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#Jean's kids are wild!
sp-growingpains · 14 days
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Go Little Rockstar~
Finally got around to drawing Ronnie!
Of course Jean named her first kid after her favorite singer! Coming soon will be his twin brother Rowan!
I'm getting to play him in a tabletop game and it's been absolutely wild! Bouncing from planet to planet fighting in an intergalactic rebellion for earth! Showing the universe the power of rock and roll!
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oodlesodoodles · 8 days
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hyunpic · 2 months
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HYUNJIN | ATE JACKET FILM
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curtwildseyeliner · 5 months
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JONATHAN RHYS MEYERS as Brian Slade & EWAN MCGREGOR as Curt Wild in VELVET GOLDMINE (1998)
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hannigramislife · 4 months
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I'm rewatching Attack on Titan with my cousin, who has never seen it, and boy, is it a tripping experience.
I first watched Attack on Titan when it first came out, back in 2013, and now in season 1, there are moments that just physically kick me back in time, back when we knew nothing.
My cousin said, "Are Levi and Mikasa related? They have the same last name," and I was struggling to remember why it wasn't obvious to us back then that there was a connection–
And then it hit me that we didn't know Levi's last name for a while. He does, but we didn't.
I remember the tumblr posts the most; I remember the horse face jokes, and the memes like "dead mom hairstyle" and eren joining the "did nothing wrong squad." I remember the fics with the Levi squad and the huge shipping between Levi and Eren– how Levi always called them gaki/brats and the "characters watch the show" fics. I remember the discourse between people who shipped eremika and those saying "they're siblings," and I remember the live action movie.
During an episode, I saw Levi's name spelled as "Rivaille" and could almost smell the summer air in my childhood bedroom where I watched AoT.
It's so bizarre watching the first season now that everything is over, because at the time, genuinely nobody could have seen it going the way it did. We never thought we'd end up here. All we wanted to know was what was in that goddamn basement.
Even as I have read and watched everything, when I'm back in season one, I just keep quietly wondering to myself...
How did we end up here?
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sondheim-girly · 2 months
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“when you love someone that’s all that you can do… don’t go throwing in the towel”
“NOW YOU’RE PROBABLY SITTING THERE THINKING TO YOURSELF- THAT SONG HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING!”
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I'm finally reading I'm Glad My Mom Died and uh.... feeling things
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iamthepulta · 2 months
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I've actually been scrounging for an ending to Ellenville, because it's hard to actually 'end' a tragedy with something that feels complete, and that last post hit me with yeah, that's right. Because we live in a world where blood is protection and the cost of safety; and it fits in so neatly with the themes of death as stasis and longevity.
The 'end' is the regulations in place. Not even watching it happen, but success. This is The Pushcart War but epic fantasy.
#ellenville#ptxt#Jean Merrill is up there with Jean Craighead George for the imprinting I did on Pushcart War and Toothpaste Millionaire.#Which is ironic as FUCK because my curriculum definitely wanted me to take away 'You can be entrepreneurial too! Which is killing big truck#And undercutting big toothpaste business by packing yours in sterilized baby jars!' when I actually took away what Merrill#wanted which was: 'Hey isn't it fucked up that large companies think they can push you around and we need a capitalist underdog#success story to feel happy about our lives and role in the ongoing oligarchy of capitalism?'#Homeschooling with sonlight was fucking wild. I read so many good books as a kid and credit it to the fact I grew up with empathy#But it also meant I grew up with States Rights narratives and libertarian propaganda I had to unlearn.#Total aside because this is a tag essay anyway and I don't want to make a new post: I found out my advisor was also homeschooled#Which is probably why we're the exact same person I'm just 12 years behind them without the accent. My own brother almost#mistook them for me from behind and he gets pissy about it lol. 'There are two of them now!'#BUT I SWEAR I'M NOT COPYING THEM. WE JUST HAPPEN TO HAVE THE EXACT SAME HISTORICAL INTERESTS AND#SLAVISH DEVOTION TO GEOLOGY THAT TRANSFORMED INTO THE APPLICATIONS OF GEOLOGY AS A SCIENCE.#In my defense they have a much broader and recent focus on geology: usually for the impact of mining/geology on historical events.#Whereas I like the economic and logistical side of things. Like who hated who because they had beef over the same mines Nitrate War style
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dirt-str1der · 2 years
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Trans kiryu is a genuinely funny hc because like trans majima is like oohh angst ohh she has to fight to be accepted she has to deal with people making fun of her for being a man in a dress she has to take into account her position and social standing and kiryu is literally just kiryu forever because the universe loves him too much to ever force him into a situation unless its to go to prison in which case hes like yayyy i love jail yayy yayyy
#Yakzua loveblog#im just talking to myself you guys dont need to read anything#in fact dont read this im going to talk about transphobic nishiki again anyway#my transphobic nishiki hc is the most important one to me because. like we all need to have some transphobic people in our lives#i do think that nishiki calls him ‘kiryu’ even though theyre best friends forever because when nishiki will always accidentally say his#deadname instead of ‘kazuma’ even though i know that nishiki is literally the one who gave him the name kazuma to make fun of kiryu for#thinking hes a boy and it just kind of stuck but nishiki eventually stuck. with calling him kiryu because thats how he prefers to be called#they are bestfriends for a reason .... and nishiki is the only one kiryu will let be transphobic towards him because theyve known each other#for forever and he knows he means no harm by it like he will still hit him but nishiki takes it in stride because its their thing and its#never not funny to make kiryu annoyed like for anyone else its an uncrossable line but once a month nishiki will lead kiryu into the womens#section to shop for new clothes and kiryus like Somehow i always knew you wore womens jeans and nishikis like HEY !!!!#but as kids they were always very cute because theyre always together and you can never really tell whos following who because it seems like#theyre on the same wavelength until nishiki realises that life is so much easier when youre working smart so he went to work on his INT stat#while kiryu never stopped being a wild animal like hes literally some sort of monkey to me sorry for dehumanising him because of his autism#like i adore his ‘own little bubble’ way of life as long as he’s physically okay kiryus not going to complain about anything. like when he#said ‘i decide to do things based on whether i love it or hate it’ im like Yeah i bet you do. he sits outside the orphanage all day playing#with rocks until nishiki comes finds him then they both go outside to smash open windows with the rocks kiryu has gathered and kiryus in his#little skirt and he always uses it to carry things in you know how it is and he stopped going to school to be a bigger menace than everyone#anyway did i mention that the universe loves kiryu. especially his genes he was very lucky because he never had a big chest or nothing he#was always going to get tall and thick in the shoulders and beefy and when he cut his hair it just sealed the deal he passed with flying#colours like young children are indistinguishable by gender unless they have a big pink bow in their hair but kiryu radiated masculinity#from a young age and his aggressive way of life didnt help. well it helped a lot actually. a lot of people were scared of him and nishikis#like dont be scared of kiryu shes nice when you get to know her and everyones like ?? thats a girl ???#in fact it made more sense for kiryu to be a boy at that point so he went to kazama and told him and kazama was like ok lets make it happen#like kiryu and nishiki are so special because there is nobody in the universe more transphobic to kiryu than his own brother but also nishik#was the one helping kiryu shop for boy clothes when he was clueless about it like hes not stupid but he really doesnt know about fashion and#he trusts nishiki to not make him look stupid and nishiki is of course like 😏 well well well youre having a girl moment arent you#nishiki is okay with kiryu being a guy because this means that now whenever kiryu hits him he can fight back without being misogynistic#okay im done talking my noodles are getting cold but kiryu as a kid would have been a veritable nightmare#oh yeah my trans beam extended to nishitani as well because just look at him. everybody majima wants to sex is trans
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bones-n-bookles · 1 year
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Julie's Wolf Pack, by Jean Craighead George, illustrated by Wendell Minor, 1997
One of my favorite books, I've read this exact book dozens of times throughout my life <3
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sweetteaswift · 1 year
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lowkey excited for tomorrow morning bc one of my students had his birthday party yesterday and i know a lot of the class was planning on going and i want to hear all about it
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theupsideofyou · 12 days
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Adding In The Middle by Dodie to my Wolverine playlist is WILD
(I stand by my statement no one will change my mind argue with the wall)
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oneforthemunny · 3 months
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november rain |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|
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prompt: after your divorce to eddie, you try to get back out there. but sometimes, nothing beats what you already have.
contains: smut minors dni. mom!reader x dad!eddie. divorced. mentions to past angst/ fighting. mentions of teen pregnancy. oral fem receiving, pinv sex. slightly angsty. asshole date, angsty ending. kinda a bittersweet fic. based off this ask <3
You could hear him before you could see him, speakers shaking from the noise in his car, leaving your ears buzzing at the vibrations. The swelling of your heart rose above the annoyance you tried to feign, rolling your eyes and hoping he didn’t see through it. 
“You do realize I live in a subdivision? Neighbors and all?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him before he’d ever climbed out of the car, killing the engine and the music with the pull of his keys. 
“Yeah? They don’t like Judas Priest?” Eddie grinned, dimples deep, and you knew under his shades his eyes were bright and wild- the way they always were when they were teasing you. “I have Metallica too. I think I still have that Blondie tape you like in here too somewhere, if they’d prefer that.” 
Your heart skipped, lips twitching in a faltering snarl that was slowly turning into a blushing soft smile. “You better not play music that loud when my babies are with you.” You huffed, hands moving to rest on your hips, the denim waistband of your jeans hugging you just right in your Levi’s- Eddie’s favorite pair. You knew it, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. 
“Did you hear me?” You snapped, swallowing a grin. You knew he hadn’t, too distracted. “Eddie, I am serious, you will bust their little ear drums-” 
“-I know, sweetheart. C’mon,” Eddie shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up, pinning his curly bangs with them. “They’re my kids too. ‘M not gonna hurt them, you know that.” The sun caught a flash of gold, gleaming just for a moment off his left hand. 
Eddie was still wearing his wedding band. 
Your stomach sunk at the thought, thumb absentmindedly twisting your bare ring finger. The divorce had been final for months- six, to be exact. You’d stopped wearing yours after the first. It was weird, not wearing the small band and ring you’d worn since high school- since Eddie proposed with shaking hands on your front porch after you found out you were expecting. He’d dropped the ring twice, sweaty and nearly sick with anxiety. Your mother told you that should have been a sign, but you found it endearing then- maybe you did even now. 
“Where’s the rugrats anyway?” Eddie hummed, catching your glass door to hold it for you, letting you slip under his arm. You caught a whiff of his cologne, faint from the day, mixed with a cigarette he tried to mask from earlier. 
“Jude’s playing in the backyard.” You stepped into the small foyer. Eddie had left it to you in the divorce, saying you were the only reason they got it anyways. There was always an eerie feeling that lingered when he came inside, a haunting reminder of a forever that didn’t quite succeed. 
“He’s supposed to be watching Lucy.” You hummed, craning your neck to look out the window in the living room. “They’re hunting for bugs.” Your nose crinkled, leaving Eddie laughing. 
“Bug hunting? Oh, they don’t know their Mama is terrified of bugs, huh?” Eddie teased, peeking out of the window to see the two kids, perfect blends of both of your features packed into two tiny beings. 
“I’m not terrified. Well, of all the bugs.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “Spiders, yes, and I told Jude those were off limits or I was giving Grandpa Wayne back the bug catching kit.” 
“You’re no fun.” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Scared of a little spider?” His fingers tapped playfully in a crawling way up your arm towards your shoulder, leaving you squirming away. 
“Stop.” 
“God, do you remember- what was it? Junior year? When there was a spider on your desk in Geometry?” Eddie laughed, grabbing his side at the memory. “And you shoved all your books off the desk in the middle of class?”  
“Yes, and you and Gareth just laughed at me.” You fought back your own smile at the memory. 
“Yes!” Eddie howled in laughter. “And Mr. Browcheski got so fu-sorry- freaking mad at all of us. Did we- That was when we got detention, right?” 
“Yes,” You glared at him playfully, crossing your arms. “And I was about to have a nervous breakdown thinking about how I was going to tell my parents.” 
“That’s right.” Eddie nodded slowly. “That was your first detention?” 
You nodded. “I was a good girl until I met you, Munson. You’re a bad influence.” 
“Yeah, can’t be all bad though, right?” Eddie held your gaze, stepping close instinctively. Your breathing hitched, his hand gliding over your hip, fingertips ghosting the bare skin above your waist band. “We had some good times too.” 
Your head spun, dizzy with a clouding lapse of judgment. Eddie was pulling you in, hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back, holding you so close you were flush to him. His head was already tilting, ducking towards yours, ready to capture your lips and you’d let him. Of course you’d let him, you’d be lying to say you didn’t miss his kiss- miss him. 
Lucy’s high pitched shrill had you faltering, snapping out of the haze, back into a damning reality. “What- Eddie, we-we can’t.” You took a step back, knees a little weak and wobbly from the adrenaline rush that always came with his affection. “We can’t do this.” 
“Right,” Eddie swallowed, hands shoving in his pockets, cheeks blooming with a pink heat that burned through his body.  “S-Sorry. I just- I got caught up in the moment. Talking about that. I just-” 
“-It’s fine.” You muttered, pulling the back door open, a melody of Jude and Lucy’s giggles floating in. “Guys, someone’s here to see you.” You sing-songed in a happy tune, face lighting with exaggerated excitement. You were good like that, Eddie thought, still playing nice for the kids. Maybe it wasn’t playing, Eddie really hoped it wasn’t, though the rational side of his mind (and his friends) begged to differ. 
“Daddy!” A duo of squeals and shrieks blended with bounding feet up the wooden steps into the house. 
Jude came bounding in first, nearly knocking Eddie over at the knees when his small frame collided with him. “Wo-oah, hey, buddy.” Eddie grinned, tousling the boy’s wild curls, frizzy and matted from playing outside. 
“Hi, Dad.” Jude beamed up at Eddie. He’d gotten Eddie’s lashes but your eyes. “We’re catching bugs.” 
“I heard. Catch any good ones? Any centipedes?” Eddie grinned, bending down to hug the boy. 
“No,” Jude’s face fell slightly in a frown. “But I did catch a ladybug for Lucy!” Jude bounced on his toes with excitement. 
Your heart swelled, trying to wrangle the small girl on your hip, passing her off to Eddie- well, passing was generous, she nearly launched off your hip into his arms. “A lady bug?” Eddie repeated in a babble he still used with Lucy. She was still small, in his eyes, though she was growing every single day, she was still his baby. 
“Did Bubs get you a ladybug, Lucy?” Eddie bounced her on his hips, tickling her sides so she shrieked with laughter. 
“Yeah,” Lucy giggled, leaning back to look at Jude in a limp sort of backbend. “Jude’s gots me a ladybug an-and we found a lot of worms.” She grinned, eyes wide and excited. She got her cadences from Eddie, that was for sure, more exaggerated and dramatic with each passing day. 
“Are you going to hunt bugs with us?” Jude asked, pulling on the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Will you? Please?” 
“Yeah, of course, I will.” Eddie smiled, shaking his head softly. “Do you have a spare shovel for me? Can you go find the little red one?” 
Jude looked at you. “I think it’s in the garage with the basketball.” You nodded towards the garage door. Jude ran off, footsteps heavy, Lucy squirming to get down and chase after him. “But- hey! Put everything back where it goes, Jude Wayne! And do not climb on anything!” You called after him, voice teetering on stern. 
“I got it!” Jude called back. 
Eddie’s chest puffed in boasting pride, grinning at the boy. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Hm, wonder who that sounds like?” You said sarcastically, giving Eddie a pointed glare. 
“That’s my boy. What can I say?” Eddie grinned, shrugging lightly. You grinned, shaking your head. “So, uh, where’re you going tonight?” Eddie tried not to sound so awkwardly needy, but it came out exactly like that. 
“Oh,” You could feel your body stiffen, a warm embarrassed heat creeping up your spine. “I, uh, I- Well, I’m going out.” You paused, fiddling with straightening something on a shelf, anything to avoid his gaze. “I…I have a date tonight.” 
Eddie’s heart sank, falling deep into the pit of his stomach. “Oh.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were… Ya know, um, gettin’ back out there.” 
“Well, I- I mean it wasn’t exactly planned.” Your thumb went back to your ring finger, rubbing the bare skin there. You used to twist your ring when you were feeling anxious, a soothing mechanism. 
“Lydia at work set me up on a blind date with her cousin. The-The accountant guy.” You cringed at your words, spouting in a word vomit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Your heart was racing, stuttering to a halt and rearing back with every fall of Eddie’s face. 
“I-I mean, I just… She’d been asking me since-since,” Since the divorce, the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “A-And I figured why not. I mean…” You waved your hand between the two of you, the tension uncomfortable and thick. 
“No, no, yeah,” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a burn of emotions he tried to conceal. “No, that’s- you should. Not that- I mean, you don’t need me to tell you that, but,” Eddie took a breath, finally meeting your nervous gaze. “You’ll have a good time.” 
“Yeah?” You squeaked, wringing your hands anxiously. Eddie had flashbacks to years before, when you two were a lot younger, your nervous demeanor asking for his reassurance before sneaking onto the football field at midnight. 
Eddie’s heart ached at the memory, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, he’s lucky to get to go out with you. You’re… You’re the best, you know that.” Eddie reassured you now just like he did then, just like he always did. 
“Thank you.” You whispered, turning just as Jude and Lucy came back in, triumphantly waving the red, plastic shovel. “I, um, I’m going to get ready. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll preheat the oven, if you can just stick it in.” 
“I got it.” Eddie waved you off, forcing a reassuring smile. “You go get ready. Have fun, sweetheart.” His smile was warm, leaving you burning in excitement. Still, when he left, you were filled with a sinking, nauseating feeling of dread, nerves. 
Heidi would tell you that you were co-dependent, that Eddie had made you that way. She never liked him, not in highschool, especially not after the divorce. She was always reminding you that you could do better, that you should do better. 
That always sparked a fight, one of the many that you and Eddie had over and over and over. His accusatory tongue lashing accusations at you, your defenses climbing higher and higher, both too stubborn to let it go. You were reminded of the fight that did it- that caused the divorce. Days- no, weeks of back and forth. 
“You know, there’s times I wish I would have skipped school that day!” Eddie roared, voice hoarse and scratchy from the screaming match you two had been having. “I was supposed to skip with Gareth, but I fucking went, and you know what? I wish I wouldn’t have! Then we would have never gotten paired up and I wouldn’t be dragged into all this shit with you! I wouldn’t be so miserable all the goddamn time!” 
His words rang in your head, stinging just as much then as they did now. You took a breath, that haunting memory was the final push you needed to step into the shower, to get ready, and to try and start something new without Eddie. 
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“So, Lydia tells me you have a kid.” Matthew asked, swirling his wine around in his glass. 
The restaurant was obnoxiously expensive, much more stuffy than what you expected on the first date. You felt terribly underdressed, in a sundress you hadn’t worn in years, fitting a little tighter now since Lucy. Note to self, go dress shopping next time. 
“Yeah, I do,” You smiled politely, the tension still a little uncomfortable, unfamiliar. “Jude and Lucy.” 
“Oh,” Matthew’s brows raised, tone clipping in shock. “Two?” 
“Yeah,” You swallowed back that familiar burning in your chest, the one that always came with judgment. Raised brows and pointed glares, being pregnant in highschool, you thought you’d be used to it by now. 
“Uh, how-how old are they?” Matthew asked, fingers tapping nervously on the table. So much tension, and you hadn’t even gotten your food yet. 
“Jude is seven, and Lucy just turned four.” You felt your chest boast with pride. Talking about your kids, that could soothe you, it always did. 
“Wow,” You weren’t sure how Matthew’s brows could go any higher, but somehow they did. “That’s… I’m sorry, you just, you look really young to have kids that age.” 
“I am,” You shrugged sheepishly. “I, um, I had Jude in high school. My senior year.” You tried not to flinch, to steel yourself for the inevitable look- the one that always gave you. 
“High school?” Matthew’s tone skittered on a scoff, leaving you burning with embarrassment- with shame. Why’re you embarrassed about it? Best thing that ever happened to me, Eddie would always say, scoffing nonchalantly when you were younger and  someone gave you a snarling glace in the supermarket, two teens pushing a baby around in a shopping cart. 
“Yeah,” You looked down at your hands under the table. This was what you dreaded, the ‘getting back out there’ phase. You had forgotten how utterly painful it was, worse now than when you were a teen. 
“My ex-husband and I got married out of high school.” You continued, trying to break up the uncomfortable silence. “After- Well, before we had Jude, but after I found out I was pregnant.” 
“Oh,” Matthew didn’t look at you, looking anywhere but you really. “That’s why you divorced then? Makes sense.” 
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “No, no, that’s- that’s not why.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least, part of the reason but not the whole reason. 
“It’s not?” Matthew raises a brow, scoffing with unimpression before downing the rest of his wine. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, but I’m not dumb. Pregnant in high school, married the baby daddy because it was the right thing to do, right? And then what? Had another when things got rough to try and save the marriage?” 
Your heart dropped, frozen in mortification, fear maybe, in your seat. “I’m right, aren’t I? I mean, it’s a tale as old as time, Sugar.” Your cheeks burned at the nickname. That wasn’t your nickname, not what Eddie called you, and even if he did- it never sounded condescending and mean like it did when it came from Matthew. 
“No shame in it, just own up to it.” Matthew scoffed, leaning back in his seat. You felt small sitting across from him, his lips pursed, rolling over your frame with such judgment it made your stomach turn. “Lying on the first date doesn’t seem like the best option.” 
“Excuse me,” You swallowed, grabbing your purse with shaky, sweaty palms. “I have to go to the restroom.” You didn’t wait for his response, the sinking feeling in your stomach only worsening with every step towards the door. 
The Hideout was only a block away, still standing strong on the outskirts of the newly renovated downtown. You were surprised it hadn’t conformed to the trendy chic wave that was hitting everywhere, but selfishly you were glad it stayed the same. The wooden booths and dollar drafts, just the same as they’d always been. 
The corner booth in the back caught your eye, occupied by a young couple- barely legal looking. Probably snuck in here with a fake, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill that they might be caught, sharing a pitcher. That was you and Eddie, not too long ago. He’d snuck you in on your third or fourth date. You’d never been so nervous, never felt so alive at the same time. A goody-two-shoes, Eddie called you with a sweet grin, sliding you a beer across the table and slipping in next to you in that booth. 
Your heart ached at the memory, chest heavy with emotion. Why couldn’t he have just been better? Why couldn’t you just have been better? Why couldn’t both of you be better to each other, for each other? 
The heavy weight of regret settled on your chest, mixing with the draining heaviness of the night. You looked at the phone on the wall, digging in your purse for quarters. You couldn’t call Lydia, not after you’d stood up her fix up, left him in the restaurant. Robin was undoubtedly not home on a Friday night. 
Sighing, you cradled the phone to your ear, slipping the quarters in the slot, finger jamming the numbers. The line trilled once, twice, your fingers tapping on your crossed arm. By the third ring, you were ready to hang up, give up and call your sister. 
“Munson residence,” Eddie’s voice was soft, still with that lilt of playfulness that made your heart swoon. He’d been so excited when you two got the house, when you got your own landline. He’d answered the phone all posh and silly, claiming you two were “high society” now, moving up in the world. 
“Eddie,” Your breath shook, chest rattling when you heard his voice, a soothing force after the stress of the night. “It’s me.” 
“What’s wrong?” Eddie snapped on the other end, not missing a beat. “What happened? You alright?” 
“I’m… I’m at The Hideout.” You cupped your hand over the phone’s end, trying to muffle the loud music. “I just- Can you come get me?” 
“I’m on my way.” Eddie didn’t miss a beat. 
“Thank you,” You sighed in relief. “But, hey, don’t bring the kids. Please? I told them I was going out with Rob for a night out, and they’ll want to see her.” 
“I won’t, sweetheart. They’re asleep anyways.” Eddie muttered. You could hear his keys rattling in the background. “Let me call Wheeler and see if he can pop over to watch them. I think he’s home for the summer. Gimme a few and I’ll be right there.” 
“Thank you.” You whispered, nose burning with tears you couldn’t shed- you wouldn’t shed. Not again. 
“C’mon, not a problem.” Eddie waved you off gently. “Hang tight, baby. Be there soon.” 
You waited until you heard the dial line to hang up. Your heart sunk and fluttered at the same time, head reeling with a tornado of emotions that left you dizzy. Sinking onto an open stool at the end of the bar, you ordered a beer, the same one Eddie had ordered you years before. You didn’t care much for the taste now, your palette had grown and expanded since you were fifteen. But something tonight had you craving it, maybe craving the memory, the feeling that came with the first time you drank it. Chasing down a nostalgia that you didn’t want tainted. 
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Eddie was there before you could finish your second beer, only a few sips in. He slid into the chair beside you, hand gliding over your shoulder in greeting. He started to lean in, lips moving to brush your cheek, but he stopped himself before he could, waving down the bartender instead. 
“So,” Eddie tapped the sticky wood top of the bar. “Bad date?” 
“The worst.” You muttered, taking another swig of your beer. “Guy was a total ass.” 
“Yeah?” Eddie’s jaw ground tight, flexing with protective anger. “You want me to kill him?” 
You snorted, lips curling in a small grin. “No, he’s not worth that.” You hummed, propping your head in your hand. “He was just an asshole. A total fucking asshole.” 
“What’d he say?” Eddie bit, hands buzzing, though he tried to play it cool. 
“Oh, the usual- teen mom, divorced, so clearly I’m the biggest loser in the world.” You muttered, lip jutting in a pout, looking down at the ring of condensation left behind by your beer. 
“He said that?” Eddie snapped, eyes widening in a crazed way you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking piece of shit, I’ll beat the dogwalking shit out of him-” 
“-No, he didn’t. He didn’t say it like that.” You shook your head, placing a calming hand on his arm. “It was implied. He was… He was just not nice, and I felt like it was getting worse, so I left. Came here instead.” 
Eddie nodded, the tension between the two of you a little uncomfortable. The bartender slid him his own beer, saving the two of you from the awkward silence. Eddie took his beer, tilting it toward you with a soft smile. 
“That guys a fucking idiot. Doesn’t know what he’s missed out on.” Eddie’s lips were tight in a pain-filled smile he tried to force, but his eyes gave him aways. They always gave him away. 
“Thanks.” You muttered, cheeks burning with a tingling heat. “How were the kids tonight?” 
“Good.” Eddie nodded, swallowing his drink. “Jude found a centipede. Lucy was not a fan.”
You grinned. “I don’t blame her. You didn’t let him bring it in?” 
“No. C’mon,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “No, I made him leave it outside. He wanted to keep it in his bug catcher, but I told him if it was meant to be his, it would stay. So he put it back in the grass.” 
“Good. I’ll come looking for you if I see a centipede in the house.” You glared at him playfully. “Did you give them a bath?” 
“Dinner, bath, even read them a story.” Eddie smirked at you. “I can be a good dad, sometimes, ya know. Not a total deadbeat all the time.” He teased, shoulder bumping with yours. 
Your stomach twisted. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” You muttered, looking back at your beer. 
“I was kidding.” Eddie said, setting his beer down. “Hey, I was just kidding. I know you’re just looking out for the munchkins, Mama.” 
You swooned under his cooing praise, heart swelling with adoration. “I didn’t- I would never say you’re a bad dad. You’re not a bad dad, Eddie.” You met his gaze. “You’re the best dad to them.” 
Eddie’s cheeks pinkened under your praise, chin ducking with a blush. “Thank you,” He whispered, fingers tapping the bar top. “Just a shitty husband then?” 
You rolled your eyes lightly. “No,” You clicked your tongue playfully. “Not a shitty husband. Not all the time anyways.”
Eddie grinned, dimples deep, eyes brightening. “You had your good moments.” 
“Yeah?” Eddie hummed, leaning in towards you. “Like when?” 
You’re body burned, electric tingles shooting to your core. The look in his eyes, squinting just barely, lips pursing, tongue rolling over his teeth- a look you were all too familiar with. You knew better, knew so much better than to let him sway you, to give into your urges. 
“Hm, I can think of a few times.” You purred, leaning in closer to him, lashes batting sweetly. “Maybe you could remind me?” 
Eddie’s wide grin stood the test of time. The same wild, excited grin he’d give you years ago hadn’t changed, it still left you spinning, abandoning your better judgment, following him with blinders into anything. 
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“Christ, I fuckin’ missed you.” Eddie moaned, breathy and quiet, lips pressing to yours in fever. 
You shuddered under his touch, his fingers circling your clit perfectly, expertly- he was, after all, been with you for so long, he knew exactly how you wanted it. The house was quiet, the drone of the TV on for background noise, hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up. 
“Eddie,” You whispered, eyes rolling back, clawing his shoulder at a particularly perfect rub that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, that felt good.” 
“Yeah? Feels good. I can always make you feel good, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, wet smooches trailing down your neck, down your collarbones. “Want me to make you feel better? Keep you feelin’ good? Lemme make you feel good.” 
His hands moved, pushing down your dress. Eddie looked, trying to will his mind silent at the sight of your matching, lacy set. It drove Eddie to his knees to see you in it, but his heart dropped knowing you hadn’t picked it to wear it for him. 
He shoved the lacy panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, hands sinking on your hips. You wiggled, stilling your hips to keep them from bucking when Eddie kissed your mound, teasing kisses all the way down to your slit. 
“Spread your legs f’me.” Eddie’s breath ghosted over your skin, a half grin spreading across his features when you kicked your legs open, arching forward for him. 
Eddie’s tongue ran teasingly over your left lip, your right, before licking a long stripe right through your wet folds. In the past, he would have teased you, toyed with you until you whined and begged for him to fuck you. Back when he used to have you whenever he wanted, he’d lived for that, but now, he didn’t have that luxury. He had to make the most of his time now, at your call, at your service. 
You bit your fist, trying to swallow back a moan that threatened to tear out of your throat. Your vibrator, tucked away in your sock drawer, could never replace this- replace him. His touch, the rush of endorphins that came from the pleasure he gave you, always eager to please. 
Finger raking through his curls, you tugged him further and further into you, hips grinding on his face. “Th-That’s it. That feels good.” You whispered. 
Eddie moaned, sending waves of vibrations to your core, knees buckling under the feeling. Your breath caught, head tipping back to silence the moans, ripples of pleasure crashing over you. 
“Okay, okay, stop.” You panted, pushing on the top of his head, trying to writhe out of his touch. 
Eddie’s face fell in hurt, in fear, scanning your features. He knew it was coming, the inevitable that you’d change your mind, tell him you couldn’t do this. “I-I need you.” His heart leapt at your words. “I just need you right now, please.” 
It felt like a dream, having you wrapped around him in every way. Buried inside you, Eddie tried to savor the feeling, really feel you in case this was the last time. Your legs tight around his hips, arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you as he fucked you into the mattress- into the bed that you both shared for so many years. 
Your nails clawed down his back, biting at his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, toes curling in pleasure. Eddie’s hand slid between the two of you, circling your clit as he approached his own orgasm. He knew you were close, knew everything about you. 
“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. The best, the fuckin’ best, baby.” Eddie whispered, breath hot over your ear, nipping at your ear lobe. Your body shuddered, hips bucking with pleasure. 
“Fuckin’ missed you. Missed you- ah.” Eddie whined, nearly cumming when your teeth bit his shoulder, the spark of pain making his slops get sloppier and sloppier. 
Eddie’s lips moved to yours, biting your bottom lip, sucking on it while his fingers slid over your clit until you were shaking, flooding over his length. Your grip loosened, melting into the mattress as he finished, drilling into you. 
“Fuck, feel so good. Fuckin’ love the way you feel.” Eddie looked down at you, eyes glassy and dazed from your own orgasm, lips bitten from him. 
A final pump, a final grunt, and he was spilling inside you, hips still slowly rolling inside you, dropping his face into your neck. You held him tight, muffling his moans into your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Eddie rambled, chest to chest, heaving and clinging to the other. 
A feeling settled around the two of you after you broke apart, laying side by side under the sheets, the house still, quiet, filled with a tension you couldn’t quite figure out. 
“I’m sorry you had a shitty date.” Eddie muttered, voice a little raspy. 
“‘S alright.” You sighed, stretching under the sheets. “Ended pretty good, all things considered.” 
“Yeah it did.” Eddie grinned softly. “Missed you.” 
Your heart ached, sinking in your chest. “I-I think you just missed having sex.” 
“No,” Eddie said firmly, shaking his head. “No, I-I missed you. I missed this, us.” He rolled over, turning towards you. 
“Eddie-” 
“-No, I just- I’m sorry, and I know I was a dick, and I-I did some things, but, baby, we’re good. We’re so good together.” Eddie whispered, reaching for you. “We’re meant to be together. You know we are. It’s always been us, it’s always supposed to be us.” 
“We’re not good together.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “We’re not good for each other.” 
“Don’t say that.” Eddie’s eyes shined with hurt, shaking his head. “How-How can you say that-” 
“-Because, we’re good now. Right now, but… but then it’ll be just like it was, and we’ll be right back to fighting.” You pressed your palms to your eyes, chest tightening with the post orgasm clarity, the realization of your mistake. You’d never learn your lesson, no matter how many times you’d go through this. 
“Baby, we could go back to counseling. I just- We should try. I want to try, I want to be a family again. I want to be better this time. I promise I’ll be better this time, please.” Eddie reached for your hand, pulling them off your eyes. “Please, sweetheart, one more chance? I won’t… I won’t fuck it up.” 
You squeezed his hand, body aching, yearning to lean into him. To agree, to nod and let him love on you, love you. To give him another chance, to see him wake up in the bed next to you, back in the house with the kids all the time. 
But you couldn’t. 
For them. Jude and Lucy had a hard enough time with the divorce, understanding why you two were separating. How did you explain to kids that mommy and daddy were like the weather; good some days, disastrous the other? 
“I-I can’t, Eddie.” You whispered, looking at him with eyes shining. “Jude and Lucy…That’s not- This isn’t good for them.” Your breath shuttered, heart breaking in your chest. 
Eddie’s own heart was breaking, you could see it on his face. “I just need time. I don’t know.” You admitted, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “But now, I just can’t now.” 
Eddie nodded, swallowing around his own heart breaking. “Alright,” He nodded. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… I’ll always support you. I’ll always love you, too. No matter what.” 
Your lip wobbled, squeezing his hand tight in yours. “Thank you.” You whispered. “I just need some time, Eddie.” 
“I’ve got time. I’ll wait.” Eddie nodded, pressing a kiss to your knuckles gently. “Always here for you.” He pulled you close to him, arms wrapped around your frame, squeezing you tight to his chest. 
For a moment, you relaxed, let yourself feel at peace as he held you. Allowed yourself that selfishness in the still of the night. You’d stay like that for a while, until you sent him to the couch. “Things are confusing as it is for them. They don’t need to get their hopes up if they see us in the bed together.” And Eddie would do it, of course he would. He’d do it for you, for them, for the hope that he might one day get his family back to normal. Back to the way it should be. 
2K notes · View notes
lovebugism · 5 months
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hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈
i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)
You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.
Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.
You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.
“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”
Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t. 
A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”
“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”
Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of. 
Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too. 
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.
You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.
Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.
“I’m—”
“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.
You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”
The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”
He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own. 
He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.
“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”
“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.
“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”
“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”
“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”
You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.
“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”
Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.
He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.
It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.
“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.
You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”
“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.” 
“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”
You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface. 
“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.
“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.
“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”
Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.
It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You. 
But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.
“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.
“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. 
Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”
The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.
“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.
Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.
His excitement makes you regret your answer. 
“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”
“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”
The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.
You nod once. “Sure.”
He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.
You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.
You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”
His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.
You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”
You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.
He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth. 
“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”
“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”
“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”
“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”
Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.
“Eddie,” he finishes for you.
“…Eddie.”
“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”
You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”
Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look. 
“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”
Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.
“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”
2K notes · View notes
kingdomvel · 2 months
Text
Steddie | 2.2k | first meetings | ao3
“What did you say the name of the band is again?” Steve asks. He has to raise his voice above the sound of the music playing before the concert and the hundreds of conversations around him.
��Corroded Coffin” Dustin says, probably for the hundredth time, or that’s what his tone suggests.
“It’s written on the drums.” Mike adds with his constant bitchy petulant tone.
Steve turns around and fair enough, the name is written there in the drums. They are also right there as they had queued for hours to be at the front (they are not in the centre but there’s no one standing in front of them), and apparently the band and place are small enough that there is no security line in front of the stage. Steve has been leaning against it with a drink in his hand while they wait for the concert to start. And that’s his excuse. He was leaning against the stage, so the drums were to his back, he couldn’t have read them.
“C’mon Steve, even I learned the name of the band in the eternity we have been here” Robin says which, rude, but she had agreed to come keep him company at a metal concert without asking for anything in return, so he will let it pass.
The kids (not quite kids anymore, but close enough) had needed an adult to get into the 18+ venue the concert was held at, and of course that adult had to be Steve because “we are not going to bring one of our parents into a metal concert Steve” and “Nancy and Jonathan are not even in the state and you said you were fun, didn’t you?” and he is fun, so he had to agree. And drag Robin with him, of course.
“Well I would remember the name if it wasn’t a stupid name” he says, a bit too loud if the looks he receives from some of the people around them are anything to go by.
“If you are so annoyed why don’t you go hang out at the bar and leave us alone?” Dustin asks.
“If I’m at a concert I’m getting the full experience, I’ve not queued for hours to stay at the bar. And I have to make sure you don’t get squished to death or accept drinks from strangers.”
“We are sixteen, you already drank when you were sixteen.”
“But I didn’t have a wristband telling everyone I was a minor.” He emphasizes this by hooking his forefinger on said wristband around Dustin’s wrist. The boy takes his hand away with a huff, but whatever he was going to say gets interrupted by a loud cheer as the lights of the venue dim. All eyes turn to the stage, and Steve forgets everything about the little shits around him.
They play the first two songs without interruption, back to back, and they are much better than Steve had expected them to be when the kids had pitched the idea of going to a concert of ‘a super cool band’ they had found on tiktok of all places. Steve is very quick to understand their raising popularity on social media the moment his eyes land on the frontman. He is not even wearing anything scandalous, just black jeans, some graphic tee and a leather jacket, but fuck if he isn’t attractive. His big eyes, teasing smile and wild hair are very much deserving of the screams they awake in the audience.
When the second song finishes, they don’t start a new one, the frontman takes the microphone from the stand.
“Are you ready for the best night of your life?” he shouts, and the audience answers with shouts of their own. Steve finds himself whooping, and answers with a smile and a shrug to Robin’s amused silent question as both of them clap. “We are Corroded Coffin,” more yelling, and the frontman stars walking around with a smile on his lips while he looks at the ground, clearly enjoying the attention. “And these aaaaaare…” he prolongs the last word, building a dramatic effect. “Gareth!” he shouts, pointing to the back dramatically. There are yells, the boy at the drums doing a short solo before he stands up to wave at the audience. “Jeff!” more yells, a guitar solo. “Our favourite Freak!” laughs from band and audience alike, more yells, and the boy with the bass trying to hit the frontman with said bass. “And I’m Eddie.”
‘Eddie’ Steve mouths the name.
There are yells as the frontman finishes, a small bashful smile on his lips back on his face after the laughing as he plays with the microphone stand with the hand that is not currently holding the microphone. He looks up at the audience when the yells don’t stop, gives a small dramatic bow and smirks when the yells grow louder once again.
“EDDIE MARRY ME” a voice yells from somewhere in the audience.
“Oh? Without going on a date first?” Eddie asks, he has his gaze set somewhere on the audience, and Steve is a bit impressed at how easily he has spot the person in the sea of bodies.
“I’M FREE WHENEVER.” The same voice yells again, it makes Eddie laugh.
“I’m honoured, my fair lady, but I’ll have to decline. I’m looking for my knight in shining armour myself.” There are ooohs from the audience but Steve’s gut makes a traitorous interested twist. “And speaking of knights,” he says, putting his hands back on his guitar, “I think you may know this one.” One note, and the audience is going crazy. Dustin is jumping up and down while he holds onto Steve’s arm, and Steve can’t help but laugh at him.
It's when that third song is finishing that it happens. The guitarist is starting a solo, and Eddie looks down to the base of the microphone stand, pulls a confused face, and then looks around. He must not see whatever he was looking for because he has a confused furrow in his brow when he does a second sweep around the stage and beyond, and he catches Steve's eyes. He maintains the eye contact for a second, two, five, and then looks down to Steve’s hands and back up again. There is a smirk in his face Steve is not entirely sure he likes the implications of as he walks towards him while he keeps playing.
Steve can hear Dustin screaming “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” right next to his ear as Eddie comes closer until he is standing right in front of them.
The musician is still looking at Steve as he leans forward and asks “give me a sip?” as he looks down at Steve’s hands for a second. (Or at least that’s what Steve guesses he says, the noise too loud for him to really hear him without his mic.)
Steve lifts his drink, and the frontman leans forward and down with a smile. He opens his mouth and Steve pours his drink in it. When he finishes, he winks at Steve before he walks away in time to start singing again. The kids around him are screaming, Robin is surely going to make him partially deaf and is shaking him so hard he almost drops the rest of his drink. It takes until the next song starts for the bunch to calm down a bit and focus on the show again.
The thing is, that is not the last time it happens. Eddie comes back to steal sips from his drink every few verses, and when Steve’s drink is finished and he goes to get a beer, he is miraculously let back to the front by the audience. Eddie, of course, also wants to have his share of the beer. So they share it.
It is, if Steve is honest, the weirdest experience he has ever had in a concert. But he is having too much fun and would not change it for anything. A hot singer and guitarist coming to him every few minutes and bending down so Steve can pour drink into his mouth? The best thing that has happened to him all month. It only gets better when Eddie ditches his leather jacket – Steve was starting to wonder when that was going to happen because it’s much too hot in the venue for it and he is sure that a big reason Eddie needs to drink so much is because he is sweating it all and dehydrating – and reveals that the tee he was wearing underneath has the sleeves cut off very freely. Steve can see most of the man’s torso and that is a SIGHT. There are tattoos on his arms and ribcage that Steve immediately wants to see complete, and his waist is slim where the shirt is tucked into the jeans. It makes Steve bite his lip in want.
He is about to pour the last of their third beer in Eddie’s mouth when a small hand stops him. He looks to the side with confusion, sure that none of the kids or Robin would stop him at this point and is met with the smile of a small blonde girl.
“Give him this please” she says, handing him a bottle of an electrolyte drink. Steve looks back at Eddie just in time to see him groaning. “No more beer.” She adds, pointing to Eddie as if he was a misbehaving dog, he is surely giving the look, with his big brown eyes and sad look. She turns back to Steve, “and sorry about that, any new drinks you get are on us.”
She is gone with that. Steve looks at Eddie, at the new drink in his hand. Eddie shrugs, defeated, and leans forward. Steve quickly empties the rest of the beer in his mouth before he opens the new bottle and starts pouring from it. Eddie doesn’t drink much, too busy trying not to choke on the beer and his laughter.
Eddie ditches his guitar towards the end of the concert for a ‘calmer’ song. He walks around the stage as he sings to a boy involved in him that tries to deny the depth of their relationship and tries to date girls, and how in the future he is going to regret not staying with him. He has great stage presence, he has been flirting with the audience between songs, dramatic and charismatic, a bit over the top. Maybe the fastest crush Steve has ever developed, happy to enjoy his part in the show, even when he knows it’s not going to lead anywhere.
Steve feels his heart accelerating as Eddie walks towards him, which is ridiculous, they have been doing this all night. But this time Eddie shakes his head when Steve gets the drink ready, and he can only look as he kneels on the edge of he stage right in front of him as he sings the bridge. They are holding eye contact now, and it’s the closest they have been. Eddie’s eyes are captivating, Steve can only stop looking at them to glance down at his lips. It seems he was caught, because the next second Eddie is speaking.
“Are we about to kiss right now?” he asks, and Steve looks back up to his eyes. He lifts his eyebrows, trying to convey ‘bring it on’ as best as he can as he licks his lips, Eddie’s eyes glancing at them. It must work, because the next second Eddie is leaning forward, and now Steve’s hand is on his nape, and their lips are pressing against each other.
It’s probably the filthiest kiss Steve has participated on. At least with an audience. It’s not long, Eddie has to keep singing after all, but they make up for it in tongue action. The audience goes crazy around them, but Steve doesn’t pay attention to them at all, only focused on Eddie. He at least must be paying some attention to their surroundings because he pulls off in time to keep singing and stands up to move around the stage.
There are a couple of songs more, and then Eddie is introducing the band again before he starts listing all the members of the staff that have made the concert possible.
“We also wouldn’t have made it here without our precious manager Chrissy,” he adds, “even when she worries too much sometimes. Three beers are not enough to get me drunk, especially not shared ones. And that reminds me! I can’t forget to thank my knight in shining armour, my perfect drink partner…” he trails off.
“STEVE!” Robin shouts next to him.
“Steve” Eddie repeats with a smile. “Thank you for the drinks. Don’t go running off now too fast now, alright? Stay for a bit after the concert, I owe you a couple of beers.” He finishes with a wink.
The kids and Robin are screaming again, and Steve is sure he is going to have bruises tomorrow from their grabbing, but he doesn’t stray his gaze from Eddie. At least not until the last song finishes, the lights from the stage turn off, and the rest of the lights of the venue turn on. Then, and only then, Steve turns towards the others.
“How did you say you were going to get back home again?”
Part two
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Text
Thinking of Steve with PTSD from the torture in Starcourt. (TW: explicit memories physical torture)
Steve, who wakes up feeling hands punch him. Steve, who sometimes gets his fingers caught on knots in his hair, tugs at them accidentally, and suddenly feels the needle against his neck again. Steve, who can't remember the last time it didn't feel like someone was touching him, even when there's no one there.
During the day, it's not so bad. It whispers over his skin, but sometimes it's like it goes completely silent, drowned by the chaos of the kids or Robin's antics. But nights, or any time he's alone in his house, are hard. His skin burns from being slapped, pinched, injected, and the walls waver and morph into the basement of Starcourt for hours.
Obviously, Robin get's it, she was there too, so the pair try to spend as much time as possible together. But on the night's she's working, or her parents force her in and Steve out, he struggles, avoiding his house like the plague.
It's on one of these nights he meets Eddie. Eddie, who's a little skeptical of him, but who saw his fall from grace, and can see the wild fear in Steve's eyes from a mile away. Eddie, who's always ready to adopt a stray sheep. Eddie, who's babbling brings him back to earth, even when he has no idea what he's on about. He learns Eddie's funny, and loud, and brings life to his sickeningly quiet home in a way no-one else can, and Eddie learns he's not a stuck-up bully of a jock, and it quickly becomes a routine for them to meet whenever Robin's busy. Overtime, Eddie learns Steve struggles because of what he went through in Starcourt, but not much else.
One night, he rocked up to Steve's for a movie night, and he can tell instantly it's a bad day. Steve looks haunted, there's no other word for it. He knows he's going to have to pull out the extra Munson Special to be able to get a real smile out of him tonight.
But it doesn't work. In fact, Steve just seems to be getting worse.
He keeps zoning out, knuckles wise where they grip his jeans, the sofa, anything. And not only is he shaking in general, he's also jolting. And... dodging. Like some invisible figure is hitting him.
Eddie's so worried, he actually stops talking, just watches for a little bit and. Steve doesn't notice. He just keeps breathing too fast. Keeps staring at some ghost in his past. Keeps flinching.
Saying Steve's name isn't enough to get his attention, so slowly, carefully, Eddie reaches for him, placing a hand on his arm, just lightly. But it's enough to make Steve reel back.
They're both apologising in seconds, Steve looking distraught as he assures Eddie it's fine, he's just being stupid, and Eddie saying he should have asked, it's no big deal. But Eddie doesn't miss the sheen in Steve's eyes as he nods, or the tremble to his lips.
He takes a deep breath. Asks, "Steve? what's going on?" Watches as Steve tenses impossibly more for one second. Two. Then crumbles.
"I- I can just f-feel- and-and it hurts, and I don't-"
"Okay, okay, what can I do?"
But Steve just whines, because he doesn't know, he just feels pain everywhere and he just needs to make it stop.
Cue Eddie wracking his brains, and asking where it hurts the worst. Cue Eddie asking if Steve trusts him (and of course he does). Cue Eddie talking Steve through what he's about to do. Cue Eddie gently reaching out to touch Steve's neck, rubbing his thumb over it gently, holding his breath as Steve goes rigid underneath his hand, only to let it out when a significant amount of the tension just bleeds out of him a few moments later.
Slowly, Eddie works his way around all the sore spots, murmuring soft assurances, gaining more confidence as Steve trembles less, breathes easier, and melts under his touch.
They end up with Steve's face buried in Eddie's shoulder, Eddie's arms around him firmly, but not tightly. And Steve doesn't have the words to explain why he needed this, what had caused this. But it doesn't matter. Because Eddie's got him.
From then on, Steve's always got someone to help him remember his body is his. Eddie doesn't hesitate to welcome Steve with a hug, run his hands over Steve's wrists, trail fingers over Steve's neck, or just wrap him up in a blanket and snuggle with him and watch a movie. It doesn't matter that Steve's not allowed to explain. He can piece enough together himself (and after Vecna, he learns anyway). It just matters that Steve is sleeping easier, and laughing more brightly. It just matters that Steve is his.
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