#anyway. shout out to eddie getting lied to and lied to and lied to and lied to and—

[vulpinesaint]

many things to say here. um. i love graphic design

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop Part 2

Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it? 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.

A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars. 

❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️

7k words 

Masterlist Part 1

For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier. 

Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile. 

“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”

You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.” 

“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.” 

Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station. 

Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.

The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes. 

“I see London, I see France…” 

You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display. 

“Eddie!” 

He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple. 

“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-” 

His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent. 

“Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you. 

“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side. 

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you. 

Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.” 

“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?” 

Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him. 

You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”

If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.

Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek. 

But that just makes his smile wider. 

“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you. 

“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door. 

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” 

“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?” 

“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?” 

You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world. 

At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone. 

So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about. 

As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.  

“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment. 

You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care. 

“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you. 

“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air. 

“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?” 

Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand. 

“Shit princess, what did you do at college?” 

“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you. 

“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.” 

In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat. 

Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear. 

“Good girl.” 

Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.

For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie. 

The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines. 

Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served. 

Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes. 

“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card. 

“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin. 

“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out. 

“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.

You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,” 

He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you. 

Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”

“May I have a beer, please?” 

“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.” 

Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!” 

Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.” 

As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.

“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink. 

“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being. 

“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully. 

“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.” 

Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery. 

“Oh princess, you are too cute.” 

Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks. 

“What? What is it?” 

Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.” 

“What, like, kissing?” 

Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.” 

Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer. 

Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?” 

His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar. 

“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.” 

“Oh.”

Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.

“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now. 

“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together. 

“Liar.” 

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks. 

“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?” 

He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.” 

“I know that, I mean…” 

For a second he just gapes at you. 

“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?” 

Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.” 

Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?” 

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing. 

Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?” 

“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.” 

He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.” 

That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand. 

“Please?” 

“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment. 

“Fine. Right now.” 

“Oh I didn't-” 

“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.” 

Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him. 

“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes. 

‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely. 

“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”

Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.

“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs. 

For a second you stop in sheer surprise. 

“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?” 

He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.” 

You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified. 

“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.” 

“Eddie!” 

He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you. 

“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside. 

Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.

“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head. 

“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door. 

“No, no, it's very… you.” 

“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious. 

“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar. 

“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-” 

“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.” 

You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.” 

Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway. 

The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if- 

“You can sit down, princess.” 

Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet. 

“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you. 

“No I- I was- maybe this-” 

“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle. 

“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.” 

“But i haven't showered-” 

“When did you last?” 

“Well… this morning.” 

“You're fine. Trust me.” 

He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together. 

“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.

He'll break your heart. 

“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.” 

A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns. 

“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?” 

Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head. 

“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra. 

He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?” 

Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck. 

“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.” 

He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.” 

Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.” 

Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.” 

Staring at you, he shakes his head.

“You should. You should be told every fucking day.” 

You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair. 

It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.

“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.” 

It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes. 

His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip. 

“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need. 

“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him. 

He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?” 

As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear. 

“Fuck, look at you.” 

The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms. 

“Don't hide from me. You still want this?” 

You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him. 

“Say it. You need to say it.” 

‘Yes, please Eddie.” 

That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex. 

“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.” 

“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands. 

“Relax princess, it's a compliment.” 

Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture. 

The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom. 

He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line. 

Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real. 

“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?” 

“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!” 

You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure. 

Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed. 

Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick. 

“You OK princess?” 

OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup. 

“Think you can go again?” 

That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?” 

Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling. 

“I think you've got at least one more in you.” 

Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up. 

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.” 

This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him. 

You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched. 

“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do. 

With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment. 

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin. 

“So? Good?” 

It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden. 

For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose. 

“That's not part of the deal.” 

Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile. 

“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs. 

“Stay here. I'll take the couch.” 

“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-” 

“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip. 

“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.” 

“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him. 

“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.” 

“You'd probably like that,” you tease. 

“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.” 

“Night Eddie.” 

When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down? 

Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?

After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions. 

Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything. 

As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond. 

There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. 

Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.

You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements. 

A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs. 

Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example. 

Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more. 

It looks like it's going to be a long night. 

********************

“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.” 

It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine. 

“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth. 

“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table. 

The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early. 

“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly. 

“Morning, can I help you?” 

“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you. 

Face lighting up, you fix your best smile. 

“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID? 

He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride. 

“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?” 

Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles. 

“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself. 

When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting. 

“You're not my 10:30.” 

The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong. 

“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder. 

Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter. 

“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.” 

Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.

“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?” 

He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes. 

Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves. 

There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda. 

Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear. 

“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.” 

“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat. 

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?” 

Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension. 

“Hey, keep it at home guys.” 

Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip. 

“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie. 

“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.

You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window. 

“So, as I was saying-” 

“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red. 

“I was only-” 

“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!” 

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally. 

You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac. 

When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you. 

Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest. 

********************

It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently. 

By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest. 

He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.

The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.

“Eddie, can I talk to you?” 

He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom. 

“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-” 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile. 

“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out. 

“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug. 

“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.” 

You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Really?” 

Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong. 

“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.” 

Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.” 

His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?” 

“Of course I would. You got their number?” 

He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William. 

“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?” 

He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored. 

“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.” 

Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait. 

“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is-  well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.” 

Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly. 

His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character. 

“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?” 

You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.” 

He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly. 

“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.” 

“Eddie I already owe-” 

He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!” 

You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you. 

“Who the fuck is Barb?”

“I dunno, she sounded worldly.” 

He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.” 

Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other. 

Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time. 

“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!” 

Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly. 

“You did good Miss, he's really happy.” 

“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.” 

He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.” 

He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled. 

“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately. 

“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look. 

He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.” 

“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening. 

He smirks at you in response.

“You free tonight? I can show you.” 

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes @tlclick73 @reidsgubbler @siriuslysmoking @keanureevessmile @fhsbsvy @yourdailymemedelivery @aurora-austen @rach5ive @honey-teaaaaaaaa @nina211544 @bbabycass @cactusangie @skrzydlak @took-me-hours-to-steal-those @hereforshmut @nabiiturner @darlingbravebelle @freak-of-hawkins @randomworker @serenadingtigers @1paire2vans @sapphire4082 @xmasterofmunsonx @steamystrangerfics @vol2eddie @storiesbyrhi

[gloomweed]

Aggressive Compliments

(Eddie Munson x Insecure!Reader)

Summary: After you confess to Eddie that you don't like the way you look, he is quick to assure you of how beautiful you are.

wc: ~2k

This was it. You were down to your last quarter and you’ve spent too much to give up now. The silver coin rolls into the slot and the light flashes on the ‘go’ button. With one last focusing exhale, you hit the green button and narrow your eyes at the purple bat plushie. The beeps and music fade out as you gain your center. You move the joystick with precision, finally getting the hang of its movements, until it hangs directly above your target. Eyes flicking downward, you see the red timer counting down from the 15 seconds you have left. You move around the transparent box the best you can to see the other angles, ensuring you were in the right position.

Seeing no mistakes, you glance over your shoulder to Eddie who is covering his mouth with his hands, per your request. He breaks focus from the claw machine to nod his approval silently. With a smirk, you hit the drop button with only 3 seconds to spare. You and Eddie press your faces against the glass, praying that this is the one. The claw falls, at an agonizingly slow rate, until it is resting perfectly on the center of the bat’s head. Then it clamps down, caging the plush toy carefully. You both held your breath with anticipation. This was the pivotal moment. Would it make it off the ground?

The claw lifts the bat upwards oh so very slowly and much too shakily. As the claw carries the toy closer and closer to the exit your excitement builds exponentially. Until, finally above the box, the claw releases and the bat falls into the exit unceremoniously. You both shout with joy, laughing hysterically at the fact that your obsessive repetition finally paid off. “You did it! You finally did it!” Eddie shouted excitedly. You grab the toy and hold it above your head victoriously. The other arcade patrons look your way disapprovingly, disturbed by your volume. Neither of you cared, too invested in finally winning at the claw game. 

Eddie is so excited he scoops you up in a hug and lifts you off your feet momentarily. You’re almost too happy to realize or care, until you feel his arms on your back and your stomach against his chest. Immediately you clam up, your smile faltering as you are once again reminded of your imperfect body. You do your best not to make a big deal out of it, but Eddie already notices your drop in energy and stops to put you down. 

His face is still plastered with a wide smile, but his brow pinches together, worried he did something wrong. “You okay? Did I squeeze you too hard?”

You fake a smile and shake your head. “No, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy is all,” you lied. Before Eddie could press further, you change the subject. “Anyways,” you hold the toy out to him. “Here is your prize, Eddie.”

Confused brown eyes hold your stare as he takes the toy from your hands with a lopsided grin. His attention is then on the soft toy as he holds it close to his chest in a protective hug, humming in content. When Eddie holds it out again for a moment to admire it, he shakes his head before handing it back to you. “You should have it. I mean, you did all the work to get it, not to mention the quarters you put into it.”

You tilt your head, confused, as you take the plush from his hands. “But you spent all your quarters trying to win it.”

He chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Honestly, I only wanted to win it for you.” Eddie shrugs. “Wanted to give you a souvenir. Something to remember this awesome date we had.” His head snaps up in realization. “This was a good date, right? Or was I the only one feeling that?”

Smiling, you cup his face and press a quick kiss to his cheek. When you pull away, you see him flush red. “It was a great date. I loved it. But you didn’t have to win me a souvenir.”

Eddie gestures to the purple bat in your hands. “Yeah, clearly you win them yourself.”

You roll your eyes with a grin. “I meant, to remember this date. I’m not forgetting this anytime soon.”

“Alright well,” Eddie takes a step closer, playfully flapping the wings of the bat in your arms, “either way, I’m sure Ozzy will much rather live at your house than mine, and if seeing him happens to remind you of me, that’s just a bonus.” His grin looks mischievous with the way his head tilts to his shoulder.

You look at the plush toy in your hands. “‘Ozzy,’ huh? That’s a cute name.”

“As in the guy who bit off the head of a bat on stage.”

“Right,” you smile. Eddie had told you that story many times. “Well, seeing as we are both out of quarters, I suppose that means this arcade date is officially over. Care to walk me and Ozzy here home?” 

Eddie flourishes his arm out with a little bow, encouraging you to lead the way. “Why, it would be my pleasure.” He follows closely beside you, arm at the small of your back as you make your way through the crowd of people. Despite the enticing warmth of his hand, your insecurities can't stand the idea of being forgotten. You curl away from his touch just to silence the destructive thoughts.

Once you make it outside, you both squint at the sudden brightness. Even though the sun was setting, it was still much brighter than the darkness of the arcade you had grown accustomed to over the course of the afternoon. After blinking away the discomfort, you two begin to make your way down the sidewalk towards your house. The walk is mostly quiet, but it’s a comfortable silence. Eddie is the first to break it. His hands are in his jacket pocket and he seems more willing to look towards the sidewalk than at you. “I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to make you upset or anything.” His soft tone of voice perks your ears.

The apology completely catches you off guard. “Huh? What do you mean? I'm not upset.”

His dark eyes find yours and he shrugs. “You just seemed…weird after I hugged you. Which, I get it. I should have asked before lifting you up like that. I was just so happy for you, you know? Guess I got caught up in all the excitement.”

You frown, feeling guilty that you got Eddie all in his head about it. “No, no. It had nothing to do with you. I just-” You huff, struggling to find the words. Worried that being honest with him would ruin the nice vibe you had going. Seeing as Eddie noticed your odd behavior already, it’s safe to say that ship has sailed. You think that if it were the other way around, you would want Eddie to be completely honest with you. Gathering your courage with a deep breath, you do your best to put your feelings into words. “Sometimes when I’m reminded of the way my body looks or feels, I get all…stupid. I'm scared you’ll notice all the bad parts of me. The ugly parts. Then you’ll realize you want nothing to do with me.”

There is a silent pause as Eddie mulls over your words. His shoes scuff on the sidewalk as he suddenly stops walking. The noise of it puts you on edge. As you stop a second after him, your mind starts racing through what you said looking for the thing that might have upset him. “Okay, first of all, you’re not stupid.” His tone is firm, but it isn’t angry. It brings you a sliver of relief as you turn to face him. 

How he spoke made it sound less like a compliment and more like an obvious unrefuted fact. Like you were an idiot for calling yourself stupid, which is very confusing. “Thank you?” is your meek reply. 

Eddie’s eyes are wide and unblinking. “Second, in what world, in what reality, are you within even an atom’s width of ‘bad’ or ‘ugly’?” He pinches his fingers in front of his eyes trying to emphasize how small an interval he’s talking about.

Your face was warm with the weird worded compliment. The logical part of your brain wanted to point out examples to him. Maybe you wanted to prove the cynical part of yourself right; that you are bad and ugly. Maybe you just wanted to hear him refute them, boost your ego all the more. “Well, what about when you lifted me up? Didn’t you feel how heavy I am? How my stomach pressed against you?” Talking about it only makes you want to make yourself smaller, so you hug the stuffie against yourself as a kind of shield.

Running his hands through his hair, Eddie looked like he was close to ripping it out. “Are you fucking kidding me?! When I held you against me and I could feel all your sexy little dips and curves? Looking at the most beautiful fucking smile in the goddamn world? I loved every second of it!” His arms drop heavily from his head, hands slapping against his jeans. Suddenly his gaze is softer as he realizes his yelling is putting you off. Eddie gently takes one of your hands in his, ducking his head hoping to catch your eyes. “I would hold you every day if you’d let me.” When you finally look him in the eyes, they crinkle at the corners as he smiles lovingly at you. “Just because you aren’t the magazine cover conventionally attractive type, doesn’t make you any less attractive. I mean, look at me,” he steps back and waves a hand presenting himself to you. “Does any of this scream conventional to you?”

Your eyes scan Eddie up and down, catching on his long frizzy hair, jean vest atop his leather jacket covered in patches and buttons, his wallet chain connected to his black ripped jeans. In relation to your small town of Hawkins, Indiana, Eddie was far from average. “I guess not.” Your voice was small as you were beginning to realize his point.

“Aaand…? Do you think I’m pretty?” He uses his extra whiney voice as he holds both his hands beneath his chin in a silly pose, fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

It’s enough to make you laugh and you can see Eddie’s smile brighten at the sound of it. “Of course I do!”

He holds you by the elbows excitedly. “Exactly! I feel the same way about you!” The passion in his voice makes you blush. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on.” Eddie’s voice is softer now, given the close proximity that you don’t seem to mind as much as you did 5 minutes ago. “You are not bad or ugly or stupid. And I’ll tell you everyday if I have to. Hell, I’ll have it tattooed onto my forehead if that’s what it takes.” The corners of his lips quirk up when he sees you smile.

Suddenly you feel a little embarrassed that you ever doubted Eddie’s affections for you. You can’t help but stare into his deep chocolate eyes, feeling so genuinely loved. When you reach up to caress his face, your thumb grows warm from the blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. Your eyes slip closed as you kiss him. His hand lands on your waist to hold you closer, and this time you don’t shy away. As you break apart and stare up at him through your lashes, your voice rings out softly. “Thank you, Eddie.” 

“Anytime, Sweetheart.”

[glorious-spoon]

to loosen his grip [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie]

~1k words | eddie & tommy; pre-relationship eddie/buck

spec fic for 7x04

-

The thing is, Eddie's not stupid.

Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. He can't help it. Everything he's feeling comes spilling out of him; keeping it inside seems as impossible for him as holding the tide back with a leaky sieve. It's not something Eddie relates to that much, honestly. If anything, he's got the opposite problem. He crushes everything he's feeling into a tight little knot and holds onto it with white knuckles until he can't hold on anymore. It lost him Shannon—would have lost him Shannon even if she'd lived—and it nearly lost him both his job and his sanity in the end. He's still learning how to loosen his grip.

Buck still needs to learn how to get a grip, like, at all.

So yeah, Eddie knows. Not right away; he doesn't really think anything of it when he picks Tommy up from the hanger and Buck is there. In the truck, he watches Buck's receding figure in the rearview mirror for a moment before Tommy says, "Not trying to poach Evan from the 118, I promise."

He's laughing about it a little bit. Eddie scoffs and says, "Buck? You'd have to pry him out of that house before he'd go anywhere else."

He doesn't mention the lawsuit. That's water long under the bridge now, and it's not a time in his life he likes to think back on that much. But he knows it's true; Buck can say whatever he wants about keeping his options fluid, but when he finds people and a place he wants to keep, he hangs onto them.

Tommy is good company, anyway. It's something he's missed, since the Army: the easy camaraderie over beers, sitting in a shouting crowd in Vegas, shooting the shit in a bar afterward. Tommy's got a lift, and he brings his abuelo's Chevelle over, and it's an easy slide from that into a half-casual bout of muay thai, and Eddie has missed that, too: sparring just for fun, just for the hell of it, not for the money or because his demons were going to claw themselves out of his chest with bloody nails otherwise.

"See you've caught some lead," Tommy observes once they're done, bruised and a little breathless, shirtless on the bench in his garage. Eddie caps his Gatorade and glances up, and for a second he doesn't even know what Tommy is talking about until he nods at Eddie's right shoulder and asks, "That from overseas?"

Eddie touches the bullet scar, a long-healed dimple by now. It's not that noticeable anymore, at least from the front. The surgical scars from his thoracotomy are still more obvious, but even they've faded.

"Oh, no," he says. "I mean, yeah, I did, but this one was right here in L.A."

"Right, the sniper," Tommy agrees. "Shit. I remember seeing that Captain Nash caught a bullet. Didn't realize you were the other one from his house that got shot."

"Yeah, well." Eddie shrugs, uncapping his Gatorade again. "It was a long time ago."

He likes that, too. Talking about it with someone who never saw the bullet hole, only the scar. Talking about it with someone who's never had his blood in his mouth, who never knelt above him in a speeding truck and begged him to hang on.

He lied to Buck about it, because Buck's so close to it that he might as well have been shot too. It's easier like this, because Tommy isn't wounded by the memory; Tommy shrugs and asks if he wants to grab a pizza after this, and Eddie slings a towel over his shoulder and lets Tommy pull him to his feet, and they have pizza and a couple more beers, and it's easy. He's missed easy. He thinks he deserves to have something easy, for a change.

-

"I mean, I think it's great," Buck says, apropos of pretty much exactly nothing a couple of days later. "You can never have too many friends, you know?"

He's vibrating with that exact same anxious energy that Eddie remembers from his first day at the 118, when Buck seemed one wrong move away from pissing on the exercise equipment or maybe shoving him down the stairs. It awakens some puckish little part of Eddie that can't help but needle him. You're standing in the wrong light, man, as if he's ever in his life had an opinion about photography lighting, but it got Buck to bristle and snap like a wounded dog, all electric fury, and Eddie liked that, too, for reasons that he understands better now than he did back then.

So he shrugs, and he says lightly, "You know, it's like that thing when you meet somebody and you just click. You know what I mean?"

It's a jab, and not a very subtle one. He still remembers standing in the sunlight and listening to Buck tell him that Natalia saw him, after Eddie watched him hang there in the rain and felt his chest unmoving beneath his palms and sat through those endless hours in the fucking hospital waiting for him to wake up. After Eddie brought him home, and listened to his quiet confession in his kitchen, and tried as well as he knew how to hold Buck's still-beating heart gently.

But sure. Natalia saw him. For all of four months, apparently.

He thinks he wants Buck to flinch and snap back, just a little. It's not the place for it—they're in the middle of a goddamn call—but he's stupid about Buck. Always has been.

Buck doesn't flinch. He sags instead, his mouth downturned, and he mutters, "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

And it's something they should talk about, maybe, but then Ravi calls up for more slack, and there are other things to focus on for the time being.

[apomaro-mellow]

For Steddie bingo, “Eddie Caused Steve’s Gay Awaking ™️” I adore a good “Oh. Oh” moment we’re Steve’s brain just glitches bc of Eddie

Have a bit of post s4 recovery as well!

"You know he doesn't look half bad when he's asleep like this", Steve commented like it was a totally normal thing to say about a guy friend currently in a hospital bed.

Clearly it wasn't because Dustin AND Robin were looking at him like he'd grown a second head.

"You know what I mean, all peaceful and junk. I don't think I've ever seen him like...like this, you know?"

"Yeah, I know", Dustin said. "He never sat still, even when things were fine."

He could have just left it at that, but Steve couldn't leave it alone. Why did Eddie's sleeping face get that reaction from him? Steve remembered being around guy friends while they slept. He never had any thoughts deeper than hoping they didn't drool. He'd seen Dustin sleeping and while he thought he looked deceptively cherubic while unconscious, it was like watching a baby sleep. Cute, when they weren't shouting at the top of their lungs.

Eddie being awake wasn't much better. Well-it was, given the alternative was death by gut injuries. But every time he opened his eyes, Steve let out a relieved breath and got to watch him slowly return to the world of the waking and wished he could spare Eddie a few more precious moments where he was blissfully unaware of the world outside that still wanted to kill him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

There was something really familiar about it all that he couldn't put his finger on. One day, when he came to the hospital to visit Eddie, he got an idea, making sure to close the door behind himself.

"Hey, uh, mind if I lay down with you?", Steve asked.

"You don't mind laying in bed with a freak?", Eddie asked.

"Come on man, I didn't get a lot of sleep", he lied. "Plus, you know you're like the fifth freakiest person I know."

"Fifth?", Eddie gasped. "I should lick your elbow for that", he threatened, but scooched anyway and lied on his side. There really wasn't a ton of room on the bed, but on their sides, they were just barely able to squeeze in together. Steve let out a breath as he got comfortable and imagined waking up like this, next to one of his many dates. Except this time, it was Eddie's face who greeted him after a night together.

Instantly, he felt the urge to reach out and stroke his hair, to kiss him awake, to coax him from sleep softly and whisper a promise of 'next time'. And the idea of doing so with a man wasn't a deterrent at all.

Well, that was new.

"What's going on under all that hair Harrington?", Eddie asked softly.

"Are you doing anything later?"

Eddie snickered. "Got a hot date with a catheter later."

"And after that?"

"Careful Stevie, it almost sounds like you're asking me out."

"And if I am?", Steve asked, eyes hopeful.

Eddie searched them for any signs of deceit. Because Steve Harrington couldn't be lying next to him, asking him out right now.

"I'd say....that Iiiiii, I guess I'll have to call the catheter and cancel."

Steve smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Steddie bingo under the cut.

I just realized I technically have bingo but yall are more than welcome to keep sending me prompts until i fill up the whole card LOL

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 5

Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wingman for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Ranting about Ozzy Osbourne counts as flirting, right?

5.7 words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

a/n: I wanted to get this chapter out before Flight of Icarus on Halloween. I am MILKING that preview we got for all it's worth. I want y'all to know in this chapter I am projecting HARD on what I think the book will be like and how it will affect Eddie. Also say thank you to @hellfiredarling and @crocwork-clockodile because without them, this wouldn't have gone past 2 chapters. Also shout out to @hellfiredarling for letting me borrow her OC Tara for this fic as well. 💜

WARNINGS: This chapter discusses the Ozzy Osbourne Bat Incident. Nothing is really talked about in graphic detail, but I figured I'd throw that out there, just in case.

Eddie Munson would never consider himself a homewrecker. He was a lot of things; a freak, a metal head, the occasional dealer, a musician, but never a homewrecker. 

But he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy flirting with you as Steve was right there. Steve hadn’t even made any sort of move to make it clear that you were actually on a date anyway. Eddie had expected some sort of reaction from Steve from the banter that bounced between the two of you, but he’d only sat back and watched. 

You were far too good for Harrington anyway. 

But he could have figured that out the second time the two of you had met so many years ago. You didn’t remember Eddie, and he didn’t blame you too much for that. You had been in a rough state that time, shaken up and worried out of your mind. Hell, Eddie himself could barely remember the first meeting it had been so long ago. 

He couldn’t help himself though, not when you showed an interest in his band, his club, and (he was starting to hope) him. The back and forth between the two of you had excited him. He swore (lied) to himself that he was only flirting and chatting with you to annoy Harrington, and the last thing he had expected was for you to start flirting back. It was night and day compared to Sidequest Day. Eddie completely forgot about Steve the second you mentioned WASP as a favorite band. He probably could have stood there all night, asking you how you fell into the genre, what songs you add to your mix tapes, and bragging not-so-subtly about his band and guitar skills. 

But reality always shows up, and Eddie was needed to fix the amp again. It was old and beat to hell and back, but it was all he could afford to fix. A new amp would always be out of the question unless the Hideout decided to start paying the high schoolers for their performance every week. 

He made his way to the van to grab his toolbox (Wayne’s toolbox, but he insisted that Eddie keep it in his van) when he realized that he was an idiot. Shit, he’d offered you a ride home, and he was really hoping you’d take him up on that offer, intoxicated or not. 

The back of the van was gutted, making it far easier to transport Gareth’s drum set, the amp, and all of their other equipment to their weekly gig. There was even room for two of his friends to (very illegally) sit back there while one person sat up front with him. 

Would you even want a ride home like that? Eddie had no problem forcing everyone else to ride in the back while you rode shotgun. Then it was the long ride to Gareth’s place to drop everything off, then dropping off Jeff and Zack. 

He could drop you off first, but that would defeat the purpose of offering you a ride. 

Shit. 

Whatever, he’d wing it. He’d figure out the details later after the show. Right now he had to fix the amp again and focus on the music. 

There was a moment before every show, when the janky spotlights would turn on and temporarily blind Eddie, that transported him to another world. Any time he picked up his guitar, be it his electric one or the acoustic, he could feel a charge in the air. Music was as natural as breathing to him, something that just was. 

Someone once asked Eddie, why music? Why this music? 

Because it’s fucking badass. Because it’s an escape to a different world, a different dimension. 

When Eddie played, he didn’t have to be in Hawkins. He didn’t have to be a freak. When he felt the sharp strings press into his fingers he became a Rock God. His music made him feel badass, indestructible, a fucking hero in his mind. 

During a really good show, Eddie could lose himself completely. He could imagine that there was a large crowd cheating his name, his band. The sound of his guitar screeched like a demonic bat, and he could imagine that the audience was looking through a portal to another dimension, watching as Corroded Coffin used their music to kick ass and take names. 

Eddie never thought about what it would be like to look through the other side of the portal. To look back and see someone looking at him the way he imagined it. That was, until the first song started and his eyes met yours through the near empty bar. 

There was a smile on your face, and an intense look in your eyes as you watched him play. The excitement in your eyes couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. It was the same look that Dustin had given Eddie the first time he made the kid a mix tape, it was the look that his bandmates had when they booked their first gig ever that wasn’t some talent show or open mic night. 

It was the look Eddie had when he held a guitar for the first time. 

Sure, Eddie had fans. At least 5 people would drunkenly cheer for him on Tuesdays. They were mostly older though, blue collar workers who were reliving their youth through Corroded Coffin. Occasionally he could even have a semi-coherent conversation with them about music after the set. Not often though. The sets usually ended with high fives from the band, maybe a pat on the back and a beer slipped over to Eddie. 

The way you were smiling up at him was different though. Even with the drink in your hand you were alert and paying attention to every song and every lyric. Eddie’s voice wasn’t the most well-trained but he let his guitar do most of the work. As they worked through their set, his eyes kept falling back to you. Of course it was easy, considering the fact that you were a cute girl sitting front and center, and most of his other ‘fans’ were by the actual bar on their fourth or fifth round for the night. 

Paige had once mentioned off-handedly that he had the look and the stage presence. She’d even said that he looked good once and that was a compliment that he had ridden the high of until everything came crashing down again. When that dream disappeared along with her, Eddie had gone back to just being the Freak of Hawkins. But, fuck, when you were looking at him like that he could almost believe it again.

When the echoes of the final chord faded into the air and the portal closed, Eddie was left smiling at the one person in the bar that bothered cheering like they meant it. You. 

He took his pick and tossed it to you, and you caught it between your hands like you had with the air hockey puck just a few days ago. Eddie felt a sense of pride as your cheeks darkened, and he hoped it was because of him and not the drink you had been nursing for the past hour. Your eyes darted between him and Steve- oh right. Harrington was here too. Right. 

Eddie turned away and started helping with packing up. The sooner they got the equipment to the van the more time they would have to hang out before curfews for everyone else hit.

During the summer they had gotten away with staying out a bit later, but it was now the school year. That meant they had about twenty minutes to mingle, pack, and head out. The last thing he needed was to piss off Gareth's parents (again) and lose their place to practice. 

Eddie was already on thin ice with the parents of his bandmates and club members, except for Zack’s. He wasn’t gonna push it. 

With everything tucked securely back in his van, Eddie made his way back inside to find you.One of his regulars gave him a clap on the back for a good show and handed him a beer which he gladly accepted. He should back off, stay away when every time he’s seen you in recent memory was with Steve Harrington. But when he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the table still fiddling with the pick between your fingers and finishing off your drink he couldn’t stay away. Steve was nowhere to be found. 

“So, did you enjoy the show?” Eddie asked, taking a seat next to you. You had been lost in thought and jumped slightly. When you realized he was there, you smiled at Eddie as if he was the one person you wanted to see in all of Hawkins. 

“Holy shit, you guys are good!” You said brightly. There was the tiniest slur to your words, made noticeable by how fast you were talking. “Your amp makes a weird sound with your guitar but I don’t think that’s a bad thing and you were going so fast! How’d you get your fingers to do that?!”

Eddie laughed and had you been in a more sober state of mind he might have made some sort of dirty joke about that. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid, and I practice so much it’s second nature to me.” 

You glanced at his calloused fingers and nodded, before looking back at your own. “I don’t have the finger dexterity for that.” you said, moving your fingers around. “See? My pinkie is kind of fucked up.” You gave your fingers a wiggle and your pinkie definitely moved in a more jerky fashion than the rest of your finders. 

“It’s because you don’t use it enough.” Eddie said, grabbing your pinkie and shaking your hand around, making you laugh. “Just start playing guitar for about four hours a day until your fingers bleed and I’m sure you could fix it.”

“That sounds like a lot of work that I don’t have the passion for, so I think I’ll leave all the fingering to you-” You closed your eyes and took a very deep breath as your brain caught up to your mouth. Eddie watched in amusement as you slumped your head to the table. “Can I get a do over?” 

Despite the embarrassment you were laughing, which Eddie took as a good sign. His next move was risky, but he was going to go for it. 

“If you had a g string I could show you how to finger it.” 

“Nooooo!” you groaned through your laughter as you sat back up. “Low hanging fruit, Eddie! That was too easy!” 

“You handed that one to me on a silver platter! I don’t think I’d be allowed to play guitar anymore if I didn’t go for that joke!” Eddie said in mock offense. 

“Eddie, did you know that when you order one drink here, they actually give you three drinks in one glass?” you asked, motioning to your empty cup. “Because I did not.”

He looked over at the bar, and then back to you. “Sam’s working. Yeah, he’s pretty heavy handed with his drinks. Are you good?” 

You gave a nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, I can’t drive probably but I’m not blackout wasted or anything.” There was still a slur to your words, but your eyes were still alert enough that he felt confident that you weren’t going to make any decisions that weren’t completely your own.

“So how come I’m the one who offered you a ride home and not your date?” Eddie didn’t want to bring up Harrington, but curiosity always got the better of him in one way or another. 

“Date?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization dawned on your face. You looked at Eddie with such intensity that it made him feel nervous for a second. “I am not dating Steve Harrington.” There was firmness in your voice. “He’s dating every other girl in Hawkins.”

“Do you... want him to be dating you?” Eddie wasn’t sure where you were going with this and he took a sip of the beer that he’d been neglecting for the past few minutes. . 

“Ew.” 

That one word had him nearly choking on his beer as it went down the wrong pipe. He made a strained sound between a cough and a laugh and you smacked him on the back a few times with concern before he waved your hand off.

“‘Ew’?” He managed to finally choke out, looking at you in disbelief. “So you’re telling me that you and Steve Harrington just happen to hang out but you aren’t dating?” 

This had to be a joke, some sort of prank where Harrington would pop out of the bathroom, throw his arm around you, and laugh at Eddie for believing for even a second that someone as cool as you was single. 

“We’re just friends and we have a kind of deal going on.” you said, messing with the ice in your empty glass. “I help him and he uh...” Eddie watched as you hesitated and your mind looked for the words. “He helps me get out of the house.”

“I thought you said coming out was your idea?” Eddie tilted his head, watching as your expression changed to one of a kid who’s hand was caught in the cookie jar. 

“I lied.” You said bluntly. “I had no idea about you playing or that you had a band or even that the Hideout had any live music ever. It was Steve’s idea.”

Eddie watched your expression carefully for any sign that you didn’t actually have feelings for Steve. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, knew better than to get his hopes up. The Munson’s weren’t exactly known for being lucky in love, and he was no different. Eddie could count on one hand the amount of times he’d had any sort of romantic connection to a girl and most of those had crumbled to dust in his hands. 

“Harrington brought you here?” He said slowly. “To get you out of the house?”

“I pretty much live at work and home.” you shrugged, sucking the last bit of moisture that had melted in the bottom of your glass. “He’s a good friend. And that’s all he is.” 

Even Eddie wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the blatant flag that you were waving over your head. 

SMACK

Two drumsticks came crashing down on the table between the two of you. Eddie didn’t even realize how close you two were getting until Gareth managed to squeeze himself between the two of you, banging his sticks rhythmically on the table. 

“Eddie we gotta go.” Gareth said. “Mom’s gonna kill me if I’m late tonight. Grandma’s visiting.”

“Shit.” Eddie muttered to himself and then looked at you. “Do you still need a ride?” 

He hoped you’d say yes. He hoped you didn’t mind his band while they all drove home so illegally. 

“I think I can’t say no.” You glanced at the drink. “Because that was waaay stronger than I expected it to be and I can alway bully Steve into helping me get my car in the morning.”

“Why was Harrington even here?” Gareth asked, looking at you with confusion. He glanced at Eddie in a questioning manner and a sharp look from Eddie shut him right up. 

“He’s my friend. He left. Said he wasn’t feeling well.” You replied nonchalantly. 

Harrington just left you drunk at a bar?! Eddie looked at you with wide eyes and his mouth hung open. What kind of bullshit friend was that? Henderson had spent so long talking up Steve Harrington, and how he was a total badass and not a dick and he left a friend drunk at a bar? He had been willing to play nice for Dustin, but any chance of that was thrown out the window. 

Eddie stood up, the chair scraping behind him as he tried (badly) to hide his frustration. “We’re giving her a ride home. She gets shotgun.” 

“What?!” Gareth protested, looking at you like you’d personally offended him. “If my parents see me get out of the back-”

“They won’t unless you plan on telling them to wait up for you.” Eddie said firmly. “She’s shotgun.”

There was a look of guilt on your face as you sat there awkwardly. “Mom, Dad, I can sit in the back or I can just stick around her for another hour with some water and I’ll sober up.” 

Eddie grabbed you by the scruff of your jacket and hauled you up quickly. “Nope, you’ve already had one person ditch you tonight. I’m not leaving you drunk in a bar alone.”

He winced internally at how roughly he’d just handled you. Eddie was so used to handling and rough housing with his club that he forgot that he shouldn’t be doing that with other people. But it was so easy with you. The few conversations you’ve had made him feel like you should have been part of Hellfire to begin with. If he ever saw Chris Morrison again, he’d deck him in his smug little nose. 

There was no time for protesting from either you or Eddie as he pushed the two of you out the door and towards his van. It was chilly out, the autumn air biting his skin as he pushed Gareth towards the back of the van. He released your jacket and stepped to open the door of the van for you. 

“After you-” He did his best to give what he hoped was a charming smile as you hopped into the van. He heard Zack mutter something in the back of his van followed by a round of snickering between his bandmates before he closed the door and hopped into the driver side seat. 

Metal came blasting out of the speakers and he fumbled to turn it down so that it didn’t blow your eardrums. 

“Wait no, turn that back up!” you said, reaching for the knob to elevate the voice of Ozzy Ozbourn as it thrummed through the van. 

“So uh, this is my new friend.” Eddie said, hating how that sounded as he tried to break the ice. 

You turned around in your seat immediately and stuck your hand in the back, introducing your name. Eddie was amazed as you wasted no time launching into how great the set was and asking a million questions as to who they were, how they started playing music. 

You weren’t shy, that was for sure. Actually the buzz you had going on made you even more interested in talking to everyone. Soon there was a lively conversation happening, enthusiastically about the tape that was playing. 

“My mom hates Ozzie.” Jeff said. “Says that he’s an animal abuser because he bit the head off that bat.”

“Everyone wants to talk about that, but no one wants to talk about how that happened!” You threw in. 

“What do you mean?” shot back Gareth. “With his fucking teeth!” 

“That’s not what I meant, Dingus!” you snorted. “Where do you think the bat came from?” 

Eddie gave pause and slowed his driving down just a touch. He was already going slow to avoid any cops out, but you had asked a question that he’d never even considered. 

The question gave pause to everyone as they looked at each other with confused shrugs. 

“I thought he just pulled it out of his pants.” Said Zack 

“His pants?!” 

“Why would he keep a bat in his pants?!”

“To pull it out and bite the head off of it, duh!”

“Where else would he keep a bat?”

“I don’t know, a cage?!”

The conversation was delving into chaos and Eddie could see you grinning out of the corner of his eye as you watched them squabble amongst themselves. 

“Maybe it just flew in?” Eddie threw that out there, wishing that he didn’t have to be driving so that he could focus on the mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“It was a closed auditorium, actually.” You smiled at him. “I highly doubt that a bat is just gonna fly into a random building filled with screaming people.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just a random building. It’s a building where Black Sabbath was playing.” Eddie laughed, glancing between you and the road. “Maybe it was a metal fan.”

“Not anymore.” 

“Jesus, Zack” 

“Alright, I’ll bite-”

“The head off a bat?”

“No! Okay, so you clearly know what happened so just spit it out!”

“Like Ozzy did with the bat head?”

“ENOUGH!” Eddie yelled out, hitting the breaks just enough to make the van jerk and you all to have his attention. You laughed as he resumed normal driving, thankful that it was almost 10 pm on a Tuesday night and the roads were dead and empty. “Let her talk.”

The van went quiet after a few apologies and you reached over to turn down the radio. 

“Alright, so,” you started. “I’m just gonna start from the beginning and if you all hear me rant about this once, you’ll probably hear me rant about it a hundred times in the future because this is my go-to drunk rant.” 

You glance at Eddie, and he could see the excitement in your eyes that you got to talk about this with fresh people who would actually appreciate it. 

“So we’ve established that this was a closed auditorium that he was playing in, and this wasn’t planned at all.” you continued. “So the question everyone needs to ask is where the fuck this bat came from. Everyone always talks about it like he reached up and grabbed a random bat out of the air and ate it whole but that’s not what happened. What happened is that a fan threw the bat on stage- mind you, he has no reason to believe that it’s a real bat. He thinks it’s a rubber bat! Who in their right mind would think that someone would throw a real bat on stage?”

“Isn’t Ozzy on every drug ever?” Jeff asked from the back. 

You turned around in your seat to look at him, your finger extended. “You... are absolutely correct and make a very valid point. That aside though, let’s think about this. What kind of person managed to get a live bat, sneak it into a concert, and get close enough to the stage to throw it at Ozzy?”

They were pulling up into Gareth’s neighborhood now, and Eddie drove under the speed limit, stopping fully at every stop sign just to prolong this time together. He was fully invested in the excitement and passion in your voice as you told this story. 

“Who was it?” Eddie asked. 

“Get this- a seventeen year old high school girl.” You said. “A fucking junior in high school, managed to get a live bat, sneak it in, and throw it at Ozzy! That’s insane, right?!”

“What?!”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“I have absolutely no clue!” you laughed. “The two interviews I read about it didn’t talk about who she was or anything. They just talked about how Ozzy saw the bat and didn’t realize it was alive until he took a bite! It’s actually kind of fucked up, and Ozzy did not deserve that but holy shit right?”

Eddie pulled into Gareth’s parent’s driveway, and everyone in the back went into band mode as Gareth immediately hopped out of the back and hoped that his parents weren’t watching. You moved back in your set and glanced at Eddie who had to pretend he wasn’t staring a hole into the side of your head. 

“Need any help?” you offered. 

He shook his head, “Just hang tight while we unpack. It’ll only take a second.” 

The boys made quick work of unpacking the drum set and rearranging the back so that the remaining two club members could more comfortably fit for the final leg home. Thankfully Jeff and Zack didn’t live too far from each other. You stayed in the van, zoning out pleasantly to the end of the tape. 

In the garage, Eddie was getting roasted. 

“So now you’re taking home girls after shows, Eddie?” Jeff asked with a shit-eating grin. 

“Next time warn us so we can get a different ride.” grumbled Gareth. 

“She seems nice.” Zack added. 

“Look, it was a last minute thing and she was left alone and drunk in a bar.” Eddie tried to explain as they put up the drum kit. 

“So the only girl you can get is a drunk girl?” ribbed Jeff. 

“A drunk girl who was ditched by a jock- ow!” Gareth rubbed his arm where Eddie had socked him. 

“I told you, it was a last minute thing.” Eddie said more firmly, narrowing his eyes at Gareth. “I’m just making sure she gets home safe.” 

“Wasn’t she also at the arcade last Saturday?” Jeff asked. “Weird how she keeps showing up.”

“If it means we get someone else watching our band, who cares? She liked the set and we need the support.” Zack added. “Night Gareth”

“Night.” Gareth said before closing the garage door. 

They all made their way back into the van, just in time for the cassette to be spat back out for you to flip it over and push play again. The drive to drop off the remaining two members was quieter, as the school day plus the set caught up to them. Eddie was still wired, and he was looking forward to having a joint when he got home to calm himself after everything that had happened tonight. 

When the van was just the two of you, and you gave him directions to your small apartment, there was a comfortable silence between you. Eddie watched you from the corner of his eye at a red light, taking in the way your eyes were closed and your lips were upturned as you soundlessly mouthed the words to the song playing. 

“So, where’d you get your tattoos?” you asked after a few minutes. 

Eddie grinned. “Why? Are you looking to get some ink done?”

“Well, the last time I checked tattooing was illegal in Indiana.” you replied, glancing at the colony of bats flying up his arm. “So have you ever left the state or should I be concerned about whatever shady basement you visit to get those?”

He scrunched his face and blew a raspberry. “Don’t worry about the legalities, are you gonna tell Hopper on me?”

“Scratcher tattoos?” you frowned. “You are so lucky that those didn’t get infected.”

“She did it as a favor for me, she wasn’t some sketchy dude I met in a bar.” Eddie said defensively. “Her name’s Tara, she moved her from California where tattooing is legal, and she’s still technically licensed.” 

“Just not for Indiana.” 

“Not even a little.” he laughed. “But I helped her and she repaid me with these sweet ol’ tatties.”

You snorted into your hand at his verbiage. “How many you got?”

“Three on my arm and two on my chest. I got my first about three months after I turned eighteen when Tara moved in.” He explained. 

“Damn, and here I am looking at leaving the state to get something done legally like some sort of square.” You laughed. 

“So you are looking for some!” Eddie pulled into the parking lot you pointed to, right outside your building. 

“What can I say, I’m a rebel at heart. I shouldn’t be telling you this but I did jaywalk last week.” You smiled up at him, not bothering to move yet from the passenger side seat. 

“Jaywalking? Shit, and here I thought you were a quiet goody two shoes.” He shook his head. “I think you’re gonna be a terrible influence on me.”

“The worst.” you agreed. 

There was a silence that seemed to crackle with the old stereo. Eddie’s eyes met yours and he felt something that he hadn’t felt in almost two years. 

Oh.

Oh shit.

Flashes of his first senior year raced through his mind as he felt something begin again. He would have hoped that when he felt that jolt in his stomach again he’d be alright. Eddie looked at you, his mind racing a million miles per hour over what to do now. 

He had to get out of there. 

You were reaching out for him, shit- he wasn’t ready. Your hand was reaching across for his and gripped it, pulling it towards you. You were making a move and-

Pop

The sound of a maker’s cap reached his ears. Eddie felt the tip of the felt glide over the skin of his forearm, the temporary ink sinking into his skin and spelling out your name and phone number. 

Jesus Christ. What the fuck was that about?

“We should hang out again, on purpose.” you said, putting the marker back in your bag. 

Eddie’s shoulders relaxed and he nodded. Fuck, he needed a joint now. “Fifth time’s a charm.” he said. 

Without another word you gave him a wave and hopped out of the car, towards your unit. He watched to make sure you made it inside before smacking his head against the steering wheel as the night replayed in his mind. 

Sweet ol’ tatties?

Freaking out when he thought you might kiss him?

He knew that everything that happened two years ago would have an effect on him. Anyone who was close to Eddie knew the toll it took on him. He’d always been cynical, but ‘84 changed something deeper. 

Eddie didn’t want that to affect you. 

But he looked at the dried dark green ink on his arm with a sigh. “Dammit.” he muttered to himself before pulling out. 

He shouldn’t drag you into his problems. He should turn around and leave it at that- just four meetings between the two of you. Four odd, awkward, and admittedly nice meetings. 

The fifth meeting was inevitable. 

---

“So, I think you need to leave, Steve.” you said as you watched Corroded Coffin pack up their instruments. 

“Wait, what?” he looked at you with wide eyes, glancing down at the guitar pick that you were fiddling with between your thumb and forefinger. The smooth plastic and the slightly sharper edge had a nice contrasting feeling as you played with it. 

“Steve, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I do. But I think if you stick around I’m gonna lose this chance.” 

“You’re really gonna go for it? For him?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” You watched the man on stage and gulped down the last of your drink. It was a bit stronger than expected and you had a nice buzz happening, but nothing alarming. You could easily hang out for another hour with some water and some pretzels and be perfectly fine to drive home if needed. But playing it up just a little wouldn’t hurt, would it? It had definitely loosened you up and relaxed you enough that you were starting to feel excited about talking to Eddie again. 

“How sober are you?” Steve glanced at the drink and back at you. “I need to know that you’re of sound mind and body before I leave you alone with some guy we barely know.”

“Awww, look at you caring about me.” you teased and pinched his cheek as he swatted your hand away. “If Dustin vouches for him, I’ll trust the kid’s judgment. And I’m fine, the worst I’ll do is run my mouth worse than normal and rant about things you won’t understand.”

“How’s that different from normal?”

“Ha ha. Okay, seriously. I love you, but you’re cockblocking me.” 

“Okay, okay I’m going, sheesh.” he stood up. “This is the thanks I get for introducing you to a guy.”

“Did you, or did you not get laid at least four times since we started this?” 

“Don’t forget to use protection.”

“Thanks Mom.” 

---

You liked Eddie’s friends, you decided. They were just as weird and loud and rowdy as you expected a bunch of high school boys to be. Gareth kept challenging you every few sentences, but the conversation didn’t feel as awkward as you were worried it’d be after being manhandled to Eddie’s van. Maybe even if this didn’t work out, you could at least be friends with them. 

And when the band was dropped off, it was just you and Eddie in his van. Talking to him was easy, almost as easy as it was to talk to Steve. You never had anything to prove to the jock, and you wished that you could feel the same about Eddie. You wanted him to like you, you wanted him to like you so much. 

Eddie parked and there was a charge in the air that made your stomach flutter. For the past two months you’d actually avoided moving ahead with Steve’s end of the bargain. As much as you wanted companionship, putting yourself out there was scary. But when you were next to Eddie, making small talk, awkwardly flirting, and screaming about music it wasn’t as scary. 

You wanted to move forward. 

You wanted to know him, and get out of this damn rut of home and work and little else. You were tired of hearing about everyone else living while you just coasted. 

So you decided to go for it. You wished you had grabbed a napkin from the bar, but all you had in your bag was an old green sharpie that you were praying still worked. You reached for his arm and you jotted down your name and phone number, putting the ball firmly in his court. You’d made your move, and now it was his turn. 

“We should hang out. On purpose.” you said, releasing him. 

“Fifth time’s a charm.” Eddie said. 

You gave a wave and made your way back to your small one bedroom apartment. As you dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, that’s when you realized something. 

Today. Saturday. That was-

You looked down at your hand and put down two fingers. 

“What did he mean, five?!”

--

Part 6

Dividers by @strangergraphics

A/n: Drop a comment of what you'd want to see Reader get as a tattoo and I might add it later. See you all on the other side of Flight of Icarus.

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1083 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistook @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119

Please reblog 💜

[sidekick-hero]

Here it is, the next chapter of my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai 💜💜💜 Her prompt was 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone'. Shout out to @acasualcrossfade for being the best beta reader there is!

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 2 (4.5k) under the cut

They all went out for dinner and drinks afterwards, and it turned out to be a great night. Robin and Chrissy both went into full planning mode, while Steve and Eddie decided to let them have their fun. Steve figured that if anyone besides himself knew what he wanted for his own wedding, it was Robin, and Eddie seemed to feel the same way about Chrissy.

It’s only after they'd all said their goodbyes that Steve takes a moment to let it all sink in.

As he lies in bed, the pleasant buzz of the fruity drinks he's had to celebrate slowly fading, he begins to realize what it will mean to marry Eddie. To have a real wedding.

Because a wedding ceremony means he has to tell people. It will be official. And while he's not exactly hiding that he's bi, he's not exactly out at work either. It just never really mattered, because in the two years he's been working at the station, he hasn't seen anyone outside of hookups and a few failed dates. Most of those were with women anyway. So he hasn't exactly lied, just not told the whole truth.

That would have to change now, he guessed. Because even if he didn't invite his team to the wedding - which he will, because they're his family, too - Captain Hopper would know because of the paperwork. Steve knows that if he asked Jim, he wouldn't tell the others. But he would also look at Steve with disappointment and hurt because he would feel that Steve doesn't trust them, and the thought of letting down the man who has become the closest thing to a father figure he has in his life aside from Robin's dad is unfathomable to him.

Which means he's going to have to tell his team, and sooner rather than later.

Just as he somehow accepts this and decides to go talk to Jim before his next shift, another thought hits him.

Max.

He's going to have to tell his little sister. Worst of all, he doesn't even know what to tell her, because either he'd make her an accomplice to his scam, or he'd lie to her and pretend that he and Eddie had been together for a while. Which would make her think that he has been lying to her for months and hiding his relationship from her.

Then he remembers that the same goes for Dustin, the kid he used to babysit and who has become as much his little brother as Max is his little sister. The family he chose. He's either going to have to lie to him, too, or drag him into this whole mess.

Fuck.

After tossing and turning for what feels like hours, his mind racing, Steve finally gives up trying to fall asleep and rolls out of bed again. Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, he shuffles over to Robin's room. Selfishly, he's glad that Chrissy went home with Eddie tonight, so he can just walk into Robin's room and crawl into bed with her.

"Dingus?" her sleepy voice greets him, already scooting over to make room for him.

"Yeah, it's me. Couldn't sleep."

She turns on her side and forces her eyes open with what looks like great effort. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," he answers, only it sounds more like a question. The truth is, he doesn't know what to say.

Robin just hums, and after a long moment of silence, he speaks again.

"It's just. Chrissy said nothing has to change, but that's not true. Things will change. I have to tell Hop and the others at the station. They don't even know I'm bi, it's like high school all over again."

Robin makes a sound in the back of her throat and takes his hand in hers. "No, it's not. You were outed against your will in high school. What that asshole Hagan did was a complete dick move. These people are your friends, your family. Even if you tell them that about yourself, I'm sure they won't feel any different about you, Steve."

Deep down he thinks he knows that. Or at least he hopes it's true. But it's still nice to hear Robin say it.

"Maybe. But they're going to hate that I lied. They'll probably think I don't trust them."

"Well," Robin begins, choosing her words carefully, "can you blame them? There must be a reason why you haven't told them yet."

"It just never came up," he justifies.

"Steve," she says, her tone clearly saying 'come on now'. "I've been to the last two Christmas parties at the station, and I met your team at your birthday. You talk about your dating lives and your hookups and even your childhoods. They know about Max and your bad relationship with your parents. Don't you think you could have said, 'Yeah, I don't talk to my parents because they're total scumbags who kicked me out the minute they found out I liked men too'?".

He sighs deeply, defeated.

"You're right. I was afraid they would look at me differently. That they'd think less of me, like -"

"Like your parents did. I know. But Steve, not everybody is like your parents. They don't know what an amazing person you are. A wonderful and loyal friend, a selfless and brave man who risks his own life every day to save others, and a loving and caring older brother who is more of a role model than they've ever been."

Steve feels his eyes burning and his throat tightening with emotion.

"And yet you wouldn't marry me," he deflects, and Robin punches him in the shoulder.

"Way to ruin the moment, Dingus."

"What can I say, it's a talent," he says with a wink before sobering up. "But seriously, thanks, Robs. You're the best friend I could ever ask for. I would totally crash and burn without you."

"I know. For the record, you're not so bad yourself. And as for things changing. You know change doesn't have to be a bad thing, right?"

They've talked a few times about his aversion to change. It scares him because he's always afraid it means he's going to lose something. Or someone. He's working on it.

"Yeah. I know." Theoretically, he adds quietly in his head.

"And you know you won't lose me or Max or Dustin just because things change, right?"

“I-” he starts, almost hating the way Robin knows him so well. “I guess?”

"But I might have to lie to them, Robs. I can’t drag them into this mess. What if they end up hating me when they find out I faked a marriage and lied about it? Or what if they’re mad because I never even mentioned this ‘relationship’ with Eddie before?”

"They won't hate you, Steve. They might be angry or hurt at first, but they would get over it. They love you, okay? Just like I do. No matter what happens. Even when we’re not living together anymore, it doesn’t mean we won’t see each other all the time or that we won’t be as close. You’re my best friend, my platonic soulmate. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Her words soothe something deep inside him, where his heart has never quite stopped aching since the day his mother silently closed the front door in his face, leaving him standing there with his hastily packed bag after they told him to leave and never come back. As all of her words fully register, he involuntarily squeezes her hand.

"What do you mean, 'when' we're not living together anymore?"

The longer it takes for Robin to answer, the faster his heart starts beating, until he thinks he might have a heart attack.

Just as he's about to ask again, Robin answers. "I mean, now that you and Eddie are getting married, Chrissy and I thought that, well, Eddie would probably move in with you, and that I, um..."

"That you'd move in with Chrissy," he says flatly. It's not a question.

"Yes," she whispers, as if afraid he'll break if she speaks too loudly. He very well might.

They lie quietly in Robin's bed, the darkness around them like a living, breathing thing.

He has never felt so lost. It's not that he doesn't get it—he does. Robin and Chrissy have been together for four years now, and having separate apartments has worked for them so far. But Steve understands that they'd want to share a life and an apartment at some point. He just didn't think that time would be now. But it makes sense, because he and Eddie are supposed to move in together when they get married.

It's just that, in his mind, that didn't equate to Robin moving out.

"Steve," Robin tries again, clearly worried but determined to fix this. "I don't have to move out right away. It was just an idea. It doesn't mean it has to happen right away."

"No. No, you're right. It makes sense. It's just," he hesitates before pressing on, "whenever I thought about one of us getting married, or at least moving in with a partner, I still thought we'd be living together. It's silly, I know," he adds hastily, because he does know that, "and way too co-dependent."

"It's not silly, Dingus. I won't deny that it sounds pretty co-dependent, but it's not like that's, I don't know, new for us?"

That makes him laugh, if only half-heartedly.

"And who says we won't? Maybe we can, y'know, try the whole living apart thing, and if we don't like it, we'll work something out. It's not like there aren't options. We could get a house for the four of us. It doesn't have to be all or nothing."

Drawing Robin into his arms, Steve makes a thoughtful sound. "I'm pretty sure you're right, because you usually are. Just give me a little time to get used to the idea, will you?"

It's a testament to how well she knows him that Robin—guessing he's feeling raw right now and needs the physical reassurance—settles into his embrace without a fuss.

"Of course. It'll be fine. With your team and Max and Dustin. And with us, too. I hate that your parents made it so hard for you to trust people's love for you, you know?"

He kisses her forehead gently, putting all the love and gratitude he feels into the gesture, and murmurs into her hair, "Me too."

The next day, after a hearty hangover breakfast, Steve decides to bite the bullet and face his little sister's wrath. After his talk with Robin, he came to the conclusion that he’d rather risk Max and Dustin being angry at him for seemingly lying to them about his love life than involve them in his own mess and make them accomplices to his wedding scam to get his inheritance.

Even though part of him would prefer to do this over the phone and not look Max in the eye when he tells her, a larger part of him knows that this is something that needs to be done in person. So he makes the trip to her campus and finds her in her room, nose deep in her studies, when her roommate opens the door for him.

It's not often that he comes to visit. Not because he doesn't want to, but because she insists that she doesn't want her older brother hanging around and embarrassing her in front of her friends. He would be more offended were it not for the fact that Max regularly comes to their place for game nights like the secret dork that she is. Besides, he's pretty sure that Max just wants more of a reason to hang out with Robin, not just him. She never had many girl friends, just Jane, her best friend, and Steve thinks that Max looks up to Robin. Which is cool, because in Steve's eyes, Robin’s the best person ever and Max could have much worse role models.

Things were a little tense when Robin first started dating Chrissy, probably because Max felt threatened by the new woman in Robin's life. But she got over it surprisingly quickly, and now Chrissy joins their game nights more often than not. That's how Max knows Eddie in the first place, because he makes a habit of showing up mid-game to join them, claiming he was bored all alone at home, abandoned like a badly behaved dog. Steve doesn’t really believe him, because he knows well enough that Eddie has friends and gets out quite a bit, but it's not like he minds Eddie hanging around. He just wonders sometimes why he would lie about it.

"Hey, little sis! Studying on a Saturday morning? Sure we're related?”

Max looks up from her textbooks, a mixture of surprise and suspicion flickering across her face at the sight of her older brother dropping by unannounced. "Hey, Steve. What's up?"

On the way here, Steve had thought about how to open the conversation, but hadn't been able to make up his mind before entering the dorm. Should he just say it, get it over with, or should he ease her in? Start with some small talk? Max isn't really the small talk type, but it feels wrong to just say, 'Good to see you. Guess what, I'm marrying Eddie, the guy who hangs around the apartment sometimes and you had no idea I was even dating. Surprise, I guess.'

Yeah, no. Small talk it is.

"Can't I just go visit my little sister and see what she's up to?" Steve deflects, flinching at Max's raised eyebrow.

She looks thoroughly unimpressed as she replies, "Steve, we saw each other three days ago. It may come as a shock to you, but college isn't exactly like those stupid movies. So, spill it. What's so important that you had to drop by unannounced?"

Well, he should have known this wasn't going to work on Max. She's always been way too smart for her own good, and her bullshit detector is unparalleled.

Steve takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the bombshell he's about to drop. "So, remember Eddie? The guy who's been crashing our game nights with Robin and Chrissy for the past four years? The guy who eats all of the good snacks and leaves the rest of us with the salty popcorn?”

Max nods slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, funny story... He and I, uh, we're getting married."

Max's jaw drops and she almost chokes on the coffee she just took a sip of. "Wait, what? You’re getting married? To Eddie?"

Steve winces, realizing he might have botched the delivery. In his defense, he’s not sure there is a better way to deliver this kind of news. "Yeah, I know it's a bit out of left field. But hear me out..."

He starts explaining his thing with Eddie, weaving in a story that's only partly made-up. Steve talks about how he's kinda had a crush on Eddie for a while but never really thought Eddie felt the same. Max doesn’t look surprised at that part, just nods like she’s saying “Duh,” and Steve wonders how transparent his feelings for Eddie really had been.

Before he can get lost worrying about that, he goes on, making up some romantic-sounding story about how one night, they were just watching a movie, and boom! Next thing he knows, their hands are both going for the chips, and suddenly their fingers are all tangled up, swiftly followed by their lips. Max rolls her eyes so hard that Steve’s afraid she’s hurting something, but he also sees the corner of her mouth ticking upward. Robin once told him that she and Max had watched a few rom-coms together when he wasn’t home, so he thinks she secretly likes these kinds of stories almost as much as he does.

He finishes his story by shrugging his shoulders and admitting that he’d been the one to ask Eddie to put a ring on it, eager to lock down the guy he's been into for ages. It’s exactly the kind of self-deprecating joke he needs to lighten the mood, unable to endure the building tension in the room.

"And I know what you're thinking. 'Steve, you never even mentioned you were dating!' But trust me, it's not because I didn't want to. I just... didn't know how to break it to you."

Max's eyes narrow, her hurt evident. "So, what, you don’t trust me?"

Steve's heart sinks at the hurt in Max's voice. God, he never wanted to hear her sound like that again. It dredges up memories of all they've been through with their family, the wounds still raw. “No, Max, that's not... Damn it!” Steve curses, frustration and guilt knotting in his stomach. “I'm screwing this up. That's why I didn't tell you in the first place. I just... I didn't know when to tell you. You've always been there for me, especially after Mom and Dad...” His voice trails off, heavy with the weight of it all. “It's my fault you lost them. I didn't want you to lose anyone else because of me, so it felt like a big risk to bring someone new into our lives.”

Max's expression softens, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Oh, Steve. You’re an idiot." She sighs, rolling her eyes for effect. "It’s not your fault I stopped talking to them. I chose you over them because you're my brother, and they are bigoted assholes who hurt you."

Max's words feel like balm on his frayed nerves, but at the same time he is consumed with guilt for using their shared history and pain to make her believe his lie. He knows why he's doing it, but suddenly the phrase "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" makes a lot more sense to him.

It seems that some of this has registered with his sister as well, because Max isn't finished yet.

"But I also call bull. This isn't about me. You're scared. Scared of getting hurt again, of letting someone in and having them leave. You didn't tell anyone before because that would have made it real."

Steve swallows hard, the weight of Max's words hitting him like a ton of bricks. His relationship with Eddie isn't even real, but her words still hit him. They've been through too much together for him to deny that she's right. He owes her that if he can't tell her the whole truth.

"Yeah, you’re right. It’s just that… I’m scared of messing things up, I guess. With you, or with Robin..."

"Or with Eddie?" Max adds, a sad smile on her face.

"Or with Eddie," Steve agrees, realizing it's true. He doesn't want to screw this up, even if it's just a scam. Eddie is still important to him, and he doesn't want to lose him because of some scheme to get his inheritance.

Max reaches across the table to grasp Steve's hand, her touch as comforting as when she first stood in his door, declaring she told their parents to screw themselves before hugging him, clinging to him for dear life. "You won't lose me, Steve. I'm here for you, no matter what. And Eddie seems like a good guy. He would be even dumber than I thought he is if he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you. So, if he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you. And if you tell anyone I said that, I'll shave your head in your sleep."

Even as he laughs at Max’s threat, Steve's eyes mist over with tears, overwhelmed by Max's unwavering support. "Thanks, Max. You have no idea how much that means to me. Threats and all."

Max squeezes his hand gently, a small smile playing on her lips. "Anytime, big brother. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Please don't let this turn into one of those rom-com clichés where everything goes horribly wrong because no one just talked to each other."

Steve chuckles through his tears, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'll do my best, Max. I promise."

As much as he’d dreaded this talk, he’s glad he came over to tell Max. He feels lighter now.

Some days, he hates how often Robin is right about the important things in life, considering that she also believes that Bigfoot is real.

He's already out the door a few minutes later, after Max basically kicked him out so she could learn, when she gets up and walks over to him. “Oh, one more thing. I’ll be bringing someone to your wedding and I want you to remember that you owe me and not ask a single question. I’ll tell you when I tell you, just like you.”

“What? Who're you -” Steve starts, totally flabbergasted.

“Not a single question, Steve. See you soon, take care, say hi to Robin, and tell Eddie that I’ll break his hand if he breaks your heart.” With that, she closes the door in his face.

He probably deserved that.

Talking to Dustin the next day goes something similar.

Steve can't visit him on campus because the little genius just started his master's degree in bioengineering at MIT, a year ahead of his peers, because of course he is. So he has to resort to a phone call.

He skips any attempt at small talk, though, mostly because Dustin is doing the talking for both of them, telling him all about something that is way over his head, but makes him smile for all the passion he hears in Dustin's voice.

"That sounds... very cool, man. I have no idea what it all means, but I'm pretty sure you're going to be cooler than Batman pretty soon." Before Dustin can interrupt him to explain whatever he just said about DNA replication, Steve continues, "I also have something to tell you.”

That, at least, piques Dustin's interest.

Steve tells him the same version of his and Eddie's origin story that he told Max, and just like Max, Dustin doesn't seem to find it particularly hard to believe that Steve had a big ol' crush on Eddie and proposed to him over it. What he finds much harder to believe is that neither Steve nor Eddie told him about it.

"I can't believe Eddie didn't tell me either; we tell each other everything!"

Steve seriously doubts that, even though he knows that Dustin and Eddie have become quite close over the last four years. They hit it off right away, bonding over their weird little fantasy game that Dustin's been playing with his friends for as long as Steve's known him. Eddie apparently ran a club for the same game in high school, and before Steve knew it, Dustin and Eddie had become best buds. Dustin's passionate stories about how great Eddie was should have made Steve jealous, and they did, a little. But they also fueled his crush on the other man, because nothing in his life could ever be simple.

That's probably why Steve finds himself defending Eddie by throwing himself under the bus.

"I asked him not to tell you guys. I'm sorry, man. It's just..."

Dustin's silence on the other end is unnerving. Steve can almost hear the gears turning in his brain. He can picture Dustin sitting in his cluttered dorm room, probably surrounded by textbooks and lab equipment, frowning in concentration.

"It's just what, Steve?" Dustin finally asks, his voice a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"It's just that I was scared," Steve admits, the words coming out in a rush. "Scared of messing things up. I mean, this thing with Eddie... it feels huge. I never felt that way about anyone before. And I know it sounds stupid, but... it scares the shit outta me, man. And I know how much you like Eddie, too, so, yeah. I didn't want to risk putting you in a position where you felt like you had to choose sides or something if it didn't work out, I guess?”

The line goes quiet for a moment, and Steve wonders if he's said too much. Especially because he has no idea where this is all coming from. He also finds it harder and harder to remind himself that it’s just a story and that he and Eddie aren’t really together. But then Dustin sighs, and it sounds like the weight of the world is in that sigh. "Steve, you idiot. You know I love you, right? You and Eddie both. I’d never take sides, I’m way too mature for that. You should have trusted me."

"I know, I know," Steve says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just... didn’t think this through, I guess."

"Yeah, well, that’s why you have me. You don't have to handle it on your own," Dustin says firmly. "We're a team, remember? And that means relying on each other and not keeping secrets."

“You’re right, okay? I’m sorry, Dustin.”

Apparently, that’s exactly what Dustin wanted to hear, because Steve can hear the smug grin in his voice. “I know. And it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Steve feels too much relief to be annoyed at Dustin’s ego. To know that he has Dustin's loyalty and support like that mean the world to him. It’s like balm to the wounds his parents and grandma left on him, to learn that not everybody leaves just because he hasn’t been perfect. "Thanks, Dusty. I don't deserve you."

"You're right, you don't," Dustin retorts, but Steve can hear the smile in his voice. "But you're stuck with me anyway. So, when's the wedding? And don't even think about getting married without me there."

Steve laughs, the tension finally easing. "Don't worry, you'll be there. I wouldn't dream of having it without my groomsman."

"Groomsman, huh? Damn right I am," Dustin says, and Steve can practically see his chest puffing out with pride. "But wait, who's the best man? If you say it's Eddie's old dungeon master, I'm gonna lose it."

"Robin," Steve clarifies, chuckling. "She’s my best man, or best woman, whatever you call it. And before you ask, I’m pretty sure Eddie’s best man is Chrissy."

"Ah, makes sense," Dustin says with a satisfied nod in his voice. "I can accept that, I guess. But you better tell Eddie that if he hurts you, I'll kick his ass. And you tell him I mean it, too."

"I will," Steve promises, a smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Dustin. Really."

"Anytime, Steve. Now go tell Eddie that I’m still angry at him for not telling me and he better make it up during our next campaign."

Steve hangs up the phone feeling lighter than he has in days. At least until he remembers that he just told Max and Dustin a story about him and Eddie getting together that he hasn’t discussed with Eddie yet. So what if Eddie also told people but used a totally different story?

Well, fuck.

Grabbing his keys from the side table by the door and putting on his shoes, he texts Eddie that they need to talk and that he’ll be over in twenty minutes.

[wingedquill]

notes on survival (a preview)

so i blacked out and wrote like 4K words of a new fic concept. I don't think I'll be posting it on ao3 until it's entirely done (really do not need another currently-updating WIP) but wanted to share the first little bit on here with y'all (CW: kidnapping, violence against children) ---

Here’s how it starts, for Steve:

He’s ten.

He’s riding his bike. It’s a bit late in the day, but not that late, not nearly his curfew. The sun is still high in the sky, and he can hear kids shrieking with laughter a few streets over. They’d invited him to play with them, but he’d turned them down cause he wanted to check on the tadpoles he’d found in the pond last weekend.

He gets to a stop sign. A car pulls up next to him: old, gray, forgettable. The windows are down, but it’s summer. It’s normal. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

A bang. A scream. 

“Help!” a voice shouts from the trunk. “Someone help!”

The driver looks over. Makes direct eye contact with Steve.

He knows, even as he starts pedaling, that he’s not gonna be fast enough.

***

Steve can’t really remember a time when he’d been un-messed-up. Not clearly, at least. He has the vague, stretched-summer memories of baking cookies with his mom, of somersaulting off the diving board at the public pool and getting yelled at by a lifeguard, of hiding in the woods simply because it was the best way to avoid his chores.

They’re nice memories, he thinks. Part of him wants to put them in a box and never touch them again. But they’re nice.

He’s good at pretending they’re all he’s made of.

But now he’s here. Walking through the woods. He’s not avoiding his chores but he’s also not hiding, and that’s probably the only reason why he’s not vomiting into the underbrush. Nancy’s hand is cold in his, and it’s enough of an anchor.

He’s not alone.

“Will!” he yells, his lungs burning with the force of the yell. “Will!”

He wonders if he got a search party like this.

***

They’re bumping down a road that’s more potholes than asphalt. The other boy won’t stop hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone apologizes. You’re supposed to accept it. 

He doesn’t even know what the boy is apologizing for, not really. He isn’t a kidnapper. He hadn’t tied Steve up and stuffed him in the trunk. He had only screamed for help. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

“I’m Steve,” he says. It’s important that the other boy knows his name. Vitally so. The man who took them isn’t gonna care, and he needs one person here who cares about him.

The other boy sniffles against Steve’s shirt.

“Ed,” he chokes. “I’m Ed.”

***

He’s cold. He’s tired. He’s gasping for air and his sides are on fire. 

Second verse, same as the first.

“We gotta get your shirt off,” Robin’s telling him. “We need to, Steve, your dirty, lake-gunk sweater is embedded in those wounds, I don’t want you getting a massive infection on top of rabies. That’s like, for sure definite dead.”

He drags himself out of the hunting shack and into the Upside Down. Eddie and Nancy are huddled together by a fallen tree, Nancy giving him a quick rundown of how the hivemind works. Neither of them are looking.

“I can’t,” he chokes anyway. “They’ll see–they’ll know.”

Cross your heart and hope to die.

She bites her lip. She looks like his mom had, when she’d told him he wouldn’t be seeing Ed again. Like she’s cutting off one of his limbs to save the rest of him.

“Steve, they won’t care,” she lies.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll chance the infection,” he says. “I mean it Robin.”

She closes her eyes. Scoots around to the other side of him, putting herself between him and Eddie-and-Nancy.

“I’ll dress the wounds quick,” she says. “And give you my overshirt. That okay?”

He takes a deep breath. Hunches in on himself. He’s always been a bit too good at making himself unseen. A bit better than he would like.

“Okay,” he agrees.

***

“They’re looking for us,” he whispers. 

He tucks his face into Ed’s shoulder, wishes they could hug. A hug would make this better, he thinks, if he could just get his arms around to the front. If he could just hug, and be hugged, he’d wake up. They’d both wake up.

They’d both be at home in their beds. They’d be safe. Mom would make him hot chocolate like she always does after nightmares, and he’d check to see if the robin’s eggs outside his window had hatched, and he’d be okay.

“Yeah,” Ed whispers back. “Yeah, they are.”

Around them, the car’s engine roars.

[italiansteebie]

They’re sitting in Steve’s living room, squatting as Steve calls it. “What’s your song?” Steve’s eyes flicked over to meet Eddie’s. “C’mon, Steve. We’ve got everyone else’s. What's yours?” They’d been compiling a mixtape of all their Vecna songs. Y’know, the ones that would hopefully save them from a horrific death.  

Steve shrugged, “We’ve got all the important ones.” Deflecting, it’s what he does best. Robin snorts from the other side of the coffee table. “He’s probably embarrassed because it’s like… ABBA or something.”

“Hey! ABBA is iconic! You wouldn't know.” He defended, causing Eddie to let out a boisterous laugh. They moved on, getting the kids' songs burned on there, forgetting about Steve’s missing, unknown song. 

It wasn’t brought up again until later that night. Eddie and Robin were the only ones who remained. Besides Steve, of course, who lives there. They were curled up on the couch, an old movie playing on the TV, audio softly in the background. They’re high, and getting a bit too honest. “If “Master of Puppets” hadn’t saved my life, my song would probably be something by Bruce Springsteen.” Steve scoffed at that, “and you make fun of me for ABBA?” Robin snorted, “He got ya there, leather boy.” Eddie arched an eyebrow, “I'm not even… Wearing leather right now,” He laughed, “Anyways. Bruce is Wayne’s favorite. We listened to him all the time when I first got there.” Steve softened at that, leaning over to give Eddie a peck on the forehead and pull him into a tight hug. “That’s sweet, Eds.”

Eddie smiled before turning to Steve, “You still haven’t told us your song!” He accused. Steve had the nerve to look accosted. Robin nodded along, “Yeah, what is it, Dingus!” She bumped her shoulder against his. Steve sighed, “You guys….” He whined. “You probably won’t even know it!” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Quit being dramatic Steve. Just tell us.” 

“Fine! Fine… It’s Lonely Boy by Andrew Gold. I heard it first when I was 5… The nanny at the time looked at me… and I could just tell she was thinking ‘wow, this is your song, Steve.’ Because that’s what I was… I am…” It felt good, in the end, to get it off his chest, but the way Eddie and Robin were looking at him now is the exact reason he didn’t want to share. 

Eddie looked at him, eyes shining. “Oh, Stevie…” He whispered. “That's why I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want to bring the mood down.” He sighed, eyes shifting to Robins who looked just as sad as Eddie.

“Well… You’re not lonely anymore, right? You’ve got us.” Robin said shyly, a tone that didn’t fit her well. Steve smiled, “Yeah. I’ve got you.” He turned and gave Eddie a soft kiss, whispering “And I’ve got you too.” A warm smile spread across his face, but the moment was quickly over when Robin shouted “EW! Get a room.” Smile returning to her face. Steve rolled his eyes fondly, pushing at her shoulder until she fell over, eventually rolling off the couch. “This is my house!” He laughed. 

Maybe it’s time to figure out a new song. 

----

the lyrics to steve's song:

He was born on a summer day 1951

And with a slap of a hand

He landed as an only son

His mother and father said what a lovely boy

We'll teach him what we learned

Ah yes just what we learned

We'll dress him up warmly and

We'll send him to school

It'll teach him how to fight

To be nobody's fool

Oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

In the summer of '53 his mother

Brought him a sister

And she told him we must attend to her needs

She's so much younger than you

Well he ran down the hall and he cried

Oh how could his parents have lied

When they said he was an only son

He thought he was the only one

Oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Goodbye mama, goodbye to you

Goodbye papa I'm pushing on through

He left home on a winter day 1969

And he hoped to find all the love

He had lost in that earlier time

Well his sister grew up

And she married a man

He gave her a son

Ah yes a lovely son

They dressed him up warmly

They sent him to school

It taught him how to fight

To be nobody's fool

Oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Oh, oh, oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

[mothmantoaflame]

Prompt: oops, that wasn’t the plan

Word count: 462

Pairing/character(s): steddie

Staring intently at the recipe in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adds ingredients cooking really shouldn’t be this heard he bemoans to himself as he looks down at the pot of the strangest colored pasta sauce he’d ever seem oh well it’s probably edible Eddie shrugs and it’s the thought that counts anyway.

“A pinch of salt.” He frowns how much is a pinch as he grabs the salt shaker looking at it like it might give home the answer before shaking it into the sauce one, two the lid falls off into the sauce with a plop and the entire contents empties itself into the pot before Eddie can do anything about it.

“oops that wasn't the plan.” He tells the empty room, whilst staring into the pot like he’s hoping if he stares hard enough that’ll fix it,

What’s he meant to do now this was meant to be a romantic gesture instead it’s turning into a nightmare and is that the front door, well shit.

“Hi.” Steve greets walking into the kitchen “Are you cooking?” He asks looking so confused

“Yes I do that sometimes.” Eddie answers indignantly no he doesn’t why is he lying Steve knows he doesn’t

“Since when?” Steve laughs looking down at the strange looking liquid.

“All the time Steve I’m a man of many talents.” He proclaims receiving a soft snort in response, horror spreading over him as Steve picks up the spoon he’d been mixing it with slowly lifting it to his mouth.

“Don’t eat that.” Eddie shouts lunging forward and knocking the spoon out of Steve’s hand

“What, Eddie!” Steve shouts in surprise

“Why can’t I try it?”

“I lied-“ Eddie admits “-I don’t know how to cook and that recipe makes zero sense I’m not even sure some of those ingredients really exist and I poured the entire salt shaker in but in my defense it was an accident because the lid wasn’t on properly and who knows how much a pinch of salt actually is.” Eddie rushes out before taking a deep breath and adding

“Let’s order pizza.”

Steve’s drawn his bottom lip into his mouth and looks like he’s trying desperately to hold back a laugh.

“Okay, pizza sounds good.” Is what he says when he finally manages to get his words out.

“Great you call.” Eddie smiles “ and I will dispose of this.” He gestures vaguely in the direction of his failed attempt at cooking.

“Are you sure you don’t need to call biohazard specialists?” Steve chuckles, dialing the number to their local pizza place.

“Haha, very funny.” Eddie rolls his eyes. turning his attention back to the problem he had created should he throw away just the contents or the entire pot?

[senorablack]

On the Injustices of the Modern Senior Discount

Words: 1143 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Argyle/Jonathan Byers Characters: injustices of the world Additional Tags: Humor, Shippy Gen, idiot 4 idiot Summary: Steve finds Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan in the middle of a protest.

When Steve finds his guy, Eddie’s handcuffed to the theatre doors. His right wrist is, anyway. His left is cuffed to Argyle’s. And cuffed to Argyle’s left ankle, is Jonathan’s right. Argyle attempts a wave, but the movement takes Eddie’s arm with it, which results in a supersized soaking of icy coke all over the pair. Jonathan snorts. Probably because he’s managed to be unscathed by the splash back.

“S’why we should have gone with 7-up.” He says. But Steve barely catches it from where he lies on the sidewalk, head pillowed in his hands.

“But you like coke, dude.” Argyle says, taking off his second layer and dabbing it at his sticky stomach.

“Without…a doubt…” Jonathan says through yawns, “but 7-up doesn’t stain.”

“Board shorts can be replaced, you know, but supersized sales on fountain drinks last forever.”

“No man, this all-you-can-drink sale ends July thirty-first, ” Eddie says, “And today’s the… ”

“Thirtieth .” Jonathan supplies.

“Yeah, so like, what are we doing sitting here and not like, out there, disrupting the land?" Argyle asks, "High time we pretended we’re some white folk from the east, man, and that that fountain machine is our California gold.”

“Some of us are white folk from the east.” Jonathan breathes.

Steve can't be sure that he's really even awake. Argyle tries again, but Steve shuts him down immediately, not needing to hear anything more.

“Could I just—“ Steve pinches the bridge of his nose (and mumbles why do I even hang out with you bozos), “—could I just interrupt you guys for a sec. Anyone want to tell me what’s up with the cuffs?”

“Cuffs?” Eddie asks, with a head tilt. “Come again?”

“I said, DID YOU PUT YOURSELF HERE OR DO I HAVE TO CALL BAIL BONDS?”

The trio wince.

“Roll the volume back to 3, brother, I’m sensitive.” Argyle says, twisting a pinky in his ear.

“He always swabs too harsh.” Jonathan says, and turn to his side. It brings Argyle’s ankle over his own. Argyle doesn’t seem to notice or mind.

“You wanna make sure you got all those little gummy guys out of there.” Eddie says, “Jay think fast!”

Jonathan returns to his back a second late and instead of his open mouth, the popcorn kernel Eddie tossed at him falls into his shirt. Steve hadn’t seen it before, but when Jonathan sits up, there is a littering of kernels outlining Jonathan’s concrete bed like some kind of buttery snow-angel. Eddie shoots him a comforting smile.

“I’ll get it one day.” Jonathan says with a shrug.

“Hey, I won’t give up on you, if you don’t give up on you.” Eddie says. Argyle places a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

“That right there, brooooooooo, that’s some real ass shit man. You could work for hallmark.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t last one—“

“GUYS!” Steve shouts again. “Let’s reel this back to why the hell you’re all cuffed together, mmkay?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re protesting.” Eddie says and fishes a half soak joint from his pocket.

He frowns. Argyle pats him on the back consolingly, retreats, and digs through Jonathan’s jean jacket to procure some rolling papers.

“Protesting what?”

Argyle takes out his wallet, places a paper on top, and uses a nail to cut open the soaked joint. He empties the bud onto the new paper and re-rolls like he’s performing brain surgery.

“Being denied the senior discount.” Eddie says with a growl.

“None of you are seniors.” Steve says.

“What, because of our age? I was a senior a mere three months ago, my guy.” Argyle says, and then snaps his fingers in Eddie’s direction. Eddie mindlessly brings out his zippo and hands it to Argyle.

“Doctor.” Eddie says quickly.

“Doctor.” Argyle says in kind. He holds the flame under the length of the joint, close enough to seal but not burn.

“No, right? For christ sakes, Steve, I was a senior three times. That means I should have like, three times the discount…” Eddie’s brows scrunch. “If my math is right.”

Steve covers both hands over his face. And then runs them through his hair, pushing back the waves in all kinds of odd angles. He imagines they look like how he inwardly feels—distressed.

“It’s not.” He says flatly.

“But the formula…” Argyle starts. And Steve has to cut him off again.

“You! Hey!” Steve kicks at bottom of one of Jonathan’s converse. “Okay, no, you—why are you here? You know better.”

“Oh, I know better, man. I know better than to trust the man to fairness and equality. We all deserve access to Alien 3.”

“Sure. Right. Okay.”

“Plus,” Jonathan says with a laugh, “this is where the bud went and I was promised nachos.”

“Christ, you really need to stop hanging around Eddie, because you’re starting to make less sense than him.”

“Nah, E&J Spa Day Saturdays are sacred and irreplaceable.”

“You don’t even go to the spa.”

“I dunno, it just sounds better than Jonathan and Eddie get blasted, visit natural history museums, and make up fake lore about earth and mankind’s evolution Saturdays.”

“Huh, now I see why I don’t get to tag along.” Steve says with raised brows. “Guess I owe you a thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jonathan says.

“Wait, wait…so where’s the patty wagon?”

“Get this. These are the auxiliary doors.” Eddies says.

“Walk me through that one?” Steve raises a brow.

“We can’t, sweets, because they’re only for emergencies.” Eddie says this like Steve is five, as if he's the one missing the mark. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Forget I asked. Alternate definitions welcomed, guys.”

“Back doors.” Argyle says.

“Oh.” Steve scratches his brow with a pinky nail, “So no one’s even noticed you guys, have they?”

“Oh, they’ve noticed, Steve, baby. But just like any other injustice of the world all these—bawk bawk bawk—chickens are couped. Conditioned to ignore wrong doing if it ain’t immediately doing them wrong!”

Instead of engaging in whatever all that means, Steve squats and levels them all with a scrutinizing stare.

“How high are you guys right now?”

Argyle frowns. Starts to speak. Stops. Studies the joint he’s nursed back to health. And then fixes Steve with a serious look.

“Dude, I think the real question is how high aren’t we right now? Like, one could posit that, like, we can and should, be like, higher.”

Steve closes his eyes. Breathes through his nose.

“I don’t even—christ—get yourself unlocked. I’ll pay for the tickets. You’re still getting the Nachos, babe.” Steve says.

“Fair enough." Eddie nods. "Suppose the cause could pause for a free hour and a half of thrills and chills.”

When everyone is free and standing, Argyle’s striking up the lighter again. Steve steals the joint he’d been meaning the light right from his lips.

“If I’m buying, you assholes sure as hell owe me first hit.”

[casper-the-rose]

Hiya!! The name is 🇵🇱 Anon!! Its nice to meet ya!!

I have a little request for you!! I thought of this one, and i thought why not send it to someone so here i am!! but feel free to delete this anytime if its to intense but anyways…!

Could i request Eddie Munson or Gareth with a Famous! S/O? (Maybe… something like Elvis Presley Famous? Where girls are all over them, and etc, its from that movie, it was really good so i would suggest watching it so it makes sense and etc)

Thats it!! I can send more later on lol, but thats it!! Thank you :D

Im sorry it took me so long to get to this request, but i'm finally back in a writing mood!! Also i did not watch the elvis movie

Fame has its price

Gareth Emerson x Famous!S/O

Mostly fluff, but at the end kinda angsty? I might try and write something similar later but with Gareth as the famous one and it leans more heavily towards angst.

Warnings- cursing more towards the end, also at the end the reader gets "hugged" by an adult fan without consent- very brief though im pretty sure

1.4k words

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕🥁💀💀🥁💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Your laugh.

God it got him every time.

"Good night New York City!" You were announcing to your crowd of adoring fans, smiling through your sentence.

As long as Gareth could remember, music had brought you two together.

First time you met?

Kindergarten battle of the bands. Both of your practically clawed each others eyes out trying to get to the kiddie drum set. Who would've guessed that would lead to a 10+ year long friendship? Well, technically 12, but it's not like anyone was counting. Especially Gareth.

In middle school everyone in the crowd watched in awe as you sang your heart out during the school's talent show, obviously winning first place.

And there were times when Eddie even begged you to sing for Corroded Coffin, just one song. And of course when he couldn't convince you all Gareth had to do was ask once.

You would do anything for him.

Including convincing your agent to let Corroded Coffin open all your shows for your most recent tour across America.

Gareth's eyes darted back up to you on stage, looking around for the sign it was clear to make your way off while people tried to claw their way onto it. You were still smiling and waiving, but Gareth could see the tenseness in your smile.

But that was something to worry about another day.

Right now most of security was busy pushing teenagers and even some adults back from the stage. You tried your best to not visibly back away, but it was still necessary if you didnt want to be clawed at and pulled off the stage by strangers. Fame had its price, and a heavy one at that.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look Eddie, as much as I would love cheap, greasy gas station quality pizza at the moment, I really don't feel like being torn apart limb by limb for even daring to appear in public." You sighed, after Eddie had spent the last 15 minutes trying to convince you to go out with him and the band.

"Don't make me do it Y/N," Eddie warned, glaring at you.

"Oh you wouldn't dare." You glared back.

"Emersonnnnn, theres something I wanna ask youuuuuu!" Eddie shouted, before glancing at you and smirking.

"Don't believe a single word out of Eddie's mouth Gare! Its full of lies!" You shouted back.

Before you knew it Eddie was running out of the room you were staying in and practically slammed Gareth to the floor trying to get a hold of him.

"Ow! The fuck was that for?"

"You agree Y/N over here should treat themself to a little slice of commoners pizza before we have to get back on the road right? C'mon man all I need is for you to ask them once, hell not even ask ask, just allude to it and- "

Just then you ran into the room, out of breath.

"How the hell are you so much faster than me Munson?" You wheezed, hands on your knees.

"Too late Y/L/N! I've already asked my good pal over here too-"

"How about we have something delivered here and have a movie night?" Gareth cut Eddie off with a sigh.

"Hmph. Guess thats a good compromise." Eddie muttered, but still crossed his arms.

"See Munson? My amazing boyfriend can't be tricked by your lies and deception. And he's always looking out for everyone involved." You smiled, before hugging Gareth from behind.

"Anything for my lovely partner. It would be really inconvenient to have to stitch all your body parts back together after you get torn to shreds by an adoring mob." Gareth smiled, turning his head to look you in the eye.

"No one else I would rather have sew my body back together."

"And no mob could ever adore you more than I do." Gareth said, before leaning in to kiss you.

"Ew! Get a room you two, before I call the paparazzi." Jeff groaned, having walked into the room at a considerably awkward moment.

You rolled your eyes before turning to Eddie.

"So, what place are you gonna order pizza from?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wake up sleepy head." Gareth said, before nudging you a bit.

"I'm already awake." You muttered, but still didnt move from your position under the bed sheets.

"As much as I would hate to do this lovebug, if you dont move soon i'm gonna have to pull the covers out from over you, leaving you exposed to the harsh element known as the ceiling fan-"

You dramatically gasped. "I thought you loved me?"

"More than anything, but that does mean I have to do what is best for you sugar."

You groaned, but sat up.

"Is this good enough?"

"For now, but you know you'll have to get dressed soon enough. You sure you want to walk today and not just get a cab or something?"

"Yes Gare Bear I'm sure. It's not that long a walk anyway."

"Still don't get why the bus can't just pick us up here." He muttered.

"They say it would draw too much attention to the hotel."

"Yeah because us having to walk there wouldn't."

Gareth gave you one last hug before leaving the room.

~~~~~~~~~

"The great outdoors don't seem so great anymore." Eddie muttered.

You all were stopped on a sidewalk, on account of you practically being swarmed by fans to sign autographs and take pictures. Some people were even trying to seemingly jump on you, and others were clawing on your clothes just so you would turn their way.

Some people were talking to the Corroded Coffin boys, much to Eddie's delight and Gareth's annoyance, but you were definitely the star of the show.

You turned and gave Gareth an apologetic look that said 'I really did just want to take a walk' and he shook his head knowingly.

"Okay, I'm gonna have to wrap this up soon. Sorry guys but-"

Just then someone pulled you by the shoulder and by impulse you turned around, only to crash into what you realized was a man who was much bigger than you's torso.

"Um, excuse me sir- I-I don't know what you're trying to do here but-" You stuttered as you tried to wiggle free, not even being able to look around.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. That was the main thought going through your head right now.

"Hey, you're a real pretty thing huh?" The man started, cutting you off.

"How about y-" Before the man could even finish his sentence you found yourself being pulled free and arms wrapping around you tightly, but this time you welcomed the embrace.

"Listen here you sick little fuck. Does this get you off? Trying to kidnap underage musical sensations in broad daylight in front of witnesses and bystanders?" Gareth started, and you realized the rest of the band members were standing around you. You also realized most of the people that were there before for autographs and whatnot, had left.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll fuck off and never speak of this again. Or hell, even pay to get a ticket for one of their shows. Got it?"

"Yeah creep. 4 against one." Eddie chimed in.

You noticed the man say something under his breath, before quickly looking around and leaving.

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"A-are you okay Y/N? I swear to fucking god if anything bad happened to you on my watch I-I- I don't know what I'd do." Gareth let go of you and walked in front of you so you could look him in the eyes. You noticed he was on the verge of tears.

"I don't know Gare." You sighed.

"Do you wanna keep walking? Or just get a ride?" Jeff asked, concern in his voice.

Everyone was looking at you with worried eyes, but it didn't bother you as much as you would've thought it would.

Fame has its price sure, but you have people watching out for you.

Not just hired security guards, or brands who just want to make money off of you talent.

No, real people who know the real you, and really care.

Especially Gareth.

And you were okay with that.

"I think we can keep walking."

With Gareth's arm around your shoulder and Eddie leading the way, you all walked to the tour bus, prepared for your next destination.

And you had a sense everything was gonna be alright.

[whysodelirious08]

Unspoken - E.M x any Reader

A/N: something small. No gender. Just solemn vibes.

Feedback is appreciated!

Minor friendly!

------

Eddie was sitting on the bed while you sat in the chair next to the window, an overstuffed, lumpy cushion behind your back as you flipped through a severely worn copy of Seventeen magazine, dated "1984". You weren't entirely interested in it but you lazily flipped through the pages anyway, hoping to gain an ounce of entertainment. The storm was furiously rattling the door and window and the rain was like pellets next to your ears but you found the sound somewhat relaxing, the rain hitting the concrete outside anyway, not so much the seemingly flimsy window.

The road trip had gone so well up until the point where you arrived at the final camping grounds with your friend group along with some of Eddie's friends too. Everything was fine up until then, but after nearly two weeks of camping and staying in fancy lodges courtesy of your well-off best friend, going hiking and being invited to parties and hosting parties. Your best friend's girlfriend had seemingly gotten jealous and planted a few seeds, a few lies. Small at first which she just built upon until it got out to the whole group and your well-off best friend, who you'd known for years, had believed it and targeted you while being a little drunk. A whole argument had kicked off and...

Now you and Eddie were just on your way back home. To shitty Hawkins. Back to that boring little town and its judgemental people. And to top it all off you and Eddie had fought the entire time as you drove to this dingy motel. He was annoyed that he didn't get to finish the trip, all around pissed off that his friends let him leave because they wanted to stay, and annoyed that Carter, your now ex-best friend, treated you like shit. He let all that information out while you argued in the car. Your words were venom in their own right. You said he could have stayed. That you didn't need him. Need him to watch over you like a child. You shouted at him about how he had been all handy with one of the other girls. Your jealousy flooded out during that argument and you ended up pulling into the motel and wouldn't let Eddie into the room until the weather started to turn bad.

You glanced over barely and a pang of guilt resurfaced as you saw droplets of water dripping from his drenched hair, his jacket hung up on a hanger, barely holding onto the ledge of the mirror above the heater. His other clothes lay over the other spare chair, the shower rail, and the top of the bathroom door. He was in a dry set of clothes but you knew he was unhappy about how drenched his jacket was. He didn't want any pins to rust or the patches to deteriorate or fade.

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes and you looked back down to the magazine where you just stared at the same page, the one you had been on for the last five minutes. You sighed quietly and looked up while blinking quickly, trying to persuade the tears to leave. You heard Eddie's notebook hit the bedside table followed by the pencil and finally his voice.

"I'm gunna go shower." His voice was soft yet blunt, the irritation not fully gone. You couldn't help but sit there silently for a moment, he hadn't yet gotten up and you didn't know what to say. What to do. But it felt wrong for you two to just be angry at each other all night.

"Are you just going to ignor-"

"No. I just..." You started but didn't finish.

"Just what?" He pressed before watching you stand up. Your palms pressed into your eyes as you tried to hold back all your pathetic emotions. You groaned a bit before you just climbed into his arms, you said nothing and Eddie didn't ask questions.

You just buried your face in his neck and bathed in his warmth, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne, you felt his hand meet your side, arm curled around your back as his fingers traced your waist, a firmish light pressure to his touch as his other hand rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles I to your jeans. His wet hair was a little unpleasant to feel but you said nothing, merely moved it out your way which gained a little huff of a laugh. You swatted him a little and moved into him more, almost on top of him but he didn't complain. You both just laid there until one of you fell asleep and the other gave in to the idea of slumber.

[iknow-thisisallinmyhead]

The Holiday Lie | December 20th

How about some anxiety, obliviousness, and christmas magic! - 14k - read on ao3

It’s the ungodly pressure in my bladder that wakes me.

Everything’s bright, far brighter than I’m used to this early. Rays of light are dancing across my face, blinding me. I squint against it, shutting out the unfamiliar room. I’m too cozy to bother moving, bladder be damned.

The previous day comes back in flashes; the flights, my family, the huge lie I asked Eddie and Chris to tell. Guilt floods me as I think about the upcoming week and the way the lies are just gonna get bigger and more uncomfortable. Why did I have to drag Eddie into this dumb plot? Eddie, who always tells me yes, who always has my back, who always wants me around. At least I think he does. Most of the time.

The bed shifts, jostling me. My eyes fly open just as I realize the weight against my chest must be Eddie. He’s soft and warm and snoring quietly, thick brown hairs tickling my nose. He’s got a hand shoved under my shirt, fingers curling around my waist, and a heavy leg thrown over mine, pinning me in place. He fits against me like a puzzle piece, limbs slotting together like they’ve done it before.

But we’ve never done anything like this, always keeping a line, thin though it is, between platonic touches and this. This- this- this snuggling. I feel myself blush as the word rolls through my mind. Snuggling. Is this even okay? I’m already asking him for so much, what if he wakes up and gets uncomfortable? He really didn’t seem okay after we found out the reservation was messed up and he certainly didn’t seem like he wanted to share a bed with me. What if this is what tips the scales and I finally lose him for good? What if this whole stupid week becomes something that we can never come back from? I couldn’t have just offered to sleep on the floor? Eddie probably would prefer that and he deserves the bed anyway because of what I’m asking him to do. 

I’m spiraling enough that I resolve to ask Josh for some more blankets. I'll just set up a nest on the floor for the rest of the week. Our friendship is too important to lose. The carpet is plush anyway, it won’t be too harsh on my back.

My thoughts drift back to the bed, to Eddie; peaceful, beautiful, untouchable Eddie, sleeping in my arms. He’s pressed against me from chest to knees, breath rolling over my neck. Every inch of contact makes me feel like I’m on fire, scorching and sizzling across my skin.

I never let myself think about this; the touch, the comfort, the intimacy of waking up with my best friend in my arms. Years ago, when I first realized that maybe my feelings for the brunet weren't quite so platonic, I worked very hard to shut them down, pushing and shoving and kicking everything I felt so far away from my conscious thought until they faded entirely. I would rather have Eddie as my friend than risk the chance he and Chris would wash their hands of me forever.

Eventually, the pressure of my bladder is too much. Sighing, I begin the process of extracting myself from Eddie’s grip. I’d hate waking him up when he looks this peaceful. With a few minutes of complex maneuvering, I manage to free myself. Unfortunately, this means tumbling from the bed head first and whacking my hand against the leg of the nightstand. A knuckle pops in the worst way, causing a curse to fall from my lips, breaking the quiet of the room.

I climb to my feet, pausing to look down at the other man. My shout doesn’t seem to have disturbed him; he’s still asleep, sighing as he curls further onto my side of the bed. There’s a crease in his forehead that wasn’t there before, like he misses my warmth already. Seeing him like this, wrinkled and flushed in the early morning light, has my breath catching, has a gentle fluttering tickling my chest. Absently, I rub at my sternum until the feeling fades.

The bathroom is cold, tile freezing against my thin socks. I don’t bother with the light, quickly relieving myself and washing my hands. It only takes a couple minutes, but when I get back to the bedroom Eddie’s already sitting up in the bed and looking at his phone. His hair is sticking up in a million different directions and there’s already a frown marring the serene face I was just admiring. The sight fills me with an impulse to kick whatever’s causing it. To make sure Eddie never frowns again. I sigh internally. It’s not the first time I’ve felt the need to rush to Eddie’s aid; I realized long ago that I would do anything for him. 

“What’s up?” I ask, crossing the room to where I left my phone on the window bench. 

Eddie yawns before replying, stretching his arms up over his head. 

I catch a peek of tanned skin as his shirt rises a little with the motion and quickly avert my eyes back to my task. The phone isn't sitting on the bench, but I think I remember slipping it back into my bag before I changed last night. 

Eddie’s voice is gravelly, still waking up.“There might be a big snowstorm this week.” 

I find my phone just as it buzzes, a text from Maddie coming in. “Why the frown? That just means we’ll get a white Christmas.” I grin over at him to see he’s already looking back with a small smile on his face. His eyes are all squinty and he’s got an indent along his cheek from the way he was sleeping. My chest flutters again at the sight. I drop my eyes back to my phone, pulling up the message from my sister to distract me from the way Eddie looks just after waking. It’s nothing I haven’t witnessed before. There have been many nights spent on Eddie’s couch, many mornings that started with a bleary eyed brunet glaring down at me with a cup of coffee in hand. 

Eddie grumbles under his breath, but I’m too absorbed by Maddie’s message to ask him to repeat himself. It’s a video of a breakfast table across town: Chris and Jee are sitting together, each with a stack of pancakes in front of them. Chris is telling the girl something, his voice too low to be picked up by the camera's microphone. Jee tosses her head back in uncontrollable laughter, milk spraying out of her nose and only making her laugh harder. Chris joins in too, his toothy grin popping out fully for the first time I’ve seen in a while. I can’t fight my own grin that pulls my lips up as I listen to the cackles. 

When I look back towards the bed, Eddie drops his phone looking faintly embarrassed. He ignores the quirk of my eyebrows, tossing the quilt off. “We should get dressed.”  Rolling out of bed, he heads over to the closet door to rifle through his clothes. 

I send Maddie a reply of emojis before digging through my duffle. Pulling out a light pink sweater and a clean pair of jeans, I get to my feet. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Do you need to use the bathroom first?”

He looks over his shoulder, arms still reaching up to his clothes on the shelf above him. “I can wait, but I need to take one too.”

I nod, rooting around in my bag to grab fresh underwear and socks before heading off to the en suite.

[honeii-puff]

06.| but honestly i've never had much sympathy ('cause those bad things, i always saw them coming for me)| WHUMPTOBER 2024

Not realizing they're injured|Unhealthy coping mechanism|healed wrong| "it's not my blood" -Steve Harrington Title from She Knows by J. Cole Word Count: 0.96k

“Steve, are you sure you should be driving?” Robin gave him a worried look as everyone piled into the RV they had stolen to get to the Upside Down.

“I’ll be fine.” He closed the door to the RV, being the last person to come into the RV. “We need to break at least 8 traffic laws and the only other person who can drive here is Nancy, and I’d prefer not to die on the way.” The RV was still running from when Eddie had hotwired it, and Steve slipped into the front seat. “Hold onto something!” He shouted before putting it into drive and flooring it.

——————————————————————

They reached the hospital in 5 minutes, while also breaking several traffic laws. 

It would all go unnoticed anyway. Nobody was out on the road due to the large earthquake.

“She’ll be alright.” Robin stepped in front of him, stopping him from walking. “But if you keep pacing, you’re going to owe the hospital money to fix the floor.”

“They can take my parent's money. I know they sure as hell won’t miss it.” He stepped around her and continued pacing. His head had been pounding for the past twenty minutes, and pacing helped distract him from it.

It didn’t help that the floor seemed like it kept trying to tilt beneath him.

I’ll be fine.

He glanced to the side to check on the kids. 

Lucas was holding an ice pack to his face, and his leg was bouncing up and down in a rapid pace.

Dustin was asleep in his chair, slouched down in an uncomfortable-looking position.

A nurse was talking to Erica and was patching her up. The same nurse had just finished taking care of Lucas.

Steve looked to the other side of him and saw Nancy talking to the nurse at the front desk, her palms resting flat against the counter.

He looked back in front of him as he continued pacing, squinting slightly. Hospital lights had always bothered him due to how bright they were, but it seemed that they had been turned up to 11 and were trying to burn a hole into his eyes.

“-eve? Steve!” He flinched, stopping in his tracks and looking at Robin “What?” He asked, his voice exasperated.

“Nurse wants to talk to you, wind-up toy.” Erica answered for her, jerking her thumb at the nurse standing beside her.

Steve turned to face the nurse. “Is everything alright?”

“You tell me, hon.” She answered simply, and he frowned. 

“What?”

“I’m going to need you to sit for a minute while I make sure you’re alright.”

He waved her off slightly. “I’m fine. I took a few pain meds as we got here, and I didn’t get hurt as much as they did.”

“The raw skin on your neck says otherwise.” The nurse tapped her foot against the tile floor.

Robin raised her eyebrows at Steve. “Since when did you have pain meds on you?”

“I always do? When you’re around these little shits all the time, you have to be prepared.” he crossed his arms, in a more protective move than a offensive one.

“If you’re not going to sit down, can I still examine you?” The nurse asked him, and he hesitated before nodding.

“Alright, could you pull down the collar of your jacket for me?”

Steve did as asked, pulling off his jacket completely. He still had a lot of scrapes and cuts from being dragged through the Upside Down by his ankles, slowly healing on his arms. 

“Your neck is a bit raw. Were you strangled?”

Flashbacks of the whip-thin tail of the demobat constricting around his neck played in the back of his mind, but he did his best to ignore it. “A part of the building we were in collapsed in the earthquake, and something ended up getting caught around my neck.” He lied, stuffing his hands into his pant pockets. 

She narrowed her eyes slightly “And the blood?”

“Not mine.”

Robin smacked his shoulder. 

“Ow.” He wrinkled his nose at her, “Alright, some of it is mine. I’ll be fine.”

“At least let me check for a concussion-”

“I can’t afford healthcare.”

“...Alright then.” The nurse sighed before walking away. 

Robin spun around to face him fully “What the hell was that? If anything, you’re the only one here who can afford healthcare.”

“Technically, it's my parents who can afford healthcare, not me.” He corrected

“You’re still on their insurance!”

“Again, I’ll be fine. I can take care of it when I get home.”

“And when do you plan on doing that dingus?” She put her hands on her hips, doing an awfully good job at mimicking Steve’s ‘mom pose’, as everyone likes to call it. “We both know how this ends. Remember last year? You had two broken ribs and a fractured orbital and did nothing about it for three days, and that was only because Will’s mom had to strongarm you into doing it, and that woman can be scary-”

“Robin, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself of that?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

He didn’t have an answer to that.

She sighed. “At least sit down, Harrington. Nancy is going to drive us back to Max’s after this, and that includes you. I’m not letting you go out on your own  in the aftermath of things like last time.”

Steve looked at her. “You’re very pushy, you know that?”

Robin grinned, clapping him on the back. “It’s what I do best.”

“I know.”

“You’re probably gonna have that scar around your neck for the rest of your life.”

“Yep.”

“And either make it really easy or really hard to pick up girls.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out when the time comes.”

[mytheoristavenue]

ST Gareth Emerson x Munson!Reader - Lessons - 🍋

Warnings: fluff, smut, NSFW, MDNI, language, dirty talk, oral (f recieving), protected sex, virgin!reader, sub!reader, dom!Gareth

Summary: You convince Gareth to teach you play the drums, after your cousin, Eddie refuses to teach you guitar, much to his dismay.

“Eddie, please?” you whined, sitting beside your older cousin at the lunch table. He rolled his eyes at you, scoffing. 

“I said no.” he replied sternly. “I don’t trust you with my guitar. End of conversation.”

“But you said if I learned an instrument, I could join your band!” you whined. “I’m telling dad you lied.”

Eddie laughed, biting mashed potatoes off his fork. “Go ahead, Wayne likes me more than you anyways.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and pouting as the conversation changed to the plans for Hellfire’s next meeting. All of your conversations went like this. Eddie always hated you being around him and his friends, but he did it because he knew you had trouble making your own. That and his uncle forced him to. Your cousin was also wildly protective of you. On one hand, he didn’t trust anyone else in that damned school to treat you well, but on the other, he didn’t trust his friends. Even though he’d never admit it, Eddie loved you, and knew you were a reasonably attractive girl. He also knew that his entire friend group was wrapped around your pinkie finger. 

Your eyes wandered over to your right, the drummer of Corroded Coffin minding his own business, pushing peas around his lunch tray. “Garrreth....” you cooed, leaning into him, which perked Eddie’s interest. His eyes furrowed as he watched his friend blush over your attention, yet he kept quiet. “Could you give me some lessons?” you asked, flirtatiously, giggling at his reddened cheeks.

“What kind of lessons?” he asked, confused, and a bit taken aback by your sudden attention. 

“Nope.” Eddie shouted, intervening. “(Y/N), fuck off my sheep.” 

“Piss off, Ed, this is an AB conversation, so C your way out of it!” you retorted harshly, before turning back to the junior. Gareth, although he’d never admit to it, had always found it oddly endearing how you could go from cussing Eddie out, to conversing so kindly with someone else back to back. “I was hoping you could teach my how to play the drums. I’m gonna start my own band.” you smiled sweetly, momentarily turning back to stick your tongue out at your kin, hoping your comment would get under his skin. 

“Oh yeah?” he replied with a nervous grin. “I-I mean yeah! Of course I can.” Your cousin glared at you as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, deciding not to say anything else at the time. 

“So...tonight?” you asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Tonight?” he repeated. “Um, yeah, tonight!” you batted your lashes, turning away, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder. 

“I’ll see you tonight, your place.” With that you left him, walking to your next class. 

“Um, what was that?” Eddie asked Gareth, gripping his shoulder tightly. “You plan on taking my baby cousin to your house? Alone?”

“It’s not like that,” the younger male protested. ”I’m just gonna teach her the basics.”

“Of what, sucking dick?” the senior pressed, narrowing his eyes. 

“No!” 

“Can I level with you?” Eddie seethed, giving Gareth his most intense stare. “That’s my baby cousin. She’s like my fucking sister, make sense?” The junior nodded sharply. “And you’re one of my best friends, I know you, yeah?” He nodded again. “So when she gives you those ‘fuck me’ eyes she always does to get her way and you give in, it doesn't reflect well on you.”

“She doesn’t give me ‘fuck me’ eyes.” Gareth laughed, walking passed his superior, who followed him closely. 

“She so does. And you give in every Goddamn time.” The Hellfire president persisted. “Promise me you won’t fuck my cousin.”

“I promise I won’t fuck your cousin.” the drummer rolled his eyes.

“Sweat it, Goddamnit. Swear on your life that you won’t lest the curse of Vecna strike you down.” Eddie sneared as the pair walked into class. 

“I swear on my life, I won’t fuck your cousin, Eddie.”

---- 

You currently sat between Gareth’s legs, both of you on his stool, his sticks grasped firmly in your fingers, which were enveloped by his strong hands. He guided your movement as you created a very simple beat against the drumhead of his snare. He felt like starting with the snare would make things easier for you. You had long since begun to feel timid at the feeling of his body against yours, his torso laying against your back. 

“Do you wanna take a break?” his voice suddenly snapped you out of your trance, making you blink in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, I totally blanked out.” you apologized, twisting your back to look at him, blushing when you found his face to be much closer than you’d anticipated. 

“That’s okay,” he smiled. “Let’s take a break for a sec, you seem distracted.” You were, very much so. “Want a drink?

“Sure, thanks.” you replied, catching the cold can of Coke he tossed at you. 

“So, what do you think you’re having trouble with?” he asked, sitting in a nearby chair, letting you have the stool to yourself. After a moment, you began to miss his warm presence. “(Y/N)?”

“What?” you blushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?” Gareth narrowed his eyes, leaning forward toward you. 

“(Y/N), are you feeling okay?” he asked, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Holy shit, you’re burning up.”

You swallowed hard, knowing full and well that you didn’t have a fever. He had a crush on you, you knew that, and you’d always enjoyed teasing him, but you never anticipated you’d be so flustered over Gareth Emerson of all people. “I-I’m fine.” you reassured him with a nervous smile, prompting him to suspiciously sit back down into his chair. “Do you mind if we get back to it?” you asked timidly.

Gareth pulled himself to a stand with a warm smile, coming behind you and sharing the stool with you again. Your breath hitched as you once again felt his body against yours. His hands trailed down your your arms until they reached your fingers, puppeting them to pick the sticks back up. He controlled your movements, guiding you through a simple pattern which, in turn made a very simple beat. “There,” he said with a proud smile, his breath hitting your ear and raising a crop of goose bumps on the back of your neck. “Your getting it now, I knew you could do it.”

Your cheeks burned at his praise as he decided to kick up the difficulty a notch, dragging a cymbal closer. “Alright, (Y/N),” he began, his hands finding yours again. “This is a cymbal, it’s gonna make a kind of ‘tsss’ sound. I gonna give you directions, and I want you to hit the snare and the cymbal based on what I say, okay?”

You nodded, nervous to mess up in front of him, why could couldn’t say. “Do three beats on the snare with your right hand, and one on the cymbal with your left, then repeat until I say to stop.” You hesitantly obeyed his instruction, creating a slow, sloppy copy of the tune in his head. Gareth laughed, his breath once again hitting your ear. “That’s perfect, (Y/N), now try it again, just a little faster this time.” You made a second attempt, this time doubling your tempo, which seemed to please him very much. “Doing so good, so proud of you.” 

Gareth’s praises sank down into the pit of your stomach, collecting in a deep need. Your breath felt heavy, and his even heavier at the base of your neck. You had zoned out, and without even realizing, you’d slowly let your pattern falter until you were no longer moving your hands. His hands neglected yours, now sitting idle between your legs as he tried to check up on you. “Hey, (Y/N), are you okay?” he asked, shaking you by the shoulders gently. Your eyes snapped wide with realization and you launched yourself out of his lap, knocking over instruments you’d just been using.

You shrieked, trying, and ultimately failing to catch them before they hit the ground, a loud racket reverberating between the walls of Gareth’s garage. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” you fretted, hands coming up to your face and covering it in humiliation. “I swear I’ll pay for any repairs!”

“(Y/N).”

You knelt down, hastily picking up the snare, inspecting it for damages, your shoulders slumping when you found a few scratches on the glossy side. “Oh my God, it’s scratched, Gareth, I’m so sorry!”

“(Y/N).”

You gently set the drum upright, hoisting the cymbal up next, relieved to not find and surface level damage. “This one looks alright, but if it’s not, just tell me and I swear to God I-I’ll-”

“(Y/N)! Please, stop talking!” You shuddered at his outburst, eyeing him like a lost kitten would a human. You instinctually stumbled back, holding your hands to your chest.

“I-I’m...I’m s-sorry..” you choked out as he took a step toward you. Slowly, Gareth reached out to you, trying to pull you closer to him, but you resisted harshly. 

“(Y/N), please, I’m not gonna hurt you.” he asked, his eyes pleading with you to calm down. You allowed him to pull you in, keeping a cautious demeanor. “I’m not mad.” he finally sighed. “I’m not gonna make you pay for any damages, and I’m not gonna yell at you. It was my fault anyways.”

You glanced up at him sharply. “N-No, it was all my fault!” you protested, but he simply shook his head. 

“It was all me. I shouldn’t have scared you like that. Was just worried is all.” he explained calmly. “What was wrong, by the way?”

Your eyes widened, pulling out of his arms, gaze downcast. “N-Nothing, I’m just distracted, I guess. I’m sorry.” Gareth cocked his brow at you, eyeing you suspiciously.

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t get mad.” He reassured. 

You sighed deeply, mummering under your breath. “I-I’m uncomfortable...”

The boy’s eyes stretched, brows furrowed. “Oh, shit, Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” he stammered, taking a few steps away from you. “God, you probably think I’m a total creep! I wasn’t trying to do anything like that, I swear!” he defended, horrified at the thought of crossing your boundaries, even if it was an accident. 

Your heart ached a bit. You had know he wasn’t trying to touch you inappropriately, but the way he said it almost made him sound disgusted at the thought. “I didn’t think you were, I’m sorry.” you mumbled, ashamed of the energy you’d created in the room. He stared at you from across the room, now a good six feet away, trying to give you space as your gaze was locked onto the concrete floor. “Would you though?” you finally asked, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“What?” he asked, concern and confusion scribbled all over his face.  

You breathed deeply, mentally unready to say what you were about to say. “W-Would you...if given the chance...ever do that to me?” you asked cautiously, panicking when Gareth’s features contorted into a disturbed expression.

“No! I’d never do that to you, (Y/N), to anyone, actually!” he hollered, entirely freaked out. 

“I-I meant...I’m sorry, I’m just gonna go.” you muttered, ready to just be rid of his presence. You darted for the door and when you felt fingers tangle around your wrists. 

“Please don’t go,” he begged, pulling you back gently. “I’m sorry, explain, please.” Gareth was desperate to understand what you meant for many reasons. For one, you were his friend, and he cared for you, and wanted to know what you were feeling. And two, the thought of you running home and telling Eddie and your father that he’d touched you chilled him to the bone. His friendship with Eddie was strong, sure, but you were his baby cousin, and you had the ability to bring all of Hawkins to your knees if you so pleased, just with the bat of your eyelash, simply because of who you were related to. You stumbled back a bit in his grip, facing him again. “Please, I just want to understand.”

You fidgeted in place, playing with you fingers, eyes still glued to the floor. “Y-you didn’t make me uncomfortable...in a bad way...” you nervously explained. 

“What?” he asked, puzzled. 

“I-I was just wondering if...hypothetically, you would...try something, with permission?” Gareth’s eyes widened, finally grasping what you were talking about. 

“Are you...asking if I would have sex with you?” he questioned cautiously, taking a step closer to you. His cheeks burned when you nodded. “Oh, absolutely. In a fucking heartbeat.” You blushed, not expecting him to answer so frankly, but this was Gareth, after all. He was known for his honesty. “So, when I was sitting behind you earlier,” he began, tilting his head to try and force himself into your peripheral vision. “Was I turning you on?” You nodded, ashamed, and feeling like a child that had been caught stealing. “I wish you would’ve told me.”

----

You sighed in satisfaction as Gareth laid a trail of kisses down your throat and pasted your naked collar bone. His strong hands held you firmly against him as you straddled him against his stool. He growled a bit, chuckling against your soft skin, his other hand caressing your back and twisting the ends of your hair as his hips rocked against yours. You’d long since been stripped of your clothes, sitting in his lap in just a bra, panties and socks. He, on the other hand, was still fully dressed from the hips down. 

As elated as he was to have his lips on any part of you, he could feel his cock twitch in his jeans, and his erect was beginning to ache. Lust clouding his judge meant, he promptly stood up, scooping you into his arms, which startled you. Gareth carried you over to a nearby couch, which had once sat in his living room, but was now used for breaks in between band practices, before throwing you down on it. You giggled in excitement as he stalked closer to you, sinking down onto his knees when he got close enough. “Ya know,” he began, hiking your legs up and sliding your under where down. “I have always wondered what you taste like.”

“Gareth...” you muttered, suddenly shy at the prospect of receiving oral for the first time. 

“Indulge me?” he asked, waiting for your consent to continue, and smirking when you simply nodded. “You don’t seem very enthused.”

Your brows knitted together, feeling embarrassed that he was going to make you say it. “Y-You can taste me...Please taste me?” you tried relieved when he confirmed, his head sinking down into your unexplored territory. You felt static crawl on your skin as he licked the first fat stripe up your slit, trying to get a feel for where to concentrate his efforts. Using your reactions as a guide, he found your sweetest spot easily, zeroing in on your clit mercilessly. Your lewd music filled his garage, and Gareth thanked his lucky stars that his family wasn’t home as he continued to pleasure you. 

It wasn’t long until your body, unaccustomed to the pleasure became over loaded, ready to drop you into what would be the hardest orgasm of your life, this far. Gareth chuckled as your thighs tightened around his head, your body spasming. “Gonna cum all over my face, sweetheart? Go ahead and do it, baby.” he consented, his dirty words sending you over the edge. You cried out, tears slipping from your eyes as an intense wave of pleasure crashed against you. Gareth was on cloud nine, being suffocated between your heat and your strong, doughy thighs; the thought along was almost enough to make him jizz his pants before even getting you to touch him. 

The drummer hopped up as soon as you allowed him to, collapsing on the old couch and pulling your tired body against him, laying your head on his chest, and petting your hair softly. “Did so good, babe. So, So good for me.” he cooed, waiting for you to regain your composure, planting kisses into your locks every so often. You clung to him, emotion washing over you as you had come back down from your high. “Just let me know when your ready to continue, ‘kay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, nuzzling into him, panting and trying to catch your breath. “Can I touch you while I recover?” you asked so sweetly, wanting so deeply to give him the same treatment he had you, and feeling a tinge of guilt for being so selfish. He smiled warmly at you, unbuckling his belt, and unfastening his jeans, allowing a plain tent to pop out. He sighed a bit at the relief that the freedom brought him. “’Course, I’m yours to do whatever you want with, baby.”

You smiled tiredly as he pulled his cock from his boxers, letting you lazily pump it, spreading a pearl of pre as far as it would last on his bell. Gareth laid his head back on the back of the couch, watching you take your hand away, just to lick up you palm, and return it to his crotch. “So good at this.” he moaned, still playing with your hair as you began to put more effort into pleasing him. Finally, you felt ready to continue, having mentally prepared yourself to be deflowered. Still stroking, you looked him dead in the eyes, pressing a kiss to his unsuspecting lips. 

“I’m ready.”

----

Gareth held your  right leg over his shoulder, angling his protected appendage to easily glide right into you. You laid beneath him on the couch, and he hovered over you, one knee on the cushions, and the other leg straightened, standing against the cement. “Gonna go in easy, ‘kay? Tell me if it hurts.” me reassured, holding a gently eye contact with you. You consented with a nod, giving him the go ahead and push into you. 

You seethed, breathing sharply though your teeth as he stretched you out, inserting himself fully and holding his position to give you time to adjust. “You ok, babe?” he asked, concern written on his freckled features. You unscrewed your eye lids to gaze up at him, looking perfectly pitiful. 

“I-I’m fine,” you said, relieving him of the guilt that bubbled in his chest. You took a deep, calming breath, and felt ready to begin. “C-Can you move, just a little? Really slowly.”

“You’re wish is my command, princess.” he cooed, slowly pulling himself out almost entirely, leaning down to drip a mouthful of spit to slicken your ride. Gently, he reinserted himself, rocking his hips in shallow circles. Your breath hitched in your throat as you could already feel yourself coming undone, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Gareth sighed, finding the blissful look on your face so cute. He’d barely touched you yet and you already seemed to be half way there. 

Over time, his pace gradually increased, never enough at one time that you could notice, though. In perfect honesty, he was entirely sure you’d noticed that he’d quickened at all. Your features still displayed that same adorable look, and your whines were just as lewd as before. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d think your where faking, but the way your breath hitched in your throat, drool sliding down your chin could not be falsified. You were so dick dumb and he loved it. 

By now, Gareth could recognize how close he was coming to his orgasm, as when as roughly gauge you progress. Your velvety walls squeezing his cock was a tell tale sign of your impending climax, and he intended to match it, mind fogged with the thought of you both cumming together. He was already giving you as much effort as he could, but he could easily tell that it was enough. You’re eyes were glued to the back of your head, and brows permanently furrowed into a desperate art piece. ”Shit, baby, gonna fucking cum.” he warned, his little skull and crossbones neckless bouncing like a puppet on a string as he pounding into you. You responded in a string of whimpers, with a few syllables mixed in that he couldn’t recognize at this point.

Soon, his thrusts became sloppy, and less coordinated, finding that the way your gummy cave spasmed upon receiving him was proving to be too much. With a few final rocks of his pelvis, he whined out, desperate for your orgasm to match time with his as he spilled his seed into the condom he was wearing. Finally, seconds after, you felt your second coming crash against you, leaving you screaming his name and trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, slipping out of you, and wiping sweat form his brow. “I really tried to last, wanted us to cum together.” he complained, plopping down beside your glistening body, and pulling you into him. You looked at him with astonished doe eyes, feeling so ridiculously close to him in this moment. “Guess we’ll just have to try again next time.” he chuckled into your hair. 

“Will there be a next time?” you breathed out, now worried that your new dynamic with him would be friends with benefits and nothing more.

“You say that as if I could say no?” he replied, tiredly. “As if.”

“No,” you clarified, snuggling into his side. “I mean...what are we now?”

“To be perfectly honest with you,” he started, reaching to the table beside the couch, now behind him from his position, and finding a pack of cigarettes, before lighting one up and taking a drag. “Fuck buddies isn’t really my style. But I do genuinely like you.”

“So...?” you pressed, taking the cigarette from him and taking a puff of it yourself. 

He exhaled the smoke that he held in his cheeks. “Girlfriend and boyfriend?” he asked, glancing over at you. 

“I’d like that.” you agreed, nuzzling into him, letting your eyes close as exhaustion began to take you. As you drifted off, Gareth was left alone with his thoughts. 

Holy shit, I fucked Eddie’s cousin. 

Oh no, I fucked Eddie’s cousin.