BY FAR MY FAVORITE CHAPTER I'VE EVER WRITTEN!!

BY FAR MY FAVORITE CHAPTER I'VE EVER WRITTEN!!

Chapter Six: Rock N’ Roll Dream

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 4.6K

A/N: now without further ado, the chapter everyone has been waiting for, I made sure to make this chapter a long one!! Enjoy! 🤭

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A rollercoaster of emotions were swirling through Lyra's mind. In the past twenty-four hours, she had felt so many unprecedented feelings that had been suppressed for years, bubbling up to the surface like a shaken soda can ready to explode. Memories of happier times mixed with the current turmoil, creating a chaotic storm within her. She knew that Billy hated change, clinging to the familiar like a lifeline. But the more time they spent in Hawkins, the longer he became unrecognizable to her.

Lyra remembered the days when Billy was her protector, always looking out for her with a fierce loyalty. But now, his actions were more erratic and unpredictable. She could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface, a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. The small town of Hawkins, with its eerie stillness and lurking shadows, seemed to amplify his inner demons, turning him into someone she could barely understand.

The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future pressed heavily on Lyra's shoulders. She felt a pang of guilt, wondering if there was something she could have done differently, some way to reach out to the brother she once knew. The howling wind snapped her out of her inner turmoil as she hugged the leather jacket closer to her body so that it would provide some much needed comfort and warmth that she desperately needed. The cold air bit at her cheeks, turning them a rosy shade, and her breath formed small clouds in the frigid night.

She took a second to distract herself by analyzing Tina's backyard. The yard was a spectacle of Halloween creativity. Fake cobwebs stretched between the trees, glistening in the moonlight, and plastic skeletons hung from the branches, swaying gently in the wind. Teenagers from Hawkins certainly knew how to throw a rager. However the decorations and trash that littered the yard weren’t the only thing that caught Lyra’s attention. She was quick to noticed a shadowy figure completely isolated from everyone. The only indication that she wasn't out there alone was the amber glow of their cigarette.

Letting her eyes adjust to the darkness she noticed that he was wearing a costume she definitely recognized for the first time all night. He was dressed in tight black jeans, a leather jacket adorned with metal studs, and a wild mane of curly hair that framed his face. Without thinking too much about it, her feet carried her over to the stranger, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Kirk Hammet." The stranger in question nearly spat out the beer he had taken a swing from.

He swore he was hallucinating, that is until his eyes met Lyra's. "W-What?" He spluttered trying to wrap his head around the fact that a pretty girl knew who he was dressed up as. "I like your costume, bold choice."  The stranger chuckled nervously, running a hand through his curly hair. "Well if the shoe fits." He gestured to himself theatrically. "Thanks, not many people get it. You into Metallica?" His voice was a mix of surprise and curiosity, the kind that made Lyra feel a little less like an outsider in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

"Yeah, you could say that," She replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and the distant laughter of partygoers. Breaking the silence, Lyra watched as the long-haired stranger reached behind him to grab a metal lunchbox, its surface adorned with stickers of various rock bands. "So, you interested in some of the devil's lettuce, sweetheart?" He asked, shaking it comically, the contents rattling inside.

Lyra couldn't help but scoff, her breath visible in the chilly air. "You're a dealer?" She raised her brow in question, her curiosity piqued. "Only the best in Hawkins," He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Eddie Munson at your service." He bowed theatrically, his wild curls bouncing with the movement. Lyra chuckled, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie in his presence. "As much as I appreciate the offer, that's more my brother’s vice rather than mine," She replied, her voice tinged with amusement.

Eddie's face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Shit, I'll make myself scarce then," He said, pretending to tip an invisible hat before turning to leave. But before he could take a step, Lyra reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of warmth through her, grounding her in the moment. "Wait," She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to go." Eddie's eyes softened, and he nodded, taking a step closer.

The night seemed a little less cold, and the world outside Tina's backyard felt a little less daunting. Breaking the silence, Lyra watched as the long-haired stranger, Eddie Munson, settled down beside her on the weathered bench. The wood creaked under his weight, adding to the symphony of crickets chirping in the background. He leaned back, his eyes scanning the star-strewn sky above, a thoughtful expression on his face. "So you're the new girl I've been hearing so much about." He concluded putting two and two together. His voice was low and smooth, carrying a hint of curiosity.

Lyra shrugged, turning to face him, her eyes reflecting the twinkling stars above. "What gave it away?" She questioned, her tone light but her eyes searching his face for an answer. "Well," He started holding up his finger. "For one I've never seen you around, and I'd remember someone with good taste in music." And two," He held up two fingers. "Gossip travels fast at the hellhole that is Hawkins High." Lyra chuckled softly, the sound blending with the distant rustle of leaves. The air was cool, but the warmth of their budding conversation kept the chill at bay.

Eddie's eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and genuine interest, making her feel oddly at ease. "So, you got a name, or am I going to have to call you sweetheart all night?" He teased, his smile widening. "Lyra," She replied, her voice steady but soft. The name felt like a bridge between them, a small but significant step towards familiarity. Eddie nodded, as if committing her name to memory. "Lyra," He repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. The way he said her name made it feel like more than just a formality; it felt like the beginning of something new and unexpected.

"You got another cigarette on you, Eddie?" Lyra questioned teasingly, quite confident that she knew the answer. "You wound me," He muttered, digging the pack out of the inside of his leather jacket. "Never leave home without it, even if I promised my uncle I'd quit." He pulled out a cigarette and handed it to her, the silver rings on his fingers catching the faint light from the porch. Lyra took the cigarette, feeling the cool paper between her fingers. The smell of tobacco mixed with the earthy scent of the night air, creating a strangely comforting aroma.

Eddie struck his lighter, the brief flare of light illuminating his face before he held the flame to her cigarette. She inhaled deeply, the smoke curling up into the night sky, blending with the misty breath of the cool evening. Eddie leaned back, his own cigarette dangling from his lips. "You know," He said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "My uncle's always on my case about these things. Says they're gonna be the death of me." He chuckled, a sound that was more resigned than amused. Lyra watched the smoke drift away, her thoughts momentarily lost in the swirling patterns.

"Yeah, well, sometimes it's the little rebellions that keep us sane," She replied, her voice tinged with a quiet defiance. She glanced over at Eddie, noticing the way his eyes softened, as if he understood more than he let on. The night seemed to stretch on, the silence between them comfortable and unforced. "So what's your story?" Eddie asked catching Lyra by surprise. She raised her brow in question urging him to continue. "You don't drink or smoke weed, but you smoke tobacco and ride a motorcycle," He thought aloud, his tone carrying a hint of admiration. Eddie's gaze met hers, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“Don’t forget, I also like metal,” She added with a smirk, the edges of her lips curling into a playful grin. The sound of distant laughter and the rustling of leaves filled the air, but their focus remained solely on each other. “Right, how could I forget,” He teased, making Lyra smile, her cheeks flushing slightly in the cool night air. After a beat of silence, almost as if Eddie was trying to figure out exactly what to say, he finally spoke. "You're interesting," He concluded, his voice filled with genuine curiosity and admiration.

This made Lyra let out a chuckle, the sound light and melodic, blending seamlessly with the rustling leaves around them. "Says the resident metalhead - drug dealer," She sassed back, motioning to him and his metal lunchbox, which he always carried with an air of nonchalance. "Touché," He smirked, taking a long drag out of his cigarette, which was almost out. "I gotta ask, how'd you even get into metal in the first place?" Eddie questioned. "Well," Her eyes flickered with nostalgia as she thought back to her childhood.

"When you have a brother who blasts it 24/7, it tends to grow on you." She could almost hear the distant echoes of guitars and drums coming from Billy's room, the relentless beats becoming the soundtrack of her formative years. "Besides," She smirked to herself, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Axl Rose's ass looks amazing in leather." She snickered, recalling the posters that she had admired everyday on the walls of Billy's room. "Jesus H. Christ," Eddie groaned, falling backwards on the wooden bench dramatically.

"You're one of those girls." Lyra scoffed, teasingly shoving his shoulder. "You know if you're ever interested in hearing some live metal music sometime and giving your ole’ Walkman a break, my band and I play at the Hideout on Tuesdays." He suggested, his voice carrying a hint of hopeful excitement. "Why does it not surprise me that you're in a bad." Lyra thought aloud, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Eddie was about to give her a witty remark when she interrupted, her curiosity piqued. "Let me guess, with your theatrics, you're the lead guitarist too?"

"And lead singer most nights." He announced proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Lyra couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "So you're one of those guys." Lyra teased throwing his words from earlier back at him. Eddie couldn't help the smile that made it's way on his face. There was absolutely no way that a pretty girl liked metal and appreciated his humor. "Maybe I could get your number and-" Only Eddie didn't get to finish his sentence. A sudden loud crash from a nearby alley interrupted him, causing both of them to look in that direction.

Hearing the commotion of "Ooos" coming from inside the house made goosebumps arise on Lyra's skin. That could not be good. The night air felt suddenly colder, the chill seeping into her bones as she tried to gauge the situation. "Duty calls?" Eddie asked, immediately noticing Lyra's shift in demeanor. His voice was gentle, yet tinged with curiosity and concern. Lyra turned to give Eddie a remorseful look, wishing she could stay in his company longer. The warmth and ease of their conversation had been a rare comfort. "I'm so sorry,” She apologized, seeing the disappointment swimming in his chocolate doe eyes.

“I just have a feeling that my brother is somehow involved and we have a curfew," She explained, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of regret. She could feel the weight of responsibility pulling her away. "No biggie sweetheart, just get home safe, alright." Eddie replied with a reassuring smile. His calm and understanding demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos she anticipated inside. "Thanks, Eddie," She smiled, grabbing her helmet. "It was really nice to meet you." With an affectionate squeeze to his bicep, Lyra ran inside to see what all the commotion was about, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and the lingering warmth of their brief connection.

Upon entering the house, which was now even more trashed than when she arrived, Lyra maneuvered herself through drunken bodies to try and find the source of the commotion. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, and the sound of loud, off-key singing mixed with laughter still filled the room. She carefully stepped over broken glass and discarded cups, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene for any sign of trouble. She let out a breath of relief seeing as Billy was nowhere to be seen, yet she worried that was a bad sign too.

The last time she saw him, he was already on edge, and his absence now could mean he was getting into even more trouble elsewhere. Those thoughts were quickly put on pause as someone from behind crashed into her. She clutched onto her shoulder, hoping that her hand could relieve the sting before turning to give the drunk partygoer a piece of her mind. "Watch where you're going!" She hissed, only she was taken aback due to making eye contact with 'King Steve'. The same person her brother was face to face with hours earlier.

Upon noticing his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, Lyra momentarily felt bad for yelling. Steve Harrington wanted nothing more than to snap back at the blonde girl in front of him, but decided against it. Instead he shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion, and made his way to the front door without another look back. “Asshole.” She muttered stretching out her aching shoulder and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the residual anger. Suddenly, she heard a slurred curse behind her, "S-Shit!" Spinning around, she saw a drunken girl stumbling, her eyes half-closed and her movements unsteady.

Lyra quickly stepped forward, just in time to steady the girl who looked like she could pass out any second. "Woah, are you okay?" Lyra questioned, her voice softening with concern as she looked into the girl's glazed eyes, trying to gauge her condition. The girl's makeup was smeared, and her hair was a tangled mess, suggesting she had been through quite an ordeal. "I'm f-fine," She slurred, her words barely coherent. Yet Lyra could tell by her disheveled appearance and the way she swayed unsteadily that she was far from fine. The strong smell of alcohol lingered around her, and her clothes were wrinkled and slightly damp a red splotch staining the white material.

"Let's get you some fresh air, okay?" Lyra suggested, trying to guide her towards the door. She placed a supportive arm around the girl's shoulders, feeling the cold sweat on her skin. Yet before Lyra could direct her outside, a familiar voice interrupted. "Woah, Nancy, what happened?" Jonathan Byers questioned, his eyes widening with concern as he took in the scene. He stepped closer, his brow furrowing in worry. A moment of realization seemed to cross Nancy's face before she looked at Jonathan, her voice barely above a whisper. "Steve's bullshit," She muttered, her words thick with emotion and fatigue.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked like she had been crying. Jonathan frowned, his worry deepening as he glanced between Lyra and Nancy. "I need to get her home," He announced, taking a gentle but firm hold of Nancy's forearm. He began to steer her towards the front door, his grip steadying her as she stumbled slightly. Nancy's breathing was shallow, and she leaned heavily on Jonathan, her head drooping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. "Let me help you," Lyra insisted, her voice filled with concern and urgency as she followed closely behind Jonathan. She reached out to support Nancy's other side, her hands trembling slightly with worry.

The trio moved slowly through the crowded room, weaving between groups of people who were oblivious to the unfolding drama. As they reached the front door, the cool night air rushed in, bringing a momentary sense of relief. The stars were faintly visible against the dark sky, and the distant hum of traffic provided a soothing backdrop. Lyra could feel the tension in Nancy's body begin to ease slightly, but she knew they still had a long way to go. She glanced at Jonathan, who nodded in appreciation, his eyes reflecting the same concern and determination that she felt. Together, they guided Nancy outside, hoping that the fresh air and the quiet of the night would help her recover.

As they reached Jonathan's car, Lyra was quick to pull his passenger car door open so that he could gently place Nancy inside without much of a struggle. Nancy slumped into the seat, her eyes half-closed, as Jonathan carefully buckled her in, making sure she was comfortable and secure before shutting the door softly. Turning to Lyra he fiddled with his fingers, his eyes darting around nervously. "I, um, saw your brother passed out by the tree on the side of the house," He informed her, his voice tinged with concern. She was unable to stifle the eye roll, knowing that dealing with Billy was going to be a challenge.

Lyra couldn't help but roll her eyes, the exasperation clear on her face. The image of her brother sprawled out under the tree flashed in her mind, adding to her already mounting stress. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come, while Jonathan gave her a sympathetic look, his hands now resting on the roof of the car. "I'll take care of it," She sighed a hint of exasperation crossing her face. "Get home safe," At her words he nodded, giving Lyra a reassuring smile. He jumped into the driver's seat of his car, the engine roaring to life as he turned the key. With a final wave, he drove off into the night, leaving Lyra to deal with Billy. She watched the taillights disappear around the corner, the weight of the night's events settling heavily on her shoulders.

Taking another deep breath, she turned back towards the house, her footsteps echoing softly on the gravel driveway. The porch light flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance with the wind. She hoped that Billy wouldn't be too far out of it, but as she neared the side of the house, her hopes were quickly dashed. Sure enough, just as Jonathan had said, Billy was sprawled out, nursing a bottle of god knows what in his hand. The smell of alcohol hit her before she even reached him, a pungent mix of whiskey and stale beer. As she reached him, she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Jesus, Billy, you smell like a bar. How much did you drink?" She muttered, crouching down to his level. She gently pried the bottle from his hand, her fingers brushing against his clammy skin. The night was far from over, and as she helped him to his feet, she knew that the real challenge was just beginning. "K-Keg King." He slurred, a sloppy smile spreading across his face. For a brief moment, he seemed proud of himself, but the smile quickly faded when he caught sight of his sister's hardened expression. The disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable, and it cut through his drunken haze like a knife.

"Keys," Lyra demanded, holding her hand out, her voice firm and unwavering. She wasn't in the mood for any of his usual antics. Her patience was wearing thin, and all she wanted was to get him inside and away from any more trouble. Billy fumbled in his pockets, the sound of jingling keys breaking the tense silence. Finally, he pulled them out and dropped them into her waiting hand, his head hanging low in shame. Lyra clenched the keys in her hand, the cold metal biting into her palm. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before wrapping an arm around Billy's waist to support him. They stumbled together towards his Camaro, the gravel crunching under their feet in the quiet night.

"You can't keep drowning your problems in alcohol." Billy's head lolled to the side, his eyes half-closed. "I'm fine." He mumbled, his words barely coherent. Lyra shook her head, guiding him into the passenger seat and buckling him in, only taking her eyes off of him to throw her helmet in the backseat. "This isn't fine," She said softly, more to herself than to him. She walked around to the driver's side, her mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. As she started the car, she glanced over at Billy, who had already drifted off to sleep. She sighed, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on her shoulders.

Just then like a bucket of ice water being dumped onto her, she realized that she and Billy had come to the party separated. Her eyes darted to the spot where her motorcycle was still parked a few feet away, gleaming under the streetlights. There was no way she was about to leave her prized possession in someone else's driveway overnight. "Shit," she muttered to herself, fighting the exhaustion that was beginning to cloud her mind. She needed to formulate a coherent plan, but her brain felt sluggish and uncooperative. The thought of abandoning her bike gnawed at her, but so did the idea of leaving Billy alone in his current state.

Almost as if someone was answering her thoughts, Lyra spotted the familiar unruly hair of Eddie Munson, a few feet away throwing his metal lunchbox into a van. This was her only chance. "Stay in the car." Lyra demanded throwing the drivers seat open. Hearing those words, Billy woke up from his drunken slumber, sitting up straighter and fumbling with his seatbelt. "But-" Lyra's harsh voice cut him off. "Billy I mean it!" She all but growled, her patience snapping. "Stay. In. The. Car." With those final words she slammed the door to his Camaro shut leaving no more room for argument.

"Eddie, wait!" She called out, sprinting towards him, her heart pounding in her chest. Eddie turned, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw her approaching. "Lyra? What's going on?" He asked, concern etched on his face. "I need your help," She said breathlessly, glancing back at the car where Billy was slumped. He followed her line of sight, his brows furrowing momentarily. "I need to get him home, but I drove my motorcycle here. Is there any way, and of course if you don't mind, can we store my motorcycle in the back of your trunk? Just for tonight I promise I'll-" Yet her rambling was cut short. "Hey," Eddie coaxed placing his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. "Slow down." He spoke softly, his touch grounding her in the moment. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her jacket, a stark contrast to the chill of the night air.

"Go grab your motorcycle, I'll make room in the back of my van, okay?" His words were a balm to her frazzled nerves, and she nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. Eddie's calm presence was exactly what she needed in that moment. She watched as Eddie moved with purpose, his movements quick and efficient as he opened the van's back doors and began rearranging the clutter inside to make space. Eddie started to move the band's supplies around, carefully stacking amplifiers and drum kits to one side, making sure nothing would topple over during the ride. He meticulously placed guitar cases and mic stands, his hands moving with a practiced ease that spoke of many nights spent loading and unloading gear. The van, once a chaotic mess of cables and equipment, began to take on a semblance of order under his diligent care.

Not feeling confident enough to answer, she simply nodded again, her eyes following Eddie's every move. She could see the determination in his eyes, the way his brow furrowed slightly as he focused on the task at hand. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it meant the world to her. The sight of Eddie’s methodical movements and the sound of equipment being carefully arranged provided a strange sense of comfort, making her feel that everything would be okay. As Eddie continued to rearrange the band supplies, Lyra made her way to her motorcycle, with a gentle rumble, she started the engine, the sound a familiar comfort to her ears. Slowly and carefully, she maneuvered the motorcycle towards the waiting van. Eddie glanced up from his task, a smile playing on his lips as he saw her approach.

Together, they worked in harmony, coordinating the loading of the motorcycle into the back of the van. Eddie guided her with precise hand signals, ensuring the bike was securely fastened for the journey ahead. With a final click, the van doors were closed, the task completed. As they both stepped back, a sense of accomplishment filled the air. Lyra turned to Eddie, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Keep her safe for me." She whispered, her voice carrying a mix of hope and reliance.

"Scouts honor." He assured, using his fingers and crossing his heart over his leather jacket. The gesture, both earnest and endearing, made a smile make its way onto Lyra's face. "Thanks Rockstar, I owe you one." Even in the moonlight, it was hard to miss the crimson blush that made its way onto Eddie's face. He looked down for a moment, kicking a small pebble with his boot before meeting her gaze again. "Get home safe, alright." Lyra nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. She gave Eddie one last appreciative look before turning to leave, the sound of her boots crunching on the gravel the only noise in the stillness.

As she walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder, catching Eddie's eye one more time. He gave her a small, reassuring wave, and she couldn't help but smile. As she opened the door to the Camaro, the leather seat creaked softly under her weight. Billy jolted awake as Lyra started the engine, his eyes bleary and confused. The soft hum of the engine seemed to pull him fully back to consciousness. Almost as if he remembered that they had driven separately, he voiced Lyra's concern from a few minutes prior. "Y-Your bike." His voice was groggy but filled with genuine worry. "It's safe with a friend." She reassured, her voice calm and steady as she inserted the key into the ignition.

She could feel the familiar vibration of the engine beneath her, a comforting reminder of the freedom and speed that awaited them. With a quick, practiced motion, she shifted gears, and the Camaro roared to life. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, noting the time and realizing they had to hurry. The thought of Susan and Neil realizing they were out past curfew sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. The tires screeched slightly as she pressed the accelerator, the car speeding off into the night.

BROKEN RECORD

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || stranger things || seasons two - four

SUMMARY: Lyra Hargrove had to grow up quickly, constantly adjusting to unwanted changes. The hardest was moving to Hawkins, Indiana after her father remarried to keep up a facade of a happy family. Weeks into their new life, Lyra notices Max acting secretive and avoiding everyone. She soon discovers that Hawkins is linked to the Upside Down, a dangerous, demonic version of their town. Joining the monster hunting club brings more secrets, lies, and potential heartbreak.

WARNINGS: friends to lovers, second chance romance, cursing, angst, stranger things violence, some talks of blood and gore

A/N: I do not own any of the stranger things characters only Lyra and her storyline as well as any other OC's that I create. Please do not copy or translate my work; paraphrasing is still copying! As always, thank you for all the support in my writing, I appreciate every single one of you! 🥰

➩ SEASON TWO

➩ SEASON THREE

➩ SEASON FOUR

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE AWAKENING

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 4.5K

A/N: happy October everyone! 🍂 this chapter is all over the place: tiny amounts of angst, more of Lyra and Eddie, and some familiar faces as we set the scene for the main events of season two!

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The drive home was silent, except for the occasional snore from Billy. Lyra's grip on the steering wheel tightened, determination setting in. She knew she had to help her brother find a way out of this destructive cycle, no matter how hard it would be. Upon arriving home later that night, more like one in the morning, Lyra had to maneuver herself and a staggering Billy inside the house without alerting Susan and especially Neil. The once rowdy Halloween night was now quiet, with only the faint rustling of leaves and distant sounds of traffic breaking the silence. Lyra carefully unlocked the front door, cringing at the slight creak it made.

She glanced back at Billy, who was doing his best to stay upright as he basically clung onto her leather clad shoulder. His weight was heavy, and his breath smelled of alcohol, a stark reminder of the night’s events. The hallway was dimly lit, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with every step they took. Lyra could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room, each tick amplifying her anxiety. She whispered soothing words to Billy, trying to keep him calm and quiet as they made their way to his room. "Holy shit," The voice made her squeeze her eyes shut letting out a shaky exhale.

Only when she managed to turn around and noticed Max standing in the hallway instead of her step mother and father she was able to breathe properly. "Is he okay?" Max whispered her brows furrowing with concern. "Max, quick," Lyra whisper-yelled, completely aware that Neil or Susan could get up at any moment. "Help me get him into his room." Max nodded, rushing over to take some of Billy's weight off Lyra. Together, they carefully navigated the narrow hallway, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The house seemed to hold its breath, every creak of the floorboards sounding like a thunderclap in the silence.

As they reached Billy's room, Lyra pushed the door open with her hip, the hinges protesting softly. They guided Billy to his bed, easing him down gently. He mumbled something unintelligible, eyes glazed and unfocused. Lyra pulled off his shoes and leather jacket, covering him with a blanket, her movements tender despite her exhaustion. Just as she was about to get up from the edge of the bed, Billy spoke, "I-I'm sorry." He slurred, reaching for Lyra's hand. His grip was weak, but she could feel the desperation in his touch. "Go to sleep, we'll talk about this in the morning." She assured her voice soft and soothing. She squeezed his hand gently before letting go, watching as his eyes slowly close.

Lyra took a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly leave her body. She glanced at Max, who was standing by the door, her eyes wide with concern. "Will he be okay?" She asked again, her voice barely above a whisper. Lyra nodded, forcing a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine, Max. Just needs to sleep it off." With Billy finally settled, Lyra and Max tiptoed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them. "Any chance you'll tuck me into bed too?" By the tone of her voice, Lyra could tell Max was joking yet there was a hint of genuine fatigue in her eyes. Lyra chuckled softly, giving Max a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"Come on Cherry, let's get you into bed." She coaxed throwing her arm over Max's shoulders guiding her towards her room. Without hesitation, Max climbed into bed, pulling her blanket up to her chin, as Lyra tucked the blanket around her snugly. "Goodnight, Lyra," Max yawned, nuzzling into her blanket. Lyra leaned over to give the redhead a kiss on the forehead, her lips brushing softly against Max's warm skin. "Goodnight, Max," She whispered, turning off the light and closing the door gently. As she walked back to her own room, Lyra felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that everyone was finally at rest. The quiet of the house enveloped her, and she allowed herself to relax, feeling the weight of the day lift from her shoulders.

The following morning Lyra woke up to a raging headache. Sitting up in her bed, she groaned rubbing her sleep ridden eyes. The following morning, Lyra woke up to a raging headache. Sitting up in her bed, she groaned, rubbing her sleep-ridden eyes. The sunlight streaming through the curtains felt like daggers piercing her skull. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly, trying to steady herself. As she walked towards the bathroom, the events of the previous night flashed through her mind. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her head. The coolness was refreshing, but it did little to alleviate the pounding in her temples.

Luckily it seemed that both Neil and Susan had already left for work, so that was one less thing she had to worry about. After grabbing the first items of clothes she saw in her closet not bothering with her appearance, Lyra made her way to the kitchen, where she found Max already up, nursing a cup of orange juice. "Morning," Max greeted her, looking more alert than Lyra felt. "How are you feeling?" She asked, her eyes filled with concern. "Like I got hit by a truck," Lyra replied, reaching for a glass of water and some painkillers. She swallowed them quickly, hoping for some relief. "How's Billy?" She questioned turning on the coffee machine. "Still asleep," Max said, her voice soft.

"He was out cold when I checked on him earlier." Lyra nodded, grateful for the quiet moment. She took a seat at the kitchen table, resting her head in her hands. "Thanks for helping out last night, Max. I don't know what I would've done without you." Max smiled, her eyes warm with understanding. "Well, I couldn't just let him crush you.” She joked, her laughter light and infectious. "Go get changed, knowing Billy he probably has a raging hangover and you know what that means." Max nodded, standing up and heading back towards her room. "Make sure you put your helmet in your backpack." Lyra muttered making Max turn around with a smile on her face. "We're going out on your motorcycle?" She asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up with anticipation. "You bet we are," Lyra replied with a wink.

"I just have to get it back from a friend, but after that me and you are getting milkshakes and burgers at Benny's after school." Max practically beamed with happiness. “Awesome, thanks Lyra, you’re the best!” Lyra couldn’t contain her smile, hearing Max call her the best was the dopamine she needed, a small but significant affirmation that made her heart swell. The pounding in her head had subsided enough so that she could get up and make herself a much needed cup of coffee, glancing at the clock, noticing that they had just enough time to get everything done before school. A few moments later just as she predicted, a bare chested Billy came out from his room, a scowl present on his face. "Well, good morning to you," Lyra greeted him, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Billy grumbled something incoherent, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off the pounding headache from last night’s escapades. The scene was almost comical, and despite the tension, Lyra couldn’t help but chuckle softly. She reached for a coffee mug on the shelf, pouring some coffee in it before sliding it over to where he stood. "Thanks, and I'm sorry" He mumbled grabbing the cup of coffee from her hand. His eyes were bloodshot, and the stubble on his face was more pronounced in the harsh morning light. Lyra raised a brow urging him to continue. "Last night, you said we could talk in the morning," He paused motioning that the sun was out through the curtains. "It's morning, so can we talk about it?" He deadpanned, making Lyra hold back her tongue at making a snarky reply.

"I thought I told you that you were forgiven." Billy rolled his eyes, the frustration evident in his furrowed brow. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the strands sticking up in all directions. "Come on, Lyra, I wasn't that shitfaced to realize you were still upset at me." He abandoned his coffee, the steam rising from the cup in delicate tendrils, stepping toe to toe with his sister who looked unimpressed. "What do I gotta do to get you to stop it with the silent treatment?" Billy's voice was tinged with desperation, his eyes searching hers for any sign of forgiveness. Lyra crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she tapped her finger on her chin. It was a childish gesture, but she was determined to make him grovel. "How about not be an asshole?" Lyra shot back, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Billy turned to the last tactic he knew Lyra couldn't resist. Physical touch. A small grin broke on his face as he pulled her into an embrace. His arms wrapped around her tightly, almost lifting her off the ground. "Forgive me yet?" He questioned, squeezing her to his chest. He could feel her tense up, but he held on, hoping his warmth would break through her icy demeanor. "Are you done being a reckless asshole?" She retorted, her voice muffled against his chest. Billy chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I love you too, sunshine." God damn him. He always knew how to get under her skin and melt her defenses at the same time. Lyra's resolve wavered, and she let out a reluctant sigh. "Okay," Lyra huffed, fighting to get out of his muscled embrace. She pushed against his chest, but his grip was firm. "Get off of me, you reek of alcohol," She chastised, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

Billy finally released her, his grin never fading, and Lyra couldn't help but roll her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite herself. "Go get dressed," She instructed, her tone softening just a bit. "I know you have basketball practice today, so you can take a shower at school." She waved her hand dismissively, trying to maintain her stern facade, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "Yes ma'am," He replied with a playful salute, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He turned on his heel and headed towards his room, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hallway. Lyra watched him go, shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. Despite everything, he was still her brother, and she couldn't stay mad at him for too long.

Lyra anxiously waited for the end of the day, looking forward to her girls' day with Max. Throughout class, she found herself fumbling with anything to make the day go by faster. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of her desk, and she doodled absentmindedly in the margins of her notebook. The clock seemed to move at a snail's pace, each tick echoing in her mind like a taunt. She glanced around the classroom, her eyes flitting from the teacher's monotonous lecture to the window. The anticipation bubbled inside her, making it hard to focus on the lesson. As the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the school day, Lyra practically leaped out of her seat.

She gathered her things in a hurry, her heart racing with excitement. As she opened her locker to retrieve her helmet, she noticed a familiar figure a few lockers from hers. The bustling hallway was filled with students getting ready to go home, their voices blending into a cacophony of chatter and laughter, but she immediately recognized Eddie Munson’s curly hair and leather jacket amongst the crowds. The one person she was hoping to run into. With a few short strides, she made her way towards him, leaning against his locker. Eddie, to preoccupied with finding his Hellfire notebook, was oblivious to the blonde girl who was only a few feet away from him. She could see the intensity in his eyes as he rummaged through his things, muttering under his breath about missing dice and character sheets.

“Hey stranger.” She greeted, stifling a laugh as she watched Eddie jump, clutching onto the door of his locker as if it were his lifeline. His eyes widened in shock, and for a split second, he looked like he might actually faint. "Jesus H. Christ!" He exasperated, his voice echoing slightly in the now quieter hallway. “You always sneak up on people like that?” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, his hand still gripping the locker door. Lyra grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Only the ones I like," She replied, leaning casually against the lockers. Eddie's expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief. The bustling sounds of students hurrying to their next class filled the air, but for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

Eddie finally let go of the locker door, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "You know, one of these days, you're going to give me a heart attack," He scolded, yet it was anything but malicious. "I see the dramatics are still in order," Lyra just grinned, knowing full well that their playful banter was quickly becoming one of the highlights of her day. His eyes zoned in to the helmet in her hand, his curiosity piqued. "I'm guessing you want your bike back?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "If you don't mind, I promised my sister I'd take her out after school." Eddie's expression softened, and he reached out to gently take the helmet from her, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. "Alright, come on," He coaxed, motioning for her to follow him. They walked side by side through the now empty school hallways, their footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors.

Outside, the sun was beginning to dip, casting a warm golden glow over the parking lot. Eddie led her to his old, beat-up van parked in the far corner. He fished out his keys and unlocked the back doors with a practiced flick of his wrist. The doors creaked open, revealing a cluttered but organized space now void of all band equipment, Lyra's motorcycle securely attached and in tact. "She's all safe and sound, made sure to actually drive the speed limit last night," Eddie assured with a wink. "Hold this," Eddie continued, handing Lyra the helmet back as he climbed into the van. He moved a few things around, making space to pull out her bike. The van's interior was a chaotic mix of tools, spare parts, and random knick-knacks, yet everything had its place. The scent of motor oil and metal filled the air, a testament to Eddie's love for tinkering.

"You really shouldn't leave this with me. Who knows, maybe one day, I'm going to end up riding off into the sunset with it," He joked, flashing her a grin over his shoulder. His hands worked deftly, unhooking the straps that secured the bike. Lyra laughed, shaking her head. "Like I'd let you get that far," She retorted, watching as he carefully maneuvered the bike out of the van. She couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he handled it, his movements smooth and confident. The bike gleamed in the fading sunlight, a testament to Eddie's careful handling. Once the bike was out, Eddie handed it over to her, making sure it was steady before letting go. "There you go, all set," He said, dusting off his hands. “Thank you,” She breathed out hoping that Eddie could tell how grateful she was.

"I'm no stranger to family drama, glad I could help." He shrugged, melting under her stare, yet still portrayed his tough guy demeanor. He expected Lyra to immediately take off, yet to his surprise she leaned against the side of his van, her cerulean blue eyes locking with his chocolate doe ones. "So what's Hellfire?" Eddie looked at her as if she had grown two heads, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "It's only the most epic Dungeons & Dragons group in town," He explained, his voice tinged with excitement. The passion in his eyes was unmistakable as he continued, "We've got a campaign going that's been running for months now. It's intense, full of twists and turns. You should come by sometime and check it out." Lyra raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected revelation.

Her curiosity was piqued as she tried to imagine Eddie, the tough guy with a rebellious streak, immersed in a world of fantasy and adventure. The idea seemed almost surreal. "Dungeons & Dragons, huh?" Eddie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Trust me, it's a blast," He assured, his voice filled with conviction. "We get together every Friday night, roll some dice, and dive into a world of fantasy and adventure. It's not the satanic cult this shit hole makes it out to be, but don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold." Lyra couldn't help but chuckle at his words. The image of Eddie, the so-called bad boy, passionately defending a game that involved imaginary worlds and mythical creatures, was both amusing and endearing.

“Sounds like you take it pretty seriously.” She remarked, her smile widening. "Oh, sweetheart you have no idea." Eddie chuckled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea," he replied, his tone both playful and earnest. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's not just a game. It's an escape, a chance to be heroes, to face down dragons and save kingdoms." Taking her silence as judgement instead of admiration for his honesty, Eddie quickly backpedaled, his defense mechanisms on full alert. "Shit, I totally geeked out there, huh?" He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. Lyra was quick to shake her head.

"Not at all, if anything it's fascinating to see you so passionate about Hellfire. With all that enthusiasm, I bet you make an excellent Dungeon Master." Sanatic cult leader, Freak, the list went on. Nobody had ever described Hellfire as fascinating. "Wait," He paused taking a second for her previous words to sink in. "How do you know what a Dungeon Master is?" Lyra shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not as naive about D&D as you might think, Rockstar.” He quickly regained his composure, before Lyra could notice how much the damn nickname had affected him. “I’m certainly impressed and flattery works on me.” He grinned saccharinely playfully nudging her with his shoulder. Just as Lyra was about to retort she watched as the sky, which had been painted with hues of orange and pink, now looked like a storm was brewing, with ominous clouds rolling in.

The air grew cooler, and a slight breeze rustled the leaves around them. “You okay?” Eddie questioned, sensing a sense of déjà vu as he caught the worried expression on Lyra’s face. Almost as if it was second nature, Lyra reached out and grasped Eddie's arm gently, her eyes widening upon noticing the time. "Max is never this late, I'm going to go check on her." She thought aloud, anxiety flooding her body. "I'll go with you." Eddie offered, his concern evident in his voice. Lyra shook her head. "No, Eddie it's fine." She assured him, her tone firm yet appreciative. "I'll see you tomorrow." She promised, quickly mounting her motorcycle and trekking the short distance up the hill to Hawkins Middle. The sky grew darker, the ominous clouds hanging low and heavy. As she arrived at the field a few feet away from the school, the eerie silence was almost deafening.

Lyra dismounted her motorcycle and cautiously approached the entrance, her heart pounding in her chest. That's when she noticed a young boy, standing out in the middle of the field. "Hello," She called out, yet he didn't respond standing in the same rigid position. "Any chance you've seen a redhead girl on a skateboard around?" To her surprise he didn't reply, standing in the exact position, not moving a muscle. "Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?" The boy was far from okay. Immediately stepping closer Lyra noticed that his whole body was spasming, his eyes rolled back into his head. She reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on the boy’s shoulders. “Hey,” She coaxed gently so she wouldn’t spook him.

“Can you hear me?” She gasped, feeling his body shake more violently under her shoulders. "Will!" She heard someone call from behind her. Lyra glanced back at the boy in front of her, realizing this must be Will. His spasms were growing more intense as the seconds ticked by, his skin feeling unnaturally hot under her hand. Not even two seconds after, Lyra turned around to see a group of kids rushing towards her their faces etched with worry. She let out a breath of relief upon seeing Max alongside them. "I think he's having another episode." She overheard a raven haired boy exclaim, his voice tinged with panic. "I got him." Upon seeing the adult woman who looked like she could fall apart any minute, Lyra moved away from Will standing beside Max who immediately embraced her. Both sisters' eyes locked onto him, their hearts heavy with concern.

The group watched as Joyce Byers called out to her son, her voice wavering with a mix of hope and desperation. "Will," She coaxed, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him softly. But her touch felt distant, like a fading echo in the back of his mind. "Sweetie, wake up! It's Mom," She tried once more, her voice cracking with emotion. "Will, wake up! Can you hear me?" Joyce's voice cracked with desperation as she tried to reach her son her pleas growing more frantic with each passing second. Will's body continued to convulse, his limbs jerking uncontrollably each movement more violent than the last. "It's Mom. Please wake up! It's me!" Almost as if waking up from a trance, Lyra and the group watched as Will gasped, his eyes fluttering open. The sudden intake of breath seemed to pull him back from the edge of an unseen abyss.

Joyce did not hesitate for even a moment, wrapping her arms around her son in a fierce embrace, holding him so tightly as if he might disappear if she let go. "Thank goodness," Lyra muttered, letting out a breath she had been holding for what felt like an eternity. Her shoulders sagged with relief, the tension finally releasing from her body. The group around them began to relax, their worried expressions softening as they realized Will was safe, at least for now. The tension in the air dissipated slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of relief. Lyra scanned the faces around her, noticing the mix of curiosity and caution in their eyes. "Who are you?" A curly-haired boy asked, his gaze skeptical as he looked her up and down. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to discern her intentions.

“Dustin! That’s rude!” The dark-skinned boy standing next to him seethed through his teeth, his eyes darting between Lyra and the others. Before Lyra could find the words to introduce herself, Max stepped forward, her voice steady and confident. "This is my older sister, Lyra," She declared, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Did you say Lyra?" The entire groups attention turned to Joyce who was now eyeing the blonde girl a sense of familiarity in her eyes. Her eyes softened, as if recalling a distant memory. "Yes ma'am, that's me," Lyra confirmed, her voice respectful yet firm. Joyce's face lit up with recognition. "My son, Jonathan, say's you're very helpful. Always there whenever he seems to find himself in trouble." The warmth in her words was palpable, and it was clear that Lyra had made a lasting impression.

"Happy to help." Lyra assured her, her voice warm and sincere. She offered a gentle smile, hoping to dissolve any remaining tension. "I'm Joyce, it's certainly nice to put a name to a face," Joyce replied, her tone softening as she tugged Will into her side protectively. Her eyes were filled with gratitude and a hint of relief. "Thank you for trying to help my boy." Lyra shook her head. "You don't need to thank me, I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Joyce's eyes lingered on Lyra for a moment longer, as if she wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. She gave a small, appreciative nod instead. "Well, I should get Will home, it's getting late." Will looked up at his mother, then back at Lyra. "Take care, Will," Lyra called out with a kind smile. Joyce squeezed Will's shoulder, guiding him towards where she had parked.

"Ready to go?" Lyra asked Max, who, like the boys, had her eyes locked onto Joyce and Will. She noticed the slight tremor in Max's hands and the way her jaw clenched, subtle signs that she had been shaken up by the events. Hell, she was still trying to grasp what had just occurred herself. Max tore his gaze away from the departing figures and nodded. "Yeah, let's get out of here," She replied, her voice steady but quieter than usual. As they walked back to where her motorcycle was parked, Lyra’s gaze locked onto the boys she had just met. They were whispering among themselves, casting furtive glances in her direction. "Those boys giving you trouble?" Lyra asked, motioning over to the group.

They quickly huddled back together, their voices dropping to hushed tones as soon as they were out of hearing range. Max's face tightened, and she averted her eyes, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her helmet. "No," She replied quickly, but her voice lacked conviction. Lyra could tell something was off. Max's usual confident demeanor was replaced by a shadow of uncertainty. She wanted to tell Lyra what was actually happening, yet something seemed to be holding her back. Maybe it was fear, or perhaps she didn't fully understand the situation herself. The tension in the air was palpable, and Lyra's protective instincts kicked in. "Alright," Lyra muttered softly, giving Max a reassuring smile. "Let's get out of here." She revved the engine, the powerful vibrations coursing through her body. As they sped away, the wind whipped through their hair, carrying away the unease of the moment.

COLLATERAL HEARTS

bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader

SUMMARY: Bucky Barnes finds himself at the center of a political storm. Haunted by his past as the Winter Soldier, Bucky is pursued by both friends and foes, unsure of who he can trust. His mind is a battlefield, filled with fragmented memories and guilt over the actions he was forced to commit. In the midst of this turmoil, he encounters someone who approaches him with a genuine sense of empathy. Unlike others who see him as a threat or a tool, she sees the person behind the trauma. The internal struggle between his desire for connection and his fear of causing harm adds to the anguish he feels daily, making every interaction a bittersweet reminder of the man he wants to be versus the man he fears he still is.

WARNINGS: cursing, heavy angst, marvel theme violence, some talks of blood and gore, self depicting thoughts

A/N: I love Bucky, so I couldn’t help myself in writing this! He deserves the world, marvel needs to leave him alone, so here’s my take on his happy ending! Beautiful divider graphic by @sister-lucifer

chapter one: echoes of the past

chapter two: lines drawn

chapter three: fractured bonds

chapter four: sanctuary

sounds pretty accurate 🤭

I have three modes of reading

Dont read

Read a 500 page book in a day

Read only fanfiction until my eyeballs drop out of my skull from exhaustion

CHAPTER FIVE: TRICK OR TREAT, FREAK

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 2.2k

A/N: this chapter is definitely my favorite one that I've written for this series! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! This made me realize I'm SO ready for Halloween! 🎃

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➩ series masterlist

"That's your costume?" Max's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and the typical candor that Lyra had come to expect. There was no malice there, just the blunt honesty. Taken aback but not entirely shocked by her bluntness, Lyra's gaze dropped to her last-minute costume. The leather clung to her like a second skin, the fishnets adding a layer of punk rock chic that she had thought was perfect for the night.

Yet, seeing herself through her sister's eyes, she couldn't help the grimace that tugged at her lips. "It's that bad?" Her voice was a soft echo of doubt amidst the certainty of her sister's judgment. Max simply shrugged. "Neil's going to freak when he sees that nose ring." There was a hint of amusement in her tone, the kind that suggested she was picturing the scene already.

Lyra reached up instinctively, her fingers grazing the small, gold hoop that adorned her right nostril. It was a bold choice, but it was also a harmless rebellion. "It's fake." She replied quickly, the defense a knee-jerk reaction to the implied criticism. The nose ring was just another part of the costume, a temporary addition to her look that could be removed with the same ease as the leather jacket that hung off her shoulders.

It was all part of the night's facade, a character she could put on and take off at will. But for a moment, under her sister's scrutinizing gaze, it felt almost real. "You and Billy could be twins." Although she knew the redhead meant it as a joke, Lyra's stomach twisted into knots thinking back to what had happened a few hours prior. Max's voice cut through her reverie, pragmatic and laced with concern.

"So I take it you're still going to that party?" Lyra nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. "You know I have to go, Max. Billy's a completely different person when he's high and wasted," She sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and protectiveness. It wasn't just a party for her; it was a mission to keep her brother safe from his excesses.

Max's expression softened, her teasing demeanor giving way to sisterly affection. "Just...be careful, okay?" She urged, reaching out to squeeze Lyra's hand. Lyra offered a small, determined smile. "Always am," She replied, though the promise felt as flimsy as the fake nose ring she wore. Tonight, she'd be the guardian angel dressed in devil's clothing, watching over her brother, hoping the night would end with nothing more than a hangover and a few good stories.

After trudging through the neighborhood for what felt like miles, their shoes scuffing against the cracked sidewalks lined with jack-o'-lanterns, Max turned to Lyra with a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine Trick-Or-Treating on my own if you want to go to the party. Knowing Billy he's already there." Lyra bit her lip, the streetlights casting long shadows as costumed children darted past them, their laughter a stark contrast to the unease knotting her insides.

She wasn't fond of the idea, the protective streak in her always on high alert during nights like these. Max could see the hesitation dancing in Lyra's eyes, the way she clutched her candy bag a little tighter. With a playful roll of her eyes and a dramatic sigh, Max launched into a full-on campaign. She promised she'd stick to well-lit streets, and, most importantly, be back before Niel got home.

After what seemed like an eternity of bargaining, Lyra's resolve began to crumble like the leaves beneath their feet. With a final, half-hearted grumble, she caved, extracting one last pinky promise from Max that she'd stay alert and stay safe. Lyra watched her sister disappear into the sea of costumes, the weight of worry settling in her chest. With a sigh that misted in the chilly night air, she reached into her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the crumpled edges of the orange flyer that had been burning a hole there all evening.

She unfolded it with trepidation, the bold letters announcing the party she dreaded. Unlike her brother, who seemed to thrive in the chaos of loud music and raucous laughter, Lyra found no joy in such gatherings. The very thought of the noise and the crowds made her skin crawl. But the image of Billy, with a drink in hand and his judgment clouded, forced a knot of anxiety to tighten in her throat. Their argument earlier that day replayed in her mind, the harsh words still echoing.

Despite their spat, her protective instincts wouldn't allow her to turn a blind eye. Especially not when she knew all too well the kind of trouble Billy could find—or cause—when alcohol loomed over him like a puppeteer. And if he didn't have her there to keep him in check, he'd either land himself in a situation they'd all regret, or worse, he'd come home to face their father's temper alone. The mere thought sent a wave of nausea through Lyra, her stomach plummeting. 

She knew what she had to do.

As the crowd mingled in the front yard of Tina's house, ranging from Cobra Kai to Madonna lookalikes—the rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the chatter. Heads turned as Lyra made her grand entrance, the engine of her cherry-red motorcycle purring like a beast ready to pounce. She pulled off her helmet, releasing a cascade of dirty blonde waves that caught the moonlight just right, giving her an almost ethereal glow. As she kicked the stand down and swung her leg over the bike, the crowd's awe was palpable.

Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, and for a moment, it felt as if time had slowed down just for her. Lyra's confidence was magnetic, her presence commanding the attention of everyone around her. She tossed her helmet under her arm and strutted towards the party, her smile a mix of daring and delight.

The partygoer's eyes followed her every move as she walked past. As Lyra made her way through the front door, the chaos of the party hit her like a tidal wave. The house was teeming with teenagers whose inhibitions had been left at the doorstep. Raucous laughter and shouts filled the air, punctuated by the occasional pop of a beer can opening. She sidestepped a couple who were far too engrossed in each other to notice her, their lips locked in a fervent embrace against the living room wall.

Everywhere she looked, there were scenes of revelry and abandon: groups of friends clustered together, some dancing with abandon to the thumping bass that vibrated through the floorboards, others engaged in animated conversation that was mostly yelling to be heard over the music. The floor was a graveyard of empty beer cans and red solo cups, discarded without a second thought by hands eager for the next drink.

Lyra's eyes darted from face to face, searching for the familiar contours of Billy's features, but he was nowhere to be seen within the crowded rooms. The knot of worry in her chest pulled tighter with each passing second. Then, a commotion from the backyard caught her attention the unmistakable sound of a ruckus that Billy was so adept at causing. Deciding to momentarily ignore it, she walked over toward the kitchen island hoping to find a non-alcoholic drink.

Instead, she found a punch bowl that looked a little too intimidating for her taste. "Care for a drink?" A tall sandy-blonde guy in a football jersey asked, catching her off guard. She quickly shook her head, hoping he would get the message and move along. Upon noticing the helmet tucked under her arm, the sandy-blonde boy made the connection. "Shit, so you're the chick that owns the Yamaha FZR600 parked outside." Lyra nodded, surprised that her arrival had already become a topic of conversation in such a short amount of time.

With a confident smile, he introduced himself as James, clearly trying to make a good impression. "And what's your name, gorgeous?" He asked, stepping closer. "We've met before." She responded nonchalantly waiting for the jock to recall their encounter in the hallway. She watched as he quickly made the connection once more. "I remember you," He smirked, his tone dripping with flirtation. "It was pretty hot seeing you all fired up." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his comment, not impressed by his choice of conversation.

However, James was completely oblivious to her lack of interest. "Over Byers, though?" He laughed, making Lyra clench her jaw in annoyance. "Shit, he's just as much of a freak as Munson," Lyra rolled her eyes. "Believe me, you don't want to be seen around them. They're not worth your time, gorgeous." She didn't have a chance to respond due to immediately spotting Billy stride across the room, a look of determination written all over his features. She saw her brother corner a brunette boy, their standoff radiating of testosterone.

"We've got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington." She overheard one of the guys cheer tauntingly. "Suck it, King Steve." Another teased making a triumphant smirk appear on Billy's face. She could only guess that he was the 'King Steve' whom Billy had dethroned. Suddenly, Billy's eyes locked with Lyra's from across the crowded room, and a protective glint sparked in his gaze as he noticed James lingering nearby. Giving Steve, one final glare, Billy made his way over to his sister, not even acknowledging James with a word. "Beat it," He grumbled, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Lyra couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she watched the jock grab a nearby beer and saunter off, clearly intimidated by Billy's presence. The silence between Billy and Lyra felt heavy, as if they were both searching for the right words to say. Finally, Billy broke the silence, his eyes falling on the helmet in Lyra's grasp. "You brought the motorcycle?" He questioned, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his voice. 

Lyra shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I wasn't gonna walk," She scoffed, reaching for a rogue water bottle on the counter. Billy couldn't help but comment on Lyra's attire, raising an eyebrow. "Dressed like that?" He deadpanned. Lyra's defenses immediately went up. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" She scoffed, her tone defensive. Billy let out a frustrated sigh, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "No surprise that dirtbag was hittin' on you. You're lucky I saw you in time," He mumbled, his concern evident. Lyra's frustration grew.

"I've told you several times before, I can take care of myself," She retorted which made Billy scoff. Fed up with the tension, Lyra couldn't help but snap, growing tired of his attitude that was giving her whiplash. "You know what, screw you. Go back to doing whatever the hell you were doing before I got here." She growled, her frustration boiling over. But before she could storm off, Billy reached out, his hand circling her wrist. "Lyra, wait," He called out, his voice filled with a mix of regret. "Can we just forget about all this? Just have a reckless night for once?" He motioned vaguely between the two of them.

Lyra looked at him, her expression softening. "This?" She questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I only came to this stupid party because I didn't want you to get in trouble with Dad. Even if we fought, some part of me wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. So, forgive me for looking out for you." She huffed in frustration and anger. Lyra felt the sting of tears threatening to spill, a mix of emotions swirling within her. 

She didn't know whether the tears were for the sun-soaked memories of California. Or whether they were born from the unfamiliar strain between her and Billy. A strain that had been absent in their lives until they found themselves in the strange, unsettling world of Hawkins. "Sunshine-" Lyra's heart clenched at the nickname, a vestige of a simpler time. She shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through her despite the coldness she wanted to project.

"You're forgiven," Her voice was barely above a whisper, betraying the turmoil inside her. "I—I just need some air." She didn't linger to catch the look of relief that flickered across Billy's face, nor did she stay to see it quickly replaced by the familiar shadow of remorse. She pushed through the door, stepping out into the night where the chill wrapped around her like a much-needed embrace.