The Playlist May Contain Spoilers, But You Can Listen Anyway

The playlist may contain spoilers, but you can listen anyway 😊

Midnight | a Stranger Things Series.

A series featuring the characters from Stranger Things in a Modern!Band! AU that tells the stories of the members of Midnight, the pop-rock band of the moment.

Now you can hear the playlist! Just press the character's role and you can listen to it 💕.

Masterlist:

Fake it till you make it | Steve Harrington, The Singer.

The day I'll Steal your Breath Away | Chrissy Cunningham, The Soloist.

Until we become an us | Jonathan Byers, The Producer.

To Vickie, From Robin | Robin Buckley, The Pianist.

Ps.: I always loved you | Eddie Munson, The Guitarist.

A Second Chance | Billy Hargrove, The Bassist.

General Masterlist

Eddie is so sweet.

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap five/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Whiskey & Cigars

summary: Trying to keep your promise to thank Steve for fixing your sink, you aren’t expecting him to have company when you show up at his front gate after work.

wc: 5k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters but none really for this one. Drinking, cigar smoking, flirting and wait.. is that an almost kiss?? 🤭

authors note: the idea of this chapter is what sparked the entire series, i’ve been so excited to write this one and share it with you. I hope you guys love it, we’re half way through so you know what that means? (things actually start happening lol) But Leighanne, I want to date this older!eddie too! Guess what? You can in @carolmunson ‘s orange colored sky 🧡

🌇 <- chapter four

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

The box of tacos is warm in your hands, the package of cannoli’s you snagged on your way home from work moving around in your backpack as you step off the train. You take a shaky breath as you make your way towards your block, your feet taking you to his house. The nerves of him not expecting you has you talking yourself off the ledge the entire walk. Does he really like fish tacos? Was he just trying to be nice? What if he’s busy? What if he’s not even home?

Your overthinking is silenced the moment you hit your street, the string lights of his front porch catch in your sight, while the sounds of Eddie Money echo down the steps filling the quiet and hitting your ears. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You slow your pace when you get close enough to smell the smoke of his cigar, and hear the deep baritone of his full belly laugh. Another voice chimes in, it’s raspier, darker, and definitely not a woman’s. The unruly pang of jealousy that hits your gut subsides when you reach your apartment and he finally comes into view. 

His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, the gray and honey highlights sticking out at the ends like he’s spent the whole night running those big hands through it. His cheeks are flushed with what looks like the end of a fun day with friends, a half smoked cigar tucked between his teeth that show themselves in a wide grin for the man sitting on his porch steps next to him. 

He leans on the top step by his elbows,your thighs pressing together when the silver chain that’s usually hidden under his shirt swings over the soft blue tee that fits tight across chest when he laughs again. His cream jeans are loose fitting, stretching at his thighs with dark gray house slippers on his feet.

The guy next to him is not who you’d expect to find, he looks around the same age, gray streaks shining under the porch light in the dark curls that rest tied back in a loose low hanging bun. His chocolate eyes shine with excitement while ring and tattoo covered hands gesture wildly with his story, the ash at the end of his cigar is dangerously close to falling onto the wood of the porch. 

Steve picks up the ashtray between the two glasses of a dark liquor like it’s second nature, lifting it up for his friend, making you notice the silver chain that dangles around his wrist when he takes the offering. He’s dressed in all black, a contrast to the light colors of Steve’s wardrobe with a pressed Judas Priest band tee that sits half tucked into the tops of his Chino shorts that fall right above his knee. Black socks and black slides covering his feet. 

Bandit’s the first to notice you from his spot on the giant rug by the front door when you reach the gate. His ears perk as he sits up, paws dropping one after the other in excitement. A high pitch whine escapes him, catching Steve’s attention. Steve plucks the cigar from his mouth, looking at Bandit before finally following the dog’s line of sight to you. There was no getting out of this now.

You feel like you won some kind of prize at the size of Steve’s smile, lopsided with rosy cheeks pushed up and eyes crinkling in the corners. He sets his cigar down, ignoring the confused look his friend is giving him before sitting up, running a hand through his hair making it stand on end even more.

“She’s alive!” He does his best impression of Dr. Frankenstein sticking his arms out in front of him and you see the man next to him grimace before taking a puff and turning his attention on to you. Curious dark eyes watch Steve and Bandit go to meet you at the gate. 

“Yes, I somehow survived.” You can’t help but giggle, making the man on the porch shoot his eyebrows up. All the nerve you worked up on the way here is gone when your neighbor gets close enough for you to see the stubble you like so much is back. 

“I hope the Au Cheval burger helped with that,” he breaths with a smirk, his eyes landing on the to go box that’s threatening to succumb to the iron grip in your hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

Too caught up in how his eyes seem to light up when he asks, it takes you a minute to register that he’s talking about the fish tacos in your hand. 

“Oh!! - Sorry - Yes, I didn’t know you had company tonight. I have cannolis in my bag too, I don’t wanna interrupt anything - I can, I can just leave them with you.” Bandit jumps onto the gate while you stutter your words, suddenly feeling sixteen again. The heat of his friend's stare makes you shuffle around in place. 

Steve opens his mouth ready to protest but he’s interrupted before he gets a chance to say anything. 

“Harrington! You gonna invite the pretty girl up for a drink or what?”

The heat rises to your cheeks as you busy yourself with scratching Bandit behind the ear with a free hand. Steve lets out a breath through his nose before pinching the bridge of it. His ears turning red like the cherries on the ends of the cannoli’s in your bag.

“Sorry about my friend.” He takes another beat before he looks up, his eyes smoldering against yours, hope hidden inside the golden specks. “I was going to actually ask you if you’d like to come up for a drink, I promise he’s harmless. He met his wife shopping at Trader Joe’s.” 

You can’t hold back your laugh, not used to seeing this playful side of him- the sipper on his porch loosening up his nerves. His grin spreads wide at your reaction, and he’s opening the gate before you can even respond because he already knows the answer.

“I happen to love Trader Joe’s, Steve.” Narrowing your eyes at him as you make your way in. He takes the opportunity to grab the to-go box from your hands just in time for you to accept Bandit’s big paws.

“Bandit!” He hisses, stealing your move with a roll of his eyes at his rambunctious dog, closing the gate while you keep him distracted. “I’m more of a Whole Foods guy myself.”

“Of course you are,” you scoff with a condescending laugh, desperately trying not to meet the eyes of the man who’s been watching you this whole time.

“What? I like having a beer when I shop. Does that make me an asshole or something?” He tries to defend himself but he only validates you more and he knows it  by the way you smirk at him.

He tries to act offended and not think about how cute it is that you haven’t stopped petting Bandit the whole walk to his front steps.

“Yes, it does make you an asshole.” The raspy voice from before interjects and you can’t hide from his curiosity when you both stop at his feet. A warm smile meets your eyes when you finally look at him, a puff of smoke exhaling through his pierced nose.

Steve’s eye roll is real this time.

“This is Eddie,” he sighs, introducing you to the mystery man, “We’ve been friends since high school, and he’s just jealous he moved to New York where you can’t shop and drink at the same time.”

Your cheeks push up at his banter, all the color in his face seems brighter tonight, his shoulders are relaxed. No longer constricted by a tight work shirt, or weighed down by loneliness - Steve is happy.

“Best friends since high school,” Eddie corrects him, setting his cigar down before opening his hands out for Bandit who abandoned you the second you reached him. 

“Hi,” you greet, trying not to sound as awkward as you feel, silently begging for your next joke to land, “I’m Steve’s neighbor and I hate to break it to you, also Bandit’s new best friend.” 

Eddie snorts, eyes twinkling when he catches the way your lips twitch when you hear Steve’s laugh next to you. 

“I was wondering who he was ditching me for.” He narrows his gaze a little as he sizes Steve up who seems to be focusing on anything but his friend before choosing to set his sights on you. 

“I’m going to go put these in the kitchen for now, I’ll grab you a glass. Thank you for this honey, you really didn’t need to.” His hand reaches out to squeeze your arm like after your hug the other morning. Goosebumps form under his palm when his thumb rubs the softness of your skin gently before letting go.

“It’s the least I could do, seriously you’ve been such a help.” You take your backpack off, the breeze making your shirt unstick from your back. “Don’t forget the cannoli’s.”

“Cannoli’s too? My, my Stevie boy. You must be quite the neighbor,” his friend chimes in, picking up his cigar again.

“Eddie,” Steve scolds just like he did Bandit, grabbing the pastries from you with an apologetic look that you wave off.

He stomps as he makes his way up the steps shooting his friend a glare. Eddie just smirks around the tobacco, leaning back with a raise of his eyebrows and a shrug.

The front door sounds heavy when it closes behind Steve, leaving the two of you alone. It’s quiet, but not for long, the gears in his head moving as he chooses his words before speaking. The crickets chirping in the grass and the hum of distant cars make your palms sweat.

“He must’ve done something real nice to get his favorite dessert hand delivered by his pretty next door neighbor.”

Your gaze narrows, a small smirk forming.

“I never told you I lived next door.” 

Eddie’s smooth facade cracks for a minute when he realizes he gave away what he already knew about you, letting you know that Steve must talk about you.

“He fixed my sink if you must know,” you tease, letting him off the hook, unable to hold back the smile that takes over your face when he barks out a loud laugh.

“How neighborly of him,” he hums around his cigar. 

The door’s opening before the conversation can go any further, a glass of the same dark liquor they’re drinking in Steve’s hand. Eddie catches the slight wrinkle of your nose at it chuckling to himself when you shoot him a look.

“I see he didn’t scare you off yet. That’s great.” Steve grins at the tattooed man, who smiles back with his teeth.

“I don’t know if I could have lasted much longer,” you sigh with fake annoyance, taking the glass from Steve, your stomach going off like fireworks on the fourth of july when your fingers brush, “Thank god you’re back.” 

The laugh you earn has you wanting to make him do it again.

“Why don’t you take a drink of that delicious Johnny Walker Blue label I saw you eyeing when he brought it out?” Eddie raises his glass in a silent challenge. 

Steve’s brows furrow when he looks at his friend in confusion, missing the way you’re scolding Eddie from behind his back.

“I would love to, Eddie, I thought you’d never ask.” You raise your glass in acceptance, already regretting it.

Placing the crystal to your glossed lip, the smell of it makes your gut churn with flashes of your hangover from the other night. You watch the realization wash over Steve’s face when the liquor hits your tongue in the smallest of sips.

“Oh no, that’s probably not what you want to drink after the other night, huh?” His concern dares to crumble when his lips twitch as he tries not to smile. 

“Don’t look at me like that Steve!” Your own smile breaks through your embarrassment.

“Jesus Harrington, go take your girl to get something she’ll actually enjoy,” Eddie laughs, extending his hand out to take your glass, his own now empty. 

Your girl. That’s my girl. Your face and neck heat up at the words again.

“It’s fine! This is okay, I can drink it!” You try to drive your point home by taking another sip, just for your face to give you away again.

“Honey,” Steve chuckles, taking the glass from your hands. “You don’t have to pretend to like it. I’m not offended.”

“I’m sorry, I just usually like something a little bit sweeter.” Your confession makes Steve’s cheeks dust pink.

“Of course you do.”

Steve’s place is intimidating, the overhead pendant light is dim in the entryway. Big paintings hang in perfect placements along his light gray walls that lead up a dark stained wooden staircase. The music is quieter inside, the smell of cedar hitting your nose from the crackling candle he has lit in the living room that you only get a small glimpse of as he leads you to his kitchen. 

He flips the middle switch and only one set of overhead lights turn on, matching the mood of the rest of the house. You take in the giant island in the middle of the kitchen, white paneling that matches the tile below your feet, topped with black marble that sparkles under the low light. The box of cannolis you brought him sits in the middle.

He stops at the stainless steel fridge, shoulder blades moving under his shirt when he opens the door with a firm grip that makes his forearm flex, the harsh brightness polluting the dark. You both squint for a second letting your eyes adjust, the low hum of the fridge drowns out the way your heart beats in your chest.

You were in his house. 

“Are you a margarita girl?” His voice is too smooth to startle you, something softer in it like this. His eyes meet yours with a lopsided grin in an attempt to soothe your obvious nerves. 

“Depends on if you have salt for the rim.” Letting your back hit the countertop, you fake difficulty. 

“Do I have salt for the rim? Please, honey. I’m not in my twenties.” He scoffs shutting the fridge with a lime and what looks like a homemade mixer in hand. The way you giggle for him makes him feel like he might have a chance.

“I’m just making sure is all.” You roll your eyes at him for the first time tonight, and he can’t wait to make you do it again. Addicted to the smile you try to hide, always giving yourself away.

“I’ll make it how you like it.” 

He walks towards you, invading your space just enough to smell the way the spice of his cologne mixes with the expensive whiskey on his breath. Freeing his hands of the ingredients he looks down the hard line of his nose, glazed mossy eyes taking in your face like he’s never got to really do it like this before. The wild stray falls loose and your hand twitches at your side wanting to be the one to brush it away from his forehead this time.

“I promise.”

The twitch of his lips lets you know he heard your breath catch before walking away to get you a glass and a shaker. You exhale through your nose when you get a break from his attention. Was this happening? Was he flirting?

There’s a salt rimmed glass filled with crushed ice in his hands when he comes back, too lost in your own head you didn’t even hear him do all of that. He gets close enough for his shoulder to brush against yours, the tension making your fingertips buzz. 

“This okay?” He asks, eyes avoiding yours as he slices the lime. “You zoned out a little, just want to make sure you feel comfortable is all.”

“Yeah - I - sorry, I kinda get lost in my own head sometimes.” You turn your body to face him, admiring the sharp lines of his jaw from the side, the hint of crows feet from years of laughter that meet the tip of his high cheek bone, the never ending expanse of freckles and moles that dot his skin. “I mean I could have kept those cannolis for myself and left, so what do you think?”

He snorts through his nose, measuring out the shot before pouring it in the glass.

“I ate one already.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye like a boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Steve! Dessert before dinner? What are you on vacation or something?” Your laugh makes his face light up, pouring the mixer a little heavy handed just for you.

“What can I say? I was craving something sweet." He makes sure to look at you when he says it, begging you to catch the double meaning before dumping everything into a silver shaker.

His eyes watch the way your bottom lip tucks between your teeth at his words to try and hide your smile before he starts the loud process of mixing your drink. You don’t look away from him this time, holding his stare. It pours out smooth over the ice when he’s done, squeezing another slice of lime for good measure over the top. Pushing it towards you, he leans on the counter with his elbow to watch.

“Let’s see what you think.”

You give him your best poker face, your fingers wrapping around the now chilled glass. Pieces of salt fall off the rim when you bring it to your lips. He straightens up, grinning proudly at the way your brows marry together when it hits your tongue. You can barely taste the tequila, the sweetness of the mixer hiding all evidence while the sour of the lime balances the whole thing out. It was the best margarita you’d ever had.

“Wow,” you finally get out after you’ve had enough, only to have part of your sip dribble down onto your chin. 

“Careful.” He chuckles, taking the glass from you, his eyes meeting yours with something unknown swimming in them. 

He gets closer — close enough to feel the heat of his breath fan across your lips, for the tips of his slippers to touch the tops of your sneakers. Your favorite stray still taunts you, begs you to take care of it but it’s his hand that raises first. The pad of his thumb swiping across your chin, cleaning up what you left behind. 

“Is it sweet enough for you tough girl?” His voice comes out low, a question just for your ears. 

Your answer is lost on the tip of your tongue when he brings his thumb to his mouth. Pink lips wrapping around it before sucking it clean. 

“Steve - “ your fingers go to hook in his belt loops, your body demanding him closer before your brain can stop the movements.

“Hone-“ he starts, but someone clears their throat in the doorway.

Your hands drop expecting to hear the deep tenor of Eddie’s voice, only to be met with the silky softness of a woman’s.

“Steven! Who is this??” It comes out sweet like the drink he made, and it makes the man in front of you sigh. Whatever was going to happen is gone. 

“This is my neighbor.” He gives, not trying to hide his annoyance, and when you turn around it only seems to make her smile more.

“This is Eddie’s wife Peach.” Steve introduces, finally running a hand through his hair and you can’t help the pang of jealousy that you didn’t get to do it. 

Peach smiles brightly at you, extending a dainty hand and the rock on her wedding ring catches in the overhead light. She’s gorgeous and almost out of his league, but the way she gives Steve the same knowing eyebrow wiggle makes you realize quickly they’re a match made in heaven.

“Well now I want a margarita Steve.” She crosses her arms winking at you, relishing in the groan Steve gives her.

He wanted to kiss you, but bargained with himself that maybe this was the universe giving him the sign that it wasn’t time yet.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” You don’t mean for it to sound so shy when it comes out of your mouth, but you needed a minute alone to catch your breath. 

“Yeah of course honey, it’s just down the hall right past the staircase.” He points down the doorway you both came from, grabbing your fingers and squeezing gently before busying himself with making another drink.

You're halfway down the hallway when you hear Peaches in the kitchen.

“That’s her??”

The bathroom is smaller than you thought it’d be. It’s only a half, meant for guest use, that part is obvious with the lack of a shower inside. It’s still nicer than the one in your one bedroom, the crisp white towels that hang on silver racks look almost untouched. The deep stone sink in front of the mirror makes you feel like you’re in a spa. 

You stare at yourself in the big oval mirror. He was going to kiss you, right?

You can hear the faint sounds of the two of them talking in the kitchen, choosing to stay hidden until the rate of your heart slows down to something less likely to make you pass out. Their feet shuffle against the wooden floor by the entryway before the sound of the front door opening hits your ears.

The light knock on the bathroom door makes you jump, his voice slipping through the cracks of it.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re going back to the porch. I’ve got your drink whenever you come out.” There’s a hint of worry in his tone, was he thinking about it too?

“I’ll be out in just a sec!” 

He lingers by the door for a minute before you hear his heavy steps head outside. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, straightening out your work shirt, and pulling down the ends of your skirt before turning around to check from behind. 

“Okay, you’re cool. Just be cool. He was totally gonna kiss you and that’s fine,” you whisper to yourself before checking your breath just in case it happens again. 

Your hand lingers on the door knob for a second before you finally work up enough courage to face him again.

🌃🌃🌃

The front door is cracked open when you emerge from the bathroom, their voices battling over the low playing music inside.

“What do you mean you haven’t asked her for her number yet Steve?” Eddie’s question makes you stop in your tracks.

“Can you talk any louder?” Steve half whispers and half yells, making Peach giggle. 

“It’s obvious you both are into each other -“ Eddie starts again only to be cut off by his wife.

“I swear they were about to kiss in the kitchen, Ed.” 

The way Steve stays quiet tells you that it wasn’t just in your head.

“Look, I just - I don’t know.” He sighs deeply, and you can practically see the way he’s probably running a stressed hand through his hair.

“Steve..” his best friend's tone goes soft, “It’s been long enough, you’re not a bad person for having feelings for someone again. You and I both know Emma would want that for you. I see the way you look at this girl, I haven’t seen you look at someone like that in over a decade.” 

Since his wife.

Steve laughs a little and you hear the ice in his cup clink against the glass signaling him taking a drink before he answers, “Yeah, I know.”

There’s a second of silence and you wonder what his face looks like right now. 

“Look, you’re going on that camping trip next week right? Ask her to water your plants or something while you’re gone, then you can get her number that way. That’s less scary right?” The teasing edge to Peach’s words are gone, she’s gentle with the way she speaks to him.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s a normal thing neighbors ask right?” 

“Totally!” Eddie chimes in enthusiastically making you have to muffle your giggle.

You decide to open and close the bathroom door again to alert them of your presence when you feel like your eavesdropping has gone on long enough. 

Steve clears his throat and you catch the end of his silent scolding to his friends when you step outside. He smiles but there’s something missing from it when he holds up your drink from his place on the porch swing, Bandit curled up at his feet. 

“There she is!” He teases, desperately trying to bring the mood back to what it was before.

“I didn’t fall in if you can believe it,” your response comes out more awkward than intended, laughing nervously while taking your drink. You wonder if it’s obvious that you heard everything when you dare to take the spot next to him. Thighs and shoulders pressing together, your mind races with the new information.

Steve, your handsome older neighbor, the one who works for the Cubs, the one who drives a BMW to work every morning, the guy who fixes your sink and sends you dorky notes likes you. The weight of his guilt is the only thing holding him back from making a real move and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that the silly crush you’d been harboring is returned.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to comment on how long a lady’s in the bathroom Harrington?” Eddie teases breaking the ice, making Steve flush deep crimson from his neck to his ears.

“That’s not - that’s not what I meant,” he grumbles inside his glass, the smooth confidence from inside the kitchen now gone.

You squeeze his knee gently with a giggle, the thick hair tickling your palm. 

Eddie takes control of the conversation for the rest of the time it takes you to finish your drink, Peach interjecting every now and then to roast him when he’s telling a story wrong. You half listen to as much of it all as you can, but it’s hard to focus when you can feel the way Steve keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye, turning away everytime you go to meet his gaze. 

He keeps his thigh pressed to yours despite there being more than enough room on the swing, the sides of your feet tapping together on the porch. The heat of his body and the strength of the nice tequila hit after a long day all at once, a yawn escaping you in the middle of another one of Eddie’s bike trip stories.

“If I’m boring you just say something, jeez,” Eddie teases, a warm smile spread over his plump lips.

“Sorry!” Embarrassment warms your cheeks, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, “It’s just been a long day at work and I think the late night is just hitting me.”

“I’m teasing, kid. I have stories like these that I could tell for weeks. Go get some sleep.” He pulls his wife deeper into his side, her eyelids droopy like yours. “I think the Mrs is ready too anyway.”

Steve’s hand spreads over your back, the warmth of his palm rubbing up and down the dip of your spine making you hum.

“I’ll walk you home honey.”

🌃🌃🌃

Your staircase feels never ending, both of you slightly out of breath when you get to the top. Turning around at your front door to face him, both of you smile, trying not to laugh at the sheen of sweat on your foreheads. 

“That seemed harder that time, no?” Steve breaks the silence sounding winded.

“I think maybe it has something to do with the liquor and the pastries, but I could be wrong.”

His laugh is booming, making you giggle while you try to shush him out of courtesy of your neighbors who are fast asleep. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He whispers, a smirk that tells you he’s really not tugging at his lips, his eyes meeting yours the way they did in the kitchen.

You don’t know when he got this close or how your back ended up pressed against your front door. It’s silent between you, but the comfortable kind. Words not ready to be said out loud being exchanged through looks and the tips of his fingers brushing against yours.

“Thank you again for bringing me dinner, that was very sweet of you.” His voice is soft like his touches.

“It’s not a problem. It’s the least I could do really.” You look up at him from under your lashes, you’re ready for what was meant to happen in the kitchen now.

He hums a little to himself, interlacing your fingers with his. His eyebrows knitting together like he’s deep in thought. 

“Listen, I’m going on this camping trip next week with Bandit. Peaches would kill me if I let those plants die, maybe you wouldn’t mind coming by once to water them? I can give you my number, that way you know, we can talk about details or if something else breaks in your apartment.” He lets out a shaky laugh, and you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“Gimme your phone Steve.”

His eyes widen and you can’t believe he’s shocked you said yes. He lets go of you to dig it out of his pocket, and you try to stifle a laugh at how frantic he seems.

You save your number under Tough Girl before handing it back to him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth watching the way it makes his cheeks turn red when he reads it.

“I’ll - um text you with the dates,” he stutters a little slowly, backing away. 

“You could also just text me.” You shrug and it makes him miss the top step, catching himself on the railing. 

“Good to know.” The smile he gives you knocks the air out of your lungs. “Have a good night, tough girl.”

——

It’s only an hour later when you’re in bed, halfway asleep when you hear your phone buzz next to you. You wonder if he can see the way you smile like an idiot at your bright screen.

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beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

eddie munson edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Ps.: I Always Loved You | Eddie Munson, The Guitarist.

Warnings: Modern!Band! AU, Guitarist! Eddie, Baterist! Reader, Best friends to Lovers.

It's been years since Midnight released their first album, it's also been years since they won their first award, and that certainly means a lot to Eddie. Ever since he was a little boy, he always dreamed of being able to play guitar on stage with hundreds of thousands of people watching him, admiring his effort, and of course, he still loved it. Since they started having a fan club, hundreds of letters with the Gogo signature have come into his hands. They are letters of confessions. Not only of love, of which there are obviously some, but of natural things, his day to day life, his pain, his joy, everything. These letters have meant that, little by little, Eddie has begun to generate feelings for this mysterious person with the nickname Gogo, this person whose face and name he does not know, but he has still managed to understand her emotions and feelings, and he is willing to do anything to find her, even if it means giving up his dream.

"There are times," Eddie said, looking up at the night sky, "when we simply can't control our hearts."

You nodded, knowing that feeling all too well.

"Yes, of course I know that, but why do you say that?"

"Because I'm afraid it's happened to me" a depressing smile made your heart shrink. Eddie had just said he was in love, and it was more than obvious he didn't mean you, "And with the worst person."

"May I know who that is?" you murmured with a slight fear in your voice, knowing the answer would break your heart in two.

"That's the point, honey, even I don't know who she is," he looked at you for a second, his eyes glittering with pain, "the only thing I have from this person are letters, hundreds of them."

Letters, you thought. A thought crossed your mind like a bolt of lightning. You swallowed saliva, your heart in your throat, too nervous to speak coherently.

"And how is the letter signed? Because I imagine it must have one, right?"

"That's right," he reached into his black leather pocket, revealing a neatly folded sheet of paper with the name Gogo in one corner.

For an instant, you couldn't believe it. The blood rushed up to your cheeks and a warmth flooded all over you. That was your signature.

(The purple ones are seen from your point of view, the black ones are narrated from Eddie's point of view). After the epilogue there will be a description of the character that is with Eddie and her name (this is because in the other parts of Midnight series the character appears and could be confused with the reader of that story) anyway, I will avoid as much as possible the important physical descriptions like skin color, eyes, hair, etc.

2016 | Debut.

Sunday 8th | I Want To Know Her.

Monday 16th | Count On Me.

Tuesday 2nd | Time To Think.

Wednesday 6th | Afraid To Fall In Love.

Thursday 18th | Love U, Don't Leave Me.

Friday 4th | I'm In Love.

2025 | Just The Way You Are.

Midnight Masterlist.

A Second Chance | Billy Hargrove, The Bassist.

Warnings: Second Chance, Modern!Band! AU, Bassist! Billy, Designer! Reader.

Billy had never believed in love. His parents never loved each other, never showed him what love was, and he never knew how to show it, at least not until he met the most important people in his life: his friends. They were always there for him, they cried together, laughed together and made messes together. He loved them all equally, except for her. A beautiful, jovial, cheerful, sarcastic and very, very, outgoing girl. Billy loved her, no, he adored her, she was the love of his life. When they started dating, they both couldn't even contain their excitement. Billy was just making his debut on Midnight, his fame wasn't big yet, but he was satisfied with his life, but, unlike him, that jovial girl he loved so much didn't think so. She loved him, very much, and she knew that, if he stayed by her side, his fans would not stand for it. She knew this environment well, and she could not allow herself to be a nuisance for Billy, to fulfill that dream that excited him so much. That's why, one of those many nights when they stayed together at each other's house, she made the horrible decision to leave him a letter with a clear and concise message: 'We broke up, please don't look for me'. And so, without a second thought, she fled his side forever, leaving Billy torn up inside, with hundreds of questions and zero answers. Now, years later, their past seems to haunt them relentlessly, something that, for both of them, causes them indescribable fear and desire.

"I see we meet again," Billy said, walking up to your side with a glass of wine in his hand.

"I'm afraid so" despite your immense urge to vomit, you took your whole glass in one sip, trying not to expel it out of your mouth the instant after.

"We have a lot to talk about" he looked at you, fixed and deep. The guilt began to return, too strong, too sudden.

"No, we have nothing to talk about" you set the cup down on the marble balcony, afraid to use too much force, but it didn't break, so you just went on your way. Or at least you tried to.

"You know better" Billy stopped you, taking your wrist firmly, but without hurting you.

He pulled you close to him, too close for your liking, too close for your heart. He was afraid you'd leave him again, that you'd go away without explanation, that you'd be just a passing person in his life, leaving a mess in his.

"I deserve an explanation" his warm forehead collided with yours. Their breaths mingled and your lips parted. You wanted to tell him, you wanted him to know, but the fear was greater, your desire to run away was even more so, "just...don't leave me, not again."

(The red ones are seen from your point of view, the black ones are narrated from Billy's point of view). After the epilogue there will be a description of the character that is with Billy and her name (this is because in the other parts of Midnight series the character appears and could be confused with the reader of that story) anyway, I will avoid as much as possible the important physical descriptions like skin color, eyes, hair, etc.

Him | The Day I Left You.

Her Voice | Ghost Memories.

His Eyes | I Want To See Them Bright.

Her Freckles | My Heart Beat Again.

His Hair | This Is My truth.

Her Smile | Enlighten My Life, Stay With Me.

His Love | All Of Me.

Her | "Us".

Midnight Masterlist.

The Deal Day | Steve Harrington.

Here is the prologue 😃 I wrote it today in the afternoon and recently finished translating and editing it, I hope you like it 💕. Summary: Steve is about to get into a scandal and the only way to help him is to marry him. Warnings: Singer!Steve, Manager!Reader, anxiety issues, emotional support dogs, kind of love at first sight. Words: 3.9k

You took a breath, looking at your wet face in front of the mirror. Your cheeks were slightly reddened and, on your forehead, there were some unruly hairs that were out of your bun and were now willing to stay in that position permanently thanks to the humidity of your face.

You tried to check your image as best you could. Your perfectly pressed shirt was impeccable, your beige pants fell elegantly to your ankles where they clashed delicately with your white boots and, finally, your trench coat in the same color as your pants, which came down to above your knees. You were seriously hoping this was formal enough to make a good first impression.

"Relax, Y/N, you're a smart and capable woman, you'll be able to handle this," you said to the mirror in which you saw your mirror.

A noise behind you made you turn quickly. You felt the heat rise up your cheeks and cover your ears. Someone else was in the bathroom. You tried to grab your things as quickly as you could, ignoring the fact that your hands were shaking more than they should be. The lock on one of the doors rattled just as you exited the bathroom with a heavy sigh.

You began to walk aimlessly around the company where, as of today, you would be working. Diamond Entertainment was one of the most famous record labels nowadays, which became known in 2016 with Midnights' second album, "More Than Enough", composed of 14 songs mostly written and produced by the five members of the band. Undoubtedly one of the best works of their career, from the incredible instrument solos, to the high notes that Steve, the vocalist, had proven he was capable of.

You were never a fan of the band, to be honest, but you admired how hard they worked, and you couldn't take credit away from them either, they were very talented. That's why, when your ex-boss called you to tell you that he had managed to get you a job as his manager you didn't hesitate for a second to accept, it was practically a dream come true, a direct ticket to success.

You were practicing for weeks, contacting the former manager in charge of the group, getting information about the members, their career, their music, you wanted to learn as much as possible, you had to do it, you didn't want to disappoint anyone. Now, being here, in the fanciest facility you've ever played in with your boots that you found at a thrift store bargain, the thought of having taken this job was starting to eat you up inside.

"You must be Y/N, right?" asked a gravelly voice behind you.

You straightened up quickly, turning your whole body to the voice. You almost choked when you saw the man who had spoken to you. He was wearing black slacks and a half-tousled white shirt, his hair was slicked back and he had a slightly long beard, but, without a doubt, the most striking thing was his size. He was almost three heads taller than you, if not more. His cold stare didn't help his image much, but he didn't seem to mind either. You shook your head slightly, trying to get those ideas out of your head and concentrating on answering his question.

"Y-yes, sir."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, seconds that seemed like years to you. You were sure a bead of sweat had slipped down your neck thanks to how nervous you were. His intimidating gaze didn't leave you for a second, you could tell from afar that he was studying you in a very undisguised way.

"Did you talk to the members yet?" he said as he hid his hands in the pockets of his black pants.

"No, sir, I arrived a few minutes ago, I was on my way to the office to meet with them," you swallowed saliva as you watched him frown slightly, fearing had done or said the wrong thing.

"Fine, I'll walk you to the office."

Before you could say anything, the man - whose name you still didn't know - had already started walking briskly towards what you thought was the office. Almost without hesitation you hurried to his side, pressing your bag against your waist. The knot under your stomach was getting bigger and bigger, you hadn't felt that anxiety since what happened at the prom.

"How has your experience been so far?" the man murmured, resting his gaze on you.

You lowered your gaze to the floor, burying your fingernails in the palm of your hand. "Pretty good, to tell you the truth" the doors became further and further apart as you moved down the hallway to the top floor, by this point there were no more stained glass windows overlooking the city, just white walls and well-kept dark wood doors. "The people have been very kind and polite, and the facilities are in very good condition. I'm glad I was able to be accepted for this job, it's a great honor."

"The honor is ours, we've heard wonderful things about your work. I only hope they are true" he murmured, causing an even greater pressure in your chest, "But relax, there is no pressure."

You tried to laugh, but only a strange noise came out that made your throat burn. For the second time that day, your cheeks were tinged pale pink. You couldn't wait to get out of here as soon as possible, you desperately needed to lie down on your single bed and caress to Muffin and Berry, your emotional support dogs.

"Ladies first" said the man, opening a large door with gold-colored hands.

You walked in muttering a slight 'excuse me', walked to one of the available chairs across from the five people you would be working with from now on.

"Well, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Jim Hopper, founder of Diamond Entertainment."

You almost fell out of your chair listening to him. What a lousy first impression you had made on your now boss.

"The woman behind the desk is Joyce Byers, co-founder of the label."

You looked at the woman. She wore a friendly smile and her hair fell loosely over her shoulders. You couldn't help but think how beautiful she was.

"And these are the members of Midnights."

You paused your gaze for a few seconds on each of them. You watched Jim cackle as he looked at the guys. Almost immediately they let out a unison sigh.

"Alex" said the girl on the left. She was the drummer in the band. Her hair was brown and short, with some purple highlights. In her hands she had two drumsticks, with which she had been "playing" the whole time since you arrived.

"William Hargrove" said Billy, the bass player, with a wink in his right eye. You shuddered slightly on the couch at the sight of him, "at your service".

"Shut up, you idiot, you're scaring her" said the girl next to him, nudging him gently. Almost immediately she flashed you a gleaming smile, "Sorry, he's usually a bit insensitive, but he's a nice guy. I'm Robin, nice to meet you."

You smiled as best you could, nodding your head. You recognized her as the pianist of the group, a very talented and outgoing girl.

"Edward Munson" said the boy next to Alex. He had his hair tied back in a low bun and his iconic Hellfire t-shirt. He was the guitarist of the band, and definitely one of the best you've ever heard. "It's nice to finally meet you, we've all been looking forward to meeting you."

You felt a warmth in your chest. Unlike what you thought, he seemed nice enough and his voice was very soft, too much so.

"Don't say that, you'll make her nervous" said Steve. Ah, of course you knew Steve, he to you needed no introduction.

You always found him attractive, you had seen some interviews and concert clips, and it was almost impossible not to fall in love with him when he was so... him. So brilliant, so beautiful, so talented, he was such a role model for you, and working with him, with all of them, made your heart melt and reshape.

"I'm Steve, it's a pleasure" he smiled, causing your stomach to flip and your throat to go dry again, "I hope we get along very well, miss."

You almost choked when you heard the nickname. You tried to hide your face by avoiding looking at him, but you knew it would be in vain. The light here was coming in too well, and he had a direct view of your face.

"And what's your name?" asked Robin. For some reason you couldn't understand, she looked too excited about this meeting.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N" you said with a smile. Your nails pressing harder against the sensitive skin of your palms. "Nice to meet you, all of you. I hope we can make a great team. I promise to give my all so I won't disappoint you."

All the members looked at you in silence. Your nerves were growing too much, and so was your desire to cry. The thought of having made a mistake and being hated from now on made you lose your mind. You blinked rapidly, trying to make the phantom tears that were trying to leave your eyes disappear. This, you told yourself, is why you never made friends, why you were afraid to meet people.

The five of you looked at each other and, almost at the same time, began to laugh. You tilted your head to one side, frowning in confusion, you didn't understand why they were laughing. Maybe you had made a ridiculous face, maybe your presentation was too much, maybe-.

"Relax, manager," Eddie said with a chuckle, getting up from the red velvet armchair and walking towards you, "it doesn't need to be formal, after all, from now on we'll be as thick as thieves."

"Eddie is right, you don't need to be so uptight" Steve smiled warmly, as did the other members.

The urge to cry started to get bigger, but this time for completely different reasons. It had been so long since someone had smiled at you like that, someone outside of your family of course.

This time you smiled broadly, as did all of them. You also got up from the armchair you had been sitting in all this time, you looked at the five of them, hoping you could get along with each of them.

"Thank you" you said, feeling much calmer than when you entered this great company.

Inside you, deep down inside, you hoped you could be bonded with these people, have bonds you could never have before.

You looked at Steve, his brown eyes were so soft and bright. For an instant you stopped hearing all the noises around you. For an instant it was just the two of you. But that instant ended, just like any misconceptions you may have gotten when you remembered the article you read a few days ago in a digital newspaper; Steve was engaged and, in the next few weeks, he would reveal the identity of the very lucky woman.

You took off your glasses for a second, letting your weight fall onto the back of the chair. You had been working here for two weeks and you really loved it, but the person who had your position before was very... messy, so to speak. Concert schedules, scheduled interviews, collaborations, preparing the new album, you had to rearrange everything again, call hundreds of companies and labels to try to convince them to change the date and it definitely had you exhausted.

You were going over again the number of rooms to rent in Los Angeles when you heard a knock on the door.

You looked up, shouting 'come in'. You paid no attention to who came in, right now it mattered much more about the numbers you would have to dial for the next few hours, trying to make room for lunch and to check the cameras in your apartment and see your two little ba-

"Y/N,” said a tearful voice. The door rattled at the same time a sob came from Steve's lips.

You quickly got up from your seat, walking over to him and sitting him in the chair in front of your desk.

These last few weeks the guys have been very nice to you, you had gained a great appreciation for them, especially because they offered you a ride home every night so they wouldn't leave you alone so late, not to mention the times they came to your office with a snack so you wouldn't starve to death. That's why seeing Steve had you so worried. He was sweet, kind, perfect, and you didn't understand why he could be crying like that.

"Steve? What happened? Are you okay? Did something happen to a family member?" Worst-case scenarios began to run through your head as you tried to hold Steve back. You grabbed the tissues from your desk and used them to gently wipe his cheeks, completely ignoring how close you were to each other.

"I-it's Nancy," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes tightly and licking his lips, "my fiancée, she..."

"She what, Steve? Did she have an accident? Do you need to go see her?" you said softly, holding her cheek as carefully as you could. It hurt you to see it this way.

"No, she's not hurt," he shook his head, his eyes completely avoiding you, unable to see anything but his hands, "She called me a few minutes ago. She called off the wedding, broke up with me" and burst into tears again.

Panic began to consume you. Steve's wedding was on the itinerary, not only would you have to eliminate hundreds of scheduled activities, but they would also lose the money and it would cause them problems if the media found out this happened, they would be painted as liars, of wanting attention at the expense of any false news.

"I'm so sorry" he said between sobs and, for the first time since he came in, he really looked you in the eye. His face was red, his cheeks were wet and his eyes were puffy, his hair was in disarray and his shirt had some dark marks showing that tears had fallen there. "I know you've been so busy arranging our schedule and all, now I come here to cry to you about my problems and about the wedding cancellation. I'm just giving you more work."

"Of course not!" you said before you even realized it, "Don't worry about it, Steve, that's my job, you just..." you stood there for a few seconds looking at his state, how he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from letting out more sobs. "Go home, get some rest, I'll talk to Hopper, okay?"

"I'm so sorry, really," he said quietly, getting up and wiping away his tears. "I'll call you when I get there."

"Please," you begged him with your eyes, "ask someone to drive you, I'd hate for you to drive in that state."

He just nodded, running his hand through his messy hair and walking to the door at a slow pace.

"Steve?" you said as he opened the door, waiting for him to turn to look at you to continue, "it's not your fault."

He just put on a cancel smile, his eyes were much duller than usual. You couldn't help but feel a lump in your throat.

"I wish you were right," he said, walking out of your office and closing the door.

You took a breath and threw yourself back in your chair, closing your eyes and pressing the bridge of your nose.

"Looks like I'll be home late."

The first thing you saw when you entered your apartment were your two puppies, Muffin, the corgi, and Berry, the chihuahua. Both had come into your life when you fell into a deep depression as you started college. They were your babies, your emotional support puppies, your family. You loved them with all your soul, and you knew they loved you too.

"Hey babies, did you miss mommy?" you squealed in a childish voice, running to them, laughing as you saw them running to you too. "I missed you so much, did you miss me?"

You smiled happily as you felt them licking your face and jumping around you. You didn't know what your life would be without these creatures.

"I'm so sorry, Mommy had too much work to do, but I promise I'll be home earlier in a few weeks" you murmured, nuzzling behind Muffin's ears.

After a few minutes of cuddling your puppies, you took care of the housework. You did the laundry, took out the dry clothes, made yourself some instant soup for dinner, made your bed and washed the breakfast dishes.

All that time you were thinking of some way to fix Steve. You didn't know his fiancée, so you couldn't contact her, you didn't want to ask Steve either, and as far as you knew, she didn't get along with the rest of the group, at least not most of them, so you doubted they knew her number. You thought about looking her up online, but there were a lot of Nancy Wheeler's in the world, and you had no idea what she looked like. You also thought about taking a random girl and having her be the fake image of Nancy, since no one besides them knew her, but it was risky, too risky, you didn't know if you could trust them, so that wouldn't be an option either, and don't even think about Robin and Alex, they wouldn't accept even if they were paid a million dollars.

Tired, stressed, and with your head in a jumble, you lay down under your warm sheets and stayed there, with your eyes closed, listening to relaxing music so you could fall asleep, with each dog on one side of your head, and it was there, at that very moment when you almost fell fast asleep, that you came up with an idea that could save the situation. You grabbed your computer and turned it on, rattling your fingers on the desktop as you waited for the lock screen to appear. In less than 15 minutes you had drafted the mail with Jim and Joyce's address, waiting for the idea to be decent enough to be accepted.

You were reviewing some contracts when someone knocked on the door and walked into your office. Steve walked over to your desk and sat in the same chair as a week ago, only this time he looked a little better.

"Miriam told me you needed me, did you manage to find a solution?" he said with his cheeks red with embarrassment. He wasn't even able to look you in the face.

"Something like that" you mumbled, pulling a transparent blue folder out of your desk drawer. "We were talking about it with Hopper and Joyce" you looked sideways at Steve, setting the folder down in front of him, "it wasn't easy at all to make this decision, we took all this week to look at the pros and cons, but so far this is the best option we have."

You saw Steve's throat move as he swallowed saliva. His gaze shifted from you to the folder, almost as if he needed permission to look at it.

"It's a contract," you said, taking the coffee next to you and blowing on it, "for an arranged marriage." You didn't miss the surprise on her face when he heard the news, but you couldn't do much else. You were taking a big chance on this, it wasn't easy for you either.

"Arranged marriage? Of course not, that's a lousy idea, what if a stalker fan comes for the job and-?" Steve stopped when he saw your hand extended in his direction.

"Steve, we already have a reliable candidate" you said calmly, or at least you hoped it looked that way.

"Who?" you said with a frown, more out of confusion than annoyance.

"Me" you looked at Steve steadily, waiting to see his reaction.

"I beg your pardon?" muttered Steve with wide eyes, staring at the contract in front of him.

You sighed, taking a sip of your bitter coffee, knowing deep down that something like this could happen.

"I thought I said it clear, but I'll say it again" you set the coffee cup down on the table, your gaze fixed on Steve's dark eyes, "my proposal to solve your unnecessary drama is that we get married, you can think about it, but remember we have time on our hands."

"But..."

"I remind you that you were the one who brought the issue to light, Steven" you took a pencil out of your pocket, putting it down in front of him decisively, "and you asked me for a solution, here it is, do you accept?"

Steve looked at the contract again, running his hand through his face and hair. He bit his lower lip and looked at you uncertainly.

"Can I read the terms?" you nodded, relaxing a little more as you noticed he was willing to at least review the terms.

"We'll just pretend in front of the cameras. The wedding will be real, the expenses were already made and they weren't cheap at all" you explained softly, observing even the slightest gesture on his face, "We'll have to move in together to disguise, but we'll each have our own room. We have to go to any parties together, and we also have to answer some questions from reporters. Every so often we'll have fake dates in public so as not to arouse suspicion."

He nodded, reading the pages of the contract where the conditions you had just mentioned came out, but much more detailed.

"When does the contract end?" muttered Steve, lifting his gaze and watching you under his eyelashes.

"A year and a half after the marriage occurs."

He returned his gaze to the contract, shifting his leg restlessly. It was starting to make you nervous.

"Okay," he said quietly, taking the pencil next to the contract and signing on the line with your name on it, "if we only have to pretend for a year and a half, then I guess it's okay."

You nodded, feeling a weight off your shoulders. You got up from your chair, ready to go tell Hopper and Joyce the news, but a hand stopped you.

"What are you doing?" you passed your gaze between his hand and him, not quite understanding what he wanted to do.

"Gotta close the deal properly" he smiled nervously, reaching out his hand again.

You smiled, taking his hand gently and smiling back. "It's an official deal now, isn't it?"

"Looks like it," he murmured, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I'm sorry I got you into this, Y/N."

You shook your head, laughing softly, ignoring the glint you saw in his eyes.

"It's my job, Steve, I have to keep your image as flawless as possible, no matter what."

His gaze stayed locked on yours, causing a churning to form in your stomach. His eyes looked so dark and mesmerizing and so... beautiful.

"I promise I will make you as happy as possible during this year and a half. You won't regret signing that contract, Miss Y/N."

General Masterlist.

Midnight Masterlist.

Taglist: @alex-walker-86 @bakugouswh0r3 @dorothe13a @gaysludge @inesven @mcueveryday

Until We Become An Us | Jonathan Byers, The Producer.

Warnings: Modern!Band! AU, Actress! Reader, Grumpy x Sunshine.

Jonathan was something... special. He hated people, he liked to be locked up, alone, out of the cameras, working for his own money to support his family. In short, he was a bitter loner with a big heart. For him the world sucked, it was capitalism, a 'give and take', and there was nothing and no one to change his mind, or at least that's what he thought until a famous actress came into his life who was the opposite of him. A cheerful woman, someone who loved to share with people, to be outdoors, close to the cameras, working for herself, for her dreams and to help people in need. Their worlds collided and, to Jonathan's surprise, that collision would bring with it hundreds of emotions and ways of looking at the world.

"Jonathan?" you murmured with a big smile, your arms resting on the table in front of him, tapping your long fingernails against the wooden counter.

"Yes?" his voice was barely audible, but of course you understood, you always did.

"I think we could be good friends, that's if you'd open up even a little."

Jonathan turned his gaze to you, his eyelashes fluttering slowly.

"Did you smoke something?" his face was serious, but that didn't stop you from laughing jovially at what you thought was a joke.

"Of course not, I just can't help but think that if we tried we'd be very close" a friendly smile caused his cheeks to paint slightly pastel pink. It was very cute, you thought.

"That's ridiculous."

(The pink ones are seen from your point of view, the black ones are narrated from Jonathan's point of view) This story is based on scenes from a screenplay. After the epilogue [The End] there will be a description of the character that is with Jonathan and her name (this is because in the other parts of Midnight series the character appears and could be confused with the reader of that story) anyway, I will avoid as much as possible the important physical descriptions like skin color, eyes, hair, etc.

Prologue | A sweet cold heart.

First Scene | An annoying little honey pig.

Second Scene | The frog that became a prince.

Third Scene | If you ever need me, I'll be there.

Fourth Scene | Daisies over roses.

Fifth Scene | To give my heart.

Sixth Scene | The story of the frog and the little pig.

The End | And they lived happily ever after...

Midnight Masterlist.