#corroded coffin fest

[steddieas-shegoes]

sold out, one night only

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event for Black Friday using 'one day night only'

rated m | 2980 words | cw: implied and referenced sexual content | tags: modern era, pop star steve, rock star eddie, semi-famous corroded coffin, exes to lovers, getting back together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

The poster is huge, takes up most of the board in the club announcing new events. It’s surprisingly simple for something so large.

‘One Night Only’ accompanied by a picture of Steve Harrington, recently out queer pop icon, and a date and time.

Tonight is the one night only.

Eddie stares at it, kind of wishes he didn’t feel like sobbing, and then books it out of the club.

If he’s gonna make it across town before Steve’s show is done, he’s gotta hope for the least amount of traffic he’s ever seen and a lot of luck. Maybe, if he’s really lucky, the show was delayed enough that he’s still on stage singing.

He manages to find an Uber only a block away, offers them a 50% tip if they can get him to the arena in less than five minutes, and leans his head back against the seat.

~~~~

Four years ago, when Steve followed Eddie and his band to Chicago, neither of them expected much to happen. Corroded Coffin was small town good, but they quickly found that they weren’t quite what record labels were looking for.

A small indie label from San Francisco was interested, though.

So they packed up and moved to California, and to celebrate the first recording session, they went to a karaoke bar and all took turns singing songs that you’d never expect them to.

Steve took a turn singing a Harry Styles song and it was game over.

The whole bar went silent until he was done, and then it was pandemonium as people rushed him as he got off the stage, telling him he should be famous, and that he had the voice of an angel, and that he should try to sign a record deal.

And Eddie knew he could sing; he’d heard him in the shower and the car plenty.

There was just something about seeing him on stage and knowing that Steve was meant for more that really cut into his heart and made him bleed out on that bar floor.

It was the beginning of the end for them that night.

Eddie pushed him away. Steve stopped fighting it.

Steve signed with a huge company out of New York and moved before Eddie even realized he ruined everything.

He hasn’t spoken to him since, not even the one time Dustin had to have surgery and requested everyone be back in Hawkins in case something went wrong. He was being dramatic about leg splints, but they did it anyway.

Eddie caught one glimpse of Steve walking out of the Henderson home the night that Dustin got to leave the hospital, but he didn’t stop him.

Corroded Coffin is big enough to do festival circuits, even playing on the main stage for some of them.

Steve Harrington is big enough to go to Grammy parties and duet with Sabrina Carpenter.

And Eddie is stupid enough to think he can get backstage to apologize to him for being dumb enough to let him walk away.

~~~~

When he arrives at the arena, he’s told he needs a ticket to enter. This is a fact he knew before getting here, but one he chose to ignore in hopes that he might be able to bribe someone with his romantic story.

Unfortunately, the middle aged man who reminds him a lot of Wayne couldn’t care less about his need to tell Steve he loves him.

“You and the 20,000 others in the audience, bud,” the man says. “No ticket, no entrance.”

“Okay, I know you probably hear this often, but I swear he knows me. He’d let me in,” Eddie explains, but the guy is somehow even less impressed. “Oh! Wait. I have proof.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and opens his photos. The album named ‘Stevie ♥️’ is still in his favorites, even though Robin made him promise he’d delete it after the last time she visited. He may have promised he would, but he never said when.

It’s hundreds of photos of them together, mostly selfies, personal pictures they took on dates or in bed or on their road trip or-

“I told you to delete those.”

Eddie spins around at Robin’s voice. She’s standing near the set of doors at the end of the long line of doors, two security guards flanking her.

“And I will. Eventually.” Eddie walks towards her, ignoring the man telling him he needs to leave.

“What are you doing here?” She asks even though she has to know.

She’s his friend even though she’s Steve’s platonic soulmate. She isn’t being mean on purpose. She’s just being protective of both of them.

“Robin…” he starts.

She holds up a hand. “If I take you backstage, will this be a one night only thing or a start to forever thing? Because honestly, I don’t think he can take seeing you if it’s only for you to leave right after. He’s barely-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening.

“He’s what?” Eddie pushes, needing to know what she was gonna say.

She sighs. He knew he’d get her to give in easily.

“He’s barely holding it together as it is,” she admits. “I had to bribe him to get on stage tonight.”

“Bribe him? For this show?”

“And the last dozen or so. He’s tired. He-” She sighs again, heavier. “He misses you.”

“If he misses me, then he should call. Or text. Send a carrier pigeon.” Eddie doesn’t mean for the words to bite, but he can’t help the way he feels and he knows he’s safe with Robin. She won’t take it personally or let him stew in it for too long. “It’s not like he doesn’t have access to me if he really wants it.”

“Eddie. You made it very clear you didn’t want to hear from him ever again.”

“I made it very clear that I loved him too much to hold him back. He was the one who pushed it to this,” Eddie tries.

He doesn’t succeed. Robin is shaking her head, laughing with disbelief.

“You two are made for each other. I’ll bring you backstage, but if I see a single tear shed in anything other than happiness, I’m calling Jeff and telling on you.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. Calling Jeff isn’t quite the threat it used to be, not since Jeff got himself a very serious girlfriend who keeps him busy. Even if it was, Robin knows Jeff’s just gonna nod along, give Eddie a sad look, and move on.

He follows Robin through the door she came through, waving at the guard who was giving him a hard time– “he’s just doing his job, Eddie” – and feels his throat catch on his next breath when he can hear the beat of the music.

Steve’s pop rock sound isn’t necessarily Eddie’s favorite type of music, but he did stay up until midnight for the release of his debut album. It’s Steve. What’s he gonna do? Not listen to it?

His voice is just this side of raspy, like there’s a scratch of his throat when he hits the lower register his voice will allow. He almost sounds like when Eddie would-

“Alright. He’s got two songs left and an encore. Encore is usually just one song, but this is a special night so he may do a bonus from his new album. Don’t touch anything,” Robin sends him into the green room, waving off the security person who is standing at the door. “Don’t make me regret letting you in here. And don’t hurt yourself.”

“Jesus, Robbie, I’m not a child. I’m not gonna hurt myself-”

“I didn’t mean physically.” She gives him a sad look. “I care about you, too.”

Eddie’s shoulders fall as he breathes out. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been. Robin hugs him and moves to the door.

“I’ll make sure you guys have some privacy for a bit, but we do have a tight schedule. Security’s only here while the crew packs up,” she explains. Eddie nods. He knows the drill. He may not be an international pop star, but he deals with the ins and outs of venues often enough.

Robin leaves and the only sound is the bass thumping of Steve’s last song. Eddie looks around at how bare the room is. Usually, Corroded Coffin has to share a green room with a few other bands unless they pull off headlining the main stage. Those rooms are usually cluttered, crews and musicians constantly coming and going, leaving trash and guitar picks behind. The only thing in this room that would hint at Steve using it is a bag of half-eaten white cheddar popcorn on the table next to an empty water bottle and a mug of what looks like green tea.

Steve’s a big enough star to make absurd requests for backstage, but it’s clear he doesn’t. Eddie isn’t surprised. Steve’s never really been one to ask for things that would benefit him.

He hears the screaming, knows Steve’s just left the stage. He’s probably standing nearby, hiding behind curtains or stacks of speakers, maybe even in plain sight.

“Wait!” Robin’s voice is right outside the door.

The door opens.

Steve’s there, breathless, sweaty, hot as hell.

“Steve, you still have a song,” another woman in khakis and a polo shirt is rushing up to him, waving a clipboard in his face.

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice is rough when he speaks. Eddie can tell it’s more from emotion than the nearly two hour set list he just performed.

“Steve.” Eddie is waiting for Steve to move, for anyone to move. He can’t.

“Steve, you need to go back onstage.”

Eddie has his arms full of Steve before anyone can respond to the woman just trying to do her job. She looks like she’s a tech manager, but usually they wear all black, and Eddie doesn’t know all there is to know about an international superstar performing a concert even though he does know all there is to know about Steve.

He knows that he prefers earl gray tea with real sugar, not the green tea with honey that’s sitting on the coffee table. He knows that his favorite treats are the mini Kit Kats– “not the regular ones, they taste different, I swear!”-- not popcorn that gets stuck in his teeth for hours. He knows that he likes making places feel like home no matter how temporary he’s there, and there’s not a single item in this room that makes it feel lived in.

The woman seems to give up on getting Steve back on stage, and he’s pretty sure he has Robin to thank for it.

He has Steve in his arms for the first time in way too long. He isn’t wasting a second of it thinking about anyone else.

Steve’s sweat is soaking through Eddie’s shirt already, but he doesn’t really care. He used to love having Steve’s sweat on him; It meant he was doing something right.

He knows a reunion isn’t this easy, and any second now, Steve’s gonna pull away and yell at him, and they’ll fight and Eddie will let it happen because he deserves it and-

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve sobs against his neck, breath tickling his skin as his lips brush against him in an almost-kiss.

Suddenly, Eddie knows that Steve planned this. This whole sold out, one night only show was only so Eddie would come see him.

Eddie should be pissed.

Steve could have just fucking called him. Texted him. Sent a carrier pigeon!

But he’s got Steve in his arms and it’s always been pretty hard to be pissed at him when he’s pressed perfectly against his chest.

Robin is clearing the room and cursing Steve for making her clean up his messes, but Eddie can hear the fondness in her voice. She wouldn’t bother giving them time alone together if she didn’t want them to have it.

“Robin said I shouldn’t do it. She said you wouldn’t show.” Tears are falling from Steve’s eyes on Eddie's shirt. “I swore you would. She thought I was crazy.”

“You are crazy,” Eddie laughs, squeezing his arms to pull him in tighter. “Planning something this big in the hopes that I’d come to a pop concert is fucking insane, Stevie.”

“But you did.” Steve leans back and looks at him, watery smile enough to make Eddie feel like he could melt into the floor. “I knew you would.”

Eddie wants to kiss him, wants to ignore everything that went wrong and everything they need to talk about, wants to take Steve apart in this room and make it feel like home because Steve didn’t do that on his own. He doesn’t think he’s made any place feel like home in a long time.

“You put a lot of faith in a guy who let you go,” Eddie whispers.

“You showed up for a guy who left,” Steve says back.

“You only left because I pushed you away,” Eddie argues.

“You only pushed me away because you thought it was best for me,” Steve raises a brow, challenging him to keep going.

Eddie knows Steve has a response for everything, though. He’ll keep putting blame on himself the same way Eddie keeps putting it on himself, and they’ll go round and round and waste precious time that they could be doing other things. Instead of pushing, Eddie sighs and lets his shoulders drop.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead of arguing.

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve relaxes in his arms.

“We still have to talk, Stevie,” Eddie reminds him as he leans in, feels Steve’s breath against his lips.

“We will,” Steve barely gets out before their lips crash together, bruising and needy.

There’s a lot that Eddie missed about Steve. He’s spent countless hours harping over everything he messed up to himself, to Robin, to Wayne, to the band. Steve was forever going to be the one that got away.

“Can we…” Steve gasps against his mouth, hands grasping at every inch of Eddie that they can.

“What do you need?” Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists to still him, to make him focus on what he wants.

“Just need you.”

It’s a cop out and they both know it, but Eddie’s fine with it tonight. If he has to be the one to take charge and assume what Steve wants, then he will. For tonight, he can give Steve what he wants to, and Steve will take it.

It’s a little anticlimactic when they come barely five minutes later. They don’t even get a chance to properly remove any clothing before they’re making a mess between them, moaning as if they can’t be heard.

As they come down, and Eddie manages to find a rag that may or may not have been used for other things already, Eddie sees Steve wipe his eyes.

He stops what he’s doing and drops the rag on the floor, pulling Steve close again.

“What’s wrong?” He asks because he can’t let Steve leave him again. Not this time.

“I just don’t want this to be one night only,” Steve cries.

“It won’t be, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him, brushing the fresh tears away as they fall. “We’re gonna figure out how to make it work. The band doesn’t have anything for the next few weeks, so we’ve got time, okay?”

“But I have to leave tomorrow. I have a GQ interview in London,” Steve pouts.

Eddie tries not to be distracted by his bitten-red lips, but they’re just so…biteable.

“I could go to London,” Eddie offers, only slightly joking.

Steve’s eyes light up. “You can?”

“I mean, I can definitely blow some of my savings to follow you around for a bit,” Eddie shrugs.

“As if I’d let you pay.” Steve’s beaming at him. “You really wanna come with me? Even though people will start spreading rumors and it’ll ruin your metal band image?”

“Baby, I’ll stand on that stage right now and scream to everyone who will listen that I’m yours.”

There’s still time to do that, too. Even though it can’t have been more than 20 minutes since Steve left the stage, he has no doubt that there are plenty of stragglers in the arena hoping for Steve to still come out and perform his encore.

“Some fans are kind of-”

“Crazy?” Steve nods. “That’s because you’re perfect. But they can’t have you, right? Not like I can.”

“No. Nobody gets to have me like you do.”

If Robin wasn’t banging on the door to warn them they only had five minutes, Eddie would be trying for another round. Maybe this time, he’d get his mouth on Steve instead of just his hand.

“I guess we should get to the car before fans figure out I’m still here,” Steve suggests. “And before Robin kills us both.”

“Imagine that news story,” Eddie laughs. “Best friend and manager of pop icon Steve Harrington charged with double homicide after seeing more dicks than she’s ever seen in her life.”

“Bold of you to assume she hasn’t seen mine,” Steve laughs as he pulls away. When he sees Eddie’s shocked face, he pats his cheek. “I sleep naked, babe. You knew that.”

Eddie’s face goes back to normal quickly. “Still? I thought that was just so I would-”

“I’m coming in!” Robin shouts as she opens the door. Steve turns away to finish buttoning his pants, but Eddie’s soft dick is right out in the open.

“Seriously?” Robin groans.

Eddie finishes making himself presentable and smirks. “You’ve seen what he’s got. You can’t blame me.”

“I can and I will. Car’s already surrounded, so. Hope you’re good with a hard launch.”

Eddie looks at Steve to check in. Steve gives him a nod.

“Blast off, I guess.”

[fuctacles]

a boy worth fighting getting trampled for

"trampled" for @corrodedcoffinfest BF event | T | 856 | Corroded King (implied and open for interpretation) | no cw | Black Friday, banter, open relationship, polycule-ish, appreciating Steve Harrington moment, canon-ish universe | Ao3

"Was it worth it?"

"Yes!" Gareth and Jeff nod in unison.

"No," whines Eddie, thumbing at the rip in his beloved t-shirt. 

"Eh..." Doug makes a so-so motion with his palm.

Steve sighs. When they asked him for extra muscle on Black Friday, he should have expected an outcome like this. The whole band is brandishing various injuries from being trampled by other shoppers, the worst of which was Gareth's allegedly sprained ankle. He wasn't fussing about it only because a. his mother was a nurse and would look at it as soon as she was back, and b. he kind of deserved it. 

"Well, show me the loot, then," Steve says with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms. The only thing he's seen so far was a shiny new amp he had the misfortune of carrying from the store to his car. 

Eddie digs through his pockets to brandish about half a dozen tapes, none with a cover Steve would recognize. He seems proud of his haul but sours under the unimpressed stare he gets. 

"I got a few vinyls for my folks," Doug shows off his findings, and Eddie scoffs loudly when he gets an approving smile from Steve.

"That's nice," he says. 

Gareth redeems himself by showing a gift for his sister, while Jeff bought probably two dozen string packs for his guitar. 

"Okay, these aren't actually as stupid as I thought," Steve admits reluctantly, sitting on a stack of tires. "Except for you," he points at Eddie. "You have a shitload of tapes already."

Eddie huffs, now him being the one to cross his arms. 

"Sorry, we're not showing what we got for you."

The rest of the guys start shushing him immediately, Jeff even going as far as throwing a string pack at his head. Eddie maturely flips them the bird. 

"You got me stuff?" Steve asks in surprise. 

"Duh," Gareth scoffs, and Jeff flicks him in the ear for it. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Be nice, idiot," Jeff chastises him. 

With a roll of his eyes, Gareth turns to Steve. 

"You're basically a part of the band, we figured it would be nice," he shrugs. 

"But I'm not—"

Doug interrupts him before he can go further with his usual protests.

"You do a lot of the heavy lifting, you co-wrote two songs, and consistently charm venue managers into giving us gigs," he lists off on his fingers. "You're basically like Corroded Coffin's manager, so shut up."

"Yeah, you also give the best blowjobs," Eddie grins, because he loves to ruin a moment, and immediately shields his head from any missiles Jeff might throw his way. But the guy only hums in agreement. 

"That's true," he nods, making Steve flush pink. 

"Well, uh... thanks, I guess," he smiles, a little taken aback. "Waiting til Christmas might kill me, though," he admits with a chuckle. He's always been that kid who looked through all the nooks and crannies of the house to find the gifts early, too curious to sit around and wait. 

The band exchanges thoughtful looks among themselves; they nod and they shrug.

"I guess you can pick one," Jeff decides for all of them. 

Steve's eyes widen. 

"You all got me something?!"

"We couldn't agree on one thing," Doug sighs like it's a topic of a tiring debate. Which, knowing them, might have been.

Steve hums thoughtfully, looking over each of the boys as if his mind wasn't already made. He points his finger, feeling childishly powerful.

"Eddie. You gotta redeem yourself, man."

Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn't protest. He bends over the back of the couch to reach for his backpack, and Doug immediately grabs onto his back pocket with a sigh, so he doesn't topple over and add to his injuries. Once Eddie falls back on the cushions with a huff and fixes his hair, he pulls out a familiar packaging. 

Steve looks unimpressed. 

"If this is your way of redeeming yourself—"

But after brandishing a can of Farrah Fawcett hair spray, Eddie keeps pulling out more hair products, shampoos, and conditioners that are always sold out whenever Steve tries looking for them.

"Okay, fine. Consider yourself redeemed," he says reluctantly, and Eddie beams at him. He stands up to walk up to him and kisses him softly on the lips before squeezing in to sit between him and Doug. 

"See? Every time!" Gareth throws a hand towards them "He weasels himself out of anything!" 

"It's the dimples, I'm telling you." Jeff shakes his head in disappointment.

Steve, his arm already slung over Eddie, motions for Gareth.

"Well, come over and I'll kiss you too. What? You sprained your ankle and can't walk? Aw, what a shame."

Gareth hisses at him and shows him the finger, which Steve mirrors while making kissy faces. Eddie just preens under his embrace, content like the cat that got the cream. 

"Next year just please plan it better. Wear protective gear and stock the fucking first aid kit."

"You wear a fucking—"

Gareth is interrupted by Jeff's arm putting him into a headlock. 

"We will," he agrees for him. 

regulars: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 24: Behind the Scenes

Word Count: 701/Rating: T/Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader/CW: Eddie's got a crush, theatre girl!Reader, reader wears a dress, one dirty joke thanks to Gareth/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, theatre girl!Reader, Principal Higgins

Divider credit to @silkholland

“This is all your fault,” Gareth hissed at Eddie. “I should be behind the bleachers, making out with Annie right now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, swiping a paint brush over a two-by-four. “Sure, blame the guy standing up to The Man. Let’s not consider that Principal Higgins was the one who banned us from the talent show.”

Jeff hiked up his sleeves and grabbed the nearest hammer, ready to construct the Scarecrow’s perch. “Higgins didn’t ‘ban’ us,” he countered. “He just told us we couldn’t play War Pigs.”

“And that’s better?” Eddie shook his head. “No, we were given freedom of speech for a reason! We should be able to play whatever we goddamn want!”

Mrs. Porter, the school play’s director, glared at him and shushed. Eddie held up his hands in surrender, but continued complaining in a loud whisper. 

“All I’m saying is, if he didn’t want us putting on our own lunchtime performance, he should’ve let us do our thing at the talent show.”

“I think the lunch ladies enjoyed it,” Grant chimed in, earning himself a thwack in the back of the head from Jeff. 

Eddie was about to thank him for his support, but a flash of pink caught his eye. You were standing in front of the girl playing Dorothy and twirling in your Glinda dress. After a few spins, you got dizzy, and Dorothy caught you as you both burst into laughter.

Gareth resumed his rant, oblivious to Eddie’s sudden smittenness. “I’d rather play Girls Just Wanna Have Fun than build sets for the fuckin’ school play.” He held the perch in place so Jeff could hammer in the nail. “At least we could write lyrics and plan campaigns in regular deten–are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” Eddie blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his daze. “Yeah. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Got it.”

“What’re you looking at?” Grant peered around one of the fighting trees, his face splitting into a grin when he saw. “Oh, that’s why you’re not pitching a fit about this set design detention.”

Jeff batted his eyelashes flirtatiously. “Eddie, do you have the hots for the fairy princess?”

“Shut up!” Eddie grumbled. “And she’s not a fairy princess; she’s Glinda the Good Witch.”

The backup guitarist put up his hands in mock surrender. “My apologies.” 

“You gonna ask her to play with your wand?” Gareth snickered, but he quickly stopped once Eddie shot him a look that could kill.

You disappeared back into the makeshift dressing room, and Eddie let out a silent sigh of relief. He might not be able to stare at you from afar, but at least he could think about you without the guys interfering. The subject naturally shifted to the songs they wanted to add to their setlist for their Hideout gigs, and Eddie was in the clear.

Until.

“Those look great!” 

Eddie’s head shot up at the sound of your voice. His cheeks reddened and his mouth relaxed into a sheepish grin.

“Thanks, yeah. I’m not much of an artist–like, a painting artist. I band. Um, I mean, I play in a band. So, like, music artist. I do music. Yeah.”

You raised your eyebrows, clearly unsure how to interpret his rambling. “Well, a music artist is still an artist.”

“Yeah.” Christ, Munson; is that the only word you know?

Gareth was more than happy to supply further conversation. “Sorry, he’s kind of an idiot around girls he’s hopelessly in love with.”

‘I hate you’ was perched on Eddie’s tongue, but you stepped in. You paid no attention to the menace-formerly-known-as-Gareth as you spoke directly to Eddie. “Well, we always need music artists to help make the orchestra pit fuller. If you’re interested.”

“No–I mean, yeah, I’m interested. Super interested.” The paint brush clattered to the ground, but he barely noticed. “Where do I sign up?”

As Eddie followed you to where the orchestra conductor was tuning violins, Gareth leaned closer to the two remaining bandmates. “Think it’s a good idea to tell him that Higgins is technically the reason why he got to talk to his dream girl?”

Jeff clapped a hand on the drummer’s back. “Good luck with that.”

--

[xzerosparrowx]

The Guitar

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Day #1 - Prompt: Firsts | Word Count: 861 | Rating: T | CW: Use of homophobic language/slurs | POV: Eddie | Tags: How Eddie Munson got his first guitar, Wayne Munson is Eddie's Dad, Allen Munson, First Christmas, Christmas special.

Eddie lays awake in bed, watching the weak winter morning sun cast its light across the unfamiliar room with tired eyes. He blinks back hot tears as he feels the chill around his ears, remembering the way Allen Munson pulled at his hair, the sound of the electric razor buzzing against his skin. 

Now he was here in his Uncle's trailer, a man he barely knows aside from the few times Al complained about him over the phone. 

“... Says I should stop stealing cars and get a proper job. Wayne doesn't fucking get it, man.”

“Why does he wanna look after that little queer?”

“... Just because he's got no kids, he wants to steal mine.” 

A soft little knock startles him, the shuffle of feet near his door. “Eddie, you awake?” Wayne calls out quietly, a nervous waver in his voice.

“Yea-yes, sir,” Eddie answers, sitting up but not making a move towards the door.

“I'm not- you don't have to call me that, Eddie. You can just call me Wayne,” Eddie hears him sigh, “I'm thinking of making pancakes or waffles, not sure which one you prefer. If you like something more savory for breakfast, I bought eggs and bacon as well.” Wayne rambles, and there is something sad and warm in Eddie’s chest, an old ache that he had now long been accustomed to that Wayne had stumbled upon and brought into sharp focus.

“I-I’m happy with whatever si- Uncle Wayne,” Eddie answers finally, getting up from bed and pulling on a pair of old sweats and a baby blue threadbare sweater. It’s large on his thin frame, a hand-me-down from Wayne, warm and comfortable. 

He hears his Uncle move away from the door and Eddie gathers his courage to step out of the room. A kaleidoscope of twinkling fairy lights meet him, the trailer lit in a beautiful array of colour and tinsel.

Oh yeah, it’s Christmas.

Wayne is standing in the kitchen, pouring a ladle of pancake mix on the hot griddle. Eddie rubs his eyes, forcing the tears away before standing near Wayne and watching him cook. 

“You know how to make pancakes?” his uncle asks, expertly flipping a pancake. Eddie shakes his head, the only time he ever got breakfast was if Al left him money for groceries, which was not often.   

Wayne pours another ladle in response, before handing the spatula to Eddie, “all you have to do is wait for the bubbles to show up. Once they pop, they’re ready to be flipped. See?” He says, pointing to the little bubbles in the pancake. 

Guided by Wayne, Eddie flips the pancake his uncle beaming down at him when it lands perfectly on it’s uncooked side, “I think we have Julia Childs in the trailer!” Wayne laughs and Eddie cannot help but join him, rolling his eyes good naturedly at his uncle. They continue like that, Wayne ladling the perfect amount of batter on to the griddle and Eddie flipping them with varying degrees of success. 

It’s the first time, since Eddie moved to the trailer a week ago, that living here feels normal. To realise that maybe Wayne is nothing like Al at all. They eat the pancakes in companionable silence, Eddie drowning his in maple syrup while Wayne sprinkles icing sugar and lemon.

“I have a present for you, go sit on the couch,” Wayne says, pushing his plate away and getting up before Eddie can think to protest. Eddie does as he’s told, feeling awkward and unsure again as he listens to Wayne move stuff around. 

“Alright, close your eyes!” Wayne calls and Eddie closes them, he fidgets with his hands, rubs his thumb over his fingers in a soothing back-and-forth. He hears Wayne place something on the coffee table and opens his eyes when Wayne gives him the ok. 

Oh.

Eddie stares at the old, black acoustic guitar in front of him, lovingly stored in its case. There are scratch marks here and there, the leather strap flaking in places, but it gleams under the lights as if it knows that it is a well-used and treasured thing. 

“I’m sorry it’s not a new guitar, but I don’t really use this old girl anymore, so I thought maybe I’ll hand her down to you,” Wayne offers sheepishly, wringing his hands nervously, thumb over his fingers. 

“How- How did you know I wanted one?”

“I remember hearing you ask Al for one,” Wayne says this like it’s natural that he would remember something so small about Eddie, and Eddie breathes through that sad and warm ache in his chest. 

“That was two years ago, Uncle Wayne,” he manages to choke out, he can feel his throat starting to thicken, tears beginning to well up and he watches his uncle trying to fight off his own emotions. 

“Well, you’re a good kid. You deserve something that’s just for you.”

His uncle's arms are strong and comforting when Eddie leaps towards him in a tight hug. Eddie does not remember the last time Al hugged him, but if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend that Wayne had always been his Dad. 

[rip-quizilla]

To Gareth, From Ronnie

A/N: This is based off the prompt for Day 3 of @corrodedcoffinfest- Day 3: Best Friends

Summary: Ronnie writes a letter to Gareth detailing the truth about being Eddie Munson's best friend. (Ronnie is a character from Flight of Icarus by Caitlin Schneiderhan, but you don't need to have read the novel to understand this piece!)

Word Count: 442

No content warnings other than strong language!

Divider credit to @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Gareth,

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve already left Hawkins. I told Jeff to put this in your mailbox for me since my flight leaves early in the morning; I wanted to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into here.

It is not easy being Eddie Munson’s best friend.

Sometimes it feels like it is, I know- he can make you smile in an instant, he has a joke for literally every occasion. He never knows when to quit trying to make everything seem okay. He can talk his way out of anything, and no matter how long you’ve known him, his talent for getting himself into trouble then back out of it within moments never ceases to amaze. 

But here’s why I’m writing you this letter- the real secret about Eddie.

He is loyal to a fault. When you have his allegiance, it’s for life, and by that I mean he would probably give his life for his friends if he thought it was the right thing to do. You’ve seen it firsthand; how many times have you found yourself in deep shit, only for Eddie to save your ass? Who’s the one getting himself beat up time and time again just so you can have an opening to run away? It’s noble, yes, but it isn’t sustainable, kid. 

He can only get beat up for you so many times. I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but you need to stop being so fucking reckless. You don’t have to pick every fight you see an opportunity for, because from now on it isn’t just your ass on the line. Eddie’s going to put his there too, every damn time. Because that’s how he shows people he cares about them. 

It’s how I know he cares about you, because I’ve seen him get more black eyes with your name on them than anyone else’s. 

Eddie makes mistakes- big ones- but he always wants to do the right thing. Sometimes he’s going to think that the wrong thing is actually the right thing, so he needs…direction. Frequently. Hope you’ve got a strong moral compass. And a larger capacity for forgiveness than me. 

Between Hellfire Club, taking my place as drummer (good luck with that, by the way), and Eddie repeating senior year, you’re going to be around him a lot. He won’t say it out loud, but he’s going to need you. He’ll have the rest of the younger guys, I know that, but he needs a right-hand-man. I think you’re up to the challenge… but hey, maybe I’m wrong and you’re a total loser. 

Please prove me right, Gareth. For Eddie’s sake.

Ronnie

[mrsjellymunson]

🎸Get Lucky🎸

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest day 18 prompt, ‘Freak’ | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Grant/unnamed freak | CW: longing, self-deprecation, ogling, allusions to sex | Tags: Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Grant, The Hideout | Summary: One member of Corroded Coffin gets lucky after a gig, and another doesn’t 😕

They each have their own favourite places in The Hideout.

Gareth’s is at the bar, loving the camaraderie with their fans as much as the booze behind it.

Jeff’s is his spot on stage. He adores the buzz from the crowd, and the validation he feels.

Eddie’s is the dingy bathroom - if he’d marked the wall for each conquest that he’d taken back there, he could’ve redecorated by now.

Grant’s favourite space is the ‘green room’, an overly-optimistic description of the messy back area which stores everything from band equipment to St Patrick’s Day decorations. He chills there after performances, basking in the endorphins and reflecting on gigs well played.

Tonight, Grant looks out over the crowd. And he gets it, he really does. With Eddie’s looks and irrepressible charm, Gareth’s manic but endearing persona, and Jeff’s softness and charisma, he understands that he’s not the greatest catch out of the bunch.

But when he glances out this evening, and spots a pretty girl in a floral dress looking completely out of her depth in the throng of black-clad metal fans, he can’t help but feel a twinge of longing.

Even though he knows he barely has any chance, he flits his eyes to her once more, before dropping them back to his instrument, where they remain for most of the night.

The gig goes well, their individual talents coalescing well, creating an impressive whole. Eddie’s his usual manic self, striding around the small stage and commanding attention. Gareth’s hammering on his drums, always giving it his all like there’s a music exec in the building. Jeff only has eyes for his girl - she’s a few feet from his side of the stage, safely away from the jostling bodies, her growing bump a testament to their love.

And Grant? He’s diligently playing his instrument, bobbing his head and occasionally stamping a foot, soaking up the cheering and fans singing along, but rarely looking out into the crowd.

Eddie is eyeing the girls, as always. Grant watches as the pretty girl squeezes her way to the front, slipping beneath leather-clad elbows and between sweaty bodies. Not a typical Hideout-goer, her dress is hardly comparable to the tight shirts and denim favoured by most of the female clientele. But it showcases her cleavage nicely (not that he’s deliberately looking, he would never) and makes her stand out in her own way. He chances one more look, fancying that there’s something familiar about her, but without the confidence to properly catch her eye he can’t be sure.

She bops and sways and pushes her elbows together, gazing at Eddie through her lashes. It certainly gets his attention, and Grant notices that Eddie spends at least half the gig looking in her direction. Another conquest.

The boys finish their set and Eddie immediately jumps offstage. Taking her gently by an elbow, he murmurs low in her ear,

“Hey, sweet thing. You look a little lost down here. You wanna go somewhere a little quieter?”

She nods sweetly, clearly under his thrall, and Grant swallows back the bile that rises in the back of his throat. He can’t believe she’s fallen for Eddie’s shallow bullshit, but he has to admit he has game - it almost never fails. He’s not generally a jealous guy, but he can’t help the feeling that someone so seemingly sweet deserves better than… this.

Grant heads swiftly down the narrow corridor to the sanctuary of the green room, hoping to avoid hearing any of what Eddie’s about to do. But just as he reaches the doorway, he hears his name being called. He turns, bewildered, to see the girl in the floral dress standing directly in front of him.

“Wh-?”

“Hi Grant, I don’t know if you remember me? We had math and geography classes together in high school.”

Grant doesn’t say anything. He just stares, like she’s grown an extra head.

He watches her face fall. Is she realising this is all a horrendous mistake? He manages to softly say her name, continuing,

“Remember you? O- of course I do! You sat in front of me for two years, how could I not remember you?”

He smiles then, and his eyes twinkle as his full cheeks lift up. She reciprocates, and he thinks it’s the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. He’s confused, however.

“But, how do you remember me?”

“You don’t have classes with someone for two years and not pick up a thing or two. Like how you’re really cute, and have a great sense of humour. How kind and generous you are with your friends, and how you’ve looked after the younger sheep. How you have a pet rabbit, and you love it more than anything, but you never tell people about it because you think it’s not ‘metal’. And how I’ve had a crush on you since you lent me a pencil when mine broke just before a test, and you never asked for it back. And I came here tonight to see if you wanted to, maybe, hook up sometime.”

She huffs out a breath, like she’s relieved to have finally said it aloud.

Eddie’s aghast in the narrow hallway, never having been cockblocked by anyone before, let alone a bandmate. Grant’s eyes flick between them as he stammers,

“But… aren't… you two…?”

“No, silly. You wouldn’t look at me all night, so I had to come up with another way of getting back here. I figured flirting with the horny front man would work, and it did. Didn’t it, big boy?”

She flashes a glance at Eddie, who’s standing there gaping like a fish.

There’s a few seconds of silence while everyone processes. Finally realising she needs a response, Grant, smiling again, finds the courage to mumble,

“You… really think I’m cute?”

She slips her hand into his, and, pulling him past a still-gaping Eddie into Eddie’s favourite room, she murmurs,

“Why don’t you come in here with me, and find out…?”

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for organising this event @corrodedcoffinfest, this was a very enjoyable prompt! 🖤🖤🖤

Extremely cool divider by @strangergraphics

My general taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean

[dreamwatch]

One Day It All Will Fade

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #9 - Prompt: The Hideout | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: language | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, the people of Hawkins are mean, Eddie's going through it but Steve's got him, pre-steddie

****

“I can’t do it anymore.” It’s what Eddie says all the time now when he talks about the band, or about his plans for the future. He’s shut down, introverted, not that loud mouthed idiot they all knew from school. A shell. And okay, getting his band back together isn’t going to fix all his problems, but it’s a start, right? It’s a huge piece of Eddie’s life, of Eddie’s soul; it’s his everything.

“You can’t keep letting them take everything from you, Eddie.” Because it’s not enough for them to have lived. It’s not enough, it can’t be enough, to just survive. They need to thrive. 

The Hideout ask them to come back and Steve is so excited for him. It’s a validation, being wanted. But Eddie still not sure, still too wary. A frightened dog too scared to take food from a stranger.

“Your band’s important to you, right?” 

“It’s everything to me,” Eddie replies, the passion clear in his voice.

“Well then fuck ‘em, man. Play your gig. Play the best you’ve every played. If anyone wants to come and stare, let them. Let them see how good you are. How talented you are. Rub it in their faces. Make them fucking choke on it.”

Eddie smiles shyly, nodding as if to himself, working it out, thinking it through.

“Will you come?”

There’s nothing that would keep him from Eddie.

“I’ll be at the front, okay? Anything happens, the first asshole that thinks he’s a comedian? Boom. Gone. I’ll even bring Jonathan, just in case we need some muscle.”

They both laugh. But Steve is going to make sure as many of their friends are there as possible.

****

The first alarm bell was the manager giving them the prized Saturday night slot, because it meant the guy was expecting a big crowd. No offence to the band, but Steve didn’t really see that many Hawkins yokels being into thrash metal. 

It’s not Steve’s thing. It’s too loud, Jeff’s vocals a little too screamy for his liking (and Robin’s if the look on her face is anything to go by), but Eddie is something else. Steve has seen him strum mindlessly on his guitar, but this… holy shit. He plays a solo and fuck. Fuck!

Robin turns to him. “He’s like a fucking rock star!”

And he is. It’s the only way he can describe him.

Eddie told them they have eight songs tonight, more than usual, keeping them on stage longer and again, it puts Steve on edge. Why? Why now? And you know, if it was just to cash in, then okay, whatever. Scuzzy but that’s showbiz, he guesses. But every time he looks at the crowd and then the stage he keeps thinking of that horror film, Carrie. Setting someone up for a horrible, public fall. 

He’s on edge for a while but he doesn’t want to miss any of this, watching Eddie in his element. Eddie doesn’t really seem comfortable until the third song in, something Steve recognises, something by Ozzy? But Eddie settles down, enjoys it, playing back to back with Jeff, laughing with Matt and Gareth and it’s just glorious to watch him like this.

Steve’s not sure when he first notices the flash of green and orange, but it’s not until he hears Robin’s gasp beside him that he registers the shiny pom pom’s landing on the stage at Eddie’s feet. 

There’s a lull in the crowd, followed by pockets of laughter. The band keep playing, through defiance or ignorance it isn’t clear, but Eddie has noticed, he couldn’t possibly not. He looks stricken, misses notes and cues before kicking the pom poms back into the crowd. But the damage is done. At the end of the set Eddie practically throws his guitar down before running from the stage.

Steve struggles past the crowd, past the assholes blocking the door to the back of the building. Jeff is banging on the bathroom door, getting no answer. Steve’s not in the mood to be patient, so he moves him out of the way, knocks on the door and says “Eddie? It’s Steve.” And then the door is unlocking and he’s in, and as he closes the door he doesn’t miss the hurt on Jeff’s face.

The black and white checker board floor is filthy, covered in piss and beer and god knows what else, but Eddie is sitting in it, huddled against the wall, cold tiles at his back. He’s staring at nothing, eyes emotionless. Just open. It’s horrible.

Against his better judgment Steve drops to the floor beside him, shoulder and hip knocking him as he sits. Eddie doesn’t seem to register him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to do it.”

“You didn’t force me. You encouraged me.”

“Well then I shouldn’t have en—”

“Steve, stop. Please. I can’t right now.”

Steve can hear the crack in his voice, the tightness, so he looks away trying to give him some privacy. And they sit like that, ignoring the occasional bang on the door, ‘hurry up, people need to piss’; he imagines the band are out there telling people to fuck off. Good.

“It’s never going to go away.”

Steve sighs. He wants to say of course it will go away, of course people will forget about it. But he doesn’t want to make promises he can’t keep.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ll promise you something.” He moves to make sure Eddie can see him properly. “I’ll be there. I’ll always be there. And if I’m not there I’ll find you.”

He watches a tear slip down Eddie’s cheek. 

“Why?”

Because he doesn’t want him to hurt. Because Steve’s sick of seeing him suffer for something he didn’t do.

Because there’s something about Eddie Munson that makes him want to wrap himself around him, keeping the hurt out.

“Because you’re my friend.”

The dam breaks, Eddie’s tears flow. Steve pulls him in for a hug.

“Because you’re my friend.”

****

This was a rush job because I am out of pre-written fics. I'd like to thank my job for being slow enough to allow me to write when I should have been working.

Title from I'll Stick Around by Foo Fighters

[alicetallula]

Corroded Coffin Fest : Seven Deadly Sins Halloween Pop-Up Event 2024 - Wrath - 25.10.2024

Here's my little contribution to the @corrodedcoffinfest's Seven Deadly Sins Halloween Pop-Up event 😊🧡

Envy / Gluttony / Greed / Lust / Pride / Sloth

Wrath - GreatWise - 25.10.2024

I went with the sins being a bit like different kind of demons with a specific tattoo on them. Here is Gareth as Wrath with an Ares symbol on him.

Done using ink pens, a metallic ink pen, alcohol markers, gel pens, acrylic paint pens and Photoshop for the name of the sin

AO3 post / Bluesky post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

[steddieas-shegoes]

not while i’m on my knees

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event prompt ‘lust’

rated e | 666 words | cw: sexual content, semi-public sex | tags: established relationship, famous corroded coffin, love confessions, blow job, hand job, interrupted sex

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Eddie bites back a moan as Steve’s tongue does something magical around his dick. They’re in the bathroom of the dressing room for the opening show of Corroded Coffin’s tour and the guys aren’t even 15 feet away. They’ll hear any noise louder than a whisper.

Eddie’s never quiet when Steve’s mouth is on him. Or when his cock is inside him. Or when his hands are-

“Jesus!” Eddie exclaims as Steve manages to take him all the way, the head of his cock hitting the back of his throat. “Shit, Stevie.”

Steve pulls off and holds a finger to his lips. A reminder, but one that won’t be enough if Steve keeps pushing him to his limits.

He knows how hot Eddie thinks it is when the guys are nearby, could hear anything.

They could hear him begging Steve for more. They could hear Steve whimpering into his own hand. They could hear the wet sounds of spit making the glide of hands easier.

Steve continues even though Eddie doesn’t reassure him that he can be quiet. Steve knows he can’t. He’s just teasing him.

“Couldn’t wait to get your mouth on me, huh?” He gasps out as Steve sucks on the tip and takes him back down his throat.

He looks up at Eddie and raises a brow. He’s such a bitch. Eddie loves him with his entire heart.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you’re a desperate slut,” Eddie leans his head back against the wall. “‘S why I love you.”

Steve pulls off of him and glares. “This is not gonna be the first time you say that to me.”

“Hm?” Eddie looks back down at Steve’s bright red cheeks and watery eyes. “Say what?”

Steve stands up and pushes Eddie’s entire body further into the wall. He’s grinning, that feral look that he gets when he’s hungry for Eddie.

“If you love me, then you say it when I’m not on my knees. You look me in my eyes and hold me and show me that you do.”

Oh shit. Okay.

“I do love you,” he says again, looking in Steve’s eyes and wrapping his arms around him. “I was gonna say it normal, I swear.”

“Did my mouth feel too good? Got you acting dumb?” Steve teases, but there’s fondness heavy in his voice. It settles deep in Eddie’s chest, curls around his heart and leaves him warm and content.

He nods.

He loves when Steve bites. He loves being seen and known in a way that no one else quite understands. He’d never make it through this tour without Steve there to remind him he’s just a guy in love with his boyfriend and no amount of fame will ever change that.

“Will you fuck me?” Eddie asks, whines. They don’t have time; Eddie’s supposed to be on stage in less than ten minutes. He’s not even prepped. He doesn’t even think they have lube in here.

Steve smirks. “You want it to hurt, baby?”

Eddie doesn’t not want it to hurt. He’s willing to sacrifice if it means having Steve inside him before he performs.

Someone bangs on the door.

“If I have to listen to Steve fuck you, you owe me $100,” Frankie yells through the door.

“$50 for me!” Gareth yells.

“Why less?” Frankie asks.

“Because Steve sounds hot when he comes.”

Steve laughs. “You won’t hear me fuck him!” He yells through the door.

Eddie groans. “You couldn’t let me have this?” He lets his head fall back against the wall again.

The moment is gone even though he’s still hard as a rock and could probably come the moment Steve touches him.

Steve’s hard too, he sees when he looks back down at his own leaking cock. They could get off together.

“Please,” Eddie pouts.

Steve smiles, less mean now, more endeared. His hand wraps around both of them.

“Say it again,” Steve whispers, just for them.

“I love you,” Eddie says just for him.

[witchwrestler]

Day 9 of @corrodedcoffinfest "THE HIDEOUT"

wc: 690

pairing: eddie x reader

rating: T

cw: some curse words in my writing, mentions of underage drinking (if I missed anything pls lmk)

a/n: not my best work lol i was trying to get it out before midnight, enjoy <3

"You can catch us every Tuesday, playing to a crowd of...about 5 drunks! But it's still a good time I swear!"

Is how Eddie munson had posed the idea to you at lunch yesterday. He asked if you wanted to go to a concert and given that you had jack shit after school, you said yes, and then he said it was "This band Corroded Coffin" and you said, "Isn't that your band?" and then he said, "yeah, come watch!"

The smile that crept onto your face was inescapable, you had been waiting for this weird little metalhead dude who sat next to you in biology to ask you out all year and it finally happened. You remembered him from middle school, when he would talk about having a band and making it big in New York, playing Madison Square Garden, the whole thing. He had big dreams, and you had full confidence he'd achieve them.

They started playing at the hideout when they started high school, Gareth knew the manager and practically begged him to let them play there. They loved it, though it was hot and sticky and probably violated many health codes. The five drunks they played for were the only people who cared to listen, even if they were only half conscious. Plus they got free beer out of it. Getting blackout drunk every time they played was just half the fun. At least thats what eddie always said.

---------

They played at 8 o'clock he said. You showed up and sat at the back, a coke in hand. Eddie spotted you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up. You didn't clock him until you saw him giving you a shy wave from the stage. He hopped off the stage from tuning his guitar and lightly jogged over to you, leaning against the table and offering a soft smile.

"Hey, you made it" he said, smiling almost childishly and rocking on his feet.

"I did." You said, giving a small nod.

"Y-You look nice" He said, shyly, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Thanks." You looked down at your dress, a little white bow amidst the black right between your chest. "I was worried I did too much"

He rubbed his neck in an awkward habit, "...No. I mean look at me" He said, motioning to the chains on his pants and the eyeliner he'd put on moments before.

You let out a small laugh, and Eddie's face lights up. "That's fair. But you look good too"

He smiles again but looks away briefly, trying to find the words "Do you have any plans after the show?"

You sipped the coke in your hand and looked up to him from your seat, "Go home probably.... unless you had something in mind?"

"You wanna grab a bite after?" He said, looking nervously to his shoes.

"absolutely. It's a date" You say, smiling up at him.

---------

You watched from the table you sat at, sipping your drink and singing quietly the songs you knew, occasionally catching eddies eye as you did. He looked so happy, like he fit in. He was so in his element for someone performing to five deadbeat 40 year olds and a bartender. They played a couple metallica songs, and near the end a cover of ring of fire by johnny cash. He fit that song, plus it wasnt so terrible watching him pluck the guitar strings. They ended with an Eddie Original as he called it, and then the show was over. It's a real shame they don't have a bigger crowd, you thought

You awaited eddie outside the hole in the wall bar, and watched him as he talked to the guys and threw glances in your direction. "So did you like the show?" He questioned, anxiously awaiting an answer. "You guys were so good. You better not forget me when you're famous, munson." You said, smiling.

He chuckled at your response, "Wouldn't dream of it."

"wanna go get greasy diner burgers?" He questioned, walking backwards toward his van. "Is that even a question?" You retorted, chuckling and following him.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 26: Tour Date

Word Count: 724/Rating: G/Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie x Mom!Reader/CW: angst, hurt/no comfort, Eddie and Reader are married with a daughter, he ran away this time/Tags: Eddie Munson, Mom!Reader, Disney World, angst, hurt/no comfort

Divider credit to @silkholland

Beep beep beep!

Eddie barely heard his pager chirp over the sound of the parade. Lydia, his three-year-old daughter, was perched on his shoulders and waving frantically as Snow White’s float glided down Main Street, U.S.A. It wasn’t until the older couple next to him began glaring that he realized that the jingling wasn’t part of the show.

“One sec, Lyds.” Eddie lifted the little girl and gently placed her on the ground, trying to ignore your scowl as he darted away to find the nearest payphone. 

She’ll understand when I tell her it’s Pat, he thought. Hoped, more honestly. If it was anyone else other than his agent, Eddie would have waited to call back, but Pat wouldn’t interrupt a family vacation without a good reason. 

“‘Lo?”

“Hey, Pat.” Eddie’s toes tapped on the ground. He gave a tight smile to a fan passing by, hoping the photo she snapped wasn’t horribly unflattering. “What’s going on?”

Eddie could practically hear Pat grinning through the phone. “Ed, you’re not gonna believe this, but I just got a call from the people who represent Guns ‘N Roses. Their opening act is having trouble leaving the U.S. and getting into Mexico—some passport issue or whatever. Anyway,” he barely paused for a second before blurting out, “they want Corroded Coffin to be their opening act for the next few nights!”

“Holy shit!” A mother covered her son’s ears when she walked past and frowned at Eddie, but he didn’t notice. Corroded Coffin would be playing internationally? “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Pat chuckled. “You’re in Orlando now, right? I’ll send a car to bring you to the airport within the hour. Be ready.”

Eddie nodded before remembering that his agent couldn’t see him. “Y-Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be there.”

It’s only when he hung up the phone and caught a glimpse of his surroundings that reality sank in. He was supposed to be on vacation—Lydia’s first trip to Disney World, as it were—and skipping out on that would not bode well. 

He spent the entire walk back to you and Lydia rehearsing what he’d say, but words failed him the moment he saw his daughter’s face. The pure joy in her smile, brown eyes alight with wonder. 

“Daddy, I saw Ariel! And she waved to me!” Lydia jumped into his arms and held on tight. 

Eddie mustered up a small laugh. “I guess you really are a princess.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Eddie turned to you. “Guns ‘N Roses needs us to be their opener in Mexico for the next few nights.”

He braced himself for another lecture about putting the band before family, putting money before love, but that never happened. Instead, you responded with one word. 

“Great.”

Flat, affectless, apathetic. As though you were expecting it to happen. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he scrambled to explain. “Their regular opener can’t get into—”

“I said it’s fine.” You reached out and took Lydia, breaking Eddie’s heart further. “Go ahead. Don’t wanna miss your flight.”

He knew he should stay. Knew he should call Pat back and let him know that Corroded Coffin would have to be a trio. Jeff could take lead guitar, and Grant had solid vocals. 

But visions of the cheering crowd, everyone singing along with their songs, was too enticing. And what if he actually got to meet Axl Rose and Slash? What if this was fate beckoning him towards his big break?

“Thanks.” He leaned in and kissed Lydia’s cheek. When he looked at you, your eyes blazed with fury that warned him not to even try to feign affection. It meant nothing without the actions to back it up. “Have fun.”

You plastered on a smile for Lydia’s sake. “We will. We’re gonna meet more princesses later! Right, Lyds?”

Stay. If you leave now, your marriage is over. 

Lydia nodded emphatically and beamed at Eddie. “Are you gonna see me meet the princesses?”

Stay. Don’t miss these precious moments in your daughter’s life.  

“I’ll be back soon.” A non-answer if he’d ever heard one. “I love you guys.”

Stay. Give your wife the husband she deserves. Give your daughter the father she deserves. 

And as he walked away, he could’ve sworn he heard your broken voice murmur, “love you, too.”

--

[xzerosparrowx]

The Meeting of the Fellowship

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Day #2 - Prompt: In the Beginning | Word Count: 768 | Rating: T | CW: Fat shaming and bullying. | POV: Gareth | Tags: How the fellowship met, Corroded Coffin in middle school, Eddie's first day at Hawkins, Tommy Hagan is a bully.

Hawkins Middle School. A veritable zoo where the Jocks, Geeks, Stoners, Punks, Brains, and Goths all converge for some good ol’ American education, all of them sniping and gnashing at one another when they cross paths. Gareth, Jeff, Doug, and Zach walk through the school invisible, within these halls they are no one and belong to no clique; each of them too quiet and too average to have anyone notice their existence. 

“Hey fatty!” a voice yells over the chatter. Gareth watches Zach tense his shoulders, hunching his body in an attempt to make himself look small. Before realising that Tommy Hagan and the rest of the Hawkins basketball team have surrounded their little group, a pack of hyenas circling the wounded. 

“You get that history assignment done, like I asked?” Tommy says, holding out his hand expectantly towards Zach, the others in the group snicker when Zach opens up his binder and pulls out three crisp pages of a carefully written essay. 

Tommy snatches them, flipping through the pages as he casually reads it over, checking on Zach’s work as if he knows what he is even reading about. His brow furrows and angrily points at the page in front of him “what the hell! Despot isn’t a real word!”  There is loud bark of laughter somewhere off to the side, temporarily stunning Tommy and his pack of half-witted shitheads for a moment before all their heads turn to the source of the sound.

A boy is standing by the lockers, lanky and rough-looking, swimming in a blue sweater that is marked by tiny moth holes and a black beanie on top of his head. Gareth watches him in fascination and horror as Tommy stalks his way over, the boy shutting his locker with a loud clang, books clutched in his arms, seemingly unaware of the Goliath behind him. He finally turns around and to Gareth’s surprise the boy looks bored when he faces Tommy, as if the presence of the jock is not the worst thing he has ever encountered. 

“You wanna say something, freak?” Tommy dares, a finger pointedly jabbing the boy’s chest.

Gareth watches the boy narrow his eyes at the finger, hands curling by his sides, a tightly wound coil ready for a fight before the boy suddenly breaks into a wicked grin, body suddenly relaxing.

“If you want to know what a word means, maybe you shouldn’t have shit for brains,” the boy says sincerely as if he is giving genuine advice, a chorus of ‘ooooh’ and snickers fill the hallway and Gareth cannot help but smile as the mysterious boy gives a small wink towards him and his little group. 

The boy’s face catches Tommy’s mean right hook with a loud smack, the sudden burst of violence seems to slow down time as the boy straightens up, spits out a glob of blood and rubs the bright red mark already blooming on his face before pouncing on Tommy in a burst of speed that catches everyone by surprise. It is a blur of action at that point, David and Goliath exchanging fists. Gareth, Zach, Jeff and Doug fighting off the rest of the jocks in an attempt to stop them dogpiling the boy, and there is no way in hell they will win this fight but Gareth cannot help but feel like he’s finally part of something.

They are shoved in the cramped, dark confines of the Janitor’s closet for their trouble, Tommy and the jocks laughing loudly when they slam the door close on them. Gareth pulls the cord for the overhanging bulb, revealing them all tightly packed together with the mystery boy, lips swollen and bleeding, the black beanie sitting skewed on his head revealing an outgrowing buzzcut. 

“Thanks for that, really,” Gareth says, the rest of the group nodding eagerly in agreement, “I’m Gareth.” 

“Jeff.”

“Zach.”

“Doug.”

“Eddie,” the boy replies with a smile, holding out his hand awkwardly towards Gareth and Jeff, hands criss-crossed against his chest. They shake hands seriously like businessmen in an important meeting until they are bursting with laughter, Eddie cackling loudly that makes all of them laugh harder. 

A few moments later, as they start to calm down, Eddie looks at them with large excited brown eyes “you guys want to be in a band?” 

Zach, Jeff and Doug all exchange glances with Gareth, and he can see the same glimmer of excitement and joy on their faces that he knows he is reflecting back at them. He turns to Eddie, the boy grinning as if he already knows the answer. 

“Sure!”

[rip-quizilla]

Give It All We've Got (First time getting booed offstage)

A/N: This is based off the prompt for Day 1 of @corrodedcoffinfest's writing event! Day 1: Firsts

Word Count: 766

No content warnings other than strong language!

Divider credit to @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“You guys suck!”

“Get off the stage!”

“Go back to the trailer park, freaks!”

Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant were no strangers to jeers or harsh words, but getting booed until they had no choice but to leave the stage was new territory altogether. The four of them had shuffled dejectedly from the glaring red spotlights through the flimsy black curtains until they were completely backstage. Now, they may be unseen, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still hear the applause at their disappearance mocking them as they stood around staring at the sticky black stage floor and holding their respective instruments. 

Eddie looked around at his friends- his fallen comrades- and instantly shook the thought from his head. They weren’t fallen yet- just a little shaken. 

“Nah, fuck this.” Eddie bit. “Fuck them.” 

“Come off it man, we just got booed off the stage.” Grant muttered. “We were that bad.”

Eddie scoffed. “You think that’s a reflection of us?” He shook his head, a wry smile tugging up at the left corner of his mouth. He clapped a hand on Grant’s shoulder “Man, we’re in Wisconsin, land of cheese.” 

Grant snorted, still staring at the scuffed up toes of his converse but smiling despite himself. Eddie noticed Jeff watching him from the corner of his eye and looked up to see him smiling too. 

Good old Jeff, ever the optimist. Eddie shifted his attention to the tall guitarist, slinging his arm fully around Jeff’s shoulders.

“Jeff, you’re the one with relations around these parts… tell me, would these people know metal if it slapped ‘em silly and fucked them sideways in the ass?” 

Jeff chuckled, cringing slightly at the metaphor. “No, they wouldn’t. But to be honest I’m not exactly sure how someone could be fucked in the ass sideways, asses are usually a one-way passage-”

“Semantics.” Eddie cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What I’m hearing is that we don’t need the approval of these cheese heads to know we fucking rock-”

“But we do need to get paid.” 

Eddie, Grant and Jeff all turned to look at Gareth, the only band member who still wasn’t smiling. His hands were balled into fists around his drumsticks, eyes still trained on the ground as if staring hard enough could somehow calm him down. 

“The first few shows on this tour didn’t pay, and I know we talked about how that was the price we had to pay to get our name out there, but…” Gareth looked up at Eddie now, and where the frontman had expected to see anger and embarrassment on the drummer’s face, he was surprised to find worry creasing between Gareth's brows. “This show was supposed to be our first paying gig on the tour. We can only live on our savings for so long; what happens if we get booed off the next stage? Or the one after that?”

“If that happens,” Eddie answered, silencing Gareth with a hand on his shoulder. “then we’ll figure it out.” He could have sworn he felt Gareth heave a little sigh of relief, however brief it was. Eddie gave Gareth’s shoulder a reassuring- almost paternal- squeeze. “One day at a time. I’m not willing to throw in the towel until we’ve really given this thing all we’ve got.” 

Eddie turned to look at Grant and Jeff over his shoulders. “What about you fuckers, you ready to crawl back home to mommy yet?”

“Hell no!” Grant grunted, the scowl on his face launching Eddie’s lips into a bright and rebellious grin. His hair whipped across his face as he turned to face the other direction.

“And what say you, Jeff the Just?” 

The light in Jeff’s grin was enough to match Eddie’s. “I say we give it everything we’ve got.”

“Well said!” Eddie nodded, pride in his comrades in arms oozing from every pore. Now, he turned back to the youngest member of their party and offered his hand. “What do you say, Gare-” he arched an eyebrow at the curly-topped drummer. “-to the death?”

Gareth looked at the frontman long and hard, that crease between his brows returning. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was unsure, that the lack of a solid place for his reason to stand was enough to cost him sleep most nights. However, when given the choice between security and trust in his closest friends, Gareth knew without a second thought where his loyalty lied. 

With a rueful smirk and a glint in his eye, Gareth firmly clasped Eddie’s hand. “To the death.”

[kassifieddocuments2]

furry ST au agenda go! also! it's for @corrodedcoffinfest's day 10 prompt "Pride" if it counts

in the back is Jeff (goat), saying something to everyones favorite whats-his-name who's still inside (this was not an excuse to not draw another guy) and Gareth (bear. GARE BEAR <3), who has a gay beer to deal with eddies gay shenanigans, and is also the real freak in this image for being barefoot (hehe BEARfoot) in public

In the middle is Robin (cat), chronic yapper, and Chrissy (bunny), who is here because i started drawing a bunny and then the Frens said it should be her

Of course, up front is Eddie (bat). He tied pride flags to his arms because he's a bat with no wings. complimenting Steve on something or other. maybe calling him metal idk. Steve (dog) is. There. supporting the goofy bat boy

i like to think the boys just did a special pride show and the doodles on eddies flags were because he had to take them off for safety reasons. but also it was because of this: (i wanted the right colors for the flags!!! exactly the right ones!!!)

speaking of which. thank ye @ilovecupcakesandtea for all the encouragement while i worked on the sillies! art's more fun when you're screamin at your friends about it

[medusapelagia]

But also how about drum from your corroded Coffin fest wip? I am intrigued.

Sadly I don't have the word drum in the file!

So here are a few new lines

Eddie sighs, closing his hand in a fist. He has asked Wayne to move in with him more than once but he always refused. He even told him he could have helped him find a place just for him but Wayne is a stubborn bastard who lived all his life in Hawkins and wasn’t going to leave no matter what.

Ask me a word

[steddieas-shegoes]

the wrath of gareth

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event prompt 'wrath'

rated m | 1313 words | cw: temporary character death, grief/mourning, canon-typical violence | tags: everybody lives (by the end anyway), eddie comes back wrong (or right if you're into that kinda thing), gareth is maybe the best friend ever

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When Eddie dies, Gareth doesn't react with tears the way everyone expects. He sees Dustin crying his way through an explanation and he sees Jeff and Frankie both welling up. Even Mike is trying to hide the fact that his eyes are swollen and red-rimmed.

Gareth just looks between them all and wonders why he isn't feeling what they're all feeling.

Eddie is-- was-- his brother, his best friend, someone he would die for.

He just feels...nothing.

He goes home and tries to work through emotions, but he still just feels empty. There's nothing there for him to unpack. He doesn't feel loss the way everyone else so clearly does.

Maybe he's just broken. He remembers crying when his grandpa died a few years ago, but maybe that was because it was family? He doesn't know and he falls asleep before he can try to figure it out.

When he wakes up, he's angry and he doesn't know why at first. He thinks it's because his mom is using the vacuum on a Saturday morning until he remembers Eddie's fucking dead.

He still doesn't cry, but now he has an emotion to tie himself down with, to hold onto when he heads to Dustin's house for answers.

Dustin shouldn't have been the first to know. Why was he the first to know? How was he the first to know?

"He's not dead," Gareth says instead of hello when Dustin answers his door, still looking exhausted, red eyes swollen nearly shut.

"He is." It's raspy and hollow, like all of Dustin's emotions have finally gone.

"He can't be."

Gareth stays angry as he demands the exact story again, and again, and again, until Dustin finally tells him he can't go through it anymore. Dustin was there, but why? How? How did he live and Eddie didn't? Nothing makes sense and it's not fair.

As the days pass, anger sits heavy in Gareth's chest. He doesn't even try to play his drums even though his mom insists it might help. Eddie's uncle hugs him at the small service they hold for him, something secret because half the town still thinks he was a murderer. They don't even have a body to bury, but Wayne insisted all his friends come by his new trailer for some lunch and to listen to the music he liked.

It's a nice sentiment and everyone is there to support Wayne, who is barely hiding his pain.

That night is the first night Gareth has a nightmare.

He chalks it up to the anger and sadness of the day before, and goes about his business. He meets up with Frankie to talk about Hellfire's future. He doesn't even want to continue, but he knows Eddie would be pissed if they didn't.

Then he has another nightmare. Eddie with black eyes, claws, ripping and tearing the ground, fighting to reach someone.

He tries to chalk it up to his discussions of DnD the day before, but it's hard to explain how real it felt.

They try to have band practice and it doesn't work. They just aren't Corroded Coffin without him.

He has another nightmare.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. He's not angry anymore. He's determined.

It's only two in the morning, but he's banging on Dustin's door. Dustin's mom is working nights at the hospital so Dustin answers in flannel pajamas, looking just as tired as Gareth feels.

"He isn't dead."

Dustin blinks at him. "Have you been having the nightmares too?"

"He's not Eddie, but he's not dead."

Dustin pulls him inside, slams the door closed, and rushes out of sight. He's back before Gareth can even consider following him holding a radio and a walkie.

"The hell are you doing?" Gareth asks. Is he still asleep? Maybe he's sleepwalking and dreaming.

"Code red," Dustin says into the walkie.

Gareth expects silence, and he thinks he should call his mom because now he's finally lost it.

But then there's noise, Lucas and Mike come through the line, a girl's voice he doesn't recognize, Steve Harrington for some reason? What is happening?

"We have to get down there."

Down where? Gareth slaps his own face to make sure he's awake.

Dustin looks at him like he's grown two heads. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I know we all joked Eddie was going to hell, but I don't think they have visiting hours down there?" Gareth feels like he's losing it. This is an obvious fact, right?

"It's not hell, dude." Dustin turns back to the walkie as Steve says something about picking everyone up and meeting at some cabin. "Did you drive here?"

Gareth points to himself. "Me?"

"No, the other guy in my living room at two in the morning."

"Dude, your attitude." Gareth sighs. "Yeah, I drove here."

"He's gonna drive me," Dustin says into the walkie. "See you all in 20."

"Who are we seeing? Why are we going to Steve Harrington's house? What's happening?"

"I can explain when we get there."

And he does.

They arrive before Steve gets back with everyone, but Dustin has a key to his house apparently, so he lets them in. He knew Steve used to babysit Dustin, but he didn't think they kept in contact still.

Dustin makes him sit down-- never a good sign-- and starts to talk a million miles an hour about another universe, monsters, impossible things like mind powers and government secrets. He's pretty sure he isn't supposed to know any of this, but he's not gonna say a damn thing to anyone. No one would believe him anyway. He's not sure he even believes Dustin.

"So...what? Eddie might be alive in this other Downside place?"

"He wasn't when we escaped, but-"

"But he could be?"

Dustin looks nervous as he nods. "It wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen."

"Clearly."

He sits quietly while everyone else arrives and starts devising a plan. He doesn't really involve himself in anything until the end, when Harrington asks if he's coming with them or staying behind.

He's too angry to stay behind. He wants to kill this Vecna guy himself.

It's worse than he thought when he gets down there. Up there? There.

Everyone seems to silently agree, just from the look of sheer panic on all their faces. For people who have dealt with this multiple times, you'd think they could hold it together better. Maybe they're just worried they're wrong.

Steve leads them to what looks like Eddie's trailer before it got destroyed and torn down. It's covered in vines and black mold and it occurs to Gareth they probably shouldn't go inside.

They go inside.

It's musty and decaying, just like everything else down here. Gareth hears Will and Mike arguing about something behind him, while Dustin is telling everyone to shut up.

He looks where Dustin's looking.

Eddie isn't dead. He definitely isn't Eddie.

Vecna is standing behind him, using him as a semi-human shield. Gareth can't look away from the sharp teeth and claws, the dark eyes, the fucking wings. He has fucking wings!

And Vecna is ugly, part of the rot surrounding them. Gareth steps forward, ready to help Steve and Robin and Nancy and the other semi-adults that took the lead on this.

He's only 16, but he misses Eddie. He's angry. That's enough for him to be useful.

He's holding a sword, something Dustin got from a ren faire last fall. It's surprisingly hefty, durable, strong.

He just has to be strong enough to use it.

He lets every last bit of the wrath he feels surge through him as Steve yells the code word they agreed on. Eddie is frozen in place, but they work around him. Gareth swings his sword and beheads Vecna. Like it's nothing at all.

It's enough.

Vecna dies. Eddie lives.

Gareth isn't angry anymore.