#Come back stronger Gareth

[heart-eyed-love]

Love is Embarrassing

Summary | You and Eddie embarrass yourselves in front of each other a lot, but that’s okay, it only seems to make your relationship stronger

Contains | Fem!Reader, Established Relationship, Embarrassing Moments, Cursing

Word Count | 1.8k

Currently, You, Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant, all stand outside the fence surrounding one of the abandoned houses in Hawkins. It’s not a very tall one, but it did slightly ease you, putting distance between you and the sketchy house.

“Do you guys really think this is a smart idea?” Jeff asks, looking over to you and the boys.

“No, actually. I think this is really fucking stupid.” You answer in return, agreeing with Jeff on the fact that this wasn’t the one of the smartest ideas your boyfriend has had. You’re not entirely sure what good could come from this.

“It’ll be fine… It’ll be fun.” Eddie reassured you, lightly putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it an affectionate rub. You only side eye him.

Grant is already making his way closer to the fence when he asks, “Who’s going first?” And when no one answers you narrow your eyes at your boyfriend.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask

He rolls his eyes, “Fine, whatever…” He approaches the fence. And in an attempt to impress, he begins climbing over the fence with ease. Trying to be all slick and suave about it, he’s about to jump off the fence, and be successfully on the other side. But once he does, his jeans catch on the fence… and they rip.

And you cringe once he’s back on the ground, having unfortunately ripped his go-to jeans. His face falls immediately when he notices, but the boys behind you are giggling.

“Dude…” Is all Jeff mutters out between giggles, but Gareth has always been one to make it worse.

“Are those Bats?!” He’s now cackling at his boxers, and even though Eddie's glare would usually make him shut up, the fence between them has made him brave.

“Shut up.” he doesn’t dare look at you yet, cheeks aflame. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, so you’re not sure why he’s so flustered.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You shrug your shoulders, looking over to your boyfriend, who’s now currently trying to get a better view of his ass, trying to make the rip less noticeable.

Without looking up at you he says, “We’re going in.” You roll your eyes and make sure way over to the fence. Climbing up carefully as to not be in the same predicament as Eddie. He holds his hands out for you, helping you get down safely.

“Let me see…” You say, now that you can get a better look, hand on his back to turn him so you can see. The other boys begin climbing over the fence as Eddie lets you examine the rip in his pants.

“Is it fixable?” He asks softly.

“Oh, Yeah. We’ll have these fixed right up…” You pat his shoulder, “But for now…” You place your hand on his ass right over the rip with a smirk, “This will have to do…”

Last night was the first night sleeping over at your boyfriend's house. It was a domestic night of bliss, dinner was eaten at the table together, skin care was done, and you both brushed your teeth as you looked at each other through the mirror with a smile.

It was perfect, and the night was concluded by snuggling into his side, head resting on his chest as you both passed out, faster than you ever had. It felt right.

But the next morning was a different story.

You were woken by a soft shake to your shoulder, with eyes scrunched almost closed, you lifted your head from Eddie's chest and felt a stickiness on your cheek. Cracking your eyes a bit more open you’re able to see a wet patch on his shirt. You now know what the stickiness was as you violently tried to wipe the embarrassment off your cheek, then the same to the patch of drool on his chest.

“Shit, I’m so sorry…” You grumble, and Edide can’t help but smile at the pleasant sound of your morning voice.

“No, don’t worry about it, I just was wondering if you were hungry? I thought I could go get some breakfast…?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice…” You say softly, cheeks a little flushed.

“K, let’s go get dressed and brush our teeth and get rid of that morning breath.” He says with a smile, and your eyes go wide and to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh my god.” You whine out turning away from him, and he chuckles, following right behind. Pushing himself up against your back.

“Hey! Don’t be embarrassed, at least it’s not as bad as mine…” He says, lifting himself onto his elbow to get a better advantage on you as he begins blowing his breath into your face. You can’t help but giggle as you squirm away, cause yeah, at least it’s not as bad as that.

“Eddie, stop!” You now move your hand to cover your nose, a smile evident on your face now.

“Let’s go brush our rats' nests out and our morning breath away together, Baby…” He smiles cheekily as he takes your hand to pull you up with him, as he attempts to rake his other through your hair.

He then leans in to try and kiss you, and you pull away with a scrunch of your nose, “Is that really a good idea right now?” You tease.

“I can’t think of a better one.” Giving you the sloppiest kiss you had the honor of receiving.

You and Eddie had been in his bedroom when he acted upon his urges. He always thought it was so much fun to wrestle and play around with you, and he was happy to find out you had just as much fun.

But today, he took it to another level. An unfair level.

He had you pinned down on the bed, and he was tickling you relentlessly. And after having a pretty fulfilling dinner that wasn’t really going well with your stomach.

Giggling as you beg him to stop, losing your breath as he continues, the unfortunate happens. And a small fart escapes you.

You freeze under him, and he’s frozen too as he hovers over you. You can only imagine the shade of your face as Eddie stares down at you. He’s not even laughing, honestly that would feel better than the intense staring he seems to be doing right now.

Wanting to get out of this vulnerable and embarrassing position faster you sit up quickly and shove him off of you.

He’s falling onto his butt on the bed, with a slightly offended, “Hey!” And he’s pushing you back down so he’s on top of you again, moving down to kiss you fiercely.

He pulls away with a teasing smirk, “That was your first fart with me, Babe. Feel proud.”

You roll your eyes, but feel the blush rising to your cheeks again, and he’s leaning back down to kiss you again.

Tonight was special. Usually when Eddie invited you to his shows it consisted of his band playing covers of they’re favorite artists and bands. Lately, they’d been feeling bold enough to start playing some of Corroded Coffin's originals.

Those were your favorites.

But tonight Eddie wanted to do something special for you.

He had made the guys practice ‘Head Over Heals’, he knew it was your favorite. He hoped you’d think this was a romantic gesture, cause he’d never play such a song for anyone else.

He was putting his metalhead dignity on the line for you.

The guys had tried to tease him about it, but he was quick to remind them that he was the only one who actually has a girlfriend and that shut them up pretty quick.

That Tuesday as he saw you sat in the record breaking crowd of 10 drunks, he felt his nerves start getting the best of him. There was a small pit in his stomach at the thought of making a fool of himself.

And when he starts playing the song that has had him worked up since he started practicing it, his eyes find yours, widened and surprised. That doesn't help his nerves much as the first words he sings are slightly high and scratchy, and he cringes to himself slightly. Pulling himself together for most of the song, but unfortunately a few more voice cracks and off tone notes were sung.

After they had finished and went backstage, he plopped himself down on the rickety couch with a loud groan.

“That was totally shit man.” Gareth said as he made his way backstage too, earning a punch to the shoulder from Jeff, big eyes signaling him to shut up. But Eddie was feeling too distraught to give a single ounce of a shit about what Gareth thought.

“I think you sounded sweet…” Grant admits, trying to make him feel better.

“Yeah, don’t listen to Gareth, he’s a dipshit.” Jeff glares over at the boy.

Eddie, only wanting to be romantic for you, but who would swoon over a nervously high pitched, scratchy rendition of their favorite song?

He lets out a groan into his hands. “Eddie…?” A soft voice causes his head to snap up. There you stood, a sweet smile on your face, and he watched the other guy scramble out of the room as you approached the couch he was sitting on.

You sat yourself down next to him, so close, your bare thigh pressed to his denim clad one. “You sang my favorite song…?” At your words he looks over to you, and your eyes somehow are able to hold the most affection that's ever been directed to him. He knew you would never judge or make fun of him for something like that, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a humbling experience for him. “I thought you said you’d never stoop so low?” You smirk.

“Yeah well, look what that got me…” He scoffs and looks straight forward, and you can tell by his tone this might be a bit more serious.

“I thought it was great…”

“I sounded like an idiot.” He looks over to you.

“No, you didn’t. I thought you sounded sweet…”

“Sweet? I sounded tone deaf.”

“Well, we both know that you aren’t, I think you were just nervous, Eddie. But, just because it was a little pitchy doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was the best thing I’ve ever heard anyone sing.”

You’re smiling so sweetly at him, and he can’t help but chuckle, “Don’t be a suck up…”

“I’m not, like really, that was the sweetest and most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. I loved it… I Love you…” You admit, feeling your own rush of nerves. It was the first time either of you had said it, but it felt fitting. He was vulnerable for you, you can be vulnerable for him.

He stares at you for a second too long, and you look away nervously, “Sorry, that was weird.” You say, but he vigorously shakes his head.

“No! No, it’s not weird… I just didn’t expect that shitty performance to pull an ‘I Love you’ from you…” He chuckles again, “I Love you too…” And he’s leaning in now, kissing your lips softly.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part. 

Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two 

First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of! 

It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here.  All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders. 

The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know. 

As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire​ who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right. 

Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack. 

Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast. 

Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on. 

Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.

Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson." 

Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea. 

"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--" 

"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice. 

"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor. 

"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart." 

"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face. 

"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though." 

He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it. 

Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.  

The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky. 

 "Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt. 

Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself. 

"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"

They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him. 

Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes. 

A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it. 

Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.

"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise. 

Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement. 

He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose. 

“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.” 

Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest. 

The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time. 

“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it. 

One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands. 

“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.” 

Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm.  “You can touch mine if you want.” 

Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second. 

He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up. 

Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red. 

“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?” 

Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face. 

“Did he do that?” He asked. 

Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?” 

Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up. 

“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.” 

It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something. 

Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy. 

As always, it turned out to be the wrong move. 

"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room. 

“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds. 

The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!" 

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him. 

“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp. 

The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things. 

“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back. 

This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces. 

"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently.  “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”

"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway. 

Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady. 

Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both. 

Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with. 

Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently. 

“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here." 

Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise. 

 “No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children. 

"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare. 

 As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.

 "He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.

"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”

"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!" 

Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together. 

"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step. 

"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back. 

“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.” 

He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was. 

“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.

One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it. 

The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him. 

It was fake as hell, but it worked. 

“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.  

 Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that. 

xXx 

Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list. 

He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt. 

It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them. 

It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on. 

They really were looking for someone. 

Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.

Them. 

Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards. 

“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy. 

She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke. 

His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.

“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel. 

Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide. 

Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy. 

Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself. 

"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell. 

"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels. 

He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet. 

Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.

Food workers.

Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes. 

"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it. 

Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”  

‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held. 

“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways. 

Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another. 

"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.” 

Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees. 

Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down. 

Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head. 

Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them. 

What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent. 

Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale. 

‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’ 

Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed. 

Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful. 

Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong. 

Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat. 

It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)  

Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high. 

Worse?

This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look. 

Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.

Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.

What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls. 

“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that. 

The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order. 

[steddietogo]

So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)

———

The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.

They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.

“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”

“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.

“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.

“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.

The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.

After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.

The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.

———

Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.

Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.

The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.

Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.

Eddie was so screwed.

———

Top comments:

user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that

CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think

you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself

———

Part II

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 32

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 29, part 30, part 31

Eddie ended up needing more than just a week before he was cleared to come home. He needed at least two, and even then, it was all up to the hospital’s physical therapist to determine if he gained enough strength to go home. Where he wasn’t going to get more hurt by living at home.

But he was still coming home. And soon. Which means that Dustin has to get convincing. Steve was supposed to plant the initial seed. Let it ruminate, so by the time Dustin got there, he could hammer the final nail in. But when Dustin pulled out his list of reasons, ready for the spiel, he can barely get a word out before Wayne’s speaking.

“Oh, I already heard all about it,” is what he said. “I can admit that it’s a good plan. Thanks for thinking of it.”

That was easy. Too easy. Did Steve really convince him all by himself?

Either way, the plan was in motion. A few days later, Wayne moves in with Steve. Taking one of the bedrooms upstairs, a few doors down the hall from Steve. Right next to the guest bathroom that would be just his. He was almost never there, but it was better than the motel.

Dustin could tell that he was sleeping a little better. It could be knowing that Eddie was coming home soon, and that he could slow down the house hunting process a little bit. Give more time to find a place that they will both love and spread out the expenses of finding new furniture. Steve already offering storage space in another one of his spare bedrooms and anywhere they need.

It's not like anyone else uses the house.

Time continues to pass, and each day Eddie gets stronger. On the two-month anniversary of the day he woke up from the coma, he takes his first step without any assistance. Human assistance, at least. He is still using mobility aids. But he still did it.

Some days are better than others. The pain has subsided to some extent, but there are days where Dustin visits and Eddie barely moves. Something about pins and needles traveling up his arms and legs when he does. And there are days where he’s really shaky, and nothing can help it.

But he can still come home this week. So, they needed to actually get their asses in gear.

Steve helped Wayne sneak back into his house in the middle of the night to try and salvage some of Eddie’s clothes. Or really, anything that was in Eddie’s room. They were able to save some of Wayne’s stuff too, so he could walk around in something other than the same two outfits and his work uniforms.

The room on the first floor apparently had never even been used. So, Steve had to take the plastic off of the mattress and get some sheets for it. the room was otherwise bare, except for the patterned wallpaper and basic furniture. It wasn’t Eddie though, so it needed some work.

Dustin employed pretty much everyone he could.

“Dustin,” Gareth yelled down the hall. “I have those posters that you wanted, they’re in my garage. Swing by anytime to pick them up.”

It was more posters than Dustin was expecting. Black Sabbath, Dio, Metallica, mixed in with old posters they made for Corroded Coffin, and one old one from Hellfire. There’re a few movie posters mixed in as well from titles Dustin doesn’t even recognize. But it’s good.

Steve finds an old cassette player in his basement. Looks like it had never even been opened. It’s a really nice one too. They were able to find some of Eddie’s cassettes, but most of them where ruined.

It was still something.

“Don’t you think this is, like, a lot,” Mike questions. The posters and picture Dustin had printed out almost entirely covering the walls.

“No,” Dustin says. Going back to unpacking some of the things that they saved from the trailer.

“His room wasn’t even this covered in the trailer,” Lucas adds for some reason. “You don’t think this might be a little overkill.”

Dustin glares at them. “But he didn’t have this gross wallpaper in his trailer.”

“It is not that bad,” El comments from the bed. Her and Max just sitting there, not helping.

“Someone describe it to me, I want to know. Wait,” Max points at Dustin. Somehow knowing exactly where he is and that he was going to describe it poorly. “Someone other than him.”

“It’s literally just a bunch of small red diamonds,” Lucas explains. “Think Steve’s room but slanted and red. But not plaid.”

Max nods. “Yeah, that isn’t that bad. It could be worse. Have you seen the pink flower room.” She gags.

“It still is not that bad,” El defends.

Will and Mike share a look, continuing to unpack a box of books. Steve brings in what should be the last box of things. Considering they were only able to save so much. He looks around at the walls, taking in everything.

“Dustin, I know you want this place to feel like home, but could you leave a little bit of wall uncovered. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“He’s not a toddler, Steve,” Dustin groans. “I don’t think he’s going to get overwhelmed.”

Robin comes in to tell Steve something. But gets stopped in her tracks as she looks around the room. “Oh. My. God. That is a lot of posters.”

“Thank you,” Lucas says. Arms crossed while he stands in the corner. “I think we have more than enough on the walls.”

“There’s more?” she questions. “Where were you going to put them?”

“Fine,” Dustin whines. “I won’t put any more posters up.”

Robin leans into Steve. “By the way, your mom’s on the phone.”

Steve lets out a long sigh. “Thank you.”

He walks out of the room, Robin close behind him. The rest of them putting the finishing touches. Lucas and Mike convincing Dustin to take down some of the posters and make the walls look less cluttered. Like Eddie would care about cluttered. Have they seen what his old room looked like.

But he might be able to admit that floor to ceiling posters were a little overkill. He just wanted this place to feel even a little reminiscent of the trailer. Of what Eddie had back home. Is that really so bad?

The next day, they all patiently wait in the living room. Eddie was getting discharged this morning. Meaning that Wayne is bringing him here, right now. Eddie will be in real clothes, out of the hospital. Finally getting back to normal.

Or, as normal as he could possibly be. But still more normal than in a hospital.

Because now, he can eat real food. And get real sleep. That isn’t constantly disturbed by nurses checking on him in the middle of the night. In a bed that is really comfortable. In a house that is constantly quiet.

He might finally start to fully get back to the Eddie that Dustin knew before all of this.

A car pulls up into the drive. Doors slam, and voices can be heard by the door. Steve goes to get the door before the bell rings. They were supposed to wait in the living room, but Dustin can’t help it. He follows.

“Holy shit, Harrington, how tall is this ceiling?”

“I have no clue.”

Eddie’s crutches make soft thumps with every step. Steve shuts the door and lets them know where they can put their shoes. It’s a bustle of voices while Dustin waits for them to turn around and see that he’s there.

That he’s been waiting for this. For so long.

“You know you didn’t have to build that ramp for me,” Eddie says to Steve. Still not turning around.

“I didn’t. I built it for Max. You just get to use it for free.”

Eddie smiles a teasing smile. It’s been a while since Dustin’s seen that. “Aw, taking pity on me, are you, Steve.”

“Just shut up.”

Wayne clears his throat, stopping whatever the two of them were doing. He nods his head toward Dustin still waiting in the hall. Eddie turns his head, finally, and sees him.

Something in the shape of relief fills his face. “Hey, Henderson.”

“You’re here.” Dustin can’t help the wetness in his voice. Or his eyes. He wasn’t expecting to cry, it just happened.

Eddie makes his way over to Dustin. Slightly wincing in pain, but not complaining. He balances his crutches just right so he can pull Dustin into a hug. A proper hug. Dustin’s not sure how long it’s been since he’s hugged Eddie. Too afraid to do in in the hospital.

But he’s not in the hospital anymore.

“Yeah,” Eddie says with more waiver in his voice than he would probably admit. “I’m here.”

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Mini fluffy soulmate au, fates intervening and things like that. Mentions of a toxic relationship (not Eddie and reader) 18+ blog so minors shoo.

✨🫶🪄

Eddie was so late. This was his last chance to get back together with Violet and he was late. He had planned everything to a T, had flowers sent to her but when he called to confirm that she had gotten them it was met with stony silence.

"What flowers? Honestly all you do is fuck up Eddie, why am I surprised this is any different?" Her words cut him deeply, he wasn't the one who cheated, she was.

All because of a stupid tattoo. A tattoo that literally everyone in the world had. It was the mark of a soulmate, when the person met their soulmate the tattoo would burn and then glow.

The person was their other half, the one. Eddie scoffs at this. It sounded like fairytale bullshit and he wouldn't believe it was more than some fake shit. Except he knew that Steve had met his soulmate, Robin had met hers and Gareth had met his.

He was the only one who hadn't. The odd one out as Wheeler had unhelpfully pointed out.

Violet had supposedly met hers but it was a complete mix up, but she still went ahead and went out with the guy, all because of the constant fighting between her and Eddie.

He lashed out and said stupid things, they broke up and got back together to break up again three weeks later. It was toxic as fuck as Steve pointed out.

Eddie knew that but it was taking him a while to accept that. He didn't believe he would ever meet his soulmate so he spent all of his time with different women, relationships that were eventually doomed to go anywhere (ie. Violet)

He was currently tracking the whereabouts of his flowers and had tracked them to an apartment just a little away from his.

He barely had time to pick them up and get to the restaurant to meet Violet but he was going to try, his phone pings with another voicemail from Violet and he growls in frustration.

Honestly was this really fucking worth all the stress? His mood was growing more and more irritated by the minute, when he finally got to the apartment he was silently fuming.

Jesus h Christ, Violet was going to give him hell. His heart sinks, he really doesn't want to fight again. He was sick of it.

He buzzes the doorbell of the person who took in the flowers, sighs as another voicemail comes through from Violet.

"Eddie Munson, we are through. Fuck you! I'm waiting here like a dumbass and you don't even have the decency to show"

He rubs his head, feels the beginnings of a headache forming and groans. Just what he needs, a migraine to make his day even worse.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He opens his eyes and you're standing watching him, curious and smiling. Wow. He blinks rapidly and his cheeks warm. You were...just wow.

"Uh hi, my flowers were sent here by mistake" he suddenly feels tongue tied. Kinda what he was like in highschool when he met people who he found attractive. Except this was ten times worse.

There's a faint pulse that grows stronger and he realises it's his tattoo, it begins to turn golden and flows brightly.

You come back with the flowers. Gasp, then drop them as you clutch at your wrist. It's like something out of a cheesy movie as you pull up your sleeve and your tattoo is glowing as brightly as Eddie.

Well fuck. You look up at Eddie stunned and beam.

"Well hey there soulmate. Thought you'd never show up" you tease. Any thoughts of reconciliation with Violet completely leaves Eddie's mind. All he wanted to do now was get to know you.

He salvages a rose that hasn't been completely ruined and hands it to you, watches the way your eyes light up and he wants to do that all the time. Watch you smile, get to know you and be with you.

"Hey there, I'm Eddie"

❤️

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma'am

Prompt: Envy | Word Count: 666 | Rating: M | CW: Talk of Off-Screen Sex, Recreational Weed Use, Period-Typical Objectification of Women | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Off-Screen Gareth/OFCs | Tags: Gareth's on a Hot Streak, None of the Rest of Them Can Understand It, At All

Eddie thinks it's a fluke. A random hot-streak that's gonna end as fast as it started. 

But it doesn't. 

Gareth picks up one, three, then a dozen girls. Nearly every stop they make, Gareth finds a way to get laid. It's honestly getting impressive. For a kid that got no action in high school, he's sure hit his stride once they hit the road. Goddamn.

"Are we gonna talk about it?" Jeff asks, flicking the lighter, flame burning bright, as he holds it up for Eddie to get the joint going. 

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. It's a travesty," Goodie says dryly, and Eddie and Jeff both laugh at him.

Gareth's gone, out for the night, or at least well into it, and the three of them are hanging out in the van, because they don't need another angry motel manager whining about the skunky smell upon check-out.

"He's a little twerp, this's unholy," Goodie continues and Eddie leans into Jeff, cackling.

"I wish I had that kind of confidence," Jeff admits, passing the joint back to Eddie. "To get shot down, and just move along to the next one."

"I mean, if you get enough nos you're eventually gonna get a yes," Eddie reassures, "It's just if you're willing to accept all the rejection first."

"Clearly he'll get rejected all day and all night to get some pussy," Goodie snarks.

They all laugh.

When this all started, Eddie gave Gareth the safe sex lecture, loaded him down with condoms, and told him to have fun, but be safe. The last thing they need is…well, anything that could come from not wrapping it up.

Mama Jones would kill Eddie if anything happens to her boy while they're out here. It's his job to keep all of them safe and in line, at least somewhat. 

"How is he even doing it?" Jeff asks.

"Confidence," Eddie answers, "Charisma. Charm."

Gareth has an easy way about him, a swagger and smile that he's learned to work. Eddie watched it evolve. The kid was never told he couldn't do something, so now he thinks he's god's gift to women, and for some reason, the women are believing this.

It's a pretty great trick he's got going, Eddie's not gonna lie. 

"Cockiness," Goodie adds to the list, interrupting Eddie's thoughts.

They all burst out laughing, and are still cackling when there's rhythmic pounding on the side of the van, making them all jump and then laugh louder. Gareth.

Eddie slides open the door to let Gareth climb in. He reeks of perfume and sex, and they all wave their hands around, like the smell of him is stronger than the skunky weed cloud they're sitting in.

"That was fast," Jeff says.

"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am," Gareth answers. 

"Got your dick wet, so now you're good enough to hang with us," Goodie says dryly.

"Don't be jealous," Gareth says, snagging the joint right from Goodie's fingers. He gets kicked for his trouble, but doesn't seem to mind.

"That was fast," Eddie echoes, "Did you even leave the parking lot?"

"Nope," Gareth says, and passes back to Eddie. 

"Well, I'm sure she enjoyed the quick encore you gave her," Goodie goads.

"I know what I'm doing. She left with no complaints," Gareth answers, but digs in his pocket, "But I did leave with this, though."

Gareth tosses a bra onto the floor of the van. It's pink, and lacey with a tiny bow.

"Classy, kid," Eddie says, while Goodie toes at it with his sneaker.

"Bras are expensive, she's gonna be pissed," Goodie says, and they all turn to look at him.

"How do you know how much a bra costs?" Gareth asks. 

"I know things. I read."

"Yeah, you been reading the lingerie pages of the Sears catalog," Jeff teases, and Goodie flips him off.

Eddie realizes that's probably exactly where Goodie's gotten this info, and he tosses his head back, laughing. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Before there was the internet, there were the models in the Sears catalog. 👙

[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 4

Picture for Banner: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU

Warnings: Ab*se, Violence, Mental Health, Cursing, Smut (mild), treat it as a normal Enemies 2 Lovers book, but the A/B/O dynamic will appear at some point.

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

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Chapter 4

The sound of the alarm was blasting nonstop next to his head, and he groaned loudly as he opened his eyes.

He looked over to see it was 6:00 AM. 

Eddie ran his hands over his face, and he rubbed his hair which was still wet from the prior night, having to take a shower as soon as he got home. He groaned as he slowly sat up, his hair falling over his shoulders, feeling the cold of it against his bare skin. He swung his legs over the bed, finally getting up to get a big stretch.

He walked outside of his room, heading towards his kitchen to get a glass of water, before going to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, and saw the tiredness in his eyes. He shouldn’t have stayed longer than he should. He’ll just message Gareth to open up the shop himself so he could sleep in a little bit. He opened the cabinet behind the mirror, and retrieved an orange pill bottle.

He opened it to take one of the large pills out, immediately chugging it down with a gulp of water. He closed the pill bottle and put it back into the cabinet, only to retrieve one of the small glass vials with a purple liquid in them. He only had to do this once a week, and it was due for him to inject a new dose. 

He got a one-use sterile syringe from one of the drawers below and some cotton and rubbing alcohol. He put everything down on the sink and grabbed some of the cotton, drenching it in alcohol, to clean the area between his neck and shoulder. He then opened the pack of the syringe and took it out, to then fill it with the purple liquid that was in the vial. He tapped a few times to make the bubbles come out and then stretched his neck, injecting the medicine there.

He huffed a bit. He was used to this by now, because his health and his condition had been like this since he was 16. He felt how his whole body cooled down just a bit and he groaned in relief as it did. He was glad he had some tattoos running towards his neck, hiding the needle marks he has there from over the years. 

He pulled the needle out and pressed some cotton on his neck to seal the small puncture. He noticed the anger last night, worse than a normal day, and he knew it was because he was due to this injection. He started tidying his bathroom up and then closed the cabinet to look at his reflection again.

He remembered his interaction with you. He was angry, beyond words after you threw the liquid into his face, and he got even angrier after you threw yourself onto him, ready to punch him square in the cheek. He was stronger than you, he knows it, and he kept his hands to himself as best as he could, but he was starting to see red last night, and he was glad that Steve knows about his condition and immediately took him away from you.

But if he couldn’t hurt you physically, then he would hurt you with words, and that’s what he did. What he didn’t know is that his words hurt you on a different level than he thought they would. Eddie winced at the memory of your distant eyes, when all he wanted was for you to go at him again, yell, throw a slap or something.

But you just stood still, looking at him, and then calmly left without speaking to anybody. He knows there’s so much more to your life than what you give Robin, and that’s the main reason he doesn’t like you. Robin is there to give you her full trust, and her friendship, just like she did for him, yet you didn’t want to open up to her, to anybody for that fact. 

He was seeing his own friends, fighting for someone’s trust who didn’t even acknowledge it, or cared that they did. You weren’t even thankful enough to give them your real story, or your real motives. You often lied about your dates going well, and he won’t ever forget how you lied about wanting to go on a date with Jonathan.

It was a week after meeting you, Eddie really thought of apologizing and starting over, thinking that if you didn’t talk about your past it must be because of some personal reason he doesn’t have the right to meddle in. But then, Jonathan asked you out, and his friend had liked you since the first moment he saw you, but you; you accepted the invitation, already knowing you saw him as a friend.

And that irritated him even more.

He protected his friends like family, and something about you was completely off with him. He didn’t trust you, he didn’t like you, but his friends did for some unknown reason, and that might be because he didn’t get to know you personally and they did, but his first impression of you was enough for him to not be interested in doing so.

Whatever it is that you went through was obvious that you didn’t want anything to do with it anymore, but still, Eddie believes his friends deserve an explanation, and even more so if you were going to snap at him like you did last night. He doesn’t even want the explanation himself, he just wants his friends, who actually like you and trust you completely, to receive the same kind of trust from you.

He groaned as he clenched his fists against the sink, taking a deep breath in and cracking his neck, side to side. Should he apologize to you? Should he even try? But why would he? What good would it do? You won’t believe his apology, so maybe the best option here is to simply shut up about it, and let it go behind you both, put it in the past.

“Fuck.” He sighed heavily as the flash of your eyes came back to his mind. He really did fucking hurt you with that one. He blamed himself for it, for not being careful about his medication. He should have taken everything the day before, because if he did, maybe your lies wouldn’t have gotten to him the way they did. It’s not like you’re a special case, it happened to everyone at least once.

Steve never took it personally when Eddie would snap at him when his meds were running low in his system, but he did get into a fight with Robin once. That lasted for a whole week, and he took the matter in his own hands, showing at her home with flowers, and a pair of tickets to go see the nutcracker, even if Eddie fucking hated ballet.

He winced at the memory of forgetting his meds back here when he visited Wayne in Hawkins. He had to drive his uncle away because he was afraid of hurting the poor old man. He took a deep breath to look at himself in the mirror again. He hated this of himself, he hated it, with every fiber in his body, but there’s nothing he can do but keep taking his meds to balance his emotions out. 

He turned the light of the bathroom off to head back towards his bedroom, immediately flopping onto the bed, head first. He grabbed his cellphone and messaged Gareth to open the shop for him, that he feels sick and will come in some time later. He blocked his phone and put it on the night table again, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes before closing his eyes.

He should have taken the meds one day prior.

—————————————————

He cursed in excitement as he turned the ignition key of an old Ford and the engine came to life. He had to put a lot of money in spare parts but the owner of the car had agreed either way in the repair. 

“Food delivery!” Steve yelled loudly into the garage with four bags of Five Guys. Gareth and Jeff rushed towards him, starving and finally able to have a lunch break.

“God, Harrington, you are godsend.” Gareth exclaimed with a relieved sigh as he took his own bag of food while Steve chuckled, handing Jeff his own, who was rolling his eyes at his friend’s exaggeration. Eddie closed his car’s door, confused as to why Steve came by to his shop, but he won’t deny the bag of fast food in front of him. He walked towards him, ready to take the bag but Steve pulled it away from him, earning a glare from Eddie’s part.

“Oh no… You and I have some talking to do.” And shit. Eddie groaned loudly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Seriously Harrington?” Eddie stood his ground against Steve but the younger male didn’t budge, he simply shrugged and smirked at his friend.

“If we don’t talk, you get no food. Easy as that, and it’s your fucking favorite Munson.” At that Eddie’s ears perked up and he looked back at Gareth and Jeff who were already devouring their burgers and Eddie’s stomach grumbled in protest. He turned to Steve again, snatching the bag of food from his hands before walking outside of the garage.

Steve smiled at his friend’s antics and walked behind him, following him to the back of the garage where Eddie took his smoke breaks and he had a nice picnic table set so that he and the boys could have breaks with some fresh air. They both sat down, across from each other, and they started taking the food out of their bags. Steve munched on a fry as Eddie started preparing his burger with some of his fries inside.

“So… Care to tell me what the fuck happened yesterday?” Eddie winced at that and shook his head, closing his burger.

“She started it, Steve. She threw the beer on my face.” Eddie says, taking a bite out of his burger and Steve squinted at his friend.

“Yeah, of course, but I bet that she didn’t do it for the hell of it Munson… So what did you say to her?” Eddie looked at his friend with an offended look in his eyes and shook his head as he swallowed the bite.

“I am your best friend, and you don’t believe me?” 

“Fuck no.” Eddie’s eyes widened slightly at Steve and then nodded as if deep in thought.

“I see how it is, Harrington.” At that Steve scoffed, already tired of Eddie’s dramatism.

“I believe you in everything else, but I don’t trust that you didn’t say anything to her for her to become like that.” Eddie looked down at his food as he ate quietly, deliberating if to simply talk it out, or keep it inside, but he knew that the pounding on his heart and the guilt he felt in his belly wasn’t just going to disappear. He sighed and put his burger down on the wrapped as he ran his hands through his face.

“I could tell she was lying about her date… Once again.” Steve shook his head as he took a bite out of his burger. “I mean, Steve, I’m sorry I just fucking hate liars. I hate people that try to fit in, and I hate even more the fact that you all trust her but she doesn’t trust you back.” At that, Steve rolled his eyes as he swallowed.

“You think I tell her my biggest secrets Eddie? Seriously, just because she doesn’t want to tell us about whatever she went through in Atlanta, doesn’t make her a bad person.” Steve explained and now it was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes.

“What if she did something back there? What if she did something bad? Something she is ashamed of saying?” Eddie exclaims as he takes a big bite out of his burger again and then a sip of his drink.

“Then if she is ashamed it means she regrets it. Eddie, we trust the girl we met now, not the girl she wants to forget.” At that, Eddie stared down at his food, his mind going back to your absent eyes as you looked at noone in particular. It didn’t look like someone who did something bad, but rather, it looked like they did wrong to you at some point. His stomach twisted and he cursed loudly because it was messing with his hunger.

“I went overboard last night…” Steve nodded as he took a fry in his mouth and his eyebrows raised up feigning surprise.

“No fucking shit.” 

“My meds were due… I should of taken them yesterday morning.” Eddie looked up at the sky as he took a deep breath in, and his eyes immediately went to Steve, who was looking at him with worry.

“You okay with that? The meds are okay?” Steve asked and Eddie nodded, finally feeling the knot go away in his stomach and start eating again. Steve knew Eddie didn’t like talking about his condition, so he changed subjects again. “Are you going to say sorry to her?” Eddie almost chokes on a fry at that.

“No way. It would only make matters worse really. Just let some time go by and we’ll see from there, until then it might be better to not cross paths with her.” Eddie explains and Steve huffs at him, putting his drink down.

“Are you seriously going to run away from that? I mean, maybe if you apologize, you can get a new friend.” Eddie looked at him with a skeptical look in his eyes.

“I won’t tolerate her lying to me in my face, Harrington, I’m not like you, or anyone else for that matter.” Steve caught on his words and bit the inside of his cheek, and simply gave up on the subject. The worst part is that you both might even be good friends, and Steve knows it, everyone knows it, except for you and Eddie. Your tastes are alike, your sense of humor is the same, your exaggerated banterings are the same. 

But Steve understood, or at least he tried to. He understands that Eddie’s condition is not one that would let him trust people that easily, but he can’t help but think that the older male is a little bit hypocritical. 

Steve and Dustin are the only ones that know about his condition, about his sickness. Eddie never opened up about it to Robin, Nancy, Argyle or Jonathan. It was just a coincidence and simply bad timing, but if you think about it, it was excellent timing, because if Steve didn’t rush Eddie to his doctor in time, he didn’t know what Eddie would have done in that state.

“Fine… Just, don’t get on her nerves anymore Ed… Not like that. She looked deeply hurt with your last words.” And Eddie winced again, not wanting to remember your face any longer, because he remembered your despair, your nervousness, your fear. He could see it all. He knew Steve wanted to help, but what was done was done, and there really wasn’t a way to go back on his words now. 

“Just let it go, Steve. She and I are never going to be friends.” And Steve gave a scoff at that, already putting away the trash in the fast food bag.

“You’re impossible. I hope you know that.” Eddie nodded in understanding but a small tug of the lips happened at the corner of his lips. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his messages, searching for Wayne’s last conversation. He opened it and took a deep breath before sending a greeting to him. Steve noticed the slight switch of emotions in his friend’s eyes and body movement and cracked his knuckles as he looked at him. “Is he better?”

Eddie gulped and put his phone away as he put the trash away from his food, taking final sips of his drink. He rarely talked about himself, or his feelings, or about his family in general, and Steve was glad he could make his friend at least give him the short version of things.

“Lucia is taking care of him… She says he does look more energized after the last chemo session.” He replies, still not looking at Steve, but his friend noticed the lack of response of ‘yes’ or ‘no’. So he wasn’t going to nudge any further into that topic. He knew Wayne is the last family member Eddie’s got, and since he was diagnosed with cancer last year, Eddie’s been reluctant to actually let other people inside his life. 

The older male didn’t do things because of malice. He just believed that keeping people away is better than driving them in, knowing that one day they will probably leave, by their own accord, or life would simply run out on them. He is bracing himself for Wayne’s departure, because he knows there’s no way of stopping lung cancer, it’s just buying time for the inevitable. 

His mood darkened at the thoughts and he groaned, standing up and Steve followed, looking at Eddie with a pained look in his face.

“You know that we’re here… right?” Steve reminded his friend, and Eddie felt his chest warm at his words. He gave a small nod as he patted Steve’s shoulder.

“Thank you for the food. Go help Jonathan, I’m sure you left him completely alone at the bar.” Steve waved at him with a ‘pff’ noise in his lips. 

“He can handle an hour without me.” He said with a smile and Eddie shook his head with a chuckle, looking towards his shop. 

“Okay, let me know if there are any plans for the week… And, well…” Eddie didn’t go on with his words, rubbing the back of his neck. Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“We are not going to invite one and not the other. We’ll invite you both, and it will be up to you to see if you can stand one another.” Steve said with a frown to his face, and Eddie understood, nodding at him. He didn’t want to face you, he really didn’t. Not because he is scared, or because he is afraid of what could happen, but because he would want to apologize to you, and that will only make matters worse. He knows you don’t want him talking to you.

So distance it is.

—————————————————

End of chapter 4

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[beep-beep-robin]

tw: meltdown, harmful stimming, slight internalized ableism below the cut

eddie‘s hellfire shirt‘s seen better days. the print is coming off, it‘s starting to smell old - even when wayne‘s finally succesfully forced eddie to take it off for a day so he can wash it.

the day eddie accepts that it‘s probably time to throw it away, he has a meltdown. he‘d been wearing this shirt for years now, not everyday, but almost. it‘s his one piece of clothing that he‘d always felt comfortable in, the only thing he could wear on bad days without feeling like he was gonna have to throw up.

so now he‘s sitting on his bed, wearing the shirt, rocking back and forth and pulling on his hair, trying to reason with himself - the shirt‘s old, he could make a new one, it‘s gross - but it‘s no use. his brain is in emergency mode.

he‘s so focused on his panic and anger at himself, that he doesn‘t hear the knock on the door before it opens. steve walks in, sees eddie in distress, and immediately drops to the floor to kneel in front of the bed, looking up at eddie with concern visible on his face.

steve asks what‘s happened, but eddie can‘t seem to find any words. he just points at his shirt, points out the print, fingers trembling, before his hand goes back to pulling at his hair.

somehow steve manages to understand and calm eddie down a bit. eddie is aware that steve‘s making empty promises, he won‘t be able to get him a shirt that‘s the same as the one he‘s wearing now. even if he buys the exact same shirt, eddie knows that it‘ll feel different to him because it‘s newer, from a different batch, just plain different. the print isn‘t the issue, because he can just pop that onto the shirt himself.

still, hearing steve talk to him in a calming voice, reassuring him that everything‘s going to be fine and that he will actively try to help eddie get the same shirt back, it helps. he calms down just enough to stop torturing his hair, looking at steve’s face properly now for the first time since he’d walked in. the thought that even though eddie just basically lost his mind in front of steve and is probably covered in snot and tears, the latter is still looking at him with pure relief, love (platonic. eddie’s not trying to get his hopes up even further) and something else eddie can’t interpret on his face, makes eddie’s heart flutter.

eddie‘s not the biggest fan of being touched during and after a meltdown, and steve knows that (they‘d been hanging out for a while, and steve‘s witnessed another meltdown just weeks before), so they just sit side by side on his bed after he‘s come down from it, the metalhead nursing the tea steve‘s made him.

eddie‘s positively shocked when steve shows up again the next day to hand him a hellfire shirt. by the smell eddie can tell it‘s probably gareth‘s, and eddie could kiss steve for the genius idea of retrieving one of the other shirts that he‘d bought for the original members of the hellfire club (maybe that’s not the only reason he‘d kiss him though but eddie‘s going to keep that to himself). it smells different, slightly like gareth and a bit like steve, but it feels the same and it‘s much less worn than eddie‘s, because gareth didn‘t live in it as much as eddie did in his, apparently.

the relief that washes over eddie is immense. for a second he doesn‘t even know what to say, so he just throws his arms around steve in absolute disbelief at having someone apart from his uncle in his life that cares so much about the stupid little things that upset him that he’d go to these lengths to fix them.

especially steve. eddie was pretty worried about scaring the ex jock off when he started unmasking around him, but their friendship (?) just grew even stronger and steve‘s turned into the one person he can always turn to when things go south.

releasing each other from the hug, steve squeezes the others shoulders and tells eddie to go put the shirt on, but the latter is still thinking about his first instinct from a few moments earlier. he thinks of the expression on steve‘s face that washes over it so often when he‘s looking at eddie, no matter what the other is doing.

he thinks of accidental touches of hands, knees brushing together, hugs that last longer than they normally should. thinks of how caring steve is, how accepted and loved he makes eddie feel.

his eyes flicker down to steve‘s lips, back up to his eyes, and apparently steve is right there with him because he asks eddie if he can kiss him - and there’s that look again. eddie just nods and then they‘re kissing and his brain is struggling to catch up with what just happened but for a moment everything‘s perfect and eddie‘s, once again, in disbelief.

when they break apart, there‘s nothing but steve, steve, steve and he barely catches it when the other says that he‘s really been wanting to do this for a while now.

and all eddie can say to that is yeah, me too.

[mask131]

The fantasy in modern Arthuriana (3)

A follow-up of the previous post.

If the medieval Arthurian literature accumulates the tales of the feats of the heroes, the detail of their thoughts is mostly left in the shadows. Like the prose of Malory says for a good number of knights, “He said but little”, “He seyde but lytyll”. In other words, the Arthurian romance of the Middle-Ages is concerned with actions, not words. It is even truer when it comes to the female characters, a minority among the Arthurian adventures, and who are limited to a specific set of roles: queen and giver of goods (Guinevere), virgin and emissary of adventure (Linette), sad and dying lover (the lady of Escalot)… Such a restriction of functions invited in itself a fleshing out of the characters, not to say a remake. It is even stronger when we come to the sorceresses, another type of women largely used by modern rewrites, probably because they are precisely among the female characters the only one who, in the Middle-Ages, can freely participate to the action. [It is true that the maidens who guide the knights throughout their quests seem to also have an important area of action, but very often it is suggested that they belong to the supernatural world. In the Morte Darthur, the three ladies met by Gawain, Yvain and Marhalt embody the three ages of woman; Linette, who guides Gareth and helps him in his love, is able to “piece back together” and resurrect a dead knight].

If the revisited Arthurian literature likes to give a voice to women, these characters so often overshadowed by their male counterparts who are always in a war or on a quest, it is probably because at first it was an innovation. Since everything was already said in the past, one of the simplest ways to renew the tale is to give a voice to the mutes, here women. This innovation was very quickly assimilated to a feminist, though not always feminine, current, under the major influence of Marion Zimmer Bradley and her “Mists of Avalon”. In it the focus is placed on the enchantresses, Viviane and Morgan mainly. Given the huge success of these novels, the characters within it had a tendency to influence, consciously or not, ulterior treatments of the Arthurian fiction and its female characters. As such, when Cindy Mediavilla wrote about “The Mists of Avalon”, she said “[it] sets the standard for Arthurian fiction told from the female perspective. Heavy with images of the Goddess versus the male dominance of Christianity, this story (…) is highly recommended for all fans of the genre, especially young feminists seeking alternate renderings of the legend.” (Arthurian Fiction – An Annotated Bibliography). Outside of this “feminist” dimension, there is still a great number of recurring trends discernable within contemporary novels that have a direct influence over the idea of magic, and by extension, the genre or sub-genre to which the Arthurian novel belongs. [Maureen Fries heavily nuanced the feminism at work here: Viviane is killed by Balin, Nimue killed herself after betraying Kevin, Niniane is used then killed by Mordred, Morgan ens up admitting the universality of religious symbols even assimilated the Great Goddess to the Virgin Mary… “Indeed, real empowerment escape all of the women in the book except perhaps (and indirectly) Gwenhwyfar, whose narrow Christianity Arthur embraces.” – “Trends in the Modern Arthurian Novel”, in “King Arthur Through the Ages”]

The duo Viviane/Morgan is most often treated as an antagonism. In line with the sources, Viviane appears as a kind fairy who raises Lancelot and acts to help Arthur dispel the schemes of his malevolent half-sister. [With a rare set of exceptions, including Fred T. Saberhagen’s Dominion which subverts many preconceptions by making Viviane a bloodthirsty high-priestess and Merlin a drunkard with a failing magic, closer to the buffoon that appears in the BD “Le chant d’Excalibur” by Arleston and Hübsch than to the medieval prophet] But the shadows among the medieval characters are enough to allow anyone to interpret them in various ways. Indeed, this sweet Lady of the Lake is also the woman that used Merlin to augment her own power before imprisoning him for all of eternity. And Morgan is at the same time the enemy of the Round Table and the crying sister which takes a dying Arthur in her arms to carry him away to Avalon. This ambiguity is complexified by numerous possible divisions or assimilations: Viviane is also Niniane or Nimue, except when they are all different characters. Mordred is either the son of Morgan, or of her sister Morgause. The sources vary a lot about these facts, and so do the modern authors – and the same thing applies to the love-romances that are woven between the enchantresses and their victims, between Merlin and his students. [Within the “Lancelot-Graal”, Morgan is said to have been the student of Merlin, but she is different from Viviane, another of his student who ended up imprisoning the wizard. Yet, there is a temptation to synthetize in one character the student, the mistress and the enemy. On another subject, the hatred of Morgan for the Round Table could be explained by her love for the cousin of the queen, a love that said queen managed to destroy. As early as the Middle-Ages we see the beginning of, not a rehabilitation, but at least excusing circumstances for Morgan’s criminal behavior towards her brother and his kingdom.]

The opposition of benevolent sorceresses and malevolent wizardesses is inscribed in a broader way within a specific conception of magic. If we can easily admit that there are things such as “white” or “black” magic, if we admit that there are wizards opposing witches (or necromancers), than this duality invokes the symbolism of good versus evil. In the context of the Arthurian legend, the magic that serves Arthur and his chivalrous ideal is supposed to be white, while the one of those that stand against him is black. It is the case with Stephen Lawhead or Gillian Bradshaw, where the future of the world depends on a battle between Light and Darkness. [Gillian Bradshaw created “Hawk of May” and “Kingdom of Summer”. The expression “Kingdom of Summer” is also very present within Lawhead’s work, reinforcing the link between those two authors. Lawhead prefers to name two of his characters Gwalcmai and Gwalchavad, “hawk of May” and “hawk of Summer”, rather than Gawain and Galahad. As for the opposition of the Light and the Darkness, we can be reminded of the two sides of the Force within “Star Wars”, which is filled with Arthurian references.]

But this symbolism also evokes several moral values that already prepare the question of how magic and religion coexist. Already in the Middle-Ages the limits are blurry when it comes to separating magic, religion, and science – especially medical science. (See Richard Kieckheffer’s Magic in the Middle-Ages) The knowledge of plants can be seen with suspicions, and the various invocations look very similar to each other, no matter if they are for a saint or a demon. All those contradictions coexist within the modern Arthurian literature as a whole, even though if most authors take care to establish a cohesive magic system within the setting of their tale.

As such we frequently have an opposition between magic and religion, where magic relies on nature and traditional beliefs of which women are the bearers, while religion relies on a recent importation of Christianism and is presented as repressive and misogynistic. It is the case in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s work, where the magic is natural, “sympathetic”, against fanatical Christians who only dream of absolute power. Bernard Cornwell depicts a desacralized Christianity in an even darker light, as a religion only concerned with accumulating wealth by exploiting naïve pilgrims. The prayers are emphatic but useless, and the priest Samson, a future saint, has a rat-like face, a strong dislike of Guinevere and Nimue, as well as a heavily hinted preference for very young monks. The only Christian that is acceptable to the eyes of the narrator is the bishop Bedwin, who turns out to not be a quite faithful Christian, and an emblematic example of the improbable reconciliation of the extremes within modern Arthurians – a treatment of magic an religion that prefers the opposition of forces rather than their complementary. It forms indeed an explosive situation that is able to captivate more the attention of a reader rather than an idyllic statu quo. As such, what imposed itself as an Arthurian topos is the idea of a mostly pagan Britain attacked by the hegemonic projects of Christianism – despite the historical and archeological informations contraicting this view. The historicizing of the Arthurian setting is thus sometimes independent from the story, while not negating its realism or “vraisemblance”. [Adam Roberts, in “Silk and Potatoes” pointed out that in Lawhead’s work the Briton peasants are wearing silk, which is highly improbable, and that they cook with potatoes, an obvious anachronism.]

Stephen Lawhead tries to have a pacific shift from the old religion and its beliefs (assimilated to magic) to the Christian religion of the God of love. Taliesin, then Merlin, both have a revelation of the unicity of the divine, and as such their bardic invocations are now addressed to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, but they stay unchanged in language or effect. What was once a spell or a trick becomes a miracle. Lawhead’s tale however is flawed by an oversimplification. If all this “magic” comes from God, then where do Morgian’s wicked powers come from? The unbreakable faith of Merlin within the superiority of God over Satan is admirable in a catechism context, but it removes an essential tool of the tale: its suspense.  A duel between Morgian and Merlin during which the latter won’t suffer any blow, protected as he is by the armor of his faith, is quite disappointing, not to say boring. And what about the magic of the Small Folks, which seems to need a technical learning? The tale cannot fully escape a certain number of expectations, such as the oppositions between white and black magic, or between paganism and Christianity, or the presence of another “fairy”-like people cohabiting discreetly with the Britons. As such, while the attempt at Christianizing the supernatural is interesting because quite rare today (though it was very common in the Middle-Ages), is works badly.

It is a testimony of the weight of obligatory elements within the modern Arthurian fiction, a fiction that was shaped as much by contemporary successes as by, if not more than, its relationship to the medieval sources. If the articulation between magic and religion can be done in various ways, it stays in many cases a strong opposition between white magic/women/tradition, and religion/men/change. And since, outside of Merlin, most of the wizards of the medieval romances are women, magic is thus colored by femaleness, not to say feminism. In a world where male characters kill each other with weapons, women heal wounds with herbs and words. The image of the healer-Viviane, sweet and motherly, is opposed to the brutality of a world of warriors. At another level, it seems that the sorceresses embody the “fantasy temptation” while the warriors embody the “historical temptation”. [Raymond H. Thompson notes the gendered polarity within Arthurian rewrites since WWII, between a feminine movement closer to heroic fantasy, and a male movement, bloodier and closer to sword and sorcery (“Arthurian Legend in Science-Fiction and Fantasy”, in “King Arthur Through the Ages”)] As such, the novels that focus on the female characters also focus on magic, while those concerned with men and their wars are historicizing the Arthurian era. As Thomson said: “The focus thus shifts from warfare to the political and domestic conflicts that raise Arthur to power, and then destroy him.”

But if this is the case, where do we place evil wizardesses such as Morgan? They find their place within the rewrites that use abundantly of the supernatural, which is then vast enough to include both good and evil. Moreso, if the Middle-Ages offered a complex depiction of the enchantresses, the dark side of Morgane/Morgause stays dominant. Modern rewrites thus very easily use this malevolent aspect. It is the case of T.H. White whose second book, “The Witch in the Wood” was later renamed “The Queen of Air and Darkness” to designate Morgause. Gillian Bradshaw also depicts a fully evil Morgause who tries to teach her son Gwalchmai the occult arts. But he prefers the side of Light, and he joins Arthur and his knights. We find these two influences within Lawhead’s Morgian, also qualified of “Queen of Air and Darkness”, and who serves the Devil while Merlin fights by the sides of Arthur, the champion of Light. This distribution of the magical forces intensifies the motif of the conflict on several levels. The Darkness can be historical: the one of the “Dark Ages” at the beginning of the Middle-Ages, the one of the various disasters (war, plague, famine, insecurity) brought by the Saxon invader. But in a cyclical point of view, which extends the mythical side of the Arthurian theme even in rewrites that try to be historical, the fight between Good and Evil becomes recurrent. Arthur and Morgan (or her avatars) are easily identifiable archetypes. This repetition ability highlights the non-temporality of the myth and justifies the growing number of Arthurian rewrites: the myth is eternal, and thus must be eternally retold.

But these retellings do not simply replay the classical gigantic fight between the servants of the Light and those of the Darkness. A quite important number of modern authors chose to rehabilitate the unloved characters, mostly by giving them a voice. As such, the grudge-bearing, jealous witch of the medieval romances disappears, replaced by a loving and healing sister. Phyllis Ann Karr, within “The Idylls of the Queen”, offers a clever treatment of the character of Morgan, rehabilitated by a systematical refutation of the rumors, those that will become the “official” version of the legend later on. Morgan recognizes the facts, but offers other explanations for them, motivations misunderstood by her contemporaries and thus doomed to stay unknown (until the modern author reveals them, of course). This modern process of subverting the medieval stereotype (here the wicked witch that becomes the most faithful and loving servant of the Arthurian grandeur, pushing the devotion to a refusal to be offended by her bad reputation) can be declined in an infinite way, even on a parodic tone. Thomas Berger offers an anemic Galahad barely able to ride a horse, instead of the invulnerable knight supposed to be an “improved” version of his father Lancelot. John Gloag paints a Merlin prone to mistakes within his prophecies, and makes the entire announced and expected Arthurian glory a huge prank. T.H. White made his Lancelot ugly, where the Middle-Ages encouraged to see him as beautiful since he was “the perfect lover”.

However, as with all process, this technique has its limits. By constantly subverting the reader’s expectations, we create new demands. Morgan is constantly rehabilitated, Lancelot is constantly made darker or disgraced by modern authors, who are numerous (maybe too numerous?) in trying to set themselves apart from their predecessors. Cornwell’s Lancelot is an arrogant coward, while in other novels he simply disappears as the lover of the queen and/or the right arm of Arthur. He is replaced by characters deemed more historical (Bedwyr for Rosemary Sutcliff or Joan Wolff), or by characters invented for the plot (John Gloag’s Wencla, Victor Canning’s Borio). As if suppressing the greatest Arthurian knight was needed to surprise the modern reader. Under such a light, the rehabilitation of witches as misunderstood sorceresses is almost becoming more stereotypical than the original model of the “truly wicked”.

It seems that, for now, the only true novelty that modern authors have not dared is an Arthurian novel without Arthur. But this path seems to be under exploration: Arto, Artos, Artorius, all spellings that can establish a difference with the original character is welcome, especially if it establishes a gap between the foggy and uncertain time when the legend was born and the era of the modern rewrite. The exploitation of the Arthurian prehistory is another sign of it. The Arthurian novel without supernatural is also another facet of this quest for a renewal. But since the “pure” historical novel has already been done in the past, the “new novelty” is the reintroduction of the marvelous – not in its original form, but in a subtler one influenced by the past historicizing. We entered an era of “rationalizing” and “walling” of the “merveilleux”. Rationalizing the wonderful means exploiting events and actions that can be given the appearance of magic ; “walling” the marvelous means limiting magical abilities to a specific group of characters, usually non-humans and thus marginalized.

[bmodiwrites]

So, our power went out this morning & my s/o and I made a blanket fort by battery light to snuggle under. For some reason, as I drifted off to sleep, this little idea stuck with me. Here's the result of 5AM wanderings...

Slamming the case of his guitar down, Eddie let out a long breath.

After four hours of what could only be called terrible practice, Eddie was glad to have the instrument packed up and out of his sight for a while. Though Corroded Coffin saw some recent success, their attempt at creating new music wasn’t going all that well and everyone knew it.

What should’ve been an easy way to relax after a week of shows turned into bad playing that gave way to silly arguments. In the handful of years they’d been a working, functional band, Eddie hadn’t ever felt so put off by the people around him. They weren’t making music – just a mess.

Lingering behind everyone once Gareth finally tossed in the white flag gave Eddie the opportunity to calm down and come back to Earth. There was no guarantee that he would’ve made it out of the parking lot without punching Jeff across the cheek if they all walked out together. Eddie hated being called out for bad lyricism and Jeff hadn’t held back once he got started. Despite agreeing with him, Eddie’s temper was on a hair trigger, close to going off at any minute. Taking a second to let everyone leave in peace was the only way for the band to stay together.

Even in a fit of red, Eddie understood that.

Once the aggressive need to barrel people over dropped by the way side, Eddie felt able to get on his feet and out the door. On top of not wanting to ruin things with the band, bringing home bad energy was never a good idea. Steve’s ability to read people had only gotten stronger having survived Vecna. Any bad juju immediately put Steve on edge – especially where Eddie was concerned.

Of course, the mere thought of Steve worked wonders in its own right. No matter where Eddie was on the spectrum of freaking out to breaking people’s noses, conjuring up little pictures or memories of Steve always helped to soothe him. Their three year relationship played a huge part in the control Eddie now had over himself. His rambunctious personality and lifestyle was a lot easier to manage when each night didn’t end with a possible arrest.

By the time that Eddie made it out to the parking lot, his mood was a lot lighter. He already forgot most of the turmoil sitting on his chest – the weight there was easily replaced with the scorching flame of something unnamable Steve and Eddie’s feelings for him always brought about. Getting into his car, Eddie almost had a smile on his face.

The drive back to their little shared apartment finished leveling Eddie out – his steps walking to the door were filled with anticipation, not anger and dread. It still blew Eddie’s mind that his heart started to pound harder and harder the closer he got to his place of rest. Coming home, crossing the threshold of a place that still didn’t feel real – it was overwhelming.

Still, Eddie hoped the excitement would never fade. There was something nice about the promise of forever.

Shaking his head, Eddie blinked back to reality just in time to notice the front porch light wasn’t on. He passed Steve’s car in the parking lot on his way in, so his boyfriend had to be home. The confusion of what could be up had Eddie’s brow quirking and his stride hastening. Their apartment was usually a lit beacon shouting the comfort of home into the void. Darkness, after finding out all the scary things that creeped about in it, scared Eddie.

He was quiet as he opened the front door. Whether Steve was out for the count napping or taken hostage by something from the Upside Down, making a lot of noise wasn’t going to help the situation. Having surprise on his side seemed like the only weapon Eddie had at his disposal.

A shaking hand reached down to grab at the chain that dangled from his belt loop. Eddie gripped it hard to stop the noise of it banging against his leg. If push came to shove, he could fling his heavy wallet at an enemy a little easier now.

More surprise to wield. 

Slowly, Eddie walked through the kitchen into the living room. Their tv was eerily off, adding to the blackness of the emptiness. Noticing that Steve’s slumped over form wasn’t on the couch, Eddie let out a breath and continued down the hall.

One by one, Eddie cleared the rooms – upon first glance, nothing was out of the ordinary.

That should’ve made Eddie’s pulse quiet but he still felt on edge. With only one room left to check, Eddie was nervous to peel back the curtain and peek behind it. If Steve was in trouble, the game officially started, the fight was on. It was now or never.

Sucking in a huge breath, Eddie gripped the doorknob of their bedroom until his knuckles turned white. Eddie squeezed harder then, delaying the inevitable that came with flicking his wrist and opening the door.

The squeaky hinge had Eddie holding his breath – he made it through the entire apartment without making any noise, leave it to the final moment to give his position away. No matter how much practice Eddie got being stealth and sneaky and heroic, the end result never matched up to his expectation. When all was said and done, Eddie was just a goof, even fate and the wide universe knew and understood that truth.

A soft groan coming from the bed stopped Eddie’s downward spiral in its tracks. Eddie went on high alert again, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. The darkness of the room made it harder to focus, but Eddie’s eyes eventually got adjusted enough to make out Steve’s body curled up in a ball on the comforter.

Another garbled noise had Eddie dropping his chain in favor of walking to the bed and getting his hands on his obviously suffering boyfriend. All the thoughts of danger dropped to the floor because Eddie recognized Steve’s hands on his head for the very regular, very normal thing that it was.

A bad night for Steve.

Trying not to make too much noise on his approach, Eddie sat down on the edge of the bed. For a second, he merely lingered there, allowing Steve to know he was there without saying anything. Eddie’s heart rate came back down and a sense of peace filtered into the room. Finally, a hand shot out to brush against Eddie’s leg. The touch was fleeting but cue enough for Eddie to move in a little closer.

His hands were feather light when returning Steve’s touch. Eddie scooted across the mattress until his hip was pressed against Steve’s drawn up knees. No stirring to pull away happened, so Eddie continued. Soon, his fingers brushed up Steve’s arm and shoulder, settling on the length of his neck. With the most adorable sigh Eddie had ever heard, Steve pushed back into the touch.

“You okay, babe?” Eddie asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Steve pushed back into Eddie’s touch in answer. Speaking, it seemed wasn’t in the cards right now.

“Is it your head?” Eddie questioned as he brushed his fingers into Steve’s hair, tugging the strands gently.

Again, Steve arched into Eddie’s touch but said nothing.

Breathing out an affectionate huff, Eddie needlessly nodded. The darkness made so much sense now.

Eddie lingered in Steve’s space for a few minutes, wordlessly petting him into a stupor. The pained sounds he walked in to hear disappeared into contented hums until Steve seemed to drift off into sleep. When Eddie felt him slump, he pulled his hand away.

“No,” Steve mumbled, his whole body stirring for the first time. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be back. You need medicine and water. You’ll feel better, Stevie.” Despite all of that being true and Eddie’s counter being sound, they both knew Steve was absolutely going to get his way.

Especially when Steve pulled out the big guns. “I just want you. Hold me – please.”

Sighing, because Steve was gorgeously manipulative and Eddie was absolutely there for it, he tucked his chin to his chest in defeat. “You’re lucky I love you,” Eddie muttered in jest.

He got up as gingerly as he could to toe off his shoes and shrug out of his vest and jacket. The cropped shirt he changed into after sweating his ass off at band practice made his skin prickle in the cool air, but Eddie quickly got over it. Steve was hot to the touch and begging to be snuggled back to normalcy. The chill wouldn’t linger around long.

Walking around to the other side of the bed, Eddie crawled into his usual spot, a feeling of lightness washing over him. It didn’t seem like he’d been close to breaking half of his life apart just half an hour earlier. Everything in him was light and easy enough to carry now. As his hand settled over Steve’s waist, digging into Eddie’s favorite little spot of hair on that flat stomach, contentment threatened to overwhelm him. Emotional whiplash prickled like sparks on his skin.

After a moment of having Steve in his arms, gratitude washed everything else away.

Steve leaned back so beautifully into Eddie, fitting all their joints and curves together. Eddie palmed Steve’s belly while Steve arched into Eddie’s frame like the house cat he truly was. Like puzzle pieces, they wiggled and shifted until they fit together perfectly. Eddie’s earlier thought about a healing touch became more and more real as the minutes went by. Steve calmed down to the point where he started to snore ever so slightly.

The breathy puffs of air meant, at last, Steve was truly asleep.

For a moment, Eddie thought about climbing out of bed to get Steve what he needed, to turn on a few lights in the apartment and get started on dinner. He imagined himself being a responsible adult that took care of his partner with the grace of someone who wasn’t selfish and hooked on the feeling of their bodies melding together. The urge to be that person lingered just long enough for Steve to subconsciously reach down and grip the hand Eddie hand on his belly.

His decision was so easily made.

Settling in, actually relaxing, made Eddie’s own tiredness become obnoxiously apparent. His arms seemed to weigh a ton and all ideas of doing anything but pulling Steve closer were sufficiently buried under comfort and an ease so sweet Eddie forgot about his troubles.

Seconds before Eddie drifted off himself, the fingers tangled with his own squeezed and Steve stirred. “Love you.”

Humming, Eddie leaned his smiling lips into Steve’s neck, pressing a sleepy kiss there. “I love you,” he muttered back, settling into the mattress further.

Sometimes, the universe forced shit to slow down, gave signs of its own. For once, Eddie appreciated the gesture, leaning into it completely.

[xenon-demon]

I fucking love pretty much every version of the “celebrity x Just Some Guy™” trope that there is for Steddie, but in honor of having a totally reasonable amount of wine I’m going to tell you about the version I’m currently thinking about all the time, one of my dumbest yet also funniest AU concepts: modern!AU with streamers Steve & Robin and Hardcore Fan™ Eddie who writes reader-insert fic about Steve.

Steve and Robin, aka EvenStevens and BirdBox_ on Twitch (“My name is spelled with a P-H, Robin, that’s such a stupid name.” “No, it’s actually even better this way! You don’t want to just use your real government name for something like this, and you would just make your username ‘SteveHarrington01′ or something equally uninspired-”) frequently stream together and have a shared YouTube channel. They got popular doing reaction videos that quickly devolve into the pair of them bickering on camera, and since the internet just loves the ‘snarky woman and her emotional support himbo’ dynamic, they got very big, very quick. Plus, it certainly doesn’t hurt that they had the combined might of Dustin and Erica to help them bend the algorithm to their whims.

While most people recognize their platonic-with-a-capital-P soulmatism, there are still some that are convinced they’re secretly dating - they can’t decide if it’s hilarious or absolutely maddening that every time they try to disprove the rumors, they somehow get stronger. Robin doesn’t feel comfortable coming out to the internet yet, and without that trump card some people just can’t understand why they’re not dating.

...there are other sections of their fandom, however, that absolutely do believe they’re not dating. Mainly because they’d rather be dating Steve or Robin (or both!) themselves, and write all the reader-insert fanfiction you could ever possibly need about it. Robin is largely ambivalent to the concept of fanfiction being written about herself as long as they’re not writing smut, since at least that way they’re not insisting she’s dating Steve.

Steve on the other hand finds it absolutely hilarious how despite how much he’s changed, he’s back to being the heartthrob he used to be in high school - and, he’ll be honest, he thrives on the attention. He’s given everyone the green light to write whatever they want - dared them to make it raunchier, even - to the point where it’s a running joke that Steve will read your reader-insert fanfiction about him unless you tag it with some form of ‘Steve don’t look’. He even used the prevalence of fic about himself to come out on stream.

(Steve’s in the middle of re-organizing his flower field in Animal Crossing when he’s interrupted by a donation. “Hey Steve, really sorry to tell you this but people are writing porn about you... and they’re making it gay. Like writing about you getting fucked by a dude. Just wanted you to know so you can say something about it.”

Steve stops dead, his screen freezing on his open inventory. “Hey, uh, why the fuck would I have a problem about a fictional version of me bottoming? Or- wait, do I seriously give off homophobic vibes? I’m literally bisexual. Hey Dustin, can you ban that guy please? Christ, the nerve of some people. If that’s how you feel about people being gay, or about people writing things that I’ve already said I have no problem with, you can leave this stream right now because I don’t want you here.“)

Many people lost their minds after that stream, one of them being popular tumblr blog whorefireclub.

Eddie didn’t plan on starting a tumblr blog for self-insert fanfiction about a twitch streamer. Really he didn’t, and every time he thinks about it in terms that plain he kind of dies a little on the inside. It’s really all Gareth’s fault, for getting fed up with Eddie’s dumb parasocial crush on a streamer and daring him to just “get it out of his system already”. So, using a bare-bones anonymous tumblr and many, many beers as his cover story, Eddie posted some of the most quickly written and unedited pieces of writing he’s ever produced in his life.

Except he wrote it with an AMAB reader character - and for those of you unfamiliar with the reader-insert sphere, that’s like fucking hen’s teeth. People are pretty good at making things gender neutral at least in their descriptions, and sometimes the anatomy is vague enough that it’s ambiguous, but the majority is written with AFAB genitalia for the reader character.

Eddie’s little drunken post blows up, and at first, he’s never regretted a life choice more.

After thinking about it, and seeing just how many people left comments with their reblogs or came into his askbox directly to thank him for giving them the representation they wanted, he starts to feel a bit better about the whole thing. In fact, it kind of tickles his “protector of the outcasts” instincts; there are people who can’t enjoy the content they want to because it doesn’t gel with their anatomy or gender identity. Eddie could, hypothetically, if he wanted to be absolutely insane about this one hot streamer guy, help fix that problem somewhat.

A couple of months later and he’s become “the guy who writes inclusive reader-insert fic”. While a fair amount of his work is gender-ambiguous, both in anatomy and in avoiding gendered language, more than half is written for anyone who finds themselves underrepresented in the usual reader-insert scene; anyone AMAB, AFAB people who can’t do female language, he’s even written a few oneshots with intersex reader characters. He did research for it and everything. It’s certainly not how he planned for this to work out, but it’s actually kind of... nice. He’d written a lot of fanfiction in his youth, mainly about Lord of the Rings and Star Trek, and while this isn’t how he’d imagined returning to the hobby it’s actually really fun. (It’s making his celebrity crush on Steve a million times worse, of course, but he’s in denial about that so it’s totally fine.)

He’s a little shit, so his blog header has - underneath his personal details - a PSA that reads “Steve, don’t look at this unless you have the balls to shout me out on stream ;)”. Eddie thinks he’s absolutely hilarious.

Right up until he wakes up to find his following has exploded overnight, and upon checking his DMs from his mutuals realizes that - oh shit - that bastard actually did it and talked about his blog on stream.

And Steve said he liked it. Steve likes the porn that Eddie wrote about him. Jesus H. Christ, Eddie is so unfathomably fucked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

if this were to exist as a fic it would be told through social media posts/DMs. one of those fics that uses unconventional (i.e. non-prose) formatting, you know the ones. the concept actually came from the fact I fucking LOVE fics like that, I’m a slut for any of that House of Leaves-type shit. one time I read a fic that consisted of 8 short stories and each one had a HTML puzzle you had to solve to be able to read it, e.g. one you had to highlight because the text was in white, another you needed to hover your mouse over to make it scroll through the text - I can’t remember the rest but it was SO COOL.

(or, to put this another way, I read homestuck at a formative age and it forever changed how I feel about formatting stories.)

[a-funeral-pyre]

May Day Parade - Round Six: Violence is Romance Enacted in Blood

Final entry for @queer-ragnelle 's May Day Parade. Of course, since this prompt is about tragedy, this one is about Gawain and Lancelot. I hope it came out well!

I trusted you. It should not have come to this. Once, you would not have wanted it. You were companions, and something more. You were united by a loyalty stronger than that between two warriors, and no one could have taken his place at your side. The thought that he was still alive could have brought you nothing but relief, even after his adultery had come to light. So why did he betray you? The words with which he tried to appease you do not matter. They will not be enough to bring your brothers back. No one deserves your forgiveness for this, not even him. You tried until the end to save his life, despite his crimes. Even though he had trampled on his vows and stained the purity with which he had bound your heart. You prayed that he would return to you one day, once your uncle's mercy allowed him to. He came back, and he took away what was most precious to you. You could have tolerated what happened to Agravain. He shouldn't have died. But he made a cowardly and unworthy assault, and it paid off. You could have accepted his end, perhaps. But not what happened next. Gaheris did not attack him. Gareth did not even defend himself. The man you loved, who you called friend and brother for so long, could never have killed innocents. He would never have condemned you to be burned by this fire of wrath and torment. But now he is no longer the same as before, and there is nothing left to stop you from repaying him for his betrayal. Even if his face is that of the one you admired most, even if his voice begs you to desist, you will not stop. To give up would force your brothers to remain unavenged – and you would keep hearing their cries, and drowning in their blood. The blood he shed is the same that flows in your veins. You could not ignore it even if you wanted to. The same blood placed you in your uncle's service, and drove your blade into Lamorak's body. Another revenge will be no different. You just wish he had not been the one to do this to you. If it had been anyone else who destroyed your family, madness would not have devoured you in the same way. But you have already had to see death freeze too many familiar faces. At least, when the same happens to him, knowing that you have punished the one who tore your family and your soul apart will fill the abyss that have opened up inside you. Maybe. Hope is all that keeps you alive. It is too late to repent. It is too late to forgive. If this war marks the end of all honor and loyalty, you no longer have any reason not to drag the cause of your downfall with you. You will not stop. Not until you feel his last breath brush against your face, the heat of his bleeding body against yours. Not until you feel your own heart tearing and yielding. You will wash your wounds with his blood. Perhaps you will stop burning before you die.

[versegm]

“Forgive my ignorance, Master, but what country does this flag represent?”

The Master of Chaldea turns around to follow Artoria’s gaze, focused on the large flag spread against the wall of her room. While she has been keeping her frustration under wraps, this thing has been driving her wild for weeks now; anytime she sees it, she dives deep inside herself to find any relevant knowledge whatsoever, and every single time, she comes out with absolutely nothing. The grail will provide you with the necessary knowledge upon summoning. What a scam. False advertisements all around.

“Oh!” The Master turns back to her, grinning. “That’s the trans flag. You’ve never seen it before?”

“The flag of Transylvania?” Huh. Fascinating. Now she’ll know what colors to associate with Vlad’s country-

The Master chuckles. “No, no, the trans gender flag. You know? Since I’m genderfluid?” She makes a vague gesture of the hand, prana crackles in the air- and instead of a red-haired girl, Artoria is left facing a black-haired boy. It’s a trick she’s seen the Master perform a few times before, so it doesn’t sway her one way or another.

“I’m… afraid I don’t know what these words mean.” She admits, a bit shamefully. Much as it pains her to admit her own ignorance, she knows as a warrior and as a king that it’s better to fill any gap in knowledge as she can before heading to the battlefield.

The Master stares at her for a few seconds. “You… have seen me shapeshift before, right?”

“I have.” As established before, seeing the Master as a man is an equally common occurrence as seeing him as a woman.

“Why do you think I do that?”

Good question. Artoria never really pondered over it. “I figure each form might give you different magecraft advantages?” She hazards a guess.

The Master snorts. “God, I wish, but that’d imply me actually knowing how to do magecraft. Sorry to say, the genderbending trick is the only one I know.” He shakes his head. “No. Some days I feel more like a boy, and some days I feel more like a girl, so I shapeshift accordingly.”

Artoria quirks up an eyebrow. “Feel… ‘more like a boy’?”

“I… Don’t really have any better way to explain it.” The Master taps his chin. “It’s like being happy or sad. It’s a very personal emotion. I can’t put it into words any better than that.”

Well. That means nothing to Artoria. She has a title (king) and a sex (female) but she can’t say she’s ever had any particularly strong emotion tied to either of these things.

Though… There are days where her draconic heart seems to act up. Days where she feels less human and more like a lizard- not in a derogatory way, or an affectionate way, but just… in a way. Days where she finds herself more at home with the likes of Siegfried or Elizabeth, days where fire rather than blood seems to flow in her veins. 

It’s not quite the same, but that’s the closest comparison Artoria can think of. “I think I understand.”

The Master nods, pleased. “Though I’m a special case. Most people can’t magically shapeshift into whatever body is more comfortable to them at the moment. Well, there’s still surgery and HRT-”

“Hold on.” She raises her hand palms up to cut them off. “You are telling me gender feelings have nothing to do with magecraft?”

“Well, yes.” He tilts his head towards the wall. “Hence the whole flag thing. I didn’t make it up. There are legitimately a lot of us out there.”

Of us, he says. What was the word he used again? Transgender? 

For some reason, she finds herself thinking of Sir Mordred. A king can only be male, but a knight can be of any gender- Sir Gareth had certainly proved her worth as a female knight. Yet Sir Mordred had only ever presented as male. He had Artoria’s face. Presumably he had her sex as well. Yet on that fateful day he explicitly called himself her son.

Did Sir Mordred have these? Gender feelings? Certainly they must have been stronger than Artoria’s own- now that she is no longer duty-bound to present as a man, Artoria isn’t going out of her way to look like one gender over another. Being greeted as a man or a woman wouldn’t bother her either way. She thinks Sir Mordred would have minded, though.

“Apologies, Master.” Artoria gets up. “I need to do some research.”

She doubts her knights would ever want to see her again- while she no longer regrets the path she took in life, she can hardly fault them for holding a grudge, considering how she failed them- but on the off-chance that they might be summoned in Chaldea… it can’t hurt to be informed, can it?

[wellpresseddaisy]

And Wishing I Was Gone, Going Home

Rather belated, but for the 4th prompt, Home.

His mother never told him magic had a smell.

She’d taught him so many things in their shabby kitchen in Cokeworth, but not that. He’d thought it her perfume, the subtle scent of petrichor and stormy seas that hovered about her, even on days it didn’t rain.

And girls like Lily, well they just smelled nice, didn’t they? She made him think of the first warmer days in spring and those little violets that sweetened the breezes.

He never noticed it on the train, too excited and then too annoyed to smell anything. It wasn’t until much, much later that he realized his housemates each had their own distinctive scent that grew stronger when they cast. Most of them he didn’t have names for until he’d had more experience in the world.

Some of them made him sneeze terribly, like Gareth Abernathy. Looking back, he felt a bit bad that Gareth had to be moved to a different dormitory, but it was either that or Severus moving. Lucius and the other prefects came out of that dorm grim-faced. They never told him what the boys said they’d do if Severus was the one moved.

Even Lucius didn’t know about his…talent. Something told him to keep it to himself. It gave him an edge, once he learned to navigate all the scents coming at him in a day. He nearly always smelled James Potter (grassy, overlaid with something too, too sweet) before he saw him.

He should have known the first time he met the Dark Lord that he couldn’t be trusted. His magic smelled of decay and dust, like the inside of a tomb. It crawled into Severus’ sinuses and stayed there, a constant reminder. Why had he pledged himself to that? He smelled like the darkest of the dark books in the Malfoy library, the ones Lucius pulled him away from with a sharp,

“I catch you near those again, my lad, and I’ll wallop you myself.”

His mark smelled the same way, blooming horribly every time Voldemort found something pleasing. He found it a small mercy that he carried the mark only a year or so before…before soft spring and tiny violets were ripped forever from the world.

The decay kept returning, though. Faintly, faintly he’d smell it through the next decade. He hoped, but he knew one day it would return as strong as ever.

He knew the Potter child would play a part in whatever came the first day of class. To see him snickering with the latest Weasley after Draco’s hours-long diatribe on Potter refusing his hand…he wasn’t sure if the headache or the mere existence of another Potter set his teeth on edge more.

Potter…Potter’s magic smelled of the green new growth in a forest. The underlay of it, though, stopped Severus in his tracks. Frankincense and myrhh, the scent of one laid to rest. He knew. In that moment he knew it would be Potter to end the Dark Lord’s reign, whenever it came.

He never knew how he made it through the years of waiting, always on guard, decay floating at the very edge of his senses. The return…that was almost a relief.

Something tickled his nose. Sandalwood and leather and warm feathers. He shifted and…bedlinen? Would his earthly torment never end?

That last night in the Shack…he’d known. Known it would come one day. Some part of the universe must have cared, because he closed his eyes the last time smelling not decay but the clean, astringent wash of frankincense and myrhh.

-------------------

He breathed in, his chest caught on searing pain.

“Lie still, you ridiculous brat. Cissa’s been up three days keeping you from popping your cogs. If you destroy her hard work then we’ll certainly have words.”

Lucius. He’d know that scent and that supercilious drawl anywhere. And…sweet, clean lavender wafted over him.

Narcissa.

“She’s asleep, finally. You should also be asleep, as a hint.”

He managed an interrogative sort of noise.

Lucius sighed. “If you’re going to insist on being an obstreperous bratling, then I suppose I could sit with you for a while. You won’t be able to speak yet, so don’t even try.”

The familiar scold settled something within him. The bed dipped and Lucius sat carefully next to him. Cool fingers brushed his hair off his forehead.

“No fever, at least. If you get yourself into a froth she’ll put me six feet under, so we’ll do this calmly, please.”

It felt a bit as if he was a grubby firstie again.

“Would you like to know who found you?” Lucius asked.

Severus assented. Yes, he bloody well wanted to know who dragged him back to life (beyond Cissa, because of course she would).

Lucius’ low chuckle warmed him.

“Potter did. It always comes back to him, doesn’t it? He…I suppose I’d better tell you in sequence. You never liked a tale that hopped about in time.”

No, he did not.

“Did Potter see…what happened to you?”

Severus managed to shrug. He knew Potter saw the aftermath, but how much else was anyone’s guess. Knowing Potter, he saw all of it and had convinced himself it was all his own fault.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. We’re all free of it, you know? Whatever message you gave Potter, he did the thing properly and…came back, somehow. The Dark Lord’s reign is ended and somehow Potter convinced the Ministry that my family was coerced. How, I wonder, would he know I was given to the Dark Lord’s service as tribute by my father?”

The archly asked question had Severus freezing in place. Had Potter found…he had to have found what Severus left. He’d written it all down, everything he knew that no one else did, in the days leading up to the final battle. Trust the nosiest arsehole he’d ever had the misfortune of teaching to ferret it out.

“Ah, yes, apparently he also delivered quite the impassioned speech on the many ways the magical world has failed in the last several generations to the detachment of Aurors about to descend on my home. Thankfully the dossier information kept us from being arrested. I expect I’ll have some questions to answer.”

Severus agreed with that. But oh, what he’d give to see a memory of Potter doing that.

“Apparently, some time in the middle of the night, Potter remembered you and came charging up to the front doors, hammering on them and shouting. By the time we got down to open them, as we’d sent the elf on duty to bed, he’d been joined by the Weasley boy and that Granger chit who were unsuccessfully trying to calm him down.”

Severus snorted at that, but carefully.

“Quite,” Lucius agreed. “As with anything involving Potters, we unfortunately devolved into farce. Potter, who apparently never washed despite battle and being covered in what looked like most of your blood, having hysterics in the entry, shouting teenagers, such a wonderful scene. Granger kept trying to take over and the Weasley kept trying to shove them both behind him. Thankfully, Granger gave Cissa what she needed to know to mount a rescue and Draco got Potter calmed down.”

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, he got an elf to bring some of that revolting tea you like, sugared it ‘til the spoon practically stood up, and barked at Potter that he’d either drink it or be stunned. Weasley didn’t like that much, but seemed mollified when Potter did as he was told. I confess that I don’t particularly like the way Draco looked at Potter, but I expect I shall have to bear up under whatever Draco tells us.”

Severus snorted again.

“Cissa, Granger, and I went to get you while Draco and Weasley handled Potter. You…Severus, if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you myself. You looked dreadful and it took all Cissa’s skill to drag you back from the brink. Your robes are a loss, I’m afraid. Our laundry elf burst into tears when asked if they could be saved.”

Trust Lucius to focus on something like robes.

“Then we spent the last three days not being arrested and keeping you from succumbing to your injuries. I think Draco has Potter ensconced somewhere. I believe I heard an argument with Weasley and Granger over that. Something about clearly no one else is taking care of him and he’ll let them know when they can visit.” Lucius sighed. “He’s like his mother.”

And, Severus thought, his father, who looked at a ragamuffin firstie and decided that clearly that child was his.

“I don’t want to hear one word from you.” Lucius tapped Severus gently on the nose, a fond smile softening his features. “You need sleep.”

He wanted to protest, to ask for the memory of Potter, covered in gore and having hysterics in the Hall, but he knew a futile gambit when he thought of one. Lucius could be as unbending as Merlin’s staff. He sighed.

“Yes, I know. If you behave for Cissa, we’ll share our memories.”

That would have to do. Severus let himself relax slowly, let the sandalwood and lavender of Lucius and Narcissa wash over him.

Home. They’d brought him home.

[resident-gay-bitch]

mommy issues

part 16 / contents

eddie woke up alone. he was curled in on himself, on his side, hugging his body tight, the blanket pulled high over his shoulders and bunched around his neck. he felt hot, too hot. he kicked the blanket off.

he didn't know where he was. he slept deeply. that really good kind of sleep where you're just so exhausted and it takes entirely too long to gain conciseness after. that's what eddie was feeling right now. he didn't know anything, other than the fact that he was too hot, and something smelled really nice.

it was a faint smell of... hmm, something flowery and sweet, and a little musky but in a nice way. he tucked his face into the sheets and breathed it in. when he rolled onto his back, he smelt something else. something stronger. something that made his mouth water.

he rubbed his eyes and tried to force himself back to the now. bacon. he could smell bacon. he could really go for some bacon right now... but he still didn't know where he was. he wasn't in his room, he knew that, it didn't smell like pot in here so it couldn't be his room. and... and the light fixture was different, and there were no posters on the walls. and there were pictures, nice, homely pictures, in frames. and... a dresser, and clothes stewn about over chairs. an open wardrobe that was full of flowey fabrics and dainty patters.

he was in a womans bedroom?

oh fuck, he was in your bedroom.

he forced himself to sit up because, why the fuck was he in your bedroom?

no, scratch that. why the fuck was he in your bedroom, in his underwear?

he looked around some more, but his brain was just so foggy. he could barely form a thought, let alone collect a memory.

he stretched his back out, stretched his arms out, and yawned, slapping his abdomen as he did. next, he stood, and he was a little wobbly on his feet. he stretched his body out then too, shaking, bringing himself back to conciseness a bit more. he scratched his head and found his hair had been tied back into two braids down the sides of his head. what the fuck? he'd never done his hair like that before.

he heard music, soft sounds of it, coming from behind the door. it was a song he couldn't pin point, but he recognised it. he didn't know where his clothes were, they weren't on the floor or anything. okay... strange. he made for the door.

the stronger smell of bacon flooded his senses when he pulled it open. it made him drool. he was so hungry. why was he so hungry? he hardly ever ate in the mornings... maybe it was the afternoon. the music got louder too, something by... oh, something by queen. eddie liked queen- don't tell gareth that.

he poked his head around the corner to look into the kitchen, and he was met with a sight he had to blink a bunch for, to make sure he was actually seeing it. you were standing in the kitchen, humming along to the song, swaying your hips. you had your back to him, but you were wearing a shirt- his shirt, and your underwear, and a pair of socks, and nothing else. you had your hair braided the same as he did, though he was certain you looked better with them.

you swayed and sung and dropped some toast onto a plate with a satisfied little hum before spinning around. you practically jumped out of your skin.

"fuck me- bunny!" you laughed, your smile so bright eddie couldn't help but mirror it, "don't creep up on me, sugar. you know i scare easy."

"sorry." eddie said before he even processed it, he rubbed his eyes again, still making sense of it all.

"damn." you said, your hands on your hips as you huffed, and it sent a few strands of hair flying up out of your face, much like a cartoon character, "i was hoping i'd have a little more time to bring you breakfast in bed."

eddie looked at you for a moment, at your sweet smile, at the state of you, remembering the state of himself. of your bed. of the musk- ohmygod that happened. jesus, it wasn't just a wet dream. it happened. it really fucking happened. all of it. you fucked him.

eddie cracked a smile, sheepish, "sorry."

"never mind that." you smiled, walking over to the stove where you flipped some bacon... mhm, bacon, "how are you feeling, bunny?"

"tired." he croaked.

"coffee?" you asked, pointing back over your shoulder with the spatula, "poured you a cup, put extra sugar in because you deserve a little sweetness in your life, baby."

well aren't you just a delight?

eddie hummed and moved over to the counter by the coffee pot and wrapped his hands around the mug, took a sip.

"thanks."

"no problem... you hungry?" you turned the heat off and moved back to the plates beside him, shoveling bacon onto the both of them, "worked up an appitite last night."

"starving." he said and took a big sip.

you giggled at him, "you got a little milk mustache." you set the pan down in the sink, the spatula too.

"oh." eddie said, reaching his hand up to wipe it away, but you didn't let him. you grabbed his hand and pulled it back, and kissed it away instead, "oh."

"you are so out of it, right now." your smile was the brightest thing he'd ever seen. iit was brighter than the fucking sun. what was that rule? don't stare directly at the sun or you'd burn your retinas? well, fuck not staring into the sun, he wants to look at that smile forever.

"mhm." eddie lulled his head forward a little and sipped on his coffee again, "sorry."

"you're so cute. don't apologise." you said, "is there anything i can do for you?"

he shook his head no, because even if there was, he couldn't bloody well form a thought clear enough to communicate it.

you nodded your head and grabbed the plates off the counter, walking them over to the little table at the edge of the lounge room. you tipped your head back to call him over with you, and he rolled off of the counter and followed. he let you pull out his chair and sit him down in it, and you gave the juncture of his shoulders a little squeeze and kissed the top of his head. eddie closed his eyes and hummed. he liked all of this very much. you sat down across from him and picked at your food.

eddie ate too. you both ate in silence. his brain was still fog and he had all his wires crossed, so talking wasn’t something that even popped into his head as an idea. you didn’t seem to mind, you just picked at your food and looked at him. you looked at him with a soft smile and a glint in you eye that made eddie feel all fuzzy inside.

once his plate was done and he was full, he stretched out over the back of the chair and let out a wide yawn that made you laugh. you cleared his plate, and eddie scolded himself for not clearing yours first.

he walked into the kitchen with a smile, his brain a little more up too speed now. the bacon really helped.

“thank you.” he said.

you were rinsing the plates off in the sink so you turned back over your shoulder to look at him and smiled, “don’t even… i like looking after you, bunny. plus, i needed a good breakfast too.”

“not just for breakfast.” eddie said simply, and he meant it.

your shoulders dropped a little as you sighed and turned the tap off, “you don’t need to do that.”

“but i will.” he shrugged, “thank you.”

you flicked your hands out and dried them off on the tea towel beside you, “status report?”

eddie chuckled softly, “a little tired, happy… well fed and… nervous.”

you turned around to face him fully, leaning back against the sink, your hands braced on the counter, “nervous?”

“i don’t know what we’re doing…” he swallowed, “i don’t want to scare you away.”

“you couldn’t if you tried.” you said and smacked your lips, “did you have fun?”

eddie nodded and smiled, “yes, obviously.”

“did i push any boundaries?” you seemed quite nervous.

“no.” he shook his head, “i liked it all.”

“is your body in any pain?”

eddie thought for a moment, let himself feel it, “ah… where you bit me is a little tender. but it’s not uncomfortable.” he shrugged with a nervous laugh, “i like the ache… reminds me it’s there… you put it there.”

you grinned, “would you like to do it again some time?”

“yes.” eddie said, very quickly, “yes, absolutely. whenever- right now? i could go for right now? can i eat you out again? please, i’ll get on my knees and do it right here-“

you laughed and threw the tea towel at him, “how strong are you feeling right now?”

he furrowed his brow, entirely confused as to why you were asking such a thing.

“i need you to do some heavy lifting, big boy.” you smirked.

“ah- i’m feeling… strong, i guess.” he shrugged.

“brilliant.” you smiled and in a split second you were rushing right for him.

you let out a high sound and flung your arms around him, throwing yourself at him, your legs wrapping around his waist. he stumbled back, not expecting that in the slightest, but he caught you and laughed. he hugged you close and spun you around with the motion. spinning you and spinning you and spinning you until he could sit you down on the counter, and he placed his hands on it, on either sides of your hips. you kept him close, ankles locked behind his back and arms hugging his neck.

you were awfully close, and eddie realised he hasn’t brushed his teeth yet.

“i need to brush my teeth.” he said, your breath fanning his mouth, your noses brushing against one another.

“so do i.” you giggled, and you kissed him anyway.

closed mouthed and sweet, but it was a kiss. eddie could kiss you now. that was a thing he could do. what the fuck? someone pinch him now, before he wakes up crying from this dream.

“now, i hate to break up the sweet moment, bunny,” you said, sweeping his hair out of his eyes, “but i have things to do and places to be today.”

he pouted, “can we just stay here?”

you sighed, “wouldn’t that be lovely?” he nodded, “i can’t today, sugar.”

he pouted more and it made you giggle.

“this is what’s going to happen- wait, do you have any plans today?”

he shook his head, “it’s saturday, i don’t have any obligations.”

“wonderful.” you smiled and pecked his lips again, “i’m going to go brush my teeth, and i’ve got a spare toothbrush if you want it. and then i’m going to go collect the laundry i hung out this morning, and give you your pants back-“

“you washed my pants?” he asked.

“yes.“ you giggled, “they- ah… they got a little dirty.”

“dirty?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“when i was on your lap.” you said softly, running your fingers over his braids, “told you you get me so wet-“

“oh.” his eyes almost bulged out of his head, “they were…”

you nodded and smirked, “so i washed them. and i need to wash the sheets as well, because they got… you just… you had cum on your stomach and-“

eddie groaned, “i’m sorry. i’ll wash them.”

“no.” you shook your head sternly, “no offence, but i paid good money for those sheets and i doubt you know how to wash them correctly. you can wash the dishes if you’d like to help, though?”

eddie nodded and kissed you again, “of course.”

“thank you, baby.” you smiled very sweetly, “then.. by the time i’m done with that, the cake i just stuck in the oven should be done, and we can have some coffee and cake, and we’re going to have a little talk-“

“oh no.” eddie went pale.

“no, don’t worry your pretty head about it.” you smiled, “we’re just going to talk about… how to go about danny. and set some boundaries. you can tell me anything you’d like to explore.”

“oh, okay.” eddie sighed, very thankful he wasn’t getting broken up with already.

“and then i have to shower, because i have work at three. and, i don’t have the car since danny took it, and i was wondering if you would drive me-“

“yes.” he said, and kissed you again, “obviously yes.”

“okay, well good. and, i finish at nine, so you can pick me up if you like, and stay the night again. and we can try something new- if you want to bring anything you have at home, you can. but i have things, if you’d like.”

“like… like toys?” eddie asked, his heart thumping in his chest.

“yeah.” you nodded, squeezing your legs around him a little tighter, “if you’d like.”

“yes.” eddie breathed and kissed you again, “i’ll be there, nine, on the dot.”

“wonderful.” you smiled and kissed him one more time, “now, take me to the bathroom like a good boy so i can brush my teeth, because my mouth feels gross like bacon.”

“yes ma’am.” eddie nodded suit and lifted you off the counter, “god, i love it when you talk dirty to me.”

you giggled, “i’m a brilliant dirty talker.”

“mhm.” eddie nodded, his eyes fixed on your pretty face as he stepped into the bathroom, “you are.”

he sat you down on the counter, shoving danny’s shit out of the way with probably a little too much aggression to do so. look, it was the only way he could show his possessiveness, okay? you reached for your toothbrush, and eddie helped to squeeze some toothpaste on it, and turned on the tap for you. and kissed your cheek as you started to brush your teeth. you directed him to the spare toothbrush in the cupboard, and eddie went on a deep dive for it. he let you put the toothpaste on his brush, and turn on the tap for him.

he found this all very corny and he was delighted with how giddy it made him.

he stood between your thighs, a firm hand gripping one, his thumb soothing soft circles on your skin as you brushed your teeth together. he couldn’t tear his eyes from you.

you spat your toothpaste into the sink, and eddie did too, and then you pulled him in by the chin for a kiss, your lips all foamy still, but he let you anyway. he’d always let you. you both laughed into the kiss because it felt stupid, but you kissed kissed kissed anyway.

you rinsed your mouths out, and when eddie stood back up again and looked in the mirror for the first time, he freaked.

his neck was absolutely covered in blossoming bruises. a big one on his throat, right under his chin, a few smaller ones scattered from under each ear to the base of his neck. one of his collarbones was purple too, and of course there was the bite mark. a big purple hicky blooming underneath sharp lines in the shape of your teeth, a murky yellow spreading around it. he had a few leading down his chest and stomach too, not nearly as big, but you marked him good. that’s for sure.

he ran his fingers over them all.

“bunny.” you muttered, “open that draw for me?”

eddie blinked at you a few times and then realised what you had asked, and obeyed. you pointed to a tube of lotion or something and he grabbed it for you. you put some of the gel onto your finger and beaconed him over.

“tss.” he hissed, his head jerking away when the cool cream hit his skin, you rubbed it into the bite mark, “what are you doing?”

“it’s such a bad bruise, i almost made you bleed. this will help it heal up.”

“i don’t want it to heal.” he pouted.

“well, i do. it hurts you.” you said simply, continuing to soothe the gel into his skin, “don’t worry, i’ll make my mark on you as often as you like, sweet boy. just- let me make them hurt less when i do?”

he sighed and smiled because, well, how could he say no to that? you were honestly too good for him.

eddie almost told you he loved you, but luckily his head was clear enough to stop himself.

“now.” you said, putting the cap back on the cream and setting it down, “give me a proper kiss so i can start my day.”

eddie grinned and leaned in over you again, “whatever you say, mommy.”

you hummed, satisfied, and pulled him into a kiss. it was a good one. a very good one. slow and languid laps of your tongue in his mouth, sucking and nipping and moaning with eachother. it was slow and warm and soft and perfect. eddie didn’t want to leave this moment.

he was most certainly, utterly, royally, fucked.

**

part 17

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[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Spring challenge.

Holding Out For Spring

Prompt: Spring | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Alcohol Abuse | Tags: Eddie POV, Corroded Coffin, Future Fic, Struggling, Chronic Pain, Post Break-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Gatorade: Not a Sponsor

Eddie scratches his pen against the page, scribbling forth and scratching away the words that are spilling out onto the loose papers shuffled all around the desk. He reaches for the bottle sitting on the edge of the desk, and takes another long pull.

It was supposed to be a sober month, and he only made it eight days. That's two more than last month, he supposes. 

Writing drunk never gets him anywhere, not really, but he's doing it anyway. Because he feels too much right now. 

The door to the hotel room opens and closes, and Eddie ignores it. He doesn't want the lecture, not from any of them. He's heard it all before, and it doesn't bear repeating.

It's Gareth, and he's quiet as he gathers up the discarded empties, dropping them into the small trash can across the hotel room. Then, he's putting his hand on Eddie's, covering his fingers as they grip the pen, stilling his wrist. Stopping the flow of words.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Gareth tells him, and it's too soft. Too gentle, and Eddie fucking hates it. Hates him. Hates this godforsaken band. 

Hates the never-ending winter he's suffering through. Freezing him to the bone while he moves through the world.

Gareth can't fix that, nobody can, and there's nothing the three of them can scheme up to change this. No amount of babysitting, no amount of coddling, and no amount of treating him like he's fragile. 

He's not fragile. He's broken. There's a difference.

And Eddie wants to fight back, wants to snarl and bite, but he doesn't. He lets go of the pen, and watches as it rolls off the desk and onto the carpet. 

Gareth pulls him up off the chair, and leads him towards the bathroom, getting the water turned on and to the right temperature. Eddie just leans there watching it all happen, numb. 

"Can you stand?" Gareth asks, and Eddie nods.

It's too cold, this winter that's lingering. Steve left, and that saddled him with six more weeks of winter. Only, it's been six months now.

And he's still holding out for spring.

If spring would just come, then maybe he'd be able to breathe again, even if that feels impossible these days, without Steve. 

He gets in the shower, and sticks his head under the spray, trying to sober up. Scrubs at his sides, fingers digging into the scars there. The ones that have faded, but will never disappear. He's in constant pain. The nerve damage, the muscle loss. You can't get gnawed on by bats and just bounce back, at least Eddie couldn't.

Steve did.

But Steve's always been stronger than him.

He's not gonna be fixed, not ever, but they have a show tonight, and if they cancel any more gigs, shit's really gonna hit the fan. He's a goddamn mess, has been since Steve…took a break. 

It's just a break, not a break-up, Eddie tells himself. Over and over, because he won't survive, if this is permanent. Even as the days have turned into weeks, into months.  

He can hear the rest of the band arguing outside the door, Jeff and Goodie now involved. Throwing ideas around. The same old, same old. 

Rehab, again. Canceling the tour, again. Calling Wayne, again.

The last resort, calling Steve.

They can't do any of those things. Won't. None of them will help, will fix him. This is just the way he is, and they have to work around it.  

So, they'll get him sobered up for the night, for the week, and pretend he'll be better this time. He won't be. He never is. The pain will come back, and he'll turn back to the bottle. 

It's genetic. The Munson way. He's cursed, and there's no point in fighting it. 

When Eddie gets out of the shower, Gareth has his scribbled lyrics in hand, waving them around as he talks. Like Eddie isn't even here, listening. Eddie sees the bottle of yellow Gatorade on the desk, that one of them must have gotten from the vending machine, like it'd be enough to sober him up, and Eddie bats it away, sending it skittering across the carpet and into the wall, leaving a dent near the baseboard that they'll have to pay for. That's nothing new. But it shuts them up, just for a second, before Goodie picks the bottle up off the ground and hurls it back at Eddie. Eddie ducks instead of catching it, and it slams against the mirror, glass against glass, all of it shattering to the carpet below.

Eddie lunges towards Goodie, while Gareth and Jeff struggle to hold them both back, and the shouting starts, all over again.

Eddie comes off the stage, and a bottle of Gatorade is pressed into his fist, and he downs it. Ignoring that it's the wrong color. He prefers yellow, and Steve knows that. So does the band. But this stranger, this roadie, doesn't. So, it's red. 

It's fine, but it isn't right. 

Eddie still claps the kid on the shoulder in thanks, and walks away. 

Opening the door to his dressing room, there's a bottle of yellow Gatorade waiting on the coffee table, and Steve waiting on the couch. 

Eddie can't be mad they called him, can't do anything other than crumple in on himself at the sight of him. Steve shouldn't be here, shouldn't be trying to save Eddie from himself, yet again. It hasn't worked before, and it probably won't work now, either.

But Eddie wants it to work. Wants to be good enough for Steve.

"Why?" Eddie asks, and Steve stands. Crosses the room, takes Sweetheart off of Eddie's back, sitting her down gently. Then he pulls Eddie to his chest, those large, warm hands sliding up and down Eddie's back. Soothing him, warming him. 

"You know why," Steve says.

Eddie held out for spring, and he's here now. 

His sunshine, in a yellow sweater.

The start of the thaw.

Inspired by the song Spring by Ed Sheeran.

I said I'd do a sober month, I failed, but tried, and wrote this drunk, Oh, what a state we're in, I'll keep holdin' out for spring Spring, Ed Sheeran

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!