#eddie can square dance

[strangersteddierthings]

Daily Ficlet 4

I'm challenging myself to write a little ficlet every day, using the prompts from this list. Today's prompt is jukebox.

-

Steve's oh moment comes to him at The Hideout of all places. Dingy, dirty, with a bartender who served Will Byers a drink without so much as pretending to contemplate if he should or not.

The point Steve is making is he's just realized he might be a lot in love with Eddie and that it's not exactly the most romantic of settings. They're all here because they came to watch Corroded Coffins first gig since before... well, since Before.

Before Vecna. Before spring break. Before Steve was even aware of his attraction to guys.

A lot of Before that led them to this now. This oh.

It wasn't watching Eddie in his element, up on the stage. Seeing that for the first time was actually a Before thing, too. Steve's been to The Hideout before. The same bartender served Steve a beer back when he was a sophomore and Tommy H had heard the rumor that they didn't card here. The first time he'd watched Eddie Munson in his element had been shortly after his graduation, coming here to pretend he wasn't as alone as he felt as he drank a beer or two.

Watching Eddie on the stage knowing he has a crush on him certainly made the show better but didn't push him from crush to in love.

It also wasn't after, watching Eddie and Robin have a silent conversation of only gestures and eyebrows and pointed looks, though it did make Steve rush with adoration for them both. Knowing that Eddie and Robin got a long so well, cared to each other, made something settle inside Steve's bones. Steve hasn't been serious with anyone since Starcourt, and he's aware enough to know it's because he can't explain his codependency to Robin to anyone. Not with the truth, or in a way they're understand. He wouldn't need to do that with Eddie.

It wasn't that Eddie had then come checked on him, either. Asking if the place was too loud, and how Steve's head was doing. Steve had just recovered from a migraine and Eddie was worried about this bringing it back. It hadn't. The ear plugs were great. And Eddie beamed at him.

No. None of those were the oh, though they were all reason enough.

No, the oh was this.

Watching Eddie 'metalhead' Munson teach Will, El, Dustin, Lucas and Erica how to square dance. He'd tried to coax Mike onto the floor but that wasn't happening, and Max couldn't with her crutches still, but she'd promised to learn from Lucas once she was on the mend.

Eddie had pilfered most of Steve's quarters and slid them into the jukebox, picking the same country song 5 times in a row for the kids to practice to. "Just to wait, Stevie. These kids'll be winning square dancing trophies when I'm done."

Steve had laughed, sipping on his beer as Eddie danced his way to the jukebox.

And here, on the fifth song, watching Eddie improvise some swing dancing into their established routine with Erica being easily twirled about, trying to glare at Eddie for picking her but also doing nothing to stop him from throwing her around the dance floor, Steve thinks oh.

Oh. I love him.

He stands and heads to the jukebox, and queues up the same song once more, then turns to the group. "Alright Munson, teach me, too!"

Dustin whoops, Erica slips back into her place in line, and Eddie beams at him, hand outstretched and waiting.

[oneforthemunny]

yayo (remastered) |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: when your younger sister calls you to pick her and her friend up, it leads you to meeting her friend's dad.

this is the first chapter of the older!eddie remaster! title stays the same, i'm just revamping it :) you can read the original series here!

contains: age gap (eddie is early forties, reader is late twenties early thirties, all consensual), language, teenage stupidity of younger siblings (and their friends) lol, slightly mean eddie but not really.

word count: 3.5k+

“Hello?” A groggy, croak of an answer fell from your lip. Eyelids pulled together, weights of sleep held them closed, pressing the cool screen of your phone to your ear. 

There was a pause, nearly timid in response. “Hey.” The familiar tone ridded whatever sleepiness you still felt, kickstarted every instinct of panic, flooding through your veins, right down to your core. 

“It’s me.” You pulled the phone away to check anyways, Madeline’s name flashing across the screen, still decorated with a flurry of bright, smiley emojis from when she added them years ago. 

“What’s wrong?” Call it older sister instinct, maybe dread, but you knew by the tightness in her tone something was wrong. 

“Will you do me a favor?” Madeline sucked in a breath from the other line. “A big favor, like a huge one. Please, I’ll owe you one back forever, and-” 

“-What do you need?” You muttered, too groggy to be fully annoyed, legs swinging out of the warmth of your covers to the frigid wood of the apartment’s floor. Using the soft, purple glow of Roku Village on the TV, you stumbled around towards the light switch. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I am. Well, I mean- like physically, I’m fine.” Madeline paused, hesitation filling the line. “Look, you can’t tell Mom or Dad. Do you swear?” 

“What did you do?” There was the irritation, falling with a huff of pure annoyance, one only a younger sibling could bring- affection and annoyance, blended together and pouring from your tongue. 

“No, you gotta swear. Swear on your life you won’t tell.” Madeline’s voice was fiercer now, that hushed tone that you were too familiar with. 

“Ok, I swear. What do you need? Why the hell are you calling me at,” You pulled your phone back, blearily blinking to clear the clouded sleep in your vision. “Christ, at two in the morning?-”

“-Don’t start.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “C-Can you come get me and my friend?”

“From where?” You frowned, stopping in the middle of the room. 

“We’re in Chestnut Square, you know the neighborhood that the Henson’s live in? It’s, like, two streets over. I can drop you a pin.” Madeline danced around the request. 

“Why are you there?” You knew. Of course you knew. It wasn’t all that long ago you were in Chestnut Square or near the Quarry by Lover’s Lake, sipping on wine coolers and shitty beers that someone got from the gas station by the high school that never carded. 

“Why do you think I’m here?” Madeline clipped in annoyance, a huff of staticed annoyance falling from the other line. “I’m at a party-” 

“-On a Wednesday?” You scoffed. “You couldn’t even wait until Friday or Saturday like a normal delinquent? On a weekday, Madeline, seriously-” 

“-Look, can you come pick me up or not?” Madeline snapped, and you could practically see her eyes roll through the phone. “I didn’t drive. Brielle and I got picked up and the guy who brought us, he’s… he’s not doing great right now, and we just need to get home. Can you please come pick us up?” 

The streets were a ghost town as you cruised towards the neighborhood, opposite from your downtown apartment. You had work tomorrow, an early shift. Madeline couldn’t have done this yesterday on your off day, or even Friday when you closed. Your jaw set at the thought, a burst of sleep deprived, inconveniencing annoyance bursting in your chest, burning with bother. 

Still, Madeline was your baby sister, difficult as she was, you were glad she called you. 

You followed the automated voice towards the end of the neighborhood, the house bright with lights and lined with cars. Madeline was on the curb, arm wrapped tightly around the girl beside her, steadying her sway. 

“Hey,” Madeline muttered, pulling the door open. “Thank you so much. Seriously, you’re the best.” 

“The best.” Brielle slid in before Madeline. Well, slid was generous, more like fell into your back seat. 

Brielle Munson had been Madeline’s best friend for years. A staple in her childhood, and therefore a figure in your own life. Countless sleepovers, birthday parties, you’d even carpooled them to school your senior year when they started middle school. 

As well as you knew her, you never took her as the black out on a Wednesday type, but your mother had often made passing, hushed tone comments about Brielle’s own mother. “She’s a little different. Kinda a wild card.” Your mother muttered to you one day, brows raising in a pointed look. You didn’t know much about Brielle’s family, never met them. Brielle always came over to your family’s house- you figured that was why. 

“Is she good?” You muttered, pulling the rearview mirror down, angling it towards Brielle. Her head pressed in slopped defeat against the cool window, forehead rolling over the cold glass. 

Madeline turned. “Brie, you good?” 

“‘M good, ‘m good. Are we gonna get Cook Out?”  Brielle slurred, cheek pressed to the window. 

You huffed, another thing to add to the mental list of Madeline’s inconveniences- cleaning your windows of the foundation Brielle left behind tomorrow. 

“Is she gonna puke?” You huffed, shoving the gear into place, rolling away from the front of the house. 

“No, she’s not gonna puke-” 

“-Madeline, if she fuckin’ pukes, I swear to God, you will be cleaning it tonight.” You sneer, eyes flickering towards the rearview to see Brielle. “I can’t handle puke, I will not handle puke-” 

“-She won’t puke.” Madeline huffed, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance. “Brie, don’t puke.” 

“I won’t.” Brielle muttered, slouching down the window. 

“She’s almost asleep. She’s good.” Madeline shook her head. “We gotta take Brielle home first. Take a right up here.” She pointed out the window. 

“Great, I’m the fucking Uber tonight, too? Madeline, I have to work in the morning-” 

“-It’s literally two minutes away.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “She’s at her dad’s tonight. It won’t take that long. I just have to get her back in her room- shit.” Madeline turned in her seat, tapping Brielle’s knee. “Brie, you gotta wake up, ok? You have to get back to your room.” 

“Nice.” You threw your hands up, irritation bubbling to a raging boil in your chest. “You’ve got to sneak her back in? How are you gonna do that?” 

“She snuck out through her window, chill.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Turn right at the light.” 

“So, you’re going to do what? Shove her back in? I’m not helping you. I said I’d come pick you up, and that’s it-” 

“-Did I ask you to help? No.” Madeline snarled. “Brielle, wake up, seriously.” 

“I’m literally awake.” Brielle groaned, though her eyes stayed shut. 

“Where am I going?” You threw a hand out lightly. 

“Keep going straight.” Madeline muttered, body still twisted towards the back. “Brie, do you have your phone?” 

“I think so.” Brielle muttered, lazily patting herself before turning towards the seat. “Oh, ‘s right here.” 

“Turn left into this neighborhood. Then at the stop sign take a right, her house is on the corner.” Madeline turned back towards you. 

You flicked the turn signal on with dramatic irritation, gliding into the neighborhood to the small house on the corner of the street, the edge of the cul de sac. Bloomington Lane, the street sign stood proudly above the stop sign at the edge of the road. 

“Cut your lights.” Madeline muttered, climbing over the center console towards the back of the car. You felt like you were in high school again, flooding of your own memories, sneaking your friends back inside, coming through the unlocked window in the guest room. Watching Madeline help Brielle, crouched over her trying to get her sober enough to walk, it felt like a lifetime and yesterday all at once. 

Your reminiscent memories were cut short when the porch light flicked on, a blinding cast of warm light cutting through the calm, dark of the street. 

“Shit,” Madeline hissed, wide eyed and caught, looking out the window. “Shit, shit, shit, Brie, you gotta get up. You gotta get up for real, your dad is here, Brie.” 

“No, he’s asleep.” Brielle muttered, head lolling back against the seat drunkenly. 

“Madeline.” You hissed, eyes cutting towards the porch, a silhouette of a man stalking furiously towards you. You weren’t sure if you should look, turn away, drive away, a sweaty, knuckled grip on the steering wheel. 

“Fuck, that’s Brielle’s dad.” Madeline whispered. 

“Madeline,” You growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck-” You jumped, bare knuckles rapping furiously on your window. Through the glare of the radio on your window, you could see him on the other side. 

“Hi,” You squeaked, rolling down the window. “Sorry, I-I’m just-” 

“-Who the fuck are you?” His voice boomed, sharp and cutting as the look on his face. You flinched under the tone. 

“I-I,-” 

“-Hi, Mr. Munson.” Madeline peeked timidly around your seat. His dark eyes flicked towards her, still narrowed in intimidating challenge. “We’re just, we’re bringing Brielle home.” Madeline’s voice shook, though she tried to swallow it, steady it. “This is my sister.” 

You waved, tongue too thick and swollen to say anything. Now you really felt like you were in high school again, scared shitless, caught like a deer in blinding headlights by a furious parent. 

“She came and got Brielle and I.” Madeline didn’t offer any more explanation, instead nodding towards Brielle. 

“The fuck is wrong with her?” The spitting venom in his tone made you jump. 

“She-She just had too much to drink.” You stammered, hands still gripping the wheel. 

He tore open the backseat door, Madeline holding Brielle to keep her from falling limply out onto the concrete. “What is wrong with her? Did someone drug her?” He snapped, holding Brielle carefully. 

“No, no, n-no, I was there with her all night. We brought our own-” Madeline cringed at the glare Mr. Munson gave her. You cringed for her. “She didn’t get drugged. I-I made sure. I watched her, she just… she had too much to drink, Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry.” 

“Where’d you get it from?” He sneered, pulling his daughter out of the car with a gritted grunt. “You buy it for them?” His eyes were back on you, so harsh it had you jumping. 

“No.” You and Madeline squeaked in unison. 

“I just came and-and got them-” 

“-I called her to make sure she’d get us home safe.” Madeline added, head bobbing furiously in a nervous nod. 

“Yeah.” You looked at Madeline, then back at the fuming man. Brielle sliding in his arms, limp in his hold. “Here, I-I can help you get her in-” 

“-No.” He sneered, pulling Brielle up, ignoring her muttered huffs of protest. “I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough tonight.” You felt small under his glare, biting tone that had you shrinking into your seat. 

“I-I’m really sorry.” You muttered nervously, heart drumming with adrenaline, with fear. You didn’t know why you were apologizing, if anything, you’d made the one smart decision of the night. You thought Mr. Munson might appreciate that you’d gone to bring his daughter home safe. 

The narrowed eye glare he tossed you before he was dragging Brielle towards the house, told you he did not appreciate your vigilant efforts. Your face drained, a flush of heat and icy fear sinking in the pit of your stomach. He slammed the door so hard, you were surprised the glass swinging door didn’t shatter to pieces right there on the porch. 

You turned to Madeline, fists still clenched around the steering wheel. “You owe me. You owe me so much more now, like forever. For the rest of your life.” You sneered, shoving the gear shift into drive, peeling off the curb. You couldn’t get away from Bloomington Lane fast enough. 

“You alright?” Lydia’s brows furrow at your third- fourth yawn of the shift. A shift that had just begun, your teeth ground tight in annoyance. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, snapping the receipt cover down. “Is there any way I could get off register? I’m just super tired. My brain’s not really wanting to work this morning.” 

“Yeah, for sure. You sure you’re alright?” Lydia’s head tilted to the side, snapping the plastic lid to the latte expertly. You and Lydia Allcott had practically grown up together, been in school since Kindergarten. It was lucky, you guessed, that she was your manager. Perks of a small town like Hawkins. 

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted. I was up all night because Madeline is a moron. Snuck out and I had to drive her and her friend home, and then her friend’s dad was waiting outside when she got  home- it’s just been a night, honestly.” You rubbed the base of your neck, working out a knot that was already beginning to form from your restless night. 

Lydia sucked in a breath. “Oh,” She shook her head. “I forget you have a younger sister.” 

You snort lightly, pouring the steaming dark roast into the cup. “Yeah, me too. Until she does something stupid like that.” 

Lydia smirked, sliding the drink down the bar. “Brooke just got here. Tell her to hop on register, and you can go clean the tables.” 

You had never been so happy to be carrying the soapy, black bucket out on the floor, sudsy rag dragging slowly across the empty tables. It was slow for a Thursday, the morning school and work rush dwindled down to a ghost town. Not that you were complaining. 

The bell trilled over the door behind you, Brooke’s cheery, fake greeting echoing through the store. You didn’t turn, pushing the rag over the table, dunking it back in the bucket, wringing it out, and repeating. A rhythmic task that had your mind numbed, zoned in brainlessly from table to table. 

“Hi.” You jumped slightly, soapy water spilling over the lip of the bucket onto the table.

Your posture straightened, turning with the expectancy of a customer wanting some specific table cleaned that you hadn’t yet got to. Instead, you were met with a familiar pair of dark eyes, not as furious as they’d been last night but burning even in the low light of the cafe. 

“Hi.” You squeaked, gripping the rag in your hand, the water dripping between your fingers. “Um, wha-what can I help you with, Mr. Munson?” Fuck, he’d come back to scream some more. And at your work? How did he even know? You didn’t even have it on Facebook. 

You were shocked when his lips twitched, a faint pull of smirk on his lips. “I don’t mean to bother you.” He started, hand wrapped around the small cup in his hand. “I’m not here to- I’m here to apologize.” 

You couldn’t speak, tongue stupidly thick in your mouth again. Instead you nodded, a soft bob of your head. “And I wanted to thank you for bringing Brielle home last night. For making sure she got home alright. She could have…” He shook his head, looking over at the window. 

“She could have done something stupid, and I’m glad you were there so she didn’t.” Your heart leapt when his eyes met yours again, a pounding in your ears that rang through your whole body. 

“I-It’s really no problem.” You stuttered, voice wavering on embarrassingly unsure. 

“No, it means a lot, and I was a complete ass to you last night, and I’m here to say I’m sorry for that.” Your eyes lingered over the patch on his coveralls, a cursive, embroidered ‘Eddie’ over the faded blue patch. 

“I shouldn’t’ve been such a dick, but you go to say goodnight to your kid, and there’s a pile of pillows instead, and- I know you don’t get it. You’re too young.” He motioned at you casually. Your cheeks burned, looking down at your bucket, hand still stupidly gripping the rag under the water. 

“But y’know, if you have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” Eddie continued, his own ramblings a little rushed. Was he nervous? 

“Yeah- I mean, i-it really was no issue. I’m glad she got home safe.” You smiled softly at him. 

A pause fell between the two of you, both of you shifting a little uncomfortably at it. “I hope this isn’t weird.” You looked at him. “Me coming here. I asked Brielle where you worked so I could apologize.” 

“No, it’s- thank you. You didn’t need to apologize, I mean. I get why you were mad, I do.” You cringed inwardly at your own nervous rambling. “But, um, I appreciate it. You apologizing, I mean. I’m glad she got home safe.” 

Eddie nodded, fingers curling around his drink. “Me too.” He nodded. “Glad she has Madeline too, to look after her. That they’re friends. I mean, Brie’s always been good at makin’ friends. She’s really talkative.” Your heart swelled lightly at the way he lit up when he talked about Brielle, boasting with pride and joy. It tugged on your own heart strings. 

“Yeah, Madeline is too. She loves Brie, though. Brielle sees her more than me.” You giggled lightly. 

Eddie snorted softly, lips curling in a grin. “Yeah, you too? Thought it was just me.” He shook his head, curls bouncing lightly. You tried not to stare. “Makes me feel a little better, then. At least I know it’s not all me.” 

You weren’t sure what to say, offering a nervous smile and soft giggle, adjusting the bucket on your hip. That familiar pause of silence flooded back between the two of you, not as uncomfortable as before but still hinting at discomfort. 

“So, I wanted to say thank you, and sorry for being such an asshole.” Eddie nodded, foot tapping lightly against the floor. “But, uh, I’d really like to make it up to you.” Your eyes lifted, snapping towards his own gaze carefully. 

“I'd like to treat you to dinner if you're free. Just to show my appreciation for keeping my girl safe.” Eddie started, eyes watching yours carefully. 

Your heart hammered, breath caught- strangled in your throat. “Oh,” You managed to squeak out. “That would be f-fine.” Your head was still spinning before you could register what you were even saying. 

Saying yes to Brielle’s dad? Her father, much older than you, certainly than the type of man you usually let take you to dinner. Still, he wasn’t unattractive. Coverall sleeves rolled enough to see his inked arms, chest broad under the thick material. He didn’t look old, not shriveled and gross. He was nice to look at, even. You certainly didn’t mind looking at him. 

“I-I have to close tomorrow, but I’m free Saturday night.” Your heart jumped, shocked at your own boldness. Eddie’s brows lifted slightly, lips curling on the edge of a grin. “If you’re available, of course. Sorry, I- when works best for you?” 

“Saturday night is perfect.” Eddie’s voice was calm, a steady tone that had your rattled nerves soothing, at least to a low roar in your chest. 

“Great.” You smiled, a little too eager, far less cool than you would have liked. Why were you so nervous? Maybe excited?

“Um, let me give you my phone number?” It sounded more like a question, setting the bucket on the table, wiping your wet, dripping hand on your black apron. You fished a pen out of the pocket, hoping Eddie couldn’t see the way your hands trembled lightly, buzzing with giddy excitement. 

“And you can just text me a-and let me know where to meet you.” You pulled a napkin out of the dispenser, chin dunking to write your digits on the thin paper. 

“I’ll pick you up.” Eddie nodded. Your gaze lifted to him, the finality in his tone, firm but oddly not pushy? It was foreign to you, sent bolts of exhilaration trickling through your spine. 

You started to protest, lips pulling in a slight frown. Eddie shook his head. “I’m old school, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you.” He smiled, eyes much warmer than you’d seen them, the hinting of dimples creasing underneath his stubble. 

Your knees tensed, swallowing down a bubbling of nervous giggles, giving a wide smile instead. Your fingertips brushed when you handed him the napkin, a featherlight touch that had your body roaring with fever. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Eddie smiled, so effortlessly cool it made your stomach flip-flop. “You don’t work too hard now, y’hear?” He teased, tossing you a wink that did pull out the nervous giggles you couldn’t swallow down this time. 

"Bye." You waved, the rag in your hand flopping against your wrist, cringing when the droplets hit your face. Eddie waved back, tucking the napkin in his pocket before he disappeared out the double doors. 

The drag in your feet was replaced with a springing pep in your step. Greeting customers with a cheery smile, much less dreadful than your usually forced one. Even the huffy soccer moms ordering with the usual demanding entitlement that would have you gritting your teeth. It didn’t bother you, chest light and airy with excitement, mind racing with giddy excitement about your date.

[someforeignband]

🪱Wiggly Worm Wednesday!🪱

having thoughts about eddie and steve going to visit steve’s grandmother! (im spending the week with my nanna and am having thoughts)

It starts with this nebulous idea that Steve’s parents didn’t want to take care of Francesca’s mother after her husband died, so they moved Steve’s maternal grandmother to a 65+ community in Sun City, Arizona. Just like their son, they’d much rather ship off Franny’s mother instead of dealing with her needs. So, they leave sweet Cecilia in a massive 2,900 square foot condo in the Arizona desert, all by herself.

One afternoon in march, Steve gets a call from his Nonna. She explains she has had some plumbing issues and neither Franny, nor Richard is returning her calls. She complains that there’s palm fronds in her yard, and with the state of her back, she just can’t fix all of these things on her own.

“How do you feel about a trip to Arizona?” Steve would ask Eddie, after a two-and-a-half hour long conversation with his grandmother.

Thusly, a PanAm flight to Phoenix was booked. It was Eddie’s first time on a plane. Despite his nerves prior to getting on the flight, he has a marvelous time. Eddie discovers that he loves turbulence and puts his hands up and giggles the whole time.

Steve, to Eddie’s dismay, is the exact opposite. He squeezes the armrest the entire 3.5 hour flight. He can’t stand how relaxed Eddie is, not understanding how someone like Eddie could just be so calm.

Once they land, Steve tries to brief Eddie on his Nonna’s disposition. “She’s sort of a firecracker, Eddie. Very particular about pretty much everything. I’m sorry if she’s mean to you.”

Eddie tells him not to worry about it, assures him they’ll get through the weekend.

To Steve’s delight (and Eddie’s utter surprise), Nonna takes to Eddie like a fish to water. He can talk about the Bible with her. Wayne’s been pretty devout his whole life, so when Eddie makes a comment about her dish towel with Philippians 4:6-7 printed on it, Steve knows Eddie’s going to practically be family.

Cece is ecstatic to be able to show the boy pictures of Italia and tell him stories about her upbringing. She shows him pictures of Franny, pictures of her late husband, and her collection of photos of Steve’s baptism. It keeps Cece distracted, while Steve gets to work fixing her kitchen plumbing.

Steve can’t help but grin to himself like a madman as he tinkers with her pipes, listening to his Nonna and his boyfriend volley back and forth. Sharp as whips, the both of them, and god it was nice to watch Eddie get on with someone who was blood to him.

Steve didn’t have much family that bothered to be in his life.

It was nice.

And best of all— at least for Nonna— Eddie can eat her food. Eddie can seriously put it away. Steve stops after one helping of Parmigiana di Melanzane, but Eddie has two more servings, and saves room for dessert.

“Eat up, Edoardo,” Cece pats his cheek. “Too skinny, Stephano. You starving him?”

“Never, Nonna,” Steve laughs, shaking his head, watching Eddie shovel another spoonful into his mouth, grinning at Steve across the dining room table.

Despite the fact that they’ve been seeing each other for a few months, after dancing around each other for the better part of two years—Eddie’s feeling things about Steve fixing his grandmas plumbing, doing yard work, etc. The flush in Steve’s face, hands on his hips, complaining about the state of the yard: Eddie’s never felt more in love (and other tingly, warm sensations).

Further, Eddie watches Steve and Cece scream at each other in stilted Italian as she tries to pick up a scorpion and take it outside with her bare hands. Finally, after about forty-five seconds of screaming and the scorpion trying to wiggle away, Steve takes Eddie’s boot and smacks the thing with a scared squeal. It crunches under the sole and twitches a few times before dying on the salmon colored tile, guts splattered everywhere.

“You handled that well,” Eddie muses, once the whole ordeal is over, taking a dishcloth and floor cleaner, scrubbing at the thing’s guts.

“I couldn’t let her get stung. She’s seventy-nine!” Steve says, then shudders. “I never wanna do that again.”

Later that night, Eddie sips coffee out of a lumpy clay mug, a Stephano Original, while she and Steve play rummy. Catching eyes over the table, they smile at each other, knowingly. After a while, Eddie gets tired, slinking off to the office, where Cecilia had set him up with an air mattress.

Before Steve retires to the spare bedroom that night, his Nonna pulls him aside, wrapping him in a warm hug.

“Ti voglio,” She whispers, kissing his temple, smoothing his hair back.

“I love you too,” Steve answers quietly, thrown off by the unexpected display of affection.

“And,” She pauses, scrunching her dark eyebrows together, deciding exactly what to say. “I really like that boy, Stephano.”

Steve’s chest fills with warmth, not knowing exactly if she means what he hopes she means. But at that moment, he’ll take it.

“Me, too, Nonna.” He whispers, grinning at her. “Me, too.”

TAGGING ONLY @yours-etc!!!! WRITE SOMETHING I MISS YOUR WRITING

[lexirosewrites]

Okay the one person who had the thing about Eddie painting their kids rooms reminded me of a little small idea I had a while back.

Eddie and Steve are the first in their little found family to get married and mated, before the younger kids even graduate high school. When they announce their engagement Hop offers to clean up the area around the cabin for them to have their wedding and reception. All the kids decide to help with the preparations as a group gift, cleaning the area and doing all the decorations. I think it looks something like the wedding from Breaking Dawn, with lights strung all over the trees and hanging flowers. It fully looks like a fairytale.

Eddie takes all of Hellfire to pick his tux and their suits. Eddie gets a fully black tux and shirt but his tie and pocket square are the sage green he and Steve picked for their color.

Steve brings Robin, El, Max, Joyce, and Claudia to go dress shopping - he had originally brought them to look at a suit but they all saw him glancing at the dresses when he thought they weren’t looking. He ends up picking a simple dress with beautiful butterfly sleeves and lace detailing. Everyone else gets their dresses (except for Robin who managed to find a suit in the exact right color to match everyone else).

They get married and it’s absolutely beautiful, Hop tries to hide that he’s crying but Wayne proudly cries from his chair. When the ceremony finishes the kids yell at everyone to go inside so they can rearrange everything for the reception. Joyce and Claudia help get the food all set up and the clear space for a “dance floor”. Everyone has a great time dancing and celebrating. Jonathan and Nancy were able to come to town in time for the wedding and he takes photos all night, developing them and putting together a scrapbook for them as his gift.

(Now here’s where the previous post made me remember this)

A few months later, Robin and Steve are about to start school in Chicago and they had found a set of townhouses right next to each other to move into. Everyone who is able to comes out to help move the three of them in and then have a house warming party. Most of the gifts are standard house warming gifts: throw pillows, pots and pans, silverware, etc. Except for the gift Will hands to Steve and Eddie. It’s pretty big but not very thick, and surprisingly heavy. When they open it they find a hand painted version of their favorite photo from their wedding. It was during their first dance, holding each other close with their foreheads pressed together, with the largest smiles on their face.

That painting takes a place of pride in their living room.

~~Katie from MunsonFamilyBand (because tumblr hates sideblogs)

perfectly happy lil steddie wedding🥰🥰🥰

[lovebugism]

☄. *. ⋆ ┄ We Fight to Make Up

summary: after a run-in with your ex, steve's anger gets the best of him. sometimes you think he picks a fight just for the make up sex. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: smut, steve calls himself daddy once, briefly mentioned breeding kink, a touch of angst, insecure!steve, also steve with scruff because that needs a warning too, 18+ mdni a/n: ok i'm not the happiest with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and she needs to see the world now so.. enjoy? <3

You don’t go out anymore. None of the party does, really.

Fighting through the end of the world and somehow surviving for three years straight made bars and clubs and getting drunk seem a little less important. It gets too easy to stay within the inner circle that’s seen the same sort of hell you’ve seen.

Eventually, time goes on and you don’t realize that you’ve only been around the same ten people until the thought of going to the grocery store alone sounds scary. 

Fighting monsters, weathering alternate dimensions, beating up Russians soldiers — that’s cake. It’s the getting back to normal that’s so hard.

That's a bitter pill to swallow. None of you got to have too much of a childhood before the knowledge of a sentient darkness swirling beneath your feet turned everything upside down (no pun intended). A life with a regular routine unbound by the impending doom of an armageddon is hard to go back to, when fighting to stay alive is all you’ve ever done.

You try really hard, though. All of you do.

The kids try to find a nostalgic amusement in the arcade they used to frequent while grappling with the fact that they’ll never been those kids again. The older group of you dabbles in the simple pleasure of growing up and discovering what adulthood really means — getting drunk and going dancing just because you can, but facing the inevitable consequences of those actions all on your own. 

The six of you find a certain solace at the Limelight. For Steve and Jonathan, they serve good beer — obviously cheap and unusually tangy on the tongue, but nice and cold nonetheless. For Eddie and Robin, there’s a karaoke machine and a stage across the bar, complete with every rock ballad imaginable. You and Nancy take special interest in the dance floor — a platform with light-up rainbow squares for all your drunken twirling needs.

It’s a nice place. More than that, it’s a familiar one. Eventually, going there every friday night is like comfort food in the belly, pleasant and warm. Steve feels safe there when he’s with all of you and tonight he’s especially fuzzy with a quiet sort of happiness that’s got his cheeks all pink. 

Maybe the beer is partly to blame. 

Or maybe it’s because you’ve got your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and simultaneously fending off any unwanted attention from the scantily clad women around you who can't seem to take their eyes away from your Steve.

But he only watches you as you smile into your glass while Eddie Munson, all sweaty after his Madison Square Garden worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, tells some stupidly unfunny joke. You’re pressed contently into his side, like you would melt into him if you could, and he’s buzzing with the comfort of your warmth and the chemically induced mellow from the drink in his cup. 

It was a good night. An easy one. A fun one.

And then it just… wasn’t.

When your ex waltzes into the bar, he brings the cold air in with him and an unusual sophisticated energy that’s typically foreign to this side of town. He’s got on a gray corduroy blazer and slacks to match. The black turtle neck he wears beneath it clings to his lean torso and broad chest, like he wants people to marvel at how muscular he is. 

You don’t even realize it’s him at first. You turn to Nancy to talk shit about the douchebag at your eight o’clock that just walked in while the guy settles at the far end of the bar, around the corner that faces the group of you. He removes the dark Ray-Bans from the straight bridge of his nose and uses them to push back his cinnamon-colored curls. 

Steve feels you tense at his side then. You duck inside yourself and force him and Robin to form a makeshift shield around you. 

It’s a tad too dramatic for two people who ended on pretty decent terms. It was about as amicable as a breakup can be — you were both seventeen and thankfully already mature enough to know that the relationship wasn’t bound to make it outside of high school. So you split up in search of more fulfilling things.

You found yours, in Steve and in the rest of the party. And by the looks of it — the obviously expensive suit and the silver Rolex glittering under the dim yellow bar light — he found his.

You aren’t exactly sure how, but he sees you. 

Probably because Robin couldn’t stop ogling at him from over her shoulder, obviously not getting the hint to act casual and inevitably dragging his attention over to the group of you.

He’s confused by the attention at first and then beaming when he notices you. The man flashes a set of pearly whites beneath a plump pink grin, all but shoving through the crowded bar to come and meet you.

Steve is able to get a better look at him when he’s no more than a couple inches away. The guy wrenches you away from him to wrap you in a friendly embrace, smiling like a ray of a thousands suns while he laughs with a hearty mirth.

A childlike and terribly jealous scowl settles upon Steve's features as his stomach wrenches something fierce. This stranger is touching you, and he hates that he’s touching you, but it’s more than that.

Steve’s almost certain this is what he would look like if he hadn’t been through the end of the world. The ornate suit and sunglasses worth more than most people’s salaries could’ve been his. In another life, he could’ve been this pretty and perfect and pure.

But, instead, here he is — dressed in an aged Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt and hand-me-down jeans that are frayed at the hems. There are bits of dried blood on the knee that he can’t get out. He isn’t quite sure if it’s his or if it belongs to one of the three varying monsters he’s been face-to-face with over the years. 

His hair is pushed back and visibly un-styled, fluffier than usual because it hasn’t been washed in a while. And only now does he notice the prickly layer of scruff itching at his jaw and above his lip because the effort to shave is just too much sometimes.

He wishes he had, though. Now, he wants to completely perfect his appearance and change his life entirely — all at the sight of some stranger he didn't know existed before now.

The man introduces himself to the rest of the group when he parts from you — Todd. 

Because of coursehis name is Todd.

No one says that out loud, of course, but you do share pairs of knowing looks. Eddie’s the only one brave enough, or rather drunk enough, to take the piss out of the guy. 

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for Limelight?” he asks before laughing into his beer.

The rhetorical question leads to the man, Todd, to start complaining about work — how he’s making more than he knows what to do with, that the lifestyle isn’t as lavish as everyone made it out to be, that work is his best friend most days because he doesn’t have time for real relationships anymore. 

And it doesn’t sound braggy. This isn't some rich guy complaining about all the money he has. He’s genuine, and that’s somehow even worse.

Steve can tell he’s working for some big four accounting firm without him having to say it. He can practically smell it all over the guy. Todd’s just got that air about him, that he’s got an office on the fiftieth story with large glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling. He’s making well into the six-figures if that’s the case. Just like his goddamn dad. 

Just like he would be if the endless cycling of fighting hadn’t stripped him flesh from bone.

Steve forces himself to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

“You know I’ve actually been thinking about, you know, just dropping everything. Putting in my two weeks and fucking off to France,” Todd admits. His eyes sparkle like a pair of fucking diamonds when they lock in on you. “Like we always used to talk about.”

That was your dream. The kind of reverie that wasn’t at all practical or the least bit tangible, but the kind you fantasized about nonetheless. 

And here this asshole goes, living it for the both of you.

You’re grinning at him anyway, patting him on the shoulder while you congratulate him. You tell him he should do it. That he deserves it. 

Steve, meanwhile, is so angry he can feel the prickle of the red-hot rage on his skin, like so many little needles. It’s a simmering heat for now, all slow and lazy. The longer he holds it in, the more likely he is to pop into a full boil. He knows that. But he keeps the fire in his chest and wallows in that high-pitched ache.

Todd leaves not too long after. Makes it a point not to overstay his welcome. He’s polite when he goes, making sure to talk to all your friends even though he didn’t exactly come for them — he compliments Eddie’s leather jacket and Robin’s taste in style, Jonathan and Nancy are both blushing pink when he praises their work with the local paper. He says something to Steve he can’t quite register because he’s too busy fuming. 

The brunette girl beside him is practically swooning, and he has to remind her — “Robin, you’re gay.”

The man was kind, terribly so, the sort of politeness you can’t help but notice and marvel at, like a pretty pebble you’ve found on the ground. He didn’t overstep any boundaries with you either, like he respected that you two were practically strangers now — fucking asshole — and whether or not he knew you were with Steve, he kept a chivalrous distance anyway.

He must’ve known, though, he did have eyes after all. There’s no way he missed the way Steve had been looming over you the whole time. Or the possessive arm he had around your shoulder. Or the stern chocolate gaze that had ping-ponged between you and him the entire conversation.

When he leaves, there’s nothing to talk shit about or make fun of him for. Not only is that really fucking annoying, but it’s boring, and it leaves you and Steve as the punching bags for all their stupid jokes.

“You certainly have a type, don’t ya, doll?” Eddie teases you as he reaches behind Nancy to shove at your shoulder. “Steve’s practically a carbon copy of that douchebag.”

“Holy shit, I can see it now,” Robin marvels breathlessly. Her deep ocean gaze is still locked on Todd across the bar. He’s minding his own business now, ordering another drink, while the rest of you can’t seem to stop talking about him. She turns back to Steve, her eyes flitting over his features like it’s the first time she’s seeing them while she puts the pieces of a puzzle together. 

“But, Steve’s like the dollar store version of him, though, right?” she wonders rhetorically and then feels the need to explain herself when Steve furrows his brows at her. “—Because, you know… he’s a lot richer than you are…”

The boy rolls his and brings the beer back to his lips. The clarification makes it sting more. 

“Thanks, Rob.”

Steve isn’t quite sure what’s got him seething. He’s the personification of a forest fire now — scorching, raging, and deadly — without a reason to be. It’s entirely likely you’ll never see Todd ever again. He lives in the city these days and he just told you that he was planning on moving to fucking France.

But these facts don’t mean as much to him when he knows that the guy isn’t totally over you. 

Steve knows Todd would be more than happy to take you out for coffee tomorrow morning to tie up any left-behind loose ends. He’s a rich guy going through a quarter-life crisis (Steve knows a little about what that’s like, too), he’d be more than happy to sweep an old ex-girlfriend off her feet and take her all the way to France with him. She’d need only to ask him to.

Maybe that’s what angers him. There’s a man, all rich and pretty and unscathed by war, that might love you like he does.

The wildfire in his chest grows. It’s a wonder it hasn't seared a hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt. And it burns. It leaves aching blisters on his skin like it’s the real damn thing. It’s like punches to the face, worse than every time he’s ever been beaten up combined.

He manages to keep the ashes of himself together. It's the least he can do for the rest of you, who obviously aren’t as bothered by Todd’s lingering presence and have since moved on to things more meaningful.

It wouldn’t be fair to project his ache onto you.

You guys don’t get too many nights like this, with work and school and lingering bouts of PTSD — who’s he to ruin this night for everyone else when he’s the problem?

But if any of you notice his simmering anger, you don’t show it.

He isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or not.

Nancy and Jonathan stay no longer than fifteen minutes after the fact. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow,” the say with a shrug, though everyone knows what that’s code for. Robin makes kissing noises at them as they make their exit.

Now, the brunette girl stands in front of the stage that Eddie parades on. He belts “If you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on forever!” into the microphone for the hundredth time. She cheers for the boy like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the stupid song.

The bartender hands you two drinks, a couple of Sex on the Beach’s for you and Robin to try.

She hadn’t stopped talking about it since she spotted it on the menu even though she hates peach schnapps. You tell Steve you’re going to run it to her and that you bet she won’t make it through one sip without gagging. You also promise that you’ll try and pull Eddie away from the stage when the Bonnie Tyler song fades and then inevitably loops again.

He only nods and mumbles a vague affirmative under his breath. He doesn’t even look at you. Just stares down at his empty glass of beer and draws patterns on the cloudy cup with his finger. 

It’s hard not to notice his uncharacteristically long silence. 

He hasn’t been King Steve for quite some time, but that version of him always manages to peek out after a couple of drinks. He gets loud and brash and smiley and stupid. It makes the quiet demeanor he possesses now that much more daunting. Like a flag he’s waving to make sure everyone else knows that he’s upset about something or other.

Eventually, it makes you burst.

“Is something wrong?” you blurt.

He finally glances at you then. And has the gall to look confused. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. You shift your weight on your feet and try to ignore the distant stinging of the ice glasses in your hand, how the cold of them shoots pins and needles into your palms. “You’re just… being really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses with a shrug of his own. A hint of a smile flashes at the very corner of his mouth before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows down the rest of it in one quick gulp. You watch anxiously as he waves to the bartender for another. 

“We can go home if you want—”

“Jesus, I’m fine,” he interjects. The laugh that spills from his throat borders on annoyance. “Just go get the freak before he drives me crazy.”

With that, the two of you part ways. You, with the knowledge that something’s wrong with your boyfriend but having no way to make it better because he won’t tell you anything. And Steve, with another irrational reason to be angry at the world because how do you not get it?

If his ex-girlfriend showed up to a bar, looking like an airbrushed model with more money than all of you combined who’s got brains and wit and humility, he’d want you to get a little fucking jealous too.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But he chooses to wallow in his anger than reflect on it, anyway. He takes pity on himself and makes everyone else out to be the enemy. Like he does best.

Even hours later, when he’s sobering up with room temperature water and a bowl of pretzels — and you’re calling a cab for a significantly drunker Eddie and Robin — he still feels the sting. 

He makes sure you know it too. 

The drive back home is uncomfortably quiet, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he at least had the radio on. But when he stuck the key into the ignition and music started blaring from the speakers (because he forget to turn it down beforehand), he turns it off completely. You feel to awkward to touch it.

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna talk about it now?” you ask him.

You’re unfamiliarly timid with him as you peer at him through your lashes. It’s like you’re looking at the sun, the way you have to glance at him from the corner of your eye so he won’t blind you. And it isn’t because of his usually sunny disposition because, somewhere along the course of the night, his shine got snuffed out. It’s because he’s practically lit himself on fire with his anger where he sits next to you.

And he still has the nerve to shake his head. “Talk about what? I told you, there’s nothing wrong,” he dismisses with one hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the other resting its elbow against the driver’s side door while his fingers pick anxiously at his lower lip. Nothing wrong, my ass.

“Are we seriously gonna play that game tonight?”

“What game?” he scoffs out a laugh.

“The game here you’re upset about something, but refuse to tell me why, so I have to guess what’s wrong with you until I get it right and you let me make it better.”

Steve glances at you and then back to the road. “I… I don’t do that.”

Oh, fuck, he totally does, he thinks to himself. Fuck, he hates that you know him so well.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

“Well, I can’t be. Because I’m not upset about anything,” he argues with a shrug. “That’s, like, a mathematical impossibility. Or whatever.”

“Considering this is the most you’ve said to me all night, I know that isn’t true— And it’s not even a conversation! You’re just being passive aggressive!”

“Passive aggressive, huh?” he repeats sardonically.

“Yes!” you seethe. “You’re mad at me and I can tell that you’re mad, so just tell me why—”

“I’m not mad at you,” Steve grumbles. He feels even more like shit for making you think he was acting all pissy because of something you had done. You hadn’t done anything. You were perfect. You’re always perfect. And here he goes, making you think otherwise.

He slows to a stop at the last red-light before home. The neon scarlet matches that anger sweltering in his belly. He still refuses to look at you. 

“Then what happened between when we got to Limelight and right now that’s got you so fucked up?” you ask him with a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes.

The boy only huffs. His chest deflates with a heavy breath. He almost forgets to answer you because he’s too busy praying for the light to turn green so he can get the fuck home.

He just needs a little food in his system, he concludes, and a nice hot shower and a bed to rest his tired bones. Maybe then he’ll be able to function like he’s meant to. 

He feels a sense of relief for the first time in hours when the light bathes the two of you in a neon emerald glow.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose at his silence. You shake your head at him like an annoyed parent and cross your arms over your chest. Your knees turn away from him and towards the door in time with your gaze that flits to the window. Now you’re the one that’s pissed.

Steve mumbles lowly when he finally answers you. It’s nearly inaudible.

“Your douchebag ex.”

“What?” you reply, sparing a glance over at him. It isn’t a question of whether you heard him or not, but of why that’s what he’s being so mean to you about.

“Your douchebag ex,” he repeats louder and picks chapped skin from his bottom lip. He rubs his tongue over the irritated skin to soothe the burn. “That’s what I’m upset about.”

Your brows furrow as you rack your head for the conversation you had with Todd that you’d already forgotten about. He’d said hello, and that you looked nice, and then asked you what you’d been up to before making conversation with your friends. He’d wished you luck and walked back to his seat not too long after. You wonder if there was some code in his words that you’d missed.

“…I don’t get it. What did he do?”

“Really?” Steve wonders with an emotionless laugh. “You don’t have a single clue why that might’ve pissed me off?”

He barely slows at the sign of the four-way stop. The block is practically a ghost town now. No one’s out so late into the night. Any other time you might’ve said something about it, but you’re just as eager to get home as the simmering boy next to you.

“No! He stopped by to talk for, like, five minutes! Are you really upset because another man talked to me?” you shout and it burns him because, yeah, that is kind of what he’s mad about — but it’s more than that and you don’t seem to get it. It’s not your job to either. He’ll just burn for the both of you.

The car jerks to a stop when he parks in the driveway.

“Yeah, you’re right—” Steve mutters to himself as he snatches the keys from the ignition. “You don’t get it.”

You feel the impact of the slammed of the car door as he exits. The headlights illuminate the boy as he uses his key ring to unlock the front entrance of your shared home. The dim orange overhead light slowly dims above you and then shuts off completely, bathing you in darkness.

With a sigh and a fleeting thought of oh, it’s gonna be that kinda night, huh? you follow less unenthusiastically behind him.

“Then just explain it to me,” you plead, your voice coated with exhaustion. The warmth of the living room seeps into your bones and makes you that much more tired. “I really, really don’t wanna do this tonight.”

“That asshole was all over you,” Steve finally chooses to air his grievances while he toes off his sneakers.

“He hugged me once! What was I supposed to do? Push him off?”

“That’d be a start.”

“I would’ve done it!” you promise.

He plops onto the couch with a rather dramatic huff as you struggle to take off your boots, what with the zipper getting caught in the slider and being distracted by the storm cloud across the room.

“I don’t care about him! I literally haven’t seen him since I was eighteen! I basically forgot he existed in the first place.”

Steve doesn’t let himself take any solace in your words.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs with the shake of his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, runs his palms over his face once before dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Sometimes… I don’t know, I guess, sometimes it feels like maybe you deserve someone better than me.”

His confession feels like a stab in your heart. 

You can only imagine how many daggers are piercing him now.

“Steve…”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit spiel, alright?” he spurns with a shake of his stubborn head. When he laughs, it lacks any and all emotion; it’s gut-wrenchingly bitter and coated with venom. “We both know he could take way better care of you than I ever could. He’s practically a fucking millionaire, babe! And he’s, what, twenty-five? He has the money to drop everything and fly across the world— to France.”

“Steve—” you try again, to stop the spiral before it starts.

He doesn’t let you.

“I mean, fuck, I know how bad you wanna go there. You’ve been talking about it since we were eight,” he laments with wide, glassy eyes and an hand splayed out towards you. He brings it, then, to his chest and clutches at his heart, “But I can’t take you. Because I’m so broke, it fucking hurts. You deserve someone to do that shit for you, alright? And it’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”

“…You really think he can take better care of me than you do?” you ask him so quietly that it sounds like a whimper. Your face is twisted in anguish, like his sadness pains you too.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles like the answer’s obvious. He sniffles. “Considering we’re working our asses off just to make it through the week and you’d never have to work a day in your life if you were with that asshole.”

“It’s not about the money, Steve,” you agonize with the shake of your head. “I don’t love him. I would be so unhappy if I were with him because he’s not you. I don’t give a single fuck about France if you’re not gonna be there with me.”

You close the distance between you as you walk from the entrance to where he sits in the living room. He can hardly look at you as you round the couch to stand ahead of him, sparing only meek glances your way.

The small smile on your lips only half puts out the fire raging in his chest. It’s one of those natural wildfires now. The kind that you’ve just got to let burn.

“What do I have to do, Steve? What do you want me to do to prove that I just want you?” you ask him softly, nudging your sock-clad foot with his own. “I’ll fucking— I’ll find his number in the phone book right now and invite him over if you want—”

Yeah, because seeing him again is gonna make any of this shit better, he thinks bitterly to himself, though he’s pleasantly surprised by your following promise.

“I’ll make him come over here, act like I wanna catch up or whatever, and then make him watch while I suck your cock,” you paint the picture for him in a suddenly low, sultry tone.

Steve can almost see it —  the look on Todd’s face as he stands in the foyer, his hands balled into fists at his side, wearing an angry amber tint upon his perfect face while he watches the girl that got away take a mouthful of another man’s dick. “I’ll get all nice and pretty on my knees for you and make him watch.”

Steve tenses at your words. His fingers twitch where they rests on his knees, itching to get a hold of you. His eyes go heavy as he gazes up at you, his stern stare looking much darker than before — hungrier. 

Your eyes carry a similar sort of desire. They swim with innocence and yearning and knowing. 

Because both of you understand how your fights usually end. You’ve been together long enough to know. The anger grows and grows in the belly of a dragon until it’s all you can do to keep your hands off of each other. You make Steve come so hard he forgets all the reasons he was raging in the first place and then he apologizes with his tongue deep inside you, touching you in all the tender ways he knows how.

“Yeah,” he breathes with a nod, the word heavy on his tongue. “That’s what I want.”

“You wanna own me, don’t you, Stevie?” you purr.

Your movements are calculated and cat-like as you mount him. Your hands caress him from his knees to his thighs, then rise up to his chest when you straddle his lap. “You wanna fuck me and make me forget about every guy that’s ever had me before you. Is that it?”

He nods, too dumb to speak for now. Your voice is all silk and heat. It reminds him of your wet, hot pussy sitting just over his lap. Only the thin layers of your clothes separate you from him.

“You wanna ruin everyone else for me, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, both in an answer and a moan as your hand reaches between you to grab his cock through his jeans.

“You already have,” you assure with a sincere twinkle in your eyes. “But feel free to remind me.”

When your mouths collide, it’s all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s not passionate, it’s dirty.

His tongue forces its way between your lips and into your mouth, rubbing every part of you he can reach with the muscle, like he wants you to feel all of him there — a lingering touch that you can’t get rid of.

Your mouths caress each other and then break apart again in acute, wet, and filthy clicks that fill the silence in the house. 

His stubble softly scratches you as it rubs against your skin. The feeling of it sends chills down your spine. Fuck, you curse to yourself. It’d feel even better between your legs.

Steve separates from you suddenly, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. A whimper leaves your throat as he mouths at it. With hooded eyes, he lets it go and watches it fall back into place. Then he grabs your cheeks with two large palms and drags you back to him, sucking on the bitten skin and then on your tongue. 

The sensation’s got you moaning, your eyes rolling back in your head, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Your obedient hands worm between your bodies to unbuckle his belt.

“You gonna be good for me?” Steve asks you while your fingers undo that button on his pants. His lips are pinker and more swollen, coated with a fine sheen of spit that matches what's smeared on his chin.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” you promise before reaching through the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his warm, half-hard cock. 

A grunt escapes his throat as he slides your panties to the side. He’s suddenly grateful for the easy access granted by your dress — the one that makes your tits look like heaven, the one he was cursing just hours because it had Todd drooling all over himself when he saw you.

The thought of the man no longer angers him. He’s not the one with his finger between the lips of your pussy, already drenched and coated with you.

“Yeah? You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” Steve asks you, almost taunting you. He only uses that nickname when he’s in a certain mood — the mood to ruin you.

The tip of his finger catches the peak of your swollen clit and you keen.

His touch makes you so stupid that you’ve already forgotten to answer his question. He makes sure to remind you, though, when his hand rears back and smacks against the bare flesh of your cunt.

You hear the wet slap before you feel it. 

It makes you clench around nothing and moan louder for him, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Words,”he demands softly.

“Please,” you moan helplessly into his shoulder. You love when he gets like this, assertive and showy with the power you let him have over you. He gets mean with you, but never too much that you forget how much he loves you, and that’s when you like him best.

His finger slips so effortlessly into you. You could easily take more than that with the way your pussy is so eager to suck him inside. He knows it, too. He just wants to tease you.

He wants to leave you empty and yearning before he fucks you silly. For now, he’s taunting you with his slow and clinical touch, observing everything he’s doing to you and how it has you twitching and begging for more. 

He wants to commit it all to memory. 

He’s barely got the tip of his pointer and middle finger prodding at your clenching entrance; it’s your pussy that drags them further in, opening for him and then tightening around the appendages so they’ll never leave. The obscenity of it makes both of you moan.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve mutters to himself. “And so fucking wet— enough for me to slip right in, don’t ya think?”

You’re not so sure but you nod into his shoulder anyway. Even after all this time together, you can’t quite get used to how big he is. He still has to work you up to take his cock, with three or more fingers shoved inside of you until you’re ready. Even then, it still burns for the first couple of seconds. There’s always a grace period that you have to wait for before he can move. 

And you feel the ache of him in your belly after, every damn time. Like he’s still there.

But you’re so wet now, impossibly so, you don’t think you could feel a thing other than pure bliss when he nestles his cock deep inside of you.

You whine quietly when he pulls his fingers from you, though it turns into a breathy moan when you see them glisten with your wetness. He slides them over his length, jerking himself to lube himself up for you. Just for good measure, he grabs hold of his cock and rubs the rounded tip between your velvet lips, coating it further with your slick. 

“Think there’s enough for me to take your ass tonight, baby?” he asks over your low moan. He has to hold back his own, grit his teeth to keep it from leaving his mouth. God, you feel exactly like silk. “You want me to fuck that tight little hole, huh? You’ve only let me in there, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer tightly. 

He doesn’t know which question you’re answering. Probably all three. Or maybe you’re just moaning because he’s got you all stupid with his cock and it’s not even inside of you yet. Both seems most likely.

Steve positions himself against you. When you feel the bulbous tip of his head, you hardly wait to slide down, down, down upon his cock. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel full. It takes less time before he reaches the apparent end of you. The feeling makes you jolt against him, like your body’s trying to move back up and away from the sensation on instinct. He’s quick to grab your hips to keep himself inside you.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “Don’t run away from me.”

“Fuck,” you moan into his shoulder and then whine. The pleasure and the accompanying ache has your head spinning. “You’re already so deep.”

“I know, baby. You gotta take all of me, though, okay? Said you were gonna me by good girl, remember?”

His coo is enough to comfort you. You nod against his neck and let him guide you further and further down his cock.

You grit your teeth when you think he can’t possibly fill you anymore. The burn peaks all at once and ebbs so quickly, letting the rest of his inches slide in you with ease. And, god, if you don’t feel him in your fucking throat. 

He stills, thankfully, and lets you get used to the feeling of him all over again.

“There you go,” Steve praises like he always does and then laughs at how rigid you’ve gone. “Breathe, baby.”

The exhale comes out as a sob and a small “fuck”, but you force yourself to relax against him nonetheless. His warm hands rub soothingly against the buzzing skin of your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“I can feel you in my fucking guts right now,” you slur, voice fragile like glass.

Your words are almost enough to make him burst and you haven’t even moved yet. A deep, hearty groan climbs from his throat. He tips his heavy head to the back of the couch and clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the feeling.

He makes himself climb down from the peak of pleasure and quickly gain his bearings all over again.

“Ride me, honey,” he whispers you.

Immediately, you start rocking your hips against him. His sigh is blissful, almost dreamy, as he watches you work yourself on top of him. 

You’re always so patient with your pleasure, so calculated and attentive. You slide your hips back over his thighs and then up again, moaning every time the material of his sweatshirt rubs against your clit. You’re not chasing the feeling, you’re letting it come slowly and ease its way up to you. You know you’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve has always admired your patience, but it’s never one he could hope to possess. He rides toward an orgasm on a white mare. He claims it, he hunts it, he snatches it. Because, you’re right, you’ve got all the time in the world — he wants you to come as many times as the night (or, rather, your pussy) will allow.

So it isn’t at all surprising when gets impatient with your slow movements. And when one hand falls to your ass and the other slides up your back and clutches the opposite shoulder, you know what you’re in for. 

Even though you’re expecting it, a high-pitched moan spills from your mouth when he starts fucking up into you. He’s doing a whole lot more than just hitting the right spot. The rubbing of the fabric is unrelenting against your clit.

You’re always done for when he takes you like this. Both of you know it.

“You already close, aren’t you?” he manages through heavy pants over the lewd slapping of his thighs against your own. “This is all it takes, huh?”

“’S because of you,” you slur into the sticky skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He can feel himself getting closer and he groans through gritted teeth. The hand on your shoulder ascends to the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and pull you from the refuge you’d found in the book of his shoulder. It allows him to see you for the first time since you’d mounted his cock.

Your cheeks are blotchy and glowing cherry. Your eyes are glassy and glazed over with pleasure. Your lips swollen from where you’d been biting at them. 

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He drags that hand to your chest, wrenching at the plunging neck and pushing it down to reveal your tits. They bound out of the fabric with ease, a small red and raw line at the tops of them from where the dress had kept them so tightly contained. 

He palms at your left breast, digs his fingers into the fat of it and lets your hard and pebbled nipple rub against his palm.

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whines. It takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes open to look at them. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why I wore this— wanted your attention—” you confess through each of his thrusts.

“Yeah, you got my fucking attention, sweetheart,” he manages a breathy laugh.

His heart swells at the thought of you picking this dress because you thought he might like it. That you’d think of him doing something as mundane as picking what you wore out to the bar you went to every Friday night. 

It gets too easy to want to slip into that softness. But he knows that you’re already close. So, so fucking close. 

“Now come all over my cock for me, yeah?” he demands softly. “Cream on this dick and show me how good you are.”

And, like the good girl you are, don’t need to be told twice.

You shudder against him and then go rigid. He watches with a proud, lazy grin as you tip your head back, squeeze your eyes shut, and let your mouth fall agape. The feeling in your stomach builds and builds and builds, the pleasure disappearing for a moment, before coming back in an explosion that makes you gush.

As though your moans weren’t enough of a confirmation of your orgasm, you go so unmistakably tight around him that it makes his legs twitch beneath you. He angles his hips so he can peek between the two of you to watch the sheen of your cum glisten on his hard cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking sensitive like this— holy shit.”

“Steve!” you whine when your high starts to fade and his thrusts only quicken. 

He's chasing his own pleasure now, you know that, but the feeling against your abused pussy is growing into a nearly unbearable one.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder you don’t draw any blood. You grip his shoulders and ball his sweatshirt in your fist, tethering yourself to him and to reality.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he asks with his chin jutted out to look up at you. “Who else can fuck you like this?”

You can tell by his glassy eyes and erratic thrusts that he’s close to his own orgasm. He always wants you to talk him through it, to praise him and to tell him how good he makes you feel. For obvious reason, the whole thing comes terribly natural to you.

“Only you,” you promise tiredly. “’S just you, Stevie—”

“Fuck,” he spits and tilts his head to the back of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and brings his bottom lip between his teeth, never easing his impossibly swift thrusts.

“Want you to come in me,” you whisper to him. You rest your arms on his shoulders and drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and pulling every time he lets a moan slip. “Want you to come so deep inside me— I’m dripping for days—”

“Shit, baby.”

“And then, when I’m all round and full with your baby— everyone’s gonna know who I belong to, right?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Gonna come so— fuck— so nice and deep in this pussy. My pussy.”

“Please,” you beg, like you aren’t half-delirious with your own pleasure. “Come in your pussy, Stevie.”

“Holy shit—” His cock pulses and twitches and then spits inside you. He grabs onto your hips more roughly than he intended and keeps you tightly pressed against him while he comes, giving you several long and warm ropes against your velvet walls. He whimpers when your pussy flutters around him.

You collapse against him when his orgasm comes and goes, rocking against his lap to get him through his high until he stops you with a firm squeeze to your thigh. You both sink further into the couch, swimming in the peaceful void that pleasure always pushes you into. 

He rubs his hands beneath the skirt of your dress, petting your warm and sticky skin as the after-sex bliss rest heavily upon the both of you.

“Here,” he breaks the satin silence and taps at your hip. “Get off, baby. Let me get you some water or something—”

He feels you shake your head from where you’ve tucked it in his shoulder again. “Don’t wanna move. Want you to stay inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve never done this before — cockwarming. He’s not sure if you have before, but he definitely hasn’t, and certainly not with you. 

Before you, he was the kind of asshole that went to sleep right after sex. The thought of staying inside his partner never crossed his mind. But to his defense, none of his partners thought to do it either. Being King Steve and all meant there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on after sex. It was usually one-and-done affairs, but he never did this with any of his girlfriends before either.

And now that he’s matured into a somewhat respectable adult, he takes great pride in taking care of you after, in cleaning you up and making sure you’re alright. And when you’re either falling asleep or wanting to shower, there’s no room to be kept inside you. Not until now.

“Wanna fall asleep like this,” you confess. The way you’re halfway slurring and settling more heavily against him tells him you’re not too far off.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable for you, baby,” he scolds softly. Because him — he’s perfect like this. He’s slouched in the plush cushion of the couch and you’re wrapped so tightly around him (in every possible way) you've become his own personal blanket. 

But your back is hunched from where your neck is snug and pressed into his shoulder. You’ll likely wake up aching tomorrow, in more ways than one.

“Don’t care,” you mumble and sprinkle kisses to his neck, just because you can. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

“Forever?” he laughs tiredly.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You shift on his lap to look at him, exhaling a moan through your nose when you feel him twitch inside of you, even though he’s going steadily soft. Your gaze is innocent and yearning and knowing — hungry again. “Think you can take that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he promises with a sincere twinkle in his cinnamon colored eyes. “I can take it.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

To the victor the spoils

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Enemies to lovers

Rated: T

CW: light blood and violence; steamy kissing; very light dubcon if you squint (they're actually both super into it, I promise)

Tags: Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Guard!Steve; Thief!Eddie; Sexual tension; Flirting; Fighting; First kiss

Notes: Thought that kiss was hot in writing? Wait until you see it! @house-of-the-moving-image did an entire mini comic!

In the end, it’s just the two of them again. 

Steve jumps over another groaning pile of half-conscious guards and bursts out onto the roof, cold night air slapping him in the face and making the cape of his uniform whip. 

“Munson!” he barks. 

He is standing by the edge of the roof, a black cut-out against the starlit sky. As Steve stalks closer, he can see the smile curling at his lips, the amusement glinting in those dark eyes. 

“Stevie,” he greets, like they’re two acquaintances who’ve just met on the market square - not the new Captain of the Guard and the city’s most wanted criminal. “My, don’cha look strapping in the new get-up. Congrats, I bet daddy’s mighty proud.” 

“Shut it,” Steve growls, ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes linger on his golden breastplate, the way it makes a treacherous heat prickle at his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now give it back!” 

He jerks his head at the necklace clutched in one black-gloved hand. Eddie pouts. 

“Don’t wanna. It’s shiny.” 

Steve groans. It’s like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year old clad in black armor who’s versed in combat magic. 

“It is a priceless magic artifact that’s been in Lord Carver's family for generations-” 

“Yeah, and what a load of good they’ve done with it,” Eddie sneers. “High time it got into the hands of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” 

“Oh, and that someone would be you?” 

“Look at you,” Eddie winks. “Pretty and clever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta-” 

“You’re not going anywhere!” Steve snaps. His sword slides out with a high, metallic sound. 

Eddie raises his hands. “Woah, big boy. Careful now, you don’t wanna-” 

Steve roars and lunges. 

Eddie skips out of reach, but not quite fast enough. A lock of curly hair floats to the ground. 

“Oh sweetheart, you're gonna regret this,” Eddie purrs. 

And all hell breaks loose. 

The air crackles with the taste of ozone, a blinding light erupts from the artifact, and Steve just barely manages to parry. Something whirrs through the air, glides off his blade and a sharp, hot pain explodes all over the side of his face. Something warm trickles down his cheek. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie whoops and comes flying at him, giant shards of solid magic whirling around him, eyes eerily alight with their glow. “That's what I'm talking about!” 

The world blurs into a frenzy of movement and adrenaline. Attack and parry, dive for cover behind the towers and turrets and battlements of the roof, attack again. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity, this dance of theirs. Steve knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, the subtle twitches of his face that indicate his attacks before they actually come. They’ve done this so often, he can read him like an open book. 

The problem is, Eddie knows him just as intimately. Steve screams with rage, forces his aching limbs to go faster, harder, but it’s no use. Every blow that he tries to land, Eddie blocks, every twist and turn he makes, Eddie’s already there, always with that infuriating, dimpled grin, that amused little quirk of his brow. 

Until Steve’s foot lands on a wet patch of moss and he slips. 

It all goes so fast he has no time to be terrified - just feels the horrible sense of vertigo as the world tilts and the cobbled street jumps at him. Then, before he can so much as scream, there's arms wrapping around him and he's being hauled backwards, back pressed flush against another body. His blade goes clattering into the shadows.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckles into his ear. Steve can feel his chest rising and falling with exertion, can feel his hot breath clouding against the shell of his ear. “Thought I told you not to fall for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, tries to struggle free, but Eddie has one arm around his chest, the other flush against the hollow of his throat, and he can't go anywhere. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.” 

“Oh, do I?" Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk against the nape of his neck. “Then why were you holding back?” 

“Fuck you!” he grits out, but all it earns him is a low tut. “Now release me.”

“What, without a reward?” Eddie’s voice tingles down his spine, sweet and potent like poisoned mead. “You know how I am about pretty things. And you wouldn't wanna deny the victor his spoils, would you?” 

“Asshole!” Humiliation coils hot and heavy in Steve’s abdomen. “Stop joking and-” 

Eddie snarls against his ear. “I've told you a million times, honey. I'm not joking.” 

Steve’s world spins again, breath punched clean from his lungs as he is flipped around and slammed against the nearest wall. Eddie doesn’t leave him any time to recover, just surges in with a hungry growl and crashes their lips together. When Steve tries to struggle, he bites down on his bottom lip, uses the pained gasp it earns him to lick into his mouth. 

Someone moans, but it takes Eddie running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and pushing a leg between his thighs before the sound tumbles out again and Steve recognizes his own voice. They only break apart when they run out of air, both flushed and struggling for breath. 

And that is when the door to the roof slams open and Lord Carver and his men push through. 

“He went this way! Seize him!”

Eddie lets out an annoyed huff and leans in for one last peck against Steve’s lips. 

“Sorry, darling. Gotta go, y'know how it is. See you next time.” 

He steps out of his space and the night air hits Steve like a bucket of ice water. Eddie winks at him and steps over the edge of the roof. 

By the time Carver and his guards arrive, the night has long swallowed him.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

several sentences sunday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @inell @bi-buckrights

thank ya darlins! <3

the post s7 fic ive been working on is finally finished so while im working on edits here's a snip

Buck’s gaze falls to Eddie’s mouth and stays there, blue blue blue eyes pulsing with something that feels like it’s in tempo with whatever is raging behind the cage of Eddie’s ribs. Then Buck huffs again and hangs his head, directing his next words to the floor. “It’s always been–I’ve kind of always wanted to, like–dance with someone in the kitchen.”

Oh.

Eddie mouths the word silently, a bit taken aback. Not really what he was expecting but–it kind of makes sense. It’s a sweet, simple, lovely kind of thing. Something Buck would daydream about and imagine for himself but never grasp for because he fears his grip is too tight and demanding.

And suddenly, Eddie aches. Right down to his marrow.

“It’s stupid,” Buck says, rushed and uneven. He flings a hand forward, gesturing at something that doesn’t exist. “Just a–silly little fantasy I guess. Me and–Me and Maddie used to dance together actually. When I was little and shorter than her. She would put me on her feet and we’d twirl all over the place until we got sick at our stomachs.”

That image is–

Cute. Beautiful.

Eddie can picture it perfectly, a young Buck and Maddie, both of them bright and loud, sparkling with that special thing only the two of them have. Maddie guiding her little brother to stand on her feet and keeping a protective hold on him. Buck looking up at her with wide eyes large enough to swallow someone whole. The two of them giggling as they spun around together.

He did that with Sophia. Not often, only a few times. But each time he would carry her through a sloppy kind of square dance while they wore cowboy hats far too big for either of them, the brims falling into their eyes and cutting off their vision so that they inevitably tripped over each other.

A bruising pang presses hard against that sensitive spot behind his sternum.

And before Eddie even realizes what he is doing he wraps his fingers around Buck’s wrist and gives a gentle yank, guiding him away from the counter and into the middle of the kitchen, his mind already counting the steps and tempo required to match up to the song currently playing.

tagging @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @shitouttabuck @mustachediaz @queerdiazs @devirnis @freewayshark @jeeyuns @watchyourbuck @transboybuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @rewritetheending @lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @saybiwithme @sibylsleaves @shyaudacity @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @buckera @exhuastedpigeon @dr-shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @bigfootsmom and anyone else who wants to share!

[garden-of-gay]

Can You Feel It? It's Burlesque! Part 1

Ch 1, Ch 2

Also here on Ao3

The first part of the Steddie Burlesque AU is here and rather than ramble on too much here, I'm just going to get right into it; enjoy. :)

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

Al Munson was a lot of things and had always been. A criminal, a business owner, a dick--- for sure—but a proper father was not one of those. Which is how Eddie had landed in the custody of his uncle Wayne. Thanks to Al’s criminal record the only option for him to make money was to either do more illegal shit or build a business himself, which is also how Eddie found himself working at his father’s shitty dive bar. In big bold letters, it read “Al’s Bar”.

“How original” Eddie had thought,

But hey, a job is a job even if it means working for your deadbeat dad. Eddie was getting tired of his dad’s bullshit antics and was ready to leave, something he often voiced to his uncle Wayne, to the point where the man was completely unphased when Eddie once again brought it up.

-

“Wayne I’m leaving,” Eddie said

“What do you mean” his uncle replied

He had been through this same song and dance so many times yet, every time he humored Eddie by asking about his plans.

“Soon as I get my check, I’m gone” Eddie huffed

At that, Al Munson emerged from the back of the house getting ready as always leaving Eddie and Wayne to clean up the place even though he was perfectly capable of helping.

“I’ll be back” Al said

Eddie explained as Al put on his coat. “Dad, I need my check before you leave”

“Paydays at the end of the month, you know this” Al exclaimed annoyed and with a roll of his eyes

“You still haven’t paid us for last month, I need my money. Wayne’s been taking care of me come on you quite literally own us” Eddie replied angrily.

Al retorted, “You got a problem with management, put a note in the suggestion box”

“Dad I’m serious, I’m quitting” he steeled

“I’ll be back for the dinner shift” Al said with a final roll of his eyes and an annoyed huff.

“Son of a bitch” Eddie exclaimed

He continued, “He may be back but I sure as hell won’t be”

Eddie opened the register and began counting out a chunk of cash from the register, Wayne looked on in confusion.

“Eds, what are you doing?” He asked

Eddie finished counting the amount in his hand before turning to his uncle and answering him.

“Taking what he owes me and not a cent more”

Wayne’s eyes widened

“Son, you know he’ll come after you for that, your father has never been a patient man. Especially when it comes to money”

“Yeah well, he will need to find me first” Eddie smirked.

He then proceeded to take a portion of the money that he had taken from the register and tucked it into Waynes’s pocket. Before explaining to his puzzled-looking uncle.

“This ought to cover the new radiator for the trailer” he smiled

“Now go, you’re late for your shift at the plant” Eddie teased.

His uncle had the habit of losing track of time always so focused on making sure everyone else was squared away before himself, it was something that Eddie loved about him but also wished he would let go.

“You’re really going?” Wayne asked with a look of awe.

“I’m really going” Eddie replied before shoving at his uncle.

“Now go get out of here seriously you’re going to be late, I got it here” He chuckled

Wayne began making his way to the door with Eddie on his heels to close the door but he stopped and turned to face him.

“The radiator can until later, Eds. Keep what he owes you and I’ll deal with him” he stated seriously.

“Later Son, I love you” he paused for a moment before turning back around one final time

“Hey Eds just remember, no matter what you always have a place with me”

-

With that, he was gone leaving Eddie in his dad’s bullshit ass bar all alone. He locked the door and flipped the open sign to close before beginning to put up the chairs.

Eddie had always loved singing and playing guitar since he was little, it was one of the things his mom used to praise him about, his musical talent. Now when he needed to feel close to her, he would put on a song she used to sing to him and would sing along and it was almost like she was there with him. Today was one of those days so he grabbed one of the quarters from his pocket and slotted it into the jukebox in the bar. He then selected Something’s Got a Hold on Me by Etta James, he remembers his mama belting out the lyrics to the song while she danced with him in the kitchen. He dragged a chair to the center of the small stage before beginning as the opening chords of the song rang out.

Oh-oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah (Yeah) I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, no, no (Yeah) I just wanna tell you right now that I (Ooh) I believe I really do believe that

Something's got a hold on me, yeah (Oh, it must be love) Oh, something's got a hold on me right now, child (Oh, it must be love)

As he sang and danced around the stage, he imagined what his life could be once he got out of here. All he had to do was pick up and leave and that’s exactly what he planned on doing, his dad and his shit bar be damned.

-

When he got home that night, he had one thing on his mind…he was getting the fuck out of here.

“Uncle Wayne, where do we keep the suitcases” Eddie yelled

His uncle came toddling over into his room and replied

 “In the closet o’er there, and son, there is no need to yell we live in a trailer that is only so big”

Eddie replied apologetically “Sorry Uncle Wayne”

His uncle ruffled his hair and stated

“It’s okay kid I know you are just excited, here let me go get those for you and help you pack”

Eddie smiled

“Thanks Uncle Wayne”

When Wayne returned with the suitcases, Eddie began shoving clothes into them without care, what is the point of folding stuff when they’re just going to get tossed around and shoved into a place only, he will see?

“Dammit, why do it have so much shit. When did I get this much shit?” Eddie asked frustratingly

“I don’t know kid, it’s your stuff” Wayne replied with a shrug

“You know what old man, you are no help” Eddie retorted flatly

“You asked for my help; I’m just helpin” Wayne said putting his hands up in mock defense

 “Yeah, well I’m starting to regret it as all your contributing is lip” Eddie bantered

He and Wayne began to bicker back and forth, the task at hand forgotten making the whole ordeal take way longer than it should have.

-

With all his belongings eventually thrown together into three suitcases---one of which he didn’t even know existed---Eddie loaded them along with his precious guitar, his baby, into Wayne’s back seat and waited for his uncle to come sauntering out of the trailer to take him to the station. He could have walked but Wayne insisted on taking him to say goodbye before he set out on his new adventure.

“Wayne, hurry up!” Eddie yelled after honking the horn.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, I forgot how impatient you can be, I was just grabbing one last thing before we go” Wayne replied.

With this he wordlessly handed Eddie what looked like a frame wrapped in a scarf to prevent it from breaking. He slowly unwrapped the scarf from the frame and was confronted with a photo he had never seen before, one of his mama and him.

“Wayne I…” he began as he teared up

Wayne placed one of his hands on Eddie’s knee and looked at him with a softness in his eyes that made Eddie want to cry more.

“It was her favorite picture of you two, she made me promise to keep it safe and give it to you when you were older. Now it seems like you need it son, she’s always with ya’ so might as well carry her too” Wayne said tearing up himself.

“Thank you, Wayne, this really means the world to me I…. just thank you,” Eddie replied through tears.

Wayne proceeded to shift the truck into drive and pulled out onto the road. Eddie watched as the trailer grew smaller and smaller behind them, the life he knew was over now and it was time to start over.

-

“How much to LA?” Eddie asked

The man looked up at Eddie with disinterest, clearly bored of his job.

“One way or round trip” He asked

“You’re kidding right?” Eddie joked

The worker was not amused and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “kids and their bullshit attitude these” to Eddie but he had no way of being certain so he couldn’t call the guy on it.

With his ticket secured for the next Greyhound, Eddie went to say his final goodbye to his uncle.

“It’s not goodbye forever, just for now” Eddie muttered holding back tears

“I know Eds, I love you kid. You’re going to do great things, I know it” Wayne replied holding back tears of his own

The two men embraced, and Eddie let himself fall apart in his uncle’s arms, he was excited to follow his dreams, but he was also scared shitless. He was leaving behind all he had ever known and the only thing holding together right now was his uncle’s arms around him.

“It’s m’kay son, let it out, I gotcha” Wayne muttered into his nephew’s shirt as he felt his own shirt begin to wet with tears.

“I gotcha, I gotcha” he said as he stroked Eddie’s hair in attempt to comfort him.

Eddie looked up at his uncle through red-rimmed, puffy eyes and knew that it was going to be okay. He had Wayne after all and at the end of the day, it’s all he needed.

-

Eddie sat with his uncle and waited for his bus to arrive, soaking in a couple more minutes with him before it was time to go. Eddie had told him he could leave 30 minutes ago but Wayne insisted he wouldn’t leave until he watched Eddie get safely on his bus. He suspected that his uncle needed this as much as he did, so he wasn’t going to argue. As the bus pulled into the station he got up and turned towards his uncle and smiled.

“I got to get going now, I’ll call you when I’m there, I love you Old Man”

“I love you too, Son. Now go before you chicken out and never leave” Wayne joked

Eddie laughed before making his way towards his bus and climbing aboard and finding a seat by the window. He watched as others piled in, said goodbye to family and friends, but most importantly he watched and waved at Wayne as the bus pulled out of the station onto the streets. Eddie’s fate was sealed, there was no going back now and frankly he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

The bus ride was incredibly boring not only was it like 80 years long, but there was nothing to look at on the way. Who knew the rest of America was just as boring as Indiana was; from Missouri to Oklahoma everything looked the same and the only cue Eddie got that they were getting closer to LA was the switch from flat plains to orangey-beige desert that also stretched for miles. The bus ride took 2 days but if you asked Eddie, he would say it was more like 20 days with how much nothing there was. Finally, however---after and eternity and a half---the driver announced that they would be pulling into the LA station within the hour and Eddie would be free on the confines of his seat that became uncomfortable all the way back in Oklahoma.

-

Eddie sat in the LA station breathing in the hot dry air and looking through the brochures for a hotel to stay at, he landed on the Hotel Rosslyn and hailed a cab to take him and all his shit there. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next year, but he knew he needed work. It was still early enough that he could go out searching so he snagged a newspaper from the stand next to him figuring he could check out the help wanted section.

The drive to the hotel was uneventful just like the bus ride and the hotel itself was nice but also quite unassuming, which was perfect. He checked in at the front desk, happy to find a place and was handed a key to a room on the 3rd floor.

“I guess this is my place for the next while” Eddie muttered to himself as he used the key to open his room.

The room was clean but also a bit shabby and water stained but he didn’t mind considering he lived in a trailer for most of his life. He inspected the bathroom and closet space before heading over to the phone to call Wayne and let him know he made it. The phone rang twice before Wayne’s gruff voice could be heard through the line.

“Munson residence, this is Wayne how can I help you?”

“I forgot how boring you are when you answer the phone” Eddie huffed in fond amusement.

“Eds!! I missed you Son, you settle in, okay?” Wayne asked

Eddie hadn’t realized how much he had missed his uncle until his voice rang over the phone and all the stress of the last couple days washed away replaced with the gruff sound of his uncle’s voice and a feeling of home.

“Yeah, I just got here and figured I give you a call to let you know that I’m alright” Eddie said with a slight wobble in his voice that Wayne didn’t seem to notice or was kind enough not to mention.

“Well, it’s good to hear from you and I’m glad you are doing fine, that’s good to hear” Wayne replied

Eddie talked about everything and nothing about his trip so far, just glad to hear his uncle’s voice. He then asked the question he had been dreading but needed to know.

“How did dad take it? Me leaving?” he said nervously

Wayne sighed

“Now, I won’t lie to you kid, he all kinds of pissed off. He threatened a lot of things, but I haven’t said anything about where you are or that I know”

“Thank you, Wayne. I’m sorry you must deal with the fallout though” Eddie muttered

“Boy, I would do it ten times over if I knew you got to get out and be happy” Wayne said

“I’m going to go unpack now, I love you Wayne” Eddie voice came out wet and wobbly.

“Love you Eds, take care now” Wayne said and the then the room went silent with a click.

Once off the phone, Eddie took his time semi unpacking his things but most importantly, he took the money he had with him and put it in a plastic bag before sealing it and putting it in the water tank of the toilet making sure that there was a portion that would go over the side for later access.

With his money secured he took another look at the photo Wayne had given him and he smiled at it.

His mom looked so young and beautiful; it made him want to cry. He remembers so little about her since she died when he was seven. Looking at the date on the photo told him it was about 3 months before her death and Eddie wonders if she somehow knew and insisted on a photo because of it.

-

Eddie had bought a postcard in the lobby or the hotel and considered sending it to Wayne before remembering that if his dad got his hands on it, it was a one-way ticket to an ass beating and losing all his money, so he opted against it. Instead, he ripped it into pieces and threw it out the window for them to be scattered by the wind, keeping his secret.

-

Eddie had spent some time going through the help wanted section circling any possible jobs in music and had slowly worked his way through his list. He began to feel more and more frustrated with every job he was turned away from and was considering going back to the hotel for the night when he spotted it--- across from fancy high-rise apartments he could never afford--- in neon lights, a sign that read “Burlesque Lounge”. There was a woman on one of the steps landing adjusting the thigh-high socks of her costume and he was increasingly intrigued by what could be happening within those 4 walls. Before he could ponder it anymore, the woman was rushed inside by a very frazzled-looking young woman with choppy brown hair, a boxy frame, and suspenders. Now he had to go!! He had a mystery to solve, what was this place with no windows?

-

Upon entering the club Eddie found himself more puzzled by the moment, there were dancers on the stage---that much he could see---they were wearing revealing outfits, but it didn’t look like a strip club. He reached the end of the staircase and was met with a balding man with big glasses, a beard, and a frankly menacing grin.

“What is this place, a strip club?” Eddie asked the man

“Boy I should wash your mouth out with Jägermeister, the only pole you’ll find in there is Heather, the shots girl”

Eddie was taken aback by the passive aggression of the man, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the dancers behind the man as they had begun their performance, he was startled from his trance when the man spoke again.

“Baby cakes, I got a club to fill here so 20 dollars or not?” the man said with a tight smile

Eddie reluctantly handed over a 20-dollar bill and then made his way towards the bar to watch the dancers from there.

Once he sat down, he watched mesmerized as the dancers moved out of the way and revealed an elegant-looking older woman who then opened her mouth and began to sing.

Show a little more Show a little less Add a little smoke Welcome to Burlesque

Everything you dream of But never can possess Nothing's what it seems Welcome to Burlesque

She continued her performance as the dancers moved around her. She revealed the band and made a crude joke about knowing where she is if you had a bit of extra cash, a joke that Eddie chuckled at but was quickly pulled from his laughter when he noticed the bartender across from him.

Brown chestnut swooping hair, moles that dotted his chiseled face, and a handsome smile drew Eddie to him like a moth to a flame but what really got Eddie and made him feel like he was going to cream his pants was the eyeliner that lined the man’s hazel eyes, making them pop. In summary, he was hot, and Eddie wanted to do unspeakable dirty things to this Adonis. The man must have noticed Eddie staring and assumed he wanted a drink because he quickly approached where he was sitting.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked

“If you’re buying” Eddie joked, what he didn’t expect however was the man to actually put a drink in front of him

“Welcome to LA,” he said

“Cute” Eddie huffed

“Where are you from?” the hot man asked

“Indiana” Eddie replied surprised his brain was still online, but it definitely shut down when the man grinned wide and replied

“Same, what part?”

Eddie’s mouth felt dry, so he sipped at his drink and responded

“Indianapolis”

Eddie felt so dumb, this man had reduced him to one-word answers to every question he asked. The bartender then pointed at himself before proceeding with his statement

“Hawkins, a small town about half an hour south of Indy, my best friend and I used to drive up there sometimes.”

Eddie gave a polite nod to acknowledge that he was listening to what he was saying, but frankly, he was off in la la land being busy ogling this man.

“We’re practically related, huh?” the man joked

“I thought you looked familiar” Eddie jabbed back

“Hey, who does a boy have to flirt with to get from here, to there? Eddie asked

The man raised an eyebrow at him before softening his face and replying

“Is this you flirty?”

Eddie decided it was best to ignore the joke especially as he felt his face flush, he just hoped the low lights of the club hid it.

“That’s rich coming from someone wearing more eyeliner than me” Eddie jabbed because of course he had to open his big mouth about this man’s sexy eyeliner.

He was pulled from his thoughts of what may happen to that eyeliner during *ahem, activities when the man pointed to a door.

“Through that door, ask for Joyce, she’s your guy, flirt away”

Eddie turned in the chair to get up when the bartender cleared his throat and spoke again

“Hey, Indianapolis! Use my name”

He then handed Eddie a card which he read before replying with a wink

“Thanks, Steve”

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

AH, first part down second one is to come soon! I'm really excited for this fic. We have had a few characters introduced with more to come.

If you saw typos or mistakes here, no you didn't.

[feralwritings]

three's company

part two

word count: 3.1k

part one | masterpost

Hours that felt like days passed. 

They’d taken turns listening to music until the battery in her Walkman died, played three rounds of hand slaps before their skin grew too red and sensitive to continue, and now, they were taking turns throwing cereal crumbs into a small tin can placed several feet away from them, competing with each other for money.

“Dammit!” Eddie muttered as she sunk another crumb squarely into the can, “How are you so good at this?”

She shrugged, popping a piece of cereal into her mouth, “I dunno, natural skill, I guess.”

He threw his crumb, which landed two inches to the right of the can.

“You’re down a whole seventeen cents, Munson.” She teased, bumping his shoulder with hers, “Are you sure you wanna keep this up?”

“I dunno,” he huffed playfully, returning the bump, “You’re gonna bankrupt me if we keep this up. I’ll have to start paying you in favors rather than cash.”

She snorted at that, taking a swig of the soda they’d been sharing. He’d requested beer, got a disapproving look from her, and amended his request to a pack of Coke.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the riveted metal of the boathouse wall, staring up at the watery reflections of the lake water on the ceiling. She was obviously deep in thought, biting and rolling her own lip between her teeth.

Before he had the chance to ask her what she was thinking about, there was a noise outside, like a car door slamming.

“They must be back,” She said, getting to her feet and padding sleepily over to the window, crouching to look outside.

Eddie knew that there was something wrong before she said anything. Her body grew taut, and he heard the sharp intake of breath she took, her knuckles turning white where her hand gripped the windowsill.

She turned, and whispered, “It’s Jason,”

She watched as the color drained from his face, and he had that cornered animal look again, and right before the adrenaline kicked in and her mind went into that cold, pragmatic state she felt his panic course through her like an electrical current, hitting every nerve she had on the way.

She looked out the window again, narrowing her eyes against the darkness. Flashlight beams were dancing in the windows of the house, too many to count but enough to know that if they were found, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

She heard a flutter of plastic behind her and turned. Eddie had ripped away the tarp and had drawn a pocket knife and was hacking at the ropes that kept the boat aloft, and as each one snapped, the boat plunged into the water with a great deal of noise, noise that she knew would reveal them in seconds, if they hadn’t been already.

Silently, they both got into the boat, Eddie grabbing the oars and her attempting to start the engine. As they moved farther into Lover’s Lake, she watched as the flashlight beams reached the shore, and under the roar of the oars in the water, the sputtering engine, she heard yelling, and most horrifyingly, the sound of swimming.

Jason and Patrick had dove into the lake, and were following the boat, increasing speed.

“Keep going!” She shouted over her shoulder, “This fucking-” She pulled the cord on the engine again, to no avail, “Piece of shit!”

“Hey!” Jason shouted, spitting water out of his mouth, “Where do you think you’re going with her?”

Her head snapped to look at Jason, who was gaining on them, moving in and out of grabbing distance of the boat. The rowing had slowed to a stop and she felt the boat lurch as Eddie stood, grabbing her and shoving her behind him, waving the oar threateningly over the side of the boat at Jason.

“Just stay back, man!” Eddie pleaded, nearly clipping Jason on the head twice with the tip of the oar.

“Eddie,” She grabbed his elbow, “Eddie, stop!”

She peered over his shoulder at Jason, and watched as recognition bloomed across his face.

“You,” Jason panted, “Are you okay?”

She stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open, “I’m fine, Jason, you need to-”

“He killed Chrissy, you realize that right? What sort of spell does he have you under, huh?” Jason edged toward the side of the boat reaching out a hand to her, as if to save her, “You can break out of it, I promise, just take my hand, okay? Just take it.”

“Jason, he didn’t kill Chrissy,” She said, having to stand on tiptoe to keep eye contact with Jason, pleading with her eyes for him to understand. Eddie stood in front of her, one arm twisted behind him and pressed against her back protectively, the other holding the oar over the side of the boat. Both hands were shaking.

“Yes, he did!” Jason punched the side of the boat, making them both jump, “He tore her apart!”

“Jason,” she ducked under Eddie’s arm, much to his displeasure. He wound his arm around her waist instead, pulling her to his chest, “Jason, shut up and listen to me. l am not lying-”

She never got to finish her sentence. In the time she’d been negotiating with Jason, none of them had noticed Patrick, who’d been staring off in the distance for about a minute. All three of their heads turned as he was pulled underneath the surface.

“Patrick?” Jason whimpered, “Hey, Patrick, stop messing around-”

They all started as Patrick was ripped from the water and into the air like a marionette, limbs hanging loosely.

“No,” She heard Eddie breathe against her hair, the grip on her waist tightening to the point of pain, “No, no no no no.”

When the first crack echoed across the lake, she couldn’t do anything but stop breathing. She watched, in sheer terror as Patrick’s limbs twisted and broke, one right after the other, a sinister orchestra of nothing but percussion. Each crack made a part of her body twinge and as blood spurted from his eye sockets, tears sprang from hers. When he crashed back into the water below, Eddie had taken a startled step backwards, too fast, and soon, they were both toppling out of the boat and plunging into the freezing lake.

She kicked wildly, and as her head broke the surface she looked over and saw that Jason was already dragging Patrick’s lifeless, broken body to the opposite shore, blood blooming like ink in the water behind them. Next to her, Eddie’s head had emerged as well.

“Swim for it,” he choked.

Struggling, shivering, muscles burning and lungs aching, she pulled the rope attached to the boat along with Eddie, and together, they swam for it. 

They both flopped onto the shore of Lovers Lake, coughing and retching, and in Eddie’s case, sobbing uncontrollably. 

It took her a moment or so to notice, too busy expelling all the water she could out of her lungs. But once her ears registered the heaving sobs, about five feet to her right, she scrambled against the rocky shore towards him. 

“Eddie, we have to move,” she spluttered, coughing up more water. 

He didn’t seem to hear her, his entire body racking with sobs. Tears sprung in her own eyes, and she got in front of him, gathering his face in her hands.

“I know, I know, I know,” she pleaded desperately, trying to make him look into her eyes, “I know you’re scared, I know, but we have to keep moving, honey, we just have to, okay? I’m here, you’re not alone. Eddie,” he looked into her face at the sound of his name, his expression one of absolute anguish, pinched brows and trembling lips, misery and grief and fear oozing like tar from every muscle, “Eddie, we need to move. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?”

Eddie nodded, choking out another sob before allowing her to pull him to his feet. Hand in hand, they ducked into the woods, her in the lead, pulling him along. 

“We’ll go to Skull Rock,” she muttered into the night, the breeze turning the water that clung to her skin to ice, “It’s a good landmark, they’ll be able to find us.” 

“Right,” Eddie choked out, more than willing to listen to her instruction. He tightened his hold on her hand, pulling her to a stop. She turned, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“What?” She asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

“Thanks,” he breathed, “For not leaving me.”

“It’s not like I really had a choice, Ed, we were in the middle of a lake,” Even in the dim moonlight, he can see the expression in her eyes, bashful, and as she looked away, he watched as she pressed her lips into a fine line. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said softly, tugging a little on her hand in hopes that she’d look at him. She didn’t, “Back at the boathouse,” he slipped a finger under her chin, turning her head gently so he could look into her eyes. He didn’t know where the need came from, but he could feel it, stirring deep within him, “You could’ve left. But you didn’t. So, thanks.”

The way she looked at him - wide, shining eyes, eyebrows drawn together in a gentle furrow, lips slightly parted, the slight tilt to her head - made the need within him stir more, something that he thought long dead within him raising its head curiously.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she whispered, barely audible over the breeze. He saw her say it more than he heard it. 

“Yeah, I do,” he whispered back, just as quietly. The finger under her chin had turned into a gentle caress of her face, fingers splayed along the side of her neck and his thumb running along the soft line of her jaw. 

She leaned into his touch a little, a small, sad little smile on her lips before she pulled away, hand still in his, and dragged him forward.

“Gotta keep moving.”

Once they got to Skull rock, she took stock of her surroundings, “This is good. We’ll be okay here, until they can come for us.”

Shivering, she pulled her shirt over her head, wringing it out.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He asked, suddenly averting his gaze from her almost bare torso.

“It’s too chilly to be wearing wet clothes,” She said, draping her shirt over a nearby branch, “They’ll dry faster if we take them off, and we won’t get hypothermic and die.”

She pulled off her shoes, pouring lake water from each of them in turn. Then came her socks and finally, her pants. She winced uncomfortably as she peeled the wet denim off of her legs, sighing in relief when they were finally off. The cool night air made goosebumps erupt across her supple, soft skin and she shivered, standing on tiptoe to drape her pants over the branch, fussing at them to make sure that they would dry the fastest.

When she turned around, she caught Eddie staring at her before he pointedly looked away.

“You should probably…you know…” She gestured vaguely to his body, running a hand through her wet hair before leaning to the side to wring it out.

“Right.” He muttered, and he slowly started to peel off his own layers. It took quite a bit longer than hers hand, considering the vest, jacket, shirt, undershirt, belt, and various other accessories.

She moved away from him to scout around their little area, glancing every direction. She couldn’t hear voices, or see flashlights that would indicate that anyone was looking for them, so for the time being, they were safe. 

“Well,” She said, “We’ll be fine here, I think we should just stay. This is a good landmark for them to find us at. Does the supercomm still work?”

He pressed the button, and nothing happened. Flipped various switches to no avail.

“Fuck.” She muttered, “We’ll have to figure something out. Bad news is, Jason knows that I’m with you now, and apparently thinks you’re holding me hostage, so any little forays into town are now out of the question for both of us. Good news…can’t think of any.”

It was a dire situation. Cold, alone, in the middle of the woods, with no way to contact their friends to let them know that, hey, Eddie was at the sight of another murder so if the cops didn’t want to find him before, they sure did now!

She turned to look at him, taking in his diminished, pale frame. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest and his wet boxers were clinging to him in such a way that she would’ve almost preferred he was naked. She knew that she couldn’t look much better: an old bra and panties, hair starting to frizz from her little dip in the lake, makeup running.

She took in their surroundings once more. The pale moonlight streaming in through the canopy of trees above gave just enough light for them to be able to see each other, but not much else. 

Without another word, she sat down underneath the rock, pulling her legs close to her chest and resting her head on her knees. The night had warmed the slightest bit, so she wasn’t shivering as bad as she had been before, and with her skin being almost dry, the cool breeze didn’t sting as much. 

He followed suit, sinking against the rock wall across from her, sighing.

A few minutes passed in silence, nothing but the distant crickets and gentle breeze permeating the air. 

“What happened that would make Steve not want to leave you alone with me?” Eddie suddenly asked, looking at her. She looked so pretty in the soft moonlight, the faded blue of her bra set delicately against her soft skin. Her eyes, more shadow than light, staring at him, and he can see in the gentle furl of her brow and the way her knuckles have tightened around her knees that this subject that he has broached is touchy. 

She sighed, leaning her head back against the rock, her eyes cast to the sky. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and she took a deep breath, as though bracing herself for something. 

“There’s been…a couple times where I’ve taken what he deemed to be unnecessary risks. Do you, uh,” she swallowed, “Do you remember Billy Hargrove?” 

The flare in Eddie’s nostrils and the sharp breath he took seemed to indicate that, yeah, he did. 

“Right,” she sighed, running her hands over her face, “He tried to kill me on a couple of occasions. Granted, the second time he was possessed by this evil force from the Upside Down, and so it wasn’t really him, but the first…that was all him.” 

Eddie nodded slowly, “So, were you guys like…together? And something went…wrong?”

She laughed, sharp and biting, into the night, “No. Nah, he’d never date someone like me. He showed up to the Byers a couple years ago, when we were in the swing of this Upside Down bullshit, and me, the kids, and Steve were there. Billy came after Lucas, I stepped in, we fought, Steve showed back up, they fought, and it all ended when Max stuck a needle full of tranquilizer in Billy’s neck.”

Eddie nodded slowly, “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly, “Steve didn’t deem me stepping in front of Lucas as an unnecessary risk, but the second time it happened, Steve wasn’t too happy with me.” 

Eddie waited. It seemed like he didn’t want to hear anymore, but couldn’t help from wanting to know, to understand. 

“Second time, we were at the mall, right before it burned down. We’d all met up there, after Steve and Robin had been held hostage by the Russians, and the kids, Nancy, Jonathan and I had been attacked by the mind flayer numerous times. Billy showed up, again, so I tried to distract him, leading him away from everyone. I woke up in the hospital a few days later. I don’t remember what happened, and no one knows because we were alone, but I had a concussion, four broken ribs, and a gnarly wound on my back.”

She turned, showing him the scar. Right across the middle of her spine, angled, four inches long. Gnarly, indeed. 

“You’re lucky he didn’t sever anything,” Eddie gasped out, “It’s a fucking miracle you’re walking and talking, an injury like that so close to your spine.” 

She snorted, “That’s what Steve said! Maybe you two are more alike than I thought.”

Eddie didn’t know how to feel about that, but her smile was nice, so that quickly eclipsed whatever insecurity had bloomed from being compared to Steve. 

He wondered, though, how she was able to talk about these instances, these traumas, with such ease. He voiced this thought, and she tilted her head in consideration. 

“I dunno,” She shrugged, “I was protecting the people that matter to me. Or at least, I was trying to. If I was going to go out before my time, I don’t think that would’ve been such a bad way to go. Painful, maybe, but those kids are just…they’re kids, with their whole lives ahead of them, ya know?”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah. I get that, I do, but…”

“But what?” 

“You’re, what, nineteen? Twenty? Don’t you have a whole life ahead of you too?”

She shrugged, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Her tone was disarming, worrying, casual in a way it shouldn’t be when talking of such things, and it unsettled Eddie more than he would care to admit. The way she viewed her mortality, her place in the world and within the group dynamic was…scary, to say the very least. 

Eddie at least understood where Steve was coming from, when it came to her. If she’d always been this cavalier about something as precious as her life, it made sense why Steve seemed to keep such a close eye on her. 

Since Steve wasn’t here, Eddie supposed that the mantle of keeping an eye on her and keeping her from doing something stupid and reckless fell upon him. Not that he minded, she’d been keeping an eye on him this whole time, keeping his panic from boiling over the surface, keeping him safe through a wealth of knowledge someone as young as her shouldn’t have possessed. 

He felt a strange sensation then, as he looked at her. Something inexplicable, that made his breath feel a bit sharp in his lungs, a surge of anxiety that was entirely separate from the way he had been feeling for the past two days.

She, ever perceptive, must’ve sensed the change within him, because she peered at him curiously, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he choked out, clearing his throat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

[medusapelagia]

25 The soulmates program

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Soulmates ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Scientists ) @aug-kissed (prompt: First Kiss) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: no one Words: 901

“So, in this experiment, we’re trying to determine if it’s possible to find the perfect soulmate without even knowing them. We interviewed all our volunteers and found a perfect couple. This experiment is the hardest we have ever made. Not only do the two candidates come from two very different social classes, but this is a homosexual couple.”

The audience gasps loudly.

“I must specify that one of the volunteers declared to be gay and the other was open to a homosexual relationship.” The scientists show a PowerPoint presentation pointing at some statistics, “As you can see they don’t have the same interests or hobbies, they live very different lives, but looking at the diagram you can see that they have the same opinions about relationship, friendship, and commitment. You can see that our first subject, Steve, gives very high importance to family and relationship and commitment, and our second subject, Eddie, is just a little bit under on the commitment but they have the same level of importance given to family and relationship. So they are here, after a few dates, to tell us how it worked out for them. Please welcome them.”

The two boys who get into the conference room couldn’t have been more different: one wears a shirt and a pullover over a pair of dark blue jeans, a pair of squared turtle glasses, and a very soft smile, the other is dressed all in black, with a leather jacket, a pair of high boots and some black jeans ripped at the knee revealing a huge skull tattooed on the right knee and black nail polish.

“So, Eddie and Steve, right?” The scientist asks, looking at his file.

“I’m Eddie. He’s Steve.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. So. How did our experiment go?” the man inquires with curiosity, pushing his glasses with one finger.

They both start talking at the same time, before laughing and begin a little dance of “You go first.” “No, you go first.”

In the end, it’s Steve who grabs the microphone, “Hi everyone. I’m Steve Harrington. I signed up for this experiment because I was tired of dating the wrong person and I thought that maybe someone who didn’t actually know me could help me understand what I was looking for.” he turns toward Eddie with a soft smile, “If it wasn’t for this experiment I don’t think I would have ever go out on a date with someone like Eddie. Nothing wrong with him, but as anyone can see we’re not exactly similar.” he chuckles before giving the microphone to Eddie.

“Yeah. That’s right. I would have never looked at someone like Steve to have a stable relationship. I mean, he doesn’t know Metallica and doesn’t play DnD which is like the first thing I ask everyone I date. But yeah. I signed up for this experiment to prove to my buddies that there’s no way you could find a soulmate thanks to some calculation and look at me! I’ll have to buy a lot of beers this year.” He smirks.

“So we must assume the experiment went well.”

Eddie and Steve share a look, “What do you say? Should we tell them?” Eddie asks, playing with a lock of hair.

“Tell us what?”

Steve beams when he grabs the microphone, “We’re engaged. We’re still working on the specifics, I live in Chicago he lives in Los Angeles, but yeah. We are going to get married.” 

“That was unexpected, especially from you, Eddie. Weren’t you against marriage?”

“Have you seen him? Since the first time we kissed after our first formal date, I knew I couldn’t let him go.”

“Remind us of your first date. We sent you each other's description and asked you to meet at the local mall, isn’t that right?”

Steve brushes some hair away from his face, “When I saw the description I was really in doubt. I didn’t think Eddie could have been the right person for me, but I decided to give him a chance. We met at Starbucks. Drink a coffee or two and by the time we leave the coffee shop I was already in love.”

“I was lovestruck as well. Surprised that someone so hot was still single and looking for flaws I didn’t find, so we just chatted and as soon as we left the coffee shop we kissed. I think we both tasted like burned coffee but it was the best kiss I have ever had. And so here we are. Proving that the program can help you find your soulmate.”

The audience applauds, and then Steve and Eddie leave the conference room, hand in hand, until they are far enough from the conference room they look at each other, “What do you think?”

“They totally eat up all that shit. Great work Stevie.” Eddie replies, giving him a high-five.

“You weren’t half bad either, Munson.” Steve replies with a wink, “Now let's make sure they transfer the money to our bank accounts.”

“Can believe your parents agreed to our little plan.”

“It’s their program. They want people to believe they can actually find their soulmate thanks to this program so… it’s a win-win, right?”

“Still convinced about the wedding?”

“I always wanted a big ceremony. I can give you a couple of months of my life before asking for a divorce.” Steve winks, “Now let’s go. This place stinks of stupidity.”

[spidersfanfics]

Seeing Stars

Venom x Eddie | Domestic Fluff | Ficlet

I finally watched Last Dance and thought too hard about domestic Symbrock, oops. Also the canon is really nebulous here, don't think too hard about it. I just thought this would be cute.

"What are we doing?" Venom asked out loud. Eddie had come out onto the balcony of their apartment that night after dinner and had been standing there, looking up at the sky for several minutes now. Venom did not appreciate the silence, nor did he quite understand what the point of this exercise was. So here he was, his head protruding out of Eddie’s shoulder from a mass of inky tendrils. He tilted back and forth, trying to follow Eddie’s gaze. "Are we looking for something?"

“I’m just stargazing, buddy,” Eddie laughed as he turned his attention to Venom’s antics. “It’s been a long day. I wanted to get some fresh air and calm my mind a little. That’s all.”

Venom turned to face Eddie and tilted his head in confusion. "Stargazing?"

“Yeah, look,” Eddie pointed up at the sky at a cluster of stars, “You can’t really see that many here in the city cause of all the light pollution. But that really bright one right there? That’s the north star. And you can follow it up to see the Big Dipper.”

"The what?"

Eddie scrunched his face up, trying to figure out how to explain. “A really long time ago, humans decided to connect the stars in the sky to make pictures,” he said, tracing the shape in the air with his finger. “They’re called constellations. You see how if you start with the north star you can see a sort of square and a tail? Like a spoon. That one’s called the Big Dipper.” He moved his hand a little, “There’s a smaller one too, the Little Dipper. But sometimes people call them bears instead of spoons. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.”

Venom squinted a the stars for a moment then laughed. "Humans are silly. There are no bears in the sky. Don’t they know there is nothing between those stars but empty space? Endless darkness."

“Yeah well, we hadn’t gotten advanced enough to figure all that out yet when we made these up,” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, humans like telling stories. It’s in our nature. There’s probably a story about the bears or something.” He drummed his fingers against the railing of the balcony and scanned the sky again. “Some of the constellations get extra special meanings by being part of the zodiac,” he told Venom.

"Zodiac?"

“A set of twelve constellations. Everyone gets to be represented by one of them depending on when in the year they’re born. Supposedly they determine things about your personality.” Eddie chuckled and looked over at Venom, expecting more snarky comments about the absurdity of humans.

To his surprise however, Venom was looking at him with an expression of happy amusement. As if he found the concept somehow endearing. "The stars are magic to humans?"

Eddie made a noncommittal expression, “Ehh, kind of? Like I said, this all comes from a long time ago.”

"What does your star say about you?" Venom asked curiously.

Eddie frowned and looked away. “Oh uhh, I’m pretty sure I’m a Virgo. Which would be… the sign of the virgin,” he coughed awkwardly though Venom didn’t seem to pick up on the reason for his embarrassment. “It means I’m supposed to be detail-oriented and hardworking and stuff. I dunno, it’s all just for fun really.”

"What about us?" Venom insisted. "What is our star?"

“Do you have a birthday?” Eddie wondered, “Although, I guess we can just use the day we met. That was near the end of May, wasn’t it? So you would be…” He pulled his phone out to do a quick search, “Ah, Gemini. The sign of the twins.” Eddie chuckled, “That’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s like duality, two becoming one.”

"Like us", Venom grinned and leaned over to nuzzle against Eddie’s cheek. "Why do you know so much about stars?" Venom asked as Eddie reached over to pet him on the head.

Eddie shrugged, “An old girlfriend was big into astrology. I just remember bits and pieces.” He laughed at the memory, “It’s funny, we met because she wrote the horoscopes for a newspaper I was writing for. But even though she was the one coming up with them, she was still totally convinced by the whole thing.”

"Old girlfriend", Venom mused, "Anne?"

Eddie shook his head, “No, no. This was way before I met you.”

Venom thought about this for a moment and frowned, "Before…" He drooped slightly below Eddie’s height and looked up to make intense eye contact. "We do not like thinking about before you became us." He said solemnly.

For a moment, Eddie could only stare in surprise at the sudden serious tone of Venom’s voice. But then he broke out in a laugh. “Oh buddy,” he said warmly as he reached out to stroke Venom’s face again. “We have the rest of our lives to make more memories of us. You don’t have to worry about my past.”

"Good." Venom purred, leaning into Eddie’s touch. "We like us."

“I like us too,” Eddie sighed, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was true.

There was a long silence as Eddie went back to looking up at the sky. Until eventually, Venom spoke up again. "We still do not understand this stargazing thing though", he confessed.

Eddie laughed, “Go back inside,” he suggested.

"But that’s boring too."

“Then look through my eyes.”

Venom considered this for a moment then melted back into Eddie’s body, leaving no trace of him left outside. Eddie felt Venom’s consciousness settle back into his own, fitting neatly in place. He blinked as Venom’s gaze shifted to line up with his own until they were both looking up at the same sky, seeing the same things. Venom fell quiet again, though he was quicker to speak up this time.  "To us the stars were never something to be admired," his voice rumbled in Eddie’s head. "They are too much light in our darkness. They would be better off eaten or otherwise extinguished. That is what we thought before."

“And now?” Eddie asked out loud, speaking softly as sleep began to beckon him back indoors. "Now we see the stars as you do," Venom’s voice too was uncharacteristically soft. "And they are beautiful."

[marvelouslyfluffy]

Breakfast in New York

Eddie Brock x Reader

You and Eddie spend some quality time in New York together after visiting the Statue of Liberty.

Word Count: 1,221

SPOILERS FOR VENOM: THE LAST DANCE

You faintly heard the bustling sounds of Times Square in the distance from your hotel bed as you slowly gained consciousness from your slumber. You and Eddie had decided to visit New York City to see the Statue of Liberty. Although the both of you were excited to be there, you both couldn’t help but feel bittersweet about the whole trip. After everything you and Eddie had been through just weeks ago, you knew that you both deserved a nice trip. However, it still felt odd without someone who should have been there with you. You tried to shake these thoughts from your head to attempt to sleep a little longer, but you heard stirring from the second bed on the other side of the room.

“Good morning, buddy,” you heard Eddie groggily mutter. Your eyes fluttered open and you turned to see he was lying on his back with his eyes still shut. You assumed he was dreaming when he suddenly said, “Hey, buddy.”

“Good morning, Eddie,” you replied softly. Eddie’s eyes slowly opened, staring at the ceiling for a moment as his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He turned his head in your direction to see you lying on your side, looking back at him with a hint of concern. He grinned at you as he awakened more.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N. I did it again, didn’t I?” he asked apologetically. You nodded in response.

Both of you were still grieving the loss of Venom. You knew Venom had saved not only you and Eddie, but the whole world when he stopped the Xenophages in the explosion at Area 51. It didn’t mean you don’t still wish things could have turned out differently. So many emotions rushed around in your head as you thought back to that night.

“I miss him, too,” Your voice cracked as you barely managed above a whisper. Your view of Eddie across the room became blurry as tears began to fill your eyes. You tried to compose yourself, but you began to feel warm tears stream down your cheeks. Eddie turned his whole body to face you and patted the empty spot next to him on his bed. You threw off your blankets and made your way to lie next to Eddie. All of your composure faded as you hugged yourself as close to him as you could.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you heard Eddie’s voice choke as you felt one of his hands hold the back of your head and the other slowly rub your back.

“I wish he could have seen the Statue of Liberty with us yesterday,” you quietly sobbed.

“I know. I wish he could have, too,” Eddie replies, his voice now sounding as sad as yours. You pulled away to look at him to see he was now also crying. You gave him a sympathetic look as you held the side of his face in your hand, wiping a tear away with your thumb. He gave a small smile and pulled you in even closer than you were before. Both of you spent a couple minutes holding each other and letting out tears for a friend you both loved and missed dearly. The feeling of being in the present moment, just being in each other’s company, made the grief a little easier to handle. You both knew nobody else in the world would truly understand what the three of you had been through.

“I’m glad we still have each other,” you admitted. Eddie pulled away and grinned at you lovingly.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Eddie replied as he began to stroke the top of your head. You grinned back at the gesture as you held his other hand. “You know something?”

“What?” you asked.

“I think he would be proud of us for being here,” he answered.

“I think he would be too,” you agreed.

“I know exactly what he would have said while we were at the Statue of Liberty,” Eddie chuckled.

“What’s that?” you asked as a larger smile started to form. Eddie cleared his throat and began to give his best Venom impression.

“Eddie, Y/N! It’s her! Can we climb it? It would be just like the woman and the giant gorilla in the movie we saw!” You began to giggle both at the accuracy of the voice and of Venom’s thoughts.

“Of course, we would have to tell him we couldn’t climb it. And besides, it was the Empire State Building he climbed, not the Statue of Liberty.”

“Then he would ask if we could visit that next so he could climb it!” Eddie joked. Both of you lied on your back and began to laugh the hardest you had in a while. After a few moments, you both sighed as your breathing began to slow. In that moment, your stomach growled loudly. Eddie turned to you with a raised eyebrow and you chucked sheepishly.

“Is your tummy saying that it’s time to get up?” Eddie asked, scrunching his nose.

“It can wait,” you reply as you cover your stomach with one hand.

“Breakfast does sound pretty good right about now. Why don’t we go ahead and get some since we’re awake?” Eddie suggests as he starts to push himself up.

“Not yet!” you playfully whine as you pull him back to lie next to you.

“What do you mean, not yet? Your body is clearly asking for food!” he lightly argues. “What are you in the mood for? Some eggs?” he asked as he poked your side.

“Hehey!” you giggled.

“No? What about bacon?” he suggested as he wiggled his finger against your other side. Your giggling became louder as you attempted to swat his hand away.

“Hmm… maybe sausage? Waffles? Cereal? French toast?” With each new suggestion, his finger moved to a different area of your belly. You tried to keep up with his hand to push it away, but Eddie was quick to dodge. Besides, the tingling feeling was not making your head very clear. All you could do was laugh.

“Oh, I know. How about... all of the above?” Eddie now used all five fingers to scribble on your belly.

“Hahahaha! Eddie, stop ihihit!” you shrieked in surprise.

“Are you going to get up now?” he asked as he continued wiggling his fingers all over your torso.

“Okay okay, fihihihine!” Eddie lifted his hand away to give you a chance to breathe. “On one condition.”

“And what is that?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I get to choose the Broadway show we see tonight,” you offered. Eddie thought about it for a moment but gave in once he saw your pleading eyes.

“Okay, whichever one you want,” he agreed.

“Thank you!” you leapt in his arms. He chuckled and hugged you back for a few moments. Now that you had a newfound energy, both of you were ready to finally start the day.

The breakfast was great and the Broadway show was even better. Although Eddie still didn’t fully understand why everyone was singing and dancing for the entire show, he liked it better than he expected to. Either way, it didn’t matter to him as long as he was with you. Even with Venom gone, you both knew that you would be each other’s protector.

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

Transfem Stevie who figures it out when she goes to a gay bar with Robin (post s3?) and meets another transwoman and has a Huh, you can do that? moment.

i sort of Went Off on this one lmaoo. bc im incapable of not steddifying everything this is now T4T Steddie 2: This Time They're Lesbians- with trans girl eddie cracking stevie's egg

PLEASE NOTE: this is set in the 80s, so they use kind of outdated terminology for trans people. also there's a d slur used in a positive, self-ID way. overall the vibes are good but the language is questionable. do with that what you will lol

When Robin asks Steve to be her ‘emotional support heterosexual’ (her words) for her first visit to an Indianapolis gay club, Steve prepares himself for a night of ‘hey, have you met my friend Robin’, pointedly not hitting on any girls, and politely declining offers of drinks and dances from guys until he’s buzzed enough to admit he’s curious. And so far, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Robin’s off dancing with a girl after Steve assured her about ten times that he’d be fine on his own. He’s just debating whether or not his inhibitions are lowered enough to go dancing when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice to his right.

“Steeeeeeeve Harrington.”

Steve turns, already cringing. Anyone who says his name with a tone like that is someone who is not going to be thrilled with seeing him in a gay club. The thing is, Steve has no idea who this person is. Can’t even really tell if they’re a guy or a girl. Their features are fairly masculine, all lean muscles and square chin, but they’ve got long, wild hair and heavy eye makeup. The cropped muscle tank with ‘Massive Dyke’ printed in lurid red muddies the waters even further.

“Oh, hey… uh…” Yeah, Steve’s pulling a complete blank. They look kind of familiar? He’s definitely seen them around. Somewhere. 

They roll their eyes. “Not surprised King Steve doesn’t recognise me. Especially looking like this. What are you doing here?”

Steve sighs a little. “I’m here with a friend. She was nervous to come alone so I’m here for moral support and wingmanning.”

“Yeah, sure,” they scoff, and Steve frowns even more.

“Look, I know I was a dick in high school. And I’m genuinely sorry if I was a dick to you. But that was four years ago. I’ve grown up, and I’m here to be a good friend. Can you let me do that?”

The person blinks, and then looks a little sheepish. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” they say, before extending a hand. “And it’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

Steve smiles and shakes the offered hand. “Oh, yeah! You ran that club my kids went to- dungeons and dragons, right? Cool to see you again, dude!”

Eddie’s face does a complicated little wiggle before- “Uh, not a dude, man.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m a girl, now. Still Eddie, though, it’s just short for Edith now. Have you heard of transsexuals?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m pretty new to this. I know, like. Five words.”

“Well, easiest way to put it is that I was born a guy, but I feel more like a girl, so now I’m, like, switching.”

“Switching…” Steve says, trying his best to look genuinely interested and confused. He generally doesn’t struggle too hard to look confused, but he’s a little worried Eddie will think he’s being a dick about it. “You can do that?”

Eddie snorts, gesturing down to herself. “Clearly.”

“Huh,” Steve says. Frankly, this is blowing his mind. “Why doesn’t everyone do that, then? Like, no one likes being a guy.”

“Ye- wait, what?”

“Like, the sexism of being a girl would suck, obviously. But everything else sounds great! Like, you get prettier clothes and you can wear makeup- and girls are so nice to other girls, I've always been kind of jealous of that.”

Eddie looks shocked, but Steve's on a roll now, almost forgetting she's there as he continues thinking aloud. “And like. Girls’ bodies are just. Better, y'know? Like what do guys have, muscles? Girls can have muscles too, but girls are just so… like, everyone wants boobs, right?”

Eddie has a strange look on her face. “I mean, I do. Because I’m transsexual.”

“When you’re transsexual, do you get boobs? Like, do you- wait, is that rude? I feel like I wouldn’t ask another girl about her boobs.”

Eddie’s silent for a moment, looking at Steve in bewilderment, before she seems to collect herself. She takes a swig of her beer and then smiles at him. It looks both welcoming and like she’s in on a secret, and puts Steve at ease. He can see why the kids were so obsessed with her in high school.

“You know what, ordinarily it would be kind of rude, but I have a feeling this conversation is… not what I thought it was gonna be,” she says, and Steve tilts his head a bit in confusion. “So yeah, I do have boobs. You can take estrogen as a little pill, and it basically does puberty for you again. You get boobs, a little extra fat on your hips and thighs, and your skin gets softer. Here, feel.”

And then Eddie takes Steve’s hand and slides it up her shirt. His brain immediately turns off. And yeah, there’s definitely a gentle swell there. They’re small, but Steve can feel the squish of them. Her nipples are pierced. Steve thinks he might die.

“Wow,” he squeaks, about five embarrassing octaves higher than his normal tone. “Cool!”

Eddie grins as she removes his hand from her tit. “Yeah, cool. I’d let you fondle them a little more, sweetheart, but they’re still growing. Kind of sore.”

Steve blushes, rubbing his hand on his thigh and desperately trying to will his boner down. “Man, I wish I could grow boobs,” he sighs, a little wistfully.

“You can, y’know,” Eddie says, with a little chuckle and a soft smile. “What’s stopping you?”

That. Steve hasn’t considered that. A hundred things come to his lips- he’s not like that, he’s not one of those- a hundred things that he knows are absolutely terrible reasons. If Robin were here she’d either be whacking him upside the head or giving him that really sad look she does whenever he’s mean to himself.

“Hey,” Eddie says, speaking softly and laying a gentle hand on Steve’s knee. It shocks him out of his spiral as he looks up into her big brown eyes. “Y’know, I’ve got some makeup in my van. If you wanted to try some things out. No one here will judge you.”

“I- yeah,” Steve is breathless. “I’d like that. Uh- my friend-”

“Oh, is she real? I’ll be honest, I kinda thought you were doing the ‘oh I’m not gay I’m just here for a friend’ thing.”

Laughing, Steve looks out over the crowd. “No, she’s real. Let me just let her know I’ll be gone for a moment- honestly she’s probably halfway to third base with some girl anyway-”

And sure enough, Robin is more than ready to let Steve wander off once he peels her off a pretty girl on the opposite side of the club. He rejoins Eddie, who leads him down the street towards her van and helps him into the back. She takes out her makeup bag, cracking jokes about their wildly different styles while she delicately brushes powder over his face. She generously refrains from threatening to take his eye out with the eyeliner pencil (more than once at least), and apologises for not having anything more ‘babygirl’ than her bright red lipstick. Steve can definitely say this is the most fun he’s ever had in the back of a van.

Finally, masterpiece done, Eddie rummages in her bag for a little compact, presenting it to Steve with a dumb little bow. Steve takes it with a roll of his eyes, and prepares himself with a deep breath.

The person in the mirror is beautiful. Glowing skin, huge doe eyes lined with smokey eyeliner and lashes a mile long, practically sinful lips. Steve almost doesn’t recognise himself, except that he does. He really, really does, in a way he now realises he never really has before. It’s the first time he’s ever looked at his face in the mirror and not wanted to change anything.

“You’re a really pretty girl, Stevie,” Eddie says with a gentle smile.

Steve can’t look away from the mirror. “Yeah,” she says, a red-lipped grin stretching across her face. “I really am.”

[victoria-ward420]

Night City, 2077 – The Concrete Jungle

The rain falls in a steady, cold drizzle, catching the neon light of advertisements that flash relentlessly above. The city is alive, but indifferent—cars buzz by on cracked roads, drones fly overhead, and pedestrians walk with eyes down, lost in their own battles. But here, in the heart of the city, is Valentina Rose, a figure who commands attention whether she desires it or not. Her past is as convoluted as the steel and concrete that make up this cybernetic jungle.

Born into the chaotic world of the Valentinos, the city’s largest street gang with a cult-like dedication to their code, Valentina was raised to embrace the culture of family, loyalty, and honor. Her father, a high-ranking member, had big dreams for her, but Valentina had other plans. Her brilliance couldn’t be confined to the streets—no, she was destined for something greater, something sharper.

Arasaka, the corporation that ruled over Night City with an iron grip, had been her ticket out. She climbed through the ranks quickly, using her unmatched intellect and ruthless ambition to become one of their most valuable netrunners. She wore the sleek, high-end suits and dealt in cold, calculated data warfare. For years, she was a queen among sharks, holding her own, mastering the cyberverse with skills few could even fathom. Multiple degrees in finance, engineering, biology—she was the definition of a corporate asset.

But corporations never see people—they only see assets. And when assets become liabilities, they’re discarded like old tech.

One botched job. That’s all it took for Arasaka to throw her to the wolves. A mission went sideways, sabotaged from within, and the failure was pinned squarely on her. Fired. Exiled. Just another disposable asset, discarded by a company that never really valued her.

To make it worse, her boss—no, her lover—the one person she thought she had some semblance of a future with, cut ties with her just as fast. One moment they were sharing drinks in the Afterlife, talking about the next big score; the next, she was blacklisted, shut out of the corporate world she had worked so hard to infiltrate.

Now, she’s a mercenary for hire, navigating the harsh underbelly of Night City, where the lines between man and machine blur, where loyalty is bought with eddies and lost just as fast. But Valentina is no ordinary merc. No, her seductive charm and deadly skills have made her infamous. She doesn’t take just any job—she’s selective, only going after high-profile targets that promise to push her to the limits. Her success rate? 99%. The whispers of the streets speak of her in awe and fear—few have seen her fail, and none have lived to tell the tale.

Her skills are unparalleled. A master netrunner who can breach systems faster than most can blink, wielding viruses like weapons of war. But her proficiency doesn’t stop there. MMA? She can break bones like they’re nothing. Sharp-shooting? Her aim is as precise as any Corpo assassin. Weapon mastery? Few can wield a katana or fire a smart rifle with her finesse. And perhaps most dangerous of all, she’s an expert in human behavior and seduction. She reads people like she reads the net—breaking down their defenses with a smile or a well-placed word.

Tonight – Another Job, Another Dance with Danger

The rainwater splashes up as Valentina walks through the grimy backstreets of Watson, her cybernetic eyes scanning the buildings, the people, always alert. Her deck, a sleek chrome beauty strapped to her back, pulses softly, feeding her constant updates from the net. Messages. Alerts. Data flowing through her like blood.

A new contract had come in hours ago. A high-profile Arasaka executive. The kind of target that could make a merc rich, or get them killed. But this wasn’t just another contract. This was personal.

Arasaka. The same corpo that had discarded her like trash now had a price on the head of one of its own. There’s a certain satisfaction in that. An irony she can’t help but savor.

Her HUD flares to life as her neural link catches an incoming message. A faint shimmer of static runs through her vision before the words appear in glowing text.

“Meet me at Afterlife. We need to talk.”

No name. Just a cryptic handle she recognizes—NightOwl, someone she hasn’t heard from in years. Someone from her past life.

Valentina pauses for a moment under the flashing neon lights of a convenience store. The rain patters against her leather jacket, and the cool mist clings to her skin, but her mind is already calculating. She knows this could be a trap. The streets are full of hunters who’d love to cash in on her head. But it could also be something more—a chance for information, for revenge. The Afterlife isn’t far. A place where the ghosts of Night City’s legends walk, a sanctuary for mercs who survive long enough to make a name.

She taps a quick command into her deck, checking the feeds for any signs of surveillance. No immediate red flags—yet.

Valentina’s dark eyes flicker with cold determination as she makes her decision. She adjusts her katana at her side, tightens the straps on her deck, and begins her walk toward the Afterlife.

The Afterlife – A Den of Shadows

The Afterlife looms before her—an old morgue turned merc bar, now a haven for the best of the best, or the ones who think they are. It’s a place where stories are made, where deals are brokered, and where the wrong move can get you a bullet to the head.

Valentina steps through the heavy doors, her presence causing a ripple through the patrons. She knows what she looks like. Confident. Lethal. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders, a stark contrast to her sleek white jacket and the tattoos that snake down her arms. Eyes follow her, but none dare approach. Not yet.

She makes her way to the bar, every step calculated, purposeful. The bartender, a familiar face, nods in recognition but doesn’t engage in small talk. He knows better. Mercs don’t come here to chat. They come to work.

As she waits for her contact to show, Valentina scans the room with subtle glances. The atmosphere is thick with tension, the air humming with the sounds of hushed conversations and the clinking of glasses. Somewhere in this room, someone knows more about her current contract than they’re letting on.

Moments later, a figure slides into the seat beside her. NightOwl—his once-sharp features now weathered by time and danger. He doesn’t speak at first, just orders a drink, taking his time to settle into the moment. Valentina watches him from the corner of her eye, her mind already dissecting his body language. He’s nervous, but not afrai yet. Finally, he speaks, voice low and guarded. “Valentina, I knew you’d take the job. But there’s more to it than you think. They’re watching you. Arasaka never really lets go.”

She arches an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer, her voice a seductive purr hiding the razor-sharp edge beneath. “Let me guess, you’re here to warn me out of the goodness of your heart?” He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hardly. I have my reasons. And if you want to survive this, you’ll need to listen. This isn’t just about taking down some corpo suit. It’s bigger. A lot bigger.”Valentina leans back in her chair, crossing her legs slowly as she considers his words. She can feel the weight of the night pressing in around her, the undercurrents of danger that pulse just beneath the surface.

[m3r1m4r5u333]

Btw I NEED TO ramble about the scene in which Buck comes out to Maddie and why it just makes me love her even more than I did before. Maddie is my freaking GOAT ❤️❤️❤️

Why? Well, because she already KNEW. She TOTALLY KNEW. And still pretended to be surprised!!

Why do I say she knew? Well. Because it's 100% canon that Buck rambles about his boy crushes, a lot. A LOT. To everyone!!!

I can't remember how much I've talked about this, but Buck totally had a crush on Albert at one point. There's an whole storyline about it, episodes 4x07 and 4x08.

Here's a recap of how it goes:

Buck goes on a date with Veronica. The date goes BADLY. It lasts for about 90 minutes and Buck leaves humiliated, never wanting to see her again.

Albert is Buck's room mate. Buck comes home, rants about the embarrassing date, announces that he never wants to see Veronica again... Goes to take out the trash, and runs across Veronica, realising that she's their neighbour, lives in the same building. Buck runs home and urgently tells Albert that they have to move!!

Then... Buck knocks on Veronica's door, trying to reconciliate. He does not want awkwardness between neighbours. They agree that the date was terrible, and then... Albert walks out of the shower in a towel.

Next... We see Buck and Taylor (she's a reporter) at work. They're watching a guy who's having a meltdown on a low roof. The emergency is taking forever, Taylor and Buck talk... Or rather.. Buck does!!

Not only does he rant about Albert and Veronica to Taylor, he also talks about them to a random first responder. Albert in a towel!!! has certainly left Buck reeling. It's super obvious that the one Buck actually fancies is Albert. The one date with Veronica was terrible, they definitely weren't ever in a relationship -- but Buck is sputtering about "breaking of bro code!!" and Albert in a towel?? Yeah.

They're not the only ones hearing about Albert. There's also a scene (can't recall which episode) where Chimney and Maddie enter a karaoke bar. Chimney says something about this being nice reprise because he's heard enough about Albert lately...

Anyway, back to Veronica/Buck/Albert/Taylor. Buck invites Taylor on a double date - without telling her it's a double date. Taylor arrives, takes in the queer love square she's been pulled into, very pointedly says that she's heard A LOT about Albert because Buck keeps talking about him... And then she's like "Actually I'm off, this is ridiculous.", and storms off (go queen 👑!)... (Then she and Buck reconciliate. Her capacity to forgive is unparalled, just saying.)

Anyway, back to WHY I LOVE MADDIE. (And Chimney!!!)

The crush on Albert isn't the only obvious boy crush Buck has, is it?

Eddie... The way they meet and Buck goes nuts trying to impress Eddie. The peacocking (mutual peacocking!!!!) is absolutely ridiculous. Chimney watches this mating display dance, shakes his head, rolls his eyes, chuckles to himself... Chimney can tell what's going on, for sure.

Then there's that famous scene in which Buck rambles about Eddie and Chris, is apparently elbows deep online researching for ways to help Eddie with Christopher... Maddie finally asks if the boy crush on Eddie means that Buck is over Abby.

... And there is of course also that scene where Buck assumes that when Maddie meets Chimney and says "he's so cute!", Maddie is talking about Eddie... Even though Maddie and Chimney are before line that seen talking and flirting like they're totally in their own bubble.

Anyway - then let's jump to season 7. Buck is rambling on and on about Eddie and Tommy, and how they've hit off. Apparently has for a good while. Buck is super bothered by their friendship, it's clear he's pressing Chris for intel, snooping around the Diaz home trying to find more information... Maddie listens to this absolutely ridiculous, clueless prattling. And she knows. She totally knows.

Buck is GLASS. He's absolutely transparent. This man isn't straight.

And she's not the only one who knows.

Chimney enters the room. Maddie looks at him "NO! Don't you dare say anything!!!" But Chimney can't resist indulging himself with some subtle teasing.

He jumps in, praising Tommy. "That Tommy's SO COOL 😍!!" Basically just adding fuel to the fire, getting under Buck's skin.

Maddie, in the background is making a face like:

"jdjdkkeke CHIMNEY 🤦 ...Ugh, thank you, darling. 🙄👌You've done it. I'll be here all day, listening to this absolutely brainless jealous meltdown. Fucking great!"

So...

Why won't they say anything, talk to Buck about how ridiculous he's being? Sit him down and spell:

YOU AREN'T STRAIGHT. YOUR BOY CRUSHES CAN BE SEEN FROM OUTER SPACE. Wake up!!

Well... Because they are being patient. Because they are being considerate, because they do not want to press him, because they're letting him take his time, figure it out at his own pace.

Because they know that confronting someone who isn't ready to face their queerness can go badly.

Forcing someone to confront their queerness can backlash, it can make that person retreat further inside the closet.

It can be embarrassing and traumatizing for the closeted person to be pressed about this inner conflict. The closet is a maze, it is scary, and confusing, and the denial can be powerful enough that the closeted person doesn't even have any idea that hey, I'm queer, I'm closeted.

So Maddie and Chimney are being sensitive. They see that Buck isn't ready to talk about his sexuality - he's obviously not even aware of it.

So Maddie and Chimney are giving him the time he needs to come to term with it. They may indulge in some gentle teasing, maybe try to give him the occasional hint to help him along, but mostly they're just waiting, listening, letting him be.

So!!!!

What about Maddie's (my GOAT, I love her ❤️) reaction to Buck coming out? Why did she pretend to be surprised by Buck's attraction to men?

Because she was being KIND. Considerate. Because she loves her brother and realises that this moment... It's not about her. It's about him. It's about the reaction Buck needs, to feel supported.

It's not the time to embarrass him. It's not the time to GLOAT about how smart she is, to have realised, ages ago, that Buck is clearly into into men, too.

She did see it coming, and because she is the BEST sister ever... She prepared. She researched this shit, how to react to someone's coming out in a positive way.

And if this is new to you - pay attention now...

Many queer people say this about their coming out;

It sucks if the person you're coming out goes "I KNEW IT! I CALLED IT! I SAW THIS COMING! YOU WERE SO OBVIOUS!!"

Because it totally belittles their struggle. It can be humiliating to learn that when you were scared, and stressed, and confused, and trying to hide your vulnerable underside... Someone was watching you, and thinking "Pffft. You're so freaking obvious. You're fooling nobody. Just come out already."

This gloating "I knew it" reaction isn't just bad because it makes you feel stupid, embarrassed, to learn that you were being transparent. It's like you have no privacy anymore. They saw your performance and gave it one star.

This "Oh I knew"... It makes you anxious because then you wonder... Who else already knows? Who else am I obvious to? What else am I obvious about?

Learning that they knew... It can be traumatizing. Embarrassing. Scary. Because nobody wants to learn that they're easy to read.

Maybe... you aren't ready to come out to everyone, and this reaction makes you terrified that you won't have the option to get ready, that they will realise what you're hiding, and force you to talk about it.

Because maybe... you're still freaked out abour people knowing you're queer. Maybe you fear people spotting it and lashing out.

Or maybe... You aren't afraid of a hateful reaction, but panic at the idea of even a supportive talk about your sexuality with someone. Sexuality is an universal taboo, talking about is awkward and stressful to almost everyone.

And also, when you come out and the person you told tells you they already knew, that your queerness was obvious, and they were expecting you to come out..?

It can be a shock in another way. Maybe your queerness was something you, at some point, were desperate to hide from others... And clearly, you failed that mission. What else are you failing to hide? Because everyone has something they're insecure about!!! Secrets, traumas, embarrassing moments, vulnerable parts. We all try to guard something.

So being told that your poker face sucks? It can make you feel totally paranoid. You think... Omg. I thought I was hiding this. I tried so hard to hide this.

But clearly I wasn't hiding. They saw right through me. Am I always so easy to read?

Do people know all my secrets, everything that makes me nervous and embarrassed, and scared? Do they just look at me and think "They're so dumb to put up that front, we can totally tell how you really think and feel."

Do people look at me and laugh? Do they joke about me behind my back?

And so on.

Basically, when someone comes out to you and you go "Thank god! ABOUT TIME!!"... You're being a prick.

They're opening up to you. They are being vulnerable. They are trusting you with something.

This moment... Your reaction is important. If you want to be a good ally, and support this person coming out to you.

Your job is to provide reassurance. Support. A listening ear. Your love.

Your job isn't to gloat, or dismiss their fears. Your job is not to induce panic, paranoia, or humiliate them by making them feel dumb.

They may be scared of your reaction. Respect that fear, however irrational it is. It doesn't matter if you're queer too, or think you're the best ally in the world, this moment can still be something they've been nervous about. Don't shit on it by smugly gloating about your excellent queerdar.

Yes, you can be honest, if they desperately want to know if you suspected anything. You can gently tell them that you saw some signs. But really, this moment isn't the time to humiliate them or freak them out. Be sensitive.

....

.... Oops sorry, got lost in the ramble 😅😅!!

Uh... Where was I? Yes.

Basically what I wanted to say with this post is that...

Maddie. Freaking. Buckley!!!! You are the love of my life, does not matter that you are fictional. You're my freaking GOAT anyway. I'm... weak.

Because her reaction to Buck's coming out?!!!

Jdjdjjdjdbndnd.

It actually makes me emotional. It was so perfect. It was so full of love!!!

Because yes, she totally knew, had known for years...

AND she kept that knowledge to herself!!!!

Because she'd seen Buck, the closet he was so lost inside in, and she loves Buck... So she wanted to be there for him.

And she knew that it's not easy to come to terms with one's queerness. That it can be tough and scary.

So she thought "What can I do to help? How can I do my best to support my queer brother?"...

And rolled up her sleeves. She researched this. She found out it's not helpful to press someone, that it's important to be patient. She looked up the experiences of queer people coming out. What is helpful! What isn't! She came up with a plan.

Yes, she totally did. I'm telling you, she fucking studied for this test. To make sure her reaction would be freaking perfect, and help Buck on this journey.

Because she did everything right. She realised that letting Buck know how obvious his bisexuality was to her... Might be detrimental to his well-being, and their relationship.

She understood that it wasn't important that she'd known.

That it wasn't her time to brag about how clever she was, to have seen this coming, but to be sensitive of this struggle, to respect this struggle.

So when the day finally came... She was surprised, yes, to realise Buck had been on a date with a man.

I mean, it came out of the blue, right? Buck had been so oblivious to his closet. She'd missed the moment Buck became aware of the closet, and immediately ran on a date.

She thought Buck was still in the dark, so him suddenly going on a date with a man never even entered her mind as an option.

Then she realised... OH. He IS there? He has figured this out. He's coming out to me, now?

Okay!!! Let's follow the game plan then.

Be sensitive. Don't act like you were totally expecting this day to come.

The identity of the date? That was the real surprise. I mean, just watch the previous scene in which Buck talks about Tommy and Eddie with her.

He does rant about Tommy, but c'mon... It's really Eddie's attention Buck craves.

It's basically a re-telling of Buck's love tangle with Veronica, Taylor and Albert. Buck told himself he wanted Veronica, and that's why it bothered him that Albert "broke the bro code".... In a towel! Except, the one who Buck wouldn't shut up about... Was Albert.

And Maddie sees that it's happening AGAIN. Wow... Her brother really has no idea WHO he is actually crushing on.

Okay, she thinks. Does not matter now! The coming out is the important part, so let's roll with it. Focus, Maddie! Get it right.

And she did. She was patient. She was supportive. She sae that Buck was trying to run from the topic of sexuality like it was a total nonevent that he'd been on a date with a man...

So she was like "Hey, let's just slow down a bit. Let's acknowledge this moment. I now know that you were on a date with a man. You don't need to continue this pronoun game.

Okay. Let's talk about it being a first date with a man, and what this step means to you. You can tell me."

Really, she was so lovely. She didn't gloat about already knowing, she didn't stress him out by being overly emotional - by acting like this was the biggest event to happen on Earth.

She calmed him down.

She made sure to let him know that this didn't scare her, or make her feel awkward.

That she wanted him to talk about this with her. That she was excited for him, and supportive, and wanted to know more, and that it was okay to date a man.

That she would want to know about Buck's relationships with men just like she'd wanted to know abour her relationships with women.

She let him know that she was there for him, ready to listen, and glad to hear he'd been on a date with a man.

That this didn't change a thing, that she would accept and welcome Buck's male partners just as she had always accepted the women he'd dated. The gender made no difference, she was fine with whoever Buck chose to date.

And she also made sure the mood didn't turn too heavy. She let him know that this was great news, something worth celebrating. That she was excited to see him enter this new chapter in his life, and experience new things.

And that she wanted to learn of it, she wanted him to share this new stuff, let her in his life. So tell me more about this hot pilot!

Jdjbdbdnndnd!!!

Really, she was fucking fantastic. This was such a lovely scene. I love Maddie, she's my favorite. I need a tissue, I'm crying.

Oh and also. It wasn't just great writing. The acting here just blew me away. I love them. So skilled, so lovely, so funny, so human. Brilliant, beautiful, both of them. Fucking impeccable.

[londonfog-chan]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Rite Here, Rite Now Part 2

I listened to Square Hammer at least 57 times this week trying to figure out how to describe it in like two sentences pls send help.

Part 1 , Part 2 (You are here)

***

If someone told you that you’d be sitting in a stranger’s garage, white knuckling your linen skirt while your crush was playing - on his own actual guitar - a stupid song you wrote for him, you’d have called that person a liar and bitten them for playing with your emotions.

You were in hell. This garage was hell. Not Eddie though. He was pure heaven, like having the real honest to god Eddie Van Halen rocking out next to you (a crush you’d harbored since 1981 when he married your favorite daytime television actress. Eddie Munson resembled Van Halen perfectly in your mind and you tried your damnedest to look cute enough to be his Bertinelli). Despite the fact that Corroded Coffin was positively butchering your melody and holding you hostage to replay the same bars over and over again, you tried to remain positive and focus on the fact that you had made Eddie smile with something you’d made for him.

It seemed that he was obsessed with your piss poor excuse of a song. He was enthusiastically playing along to it within minutes of hearing the first few notes. You got to see him shred on his guitar, and Eddie had even proudly told you what kind of guitar it was when you asked: a 1984 BC Rich Warlock, his “black beauty”, and you still had no idea what BC Rich meant but the full name had the word “warlock” in it and that sounded so fucking wicked. You liked warlocks. And you liked that Eddie had a warlock.

There wasn’t anything he could do wrong. Ever since you came to Hawkins, Eddie had been your dream boy. He treated you like a person, someone worthy of kindness despite the fact you wore baggy clothes and a sullen expression all the time. Everyone else said hateful, ignorant shit about you. It wasn’t easy being the new kid in town, and you did this same song and dance often moving from place to place. Never quite fitting in. Skirting on the outside of groups, always the lone wolf, until the day your world changed when you came to school with your Sony Walkman headphones blasting Anthrax and a very handsome stranger stopped you in the hall by your locker to talk thrash metal.

Said handsome stranger was still torturing you with the wrong kind of sound you’d had in mind for “Square Hammer”. Admittedly you weren’t a thrash metal aficionado. Your tastes were more fantastical, glam and glitz and big theatrics were what you liked best about music, especially when it came to metal. The more flashy aspects fascinated you because they were everything you didn’t have it in you to be. You were the antithesis of flashy. Square Hammer was your poor attempt at breaking into Eddie’s world, try as you might to listen to bands like Megadeth and Sepultura, you couldn’t help but to imagine more grandiose sounds for the vision you had for his song. Metal to you was like reading Poe or Stoker. Dark and mysterious, alien to you, that you couldn’t help but envision something similar for Corroded Coffin.

“Is something the matter sweetheart?”

You felt warmth on your hand. A veiny hand with a mood ring enveloped yours, and you looked up to see concern written all over Eddie’s face as his big sad eyes stared down into your soul.

“Huh!?” You exclaimed. “Oh yeah… I’m fine…”

You tried to put a false smile on your face to hide the fact that you were being eaten up with the ick at the unpolished sound. But Eddie saw right through you.

“Not with your hands looking like you’re ready to rip your skirt up.” he said, standing close to you, “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… I don’t want to sound like a cunt…” you mumbled.

“Hey… you won’t sound like a cunt.” Eddie said, “We’re musicians. If something is going wrong with the vision you have to tell us so we can make it better. We're a team, that includes you. Your input is valuable, and we want to hear it.”

You grimaced. His gentle words weren’t very reassuring. Especially not when you were hiding your mean perfectionist thoughts and trying but failing to be this image of a cute, cuddly creature that Eddie would fawn over. But you knew: he wouldn’t relent and let you stay quiet. He’d get the truth out one way or another, or you would just blurt it out in a shitty way.

“Okay… Well, it’s just that every time we start I know the intent is to let the Casio speak up for itself, and then everyone else just jumps in…” you began.

Eddie nodded, encouraging you to continue as the guys came over. They crowded you and they keyboard, staring at you as they listened intently.

“... I hate it. It’s making the song way too jarring. For the vision I had for this, you’d want to warm everyone up a bit, not scare the shit out of them with every guitar and percussion line dog piling on at once. Dougie’s bass line is also way off, too choppy and it doesn’t get to exist and unfurl. And the worst part is that the Casio is way too weak in the intro. If you want it to have a voice it’s going to need back up really badly during that first fifteen seconds to allow the listener to really lean into the first verse. I get that you want to pack a punch and beat the shit out of some eardrums, but do it gradually, otherwise it just sounds like a bunch of sloppy noise.”

You were just blabbering at that point, trying to convey poorly what you had envisioned and how you imagined the whole ensemble would sound in your head. Not once did you dare to look up and see what expressions the boys were making as you continued to dress down their rendition. Eventually, you got so tired of hearing your own voice you began to quiet down. That was it, you thought you fucked everything up, and that they would all tell you to get the hell out of Gareth’s garage and never come back.

But to your surprise, the boys were actually all deep in thought. Listening intently to your criticism, and from the looks of things plotting. Hands on chins. Strategizing as if they were looking at an invisible chessboard. It was similar to how the group operated during a particularly intense one-shot, evaluating the miniatures as they were laid out on the map, quietly strategizing each player’s next move and brains working overtime to visualize every possible outcome.

“What if we add a bit of a light duet to the beginning with the Casio?” Eddie asked you suddenly, “Like if I follow along with you just low enough to give you that extra oomph, but really allow you to let the keys shine.”

“Um… I think maybe it could work.” You began.

“Y’know Ed, I think even a slide at the beginning could work with both the Warlock and the keys.” Interjected Dougie, then to you he said, “I kind of get what you mean, by itself the keyboard sounds too fucking lighthearted, you want to really let the intro get a chance to warm everyone up before diving right the hell into it.”

“Honestly yeah, as it stands, ‘Square Hammer’ is almost psychedelic kitsch.” Gareth said, his leg nervously striking the bass pedal and making it boom along time to his leg shaking, “Not what comes to mind when we consider the direction we want to go. But I feel like working more metal riffs, maybe let that bass purr a little and the Warlock work her magic, we could salvage it from being total shit.”

“It’s not that bad to be considered kitsch.” Jeff interjected. “I think it has potential to be at least our one hard rock track if we can come together to add that metal magic-…”

You were shocked. Completely flabbergasted as the boys continued to talk amongst themselves. They weren’t acting like giant man babies about your criticism, and instead were meeting it back with critique of their own. As if they wanted to engage with what you created, regardless of if they all liked it or not. While the consensus seemed that you were outmatched four to one as to how you wanted to proceed with ‘Square Hammer’, it didn’t bother you that they were obstinate in keeping their vision. In fact, you began to get excited, looking at your Casio keys with newfound vigor and passion that you had not felt in many years.

It was exciting to collaborate with Eddie’s passion project. The prospect of helping him to create something wonderful was filling you with an excitement that made your heart soar. You felt part of the collective. Welcomed. Accepted even as Eddie then turned and smiled at you.

“Alright folks, let’s try one more time and see if we can’t bring this together. And you sweetheart, I can’t stress this enough- let’s keep those ideas coming. Don’t be afraid to share with the rest of the class!”

“I’m afraid if you give me enough leeway, the cunty thoughts will really start coming out…” you grimaced.

Eddie laughed, loudly and obnoxiously, as though you were the funniest person on earth.

“Sweetheart, this is the most we’ve ever come together to sound unified. At this point we’re counting on your cunty ideas to make something presentable.”

You gave a laugh, a determined nod, and then you all began the arduous process again. To anyone else it would have seemed to simple to voice your opinions, but for you, often afraid to let your passions for perfection show, it was a big step and you were proud of yourself for speaking up. Once the awkwardness of letting out your thoughts went away, you started to become intensely interested in getting this song to the next level. You brought up percussions on your Casio to show Gareth what you had in mind for drum support during the intro. Eddie worked out the right slide technique with Dougie for a sultry purr of the bass at the beginning that had chills running down your spine when you heard it for the first time. He let one note hang on until the full ensemble of the band built up to the crescendo, and that simple act of gradual additions helped elevate the sound of the music to an entirely new plane of existence.

The new sound for your song was snappy, unified, and it paved the way for Eddie and Jeff to make magic with their dual combination of rhythm and riff. The difference was incomparable to the humble beginnings of your song. By the time everyone was comfortable with the work they had done, Gareth’s mother was already descending the stairs to the garage from the house to tell you all to go home, as practice was cutting it close to the prompt time that the neighbors could legally report you all for noise ordinance violations.

It was amazing. You were almost disappointed when you packed up your Casio with Eddie’s help. Dougie, Jeff and Gareth approached you one by one to thank you for your contributions, for taking time to come, and for writing them such a wonderful song. They didn’t linger to shower you in praise, but they each seemed to have a glint in their eyes as Eddie stayed by your car with you.

“Sweetheart, you were incredible today!” Eddie praised, “The guys are over the moon with you, thank you so much for your help and for your song.”

“… I didn’t think you guys would like it when I first came up with it…” you said, “I know the sound isn’t exactly traditional heavy metal… But it felt like the song was missing something every time I tried to keep it confined to one style. I wanted more avant-garde, and I immediately hated it. I wanted to make something that you would like.”

“Give yourself some credit. You are one hell of a musician.” Eddie said, leaning into your space as you looked away nervously. “You have your own visions, willingness to experiment, and one hell of an ear for notes. That’s not something just anybody can do. I loved what you did with “Square Hammer”, it’s fresh and edgy and the guys absolutely loved working through the kinks.”

You couldn’t help but smile, rubbing your shoe into the gravel of Gareth’s driveway.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, then continued anyway, “I almost pussied out. I didn’t want to show up today with garbage so I considered staying home. But when I thought of you, how disappointed you’d be if I didn’t show, I realized I’d be betraying you. I didn’t want to do that. So I had to nut up and show anyway.”

You looked from the corner of your eye: Eddie was positively beaming. The glow of the streetlight illuminated his dark brown eyes into a soft cognac color, his hair surrounded by a golden halo glow. He looked like an angel when he smiled at you like that.

“I’m glad you didn’t puss out.” He said softly. “You brought a bitchin’ performance, and I know I speak for all of Corroded Coffin when I say we were honored to have you here with us. That melody you made? Damned fine divine intervention sweetheart. And that’s coming from the number one metalhead in Hawkins.”

His face was inches from yours, and you couldn’t look away nervously. You didn’t want to. Something about the way he looked at you, so pure and sweet, it had you drawn in. So close that your noses were touching and you found you didn’t mind it one bit. Your heart didn’t race, in fact it felt so warm your eyes became half lidded in anticipation of closing your lids and meeting lips.

“Eddie… Thank you…” you whispered. “That means a lot to me… Thank you for everything… Thank you for inviting me over and for asking me for help, for inviting me into your world. This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“You’re always welcome here…” Eddie whispered back, lips just centimeters from yours as he moved closer, encircling his arms around your waist as you welcomed his touch. “You’ve got a fire in you that’s unlike anyone else I’ve ever met before… And I’m so damned grateful I have the privilege of knowing you.”

Both of you stayed that way for a long, hungry time, until you met together in a soft kiss. His lips were a little chapped, but you didn’t care. He was so warm, encircling you protectively and pouring everything he had into the kiss, it was better than you could have ever conceived of. Being there with him in the silence of the coming night, you felt so safe. Protected. As though there was no where else on earth you would rather be.

You carried that high with you, all the way home to your bedroom where you crawled into bed with your trapper keeper and a pen, intending to write Eddie yet another song. Only this one would be different. It would speak from the heart, tell him how you really felt, and hopefully expand your bright future as a couple when the morning came.