#Eddie used to but like rockstar life hit him hard and he had to let someone else take that role

[strangersteddierthings]

The Response

Part Two of The Interview [Part One] [Ao3]

With no exact time given by Robin, Eddie's left to kill time. He drags himself from the YouTube spiral to try and track down Steve on social media. After two hours, he concludes that either Steve has his (and official Corroded Coffin's) socials blocked, or Steve just doesn't have any. He's a bit baffled that people can even find Steve to send hate mail to him.

He shoots a text to Gareth. Can you find Steve on any socials?

He gets an instant reply.

DO NOT CONTACT!!!

WAIT FOR RESPONSE

DONOT MAKE THISS WORSE MUNSON

Eddie frowns down at his phone but doesn't argue. He probably would make it worse. He sends back 'k' and looks back to the laptop. Watches it auto-refresh but Robin's feed hasn't changed.

God, what will Steve have to say?

It's mostly true, that Eddie hasn't thought about Steve in years. That's been deliberate. Eddie was so furious back then. Robin wasn't wrong about him venting his feelings into a song, but how was he supposed to know Hey Steve would be the song the catch the ear of the people? And yeah, the lyrics are very unflattering.

A lot of their first songs were filled with rage. The whole first album is just their collective high school experiences. Songs about growing up in Hawkins and how shit that was for them, a song about Eddie's complicated feelings towards his dad, songs about dungeons and dragons disguised as fantasy ballads, things like that. And, of course, Hey Steve.

He can admit that years ago he reevaluated the lyrics and found it to be more harsh than was warranted. But he figured there was no point worrying about that. People exaggerate in songs all the time. The song is out, people still plead for it to be played during encore performances. Eddie hadn't thought it was hurting anyone to play it.

Hey Steve had taken Eddie less than two days to write. He did almost nothing for those two days except write. Fuck. He was still just a dumb kid when he wrote it, barely graduated high school. And the reason for writing it...

Eddie had know Steve wasn't out to his parents when he'd asked Steve to essentially runaway with him. Steve had worried about things like money, and living situations, and getting food. It had all sounded like excuses to Eddie back then. Like Steve was picking the safety of Hawkins and his parents' house over going out into the world to be with Eddie freely.

They'd fought about it. The worst fight they'd ever had. Yet, here Eddie is, a decade later and unable to recall anything that was actually said. Just a summary of that conversation exists in his mind, now. Steve wanting to wait. To save more money now that his hours at the grocery store would be changing from part time to full with him no longer being in school and able to work the morning shifts. Wait to get his car fully transferred to his name from his parents.

All things that adult Eddie can now see as reasonable. Jesus Fucking Christ. He remembers he'd given Steve some sort of ultimatum. He was leaving on the last Grey Hound from Hawkins to Indy. Steve could meet him at the bus stop or stay, but Eddie was going, with or without him.

Steve had shouted back. He knows they just got louder and nastier until Steve finally told him that he would be going without him, then, because they were over. Even as angry as Eddie had been, he'd held out hope. But that last bus left Hawkins with Eddie on it and no sign of Steve in sight.

So Eddie did what he did best. Channeled that hurt into anger and wrote a song. Never in a million years did he think that, in the very first bar they played at in Indy, they'd meet a man who wanted to take a chance with them and get them a demo. All they needed to do was get from Indy to LA. Eddie had a van and the motivation. The next year of his life was too busy for him to even think, much less worry about Steve and his breakup.

Well, that was a lie. He thought about it constantly and shoved the thoughts aside as quickly as they came. Easier to do when he had no way to check up on Steve. He left Hawkins with no laptop and a pay-per-text flip phone he'd bought at a gas station. Wayne tried his best to provide for Eddie, and that meant they'd had one cell phone between the two, and Eddie had insisted that Wayne keep it.

By the time he got a laptop and internet, Steve had blocked him on Facebook and Twitter. That was the conclusion Eddie had come to when he finally worked up the nerve to swallow his pride and apologize and couldn't find Steve on either platform. Another thing that had filled Eddie with anger and hurt. Steve had broken up with him and then made sure Eddie couldn't reach back out.

Now he wonders, did Steve block him, or did Steve delete his socials to stop the hate mail?

Eddie feels nauseous.

Fuck!

What's worse is that, before the fight, Eddie had been so sure he was in love with Steve. But how can he say that with how quickly he dropped him? With how he's acted ever since? He could justify it to himself when he was still freshly broken up with and hurting but that faded away as fame took over.

Hard to be sad about not having a boyfriend when there were plenty of people lining up to be with him.

He pulls himself from his head to look at the laptop. A new tweet shows on Robin's screen and he scrambled to turn off the auto-refresher.

It's a short tweet, and Eddie sees she's changed her name as well.

Clicking the link takes him to a YouTube video.

It starts with the camera slightly jiggling, presumably from someone hitting record. It's been set up in a recording studio. A stool in front of a mic that's suspended from the ceiling is the only thing in the frame.

"Alright, dingus, last chance to change your mind about this," Robin's voice is picked up from off screen.

"You can't talk me out of this," says a male voice, and without any thought about it, Eddie's hand flings out and slaps the space bar, pausing the video. His heart is pounding, and he has to take a few deep breaths. That was Steve's voice. Of course, it was Steve's voice, it's his statement video, but hearing it again. Hearing it spoken softly but determined.

Swallowing feels difficult. Eddie's last memory of Steve's voice was screaming. This is... this is the Steve he never thought he'd hear again, and hasn't realized how much he desperately wanted to. With shaking hands, he presses play again.

Steve steps into frame, takes a seat on the stool. He looks in the direction of the camera, and Eddie has to pause again, to take him in. His hair is longer than it was in high school, the ends of it touching his shoulders. He's got it pulled up in a half updo, keeping the hair out of his face. His face is familiar and yet so different. He certainly looks older but not in a bad way. The biggest difference is his nose; it's not as straight as it once was, like it's been broken and healed wrong. His strong, square face is as handsome as it ever was, perhaps more so now. Eddie's eyes are drawn to the two moles on his cheek; his eyes have always been drawn there. It was his favorite place to kiss Steve.

He's wearing light wash jeans and a deep blue Henley. And fuck if it doesn't make him look good.

Eddie unpauses again, and waits to hear the retribution he deserves.

"This good, Robin?"

"Yeah, you're perfectly in frame."

"Good. Uhh, hi. I'm Steve. Robin told me that there was a lot of fuss regarding a certain Corroded Coffin song, and that people wanted to hear from me. Which is wild 'cause like, I'm just some guy and I don't really have much to say-" Steve is saying, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Steve!" Robin interrupts him, "I just had to help you move because someone threw a brick through your window! What do-"

"Okay! I get it! But that's not Corroded Coffin's fault. They do that whole anti-bullying thing! It's not like they don't address harassment and bullying. I-" Steve cuts off, seeming to remember he's on camera. His face turns pink. "We can argue this later. Uhh, anyway. There is something I want to say to Eddie Munson, so I hope he's watching."

He makes a 'give it to me' gesture and Robin enters frame, handing him an acoustic guitar. "I thought I'd answer using the one thing Eddie understands best. Music. So, uh, I wrote this song with Robin's help. Lyrics are mine but the melody is Robin. The song doesn't have a title but, uh, okay. Here it goes."

And then, Steve starts to sing, looking down at the guitar for correct finger placement more than singing into the mic but it picks him up well regardless.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it-" Eddie is sitting down, and still he feels the floor fall out from under him.

"-Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah."

Eddie doesn't hear the rest of the song because of the blood pounding in his ears. This can't be- it doesn't mean- after all this time? After everything that's happened, everything Eddie let happen, unintentionally or not.

His phone buzzes against his leg. He ignores it in favor of restarting the video and listening to the video from the start. He listens to the whole song and it ends without anything else. Once Steve's strummed the last chord, he just stands up, walks to the camera and the video ends.

He restarts the video again, and again, and again. Hears Steve sing How could you think I'd scare so easily and I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute and though I know my heart would break I'd tell them put me back in it.

It's through the tenth, or eleventh, playback that his phone buzzes again and he fumbles to answer blindly, unable to pull his eyes away from Steve on the screen of his laptop.

"Gare- It's not- what did I do Gare? Everything I thought Steve would have to say never came close to what he just sang. I can't- I don't know what to do," Eddie sobs into the phone.

There's a pause of silence before what is very much not Gareth's voice says, "Well, dammit Munson. I was calling to rip you a new one but you're already crying."

It takes Eddie a moment to place the voice, "Robin?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Robin says. "I think Steve's let you off easily, but I also know I kick a hornet's nest with my interview so I think we should work on getting this cleared up, both publicly and privately."

"How did you get my num-"

"Gareth. Keep up, Munson. I'd like us to be able to call off each other's fans. Your PR team and whoever you employee to do that anti-bullying campaign have done a pretty good job so far in telling people to back off, politely. Helps that Jeff has been on top of this from the beginning. Honestly, I think the best decision you've ever made in your life was making Jeff the front man of your band and not yourself. He's much more pleasant to talk to, and so good with people."

"Robin!" Eddie has to shout because Robin keeps saying words and they don't make sense. "What?"

He hears a sign from the other end of the phone. "You are annoying. You know that, Munson? I'll work with Gareth to get this done. I think we should be seen together, publicly. Maybe getting a coffee. So everyone knows we've made up, or whatever it is Gareth and I decide is happening. We should also meet up privately. There's a lot to talk about."

"I'm so confused."

"Nothing new. Now, when are you free to get on a plane to Pendleton, Oregon?"

"Pendleton?"

"Munson!" Robin snaps, "we just established that you live in a perpetual state of confusion. Instead of questioning me, how about you answer my questions. Now, when are you free?"

"Anytime."

"Smart answer. Get your ass to Pendleton by the morning of the twenty-third. I'll work with Gareth for all the other concerns. He's easier to deal with."

"Can I ask one follow up question at least!?"

"You just did but I'll allow one more before I hang up."

"Why Pendleton?"

"It's the nearest airport to our destination. I am not having a private conversation with you in California. I don't want to be caught speaking to you until Gareth and I have a chance to work out the details."

And then Robin hangs up.

Eddie leans forward and restarts the video on his laptop before looking up plane tickets. Fixing things with Robin might be the first step in ever getting try and, he doesn't know, apologize to Steve? Maybe even have a conversation one day.

He doesn't deserve that chance, he thinks, but he's a bad enough person to want it anyway.

[wheneverfeasible]

Based off this post because I’ve lost all control of my life.

cw: sex trafficking, reference to non-con

Modern au. FBI au. Stobin became inseparable when they both started training in the FBI around the same time, though it started as a bit of not-so-friendly rivalry at first. Robin felt like she had to prove herself as a woman in the FBI, while Steve felt like he had to prove himself as a legacy who has always been a disappointment to his father. A fateful rookie hazing that went a little too far bonded them inseparably, however, and now years later they are the go-to team amongst the younger agents.

Also if you try to separate them then all hell will break loose.

Anyways, so one day there’s need for undercover work. They’ve been tracking this sex trafficking ring for a while and they finally believe they’ve discovered the mastermind behind it all, some newly famous rockstar called Eddie “The Freak” Munson.

So someone needs to dress up like a prostitute and infiltrate their ranks to get hard evidence to put this lowlife away once and for all. As she’s really the only girl on the team that fits the age demographic, Robin is picked as the fake prostitute. Except…well, let’s face it, she’s never been the most feminine of girls. Not a true butch or anything, more a soft futch than anything, but dresses and high heels and makeup? Yeah no.

As soon as Robin wobbles herself out (falling face first in the process) it’s not just Steve immediately telling her no and to go change back into her FBI kit because she looks super uncomfortable and there’s no way they can make her do this, whether or not she could even convincingly play the role to begin with.

And so comes in Steve.

Now, Steve isn’t exactly femme either. While he’s certainly not the butchest agent on their team, he was a jock in high school and even now still picks up the occasional game with civilians or other agents when free time allows. What had once been a respectful firmness to his stomach was now a verifiable six pack, his biceps and thighs filling his clothes out nicely as his FBI workout regimen added some muscle mass.

But there was more to Steve than just the stereotypical musclehead jock. Steve had also been a bit of a prep in high school, and even now still brought some of that with him in his civvies and beauty regimens, especially with his hair. He also opposed to a bit of a shiny lipgloss when the mood hit. And secretly? He’s always wanted do undercover work like this. And it’s not like the victims were only girls.

Plus, though Robin would call him sexist for it, he didn’t like the idea of sending Robin or any other woman into the pits of hell alone like that.

Steve struts out of the changing room wearing the skimpiest outfit he’s ever seen in his life (think like, Julia Roberts’s first outfit in Pretty Woman), except he didn’t shave at all so his hair thighs and chest hair still poke out. There’s no hiding his physique, so he’s going for the whole hairy thing, and he knows it works for him. For any gender.

With a grace that might belie that this isn’t his first time in heels, Steve is on his way to the hotel where all this is going down, slipping in easily, Steve starts casing the place and compiling evidence before the big event that night where hopefully they catch Munson in the act of selling victims to the highest bidder.

Except, while sneaking around trying to gather as much evidence as possible, he runs into Munson himself. Not in some big penthouse full of drugs and weapons and whatever else used to keep the product in line, but in a small little unused room Steve had slipped into to avoid one of the muscled “bodyguards” Munson kept on hand.

No, Steve slipped in and found an anxiously pacing dweeb of man in Garfield sleep trousers and what looked like a homemade shirt with the graphic of a devil face on it, black polished nails being gnawed at by the hunched over form. The figure with frazzled hair matched the images of the mastermind he had seen, though he looked startling different from the persona he put on in public.

Munson’s eyes bugged out a little when he walked in, his eyes taking in Steve’s form with an appreciation that made Steve smug at being the correct choice for this sting after all, but then Munson was groaning in a less appreciative way and slapping his hands to his face.

“I told Dad I didn’t want a fucking hooker,” he mumbled to himself, before dropping his hands with a wince as he held up his hands beseechingly. “Sorry, nothing wrong with prostitutes, darling, I just…now is really not a good time.”

And…huh. Okay. This was the Big Bad Boogeyman who had been giving them the slip for almost a year now? He looked like a wet rat despite being completely dry.

So Steve struts some more, plays his part, simpers and encourages Munson’s eyes to focus on his bare skin and not the slight bulge to his thigh high heeled boots where his gun and handcuffs were hidden. And Munson looks, because Steve is hot and he’s only human, but he also looks really really nervous and lets out a choked giggle when Steve pulls out his charm.

And then Munson again apologizes, says he never met a prostitute before he and he seems like a really nice boy but that he wasn’t the one who hired him and he’s not looking for sex right now, just wanting to get through tonight and go home to his cats, Smaug and Shelob.

Which is unexpected. Even more so when Munson claims he didn’t even want to be there in the first place, that his dad was in charge of setting up the event, though he did so in Munson’s—Eddie’s—name, just as he had been doing ever since Eddie first caught a break for his music in high school. Had dragged Eddie away from his garage band and friends and instead threw Eddie headlong into being a solo artist and creating the persona of The Freak, acting as a kind of shadow manager. Working behind the curtains so that barely anyone even knew he existed.

And…oh. Ohhhhh. Suddenly, Steve didn’t think Eddie was the mastermind they were after. He just looked like nervous kid (who was technically older than Steve but whatever) thrown into the a spotlight not of his own making and made the scapegoat for all of his father’s illegal activities.

Not that Eddie knew anything about the current operation, that was more than evident. He thought it was an actual auction for like antiques and shit. Thought the only person being sold that night was a date with him, his father’s idea. It was why he was hiding out in an unused room to have a little freak out away from everyone treating him like a doll to do whatever they wanted.

But his father had suggested bringing in some hookers to help him calm down, which Eddie had rejected, but which he now thought was what Steve was. Just a hooker his father had bought for the night to help his son relax.

And Steve thought his father was a piece of work.

They talk, Eddie’s nervousness and discomfort in his life causing him to spill secrets he otherwise never would have, not just about his father’s past but also his own, talking about how much he missed his high school band, the Dungeons & Club he used to run, his uncle he hasn’t seen in years, and just a life where he could live it how he wanted.

Much to his surprise, Steve also revealed some truths about himself. Not about his real job, of course, but about his own father, about not ever being good enough for him or his mother, about how they had always held his inheritance over his head until he’d told them to stuff it and that he wasn’t going to marry some socialite of their choosing. He smudged some details about his work, which he felt weirdly guilty for, but needs must.

And well, Eddie’s babble reveals that they really have to change the focus of the sting, which means Steve needs to get a message to Robin pronto. Luckily, she should be nearby undercover as one of the hotel staff with a couple other agents.

Steve does get the message out, but in the process the truth is accidentally revealed to Eddie and he is devastated. He had known his father wasn’t a good man, but he hadn’t realized just how evil he was. He was also, surprisingly, hurt by the knowledge that Steve was just doing his job and the connection he had thought they’d formed wasn’t real.

Except, as Eddie worked with the FBI to take down the operation, getting shot by his own father in the process in a misguided attempt to protect Steve, Steve can’t help but wonder if maybe there was a genuine connection after all.

Later, Steve visits Eddie in the hospital, bypassing the armed guards outside because, while they have proof it was Al Munson behind the sex trafficking and forcing the victims into prostitution, Eddie is still a person of interest as a witness and they still need to fully clear his name regarding any knowing involvement.

Robin, of course, was sick of hearing Steve mooning about Eddie and encouraged the meeting, though she later regretted it when it just caused Steve to talk more about the former rockstar—Eddie was quitting, hating the lonely fame, and wanting to reach out to his old friends and apologize for abandoning them. She was fond of the man’s cats, however, going with Steve to make certain they were taken care of while Eddie was convalescing in the hospital.

Later again, once Eddie is cleared and the trial is over and Al is rotting behind bars, Steve meets up with Eddie when it’s no longer a conflict of interest. He also reveals that he kept his undercover outfit and the two of them put it to good use.

Robin, meanwhile, has likewise grown closer to one of the former victims, a young woman by the name of Chrissy. She had helped her and the others deal with everything, especially those who felt uncomfortable around the male agents. Eddie of course apologizes profusely to her when they meet, but Chrissy knows he wasn’t a part of it and actually helped save her and the others in the end, bringing him into a hug that helps heal the both of them a little bit more.

Steve and Robin and the rest of the team are honored for their work, but to them the real honor is in the loving embrace of those they saved, and who in their own way saved Steve and Robin too.

-

Hostage tags: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[munsonology]

Rockstar!eddie and baywatch!reader pleeeaassee. Do whatever you want, just give us crazy insanely smuttyyy ❤️‍🔥😏🫠🍆💦🍑

Rockstar!eddie and baywatch!reader are in my top 3 of eddie's right now!!!!

i love giving readers names, it makes me feel more connected. i named baywatch!reader Darla!

Mitch assigned you to the quietest zone on the beach. since it was revealed you'd been dating corroded coffin frontman Eddie munson the beach had been taken over by fans and paparazzi. rescues for the team had been even more dangerous than it usually is. Photographers would put themselves in harms way to get a picture of Eddie Munson's lover, even better if she's saving a life. You'd beg to differ seeing most of the published pics on the tabloid stands were of your uniform stuck in your ass. How convenient they would publish you had hauled a 150 lb man from the ocean.

You understood why Mitch made the decision, but you couldn't help but feel you were being punished. You watched the waves roll in and out. the most action you'd had all day was helping free a turtle from a fish net.

"Is that my little starla Darla?" you hear from below the tower. you look down to see Eddie waving at you. he held up a picnic basket and a blanket. "can you have a little early dinner?"

"I don't know..." you sigh.

"Come on! you only have an hour left."

"if someone sees--"

"there's no one out here, baby."

you look down at him over your ray bans. he looked so good. his hair was loose around his shoulders, the buttons of his black shirt undone, letting his tattoos and the chains around his neck peak through. you always gave in too easily when he looked like this.

you waved for him to come up to the tower. if you were caught you'd hear from mitch later. Eddie approached you with a deep kiss. his hands squeezed your ass.

"what about dinner?" you asked as his lips moved down your neck. you felt his already hard cock against your stomach.

"don't worry about it, baby. I have a feast planned."

he backed you into the tower, closing the door behind him. the way his eyes darkened sent shivers down your spine and throb to your cunt. you felt your legs hit the cot and sat down. your legs seem to open on their own.

eddie dropped to his knees in front of you. his ring covered fingers lightly trailed from your ankle to your inner thighs. with a lick of his lips he moved the crotch of your swimsuit to the side.

"fuck," he mumbled. if he could live between your sweet thighs he'd move right in. he'd never leave. the only thing better than your clit between his teeth was sinking his cock in your cunt.

Eddie leaned forward and spit right on your pussy. you moaned as he rubbed the slick around.

"bon appetit," you tease.

eddie dives into your cunt. his tongue is hot and thick on your clit, curling and sucking you like a straw.

"fuck! eddie!" your hands run through his curls. you pull the hair at the crown of his scalp. he let's out a moan that vibrates around your pussy.

three of his fingers work you open, reaching your gspot in record time. the large skull ring pressed against your button.

"d'ya like that baby?" he groans.

"yes! please, i'm close." you plead. Eddie lifts his head from your cunt to your lips. he kisses you hard, the taste of your pussy smeared between you.

he chuckles hearing the squelch of your cunt. fuck, you were always so wet for him. he loved how easy it was for you to soak the sheets in his bedroom. "can i cum?" your voice breathy, on the cusp of ecstasy. the bullying of your gspot drives you wild.

with a cry of his name, you release, soaking the cot beneath you and eddie. "fuck, my little super soaker," he teases. trembling from your orgasm, eddie rubs your thighs and places a kiss on your clit.

"i love you, baby," he whispers.

"i love you too rockstar."

IM GONNNA EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

[madaboutmunson]

I kill the lights, now, baby, watch me explode

I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Chapter 8

Ao3 Link

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Link to fic overview and all parts

Chapter Summary: Steve makes a nightcap get way out of hand

Author Notes: This is a mature story, definitely 18+ only.

Tags/Warnings: rockstar!AU; band; touring; music industry; alternate universe; drug usage; alcohol abuse; performing; enemies to lovers; road trip; stobin; platonic stobin; platonic with a capital P; canon typical violence; angst; masochism; fist fight

Word Count: 4.2K

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I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Part 8 - Steve POV 

Steve blinks back at him, mouth partially agape. His world's walls slowly crumble and ooze away as he asks, "What do you mean, you just wait for the marks to be hit?"

"This is off a fucking list. I used to do this shot all the time. I've done it for countless artists." Eddie bites back.

Steve shakes his head. No, there must be some mistake. Eddie had captured him. The real him.

"Don't believe me?" He grabs Steve by the arm and yanks him over to the laptop, roughly shoves him into the chair in front of it, as he types ‘barrier’ into the search bar. As the results hits fill the screen, Steve's heart empties, "Open one. Anyone you like." Eddie taunts him.

Steve swallows hard and gingerly opens a file. The air is taken out of him. It's almost identical, except the people are different. Forever greedy for hurt, Steve starts opening the others, and with each one, a new droplet threatens to form on his lash line.

"It was just chance! You ruined my life for something I could have explained in a matter of seconds!" Eddie yells, and all Steve can do is look at him and blink a tear from his eye.

"Just chance," Steve repeats, eyes locked on Eddie but not looking at him, through him. He'd been so wrong.

The rattling of the door gets louder.

"Do you have any idea what you did when you put up that fucking post?" Eddie paces, shouting at the top of his lungs, but Steve cannot respond. He feels numb. The one thing he'd been clinging to all this time wasn't real, either. His head swims with nothingness. All he can do is look and listen. Eddie squats down so his face is level with Steve's, "Let me fucking enlighten you, asshole!" He spits through gritted teeth, "First of all, I was harassed relentlessly personally, publically and online, as were the people around me. Then, because of that backlash, people didn't wanna work with me anymore. Then, of course, my savings are dwindling as I'm trying to keep a non-existent business afloat. Now I'm losing money, now I'm in debt, ok, and for you and your little horde of fucking fanatics, it's still not enough. I couldn't market my business without getting snide comments or being reported, so I'm working off networking and word of mouth. Which, as you can appreciate, is tiring and soul-grating. And then you all finally win. I'm at my lowest. Money was helping me achieve my dreams. You took it. Photography was my passion. You took it. My Happiness you stole. My love, you stole him too. And for what, Steve? For fucking what? A fucking ridiculous picture. I saw nothing in. It was a checked box. That's all." Eddie's chest is heaving, spittle flies out his mouth in a rage, and all Steve can do is watch as his insides fall apart, piece by piece. Eddie stands up to walk away.

Something in the abyss of Steve stirs. It glows a firey red, orange, yellow in the dark until it's white-hot and rapidly expanding.

Steve springs out of his chair, grabbing Eddie by the collar and sending the desk contents clattering to the ground as he sends them both reeling towards the wall until Eddie's head bashes against it.

"Where do you get off speaking to me like that, fucker?" Steve quietly seethes through his clenched teeth, "Do you know who I fucking am?" He picks Eddie easily off the wall and roughly shoves him back into it, making him yelp, "Got nothing to say now, huh, tough guy?" Steve twists the collar of Eddie's shirt and tightens it around his neck, "Is that why you agreed? To make a fool of me?" Eddie's face starts to redden, and his eyes begin to tear up. "Here is what you don't understand. You jumped up, little prick. I fucking own you. You do what I want. What I fuckin' say! Understand?" Steve sneers, as he listens to Eddie make a choked noise before releasing him. As Eddie slides to the carpeted floor, he crouches down to meet him, looks directly into his glassy, deep brown eyes and whispers, "My money will always be louder than any tantrum you could dish out. People are outside that door right now, biting at the bit to use their training on someone. So I suggest, unless you want that someone to be you, you shut the fuck up and be a good little photographer and take some goddamn pictures."

Eddie gets to his feet, and Steve mirrors his movement and scowl, "I fucking knew it would be like this. You're just what I thought you were. A walking stereotype. You're a piece of shit."

"Me? No, man. That's you all day!" Steve laughs, "Stereotype, maybe, but you are the only piece of shit here. I told you what that picture meant to me, and you fucking ate all that praise up on the plane, but once something didn't go your way, you lashed out. Have you ever thought that the reason you lost so much wasn't because of me but because of how you reacted to it? Maybe you would have thrived on the attention if you manned up."

"Oh fuck you! We aren't all attention sluts like you, ok? Some of us have creativity in our bones and a passion for what we do that isn't based on how big our house is."

"Do not ever presume that I don't have passion for what I do. I have plenty. I don't throw in the towel like some people."

"You can't even play an F major chord properly. You play the cheat version!"

"What are you even talking about? This is ridiculous!" Steve throws his hands in the air with a sarcastic laugh.

"No, buddy! What is ridiculous is that I'm still standing in this room with you. I don't need this shit. This project is over. Stick your money up your fucking ass!" Eddie seethes and walks over to his stuff to pack it away.

"You know what. Fine! Now I know you don't have the talent to capture what I thought you had. I could hire anyone to do your job!"

"Back to talent again. Do you think any of your peers like your stuff? Or do you just have a rabid set of fans you cultivated because of your appearance? And as you bury yourself in the ground line by line, gram by gram, they clamour for you more, but one day Harrington, they aren't gonna give a shit because the next new thing will be out, and you will be forgotten. As you should be!"

"You know what? If this is how you prey on people’s insecurities when you don't get your way, I can see why he left you."

"Say that again!" Eddie threatens, pointing viciously at Steve.

"What are you gonna do about it if I do? Hit me? You don't have the balls!"

"Oh no?" Eddie’s eyes widen, leaning toward Steve.

"Absolutely fucking not. You've got coward written all over you. It oozes out of you. You wouldn't dare. Go on, take a free shot."

“Mr H! Can you let us in, please? We’ll remove him from the premises.” Robin yells from the other side of the door, rattling it. He can hear her vain attempt at keeping her voice level and calm.

Eddie laughs, “That’s right, big man Harrington is gonna start a fight for his minions to finish,” he rolls his eyes, “I’ll just leave to prevent further injury from your fucking estate.”

“We’re fine, Buckley!” he turns back to Eddie, “I’m serious, go ahead, hit me. Put those years of pent-up frustration into a fist and send it my way.”

“What, and get sued for destroying your moneymaker face? I’m not that stupid, thanks”.

Steve just stares back and almost smirks.

"Do not try me!" Eddie threatens, the intense anger emanating from him. Steve can feel Eddie is right on the edge of doing something stupid, and Steve wants him to. He wants Eddie to hurt as bad as he does. He wants to make him feel so small and powerless that all he has left is violence.

Steve lifts the metaphorical hammer high to drive the final nails in the coffin of this partnership. He knows Eddie’s buttons and will keep pushing until he breaks him. "Your partner left you because you were an asshole to them, not because of me! Because you are a weak and selfish man. Because when the going got tough, you let the fallout hit everyone, didn’t you? Your precious boyfriend had no choice but to leave you, Munson. Otherwise, they would have got dragged under with you!"

Eddie launches himself at Steve, sending them crashing into another wall. His eyes ablaze, searing into Steve’s as he slams him against the wall, “Do, fucking, not ever speak about him. You hear me? You fucking junkie!” Eddie seethes through a face twisted with pure fury before Steve feels Eddie’s entire weight pressing on him now. A sliver of panic pierces him, concerned about what this man could do, how angry he was. Right now, it wasn’t as if Steve wouldn’t welcome the respite from betrayal and disappointment that a violent death might offer, but did this guy deserve to be the one to do time for it after everything? A tensed hand finds Steve’s throat. Eddie was not playing around anymore. He was livid, “A dumpster fire of a creature like you doesn’t get to comment on my relationships. Not after you openly cheat on your doting wife, and then the people you cheat on her with you want to be cuckolded by. What is wrong with you? You have everything. Four platinum albums, homes worldwide, money, awards, and accolades. Half of what you fucking have could change the life of a small town, and yet you squander it on your wares and wants and the chemicals propping up your zombie-like form. You’re disgusting to me. Vile, scum of the earth.”

Steve starts laughing under Eddie's grip. A few gentle laughs at first, but they get louder. Eddie looks at him in disgust, shoves him,  and walks away. His body is still tense and angry, but the absurdity is enough to make him back off. But Steve isn’t doing himself any favours by continuing, but he can’t stop. He’s realised something.

Steve shakes his head and catches his breath, “You tragic, pathetic little man, Munson. I just realised why you’re so pissed at me. Why didn’t you just dislike me and become indifferent over time.” Eddie's glare snaps towards him, his form slightly hunched in anger. Steve stands tall, rests a hand on his belt buckle, and drops his head to the side with a cocksure smile, “You were a fan.” He enunciates every word clearly, and each one takes Eddie down a peg or two, “Oh, isn’t this just the tastiest morsel of this whole thing.” Steve claps his hands together, “Bet your ex looked like me too, huh?”

“Keep him out of your cesspool mouth, Harrington, or I swear I’ll do it for you!”

“And now the guy at the hotel makes sense.” Steve laughs, overjoyed he's finally put the pieces together and is making Eddie miserable about it.

“ Guy at the- You’ve been spying on me? Is that why your cronies were there? Oh my god, please don’t tell me that is why he was suddenly working on your plane! You absolute psychopath!” Eddie says, folding his arms across himself in disbelief.

Steve ignores the questions, “And you think my wife dotes on me? Oh my god, hilarious, and Heidi? Please. You know why they’re there, and it has fuck all to do with me.” Steve laughs again.

Then Eddie pauses like pieces are forming together in his mind, like he realises how he’s been duped too, but unfortunately for Steve, that isn’t what Eddie is deducing at all.

He looks him straight in the eyes, a flicker of a smirk, “You wanted me! Didn’t you? How you stopped in the doorway, how you used Heidi as bait. Then you asked me outright if I was gay, and all your little minions laughed, but you genuinely wanted my answer, didn't you?” 

Steve’s inside freeze, but he has to keep up appearances here. This guy could ruin him, “Please! That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Get over yourself!”

Eddie’s smile widens, and his eyes scan over Steve. He folds his arms,” I bet you do that a lot, don’t you? Lure unsuspecting men into your bed. So you can watch them go at it with someone else, wishing it was you, don't you?” 

“You need to watch your fucking mouth.” Steve growls and points at him.

“Oh, it does have feelings.” Eddie mocks, “Here’s the thing. See,  I don’t need to say anything at all. This whole thing is being recorded. It’s making its way up into The Cloud right now. Forgot about that, didn’t ya?” Eddie beams a toothy, self-assured grin back at him.

Steve does not know how to deal with this guy. Could he offer him more money to keep quiet? Though nothing was confirmed, Steve knew the conversation had already implied enough. He could blackmail him until the end of time with this. Every fibre of his being hates this situation, stuck under someone else's will again and over something so natural, but Eddie doesn’t realise the problem he’d be creating if he did leak this. A scandal was one thing, but Steve needed his career, which would always be his Achilles' heel. Eddie sought revenge, and he wasn’t going to get it without ruining Steve, and Steve could not let that happen. He needed to keep this together.

For a moment, he looks directly at Eddie in defeat. He thinks about asking him what he wants for the recording? What’s it going to take to delete it? But Eddie looks smug, and Steve can’t stand it. In Eddie's face, he sees the rest of those bastards around their boardroom table, he sees the face of his father and last of all, he sees himself, and that is all it takes for Steve to charge at him, rear back his fist and send it crashing into Eddie’s jaw. Steve expects him to go down like a sack of potatoes, but he seems to just absorb it with a grunt and a turn of his head. Now, Steve starts to panic. He hadn’t thought any of this through past this point, but now he knows what must happen. As it stands, Eddie has rumour mill dirt on him, and Steve just assaulted him. He needs Eddie to retaliate. This has to look like a two-way thing to save Steve from losing the most essential thing in his life.

Eddie rubs over where the blow landed and sets his jaw, “I think we’re done here.” He goes to pick up his belongings, but Steve cannot allow this. He reaches over when Eddie's back is turned, drags him back by the hair and spins him around to land a jab to his guts. And this time, he keels over and down he goes, to his knees, gasping for air.

The door rattles again, and Steve turns toward it, yelling, “Do not come in here. That is a fucking order, Buckley! Do your job and fucking listen! Anyone that comes in here is gonna get fucking fired!” As Steve turns back to goad Eddie further, he feels a kick to the back of his knees, collapsing his legs underneath him, and a bony set of knuckles slam into his lower back just before he crumples to the floor, with a hiss from between his teeth, as he reaches for the site of pain. As his back arches backwards in response, he feels himself being dragged up to his feet, his eyes still clenched shut. An almighty whack meets his face, and he’s sent reeling right back to the floor. A boot on his chest pushes him onto his back, and he slowly and cautiously opens his eyes to look up at the man standing over him but immediately has to shut one due to the sharp sting of pain.

He can roughly make out Eddie standing over him, panting so hard his shoulders and chest visibly rise and fall. He’s just staring, maybe shaking. Steve makes a move to sit up, and a sense of relief appears on Eddie’s face for a second, “We’re done here. Stay down!”

Steve knows he should stay down, and this will be over. They both have their own leverage now. They’ve both channelled their anger, but something curious is stirring inside him. His body aches, his head feels fuzzy, and his skin feels alive. He feels high, and he’s not ready for this to be over. He can’t ask. That might come across as pity-inducing, and he’s not after Eddie’s mercy, far from it.

So he uses the couch to drag himself up to sitting first. 

“Are you an idiot? I said stay down.” Eddie sounds more annoyed and regretful than angry, and Steve can feel what he craves slipping out of his fingers. He quickly pushes himself up, and the room spins, but he’s standing. With a grunt of effort, he shoves Eddie whilst trying to find a centre of balance, “Look, that’s enough. I’m gonna go and let Buckley in, ok? I shouldn’t have done that.”

Steve doesn’t reply, scowls and shoves again, with both hands this time, making Eddie stumble backwards. “Hey, I said enough!” Eddie snaps at him, and Steve can taste the hint of anger in it. Eddie doesn’t like being pushed around. He grabs Eddie’s T-shirt material and gathers it in his fists, one of which is starting to throb from where he’d hit him. He yanks Eddie towards his face, their noses almost touching, and Steve watches his eyes widen with fear until Steve shoves him back with all his might, sending him crashing back into the desk that Eddie just gets a hand to to prevent him from falling to the floor. His eyes are still wide, looking at Steve like he’s insane, and maybe he’s right. He feels insane. But Eddie isn’t retaliating.

Frustrated, Steve begins to stalk, paces towards him, squares his shoulders, grabs hold of Eddie’s jaw, and turns it left to right to see the red bloom of a bruise in the making. Eddie stays still, eyes wide, his mouth partially open to breathe shallow breaths.

“Harrington, what are you doing?” Eddie says as if he’s trying to get through to Steve. He looks confused and tries to wriggle away, but Steve has him in too tight a grip. Steve decides Eddie isn’t going anywhere, and that is precisely what will happen. He feels Eddie make jerky, uncertain movements to push him away, like he’s trying to find the magic combination that will get Steve to let him go without enacting any more violence. But Steve has the leverage and uses it to his advantage, looming over him, squeezing his jaw tighter. Eddie's teeth grit as he kicks and pushes back, but Steve does not relent. These little pushes and squirms weren't what he wanted from Eddie, “You’re crazy, Harrington. Let me go,” Eddie hisses through his teeth, and Steve almost laughs as he can feel him trying to knee him between the legs, but Steve just presses himself closer, forcing Eddie awkwardly backwards, with no room to flail anymore, but he’s still not fighting back enough. Steve’s hand slips down to his throat, and he squeezes. Eddie’s eyes flash with panic, and he grasps onto Steve’s offending forearm and croaks out a pitiful “Stop.”

Steve lets his eyes trail over Eddie’s features  as he shakes his head gently and tightens his grip, “No.” He says softly and squeezes again, watching the redness and panic fill Eddie’s face as his fingernails dig into Steve’s arm, sending shivers up and down his spine.

Then, in desperation, Eddie launches forward, making a choked-out noise in the process, as hurtling forward presses his throat further into his grip. Something hits the back of Steve’s legs and sends him reeling back towards the carpet again. He lands with a hard bump to the back of his head, Eddie’s neck still firmly in hand. But soon, his grip is relinquished as Eddie wails blow after blow on his arm until Steve feels a euphoric numbness spread throughout it. He looks up at Eddie, there is no pity or panic in his eyes now, only survival, and Steve is the only obstacle in his way. 

Even when Eddie is free from his grip, he doesn’t stop his physical onslaught. Eddie pins his forearms down by his sides with his knees, pushing his weight onto them, and Steve wonders if one might snap. Licks his lips at the thought of the potential exquisite pain, but before he can dwell for too long, a succession of well-placed jabs begin to litter his torso. Each one is the same cycle: instant pain, a blast of euphoria and the warm hum of blood rushing to the site before it flows much more hurriedly south, sending his head into a dizzying spin. Eddie’s eyes ablaze with anger almost thrill him more, but he can feel Eddie slowing either from effort or realisation, but Steve isn’t ready for this to be over. He needs his hands on him.

Quick as a flash, Steve bends his legs towards his chest, using them to grip hold of Eddie’s torso, and with searing pain, he uses all his strength to flip them over. Eddie flails wildly, trying to keep Steve’s brutal swings at bay. Some land, some don’t, but it was immaterial at this point. All that mattered was  Eddie was touching him, and if this violence was the only way he could have it, then so be it. He’d hurt him, some part of him hated him for being so cruel, but another part of him still wanted him. Needed him.

The flip-over happens again. Eddie, gripping his shirt at its shoulders to pin him down, looms over him, reddened, swelling starting to appear on the face that his wild hair was trying to hide. Steve braces himself for another glorious torrent of Eddie’s rage, but Eddie is just looking at him. His breath is shuddering, “Enough.” He pants.

Steve turns his head to the side, exposing his neck, like an act of submission, looks Eddie directly in the eye, and proceeds to bite down on his wrist. A hard slap meets the side of his face with a heated sting, followed by a hissed, “You’re insane.” 

Eddie’s hands retract as he inspects the damage, and Steve doesn’t miss the opportunity to have Eddie flat on his back again. Something unexpected happens as Steve rears his fist back to send reeling towards Eddie’s body. Eddie grabs hold of his shirt and pulls him right down with him. A creative act of self-defence, Steve thinks, as he’s being crushed in some sort of bear hug submission hold. He realises this might be the end of his fun, but then a new problem becomes apparent, something that hadn’t been a problem for almost a year now, and it might be that which loosens Eddie’s grip. As his body had been flush against Eddie, so had his growing arousal. He laughs with relief that everything still might be in working order. He thought it had been done for.

He pushes himself up a little, and now the grip is loosened. Face to face, noses centimetres apart, Steve waits for inevitable looks of pure repulsion or to be shoved away, but Eddie’s eyes will not meet his, and he’s swallowing hard. He’d got so caught up in this feeling he hadn’t realised maybe Eddie was freezing, newly afraid of something much worse that Steve might be capable of doing in this state, and that was enough to take the wind out of his sails, and he tries to get up, to give Eddie room.

As he pushes up, there is resistance. Eddie’s arms are no longer tightened around his torso, but his strong hands are splayed out on his back, keeping him in place. Steve looks back at him, and this time, their eyes meet, and both struggle to catch their breath. Steve watches as Eddie’s tongue glances over his swollen bottom lip. They must stay like that for a few seconds in the quiet, Steve busy searching Eddie’s eyes for what to do next. Unsure, he tries to push back again, but Eddie’s hands pull him back down, closer this time. Eddie’s every breath is moisture against the corner of Steve's lips.

“What do you want from me?” Steve mutters, desperately trying to tear his gaze from Eddie's mouth to look into his eyes.

“Nothing. I hate you,” Eddie replies breathily in the least believable way possible, almost like he is trying to convince himself it is true.

“Then let me go,” Steve mutters, his nose and lips brushing featherlike against Eddie’s cheek as he speaks. His prize is a shuddering breath and a growing pressure against his thigh.

“No,” Eddie says firmly, in a low register rasp that almost makes Steve’s thighs quake as it vibrates through him.

“What do you want from me?” Steve repeats the question into Eddie’s ear in a whisper.

Eddie's hands lower to the back pockets of his jeans and grip on firmly, “Only everything,” he replies.

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

Songs that inspired this chapter:

Frantic - Metallica Heart Attack America - The Bronx

[riotkayla]

Finding the Truth: part two

Part One 

Synopsis: A week after the shocking surprise in the parking lot, you and Eddie are now seeing each other for the first time in three years. Dustin and Eddie bicker over what to buy for the occasion. 

TW/Warnings: Use of F-word, angst, fluff if you squint

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are welcome! Please do not copy my work for your own or I will hunt you down :)

Gif not mine!

not edited bc I didn't have time, just trying to write while the muse is still here 

For seven days Eddie poured over pictures from Dustin and Wayne, memorizing how she looked at every moment of her life. He was in love with her and didn't even know her yet. But he did, he knew everything about her. Knew that she didn’t want to drink from a bottle for the first year of her life, loved the color green, and was basically a fish the past summer. 

Dustin called you on day four, not letting you know that Eddie was back in town and listening to the conversation. You answered on the second ring, “Hello?” breathless as the sound of a tantrum took over the background. 

“Sorry it’s Dusty- should I call back?” Eddie glared at the white receiver clutched in his friend's hand, willing you to say no. Hearing your voice for the first time hit hard. The breath was knocked from his lungs and he could picture you standing in the kitchen, barefoot most likely,  with the phone cradled between your shoulder and ear watching your daughter let out her emotions. 

You sighed, “No, it’s fine. She’s been like this all day. I took her pacifier away last night and she is not happy.” Eddie can hear the frown you’re wearing on the other side. 

“Oh well...” Dustin paused and looked at Eddie. “I have a surprise for you and Will. Wanna come over...” Eddie mouthed ‘Saturday’ to Dustin trying to stay quiet,  “Saturday to come see it?” 

“Uh..” you were craning your neck to look at the calendar on the wall. No one noticed how quiet the background had gotten, “Yeah Saturday is good. I can be there for dinner?” 

“Good, don’t forget to bring Willow over!”

“I won't Henderson,” you chuckled over the line. There was a loud crash and then a cry. “Oh shit, lemme call you back. Will just knocked something off the wall-” and the line went dead. 

------- 

It was a strange sight to see. Eddie Munson stooped down on the Barbie aisle of a Walmart close to Hawkins, looking for anything that screamed ‘I’m sorry I didn't know you existed this whole time but I love you.’ The pink clashed with his all-black outfit, making him stick out like a sore thumb. It didn't help that Dustin was hovering over him chastising every item he picked up. 

“No you can't get that one- she got three mermaid barbies for her birthday this year,” Eddie let out a very dramatic sigh and sat the plastic box down, turning to his friend. 

“If you don't shut up-” he threatened the kid. “I’m gonna shove a mermaid doll up your ass,” 

“Dude,” Dustin waved his hand around, his voice coming out as a whisper. “Not in front of the Barbies!” 

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. They had been up and down the aisle three times, each toy he picked up Dustin shot down. It was either a duplicate of one, had too many choking pieces, or she would never touch it. Why did he have to have the most spoiled and picky kid in all of Indiana? He was about to give up when he spotted it. A pink little electric guitar, the perfect toy for a rockstar’s kid. Eddie reached up to the top shelf it was hidden on and pulled it down, showing the item off to Dustin. “s’pretty metal, right?” 

“I don’t know how metal a plastic guitar with Barbie’s face is but sure,” Dustin shrugged. He wouldn't tell him that Wayne got her that last Christmas.  “She’ll love it.” He was pretty sure it was collecting dust in the corner of Eddie’s old closet at the trailer. 

----- 

You weren’t sure what to expect Saturday when you pulled up to the Henderson household. Dustin had been living by himself for over a year now but did he really know how to cook? It was usually you who did the cooking and planning events for the small group of people. Willow sat on your hip, face snuggled up to the crook of your neck as you waited for Dustin to answer the front door. 

The white front door creaked open, the face of Will’s “dusty-bun” greeting them with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. ”Hey hey hey there’s my favorite girl!”  He was hiding something- you recognized the look when he played with Eddie in Hellfire all those years ago. You raised an eyebrow at him as he reached to take the squirmy toddler from your grasp. “C’mon in. Dinner is almost done.” 

“Dusty,” Willow squirmed when they walked into the living room, the pink guitar propped up in a chair. “s’that mines?” You were hit with the aroma of Italian cooking, the commotion in the kitchen distracting you from the toy. Dustin let her down and she scurried over to the chair, fingers tracing over the picture of Barbie on the hard plastic. 

“Steve here?” You ask, dropping your car keys on the coffee table and heading towards the intoxicating aroma of cooked garlic. Dustin was right on your heels, hand tugging on the sleeve of your jacket making you halt. “What?” 

“Before you go in there I just want you to know I tried really, really hard to keep this a secret. Like really hard but he knows how to crack me,” You furrowed your eyebrows, the sound of footfalls on the carpeted section making you turn. 

Eddie stood in the door, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder and dark eyes looking you up and down. “Hey bug,” he offered, the old pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. Your eyes took him in, ripped black jeans, a black fitted tee, your engagement ring hanging from the chain around his neck. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, it was just the two of you. Had the circumstances been different this could have been just another normal day for the two of you. Dustin’s presence brought them back to their heartbreaking reality. 

“Eddie?” You finally turned to Dustin with a groan. “You told him about Willow?” 

“I figured it out on my own,” You turned back to face him, already feeling the walls you had built over the years starting to crack. At this moment the world-famous rockstar was just a guy. A guy who just found out he was a dad. Eddie seemed smaller standing in the doorway, eyes apologetic. “Saw your mom with her last week and I just had this gut feeling when she looked at me.” 

Your eyes were locked on Eddie but his were locked on the small kid peaking from behind the couch- two sets of identical eyes focused on each other. Slowly he kneeled down to be the same height as her, an inviting smile dancing across his rosy lips. “Hi I’m Eddie,” he murmured to the girl, offering her a hand. 

“I know,” Willow quips, cocking her head to the side and moving towards the male. “Gwandpa Wayne tells me stowies ‘bout you.” Dustin wrapped an around your shoulder, both of you taking in the scene. Willow moves cautiously to her dad, a little hand outstretched and ready to play with the long curls as soon as she's in reach. Eddie’s eyes look up at you waiting on a confirmation. You nod, knowing that you wouldn't be able to keep her away from him anymore. 

Eddie pulls Willow into a hug, the child instinctively nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck and wrapping her little arms around his neck. She knew from the moment she saw him in the parking lot that day who he was. Wayne had spent countless hours telling her stories about dear old dad and what he was doing out in the world. Pictures of Eddie sat against the wall along with newspaper clippings about his band. Willow had grown up knowing her dad was a rockstar. Eddie kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo and the familiar scent of you. 

“Well I really hate to break up this moment but, is dinner ready?” Dustin asked, squeezing your side with a smile. You shook your head, peeling yourself from his side and moving into the kitchen to see what Eddie had attempted to cook. Dustin stayed in his spot, watching Eddie interact with Willow. 

You were busy setting the table, placing porcelain plates loaded down with spaghetti into the chairs when Eddie came into the room. The sounds of Dustin and Willow playing with the toy guitar floated from the other room. 

“Hey,” it came from you softly, afraid that talking any louder would break the moment and the past would rear its ugly head back at the two of you. 

“Hi,” Eddie’s fingers drummed against the tabletop, a nervous habit he had since middle school. “So.. we have a kid- s’fucking crazy.”

“Yeah it is,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, knowing good and well that you would reach for Eddie if you didn't. The moment was intoxicatingly domestic, something you had been yearning for over the years. “Are you mad?” 

“At first, yeah. Almost knocked the shit outta Henderson when I came over last week but, uhh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, another nervous habit. “After I found out more about her I just wanted to meet her. She’s fucking perfect Bug.” 

“Yeah, at least we did one thing right,” you turn away from him, moving to the counter to cut up the pieces of spaghetti for Willow to eat. You had thought about reaching out sometimes when Wayne had her for the weekend, but how does someone casually drop a bomb like that over an international call? 

Your back was still turned to him, a fork cutting noodles and meatballs into smaller sections when Eddie moved from his spot to be closer to you. “Can we talk more about this later? Maybe Uncle Dusty can watch her tomorrow?” He was in your personal space, hand pressing into the small of your back. You searched his eyes for any trace of mischief but there was nothing joking in his gaze. 

“Yeah, we can get lunch tomorrow?” 

[robust-cicada]

Fade Out Again (Thom Yorke X Reader)

For @shehangsbrightly

prompt: honestly i would be allll over the bends era thom, and i think something angsty is what i’m feeling rn. do your magic 😌

Gender Neutral and SFW

CW: angst, burnout, arguments, swearing, guilt, break up, bad mental health.

“I really don’t know what you want from me! I thought you’d be happy to see me after, I don’t know? Nearly a year? But no, I’m the bad guy as always!”

“You think that you’re the only one this tour has taken a toll on? I haven’t been in the comfort of my own home in a year. I haven’t seen my friends or family in a YEAR! You can’t always expect to be my top priority!”

“Obviously. You know, every tour you do the more of a self-centered asshole you become. Just because your band is ‘making it big’ doesn’t mean you have to treat the people in your life like shit, Thom! It isn’t just me. Ed literally has told me numerous stories from when you got too drunk to even perform! You promised.”

“Oh enough of that promise bullshit Y/N! I’m sick of it!”

“Well, that shows how much you fucking cared about it, huh? Shows what a promise means to you? You’re pathetic. The amount of love and support I have poured into you since fucking college and one hit song throws every promise and hope for our future away.”

“Oh fuck off.”

I let out a dry laugh and walked to our bedroom. I grabbed a suitcase and packed as much as I could shove into it.

“What are you doing now?”

“Fucking off. I’m done, Thom. Absolutely done.”

“Yeah sure. You won’t last more than two days Y/N, and you know it. We’ve been through this before.”

I stormed towards him, his back colliding with the wall. I looked into his eyes, trying to look for any sign of remorse in his cold, blue orbs.

“Not this time Thom. I’m tired of crawling back to you with hopes that things will be how they used to again. I am tired of endlessly longing for you to return the love I give to you. You’ve changed and if this is you now? I want no part of it.”

He scoffed and looked away from me.

“Anything to say? Or are you too good for that, Mr. Big Rockstar?”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

I scoffed and grabbed my stuff. I stormed out onto the snowy streets. It was freezing but I didn’t dare look back. It felt like I had been walking for hours before I found a phone booth. I put the change in the slot and dialed the only number I could remember through my rage.

“Hey, Eddie? It’s Y/N..”

“What happened this time?”

“Well, what usually happens when he gets home I suppose. Are you busy?”

“Need somewhere to stay?”

“Ye-ah.” My voice cracked as tears swelled my eyes.

“Where are you, I’ll be there as soon as I can?”

---

It had been nearly two months since we broke up and not a word was spoken between us. Ed had generously let me rent out the spare room in his house until I got my shit together, which did not seem to be happening. All I could seem to do was cry, work, and sleep. Eddie was wonderful and tried to help when he could, but he tended to keep his distance. At some point, I knew Thom would end up stumbling into the house, however, I did not expect to hear his voice breaking downstairs as he talked to Ed.

Thom’s POV

“Ed, it’s driving me mad! Do you know where they are, have you heard from them, anything?”

“If they wanted you to know where they were, they would’ve contacted you. I can’t really help you, man.”

“I just. I can’t do this anymore. I need them, so badly. You don’t fucking understand.” I crumbled to the ground in tears. “It’s my fault. Every time they leave it’s my fault and- and I just expect them to come back. What happened to me, Eddie? What... happened?”

“Thom. You’re the only person who’s gonna be able to fix this and you know it. I’m not helping you anymore. We’ve been through this too many times. I’m not a fucking couples counselor!” He grabbed his hair in frustration.

“You… You too? You’re supposed to be my best friend, and you’re giving up on me too?”

“You know what, Thom? That’s your problem. You can’t take any fucking responsibility for anything, can you? It’s always somebody else’s fault with you!”

I couldn’t even form a response. My thoughts spiraled rapidly as I tried to figure out where everything went to shit.

“I-I’m so-rry. I don’t know what to do, a-and I don’t mean to throw it all on you, Eddie, you… You’re just always so good with this stuff and you know them so well and- and- and..”

“Thom,” He held his head in his hand, “take a breath. There’s no need for all the blubbering.”

“But-”

“Just shut up for a minute okay? I’ll be right back.”

He marched up the stairs and disappeared. A few minutes later he came back down. Followed by Y/N.

Y/N’s POV

His face was tear-stained and puffy. He was in a pile on the floor looking as hopeless as an abandoned puppy.

“Y/N..”

I felt my jaw clench as I looked at him. I wanted to slap him and yell at him for everything he put me through, but my body betrayed me. Instead, I found myself kneeling in front of him, arm reaching out to cup his face in my hand. Tears streamed down his cheeks once again as he rested in my palm. He turned to kiss my fingertips.

“I’m sorry Y/N… I took you for granted. I thought you would always come back, and this time you didn’t, and my ego left with you. I need you, I need you so badly love. I can’t do this without you. Please I will do anything to have you back… Please.” He was barely speaking and as he whispered he looked me in the eyes for the first time in years.

“I... I can’t, Thom.”

His posture snapped to attention and I watched his heart shatter again.

“Why not..?”

“You hurt me.”

Tears of my own now mimicked his.

“Please.”

“Thom, stop.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I love you, and if you ever loved me then you would come back.”

“Don’t you fucking dare with that bullshit Thomas.”

I stood and walked away, but he followed.

“Love doesn’t go away Y/N, you told me that yourself. If you loved me you wouldn’t walk away like this. You’re really willing to throw everything away like that?”

“Stop. Thom, I- I can’t do this, just go.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“And I’m not leaving with you.”

He approached me and gently grabbed my hands, giving me the same damn look he did every time he wanted to get his way.

“No, Thom. Stop. Please.”

“One more chance, that’s all I ask. If I fuck it up again I promise you will never hear from me again. I’ll take you on the next tour, I’ll let you get a puppy like you’ve always wanted. Literally, anything you want is yours. You don’t ever have to work again. Just, please?”

“You still don’t get it. I don’t want material things or money. I don’t, well I do want a puppy,” We chuckled, “But that’s not why I left. All I want is your love, some of your time and attention. I want to feel safe with you. I want to feel at home. I don’t feel like that with you anymore. The only feelings that run through me when I look at you are sadness and insecurity. You make me feel like a child being scolded by their mother. I just can’t live like that again.”

“I promise that I will fix what needs to be fixed and will do anything I can to make you feel safe again, just trust me.”

“We both know promises aren’t your thing.”

“I’ll keep this one.”

“I can’t believe that, Thom.”

“I’ll let Ed take over the band if I break this promise and I will never perform with Radiohead again.”

“Oh, shove off you lunatic! I’m not worth that. Your fans would have my head.”

“I’m serious.”

“You make everything so hard on me.”

“Jesus, Y/N would you please just say yes? All you have done the past two months aside from work is cry and sleep. I can barely get you to eat. Just get it over with. If he fucks you over again I will personally skin him alive, just, get it over with you two!”

Thom looked at me hopefully. I sighed.

“Fine.”

“THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!”

He planted kisses all over my face and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Jesus, Thom, you smell! When was your last shower?”

“I... I have no clue,” He scratched his neck and looked at the ground.

“I mean, you are rank! You smell like a secondary boys locker room after P.E.”

“Okay, in my defense, I didn’t think you were going to be here.”

“Yeah, so it’s okay that I suffer in your stench then?”

“Well, we’ve shared a tour bus, I figure that you’re used to it by now.”

“Well, by that logic, if Y/N is coming on tour with us, they better get used to it too, because you’ve smelled worse after a show.”

“Lovely.”

He laughed and engulfed me in a hug again. I gave in and dug my face into his neck, letting him rock us side to side.

“Let’s get you home then, yeah?”

“If anyone needs to get home it’s you so you can shower!”

“We can shower together if you’d like.”

“Okay, yeah, if you could leave the dirty talk for the car ride home it would be appreciated.”

We laughed once again.

“I’ll go pack,” I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before walking up the stairs.

“I love you, Y/N!”

“I love you too Thom.”

[kerwritesthings]

27, 54 :)

I wasn’t going to post this today. Last story I posted yesterday I’m still trying to push on since it’s still hanging out there in the wind & wasn’t feeling too motivated after that. But I had a really bad fuck of a moment at the end of the day and then this adorable bean decided to insta story pretty much at the same time. So, et voila we’re going with it.

This took a TURN, dear anon. I know it’s soft & fluffy prompts, and we’ll get to it. There’s a bit up at the front, it’s just a little bit of a journey to get to it at the end. I also didn’t expect this to be almost 2.8k. Ooopsies?

Prompts: “You have me to protect you, always.” AND “I will protect you with my life.”

Being on tour with Shawn is one thing. Being on tour with Shawn overseas though is another. It’s always an experience, but for this run it’s especially more than it’s ever been before. You’ve yet to experience a swing outside Canada, the States and Europe. With the last album already exceeding expectations and touring blowing up across the board, the tour went wider and longer than he’s ever done before. Which means in some cities, it’s multiple dates and even more so, graduating to stadiums.

“Excuse me what?!” you yell, looking at the “tickets” he’s placed in your hand. The sentimental fluff he is, had mockup concert tickets made to give you when he told you about Tokyo.

“Me, you, Japan. Gyoza, ramen, carousel sushi, mochi, bubble tea, and yeah playing what they’re telling me should be a sold-out Tokyo Dome,” he replies with a coy smile.

“Holy shit Shawn,” you exclaim as you tackle hug him. “That’s like what 50,000 plus? Sweetie, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

It was months away, but you both take to sending each other links to places you’d want to try, or photos of what Tokyo looks like in the spring. You specifically asking for photos of the two of you wandering through the cherry blossoms. You were meeting him there this go. He’s coming into town off the Australia and southeast Asian swing, with Tokyo being the final show to wrap things up before a break. And it wasn’t one show, he sold out two. There was still Latin and South America, but that was after the holidays and nothing to worry about yet.

The energy in the Dome is intense, electric and nothing like you have experienced at any of his shows before. Everything was a glow, every single one of the fans in the seats singing along. You head side stage to where you’ve grown to watching most shows you’re on the road for. 

“Something else, eh?” Cez asks loudly to get over the crowd, throwing an arm around your shoulders and drawing you into his side.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. You’re fighting back being this emotional, but this is unbelievable and that Rockstar up on stage? You get to call him yours.

Cez squeezes you tighter, “I know kiddo, I know. I still get that way even after being with him for this long. Come on, let’s go to the pit for the run.”

You follow, making sure your earplugs are securely in place. The roar is going to be deafening when he hits the straightaway. What you didn’t expect was for him to stop at the end, snag you around the waist, twirl you with a kiss before his usual heading back up for the rest of the finale.

“That’s so going to end up on Tumblr,” you scream at him as he sets you down, and you spy Connor laughing from behind the camera. He caught it all.

“Good, gifs abound showing how much I fucking love you,” he yells back, kissing you one more time before dashing back up to stage.

It takes forever to get through the folks who needed to say hello after the show, you saw him starting to wane after the third massive group that was being ushered into the green room. You caught Cez’s eye, nodding over towards Shawn.

He mouths on it to you and bless him, makes the group filter through quickly. As soon as they’re gone and the door is closing behind them, he collapses on the couch pulling you down next to him, head tipping into your shoulder.

“Hey Rockstar,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

“Mmmm, hi baby. Thank you for being here for here. Means everything,” he sighs, cuddling down into you.

“Always. It’s me and you versus the world, right? Hasn’t changed. Won’t change,” you reply, pressing a longer lingering kiss to his skin. “Go shower. Go change. I’ll even wait in your room for you. Then we’ll head back. Me, you, room service and that pretty piece of silk we found at the night market.”

“Yes please,” he murmurs, kissing you slowly, sweetly like it’s the only thing he wants to do.

“Off with you,” you nudge him up and push him towards the door. His hand reaches for yours immediately, lacing his fingers in tightly with yours.

Finally, when he is done and his team has been told that things have seem to be a bit calmer outside, you start to make your way towards the sprinter van.

“I need you two to hold on to each other, and to me if you can. More importantly to stay close to us,” Jake explains seriously pointing between him and Big Eddie, who was here in Tokyo for the last few days with the team. “We have to do a straight shot to the car. Still too many folks to stop kid, I’m sorry but I can’t risk it. Not with the missus with you.”

You’re not even engaged yet, but since moment one of meeting Jake, he’s taken to calling you the missus. You both nod, Shawn taking a hold of your hand tightly. “I got you,” he whispers.

It’s a crowd like you’ve ever seen post-show before. It’s seas of people on both sides of the barricades. The roar comes once they see him. It’s a swell.

“Fuck, this is not what calm should look like,” Jake mutters. “We’re running. Go go go.”

You tighten your grip on his hand. Jake’s in front, a hold on Shawn, then you with Eddie’s one hand on your shoulder. You somehow hear the metal clatter to the ground and the plastic cracking before you see the people start spilling over and reaching for all of you.

“Shit,” you hear, not sure who it was from, but you’re being pushed forward. The jostling makes you lose your grip on Shawn’s hand first, then the next thing you know people are getting their way in between you and you don’t feel Eddie at your back any longer. You try not to panic, but it’s a sea of complete strangers. You think about calling out for Jake or Eddie. Names that would stand out in the sea of fans’ clamoring. It’s not worth it to even try calling out for Shawn, the crowd is boisterous and already chanting his name. It only takes a few moments before someone realizes who you are. You think about pulling out your phone, but you know it would be a lost cause. You just need to try to keep pushing your way forward. You start to get pulled at, pushed back and forth and it’s hard at this point to not start tearing up. You keep trying to move towards what you think is the direction you were going in in the first place.

At the same time, Shawn is losing his shit inside the van.

“Jake, I don’t fucking care about my own damn safety right now, she’s out there in this shitstorm, and out there in this shitstorm alone,” he yells. “Let me out of here, I need to find her. I told her I had her, Jake. Fuck, I need to get to her.”

“Kid I get it, but you’re not going out there. We’ve got the whole damn team and some of the arena folks weeding through the crowd to get to her,” Jake tries to state calmly. “I can’t let you out there. Hell, I can’t leave you alone in here to go find her myself. You know that’s not safe.”

“Not good enough, if she’s not back in 5, hell in 2. I don’t care Jake; I’ll pop out the damn sunroof if I have to,” he replies, pulling at his hair. “If I promise not to move, stay here, will you go out there? Jake please, I trust you. She trusts you. I just, I can’t just sit here and not do everything I can for her.”

Jake wipes his face with his hand, “You don’t move a muscle you hear me? I’m locking you in the damn car to boot, so no climbing and going through the roof like you threatened.”

“Yes, I promise,” he nods, his eyes still wild from the adrenaline. “Jake, please just find her.”

Jake quickly slides the door open to duck out, locking it behind him.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, maybe 4 or 5 minutes since Jake left, but it’s feeling like a lifetime. He keeps checking his phone, but he knows there’s no way if you’re lost in this that it’s not worth it to pull out your phone. There are three quick heavy knocks on the van door that has him shifting back against the opposite side. He’s not sure what’s going on. The driver’s side door opens first with the driver shifting into the seat, then Eddie opens the sliding door letting Jake in with you in his arms before slamming it shut behind him.

“Ok time to get gone,” Jake says to the driver as he slides you into Shawn’s hold. “She’s ok, shaken up for sure, rattled and she probably won’t be wearing that shirt again. She said no one went after her, couple folks started tugging a bit harder than normal once they figured out who she was.  But nothing bruised, broken or cut from what I can see or what she said. Was a good thing she threw her hair up after the show. I spotted that pineapple bun of hers in the sea of people. Got to her quickly after that.”

“Baby,” he says pulling you into him tightly, burying his face into your hair at first, then your neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m here now, I’m right here.”

You’re shaking, cold from the crash of emotions, adrenaline dissipating. You can’t help but start sniffing and holding onto him snugly, wrapping around him like a vine. He was warm and comfort and love, all you really want or need at the moment.

“Call Cez and Andrew, anything that was planned or thought about for the next couple days before we go back to Toronto that has anything to do with work is off the table. That’s not up for debate,” his voice hard. “This also cannot happen again. Ever. That was utter bullshit. They had nothing under control, and that’s a risk I’m not willing to take. This is my family and I’m not having it. I’ll call Louis myself if I have to, this…”

He trails off, the crash starting to hit on his side and the tears start to slowly fall.

“I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you sweetheart, I’m not going to let something like that ever happen again,” he bites out, trying not to cry harder. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry. You’re my everything, you know that yeah? You have me to protect you, always. I will protect you with my life.”

“He tried to fight me to get to you,” Jake chimes in quietly as the van speeds its way back to the hotel. “I just couldn’t let him. But this boy, he was ready to take me if he had to. He’d lay it out and down for you. I’m sorry too, missus. This shouldn’t have been the way this went down. We’ll make sure of it. You’re as much as my responsibility as this kid is, and…”

“’S not your fault,” you croak out, still leaning heavily into Shawn. “Any of you. Crowd control means different things everywhere, especially at a venue that size, and who knew the barricades were going to snap and break. It’s not ok that they basically lied to the team though, that’s what I’m angry about. I’m ok though, shaky and in desperate need of a shower and some sleep, but not broken, not cracked. Maybe just a little worse for wear.”

Shawn wraps you up tighter, “Whatever you need tonight, baby.”

Once you’re back in the hotel, Jake safely deposits the both of you into Shawn’s room. It’s dark and quiet and you just stand in the bedroom holding each other there for a few minutes.

“Shower with me?” you ask, shifting yourself against him tightly again. “Please?”

“Let me call down for some tea first? You go get the water warm,” he whispers against the top of your head.

“Hot chocolate? With Baileys and marshmallows?” you volley back, a half smile trying to creep up your lips.

“Of course, whatever’s gonna make you feel better tonight,” he squeezes you again, before nudging you towards the bathroom. “I’ll let you steal my Leafs shirt too.”

You finally exhale fully once you’re in the bathroom. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath that long. Or at least that’s what it was feeling like. Setting the shower a little warmer than normal, you quickly strip everything off, tossing it into the corner to deal with later. Stepping under the rainfall showerhead, you start to feel everything just sliding away, tension, the dirt, your fears. Quickly you start to wash off head to toe. You didn’t realize you had started to cry until you heard his feet splash the water against the tile behind you.

“Baby,” he half sighs half cries out, before sliding under the water to press you against him. “Let it go, let it all out. Go head, I’m here. You’re safe, pretty girl. it’s just you and me.”

You feel him start to let his emotions out as well, shaky breaths giving him away. You both stay like that, fusing together until the water starts to cool, but it’s worth it for the feeling a little semblance of getting yourself back together. Both of you.

“Let’s go get into bed with your boozy cocoa yeah?” he asks, lips against your forehead.

As he bundles you up in a towel, you realize for the first time he’s yet to kiss you kiss you since everything. You’re not sure if it’s a conscious decision, part of you thinks it is. You watch him for a moment as he towels off his hair, another balancing precariously low on his hips. He catches you, his lips trying to quirk up into a smile but it’s not quite there. He beckons you closer and you go without question.

He takes a fresh towel to blot at your hair, carefully sopping as much of the moisture away as he could.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask carefully. “You realize you haven’t really kissed me since before we walked out of the venue earlier? Not like you, baby.”

He lays the towel he was using for your hair across your shoulders, flipping the damp tresses out from underneath it. He looks intently at you for a moment before his right palm comes up to cup your cheek, thumb carefully swiping back and forth across your skin. “I couldn’t, I just…” he started before his breath caught for a minute. “I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you. It wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you weren’t here with me.”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” you say, pressing a finger across his lips. “Accidents happen. They suck. Yes, and this one, it was scary and all that shit, but it’s done. It’s over. Can you please kiss me now? Please Shawn?”

He kisses the pad of your finger, his other hand coming up to rest against your other cheek. He draws you in closer, tilting his forehead down to rest against yours. He starts slowly, softly. A whisper of a kiss across your lips, almost so light you don’t feel it at first. Then a stronger of a press before pulling away, nuzzling your nose with his. “I love you,” he whispers before letting go and really kissing you. It’s bruising, deep and wet; his tongue relentless. He’s letting everything he’s felt through this all out in this kiss. When he pulls away, you sling your arms around his waist to hold him. You head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat in your ears.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you remind him, pressing your lips against his chest. “Sweetheart, I’m here. I’m ok. We’ll take care of the logistical clusterfuck tomorrow. But for now, what I’d like? Since you said anything I need tonight. I want, I need you to love me Shawn. That’s all I’ll ever want from you, is your love.”