ALI MUNSON ~ Fangirl & Writer {20+} She/Her

“What did you get him?”

“New dice. He’s been eyeing them for months, and had to tell everyone else to back off so I called dibs.”

“How adult of you.” He playfully shoves you, quickly opening up his door and slamming it shut, You follow in suit.

“Hey, do any of the ‘kids’ know we’re ‘fake dating’?” 

“No. Only our group really knows, so to them…we’re a real couple. I also asked Will not to say anything. Thought it would be fun to keep them out of the loop until we fake breakup and then tell them the truth. Plus, it’ll be our first real test.”

“Fun and assertive. I like it.” You walk over to him, wrapping your arm in his. “So the act stays on. Our first quest test without anyone knowing.”

“All night long baby.” He winks, and you give him a disgusted look before he shoves you again. Laughing as you enter the arcade.

The Palace is always crowded, with many different age groups filling the gaps of isles. Overstimulation takes over as you look around for your younger group of friends. You eventually found everyone, some jumping up from their seats in the booth to greet you. Dustin hugs you both last, thanking you for joining them for his special day and for the gift. You tried to explain how the gift was just from Eddie, but he cut you off when you went to correct him. You give him a quick side eye, as he smirks and gives you another wink. Why are my cheeks so hot? Damn lighting.

“Still can’t believe you guys are dating, It’s so…odd.” Mike says, giving a bit of an odd look, snapping you out of your own thoughts.

“That’s nice to say to the only older friends that were willing to come to this whole shabang.” Eddie says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“For real dude don’t be an ass.” Dustin playfully chops his chest, with a small “ow” coming from Mike. “Besides, tonight is about me. And I say we all go and have fun here, then it’s back to my place for some drinks. So,” Dustin claps his hands and stands on a bench, “whose ready for some gaming?!” Everyone erupts in cheers, grabbing their cups of coins and separating.

You grab your own cup, flipping a coin in the air and catching it back in the cup. “Sick.”

“Thanks. I got some skill, which you will see tonight.”

“Hm. So, how good are you at pinball?”

“I happen to be an expert.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, are you now?”

“Yes. When I was a kid and took swimming lessons, I held the high score on the Super Mario Pinball Machine. I guess you can say I played that silver ball.”

“Alright then pinball wizard. You talk a big game, now let me see you in action.”

“Come on Max! Beat her ass!”

“Shut up! I’m trying to concentrate!” Lucas immediately backs up and stands next to you, eyes fixated on the machine. Max is just a few digests away from beating your high score…again…for the third time that night. The red text flashing the screen, does infact, announces a new high score. She looks over at you, a smile radiating from her ego yet again.

“I can’t believe this. I…I lost my magic touch. Quick, catch me.” You pretend to faint into Eddie’s arms as he dramatically catches you.

Eddie starts speaking in an old English accent, a horrible one at most but at least you can say he tried, “My poor maiden, how can I ever help you wither over this horrible juncture?"

“You guys are so weird, maybe you are meant for each other.”

“Lucas!” Max hits him in the arm, to which a small “ow” escapes his mouth. Man, these poor boys must be feeling weak tonight. Eddie leans you back up, smiling over at the youngins.

“Hey, you found your person Sinclair. I found mine. Now, skedaddle so I can have some alone time with my lady.” They wave and head down the ilse, you both watch them as Lucas places a small kiss to Max’s head as she returns a sweet shy smile.

You turn around to face Eddie, crossing your arms in question. “My lady?”

“I mean, you technically are. The nicknames come with the relationship, remember?”

“We’ve been at this for a bit now, and I still can’t get used to it.”

He shrugs, leaning back up against a machine. He looks over, seeing Mike and El playing a very intense game of Pac-Man. Mike is cheering her on as she advances to another level, picking her up and kissing her. You notice him watching them, laughing at how adorable they look. “What are you laughing at?”

“Just…thinking.” You begin walking back down, finding a KISS pinball machine. You insert your coins as the lights and sound come to life.

“And what are you thinking about in that pretty little brain of yours?”

“Just watching El and Mike,” you sling the ball into action, “remembering how we said our first kiss was technically here. Just wondering how exactly that would play out.” You continue playing, getting a few extra points by knocking the ball into the attack bumpers. “Stupid, I know.” You mumble, putting your focus back on the game.

Eddie ponders to himself, looking back over to his friends and then back to you. Eyeing the multicolored lights as it illuminates your makeup, respecting how concentrated you are. He faintly, thanking his lucky stars if there was anyone else he could be fake dating, he’s glad it was you. 

You huff with frustration as the ball falls away, knowing you have just one more round before your turn is over. He walks behind you lining up his arms to yours on either side of the machine, his hands covering yours.

“What are you-”

He whispers into your ear, “Just fling the ball sweetheart” softly as you shudder at his breath. You do as you're told, the silver ball taking flight over the board. Eddie rests his head on your shoulder to get a better view as you work together to pick up more points. You shift back and forth, laughing as you fight to choose when and where to direct the ball. 

“Oh my god come on we’re so close to beating the high score!” You scream over ‘Detroit Rock City’ as the chorus plays through the faded speakers of the game. You both watch with anticipation as the ball rockets from one rebound to the next, receiving a few extra points to claim the new high score. Cheers of excitement fill the space as you quickly turn, wrapping your arms around his neck with Eddie picking you up and spinning you around. You face back towards the scoreboard to see it next to the number one slot ; his head fitting its place back on your shoulder again, arms back at sides of the machine, as you catch your breath.

“What an adrenaline rush! Thanks for your help-” You turn to your right, noses touch. You move your head back slightly, taken aback with how close he is. You cast your eyes down to his lips, and he notices. Eddie slowly leans in, kissing you softly as your hand comes up to cup his face, the chaos of the room fading away ; both your bodies shifting together as one, fully turning to wrap your arms around his neck as his arms move from the middle of your back to your hips. You part slightly, but bring him back to you for one last linger. As he pulls away he taps his forehead to yours, grabbing your attention back to real time, eyes slowly opening ; “that…is how I think our first kiss would have been.” You sigh, tittering while shaking your head.

“Uh, gross. I gotta start getting used to this.” Dustin speaks up a few spots away.

Eddie’s head turns, “What’s up Dustin?”

“We’re all leaving.”

Your voice picks up. “What?! It’s only been like, an hour-” 

“Yeah, and we’re bored. We’re gonna head back to my place to drink. Come on, some are on their way already.” He rushes back to the front.

“I fucking knew this was gonna happen” he scoffs, taking your hand in his, “come on, let’s go.” 

Man it’s really hot in this place.

Tag List - @djoshairychest @eddiessweethrt

This damn car was too nice for your brood and you've had that opinion since Denver. The thing has cream colored leather seats, touch screen navigation, and enough buttons on the dash you think you could launch a small aircraft right off of I-80. Now you're gliding through an Illinois sky under the blazing July sun while the air conditioning does little to cool you off. Oh, all the while your daughter's are trying to kill each other in the backseat. 

"You took my hoodie." Alice frowns. 

"I just borrowed it." Roan shrugs, turning a page in her book. Bright pink hoodie covering her torso. 

"You didn't ask!" Alice frowns.

"You were asleep! I was cold. You've been sleeping like… all of the trip. Was I supposed to wake you?!" 

Eddie's completely checked out. Which you guess is nice. He's got one tattooed arm partially out the window. His hand taps the top of the car while his curls whip around slightly in the wind. His sunglasses are on and he looks like a man just enjoying a peaceful drive instead of a hostage trapped between two angry teenage girls— much how you feel. You don't understand how he's doing it. 

"Dad." Alice frowns, "Tell Roan to stop touching my stuff." 

"I'm no—" Roan tries to shoot back.

"Girls." You say sternly. It doesn't matter. They immediately start bickering again. Their voices an overlapping stream of indignation while the flat Illinois fields pass in an endless blur out the windows. Eddie is remaining perfectly calm. "How are you not stressed?" You ask, eyes narrowing slightly. 

"Hm?" He asks, tilting his head towards you.

"Their fighting. It's insane." 

He shrugs, fingers tapping on the wheels. "Baby, I toured with three other dudes on crowded buses for twenty years. This is nothing." 

"That possibly can't be comparable." 

"Nah, Gareth could never be as hot as you." He teases as he glances at you. He rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the road in front of him when you don't smile. 

Behind you, Roan groans. "Alice elbowed me!" 

"Because you're in my space!" 

"There is no space back here! Dad rented the smallest SUV in history." 

You feel your eye twitching with each word they yell at one another. It's too hot, the girls are bickering, you've been in this damn car for six hours because Eddie missed the last rest stop for miles, and finally you just sigh. Your head thunks back against the headrest and you mumble, "Calgon, take me away." 

For a split second, the car falls silent. You finally can rest in a peaceful bliss. But then it's filled up entirely with a burst of your husband's loud ass cackle. There's crinkles by his eyes when he smiles and you definitively decide that your plan for strangling him in his sleep for trapping you in a car with two teenage monsters can be put on hold. 

Night had settled over the valley hours ago. The kind of darkness that swallowed the prairie whole, broken only by scattered lanterns glowing in farmhouse windows.

Then, suddenly, the church bell rang three times. Not for Sunday service or for a wedding, but for them.

Immediately, the town went into lockdown mode. Lanterns were snuffed out one by one, doors bolted, and curtains drawn. Dogs that had been barking suddenly went silent, dragged inside by hurried owners.

Somewhere down the road, another bell answered the first, then another, until the whole valley echoed with warning.

Your mother didn't waste a second.

"Inside. Now."

She had already begun blowing out the oil lamps before either you or your little brother could move. The warm glow that had filled the farmhouse disappeared one room at a time until only moonlight filtered through the windows.

"Mama..." your little brother whispered, clutching the hem of her dress.

"It's alright," she lied, pulling him close. "Just stay quiet."

You had heard stories about the Blackwater Outfit bandits for as long as you could remember. Every ranching family within a hundred miles had. They rode wherever they pleased, took what they wanted, and were gone before the sheriff could gather enough men to trail them.

Some claimed they only stole from wealthy cattle barons. Others swore they'd rob anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. Whatever the truth was, no one wanted to find out firsthand.

The sound of hoofbeats grew louder with each passing second until they were just beyond the front fence. Against your better judgment, you crept toward the front window and peeled back the curtain just enough to see the lanterns.

A dozen of them, maybe more, swayed from saddle horns as riders passed through the darkness. Their faces remained hidden beneath the brims of their hats, little more than silhouettes against the pale moonlight. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of horses' hooves and men hollering.

Your hand instinctively reached for your father's Winchester, still resting above the hearth where it had remained since the day he died. Before your fingers could wrap around the stock, your mother caught your wrist.

"Don't be a fool, girl," she whispered, her grip surprisingly firm. "One rifle ain't stoppin' twenty men."

"They're on our land."

"And they'll still be on it after they bury you."

You clenched your jaw, your eyes never leaving the riders outside. Every instinct in your body screamed to do something. To scare them off or to fire a warning shot, just to prove that this farm wasn't defenseless just because your father was gone.

Your mother stepped in front of the window, forcing you to look at her instead.

"Your pa knew when to pick a fight," she said quietly. "That's why he lived as long as he did."

You swallowed hard.

"Tonight ain't one worth dyin' over."

When dawn finally broke, the sun began painting the fields in soft shades of gold that would've been beautiful under any other circumstance. The farmhouse still stood, smoke lazily curling from the chimney, and the rolling pasture stretched just as it always had.

Then you noticed the silence. No rooster announcing the morning. No impatient bleating from the goat pen. No low, familiar call from the pasture beyond the barn. You were out the front door before your mother had even finished tying her apron.

The gate to the pasture hung crooked on one hinge; the latch splintered clean in two. Deep hoofprints had churned the earth into thick mud, leading away from the property in a trail so obvious it was almost insulting.

"No..." you breathed. You broke into a sprint then. The heifer was gone, and so were both milk goats.

You rushed toward the chicken coop, throwing the door open so hard it slammed against the side of the shed. Only a handful of hens scattered at your feet, squawking in protest. The rest had simply vanished.

They hadn't taken everything, though.

The old mare remained in her stall, too lame to fetch much at market. A stubborn old rooster strutted across the yard as if nothing had happened, accompanied by a few scrawny hens they'd apparently deemed not worth the trouble.

They hadn't stolen blindly; they had taken exactly what would hurt the most.

The heifer your family had planned to sell before winter. The goats that supplied milk, butter, and cheese. Nearly every laying hen that brought in enough money each week to keep flour in the pantry and to pay taxes on time.

You crouched beside the broken gate, running your fingers through the fresh hoofprints pressed into the dirt. They hadn't just stolen livestock, no. They had stolen the coming winter.

Behind you, your mother stepped onto the porch, one hand covering her mouth as she looked across the empty pasture. She took in the empty fields, the splintered fence, the open barn doors. Everything your father had spent a lifetime building.

She didn't say a word. Her shoulders sank almost imperceptibly before she turned and walked back inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

Anger carried you into town faster than your horse ever could.

The reins were barely tied outside the sheriff's office before you were shoving through the front door, boots thudding across the worn wooden floor. Sheriff Hopper looked up from the stack of papers spread across his desk, his spectacles perched low on his nose.

He regarded you for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. "I was wonderin' when you'd come."

"You knew?"

"I knew they rode through last night."

"They cleaned us out." Your voice was tight enough to snap. "They took the heifer, both milk goats, and nearly every good hen we had."

His expression hardened, though not with surprise. "I'm sorry to hear it."

"'Sorry' doesn't put food on my family's table."

"No," he admitted. "It doesn't."

Finally, Hopper rose from his chair and wandered toward the window overlooking Main Street. "They knew your father was gone."

"They knew that the farm lost its backbone the day he died. Figured it'd be an easy mark."

Your jaw clenched. "So what're you gonna do?"

"Nothing."

"They're the Blackwater Outfit," he sighed. "Outlaws, sure. But they ain't the sort that burns towns or leaves bodies behind just because they can. They take what they're after and keep ridin'."

"They still robbed us."

"They did."

"And you're just letting them?"

Hopper met your gaze. "I've got five deputies and a town full of families I'd rather not bury."

You looked away, shaking your head. "So that's it."

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "keeping folks alive means knowing which fights not to pick."

"Where are they?"

His eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't advise it."

"Where?"

Another sigh. "They rented the rooms above McCready's Saloon. They'll likely leave come morning."

You didn't say another word. You simply turned on your heel and walked out, the door slamming behind you hard enough to rattle the windows.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, your mind had already been made up. If the sheriff wasn't willing to do anything, you would.

You stood in front of the small mirror hanging beside your bedroom window, smoothing your palms over the nicest dress you owned. It wasn't extravagant by any means, just a deep blue cotton dress reserved for Sunday services and the occasional town social. Your mother watched quietly from the doorway as you pinned your hair back.

"You're headed into town."

You nodded, fastening your father's silver necklace around your neck. "I'll be back."

"Just...come home."

By nightfall, McCready's Saloon was alive with music spilling through the open doors, piano keys carrying into the street alongside bursts of laughter and clinking glasses. Horses lined the hitching posts outside, and every window glowed warmly against the cool prairie evening.

You tied your mare outside and climbed the steps. The moment you stepped through the swinging doors, the familiar scent of whiskey, tobacco smoke, and sawdust washed over you.

"Evenin', miss."

You smiled at the bartender, an older man named Walter who'd known your family since before you were born.

"Evenin', Walt."

He looked you over, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. "Don't think I've seen you in here dressed like that."

You offered a small shrug. "Figured I deserved a drink."

"Hell of a day for one."

"You could say that."

Walter poured your usual without asking, sliding the glass across the polished bar.

"On the house."

You thanked him quietly before letting your eyes drift across the room. It wasn't hard to find them.

They occupied nearly an entire corner of the saloon, boots propped on chairs, cards spread across a table littered with whiskey bottles and coins. Laughter came easily between them, drawing more than a few curious glances from the locals, who were careful not to linger.

And in the middle of it all sat the man you assumed was Eddie Munson. He looked nothing like you'd imagined. You'd expected someone older. Meaner.

Instead, he couldn't have been much more than a few years older than yourself, his dark curls spilling beneath a black hat as he laughed at something one of his men had said. Rings glinted beneath the lantern light as he shuffled a deck of cards with practiced ease, entirely at home in a town that had hidden from him less than twenty-four hours earlier.

As if sensing your stare, his head lifted, his eyes meeting yours from across the room. He smiled slowly, almost confidently. You looked away first, lifting your whiskey to your lips.

Walter caught the exchange immediately. "Oh, don't tell me."

You feigned innocence. "Tell you what?"

"You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're about to do something that'll have me patchin' bullet holes in the wall."

A laugh escaped you despite yourself. "I'll try not to make a mess."

"You never do."

Across the room, Eddie murmured something to the man beside him before pushing back his chair. He crossed the saloon with an easy confidence that suggested he'd never once questioned whether someone wanted him nearby.

By the time he reached the bar, you could feel Walter trying very hard to look busy polishing the same glass he'd been holding for the last minute.

Eddie rested an elbow against the bar. "Evenin'."

You took another sip before finally looking at him. "Evenin'."

"I don't reckon I've seen you around before."

"I reckon you haven't been lookin' in the right places."

That earned a grin. "No?" he asked. "Seems I've been missin' out."

"So I've heard."

He chuckled softly.

"They also tell me you've got a soft spot for pretty women."

"I've got a soft spot for interesting women."

You let the corner of your mouth twitch upward. "And which am I?"

He looked you over; not crudely, but with unmistakable interest. "I haven't decided yet."

"Well," you said, setting your empty glass on the bar, "I suppose you'll have to buy me another drink if you'd like the chance."

Walter's eyes flicked between the two of you.

Eddie smiled, already reaching for his coin satchel. "I was hopin' you'd say that."

Walter disappeared down the bar to tend to another customer, leaving the two of you alone beneath the warm glow of the hanging lamps.

Eddie slid the fresh whiskey toward you. "You always this hard to impress?"

"I haven't seen much worth impressin' me."

"Ouch."

"You asked."

"I did."

He rested one forearm against the bar, turning toward you with an easy grin that would've made most women blush.

You simply took another sip.

"So," he said. "You got a name?"

"You got enough names to remember already."

"I'll make room."

"I doubt it."

He laughed under his breath. "You've got quite the sharp tongue."

"So I've been told."

"I like it."

"I'm sure you do."

"You don't seem surprised."

"I imagine you say that to every pretty girl that walks through that door."

He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. "You wound me."

"I was aiming lower."

That earned a genuine laugh, loud enough for a few of his men to glance over from their poker game.

"There it is," Eddie said, shaking his head. "Knew she was hidin' in there somewhere."

You looked at him flatly. "You always talk this much?"

"Only when I'm bein' ignored."

"I can fix that."

"Oh?"

"Beneath this bar..." you said quietly, keeping your eyes on your glass, "...I've got my father's Colt pointed right at your ribs."

The smile never left his face. If anything, it grew.

"I know."

Your fingers tightened around the grip beneath the counter. "What?"

"I said I know."

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Eddie's expression lost some of its teasing edge. His voice stayed low enough that only you could hear.

"I recognized you the second you walked in."

A knot formed in your stomach.

"I wasn't entirely certain at first."

His eyes drifted briefly to the silver necklace resting against your collarbone.

"Then I saw the necklace."

Your hand instinctively brushed against it.

"Your father's."

You stared.

"Folks in town talked."

"They've got nothin' better to do."

"They said there was a young woman out on the Miller place." His gaze returned to yours. "Long black hair. Pretty enough to turn heads. Mean enough to break 'em."

Despite yourself, your brow furrowed.

"They said after your pa passed, you worked that ranch like it was your own."

"It is my own."

"I stand corrected."

"You also weren't supposed to be home last night."

Your pulse skipped.

"We figured it'd just be your ma and little brother."

Rage simmered beneath your ribs. "You figured wrong."

"I reckon I did."

The music carried on around you. Glasses clinked, and someone cheered from the poker table. It felt as though the rest of the saloon had disappeared.

Finally, Eddie smiled again. "I gotta admit...You've got nerve, walkin' in here alone."

"I figured you'd appreciate it."

"Oh, I do." His grin widened. "I just didn't expect to."

Your thumb eased back the hammer beneath the bar with a soft, unmistakable click. His eyes flicked downward for only a second before meeting yours again.

"You really are pointin' that thing at me."

"I told you I was."

"I know."

"And you're still standin' here."

"Course I am."

"...Why?"

"Because," he said with a crooked smile, "you're the first woman who's ever threatened to shoot me before askin' my name."

You rolled your eyes.

"Not worth the ask."

His laugh came easily, warm enough to earn another curious glance from across the room.

"See?" He leaned in just enough that only you could hear him. "Now I'm even more interested."

The click of the hammer settling back into place was almost louder than when you'd pulled it. Slowly, you removed the revolver from beneath the bar and tucked it back beneath your skirt.

Eddie's eyes followed the movement. "Changed your mind?"

"For now."

You slid off the barstool and set a few coins beside your untouched whiskey. "I've lost my appetite."

"You just got here."

"And I've already had enough."

Without another word, you turned toward the swinging doors.

"You leavin'?"

You didn't answer.

Behind you came the scrape of Eddie's chair, then footsteps. The cool evening air hit your face as you stepped onto the boardwalk, boots carrying you down the quiet street without so much as a glance over your shoulder.

"You always walk this fast?"

You sighed. "You always this annoyin'?"

"I've been called worse."

"I can think of a few."

"I don't doubt it."

You kept walking.

"So," Eddie continued, hands tucked lazily into his pockets, "you got a habit of pointin' guns at every man who buys you a drink?"

"Only the thieves."

He laughed. "I was wonderin' when we'd get back to that."

"You robbed my family."

"I did." There wasn't an ounce of shame in his voice.

"You don't deny it?"

"What good would that do?"

You shook your head. "You're unbelievable."

"I've heard that, too."

"You ever stop talkin'?"

"I was hopin' you'd tell me more about yourself."

"I'd rather tell the undertaker where to bury you."

"You've given that some thought."

"You've earned it."

He smiled to himself. "You know...I usually have to work a little harder to keep a pretty girl thinkin' about me."

You stopped so suddenly that he nearly walked into you. "You listen here. I don't like you."

"I know."

"I don't think you're charming."

"I figured."

"I think you're a thief."

"That one ain't up for debate."

"And if you follow me another step, I'll put that Colt to better use than I did in the saloon."

For just a moment, the grin softened. "I believe you."

You turned and continued walking. He fell into step beside you anyway.

"You ain't much for discouragement, are you?"

"Nope."

"You oughta be."

"I've never been particularly good at takin' advice."

"You'll get yourself killed."

"Maybe."

"You oughta worry about yourself."

"I am."

You shot him a look.

"I'd hate for you to miss your chance to shoot me."

You groaned. "Lord, you're insufferable."

"So I've been told."

"You keep repeatin' yourself, Munson."

"I've noticed you keep listenin'."

Before you could fire back, his hand reached out, fingers closing lightly around your forearm.

"Hang on—"

You caught his wrist, twisted hard, and stepped beneath his arm, using his own momentum against him. In one smooth movement, Eddie stumbled forward until his shoulder met the hitching post with a dull thud, your hand still firmly controlling his wrist behind his back.

He blinked. "...Well."

You released him immediately, taking two steps back. "Don't."

He rolled his shoulder, more surprised than hurt. "I was just tryin' to get your attention."

"You had it."

"I can see that."

For the first time all evening, Eddie wasn't smiling while flirting; he was smiling because he was downright impressed. And a little turned on, but hey, can you blame him?

"You learn that from your old man?"

You said nothing, and that was answer enough. He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly before looking back at you.

"I've gotta say..."

You sighed. "What now?"

"I was interested before." He flashed that crooked grin again. "Now I'm downright fascinated."

You shook your head, muttering something about him being hopeless as you started back toward the road leading home.

This time, Eddie stayed where he was. He watched until you disappeared into the darkness beyond the last lantern on Main Street, grinning like a goddamn idiot.

The sun had barely cleared the horizon by the time you were already out in the barn.

The old Jersey stood patiently in her stall while you worked, her hide mottled with age and her hips more pronounced than they had been even a year ago. She'd given good milk once. Now, you were lucky to coax half a bucket from her.

It wasn't enough to keep a family afloat, not by a landslide, but it was something. You rested your forehead briefly against her side, letting out a slow breath as the steady rhythm of milk hitting the pail echoed through the quiet barn.

That was when you heard it, the sound of another horse.

You frowned. Your mare was already tied outside. The hoofbeats slowed, stopping just beyond the open barn doors.

"You know," a familiar voice called, "I was hopin' for a warmer welcome."

You closed your eyes. "...Of course."

Setting the bucket aside, you stood and turned. Eddie leaned casually against the fence, one hand resting on the reins of a chestnut heifer.

Your chestnut heifer.

Your heart lurched. "What're you doin' here?"

"Mornin' to you, too, Sweetheart."

You ignored him, brushing past to the animal instead. The heifer gave a soft, familiar low as you ran your hands over her neck, checking for injuries. She looked healthy, fed, and untouched.

"You brought her back."

"I did."

You looked up at him, suspicion settling in almost immediately. "Why?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Felt like it."

"I don't believe that for a second."

"Didn't expect you to."

You folded your arms. "So what's the catch?"

"No catch."

"You expect me to thank you?"

"I'd settle for you not threatenin' to shoot me before breakfast."

A reluctant huff escaped your nose before you could stop it, causing Eddie's eyebrows to lift.

"What?" You snapped.

"Nothin'. Just didn't know you had it in you to laugh."

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost hurt. "You're unbearable."

"And yet..." He gestured between the two of you. "Here we are."

You shook your head, leading the heifer toward the pasture.

"You know, most folks would've sold her by now."

You paused. "What?"

"The old Jersey."

His gaze drifted toward the weathered cow still standing patiently inside the barn. "She's got maybe another season left."

Your shoulders stiffened. "My pa raised her from a calf."

"I figured."

"You don't sell family."

You reached over the fence to scratch the heifer between her ears, smiling softly when she nudged your shoulder in return. "You gave me quite the scare, didn't you?"

Your voice had lost every ounce of the sharpness you'd used on Eddie. It was quiet and gentle, almost affectionate.

The heifer bumped your hand again, causing you to laugh under your breath. Only then did you realize someone was watching.

You glanced over, and Eddie hadn't taken his eyes off you.

"What?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nothin'."

"Mhm."

"I was just thinkin'."

"Dangerous pastime."

"It can be."

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think you're nearly as mean as you pretend to be."

You snorted. "Are you forgetting I had you at point-blank range a day ago?"

"You did."

"I threatened to kill you."

"You sure did."

"I still might."

"I know." He pushed himself off the fence.

"But..." he said, nodding toward the heifer happily grazing beside you, "...I've got a feelin' you've got too soft a heart to actually pull the trigger."

Your smile vanished. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"Not yet." He tipped the brim of his hat. "But I'm workin' on it."

Before you could think of another retort, he swung easily into the saddle. "I'll see you around."

"I sincerely hope not."

His laugh carried across the pasture as he turned his horse toward the road.

Your mother and little brother had left before sunrise, the wagon loaded with fresh bread, preserves, and the few eggs your remaining hens had managed to produce. They'd make the trip to the next town over, hoping to bring home enough money to stretch another week.

You'd stayed behind to mend fencing. The morning air was cool against your skin as you knelt beside a split fence post, hammer in one hand and a fistful of nails in the other.

You heard the horse long before you looked up. You smiled to yourself despite every intention of not doing so.

"Thought you were leavin'."

Eddie guided his horse through the open gate, a crooked grin already waiting for you.

"I was."

You drove another nail into the fence. "So what happened?"

He swung down from the saddle with practiced ease, dusting off his coat. "I found a reason to stick around a little while longer."

You snorted. "I can't imagine she's very bright."

"She's stubborn as hell."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." He looked directly at you. "I kinda like it."

You shook your head, trying very hard not to smile as you stood and brushed the dirt from your skirt. "So."

"So."

"You just wander onto people's property whenever the mood strikes?"

"Only pretty girls'."

"You've got a death wish."

"I've been told."

"You repeat yourself."

"I've noticed."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you this time. It was barely audible and so barely there, but Eddie caught it anyway.

"There it is again."

"Oh, hush."

"I knew you could smile."

"I smiled at the thought of hittin' you with this hammer."

"I'll take what I can get."

You rolled your eyes. "You're impossible."

"And yet you haven't asked me to leave."

"I've considered it."

"But?"

You looked around the farm. "You can stay awhile."

His smile softened. "I appreciate that."

The two of you wandered without much destination after that. He followed while you checked fencing, refilled the water troughs, and gathered what little produce the garden had managed to offer.

"So..." Eddie glanced toward the weathered barn. "Your pa built all this?"

You nodded. "Every bit of it."

"It shows."

You looked over at him. "What d'you mean?"

"Nothing's fancy." He reached out, running his hand along one of the fence rails. "But every board's where it's supposed to be."

"He always said if you're gonna build something, build it once."

"He sounds like a smart man."

"He was."

Eventually, you wandered farther out into the pasture, where tall grass swayed with the breeze. Eddie bent down suddenly.

"What're you doin'?"

He plucked a tiny yellow wildflower from the ground. "Hm."

"You stealin' from me again?"

"This one's legal."

"I'm fairly certain it's still my field."

"I'll pay taxes on it."

He stepped in front of you, twirling the flower between his fingers before carefully tucking it behind your ear. "There."

You stared at him. "...What?"

"It matches."

"The flower?"

"No." He smiled. "The attitude."

You shoved his shoulder. "You are so full of it."

He stumbled back dramatically. "I've been assaulted."

"You'll live."

"I don't know..." He clutched his chest. "...That one might've cracked a rib."

"It barely touched you."

"I bruise easily."

"You're an outlaw."

"And?"

"And somehow a little shove's what does you in?"

"It's tragic, I know."

A laugh burst from you before you could stop it, so loud and so very real that Eddie could help but beam at the sound.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Mhm."

"I was startin' to think that sound was a myth."

Heat crept into your cheeks. "You aren't funny."

"I wasn't tryin' to be."

Embarrassed, you reached up to flick the flower from behind your ear. Before you could, Eddie caught your wrist. This time...gently.

"You can leave it."

His thumb brushed absentmindedly against the back of your hand before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He let go almost immediately.

You looked down at your hands.

"So..." you said quietly. "You really oughta get goin'."

"I probably should."

"You know," Eddie said after a moment, "I don't remember the last time I stood still this long."

"That because you're always runnin' from the law?"

"Nah."

He looked out over the pasture. "...Just never had much reason to stop."

You folded your arms across your chest, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "What a charmer you are."

"I've been called worse."

"Oh, I'm sure." You nudged a loose rock with the toe of your boot. "I reckon you find a pretty girl in every town, throw around that smile, tell her she's different, then ride off before sunrise."

Eddie let out a quiet laugh. "So that's what you think of me?"

"I think you're an outlaw."

"Fair."

"And a flirt."

"Guilty."

"You've probably got women waitin' on you from here to Montana."

He scratched at the back of his neck. "...Can't say I do."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really."

"Really."

"I don't believe you."

"I know."

You started walking again, expecting him to fall into step beside you. He, in fact, did.

"I've danced with girls," he admitted after a moment. "Bought a few drinks. Shared a kiss or two."

"A kiss or two," you echoed.

"Maybe three."

You laughed through your nose. "My, aren't you the heartbreaker."

"Nah."

"No?"

He shook his head. "I don't stick around anywhere long enough."

"Hard to court somebody when you're wanted in half the territory."

"You could always stop robbin' people."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Oh, right."

He smiled again. "Exactly."

The two of you walked in silence for another minute before he spoke again.

"I meant what I said yesterday."

"Which part?"

"'Bout you."

You looked at him.

"I don't usually notice people."

You scoffed. "I find that hard to believe."

"I notice if somebody's dangerous."

His eyes met yours.

"Or interesting."

"And I'm both?"

"I think so."

You looked away first.

"You don't know me."

"I know enough."

"Oh?"

"You work harder than anyone else on this farm."

You frowned.

"You talk to the townsfolk more than you let on."

"I listen."

He shrugged.

"They all said the same thing."

"And what's that?"

"That after your pa passed..." His gaze drifted toward the barn. "...most figured your family would sell the place."

Your jaw tightened.

"They also said you'd never let that happen."

A breeze stirred between you, carrying the scent of fresh hay.

"I saw you mendin' that fence this mornin'."

"So?"

"You didn't replace the whole rail."

"There wasn't enough lumber."

"You carved a new notch and made the old one fit."

You blinked.

"You noticed that?"

"'Course I did. I notice a lot of things."

He smiled softly. "I noticed you've got calluses on your hands."

You instinctively tucked them behind your back.

"I noticed you always look over your shoulder before you leave a room."

You swallowed.

"I noticed you still wear your pa's necklace every day."

His voice had lost every trace of teasing.

"And..." he said quietly, "...I noticed you talk to every animal on this farm like they're old friends."

Heat crept into your cheeks. "I do not."

"You called that old Jersey 'sweet girl' this morning."

"I did not."

"You scratched her behind the ear and said, 'C'mon, sweet girl. Give me just a little more.'"

"...You heard that?"

"I was standin' ten feet away."

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. "That's mortifying."

"I thought it was adorable."

"It was not adorable."

"It absolutely was."

You peeked at him through your fingers. "You really don't quit, do you?"

He smiled that crooked, lopsided smile that somehow looked more sincere than cocky this time. "Not when I find somethin' worth stayin' for."

Word had spread quickly after the Hollow Creek Gang rode in late one autumn evening, expecting an easy score. By sunrise, they had turned tail and disappeared over the state line with fewer horses than they'd arrived with.

Nobody in town had missed who chased them out. It became something of an unspoken arrangement after that.

Sheriff Hopper remained the law, collecting taxes, settling disputes, and locking up the occasional drunk who got a little too friendly after payday. But whenever strangers with bad intentions started asking too many questions about the valley, they were met with a much simpler warning.

"Munson's territory."

It wasn't official; Hopper would've rolled his eyes if anyone suggested it was, but it worked.

The Blackwater Outfit still rode where they pleased. They still robbed railroad payrolls, wealthy cattle barons who squeezed every last penny out of smaller ranchers, and the occasional card game if Eddie was feeling particularly lucky.

Funny enough, the valley never seemed to lose another cow. Your farm changed, too. Not all at once, but little by little, day by day.

A bundle of fresh lumber appeared beside the barn one morning. A week later, Eddie showed up, claiming he had "accidentally" bought too much fencing and needed somewhere to put it.

Then, he painted the new chicken coop a bright shade of blue before realizing he'd used house paint instead of barn paint.

Your mother had stopped asking questions sometime around the third delivery. Instead, she'd simply shake her head whenever Eddie rode up the lane.

"That boy's impossible."

"He is," you'd agree. Then you'd walk outside to greet him anyway.

It became just as common to see Eddie's horse tied outside your barn as it was to see your own. Sometimes he'd help mend fences.

Other days, he'd spend hours pretending to help while somehow accomplishing very little besides distracting you from your work.

"You missed a spot."

You glanced over from where you were whitewashing the side of the barn. "I ain't painted there yet."

"Oh." He nodded thoughtfully. "...Carry on."

You laughed. "I've never met a lazier man."

"Lazier?" He pressed a hand against his chest. "I am deeply offended."

"You've been sittin' on that fence for near an hour."

"I've been supervisin'."

"You've been napping."

"They're remarkably similar."

One evening, you found Eddie sitting atop the split-rail fence overlooking the pasture, lazily spinning your father's old pocketknife between his fingers.

"You know that's mine."

"I was holdin' it for you."

"You stole it."

"I borrowed it."

"You've got a funny definition of borrowing."

"I've got a funny definition of lots of things."

You climbed onto the fence beside him, and after a moment of appreciating a day's work, he cleared his throat.

"I been thinkin'."

"That sounds dangerous."

"It usually is."

He smiled to himself before growing uncharacteristically serious. "I don't much care for ridin' anymore."

You turned to look at him. "What?"

"I used to think if I stayed in one place too long..." He shrugged. "...I'd become someone easy to catch."

"And now?"

"Now..."

His eyes wandered across the fields, the barn, the farmhouse. Your mother hanging laundry across the clothesline, your little brother chasing chickens he'd never catch.

Then, they found you. "...Now I think I'd rather be easy to find."

"Eddie..."

"I ain't sayin' I'll stop bein' me."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

"I know." He reached over, absentmindedly taking your hand. "I just..."

He laughed quietly. "...I like comin' home." Home.

You looked down at your joined hands before squeezing his fingers. "I've got somethin' to tell you."

"Oh?"

"You were right."

His grin appeared instantly. "I usually am."

"I did smile in the saloon."

He laughed. "I knew it."

"But..."

You leaned over just enough to kiss him, slow and soft, sweet enough to stop every clever remark he'd been about to make.

When you pulled away, he looked genuinely speechless. "...Well."

"Speechless?"

"You might've finally managed it."

"I'll cherish the moment."

He laughed again before pulling you back for another kiss.

eddie fr.

i hope you all enjoyeddddd<33

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@djoshairychest

Five years since the final gate had sealed. Five years since the last scream had echoed through the ruined streets of Hawkins. Five years since you and Eddie had stumbled out of the nightmare together, shaking, bleeding, and somehow still breathing. The world had kept turning. You had gotten married in a tiny courthouse ceremony with Wayne as witness and a guitar pick in your pocket instead of a bouquet. Luna had arrived eight months ago, all wild dark curls and lungs that could rival her father’s when she decided the world needed to hear her.

And still, the anniversary found you.

You were standing at the sink, hands deep in soapy water, when the weight hit. It started in your chest — that familiar, crushing pressure — and spread outward until your arms felt too heavy to lift. The mug you were washing slipped and clinked against the porcelain. You didn’t even flinch.

Eddie noticed immediately.

He always did.

He’d been sitting on the living room floor with Luna, letting her chew on one of her teethers while he quietly strummed an old acoustic version of “Master of Puppets” slowed down to something almost lullaby-soft. The second you went quiet, his head lifted. Brown eyes found yours across the open space between kitchen and living room.

“Baby,” he said, voice low. Not a question. A knowing.

You tried to smile. It didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Eddie set the guitar aside gently, scooped Luna up with practiced ease, and settled her against his chest. She babbled something that sounded like “da-da” and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He kissed the top of her head, then crossed to you.

He didn’t push you to talk. He just stood close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, close enough that if you wanted to lean, you could.

You didn’t lean. Not yet.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a fog. You went through the motions — changed Luna, fed her, rocked her while Eddie made grilled cheese and tomato soup because it was the only thing that ever sounded good on days like this. You laughed at the right moments when Luna smeared tomato on her cheeks and Eddie pretended to be horrified. But the laughter felt borrowed.

By the time Luna was down for her evening nap, the fog had thickened into something darker.

You were in the bedroom folding tiny onesies when the tears started. Silent at first. Then the shaking came. You sank onto the edge of the bed, a soft yellow onesie clutched in your hands, and let the anniversary take you.

Eddie found you like that.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just closed the door quietly behind him and crossed the room. The mattress dipped as he sat beside you. His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You went willingly this time, pressing your face into the worn cotton of his shirt, breathing in the smell of him — smoke and soap and home.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you whispered eventually, voice raw. “About how close we came. About everyone we lost along the way. About the fact that I get to sit here and fold baby clothes while they… while they never got to have any of this. And I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something to take it all away again. And I feel so fucking guilty that I’m not stronger. That some days I can barely get out of bed. That you have to carry me through this shit on top of everything else. I’m supposed to be your partner, not another thing you have to fix.”

Eddie was quiet for a long moment. His hand moved slowly up and down your back, rings cool even through the fabric of your shirt. When he spoke, his voice was steady in the way it only ever was when he was fighting to keep you anchored.

“You’re not a burden, baby. You are so loved.”

The words landed somewhere deep in your chest and stayed there.

He shifted so he could see your face, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing away the tears that kept falling.

“Listen to me,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “I know what today does to you. I feel it too. Every fucking year. I still wake up some nights thinking I’m back in that trailer, or in the Upside Down, or watching you almost—” His voice cracked, just once. He swallowed and kept going. “But then I open my eyes and you’re here. You’re real. And Luna’s down the hall making those little snuffly sounds she does when she’s dreaming. And I remember that we didn’t just survive. We built something. You built something. With me.”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours.

“You think I don’t see how hard you fight? Every single day? You think carrying our daughter, loving me through my own nightmares, still choosing to wake up and try again even when the world feels too fuckin' loud— you think that makes you weak? It makes you the strongest person I’ve ever known. And on the days when you can’t fight, that’s when I get to carry you for a while. That’s the deal. That’s what we promised each other. I don’t love you in spite of the hard days. I love you through them. All of them.”

Your breath hitched. Eddie kissed the corner of your eye, then your temple, then the spot just below your ear where your pulse fluttered.

“You’re allowed to fall apart,” he murmured. “You’re allowed to need me. I want you to need me. Because I need you too. Every version of you. The one who laughs so hard that she's peed her pants at the drive in. The one who cursed me out giving birth. The one who stayed by my damn side while we both healed physically. All of it. All of you. You’re not a burden. You’re the whole damn point.”

The words kept coming, soft and relentless, until the knot in your chest loosened just enough to let you breathe again. He held you while you cried it out, rocking you gently like he rocked Luna when she fussed. No judgment. No impatience. Just steady presence.

After a while, the rain eased. Luna stirred on the monitor — a soft, questioning coo. Eddie glanced at it, then back at you.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll get her.”

He returned a few minutes later with Luna tucked against his chest, her little fist in her mouth. He settled onto the bed beside you, arranging pillows so you could lean into him while he held her. Luna immediately reached for you, grabbing a handful of your shirt and babbling something that sounded suspiciously like she was telling you about her day.

You managed a watery laugh and brushed a curl from her forehead.

Eddie’s free hand found yours, fingers lacing together.

“We don’t have to do anything else tonight sweetheart,” he said quietly. “We don’t have to be okay. We just have to be together. And when the bad thoughts come back — and they will, because healing isn’t linear and all that bullshit that therapist said — you tell me. You let me in. That’s how we keep surviving. That’s how we keep living.”

You nodded, throat too tight for words. But you squeezed his hand.

Later, after Luna was fed and changed and drifting between you both on the bed — her tiny body a warm, trusting weight — Eddie picked up his guitar again. He played softly, an old Corroded Coffin song turned into something gentle. You rested your head on his shoulder and let the music wash over you.

The depression was still there. It probably would be for a while. Anniversaries had a way of cracking old wounds open. But the weight felt different now. Shared. Held.

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head between verses.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against your hair. “Both of you. Always.”

-

Chapter Two

The gentleman hunched over at the end of the bar raises his empty glass at you, signalling he’d like to order a refill. You oblige, tending to him for the fourth time tonight. Usually on Saturday nights you are swept off your feet with orders and impatient newcomers, but tonight it’s a little quieter, probably from the absence of the live band that accidentally double booked themselves.

Throughout your shift you tried to pull the man into polite conversation but you were met with silence on numerous occasions and while this place attracted its fair share of solo drinkers, his steamed shirt, grey tailored jacket and slick hair said that he didn’t belong here. Finally, upon deliverance of his drink, he speaks.

“I’ll take two beers as well, please. Bottles of Bud if you have ‘em.” His tone is steady, indifferent to the people cramming up next to him and you slyly raise an eyebrow at the stranger.

“Are you expecting company?” Absentmindedly you grab two pint glasses from beneath the bar, inspecting them briefly before setting them up on the counter then turning back to the mini fridge to scoop up two of the iconic brown glass bottles. The red labels are slippery with condensation and you nearly allow one to slip from between your fingers.

Over your shoulder you follow his gaze to the back booths of the bar, lowly lit and tucked away. The man in front of you having ducked his head at a shadowy figure waiting for him,”Just a friend.”

This wasn’t just any ‘somebody’. This was a somebody you were coming to know inside and out.

“Son of a… Would you excuse me?” Your tight lipped smile read undeniable annoyance as you slam his beers down onto the counter. Promptly you ask your coworker in passing to keep an eye on your station whilst you dealt with an inconvenience. They asked no questions and you marched your way over to the booth where the familiar face perched grinning up at you. Unperturbed. He looked different now, dishevelled and worn out. The top of his collared dress shirt unbuttoned to his collar bone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows which reveal the ink sketched along his arms. He really wasn't what he seemed, was he?

“I see you’ve met Steve—”

“You following me?” You have never been tailed before, but that doesn’t mean you’re dim witted to what officers do to those they suspect of a crime.

Eddie couldn’t help but admire your sharp instincts, although they were untrue this time around, “I am not.”

“I don’t believe that.” Defensively your arms pull across your chest, “This is my bar and I ain’t never seen you around here before. Now, it could be coincidence but I think that highly unlikely given the recent events. So, you're either following me or you’re moving in next door. Which is it?”

You stand toe to toe for a minute, neither one of you willing enough to back down until Eddie eventually gives in. Not a soul alive could amount to your stubbornness.

“I am working,” He confesses, “But this isn’t about you.” He cranes his neck to catch the gentleman's attention at the bar who you had curtly dismissed, “My partner. I’d tell you what we’re doing here but you know I can’t.”

“So, you’re in law enforcement and you drink on the job. Could you get any more predictable?” The ribbon of your apron tickles the back of your bare thighs.

“I’m full of surprises.” He muses.

“Is that so?” You hide your amusement well.

Eddie hums, punctuating Steve’s arrival to the table. Now with only one beer in his hand which he glides along to Eddie.

“Surprise me, then.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I doubt you can.”

Steve groans sleep stricken into his hand, “Come. On.”

“Sit with us. Have a drink?”

“Is that the trick up your sleeve?”

“I’ll have you know that casual drinks can take you all sorts of places.”

“Like back to your place?”

He shrugs with a ghost of a grin which he conceals masterfully as his lips come to purse around the neck of the beer bottle to take a refreshing swig.

“Unlike you two rookies who are supposed to be on the clock, I can’t be wasted while at work. Buh-bye, boys.”

Quietly they salute your departure.

“Oh, and Eddie?” You pivot to face him.

“Yeah?”

“You know where I live. You're meant to woo the girl before you ask her out to drinks,” Your lips dance with the faintest smug smile, “I like Marlboro Reds and pink tulips.”

“Where d ‘ya like to eat?” He coaxes.

“Surprise me.”

"Is that a yes?”

“Maybe. As long as little Bo-Peep leaves her sheep at the station.”

“Fuck you—” Steve’s curse is an exaggerated slur of his drunken tongue.

“You have my word.” He crossed his heart like a Boy Scout and you rolled your eyes with a smirk.

“Bye, now…” Eddie watched each sway of your hips as you walked away and your smirk remained there prominent on your face. Knowing that he was looking at you in a way that screamed that he wanted to play your game of chess.

People were buzzing around you like trailer park mosquitoes and the swarms only worsened as the night dragged on. You lost track of Eddie’s whereabouts quickly with the flow of customer traffic and the soles of your shoes became sticky with spilled alcohol on the worn wooden slats. Each step was like walking on glue and even over the noise of the live band you could hear the velcro like sound ripping in your ears.

“Hey, Dollface! I ordered a drink ten fuckin’ minutes ago!” The boozehound snarks from your side as he wraps a slimy fist around your bicep which you snatch away before he has the chance to clamp his fingers down on the flesh.

“Touch me again and that drink will get smacked over your head , ‘Darlin!” You spit in his face, unafraid and challenging. Part of you hoped for the violence because there was nothing you wanted more than to slap him in his idiot face.

“Just pour the damn drink!” He looked to his plaid clad buddies for validation and you tuck your serving tray beneath your armpit. Some of them ignore the altercation entirely while some chuckle softly to themselves.

“Word of advice, Sweetie,” You leaned in dangerously close. Close enough to smell the stench of fermented beer on his breath, “Don’t talk shit to the person handling your beverages. I might just get Big Chef Gary over there to spit in it for ya.” You flash a wink over to Gary who stood sweating in the corner, a damp towel pressed to his forehead and his dirtied off-white apron low on his hips.

The stubbly faced man gulps, unwilling to put up the fight you were hoping for and unfortunately he flinches at the thought and shrinks down in his seat.

Slightly disappointed you turn back to the bar, ill prepared for your heated stare to meet Eddie’s across the room. Shrouded in shadow his eyes held an intensity you hadn’t registered before. His feet were planted firmly on the floor where he stood, braced and ready to spring to your aid if need be. If there was anything Eddie hated more than bullies and lukewarm beer it was sleazy drunk men with no manners towards women. He couldn't stand it, but seeing you handle the dirtbag yourself made him inwardly smile.

As the end of your shift neared the anticipation pumping through your veins with each tick of the quiet clock hand was enough to send you climbing the walls, “You look excited.” Eddie appeared in front of you like a corny jump-scare in an old horror movie.

“Shift ends soon.” Your eyes flicker between him and the small leather strapped watch on your wrist.

“You uh… you’re quite the magnet for trouble, aren't cha’?” You immediately scoff with tight eyebrows.

“That guy was a pig— no pun intended.” Eddie shook his head, his curly hair sweeping against his brow bone.

“I admire your courage. Usually that kind of confrontation takes me at least a few drinks.” His finger tip draws short circles on the counter top and the gleam of his silver rings catch your eye.

“Yeah, well, round these parts you have to hold your own…” A soft shrug of your shoulders draws Eddie’s attention to the fly away baby hairs tickling the base of your neck. So unravelled yet beautifully soft.

“Tell me ‘bout it,” The words possessed him and a split second decision between freezing and laughing it off held him hostage. He decided a bit of both would suffice. Thankfully you mistake his discomfort for drunken tomfoolery.

“How many have you had?” You quiz with a teasing squint of your eyes.

“‘M sober as a judge.” And he was. The lone beer hadn’t even given him a slight buzz. Apparently, though, it had given him the curious urge to open up to you.

“I saw you earlier… you looked.. bewitched.”

“By you? Oh, yeah—”

“No. Seriously,” You study him, “You were ready for a fight… maybe you’re as prone to a brawl as I am.”

“It was just instinct.”

“Comes with the job?” You interrogate further and it silences him for a moment.

Shyer now his hands clasp in front of him and he studies the skin around his nails, “Not quite.” You saw him then, the wounded child that created the man with a irreparable chip on his shoulder. It squeezed your chest because you knew that deep down you were both alike in ways unspoken.

“Walk me to my car?” To that Eddie beams, his smile a blinding ray in the sombre light.

“I was wondering when you’d ask.”

—

The black concrete beneath your boot clad feet is riddled with cracks and the smell of freshly mowed grass clings to your nostril hairs causing you to nearly sneeze. Nearly. When you find your car nearby it is tucked away in a bay with the white lines barely visible. Faded to the tarmac.

“Y'know, it looks like you’ve abandoned that car,” Your face finds Eddie, his hands are stuffed into his denim jacket and beneath the street lamps he is even more striking than the first time you lay eyes on him, “I could probably book you for parking illegally.”

“Go on, Detective. Cuff me.” You hold out your upturned hands, expecting a silly slap to the wrists but what you receive left you near breathless and flinchingly wary.

The rough pads of Eddie’s thumbs find the veins of your wrist, stroking tenderly with an apologetic undertone, “They marked you.”

The remorseful look on his face had you feeling stranded with a head full of noise.

The red rings hadn’t entirely left the delicate skin and you had forgotten about them until now. Now they itched as if they were fresh and a dormant part of you snatches your hands away from the gentle man in front of you.

“Doesn't hurt, if that’s what you’re wondering. Besides, I’m a big girl. Can handle it.” Steady fingers slot your car key into the door mechanism and the car screams to life with the anti-theft alarm sounding into the night. Clumsily, you clamber inside and shut it off before you attract unwanted nocturnal attention. Eddie observed you voicelessly, his heart rattling as he tried to keep a firm grasp on who he was and who he was with. Until his professionalism ran dry.

His face ducks down into the dark of your car to meet your eyes, “Can we start over? Not from the beginning but from right now. Here.” Somehow he knew he had crossed a line.

It was incomprehensible to you that this stranger, a shady police officer no less, would care about your well being and expect nothing in return. Why did he want to befriend you? What was he looking for? More importantly, what were your burying?

“I’m not sure what you want from me.” Your hands grip the steering wheel intensely, paling your knuckles as you try to work through your discomfort.

“Why do I need to want something from you? Can’t two people coexist as friends…?” His eyes alluded that he wanted more than that.

“I don’t expect you to understand this, Detective, but what you're looking for… you won’t find it in me. Our worlds are too different to ever coexist,” You would be lying if you said his soured expression didn’t blanket you in a veil of guilt, “You should focus on whatever it is you’re working on. And next time… I’ll walk myself to my car.”

“So, there will be a next time?” He toyed.

“Goodnight.”

Eddie stood there, absorbing the small frown on your face and the light bouncing off of your cheek. He may have stood there a minute too long but he didn’t mind. This could be his last time seeing you, after all. But he doubted it…

After closing your car door for you he raps the palm of his hand against the tin metal of your roof a few times, seeing you off as backed out of the parking lot.

You were deeply flawed, Eddie could sense that much, but even after spitting his closeness back in his face the way you did he still decided to watch you drive away with a fascinated sparkle in his deep eyes and a tug to his full lips. You, on the other hand, watched with frustration as his silhouette shrunk to the backdrop in your rearview mirror before he disappeared entirely; consumed by the darkness of nightfall.

The hard pill people who met you had swallow was that you didn’t trust anyone. Not a soul. Over the years no one has managed to get close to you, the real you and it begged the question; Nature or nurture?

The probability being a bit of both.

But you had always felt like you were born backwards. That there was something irremediable within you that even you couldn’t touch or comfort.

Ultimately it led to your aloneness, but you never quite felt lonely. Just alone plus Ellie which you weren’t mad at. You found that it would be nice to talk to another human being, though, someone who could answer your absurd questions back.

Ellie could only sit panting at you with the same puppy eyes she never grew out of.

“What do you think, Ells? Think he's up to something?” Her tail wagged at the sound of your voice and you giggled as she slumped her entire body weight into your side. You wrapped your arms around her, “I’m serious, there’s something about that boy… I just can’t prove it. Yet.”

“What’s this project again?” Robin asked curiously as you stood on your tippy toes to grab a book. “For physics. It’s a little confusing what I want to do, but in summary I’m using a VFO and radio,” you explained briefly. “I can’t believe Steve Harrington of all people is my partner," you groaned, flipping through the pages of the book.

Eddie cringed. “That’s genuinely the most terrible thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Tell me about it,” you scoffed, eyes scanning over the pages of the book you just grabbed. “I’m going to his house tonight. Pray for me.”

Robin’s nose scrunched. “I’m so sorry.”

Eddie shook his head. “You couldn’t…I don’t know…” he trailed off as you reached for another book, tucking the one you just grabbed under your arm. “Meet somewhere more neutral.”

“I wish,” you sighed. “But to assemble the VFO and stuff we need the space and we’d look pretty psycho doing it in public. Besides, it’s gonna be late, it’s not like anywhere is really open.”

Eddie shook his head adamantly, the thought of being put in your shoes sending him spiraling. “I would just kill myself.” His words completely caught you off guard, causing you to slowly lift your head and raise a brow. Eddie noticed how your demeanor had shifted. “Not insinuating that’s what you should do, but it’s what I would do if I were you.”

You flashed the boy a sarcastic smile. “Wow. Thanks for that.”

Robin huffed and ruffled your hair making you shake her off, though your lips were curled into a less sarcastic smile. “You’ll survive. Don’t listen to Eddie. Besides, I’d prefer it if you survived and came back.”

You motioned to Robin with a smile, looking right at Eddie. “See? Someone wants me alive.”

Eddie threw his hand up. “I don’t want you to die. I actually find you half interesting to be around under certain circumstances.

You rolled your eyes, putting one of the two books back. “You suck, Munson.”

Robin hummed, spinning around, the soda she drank earlier catching up to her. “Where’s the bathroom in this place?”

“If I were to take a wild guess, it would be right there where the sign is labeled restroom,” Eddie said sarcastically. “But what do I know?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Robin grumbled, walking down the aisle toward the bathroom.

Eddie smiled and turned towards you. Your nose was buried in a new book, and for the first time, you seemed confused by physics, which was new for Eddie.

He had only ever known you as a genius, so seeing you confused by something that seemed to always make sense in your perfect little brain threw him off.

Your eyes widened and you set the book back, looking for a new one.

“What’s wrong with that one?” Eddie asked.

“Way too advanced,” you admitted, fingers tracing over the spines of the books on the shelf. “I’m a high school sophomore, not a genius.”

“You basically are,” Eddie shrugged. “You know everything.”

Most people in your life took you as a certified genius, which was nice sometimes, but other times, the pressure was on. You felt like there was no room for mistakes and that everyone constantly expected you to always know the answer to something.

You chuckled, grabbing a new book that seemed more on your level. “I wish.” You sighed, cracking the book open. “I really wish Mr. Parker would’ve given me a new partner. I mean, Steve Harrington? He’s such an ass. He’s so mean, it’s kinda scary.”

Eddie smirked. “You think everyone is mean and scary.”

You looked up from your book. “I definitely do not.”

Eddie chuckled. “You thought I was mean and scary when you first met me.”

“Because look at you,” you said, motioning to him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You look scary,” you said with a shrug, flipping through your book again.

You weren’t ever scared of anyone in all your years of living, with the exception of Eddie Munson.

You were intimidated by him when you first met him, but after talking to him for roughly three minutes, you realized he was the complete opposite of his appearance. He was the sweetest boy you had ever met.

Eddie Munson was the type of guy to hold doors open for you, hold your skateboard while you browsed around for books, and even worse, he was the type of guy to make you feel seen.

He was a great…friend.

Best friend.

Eddie leaned in a little closer to you, not too close, but close enough. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.

You raised your brow. “Go ahead.”

“I actually kinda thought you were mean and scary too,” he said softly.

You blinked, both of your brows raising. “What?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “You were so quiet in middle school and everyone knew you were practically Einstein. I was terrified when Robin introduced you.”

“Do you still think I’m mean and scary?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Only when you get all nerdy and realize everyone around you is an idiot.”

Your jaw dropped. “You think I’m mean?”

Eddie glanced away, then back at you. “Do you think you’re not?”

“I hate you,” you grumbled, setting the book down.

“I’m joking,” he said with a small laugh. “I actually think you’re really nice once people get close. If you let them.”

You tilted your head slightly. “So now you think I don’t let people get close?”

Eddie shook his head. “Uh…not really. You only ever talk to me and Robin and your brother and his friends.”

You thought about it for a moment and truth be told, you never let anyone get too close. A part of you was terrified they’d find out a major secret you were hiding, but you weren’t hiding any big secrets.

Not one that you were aware of.

Not yet at least.

“That’s enough character study for today,” you said, grabbing a new book. “I’d prefer to not become conscious of whether or not I let people in.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s not a bad thing, believe me,” he said. “Sometimes I talk too much and let people know more than they should.”

“I know,” you mumbled, reading a page out of the new book you grabbed.

Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically as he leaned his back onto the shelf. He watched you read over a few pages. He was quiet for a bit, but starting to grow antsy, so he sucked his teeth, tapping you with the end of your board. “Wanna hear about the dream I had last night?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, so boom, it’s night time.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile as your eyes scanned the pages of the book, ears listening to what Eddie was saying.

“Well, I think it was,” he corrected himself. “Anyways, I was in this place that looked just like Hawkins but…it was scary and nasty as shit. And your brother was there and we were wearing the weirdest clothes. He was like, in this hole in the ceiling thing that was, like, my trailer, I don’t know how to explain it, but I was gonna go through the same hole, but I stopped and ran out and a swarm of bats was chasing me.”

You slowly looked up at him, a perplexed look on your face.

“A lot happened, but in summary, I died!” he whisper shouted. “I woke up right when I died, but it was so weird. It felt so real and, like, I felt the bats biting me,” he grimaced.

Your nose scrunched as you shut the book, tucking it under your arm with the other book you chose. “That’s crazy, Eddie,” you said dryly.

“No, no,” he said, sensing that you didn’t believe him, didn’t care, or both. “I’m serious! I had the dream and it felt so real. You know how they say dreams have meaning?”

“Sure.”

“What do you think it means?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re gonna die,” you teased.

“That’s no joking matter,” Eddie said, following you as you walked down the aisle. “I woke up in a cold sweat, I was so scared.”

“That’s gross.”

“You know what,” Eddie said, catching up to you and standing in front of you to make you stop walking. “If I’m the first to die, you’re gonna be really sad. A sobbing mess I bet.”

“First of all, you’re not dying anytime soon,” you said. “Second of all, you’re not gonna be mauled by bats in an alternate dimension. That shit isn’t even real.”

Suddenly, Eddie’s eyes lit up at two words in particular. Alternate dimension. It was like everything clicked all at once in his brain. “Holy shit! You’re a genius!” he exclaimed, racing back down the physics aisle.

“Dude,” you groaned. “Where are you going?”

“Come forth, patron!”

You huffed, following him down the aisle. He snagged a book off of the shelf and found the table of contents, flipping to a page. “Ah,” he said. “Check this out.”

You joined his side, your arm brushing his as you peered inside. “Block universe theory?” you asked, reading the header.

Eddie nodded. “Aka eternalism. The idea that the past, present, and future all exist simultaneously. You ever heard of it?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“It’s pretty cool,” Eddie said, flipping through the pages. “Maybe I tapped into the future and saw how I would die,” he chuckled.

You pressed your brows together. “That makes so much sense,” you said sarcastically.

“Hey, I don’t see you explaining my dreams.”

“Because your mind is corrupt and you’re dreaming of weird shit.”

“Nuh huh,” Eddie said, flipping to a new chapter. “Oh, look here. Many worlds theory. Maybe I tapped into a different timeline where I do die. Perhaps I get to live in this one.”

“That’s a shame,” you teased. “Was hoping I’d have to deal with you less.”

Eddie scoffed and flipped to a new chapter. “You’re evil.” His eyes lit up when he landed on a page discussing Einstein-Rosen bridges. “Woah, cool,” he breathed out. “Time travel. I'm getting this,” he announced, shutting the book, a loud boom ensuing afterwards. “Oops,” he whispered, hoping the librarian wouldn’t crucify him.

Just then, Robin returned, eyeing the book in Eddie’s hand. “You read?”

“I do, actually,” Eddie announced matter of factly. “I’m going to figure out why I had a dream about me dying last night.”

Robin quirked a brow. “That’s a physics book.”

“He thinks he either dreamt about the future or dreamt about another timeline,” you informed her.

Robin chuckled. “Why not pick up a book on dream interpretations?” she asked. “I heard if you dream about dying it’s a symbol for personal growth.”

Eddie hummed as he lifted his finger. “Except I’m convinced it was real,” Eddie said.

“Except, you’re standing right in front of me,” Robin sassed. “So either I’m speaking to your ghost, or it was just a normal dream.”

“Except, you’re wrong in both cases,” Eddie fired back. “Look, it was one hundred percent, undeniably, totally real. You don’t get it. Just wait until I prove all you dorks wrong.”

“Dork,” Robin chuckled. “You’re a dork.”

“Just wait and see, Buckley. I’ll be expecting a heartfelt apology.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath as you stood outside of Steve Harrington’s house.

You were already incredibly annoyed and you hadn’t even set foot in his home yet.

The backpack clinging to both of your shoulders was incredibly heavy, your back already aching. Your skateboard was tucked under your non dominant hand, your dominant hand raised slightly as you hesitated to ring the doorbell.

If you could have it your way, you’d just work on the project yourself, but then again, you gave him a list of supplies that you needed and he had them, so you kind of didn’t have a choice.

“Fuck my life,” you grumbled before ringing the doorbell.

A few seconds later, Steve swung the door open, greeting you with a smile. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he greeted you.

You pulled your lips into a tight line as he moved out of the way to let you inside. “If you could take your shoes off by the door that would be great,” he said, shutting and locking the front door.

You set your skateboard down onto the ground and untied your shoes before kicking them off and setting them where other shoes were lined up by the door, except all the shoes appeared to be Steve’s.

Steve led you through his house which was much larger than your own home, though your house felt far more lived in. Homey. Like more than one person lived there.

Steve’s house on the other hand felt a little more…lonesome.

He halted in the kitchen where you found three plastic bags on the counter. “So, that’s all the stuff you asked me to buy,” Steve said.

You took your backpack off and put it into the counter. You pulled one bag towards you and rummaged inside, pulling something out that irked your soul more than it already was.

“What the hell is this?” you asked, holding it up.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “The wire that you asked for.”

You scoffed. “I did not ask for this shit. I asked for enameled copper magnet wire. Not enameled aluminum wire.”

Steve shrugged, not a care in the world. “What’s the difference? It’s all wire.”

“The difference is that this is aluminum and not copper,” you said, pointing at the wire.

Steve rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff. “I mean, it’s honestly all just a bunch of bullshit to me, so who cares?”

You stared at Steve in disbelief. You knew he was an asshole, but experiencing it first hand made you want to rip your hair out.

How the hell had he pulled so many girls at school?

What could possibly be the appeal with this guy?

You’d be the last person to ever fall in love with Steve Harrington. He was everything you despised. Arrogant. Rude. Self centered.

And more importantly.

Annoying as hell.

You shook your head, tossing the useless wire into the counter. “You’re an idiot. Like, genuinely, you’re an idiot.”

Steve leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and you’re so condescending and arrogant.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?” you practically laughed.

“You think you’re the only smart person in this room and-”

“Well that’s because I am,” you interrupted him, looking around the room. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re the only two people here and if it’s between you and me in a race for intelligence, then I’ve won by a long shot, Harrington.”

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing right at you. “That. That right there is exactly what I’m talking about. You are so blinded by arrogance.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I am not arrogant. God forbid I’m confident that I’m smart. You want to talk about arrogance? You have so much prejudice, so much pride, that you weren’t willing to work with me because you’re under the notion that I’m ‘weird’,” you said, using finger quotes.

Now it was Steve’s turn to laugh. “I’m not wrong, you are weird and everyone knows it.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh at him again. “I’m weird because I skate?” you asked. “I’m weird because I like comics and superheroes and I actually enjoy school and learning?” you went on. “Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

You never seemed to care what other people thought of you, and you had no shame in not conforming into what people wanted you to be.

“I promise the part of you that you hide from is the part trying to help."

You weren’t too sure where those words came from, who said it, the context, or if it was even directed at you.

All you knew was that whoever said it was speaking the truth.

The words resonated with you so much that you never shied away from who you were. You weren’t insecure, didn’t worry about what everyone else thought. You knew exactly who you were and you were proud of it.

So, Steve Harrington calling you weird didn’t make you bat an eye because sure, according to societal standards you were weird.

So what?

And truth be told, the parts of yourself that you tried to hide always helped. Such as now for example. You were so smart that your teacher paired you up with the student who had the lowest grade. At least it proved you were intelligent enough to handle it.

Steve shook his head in annoyance and motioned to the stuff on the table. “Are you going to get started or what?”

You raised your brows at his audacity. “Am I going to get started?” you repeated, to which he nodded. “You do realize that this is your project too. You also need to contribute.”

“I did,” he said matter of factly. “I just bought you all that crap and I’m providing a place for you to work,” he said, motioning around the house. “My work here is done.”

You looked at Steve in disbelief, unable to wrap your head around how someone could be so…

Him.

“You are such a cliché,” you scoffed.

“How?”

“Big house, rich parents, captain of the basketball team, screwed around with every girl at school, and a fucking douche bag?” you said. “Screams cliché.”

You grabbed your backpack off of the counter, slinging it over your shoulder and walking right past Steve and out of the kitchen.

Steve threw his arms up, following you to the front door where you were slipping one of your shoes on. “Where are you going?” he asked. “To get your stupid copper wire?” he scoffed.

You tugged your laces a little harsher than necessary, as you looked up at Steve with a condescending smile. “I’m going home, dingus.”

Steve’s brows pressed together, genuine confusion written on his face. “Why?” he scoffed. “Are you seriously that pissed off that I got the wrong kind of wire, nerd?”

You sighed, grabbing your other shoe and pausing to speak. “While I am irritated you got the wrong wire, it’s not just that,” you said, calmer than usual. “You’re genuinely so rude and don’t even see it.”

“I’m rude?” he repeated.

“You are,” you nodded.

“You’re rude too,” he scoffed. “Calling me an idiot and shit.”

“In case no one’s ever told you, or you’re just too ignorant to take note of it yourself, you get what you put out.”

You lifted your other foot up to slip your shoe back on and for one second, just the one, Steve Harrington actually thought about what you said.

Which then led him to remember what Mr. Parker had said about finding you much more pleasant if it weren’t for how he behaved.

A wave of guilt washed over Steve as he pulled his lips into a tight line and shifted awkwardly, watching you lace up your shoe.

“So…” he trailed off. “Are we just not gonna do the project?” he asked quietly.

You raised your brows. “We?”

Steve swallowed, looking away from you. “Yeah. We.”

You smirked. “Are you done being an ass, dingus?”

Steve finally met your gaze as he hummed in thought. “Towards you? Never, nerd. But I guess I can be cordial for a few hours.”

You had no interest in ever speaking to him again once the project was done, all you wanted was for him to be a normal human being for a month while you worked on the project.

You flashed him a soft smile, Steve surprisingly giving you one back. “And that’s all I ask.”

You were hunched over the dining room table, glasses that made everything seem way larger and clearer on the bridge of your nose.

“Where the hell did you get this radio?” you asked, moving wires around and accidentally hitting a wire that made the circuit board spark a bit.

Steve’s eyes widened when you flinched slightly so as to not be hit by the spark of electricity. “Radio Shack. I would’ve bought a new one, but your list said ‘used’.”

The radio Steve bought wasn’t working in the slightest bit. You couldn’t even get a bit of static out for more than five seconds without it glitching, so now you were trying to fix it before making the decision to buy a completely new one. You would’ve lectured him for not checking to see if it worked before buying it, but fortunately for him, you didn't have the energy.

You hummed, sticking your hand out. “I mean, yeah, it’s cheaper than buying a whole new radio. Can you pass me the screw driver?”

Steve reached across the table, grabbing the screw driver and handing it to you, his fingers accidentally grazing yours.

You didn’t seem to notice, or to care for that matter because you just began to unscrew the circuit board, not even acknowledging what he did.

Steve on the other hand, well, his fingers were oddly tingly.

Maybe he just grazed your skin and anyone would feel that sensation when doing so.

But…

Something about it felt weirdly familiar and warm. Like, it wasn’t the first time he had done it.

Shaking off the feeling, he watched as you took a bunch of screws out, clearly trying to take the circuit board out. "What are you doing?" Steve asked, confused by what exactly it was that you were doing.

"I’m taking the circuit board out so I can see if the capacitor is failing, if the potentiometers are dirty, or if the solder joints are corroded," you mumbled, eyes locked on the interior of the radio.

Steve raised a brow, not understanding a word you just said.

You glanced up at him. "I'm seeing why it's glitching."

"Ah," Steve said with a nod, clicking his pen, fingers drumming gently against your notebook.

Just then, his clicks began to slow as he stared at the table.

He had just gotten a wave of déjà vu.

Steve Harrington felt like he had that same conversation with you before, he just couldn’t remember when.

But then again, he never spoke to you up until now, so…he wasn’t so sure why he felt like he had that conversation with you before.

You shut your eyes in annoyance, letting out a deep sigh. “Can you stop clicking your pen, it’s awfully annoying.”

Steve stopped clicking his pen, then realized that he stopped clicking his pen because you told him to.

So, naturally, he had to click it some more, but louder and faster this time.

You dropped the screw driver and set the radio down, pushing your glasses up to the top of your head. “Are you serious right now?”

Steve smirked, clicking the pen in your face. “Is this annoying you?”

“Yeah, it is, actually.”

“Good.”

He continued to click the pen, shoving it in your face.

You snatched the pen out of his hand and pointed at him with it. “You’re like a bad ass little kid,” you said.

“And you’re like a grumpy old lady.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed the radio and screw driver towards him, tossing the pen onto the table and away from him. “Fix the radio.”

Steve blinked, playing with the corner of your notebook. “Huh?”

“Fix it,” you repeated. “Since, you know, I’m so grumpy. Maybe if you actually helped I’d be more happy.”

Steve stared down at the radio, the back of it opened. Wires stuck out and the circuit board you were messing with was half attached. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”

“The inside of a radio.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve scoffed.

Steve stared at the opened radio, tapping the screwdriver gently against the table.

You drummed your fingers against the same surface, and when Steve turned to you with a sheepish look, you simply smiled and batted your lashes.

Steve pulled his lips into a tight line, giving you puppy eyes you didn’t know he possessed until then. “Help?”

You snorted, scooting your chair closer to him, your shoulders nearly touching. “You see those two screws keeping the circuit board attached?” you asked.

Steve swallowed hard, realizing you were awfully close, and that familiar feeling he had been having every night in his dreams came back, but more real than ever before.

You were pretty weird to him, so maybe you casted some kind of spell on him.

Because why did he feel like that?

Why did it feel like there had been something between you two before?

“Mhm,” he hummed.

“Okay, I already took the other screws out, so go ahead and take the last two out, and then you can take the circuit board out.”

Steve nodded and squinted before unscrewing one of the tiny screws.

You watched him as you sighed, leaning back in your chair, moving away from Steve.

Oddly enough, his arm that was closest to you had gone cold.

Steve removed one of the screws and set it into the table. You slid your hand across the table and took it, adding it to the pile of screws beside you, not wanting to lose any.

Steve went to take the last screw out and-

“Ow! Fuck!”

The circuit board sparked, and it hit his fingers.

He jolted, the radio tipping over and the screwdriver falling from his hand as he shook the pain out of it. “What the hell?!”

You gave him an annoyed look, grabbing the radio and the screwdriver with an eye roll.

“Hey, hey,” he stopped you. “What are you doing?”

“Taking the screw out since you’re a big baby,” you said, pulling your glasses off of your head and onto your face.

Your screwdriver was just a few inches from the circuit when Steve snagged the radio. “Give me that. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said, motioning to his hand with raised brows.

You snatched the radio back, pointing at him with your screwdriver. “I’m not,” you said bluntly. “You know why? Because I actually know what I’m doing. That’s the difference between you and me.”

Steve put his hands up in a surrender. “Whatever. Don’t come crying to me when you get electrocuted.”

“Oh, you’d just love that, wouldn’t you, Harrington?” you laughed, taking the last screw out with ease, popping the circuit board out right after.

You smirked at Steve as he rolled his eyes.

You set the circuit board down and began to scan it over, starting by looking for loose wires.

You then realized it was too dark to assess anything. “Can you shine the flashlight on this?” you asked.

Steve nodded and leaned over the table to grab the flashlight, turning the light on and shining it right at the circuit board.

You looked for loose wires.

None.

Old battery corrosion?

Nope.

Broken components?

Not that you could tell.

Leaking capacitor?

No.

So…why the hell wasn’t the radio working properly?

Steve yawned, the light moving away from the circuit board.

“Steve!” you snapped, making him jump.

“Huh?!”

“Stop moving the flashlight!”

Steve rolled his eyes and shined the flashlight in your face, causing you to squint and put a hand up to block out the light. “Look, nerd,” he groaned. “I don’t know what you’re doing, and honestly, I don’t care. But what I do know is that you’ve been messing around with this stupid circuit board for an hour and we’ve gotten nowhere, so is me moving the flashlight two centimeters the real issue here?”

You snatched the flashlight out of his hand, now shining it in his face. “Look, dingus,” you began. “I don’t know who you’re talking to, because it isn’t me. In case you’ve forgotten, you need me, not the other way around. Furthermore, you’re the one who bought this shit radio, so if anything, the reason it’s taking me so long to figure out what the hell is wrong with it is because of you.”

Steve went to grab the flashlight from your hand, but the light shut off suddenly.

He assumed it was you, but when you blinked and peered into the part that was supposed to be lit, he knew the batteries had died.

You hit the side of the flashlight, and the light flickered on dully, but died out soon after.

You groaned and tossed the flashlight down, grabbing the circuit board and going to put it back into the radio.

You were extremely confused as to why it wasn’t working when nothing seemed to be wrong with it. And as much as you hated whenever Steve opened his mouth, he was slightly right.

Slightly.

You had been checking the circuit board for far too long, basically getting nowhere.

It was in good shape, so the radio truly had no reason to not be working.

Your next hope was to just put the circuit board back in and it magically start to work again.

Steve grabbed the flashlight and sighed before standing up. “Gonna grab some new batteries,” he said, holding the flashlight up.

“Mhm,” you hummed, lining up a screw before twisting it back in.

Steve made his way upstairs into his room, opening his drawer where he found a few loose batteries. He grabbed them and tossed them onto his bed.

He went to open up the flashlight to replace the batteries, but froze.

The light on the flashlight began to flicker before turning on again.

Steve’s brows pressed together. He clicked the light off. Then clicked it on again.

It was working just fine.

“What the hell,” he muttered to himself, flicking the light on and off a few more times.

The flashlight was working perfectly fine.

He grabbed the batteries off of his bed, just in case the flashlight decided to not work again when he got back down stairs.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepared to deal with you again, before walking out of his room and shutting his door gently.

He walked down the hallway, the light above him flickering before shutting off.

He stopped, staring up at the light.

Steve would assume it to be an electrical issue, but the flashlight in his hands told him otherwise, the light flashing on, then off again.

He shook his head, walking further down the hallway.

By the time he made it to the edge of the stairs, he could hear the soft hum of the radio.

You must’ve fixed it in the time he was gone.

"Stars shining bright above you..."

"Night breezes seem to whisper I love you."

Steve made his way down the stairs, walking towards the dining room table, the music growing louder the closer he got.

You were staring at the radio, looking almost like a deer in headlights.

For some reason unbeknownst to you, your heart dropped, body tensing, and breath catching in your throat.

You were absolutely terrified of the song playing, but didn’t know why.

The song had no negative connotation as far as you were concerned, so something wasn’t adding up.

The song began to glitch, sounding a bit more muffled before it cut out completely, leaving the room in a tense silence.

You swallowed hard, snapping out of whatever trance you were in.

You glanced up to see Steve staring at the radio, an unreadable expression on his face. Almost like he too was supposed to have a negative memory tied to the song, but he just couldn’t quite remember what.

He averted his gaze, glancing at you. You shut your eyes, gripping the screwdriver even tighter in your dominant hand, knuckles turning white.

“You okay?” Steve asked softly.

You hesitated before opening your eyes, flashing him a smile that didn’t quite match what you were trying to convey. “Fine,” you breathed out. “I think you bought a cursed radio,” you joked.

Steve laughed awkwardly, glancing back at the radio. “Worst case scenario, my dad has guns.”

You pressed your brows together. “Guns work on ghosts?”

Steve shrugged. “I guess we’ll be the first to find out.”

Reader, as much as he’d like to scare you through a radio again, he’s not.

It’s something else.

You’re on the brink of discovering something life changing.

Around the Wheeler table the sound of forks and knives clanking against porcelain plates filled your ears.

Your seat was situated in between your little brother and Lucas, Mike seated directly across from you. Usually when you’d come by for dinner, though you hadn’t been in a while, Mike would stare at you from across the table, just to make you mad, but today he wasn’t. He was staring down at his plate the entire time. Sometimes, he’d kick you under the table and claim it was ‘an honest accident’, but he hadn’t done that either.

You skated all the way from Steve’s place to the Wheeler residence, all your stuff dropped off by the front door.

You didn’t really want to come, you’d much rather be snuggled up in bed with a comic or book, or even at home tinkering with the radio.

But when Dustin came into your room and told you he was going over to Mike’s for dinner and that Mrs. Wheeler said you were more than welcome to come too, you opted in.

Only because Dustin was practically begging you to show up.

Little did you know, he and his friends had something important to tell you.

Or rather show you.

But that’s not why you went. You went because you figured Dustin needed the support given Will was missing.

Since you arrived at the house and got seated, the boys had been acting awfully strange, and it started with you noticing Mike not even bothering to irritate you. As far as you were concerned when it came to all three boys, they ate way more than they were eating now.

They were picking at their food, clearly not wanting to eat it.

On top of that, they were incredibly quiet.

You assumed it was because they were down a member, but regardless it was odd to not have to listen to them talking on and on about nonsensical topics you didn’t care to listen to, though you’d pretend anyway and they’d never know.

Clearly, Karen Wheeler had caught on to what you did too, because her eyes darted between the boys as she finally spoke up. “Something wrong with meatloaf?” she asked.

Dustin looked up with a smile, a little food on his fork. “Oh, no,” he reassured her. “I had two bologna sandwiches for lunch.” He faltered awkwardly, then smiled again. “I don’t know why.”

Lucas chuckled, making the strange awkwardness. “Me too.”

You smiled, looking over to Karen. “It’s great, Mrs. Wheeler.”

Karen smiled. “Aw, thank you, sweetie,” she replied before taking a sip of her wine. She lifted her fork again and pointed at you with it. “You should come by more often, we’ve missed you. What have you been up to these days?”

You shrugged. “Oh, you know, just the usual. School, homework, all that academic stuff,” you said. “Actually, I just finished working on a project for the end of the semester science fair.”

Karen nodded and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll have no problems with that, you’re extremely smart and talented.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler.”

And just like that, the room fell back into the silence until Nancy Wheeler spoke up from her spot beside her mom.

“So, there’s this…” she trailed off, gathering her thoughts. “Special assembly thing tonight…for Will at the school field. Barb’s driving.”

You pressed your brows together as you looked at Nancy, unsure of what school assembly she was talking about.

Then you realized she was lying to go to Steve’s place.

“Why am I just hearing about this?” Karen asked, cutting into her meatloaf. She glanced up at you, silently looking to see if you knew about the assembly too.

You glanced over at Nancy and she raised her brows, blue eyes boring into yours.

You glanced back at Karen and simply smiled before looking back down at your food.

She seemed to have bought it when she turned back to Nancy. “I told you, I don’t want you out after dark until Will is found.”

“I know, I know, but it’ll be super weird if I’m not there,” Nancy said. “I mean, everyone’s going.”

Karen sighed and glanced at you. “Are you going?”

You went to say no and that you had a project to work on, which wasn’t entirely a lie, but you didn’t even have time to open your mouth because all at once, the boys shouted one word.

“No!”

The room fell silent as everyone stared at the boys who now laughed awkwardly.

“We’ve gotta get home,” Dustin said sheepishly. “Mom gets worried, you know.”

You side eyed Dustin and glared between Lucas and Mike, unsure as to why they all just shouted that you couldn’t go.

Karen sighed again and turned to Nancy. “Just…be back by ten.”

Nancy nodded.

“Why don’t you take the boys too?” Karen asked Nancy.

And again, they all shouted one word.

“No!”

Karen’s brows rose. “Don’t you think you should be there? For Will?”

Mike glanced up behind Karen and immediately spit his milk out.

You followed his line of sight and your eyes widened as you watched a girl, around the boys’ age, with a shaved head come walking down the steps.

Karen went to turn around, but Dustin slammed his fists on the table, making everyone turn to look at him and away from the mysterious girl.

Holly whined as Dustin realized all eyes were on him.

He sank into his chair. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Spasm.”

You watched as the girl walked into the living room, and you slowly turned your head to Lucas. His eyes were wide as he slowly lifted a finger to his lips, silently telling you not to say anything.

Holly cowered down in her chair with a small whine, and Karen dropped her fork. “It’s okay, Holly. It’s just a loud noise.”

“Nice,” Nancy muttered, turning to Dustin who pulled his lips into a tight line and looked down at his shoes.

You were in the kitchen washing dishes for Mrs. Wheeler as the boys dried them and put them away.

Mrs. Wheeler insisted that she could do it herself, but you told her not to worry about it.

When she finally left the kitchen, you turned to the kids with a stern look. “You little shitheads better explain what is going on. Right now,” you said, washing off a fork.

Dustin put his hands up in a surrender. “Alright. Alright.” He sighed and lowered his voice, drying a plate and handing it to Mike to put away. “That girl you saw, we found her in the woods last night. On Mirkwood.”

You raised a brow. “Why were you guys in the woods?”

Lucas gave you a sheepish look. “We were looking for Will,” he admitted. “That’s when we found her.”

“Her name is Eleven,” Mike explained, shutting the cabinet door. “El for short. We were going to tell my mom, but El’s in danger. She says bad men are after her.”

Your brows pressed together. “Bad men?”

Mike nodded. “We just have no idea who they are.”

“Not to mention earlier when she totally opened a door with her mind,” Dustin said. “She has superpowers and she apparently knows where Will is.”

You shut the water off, drying your hands with a paper towel. “Hold up, hold on,” you said, shutting your eyes and shaking your head. “So you mean to tell me that last night you went looking for Will and on Mirkwood you found Eleven? The girl with superpowers who’s hiding from ‘bad men’ and knows where Will is?”

“Yes,” Mike and Dustin said while Lucas said, “Allegedly.”

You chuckled, but your face fell when the kids looked at you with a seriousness you had never seen before. “You’re not joking?”

“No,” Dustin said. “We’re serious. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

You sighed and threw your head back. “I do not have the energy for this.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” Mike said. “But you’re the only adult we can trust.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Close enough.”

“El?” Mike called as he opened the door to his basement, a tray of food in his hands. He was the first to walk down the steps, followed by Dustin, Lucas, and then you.

Mike made his way over to El, dropping the try down. “No adults. Just us, some meatloaf, and an almost adult,” he said.

El’s brows pressed together as she looked behind him, only to see you walk down the last step.

Her eyes widened when she saw you, because she knew who you were.

Not much.

She knew you were Dustin’s sister and that the men back at the lab were looking for you.

She wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why, because then that meant that something deeper was going on.

You, Dustin, and Lucas stopped to stand behind Mike. You felt bad for staring at her like she was some kind of animal trapped behind a glass wall in a zoo, but you couldn’t help it. It was odd seeing some random girl in the basement of Mike Wheeler who allegedly had powers and knew where Will was.

“Don’t worry,” Mike told El, though her eyes were fixated on you, slight panic aching in her chest. “They won’t tell anyone about you. This is Dustin’s sister,” he said, motioning to you. He said your first name and you smiled awkwardly, raising your hand as if to wave to her. “She’s cool…sometimes.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up.

“Point is, she won’t tell anyone about you. They all promise. Right?” he asked, turning to you and the boys,

“We never would’ve upset you if we knew you had superpowers,” Dustin said with a small laugh.

Mike turned around and hit Dustin in his leg, making him jolt. “Ow!”

“What Dustin is trying to say is that they were just scared…earlier,” Mike told El. “That’s all.”

“We just wanted to find our friend,” Lucas said.

“Friend?” El repeated softly,

“Yeah,” Lucas nodded. “Friend. Will?”

El blinked. “What is ‘friend’?”

Your brows pressed together as you stared at her. She seemed to be the age of the other boys, in middle school. She’d only said a few words but her sentences were fragmented, and she didn’t have a single clue what a friend was.

Now you were growing concerned.

Maybe ‘bad men’ were really after her. Her name did nothing but reduce her to a number, her hair was buzzed, and her sentences were broken.

Your heart suddenly ached for her and regardless if the boys were full of shit, telling you she had powers, you were overcome with a sense to protect her at all costs.

Lucas’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Dustin. “Is she serious?”

Dustin’s eyes widened as he shrugged.

Lucas blinked, thinking of a way to explain something he thought was so simple. “Um…uh…a friend is-”

“Is someone you’d do anything for,” Mike interrupted.

“You lend them your cool stuff, like comic books and trading cards,” Dustin added.

“And they never break a promise.”

“Especially when there’s spit,” Lucas said.

El looked slightly confused and slightly disgusted, which your face had contorted into too.

“A spit swear means…” Lucas trailed off, spitting into his hand. “You never break your word.” He grabbed Dustin’s hand with the hand that he had just spit into and shook it. “It’s a bond,” he said, finally letting go.

Dustin’s lips parted in shock as he looked down into his hand, completely appalled by what Lucas just did.

Lucas put his hands on his hips as Dustin looked up to you. You shrugged with a scrunched nose and Dustin looked back down at his hand before wiping it into his shirt, side eyeing Lucas as he did so.

“That’s super important, because friends…” Mike trailed off. “They tell each other things. Things that parents don’t know.”

Eleven nodded slowly, taking in the information. She glanced up at you and you gave her a soft smile to which she returned.

She figured not to tell you that some of the most dangerous people in Indiana were looking for you.

For your own sake.

Eleven walked over to the table at the center of the basement, taking a seat in one of the chairs as she stared at the D&D board.

“What’s the weirdo doing?” Lucas asked.

You all slowly approached the table as she placed her hands firmly onto the surface, closing her eyes.

“El?” Mike asked.

El opened her eyes, grabbing a game piece. The wizard.

She held it up to her face. “Will.”

Dustin’s eyes widened as you furrowed your brows.

“Superpowers,” Dustin said, earning a head shake and eye roll from Lucas.

Mike sat down in the chair beside El. “Did you see him? On Mirkwood? Do you know where he is?”

Eleven set down the wizard game piece beside her and swiped all the game pieces off of the board. She then grabbed the board and flipped it over. Upside Down.

She slammed down the wizard piece.

“I don’t understand,” Mike said.

“Hiding.”

“Will is hiding?”

El nodded.

“From the bad men?” Mike asked.

Eleven shook her head.

“Then from who?”

Eleven slammed down another game piece.

The Demogorgon.

Dustin let out a shaky sigh, placing his hands on the back of his head.

Immediately you started to connect the dots.

Will went missing where Cornwallis and Kerley met.

The same exact spot you found that monster.

The one your friends couldn’t see, but you could see clear as day.

“This monster,” you spoke up, everyone turning to look at you. “It…” you trailed off. “It’s tall? Almost human? But…” your breath shook. “It doesn’t have a face?”

Eleven stared at you, slightly confused as to how you knew exactly what it looked like. “Yes.”

Your heart dropped as you swallowed hard, realizing that something bigger was going on here.

It wasn’t just weed.

It wasn’t a hallucination.

It was real.

The boys slowly turned to look at you.

“How did you know that?” Dustin asked.

You swallowed hard, starting to pace the room. “The night Will went missing, my friends and I were on what you guys call Mirkwood. I saw the monster in the woods, but they couldn’t see it. I thought…well…I was smoking and I thought it was because I was high, but clearly that’s not the case.”

Lucas raised his brows. “You were smoking? Isn’t that, like, illegal?”

Dustin shook off Lucas’ question, asking you one that really mattered. “How could you see it, but your friends couldn’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I have no idea, honestly.”

Eleven’s face fell as she listened to what you said. Suddenly it was clear as day to her as to why Brenner wanted you.

But she still wouldn’t say anything, wanting to keep you safe. She figured so long as you were kept in the dark, Brenner would be too.

“We need to go out there,” Mike spoke up suddenly, standing from his seat. “We need to find it and kill it. Get Will back.”

“And uh…” Lucas trailed off. “How do you propose that a couple of middle schoolers and a weirdo pot head do that?” Your jaw dropped as Lucas gave you a sheepish smile. “No offense.”

“None taken,” you grumbled. Lucas was lucky you actually liked him.

“We’ll need weapons,” Lucas said, changing the subject. “Something heavy duty.”

“We have Eleven,” Mike said, rolling his eyes.

“Guns,” Lucas said, ignoring Mike. “We need guns.”

“Except we’re all minors so that doesn’t work,” Mike sassed, shaking his head.

“We literally have Eleven,” Dustin said, but Lucas didn’t care.

“Does anyone know someone with guns?” Lucas asked.

“No,” Dustin said. “And even if we did, none of us know how to use them.”

Lucas shrugged. “Can’t be that hard. They sell them to practically anyone these days.”

“Dude,” Mike groaned. “We have Eleven, you know.”

“So?” Lucas asked. “She shut one door.”

“With her mind!” Dustin exclaimed. “Do you realize how insane that is?”

“We need extra protection if there really is a monster out there,” Lucas said.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “You guys are gonna kill me,” you groaned.

After seeing a monster in the woods, the radio tripping out, and the mysterious girl with alleged powers you had yet to see, you were both confused and terrified.

However, you were oddly convinced that perhaps there really was a monster out in the woods.

“Meet back here tomorrow morning at my place before school. Everyone come prepared with supplies and after school we’ll go find Will,” Mike instructed.

And that was how you ended your night, planning to go monster hunting with your little brother, his friends, and some girl they found in the woods.

You skated beside Dustin as he rode his bike.

“What are you bringing tomorrow?” he asked curiously.

“I’ve got an idea, but I hope it works,” you sighed, already feeling ashamed.

Dustin hummed. “You can’t tell Robin or Eddie. No matter what. Okay?”

As much as you’d love to tell them everything, you figured you’d sound like a total nut and end up in a psych ward. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Eddie sat on his bed, one leg crossed over the other as he read through the physics book he picked up from the library. The bedside lamp illuminated the pages as his finger skimmed over the words.

“Einstein-Rosen bridge,” Eddie read out loud, tapping his finger against the sketch of the wormhole. His finger skimmed down to the first paragraph. “Albert Einstein and Nathan Rosen in 1935 discovered that the equations of general relativity allowed for spacetime to fold and thereby create a shortcut between two regions.” He hummed, sitting up straight. “Interesting…” he muttered to himself.

His fingers guided his eyes as he read on. “The Einstein-Rosen bridge acts like a tunnel connecting two places in spacetime. Typically, relativity allows one to move forward in time, however the bridge bypasses the usual path through spacetime. The bridge, or tunnel, connects moments that no longer align because one end experienced less elapsed time than the other.”

Eddie huffed and tapped his finger against the book as he thought out loud. “Seems pretty straight forward.”

He looked back down into his book and read the next paragraph. “Now, what would happen if one were to use it?” Eddie gasped and smiled. “My question exactly!” he exclaimed.

“There are three suggested possibilities. Possibility one suggests a casual loop would be created. One travels to the past and becomes part of events that have always occurred.”

Eddie hummed and tapped his chin. “Bootstrap paradox,” he muttered to himself. “Or just a lame casual loop.” He already had some knowledge on time travel theories, and now his new book was getting him to really think. He was hoping to have some explanation to his intensely realistic dream.

“Possibility two suggests that one cannot change history.”

Eddie scoffed and skipped the paragraph. “Lame. I can rewrite history if I want to.”

“Finally, possibility three suggests alternate timelines. Changing the past would theoretically create a different branch of history.”

Eddie smirked and nodded. “That’s so cool.”

He moved his finger down to the last paragraph of the page. “While there are a multitude of theories in regards to time travel, many physicists doubt it to be real. Keeping the Einstein-Rosen bridge open, in theory, would require matter with negative energy density, also referred to as exotic matter.”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Boring,” he yawned. “Time travel is totally real.”

Eddie decided to not further read the last paragraph on the page, so he turned it to read more on time travel.

“What the hell…” he muttered to himself, pressing his brows together.

The next set of pages were blank.

He flipped the page again, and it appeared that the chapter on Einstein-Rosen bridges came to an end.

He flipped back to the original page with text on it and read the last sentence, but it was cut off and seemed to have to go onto the next page, which was entirely blank.

Just two blank white pages.

Eddie flipped to the two blank pages and stared at it. “Welp, so much for learning about time travel,” he groaned, setting his hands down on the book.

The watch on his wrist dug into his skin as he rested it against the book. He lifted his wrist and took his watch off, placing it onto the crease that separated the left and right side of the book, the two blank pages still staring right back at him.

He sighed and shut his eyes, leaning his head against the headboard. “Stupid book,” he grumbled.

Eddie yawned and decided to head to bed before he was a walking corpse at school the next day. He glanced down at the watch in his book and the analog numbers blinked slowly.

11:06 PM.

That’s when suddenly, the empty pages in the book weren’t so empty after all.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie breathed out, eyes wide, his hands shooting up into the air. “What the hell is going on?”

Black text slowly faded onto the pages, as if it were magic, as the bedside lamp beside him flickered.

Eddie rubbed his eyes and blinked, looking back down at the pages to make sure he hadn’t lost his mind.

“The Demogorgon,” he read the heading.

His eyes widened as his eyes skimmed over the text, reading out loud what he found the most interesting.

“November 6th, 1983. Branch, Unknown.”

“Eddie Munson’s van is parked on Cornwallis and Kerley."

“Robin Buckley flips out when she finds out Eddie has drugs on him.”

Your first name fell from his lips. “Henderson claims he has two or three bags of coke.”

“Munson and Henderson have known one another since high school.”

“Buckley sings Flashdance…What a Feeling by Irene Cara.”

“Munson, Buckley, and Henderson all see the monster in the woods.”

Eddie swallowed hard as he slowly picked up his watch, the text immediately disappearing. His heart dropped because there was no explanation in all of science for what the hell just happened.

“Oh, my…” Eddie trailed off, heart hammering so loud in his chest he could hear it in his ears. “What the actual fuck…”

Either he was so sleep deprived that he started hallucinating…

Or he just discovered something so real that broke the laws of physics.

Eddie opted for the second option.

His eyes lit up, completely fascinated. “Timeline convergence,” he breathed out. He shot up out of his bed, grabbing a notebook and pencil, scribbling things down as he read through his book. And that was how he spent his entire night, trying to figure out what had occurred.

It's time to vote!

Remember, all decisions will impact the story!

It will strengthen certain friendship dynamics, relationship dynamics, and even shape you, the reader!

All actions will have consequences, whether that be positive, negative, or both. In some chapters, there will be hints at what might occur if you chose to go down a certain route, so pay close attention!

Choose wisely!

Also, for all polls, the choices that don't win will be featured in a non-cannon, 'What If...? chapter, where I'II briefly explain what impact that decision would've made on the story.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Chapter 39.5 - What If… (Coming soon…)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

How Eddie is about to start moving

Tags:

Insane

Your last meeting with the Hellfire Club came with a special privilege from it's leader, Eddie Munson.

Shared glances and flirty remarks between each other piled up over the course of multiple meetings. So, it happened.

Eddie made his mark on you on his Hellfire throne, fucking you the moment the others finally seemed to have left.

He was intoxicating, fucking you as if he wanted to be sure no one else could do half as good as he did.

Despite you being shy, Eddie has brought things out of you that you didn't know you could show.

He adored the way you begged him for it as your face flushed with embarrassment.

You haven't talked to him since then. But it doesn't mean he's left your mind.

You never left his. He daydreams about the memory of it all, shifting his pants to make the erection you give him comfortable.

He decides he's had enough of you avoiding him.

Hence as to why you received a note in your locker from him telling you to meet him in the locker room.

The chill of goosebumps flows through your skin.

You know exactly what he wants.

___________________________________________________

You wait until the halls are completely empty before you head into the boy's locker room.

How embarrassing it would be if someone caught you.

The old door creaks open, closing behind you with a thud.

The locker room looks empty, so you walk through it carefully.

"...Eddie?" You say softly to the silence.

Nothing.

You walk down a column of lockers. As soon as you completely round a corner, you yelp from being pulled by the arm. A hand covers your mouth before you're pinned to another set of lockers.

You finally recognize Eddie when his hand is removed from your face.

"Where were you?" You ask.

"Could ask you the same. You've been ignoring me."

"What- what do you want me to say? You've seen me...like that."

"And you looked fucking incredible...you do now. You wear this for me?" He grins, playing at the bottom of your skirt.

"It's just a skirt."

"Makes you look good. Anyone else see you like this?"

"What does it matter to you?" You bite.

"You're right, sweetheart. I'm the one fucking you, anyway. Do you still think about it?"

"Jesus, Eddie. What is wrong with you?" You spat.

"You walk around here like you're innocent. I've been dying to make you a slut the moment I saw you."

Your hands slaps his face before you can stop yourself. He pauses, his expression going blank.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, and he smirks when it's back in the center of his mouth.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

"Fuck y-"

You choke when his hand grabs your neck, your head hitting softly against the lockers. His hand pulls your panties down to the floor, and you kick them off.

The zipper of Eddie's black denim emits a shoup when he brings it down. He picks you up and your legs wrap around him.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you begin feeling the stretch of his cock, inch by inch as he's still holding you in place by your neck.

He can be a disrespectful son of a bitch, and he fucks like it too.

He braces his other hand against the lockers above your head to steady his pace and snap his hips hard upwards.

His face is nestled in your neck as he gives you open mouthed kisses there.

The harsh snap of his hips makes you grunt softly in pleasure and surprise.

His lips move to the shell of your ear.

"There you go. You sound so fucking cute."

You're drunk from how fucking shamelessly dirty he is. You whimper softly when you hear the locker room door open. Eddie's hand clasps onto your mouth, still fucking into you slow and hard.

Fucking asshole.

You can only hope that whoever's here won't turn the corner and be scarred for life.

Your whimpers are swallowed by his hand, his ring bands pressing hard against your mouth as Eddie continues to fuck you.

The person is going through their locker, taking their sweet fucking time.

When their locker door closes and they've finally left, Eddie's hand is back above your head.

"Why the fuck was someone here?" He grumbles.

You can see the determination to cum and make you cum in his eyes.

"Ugh, ugh Eddie, fuck!"

He fucks you harsh with deep thrusts that leave a dirty slap everytime he's fucked you to the hilt.

"Don't you ever hide this good pussy from me again. Not running that fucking mouth of yours now, are you?"

"-'m sorry-"

"Good girl." He chuckles.

Your legs squeeze him closer, and you chase the feeling of him hitting you just right.

"You cumming, baby?" He soothes.

You can only whimper in response when you let go on his cock, your head falling to his shoulder as his extra thrusts follow.

His warm cum spurts into you, dripping down your thigh when he pulls out.

"Gotdamn." He praises.

"You're insane, Munson." You lightheartedly tease.