#Eddie would shred that guitar solo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deceptive-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Four - Boiling Point

W/C: 7.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, slight SA (groping), drinking (if I missed anything please let me know)

A messy night and several unfortunate events.

A/N: This one got a little long but it was so fun to write, chaos is really fun to coordinate but my poor babies are taking the brunt of it all woops

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Working nights had flipped your entire sleeping schedule upside down. Two weeks had passed since that first evening where you worked an entire shit show and you still weren’t accustomed to resting in the afternoon in preparation for the night shift. It didn’t seem like such a big deal seeing as the bar thrived around three nights a week and remained quiet to steady the rest of the time but with a staff of only four, the workload piles up. Tossing and turning on the couch, you groan, longing for a peaceful sleep that would energize you. The bed wasn’t doing you any justice which is why the couch sounded that much more appealing but as it turns out they both had the same effect.

Keeping you awake.

Now, there wasn’t anything remotely wrong with either one however, you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to find that blissful sleep you were yearning for.

You were restless.

What didn’t help was the incessant shredding of an electric guitar next door. The high pitch clawed at your ears and echoed throughout the canyon your house was settled in. You could either suck it up and muffle the sound as best as you could with a pillow, or you could confront your noisy neighbor and politely let him know you were trying to sleep in order to fuel yourself to run his bar. Confrontation was not your specialty and you would avoid it by any means necessary. But it couldn’t hurt to just ask him to stop. The worst he could do is laugh in your face and slam the door.

And that would be enough to turn your blood hot, not in rage, but in shame and embarrassment. Maybe it was best to tuck your sweaty and fidgety body back into the couch for long enough that the imprints of the rough fabric would show up as indentations on your skin. Hopefully the shrieking of the guitar would eventually fade away and become background noise in your dreams.

It never did stop.

–

“Jett, could you please toss me that rag? Major spill at table four.”

It was 6:00 PM, Friday night. Just about every table and every stool was occupied, a competitive game of pool provoking many men to yell at the top of their lungs, causing your ear drums even more grief than the endless guitar solos you had to endure earlier. On top of it all, drunk people on a Friday night were not easy to clean up after, several spills inevitably happening on your watch, with more than enough evidence to back your claim up.

“I’ll get it, you go on your break.” Jett advises.

The Bourbon was nearly at capacity, a majority of the town’s regulars seated along the bar and even more of its residents engaging in their pre-weekend activities. The people of Knife’s Edge were rambunctious or at least, that’s the only side of them you’d seen so far. Most likely because they were all getting hammered. Maybe you should get out more? Then you could see their personalities sober and not glazed over with the confidence of alcohol.

“You sure?” You ask sincerely.

Jett didn’t even have a second to glance up at you from the beers he was collecting, a whole round of them for a table of five men roaring with laughter.

“Yeah, if you don’t take it now it’s only going to get busier and you never will.” He yells over the booming music.

“Okay.”

You’re reluctant to leave him alone but you trust his judgment, seeing as he has no issue making that call. And customers seemed to love him, joking back and forth until he practically dragged himself back behind the bar. They hadn’t seemed to take that kind of liking toward you quite yet and the only compliments you received were gross comments from older men that slurred their words, you respectfully dismissing yourself to tend to other customers just to escape.

Quickly, you make your way toward the back through the narrow hallway that leads out to the alley. The bar had become stuffy, too many humans populating the small space, prompting a much needed break for a breath of fresh air. Almost reaching the door, a haven that would relieve your sweat coated skin with a crisp breeze, you collide into something firm, a deep grunt coming from the source.

“Watch it, Bambi.” Eddie barks, glaring down at you. He holds an unopened bottle of tequila, knuckles white as he tightens his grasp.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stutter, taken back by his stern voice. It was for the most part, always stern but this time it was especially disapproving.

“Where are you going?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“My break. Jett just–”

“Your break? Now? I need all hands on deck right now, take your break in like thirty when it calms down.”

A vein in his neck looks as if it’s about to pop, stress evident in his entire demeanor. Even his lips are bitten and red from what seemed to be constant tugging from his teeth. Maybe he needed a toothpick to chew on instead? Maybe that’s why he chewed on them in the first place?

“Well I–Jett just sent me on break.” You reason.

“Jett?”

“Yeah.”

He breathes in deep, head tilting toward the ceiling as he exhales through his mouth, clearly trying to maintain his calmness. Although it always seemed like he was going to blow up and cause a scene when he got like this, he never did.

“Jesus Christ, kid’s gonna give me an aneurysm.”

Walking down the hall toward the commotion of the bar, he shakes his head, curls bouncing and that famous frizz framing his head like a halo. You keep your movements halted, feet glued to the floor in confusion as to whether you’re meant to follow him or actually go on your break.

“So do I–do you want me to take my break or–”

“Just go.” He calls back, this time a calmer tone detected in his voice.

If you were meant to do the opposite in some sort of reverse psychology moment, you didn’t. The cool air called to you and you were going to use all ten minutes to bathe in it, and reset your nervous system. Eddie could sweat in your place for the time being.

Things had been easier since that first shift; the cook, Randy, had returned and said that he left in the heat of the moment, explaining the following day that he lost his cool and was so certain he was going to quit. Then he came back to his senses and realized how unrealistic that was and that he was in no position to be searching for a new job right now. He was on the verge of begging for his job back but what you’d heard from the back office was Eddie telling him not to ‘pull that shit again’ and to ‘get back to work’. No further discussions or arguments on the topic ensued since that day.

The chilly Autumn air brushed against your cheeks upon stepping out the door, not too much of a bite to it yet but enough to warrant a slight shiver. The sun had already set just over an hour ago, darkness already enclosing the surrounding world. It felt empty and devoid of life, but not in an apocalyptic way, but rather in a serene kind of way. It was quiet except for the whisper of leaves of the birch trees in the wind.

This place still felt so far from home and your loneliness was still as prominent as ever. You worked, went home, slept, woke up at around 10:00 AM, fixed breakfast, attempted to go back to sleep, failed and sometimes visited Donnie at the supermarket, and repeated. The routine was sad and you might as well have been a grouchy old woman that no one spoke to or went near, not a twenty something year old who should be making the most out of her life. The locals weren’t unfriendly, you just couldn’t seem to fit in. Jett was the closest thing you had to a ‘friend’, although he was your coworker and some may see it as mandatory that he remains friendly with you. Outside of work you had little to no interaction with others, usually opting to stay in and clean or watch reruns of some shows you had pre-recorded on a collection of VHS tapes. It’s not to say you didn’t enjoy your nights in, you just wished you had the option to call someone up to hang out or make plans every now and then.

Ten minutes flew by like it was seconds, the door leading inside swinging open unexpectedly and smacking against the concrete wall, Eddie’s head poking out in search of you.

“Excuse me, do you work here?” He asks sarcastically.

You control the urge to roll your eyes, having a better sense of his antics in the past two weeks and knowing that no real consequences would apply to you under these circumstances. You still maintain the need to react to his dramatics and remind him that you were helping him out just as much as he was helping you. But you push it down and straighten your posture.

“Yes.” You reply, eyes staring up at him with a hint of resistance.

“Could’ve had me fooled.” He snaps, ducking back inside.

Following him, you finally give into the urge to roll your eyes behind his back.

“I timed my break just right.” You notify him, glancing at your watch. “I was about to come back.”

“You’re a minute late.”

Instead of allowing you a chance to argue with him, he jumps right back into action and starts clearing off a vacant table. The rush hadn’t stopped all night, table after table being cleared only to immediately seat a new party.

After he strides off with a pile of glasses and a few plates, you get to work on wiping everything clean. It was a newfound system, a plan that hadn’t been agreed on by either of you but was understood regardless. With how understaffed the bar was, it worked like a charm.

Jett’s main role was behind the bar but every now and then he would catch onto whenever you and Eddie were running behind and he would swoop in to take care of a table or two. Recently, you learned that the other bartender, Pete, had quit and skipped town about a week before your arrival, making it that much harder to keep up with the demand of the customers who regularly chose The Bourbon to decompress at. So now it was only you, Eddie, Jett, and Randy running the whole place. It turned out not to be too bad of a gig, weeknights were slow enough and Sundays the bar was closed, leaving Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays as the busiest nights of the week. The tips were decent enough as well.

Especially from those creepy old men which was an unfortunate situation you could do without but hey, it helped pay the bills. If you ignored their advances and didn’t completely reject them, they’d leave behind a nice tip. It felt icky, pocketing the money but the more you thought about it, the more compelled you felt to take their money. If they were going to waste your time, you might as well be compensated for it.

One man in particular had been lurking at one of the corner tables, purposely opting out of the bar seating to instead have a higher chance of you waiting on him. He must have been in his sixties and had an unnerving stare that just made you want to hide back in the kitchen. You failed to inform Eddie, simply because he didn’t need further reason to see you as dainty or incapable of holding your own.

So you gulped down your fear and put the blinders on as best you could.

Just take his order and get it over with. Then you can move on with your night and hopefully he’ll be out of here soon.

And right off the bat, his disgusting mouth started running. Something about ‘can a pretty little thing like you get me a drink?’. Then a few more unsolicited nicknames with a smirk and some remark about how good your body looked. Something you didn’t care to hold onto in your mind, you only felt the need to take a shower.

As you rounded the corner of the bar and got to work making the pervert’s drink, you found yourself lost in thought. Thoughts about if he found out where you lived, you may be done for. It was a small town after all and it wouldn’t be difficult.

“Hey, you good?” Jett asks, shaker in hand, concern obvious in his knit eyebrows.

“What?” You’re pulled out of your mind, shaking your head as if to lure yourself back to reality. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You assure him.

He nods but his expression shows that he’s not very convinced. You finish off the drink you’d been absentmindedly making, a scotch on the rocks while offering Jett one more reassuring smile before making your way out from behind the bar.

Like you were throwing yourself back into the lion’s den, you approach the man’s table, hoping to quickly drop off his drink and be on your way. If only life were ever so kind to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” A disgusting grin paints his face and just before you can mumble an ‘mhm’ and rush off, an unwelcome hand gropes your ass, sliding down, down, down. You can’t see his face but you know he displays the most revolting smirk following his actions.

With a yelp followed by a gasp, you freeze. Paralyzed, you aren’t sure how to move forward, how do you recover from being reduced to a piece of meat? Flesh to be gawked at and held onto without permission. An object to be handled.

“I-I’m sorry but—“ You begin to stumble over your words but never get the chance to say much more when the sound of a chair screeching against the wood floors, arguably worse than nails on a chalkboard, is heard behind you.

Upon turning around, you’re met with the sight of your boss shoving the repulsive man toward the door by the collar of his mustard stained shirt. Eddie's strength shows despite his lean figure, appearing to have no trouble in maneuvering the man where he wants him against the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie bites, nostrils flaring as his cheeks seem to heat with a hue of red.

“Listen—“

The man’s hands are thrown up in surrender but it’s apparent that wasn’t the true intent behind his actions. An excuse was on the tip of his tongue before Eddie cut him off, not an ounce of patience left.

“What. The. Fuck. Was that?” He repeats, grip tightening on the shirt collar, face inching closer to the man as a means of intimidation.

“Just a little flirting, she was into it.”

You can’t help but grimace at the pathetic attempt to cover up what had actually happened. And it seemed that Eddie didn’t take too well to that answer either, further pushing the man into the door if even possible. The scene had drawn the attention of almost the whole bar, a sea of eyeballs glued to the altercation about to happen, your very being flushed from embarrassment from the mere idea of being the source of all of it. Had you walked away quicker, it would’ve gone unnoticed and you could’ve gone on with your night, leaving everyone else undisturbed.

“Yeah?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, his chest heaving. “Didn’t seem like she was into it to me.”

“She was—“

“I wasn’t fuckin’ asking. She wasn’t into it.”

If looks could kill, the guy would be erased from existence with no trace of life left behind on Eddie’s account. His big brown eyes showcased pure rage, a distinct difference from the annoyance and the fiery glare he’d cast on you every so often, especially when you would forget to pile up the dishes his way. No, this was far more devastating and should you one day be the recipient of his aggressive stare, you’d be reduced to tears on the spot.

“Now you’re gonna get the hell out of my bar. I never wanna see you again—“

“Listen man, I’m not—“

“I’m fucking talking.” Eddie growls. “You get the hell out of here and never come back, you hear me? And you better fucking hope I don’t catch you pulling some shit like that again, I will kick your goddamn teeth in.” He promises.

Confrontations like this were not something you were familiar with, always running off before things got too far. You suppose that’s why people feel it was okay to use you as a doormat. It always feels easier to drop it and walk away, ‘be the bigger person’ or whatever they say. Even if it actually meant making you feel like the smallest person on earth.

All the back and forth and frequent swears with intention of aggravation had labored your breathing, your chest struggling to allow movement, feeling like a straw was delivering air to your lungs. Just when you’d attempt to swallow a big enough breath of air, it would all go to waste and only provide just enough oxygen to get by. A cold sweat threatened to spill from your hairline, your palms clammy to match. The murmurs and whispers of witnesses had your eyes darting from person to person, suddenly all too aware of the life you were living.

Too human.

You don’t remember another word exchanged between the two men and you certainly don’t remember how you managed to claw your way to the bathroom amidst the turmoil. But here you were, staring into the dingy mirror with no purpose other than to escape. And it wasn’t working. Suddenly the lights were too bright and the room was too small, but it was secluded and that's what mattered. Having some kind of an episode in front of the entire bar would be far worse, having an episode alone where prying eyes cannot dissect your every movement and reason for being is the better option. It wasn’t often that your mind went to this extent when being faced with a challenging situation but when it did, you didn’t find it easy to come out of.

You heard your name floating somewhere in the bleach scented air but couldn’t quite bring yourself back enough to recognize who required your attention. There was a head peeking in at the door after some frequent knocking and though you kept insisting you were okay and just to give you a few minutes, the individual seemed to have reason not to believe you.

“Hey, Ed!” He called behind him. It was Jett. A sweet and scared out of his mind Jett from what you could decipher through squinted eyes and blurred vision. He was obviously being faced with unfamiliar territory, I mean who is ever prepared to talk someone down from an anxiety attack in the middle of a shift? Panic was evident in his voice just as much as it was evident in your whole body.

“Eddie, I need some help!” He yells again. “Hey, you okay? What happened? Do you need–”

“Move over.” You hear Eddie mumble before the door swings open, the hinges squeaking painfully. “You’re asking too many questions.”

With a swift shut of the door, Jett hurries back to attend to the several customers awaiting service.

“Listen to me, Bambi. You gotta breathe.” His voice is smooth, a huge contrast to what you’d just heard moments ago.

When your legs begin to feel wobbly, as if you were a calf taking its first steps, you slowly lower yourself to the ground, a sturdy hand wrapping around your upper arm to support you.

“In.” Eddie inhales, though you can only hear him since your eyes are shut so tightly, your eyelids might rip. “Out.” He exhales. “C’mon, breathe in–”

“Is she oka—”

“Jett, fuck off for a minute. Please.” Eddie begs, clearly fed up before returning to his newfound gentle tone. “Can you look at me?” He diverts his attention back to you, Jett taking the hint and shutting the door, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eyes squeezed shut, you shake your head. Your body shakes involuntarily, the anxiety becoming even worse when you try to contain it, like it wants to jump out and strangle you.

“Okay, okay.” He attempts to soothe. “You wanna get some air?” He asks just above a whisper.

“I-I dunno. ‘M sorry.” You manage to choke out, sniffling.

“Okay, no big deal.” He sighs, running a hand down his face, not out of irritation but more so exhaustion. “Let’s get you outside, it’s too hot in here.”

Before you can protest, he’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting the majority of your weight against him, walking you out of the bathroom and out the door into the alley. The chilly air bites at your skin and thankfully, reality slowly starts to return again.

“Try breathing again, in and out.” Eddie encourages.

You nod, jaw locked tightly both from the cold and from the paralyzing anxiety coursing through your veins. Your teeth feel as if they could crack at any second, the pressure from you biting down too immense but you can’t bring yourself to unhinge your jaw.

“In.” Eddie coaches, exaggerating a large breath, his chest rising with the motion. “Out.” He exhales through his mouth, his breath visible in the air.

He continues the breathing exercise a few more times, you following carefully as things become clear again. And from all that had just happened, all you could gather was that you were a huge baby who couldn’t handle a rogue customer. You weren’t capable of holding things down when it got rough.

Pathetic.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know–I don’t know what happened–” You try to make sense of it all, failing miserably.

“What happened was some pervert copped a feel and we don’t play around with that shit here.”

Anger is obvious within his expression, even more so when he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one hastily.

“Did you…”

The question is on the tip of your tongue however, you won’t let yourself say it at the risk of sounding even more like an injured bird.

“What?” He asks, kicking around a few pebbles, the cigarette hanging from his lip before he brings his fingers up to grab it and inhale. His brows are knit together, still beyond bothered by the dispute that just occurred.

“Nevermind.” You mumble.

His gaze meets yours, lashes casting perfect shadows just over his cheek bones in the warm lighting of the street lamp and once again, among all the darkness that pools in those chocolatey irises, there is a twinkle. Barely noticeable but still there.

“What?” He urges again, voice monotone.

“Did you…did he…?”

“Did I fuck him up?” He asks, brows raised.

You nod bashfully, a hint of fear flashing in your eyes.

“No.” Eddie scoffs. “I should’ve though.” He flicks the ash from his cigarette toward the ground. “Motherfucker.” He mumbles.

“Why didn’t you then?”

It was too forward and you had no business asking. Really, it just tumbled out, off of your tongue, barely a thought behind it before it was too late. Now you were just asking for a reaction, not a good one at that.

“It was either that or let Bambi suffocate in the bathroom. Gotta pick your battles.” He gestures toward you, shrugging.

It wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, you were bracing for a bigger explosion. Waiting for him to tell you to get back to work and to stop asking questions. But he didn’t. He just continued to kick little pebbles around on the pavement, his boot scuffing along the surface as he smoked. He looked relaxed for once.

“Oh.” You reply, staring down at your own shoes. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Is apologizing like…your hobby?” He questions, shoving his other hand into his pocket.

“Well–uh no, no–”

“I love that you’re out here having bonding time but I’m a one man show in there and I need some supporting acts.” Jett interrupts, the door creating a gust of wind and then flooding you with temporary warmth from the air inside. “I at least need Eddie.” He pleads.

Nodding frantically, you begin to make your way back inside, Jett already speeding off to resume his duties.

“Hey, you okay to go back in there?” Eddie asks, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out. “You can take another minute–”

“I’m fine.” You insist. He didn’t need further evidence that you were frail and incapable. Whether it was intentional or not, he had bruised your sliver of self-confidence.

–

The rush was finally over, the last of it being a party of ten which left a table full of dishes to be delivered to the kitchen for washing. Each plate was stacked in your palms, piled high as you worked one hand out from underneath to add on a few cups, cutting down on the amount of trips you would need to make. You’d blocked out the vile events that occurred earlier in the night, at least until you had time to cry about it to yourself which when working at The Bourbon, there was never time for that. So it would have to wait until the drive home. Maybe you’d even save it for the shower where you could truly release all of your emotions in peace, no judging eyes or risk of a car accident.

Successfully stacking a few cups among the tower of plates, you spin on your heel, making your way toward the kitchen as the others cleaned up, Jett wiping down the bar and kicking out the lingering drunks, and Eddie cleaning up the mess that the pool table had become. It was 1:00 AM and if everyone did their part, you’d be out of here by at least 1:30. Tensions had been high all night, one inconvenience after another occurring, only adding onto everyone’s stress and only giving more incentive to clean quicker and go home. A broken glass here, a messed up order there.

The kitchen door is just in reach and when you push into it with your shoulder, all of your calculations fail, the pile of plates collapsing as they hit the door frame rather than dodging it like you intended. Each plate crashes against the floor, shattering into pieces, a few of the cups also breaking on impact. It was the icing on the cake of a bad night, the final straw and your reason to burst into tears and yet you don’t.

Not yet.

Not here.

A total of four eyeballs watch in shock, two more joining in as Randy, the cook peeks out from the kitchen door. Though the tears didn’t burst from your eyes quite yet, they did sting, they stung horribly. You could feel them brimming at your waterline, just a centimeter away from trickling down your cheek and exposing you as the biggest crybaby in the world. If it wasn’t already apparent.

Do not cry.

And if it wasn’t already bad enough, Eddie seemed to completely reverse his gentle attitude you’d become suddenly accustomed to earlier.

“What the hell.” He glares, slowly approaching as he sets a few glasses back down on the pool table. “Do you watch where you’re going? Do you have eyes?” He asks.

You don’t dare answer, frozen in place as your nerves tingle in panic once again. You don’t feel real. You feel as if your spirit has risen from your body and is watching over the conversation playing out.

“Now I’m out what–ten or so plates? Do you know what it costs–”

“Eddie.” Jett tries to take control of the situation, taking notice of your watering eyes. And unfortunately so does Eddie.

“What–oh, you’re gonna cry? What did I tell you? I told you this job wasn’t for someone like you.” Eddie snaps.

He was bitter, unpleasantly bitter like a shitty cup of coffee.

“Eddie, stop it.” Jett tries to defend you, though you wish you could defend yourself so you didn’t seem so pathetic.

“I told you I can’t babysit you–”

“I know.” You manage to quietly sob, bending down to start collecting the broken pieces. There’s an awkward moment of silence, the air thick with tension and anticipation of more insults. All you can do is wait.

“Just leave it, just–leave it.” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his bangs. “Just go home.”

The demand isn’t necessarily an insult like you’d imagined but it still feels backhanded. Like he was telling you ‘I told you so’ and rubbing it in your face. As if he gave you a chance with the means of preparing for this moment, the moment you fucked up even slightly.

“I’m gonna get the broom.” Jett says, eyes wide as he scampers to the back.

Staring up at Eddie, large pieces of plate collected in your hand, all you can make out in his eyes is outrage. Downplayed outrage that hadn’t fully escaped yet and you didn’t want to hang around long enough to witness it. He was capable of much more than he was letting on.

“If you can’t handle–”

“You know Eddie, you’re just mean. You’re being mean.” You declare through a frown, internally screaming at yourself to keep it together, to not let a tear spill over. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of watching you cry.

“Did you know you never even asked for my name?” You swipe underneath your eyes, catching any tears that longed to trail down your cheeks, displaying your distress, instead wiping them on your apron.

His unkind stare lets up, eyes softening ever so slightly.

Too late.

“I’m not a person to you.” You drop the shards from your hands, standing up to head toward the back for your things.

“Wait–”

If he kept talking, you didn’t stick around to hear it. You scooped up your bag from the rusting lockers toward the back of the kitchen, tucked away in a corner before striding to the front, toward the bar. If he thought you were some kind of an entitled brat that needed babysitting then you were going to give him more than he bargained for. Granted, you weren’t thinking straight either, the stress of the night only adding up and creating an outburst you would otherwise bottle up.

Grabbing a shot glass from under the bar, you reach for one of the nicer tequilas, something smoother that wouldn’t burn as much. Tequila always put you in a good mood and never gave you a hangover. Filling the shot glass, you don’t even bother looking over at Eddie or Jett, who was now sweeping broken plates into a dustpan.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eddie hurries over, staring you down. All you offer him in response is a shrug before tossing the liquor back.

Refilling the glass, you sneak a glance over at him from across the counter, his jaw dropped in shock and his face red and flushed with anger. Steam was nearly shooting out of his ears. The second shot is thrown back and your muscles begin to relax, anxieties melting away even at the basis of creating more problems.

If that wasn’t enough for him, you finished it off with a third shot, hoping it wouldn’t be too much all at once. You were brave enough to look right into his eyes, daring him to say the wrong thing.

“What are you doing?” He asks again, calmer but still heated.

“I’m just acting how you think I should.” You answer, a fake smile painted across your lips.

“I’m not comping those.”

His focus burns into you, lips in a tight line as he watches. If looks could kill. For the second time that night. Except this time, you were on the receiving end and had you not been three shots in, it would’ve terrified you and had you apologizing profusely.

“Well, I’m not paying for them.” You say, pouring yourself one more for good measure, swallowing it like it was water.

As you go to make your big exit, you’re faced with a harsh reality. You’re definitely drunk, or at least very close to being drunk as the alcohol consumes your body, and you’re definitely not driving home like this. You did not think this through. But you kept walking anyway through the kitchen and out to the back just to lean against the concrete wall pathetically. You were starting to wish that you’d gulped down some water before leaving to aid in sobering up.

If the sight of you leaning against the wall behind a bar at 1:12 AM wasn’t sad enough, tack on the fact that you had finally let the waterworks flow, your drunk self especially susceptible to your muddled emotions.

“Bambi, what the fuck. You gonna drive?” Eddie emerges from the kitchen door leading outside, seemingly cooled down but you still don’t trust it.

“Don’t call ‘m Bambi.” You slur.

“What are you doing out here?” He ignores your protest.

“‘Jus gimme a few minutes.” You whine, eyes shut as if it would make him disappear.

“No, not a few minutes. You’re not driving.”

You never intended on driving but you were finding it difficult to fight him off in your discombobulated state, willing to say anything to get him to leave. Obviously he had the upper hand at this moment, clearly able to outsmart you.

“I know.” You wail, tears on full display for him.

“I’ll drive you, let me get my keys.”

“Nooo, wha ‘bout Jett?” You ask, wiping away your tears, mascara coating your fingertips.

“Jett doesn't live right next door to you, you’d just be making him go out of his way for no reason.”

Snot dripping from your nose, you glare up at him, earning an expectant stare from him. All you can do is roll your eyes, too drunk to care anymore. You still preferred having Jett go out of his way, at least he respected you as a person. But the argument was lost among gargled thoughts and a short term memory.

“Still mean.” You insult, finger poking at his chest harshly. It doesn’t do much.

It feels like hours that you two are staring at each other, likely due to the alcohol running through your system. He hesitates in running back inside, even if just for a few seconds to grab his keys, his eyes looking you over in concern. A muttered ‘be right back’ is heard and then he’s gone.

The stars catch your attention, drastically brighter than they would be back home, many more of them too. A few stand out, gleaming in the sky and making them that much more admirable. Your mind drifts off to thoughts of the Milky Way, swirling around the universe and ultimately making you feel infinitely smaller and more insignificant.

What was your place?

Eddie steps back out, keys twirling around his fingers, straight-faced, not an ounce of amusement in his handsome features. Glancing at him briefly, you then tilt your head back up toward the sky, dazed and almost in a trance. If you weren’t careful, you could’ve been staring at him like that. But you weren’t that drunk.

Or so you thought.

Thinking about it, you must have been the spitting image of insane; mascara smeared across your face, tears glimmering in the moonlight, and your bottom lip set in a perfect pout like a child waiting to get their way. Your bag was twisted around your body in the most uncomfortable way but you couldn’t find it in you to untwist it and realistically, you should be wearing your jacket but instead its clutched in your fist, the cold pricking at your skin and eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms. The chattering of your teeth interrupted the silence and played as the soundtrack of your hazy daydreaming.

It also let Eddie know that he needed to either force you to put your jacket on, or get you in the car. And he knew he wouldn’t win that first battle so ushering you to the passenger seat it was.

“C’mon.” Is all he says, huffing out a breath.

You vaguely recall being helped into the passenger’s side but you don’t remember walking a few yards to actually reach the car or if you were even able to do so on your own. From what you could tell in your state, his car was a beaten up thing, kinda old but it smelled like those little pine tree air fresheners.

Once the scenery outside started to move, all thoughts subsided, the only one left was solely to keep yourself from vomiting all over your boss’s car. You would stoop as low as to drink his most expensive tequila but vomiting all over his carpeted floor was another low you wouldn’t dream of wishing upon anybody.

Trees zoomed by and you were sure you were going cross eyed from trying to keep up with each and every one. Some metal song plays through the speakers but in your own little world, you hardly hear it, still subconsciously bobbing your head to the fading beat.

One minute you were sitting content in your dream land, the next Eddie was shoving something into your hands while urgently pulling over. Your mind hadn’t caught up to what was happening yet however, you could vaguely make out Eddie yelling at you to aim for the bag while you stared directly into said bag. When you glanced over at him, everything felt as if it were in slow motion and again, he was panicking while yelling at you to ‘puke in the bag!’.

The perfect cocktail of a situation for an individual so reserved and so inexperienced with this much attention. At least most of it would be a blur by morning.

–

“There you go, just grab my–shoulder! Ow!” Eddie complains, your fingers a bit too comfortable with digging into his skin through his cotton shirt as you attempt to hoist yourself up into a standing position from the passenger seat.

Home was only steps away and then you could collapse wherever you pleased. Forget about this stupid night. At least until you awakened as your regularly anxious self. You’d have a few hours of drunken bliss to forget about life but that’s all you were allowed. Then you would need to face your consequences, whatever they may be. Come the morning, you most likely wouldn’t have a job anymore, Eddie would probably come knocking at your door and let you know that you blew it. And he’d probably laugh in your face at the fact that you proved yourself to be too weak, too dainty, as he so adamantly proclaimed before.

“Oh no.” You mumble, feeling yourself wobbling, knees giving out underneath you.

“Whoa, whoa, okay! You’re fine, you’re fine.” Eddie stabilizes you, arms around your waist.

Your limbs might as well be Jello at this point, rendering you a useless human unable to even stumble to your destination. It dawns on you that you can’t remember if you even actually puked in the car or not. Was it coating his interior or had you shoved your head in the bag just in time to spew your guts? Or did you bravely swallow it down? Whatever the case, Eddie doesn’t seem to currently have any grievances or any trouble touching you so you must have been somewhat responsible about it.

Your weight depends on him, leaning into his chest as he practically carries you toward the house. Your eyes flutter repeatedly and—your question of whether you had already puked or not is quickly answered as the contents of your stomach spill out and onto his shirt before you’re able to aim for the ground. Humiliation was starting to look like your middle name.

As you dry heave and allow a long string of saliva to drip from your mouth while hunched over in the dirt, you hear Eddie muttering several curses. You think for sure he’s going to ditch you for creating such a stir up throughout the night until his boots come into view in front of you, his hand pulling the hair away from your face as you finish emptying your stomach.

“Okay.” He sighs. “Puke it out.” A hesitant hand smoothes over your back, the lightest touch.

The smell of putrid vomit invades his nose, nausea threatening to take over him as well if he didn’t hold his breath. Try as he may to ignore the chunks of god knows what on his shirt, it was still all that was on his mind. He didn’t even want to chance looking down if there was the slightest possibility that it had also gotten in his hair. Even being covered in your sick, he knows he should be fuming. But he’s not and it's all so puzzling.

You marched your ass behind his bar and consumed more tequila than you could handle which in turn forced him to drive you home and then you vomited all over him. If that’s not enough reason to be pissed beyond belief then he doesn’t know what is. Yet he remains calm and collected, running his hand between your shoulder blades as he soothes you throughout your dry heaving and gagging.

“It won’t–oh god–it won’t stop.” You sob, looking up at him, a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva coating the lower half of your face.

You look repulsive and yet he can’t tear his eyes away from you. The prettiest definition of repulsive he’d ever seen.

“Don’t hold it back, let it all out. You’re only gonna feel like shit if you hold any of it in.” He instructs, kneeling down to meet your eye level.

With a few sniffles and hiccups, you nod. Only now you’re hyper aware of being watched. It was a sobering experience, puking right in front of your house, not able to even make it to the nearest toilet while your boss spectates and–oh.

It hits you that the front of his shirt is caked in your puke, bile soaking the fabric while remnants of your late lunch displays itself on his perfect black shirt. You would never live this down and you would certainly never work another shift at The Bourbon again. Even if he did scream at you for no good reason, you took it a few levels too far.

“Y-your shirt, oh no–”

“Relax, okay, Bambi? I can handle a little puke, now where’s your key?” He asks.

It’s not that he could handle a little puke, he had to. Because what good would it do if the two of you were both throwing up in your front yard?

Attempting to answer him, the rest of your stomach interrupts and unexpectedly spews all over his combat boots. As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

“Shit.” He mutters under his breath.

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry.” You whimper, glassy eyes staring up at him with regret. “I din’t mean it, I swear, m’ just–”

“I know.” Eddie exhales. “You done puking, is there anything else left in there?”

Shaking your head in sorrow, a few more hiccups escape your lungs but there are no further signs that you’re going to be sick again. Even if you were, it didn’t matter anymore, Eddie was already well acquainted with your vomit, what harm would a little more do at this point?

As you start shuffling through your bag and patting at your pockets, panic settles in and you can only recall that the last place you’d seen your keys was at the bar, where you set them down to spitefully gulp down as much tequila as you could. Now it was biting you in the ass, hard.

“Left my keys at the bar.” You pout pitifully.

Eddie glares at you, rightfully so. The man was covered in foul smelling vomit, kneeling on the ground, taking care of you.

“Fucking christ.” He mumbles.

~end~

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 12

Woohoo!! I managed to get it done today. Again no promises on tomorrow, but it’s coming along great. I think I have another couple chapters to go, but I’m not sure exactly how many yet.

RIP Eddie’s poor little mind.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Eddie leaned into the mic and said, “This is for Chrissy and the victims of Hawkins.”

He sat down on the stool and Kirk gave him a thumbs up and then ran to stand next to Steve.

“Just how good is your friend here?” Kirk yelled for Steve to hear.

Steve just grinned.

Then Eddie started the opening chords. It started slow and then gradually ramped it up.

Steve started to bob his head. This was even more incredible than Eddie’s performance in the Upside Down because he had the bass and rhythm guitar to back him when he started. Then the drums hit and Eddie was in his element.

Steve hadn’t seen how hard he went to town on his guitar that day. But Dustin had. He had told Steve that it was the most metal thing he had ever seen. Watching Eddie now, wounded and hurting, putting all his fear and anger into that song, he could believe it.

Kirk looked over at Steve and raised an eyebrow. Steve smirked. It was only going to get better.

Eddie hit the solo and Kirk’s jaw dropped. Steve could see Eddie raise from the stool to standing. He was shredding away and the crowd was eating it up.

Steve let out a piercing whistle and Eddie smiled.

When the song finally came to an end, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Eddie Munson!” James screamed into the microphone.

The crowd lost their god damn minds.

Kirk came back out and got the crowd cheering again. “I’m worried for my job,” he said getting a laugh from the audience.

“You can keep it for now,” Eddie said with a grin. “I’ve got my own band.”

The crowd oohed and stomped their feet.

James looked over at him. “So what your saying is not get to comfortable or your band will come for us?”

Eddie laughed excitedly. “That’s the plan, man.”

“Let’s hear it again for Eddie Munson!” Kirk roared into his microphone.

The crowd cheered. Eddie reluctantly handed back the guitar and went back to stand next to Steve.

“I’m not sure if I want to kill you or kiss you right now!” Eddie growled into Steve’s ear.

Steve laughed. “It’s not over with yet!”

Eddie gave him the side eye but turned his direction back to the concert. The rest of the concert was a smashing hit and Eddie loved every second of it.

Afterwards they had pictures taken with the band and Ozzy Osbourne who was well on his way to be sloshed as fuck. But he managed to stay upright for the photos.

Eddie could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins and was on top of the world. He was sure that he was the highest he could possibly go.

Until someone came up to Eddie and handed him the guitar he had used on stage. Signed by all the members of Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne.

“Holy shit!” Eddie said looking down at the instrument in his hands. “Thanks, guys. Thank you so much.”

Lars patted him on the back. “When we were told that you lost yours in the earthquake, we knew that we had to do something for you to replace it. We know it’ll never be your sweetheart.”

“But we hope it’ll carry you to wherever you decide to go,” James agreed.

Kirk put a hand on his shoulder. “When Corroded Coffin gets famous, hit us up for a tour, yeah?”

Eddie nodded, too afraid to speak or he’d start crying.

“They absolutely will,” Steve said confidently.

They stayed for a couple of drinks with the band before they set off again for the hotel.

By the time they got back, Eddie was swaying on his feet, still clutching that guitar to his chest. Steve had been given a soft case to keep it protected on the way home, but he didn’t think Eddie would let go of it long enough to use it.

Once they got up to the hotel, Steve gently maneuvered Eddie over to the couch and sat him down.

Eddie looked up at Steve, tears threatening to fall. “Stevie...”

“Hi, there, beautiful,” Steve said, kneeling in front of him.

“This was too much,” he insisted.

Steve shook his head. “Nuh-uh, do you remember what I told you?”

“That it was the perfect amount of awesome for me?” Eddie whispered.

“That’s right, sunshine,” Steve murmured. “You didn’t deserve to be pulled into the Upside Down because you wanted to you wanted to go to a concert and selling drugs was your only option. You didn’t deserve to be dragged into hell because you saw a girl who needed help and did you best.” He rubbed Eddie’s thighs reassuringly. “This was something we could do for you because the nightmares are going to come if they haven’t already. Because you’ll jump at strange noises, because the sound of something snapping will bring it all back. But you didn’t deserve that, sunshine. Any of it.”

Eddie set the guitar down for the first time and brought Steve’s face up to meet his. They kissed softly. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome, Eds.” Steve stood back up and held out his hand to Eddie. “Come on, let’s go get that bath, babe.”

They both laid in the tub, Eddie with his back, pressed against Steve’s chest.

“Hmm...” Eddie purred as the jets massaged away the tension that had built up from the excitement. “I’ve decided when I get rich and famous, I’m going to have one of these in every bathroom I own.”

Steve’s chuckle rumbled against Eddie’s back. “Yeah, this is nice. The company is better though.”

Eddie splashed him gently. “Softy.”

Steve kissed the top of Eddie’s head. “Only for you, sunshine.” He looked down. “You want me to wash your hair?”

Eddie just hummed again, which Steve took as a yes. He had put the soap and things nearby because he worried Eddie might fall asleep in the bath. It was the most intimate Steve had ever been with anyone. It was a rush. He thought sex was height of intimacy but this? This topped sex.

He washed Eddie’s hair and then ran conditioner through it. He massaged Eddie’s scalp, and Eddie let his head droop lazily against Steve’s shoulder.

“Feels good, sunshine?” Steve asked into Eddie ear.

Eddie hummed happily. “So good.”

After Steve had worked in the conditioner, he grabbed the pitcher that he filled with warm water and gently poured it over it Eddie’s head, rinsing out the suds.

Steve scrunched his hair in his fingers to make sure that all the conditioner was out.

“You ready to get out or did you want to stay a little longer?”

Eddie rolled a little into Steve’s arms. “Just a little longer. This is so good.”

“Okay, babe,” Steve murmured.

They woke up the next morning snuggling together in the king size bed. Steve woke first. He looked down at the boy in his arms and smiled. This weekend had turned out even better than he even dreamed. At best they would be heading back to Hawkins full of potential of something new. At worst, Eddie turned him down and they would have an awkward ride back. But having waking up the second day in a row in each other’s arms? Steve’s imagination wasn’t that good.

Eddie stirred. “I can hear you thinking from here, babe. Go back to sleep.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you say, love.”

They snuggled closer and drifted back to sleep.

Eddie woke up first the second time. He had been so sure that last night had been a dream, but he was lying in Steve’s arms and from here he could see the guitar on the sofa reminding him that no, it hadn’t been a dream. This was his life now.

Once they were fully awake they decided to skip breakfast and just stop for lunch on the way back. They packed up all their stuff, plus all the loot they had gotten last night. In addition to the guitar Metallica had gotten Eddie, they also gave Eddie and Steve goody bags filled with band merch. T-shirts, posters, tour pins. It was quite the haul. They packed the car, the new stuff going on the backseat.

Eddie wanted the guitar up front with him but he couldn’t get it to fit safely, so he was forced to put it on the backseat with the rest of it. He looked back at in longing before he face forward, allowing Steve to drive away.

They merely bought some fast food and ate in the car. But it was Steve and not Eddie that insisted they stay near the guitar.

“I think it’ll be okay for twenty minutes, sweetheart,” Eddie said when they stopped.

Steve shook his head. “Things have been going so well this weekend it would be just my luck that something happens the second I look away. Nope. Can’t do it.”

Eddie chuckled and pulled him close. “If it’ll put your mind at ease, babe, then we’ll eat in the car.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged with relief. This had been a first test of sorts, if Eddie could handle Steve’s little anxieties. And he had passed. At least this time.

Steve banished that thought. He wasn’t going to sabotage this relationship before it even got off the ground.

Eddie pulled his arms around his waist and held him tightly. “Just breathe, Stevie. You’re okay.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Sometimes it becomes too much.”

“I’d be more concerned if it didn’t, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured into Steve’s hair. “You have been fighting an unseen, unsung battle for years. And even though Vecna’s dead and his hold on the Upside Down is destroyed, there is still a chance that something else might happen. That could be tomorrow. Next week, next month. But maybe not for decades and you’d have no way of knowing. It’s okay to freak out about little things. Because you can control those, yeah?

Steve nodded.

“So why don’t I go grab us something to eat,” he continued. “And I’ll be right back. Then you can keep an eye on our stuff, while I’m gone?”

Steve let out another shuddering breath, this one seemed to dislodge whatever fear he had bottled up inside him. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Eddie was in and out in no time at all and they sat happily munching on their greasy burgers and slurping their sodas. Slowly Eddie got Steve laughing and relaxing.

Once they were done with their food they through away the garbage and made the last leg of their journey to Hawkins.

They needed to go to the hospital and see Dr Hathaway, but they stopped by Eddie and Wayne’s new house first.

They dropped off all of Eddie’s things and put Steve’s loot in the trunk. And once he had successfully done that, Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

Eddie gave his shoulder a squeeze in support. And then piled back into the car for the drive to the hospital. Steve had called them from the house and let them know they were on their way.

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

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ediewentmissing · 2 years ago

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4 songs i relate to eddie

(i have way more, but these are the top 4)

- sex on fire by kings of leon

everybody knows that it sounds a bit like him, and when i found this out i cried happy tears bc it was (and still is) one of my top ten fav songs of all time

- beat it by michael jackson

just thinking of eddie playing the guitar in the background instead of eddie van halen, bc u just know that he would be so hot shredding his warlock with the king of pop when his solo comes around

- kickstart my heart by mötley crüe

this always gave off eddie vibes to me, and it’s also one of my top ten fav songs. i can picture him singing and playing this song easily

- eddie my love by the chordettes

i hc that eddie’s mum sung this to him all the time. eddie can’t listen to it now without crying :(

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untouchable234 · 9 months ago

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To any other rock fans out there, would you agree that Jimi Hendrix is The King of Guitar-Shredding? I don’t call him this because he’s my favorite guitarist (although he’s tied with Eddie Van Halen for that title); rather, I call him a King because he pioneered the art of guitar-shredding. Think about it: before he came along, the only guitar solos in existence consisted mostly of strumming.

What do you guys think? Does Jimi deserve this title, or no?

#jimi hendrix #the jimi hendrix experience #acid rock #rock music #lead guitar #guitar

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dustedmagazine · 7 months ago

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Listening Post: Mdou Moctar

Mdou Moctar is, without question, one of the pre-eminent rock guitarists of our time, as much a master of heavy, hazy grooves as of double-tapped Van Halen-esque shreddery. His music is steeped in a very specific desert blues aesthetic, the swaying, side-to-side rhythms that evoke camel caravans, the keening call and response that suggests lonely attempts at communion in remote campsites, the hard-bashed but intricate percussion, the silky multi-colored tunics that the band sports onstage. And yet, it’s universal in the same amp fried lineage as Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Eddie Hazel and, oh right, Eddie van Halen.

Dusted has been enamored of Mdou Moctar for quite some time, beginning with Patrick Masterson’s highly entertaining review of the Akounak Tedalat Taha Tazoughai OST in 2015—the music for a remake of Prince’s Purple Rain in the Tamashek language— on Sahel Sounds.Masterson observed, “The idea of a Tuareg Purple Rain would have been unthinkable in 1984, not least of all because —and I cannot stress enough how funny I find this — there is no Tamashek word for ‘purple.’ Yet, 31 years later, here we are — the magic of a smaller world has helped bring an academic outsider’s joke to life. The punchline, of course, is that it’s as good as advertised.”

We collectively fell for Ilana (The Creator) and its out-of-hand shredding in 2019.Isaac Olsen noted, “If you still have a punk-induced allergy to flashy guitar solos, be warned; there’s not a track on Ilana where Moctar doesn’t take every available opportunity to — no other word for it — shred. Fortunately, Moctar earns the right to play his ass off by recruiting a band whose hungry energy matches and spurs on his own and by, for the first time, writing a whole album of tunes worthy of his chops.” The record brought a normally fractious Dusted roster to unity and dominated the 2019 Mid-Year feature.

Two years later, Afrique Victime won praise for its less showy, more groovy vibe. Said Jennifer Kelly in her review, “While he’s been one of rock music’s best guitarists for a while, the larger platform takes him out of the niche desert blues category and into the broader multinational arena. He might be excused for capitalizing by leaning into the rock elements of his sound, but instead, he’s putting forward the droning, mystic, call-and-response twilight magic of northwest African guitar music.”

And so we come to Funeral for Justice, another scorcher. The new record is as sharp and impassioned as any Moctar and his band have done so far, and it is inflamed with political energy. It comes after a period of exile after civil war in Niger. It calls out the injustices of colonialism, economic inequality and exploitation in cuts including the title track, “Oh France” and “Modern Slaves.” It cooks on the strength of a band that has never sounded better or more locked in, and it has one or two guitar solos, too.

Intro by Jennifer Kelly

Jennifer Kelly: How are you all liking the new Mdou Moctar? I’m feeling like it’s the best thing he’s ever done, not different exactly but more intense and volcanic. Definitely turned up to 11.

Bill Meyer: My first reaction is that while Funeral For Justice definitely foregrounds the shredding, I miss the layered sound of Afrique Victime. But I’m tickled to hear the increased prominence of electronic percussion and autotune. It’s kind of a roots move, given that the first time a lot of people heard him was on a tune originally identified only as “Autotune,” which appeared on the Sahel Sounds compilation, Music From Saharan Cellphones.

Tim Clarke: I saw Mdou Moctar live last year at a music festival, and it was very loud and thrilling. This is the first time I've listened to a full album. It makes me realize how little I'm drawn to fast guitar playing! And the band's trademark "cantering" rhythm feels like a bit of a musical rut. But when they explore outside these parameters, things get more interesting, especially when they play around with a mix of recording fidelities at the start of second track, "Imouhar." I also like the fact the record is concise and well-paced. Definitely piqued my interest to hear more of what the band can do.

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Christian Carey: The combination of desert blues and intense rock solos is amazing - and fairly singular. The group vocals create an appealing contrast to Mdou's shredding.

I'm not sure that he can raise the intensity level any higher than this — turned up to 12?

Jennifer Kelly: I'm so glad you guys picked up on this. Lots to think about.

First regarding Bill's comment about a "rootsier" sound, it's complicated isn't it?

We look to third world artists for authenticity, which in its most reductive form means less electrification, fewer electronics, etc. But as Bill points out, Mdou's early stuff was heavily autotuned, as for instance here:

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And a lot of the Sahel Sounds’ (and thanks, Bill, for making sure we gave them credit for being first with this stuff) cellphone compilations have a very slick, disco-electronic vibe. And that's music largely produced for African audiences without much consideration of a global audience. So which is authentic?

Also, my understanding, Tim, is that the rhythm is based on the way camels walk and a nod to West Africa's nomadic culture and heritage? You hear the same beat in Tinawarin's stuff.

Tim Clarke: I can definitely hear the camel's gait in the cantering rhythm section, that slightly awkward, loping feel. It's certainly unique.

Bryon Hayes: The almost hard rock riff in the intro of the title track originally confused me (did I put the right album on?), but I found it really powerful upon further spins of the album, especially how it segues into the cantering rhythm. Also, the roar as the lower fidelity section of “Imouhar” transitions to a higher fidelity is downright mind-melting! He’s experimenting with song form, and it really works.

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Michael Rosenstein: As much as I've liked Mdou Moctar's music, I have to admit that this one is starting to lose me a bit. But that has way more to do with my musical proclivities than it does to the music at hand. What originally drew me to Moctar's music was the rawness of it; that uneasy balance of "shredding" that others have mentioned with a trance-like, cyclical flow. That was really foregrounded in his early albums like Afelan or Anar both of which were released a decade ago. This new one sounds, to my ears, much more heavily produced and fussed over. I admit, though, that I'm really uneasy with my assessment in that, as much as I hope I'm not, I fear I am just bringing my old, white, privileged judgement to bear. Is this just me judging that the music is no longer "authentic" enough? Or is it just that he is embracing the rock leanings inherent to his music and that just resonates less with me?

I do find it curious that, as far as I can tell, none of Moctar's music on Sahel Sounds is available anymore (including the one track on Music from Saharan Cellphones: Volume 2 referenced by Bill.) I have no idea if that is by his choice, by contractual obligations with Matador, or by the choice of the Sahel Sounds folks.

Jennifer Kelly: I noticed that those records were missing, too, when I looked for the Sahel Sounds records to hear the autotune. I wonder what happened?

Some of the songs are still very trance-y..."Imouhar," for example, especially at the beginning (it gets loud later), "Takoba" all the way through. The production seems about the same as on Afrique Victime to me, clean but not overly so. (Though, I will admit that I probably like the rock stuff more than Michael does.)

We haven't really talked about the political backdrop to this record, have we? The fact that Civil War in Niger has left them stranded in the States since 2023. I don't speak Tamshek but it seems that a lot of the songs with English titles are about politics and colonialism, which may affect the way they play and present the material, yes? It's different from writing songs about village life or falling in love with the local beauty.

Ian Mathers: I'll admit, there's at least a part of me that wishes this whole record was just unabashedly Going For It as hard as the opening title track does. Not that I don't like the relatively more restrained material; I'm not terribly knowledgeable about African music in general but "Takoba" reminds me of one of the few records from the continent I do very much know and love, the one Ali Farka Toure did with Ry Cooder (Talking Timbuktu) that my dad played all the time when I was in high school. Toure was from Mali, which at least shares a border with Niger, so hopefully I'm not being too ignorant hearing similarities in some of the guitar playing there. The more monomaniacally the band gets cooking here, generally, the more I like it (I really like "Sousoume Tamacheq," for example). I think I probably like it a little more than (the also excellent!) Afrique Victime, although I think for similar but opposite reasons to Michael, that it's just more to my taste and not necessarily a better record.

I'd also love to see a full set of lyrics/translations, and everything I've read about the sociopolitical context of the band and this music has been fascinating, but mostly right I'm just appreciating and enjoying this record in a similar way to, say, Oneida's "Sheets of Easter" or that U SCO record I picked for our 2023 Slept On round up.

Tim Clarke: Further to what you're saying about enjoying the "everything on 11" aspect of Moctar's sound, I can't help wondering what the band would sound like recorded by Steve Albini. That I'd like to hear!

Ian Mathers: Oh, good point; maybe because we talked about African Head Charge a while back I'm now also wondering what Adrian Sherwood would make of them.

Bill Meyer: I don’t think you’re too far off the mark in seeing a similarity between Moctar’s and Ali Farka Toure’s music, Ian. Toure worked with the languages and styles of several ethnic groups from the Malian interior, soI’m sure he would have been acquainted with the precedents for what Moctar does. Moctar is from subsequent generation, so his music is more in touch with what has been popular in the Sahel in this century. But another thing they both have in common is that they’ve been worked a lot on non-African stages, gotten hold of gear that isn’t particularly available back home, and undergone a personal course of development on a world stage.

Their politics are different, though. I think Toure was the mayor (or something similar) of his town. He was pretty invested in fostering the stability of the existing Malian state, thus all the songs in different languages that encouraged people to get along. He was the big man in town who responsibly leveraged his popularity as a musician to obtain resources for his community. Your CD purchases generated income for Niafunke’s farming community. Moctar, on the other hand, was just another guy on the street, albeit an artistically ambitious one, until musical opportunities permitted him to tour and make records outside of Niger. His stance, as far as I can grasp it, is critical of African leaders who don’t look out for their people, and even more critical of the foreign powers that have run roughshod over his country (mostly France and the US).

Matador came through with the lyrics.

[Here are some excerpts.]

“ FUNERAL FOR JUSTICE”

Dear African leaders, hear my burning question

Why does your ear only heed France and America?

They misled you into giving up your lands

They delightfully watch you in your fraternal feud

They possess the power to help out but chose not to

Why is that? When your rights are trodden upon

“ MODERN SLAVES”

Oh world, why be so selective about human beings?

My people are crying while you laugh

All you do is watch

Oh world, why be so selective about counrties?

Yours are well built while ours are being destroyed

Yours are well built while ours are being destroyed.

Jennifer Kelly: Wow, that is fiery stuff.

Ian Mathers: I can also see in the translated lyrics even more of a connection between the two countries, with Tamasheq described as "A helpless orphan abandoned by 3 countries / Mali-Niger, Niger-Mali and Algeria as the third." Interesting to note the gap between Toure and Moctar's respective places in society (at least right now, for Moctar). I didn't specifically think of reggae when I was reading the lyrics, Bill, but once you point it out there does seem to be a number of shared themes, maybe even some metaphors and imagery, there.

#dusted magazine #listening post #mdou moctar #funeral for justice #matador #sahel sounds

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badcaseofcasey · 11 months ago

Text

one single thread of gold (tied me to you) | Part 3 aka: my Steddie soulmates au, Eddie's POV Part 1 | Part 2 | Steve's POV

guess who's baaaaack? Sorry for the long wait between parts, but here's part three of Eddie's POV! I'm back to working on this fic primarily, so will hopefully have the next part sooner rather than later! As always, let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off of the taglist!

As Eddie settled into life in Hawkins, he quickly realized that the universe must be playing a practical joke; there was no way in hell that Steve Harrington was his soulmate.

His assumptions that first day at Hawkins High had proven correct: Steve was popular, painfully mainstream, and had zero time or attention for anyone outside of his circle of influence. In some ways, being so utterly ignored by his soulmate hurt worse than if he’d been outright rejected. It was a reminder every day that Eddie wasn’t even significant enough in his soulmate’s life to merit rejection.

Eddie had learned how to use his outcast status to his advantage well before he’d moved to Hawkins - how to wear the mantle of “freak” like armor. He found the other outcasts and was able to use his reputation (and the fact that he supplied weed to most of the popular kids) to protect them, too.

He carved out a section of Hawkins that was his own and made just enough space there for the people he cared about. Over time, he slowly brought more and more lost sheep into the fold, founding Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin with people he could legitimately call his best friends. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as someone like Eddie could ever hope to get.

Corroded Coffin’s practices were often one of Eddie’s favorite parts of his new life in Hawkins. Gareth had started at Hawkins High Eddie’s Junior year, but he saw Eddie’s Dio patch on his first day of school and was ballsy enough to approach the older teen to ask if he played any instruments. Since then, they’d added Jeff, and Freak (who was actually also named Geoff, but happily went by Freak to avoid any confusion). They were sounding more and more like an actual band these days, and they had a standing gig at the Hideout to prove it.

Of course, sometimes the peace of shredding through whatever insane guitar solo Eddie had learned or come up with that week was shattered by one of the other guys bringing high school into the mix.

“Are you guys thinking of going to the party this weekend?” Gareth asked.

“What party?” Jeff responded. “I haven’t heard of one yet.”

“Harrington’s parents are out of town again,” Gareth said. “He’s hosting; I heard Carol Perkins talking about it during Bio.”

“Probably not,” Jeff said. “My mom’s been on my ass about homework lately - she like, actually wants me to get into college, especially since my brother got denied from everywhere except Ivy Tech.”

The rest of the band nodded sympathetically. Even Eddie had Wayne on his ass to apply to college - as if they both didn’t know he’d be repeating senior year. He had way too many absences and D’s on his transcript for them to give him a diploma this time around.

“What about you, Eddie? Are you going to be there selling?” Gareth asked. “I hear Harrington’s crowd has enough money to throw around.”

Eddie strummed loudly and let the feedback echo through the garage. “I would love it if I didn't have to hear Steve Harrington’s name during band rehearsal for once.”

Gareth looked acceptably cowed by Eddie’s response, but was clearly not going to be deterred. “Come on, guys. You’ll be graduating soon and I’m going to be stuck at Hawkin’s High with Freak and zero street cred.”

“You don’t get street cred by going to parties like that,” Eddie argued.

“Okay, maybe not - but what about girls?” Gareth challenged. “You know all the girls show up hoping to hook up with Steve and when they are inevitably disappointed, they’ll be looking for a shoulder to cry on. I could be that shoulder!”

“Don’t you ever wonder if the King Steve thing is all an act?” Freak piped up. “You hear about all these girls, but do you ever really see him dating anyone? For all we know, he and Hagan could be hooking up behind closed doors. The way they act around each other, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who were soulmates, not Tommy and Carol.”

Eddie whirled around to glare at Freak. “What are you even saying right now?”

“I’m just saying that all that bravado is there for a reason,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to cover up something.”

To this day, Eddie isn’t sure what made him do it. Maybe all the talk about Steve’s words and his sex life had gone straight to his head and stopped him from thinking straight. Maybe he’d been waiting for an excuse to do it and it seemed like as good a time as any. Or maybe, Eddie desperately needed a distraction to a different topic.

Whatever it was that made him do it, Eddie found himself saying, “Would it be so disgusting if he did get his words from a guy? Pretty ironic to be a homophobe as a guy named Freak, huh?” His tone of voice made it absolutely clear which side Eddie found himself on.

“Woah,” Freak said, holding up his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really?” Eddie said. “What did you mean it like? The only reason it’d be big news if Harrington was a queer is if you have some sort of problem with it.”

“C’mon, Eddie,” Jeff said, always the peacemaker, “you know it’d be a big deal if the ladies man of Hawkins High was actually into dudes. Freak didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. “Sorry. I got defensive.”

“No worries, man,” Freak said. “But you know I don’t have problems with people like that. Us freaks have to stick together.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and accepted Freak’s handshake as everyone went back to their instruments. Luckily, his little outburst seemed to at least have gotten them off the topic of Steve Harrington. They messed around with a few cover songs and even got an original song or two started before Jeff had to leave to go work on homework.

As Eddie was packing up, Gareth came over, trying to come across as nonchalant but missing it by a mile.

“You know, we’d all be cool with it if… if you got your words from a guy,” Gareth said quietly.

Eddie snapped his guitar case shut and turned to look at Gareth. “Yeah, man. I know. Thanks for saying it, though.”

“Imagine if Steve Harrington was the person you got your words from though,” Gareth said. “That would be hilarious.”

Eddie just huffed out a laugh, trying not to give anything away.

Unfortunately, Gareth knew him too well.

“That would be hilarious, right?” Gareth asked, skeptical.

Eddie looked at him and raised his eyebrows, mouth stretched into a grimace.

“Oh no,” Gareth said. “No way, man.”

“Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

“No, I mean - I’m gonna have to put up with you falling for Steve Harrington one of these days - if it hasn’t happened already - oh god, tell me it hasn’t happened already.”

“As if,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh good, I still have time,” Gareth said, theatrically relieved. “I need to enjoy my Harrington-free life while I’ve still got it.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie said fondly, shoving Gareth just hard enough for him to lose his balance.

As they walked out to the car, still laughing at each other’s ridiculous behavior, Eddie couldn't help but feel a little lighter. He might not have the same faith as Gareth that he and Steve would ever end up together, but it was nice to know he’d always have friends like this by his side.

taglist: @awkwardgravity1 @infinitetrashbag @vampireinthesun @swimmingbirdrunningrock @maya-custodios-dionach @thev01dd @obsessivlyme @a-little-unsteddie @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @spectrum-spectre @red-panderz69 @magpiemuseum @minjintea @finalmoondragonn @thatonebadideapanda @estrellami-1 @freyaforestafay @biatcgh @sadcanadianwinter @im-sam-fucking-winchester @bidisastersworld @justanothergirlwithobsessions @anaibis @thing-a-ling @rosered93 @newtstabber @void-o-chaos @thegingerrapunzel @baron-zemo-trash @katireads @child-of-cthulhu @the-s-is-silent @i-must-potato @hellomynameismoo @lovelylilbadone @theotalksalot @lydi-cyan @background-noise-headache @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @slitherynchiken @grapefruitgalaxy @bookbinderbitch @luthienstormblessed @blues-tunes @murdblurdock @grtwdsmwhr @xpaperheartso @anaibis @thedyingwriter

#my fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie #soulmate au #met as kids au #Stranger Things #steddie soulmate au

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love-toxin · 2 years ago

Note

ELLIE

Fruity four POKEMON AU

WHAT ARE THE TEAMS????

nyehe! <3 i shall bestow my humble input!

fruity four pokemon team au!

Eddie

Crobat

Eddie started raising it as a Zubat when he was young, after finding it wounded and collapsed in the mud and rain outside the trailer. He tried to release it so it could be free once it was healthy, but it stuck around and has since evolved into one of the strongest pokemon on his team. It loves Eddie to death and can be surprisingly clingy, but it becomes aggressive when it senses ill intent directed at its trainer. Despite being a bigger pokemon, it's the one that accompanies him out of its ball the most often, and it likes to sleep in his bed when he lets it since they always used to do so when they were both much smaller.

Aegislash

Eddie didn't so much choose this pokemon as it chose him. It just kind of floated up to him while he was out in the woods one day, and when he got jumped for his drugs a few minutes later it defended him, and allowed him to capture it and take it along after it had vanquished his enemies. It usually stays in its ball unless Eddie takes it out, but occasionally it will join in on his D&D sessions to act as a sword and shield when Eddie's performing as some grand NPC or BBEG. It generally has little presence otherwise however, and tends to creep out anyone he has over if he doesn't warn them about it first–it's scared his friends before who thought it was just a decoration hanging on the wall.

Obstagoon

It loves being onstage with Eddie and his other pokemon, and will belt out its explosive screeches to echo the guitar solos that Eddie shreds out. When Eddie's other pokemon get rowdy or out of control, or when there's a wild pokemon causing trouble, Obstagoon will skillfully taunt the troublemaker and draw it into a battle to calm it down. However, this also means that it's very likely to get into battles with both pokemon and humans if they go after its trainer, which usually results in Eddie having to call it back to keep it from getting him arrested. It's a great bodyguard for his shows, though, just by its appearance alone.

Toxtricity (low key)

It's one of the two pokemon that often join him onstage when he's performing, although Toxtricity plays more of a musical role as it strums the violet-coloured organs on its chest to let out bass-like riffs, along with violent sparks of electricity that make the performance look even more punk. It can be a little uppity since it's not a big fan of other pokemon, and it sometimes has trouble following commands when it's in a bad mood, so it gets into scuffles with his other pokemon more often than usual. But, like the rest of Eddie's team, it likes his music a lot–so as long as he practices the guitar for them and plays some tunes here and there, it can be lulled into listening to him again.

Hydreigon

Having a pokemon like Hydreigon around certainly doesn't help Eddie's reputation, since the species is considered a bad omen and the pokemon itself is often feared for its violent and evil nature, but that really couldn't be further from the truth in this case. Living with Eddie during his tumultuous upbringing has turned what was once a timid Deino into a very protective, gentle-hearted Hydreigon. It still remembers having to stay quiet and practice hiding to avoid the wrath of Eddie's dad alongside the boy, and now it sees itself as a protector of not just Eddie, but all of his friends and all of Hawkins. If Eddie disappears for a long time and it doesn't know where he is, it panics, and will start going on a destructive rampage until it finds him safe and sound.

Grimmsnarl

To be honest, Eddie caught an Impidimp just cause he thought it was cute–and it looked lonely, like it needed a friend, even though it swiped his wallet when he bent down to pet it and he had to go chasing after it to get it back. He had no idea it would grow to be such a strong, beastly pokemon, but Eddie thinks it's metal and he considers it a good friend. And Grimmsnarl is definitely the one who gets along best with the other three's pokemon and with the kids, it's more amiable to following the others around to help them out or keep an eye on them, whereas its fellow team members tend to stick to Eddie's side.

Nancy

Mimikyu

Nancy found it hiding under her bed when she came home one day, and repaired its disguise with her sewing needle when she realized it had been torn up by some other pokemon. Since then, it’s come back several times to bring her gifts, like little stones or flowers, until she eventually took it on to her team to join her. It often helps her find things she's lost or misplaced, and brings over her keys when she forgets them–but despite being very affectionate and helpful to its trainer, it's never one to shy away from putting the fear of god into anyone it thinks might hurt her.

Vileplume

Nancy spent a lot of time training this pokemon, mostly because poison types can be difficult to keep under control, and because it can be a bit unruly when it's hungry or bored. But because of that, her Vileplume is quite well-behaved and mimics Nancy's mannerisms a lot, and often is the pokemon she has by her side when she's out and about. It not only keeps her garden fresh and healthy being a grass type, but also uses its Sleep Powder to help her and the other three get a better rest when they have night terrors. It's all around a helpful pokemon to have, and definitely not one to shy away from battle, either.

Sylveon

Having grown it from an Eevee, Sylveon is the one that's been with her the longest and has become a therapy pokemon of sorts as Nancy's grown up. It's been there for breakups, for Barb, for bad marks on tests and nightmares that wake her up in cold sweat, and it likes to take her for walks with its ribbons wrapped around her hand to calm her down when she's stressed out. Though it has a sweet nature, it still hasn't quite forgiven Steve for that time he broke her heart, and it sometimes nips at him or smacks him with its ribbons if it thinks he's being mean to her. But on the flipside, it's totally obsessed with Eddie and loves grooming his hair when he comes home from work.

Octillery

It's an obvious choice for her, and besides evaluating its sniping techniques, she and her Octillery also help each other with practice by having shooting competitions out in the backyard. Even if she's going somewhere where the environment won't be ideal, or the pokemon will be strong against it, it never wants to be left behind and will pester her to come along until she eventually gives in. It can be a bit of a menace if left to its own devices as well, and will climb up to the ceiling and dangle there by its suction pads to drop on unsuspecting prey when they walk past–although, one time it did so to Eddie, and Nancy had to spend an hour prying its sticky limbs off the poor guy's hair.

Machoke

People sometimes make fun of her for having such a flashy, muscly pokemon, since Machoke is usually one that teenage boys always end up wanting to train just to show off and look more manly. But it truly likes helping Nancy and she likes having it around, because knowing that it can use strength that she can't match puts her at ease–if she ever needs protection, or if she needs to protect her loved ones, then it won't have to lie solely on her own shoulders. It loves to help her train on her own too, and will let her use it as a punching bag to test her strength while encouraging her with its cries, before they do their daily exercises together.

Bisharp

It's definitely the most brutal on her pokemon team, and she lets it spar with Machoke or Steve's Lucario so it can get out some aggression now and again. If ever she needs to get information out of somebody or just try to intimidate them, Bisharp is the pokemon that will be at her side, staring down whoever it is until they grow terrified enough to give in. While it has a bad habit of trying to command her other pokemon, it recognizes her as the leader of the pack and can't be swayed to listen to anyone else but her. It collects its own metal shavings when it sharpens its blades to gift to her as a token of loyalty, and once she finds the right place to do it, she gets them melted down and reshaped to add modifications to her guns, which is honestly the highest compliment she could give to it.

Steve

Lucario

Steve got it as a gift from his parents when it was a freshly-hatched Riolu, but because it can sense auras and he has a problem with managing his stress, they didn't get along at first and just frustrated each other–plus, it didn't like how selfish and vain Steve became as he went through adolescence, too. After a while of trying to appeal to his new pokemon, though, it warmed up to him and is now more than happy to battle for him in its evolved form. The pokeball it stays in will start rattling uncontrollably if it hears sounds of a scuffle from inside, and if Steve doesn't reassure it that nothing's wrong, it'll spring out and Force Palm the nearest person--which, in the situations when the danger is benign, has certainly gotten him into trouble more than once. Better safe than sorry though, right?

Blissey

It started following him around when it was still a Chansey, because it could sense his pain and was insistent on giving him its egg in the hopes that it would make him feel better. Even if he wanted to, Steve wouldn’t be able to get rid of it, but he really does love its company and feeling like there’s always someone thinking about him and wanting to care for him. If it senses that he's got one of those dreaded headaches coming on, Blissey will rush to Steve's aid and rattle him with cries until he lays down, so it can start soothing him with a Heal Pulse to help it abate. Despite being a docile pokemon, it occasionally will throw itself into a battle if it feels that Steve is helpless to defend himself, and as a last resort will use its Healing Wish move to expend the rest of its strength to support him.

Lurantis

Both Lopunny and Lurantis fawn over their trainer, but Lurantis is the shyer of the two. It's very clingy around him and will follow close behind when he's at home, bugging him to groom it and tend to its petals to keep them glossy and colourful as it likes. It can be a bit of a hassle since it's so high-maintenance, but it produces its sweet-smelling aromas in tandem with Blissey's healing to relieve his headaches when he does it, plus it always gets chittery and happy when Steve takes care of it--it even nuzzles his face whenever he's down, and sprouts pretty flowers from its arms to gather them up and gift to him to cheer him up. It'll do so when he wants to give a bouquet to someone too, but it'll pout if whoever it is handles them too roughly.

Rampardos

With the help of his other pokemon, Steve managed to calm it down from rampaging around town, and decided to start training it for protection. Being owned by a trainer doesn't mean it's totally domesticated, however–when it gets fixated on something, like a perceived enemy or an obstacle, Steve's often having to throw himself between his pokemon and whatever it's trying to bash to keep it from destroying something, and often he has to do damage control when it gets into the heat of battle in public places. With all that said, though, it likes Steve a lot and would never (intentionally) hurt him, and it's a fantastic player in pokemon battles when it's listening to his commands.

Lopunny

His friends think he's a mother hen, but they have no idea how much his Lopunny mother hens him. It uses the fur it sheds to stuff into his shirt or jacket when it's cold outside, but when he keeps trying to duck away or pulls it out, Lopunny ends up gifting the fur to Robin so she can fashion scarves or mitts for him to keep his pokemon satisfied. And while most Lopunny are pretty timid, Steve's has a penchant for fighting when it feels its trainer is being threatened–even if it's something as benign as someone being rude to him. It likes to fix his hair while Lurantis straightens his clothes before he goes out, so the two of them can make sure their trainer looks stunning when he leaves the house!

Galvantula

Steve ended up with this one latching on to him too, all because he found a few Joltik huddled outside in the cold and brought them into Family Video to warm them up, and the parent Galvantula followed inside to make sure he took care of its babies. Now that they're all on their own, it stuck to Steve's side and keeps him company while he's working. Plus, it sometimes zaps the tense muscles in his neck, or back, or arms with a weak jolt of electricity to help him loosen up, with the guidance of Blissey to make sure it doesn't paralyze him by accident. And all that's in exchange for letting it curl up in his lap and sleep every so often, when it wants to cuddle or when it's cold.

Robin

Smeargle

It was the first pokemon she ever really trained, although she knew right away that not only was she inept at battling, but that Smeargle really wasn't a fan of it either. So it mostly just keeps her company rather than trains, and the two of them like to spend long afternoons tending to their hobbies; Robin gives it canvases to paint whatever it pleases while she crafts little bracelets or jewelery for fun, with some music playing in the background as they entertain themselves. It likes getting her critiques on its paintings, and will get noticeably excited when she compliments it–and equally as eager when she suggests a change, usually scurrying off right away to rub out the mistake and try her method instead.

Cloyster

What was once a laughably bad gift from Steve of a weak, doofy-looking Shellder has since become one of the few chosen battlers on Robin's team, one that has no qualms about getting into fights even though its trainer gets a little antsy when she has to battle. It gets cranky if it doesn't get enough time in the water, so she usually has to run a bath for it or let it putz around under the shower once or twice a week, but since she takes good care of it it's a very difficult pokemon to take down in a battle. Cloyster will willingly go up against pokemon with huge type advantages against it, and even if it loses, it'll bring down a Blizzard or an Avalanche just before it faints just to wreak havoc on the trainer that thought battling Robin would be an easy win.

Vanilluxe

It was initially the assisting pokemon at Scoops Ahoy when she and Steve worked there, but after Starcourt went up in flames it had nowhere to go, so Robin took ownership of it. Although Steve thought it was a crazy idea to keep a delicate-looking ice type like that inside her home, it's proven to thoroughly enjoy being helpful even at the expense of its own comfort–instead of hiding away in its ball in the summer months, it chooses to busy itself with cooling down the house so its trainer and her friends will be comfortable in the blazing heat. Even in milder temperatures it's usually floating around the house, looking for something to do while waiting to be called on for help, to which it'll excitedly zip through the halls with wild abandon to tend to whatever needs doing.

Mienshao

One would think that a Mienshao would despise a trainer who doesn't enjoy battle training, but this particular one practically forced its way onto Robin's team. Not only does it like her temperament, but it actually quite enjoys training her other pokemon in her stead–and her, to an extent. Robin's pokemon can often be seen out of their pokeballs, training outside under the guide of Mienshao with Robin nowhere to be seen, and learning new techniques and moves that end up surprising her whenever she battles. And if it sees or senses Robin struggling with something, it's prone to busting out of its pokeball unannounced and calmly coming to help her, whether by eliminating the danger or guiding her towards the smartest path.

Spinda

Robin couldn't help but take it on and care for it when a friend needed to rehome it, although watching it stumble around and having to pick up the tapes it knocks off the shelves at work is certainly a stress-inducer. Even so, it's quite the curious pokemon and has an intuition that's seldom matched, so she can usually trust its judgement when it meets someone that gives off bad vibes or if she's looking for something she can't find, cause Spinda will almost always end up stumbling across it. The only time it doesn't totter around is when it sits in Robin's lap, which it loves to do because she always ends up cuddling it like a stuffed animal when she needs to relax.

Chandelure

It's the newest addition to her team, because she stumbled upon it in the decrepit old Creel house. Although it had seemed frightening at the time, it took a liking to her and she ended up taking it with her to rescue it from getting involved with all the creepy shit in that place. Since then it's only tried to drain her soul once and the others a couple times, but with her Mienshao's help she's been able to domesticate it into curbing its lethality, and turning that energy towards being a guard dog of sorts for her home. It's grown to love scaring off potential intruders and defending the outer grounds–but it loves scaring the shit out of the kids and the rest of the fruity four when they come to the door even more.

#fruity four #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #pokemon au #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #anons

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attentionthisisarobbery · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie Munson's Music Taste

So for anyone that isn't well versed in metal, I thought it might be helpful to take a look at Eddie's taste in music for anyone wanting to write fanfiction or make fan content of any kind.

First off, let's look at the bands we know Eddie listens to from costume design, set design, and the script.

Metallica and Black Sabbath are the ones we know about from the script itself. Looking at Eddie's battle jacket, we can add W.A.S.P., Mercyful Fate, Judas Priest, and Accept (from the pins), Motörhead, Iron Maiden, and Megadeth (from the patches), and Dio from the back patch. Then, if we look closely at Eddie's room in the trailer, we can see that he also likes Anthrax and Liege Lord. Now, a lot of these bands would be considered heavy metal:

Motörhead

Iron Maiden

Judas Priest

Mercyful Fate

Dio

Liege Lord

Black Sabbath

A couple would be considered Thrash Metal:

Metallica

Megadeth

Anthrax

But one straddles the line between shock rock, heavy metal, and glam metal (or as Eddie would have called it in the 80s, hair metal):

W.A.S.P.

So, Eddie likes heavy metal, thrash metal, and hair metal - in that order, right? Well, not necessarily. Anthrax actually prompted the creation of the term "thrash metal," after their 1984 song Metal Thrashing Mad, and as such, there weren't a ton of thrash bands on the scene in 1986. So, it may not be that Eddie prefers heavy metal to thrash; it may just be that heavy metal is a well established genre that he's been exposed to for a longer period of time.

Then there's W.A.S.P. - our little hair metal outlier. Hair metal, or as it's usually referred to today, glam metal, is actually a source of tension in the metal community to this day. The entire culture around metal as a musical genre is heavily based in nonconformity, with popular metal bands creating music that would be seen as less accessible to the general public, because they refuse to fall in line with the mainstream.

Metal is a form of protest on top of being a great musical genre. A part of what classifies different types of metal (thrash, black, death, etc.) is what the lyrics are protesting against. For instance, black metal tends to be very anti-Christian, and thrash metal, emerging in the 80s, tends to be anti-conservative, anti-establishment, anti-war, and anti-environmental destruction. Check out Disposable Heroes by Metallica for strong example of this.

Hair metal came onto the scene at about the same time as thrash metal, and boy did metalheads have a lot to say about it. Hair/glam metal is still metal, but it's more accessible, more pop-influenced, and as a rule, doesn't really protest much through lyrics. Instead, the songs were designed to be just mainstream enough that they could top the charts and make more money as a result. Think Mötley Crüe, Quiet Riot, Ratt, Dokken, Twisted Sister, and Bon Jovi. But for metalheads, this was a departure from everything they stood for. Metal couldn't conform to the mainstream's expectations and still be metal.

Now, W.A.S.P. is kind of a special case, because although their sound is very much based in hair metal - pop hooks and guitar riffs combined with a blend of heavy metal, hard, and punk rock, with songs starting off slow and building in tempo with the occasional shred guitar solo thrown in - nothing else about them was palatable for the mainstream.

Their lyrics were considered highly offensive, so much so that their first single, Animal (Fuck Like A Beast), was removed completely from their first album release in the US, so it could be sold in chain stores. Their live performances were equally shocking: this is why they are classified as "shock rock." They became known for cutting up meat with chainsaws on stage, and then throwing said meat into the audience, as well as very raunchy displays of partial nudity, S&M, and simulated sex acts. W.A.S.P. actually became quite controversial in later years for their misogynic lyrics, being accused of promoting abuse and sexual assault.

But forget the politics for now. What does this mean for Eddie? Well, by virtue of also being shock rock, W.A.S.P. gets a bit of a pass when it comes to the conformity of hair metal, since they were still completely unpalatable for a mainstream audience. But the thing I want to point out is that Eddie doesn't hate W.A.S.P.'s sound. He might actually enjoy other hair metal bands as well, but wouldn't feel comfortable advertising it.

This is all just food for thought. You can use this information however you like in your fanworks. Maybe Eddie's trying to keep up an image and secretly loves ABBA, who the hell knows? I just thought I'd share this for anyone who wanted a little extra insight in the character and his music taste. It also might be cool to note that throwing horns (see Eddie in the picture below) originated with Ronnie James Dio back when he joined Black Sabbath in 1979. He said that his grandmother had used the gesture to ward off evil.

ALSO, I have to add this last part because the vocabulary used by metalheads can be confusing to the uninitiated. So, 'metal' is an umbrella term for all kinds of metal music. 'Heavy metal' is ALSO an umbrella term for all kinds of metal music, but it can also refer to the specific musical style established by the bands listed above under 'heavy metal': Black Sabbath, Motörhead, Iron Maiden. So someone might refer to thrash metal as a subgenre of heavy metal, and then turn around and say that they prefer thrash metal to heavy metal. You just kind of have to use context clues to figure out how the words are being used.

ALSO ALSO, please stop calling Eddie a punk, goth, etc. Those are different things. If in your fanwork Eddie is actually a goth, then by all means, but as he exists in canon, he would consider himself a metalhead. (could be funny to see how he reacts to other characters mixing it up tho)

#stranger things #eddie munson #metal #metalhead #heavy metal #thrash metal #80's thrash #glam metal #hair metal #shock rock #I'm not gonna say how I feel about the whole W.A.S.P. thing #but I didn't link the song in case someone might be upset by it

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 2 years ago

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NITA STRAUSS + ALISSA WHITE-GLUZ: Behind-The-Scenes Footage From Making Of 'The Wolf You Feed' Video

Former Alice Cooper and current Demi Lovato guitarist Nita Strauss has released behind-the-scenes footage from the making of the official music video for her latest single, "The Wolf You Feed". The epic, headbanger of a track features huge, chunky, metallic riffs and the insane vocal talent of Alissa White-Gluz of ARCH ENEMY.

Nita comments: "If you look back at old interviews from the last ten years, any time I was asked about collaborating with a vocalist in the future, Alissa White-Gluz was always the first name out of my mouth. She is truly one of my favorite vocalists and performers in the industry and creating this track together was everything I hoped it would be.

"I'm very proud to release this track, especially now with everything else that's going on. This time in history, whether in politics, music, social media, or our personal lives, has been an eye-opening look into the two wolves of a lot of people out there, and maybe this song will be a reminder that we all have the ability to choose how we respond to things."

The lyrics of this song were inspired by "The Story Of The Two Wolves", a legend widely attributed to Native American storytellers. An old grandfather was teaching his grandson about life: "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil — he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego." He continued: "The other is good — he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you–and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf will win?" The grandfather simply replied: "The one you feed."

Alissa adds: "Nita and I finally got to collaborate — something we have both wanted to do for years! 'The Wolf You Feed' is a kickass, catchy metal track with a really cool vibe. I kept the 'two wolves' analogy as a foundation throughout the song while playing up the dichotomy of the two sides of the tug of war we all have inside us. I recorded my parts in my home studio and it was an absolute pleasure to build this song with Nita. I am honored to be a part of it! Can't wait to do this again!"

"The Wolf You Feed" is the second song Nita has released featuring a star guest vocalist, the first being the enormously successful "Dead Inside" which featured guest vocals from DISTURBED's David Draiman and saw Nita become the first ever solo female to have a No. 1 hit at Active Rock radio. She also returned to her instrumental roots earlier this year with the release of single "Summer Storm", a fast-paced, emotive shred-fest. Combined, the two singles have had 3.5 million YouTube views and over 10 million streams on Spotify alone.

Nita made her live debut with Demi on July 14 with a performance of Lovato's single "Substance" on ABC's Emmy Award-winning late-night show "Jimmy Kimmel Live!".

Strauss had been playing with Cooper since 2014 when she replaced Australian musician and former Michael Jackson player Orianthi. She joined Alice in time for a mammoth MÖTLEY CRÜE tour. She was recommended to Cooper by the legendary rocker's former bass player and WINGER frontman Kip Winger.

Back in February, Nita told SiriusXM's "Trunk Nation With Eddie Trunk" about her upcoming LP: "It's gonna be half and half — six tracks with vocalists and six tracks of instrumental [music]. We've been doing ['Dead Inside'] live on the solo tour and it's been getting a super-good reaction from our crowds."

In early December, Nita told "The Mistress Carrie Podcast" about her decision to make the upcoming LP half vocal songs and half instrumental: "I did feel, and the label and everybody agreed, it's still important for me to keep my identity as a guitar player and not just branch off too much and go, 'Okay, well, now it's just guests.' Let me still have a little of what makes me me, which is the instrumental shred stuff. And the instrumental pieces that I've written on this record are, I think, better than anything I did on the first one — definitely more… I don't know if it could be more emotional but they're very emotional pieces of music and I think a little better crafted this time around. So I think all the songs in general are more well thought out, better put together this time around. And I do have some of my absolute favorite [singers guesting on it]. I have three amazing powerhouse female vocalists on this album so far."

Nita released "Controlled Chaos" to mass acclaim from fans and media alike, with Metal Injection calling it "a great debut that — as its creator intended — leaves no doubt", and Guitar World stating "'Controlled Chaos' is a panoramic view of Nita Strauss's many strengths".

As well as performing with Cooper, Nita has also played with R&B star Jermaine Jackson, early MTV darlings FEMME FATALE, video game supergroup CRITICAL HIT and popular tribute band THE IRON MAIDENS.

In April 2020, Nita launched "Rock Guitar Fundamentals" — a three-module online guitar teaching program suitable for learners of all levels. The course is available at www.iwanttoplayguitar.com.

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#Nita Strauss #Alissa White-Gluz #DoD collaborations #the wolf you feed

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littlefallenseraph · 2 years ago

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You’ll Be Born, Born Again

Chapter 4: What’s Eating You?

Weeks after the Hawkins kids crippled Vecna and the rifts to the Upside-Down were opened, Steve has tried to put the events of that night behind him. Particularly in relation to Eddie. But Eddie is back and now he's got sharp teeth, dark secrets, and a penchant for human blood.

...

Steve was having a hard time wrapping his head around everything this morning.

He was happy Eddie was back, sure. Dustin was going to be beside himself. Wayne would probably show more emotion than Steve had ever seen. The kids were gonna want to throw a party to celebrate when they finally found out Eddie was okay.

Maybe he was a little frustrated, too, that Eddie didn’t want to tell everyone he was back for what felt like a silly reason. No one was going to care how he looked, they were just going to be ecstatic that he was alive. So why didn’t he want to tell anyone? Especially when everyone had been so worried. And who knows? Maybe now that he’d been pardoned, Wayne would want Eddie to come to stay with him when he got a new place. Not that Steve felt put out by Eddie being here–he was all alone in this big house anyway, and it felt nice knowing he wasn’t sleeping alone anymore, even if they were in different rooms.

He wouldn’t say he had missed Eddie. It’s not like they were close. They hadn’t talked about anything other than their impending doom and plan to destroy Vecna. Not to mention, their first interaction since Steve graduated involved Eddie slamming him up against the wall of a boat house with a broken bottle to his jugular. So no, it definitely wasn’t that.

There was also that little inkling that Eddie wasn’t telling him everything, which irritated him despite his desire to give him the space he needed. Of course, he didn’t want to push Eddie if he wasn’t ready to discuss it. But it felt like more than just his experience. He had looked awful, and that thing with the water? That was weird, right?

And then there was what he’d said right before Steve left last night. So I heard you playing it. It’s what convinced me to come back. He’d heard Steve playing his music and that’s what had brought him back from the Upside Down. Steve wasn’t quite sure how he’d felt about that.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he walked over to the radio and clicked it on. He scanned through static until he managed to catch a station. A song he’d never heard came through the speaker, filling the kitchen. It was obviously a metal song, with fast-paced drums and an even faster-paced guitar solo sounding through the room. He smiled as the singer came in, maybe that’ll get Eddie out of bed, he loves this stuff , he thought to himself and cranked the dial up a little.

A quiet “Hey,” floated over the music and Steve looked up to see Eddie, still dressed in the clothes he’d offered last night.

“Hey! I didn’t hear you come out. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks.”

“Good,” Steve regarded Eddie, there was color back in his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes had lightened significantly. His eyes trailed down to the top of the Hawkins High shirt he lent Eddie. “Uh…you’ve got some…blood…” he gestured around his neck.

Sure enough, there was a ring of blood soaked into the collar.

Shit.

Eddie stared down at the obviously blood-stained shirt. “Oh shit, I uh…” think fast, Munson . “I got a bloody nose last night, must have gotten on the shirt.” He quickly pulled it over his head and examined the stain more closely.

Steve was frozen. His eyes flicked back and forth from Eddie’s face to his now bare torso, stunned into silence by the evidence of what had happened. There were pale, raised marks covering the majority of his skin. Steve’s hands came up to his own ribs like he could feel the bats digging into his sides all over again.

Then another thought struck him. “Eddie, you’re…how’d you heal so fast? Dustin said those things tore you to shreds.”

“Oh uh…” Eddie looked from the shirt to his midsection, “Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought?”

Doubt flashed in Steve’s eyes and Eddie shrugged, shifting his attention back to the shirt. He shuffled over to the sink and turned it on. “I’m gonna run some cold water over this, but I could use something to put on it.” He leaned down, opening the cabinets and drawers. “You got any vinegar? Or hydrogen peroxide?”

Steve pushed his questions aside for later and said, “Yeah, I’ve got a new bottle in the bathroom. I’ll go grab it.” And turned to run up the stairs.

He grabbed the peroxide from the medicine cabinet and then stopped in front of the mirror. He pulled up his own shirt to reveal wounds that, while healing better than he expected, were still red and inflamed, with scabs covering the worst of it. They looked nothing like Eddie’s wounds, not even close. And Eddie had been stuck in the Upside Down for two weeks.

He thought about Eddie, bare-chested and scarred in his kitchen. He was more muscular than Steve thought. It was lean muscle, but the strength was definitely there. He felt heat creep up into his neck as his mind lingered on the ink that decorated Eddie’s skin. Pull yourself together, dude has it really been that long since –

Eddie’s voice rang through the house and interrupted Steve’s train of thought. “Hey Harrington, you lost in your own house or somethin’? I’m wasting water down here!”

Steve scooped up the bottle and made his way back downstairs. “Didn’t know you were so concerned about the environment, Munson,” he said, tossing the peroxide to Eddie.

“Well, Stevie,” Eddie replied, turning the water off before ripping off the seal and pouring the acrid-smelling liquid onto the shirt, “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises.” He let the shirt down in the sink and then spun around to rest his hips on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Like the fact that you know how to remove blood stains?” Steve asked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the refrigerator.

Eddie chuckled, “Believe me, that’s the least surprising of my skills. You know how many times I got the shit beat outta me in high school?” He smiled, but Steve could see the pain in his eyes.

“Eddie…listen,’ Steve brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck and looked away. “I just wanna say I’m really sorry about that.”

“Hey, it’s not like you were the one beating me up, you don’t have to…”

“No, but I knew and didn’t say anything.” Steve looked back up and into Eddie’s eyes. “I was a real asshole in high school, and I could try to blame it on the people I was hanging out with or my parents or whatever, but really, I was just a dick. So I’m sorry.”

Eddie cleared his throat and nodded, “Thanks. That actually means…a lot.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them before Steve chimed back in, “So uh…how long does that have to sit before you get the blood out of that shirt?”

Eddie waited the prescribed amount of time before scrubbing away at the shirt to get the stain out and then hanging it to dry on the porch. Then he made some excuse about getting changed for the day and sprinted up the stairs.

Back in the safe quiet of the guest room, Eddie couldn’t keep up the cool facade anymore. Where the hell did that blood come from? He hoped to the powers that be that it wasn’t a person. Please please I don’t think I could handle actually being a murderer. He started to lose control of his breathing, taking breaths faster than he knew he should. Shit. Shit shit shitshitshit.

A knock sounded on the door, “Hey, Eddie. You okay in there, man?” Concern colored Steve’s voice.

Calm down, Munson. Eddie struggled through as deep a breath as he could take, “Yea, yea I’m fine. Still just tired.”

“All right…” Steve didn’t press the issue. “I’m gonna make some breakfast, you want anything?”

“I…yeah sure, all right.” If the water last night had been any indication, Eddie was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to enjoy whatever Steve was making, but he’d say anything to make him go away. Just for a few minutes; so he could get his thoughts together.

He must have gone out last night without knowing. Flashes of what he’d thought was a dream surfaced immediately and he sank to the floor. He tried desperately to dredge up a form, a face to whatever, or whoever, he had fed on, but he came up empty. It couldn’t have been Steve, he would have said something.

Eyes darting around the room, he searched for anything that might give him a clue as to what happened. He couldn’t inspect the shirt–he had just washed it and besides, it was hanging up near the radiator downstairs. He glanced down and practically ripped the pants he’d been given off to look at them. No blood that he could see. No blood, no hair, not even dirt. Shit, where the fuck did I go? And what if it happens again?

“Okay…okay,” he said out loud, “The cops haven’t shown up. There’s no blood on anything else. Maybe…maybe I really did just get a bloody nose. Yea that’s it. And now I know what it feels like, so when it happens again I can be ready and…I don’t know...lock myself in here or something.” As he reasoned, he felt his heartbeat slow and his breath even out.

His panic must have taken longer than he’d thought because soon enough he heard Steve making his way back up the stairs and knocking on the door again. “Hey uh…I made eggs. I hope that’s okay. Do you…are you okay in there?”

Instead of responding, Eddie pulled his jeans and t-shirt on and opened the door, “Just fine, Stevie,” he said with a grin, that he hoped was even a fraction convincing, plastered on his face. He rushed past Steve and down the stairs, “Let’s get some grub!”

As Eddie’s feet hit the ground floor, he heard a, “Hey, Steve! I’m using my key since you don’t feel like opening the door…” and the front door swung open. Suddenly, Eddie was face to face with a very flustered and very confused Robin Buckley who proceeded to promptly drop the entire box of cinnamon rolls she’d been holding.

They stood for a moment, Robin choking out sounds and half-words while gesturing wildly between Steve, who was standing mortified at the top of the stairs, and Eddie.

Eddie whipped his head around, shooting an accusatory glance at Steve, “You didn’t feel like mentioning that Buckley was gonna show up?”

“I didn’t know!” Steve defended. Then, when Eddie narrowed his eyes, added, “What, you thought you were the only one who just shows up at my house unannounced?”

Finally, Robin managed, “One of you two ding dongs wanna tell me what the heck is going on here?!” It wasn’t a question.

“I uh…” Steve started, then brought his hands up in a shrug, “Eddie’s okay! Surprise?”

“Yeah, I can see that!” She wheeled on Eddie. “We went back in to look for you and you were just gone! We mourned you and you were alive this whole time!”

Alive may have been a loose interpretation of what Eddie was now, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. He held his hands up in surrender, “I…may have…hidden…Sorry about that.”

“So you were there, and you just decided not to come back with us? How long have you been back? How did you get here?” Robin’s questions were getting louder and more frantic as she approached Eddie and threw her arms around his middle. “Dustin is gonna be so pissed at you.”

Eddie chuckled, letting his hands drop to Robin’s shoulders and patting them gingerly. She squeezed before backing up to look at him with glassy eyes.

“Well,” he began, “In my defense, I didn’t know you were looking for me.”

“Not like we were gonna skip around that creepy place screaming for you.” She gave him a light punch to the shoulder.

“Fair enough.”

Steve's light footfalls sounded behind them as he came down the stairs, “Aw, Rob! You brought cinnamon rolls?”

She turned to him and sniffed. “Yea well, we’ll see how good they still are. I kinda threw them when I walked in.”

Steve crouched and popped the box open, “Look fine to me! We might have to scrape some frosting off the lid though.” He picked them up and walked down the hall, “Come on, we can have them with the eggs I made.”

“Yea you’re gonna have to catch me up,” Robin began and then flashed a concerned look to Eddie and whispered, “You let him cook?”

Steve’s voice sounded from the kitchen, “I heard that!”

Three hours later still found the trio sitting in the kitchen around the bar, lunch now haphazardly strewn about the counter. Robin and Steve had caught Eddie up on everything that had happened in the 2 weeks he’d been gone and now it was their turn for questioning.

“Okay so wait, you’re saying you just…woke up? Like…like you’d been taking a power nap?” Robin asked, mouth half-stuffed with a potato chip.

Eddie, who had been artfully pushing food around to make it look like he’d been eating, shrugged, “Yea pretty much. I remember Dustin trying to keep me awake and then nothing. Then I just…woke up.”

Steve leaned over the bar, “And what about your injuries? Dustin thinks you’re dead because of those, and it looks like you got them years ago.”

“Ooh wait, I wanna see!” Robin launched herself at Eddie, pulling up his shirt to examine his scars. “Oh my god, where did they go?”

“That’s what I’m saying! They healed way faster than mine have,” Steve held his hands out, gesturing at Eddie’s torso. “Are you just some secret superhero or something?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right. Some superhero I’d be.”

“Eddie,” Robin soothed, “You almost died in there helping us. Most of us you didn’t even know that well.” She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight, “That sounds like a superhero to me.”

Stunned, Eddie blinked away tears, “Well hey,” he sniffed and cleared his throat, “Don’t go gettin’ all sappy on me, Buckley.”

A moment passed, and Robin gave Eddie a reassuring smile. Then she patted his shoulder and turned back to her plate. “So we havin’ a party or what?”

Eddie laughed, wiping the tear that had managed to escape with the back of his hand. “I don’t think I’m ready for a banquet thrown in my honor just yet.”

“Fair enough. Though ya know when you are I could probably rent some movies fr–oh shit…” She looked around frantically, “Steve what time is it?”

Steve stepped out of the kitchen for a moment and then returned, “It’s almost 2, why?”

“Shit!” she jumped to her feet and shoved the rest of her lunch into her mouth. “I haf to wohrk tooay aht two!” she managed around the mouthful.

Steve leaned over and grabbed his keys from a bowl on the counter, “Let me drive you. Eds, you gonna be okay here?”

Eddie beamed internally at the effortless tenderness of the nickname and nodded, “Not like I could go anywhere in this hellhole of a town even if I wanted to.”

Robin ran in the direction of the door, stopped short, spun around, and sprinted back to the kitchen, throwing her arms around Eddie one more time and swallowing hard. “Glad you’re not dead, doofus.”

He chuckled, hugging her back, “Me too, Birdie. See ya later,” he said, but she was already headed for the door again. She threw it open with abandon and disappeared into the late spring morning with Steve hot on her trail.

“Be back soon!” Steve called before closing the front door behind him.

Eddie spent the next few minutes sitting at the bar and looking around the kitchen, feeling like something was off. It happened slowly at first, but he felt a shiver up his spine, then a full body tingle like his limbs were falling asleep. He stood up and tried to shake it off, finding something, anything, to do. He gathered the leftovers from lunch and put them in a pyrex. He threw away the trash that had collected. He even managed to find a broom to sweep the floor.

No matter how much he moved, he still felt that horrible tingling. Like something was crawling under his skin and wrapping around all his nerves, invading his lungs, and cutting off his air. Suddenly, his body went rigid and he fell backward onto the tile.

Enjoying your time in Hawkins, Edward? Vecna’s voice echoed in Eddie’s mind, permeating all his faculties and making him break out in a cold sweat.

“What the hell do you want, you necrotic son-of-a-bitch?” Eddie spat breathlessly between clenched teeth.

I merely sought to remind you that you belong to me, Edward. I do not need you at present, however, I can guarantee that I will call upon you soon.

“Fat chance,” he coughed, “you can use me over my dead body.”

I think you are forgetting, Edward, that your body is already dead. I gave it to you for the time being, but when the time comes I will require it back. Oh and one more thing. Those vermin won’t sustain you for very much longer. And with that, the tendrils of control began slowly receding.

Air flooded into Eddie’s lungs and he lay on the tile floor gasping until he heard the front door open again.

“Hey, Eddie, I’m back!” Steve walked through the hall, keys jingling in his hand. They hit the floor the second he arrived in the kitchen to find Eddie curled up, face twisted in agony, clutching at his chest with shaky hands. “Oh my god, Eddie! Are you okay?” He pulled Eddie up to a seated position, one hand rubbing circles into his back and the other braced on his knees as Eddie caught his breath.

“Just–” Eddie choked, “slipped and had the wind knocked out of me. That’s all.”

Steve helped Eddie to his feet, “You look like hell. Do you need to go lie down or something?”

“Ya know, that’s not such a bad plan, could um…” Eddie hesitated. Steve had already done so much. Maybe just do everyone a favor and get the f–

His thought was interrupted by Steve slinging his arm around Eddie’s waist and drawing Eddie’s arm over his shoulder before standing up.

With the abrupt proximity, Eddie’s senses lit up. He felt the pulse in Steve’s fingertips, his heartbeat speeding up against his ribs, the smell of his car, and the late spring air. It made him dizzy and he tried to put space between them but he faltered, pressing his side further into Steve instead.

“Shit, Steve I–”

“Come on,” Steve cleared his throat and Eddie could feel the heat rising to his face as he looked away, “Let’s get you in bed.”

Eddie tried desperately not to notice the way Steve’s muscles moved under his skin or how small he felt as Steve practically carried him up the stairs. Hunger flowed through his veins and he had to swallow to keep saliva from dribbling out between his lips.

He didn’t understand. Fuck what Vecna had said; if he had gone out last night, which he was still trying his best to deny, he shouldn’t be hungry like this. The last time he’d eaten before that was almost two weeks ago and that had only been a few bats. He didn’t know how many animals he definitely hadn’t drained last night, but he shouldn't be hungry the next day.

But all the overthinking in the world couldn’t explain the way he was clinging to Steve as he helped him into bed. Or the spark that passed between them as they made eye contact. They stayed unmoving for a moment and then Steve said, louder than was necessary, “I’ll get you some water!”

He was back in less than a minute with a fresh glass of water which he placed next to Eddie beside the still-full glass from the night before. “Do you uh…can I get you anything else?”

Eddie sat, hands firmly interlocked, and shook his head. “Think I’m good, thanks,” he said, willing his heart rate to slow and his senses to dull.

Steve nodded, rocking back on his heels and backstepping toward the door. “‘Kay, well I’ll just be…”

“Steve…” Eddie stopped. Don’t do this, you idiot. You feel starved when he’s within a yard of you, his mind screamed at him. He pushed past it, “Do you wanna…hang out?”

“Oh…” Steve replied, “Su–uh–sure. What do you want to do?”

“I should probably stay in bed, so…”

Steve’s eyes widened, unsure of what to expect. He was already sure by the way Eddie had recoiled when Steve touched him that Eddie didn’t want him around.

But to his surprise, Eddie landed on, “...got any good books?”

“Uh…maybe? Give me 2 seconds.” Steve went to his room and searched through the bookshelves, but couldn’t find anything he thought Eddie might enjoy. Then, he remembered a gift Dustin had given him for his last birthday. He dug it out of what he thought would be its final resting place in the back of his shelf and strode back to the guest room.

“Tada!” Steve proclaimed, holding it up.

Eddie snickered, “You have a copy of The Hobbit?”

“I mean…yeah. Who doesn’t?” Steve tried to brush off his uncertainty. But when Eddie raised his brow and pursed his lips in doubt, he admitted, “Dustin gave it to me. I…haven’t read it.”

“Yea well, leave it to that kid to force his hobbies onto his friends. Ya know, I only got into comic books because the little twerp wouldn’t shut up about ‘em?”

Steve walked over to the bed and sat down beside Eddie, handing him the book. “No shit? He get you into this, too?”

Eddie gasped, “I beg your pardon, Stevie! If anyone got anyone into Tolkien, it was me.”

“I guess I just don’t get the big deal. I tried to read it once and the dude took like 6 pages describing one guy.”

Eddie gave Steve a knowing smile, “Okay so there’s this ring…”

Eddie had spent entirely too long telling Steve everything he could about The Hobbit, and now Steve was sitting next to him only half paying attention as he read aloud.

“Hey, Eddie can I ask you something?” Steve ventured in a break between chapters.

“Sure.”

Steve took a deep breath. “What’s going on with you? I know you just got back last night and all but…something seems off.”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie sighed, closing the book, “Sometimes I feel normal and sometimes I feel…I don’t know…sick?” He chose his words carefully. He wanted to be honest with Steve, but he also didn’t want to scare him. Or worse. He had selflessly offered Eddie a place to stay and hadn’t asked for anything in return. Not so much as his fair share of chores. The last thing Eddie wanted was to admit that he had a hankering for sanguine delights and ruin everything.

“Okay,” was all Steve said. He felt his irritation from earlier in the day bubbling to the surface. He looked like gears were grinding together in his mind and he was trying to make sense of them. After another moment, he added, “I trust you,” in a strained voice.

Eddie couldn’t even begin to understand why Steve would trust him. The one instruction Steve had given him the day they went into the Upside Down, don’t be a hero , he didn’t follow. He couldn’t even help Dustin in the end, because he’d gone and gotten himself wasted by some stupid flying rats.

Caught up in his thoughts, Eddie didn’t realize Steve had turned to him. There was a complicated look on his face. His brows were drawn together and there was a fire in his eyes. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d ya do it?”

Eddie shook his head, “I don’t–”

Steve felt his cheeks flush and his heart speed up with anger and he desperately tried to push it aside, “Dustin said you had distracted the bats. You were in the trailer with him. You could have gotten out. But then when he was safe, you cut the rope and ran back out there. Why’d you do that?” It didn’t sound like an accusation, but there was irritation beneath his words.

The pain he’d caused hit Eddie like a freight train. He stared down at the book, fiddling with a bit of the cover that had come loose. “I don’t really kno–”

Steve's words were quiet, but venom flowed through them, “Don’t give me that bullshit, man. You were home free, you’d done your part and you were almost out of there.” He hadn’t realized he had been increasing in volume but by the time he finished the sentence he was yelling. Anger spilled from his lips and he threw it at the man beside him, “Do you have any idea how devastated Dustin is? How devastated we all were when he limped out of that rift screaming your name?”

Eddie sat there, stunned into silence. He could feel a blaze in his gut being stoked with every word Steve slung at him.

Steve continued, “Not to mention your uncle! You may have heard me play that music but you should have seen his face, Eddie. He’s completely wrecked! You’re all he had. And then you woke up and, what, assumed everyone you knew would rather you stay that way?”

“I don’t know, Steve!” Eddie finally shouted, hurling himself out of the bed and away from the tension between them. “I don’t know, okay? I’ve already fucked up enough people’s lives, I figured…I don’t know.” He sank onto the floor. “I was wanted for murder, every fuckin’ person in town wanted me dead, anyway. It just…” tears welled up in his eyes and his voice broke, “seemed like I had the chance to do something heroic. And if I died, well…” he shrugged, “everyone would be better off either way.”

Steve's rage melted away as he watched Eddie sob on the floor of the guest room. “Eddie, I…” He crawled across the bed to sit beside him, “I’m sorry man, I just…everyone is really upset. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I know you just got back and you need time.” He bit his lip, clenching his fists in his lap, “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffed and ran his hands under his eyes, “No, you’re right. I know it’s selfish to let everyone think I’m dead. I just need a little more time. To figure out what’s going on with me or to just…I don’t know. I just need more time.”

Without warning, Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulled him tight against his chest. Neither of them said anything. They didn’t have to. Unspoken support passed between them and held Eddie up even as he cried into Steve’s shirt.

They sat like that for a long time, Eddie sniffling into Steve’s chest, neither of them speaking. When Eddie managed to catch his breath and inhale deeply, an overwhelming sense of Steve surrounded him. He could smell Steve’s shampoo and deodorant. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest. And despite that, he could also feel the way Steve’s hands trembled as they gripped Eddie’s shirt, the warm dampness that was collecting under his arms and chest, the way his heart seemed to be trying to break free from his ribs just like Eddie’s was.

Eddie reluctantly pulled back, “Sorry about that…I don’t usually get all emotional like that.”

Steve shook his head, “Not a problem,” and let his hands drop to his sides.

Silence stretched between them.

“I’m gonna go make some dinner,” Steve stood abruptly, “You want anything?”

You, a hungry voice growled in the back of Eddie’s mind. He squashed it down, replying instead, “No, I think I’d better just head to bed. Feeling a little dizzy.”

“All right. Well…I’ll see you in the morning…” Steve said as he shuffled awkwardly out of the room.

As the door closed behind him, Eddie stood and got back into his bed, lying on his side and curling into a ball. Buckle up, Munson. You are in some deep shit.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing

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deusvmachina · 1 year ago

Text

V listened without interrupting as he spoke. Her gaze would flicker between him and the fretboard after she had left her spot beside him to instead sit on the amp the guitar was plugged into. She messed with the dials a bit but once satisfied, she returned to jamming at a low volume. "Until I spent some time in the Badlands lately, I forgot what quiet sounded like," she replied, her voice its usual low rasp. "I get it though. Bein' stuck in your head when you're alone makes you jus' wanna drown out all thoughts." It's why V tended to listen to music a lot whenever she found the time to actually be in her apartment between gigs. She would blast it in the car, too, especially when she was driving out in the badlands on her way to the nomad camp.

But... she was never truly alone. Not as long as the biochip was slotted into her head. Johnny Silverhand, V's own personal angel slash devil on her shoulder combo. "They become lyrics sometimes, huh? A tune you can shred out on guitar and scream to the masses." Her fingers slid along the strings as she practiced a solo, one that she muttered the lyrics out loud to, "I'd sell my soul for you, babe. What's money to burn for you, for you? I'd give you all, and have none, babe—" When she was done playing the last note, V looked up at Kerry again with a smirk. "Hey, ever consider doing a cover of 'Rebel Yell'? Think you'd nail it." He had the vocal range, the same energy.

A chuckle then, "So, you've got a kid?" She had to admit, prior to Johnny introducing them (sort of), she didn't tune into the screamsheets often. Didn't care much for celebrity life at all, really. Sure, V had met and was hired by Lizzy Wizzy and then talked to her again in Dogtown but she wasn't the type to get starstruck. She met celebrities every other day. Brushed shoulders with politicians, medias, BD stars, company figureheads on the regular. Most she personally didn't even like let alone could stand—if not for the eddies. In less than a year she became a known quantity herself but met few she would ever spent time alone with. Like how she was alone with Kerry right now. It was clear that Johnny cared about him and, well, so did V.

His expression faltered. Wasn't keen on being called on it. Some would usually take it as a sign to leave well enough alone, but if Johnny knew about that screamsheet shit about his mental health, he guessed V must've likely had an idea of it too. Great. Just what he fuckin' needed.

Not like he wasn't already used to the whole damn world trying to get into his biz, though. Least V's intentions were purer than most.

"May not be media, but I'll damned if y'don't sound like my media daughter with the fuss you're makin' over me," Kerry chuckled a bit humorlessly.

"Like you said, though. Bound t'get lonely up there. All quiet. Hate the quiet. Johnny could prol'ly tell ya. At least the alone type'a quiet. This sorta quiet? It's fine. Great even. Just... get way too much into my own head sometimes." It was a bit too open for his liking, but he'd managed to force the words out of himself.

#boatdriinks

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loveshotzz · 2 years ago

Text

Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader / Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Steve find comfort in each trying to mend your broken hearts. When you two cross the line at Steve’s New Year’s Eve party feelings start to get involved. When your best friend Eddie finds out, despite dating Chrissy he finds himself jealous realizing he might be be too late.

Warnings: We got angst, we got fluff and most importantly we got smut. Minors, this isn’t for you.

Authors Note: This is part two of three (maybe four) of this short series, I am so overwhelmed with all the positive responses to this story. I feel really proud of this chapter, hopefully it’s not false confidence. Comments, reblogs and likes are always so appreciated. Thank you to everyone who is reading my work, it means the world to me.

Tag list: @emotionaldreamer @munsonology @sillypurplemurple @justpeachy46 @sammararaven @bebe0701 @sunfairyy @santaatemypuppy @whoreforhowl @harrys-tittie @heyyimmisunderstood @reidsgubbler @aloneatpeace

“The fuck you mean Harrington’s picking you up?”

Eddie sounds stunned at the new information you’ve given to him. Sprawled out on his unkept bed you peak over the top of the magazine you’d been ‘reading’. He’s sitting on the chair next to you the one that’s usually covered in a pile of a random mixture of both your clothes. These day’s it’s mostly just his, your eyes had managed to catch the white and green of a Hawkins cheer skirt the last time you were here, the sight adding more to the growing distance between you and your best friend. The said pile of clothes was now shoved on the floor beside him, their new home while he practices whatever guitar solo he’s currently obsessed with.

“I said I can’t watch Wrestling with you tonight-” Eddie cuts you off before you can finish.

“—Because Steve “The Hair” Harrington is picking you up.” Setting his guitar down next to him, he tries to read your blank expression. You’d been even more distant with him lately and there was a new added layer of coldness since New Years he didn’t understand. Barely seeing you over the last two weeks, he was only able to coax you over here under the guise of a blunt and the promise of best friend time something that lacked since Chrissy.

“Yes, what’s so hard to understand about that Eddie?” Rolling your eyes, you pull the magazine back up blocking his view. From your peripheral’s you see him sit back in his chair, brown eyes burning holes into the front of your magazine.

“Since when do you and Steve hang out? Like outside of group stuff?” Eddie’s cautious when he asks you, trying to sound as unreadable as your face.

You answer him without moving an inch “Steve and I hang out a lot actually. You would know, but you’ve been a little pre occupied.” You flip the page of the magazine doing your best to seem as if you were actually reading what was in front of you. “Why don’t you invite Chrissy?”

The silence that falls between the two of you after the question leaves your mouth is deafening. When you turn the page again it sounds as loud as a freight train.

“Did you fuck Steve Harrington?” Eddie spits pushing his chair back as he stands up, his tall lanky frame towering over you. His outburst makes the magazine fly from your hands when you jump hitting his headboard with a loud thump. Your own anger that had already been at a slow simmer starts to bubble, threatening to spill over. How dare he question who you’ve fucked like that? Like it broke his fucking heart.

“Did you fuck Steve Harrington on New Years Eve?” His eye brows raise as his arms cross over his chest, covering the Metallica logo on his shirt. “Cause you definitely didn’t catch a ride with me.”

“I don’t really think that’s any of your business.” Your voice is even with your last shred of self control. Pushing yourself off his bed to stand in front of him, Chest puffed out, your stance would’ve been more intimidating if you didn’t have to look up at him. “Besides you had to take Chrissy home right Eddie? Your girlfriend.”

Eddie just stares at you for what seems like forever, you watch a string of emotions dance behind his eyes that really shouldn’t be there.

“Just answer me please.” His voice comes out just above a whisper, his doe eyes look almost pleading as they search yours for an answer.

A shaky breath leaves your chest, finally hitting your tipping point. His confusing behavior enraging you, clenching your fists you stand up on your tippy toes making sure he can see your face clear as day when you tell him what he’s been wanting to hear you say this whole time.

“Yeah, I fucked Steve Harrington on New Years Eve. And guess what Munson? I’ve been fucking him almost every night since.” He winces when the words finally leave your mouth. You’re not sure if it’s the candid information or the use of his last name. It was something you never called him, you were too close for that. Or at least you used to be. His arms fall to his sides defeated looking at anything but at you.

His reaction makes you fall back on your heels, rubbing a hand over your face trying to calm yourself down. You never wanted it to be like this.

“Why does it matter to you so much?”

Eddie just stares at you. His mouth opens and closes a few times as if he were about to speak but no words come out. He doesn’t know how to answer, because he knows it shouldn’t matter. But it does, god it does.

Rolling your eyes you decide to make your exit, grabbing your black denim jacket from the end of his bed. Your determined steps falter half way across his room at the sound of his voice.

“Wasn’t he just trying to get Nancy back?”

Turning on your heel, you feel like smoke could be coming out of your ears at his audacity.

“Yeah, so what? He’s not my boyfriend.”

His eyes soften when they fall on you, realizing how pretty you actually look tonight despite the murderous glint in your eyes. The black corduroy pants you wore were more form fitting then normal, highlighting all the best parts of you. Your lavender sweater looked soft to the touch and it wasn’t something he had ever seen you wear before, a slight hint of cleavage peaking from the top. Something else he definitely hadn’t seen before.

This was a date outfit. A date outfit for Steve Harrington.

“I just don’t want you to be someone’s second choice is all.” Eddie finally finds his voice and it doesn’t sound as strong as he’d like considering he started this fight.

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time.” You snap, all the tension in your shoulders releasing.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, head spinning, he can’t get words out of his mouth fast enough. It’s only when you turn back around grabbing your converse off the floor and head out his open bedroom door but it’s already too late.

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?”

His feet won’t move from their place next to his bed and you won’t give him an answer as you slam the front door behind you.

The walk back to your place is short, only living a few doors down from him. Something you used to love. There’s a part of you that wishes you’d hear another slam of his front door behind you, demanding you two talk this out but it never comes. Just the sound of your shoes crunching through the gravel fill the quiet, your shallow breathing coming out in white smoke clouds in the cool of the night.

Reaching the front steps of your house, the light in your living room catches your eye. Not in the mood to face your mother right now you turn around plopping yourself down on the top of your porch steps. Glancing down at your watch, you decide waiting out here for Steve is the best option.

The absurd thought that rich boy Steve Harrington was on his way to pick you up from the trailer park to take you on date brings a small smile to your lips. It almost makes you forget about the metal head a few doors down, his bedroom light still visible from your place on the porch.

The sound of tires against the rocky gravel catches your ears snapping your attention to the headlights of his car. They temporarily blind you as he gets closer making you unable to see Eddie watch Steve pull up from his window.

Looking down at your watch again your smile grows so much it takes over your whole face, Steve was even a little early. The thought of him being excited to spend time with you made you feel special, something you’d convinced yourself only Eddie could do.

“A little cold to be waiting outside isn’t it?” Steve questions as he opens his car door, brows furrowed in confusion but his lips tugging into a playful smirk. The expression makes you want to kiss him.

“What are you talking about? It’s an Indian Summer out here.” Choosing to crack a joke rather than tell him the truth, you’re satisfied when he laughs.

Steve looked especially good tonight, his hair a perfect mess on his head, a dark grey jacket covering his navy sweater, when your hungry eyes get to his jeans they widen recognizing them immediately. Those jeans. That night in his basement floods your conscious and you find yourself tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, cheeks heating up at the thought. Steve catches your reaction as he reaches the bottom of your porch extending his hand out for you to take.

“Funny enough, these have become my favorite pants.” Your blush deepens further, your body reacting to his words. Taking his hand the warmth of his palm against yours comforts your tense mood almost immediately. Eddie becoming a distant thought. Steve’s eyes roam your body unabashedly as you walk down the steps stopping in front of him once you hit the bottom. His height makes you have to crane your neck up so you can see him better, and it’s way too easy to get lost in his Hazel eyes. Letting go of your hand he pulls you against him by your hips, your hands finding their natural place splayed out across his broad chest.

“You look really beautiful tonight.” He smiles, one hand reaching to cup your cheek his eyes locked on yours. He needs you to know he means every word he says.

“I might’ve tried a little.” You’re voice comes out quieter then you’d like, his close proximity making you light headed as the mint of his breath swirls around your senses. Steve’s full attention is on you and it’s overwhelming. It’s never something you thought in a million years would be directed at you, not like this. You’d never admit it to him but you don’t know how any girl could say no to him when he was looking at them like this.

His face inches closer and you can feel the smile on his lips against yours as he speaks “Just a little huh?” Losing your patience, your need to kiss him becomes all consuming something you were try to get used too. Your hands slide up his chest wrapping around his neck pulling him in to get what you want, and you know he’ll gladly give it to you.

Steve’s lips move slowly against yours at first, savoring the feeling having not seen you for a whole twenty four hours. When his tongue swipes against your bottom lip needing to deepen the kiss, you grant him access almost instantly. He was starting to figure what you liked, how to get your body to respond to him. The two of you had spent almost every other night together since the party, learning your body had become one of his favorite things to do. He’d catch himself imagining all the little noises you’d make when he’d be buried inside of you anytime he had to take care of himself. Steve couldn’t get enough of you. Pushing you into the side of his car, his hands slide underneath your sweater, thumbs brushing against the underside of your lace covered breasts. His knee pushing your legs apart so he can get even closer. Chests pressed together, your fingers inevitably find themselves buried in his soft hair tugging lightly getting the moan you want.

Finding the will power to pull away from you was a lot for him but when Steve finally finds the strength to do it, the whine that leaves your mouth makes it even harder to not give you what you want.

“We should go.” Steve presses his forehead against yours, still catching his breath as he speaks. His eyes never leave yours as he pulls a hand from under your sweater to tuck a lose strand of hair behind your ears. The loving gesture makes you blush and you have to stop yourself from looking away at the intimacy of it all. “I made us reservations at Enzos.”

You feel like your eyes might pop out of your head when he tells you this thinking you were just gonna go to the diner. “Steve! That’s expensive!”

Ignoring your dramatics he just shrugs. “It’s the first time I’m taking you out, I wanted it to feel special.” His tone sounds nonchalant but the look in his eyes is nervous searching your features for any kind of reaction the first time making his intentions fully known.

The word special rings through your body like a church bell. This was more to him then just a comfort now. The small voice inside your head nagging at you for the past week that it was turning into more then that for you, but you kept shoving it down, ignoring it. How could you feel that way about two people?

“Well, I consider this an honor Mr. Harrington.” Your flirty tone mixed with the twinkle in your eyes makes him bite his bottom lip in a smile.

Pleased with your response his dark eyes stay trained on yours, the hand that’s still under your sweater trails down your stomach. Goosebumps dance across your skin following his finger tips, your breath catching in your throat at the intensity in his stare. When his fingers hit the top of your pants he tugs lightly before pulling away to open the car door behind you. A knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Come on, I’ll even let you torture me with whatever music you want on the ride there.” He moves over slightly to give you room his arm resting on the top of the door. Steve was laying it on thick for you tonight. It takes you a second to find your feet against the ground processing the words that left his mouth at the same time but when your brain finally emerges from the lusty haze you give him an exaggerated scoff.

“Torture? More like teach you what good music actually is.” You pat his cheek mockingly before sliding into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, yeah don’t make me change my mind y/n” Rolling his eyes he shuts the door, the warmth of his car is welcoming and the smell of cedar and leather envelopes you like a blanket. Steve’s scent was the polar opposite of Eddie’s, one that you thought would always be your favorite. But there was something in the way that Steve’s smell comforted you tonight, it was becoming almost intoxicating.

When Steve gets into the car, it grows ten fold making you dizzy.

“Buckle up young lady.” He looks pointedly at your unbuckled seat belt as his clicks into place.

“Sure thing mom.” You tease with a smirk mirroring his actions with a soft click of your own settling into the leather seat.

“You know, that nick name wasn’t funny when Robin said it, and It’s still not funny even when you say it. No special treatment just because I like you.” It falls out of Steve’s mouth so casually. His confidence when it came to expressing his feelings always took you by surprise, Steve was always so sure about his feelings once they were fully realized. A trait you were always jealous of.

“Well I still think it’s funny, that’s the only thing that really matters here anyway” you shrug trying to keep your best poker face.

“That’s exactly the kind of attitude I’d expect from you, so predictable.” He’s smiling as he mocks you checking his mirrors, your own grin pulling at your lips.

“Is that Munson being a creep?” His question pops the bubble you had built around the two of you, the mention of his name hits like a knife. The look in his eyes haunting you when you had told him what he had been begging to hear. Your eyes glance to his side view mirror, your able to make out his figure in the bedroom window. The soft glow behind him blocking any real details of his face, the outline of his wild mane giving him away. You stomach sinks at the sight, had he been watching this whole time?

Grabbing onto Steve’s thigh you squeeze lightly encouraging him the best you can.

“Who cares, let’s just go.”

He searches your eyes for anything that might give your feelings away but when he can’t find any he nods curtly turning the key into the ignition. The engine gives a low rumble as he puts the car in drive, keeping your hand on Steve’s thigh your eyes wander back to the mirror watching his bedroom light flick off behind you.

It was hard to feel out of place any where when you were with Steve Harrington, especially a place like Enzo’s. Tucked into the corner booth there was a lot of things on the menu that you didn’t really recognize. Your mom had been the only source of income until you became old enough to finally help out, so you never had the money to eat at places like this.

Steve’s eyes never show a trace of judgement when you ask him questions about the menu. His hand finding your knee under the table squeezing encouragingly after each one, he just wants you to feel comfortable and the gesture gives you butterflies. Despite your curiosity you go with what you know, too scared to order something you might not like, especially after seeing the prices next to each dish.

“Family Video must be paying you a pretty penny huh?” You quip swirling your straw.

“I do work full time and live with my parents rent free, I think I can afford to buy you a nice dinner.” Leaning back his arms stretch across the short banquette, with his jacket off you get a clear view of the muscular planes of his chest. Your eyes zeroing in on the spot you knew your favorite patch of chest hair resided underneath the thick fabric of his sweater. Licking your lips you have to tear your eyes away, the amused expression on his faces gives away that you’ve been caught.

“See something you like?” You don’t know if you wanna smack or kiss the cocky grin right off Steve Harrington’s face.

“So what if I do?” Leaning forward on the table you give him a better view of the cleavage his eyes have been darting to all night. “What are you gonna do about it Harrington?”

Steve’s eyes darken with want at your open advances, looking around he makes sure no one is paying attention to the two of you before leaning over the table. His face inches from yours and it takes everything inside of you not to close the small gap. His lips looking dangerously inviting when his tongue peaks out to wet them.

“I’ve got a lot planned for you after dinner baby.” His voice is low and it makes you press your thighs together. “You thought I was just gonna take you home after this sweetheart? I can’t let you go home with out at least cumming twice.”

“Stev-“ Your words are cut short by two steaming plates of pasta being presented in front of you. Steve can’t wipe the smirk off his face when he leans back against his seat leaving room for the waiter with a polite nod. Speechless you can’t find your voice as they start shredding parmesan over your dish unable to focus on anything else.

“Like I said, I just want to make you feel special.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye when he tells you this in front of the server. Your cheeks turning a deep red at the subtle meaning in his words.

“I appreciate that Steve, that’s very sweet of you.” The words leaving your mouth were innocent enough but under the table your foot starts sliding up his leg. Your actions making him choke on the water he had foolishly started sipping before waving the cheese away.

“That’s enough thanks.” His voice cracks when he talks and you have to stifle a giggle.

When you server leaves Steve’s hand shoot under the table wrapping around your ankle to stop your teasing. Jutting your bottom lip out you pretend to pout.

“You’re no fun Stevie.”

Arching an eye brow at you he rests your foot on his lap, the hand thats wrapped around you starts moving its way up your calf, his finger tips sending electric currents to your core making you start to wiggle in your seat.

“Yeah, it’s not so fun when it’s done to you huh?” Giving your calf a gentle squeeze he sets your leg back down flashing you a quick wink. “Why don’t you be a good girl for me and eat?”

If you didn’t know any better, Steve Harrington had a kink of getting you wet in public.

“Sure.” Darting your tongue out to lick your bottom lip you watch his eyes follow “Anything you say daddy.”

This was your revenge.

You don’t give him the acknowledgement for a response turning your attention down to your noodles, twirling them in your fork before stuffing the bite in your mouth. It was so good you had to stifle the moan begging to fall out. When it’s half way chewed you decide to finally look back up at him his hungry stare still in place, his eyes barely recognizable as they devour you.

“We’re probably not staying for desert.” He finally says before grabbing his napkin shaking it lose on his lap and you cant help but wonder if its working over time to hide the erection straining against his pants now.

Steve’s threat is empty because when you ask for a slice of chocolate cake after dinner he can’t say no to you. Something Steve was realizing was hard for him to do, determined to give you anything you want because he feels like you deserve it more then anyone.

Steve’s name falls from your lips breathlessly as he’s working you to your second orgasm of the night, keeping his promise from earlier. Pulled over in a secluded spot by lovers lake, both of you are in the back seat of his car. The fog on the windows blocks the view from outside, the moons glow softening as it breaks through the vapor. Your clothes are in a messy pile the the floor, his strewn about all over the front. Bouncing on Steve’s cock with your legs on either side of him, your nails are dug into his shoulders while your right nipple sits in his mouth tongue swirling around the swollen nub. You’ve never felt this good, his touch igniting a fire inside of you that only he could put out.

“Fuck -Steve -you feel so good” Your words are broken up with each of his hard thrusts, his fingers digging into the curves of your hips as your nipple falls from his mouth with a loud pop.

“God your pussy is so tight baby, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” Slowing his hips the grip on your soft skin tightens holding you completely still. “Just sit here for a moment. I just want to feel you.”

There’s an intensity in Steve’s eyes when they stare deeply into yours, the emotions dancing behind them almost overwhelm you. His finger tips start their path over the soft curves of your body. The light sheen of sweat on your skin makes you glow when the moonlight hits you from certain angles and it takes it his breath away. Something you had a bad habit of doing to him. Tracing up your sides, hitting the supple flesh of your breasts, they dip behind you slowly running down your spine with such softness it’s like he’s scared you might break.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner.” The sincerity in his eyes makes you almost have to look away. “I don’t know how I could miss all of this in front of me.”

His words are almost enough to make the water pooling in your eyes spill over. No one ever looking at you the way he was right now, not even Eddie. Like you were the grand prize and he just won the lottery.

“Steve.” His name comes out in a whisper, not trusting your voice. “It wasn’t just you, we both were distracted.” Reaching out your finger tips trace along his jaw line before you cup his cheek in your hand. Pressing his face further into your palm, one hand leaves the spot on your waist to press on top of yours. Turning slightly he plants a light kiss on your wrist before you feel his hips slowly roll up into you again. This new pace makes you feel every inch and curve of him against your walls.

“No more distractions y/n” he groans when your hips meet his, head falling back against the seat. Your hand sliding from his cheek down to his chest, fingers finding themselves in the patch of hair that consumed your thoughts at dinner. Your nails scraping against his skin when he hits the spot that makes you see stars your own hips meeting his.

“Keep talking to me like that Harrington I might think you’re falling in love with me.” His eyes snap open at your light teasing, reaching out his hands they cup your cheeks like you did to him on New Years. The silence between you two as he holds your gaze is filled with unspoken words neither one of you are willing to say out loud yet.

“I just need you understand how special you are y/n, you’re no one’s second choice.”

Steve’s admission mixed with his slow methodical thrusts is enough to bring you to the brink of your second orgasm, your walls fluttering around him as his pace picks up. His hands leaving their place on your cheeks back to your hips, his thrusts becoming more determined feeling you close to coming undone around him.

“Steve-fuck” Your breathless as you do you best to keep up with his pace faltering every time he hits that spongy spot deep inside of you.

“Look at me. Look at me when you cum, I wanna watch you fall apart.” It’s hard for you to keep your grip on Steve the sweat on your bodies causing you to slide off his lap. Your hands find their way back to his shoulders fingers digging in to keep your balance, the coil in your stomach ready to snap.

“I’m gonna cum baby. “ your voice is broken into a whine when his grip tightens locking you in place, his pace turning almost punishing.

“Shit, I love when you call me that.” Steve grunts before pushing himself in as deep as he can go, bottoming out inside your tight walls.

The depth he hits you at sends you tumbling over the edge, your eyes closing tight, body shaking on top of his, your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“That’s it baby, that’s fucking it.” He groans his cock twitching deep inside or you, painting your Insides as his own orgasm rocks through his body. His grip on your hips so tight you know it’s going to leave bruises.

When you finally come down your body goes limp on top of his, sweaty foreheads pressed together, panting as the aftershock rolls through your bodies. Steve’s the only thing keeping you grounded as you recover from the intensity of your orgasm.

“Fuck- how does it keep getting better every time.” Steve grins a breathy laugh leaving his mouth as he leans back to look at the beautiful mess he made of you.

“We’ve got great chemistry Harrington.” You smile leaning forward to capture his lips and you can still taste yourself from the first time he made you cum.

“I think I much prefer when you call me baby, Harrington seems a little formal for someone who’s sitting inside you right now.” He arches an eye brow testing the waters and you feel ridiculous for blushing even with him softening inside of you.

“We might be able to work something out.” You give biting your lip looking at him through your eyelashes still bashful.

“Whatever your comfortable with sweetheart.” He smiles sweetly cupping your face between his hands again pressing soft kisses to your swollen lips.

In this moment you think it might you that’s falling for Steve Harrington.

The drive back to your trailer is filled with relaxed silence, Steve’s fingers are interlocked with yours pulling your hand up to his lips every so often press kisses on the back of it. Each time earning a deep blush from you encouraging him. It was almost criminal how content you felt despite how your evening started with Eddie. Steve made you feel safe with him - secure, a feeling that was almost completely foreign to you.

When his car pulls up to your trailer, neither one of you are really ready to say goodbye.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” He asks lifting your hand to his lips one more time getting the reaction he was searching for.

“Of course, you thought you had to ask?“ You tease mirroring his actions bringing his hand up to your lips and it makes his own cheeks turn red in a smile.

“I was just being polite, you were gonna see me whether you wanted to or not.” Smirking he leans over the center console to claim your lips one last time before letting you go. Chasing his for one more when he pulls away, both of you grin wide into the kiss.

“I’ll call you tomorrow sweetheart.” All you can do is nod too giddy to find the words your looking for.

When you open the door the cold breeze that hits you is a stark contrast from the warmth of Steve’s car and you immediately wish you were back inside.

“Thanks for tonight.” You finally give turning around not ready to shut the door.

“Anything for you.” There’s an intensity behind his words despite the goofy smirk that’s plastered on his face.

“Goodnight Steve.”

“Good night baby.” The nick names send you reeling when it’s not being used during sex. Shutting his door you can’t help but watch his car until the headlights disappear turning onto the main road.

There’s a small squeal that leaves your mouth when you jump up and down excitement bursting at your seams, tonight changed your trajectory with the king of Hawkins. You weren’t just something casual to him anymore, Steve made that more then obvious.

“Fun date?”

Eddie’s voice startles you, turning around you can barely make out the outline of him sitting on his porch steps, the lit ember of cigarette casting a light glow across his face.

“Yeah, actually it was.” All the anger from earlier that you had managed to shove down comes bubbling back up to the surface.

There’s a sarcastic chuckle that leaves his mouth before flicking the cigarette towards the ground standing up. The silence between you two is heavy, the pop of the gravel beneath his feet sound like bombs exploding as he makes his way towards you.

“I’m not in the mood to fight Eddie.” Sighing loudly you cross your arms across you chest.

“Who said I’m here to fight?” There’s something you can’t decipher hidden behind his chocolate eyes when he stops in front of you.

“Then what is it? It’s cold and it’s late.” Raising your eyebrows in question you can’t help but notice the way his eyes dart between you and your lips.

Eddie takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from your folded arms making you look up to meet his gaze.

“You do look really beautiful tonight, Steve was right.” Reaching out he tucks your hair behind your ears, reminding you of Steve, there’s guilt that washes over you when your body reacts to his touch.

“What’d you mean when you said it wouldn’t be the first time?” Eddie’s eyes search yours hoping to find the answer hidden inside, his warm hand cupping your cheek the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin.

“Eddie I’m not in the-“ When his lips crash into yours it takes you a minute to comprehend what exactly is happening. You hate that when you do your hands reach out to pull him closer earning a low growl from his chest, pushing you against the side of your trailer. The sound of your bodies connecting to the metal of your house rings out loudly in the dead of night. If you weren’t so consumed by Eddie swiping his tongue against your bottom lip you’d be scared you woke your mom up.

The moan that leaves your mouth when your tongues connect makes him grab your legs picking you up wrapping yourself around his waist. It’s everything you had thought It would be, all of your hidden feelings pouring into each other. The inside of his mouth tastes like tobacco and you can’t seem to get enough.

When his lips break away from yours to start trailing sloppy kisses down your neck your finally are able to come to your senses shoving him away.

“Eddie- Eddie stop!” You manage to get out, wiggling out of his grasp planting both feet on the ground.

Eddie’s eyes look wild when he finally steps away from you, like something was woken up inside of him, he feels stupid that he didn’t see this before. His chest moves up and down in rapid succession trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck!” it comes out in almost a yell as turns around kicking the rocks beneath his feet needing somewhere to release his frustrations with himself. The guilt of Chrissy and the jealousy of you was becoming to much for him at the realization of his feelings for you.

Fuck was right.

Part Three

#steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #joe keery #joseph quinn #steve harrington imagines #eddie x reader

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imma-devil · 2 years ago

Note

could you do an eddie munson x reader where the reader and eddie are friends and reader accidentally finds a journal eddie keeps of secret stuff, you know ;) and every innocent friend touch and interaction sends them into a frenzy until eddie finally confronts her about it

Paranoid | e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: An unintentional invasion of privacy leads to the reader finding something that may be the spark in their changing friendship with Hawkin’s resident rockstar— Eddie Munson.

Warning: 18+ Smut (MINORS DNI), reckless driving, mentions of underage alcohol and drug use.

Tags: no use of y/n, Gareth and Jeff are your friends, Wayne is a good uncle, friends to lovers trope, established friendship, you are the same age as Eddie, mutual pining, some fluff, some smut, two horny teenagers, drunk Eddie (not during any NSFW moments!!), slight switch!Eddie, slight switch!reader, grinding, dry humping, hickies, love bites, thighsss, hair pulling (male!receiving), slight choking if you squint (fem!receiving), no p in v sex, no intercourse, essentially just an intense make-out session, not a lot of proofreading.

Word count: 5,000+

A/N: I hope this is something along the lines of what you were looking for. I kinda got carried away with creative liberties and this is what I came up with. I didn’t go into any heavy smut, but if you’d like a part two, I’m sure I can work something out.

Please do not steal my work. Do not repost without credit. This writing, besides the original content belonging to Stranger Things, belongs to me.

Gareth―the drummer for Corroded Coffin, Hellfire Club member, and your friend, was sitting in the back seat of your car, strumming his fingers wildly against the headrest of Eddie’s seat. His eyes were clenched in intense song, while practically squealing the lyrics to Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, which was blasting from your car radio. Jeff, the band’s bassist, was grooving in his seat, occasionally laughing at his friend’s antics beside him. Eddie on the other hand―he was sitting in the passenger’s seat with his leg angled to the air, using the limb for an air guitar solo while enthusiastically mirroring the guitar's whine with his mouth. You could be seen driving behind the steering wheel, drumming your hands against its surface while bobbing your head to the rhythm; and undoubtedly pushing the speed limit by just a slight amount.

The road, besides the chaos erupting from your car, was relatively quiet. You had just picked up Eddie from his place, which was a little ways away from the rest of town. That’s why you were confident in driving down the stretch of open road—especially since you doubted anyone ahead would miss you, knowing that if there was an exact definition for ‘disturbing the peace’—you’d be it.

The lot of you were going to a small carpark on the other side of town—fully prepared to indulge in outcast behavior and full-teenage rebellion while enjoying the greatest extent Hawkins had to offer of rock’n’roll music and cheap beer. Apparently, Eddie had gotten an invite from someone in your senior class, who had graduated alongside you a few years prior. Eddie, unfortunately, had been held back for two years, but that didn’t hinder your friendship or his contact with his old friends.

The reason why you were all funneled into one car was that only one of you was drive certified and reliable enough to get you all safely home. You had resigned yourself to becoming the night’s chauffeur, opting to stay sober so that your friends could get shit-faced instead.

After a moment of letting Eddie enjoy his fun, you slapped his foot away from the dash, “You can break your leg like that if we crash—” you playfully scolded.

“...Well?” Eddie started, dramatically turning his face towards yours, “—then, don’t crash.”

The rest of the car ride was more of the same. The group was shamelessly shouting along to metal lyrics, dancing to the hard rush of the drums and shrill shred of the guitar—booing once the tape came to an end... only to flip the cassette again and begin anew.

By the time the car was pulled in park, Eddie launched from the passenger’s side door with an air solo and the stage moves of a classic guitarist. Quite a few eyes were drawn to the charade, grinning at the burst of energy that the tall musician brought to the party. Jeff and Gareth were just as excited, but far more reserved than their club leader—though, they followed the boy nonetheless. So, they were slightly confused when the lanky guitarist staggered for a moment; the teen unusually holding himself in place. Their confusion was quickly corrected when they realized that he was eagerly waiting for you to take your place at his side, kicking into a full stride once he realized you were in tow with him.

The two boys exchanged a knowing look, withholding their laughter as they joined you and Eddie in your pursuit towards the makeshift stage. In the large patch of grass, a set of wooden pallets were aligned to form a surface raised from the dirt. Atop the shabby setup were a few unmanned instruments and a stereo system, connected to two comically large speakers. A gaudy, orange cable was hooked up to the electrical equipment—trailing through the grass and disappearing into a wooden shack that likely held yard-keeping tools.

“Ooo— freaky murder shed?” Eddie theorized in a ghostly voice, wiggling his fingers for added flair.

“Yeah, man...” Gareth huffed through a smile, “—go check it out!”

“He’s right, Eddie...” You coaxed in a voice, soaked in faux support. “Maybe if you go check it out, you can prove if it really is a murder shed?”

You drilled on with sarcastic enthusiasm, “—if you don’t come back, then I guess your theory ‘ll be proven correct?”

Eddie scoffed, covering his heart with his hand. “I’m starting to think that the murder shed belongs to you!” He concludes, pointing at you with an accusatory finger.

Jeff braced his arm in front of you, gasping with untamable excitement. “Someone’s about to play!” He hissed, repeatedly tapping your arm in hopes to gain your, already captured, attention.

The rest of the group looked to the stage, settling their eyes on the man who was hoisting his guitar strap over his head. The man was already making sure the guitar was in tune when Eddie clasped his hands on both of your shoulders, shaking you slightly while emanating joyous, animated laughter. You could feel the added twinge of pressure from his rings being pressed into your skin.

It wasn’t long before someone pressed play into the next song, kicking into one of the many of Judas Priest’s greatest hits. Not a second after, the guitarist began playing along—occasionally adding original renditions to spice up the, already, exhilarating atmosphere. The small crowd was absorbed into the moment; few simply nodded their heads to the tempo and others were all out throwing their body into the song. One could say that Eddie was a mixture of the two, a can of beer in hand, rocking his head and swinging his hips asynchronously to the music.

You loved seeing him like this—in his element, with little worries and lots of fun. If it meant that you had to take off work to ensure that he would be happy, you’d feel that it was worth it. Though, Eddie knew nothing of that—and you’d like to keep it that way.

You had stayed for nearly two-three hours, listening to different amateur musicians from in-and-around Hawkins, who came to strictly jam out to music and enjoy the cheap thrills of convenience store liquor. Most of the music was courtesy of a couple mixtapes, lent to the host by friends and a few people in the small crowd. Gareth was giddy, midway through his third beer and subsequently cut off when he tripped at a complete standstill. Of his pure volition, he was currently lying in the backseat of the car, taking the nap of his year while clutching an empty can to his chest like a child’s stuffed doll. Jeff chose to join him, stopping himself while still relatively sober, and leaning up against the car door. Eddie was well into his sixth or seventh, desperately trying to withhold the beverage from you when you tried to convince him that he’d appreciate the gesture in the morning.

His back was pressed onto a streetlamp and he lazily warped his body around yours, using one hand to hold you close while extending the other behind your back to protect his drink. “We can stay just a lil’ more...” he assured, his words a little slurred, but still easily understood. “—please?”

“If we stay any longer, I’m worried Gareth might evict me from my own car...” you purposefully whined, topping it off with a chuckle.

Eddie groaned, dramatically slumping his head onto your shoulder with a dull thud. “Pleaaase?” He grumbled, muffling his voice into your shirt to the point of barely being audible.

“I wanna stay with you longer...” He pressed, throwing his head back to exaggerate his words. You just managed to shield his head with your hand when it bumped against the metal pole, sounding a chime.

Admittedly, you enjoyed his current clinginess a little more than you should have. “You will, Eddie...” You explained, “I have to drop off Gareth and Jeff before you— so we can hang out as long as you want... in the car.”

Eddie allowed himself to slide down the pole slightly in defeat, sighing as he did so. He voiced his dreaded surrender in an octave so low, that it could barely be registered as words: “...alright.”

He drew in his arm with his beer; the can, wobbling slightly when his elbow dinged against the pole in a sloppy manner. He handed the beverage to you, gazing at it longingly once it was in your grasp.

You downed the little amount of liquid on your way to the car with your arm wrapped around his waist. Getting Eddie into the passenger seat wasn’t as difficult as you expected it to be— Eddie complied with your instructions after you patiently listened to his ramblings.

On the drive back, it was calmly quiet. Gareth was still sleeping, this time with his head leaned up against the window and his back to the seat. Jeff was naturally reserved, only ever breaking away from his thoughts when he heard Gareth emit a sleepy sound or snore. The car radio was on a lower volume, drilling out a muffled sound to accompany the roll of the tires against the road. Eddie was willing himself to stay awake through his growing drowsiness. His eyes were hooded with alcohol and he kept switching his attention from his reflection in the passenger’s side window, the road in front of you, and your face. He would make an occasional sound, whether it was a hum or the licking of his lips, likely to reaffirm to himself that he was there and not asleep. However, by the time Gareth and Jeff were both dropped off at Jeff’s house and you were on your way to Eddie’s, he was asleep. He had wrapped himself in his own embrace, hugging his arms snug around his chest—his head rocking lightly with every bump in the road.

When Eddie was woken up sometime around 3 am, he was pleasantly surprised to see your face in front of his. He was less energetic and playful while feeling the extent of his grogginess, as he was somewhat sobering up. But, seeing you managed to draw out that goofy side of him, even when his body tempted him back into sleep...

“Hello, gorgeous...” He smiled through closed eyes.

Before you could reply, he was dragging himself from the car seat. You would’ve helped him, but besides the slow pace to his movements, he seemed to be handling himself well.

Eddie’s uncle, Wayne Munson, must’ve heard your car pull up; because he stepped out the front door with a hand on his hip and the other around a cigarette. He didn’t seem particularly upset, just not very amused, with perhaps a hint of ‘worry’.

“You drunk?” He asked bluntly in an unenthused voice.

“—Hello, Wayne,” you politely waved. “He’s had a couple drinks, but I was sure to cut him off before he got too far. He didn’t drive— I think he should have some water though...”

“Hello, darlin’—” he greeted, with the hint of an appreciative smile.

Throughout this interaction, you had followed Eddie in his walk towards his front steps; trailing closely behind to support him with your hand on his back. He would occasionally get distracted, either by stumbling slightly or turning to mumble something to you. He would only return to walk forward if you reassured him that you had listened by giving him a response. Meanwhile, Wayne looked away at his feet to smile humorously, taking a drag between his lips.

Eddie finally made it to the top of the steps, waiting for his uncle to let him pass. “I got him, make sure you get home safely— alright?” Wayne geared toward you as he clapped his hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

Eddie practically groaned, turning to you with a disappointed look. You recalled your deal, convincing Eddie to leave the party with the promise that you would spend time with him afterward. But, Wayne seemed rather adamant that he would take care of things from here.

“Sorry, Eddie,” you apologized, genuinely feeling guilty about leaving the boy crestfallen and unfulfilled. “Get some rest, okay?—I’ll see you tomorrow.”

✝︎

By the time you were back in your driveway, your feet were sore from standing up for the hours that you had. For an unknown reason, you had peered into the backseat and spotted the can that Gareth had left behind. You had also left one or two crumpled-up, drive-through bags; as well as a few wrappers from the convenience store on your car bed. So, of course, that seemed proper reasoning to rid your car of the little bits of trash.

As you were gathering the pieces of litter, you noticed something jutting out from beneath the passenger’s seat. It wasn’t new to you, but was currently unfamiliar, especially in the setting of your car. You instinctively retrieved it, pulling it into view. The object was a hardcover, pocket journal, fitted in a brown material with golden stitching. Before you could even register the origins of the object, knowing who it belonged to, you had flitted it open to a random page.

“Small town America?” Was scrawled at the header of the page in messy handwriting. The rest of it was covered in short ramblings, rushed doodles, and chords for planned songs.

You turned to the next page, finding this entry to be labeled with your name. You should’ve stopped there, but your eyes were already searching on. Your actions—having been guided by both curiosity and instinct. The passage read:

I know that I’m doomed.

I should’ve given up a long time ago.

You’re one of my best friends... and I’ve registered by now that’s all you’ll ever see me as.

But, I can’t help it!

You were on my bed above the covers, and I saw your shirt ride up just a little to expose your lower back... and it was like I was set on fire!

God, it’s pathetic!

You paused in your reading, your heart stuttering at the words. You knew now that you definitely shouldn’t be reading this―it was an invasion of privacy! But, some twisted part of you convinced you that it was okay... it was about you after all... you had a right to read it― didn’t you?

You must’ve felt me staring. You looked up at me and I swear it was like I couldn’t breathe.

I might be able to make a song with all the words I could use to describe how it feels to have you looking at me.

Those eyes of yours... they give me more of a rush than anything else.

You make me feel like I’m floating.

Even now, while I’m writing about you, my nerves are shot.

You snap the book shut on your thumb, marking the page. You were no fool to the possibility of these emotions... you weren’t innocent. And, while you’ve had these thoughts towards Eddie before, you tried not to indulge them. You didn’t allow yourself to question how you ultimately felt about him―though, deep down, you knew it was because you were worried about what they could be. Eddie and you had flirted in the past, though it wasn’t taken seriously. You had always held the inkling that there was something more there― but Eddie and you had talked about romance before. Never was the topic about the possibility of you two―so you just continued as friends... close friends!

But, reading this blew those feelings wide open. They were under a gleaming spotlight, outlined in chalk, impossible to bury back down again.

I close my eyes and I can see your lips. Fuck! Everything about you drives me crazy!

And I can’t do anything about it.

Your laugh, your smile, your body... don’t even get me started about that.

There’s so much that I wanna say. But, even now, I’m worried about what’ll happen if you ever see this. I feel guilty even writing it.

You have no clue how I feel. But, I can barely meet your eyes without thinking about it.

With that, the entry was concluded, and you knew that you had read too much. You wouldn’t dare breach his privacy any further, opting to close the journal and return it back to its owner. Your mind rushed with the possible reasoning to the situation in front of you― the journal must’ve slipped from Eddie’s pocket when he had lifted his leg to the dash earlier. That was the only logical explanation.

After locking your car and tossing out the trash, you readied yourself for bed. Waiting for sleep to take over you, you found yourself staring at the small journal on your bedside table. Adrenaline stole the sleep from you, waiting well into the hours of the morning until you were finally yielding to your slumber.

✝︎

The next day, Eddie was patiently waiting for you in his trailer after school. The usual routine was that you met at his place after you got out of work. In the instances where the schedule was changed, one of you would give the other a call. But, seeing as he had received no phone call from you, he was enjoying an afternoon coffee while strumming away at his guitar and awaiting your routine visit.

A knock sounded at his front door, to which he loudly granted permission for you to enter. The first thing he noted was the sight of your bare legs—revealed by the skirt of your work uniform. He had to rip his gaze away from the sight, reminding himself of self-control and respect for the sake of your dignity as his best friend. His room smelled like hastened spritzes of his cologne... and he wondered if that was to blame for the different atmosphere surrounding you. If perhaps, that was why there was a slight tension between your brows and a subtle curl to your nose? Ultimately, he abandoned the thought once words fell from your lips and your demeanor changed, as if he was only seeing things before.

“So, did Wayne give you any trouble last night?” you asked with a prodding smile.

“Nah,” Eddie lightly scoffed, falling into a groan. “—I think the hangover was punishment enough.”

“How’re you feeling now?” you quizzed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Your hand came to rest on his leg, which was crossed on his knee. He was leaning up against his headboard with his guitar in his lap. Eddie focused on that hand for a moment before formulating a reply, “I’m fine... nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix.” The skin beneath the fabric of his jeans burned under your touch, buzzing with activity.

“—everything good with you, though?” He asks, setting his guitar aside on the mattress before sitting up to face you. He passes it off as concern, but he knew he had to move to flee from your touch. Everything in him wanted your hand to remain on him, but that’s exactly why he had to move, to deny himself of your touch. Eddie briefly noticed a flutter in your composure at the close distance between the two of you. It was the faintest twitch— something minuscule. Yet, it had his focus, because no matter the importance, he was always enthralled by you.

You looked down to where your hand had previously met his leg, your expression filled with that of contemplation. He initially gazed upon you to anticipate your response, but it quickly became an excuse to study you without repercussion. He peered at your eyes behind the curtain of your lashes, looking away upon instinct when you briefly glanced up at him. He wanted to curse himself for bailing so quickly, promptly willing himself back to confidence as he returned his focus to your face. He thought he had regained his composure, but when he looked up to see you observing him, he couldn’t help but be stunned.

You were playing a harmless, little game. With the information you had learned last night, you were testing him— and the results were clear. What you had read, wasn’t a lie...

Eddie Munson was into you.

—and you had the advantage. You knew the whole truth— a truth that he didn’t have all the information to...

You liked him too.

Something flickered within your eyes, and Eddie found himself getting dragged into the swirling pool of your irises. Even when you turned to retrieve something from your back pocket, Eddie was stuck staring at the afterimage of your face. But, when you recaptured his attention with a small journal in your hand, he felt his heart leap in his chest.

You couldn’t even get a word in before Eddie shot to his feet, ripping his jeans from last night off his bedroom floor and frantically searching the pockets. His back was turned to you when he dropped the fabric, returning to its heap on the floor of his trailer.

“I didn’t know what it was when I first opened it...” You revealed, your voice laced with an apology. “—but, I realized midway through.”

Eddie wanted to leave. He wanted to stop time and erase all memory of the event. But, he plopped back onto the bed with a newfound tension in his muscles. His left hand was supporting his right, which he used to clasp over his face, peering at you through his spaced-out fingers.

“...what exactly—” Eddie managed to usher out, “—did you read?”

You studied him in his place, noticing how he tried to sit further from you than before. He looked smaller than usual, clenched in on himself, with a red tint to his face and an anxious smile on his lips. If you were to squint, you might’ve been able to make out that his eyes were somewhat watery from the uncertainty of the conversation.

Rather than make the situation more awkward than need be, you got straight to the point. With an empathetic smile, you replied, “...enough?”

Eddie could swear that he died then and there. A mournful groan fell from his lips, and his fingers closed together to shield his eyes, revealing more of the bashful shade to his cheeks. Nervous laughter bubbled from his lips, yet his smile looked pained from—what he assumed to be—an impending rejection.

Eddie was oblivious to your own nerves. Your body was charged with electricity as you prepared yourself for the agonizing feat of making your feelings known. All last night, you had pondered whether all this time, Eddie felt the same as you. But, even now, when you knew that he shared the same feelings as you, you were finding it impossible to take that step off the edge, which would leave you falling into the unforeseen future.

Eddie flinched when you placed your hand on his knee. He waited for you to say something—anything!—but, you simply glided your thumb back and forth atop the skin that peeked through his ripped jeans.

He strained his ears to hear the words rasped from your lips, “...I never knew that you felt the same.”

His whole body was jazzed with nerves, causing him to feel lightheaded and energized. His stubborn hangover now seemed non-existent, with adrenaline in its wake.

“I thought—you only saw ‘us’ as friends,” you nearly whispered. “—only to find out... we were both thinking the same things.”

He stared at you from behind his hand, a stunned expression on his face. He watched as you tried to stifle a laugh, biting away your smile with eyes that reflected your amusement. And, he nearly swooned when you finally voiced what he desperately wished to hear, “Eddie— I really like you...”

He sighed a shaky exhale, his head coming to a quick shake as he found himself in disbelief of the truth.

You used your hand on his knee to pull yourself closer, leaning against both of his bowed legs. Allowing your smile to fully shine through, you sounded, “I really do— I like you, Eddie.”

To make matters worse, he wanted to retreat in on himself when you began to teasingly quote from his journal entry. “—I’m doomed, Eddie.”

“Stop!” He chirped loudly in both horror and relief.

“You make me feel like I’m floating,” You didn’t relent, purposely coating your voice in a dazed romance. But, your act didn’t continue for long, unable to thwart the smile that was corrupting your face.

Eddie repeated the plea, this time while fighting off laughter and with a smile erupting on his lips. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, yanking you close before covering your mouth with his ring-clad hand to try and stifle your antics. With your figure laying atop his, this was the closest that either of you has ever been. Muffled laughter, rumbled from your lips and Eddie joined in.

Soon, Eddie stilled you. Out of breath with a blissed-out smile, he sighs, “I like you too—” He briefly presses his face to your hair, “But, you already knew that.”

Eddie finds himself transfixed by your gaze when you look into his eyes. Something has changed. The playfulness remains, but it turned darker. It was a look that you had only adorned when he was alone in thought, conjured by his imagination while he found himself giving into temptation. When his hand surveyed the expanse of his body and he used his mind to substitute it for yours. An act, which made him feel guilty, yet thrilled, whenever he saw you next... wondering what you would have thought if you knew the full context of how he viewed you.

But, this time it was different. You were truly in front of him, with his hands wrapped around you, and your eyes tearing into him. So forgive him— forgive him for immediately growing warm at your sultry gaze and the plush feel of your lips beneath his skin. Especially when he felt you plant a soft kiss on the surface of his palm, your lips quirking at the edges in amusement after hearing him sigh in delight—All with your eyes never leaving his.

“Don’t—” Eddie grinned with hooded eyes, a playful smirk upon his lips. “...don’t do that” He resisted all temptation to bring his hand to his lips, to indulge in a kiss to the spot that yours touched his skin.

After a moment of being engaged in a staring contest wracked with tension, he used that same hand to encase your chin in a delicate grip. He guided your face towards him, and you progressed the rest of the way. What was supposed to be a rough, passionate kiss, started off faint and gentle. But with one tug of his bottom lip between your teeth, the two of you breathed one another in and gave into desire. He elicited a moan, muffled by your tongue. And, it was as if the wire that held together his control, snapped. His hand clenched around your thigh, digging roughly into your skin as he growled into your mouth. The low sound diluted into a whimper when he broke away for a gasp of air, returning to attack your lips again. He couldn’t figure out exactly what it was that he wanted, he only knew that you had been something he craved for so long that his movements were becoming just as frenzied as his thoughts.

The hand that was cradling your jaw, fell down to rest against your neck, fumbling lightly at your skin. And without any music to break the silence, the room was only filled with the sound of your combined pants. But, he’s thankful for the lack of ambiance, he’s absorbing the sound of your faint moans like it's the best melody that he’s ever heard. Each sound that tumbles from your mouth only drags one from himself, and he chastises himself for it because his noises sound 10x needier and more desirous than yours. But, he can’t help it— he can’t help the lecherous ache that you make him feel. He can’t help the heat in his loins that erupts from merely being in the vicinity of you. Nor can he help the pulse in his neck, which thrums with warm blood at the scent of you.

Just with the thought, he lurches away from the kiss as if he were burned. Both of his arms bring you into a tight embrace, wrapped around your torso as he buries his face into the expanse of your chest. His pants come to a close as you hear him inhale your scent in a slow, languid breath. As he breathes you in, his hips synchronously come to a rise, lifting you with him. And his exhale twisted into a whine as his body lightly shivered.

“—god!” he choked. “...you drive me insane.” The words nearly came out as a sob, filled with an exerted desperation as his eyes drifted to a close.

You mentally noted that now, it was your turn. Your turn to bask in the moment, as Eddie had. The skin on his neck tensed when you cleared it of his hair, brushing it away with your fingers. His body spasmed when you lapped at the pulse beneath his neck, suckling on the skin to paint it with a puckered bruise.

A stretched-out curse fell from Eddie’s lips, followed by the ghostly whisper of your name. His head rolled on his shoulders, granting you better access to his neck as his eye squinted in pleasure. You savored each nip of his skin, lapping at the sensitive blemishes with a gentle kiss. By the time you were done, his neck was peppered in intricate splashes of color. His jaw was slack with haggard breaths and his eyes were fighting to look at you through his apparent haziness.

He brought one hand to the small of your back, pressing your body into his while the other hand kneaded into the plush of your thigh. He rutted against you, oblivious to his movements as his mind was solely focused on the sweet soreness of his skin from your merciless bites against his neck. He was still in a daze when you ran your fingers up the back of his spine and into his hair, tugging lightly at the roots to pull him taut and vulnerable. He lustfully gasped in shock, chuckling to try and distract you from his blatant arousal. You teased at his adam’s apple with your tongue, dragging a blissed whimper from the boy in between his quiet hum of shy laughter.

“Now that I know we’re on the same page, Eddie...” you drawled out while brushing your lips against the rough of his throat, up to the underside of his chin. “—you have no idea what I’m gonna do to you...”

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