit and they covered my ass crack. I wore black because I didn’t fit in to the ultra-skinny, ultra cool kid Abercrombie aesthetic. And THAT is what growing up in the 90s and coming of age in the 2000s was like.

“Nicki Hoffman is a nine going on ten year old girl living in Seattle, Washington just before the year 2000 (the turn of the millennium). She is six minutes older than her fraternal twin sister, Isabel, but one inch shorter. Nicki prefers grunge, ska music, rock, alternative, and skating; she is the "grunge" to Isabel's glitter. She does not like eating raw fish and sushi; her father teases that they can's spell "finicky" without Nicki. She likes sour candy--the more sour, the better. She's known to be shy, to the point Isabel points this out; she initially doesn't have other friends than Isabel. She's very anxious about the Y2K problem and the risks and worries that have been circulating, so Isabel and her create a list to take her mind off her worries of things to do before New Year's.Her favorite color is purple, her favorite animal is a dog (she adopts her puppy, Blossom, as a Hanukkah gift), her favorite band is No Doubt, and her favorite show is The Powerpuff Girls (her favorite character being Blossom). She likes to snack on Wild Berry Pop tarts. She does not like her middle name, Pearl.The family is interfaith and celebrates both Hanukkah and Christmas. “

It’s a sterilized and dumbed-down version of growing up in the 90s, one where they only real problem facing girls is the y2k bug. It’s about the aesthetic but not the experience. Honestly the girls of today deserve to see that their moms had it difficult, too, and that the pressure to grow up incredibly quickly and be beautiful and flawless and instantly become a woman is nothing new, now it’s just on TikTok instead of MTV.

It’s the trap of nostalgia. Just because you were younger and not as aware of the issues going on in the world doesn’t mean the world was better.

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untitled5071 · 1 month

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your drabble of taffy meeting the creature earlier on the film makes me want to see those two being friends. but also taffy realising the creature likes lisa but lisa is too focused on michael to notice. catch her putting some colour on his face and painting his nails. she makes him watch romantic films to give him ideas on how to win lisa over

I'm glad you liked the last one! I have no idea of you meant for this to be a request but I took it as one anyway, please enjoy some Creature/Taffy bonding time!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Okay, the next thing we have to work on is your nails, because no offense, but judging by these cuticles I can absolutely tell that you were in the ground for a century and a half.”

The corpse across from her grunted in indignation, but the effect was skewed by the blush that dusted his cheeks and the fluffy pink scrunchie that was currently holding his hair back.

Taffy rolled her eyes teasingly and held out her hand, gesturing for the creature to give her his. He complied, and she grabbed the manicure kit she had gotten for Christmas the year before and got to work, pushing his cuticles back gently and cleaning up his nail beds as best she could while her TV announced the next music video it would be playing behind her.

They were sitting on the floor of Taffy’s bedroom; Lisa had gone out for a snack run and left her step sister alone with her secret undead companion, and Taffy hadn’t hesitated to use the opportunity to give the creature in her sister’s closet some much-needed pampering.

He had protested the idea until Taffy had told him it would make him look more presentable for Lisa, and soon he was reluctantly sitting cross-legged in front of her on her bright teal carpet while Taffy tried and failed to find a foundation shade that matched his pallid skin.

The process of applying makeup hadn’t lasted long since the creature wanted to remain as natural (unnatural?) as possible, and soon Taffy was taking his hand in hers and applying a base coat of nail polish onto his left hand while he watched curiously. Her TV was tuned into MTV, and she could see Creature stare at it for short bursts at a time before looking away, slightly overwhelmed by the colors, sounds and images he was being exposed to for the first time.

Taffy hummed along as she fixed up his nails, and when she finished up the left hand she mimed blowing on it and told him to copy her, which he did as she moved onto the right hand, ignoring the stitches as she got started.

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them; the creature was probably still a little unsure of whether or not he should be hanging around with her; they had a shaky introduction, but he seemed harmless enough to Taffy and she was just happy that someone was around for her sister in a way she herself had never quite been able to despite her best efforts, so he was okay in her book. And Taffy was clearly the family member that Creature had the least amount of disdain towards, so they had formed a tentative friendship, one that Taffy was currently trying to strengthen with this little makeover.

Deciding to break the silence, she looked up into the corpse’s bewildered eyes and smiled, tearing him away from his staring contest with Billy Idol in the “Rebel Yell” music video.

“Don’t even think about getting bleached, buddy. Blonde would not be a good look for you.”

He grunted again, slightly offended, but she waved him off.

“Let’s rap. When did you first get the hots for Lisa?”

His grunt pitched up in surprise, and he gave her a look that was somehow sheepish, guilty and mortified all at once.

“Dude, it’s totally obvious. You aren’t subtle AT ALL, I think everyone but Lisa herself can see that you’re totally smitten.”

His cheeks darkened under the artificial blush she had given him, and she nodded sagely.

“Told you. So, when did it happen? When you got reanimated?”

The creature shook his head and pointed out an arched path with his left hand.

“Oh, before? When you were still in the ground?”

He nodded, and Taffy whistled, impressed.

“Damn, that’s some dedicated crush. Who knew grave tending was such a good way to meet guys?”

The creature snorted out a laugh, and Taffy raised a well-plucked eyebrow inquisitively.

“So when are you going to tell her that you’re head over heels, huh? Frankly I think she should have noticed ages ago, but she’s always needed a bit more help in matters of love than most people and she won’t take my word for it, so you’re probably going to have to do some show and tell before she gets it.”

He hummed distractedly, his blush still very much present as he thought about ways to woo Taffy’s stepsister. She finished up his right hand and took his left again, his brow sill deeply furrowed in thought as she picked up the bottle of black nail polish that she had gotten for the Miss Tristate Teen Halloween pageant and began applying it to his now-dry nails.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, you know. If you need any help we can go raid her VHS collection, I know she’s got some rom coms in there that you could get some inspiration from.”

He groaned in agreement, eyebrows still scrunched together. Taffy rolled her eyes fondly at the lovesick, oblivious idiot in front of her.

“But you know, you probably don’t need much help. She may not realize it yet, but I can tell she’s got feelings for you, too. I don’t have to be an I.P. for that, I just know. I haven’t seen her talk or smile this much since I met her, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s turning heads in the hallway. That’s all you, and I’m sure she’ll realize it eventually. Just so long as you keep doing what you’re doing and practically worshiping the ground she walks on, she’ll figure it out. I promise.”

She switched to his other hand as the creature absorbed her words, and when she looked up he grunted, the words lost but the message clear.

Thank you.

She beamed at him.

“You’re welcome. Just don’t break her heart, or else I’m going to put you back in the ground for good this time, okay?”

She said it brightly, but her eyes were anything but joking. Creature’s own widened in turn and he shook his head vigorously and with complete conviction. Taffy nodded, satisfied.

“Now hold still or you’re going to mess me up.”

The corpse complied, letting Taffy get back to work. She hummed along to the music video playing behind her, and she was just about to put the finishing touches on his thumb when the front door opened and shut under them, and the sound of combat booted feet trampling up the stairs caught their attention. A few seconds later, Lisa poked her head into Taffy’s bedroom door, arms laden with candy bags and eyes bright.

“Oh, hey guys! Are you doing makeovers?”

“Yep! Come join us, though I should warn you I require payment for my services in the form of Bottlecaps.”

Lisa smiled and walked into the room, handing the previously mentioned candy to Taffy before plopping down next to her corpse, patting the top of his head before taking a look at the spread of self-care items before them.

While Lisa was absorbed in her examinations, Taffy absolutely did not miss the absolutely adoring eyes the creature was turning her way, nor the way his longing practically radiated off of him in waves. She grinned, and the corpse looked up and caught her eye. She winked at him and gave him a quick double thumbs-up out of Lisa’s view, and his eyes widened, before he relaxed slightly and gave her a shy, conceding smile.

The moment was interrupted by Lisa straightening, her hands wrapped around the same bottle of nail polish Taffy had just finished using on the Creature.

“Oooh, can you do mine? I didn’t even know you had black in your collection and I’m awful at doing my own right hand.”

Taffy smiled, utterly delighted at the idea of helping her sister out with a fresh coat of paint. She stretched out her hand and Lisa took it, fingers spread as she bounced a little. The goth looked over at her undead companion as Taffy began painting, and when she noticed his nails her smile widened.

“Hey, look at that. We’re gonna match!”

He beamed at her in turn, his devotion lined in every crease of his face, and Lisa scooted slightly closer to him, their thighs pressed together.

Taffy turned her attention to her work, just barely keeping the smile off of her own face.

They’ll figure it out. Eventually.

#lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein fanfiction #lisa swallows x the creature #lisa swallows #the creature #taffy swallows #my writing #writing request

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

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sitting on hokage naruto in his office and shikamaru suddenly enters thinking nothing of it and not realizing that the jinchuruki's dick is literally up your ass. BRO HE STARTS TALKING ABOUT WORK AND Y’ALL ARE JUST SWEATING AND RED LMAOOOOO

THE WAY THIS MADE ME FUCKING LAUGH, THE JINCHURIKI'S DICK UP UR ASS AHSJSJSHSH PLSSSSS ANON, I CAN'T THAT WAS SO FUNNY

but fr, you'd be fighting for your life; trying to appear normal while sitting on his lap. and naruto's pretending so badly, he's like scowling so intensely at the papers that shikamaru flicks onto his desk that it makes his eyes disappear under his fuckin' eyebrows PLEASE

and when you turn to look at him, there's a literal bead of sweat rolling down the side of his temple, and yet this mf is still playing as if he hasn't got his whole cock jammed up inside you; trying to speak to shikamaru even tho he's breathless and almost grunting in-between words.........

meanwhile, you can't even talk. you know that if you'd open your mouth even by a fraction, the top 10 greatest hits consisting of your slutty moans would come shooting out of you, like you're the mtv channel from the early 2000s when they still actually played music ahhahahah---- he's big and twitching inside you after all, when you move, you can feel him in your belly; the stretch is insane cos of his girth cjwkcisndujd

AND OMFG IMAGINE IF YOU CLENCH AROUND HIM COS OF THE NERVES WHEN SHIKAMARU GETS TOO CLOSE, AND HE JUST SQUEEZES YOUR THIGHS WITH HIS HANDS TO KEEP YOU DOWN AND CUMS COS HE KIND OF FINDS ALL THE RISK HOT FJSJJDJSWJ..... IT'D BE SUCH A STICKY MESS!! like you've got the hokage's fucking assistant standing right opposite you, looking at you sort of weird, while the hokage himself - the strongest shinobi out there - is stuffing you full of his cummies, making it all drip down your thighs bye

also, what if he tried to keep a straight face during it..... he's just like, "yeah, mhmm.... we'll, uh... mm, we'll settle this later, shikamaru, okay?" as if he isn't spilling everything he's got up your poor little hole, he just can't stop cos he's got so much stamina and it's making his eyes want to roll back into that thick skull of his fuejdwhdhwysy I CAN'T OK, I WANT ME SOME JINCHURIKI DICK NOW LMAO

#naruto smut #naruto x reader #naruto uzumaki smut #naruto uzumaki x reader

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endlich-allein · 10 months

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I KNOW that you are a specifically Till acc, but do you have any facts on his bandmates? (If not That’s okay love your blog)

Hi ! Thanks for the ask, I tried to gather all the facts I could think of but I probably forgot quite a few (feel free to add to this list if you feel like it !) :

— Richard did a lot of odd jobs when he was young (shoe salesman, cook, etc.) but the job that made the biggest impression on him was as a cleaner for an old lady who had stuffed her poodles. She made him run a feather duster over her poodles ;

— Richard bought his first album in Hungary for 200 marks. It was the album Plastic Surgery Disaster by Dead Kennedys ;

— Rammstein and Depeche Mode got into a tomato fight in the backstage at the 2001 MTV Europe Music Awards.

— Richard bought his first guitar at the age of 16 in Czechoslovakia, not because he knew how to play, but to sell it back in Germany. On the road, he (and some friends) stopped at a campsite and a girl insisted he play, so he strummed the strings. And it was because girls liked guitarists that he became one himself ;

— Paul said that every time Till went to Leipzig, he went to his grandmother's and ate pasta ;

— Paul thinks he might have been a psychic or psychiatrist, Schneider thinks he might have been a computer scientist and Ollie a masson ;

— Paul thinks that if the band were stranded on a desert island, they'd eat Till first, but they'd have to wait until he fell asleep because he probably wouldn't let them. And the worst thing is that Till agrees with it because, when asked the same question, he replied that the group would eat him first because he has more meat than the others...;

— Flake and Paul, along with Feeling B and others, turned Till's house upside down, smashed tables, turned up the music and cooked fried eggs with honey because they couldn't get their hands on the butter ;

— Paul says that if he had to invent an object, it would be a plate that keeps the heat in, because according to him, the dishes are always too hot, so he waits and then they quickly become too cold ;

— Richard and Flake, during the recording of Reise Reise, got into a verbal joust : Richard said that Flake's wife "sang like a cuckoo", and Flake informed Richard that nobody cared about his children's talents ;

— Richard grabbed Till's collar and slammed him against a wall because Till made a joke about Richard's unconditional love of Donald Duck movies. Till repeated this in an interview (with Richard and Ollie) in 2006, to which Richard replied: "Idiot ! I’m a fan of Italian realism from the early 60′s. Alberto Sordi, Fellini... I’m not a snob but unlike these gloomy guys I know cinema well." ;

— Flake told Paul he couldn't be racist because he didn't like anybody ;

— Schneider and Till have gardening competitions, but Till is jealous because Schneider always has the most beautiful orchids ;

— Till sent a huge box of candy with the note "Enjoy the fucking candy" to Chris Martin (Coldplay) to thank him for helping him with a sore neck. Since then, they've been friends, and Chris dedicated a Coldplay song to Till and his children during a concert ;

— Schneider's mother was angry with him because of the Mutter song, but he didn't understand why, he just told her that he didn't write the lyrics ;

— Ollie accidentally hit Till on the head with his bass, Till had to leave the stage and be bandaged, he ended the concert with a huge bandage ;

— Ollie once stole something. It only happened once. It was a little wooden boat, and when he got home he felt so guilty that he confessed the whole thing to his mother ;

#anon asks

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worstqueerbaittournament · 10 months

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Submission message for Stiles and Derek (Teen Wolf): Sterek! The showrunner even had fans vote in polls and promised to make Sterek happen if we won fandom awards! There were promo videos of the two actors cuddling on a ship...

Submission message for Dean: You said destiel was submitted, but can I submit Dean Winchester?

Additional propaganda: say what you want but im still not over the psychic damage of that mtv ad for teen wolf where they put stiles's actor in derek's actor's lap and had them cuddle and shit for votes. please if u have any mercy they will make it to the finals.

They baited us into voting for the MTV choise awards by having the actors literally cuddle on a boat! (Stiles' actor said "we are on a ship")! They promised us if we won, we would get more of the two actors "taking naps together"! Heavily baiting canon sterek if we vote!! AND WE DID!!! And nothing happened. I hate Jeff Davis so much JUST LOOK AT THIS

youtube

ik you're trying to run things without too much bias, but I think it's really a tragedy that we're gonna have to choose for slot 5. sterek because it was genuinely wild and is somewhat buried tumblr history (tumblr learned queerbait from sterek, destiel, johnlock, and merthur, you know?), and that tartorte one bc someone's propaganda really blew me out of the water. like, holy moly. I just want other people to know about it now lol

He [Dean] literally checks out other men multiple times, he gets flustered when men flirt with him, one of his biggest heroes are a hot male doctor from a soap opera and a wrestle star AND he "jokingly" hits on Cas multiple times!!!!

#tournament #sterek #stiles x derek #teen wolf #dean winchester #supernatural #Youtube

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 5 months

Text

Quarterfinals, Match 4

expand to see all propaganda received! (enormous wall of text warning)

Tracy Chapman:

"I can’t think of anything clever to say because I’m too busy sighing dreamily"

"GUYS ITS FUCKING TRACY CHAPMAN VOTE FOR HER OR ELSE ILL EAT PLAYDOUGH"

"Tracy Chapman made the best song of all time (fast car)"

"ik im the hope sandoval guy but if hope doesn't make it tracy has to she made me realize i was a lesbian i just thought i was bi then i listened to her and now im a lesbian she is powerful she is strength if you looked at her and looked at my art you would see 20 years of inspiration from one single woman"

"she's too good to commit atrocities to me but im the gore guy and you aren't for that. i would let her take out my vocal chords and use them as floss. i would have her saw down my bones to make a vinyl of her music. i would go on all fours and let her slaughter me like a pig. i want to be her cat"

"The most powerful written and performed voice of the 90s. Everyone, of any nationality or belief system, could feel the words Tracy Chapman sang. She gets her dues but deserves even more."

Eddie Vedder:

"He's just a lil' guy. I want to pick him up and put him in my pocket and take him with me everywhere."

"Men peaked in 1992 when Eddie Vedder was on MTV Unplugged and just looked as pretty as can be. No one will ever top that."

"facial structure sculpted by the gods"

"that scene in singles where he’s just staring straight into the camera when they’re watching that bee documentary or whatever GOD"

"He's fun-sized and therefore easy to yeet into his natural environment of The Rafters. His height-to-hair-length ratio makes him the Cousin Itt of the final four: the party doesn't really kick off until he shows up. No amount of unhinged propaganda can be more unhinged than the little gremlin himself but by God it's worth a try."

"I want Eddie Vedder to spit in my mouth"

"I have no idea what the fuck he's saying literally ever and that's kinda hot I think"

"holy FUCK i want to i want to claw his eyes out and put them in a blender until they’re the consistency of mochi that’s been left out for like 10-15 minutes"

"icon of wet kittens you take home in a box everywhere. imagine scooping him up and carrying him away."

"listen to daughter by pearl jam like uh wow"

"Just a beautiful little guy. I love how expressive, emotive, intense, and passionate he is. The way he can make me weep or give me the chills with just his voice and a guitar. And how he (and the rest of Pearl Jam) has always been so outspoken and hands-on about numerous social and environmental issues and just generally being a force for positivity and progress. This man stage-climbed right into my heart <3"

"He has a really cute butt, like the peach emoji"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #tracy chapman #eddie vedder #pearl jam #temple of the dog #90s music #tournament

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matan4il · 3 months

Note

Hi friend! I was wondering if you had any favorite Israeli/Hebrew children's books! Also any fave Israeli musicians??

Hello, my lovely! :D How are you?

Ooooh, do I! Man, you're gonna regret asking me this. XD Sorry, not sorry... So shall we start with Israeli/Hebrew kids' books?

Anything by Yehuda Atlas (יהודה אטלס), but especially And That Kid is Me (והילד הזה הוא אני). Short humorous stories, written in rhymes, perfectly capturing how baffling the world can be for a kid, and how silly adults can seem, or just what things can sometimes feel like for a child. It's one of those books that work, funny and essential, 'coz it's so true. He just gets kids.

Another one that I love, and am probably one of the few Israeli kids who even know this book, is Siamina and the Cats of Yemin Moshe (סיאמינה והחתולים של ימין משה) by Holocaust survivor Uri Orlev (אורי אורלב. He's more well known for his books about that period of time, which are also highly recommended, but I only dared read them when I was older). Jerusalem is known for its many stray cats, and the book is a love fest for cats and Jerusalem, with some historical sites becoming in the book the "homes" of the cats.

David Gershtein, who crafted the engravings for the book, is a pretty popular Israeli artist, and you can find some of his creations all over the country, and even entire shops dedicated to his works.

Last one ('coz I don't wanna burden you too much, but lemme know if you want more recs!) that I really loved as a kid, was Yael's House (הבית של יעל) by Miriam Rot (מרים רות). It was about a girl who has a home, but she wants a house that would be all her own. She tries all sorts of solutions, including taking over the space under the kitchen table... Not gonna lie, as a kid I was inspired to follow in her footsteps, but my parents were not impressed.

Now, as for Israeli musicians! You have stumbled onto dangerous ground, my friend, since I'm a music addict, and in love with the Hebrew language, so songs in Hebrew are something I can go on about for freaking years...

I'll share with you the link to two unlisted playlists that I made on YouTube. One is of some of my fave Israeli songs (though I started it years ago, so sadly, I see some vids have been deleted or made private, and there are literally hundreds of songs on the list, meaning I'm not sure which ones are missing), but also with a few thrown in 'coz I think they're good for people who wanna know Israeli culture and popular Israeli songs, and the other is one that I started making with songs connected in different ways to the current war we're in. They're not all faves, but I thought they capture a moment in time, so I wanted to have them grouped together. I'm actually not done with either list, the latter I really just started not that long ago, so you can expect them to grow.

If we're talking specific Israeli musicians, I find it hard to answer, I think almost every singer or songwriter has at least one good song to offer, and likewise whenever I wanna name one, I feel like adding, "Except for this song... and that one..." No musician is great all the time. But I guess some of my faves (where I like more songs than I don't) include Ivri Lider, Berry Sakharof, Yehuda Poliker, Ran Danker, Harel Ska'at, Chanan ben Ari, Narkis, Eliad, Amir Dadon, Avraham Tal, Marina Maximilian, Achinoam Nini (Noa), Sheila Ferber, Gilad Segev, Ofra Chaza, Meni Berger, Yardena Arazi, Natan Goshen, Keren Peles, Izhar Ashdot, Nurit Galron, and the bands Beit Ha'bubot, Ha'Yehudim, Metropolin, Ethnix, Mashina and Synergia.

I was thinking I should add at least one of these vids to my reply, and for whatever reason, the one that started playing itself in my head (where there is always music) was a song first released in 1993, אדמה חמה (Hot Earth) by Shlomo Gronich and the Shva Choir (Sheba is the English pronunciation of Shva). I love this song, I think the vid was very cool for its time, and I'm still never gonna forgive the MTV viewers who gave it last place in a video music awards. The song incorporates Hebrew and Amharic, both Semitic languages, the latter being the language spoken by Ethiopian Jews. You can actually listen to the whole special album (inspired by the story of the Ethiopian Jewish community's journey to Israel) here.

youtube

But just for the fun of throwing in a gay themed song as well, here's התשמע קולי (Will You Hear My Voice), a love poem for a man, originally written by an Israeli poet called Rachel (full name: Rachel Bluwstein Sela), but it's performed here by only men, and no one changed the pronouns, which makes it a mlm song to me. It's so pretty and sad (Rachel is believed to have written the poem to a former lover, a man she even thought at one point she would marry, but WWI tears them apart and they never meet again. She wrote this poem, after getting the news that she's terminally ill), it fills my soul at the same time as it tugs on my heart.

youtube

I hope this helps! Sending so much love! xoxox

#ask #gingerpolyglot #israeli #israel #music #hebrew music #israeli music #israeli books #hebrew books #jewish #hebrew #jumblr #frumblr #fandom love

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 1 year

Text

Being Nekoma’s Emo Manager

Nekoma x Fem! Manager (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: probably swearing 🤷🏻‍♀️ idk if that’s even a warning

AN: this is an anon request! I realized I had it labeled from Spooky Anon but it wasn’t signed from Spooky anon 😅 so idk who it’s from.

*aggressively hits G note on piano and stares into your soul*

If you unaware of the song that made an entire generation, please google it

Also I will not argue this point because I have both age and vintage Emo on my side 😌

Now for a mini history lesson, the Emo I’m going to be referring to today was popular from the late 90s to late 2000s and into the 2010s

This means heavy black eyeliner, hair that defied gravity, neckties being used as anything but neckties

Black with hints of accent colors such as, but not limited too, pinks, orange, white, etc.

The days when TRL and MTV were the way to “stream” new music and hot topic was the source of all band t-shirts

Now that I’ve covered a small history lesson, let’s strap in shall we!

So get your check board belts and fingerless gloves ready kids!

Because it’s time to get EMOtional 😂

N E Ways- let’s just say, you classified yourself as an “Emo kid”

It wasn’t super unheard of to be different fashionably in school but you, well you were definitely a sight

Your hair was teased to the rafters, bows of every color along with skulls littered your hair

Your eye liner was the blackest black, and you skin looked like you hadn’t seen sun in decades 😅

You wore fishnet tights with vans or perhaps another skateboarding shoe

You looked pretty intimidating to most people who didn’t know you

I mean, your style doesn’t exactly scream approachable

However, the people who did know you, knew that your style of “dark and brooding” didn’t measure up AT ALL to your personality

You were a complete sunshine ☀️

A literal sweetheart and absolute Angel!

Unfortunately a lot of kids didn’t get to know you ☹️

But luckily, there was one guy who didn’t care about looks

He really didn’t care about much actually 👀

And that happened to be our favorite setter Kenma!

Because Kenma honestly does not care about looks or superficial things like that

Actually, when you first got teamed up with Kenma to work on a project, a lot of kids thought it was a strange combo

But somehow, you two managed to make it work and in fact, you got the best grade in the class

After that, you and Kenma became partners for every project

There was just something he enjoyed about you

Probably your weird similarity to Hinata honestly 😏

Soon you and Kenma started hanging out after school

You both loved video games as well as had similar styles in music

Look at me and tell me Kenma wouldn’t be into Emo rock 👁️👄👁️

Fall out boy, Paramore, Taking Back Sunday, THE USED!!!!

Anyways, soon Kuroo joins and he’s confused about your friendship with Kenma

Like you and Kenma are complete opposites but you get along super well

Eventually Kuroo starts taking a liking to you as well

Kuroo has natural Emo hair so it’s fate 💅

Kuroo soon figures out why Kenma enjoys your company as you are a literal dark ball of sunshine

Eventually you start accompanying out kitty cats to practice in order to hang out with Kuroo and Kenma

Upon entering the gym, everyone stares at you

You low key kinda scare the first years, Inuoka and Shibayama

Yaku and Kai are super interested as in why you are there

Yamamoto is just dead because there’s a girl in the gym 🙄

And Lev, well Lev can’t keep his mouth shut

“Hey you’re that weird chick that wears black and has crazy hair. I’ve heard a lot about you!” Lev screams

Yaku please 😌

“LEV SHUT UP!” Kuroo yells as Yaku kicks him

You just giggle, a sound nobody was expecting, as you say, “I’m Yn! I guess I kind of do get a little bit of a reputation but I promise, I’m not evil or something!”

“She’s actually kind of cute in a different way,” Kai says as Fukunaga and Yaku nodd in agreement.

Soon, you are coming to every practice and helping where you can

Setting up chairs, filling water balls, handing out towels

The boys quickly adore you and soon you just naturally become apart of the team

Kuroo officially asks you the teams manager which you gladly accept

It’s hard finding a club with your specific tastes and since you could still express your style and personality, volleyball club seemed perfect!

You enjoyed playing music, listening to music and writing which were all supported by Nekoma

Our progressive Kings 👑

Honestly they were so supportive of their Emo scene queen!

They loved when you added little touches of red to your outfits and even made a hair bow that specifically said “Nekoma” on it 🥹

Of course, they were still boys so they all found you super cute and adorable

Yamamoto was your personal body guard for everything

It didn’t matter what, he always walked you to every class and if anyone made any comments about you, he would challenge them to a “rumble”

Language you later learned, was picked up from Karasuno 🙄

You had heard about Karasuno and you were honestly so excited to meet them!

Kenma had told you about Karasuno’s tiny middle blocker

On the way to training camp, our sweet boys let you play the music

Honestly Coach Nekomata was way into it 😂

He was such a hip coach and he knew you kids were into some weird stuff

Please he was too 🤚🏻

Anyways, he’s just happy you bring so much joy to the team

And honestly you match Nekoma’s cat-like mysterious vibes

So when you showed up, the other teams just kind of stared at you

Obviously you kinda stood out like a sore thumb Yn, sorry to say

But don’t worry, Yamamoto is on the case 🫡

“WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT? HAVENT UOU EVEN SEEN A GORGEOUS GIRL BEFORE?!?” He screams

You rn 👉🏻😐

Yaku 👉🏻 YAMAMOTO STOP BEING AN IDIOT

You just roll your eyes and smile, bowing to the teams and greeting them

Almost instantly, they melted 🥰

Because like how are you both adorable and scary???

Literally Emo culture mkay

“Come on Yn, let’s go,” Kenma says as you wave and walk away

Eventually you get introduced to all the teams, including Karasuno

You end up making eye contact with Hinata several times as he observes you

Finally, he makes his move

“Hi there! I really like your style! I see your friends with Kenma and the pretty girl manager for Nekoma! I’m Shoyo Hinata and I’m a middle blocker!” He shouts

You smile back and greet him, “Kenma had told me so much about you! It’s so great time finally meet you!”

Kuroo and Daichi watch you both and shake their heads

“Boy short stuff really can make friends with anyone can’t he?”

“You new manager looks super sweet and outgoing, albeit a little interesting,” Daichi says as Kuroo nods

Soon you and Hinata, and by consequence Bokuto, become besties

Honestly you really enjoy hanging out with Akaashi but we won’t tell Bokuto that 😶

You share your knowledge as well as your unique style of cheering with the boys

You wrote cute little cheers and even inspirational poetry to share with the boys

Bokuto and Hinata loved your fancy words : D

And even when Bokuto went into his own Emo modes, the teams knew exactly who to call!

“YN HALPPPP!” Akaashi would silently communicate to you with his eyes

You 👉🏻 NEVER FEAR OUR SCENE QUEEN IS HERE 🦸🏻‍♀️

“Bokuto would you like to listen to some music or maybe we can talk about your feelings?” You say as you rub his back

“I could use a hug,” Bokuto 🥺

You 👉🏻😌🥰 of course-

Akaashi doesn’t get it, Nekoma doesn’t get it but they appreciate it!!

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 2 months

Note

Can I request a Chris Pontius x Female!Readee imagine about Chris Dating the reader who is Steve-O’s sister who is the complete opposite of him?

Total(y Shirtless) Gentleman

When Y/N gets dragged along to her brother’s house party, all she can think about is how much she’d rather not be there- that is, until she meets someone who makes her change her mind.

Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

1.1k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, mention of drug use, fighting, flirting, crude language, drinking

An: Thank you so much for your request!! I always love writing for Chris :) he is such a sweet guy! As a note I also do not have a brother (add that to the list with being married and having a baby) so yet again I do hope this is accurate to real brother behavior. I really enjoyed where this fic went and would be totally down for writing another part if anyone would be interested! I know I wrote it but I really wanna see where this goes XD Anyways, thank you for requesting and please keep the requests comming!!!

Your brother made a living shoving things up his ass and swallowing goldfish on MTV, while you couldn’t even shotgun a beer. That’s how you ended up in this situation; on his shitty couch he got off a street corner, drenched in cheap booze at a house (apartment) party you didn’t even want to be at. Steve invited you and you were too nice to turn him down, even though you knew you had an essay to work on. Still, you tried to have fun and as the night went on and the AMs hit, he got the genius idea to show you how to ‘just drain a fucker’ as he put it. Even though all you really wanted was to be at home, you forced a smile because, while he was an ass at times, he was your brother, and you really did love him, even with all the crazy bullshit he got you into.

Not noticing your pretty apparent discomfort at the mess on your shirt through his drunk goggles, Steve roughly slung an arm around you, cheering with the rest of the party’s patrons. You were distracted by the feeling of the beer seeping through fabric and sticking to your skin to notice when your brother pulled someone out of the crowd and onto the couch next to him, eagerly introducing this stranger, “Oh! Hey- hey, Y/N! This here’s my buddy Chris!” Your head went up from trying to figure out if you could see your bra through your shirt and to the man on the far side of the couch who was smiling at you. Squinting through the dimness, you completely forgot about the beer. He was hot- really hot, and there was something about him, maybe the long hair or the way he carried himself that seemed to just captivate you. Steve’s intoxicated rambling turned into background noise, “Dude, he’s, like- the raddest dude I know. One time-“ his attention slipped away when someone tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear, quickly whisking your brother away and leaving you alone with Chris.

“Did you spill something on your shirt?” In contrast to some of the awful flirting attempts you had heard from guys, this seemed like a genuine question. You played it safe anyways, speaking up over the loud music of the party, “Uh, yeah. I can’t really walk around like this…” Before you could say anything more, he was talking off his orange Black Flag t-shirt, smiling like a golden retriever, “Oh, here!” You could see the contours of his tan muscles, ogling his biceps so hard you had to remind yourself not to stare, tearing your eyes away from his Adonis-like physique. Was he actually going to give the shirt off of his back to a complete stranger? “A-Are you sure?” Chris shrugged, smiling, “Yeah! I don’t even like wearing clothes anyways!”

As one would expect, Steve wasn’t exactly happy to see his sister wearing his best friend’s T-shirt. He grabbed the hem to examine it, squinting with deibeleif, “This isn’t…who- is this Chris’ shirt?” You knew how he would react but you still felt compelled to tell the truth, speaking as nonchalantly as you could muster as you leaned against the wall, “Yeah.” His eyes went wide. Every muscle in Steve’s body seemed to tense in a second and all of the substances coursing through his body did nothing to tamp down his overprotective brother instincts, “Why the hell’re you wearing Chris’ shirt- and where is he?!” He always assumed the worst with you, but if there was one place you wouldn’t want to be, it was on the receiving end of Steve’s wrath after someone hurt his sister. “Hey, w-'' Though you tried to stop him, he stormed off down the hallway before you could explain anything.

“What the fuck were you doin’ with Y/N?” Even though Chris had at least fifty pounds on your brother, Steve grabbed and yanked him away from whatever conversation about surfing he was having with ease, dragging him to one corner of the party. Pontius, confused, held up his hands in surrender at his seemingly uncalled for aggression, “What? She spilled beer on herself, dude- I just gave her my shirt!” Steve knew guys, and he knew that couldn't be true. Though he let go of his gator grip on his thick bicep, the sheer rage in his eyes didn’t leave just yet, not quite believing him, “That’s it? You seriously didn’t do anything?” Chris had known Steve for years and for everything the two of them had done together he had never seen him this pissed. He swallowed, “Nothing! Promise!” Your brother sighed in relief at his earnest response, but of course Pontius, who had a tendency to be honest to a fault, just had to open his mouth, “I mean, she is pretty hot, but-“

“You stay away from my sister!”

As all of this happened, you were completely unaware of this exchange, blissfully ignorant until you went squeezing through crowds, searching for Chris near the end of the night. It’s actually surprisingly hard to pick a shirtless guy out at a house party. When you did eventually find him, you leaned over towards him, tapping him on a well defined shoulder, “Hey, I just-“ He jumped a little, still shaken up from Steve’s little outburst earlier in the night. Of course, you assumed you were the source of his surprise so your eyes widened in panic, words coming out like little mousey squeaks, “Oh! I’m sorry- I just, uh- I just wanted to know when I could get this back to you? The shirt, I mean.” After a second, Chris eyed the room, shooting a glance behind him before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his BlackBerry. He hit a few buttons before glancing up at you, his voice low but still with that sweet quality you heard from him before, “Tomorrow works for me. What’s your number?”

Was this real? This super hot guy was asking for your number? It was like your heart was going to leap out of your chest as Chris chuckled, “I mean, so you can give it back to me! We should meet up or something.” Is that a date? Holy shit. You meet a guy, he gives you his clothes, he asks for your number, and now you have a date with him. This is the type of thing you only fantasize about and see in movies. Your face was red as a tomato as you smiled, nodding as you pulled out your phone, “Uh, sure! Yeah!” Maybe that party was worth going to anyways.

#jackass #steve o #chris pontius #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #chris pontius x reader

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waywardrose · 4 months

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 27

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

6.9k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: This was going to be the last chapter, but it's too long. I'm splitting it and posting what's completed. Expect a last chapter and epilogue. Thank you for sticking with me!

The doorbell chime made him start, which was stupid. An invasion wouldn’t start with someone ringing the goddamn doorbell. He stared unseeing at the den’s television while MTV went to commercial.

Also, he should be used to the noise. Steve’s house was a hub of activity, between the phone ringing and the doorbell going off and people talking.

Footsteps thumped overhead. He identified that as the man of the house himself walking to the front door. A moment later, multiple voices, all male, rumbled from the foyer. Several pairs of footsteps moved farther into the house.

Then your voice joined the mix. He couldn’t gauge your tone, other than you weren’t pissed. He turned down the TV volume and frowned at the basement ceiling when you kept talking. A male voice said something you replied to.

Eddie eased from the sectional couch and padded to the foot of the stairs. Of course, it didn’t gain him anything. The door at the top remained closed, muffling any conversation. He considered creeping up the stairs, but he didn’t know where the creaks hid in the treads.

He put a knee on the third tread and crawled forward to half-lay on the stairs. Now midway to the door, he could distinguish between the voices. Yours, of course, Steve’s every so often, then three others.

No one sounded defensive or upset, so that eased his mind. Somewhat.

Everyone kept talking, though. He racked his brain for what they could be discussing. It probably had something to do with yesterday’s visit. He hoped it wasn’t government officials who’d changed their minds about not dragging him to prison. Or worse yet, to some underground lab to conduct experiments on him.

What if they were here for you, though?

Maybe they’d figured out you had magic and wanted you to do stuff for them. While in their clutches, they’d take bio-samples from you. They’d clone you — was that even possible? — or make babies in petri dishes — that had to be possible — to grow a whole witch army and take over the world.

Of course, the thought of having a second you intrigued him. Would a clone kiss like you? Taste like you? Would she moan like you do when he sinks inside her? Would one of you sit on his face while the other rode his dick?

His cock grew heavy and hot in his borrowed briefs.

Jesus H. Christ, he chided. Fucking focus.

It was quiet. Too quiet. He strained to hear what was going on.

Soft footsteps shuffled near.

He shot off the stairs and turned towards the TV. He couldn’t be discovered hanging around near the stairs with a half-chub like a perv. And the sleep-pants did nothing to hide it. His gaze darted to the VHS tape storage cabinet by the TV.

That would work.

He careened around the scuffed coffee table. The loops of the cable-box controller tangled around his foot. Like Gandalf in the Balrog’s whip, he’d been caught.

He hissed, “Shit, shit, shit,” as he hopped to the cabinet, shaking his foot free.

The basement door opened. He grabbed the cabinet for balance. A drawer of tapes wobbled open. He shoved it closed. Tapes clattered. Whoever opened the drawer next was going to have to repack it. Whoops. But it was cool. Everything was cool. He checked his crotch. His half-chub had subsided.

“Eddie?” you said as you descended the stairs.

He faced you, propping an elbow on top of the cabinet.

You’d changed into those black jeans he liked. They hugged your thighs and ass. He willed his dick to stay soft.

“Hey, hi, what’s up?”

You gave him a curious look as you stepped down into the basement.

“You okay?”

He waved a hand in a general sort of way.

“Other than, you know, everything, yeah, I’m okay.”

You nodded, though he could tell you knew something was off.

He said, “I was going to pick out a movie.” He glanced at the stairs. “Is everything okay up there?”

You approached him like he was a cornered dog.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, but don’t freak out—”

“Freak out about what?” he asked, warning sirens blaring through his mind.

“The police are here, and they want to take your statement.”

He straightened.

“Statement about what?”

“The night Chrissy died.” You held up your hands before he could protest. “I just gave them my statement about my interactions with Jason Carver. Who is dead.” With eyes wide, you gave him a leading look and head tilt. “I know you’ve had interactions with Jason, too.”

He nodded along as the implication clicked into place.

“Yeah, I’ve had interactions with Carver.”

“You want to give a statement to the police about that night with Jason and Chrissy?”

No, he did not, yet if he didn’t, he’d never be free. Vecna would continue to ruin his life. While Eddie still wasn’t sure about the existence of an afterlife, he wouldn’t give that asshat the satisfaction.

He girded his metaphorical loins — why did everything circle back to his crotch? — and headed upstairs. You walked behind him, not crowding him, but close enough to be supportive. He wanted to look at you, really look at you, and confess his love again. Just in case this all fell apart. There wasn’t time — and he was certain if he did, he’d wuss-out. Compound that with the fact he couldn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, he’d definitely wuss-out.

Taking two steps into the living room, he froze. He must be hallucinating. Chief Hopper, the very one who’d been there at Dad’s arrest, who supposedly died in the Starcourt fire, stood by the dining table. Though there was considerably less of him around the middle, his hair was buzzed short, and he looked like he’d lost a fight with the Wolfman, there was no question it was him.

Chief Powell sat at the table, facing the room. Metal crutches had been propped against the table next to him. Eddie recognized the deputy who stood at Powell’s left. He couldn’t recall a name, but he’d seen the deputy around town.

Steve leaned a shoulder on the tall curio cabinet behind the table. It was a King Steve pose he’d observed many a time at school. The sling and bandages were absent, courtesy of you.

You stepped beside Eddie and took his numb hand. On instinct, he curled his fingers around yours.

Hopper stepped forward, expression calm and hands placating.

“You’re not in trouble, kid.”

If it had come from anyone else, he’d consider it a lie. For a cop, Hopper had been a decent one. He’d ignored Eddie’s underage drinking at the Hideaway. He’d issued warnings instead of speeding tickets.

You turned your head to whisper, “I won’t let them take you even if they try.”

He gave a minute nod before releasing your hand and marching to the table. If they tried to arrest him, he hoped he’d retained that undead speed. He pulled out the chair across from Powell to sit.

You went to stand by Steve, who gave you a warm look. If anything happened, Eddie knew Steve would protect you and vice versa.

Powell cleared his throat and pressed the Record button on the cassette recorder to start the interrogation.

“Chief Calvin Powell and former Chief Jim Hopper speaking with Edward Munson, Monday, March 31st, 1986.” To Eddie, he said, “Mr. Munson, you’re not under arrest. All we want is your account of what happened the night of March 21st.” When he nodded, Powell said as an aside, “Note Mr. Munson nodded in understanding.” He continued, “We have multiple statements from witnesses placing you at Hawkins High School during the basketball game that night. We also have several overlapping accounts attesting to Jason Carver threatening them at gunpoint at a later date.”

Eddie nodded again, wanting to say that didn’t surprise him. However, Dad’s warning to never talk to cops kept him silent. “These folks stated Jason Carver said he’d sacrifice them for this town. They claim he’d wanted to break their bones. Does that sound like something he could do?”

Eddie glanced at you and Steve. If he followed Dad’s warning, he’d never get out of this. Of course, he didn’t have to give them everything at once. That would be out of character. He had to think like a DM and give them just enough to lead them where the party wanted them to go.

“Yeah, along with pinning all those murders on me,” he said.

Planting his elbows on a nearby chair back, Hopper said, “Sounds like he had the whole town fooled.”

He bobbed his head in agreement.

“I heard he hijacked a town hall meeting.”

Powell shifted in his seat.

“Mr. Munson, did Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your home the night of March 21st?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall the time?”

“No, not exactly.” He glanced up in thought. “I guess after ten?”

“What were they doing there?”

“Said they wanted drugs.”

“Did you sell them drugs?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have drugs.”

Which he didn’t. Now.

“But they thought you had drugs to sell?”

He met Powell’s gaze and said, “I can’t presume to know what they thought.”

Powell sighed, frustration clear.

“Alright. Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your house sometime after ten, looking to purchase drugs. Then what?”

“I left them in the living room.”

Just like he’d left Chrissy for Vecna to kill. Bait on a hook.

“To do what?”

“Get my cigarettes.”

He could do with one right about now.

“Why would you get your cigarettes?”

“Why does anyone get cigarettes?” He shrugged with a huff. “I wanted a smoke, and I forgot them in my room.”

“Then what happened?”

He rolled his shoulders as if uncomfortable.

“They began arguing.”

“About?”

“I don’t know. I was still in my room.”

“But you know they were arguing?”

“Yeah, Jason raised his voice at Chrissy.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I grabbed my cigarettes and came back to the living room.”

“Did you step in?” Powell angled his head. “Try to intervene?”

“No, it was too late—”

“Too late?”

“Look, he was yelling at her. She said something. Might’ve been his name, I don’t know. Then it got quiet, and then I heard a real loud thump. When I came out, Chrissy was on the floor.”

Instead of floating midair.

“Alive?”

“I don’t know, but she wasn’t moving.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I wanted to go to her, but Jason was…” He shook his head, remembering how intense Carver could get. “Jason was out of his mind.”

“What do you mean, out of his mind?”

“He was, like, in a rage. Scared the shit outta me.”

“How so?”

“He screamed and pounded on his chest.” He mimicked what he saw in his mind, knocking his fist against his breastbone. “His eyes were wild, like something else was behind them.”

“Something else?”

He blew out a breath. This was make-or-break in the story.

“I’m not religious or anything, but he looked… He looked fucking possessed.” He rubbed his forehead. “I know how this sounds, okay? I know this sounds crazy.”

It was quiet for a moment before Powell asked, “Did Jason Carver have the same reaction the night of March 25th at Lover’s Lake?”

“I don’t know. He and—uh…” He snapped his fingers as though trying to recall. “A teammate?”

“Patrick McKinney.”

“McKinney, yeah. They were in the water, coming after me.”

“Where were you?”

“In a fishing boat, trying to get away from them, but I lost my balance and fell in the water.”

“Did you see what happened to Patrick?”

“No, I was swimming away from them.”

Powell nodded in acceptance.

“Okay, back to March 21st: Jason and Chrissy. Jason was screaming, and Chrissy was on the floor.”

“Yeah, I wanted to go to her.” He looked at the table, muttering, “I wanted to save her. Get her away from him.”

He’d tried to do it. He’d shaken her shoulders and yelled for her to wake up, snap out of it, anything, but Vecna’s hold was too powerful. Whatever she’d needed to break the curse, he hadn’t had it.

“What did Jason do?” asked Powell.

“He came after me. He chased me out of the living room.”

“Where did you go?”

“I ran out of the trailer.”

“Did you go to a neighbor?”

“No, I got in my van and left the trailer park.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

He threw a glance at Hopper. He suspected Hopper would’ve taken him seriously, but that hadn’t been a possibility. Everyone thought Hopper was dead. Including himself.

“Like any of you would’ve believed me — the son of a convicted car thief, trailer trash, a super senior, a freak — over Hawkins’ golden boy, the captain of the basketball team.”

Powell and the deputy looked equal parts uncomfortable and insulted.

Good.

“So, yeah,” he said. “I ran and hid, and Jason kept chasing me.”

While you morons stood around with your heads up your asses.

“Why do you think he did that?” Powell asked.

“Probably because I saw him hurt Chrissy. I was the only witness. Get rid of me, one way or another, and no one would ever know what he’d done.”

Powell shared a look with the deputy, whose face was unreadable. Powell saw something there, though, and turned to him.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Munson. We’d appreciate it if you stayed in town until we conclude our investigation.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

He didn’t know where he’d go or how he’d get there. He’d hidden his van in the woods off Coal Mill Road. He needed to retrieve it, but not until it was safe to leave this house. Also, he didn’t know where Wayne was, or if he’d survived. The thought made his insides shrivel and tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

Hopper clapped him on the back, knocking him into the present. The cassette recorder was gone.

“Glad you’re still with us, kid.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Powell arranged his crutches to stand. The deputy assisted, while Steve straightened to show them to the front door. Powell shuffled around the table, his right leg supported at an angle.

Eddie felt your concerned focus directed at him, but he couldn’t indulge himself. Instead, he watched Steve lead the police to the door. Something compelled him out of his chair and moving towards them.

“Hey, Hop,” he said.

Hopper faced him, heavy brow lifted in interest.

“Wayne— Have you seen— I mean, do you know if my uncle’s alive?”

Hopper contemplated the question for a second.

“No, but I think I know who might.” He jutted his chin in a reassuring way. “I’ll give ‘em a call.”

“Thanks.”

Hopper nodded before jogging to catch up with Powell and the deputy outside. He said something to Steve in passing that made Steve grin.

Once Steve shut the door, Eddie dragged his ass to the table and flopped into his chair.

“Jesus, fuck…”

You asked, “Want a beer?”

He rubbed at his eyes, saying, “That’s a good start.”

“Holy shit,” Robin said from her seat at the kitchen island.

You kept smearing melting butter on your toast. Steve grunted in front of the gurgling coffee maker. Eddie, who sat across from her, remained quiet.

You’d learned Robin said ‘holy shit’ about a lot of things.

“Guys,” she said with a flap of the morning newspaper. “Guys, look at this.”

Steve abandoned his vigil to see what Robin was holy-shit-ing about. You took a bite of toast and turned. His eyes widened when he read what Robin had pointed out.

“Holy shit.”

Eddie, chin in hand, hummed as he stared at the window over the sink. However, your curiosity had been piqued. You stopped beside Eddie, anticipating Steve sliding the newspaper in front of you. When he did, you swallowed and stared at the headline:

DEVELOPMENT IN LOCAL TEEN MURDERS

You scanned the article. It mentioned the nationwide Satanic panic and how citizens had been led to believe a local cult was sacrificing children to the Devil. The writer praised cooler heads, namely Chief Powell and his deputies, who continued to investigate despite the earthquake and subsequent volcanic fissure eruption.

Ah, you thought, that was how they were covering up the destruction near the closed nexus.

Chief Powell was quoted:

“There is irrefutable evidence Edward Munson is the victim of false accusations. This office has cooperated with federal investigators and spoken with numerous local, credible witnesses to determine such a conclusion.”

Despite police not identifying a person of interest, the writer insinuated the actual murderer might be amongst those who had advocated for hunting down Eddie. They speculated the public accusations against Eddie had been a diversion. While the police investigation remained ongoing, an insider let slip police were closing in on a suspect.

The writer went on to report neither local nor federal investigations uncovered any cult, Satanic or otherwise, in the area. Of course, citizens were welcome to report any cult activity to the sheriff’s office. The article ended with the newspaper promising to keep readers informed.

Holy shit.

“Eddie,” you said, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Read this.”

He blinked a few times before pulling his attention away from the window. With a concerned look, he glanced around the island.

“What?”

You pushed the newspaper in front of him and tapped a finger on the headline. He perused the accompanying article, eyes widening as he read.

To Steve, you said, “Better call Nancy.”

He nodded and dialed Nancy’s number on the kitchen phone. After a playful exchange with Mrs. Wheeler, during which Robin rolled her eyes, Steve’s manner turned serious. From listening to half of the conversation, you deduced Nancy had seen the article. He mentioned Dr. Owens, along with Jason Carver. Nancy said more about Jason, but you couldn’t make out her words.

Steve nodded as she spoke, though. When he hung up, you gave him an expectant look.

“The Feds found Jason Carver’s body. Or what’s left of it. His gun’s missing, but there were bullet casings nearby. Nance told Owens about Carver at The WarZone buying a gun, so that’s a lead for them.”

“It corroborates my story about him, too,” you said.

“And the Sinclairs’,” Robin said, leaning an elbow on the island.

After she’d returned to Steve’s last night, she told you, Eddie, and Steve about the police collecting statements from Lucas and Erica. Their statements had led to yours, then Eddie’s. Maybe others’. Who knows how many people Jason had terrorized after Chrissy’s murder.

You nodded as you pondered how many doors he’d knocked on before coming to yours. It was fortunate he’d found you before Mom. If he’d confronted her instead of you, she’d know all about you and Eddie. It’s funny how you’d been debating on introducing him that day. Eddie still had no idea.

Eddie slid from his stool, mumbling something about a shower. You watched him leave the kitchen. While you’d give him privacy, you first needed to tell him. It was an urge, like a hand pushing at the middle of your back.

He was halfway up the stairs when you reached him.

“Eddie, hang on.”

He stopped without turning to face you, hand on the railing.

“What?”

“The Saturday after Chrissy was killed…”

“Yeah?”

“Jason came looking for you.” When he said nothing, you continued, “I was out front planting—”

“Why’re you telling me this?”

“It’s called backstory.”

He turned his head enough for you to see his jaw around his hair, yet he remained quiet.

“He called me your girlfriend.”

“And I bet a whole bunch of other things.”

You sighed, though you remembered Jason’s accusations.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters was my plan for that day.”

“Plan?”

“I wanted to introduce you as my boyfriend to my mom when you picked me up. I was going to run it by you first, of course, but I wanted to.”

Voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, “Well, the pressure’s off now, isn’t it? They’re out of town for the foreseeable future, right?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Your mouth fell open as he stomped from view.

What an asshole thing to say. You’d been trying your best this entire goddamn time.

“I hope your shower sucks,” you snapped, climbing the rest of the stairs.

His bedroom door closed with a definitive click.

You went to your room and shut the door. If he wanted to be a little brat about it, let him. All you’d wanted to do was tell him the truth. You understood he’d had the worst week and a half in the history of the world. You’d cut him some slack, but you were no doormat.

Maybe it was too little too late, though, and maybe he didn’t need to know. You sat on the bed and wiped at your stinging eyes. Why did you have to bring this up now? Of all times? It was just… It was just that you wanted him to know you’d… Been serious about him? Remained serious about him? That you’d never been embarrassed to be with him?

But shit, he’d been the one who wanted to pause the relationship. If he hadn’t, you would’ve introduced him much sooner. Sure, your father wouldn’t have been supportive, but no one you’d ever associated with ever met with his approval. He hadn’t liked your friends in New York. You weren’t sure you liked your friends in New York anymore, either.

Mom would’ve been more open-minded, though.

Dammit, you needed to call them.

It would still be foolish to call from Steve’s house. You could call from the hospital’s payphone again. You thought you remembered one in front of Bradley’s. With all the extra people Steve had been hosting and feeding, you assumed he needed groceries. A visit to Bradley’s would take care of both issues.

You changed into street clothes and slung your purse over your shoulder before heading downstairs. Steve and Robin sat at the kitchen island, chatting between spoonfuls of cereal. It reminded you of hearing their voices in the middle of the night. It made you miss Eddie even though he was only upstairs.

Greeting them with a soft “hey,” you volunteered to do a grocery run. Steve fumbled his spoon when you asked for a shopping list. Milk sloshed onto the counter. He wiped at the spill with the hem of his t-shirt.

Robin watched him with exasperation before fetching a paper towel.

“That shirt’s going to smell so bad tomorrow.”

He snatched the paper towel from her hand, saying, “You’re going to smell so bad tomorrow.”

“Real mature, dingus.”

He aimed a goofy sneer at her.

After cleaning the spill, he finished the shopping list and retrieved some cash. Robin offered money, but you and Steve refused to accept it. With their hours at Family Video reduced, and Robin’s parents making her pay for her band equipment, it didn’t feel right. You and Steve weren’t hurting for money, in any case.

“Remember, we’ll be gone by the time you get back,” he said, handing you the list and money.

You nodded and pocketed both. They were volunteering at the school, which was kind of them. It was also convenient for you since you’d probably argue with Eddie when you returned. He’d acted like a brat and deserved a spanking like one.

“Maybe I’ll join you two tomorrow?”

“That would be awesome,” said Robin, perking up and scooping soggy Cheerios from her bowl. “You can make meals with me and Vickie.”

“Cool.” You gave her a teasing look. “I want to meet Vickie and hear all about you two in Band.”

Robin blushed, hands fluttering. An arc of milk and cereal splashed across the counter.

Steve laughed, “God, Robin!”

“Shit, sorry!”

With a chuckle, you wished them a good day and left the kitchen. You didn’t want to be the next thing they flung milk on. As you crossed the living room, you noted Eddie’s closed door. That was fine by you. He should stay in there and chill the hell out.

On the drive to Bradley’s, you mulled over what to tell your parents. You couldn’t say you wanted to stay because of your boyfriend, who they didn’t know existed, or that said boyfriend was the accused cult leader everyone in town had been hunting. You couldn’t say you hated Hawkins, but the thought of leaving right now made you want to cry. And you certainly couldn’t say you were bunking with the flirty clerk from Family Video.

Bradley’s half-full parking lot was a strange sight for a Tuesday. With the ads in the windows exclaiming Two For Tuesday, you expected a swarm of shoppers. Then again, half of Hawkins had fled less than a week ago.

You bought two cans of generic soda from the machine out front with a couple of dollars. That supplied plenty of coins to make a long-distance call. You carried the sodas to the car. They’d be nice with lunch. Which was a meal. And Robin had invited you to volunteer making meals with her and Vickie.

Volunteering was a decent excuse to stay.

You deposited the sodas in the car’s drink holders and rushed to the payphone. After paying and dialing the Cincinnati number, the line rang twice before Mom answered. She sounded relieved to hear from you and asked after your car. It took you a second to recall the lie you’d left on their answering machine. You replied the radiator leak hadn’t been bad and had been repaired.

“Then when should we expect you?”

You sighed.

“I don’t want to come down to Cincinnati.”

Incredulous, she asked, “You want to stay in Hawkins?”

Your father’s voice rumbled in the background.

“Yes, actually,” you said. “I’m volunteering at the school. With friends.”

“The same friends you’re staying with?”

You nodded with a “yes.”

In reply, you got the swish of Mom putting her palm over the receiver. Your father’s voice sharpened, though you couldn’t make out his words. Mom responded, yet it didn’t sound like that pacified him.

You closed your eyes, waiting for him to grab the phone from her. Shaking your head, you realized preparing to be berated was something a previous version of yourself would’ve done.

“Mom.” When she didn’t answer, you said, “Mom.”

“Y-yes, honey? What is it?”

“I gotta go — I’m in the middle of a grocery run — but don’t worry about me. Everything’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll call you again, alright?”

“Honey… Where—? Your father—”

“No. I don’t care what he wants to yell about. I’m fine here. I’m safe, I promise. Just…” You took a stuttering breath. “I love you.”

She sighed.

“We love you, too.”

Your hand trembled as you placed the phone handset on the hook. A nickel dropped into the return slot. You never make anyone’s life easier, Vecna had said, using Eddie’s voice. You left it. The next person might need it. Besides, it was only a nickel. You turned to rest your back on the sun-warmed brick.

You’d done the right thing by staying. You were doing the right thing. It was the difficult thing, but you’d faced tougher. You weren’t some spoiled little rich girl who ran away from the aftermath. Even if it hurt — and it probably would. Even if Eddie left you — and it appeared as though he might.

You couldn’t worry about that right now. There were practical things to do. You felt like Scarlett O’Hara as you told yourself you’d think about the aftermath later.

Inside Bradley’s, shoppers and clerks spoke in hushed tones. Beeps from the checkouts didn’t carry beyond the cart corral. The quiet helped you concentrate on Steve’s shopping list. Item by item, you filled your cart, having to substitute skim milk for 2%, whole-wheat bread for white, and a carton of eighteen eggs instead of a dozen.

Steve had written ‘12 eggs,’ like you could buy them individually.

You huffed a laugh when turning into the ransacked paper aisle. The shelves for the industrial-sized packs of toilet paper were empty. That left you stepping onto the lowest shelf and struggling for the last two packs of the expensive floral-printed stuff at the back.

At the checkout, the clerk issued a rehearsed apology for the shortages. With the volcanic fissures now closed and road crews fixing the damage, they assured you shipments would start coming again soon. They helped bag your order since there weren’t enough baggers. They apologized for that, too.

You waved away their apologies and thanked them for their assistance. Because you weren’t an entitled person who didn’t appreciate a favor when it was offered.

Once the car’s trunk was loaded, you headed back to Steve’s. You didn’t know what you were going to say to Eddie about this morning, or how to broach the subject. He’d been dealing with so much stress. You understood that. You didn’t want to be another stressor. He needed to talk to you — or someone. He couldn’t just bottle up his emotions and get snippy when someone wasn’t mindful of his unspoken wishes.

As you made the left onto Cornwallis, an older truck paused at the stop sign on your right and followed you. You hoped they wouldn’t get aggressive when you slowed to get your bearings. You still weren’t used to the neighborhood. Something about it kept screwing with your sense of direction. Maybe it was how all the houses were set back from the road and obscured with manicured shrubs.

You recognized evergreen bushes and the u-shaped driveway of Steve’s house. You put on your turn signal. The truck did the same. You frowned at the rearview mirror, but pulled into the driveway. If the driver was some irrational, as your father had put it, country bumpkin, you’d make them regret tailing you.

You parked beside the enclosed carport and stepped out of the car, leaving your keys in the ignition and purse on the passenger seat. The truck stopped a few yards away. Sunlight glinted off its windshield. The engine went silent.

You stayed inside the vee of your open car door and waited for the driver to reveal themself.

The truck’s door creaked open, window reflecting the greenery of the front yard. Dusty work-boots hit the driveway. Something about them struck you as familiar. You studied the truck as you racked your mind for why.

The truck door clapped shut.

You gasped, eyes going wide. It was Eddie’s uncle, Wayne. He had a black eye and a shallow scratch at the top of his forehead, but otherwise appeared unharmed. You pushed the car door closed and hurried to him.

“Mr. Munson, oh my God! I didn’t— I’m so glad you’re okay!”

With a wry note in his voice, he said, “It’s good to see you, too.”

You offered your hands, which he grasped in his rougher ones. Tears prickled at your eyes. You hadn’t realized how on edge you’d been about Wayne’s absence until he was there.

You squeezed his hands, saying, “Eddie’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

He squeezed back as his expression softened, yet hardly shifted.

“Is he here?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded. “He’s okay. He’s been asking about you.”

Wayne hummed, sounding pleased. “After that girl was found… Well, I’m sure you know by now. And with the trailer park done split in two, I’ve been staying at the Motel 6.”

“Of course, that makes sense.”

“This Henderson boy said Eddie was in the hospital when I dropped by the school on Saturday, but then that eruption happened.” He gave you a knowing look. “Course, the hospital didn’t have a record of Eddie being there.” He harrumphed and gently released your hands. “Then this morning, Agent Stinson, the one that put me up at the Motel 6, paid me a visit and told me about my nephew recuperating here.”

You glanced at Eddie’s bedroom window.

“Please, come in,” you said, pivoting to show him inside. “I’ll take you to him.”

“I first have a favor to ask.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Will you help this old man get a few things from the truck?”

You grinned.

“Absolutely.”

He led you to the back of the truck. You gasped a second time in so many minutes. Three guitar cases lay in the truck bed. You put a hand on your tight chest.

“I didn’t want to leave ‘em with no one at home,” said Wayne.

He’d never given up on Eddie. Like you, he’d known Eddie was innocent. His days must’ve been horrible, full of waiting and dread. You couldn’t imagine the stares and comments he must’ve gotten at work.

“—fit the amps, but I know these mean more.”

You nodded, feeling like a bobblehead doll as you blinked back tears.

“Whoa, hey now, don’t cry.”

You tried to reply you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come.

Wayne put a strong arm around your shoulders, grounding you. His faded denim jacket smelled of tobacco.

The guitars were just objects and could be replaced, of course, but Wayne was right: they meant something. You’d bet Eddie had resigned himself to replacing them. Coming to terms with that must’ve hurt.

You shook your head at the good fortune, then gave Wayne a smile. Now, Eddie wouldn’t have to go through that.

It took you a few tries, but you finally said, “He’s going to lose it when he sees you and these.”

“Eh, I reckon more for the guitars than me.”

You laughed as Wayne lowered the tailgate. He handed you the acoustic case and bossed around the two electrics. You closed the tailgate for him and led the way into the house. Television noise came from the open basement door.

In the living room, you and Wayne had a hushed conversation about leaving the guitars there. He wanted to surprise Eddie. You loved the idea and propped the acoustic against a sofa arm. Wayne added the electrics next to it before following you to the top of the stairs.

“Eddie?” you called.

“Yeah?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What? Who?”

You stepped to the side, giving Wayne access to the stairs. Eddie choked out something when Wayne was halfway down. You leaned on the doorframe, biting your grinning lip, waiting for their first exchange. However, it was quiet. You snuck a glance. Eddie’s arms were around Wayne, and Wayne’s around him. His fingers dug into Wayne’s jacket.

You closed the door to allow them privacy.

Taking a step towards the guitars, you remembered the groceries thawing in your car. That was unlocked. With the key in the ignition. And your purse in the passenger seat.

You dashed to the car and began unloading it. The kitchen counters filled with bags. Each trip obscured the counters until brown paper surrounded you.

By the time you finished stocking the refrigerator and pantry, Eddie and Wayne had emerged from the basement. Eddie’s excited voice came from the living room, making you smile. You padded to the doorway to watch the second reunion. Eddie knelt in front of the red guitar’s open case.

Wayne said to him the same thing he’d told you: he couldn’t abandon the guitars.

Wordlessly, Eddie nodded and stood. He hugged Wayne again, murmuring something into his shoulder. Wayne put a hand on the back of Eddie’s head and ruffled his hair as he replied. Eddie laughed with a sniffle.

You ducked your head and crossed your arms. If you saw him cry, you’d cry. Then Wayne would be stuck in a house of the emotionally compromised.

When Eddie and Wayne separated, you cleared your throat to make your presence known. Eddie beamed at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Wayne was more restrained, but he appeared just as happy.

“Mr. Munson, would you like to stay for lunch?” you asked.

“I’d like that, but I can’t. The plant’s understaffed, and I’m workin’ a double.”

Eddie wilted, but you didn’t want him to give up hope. He needed something to look forward to.

You asked, “Maybe on a day off?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at Eddie. “My Friday’s free.”

“Come for lunch,” said Eddie.

“Yeah, stay as long as you want. Stay for dinner.” Raising your eyebrows at Eddie, you said, “We can invite the rest of the party. Make it a potluck.”

“I think we better run that by Steve first.”

“Like he’ll refuse.”

Eddie conceded the point with an agreeable shrug.

To Wayne, he said, “Steve’s got cable downstairs. There’s at least one sports channel.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a good enough reason to return.”

Eddie barked a laugh and knocked his elbow against Wayne’s. He then turned to Wayne and perched his chin on the back of his hands, blinking owlishly.

“You mean my spectacular personality isn’t reason enough?”

Wayne said drily, “Your personality is a spectacle, alright.”

Eddie laughed again. Wayne’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curved into a private grin.

After a moment, Wayne said, “Well, I best be off.”

“Thank you for coming by,” you said.

Eddie nodded.

“Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime.”

You heard the love in that one word. Eddie must’ve heard it as well, because his face softened. It was easy to forget his sharp smile and smart-ass remarks and big personality masked a tender heart.

As you thought it, you asked, “Do you have the phone number here?”

“No, ma’am.”

You hurried into the kitchen, found the pad of paper Steve used for the shopping list, and wrote the number. When you came out with a pad and pen, Wayne and Eddie stood in the foyer. You tore off the top sheet and asked for the motel’s number.

“Just in case plans change,” you said.

After trading numbers, you saw Wayne off. Eddie followed him down the front stairs while you remained in the doorway. Once in the truck, Wayne held up a hand in goodbye before reversing down the driveway.

As soon as Wayne’s truck was out of sight, Eddie brushed past you without meeting your eyes. You closed the door and trailed after him into the living room.

“You want to talk about this morning?”

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked, kneeling in front of the guitars and closing the red’s case.

“Well, geez, I don’t know.” You put your hands on your hips. “Maybe how you brushed me off?”

He laid the acoustic case flat and paused with his hands on top.

“I didn’t ‘brush you off.’ I didn’t want to talk about fucking Jason Carver, okay?”

“That wasn’t the point.”

“No, that is the point. He wouldn’t have targeted you if I’d left you alone from the start.”

You narrowed your eyes at his back. That was a crappy excuse. And still not the point.

“Why did you say it was good my parents had left town so I wouldn’t have to introduce you?”

“I don’t know, alright? Everything got screwed up.” His hands balled into fists. “I know part of it’s my fault.” He shook his head as his shoulders hunched. “I can’t undo it, so… It’s whatever.”

You huffed a breath through your nose.

“It’s whatever?” Letting your hands drop to your sides, you said, “Me being serious about you, about wanting my parents to know you, is not whatever.”

He muttered, “They wouldn’t have liked me, anyway.”

“Maybe not, but I’d make them respect my choice.” You tried to breathe with a too-tight chest. “Because I choose you. It sucks that doesn’t seem to mean a lot to you.”

You didn’t wait for a reply and headed into the kitchen. There were empty grocery bags to deal with. You folded and stacked them on the island while swallowing around the lump in your throat.

If Steve’s parents were anything like your own, there was a stash of empty grocery bags somewhere around here. You found a bag of bags in the pantry — something you’d missed a few times. Of course, you missed it. You’d missed plenty of things these past few days, evidently, but you wouldn’t cry over them. Not now. Not in Steve’s pantry. You added the new bags to the collection, then closed the pantry door.

You turned and startled at Eddie dawdling in the kitchen doorway.

“I choose you too, you know,” he said, fingers playing with nonexistent rings. “And it does mean a lot to me — that you’re serious about me. I’m serious about you, too.”

You nodded, voice constrained by the sudden stranglehold of too many emotions.

“I’m going to go upstairs now.”

You nodded again, though you didn’t like it.

He shifted from foot to foot before leaving the doorway. His faint footsteps disappeared from the first floor. All the while, you mentally screamed for him to come back. You didn’t need him to say more. He just needed to stay. Maybe to make lunch with you, though the idea of eating turned your stomach. However, you wanted to do something dumb, something mundane, with him, like make lunch and drink the cheap sodas you’d bought.

Instead, you trudged into the sunroom and flumped into one of the armless chairs.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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