#he’s starting the road to indy next year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 months ago

Text

reading update: October 2024

hello, ahoy, and welcome to my October reading recap.

I made a real effort to focus on spooOOOoooky books this month, in the name of the season; you may even recall that I started early and read some spooky stories at the tail end of September. (read Carmen Maria Machado's comic The Low, Low Woods, btw.)

I've never been great at sticking to a theme but I think it helped that what gets classified as "horror" can vary greatly, so I never really got bored of the genre. I did get disappointed more than once by how Not Spooky some of these books turned out to be, but that's a totally different question.

right at the end of the month you'll notice a couple of outliers with Caped Crusade and Luster, which happened entirely because I was out of library books and on the road for a conference, so I was reading what I could get my hands on! I've been working on rereading Caped Crusade on and off for a couple months and I bought Luster at a cool indie bookstore in the town I was visiting and then inhaled most of it on the way home.

ANYWAY. to the books!

And Then I Woke Up (Malcolm Devlin, 2022) - this is a novella with an interesting spin on the zombie story, where the "zombies" are actually people who have started suffering hallucinations that fill them with paranoia and force them see other people as monsters. so, like, there were never any REAL monsters, but a woman looked at her young son and saw him as a cannibalistic monster, so she killed him. so who's the real monster? it's very deep. this story's explanation for this is "the narrative," an idea so strong that it simply seems to take hold of anyone who's around a sufficiently charismatic ringleader who drives them to join in their delusions and kill innocents who don't share their worldview. it's not a super subtle zombie metaphor, but I guess very few zombie metaphors are. it's fine.

Through the Woods (Emily Carroll, 2014) - I truly wholeheartedly wish I had more to say about this but it's just a very charming creepy collection of comics. my favorite was the one that was the scariest, involving humans getting taken over by body-snatching worm monsters, but on the whole it was a very minor creepy factor. the art's great the whole way through.

Happy Medium (Sarah Adler, 2024) - Happy Medium is October's romance novel as picked by my patreonites, and I will admit: my hopes were not high going in. a conwoman posing as a psychic clashing with a skeptical hottie goat farmer didn't ping me as a great mix, but honestly? HONESTLY? it kind of served. there was a much more well-rounded emotional core to this book than I often encounter in my romance novels; at risk of sounding like a cornball it genuinely had a lot of heart. the conwoman is actually extremely charming, I was rooting for her in a big way, and her emotional journey goes so far beyond just falling in love with the goat farmer. I'll happily claim Happy Medium as my #1 romance of the year unless a challenger arises in the next two months, but it's not looking likely.

The Ones That Got Away (Stephen Graham Jones, 2010) - this is a collection of Graham's short stories that was published long before he became a huge name in horror with books like The Only Good Indians and My Heart Is a Chainsaw. and as much as I hate to say it, I think I personally prefer his longer form fiction. none of these short stories were bad, per se, and they're incredibly stylized and polished, but I think I like Jones' work a lot more when it has time to simmer out. I may have also been biased by the fact that I was desperately seeking something scary to read, because while Jones plays with some pretty narsty concepts, the horror tends not to hit until a last page reveal that recontextualizes everything that's come before. which is cool! but not scaring me as much as I wish it was.

The Salt Grows Heavy (Cassandra Khaw, 2023) - a lot of people told me I should read this because it stars a killer mermaid and a plague doctor, which are two aesthetic archetypes I love, and I will give this to Cassandra Khaw: I liked this a lot more than their other book, Nothing But Blackened Teeth. which is clearing a very low bar, since I didn't really like that book at all, but I do think Salt is genuinely a pretty marked improvement. the prose is still kind of torturously overwrought in many places and I desperately wish that Khaw would put the thesaurus away, but there's like. a Concept here. the core is fun.

Tell Me I'm Worthless (Alison Rumfitt, 2021) - this book is by far the scariest I read, because the horror is hatred and bigotry and a fucked up, evil house that brings out the very worst of everyone who steps inside of it. this book gets so fucked up and bloody and downright nasty in its exploration of the characters and the underlying bigotries that turn them against each other and drive them apart. I don't want to spoil anything, but the book follows a white trans woman named Alice and her mixed race, cis ex-girlfriend Ila. in the past Alice and Ila entered the evil house with their friend Hannah; that ended with Hannah dead and missing and Alice and Ila both scarred and traumatized, each certain that they were raped by the other. so that's what this book is like! not a lighthearted undertaking, but one that I could. not. put. down.

A Sunny Place for Shady People (Mariana Enríquez, trans. Megan McDowell 2024) - what is there to say? Enríquez is my short story queens, and her new release absolutely lived up to the precedent set for me by The Dangers of Smoking in Bed, which was originally published in 2009 but not translated into English until 2021. this collection is sooo aptly named, because many of the stories are obsessed with the terror of places: hotels haunted by memories, neighborhoods filled with ghosts, junkyards where bodies are hidden, towns abandoned and taken over by something sinister. also, completely detached from the quality of the writing, this book has one of the most striking covers I've encountered this year. the screaming yellow cover and bold purple text looked SO COOL under the purple string lights in my bedroom, which was a little +1 to my mood every time I saw it :)

Thirst (Marina Yuszczuk, trans. Heather Cleary 2024) - I think if I had to pick a favorite book from my spooktober reading, Thirst would edge Tell Me I'm Worthless out by just a hair, because I'm just SUCH a sucker for a modern gothic. this novel is split into two chunks. the first is narrated by a vampire (hinted to be one of Dracula's infamous brides) who flees the Old World and crosses the sea to find safety in a young Buenos Aires, where she struggles to figure out how to slake her thirst and escape from loneliness while avoiding detection in a modernizing world. ultimately she seals herself away in a crypt to escape the relentless pace of change around her, and that's when our perspective shifts. here we join a modern woman with a young son, an ex husband, and a dying mother, who's struggling under the pressure of grief as she watches her mother waste away. she ends up accidentally reawakening the vampire from the first half of the book, and you can imagine things get weirder from there. honestly, for me, the part of this book that's most brilliant is the latter half and it's deep meditation on grief, but the historical portion of the book also plays the vampire gothic to the hilt. delicious!

The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture (Glen Weldon, 2016) - this is a really fun piece of pop culture history, tracking how Batman came to be DC's little #1 it boy alongside the developing prominence of nerds and fandom as a cultural force to be reckoned with. as I said above, this was a reread for me, because I wanted to circle back now that I've actually read most of the major comic events discussed in the book. Weldon weaves between Batman in comics, TV, and movies to examine on how one portrayal influences another - for instance: the goofy '66 TV series saw a huge backlash in comics, which went way dark to reinforce a grim and serious Batman for 'real' fans who objected to the show making Batman a joke to much of the normie population - and I think that's a really neat lineage to trace. while I think Weldon is sometimes a bit too transparent with his own disdain for certain adaptations, he overall has an extremely levelheaded approach to Batfandom and a conversationally informative approach that I really enjoy. of particular note is the fact that Weldon is himself a gay man, making him one of the only writers I trust to talk about why he personally dislikes Joel Schmacher's movies without getting homophobic about it.

Luster (Raven Leilani, 2020) - this book!!! this was one of three novels recommended to me by Bonnie at Snowbound Books, and Bonnie if you are on this website I owe you my LIFE because you were 100% correct. I was obsessed from the very first line and it only gets better from there; Leilani's prose is painting a searing, witty Sistine Chapel to render her protagonist's miserable life in vivid color and detail. the short version is that our 23 year old hot mess finds herself jobless and homeless and ends up moving in with her married boyfriend who's 23 years her senior, where she forms a powerfully weird connection with his rage-filled wife and develops a bond with the couple's nerdy adopted daughter, as the two of them are the only Black women in the excessively white neighborhood. (spoiler alert: she also realizes that her married boyfriend is a fucking loser.) it's a simple enough premise but the execution is bananas in its flair. I couldn't believe this is Leilani's first and so far only novel; if she ever drops another I'll drag myself through barbed wire to get my hands on it.

Juniper & Thorn (Ava Reid, 2022) - I first became aware of this novel via twitter thread of Reid's that made its way to tumblr, in which Reid bemoaned being harangued by readers who were shocked that her dark fairy tale retelling had, you know, dark shit in it. having now read the book, I have to say: these people are fucking pussies. going into this book I was under the impression that there was full on-page father/daughter rape happening, which is actually NOT the case, so you can breathe easy if incest is a hard no for you. what's actually here is a wizard dad who's emotionally abusive, non-incestuous sexual abuse in the backstories of the main character and her love interest, some moderately explicit consensual sex, some bulimia, and [spoiler alert!] admittedly a lot more cannibalism than expected. it's not a lighthearted romp but it's also like, come on. come on. grow up. in terms of the actual book, rather than its controversy, I didn't LOVE it but I'm still compelled enough by the world building (particularly Jewish author Reid's Hueli people, who are a fairly obvious stand-in for Jews down to people claiming that they have horns and using phrenology to prove the have an unfair advantage at making money) that I'm going to check out Reid's earlier novel, The Wolf and the Woodsman, a novel set in the same world. it felt a little repetitive in places and the characters were largely pretty predictable, both of which may be a byproduct of trying to encapsulate the vibe of a classic fairy tale, but I had a good time reading it.

#bookblr #reading updates

64 notes · View notes

turinspeachjam · 22 days ago

Text

Steve, Not Alice (a gift for i_less_than_three you on ao3 for the @strangerthingswritersguild Winter Exchange!)

wc: 1403 | rating: gen | read on ao3

Steve was snowed in.

He was supposed to finish packing the things he wanted to keep from his parents’ house and spend the night at Robin’s before the two of them headed to Hopper’s cabin for Christmas and then Indy after. The snow had started early that morning, just small flurries that reminded him eerily of the dust motes in the Upside Down. He ignored the weather for the most part, focusing on choosing which of his meager belongings he wanted to take with him to his and Robin’s new apartment. It had been both surprisingly difficult and all too easy.

He put all of his important photos in an album, taking great care to make sure all of them were accounted for and tucked safely away for the trip. He sorted through all the knickknacks he had acquired over the years and settled on taking only a handful. The minifigures Dustin had given him for his birthday, the dice set that Erica had scrounged up to buy for him the Christmas prior, the baseball card Lucas had asked Will to paint over so it looked like Steve swinging his nailbat, the packet of homemade coupons Mike helped El make, all the bracelets Robin had made for him after Starcourt that he was excited to be able to actually wear once they were in Indy. All of his most beloved treasures all packed safely in his duffel bag.

He stared at his closet full of clothes that he both loved and hated. Clothes that held memories of the horrors and the joys of the past several years. Polos that his parents had bought him. Sweaters soft and well-worn. A bloodied uniform that he wanted to burn but held onto anyway because it was the uniform that gave him his soulmate. A denim vest that Steve could not bring himself to return to the person who deserved to have it most.

Steve gazed at the patches and pins lovingly adorning the front of the vest, gently turning it around to admire the demon on the back, the cover of an album that Steve had found himself listening to more often than he would like to admit. He rubbed his thumb against the stubborn blood stains that no amount of peroxide would remove. Steve had spent hours scrubbing at the reminder of the wounds that never quite healed right.

Steve carefully folded the vest and placed it inside his duffel bag next to all of his other cherished possessions.

Without much preamble, he grabbed his favorite sweaters and polos, his most comfortable sweatpants and well-worn jeans, and the suit that he wore for Will Byers’s funeral and all the funerals after it. His hands trembled as he placed the suit in a garment bag he took from his mother’s closet. He tried not to think about the last funeral he wore that suit to. He failed.

When he was done and ready to take his bags to the beamer, he finally looked out the window at the snow-covered world and knew that there was no way he was going to be able to drive to Robin’s place that night. He sighed, desperately not wanting to spend another night in the cold emptiness of his parents’ house. Steve looked around his childhood bedroom, at the matching plaid curtains and walls, the handful of souvenirs from a time when his parents actually liked each other and acted like a proper family, all the things that made him feel desperately lonely. If he had to stay in that house for one more night, he was at least not staying in that room. He would rather sleep on the couch, or even in his beamer in the garage. Without a second thought, he picked up his bags and one by one took them to his car, placing each of them carefully into the trunk next to his emergency road kit and his beloved nailbat. It only took him two trips, but that did not stop him from doing one final sweep of his room to make sure nothing got accidentally left behind.

As Steve walked past his bedroom mirror for what he hoped would be the last time, he saw something strange out of the corner of his eye. He froze. After everything he had been through involving the Upside Down, he was not in a position to brush anything off as just a trick of the light. So, he walked back to the mirror and stared at his reflection.

Except it was not his reflection. It was Eddie Munson’s.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath. Losing Eddie had been hard on all of them, especially Dustin. Steve was grief-stricken every time he thought about Dustin holding Eddie in his arms as he bled out. He was haunted by Eddie’s last words to him. “Make him pay” was all Eddie had asked of Steve, and he could not even follow through on that promise. Granted, they did eventually stop Vecna, but that did nothing to quell Steve’s guilt.

And here Eddie was, haunting Steve once more by appearing to him as his reflection.

Unlike the last time Steve saw him, his body shredded and torn beyond repair in a way Steve knew a little too intimately, Eddie looked healthy and whole. It reminded him of when they were in school together. This was not the Eddie who held him against the wall of the boathouse, but the Eddie who climbed tables and shouted about conformity and rejecting the status quo while narrowly avoiding stepping on people’s lunches. Not the Eddie whose hands never stopped trembling from the moment he witnessed Chrissy’s death, but the Eddie who gladly defended the more vulnerable students from bullies looking for easy targets. Not the Eddie who asked Steve to make Vecna pay with his words while his eyes asked Steve something else, but the Eddie who raised his eyebrows playfully every time he caught Steve staring at him when his attention should have been elsewhere.

This was the Eddie who called Steve “big boy” and “princess” and “Stevie.”

A shudder ran through Steve’s body, unable to look away as Eddie’s reflection smiled sadly at him, his hand reaching out toward Steve only to stop, resting against the other side of the mirror. Steve watched as Eddie’s lips moved, though he made no sound. He was saying something over and over and no matter how hard Steve tried he could not understand what Eddie was trying to tell him.

“I don’t—I can’t hear you, Eddie.”

Eddie did not stop talking, though his lips did slow down a bit, his mouth exaggerating each word. Steve almost spoke again before he realized that what Eddie had been repeating had been Steve’s name. Steve bit his lip, trying not to cry.

“I’m here. I’m here, Eddie,” Steve whispered, not daring to look away from Eddie’s lips saying his name. “I’m here.”

Eddie looked at where his hand was pressed against the glass and then looked back at Steve, his eyes pleading. Steve slowly reached out toward him, his own hand trembling as he placed it on the mirror. Except it did not rest against the mirror like Eddie’s did. Steve could feel the warmth of Eddie’s hand in his. Steve stared in awe at where their hands touched, mystified at what was happening.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eddie placing his other hand against the glass, so Steve followed suit. Both of his hands were warmed by Eddie’s. Steve could not help but laugh, the sound trembling in his throat. He could feel heat behind his eyes, smiling brightly at Eddie in the mirror. In his excitement, his hand twitched against Eddie’s, pushing forward slightly.

He could feel the glass surrounding his fingers. Confused, he glanced back down to where their hands connected and saw that the tips of his fingers had passed through the mirror, still resting against Eddie’s hands. He briefly thought about a book his mother used to read to him when he was much younger. A book about a girl named Alice and how she walked through a mirror to get to a place called Wonderland. Steve pushed further into the mirror, watching as more of his hand was swallowed up. Without a second thought, he walked through the mirror, feeling the glass engulf him entirely.

“Hey, Stevie.”

#steddie #ready steddie go #my writing #stwgwinterexchange24

22 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

Royal Pain Part 26

Hello, and we have got to the end of the massive arc that culminated the last four chapters.

I also wrote this part before 24 and 25 because I couldn't figure out how to write Eddie having a hard time on tour, but the aftermath flowed from my fingers.

Also as a reminder this story is finished, I'm just posting on a regular schedule. This story is the longest fanfic I've ever written. Topping out at 58165 it's definitely longer than 50K fic I wrote for NaNoWriMo last year (Sandman, never finished or published.)

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24 Pt 25

****

“You’ve been sitting on that sofa for an entire week,” Wayne growled. “Steve has called three times, your bandmates at least a dozen times each. Hell, boy Miranda has been calling concerned. So want to tell me what’s fucking got you so twisted?”

“I was given a choice out there on the road,” Eddie said, twisting his rings around his fingers. “Stay in Indy and play small time gigs for the rest of my adult life or go to LA and get an album and the chance at super stardom.”

Wayne sat down next him. “Sounds like a big decision to make.”

Eddie leapt to his feet. “That’s the problem. That’s what makes me so angry how fucking easy the choice is.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate again, boy. Start talking.”

Eddie started pacing back and forth. “As much as I loved playing for so many people, I didn’t like that I could only connect with a handful of them and not even the good kind.” He rubbed his chin angrily. “I didn’t like how tired we all were. It was set up, sound check, play, break down and move on to the next fucking town. And that wasn’t including all the parties, interviews, and all that other shit.”

“That does sound exhausting, Ed.”

“I didn’t like how easy it was for them to tell me to drop Gareth as drummer just because he had trouble adjusting to the increased volume. The price of fame they said. Like it was so simple to throw away almost two decades of friendship for the sake of adoring crowds and hearing our music on the radio.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Wayne said softly. “They didn’t...”

“Oh they absolutely did,” Eddie raged. “I didn’t like how they thought that because me and Steve’s relationship was new that I would be able to find someone better. Someone who liked metal, someone who would be down for the ride.”

Wayne furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound like good advice.”

Eddie grabbed his hair pulled at it frustration. “The last straw was when they offered to let their tattooist to finish my back tattoo, because while my artist was good, theirs was better.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to face Wayne. “I picked Steve to do my tattoo on my back because he was the only one I trusted to make it meaningful. To understand the symbolism of making something of yourself when everyone is rooting against you. I made the decision before I fell in love with him and now that we’re a couple– and for them to just dismiss him like that? It made me so angry.”

“So what’s the problem? What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I’m fucking furious because I always thought that when fame and fortune came knocking I would throw open that door and march right through it. But now? Given the choice? I’m slamming the door in its face and walking away.”

Hot tears ran down his face. “And I don’t know why.”

He dropped to his knees and began to sob.

Wayne stood up and put his arms around his nephew’s shoulders, gently pulling him to his chest.

“Did that band you were traveling with say that?” he whispered into Eddie’s curls. “Because if they did, I swear to god I will burn every record and CD you have of theirs. Don’t think I won’t. I’ll delete them off your phone too.”

Eddie chuckled weakly. “No, no. They were kind. It was everyone else we met. Agents, managers, roadies, groupies, the people around Metallica every day.”

Wayne nodded.

“I was just constantly bombarded with hateful messages and the constant running at one hundred percent...” he whimpered. “I don’t want to do it.”

“Have you told your band that?” Wayne asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t dare to. I was the one that was gung ho about the touring and everything. How do I tell them I don’t want to leave the comfort of Indianapolis and home?”

“Kinda like that,” Jeff said from the doorway. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the frame. Peaking around him was Miranda with a concerned look on her face.

Eddie scrambled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I’ve been a brat.”

Jeff took three giant steps forward and hugged him fiercely. “You’re not being a brat. You’re scared and trying to figure it all out on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? We’ve all been worried sick about you. But Steve especially. I’ll call all the boys down for a chat and you call Steve, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

He dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Baby?” he asked, unsure of the reaction he was going to get. He deserved to be yelled at. Cursed at. Broken up with. He’d hurt Steve the most with this little temper tantrum he’d been having.

“Eds?” Steve breathed. “Sunshine, are you okay? Wayne said you hadn’t been eating well or sleeping much. Say the word and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Eddie’s lip began to quiver and tears spilled out of his eyes. “I need you. More than anything.”

“I’m on my way,” Steve said fiercely.

Eddie looked over at Jeff.

“Tell Steve Brian will swing by and pick him up.”

Eddie nodded and relayed the message back to Steve.

“I’ll be at my apartment,” Steve said. “I’ll have Robin arrange my schedule, don’t you worry about thing, baby.”

“Mm’k.”

“I love you, Eds.”

Eddie closed his eyes and breathed in the warmth of that simple phrase. “Love you, too, pretty boy. Come quick.”

“I promise.”

Steve piled into Brian’s car. It was the newest, having bought it right before they got picked up by Metallica. He had finally saved up enough money to replace his beater.

Gareth and Gethin in the backseat. Gethin had come up to Indy to watch his twin’s apartment while he was gone and just ended up staying. He was currently looking for a job so that he could move in with Gareth full time.

At least that what they said on the trip down. The twins and Brian were intent on filling the air with talk and Steve let them. He let them fill him in on the tour and everything that had been going on since they’d left.

Steve couldn’t be for certain, but it sounded like that touring hadn’t been fun for anyone. Even after a week of rest, he could still make out the circles under their eyes and how hunched over they were with just sheer exhaustion.

A feeling Steve felt all too well.

Gethin was pressed against his twin’s side and was rubbing his neck soothingly.

Steve looked at Brian.

His face was set, hard and unflinching. He was going to make the drive to Hawkins as fast as he could and still avoid the cops.

Steve was grateful Brian was driving because he didn’t think he would have made the distinction to avoid breaking the law. He would have gunned it and flipped off any cop that tried to catch him.

After awhile, Steve was getting the oddest feeling that Brian was used to speeding down this stretch of highway because there were points where he would slow down for a few miles and then speed right back up.

Soon enough they were pulling up to Wayne’s trailer and piling out the car.

Eddie sat on the sofa with Jeff and Miranda on either side of him, just hugging him.

Wayne was busying himself in the kitchen, getting ready to feed the hoard that was about to descend on his home.

The door opened up and Brian, Gareth, and Gethin all stumbled through the entryway. Eddie was on his feet in an instant, Jeff and Miranda not far behind.

And then the trio at the door parted and there stood Steve. Looking just as tired and worn as Eddie felt.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked, taking a step toward him uncertainly.

Steve threw open his arms and Eddie ran straight into them. They wrapped their arms around each other and just sobbed.

“I’m here, Eds,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s neck. “I’m here. I love you so much.”

Eddie lifted his head and kissed him hard. “I love you, too. I regret leaving you behind, sweetheart. It nearly killed me. Every song I wrote was about you. About missing you. I don’t even want to leave you ever again, I can’t.”

The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

Steve led Eddie back over to couch and sat them both down. “Tell us everything, babe.”

And so Eddie did. He told them everything. Everything he had told Wayne, everything that had been weighing on his mind since they started touring. It all just came out in a flood.

They all listened patiently.

“Why didn’t you tell us you felt like that while we were on the road?” Gareth asked. “I knew what they were saying about me, but I also knew you guys wouldn’t drop me. If you had me about that I would have been able to reassure you that I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Eddie flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, it was so vile, man.”

Jeff gave his hand a squeeze. “Well, I think that you did a bang up job telling us now and that’s what really matters.”

“Someone offered to ship me out to LA and record an album,” Eddie finally admitted. “Not the band, just me. I told him that I wouldn’t go without you guys and he laughed in my face. Told me to cut the dead weight and be a star.” He dragged his hands over his face.

“But there were other offers. Good ones. Ones that included the band, well most of it, anyway. Always under the proviso that Gareth be replaced either on tour or all together. They didn’t want to make any accommodations for him even though there is a drummer with one god damn arm!”

“So the options are,” Brian said, “stay in Indy doing what we’ve been doing, only better because of the money we got for doing this tour. Go to LA without Gareth. Go to LA with Gareth but only as a studio musician and take some person we don’t know on tour with us. Does that sound about right?”

Just then Gareth’s phone went off. He looked at it with a frown. It wasn’t a number recognized so he let it go to voicemail. He pulled it up after the notification popped up.

He listened to message with wide eyes. “Hey guys, I think we have another option.” And he played the message so everyone could hear.

“Hey, Mr Hughes,” the tinny voice said through the speaker. “This is Murray Bauman, I’m music producer, we spoke in Las Vegas. I think I have the perfect deal for you boys. You were telling me that touring was really hard on you and that if there was an option you wouldn’t do that. I know you weren’t speaking for all your band, but I could tell that they would do anything for you, all four of you being such good friends.

“So the reason for this call is that I own a small music company in Bloomington and boy do I have a deal for you all. You would make a record through us, we would sell and distribute the record, keeping a portion of the sales, of course. But you wouldn’t have to tour. You have a steady gig as I understand it. If your fans want to see you play, they’ll know where to find you.

“But give me a call, we’ll hash out the details. My phone number is 555-555-2080...” and then message beeped, signaling the end of the voicemail.

Eddie looked down at the phone and then back up at Gareth. “Oh.”

Gareth grinned. “We don’t even have to take his offer, but I vote we listen to it. Brian can bring Cecil.”

Brian nodded. “He’s only got a semester left of law school, but I’ll have him brush up on his contract law to be on the safe side.”

Jeff raised his hand. “All in favor of hearing Mr Bauman out raise your hand?”

Eddie, Brian, and Gareth’s hands shot up.

“Sounds good,” Jeff said. “You call him back and set it up and if it doesn’t work out we can vote again.”

Brian shook his head. “Nah. I think if it doesn’t work, we stick to Nightmare Holes. We took a swing at it and if it’s a miss then we tried. I thought I wanted the touring and everything that came with stardom, but like Eddie I learned I wanted the romanticized version of it. I’ll be happy playing in front of our friends for the rest of our lives.”

The rest of the band nodded.

Soon everyone getting up to go back to Indy, but Steve stayed behind, he would go back up with Eddie in the morning. They had things to discuss that went deeper then the band.

****

Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

I told you I would fix it.

Also a little BTS, the reason in my head for why things went wrong on tour but immediately righted itself when Eddie and Steve met up again? Steve still has Eddie's lucky pick. ;)

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

130 notes · View notes

stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 12 days ago

Text

Midnight Coffee [Ch. 1]

Non-Idol AU / Coffee Shop AU TW: None Pairing: Platonic!NCT 127 x Reader YN Pronouns: Not Specified Genre: Slice of Life, Light Comedy Word Count: 6.4K Summary: You run a coffee shop that only opens past midnight and closes just before the sun rises, and the people you meet are never more interesting than the stories they bring with them.

Notes: Don't be mad, this is still a pretty chill story that will come out pretty slowly, but it's nice to go through it again and update it with my more current writing style... you might find that this fic is much longer now jdhfsfj

Inspired by the Indie Game ‘Coffee Talk’

(1/?) [Character Profiles] | [Next] [NCT Masterlist] | [Midnight Coffee Masterlist]

September 22, 20XX

Stormy Season Coming Early This Year, be Sure to Purchase New Umbrellas!

Be sure to dress warm! Meteorologists predict a sudden jump in the stormy season, estimating that the season will start a few months earlier than in previous years. Everyone is advised to be prepared for sudden storms that may be unpredicted in the forecast and to be aware of how you’re driving on the roads. The sudden storms combined with the dropping temperatures are an obvious safety hazard. Please take care!

Managing Stress in a New Age — How Businesses Have to Adapt to New Innovations and How Their Workers are Affected

In the wake of massive layoffs, business leader Zhang Yixing shares many tips for businesses and how to stay afloat despite society’s shift into the technological age. However, he admits that in the realm of workers, this task is much greater and should be handled as carefully as possible as he cites the sudden increase in massive unemployment rates nationwide. Alongside this, the governor has proposed new welfare and unemployment programs for those eligible, which include being unemployed for more than half of the year or making a certain amount per month. Check with your local government office to see if you qualify.

NeoZone Preparations Are Underway in the New Convention Center in Zone One of Neo City

The biggest event of the year is among us! And remarkably around the same time as the famed Resonance Festival. With the sudden influx of tourists coming in, the governor is confident in an increase of job opportunities and economic increases. Onto the topic of NeoZone, the East’s version of the West’s ComicCon, a few panels that are going to be highlighted are NCT U’s new production The 7th Sense and KQ F’s new production Wonderland, both very large games that are already in the contending for Game of the Year.

How the Planning Committee for this year’s Resonance Festival is Preparing for their Tenth Consecutive Year

The Resonance Festival has now been around for a decade and many people are hoping for a big celebration for the milestone! Planning Committee head Jeon Jungkook promises that the festival will be "one to remember" for the entirety of music history, with the released First Day lineup including the hit boy group DNA, the world-wide girl group Boombayah, and the monster rookie group Ice Age. Judging on public opinion, this Resonance Festival will indeed be the "one to remember" and Jeon teased a special appearance from an upcoming artist that no one will want to miss.

The crack of thunder was the first thing to greet you this night. The second was a pile of letters on the floor just under the post flap, thankfully dry, and with an ominous stamp of red across one of the envelopes. Carefully, you pick it up and toss it on the counter, going through every letter except for that one. A postcard from Jaehyun, the latest edition of Favorite magazine, the small pamphlet for The Neo City Whispers with Mark's name written on the 'By' line, and finally your notice of overdue rent.

Because of the rains business hasn't been doing well. You're not so bad off that you can't stay, but you are in enough of the reds to be a little concerned. Perhaps it was time you were a little more thorough in advertisement. But, then again... You looked around your cafe. Serene, for now, and even against the torrential downpour you'd call it perfect. Did you really want to disturb this peace with a line?

Shaking your head and hiding your mail, you then shuffled the newest lo-fi album by [Andrew Jeremy] first thing. The clock chimed midnight and you had a feeling about who exactly would be coming through the door first, but your regulars always surprised you. Something you learned about being the barista to this hidden gem was that you really shouldn’t expect anything and above all, you should appreciate the unknowns and the charms that come in with every night you flip the open sign on the stained glass door.

When the lights flickered above you with the inevitable roll of thunder, the first thing you thought of was your regulars, particularly one absent-minded young man, and hoped that they didn’t get caught in the rain. You pulled the umbrella storage rack out of the closet and placed it next to the door, being sure to switch the welcome mat to a more water-absorbent one.

Midnight Coffee, the café that only opens after midnight and closes anytime before the sun rises has been the true love of yours since almost forever now. Despite the bustling nightlife the city actually had, you only had a handful of customers every night and, truthfully, you preferred it that way. You were fond of the close-knit regulars you had, although you were always excited to see new faces come through the door. You had made the strange but respectable decision to only serve hot drinks, be it because the nice ice machines were expensive or that it messed with the whole vibe of the place, it somehow proved profitable despite the apparent setbacks. The café itself only had a handful of customers per night, and they were often your regulars who you had come to know to the point of friends. Despite its mysteries, one thing remains clear and it’s that you brewed the best coffee in the city and no customer of yours, regular or not, can contest that, and you hold that title given to you by a certain overworked college student dear to your heart.

Midnight Coffee was located in between two rather large buildings, it would take someone who already knew about the café to even know it was there given how far back it was between the two. The building on the right is a law office and the one on the left being an apartment complex, both easily overshadowed the small café. The café itself had a direct staircase to your apartment in particular, a blessing from the landlord especially in a big city.

Midnight Coffee's motto is that the customer always receives what they desire. Your regulars applauded you for this, one remarked that it was almost as if you always knew what drink they needed and when they needed it, and prepared it perfectly. You could say that you had quite some time to practice and perfect these drinks, hence the fixed menu of warm beverages, but you were always one to try new things should your customers request it. Challenges are only apart of this job, after all.

The Neo City Whispers Welcome to the Neo City Whispers! Fr: Byun Baekhyun

This pamphlet serves as your confirmation to our subscription! Thank you for supporting our independent authors and I hope you enjoy their works! Be sure to send in any feedback to their socials, we always appreciate it! And, hey, who knows? Read enough and maybe you'll want to write someday too?

Give it some thought!

“Hey, (Y/N)! Geez, it’s raining like crazy out there,” Mark’s cheerful voice filled the previously calm atmosphere. he wiped his shoes on the mat properly before walking in, not wanting to leave water anywhere on the hardwood flooring. He was holding onto his laptop, two notebooks, and a simple pencil pouch when he sat at the counter, but they were quickly pushed to the side. He wipes the water from his glasses and shakes his hand through his already messy hair.

Mark is, and will probably forever be, your main regular. You’re not sure if it’s habit or intention that he faithfully shows up every night at the same time, and the days he doesn’t he explains what happened the next day. Although the length of time he stays varies, he’s always been one to say a quick goodbye or give a proper explanation prior to departing. Regardless, he always seemed to brighten the area enough to set a good tone for the rest of the evening, the boy has even befriended or at the very least acquainted himself well enough with your other customers.

“Did you get caught up in the rain, Mark?” You asked him while you grabbed a cup from its hanging rack, you already had a feeling as to what he would order, but you’d ask him anyway later.

“Yeah, it’s crazy! Just when I thought the storms were letting up, fwoosh! One minute I’m walking out of the office and the next it’s pouring,” Mark frowns. “Luckily, I was able to save my laptop at the expense of my favorite hoodie,” he holds up the drenched fabric and shakes his head. You pulled out a large paper bag and handed it to him.

“You can borrow these small towels for now, just to keep the bag intact so you don’t have to hold it,” he handed you the hoodie and you folded it so that it could fit into the bag padded with tea towels.

“Thanks, (Y/N), you’re awesome,” Mark places the bag next to his seat.

“Hard day at work?” You asked him.

“You could… say that,” he laughs awkwardly.

“What can I get you?” You decided to ask before you both forgot.

“Do you even have to ask?” He cracks a smile and you shrugged.

“I mean, I’m never the kind to assume, what if one day you really need a pick me up?” You asked him.

“The day I drink coffee is the day that door falls off its hinges,” Mark points to the entrance and laughs tiredly. “Uh… Just the regular, please,” he says. You nodded while opening the mini-refrigerator under the counter to pull out a carton of milk.

“Have any preference for tea today?”

“Nah, just use what you usually use,” Mark hums, he opens his laptop and starts working while you take the tea box from the top shelf and walk up to the machine, placing the correct ingredients inside and watching the latte fill the cup. “Oh, wait, I do have a small request!”

“Mmhmm?”

“Can I get some latte art? I know you hate doing it, but they always look so pretty,” he says, ending with his signature tight-lipped smile.

“Sure,” you nodded your head and took the hot cup from the machine, grabbing the cream off to the side. “Any specific shapes?”

“Whichever’s fine.”

“Alright then,” you made a simple design on top of the cup, you had to admit you despised doing this at first, you were never able to get it right on the first try. But after quite some time of practice, and a regular who happened to enjoy your efforts regardless of the result, you got somewhat proficient at it. But one strange trend you had noticed about this regular is that he only requests it when there’s something bothering him, just a general observation, really, one that tends to be right every time. “Anything you want to talk about, Mark?”

“Uh… yeah,” he nodded his head and looked up from his laptop. He stared at you for a moment before another small laugh came up. “Actually, nah, never mind. It’s fine,” he shakes his head.

“Mark.”

“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll tell you,” he closes his laptop. You stifled back a grin, he was always easy to give in. “So, you know how I work for the Whispers, right?”

“Yeah,” you placed the finished latte in front of him, but he was more interested in finishing his story than acknowledging it.

“Well, today I woke up late.”

“No surprise there.”

“None at all, but because of that I missed my bus to get to the office, so I had to call an Uber.”

“I’m guessing this Uber changed your life?”

“It did,” a wider smile grows on the young author’s face, “But, let me explain. I’m broke.”

“I know.”

“And I didn’t have any time, so I had to call an Uber Pool to get to the office, and guess what? My boss was there too!” Mark exaggerates the story with his hands while you listen closely. “Well, not my boss boss, he is my boss’ boss… if that makes sense.”

“I get it,” you nodded your head.

“Okay, cool, so like we were kind of just sitting there, you know? Like, of course, it would be awkward between employee and CEO, so, like, it made sense. And, I have no idea what came over me and I kind of regret doing it now, but I decided fuck it and I told him that I had an idea for a novel, and he said he was curious about what I had!”

Now this caught your ear, not that you weren’t paying attention before, you were just more intrigued about this story. You had long known that he was looking to do something bigger, but you didn’t think he’d ever get the courage to actually do it and, you had to admit, you were rather impressed.

“So… what did you tell him?”

“I pitched to him an idea about a collection of stories that all fit together into a much larger one,” Mark explains.

“Oh?” He'd told you many times about a project that could kickstart his career. He was tired of just writing short stories, he wanted to do something on a much larger scale, something with more of an impact than a small pamphlet. But you really didn’t think that he’d follow through and actually do it. Mark had a tendency of saying things, but when it came to actually doing those things, that was a whole different story that he probably wouldn’t write. Until now, that is.

“Yes! Keep in mind this is just bare bones stuff, so I didn’t have much to present to him. But he said that he really liked the idea of it. I went on further and told him that I’d start the novel as if they’re separate stories, and then as the novel continues they become more bound together.”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mark,” you offered your support of the idea. Mark was a hard worker, yes, but it was easy for him to get discouraged, something you had found out quite some time ago. “So he green-lighted it then?”

“He did!”

“That’s amazing! So when’s the first draft due?” You asked him. Mark fell silent, a forced smile on his face. “Mark?”

“In… a month from now.”

“A month?!”

“Yeah, I was shocked too.”

“Tell me that you at least have an idea for it.”

“Aside from what I told you? None. Nada. Zilch,” Mark finally grabs the ceramic cup and tries the drink. “This is really good,” he says.

“Thank you, but back to your novel… what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve got no idea… I’m going to be honest, I didn’t expect him to say that he even liked the idea. So I spent the entire day at the office trying to draft something, but I couldn’t figure out what to do for the life of me.”

“Oh, I know where this is going,” you shook your head. “You’re behind schedule now, aren’t you?”

“Horribly.”

“I’m guessing you’re going to be here for a while then, huh?”

“Yup,” Mark sighs. The doorbell chimes as another walks into the cafe. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, I don’t even have a plot in mind. I shouldn’t have said anything…” Mark mumbles.

“Hello there,” the new customer waves his hand and stands at the door. You greeted him with a smile as he brushed off the droplets from his raincoat and carefully shook off his umbrella before storing it.

“Hi, have a seat anywhere you’d like,” you gestured around the café, and he opted to sit down at the counter with a seat between him and Mark. “What can I get you tonight, sir?”

“Just a hot chocolate, please,” he smiles and pulls his phone out. He places it down and glances over at Mark. “Um, pardon, I couldn’t help but overhear a little bit of your conversation.”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry about that, my friends always tell me that I can get kinda loud,” Mark looks over to him and nods his head quickly.

“No, don’t be sorry at all! Actually, I’m on the storyboarding team for a game I’m working on, and if you need any tips I’d be glad to help.”

“Really? You’re not pulling my leg, right?” Mark was more interested now, even turning the stool over enough to fully look at the stranger. “Where do you work?”

“NCT U,” he answers. You take the cocoa powder off of the shelf and place two tablespoons of it into the machine and added milk. You turned the machine on and it hummed quietly.

“No way,” Mark’s jaw drop, then he goes wide-eyed and turns to him again. “You wouldn’t happen to be working on The 7th Sense, are you?!”

There came another key phrase that caught your attention. You were never a big video game fanatic, but you have heard of the game and you were well aware of the hype building up behind it. NCT U Productions was a big game company, one that was well known for titles such as Dream In A Dream, the strange but ultimately poetic open-world game, and Yestoday, the visual novel-based game with the so-called biggest twist in its genre. There were, of course, many more that you’d love to go on about after your many hours devoted to gameplays, but once you got to talking about it, no doubt you’d never stop. The thought of having an employee here in front of you was amazing enough for you, but you did your best to maintain your professionalism in front of him.

“Yup, I’m the head programmer for it,” he says. He flips his buzzing phone over. “Lee Taeyong,” he holds his hand out for Mark to shake it.

“Hey, I’m Mark,” the latter takes his hand and shakes it. “Lee, Mark Lee, yeah… that’s me,” Mark clears his throat right as you placed the finished cup of cocoa in front of Taeyong.

“I’ve read a few of your stories on the Neo City Whispers, and I have to say I’m quite the fan,” Taeyong says.

“Whoa… I’m glad you like them,” Mark nods. He looked at you with excitement in his eyes before focusing back on Taeyong. "Sorry, I'm a bit starstruck here, I've never met someone who read my stuff before."

"You should get used to it, I'm always recommending your short stories to my friends. I'm quite the fan of Child, actually."

"Whoa, that's one of my earlier stories!" Though you could see the excitement sparkling in his eyes, just as quickly you saw him swallow it down. “I’ve never seen you around here.”

“A friend of mine recommended this place a few weeks earlier but I never got the chance to come over until now,” Taeyong explains. “I've been in the mood for a hot drink so when I agreed to meet another friend to catch up I was on the hunt for coffee spots. No surprise, but I have a pretty hectic schedule so all the other cafés were closed by the time I got out, then I remembered this quaint place. I’m sure we agreed to meet here at twelve-thirty but…” Taeyong looks at his phone.

“No show?” You finished his sentence.

“It would appear so,” Taeyong frowns. He pauses and drinks the cocoa. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed right now,” he sighs.

"So goes the motto," Mark hums.

"Motto?"

"(Y/N)'s claim to fame is that they can always brew what you need. Haven't heard anyone not liking anything here before," Mark says.

"I see, you may see me around more often then," Taeyong nods. He takes another sip of his cocoa. "This really is delicious, though."

“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Lee.”

“Ah, just Taeyong is fine, please. I feel awkward when people refer to me as that,” Taeyong had a bashful look on his face.

“I heard… I heard you guys are crunching over at NCT U,” Mark speaks up.

“Yeah, we’ve been pulling overtime to get this game out by NeoZone,” Taeyong drinks more of the cocoa. “But the company laid off a lot of their workers, so the ones that are still here are working even more, it’s insane… but on the bright side, more job openings came up.”

“NeoZone? That’s like a month away,” Mark says. “Just like my novel’s draft… what a mess,” Mark shakes his head.

“You know, if worse comes to worst, I can put in a good word for you at NCT U, I do too much work for that company for them to lay me off anyway,” Taeyong finishes the cocoa and slides the cup towards you, which you took and placed in the sink. Just then, the bell chimed again and another person walked in, placing his umbrella in the holder before taking the seat next to Taeyong.

“Johnny, I suppose the regular today, correct?” You asked him.

“Yes, please and thank you,” he smiles. You got to work on his regular order while you continued to listen to the ongoing conversation.

“Hi, Johnny,” Mark waved at him.

“Hey, Mark,” Johnny’s countenance was always bright regardless of the day.

“Well, I’m going to head to my little corner over there if you need me,” Mark says before grabbing his things and moving over to the corner table of the café. He often sat there when he was on a time crunch, claiming that the specific spot always made him focus better.

“Well, I’ll leave then, thank you again for the nice drink, I’ll be sure to come back some time when I’m free,” Taeyong speaks up, he digs through his messenger bag but you hold your hand up.

"First drink is on the house," you insist.

"Really? Thank you," Taeyong grins. "Have a good night, it was nice meeting you."

"Same here, stay dry," you wave as he exits the café.

“Whoa, I bother him or something?” Johnny speaks up as soon as Taeyong was gone.

“I’m pretty sure you’re fine, Johnny,” you laughed. Johnny looked around the café and hummed.

“Slow night?”

“It would appear so, you’re earlier than usual,” you noted. “Off work early?”

“You could say that. Tend to get off early when there's no work to do,” Johnny sighed. “Up for some workplace gossip?”

“Oh, god, how old are you?” You joked with him. “Yes, of course,” you placed the triple-shot espresso in front of him and he drank some before starting his story.

“The company’s hiring this new hotshot photographer,” Johnny starts. “I have no idea where they get the money from, but fuck it, right? They’re taking a huge gamble with this guy, and apparently, he’s really good, but a lot of the other staff don’t know how to feel about it,” Johnny says.

You could only nod your head while you glanced over at the side of the counter, an untouched rack of magazines next to it. No one really reads magazines anymore, the only reason why they hadn’t collected dust is because you dust it periodically, and of course you were a loyal patron of Favorite.

“I suppose having a little bit of faith is good then,” you nodded. The door chimed again and in came another regular of yours, he walked in and held the door open for another person who came in shortly after him, one you didn’t recognize.

“(Y/N)!” He waved his hand lazily and sat next to Johnny, the new customer sitting a seat away from them.

“What’s the occasion? You’re both here rather early,” you grabbed a cup from the shelf and looked over to Yuta.

“Just the regular, please,” he winked at you casually while starting a conversation with Johnny. You were quick to start brewing his regular order, one that he often stuck with during his regular visits.

“Welcome to the Midnight Coffee, can I get you anything, sir?” You asked the man sitting at the end. He hung his backpack off of his chair and looked at the menu.

“Wow, he gets a nice greeting?” Johnny teases. You shot him a playful look and he laughed.

“You’ve been coming here for years. He’s new, so I suggest you finish your coffee before it gets cold, Mr. Suh.”

“Oh, our favorite barista pulled the last name card, Johnny, better listen,” Yuta pipes in.

“That's my menu up there, but if you have a specific request I can try to make it as long as it’s a hot drink,” you said.

“What do you recommend?” The stranger asks.

“Well,” you held the cup in your hand and looked over to him. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Whoa, (Y/N), right in front of my coffee?” Johnny continues to jab at you.

“I’m charging you extra, Johnny,” you retaliated back. “How was your day, Mr…”

“Ah, Kim. Kim Dongyoung. Or, just Doyoung’s fine too,” he says. His phone rings but he silences it and turns it over. “As for my day, it was alright. I just moved to this city, actually.”

“Ah, so you’re new in town then, I know just the drink,” you took out the now finished Black Magic for Yuta and replaced it with the new cup, brewing a rather simple but, in your opinion, delicious tea for the newcomer.

“I got a call from the boss, they really want me to come back to the agency,” Yuta kept his words at a modest volume while speaking to Johnny, a stark contrast to how loud the two would get when it was just them at the counter, he was no doubt trying to be courteous to Doyoung.

“I mean, you’d probably bring in a lot of cash,” Johnny laughs. “But seriously, it’s probably got something to do with the new photographer, the staff wouldn’t stop talking about him, apparently he’s really good. Something about always getting the perfect angle?”

“Interesting,” Yuta watches you place the cup down in front of him. “It’s rather risky though, isn’t it? Hiring a new photographer so late in the game?” Yuta asks.

“Yeah, I’m really hoping that the boss knew what he was doing with this one, the last gamble they took moved to another country,” Johnny ends with a wry laugh, one that Yuta didn’t return, instead he looked to his mug and took a picture of it. You added your finishing touches to the Ginger Mint Tea and placed it in front of Doyoung.

“Thank you,” he placed his phone face down again and brought the cup to his lips, taking a moment to revel in the aroma of the tea, before finally trying some. “Is this ginger?”

“Yes, is it not to your liking?”

“No, actually, it’s really good,” Doyoung takes another sip. “I usually don’t like ginger, but for some reason, it tastes good here. What else is in this?”

“Just some mint, I have a plant growing by the back window so I figured I’d try it out.”

“This is your first time making this?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it,” you smiled. “I’ll probably add it to the menu then,” you mumbled.

“It is very good, thank you” Doyoung sighs.

"Got any ideas for a name?" You held the chalk in your hand while setting up the stool with another.

"Pardon?"

"Whenever guests help (Y/N) come up with drinks, they get dibs on the name," Yuta explains. He taps the body of his cup. "I called this one Black Magic, something about how the mint pulls the honey and the coffee together. How about you?" Doyoung takes another sip.

"In that case maybe... Ginger Mint Tea?"

"Keep it simple, huh?" You wrote the name on the board.

"Apologies, I have to admit, my friend's the creative so I never really caught onto it..."

"Hey, now, it's a good name. At least I don't have to explain ten times what goes into it, right?" You chuckled.

"Ah, right, thank you." He gives you another quick smile, then he returns to his phone, undoubtedly ending the conversation there. Finally, Yuta places his phone down and rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

“You know, (Y/N), you should consider advertising this little place a little more,” Yuta says.

“I was thinking about it, but you know I like keeping things low-key.”

“I guess it’s part of the charm, but if you ever want some free advertisement,” Yuta waved his phone around. “I think it would be good for you, (Y/N).”

“Ah, but then we wouldn’t be able to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee,” Johnny jokes. “Your screaming fangirls will flood this place.”

“I’m more concerned about the haters, to be honest.”

“Oh right, they might overrun this small place and give you shitty reviews,” Johnny frowns. “Then none of us would be able to come here,” he says.

“It can’t be that bad,” you shook your head.

“It can,” Yuta says. “Plus, I never see anyone else working here, it’s just you, right? Wouldn’t want you to be working double-time with people who would just complain anyway.”

“Thank you for the sentiment, but between you and my other regulars, I’d might as well have eight hands,” you laughed. “Either way, it’s free PR. But you don’t need to worry yourself about that, as long as I have my regulars I think I can keep this café up for a while,” you reassured him.

“Since it came up… how do you keep this place up?” Johnny asks.

“A great barista never reveals their secrets,” you chuckled quietly while Johnny snickered.

“You know, my followers curious about where I get such a perfectly crafted cup of coffee,” Yuta always had his way with his charm, one that you had fallen for many a time but after years of his repeated visits, you’ve grown somewhat of an immunity to it, something that was greatly to his dismay, but one that allowed you both to become somewhat closer. “But alas, that will forever remain a secret, won’t it?” He quirks an eyebrow while he drinks from the ceramic cup.

“All 250 million of them?”

“Well, a good majority of them,” Yuta laughs. He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head before relaxing them on the counter again. The café suddenly fell silent save for your choice of music in the background playing at just the right level, then Yuta looked up with a more serious look on his face.

“Johnny, have you heard?”

“About the company’s thing or about that thing?”

“The latter.”

“Yeah,” Johnny sighs. “That guy… he’s finally back in town and he doesn’t even think about us.”

“Right, I was going to go visit him myself, but I figured I'd ask you first,” Yuta taps his fingers on the wooden counter.

“Just go,” Johnny scoffed, but quickly cleared his throat as if to cover it up. “You don't need to ask me. You two were the best friends.”

“I mean, we haven't talked since-” Johnny cuts him off with a harsh clatter of cup against saucer. Yuta's lips fall into a tight line. "Forget I asked."

“Do what you want,” Johnny's voice has an uncharacteristic coldness to it. The two fell silent, both finishing their drinks at a modest pace without saying a single word, or making any other movements aside from the quick motion of bringing their cups to their lips and the occasional check of their phone. Despite this, the tension was clear.

“So what then? We just let him do his business and then let him go off on some other part of the world again?”

“Yuta, do whatever you want,” Johnny emphasizes each word. Yuta pushes his phone back in his pocket and slides his card towards you, which you took silently and finished the transaction while keeping a stealthy ear. “Put Johnny’s on my card too.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Johnny waves his hand, his usual smiling self returning, albeit in a much softer and muted way.

“Are you kidding me? You need it.”

“Fine, there’s no arguing with you anyway,” Johnny shook his head. “I’m paying next time then, alright?”

“Sure. We’re leaving then, (Y/N),” Yuta held his hand up as a brief goodbye.

“Later, (Y/N), thanks for the drink,” Johnny followed Yuta out. As soon as the two long-time friends left, the tension in the café disappeared.

“Are they alright?” Doyoung asks. He placed his cup back down on its saucer and you just nodded.

“They’ve known each other for years now, they have their fights,” you mentioned. Mark moved back up to the counter with an empty cup.

“Hi, I’m Mark,” he waved at Doyoung, who nodded in response.

“Hello, I’m Doyoung,” he introduced himself again while you took Mark’s cup.

“Refill, please,” he says.

“Of course,” you placed the cup in the sink and got a newer one for him. Just then another person entered the café and sat next to Mark.

“Hey, Mark!” He smiled brightly and settled in, his backpack leaning against the counter. “(Y/N), can I just get an espresso today?”

“Of course, Jungwoo, studying late tonight?”

“Yup! I have a biochem test tomorrow and ahhh I’ve never been more stressed,” he sobs.

“You said that last week about your calc midterm,” Mark laughs.

“Did I?” Jungwoo wipes the fake tears away while you placed his and Mark’s cups on the counter. Jungwoo turns his attention towards the new face sitting a couple of seats away from him. “Ooh, hello! I’ve never seen you around here before!”

“He’s new in town,” you mentioned absently.

“I am,” Doyoung waves. “Kim Doyoung, I’m a freelance… artist,” he hesitated for only a second, but you caught it easily; however, you doubted that the two college students behind you did.

“Kim Jungwoo! Third-year biological engineering major,” he says. “Wow, so this is your first time here at the café, right? (Y/N)’s the best barista in the city!” Jungwoo says.

“So I see,” Doyoung nods with a polite smile.

“Yeah, if only we could promote the café a little more,” Jungwoo laughs.

“Ah, and the topic comes again,” you responded while washing the dishes.

“Again?”

“You just missed Johnny and Yuta,” Mark says. “They were talking about it too. Yuta offered to advertise the café on his Instagram, but (Y/N) refused,” Mark fills him in.

“Aww, I always get here right after those two leave. I don’t think I’ve spoken to them in a while,” Jungwoo pouts.

“Do you guys know each other well?” Doyoung asks.

“Uh… I mean not really. But they’re like real regulars, they come here almost every night apparently, so it’s hard not to really, well, not know them, you know?” Jungwoo stumbles over his words only slightly. “But I guess a lot of us who come to this café get to know each other well at some point,” Jungwoo says.

“I see,” Doyoung nods. “I’m sure no one knows them better than the barista here then,” Doyoung continues.

“In that assumption, you are correct,” you finished hanging the cups and turned back around. Doyoung slid his now empty cup towards you.

“Thank you for the drink,” Doyoung cleared his throat and placed a bill on the counter. “I was supposed to meet someone here, but I guess he’s a no show,” Doyoung frowns.

“I’m sorry about that,” you took the bill, slid it back to him, and spoke up before he could protest. “First drink is on the house,” you insisted.

“Ah, thank you,” Doyoung took the money back.

“Thank you for dropping by regardless, I hope you sort things out with that friend of yours.”

“I’m sure I will, we’ve known each other for a while. Either way, I think I might come back here and try more of your menu, actually,” Doyoung smiles. “No, wait, I’ll definitely come back soon.”

“These doors are always open past midnight then, have a nice rest of your night,” you watched him grab his backpack and exit the café.

“Wah… I didn’t get my first drink free,” Jungwoo hums.

“I just started that new policy today.”

“Hey!”

“Here’s your espresso, Jungwoo,” you placed the cup in front of him.

“Thank you,” he sang and held the cup in his hands. “Ah, I’m more awake already. I completely slept through the entirety of yesterday’s lecture and now I’m cramming, I have no idea what’s going on here, (Y/N),” he cried.

“Well, sadly I can’t say I know how to solve derivatives on your level, but I can say that a rested mind certainly helps,” you held onto the saucer and pulled it towards you, the untouched espresso nearly spilling at the sides.

“Wait, (Y/N), please, I need that,” you could see the desperation in Jungwoo’s eyes.

“What time is your test?”

“Seven at night.”

“And you promise to sleep when you get home,” you inched the cup closer to him.

“I do!” He nods. You pushed the saucer towards him again and he drinks a large portion of it in one go. “Ah, that hit the spot…”

“Good luck with your test, I saw you studying for it in Lit today,” Mark says while he adjusts his glasses.

“You both have class together?”

“Western Literature with Professor Earnst,” Mark answers. Jungwoo lays his head on the table.

“I always fall asleep during his lectures…”

“I swear, your two modes are sleep and eat, Jungwoo, how do you even study?”

“By spending his paycheck at my café, obviously,” you laughed and leaned on the counter next to Jungwoo. “Don’t fall asleep now, you still have to get home.”

“I know… I know,” Jungwoo’s voice was muffled under his arm. “I’ll finish up this espresso and go home,” he says, sitting up straight again and taking another swig of the drink.

“I’ll head out with you then,” Mark says. “Our apartments are in the same area anyway, let’s take the bus together,” he says.

“It’s a plan then,” Jungwoo nods. “But, since we’re here, what are you doing here so late? Got an exam to study for too?”

“Backed up on work, actually, my deadline for the next short story is approaching and I haven’t even written a single word of it,” he mutters.

“Nor do you have an idea for your new novel,” you teased him.

“Novel? You’re writing a novel?” Jungwoo’s interest piqued at this.

“Thinking about it, the manuscript is due in a month and I have no clue what to write it on,” Mark groans. “What was I even thinking? With classes and the Whispers job, why did I think that I could juggle a novel on top of that?”

“Why don’t you just ask your boss for an extension?”

“If I extended it then I’d have to wait until next year to pitch another idea. I got lucky being stuck in that Uber with my boss so now I can’t just throw this opportunity away,” Mark says. “Nah, I’ll deal with this tomorrow, I think I have a good enough short story for my boss anyway,” Mark downs the rest of his latte.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Jungwoo hands you his card and you finished up the transaction. “See you Wednesday!” He says. Mark hands you a bill.

“I’m heading out too, (Y/N), I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, he picks up his bag and the paper bag with his sweater in it.

“Get home safe, and watch the puddles,” you watched them leave, and as soon as the door shut, Mark took the liberty of flipping the sign for you after looking at his watch. You looked at the analog clock above the door. “5:45 already?” You washed the remaining dishes again and placed them on their drying racks, wiped the counter, and pushed in the chairs that had been left out. Finally, you closed your music app, and all sounds ceased entirety. Once you shut the lights off, you ascended the stairs into your apartment to sleep for about six or so hours until you had to get up and complete your day again.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville

Midnight Coffee: @luminousannie, @multifandomania06,

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

#Midnight Coffee:#nct x reader #nct u x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct scenarios #nct u scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct fics #nct u fics #nct 127 fics #midnight coffee #my writings

9 notes · View notes

louisupdates · 1 year ago

Text

The Habit He Can’t Break 4/4

IQ 123 | Gordon Masson | 9.11.2023

If I Could Fly

With the production traveling to Australia, in early 2024, before shifting to Latin America, Andy Lovell at Freight Minds is gearing up to become involved with Tomlinson once again.

“We did the Central and South America dates on the tour last year, and onto Mexico,” says Lovell. “It was very challenging back then as we were still coming back from Covid, and various systems and infrastructure were in pieces. But it all went well in the end, as we kept an eye on things and worked on it every day to make sure we had solutions to everything that was thrown our way.”

Lovell continues, “Things on this tour kick in early next year for us. Historically, Australian services were quite reliable, as we could use any number of airlines. But post-pandemic, the number of long-haul flights still aren’t as frequent as they were. As a result, the production is being reverse engineered with the budget being worked out before we can see what we can afford to take as freight, and then we try to plan accordingly.”

“Similarly, in Central and South America there are still just a fraction of the flights operating, compared to pre-Covid, so that makes it very challenging. If there aren’t the flights to handle the gear, then you have to start looking at chartering aircraft, or alter your schedule, and that can become very expensive, very fast.”

With everyone working on the artist’s behalf to make sure the tour remains on track, being able to call on such experienced production experts is paying off on a daily basis.

Sherwood notes, “There are a few back-to-back shows over long distances that occasionally mean we don’t arrive at the next venue until 11 AM, rather than 6 AM. But we’ve never failed anywhere to open the doors on time, so we know we’re capable of getting things done, even if we have a late start at mid-day.”

Such dilemmas are not lost on agent Rowland. “It’s not so much the routing, it’s more like the timings, because Louis does have two support acts, so the shows start at 7 o’clock, and then when we’re done, we need to load out to get to the next show in good time for loading in the next morning and soundchecks, etc.”

Nevertheless, Sherwood admits that he loves the trickier venues and schedules. “Because I’m a dinosaur, I relish anything that makes things difficult or awkward for us on the production side of things,” he says. “I think everyone on the crew looks forward to challenges in finding the solutions to problems.”

Common People

Having amassed millions of fans through his association with One Direction, Tomlinson very much has a ‘pay it forward’ attitude to music and is building a reputation as a champion for emerging talent, wherever he performs.

“He’s a great advocate for alternative music,” says manager Vines. “Louis realizes he’s in an incredibly privileged position in terms of what he can create in terms of awareness. He loves alternative music and indie music, and he understands how hard it is for that music to be heard. But we have this amazing platform where we can put these bands in front of these audiences as a showcase that allows them to build these authentic new audiences. It’s a huge part of his love of music, wanting to help younger bands.”

Rowland agrees. “He took an act called Andrew Cushin - a very new artist – on the road in America with him as a support, and he’s doing the same for Europe. Louis is a fan and is championing his career.”

Indeed, Tomlinson’s A&R skills have knock-on effects for his agent, too. “He asked me to confirm the Australian band Pacific Avenue as support for his Australian tour last year. The music was great, and they didn’t have an agent, so now I’m representing them,” says Rowland.

Perfect Now

As the European tour speeds towards its conclusion, agent Rowland is enjoying every minute of it.

“It’s incredible – they’ve really stepped things up,” she says, fresh from seeing the show in Athens and Paris. “They’ve got six hanging LED screens on the stage, and the whole production just looks polished and professional.”

And Rowland is especially excited about next year’s Latin America dates, which will deliver her first stadium shows as an agent.

“The return to Latin America is going to be huge – Louis is playing arenas and stadiums in South America and Mexico 15 shows across 11 countries,” she says.

Vines is similarly enthused. Harking back to the Covid situation, when the show would go on sale, sell out, be postponed, and then re-scheduled in a bigger venue, Vines says, “For example, in Chile, originally the show was scheduled at a 5,000-cap, half-capacity arena in Santiago. And what we ended up doing with three nights at 10,000-cap in that same venue.”

Vines contends that Tomlinson’s work ethic is outstanding. “He loves his fans, and he loves performing for them, it’s as simple as that,” he says. “He just loves being on the road and seeing how the songs connect live. In fact, the second album was very much written with the tour and live shows in mind – ‘This song could work live,’ ‘This one will open the set,’ ‘This is the one we can do for the encore.’”

Fearless

Another element to Tomlinson’s psyche has been his decision to visit places off the usual tour circuit.

“Louis has a real desire to perform to fans in markets that are often overlooked,” says Rowland.

Manager Vines explains that while the Covid-delayed first tour allowed them to upgrade venues pretty much everywhere, “On this tour, we are a bit more competent on venue sizes, but we still speculate a little bit in different territories. In Europe, for example, we’ve gone into the Baltics in a number of different places to test the markets there, while in America, we’re looking at A and B markets, but also tertiary market as well – we go to places where people just don’t tour in America, just to see what the reaction is. That was something that very much interested Louis - to play in front of people who don’t normally have gigs in their town. So there’s been a lot of experimentation on the tour in terms of where we go and what room to play.”

That concept is something that Vines has employed before. “I manage a band called Hurts, who were pretty much overlooked by the British radio system, and we have spent 15 years building a business outside of the UK. And that was built on going to play at those places where people didn’t normally go. They built to multiple arena level in Russia, for instance.”

“If you can build fanbases in lots of different places, you have festivals that you can play every summer, as well as touring those places. It allows you to have more consistency over a number of years, by having more opportunities.”

Such a strategy found a convert in Tomlinson. Vines tells IQ, “Louis also is extremely fan-focused in everything that he does. He comes at it from a perspective of ‘I want to take the show to them,’ meaning he’s always more willing to take the risky option to try something out.”

And the result? “It’s a combination,” concludes Vines. “There have been a couple of places where we now understand why tours don’t go there. But there are more places where it’s worked incredibly well. For example, we enjoyed incredibly good sales in Budapest. And overall, it’s allowing us to get a clearer idea, globally, of where the demand is, which will help us when we go into the next tour cycle.”

1/4, 2/4, 3/4

#louis press #iq magazine #louis tomlinson #9.11.2023

57 notes · View notes

glitterypin · 23 days ago

Text

less than two hours left 'till 2025!

I might as well do a recap of 2024 as it goes away..

Music I listened to a lot:

Fivos Delivorias (my favourite Greek musician, same as last year. I went to five of his shows this year and had tickets for a sixth one that I didn't go to because I was depressed that day)

Peter Capaldi (feeling wildly blessed that Peter Capaldi's taste in music and mine overlap so greatly because it means the music he makes is exactly the type of music I like to listen to. So, I reckon I must have listened to his 2021 album over 200 times this year and I loved every second of it.)

David Bowie (being single for the first time in over eight years reminded me of the feelings of isolation and other-worldliness that first drew me to Bowie's music when I was 19. So, I've been returning to it a lot since the summer and it does feel like coming home a lot.)

And a lot of contemporary Greek indie music, which has been great for me because all my life I've been mostly into artists who have died or retired ages ago that this is the first time I feel like what's happening around me is relevant to me. I go to live gigs, I listen to new releases, I talk about new music with friends, it's an amazing feeling.

Favourite films I've seen this year:

Letterboxd says I watched 123 new films this year. Let's look at my highest rated:

This reflects my year in films perfectly. A lot of TV Specials from shows I watched this year (Doctor Who, The Thick of It), stuff my faves from last year were in (Peter Capaldi, Michael Sheen and even one Phyllis Logan right at the top) and a measly TWO recent mainstream films.

My friends and family keep asking me if I've seen this or that which was just released or tell me "I want to go to the movies, what should I watch" and I cannot stress this enough but I have no fucking clue. I don't care about the new films that are coming out. I don't feel like watching them. I want to watch Peter Capaldi's entire filmography and a fuckton of old british TV shows. My fucking ringtone is the opening theme of Lovejoy. Ask me about that if you want me to give an opinion.

TV Shows I watched this year:

2024, the year I watched Doctor Who.

Yeah, this is what stands out the most. I got into Doctor Who, like a decade too late but whatever. I love this show now, with all my heart.

Other stuff I watched and loved this year include mostly tv shows Peter Capaldi was in.

The Thick Of It (I love it with everything that I am, Malcolm Tucker is my favourite comfort character atm and the joy it brings me cannot be put into words)

The Devil's Hour (seasons 1 and 2 and season 2 blew my fucking mind away, I'm still not over it and i can't wait for season 3!)

Criminal Record (second half of it was amazing, also looking forward to the next season)

Neverwhere (a 90s classic which I loved)

The Crow Road (a bit slow but charming and kind of eccentric in the way it approaches the concept of genre - as in: from the wrong direction)

Prime Suspect 3 (more like a long movie but I wanted to mention it because it's one of my favourite Capaldi performances ever)

Lovejoy (started it for Phyllis Logan, am currently somewhere in season 3. It's beautifully vintage and so easy to follow along without paying too much attention and every once in a while it's actually fucking hilarious).

Downton Abbey (started with a lot of steam (also because of Phyllis Logan), I watched the first season in like a day but then dropped to a very relaxed pace of "every once in a while". It's the kind of thing that is hard to get into on a daily basis but once you do, it's easy to keep going, know what I mean? It may take me two weeks to decide to watch another episode and then end up watching three in a row. I do look forward to continuing with it in the new year!)

The Way (the three-part TV show Michael Sheen made of revolution coming to Wales. I meant to rewatch but haven't yet and it's been many months since I saw it but I remember loving it.)

Work I've done this year:

2024 started with me smack dab in the middle of a project of the shitshow variety, pulling long hours, putting out mediocre work and having to be very available for very little reward. A great learning experience! For the first time in my life I felt that "if I quit this job... they're all fucking fucked" - and lemme tell you, it felt good to know this, even if the work was shit.

I worked on three different projects during the summer. One of them didn't go very well. Another one I basically dropped out of midway through and came to blows with my coworker and mentor and we almost stopped being friends over it. I learned not to spread myself too thin.

The third project went amazing and I loved working on it and it's a wonderful precedent of "hey, work can be nice and humane, did you kno" but since it ended I've been unemployed.

Let's not dwell on that right now.

Life Events!

Lot of stuff happened in therapy, at work, with friends, with family. No point in going through it all, most of it isn't even particularly pleasant or interesting.

Three things are my main takeaways from this year:

In July, after 3000 days together (bit over 8 years if you're wondering), I broke up with my boyfriend. Breathing has been easier since then, despite the sadness of missing his company sometimes. I'm very proud of myself for finally deciding to do it and for how I did it. And I can't wait to see what the following years have in store for me.

Fan communities are easily dismissed as little more than hobbies but sometimes you just find yourself in one that is different and you meet people who make your life better. And this happened to me this year. I made the Peter Capaldi Brainrot Center and got to hang out with a bunch of cool people on Tumblr (won't tag you all, there's a lot of you, you know who you all are and I love you to bits) and yeah, the biggest part of it is talking about how handsome and fuckable Peter Capaldi is but I can't help but feel an honest connection when I shout at a bunch of strangers "please help cheer me up because my dad was a dick to me" and half a dozen people jump in with PCap photos and gifs and words of comfort for me. I love that I got to have this this year.

A return of creativity. I started drawing and have visibly improved (even if I'm still shit at it, I'm better than before and that means the world to me). I started writing. It's short, mediocre fanfics but I'm finally writing. And I'm editing for fun! And I just love that I'm finally being creative and artistic and finding my voice and my place in this world...

And that is a wrap on my 2024! The year of the Doctor, of Tumblr and of Finally Letting Go Of Stuff That Used To Weigh Me Down.

Here's to the next one. Happy 2025!

#gigi gets personal

9 notes · View notes

salamandergoo · 2 years ago

Text

This was written in snippets on a discord server, thought I’d clean it up and slap it here! Haven’t been able to stop thinking about roadie Steve 💕 There’s a lil bit of spice in here, just to keep things fun :)

Steve, after everything that happens, doesn’t really know what he wants to do. Working at Family Video is… fine, but Robin is finished with her gap year and now she’s getting acceptance letters and scholarship offers from colleges and trying to decide where to go.

She keeps asking him if he’ll be okay and Steve tells her to go because he’s excited for her! She’s excited too! And yeah, they’ve had nights where she stays over with him and they cry about how they won’t get to be attached at the hip, but they can’t stay in Hawkins, it’s not realistic. They’ll never be… okay, if they stay.

She goes off to college and absolutely loves it, she thrives there, and they’re in constant touch, but Steve feels like he’s lost a part of himself. His platonic soulmate, the woman he’s so used to just… being there, is gone. So when he’s invited to a Corroded Coffin gig, he jumps in, thinking that if nothing else, it’ll be a solid distraction from his wallowing.

They’ve played a few cities in Indiana, a frontman accused of satanic murders is pretty great for their image surprisingly enough, they’re just waiting for Gareth to finish school before they jump in fully. The show is pretty local, just barely outside of Hawkins city limits, but it’s refreshing for Steve to be… somewhere else, just for a night. And the gig is fun! Steve can’t hear the words to the songs too well, can’t keep up with the music so great, but he can feel it in his chest. And he loves the energy of it.

Partway through, something goes wrong with one of the amps and they’re trying to get it fixed. Steve offers to give them a hand, and in just a few minutes and some tinkering he has it working again. And the pats on the back from the guys and the bright smile from Eddie sparks something in Steve.

The next day, he finds himself in the library, checking out books on electrical equipment and instruments and anything he can think of, and starts reading up. By the time Gareth graduates and CC has a few shows set up, Steve comes along. He’s able to handle any technical difficulty they come across, he’s the guy making sure it all goes smoothly.

And suddenly they’re recording their first album and blowing up and Steve is their go to guy for live shows, he’s the first person on their payroll. For awhile, he’s the only one, he runs everything that isn’t playing music, but eventually, a few more hands are needed.

Eddie makes it clear that Steve is in charge, naturally trusting him to be the head of the road team.

The band is doing great and soon enough they’ve upgraded from Eddie’s van and Jeff’s station wagon to an actual tour bus. Eddie is so amped about it and it’s hard not to let his energy be infectious.

Of course, driving across hours of plains dims some of the excitement, but Eddie and Steve start to come up with… interesting ways to pass the time. Ever since they left Hawkins, Steve’s eyes have been wandering a bit. Turns out metal heads are his type, who could’ve guessed?

At first it was making out in an alley in Indy with a girl who had shaved hair and piercings shoving him against the wall and making him beg to eat her out. Then it was the boy in a leather jacket in the mosh pit in the middle of summer, sweat slick skin covered in ink and a gentle hand but commanding voice in a motel room. And then it was his own fantasies, covering his mouth as he touched himself in a shared hotel room bathroom thinking about Eddie, who else?

So there’s an ongoing game of gay chicken and Eddie hasn’t been quiet about his own conquests along the way. It’s little things, Steve shifting a little closer to Eddie on the bus, a hand on the thigh that creeps upwards, whispering in hushed tones just a little too close.

It finally snaps in California, a sold out show attended by Argyle and Jonathan (who moved back out west a few months after the world didn’t end). They’re slipped a few “party favors” before heading off to a motel for the night, a reprieve from the rumbling, uncomfortable mattresses on the bus. One of the rooms only has one bed because of a booking issue and before anyone can complain, Eddie snatches the key and declares that “Stevie’s with me”.

So the band splits up to go to the rooms, Eddie has to wait while Steve inspects the bed closely to make sure there’s nothing gross, and then they settle in, still sticky with sweat and buzzing with adrenaline. Eddie lights a joint and teases Steve a little with the way he groans and sighs as he takes a hit, but Steve gives as good as he gets

He straddles Eddie’s lap and asks to shotgun in this pretty, lilting voice, cocking his head in a way that makes his eyes, sparkling with mischief, catch the light just so. And Eddie isn’t going to deny a pretty boy on his lap, not when he’s seen Steve in those tight jeans. He takes another hit and tugs him in by the shirt collar, breathing out the thick smoke into Steve’s waiting, parted lips. And Eddie is treated to the sight of thick eyelashes fanned against freckles cheeks, the expanse of pale skin on Steve’s neck as he tilts his head back to avoid blowing the smoke back in Eddie’s face.

And Eddie can only restrain himself so much as he leans in and kisses the faded scar that cuts across Steve’s adams apple. Steve licks his lips and is looking at Eddie’s mouth when he opens his eyes and something between them snaps. He leans in and whispers, “kick me if I’m misreading this” before kissing Eddie on the lips. It’s firm, but not messy, charged and searching. Eddie has to take a second to remember how to move his limbs, holding Steve tight around the waist, careful not to bump the lit joint against his shirt.

He kisses back, but it’s not enough, he needs more, wants to ride out the low thrum of the coming high with Steve. He pulls back just long enough to take another hit and lifts a hand to cup Steve’s jaw. He breathes the smoke out, letting his tongue trace Steve’s lip as he takes it. Steve holds the smoke like a fucking expert, tangling his tongue with Eddie’s as he lets the smoke back out from the corner of his mouth. Eddie distantly wonders if he looks like a dragon like that, a thought that has him giggling. And then it’s really hitting him that he’s 1) a rockstar 2) making out with his high school crush Steve Harrington and 3) absolutely rock hard.

Judging by the pleased expression on Steve’s face when they part for air and the way he grinds his hips down slow and teasing, he definitely noticed that last part.

#steddie #steddie fic #roadie Steve Harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #corroded coffin

123 notes · View notes

jokeroutsubs · 1 year ago

Text

On their travels through regional and European stages, the Slovenian sensation stopped by in Rijeka, putting on a concert spectacle for the Rijeka audience in the sold out Pogon Kulture.

Huge international hype, triggered by the recognisable song “Carpe Diem”, threw this Slovenian indie rock five into a demanding concert tempo which has resulted in several European mini tours, confirming the growing popularity of the band outside of their country’s borders.

Despite their dense schedule of sold out concerts, just before the sound check, we caught the members of the band, frontman Bojan Cvjetićanin and guitarist Kris Guštin, and talked with them more about all current events and changes that will follow in the upcoming time period.

A series of “flying” gigs

“Our lifestyle has drastically changed in the last few months. For the first time, we’re travelling as a band and encountering new situations that we’ve never dealt with before, new great experiences and new small problems that, of course, come with it.

More or less, logistics on the road are the biggest problem, but we’ve just returned from our third tour this year. We played in Poland, Lithuania, and Czechia, and it was a really great tour that lasted about two weeks,” said Bojan.

Rijeka, as the last concert in the current cycle, marks the end of travelling with a tour bus. After a week of rest, the band will go on a series of “flying gigs”, which includes Skopje, Munich, The Hague, Amsterdam, Madrid, Barcelona, and, of course, Slovenia at the end of the year.

The fact that Joker Out has already won the hearts of the audience is certainly confirmed by the awarding of "Carpe Diem" with a Golden Record in Finland, as well as recognition by the prestigious booking agency Wasserman.

“We have always welcomed people into the team according to some key to enter our circle more or less naturally, and we were lucky when things rose to the point where actually Ryan, our booking agent from Wasserman, got in contact with us because he was at our concert in London.

He liked how things worked and wanted to start working together, so we were more than happy with the fact that a man from abroad was the first to join our team, somebody who first enjoyed our performance and saw a bigger picture and saw himself as a part of it, in maybe an even bigger version, in the next few years,” revealed Bojan.

Käärijä and Let 3

As much as the process of recognition and breakthrough came suddenly, the discography of the band came at a similar pace. From their beginnings in Ljubljana in 2016, they released their first album only five years later, and the second one - less than a year after the first.

The longer process of musical growth, which began in the band’s high school days, dictated the slow pace of searching for their own sound in singles which eventually, with disruptions due to COVID, culminated in their first serious discography steps, and then in the revolution called Eurovision.

Lightning fast popularity has brought a series of strong music acquaintances to the band, of which their close relationship with Käärijä and Let 3 certainly stand out.

“We met Käärijä at a pre-party in Madrid, he was on a similar energy level as us - he didn’t take himself too seriously and we didn’t either. He was quite open-minded and had a positive approach to the whole situation, so we really connected on that level during Eurovision when huge things were happening to everyone, in the form of media pressure and new situations every day, so it suited us all to have each other to share those feelings.

We stayed in regular contact, we even performed together during our Finnish tour. He left literally everything he had scheduled in his calendar and became a part of the band for four days,” Bojan and Kris remembered.

In a way, the Jokers are an even bigger anomaly in a region marked by a certain language barrier towards its western parts. Despite the cultural and genre homogeneity, Joker Out managed to suspend the primacy of “Serbian and Croatian trap folk music”, showing and proving that Slovenian shagadelic rock and roll also has a place in this whole genre cauldron.

There’s nothing like it in the Balkans

The guys therefore confirm that Slovenia has a lot of quality to offer in terms of new artists, and concert events as well, which are richer compared to the rest of the region.

“Before we started with ex-Yugoslavia, there was always the question of if there was space for a band of this type in the Balkans, because we know this genre of music isn’t the most popular right now. Actually, there’s no band like this in the Balkans, maybe just Buč Kesidi, so we didn’t know what to expect in terms of our popularity in these regions.

I think everything went really well, we were surprised how many people were eager to hear a live band, regardless of the language they sing in,” Kris pointed out.

And it seems that the regional (and worldwide) audience welcomes every new Joker Out show with open arms, because they sing along with equal intensity to the melodies in Slovenian, and also in English, which will certainly take over the steering wheel of the band’s creative direction in the coming period.

The same is evident in the fruitful collaboration with Elvis Costello, who was delighted with the single ‘Novi Val’ and earlier this year joined in the English version of the song, ‘New Wave’, and also the latest single ‘Sunny Side of London’ - which leaves little room for doubt about where Joker Out will set up their new creative camp.

“Next year in January we are moving to London, where we plan to absorb new energies in an unfamiliar living space, so we will change our environment in order to create a new album that will be released by the end of October 2024 at the latest.

We will be more in contact with the English language, which on the one hand represents a mental break for us, because we are used to creating music in the Slovenian language, but there will still be all kinds of material - mostly English, but also songs in Slovenian, Serbian, and Croatian,” Bojan and Kris concluded.

Translation by @moonlvster, reviewed by @klamstrakur.

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjeticanin #bojan cvjetićanin #kris gustin #kris guštin #jan peteh #nace jordan #jure macek #source: novi list #type: article #year: 2023 #jo: bojan&kris #og language: croatian

52 notes · View notes

bruiserwcighted · 5 months ago

Text

◇ hi y'all! lovely to be writing with everyone! now onto introducing peter england, better known as pete dunne! he's a vegan of few words, until he isn't. has a traditional dry sense of humor that is typical of brits, is a total lad outside of the ring. grumpy single dad vibes, doesn't really open up much, but could to the right person?? probably. inside the ring, he's someone who makes the most of the screentime he's given, even if it's something laughable like dressing in peaky blinders garb and being nicknamed butch. he tries to be a good sport about it, but even he has his limits.

name: peter england / pete dunne brand: wwe raw dob: nov 9th, 1993 / 30yo gender: cis male pronouns: he/him orientation: heterosexual status: single / available but emotionally constipated

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

pete was born in sunny (not really) birmingham england and formed his love of wrestling at a very early age. even his training in the trade began a bit sooner than most, starting to learn the very basics of the business at only 12 years old. he paid his dues under silly indie gimmicks, as he was always one to show up and do what was asked of him without complaining. eventually, he began to make a name for himself in the rising scene of britwres, specifically with the stable of british strong style.

he became a fairly decorated performer in his early twenties and had made it to wwe a bit after that, becoming a staple in the ill-fated nxt uk. his life had been nothing but wrestling for so long that when his girlfriend announced her pregnancy, he was scared shitless. his pride never let him admit such a thing, but he had serious doubts he was even cut out to be a dad yet.

the boost in income was certainly helpful for their situation, while the longer trips away from home didn't have quite the same effect. pete and his daughter's mother tried to stick it out for as long as they could, but the distance just made things too difficult. he couldn't help but wonder how many more times he had to look forward to such goodbyes.

the thing about wrestling is that, even when your personal life is crumbling, the machine chugs on whether you're ready for it to or not. all he could really do was pour himself into his job, doing whatever wwe asked of him while also trying his best to be there for his daughter, who is his favorite person in the world.

thankfully, under new leadership, the company has become a much better place and has allowed him way more time to split between wrestling and fatherhood. he's even getting renewed singles opportunities after a period of uncertainty following his new catch republic tag team partner's serious injury. on top of that, he's opened up a wrestling training school with the grizzled young veterans to help pass his knowledge on to the next generation. he can't say for certain what's next, but he'll make sure it's good. probably.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

gymrats: ever since tyler's been off with an injury, pete's road life has become strikingly lonely. the person he'd share rental cars with, hotel rooms with, late night meals talking about their wrestling pipe dreams. I'd love for him to find another travel buddy / person that he can go to the gym with and bro out with 😭

#｟ 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ｠ ⸻ introduction.#/some wanted connections coming soon!

8 notes · View notes

wildmtthyme · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 6: Indian Summer.

Warnings: Angst.

Chapter Note: So, I've been sitting here with this chapter kind of written up for weeks now - but work has been absolutely insane. So, I figured I'd just go ahead and send it out. I'm not happy with it but meh, is what t'is, right?

Chapter Characters: Morgan "Indiana" Turner, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Bravo 6" Price, Mentions of Stacy, Sam (K9 oc).

Story Synopsis: Ghost and Indiana have been best mates for years, partners on and off the field. And she's loved him for just as long. But she's never let on that she's felt anything more than friendly towards him. That all starts to change when Simon starts seeing someone for longer than a single night. Indie decides she's going to try and get over this annoying crush once and for all. Simon realizes that maybe he's been feeling more for his partner than he thought. Maybe a lot more. Partners to lovers with a sprinkling of smut, some fun and humor, a team that won't leave them alone, and a car that seems to weave it all together.

<- Chapter 5 - Chapter 7 (Coming Soon)

Series Masterlist

The next afternoon, Morgan let out a steady breath as she felt the wind on her face… the dreary countryside would soon give way to the beauty of the coast but not before she’d have to stop for the night. Still… that was a ways out yet. Her bike was loaded down with its saddlebags, her leathers felt comfortable in a way that only years of owning them could provide… and the gently winding road was like a siren in its own right, calling her to leave her worries behind. Her annual trip was cathartic and necessary, no matter what was going on in her life. And yes, there was a pang in her heart over not hearing the added rumble of Simon’s Triumph beside her… but it was necessary. While she knew she’d always love Simon… she was hoping that the time and the miles would help her to fall out of love with him. To not feel her heart skip a beat each time she heard his voice or saw his beautiful honey colored eyes. She was trying… God knew she was fucking trying… but it was hard when he was there all the time. When he was busting into her office with lunches and swinging by every day to pop in while she was working. She blinked away the sting the whole situation brought and forced herself to focus on the road. Nothing else mattered in that moment. That was the thing about riding… it was just you, your bike, and the road. The rest of the world could just fall away.

Simon felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he sat at the restaurant, listening to Stacy talk about a particularly needy client she’d had that day. He fished it out and checked the screen… and while he felt the sudden and intense, immediate urge to open the text, seeing as it was from Indie… he didn’t. She’d said it herself. He had a girlfriend and he should focus on her. So, that’s what he did.

The next morning, Simon climbed into his truck fighting a yawn… he knew he should probably feel bad about nearly always leaving so early whenever he stayed over at Stacy’s place but he just… didn’t. He’d work on that… add it to the list, right? He hung his phone on the magnetic cradle and the screen lit up, his notifications flashing for a moment… a reminder that he’d received a text last night. He swiped the box open and blinked a few times because… surely, he read that one wrong. Goin’ on leave, be back in 4 weeks. He felt a sudden, sharp pain fly across his chest and he swallowed against a strange tightness in his throat, his brow lowering as his expression turned into something close to angry. He turned his truck on and backed out of Stacy’s drive a little faster than he should have, not that it made much of a difference. The next thing he knew, he was throwing the truck in park and killing the engine in front of Indie’s pebble-side. He felt a strange… odd sort of… panic? He wasn’t sure what the fuck he was feeling, if he was going to be honest as he let himself into her house with the key he had on his keyring. “Indie?!” He barked out… nothing. Not even the jingle of Sam’s tags. He hauled himself up the stairs, taking three at a time before he found himself at the top, her room was basically the attic… and it was only past a barely there door that he was in it. The bed was empty. He charged back down the stairs and through the house, nearly tripped over the threshold as he shouldered the door open into the garage, flicking the light on. The Judge was there, sitting like some kind of strange guard but her bike was gone. He locked up when he left and was sitting in his truck, engine off, for a good five minutes before he tore his phone off the cradle and mashed her contact harder than required because come on, not buttons anymore. He hung up on the voicemail, not trusting himself to leave a message. He was… kind of stunned, really. So… he just went home.

He had just gotten out of the shower when his phone went off and he nearly dove for it, mashing the green icon that glowed beneath the crystal skull he had as her contact photo. “Where are you?” The words just fell out of his mouth, hard and commanding, like they were on a mission. There was a beat, a pause before she spoke. Nearly to Devon. “Specifically.” Another pause. Why? “Because I’ll put in—” No, Simon. She cut him off before he could really get going. He sat down on the edge of his bed and felt… he wasn’t sure. “What the fuck, Indie? Wha…” His word died out as he threw a hand up and let it fall back down. “You just went without me?” For the first time in four years, they weren’t taking this summer bike trip together. He heard her sigh, could hear the quiet wind in the background, knowing she was pulled off alongside the road somewhere… knowing that she was out there alone, he could just picture her sitting on her bike with the phone pulled up to her ear, helmet resting on the seat in front of her. And the thought made him, not angry as he suspected it would have but… actually, kind of sad. He couldn’t help but remember their last face to face conversation. “If this is because I asked about you and Price, I’m sorry. It really isn’t any of my—” That’s not it. “Th…” His voice fell off again as he swallowed against that damned tightness in his throat. “Then what…” He heard her sigh before she spoke. I just needed to get away, clear my head. “About what!” He couldn’t help the way his voice rose up, his hand lifting to push his thumb and index into his eyes to fight off the stupid, irritation that was showing up there. Things, okay! Can’t you just… I just need the time. Can you give me that? Please? He heard a strange… sort of plea in her voice that he’d never heard before and it made him feel… hell, he had no idea! None of this made any damned sense to him! He let out a heavy sigh, bowing his head even though he gave a slight nod. “Yeah, a’ight. Just… just be safe, okay and… n’ let me know where you are every… just keep me updated.” He settled on that. Alright. He heard a strange hesitancy there and something told him that… he’d hardly be hearing from her. He wanted to ask… if it was him? If he’d done something wrong? I need to get back on the road. He frowned but forced himself to bid her goodbye. When the line went dead he sat there for a moment… before he flung his phone across the room like it was a skipping stone, listening as it collided with the drywall, putting a noticeable dent in it just above the baseboard. He wasn’t mad at her. He was just… upset. Upset. He’d never really understood the word before now. Not really. Pissed? Hurt? Angry? Sad? Those things, those emotions he understood. But the generalization of just being ‘upset’? That had eluded him until now. Because his emotions were all over the place about this. But… if she needed the time… he’d back off.

Two weeks later…

Morgan trotted past the open gate of the rental she’d booked for the night, a bright grin on her face as she watched Sam leap out of Price’s truck and race towards her. “Hey, boy!!” She fell down to her knees, the sandy soil pooling around her jeans as she gave the excited shepherd a good scratch, chin lifting to avoid his excited kisses. Hey, love. She was stand back up when she felt John’s arm go around her shoulders, giving her a firm squeeze. “Hey, old man.” He chuckled and she leaned into him, his bag hanging down from his hand as they walked to the cottage, Sam racing happy circles around them. Later, she sat on the back deck that overlooked the beautiful Cornwall coast, nursing a beer as she watched the sunlight fading, chuckling as John fought against the gas grill. Bloody thing. “Extra crispy there, Captain?” He shot her a mock glare. Too many muppets at the dials of this thing over the years is my guess. She smirked as she watched him pick up his glass of freaking wine, while he flipped a burger with the turner in his other hand. If that wasn’t a juxtaposition, she wasn’t sure what was. Sam had tired himself out, running on the grassy lawn that came with the place, and was now sacked out in the grass, lazily biting at bugs. You talk to Simon? The question came flying at her like a damned bug. She winced slightly and felt a streak of guilt fly through her. “A little.” She weathered a look from John. It was the truth though. She’d texted Simon a few times since she’d talked to him on the side of the road. Just locational data though. She didn’t know what else to do… her plan of trying to get over him wasn’t exactly working. She just missed him like crazy. But she gave herself a pass. It had only been a few weeks. She wanted to ask how he was doing but she bit the inside of her cheek a little instead.

They ate passable burgers and drank their drinks at the outdoor table… talked about nonconsequential shit late into the night. John had missed having Indie around and he didn’t hide that fact either. He had taken four days off, plus his weekend to travel with her. In his truck. He wasn’t about to get a bike or anything crazy like that. He was certain Lenore would come down from heaven and smack him upside his head if he did that. As he laid on the couch, listening to the sounds of the waves coming in through the open windows, he couldn’t help but feel conflicted about these two muppets. Simon had been going through the motions at work but he was a mess, even though he didn’t want to admit it. He missed Indiana and her going on this trip without him had hurt him. But John also knew why she needed to get away from him. This whole thing could be solved if they’d just get over their hangups and get together but he also knew that there was a very real possibility that Simon might not actually feel romantic about her. And that would shatter Indie’s heart. And she very well could leave the team if that happened. It was as delicate as a bomb… and Simon had no idea.

#my writing #call of duty #cod writing #simon ghost riley #fanfiction #not beta read we die like men #judgement story #ghost x oc #captain john price

9 notes · View notes

seths-rogens · 1 year ago

Text

If I Was Any Closer, I Could Be Lost | E | 8.2k

"I want you to be my best man." Steve is watching him with a bright smile, and all of a sudden Eddie feels like the worst person in the world.

He should say no. He's going to say no.

"Of course I'll be your best man, Stevie. I'd be honoured."

Shit. Fuck. No. He didn't mean to do that.

Eddie is utterly, completely, absolutely, fucking screwed.

Or, Steve is getting married to someone else, and Eddie, desperately in love, watches it happen.

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @flowercrowngods @cheatghost @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace @i-less-than-three-you @potato-of-the-lord

—————

fic under the cut, or read on ao3!

"I want you to be my best man." Steve is watching him with a bright smile, and all of a sudden Eddie feels like the worst person in the world.

He has to say no. Needs to. There's no way he's surviving a front row seat to Steve Harrington's goddamn wedding.

"What?"

They're at their favourite bar, where Steve and Robin used to work back when they first moved to Indy, sitting in their usual booth in the back corner, right by the bust up jukebox. There's some sports game playing on the TV behind the bar, not basketball or baseball because Steve hasn't glanced over once. Or maybe he's already seen it.

There's a hole in the wall next to the dartboard after a drunken Nancy misjudged her own strength in throwing her dart. There's a drink on the menu named after Argyle (because he sold the owner some of his fancy Californian weed). S & E is carved into the underside of the table they're sitting at - the product of one of Steve's solo closing shifts, a visit from Eddie, and a whole bottle of tequila.

There's a lot of memories in this place. Fitting they would have this conversation here.

"Be my best man, dude." Steve's still smiling. God, he's so pretty.

"What about Robin?"

"Stacey already offered her a place as a bridesmaid. You know how well they get along." Steve's smile turns fond at the thought of his fiancee and best friend's blossoming friendship.

Eddie wonders how the hell he ended up in this situation. How he became close enough with 'King Steve' that he's invited to his wedding, let alone being offered one of the most important roles in it.

They'd grown close after Spring '86. Of course they had, facing down a grotesque, dickless fuckwad who had nothing better to do than further traumatise and kill several teenagers by way of crumpling them up like an empty coke can worked as a real bonding moment.

Plus there was the shared stint in the hospital. Playing chew toy to several hundred alternate dimension demon bats will take a lot out of you, so it seemed. Not to mention the road rash on Steve's back and how all his wounds very nearly ended up infected.

Eddie still thinks it's a miracle he managed to keep going and reassure everyone he was fine. But that's only because he knows he himself acted like a little bitch about it.

So they became friends. First, it was sharing a hospital room, then it was Steve summoning the mighty power of his absent parents to get him off scot-free for an unjust murder accusation.

Then it was late night phone calls when neither of them could sleep, whispering their fears and nightmares down the phoneline to one of the few people who could really, truly understand. Then it became late night drives to the quarry, then a shared joint on Eddie's front porch, until eventually, they were sharing a bed.

Eddie couldn't help falling in love along the way. He really tried not to. But Steve was... well, he was Steve. Selfless and bitchy and just plain good.

Eddie was doomed from the start.

But Eddie never said anything. Couldn't ruin one of his closest friendships with feelings. It's been seven years since Vecna. Steve turned 26 barely two months ago and now he's getting married to a girl he's been dating a little under a year.

And the worst part, Eddie thinks, is that they're perfect for one another.

If any girl would be the one to finally make Steve Harrington an honest man, it would be Stacey Baker. She was tall and slim, with curves in - Eddie assumes - all the right places. Her hair was so long it almost brushed her waist and a shade of blonde most people would only achieve with an $80 salon appointment. She had cheekbones so sharp they could cut, but her face was softened by the beginnings of smile lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes.

Eddie was used to seeing her in comfy sweaters and t-shirts stolen from Steve's dresser, but on the few occasions he'd seen her dressed up, she'd been stunning.

He can't imagine how she'll look in a wedding dress.

Together Steve and Stacey looked like the poster couple for 'American family values' and Eddie hated it. But he couldn't hate her.

He had wanted to, really wanted to, when Steve first mentioned her, but it only took one meeting to understand why he liked her so much.

Stacey was a breath of fresh air after a storm. Always smiling, always ready to help.

She kept track of Steve's medication and reminded him to put in his hearing aids. She loved him in spite of the scars she would never know the stories behind. She didn't mind the almost codependent friendships Steve had with Robin and Eddie. Didn't mind when he'd get out of bed at 3 am to go make sure Dustin was asleep at home.

And Steve... Well, everyone knows Steve falls fast.

"She's even letting her wear a suit."

Eddie blinks back to himself. "Sorry?"

"Stacey. She's letting Robin wear a suit." Steve shrugs. "Says as long as it fits the colour scheme then it's fine."

"That's great." Eddie picks up his beer, takes a long pull.

"So, will you do it?"

He should say no. He's going to say no.

"Of course I'll be your best man, Stevie. I'd be honoured."

Shit. Fuck. No. He didn't mean to do that.

Eddie is utterly, completely, absolutely, fucking screwed.

Four and a half months later sees Eddie in a hotel room he never would've shelled out for, clenching his fists instead of reaching for the overpriced mini bar and watching Steve attempt to tie his tie in the mirror.

It's lilac, and the suit is a heather grey. Just like Eddie's.

It makes him look even prettier.

Steve fumbles with the tie. "Do you need a hand with that?" Eddie asks, holding back a smirk.

Steve groans. "Yeah. I thought I had it."

Eddie pushes himself up as Steve turns to face him. He takes the ends of the tie in gentle hands and begins to wrap it around itself.

"You nervous?" Eddie focuses on what his hands are doing, instead of doing something stupid like gazing deeply into Steve's stupid gorgeous eyes.

"A little, sure." Steve shrugs, holding his head high so Eddie has the space to work.

“I mean, fuck, man.” Eddie huffs a laugh. “You’re 26 and you’re getting married. That’s insane.”

“Is it? My mom was married to my dad at 18.”

Eddie nods, taking his time because he’s certain this is the last time he’ll ever be close to Steve, to be allowed to linger. “Sure, but with everything we’ve been through. A wedding seems weirdly abnormal. Especially considering our track record.”

Steve frowns. “Abnormal?”

“Yeah. You know, unusual, unorthodox, out of the ordinary.” He tucks the tie through itself.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I know what it means, man, just… are you not, like, happy for me?”

Eddie straightens the tie out, rests his palms just beneath Steve’s shoulders on his chest. “I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t seem like it.” Steve ducks his head. “You’ve been in a bad mood all day and I can’t help but think it’s my fault somehow. Have I done something?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide with the fear that he’s been figured out. “No!” He says, perhaps too quickly. “No, it’s not you. I’ve just got shit going on, y’know? It’s been on my mind.”

Steve’s face doesn’t brighten any.

“Look, how about I promise that for the rest of the day, I’ll be the most cheerful, upbeat version of myself you’ve ever seen.”

A small smile graces Steve’s lips. “And no ranting about metal music and scaring Stacey’s relatives?”

Eddie groans. “Why not?”

Steve gives him a look.

“Ugh, fine. I promise.”

Steve smiles and Eddie’s heart soars. “Good.”

Tie lying flat against his chest, Steve turns back to the mirror, straightening out his suit jacket and fiddling with the buttons. “Do I look okay?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the two of them standing together in the mirror. His heart clenches in his chest. “Just as pretty as usual, Harrington. You might even show up the bride.”

Steve chuckles softly, ducking his head with a pretty blush. Eddie wants to feel it under his palm. "Oh, I doubt that."

"Don't sell yourself short. You clean up nice." He bit back what he really wanted to say. You look more beautiful every time I see you. God, you look good in a suit but I want nothing more than to tear it off you. Run away with me.

Steve gave Eddie a once over, from the too polished shine of his shoes to the way he'd pinned his hair up. "You too, Munson."

Steve winks and stalks out of the room. Eddie barely represses a shiver.

It seems like no time at all before they're standing at the altar. Steve holds himself with excited tension. Eddie stands at his side, hands clenched into fists behind his back, Dustin and Lucas beside him.

The bridal march plays over the church's old organ and the bridesmaids start their walk down the aisle. Max and El - bridesmaids at Steve's request - walk together arm in arm. Their lilac dresses are similar but different all the same, fitting to their personalities. Max's cane is wrapped in purple ribbon.

Robin follows, her suit the same shade as the dresses, but tailored to perfection. Her shirt is grey silk and her bow tie matches Steve's own tie.

She squeals as she reaches the altar, pulling Steve into a crushing hug. He buries his head in her neck with a laugh. She meets Eddie's eye over Steve's shoulder and gives him a capital L Look. Eddie ducks away from her gaze.

A few of Stacey's own friends follow after, taking their places at the altar, and then it's time.

Stacey looks stunning in a simple white gown. It drapes almost casually over her shoulders and tapers in at her waist. Her blonde hair sits atop her head in a complicated updo. Steve smiles fondly as she begins to walk towards him.

Everyone watches her. Eddie watches Steve.

The service passes in a haze, the way Steve fumbles reading his vows from a piece of paper gaining 'awws' from the congregation. More than once Eddie feels Robin's eyes on him. He ignores her.

The priest asks if anyone objects to their union. Eddie bites his tongue so hard it bleeds.

Too soon, they're saying "I do" and Eddie holds back tears.

Having to pose in wedding photos is a new kind of torture. To stand so close to Steve and know that he'll never be Eddie's. That he'll probably move far away, start a family, and start vacationing at all the country's questionable tourist traps - after all Steve always wanted six kids and a Winnebago. And Eddie won't be a part of any of it, just a distant memory that Steve will desperately try to forget. A stranger in his goddamn wedding photos.

He'll look at them 50 years down the line and not be able to remember Eddie's name.

It hits him hard at the reception. They're in a nice hotel, an old, rustic building on the outskirts of Muncie, the room they're in is decorated with twinkling fairy lights and flowery centrepieces.

Eddie sits pride of place next to Steve at the head table, Stacey's dad having just finished his speech. Steve is blushing, holding Stacey's hand in a tight grip as she dabs her tears away with a handkerchief.

It's Eddie's turn next. He'd rather go for round two with the demobats.

Steve pats his shoulder as he stands up, accepting the microphone from the hostess.

"What can I say about Steve Harrington?" Eddie plasters on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "This man saved my life, quite literally, on more than one occasion. He held me together, carried me on his back and gave me the blood from his body all out of a kindness I wasn't sure I deserved."

Eddie pauses, taking a breath. "Most best man speeches I've heard fall more on the funny side, and I'm sure that's what Stevie here was expecting." He smiles, resting his hand on Steve's shoulder.

He risks a glance, Steve is gazing up at him with fond eyes and a wide smile. Eddie looks away quickly, staring out at the wedding guests.

"But, though it may be out of character, I felt that a little sincerity would go a long way." He takes a breath. "The man sitting right next to me is the only reason I'm standing here today. We've been through hell together, and even have the matching scars to prove it." He hears Steve huff a laugh. "I want nothing but the best for him, and that comes in the form of Stacey, his absolutely stunning bride." He smiles over at Stacey, she flushes, a shy smile gracing her face.

"I've never seen someone understand Steve so well that they almost have Robin beat," Robin whoops from her seat a little ways away, Steve laughs. "I mean, I thought I came close, but it's nothing compared to Stacey. She loves him fully and unconditionally, and I hope they have that for the rest of their lives. Hell, I hope I have a relationship even half as loving as theirs one day."

Eddie raises his glass. "To the bride and groom."

The rest of the wedding guests chorus his words back at him, sipping from their flutes of champagne in toast. Eddie retakes his seat and not a moment later, Steve's hand finds his knee. He squeezes and leans in close to Eddie's ear. "Thanks, man. That was beautiful."

"It was nothing." He says. It was everything, he thinks.

Steve has already been roped into a conversation with Stacey's dad, and Robin is tugging Stacey over to the buffet. Dustin, Mike and Will are comparing outfits while El and Erica gossip across the table. Lucas and Max are leaned in close, heads pressed together and hands tangled on the table between them.

Here, surrounded by friends, by family, Eddie feels utterly and completely alone.

The festivities ramp up after that. The happy couple has their first dance to ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ - cheesy pick, Eddie thinks, but he can’t deny that it springs a year to his eye.

It fades into ‘Dancing in the Dark’ and Steve gains a little bounce in his step. He tugs Dustin and Robin up and spins them both round as Stacey’s little niece runs up to her with open arms. She bounces her against her hip to the music.

Everyone is smiling, warm bright grins that take up their whole faces and light up sparks in their eyes. Eddie thinks he should probably be smiling too, but he can’t help the coiling out of anxiety that spits in his stomach.

He lets Erica drag him up for a dance or too, and they swing each other round to The Human League and The B-52’s, but he bows out as Steve grabs Stacey’s hands to spin her around to Wham!’s Everything She Wants, mouthing the lyrics with a grin on his face.

Eddie grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and seats himself at a nearby table. He downs the first and holds the second in his hand, swirling the sparkling liquid in slow circles and staring into the little whirlpool it creates. This isn’t his first drink, it’s maybe his fourth or fifth, and he can feel it starting to hit him now, a fuzzy warmth settling over his eyes and in his head. He gives into it like he usually wouldn’t. Figures why not if he’s watching the love of his life dance with the love of his own.

He sits there, watching these people, this family, dance and have fun without him and thinks, they would be okay without me. They don’t need me.

A few songs pass but Eddie doesn’t realise, just keeps staring into the glass. There’s only a drop or two left now, when did that happen?

He’s startled back to the present when a hand enters his field of vision.

A couple scars on the knuckles, one finger slightly too crooked, a wedding band. Eddie looks up and finds Steve smiling softly.

Eddie smiles back, holds back wine drunk tears and grabs his hand. Steve tugs him up and onto the dance floor. Eddie represses a shudder when Steve guides his hands to his waist, and wraps his own around Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he stares up at Steve in shock. What’s Stacey going to say about this? He risks a glance but Stacey is preoccupied slow dancing with Robin. They’re giggling about something. Eddie flexes his fingers, clenches his hands in the fabric of Steve’s rented suit jacket.

He realises then what song is playing. Tiffany croons about a love that could’ve been over the shitty hotel sound system.

Steve sways him gently, hands fiddling with the back of Eddie’s shirt collar. They’re pressed almost chest to chest, only a sliver of space between them. It might as well be nothing.

“Every time I get my hopes up

They always seem to fall

Still, could've been is better than

What could never be at all”

Eddie has never been one to relate to the lyrics of pop songs, but all of a sudden it hits much too close to home. He feels his heart in his throat, his stomach in his feet. His breath comes short and his eyes prick with moisture.

He pushes Steve back, just on this side of too firm. Steve stumbles a little but Eddie makes sure he doesn’t fall. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, Eddie leaves a groom that isn’t his standing alone in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

He bursts out into the hallway, hair falling out of its neat updo as he whips his head from side to side, trying to figure out where to go. He picks a direction and sticks with it, striding down a random hallway until he finds an unlocked door.

He pushes it open and finds a room much like the one Steve’s reception is being held in. The lights are low here and the tables lay bare of their white silken covers. Eddie walks over to one of the tall windows and cracks it open. He pulls a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of the pocket of his slacks, and tips one into his hands.

He slips his zippo out of the front pocket of his suit jacket, and runs his thumb over the engraving. The outline of a warlock with ‘86 inscribed in the middle - a gift from Wayne after he finally graduated, third times the charm after all.

He flips it open and tries to light up. It doesn’t spark for a moment, despite how hard he tries. He thinks back to that horror flick he and Steve caught a month or two ago - hadn’t this happened to the protagonist.

Eddie snorts, his life is more a tragedy now, even if it was briefly a horror film.

The flame finally catches and he lights his cigarette, taking a deep draw and holding it until the back of his throat aches. He leans out of the window and watches the smoke curl into the dark of the night.

Behind him the door to the room clicks shut, and smart shoes click across the polished floor. They come to a stop a few feet away, and Eddie feels the hair on the back of his next stand up.

“What was that about?” Steve asks. Eddie lets out a shuddering breath, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t… don’t bullshit me, man.” Steve seems to grit his teeth, to clench out the words as if they’re hard to chew on.

Eddie sighs and stubs out his cigarette on the stone windowsill. He turns around, leaning back and starting down at the floor. “What do you want me to say, Steve?” He glances up, meets Steve’s eye. “I’m not exactly having the best time in there.”

“But we were all having fun together. As a family. You’re part of that, you know you’re part of that so I… I don’t see what the problem is? Have I done something? Is it me?” Steve rambles out, voice quivering almost imperceptibly. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the way it was perfectly styled.

Eddie ducks his head. Stays silent.

Steve swallows and nods his head with a clenched jaw. “Right. Okay.” He takes a step closer. “Can I fix it?” He whispers, eyes wide and wet.

Eddie sighs, looks anywhere except into Steve's eyes because he knows then he’ll break. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Steve asks, incredulity lacing his tone. “Come on, man. If you tell me what it is, maybe we can work out a solution together.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t…” Steve trails off. He sounds sad, and Eddie hates that it’s his doing, but he can’t handle it anymore. Can’t watch the man he loves dance with a beautiful woman who he so desperately wishes he could hate. Can't sit around and watch them build a life together when he knows he’ll never have that, not when Steve is spoken for. “When have you ever not been able to tell me something?”

Eddie bites his tongue.

“Fuck, Eddie. I don’t… I don’t know what to do!” Steve is tugging on the roots of his hair again. Eddie wonders if, were it his hands doing the pulling, Steve would moan under his touch. But then again, it’s probably the wrong time to entertain such fantasies. “You’re one of my best friends, man, and I can’t… I can’t handle you being upset with me! I mean, you’ve been weird all day! I thought maybe the party would help raise your spirits a little and yeah, okay, I was wrong, but I can’t fix this if you don’t let me. Like shit, all I did was ask you to dance and you…”

Steve pauses as Eddie looks up, watching his expression morph from one of panic and frenetic energy to a curious look of realisation.

“I asked you to dance.” Eddie nods.

Steve swallows, he’s looking away now, putting the pieces together. His hands are resting on his hips, that signature ‘Mom’ pose the kids love to make fun of so much. “You didn’t bring a date.”

“I didn’t.” Eddie finally speaks up. He knows where this is going. Isn’t ready. Is.

“Why not?” Steve sounds a little choked, like maybe he’s nervous to find out the answer.

Eddie squeezes his hands into fists and releases them. Takes a breath and lets the air leave him shaking. “Because the person I want is already here.”

Steve crumples a little then, a marionette with its strings cut. He smiles, though it seems forced, almost painful. “I’m..?”

Eddie nods, resigned. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Steve mutters under his breath before stalking towards Eddie, fast and determined, wrapping a hand around his tie and tugging him into a firm, crushing kiss.

Eddie feels himself freeze, holding his hands up as if he’s going to protect himself.

Steve’s lips are warm and soft beneath his own, they taste like cherries - the balm Eddie knows he’s so fond of, that makes his mouth look so enticing. One of his hands rests on Eddie’s cheek, large fingers spread wide from his jaw all the way to his ear. The other has flattened itself away from Eddie’s tie, now resting above the frantic thud thud thud of his heart.

Steve pulls away with his eyes closed and lips still puckered. He frowns when he comes back to himself.

“I…” He swallows. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—“

Eddie steels himself. Grabs the lapels of Steve’s suit jacket and yanks him back in, swallowing Steve’s surprised squeak with his lips. It melts into a moan and Eddie feels just a little proud of himself.

They pull back again, eyes locked and dark, afraid to break this bubble they’ve created around themselves. Separating them from the party, from the world.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Steve asks, voice wrecked and quiet. Eddie doesn’t know if the question is for him, or if Steve’s just asking to ask. But he doesn’t have the time to wonder before they’re kissing again.

Eddie doesn’t know who moved first, but their tongues are pressed together and their hands are grappling at jackets. Steve is… vocal. All breathy whimpers and rough groans. It’s music to Eddie’s ears.

He runs his hands through that stupid fucking hair, softer than it probably was in high school, free of the hairspray and gel that kept it big. Steve’s grown since then. He still primps and preens with the best of them, but he isn’t so reliant on Farrah Fawcett now. Steve’s hands play with the hair at the back of Eddie’s neck, tangling and carding through the strands. He gives a gentle tug and Eddie can’t help but gasp.

He feels Steve smirk into the kiss as his hands drift further down, to his shoulders and then his chest. Steve loosens Eddie’s tie and presses a kiss to the base of Eddie’s throat as he undoes the first button of his shirt.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers, voice soft and pained.

Steve pulls back, looks at him through his eyelashes, reverent and dark. “Let me do this for you.” His voice comes out soft. He undoes a few more buttons, staring deep into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie can’t look away. His shirt is down to his navel now. He nods his head. “Okay.”

Steve smiles, a small, secret thing, and drops carefully to his knees, keeping his gaze locked with Eddie’s. He pulls Eddie’s shirt from his dress slacks, pressing a sweet kiss to the skin beneath his belly button. He rests a hand on Eddie’s belt - he had retired the handcuffs for the night, and some part of him deeply regrets it. “Can I?”

Eddie’s glad Steve had the forethought to wear his contacts. He thinks he’d die if Steve was looking up at him through gold wire frames.

He nods, and Steve makes quick work of his belt buckle. He slowly pulls the pants zipper down, before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cock where it sits, more than half hard, in his briefs.

Eddie inhales sharply, the sensation dull but still ever present. He glances down, sees Steve on his knees before him, has to look away.

Steve sucks at the wet spot forming on Eddie's boxers and Eddie bites back a moan. Steve pulls away, staring up at him, but keeps one hand on him, rubbing slowly through the fabric. "I wanna hear you."

Eddie's hands clench and unclench in the air by his sides, unsure where to put them, what Steve's comfortable with. But that question is answered for him when a gentle hand takes his, presses a kiss to each individual knuckle, and guides his to the top of Steve's head, threading his fingers through his hair. "You don't have to be so gentle with me. I like it a little rough." Steve says, voice light and teasing.

And all of a sudden, Eddie's mind is flooded with the imagery of that statement. Steve face down on a bed, tears streaking his cheeks. Steve's strong hands clenching in white bed sheets. Purple bruises littering his collarbones, his chest, his thighs.

God, those thighs. He imagines them wrapped around his waist, over his shoulders, either side of his head.

He imagines Steve, sweat slicked and quivering beneath him. Writhing and moaning and begging. Imagines a fierce red blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck to his chest as Eddie whispers sweet nothings and dirty talk in his ear. Imagines him wrapped in soft, tight rope, a dark crimson or black to contrast the tan of his skin. Imagines his hands tied to the headboard.

His mind is full to the brim of pictures and possibilities, a million ways he could bring the man before him to ruin.

Eddie clenches his hand in Steve's hair, tugging sharply at the strands. He watches Steve's eyes flutter closed as he gasps. Steve smirks. "That's more like it."

"Shouldn't you be putting that mouth to better use?" Steve's smug look drops away, that pretty red blush Eddie had fantasised about replacing it. Eddie uses his grip on Steve's hair to pull him closer to his crotch.

Steve wets his lips, reaches up and tugs Eddie's briefs down to free his cock. It bounces up, slapping against his stomach and smearing pre against his skin.

Steve wraps a warm hand around it, pumps it up and down. He leans in, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to the base and gazing up at Eddie through his eyelashes. He licks a stripe up the underside from base to tip with the flat of his tongue, before suckling on the head.

Eddie loosens his grip, cards his fingers through the soft strands. He smirks. "That's more like it." He says with a mean, teasing lilt. Steve's eyes flutter, rolling back for a moment until Eddie can only see the whites. He tugs again, gentle this time. "C'mon, baby. You know what I want."

He dons that dominant persona like a second skin. He can’t let himself think about how fucking wrong this is, how Steve’s goddamn wife is only a a few rooms away. He knows he’s fucked everything up irreparably, but what the hell? He’s already started, he might as well follow through.

Steve nods, movements stilted under Eddie's grasp. He wraps his lips around the head of his cock, flicking the slit with the tip of his tongue. He bobs his head a little, sucks and laves his tongue over Eddie's skin until the room is filled with nothing save his wet noises and Eddie's own heavy breathing. He moans, his eyes closed, sending vibrations down the length of his shaft.

Eddie bites back a groan, watching Steve’s lips stretched wide and shiny around his cock. When Steve blinks his eyes open, gazing up at Eddie, they’re glossy and wide - a goddamn dream come true.

Steve hollows his cheeks, swirls his tongue around the head of Eddie’s cock before swallowing him down to the hilt and engulfing him in a wet heat.

“Fuck, baby.” Eddie moans, clenching his hand in Steve’s hair to hold him there. He wonders where Steve learned to do this, who’s cock he sucked to get this good. Part of him is jealous it wasn’t him. He wants to ask him the story, knows he never will. “Made for this, weren’t you, Stevie?” Steve whimpers, it’s muffled with his mouth full. “You look so pretty on your knees.”

Steve’s eyes flutter as he tries desperately to keep his gag reflex in check. Eddie pulls him off by his hair, letting his panting breaths echo in the quiet of the room as he tries to catch his breath.

He takes in the mess of the man on his knees before him. Steve’s eyes are watering so much they’re glassy, his lips are swollen and red. Eddie thinks he could cum just from the sight of him.

“Harder?” Steve’s voice is hoarse already, his lips slick and slightly swollen.

Eddie raises a brow. “You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it.” Steve leans in close, pulling against Eddie’s grip. He slowly jerks Eddie’s cock in one hand as he presses languid kisses along the length. He presses his free hand against the sizable tent in his slacks. “Take what you want. I’m not made of glass.”

Eddie kicks at the hand he’s grinding against to move it out of the way, takes a step forward and rests his shoe between Steve’s legs, pushed right up against the bulge in his trousers. Steve inhales sharply, staring up at Eddie, dark eyes wide with shock. He shifts, bears his weight down and gives an experimental roll of his hips. A shudder wracks his frame.

“Good?” Eddie smirks. Steve just nods, hips juddering. “Tap my leg if you want me to stop, yeah?” He nods again. “Words, Stevie.”

“Yeah.”

“Better. Now open up.” Steve’s mouth falls open, his tongue lolling out, pink and wet. Eddie bites back a groan at the sight and grips his cock at the base. He rests it on Steve’s tongue for no more than a moment, before sliding it in all the way. He runs his hand through Steve’s hair, then grips it tight, holding him down. “So beautiful.” He murmurs.

Steve moans, the sensation around his cock causing Eddie’s hips to jerk and hit the back of Steve’s throat. Steve chokes, and Eddie starts to pull out.

He doesn’t make it far before Steve is grabbing his ass to pull him in deeper. “Fuck, Stevie. Guess you weren’t lying, huh?”

He thrusts in again as Steve’s nails dig in hard through Eddie’s slacks. He builds up a rhythm, guiding Steve’s head with a hand in his hair, his cock gliding slick and perfect against Steve’s smooth tongue as Steve sucks and whimpers and swirls his tongue. Steve’s hips jerk frantically where they’re pressed against Eddie’s shoe.

It can’t be comfortable, Eddie thinks, but nonetheless he keeps going.

Moonlight spills through the window and casts Steve in a pale glow. He’s more beautiful than ever, down on his knees like he’s at prayer, while sinning so prettily.

Eddie can feel that sizzling heat start to simmer in the bottom of his stomach, frissions of arousal sending sparks all over his body.

It’s perfect. It’s not enough.

If this is the last time Eddie will ever see Steve, ever have him beneath him, be inside him, then he needs more. Needs to be pressed against the strength of his back, needs to feel the warmth of him seeping through his clothes. He needs the intimacy if anything. Needs Steve to know how wanted he is, how this is more than just a quick meaningless fuck.

They’ve already ruined whatever friendship they had, what more could they lose?

“Fuck.” Eddie mutters. He pulls Steve up by his hair, spins him round until his back presses against Eddie’s chest.

“What… what’re you doing?” Steve asks, voice gravel rough. Eddie reaches around, grapples with Steve’s belt buckle until it comes undone. He pushes his slacks and his briefs down, until they hang around Steve’s knees.

“Taking what I want.” Eddie pulls at Steve’s suit jacket, pressing kisses down his jaw, his neck, behind his ear, as he works it down his arms. He tosses it unceremoniously to the side before pressing a flat palm between Steve’s shoulder blades and pushing until his chest lies against a nearby table. That perfect fucking ass is round and bare and presented to Eddie like a goddamn feast.

He wishes he could get his mouth on it, knows he never will.

He brings his hand down against Steve’s right ass cheek, the crack echoing sharp and loud in the quiet of the room. He slots his hand over the reddening welt, takes a handful and squeezes.

“Oh fuck.” Steve lets out a breathy moan, his breath fogging up the wood as one hand reaches out to grasp the opposite edge of the table.

Eddie rucks Steve’s shirt up, rubbing his hands over the harsh scars that cover his back, healed silver with time but still rough to the touch. He trails his hands down Steve’s back, stopping until his thumbs fit perfectly into his dimples of venus. He leans in, kisses down the knobs of his spine, each vertebrae blessed with a press of his lips, before coming to a stop at his tailbone.

“Eddie…” Steve exhales a whine, cheek pressed to the table under him. “Stop fucking teasing and touch me.”

Eddie chuckles softly, nipping at the expanse of skin beneath him with his teeth, sucking a mark. “Oh, baby, I am touching you.”

Steve growls, a rumbling guttural thing, and pushes his hips back, his bare ass pressing against Eddie’s cock. Eddie barely holds back a moan, his hand clenching around Steve’s hip to hold him still.

“I didn’t say you could move, honey.”

Steve inhales sharply at the pet name. “I need more, Eds. Please.”

Please, he says, as if that doesn’t shake Eddie’s entire world to its core. He’s going to be playing that over and over in his head until he fucking dies.

“Since you asked so pretty.” Eddie takes a half step forward, grinds slowly against Steve’s crack, his cock catching against Steve’s hole. “God, the things I’d do to you if I had some lube and a condom.”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh, shuddering as Eddie’s hips keep moving, continuing that slow, steady grind. “I’d let you.”

Eddie grins, runs his hands up and down Steve’s back before stopping at his hips and squeezing gently. “Yeah? You’d let me fuck you right here?”

“Uh huh.” Steve shifts, presses his forehead to the table and rocks back. Eddie digs his fingers into that soft, supple flesh beneath his palms and imagines carving a hole in Steve’s chest, making a home there, living within him. They’d never be apart, nothing could ever separate them.

It’s a sort of possessiveness Eddie can never indulge. But God, how he wishes he could.

Eddie pauses for a moment. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s all happening so fast he can barely keep up. He knows he should put a stop to this, walk away before he makes it any worse.

But, well, fuck it, he thinks.

Everything’s already well and truly ruined. Why should he stop now?

“Eddie?” Steve mumbles out against the table, bringing Eddie back to the moment. “Y’okay?”

Eddie’s heart clenches in his chest.

Here is a man laid before him, messy and perfect and everything he has ever dreamed of, and Eddie realises he’s been going about this all wrong.

Some dark, cruel part of him is yelling for him to make this count. To make sure Steve remembers this the next time he lays down with his wife. The next time she undresses him, kisses him, touches him in those intimate places. That part of him says, make it sweet, loving. Make it tender. Make sure he knows it isn’t just sex.

That part is screaming. Ruin him.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m okay.” Eddie leans down. Presses a gentle kiss to the side of Steve’s neck as he rocks against the crevice of Steve’s ass. Trails more kisses over his clothed shoulder, down the scarred knobs of his back.

He runs his hands up Steve’s sides, touches him almost reverently. Like something holy. “You’re so beautiful, Steve.”

Steve gasps out a moan, rocks back like he’s not in control. Eddie bites back a groan, rocks forward.

He feels something swinging against his hip, reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a half empty tube of vaseline. He smirks, squeezes some out onto his fingers and warms it up. Eddie reaches down, drags a slick finger over Steve’s hole and presses gently against it. Steve shudders, choking out a whine.

Eddie spreads a little more vaseline between his cheeks. He rubs up against him again, gliding smoother where skin meets skin. “That feel good, baby?”

Steve nods, free hand clenching into a fist against the table.

“Words, honey.”

“Feels good, Eds. So good.” Steve replies breathily. Eddie chuckles. He builds a rhythm grinding forward as Steve pushes back. It’s quiet for a moment or two, save for the sounds of their breathing and Steve’s punched out little groans.

Eddie presses his clean hand against the centre of Steve’s back, keeping him in place, and reaches round with his slick one, wrapping it around Steve’s cock. He strokes slowly once, twice, three times, running his thumb over the head to collect Steve’s pre and spread it back down.

“Fuck, Eddie.” Steve gasps out, hips jerking in his grip. His movements are juddering, like he can’t decide whether to fuck into Eddie’s fist or back against his cock. His cheek is pressed flat against the table, eyes clenched shut.

Eddie keeps his fist just bordering on too loose, keeps moving his hips. He leans close to Steve’s ear. “I want you to feel good, Stevie. Take what you want.”

Steve takes that as his cue, grinding rapidly back and forth, fingertips grasping for purchase against the smooth wood. He gasps and moans, writhing in place.

Eddie curses, rocking his hips against Steve’s heat. “That’s good, baby, you’re doing so good.”

Steve moans, deep and guttural as his movements become frantic. He reaches down, covers Eddie’s hand with his own, tangles their fingers and tightens Eddie’s grip.

“Yeah, fuck, just like that. M’so close.” Steve whines beneath him, trembling as he picks up the pace. His hips move faster, stuttering and jerking as he nears his end.

It’s almost a surprise to watch Steve come. It’s everything and nothing like Eddie expected. He could’ve fantasised for hours, days, years, but nothing his brain would’ve come up with is comparable to seeing the real thing.

Steve loses himself in it, lets the pleasure wash over him like a tidal wave. His eyes clench shut and his mouth falls open in a long moan as he comes undone. His hips keep pushing into the tight wet of Eddie’s fist until he becomes oversensitive.

Finally, he pulls his hand away, rests it on the table.

Eddie pulls away too, takes his own cock in hand as Steve lies there coming down, breaths coming out fast, and takes the sight of him in. The look of him debauched, ravished. The strain of muscles beneath scarred skin. The pink blush on his cheeks. The bitten red of his lips. It doesn’t take much.

“C’mon, Eds. Wanna feel you come.” But that’s what really does it. A few jerks of his hand and Eddie’s coming, streaking white across silver scars.

He falls forward, drapes himself over Steve in a desperate need for closeness. Doesn’t care about the mess he’s surely making of his shirt.

The room is near quiet. Still. And Eddie feels warm save for the sinking in his stomach.

He kinda wants to stay there forever. Knows he has to leave as quickly as he can.

Minutes pass, neither of them make the effort to move.

Eddie pants, pressing his forehead between Steve's shoulder blades. The room is silent save for their synced panting breaths. He pushes himself up slowly, muscles protesting the movement.

Steve remains in place on the table top, cheek pressed against the wood as he catches his breath. His eyes are closed, dark eyelashes fanning over flushed skin, and his forehead is damp with sweat. One of his hands lies curled but loose against the table, the other grips the farthest edge, white knuckled. His shirt is rucked up to his armpits, showing the scarred expanse of his back. His slacks are round his knees, the perfect curve of his ass bare.

He's marked with Eddie's cum. All the way from his hole to the centre of his back. It stands out, pale against the tan of his skin. Eddie's almost tempted to reach out, drag a finger through it.

He doesn't.

Instead, he pulls the lilac pocket square from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and unfolds it. With gentle hands, he wipes his spend from Steve's back. He balls the soiled cloth up and shoves it deep into his pants pocket. He'll bin it later - even if the thought of keeping it does briefly cross his mind.

Steve hums, grateful, pressing his forehead to the cool surface of the table. He flexes the hand that was gripping the edge, trying to get the feeling back.

Eddie turns away, feels like he's seen more than he's rightfully allowed. He tugs his pants up, hands shaking as he clasps his belt. He makes an attempt to tuck in his shirt, but it's creased to shit now, so it doesn't quite lay flat anymore.

He walks back over to the window. Outside, the moon is high and the sky is clear. The ground is dewey, almost sparkling. He thinks it must've rained at some point.

He taps out another cigarette from the packet in his pocket and lights up. Blowing out a plume of smoke, Eddie presses his forehead to the cool glass.

Behind him, he can hear Steve shuffling, tidying himself up. Probably preparing to let Eddie down and run off back to his perfect little wife.

Well fuck that, Eddie's gonna beat him to it.

"We can't do this again." He says, fogging up the glass in front of him as he speaks.

Steve's voice is rough when he replies. "I know."

Eddie knows that tone of voice. He knows it all too well. The one where he says one thing but means another.

He flicks the ash from his cigarette, turns and leans against the wall next to the window. Steve's leaning back against the table they just fucked on, staring down at a scuff on his left shoe.

From this vantage Eddie gets to see the wondrous Steve Harrington in all his post-sex glory. His shirt is all rumpled, much like Eddie's own, his jacket is still in a pile on the floor. His hair is a goddamn mess and, though he's tucked himself away, his slacks still hang open at his hips.

Fucking temptation incarnate.

"Steve." Steve looks up, his eyes are still shiny. "We can't. You're married."

Steve frowns, looking away again. He doesn't seem too happy about that. Taking in the frown lines on Steve's face, Eddie would guess the man is at war with himself. Running through all his options. He bets Steve wishes he could run off and find Robin, talk to her before finishing this conversation.

Unlucky for him, Robin is nowhere to be seen.

Eddie swallows down a lump in his throat. Has to force himself to say something he knows will wreck the both of them. "I think it's best that we don't see each other for a while."

Steve's head whips up so fast, Eddie's surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. "What?"

Eddie shrugs, self-deprecating and overly conscious of the mess this all is. "I don't... I never intended to be a homewrecker."

Steve scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "The home has barely been built, man."

A sharp exhale and Eddie's running his free hand through his hair. "That's so much worse! You've got to see that it's worse, Steve!" He takes a pull from his cigarette and blows the smoke out fast. "I was just gonna keep this shit to myself. I never expected this."

"You did it, though. You let me.”

"I did." Eddie chokes out, voice shaky. "And I shouldn't have. I'm fucking sorry that I did."

Steve nods. He's quiet for a moment, his head ducked and shoulders hunched. When he talks again, it's quiet. "How long then?"

Eddie tilts his head. "What?"

Steve looks up then, fierce eyes burning hard into his own. "How long until I see you again?"

"Oh." Eddie breathes softly. "I'm not sure." He swallows. "I need time to get over you, Stevie."

Steve's gaze has gone cold, frozen over. Eddie knows it isn't personal, he's just trying to protect himself, but it hurts all the same. "Well you should probably go then."

It stings like a shot to the heart. "Right."

He moves to stub out his cigarette, but Steve stops him before he can. "Leave the cigarette." Eddie nods, leaving it resting on the window ledge. He slips a hand into his pocket, thumb rubbing over the engraving on his lighter. He pulls it out, watches how the silver glints in the moonlight, and gently rests it down on the ledge as well.

He can't meet Steve's eye again as he walks out of his life for what he knows will be forever, but he does stop at his side. He leans in, presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. Whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." And rushes out of there.

He stops at the door before he leaves completely. Finds Steve stood at the window, Eddie's cigarette between his lips and dusty suit jacket draped around his shoulders. He flicks open the lighter in his hand, watching the flame flicker.

The last time Eddie Munson sees Steve Harrington, he is gazing out of the window into the moonlight, rumpled from Eddie's hands on his body, and Eddie knows his heart is never going to recover.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #zee writes

19 notes · View notes