#this has been corroding in a doc

[munsons-melody]

putting the x in sixx (part 2)

summary: with corroded coffin now on tour with the boys of mötley crüe, nikki sixx takes the time to keep trying to get to you

pairing: rockstar!boyfriend!Eddie x female!reader

cw: mentions drugs/drug abuse,

recommended song: you’re all i need by mötley crüe

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this was a request and i was over the moon to write it!! also not very proofread :)

requested? yep :))

masterlist

part 1 can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

——

"uh huh... yes... yes of course... yep... okay... okay great thanks man" eddie said as he hung up the phone, turning to you with the biggest smile on his face

"good news?" you asked excitedly, moving up from your laying position on the couch, turning off the tv

"we're going on tour!" eddie screamed, jumping up and down causing you to giggle

"wait what? huh? explain!" you leaped from the couch to where he walked over to the living room

"that was our manager, he apparently talked to his buddy doc who talked to the boys of mötley crüe and said they loved our sound and our stage presence and when they go on tour they want us to open!" he explained, talking fast

your jaw dropped and you squealed, pulling him in close, wrapping your arms around his neck as you jumped and your legs wrapped around his waist

he held you close until you heard a small sniffle, and moved so you carefully landed on the ground

"eddie baby you okay?" you asked, moving a few strands of hair away from his face and wiping a tear that was falling down his cheek

he nodded and sniffled again, wiping the tears away from his face and looked at you

"i just can't believe it, i'm so happy" he admitted as you held his face gently and leaned into kiss him

as you pulled away, your brow furrowed in confusion "wait don't you need to tell the rest of the band?" you let out a small chuckle and eddie's eyes widened

"oh shit yeah thank you love you" he said, kissing you fast before running to the phone again

——

it was 2 weeks later and tour rehearsals were in full swing along with corroded coffin recording songs for their new album and mötley crüe doing endless press for their girls, girls, girls album that had just come out

you hadn't seen much of the boys of mötley crüe due to their heavy promo schedule, occasionally seeing vince in the studio helping eddie with some vocals, and of course, mick just appearing randomly, fueling yours and Eddie's inside joke that he truly was an alien with superpowers- reminding you of a specific girl that once escaped hawkins lab that led you to meet eddie

"god i'm just so excited for the tour!" you said excitedly, walking in between Jeff and Gareth into the rehearsal studio

eddie was stuck at the recording studio with dougie for another hour while you accompanied the boys to the rehearsal space as they deemed it necessary you be there since eddie couldn't

"me too! can you believe we're actually here and doing this?" gareth replied, matching the excitement in your voice

the three of you continued to talk as you walked through the corridors of the large building before appearing at the double doors before the room that served as the rehearsal room

you already heard Vince, singing out the last few high notes of 'dancing on glass' when the three of you walked in, standing there watching them finish up the song

once they were done, you clapped along with jeff and gareth and nikki looked at you, smiling

"great guys, take 5... and no bump- we have a lot to get through today" doc said in a grumpy voice before patting mick on the back and turning to talk to some other important looking person

nikki set down his bass carefully on its stand and walked over to where you were standing

"hey stranger" he said and you felt a blush creep onto your face

"hey yourself" you replied back with a smile

"didn't know you were going to be here today" he said casually and you nodded, turning to where gareth was once standing until you realized he was in conversation with jeff and their manager steve

"yeah well eddie's stuck in the studio for another hour and the guys wanted me to come watch them rehearse so here i am" you joked and he chuckled

"well i'm very glad you got to see us perform a little bit of our song" he said

"me too, i'm excited to see it on stage in a month when tour starts" you admitted, tucking your hair behind your ear while nikki gave you a confused look

"wait are you coming with us?" he asked and you nodded

"uh yeah i'm staying with eddie for the entire tour" you smiled and he did a slow nod and pursed his lips

"good to know" he said with a smirk when you heard tommy yell "sixx! we're doing girls now!"

"that's my cue... maybe you should stick around and watch us play, i'm very good at doing girls" he winked at you before turning around and walking back to where his bass sat

it didn't click until you heard the intro to their hit girls girls girls, that you understood the joke and for a second you felt stupid before you realized that nikki was hitting on you again... was he always this persistent with every other girl he's ever slept with? not like it mattered anyways, you were with eddie, and the happiest you've ever been

before you can fathom another thought about nikki, talking to you, the door swung open, and you saw eddie and dougie, walking in with smiles plastered on their faces

eddie immediately walked up to you and gave you the biggest kiss and wrapped his arms around you

"hey you still had like half an hour left before you had to be here?" you questioned with a laugh and he pulled back to look at you

"it's crazy, i just was able to sing every perfect note with the right amount of energy and dougie just knew the exact notes of what to play to help me and it was like everything just clicked and we finally nailed it, so now i can watch the rest of their rehearsal with you" he smiled, lacing your finger together

your heard the drums starting up along with the guitars and bass, and took eddie to one of the couches facing the set up as vince started singing

you've heard this song at least a thousand times, and you liked it too, but as you were sitting with eddie's arm around you, half your back leaned into his chest, it was hard to watch them perform with nikki's eyes fixed on you

this might be a long tour... you thought to yourself

——

the past week had been a blur with traveling all up and down the east coast, but you were finally in New York City, after a month into the tour

you were hanging out in the dressing room while corroded coffin did their sound check

you heard their songs being played in a row so many times within the past month that you took the opportunity to hang out in the dressing room and get a moment to yourself

you had just flipped, open a new magazine, and lay down on one of the plush couches in the room when there is a knock at the door, and before you could even get up to answer it, it was none other than Nikki walking into the room

"oh shit hey sorry didn't know you were in here" he laughed, attempting to turn around to walk out when you got up

"oh, no, it's fine, i just needed a break from everything, god this tour has been so hectic... i don't even know how you can put up with it all" you joked and he chuckled

"with this my dear" he laughed and pulled out a small bottle that you immediately recognized

"ah yeah right" you said, awkwardly smiling at him as he sat down at the table across from you

you aren't uncomfortable with drugs, as your boyfriend used to be a dealer back when you two were in high school but you've never actually seen anyone snort anything right in front of you

"want some?" he asked as he set it up on the table and you shook your head

"no thanks i'm good" you said as he took out a card from his pocket

he did his business and as his head came up, he looked at you, his eyes looking straight into yours

"what?" you asked, secretly praying that he wasn't somehow going to just OD right in front of you with how long he was staring at you before he finally spoke, which calmed your nerves

"i don't know why the fuck i can't stop thinking about you, but jesus christ i've fucked every girl i wanted, and yet you're still on my mind..." he said, fiddling with the card in his hand

you looked at him with raised eyebrows before you finally found the courage to speak again

"oh wow uhm... that's blunt" you choked out

"i'm that type of guy" he said before taking in another line

"listen nikki-"

"god even the way you say my name is so hot" he breathed out and you found yourself blushing yet again at his words

"i will admit years ago before i met eddie... i had the biggest crush on you and yes if i wasn't in the the most amazing loving relationship with eddie and these were all different circumstances, then it probably would've happened, but that's not what's going on and honestly, i highly doubt you'll even remember this conversation in a few hours" you finally said as he just stared at you

the tension was so thick you could chop it with an ax, and it would still be there, but eventually he leaned up from a seat, and took another line before falling back into his chair

"if i could turn back time" he started to sing and you let out a laugh

"if i could find a way" he continued

"oh now you're gonna try and seduce me with cher?" you joked and he let out a laugh

"no just manifesting i build a time machine and go back in time" he said, staring at the ceiling

"you know, for someone who likes to sleep around and not commit or come off as anything more than being a sexual partner to the opposite sex, you do have very romantic words" you admitted with a laugh and he shook his head with a smile

"i think tommy and his stupid hopeless romanticness is rubbing off on me" he laughed and you smiled

you heard cheers and screams from outside your door when it burst open to see a very wet corroded coffin barging into the room

"oh my god babe it started raining when we were outside on the stage and so after we finished up the last song we ran around on the grass and it was the most amazing thing!" eddie yelled walking to you and shaking his hair like a wet dog

"agh! babe!" you squealed with a laugh as he went to pick you up

you turned to run so he wouldn't pick you up to get you all wet but as you did, you fell right into nikki who was getting up

you landed on him he sat in the chair, your bum pressed against his crotch perfectly

"shit sorry!" you said, scrambling to get up

"don't ever apologize for getting this close to me" he quickly whispered, looking into your eyes before you got up, looking at eddie who had his head flipped over as he dried his long hair with a towel

"see you tonight boys! have a good show!" nikki yelled before giving you one last glance and headed out the door

—

it was an hour before showtime, and you sat with Eddie on the small loveseat in the dressing room, pretending to be in your own little bubble before you had to share your boyfriend with the rest of the world well the rest of the boys were trying to hype each other up and blasting the radio

you ended up telling him about everything that happened with nikki that day, and you sat there feeling guilty for no reason when eddie grabbed your hand and locked his fingers with yours

"y/n there's no reason to feel bad, i'm just thankful o have a girlfriend that's loyal enough to me that when nikki sixx is hitting on her, she doesn't cave, especially when you had the biggest crush on him... i love you and i trust you and just know that nothing you do will ever change that for me" he said, looking at you, bringing his other hand up to gently stroke your cheek

"i love you too eds" you said, immediately feeling better, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and the two of you switched positions so you could lay down together

"and honestly if you're feeling uncomfortable, i have no problem fighting him, he'll probably be too doped up to even realize he's in a fight" he joked causing you to laugh

"thanks but babe have you ever actually won a fight outside DnD?" you questioned and his face dropped into an expression of confusion and thinking

"uh not technically, well this one time-" you cut him off by kissing him and the second you pulled away, you could see the enamoration and love he has for you wash over his face

"when do we stop in Vegas?" you asked and he looked away for a moment as he thought about the schedule

"uh maybe like 2 weeks from tomorrow i think our show is there? why?" he asked and you smiled

"i think we should get married" you said as a smile grew on eddie's face

"you want to elope?" he asked and you nodded

"the whole nikki thing made me further realize that the only man i ever want to be with for the rest of my life is you eds, and i think it'll be romantic just the two of us together"

"sounds like a plan" he said ecstatically, kissing you

"wait what about nancy? didn't you and her already start planning wedding stuff, aren't you each others maids of honor or something?" eddie asked you once you pulled away

"what she doesn't know can't hurt her" you joked

soon enough, it was time for the boys to go on stage, and you kissed Eddie one last time before he ran from the side of the stage into the center as the music started to play

——

you had just finished corroded coffin's set and were in the middle of watching mötley crüe's set, standing in the private section of the crowd to catch a couple of their songs before you headed back to the tour bus

"this next one goes out to someone in particular, hope you know i remembered the conversation babe" nikki said as the beginning of 'you're all i need' started to play

you looked at eddie, who was looking right at you and you both let out a small laugh, knowing about the conversation you had with nikki earlier and how you believed that he wouldn't even realize what he said till just now

"you know i love this song" you joked as you moved his arms around your waist and yours around his neck

you were pulled in close to eachother, enjoying the song as you stared into each others eyes and stealing kisses from eachother, feeling like the only two people in the arena

"yeah, i know you" he smiled

"you could probably write a better ballad that's all about me" you said and eddie shook his head with a smile

"don't you think nikki will be upset i'll have my own personal love song dedicated to only you as your wonderful, soon to be husband?" eddie said with a laugh and you let out a chuckle

"what he doesn't know can't hurt him" you smiled

fin.

[darligvane]

Gage headcanons

I have these all written down in a google doc (plus way more) so I figured I might as well throw some here now that I'm getting more comfortable using tumblr lol. I'm very open to discussion about these! I might post more in the future if someone finds it interesting.

CW for: Minor mentions of addiction and some general trauma stuff. Nothing too bad I don't think but don't hold me to that.

A lot of these mention The Harvester by the way, sorry. Lore makes my brain itch.

● While he is a part of a minority of raiders who can actually read and write‐ (as evidenced by him leaving messages to Colter on his terminal) -he is dyslexic. It takes him a while to write things out coherently, and reading anything more than a few short sentences is often frustrating.

● ^ because of this, he prefers / genuinely enjoys comic books. They're light on reading and he can usually tell whats going on even without dialogue. He had a small collection of comic books back when he lived with The Harvester, and still gets kind of pissed he never got those back.

• Regarding comics, his least favorite character is the Silver Shroud. He just pisses him off.

● His eyepatch being so large is actually functional! (Somewhat) I like to think he lost his eye by getting shot in the face with a plasma round, which corroded and destroyed a large area of skin around his eye and down his cheek. So the large metal plating on his eyepatch covers the large scar.

● He actually lost his eye when he first joined The Harvesters gang when he was younger. One of Harvests gang members pulled the trigger on him when he initially approached them, thinking he had ill intentions. It sucked- but hey, at least they let him in.

● He made his own cage armor and designed it particularly around his needs rather than protection. He uses the cage to hold tools, parts, a rag, etc. while he works on things like Colters power armor or other mechanical things he fiddled with. Definitely doesn't make him very bulletproof, but following the boss around keeps him away from most combat situations anyway.

● Colter had a tendency to use Gages armor like a big handle to drag him around a lot, which he didn't particularly enjoy.

● His favorite colour is yellow, which is why his cage armor is the colour it is. He painted it himself :')

● Has the most horrific trust issues in all of mankind. (Thanks for betraying him Harvest, he will absolutely not recover from that.) He won't eat anything he doesn't see prepared himself, won't set down his drink unless he's alone, he can't sleep around other people, etc. When Colter dies and the new Overboss takes over, he doesn't even tell them where he sleeps until he trusts them entirely. He'll just dissappear at night unless you call out for him.

● These trust issues leak into his behaviors during relationships also. Down to the more simple things. He prefers to hug his partner from behind or be big spoon, he prepares food for them both, takes the night guard when camping, etc. Anything that puts him in the more advantageous position, even if its subconscious.

● The Harvester haunts him. He still sees and hears him in the shadows or corners after however many years its been. Has nightmares of him coming back and finally finishing the job, killing him. Feels the cold metal of a scythe against his throat when it isn't there... its endless. Even something as common as the sounds of distant gunfire make him paranoid, since it reminds him of the betrayal. Absolutely ruined him.

● Has tattoos inspired by / centered around The Harvesters. Covers them with his armor though. Hes got some trauma to unpack man, idk. (Should I do a tattoo tour for him?)

● One of the reasons he hates chems is from a previous addiction. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he made a few of his worst life decisions on chems and it just put a bad taste in his mouth. He'd prefer it if his Overboss / partner was in a rational state of mind, thank you.

● He is surprisingly good with animals for the most part. Particularly cats. Does the old man / dad thing where he says he doesn't like them or calls them mean names while secretly petting them or letting them hop in his lap when he's alone.

● Not usually a big fan of the more "exotic" wasteland animals though. Totally got jumpy one day and shot a Pack molerat on accident.

Thats probably enough for now. I'm happy to answer questions or expand on these more if asked, and I'll probably share more in the future. (Maybe some 18+ ones too? We'll see.)

[sugarsfics]

You're My New Pillow

Summary: Eddie is tired and finds his new pillows 

Trope: Rockstar!Eddie x Plus!size!reader 

Warning: Kissing small sexual mentions because it is rockstar!eddie, being tired, metal image problems, cussing, 

Word count: 900

30 Day Challenge: Day 1  Send requests <33

Eddie has been up since 4 this morning. His manager wanted tonight to be perfect it was their first-time playing Madison Square Garden. Eddie has told you during your late-night conversations that it has always been his dream to play there because that’s how you know you made it. You were able to capture the moment when he saw it big letters CORRODED COFFIN TONIGHT 8 MADISON SQUARE GARDEN he was teary eyes and smiles. All day they have been rehearsing, doing should check, getting a feel for the stage. You could see in his eyes how tired he was, but he didn’t feel it, he was too excited. When they had their lunch break his eyes would drupe a little as he lay on your shoulder. 

“Honey, I think you should take a nap” you said has you rubbed his shoulders “I’m ok pretty girl” “But-” “Here take this” Jeff said and handed him an energy drink. “Thanks man” he takes it and chug it. You look at him with worried eyes I hope he will be fine for tonight. Their manager comes in to bring them out to their last practice before the concert. Even with tired eyes Eddie still looked amazing. When the first manager tells them they have 1 hour till they start getting ready. You walked with Eddie to his dressing room and past a window all you could see was a sea of people. “Wow” Eddie breathed “Their all here for you my rockstar” “Wow” was all he could say in that moment. You helped him get ready, not wanting him to be doing anything to get him tired. You were on his lap doing his eyeliner when you said “I am so proud of you” red spread across his cheeks, you could resist and kiss those red cheeks making them redder “Are you sure you don’t want to take a quick nap” “I’m *yawn* fine” “You just yawn in the middle that” “I” he breathed “I just don’t want to fall asleep then miss it all” “You won’t I will wake you up” “Yea but what if you fall asleep then we miss it” poor boy was so scared to miss his moment so you didn’t pressure him anymore. 

You helped Eddie get changed then started to get yourself ready. You put on a distressed black long sleeve with a red skirt with a belt, ripped tights (that Eddie may or may not have ripped) your trusty pair of docs and completed the look with dark makeup. You look at yourself in the mirror, you tried not to look at the rolls that were hanging or the pudge of your stomach. Eddie always praised you, he always called you a goddess, you tried and tried to see yourself through his eyes, but you couldn’t. You wiped your tears hurrying out the bathroom before you changed your mind. When you walked out your eyes met with Eddie’s he scanned you his eyes lit up then he fell to his knees and started bowing with his hands forward saying “I'm not worthy I'm not worthy” you giggled “Get up dork” “Damn” he bit his hand “How did I get so fuckin lucky, you look amazing” “I don’t-” he brought his lips to yours “Don’t you dare finish that sentence you are fucking hot” he said while kissing your face *knock knock* “10 minutes till show time Munson” You both looked at each other we huge smiles “Go knock there socks off rockstar” 

You walked by a mirror on the way to the stage when you looked at yourself and this time you saw the goddess, he was talking about he gave you confidence. He saw you look at you through the mirror “You look beautiful” he said kissing you “Yeah I do” you smiled at him “That’s my girl”  he screamed

Eddie played beautifully, his hair was flowing in every direction, his voice was amazing, the adrenaline kicked in when he walked onto the stage. He did it, His dream came true. The last chord rang through the speakers as they closed the night, they gave thanks and headed off the stage. The boy’s blood was rushing and big smiles everywhere “You looked amazing babe” you beamed bringing him in for a kiss “I feel amazing” he screamed. As much as they wanted to celebrate, they were tired. But we had to wait for a few hours till everyone was gone, they got on the tour bus. You sit on the leather couch with Eddie following in suit. He has been eyeing your thighs all night. “Is there something you like” you teased him “Yes there is” he said while moving his head down “Oh my god not here” you said quietly while looking around making sure no one was looking “As much as I would love to do that” he said “I will be using your thighs for other reasons” he continued. He laid his head on your thighs “Oh yea this is definitely what the doctor ordered” you rolled your eyes then started playing with his hair “if you keep doing that, I will fall asleep” “You deserve sleep, go ahead I will wake you when it is time to go” the response was his light snores.  

About two hours later their manager gave them the ok to get on the bus “Eddie my love wake up” you said light shaking him he rubbed his eyes and stretched “that was the best sleep of my life” he said “Come on let’s get on the bus” he clung on to you trying to keep the sleep in his eyes “ You my new pillow” he said sleepily “What” “You’re so comfy and squishy you are just my perfect pillow” you got him on the tour bus and into his bed. He pulled you under him and laid his head on your chest said his good nights and I love you’s and drifting off to sleep. He woke up the next morning “Yep you’re my new pillow” 

Tag list: @thefreak0fhawkinshigh

[gloomysoup]

i wanna write. make me write people. please. it's been so long.

here's some current wips you can make me write, along w brief descriptions (yes ik there's a lot of them) :

secrets

omega!steve/alpha!eddie - in which steve and eddie are decidedly NOT a thing. eddie gets a record deal, steve finds out he's pregnant, and shenanigans ensue when he doesn't tell eddie (find more info here)

rockstar slice of life

rockstar!eddie/just some guy!steve - the boys live in chicago. eddie is in a band w new bandmates (he's still friends w the corroded coffin boys, but they had different dreams and passions. it was a mutual breakup on good terms). steve is the Band Boyfriend, making sure nobody dies. it is very fluffy and has minimal plot

daycare

omega!steve/alpha!eddie - steve runs a daycare out his home and takes care of The Party. based on a prompt from the WONDERFUL @nburkhardt (find more info here)

russian adventures

essentially steve goes to russia instead of hopper. it's all about the effects the experience had on him and how he tries to find normalcy again after being presumed dead for almost a year. perhaps a sprinkle of steddie but mostly steve navigating his relationships w the Party knowing that he's not the same person he was before

i've loved everything about you that hurt

this is like one of the very few with an actual title. it's based on G.I.N.A.S.F.S. by Fall Out Boy. it is an angsty steddie one shot set in eddie's pov (i have not yet figured out how to start writing this but i will figure it out)

steve's parents don't suck

i have no better title for this one tbh. basically, steves parents are famous musicians in a band. it's mostly about him not talking ab it w anyone, but the Party slowly figuring it out themselves. he uses connections to help corroded coffin as much as he can. i don't really have a plot yet

rockstar angst

rockstar!eddie/teacher!steve - they have a big fight right before eddie takes off to pursue his music, leaving steve behind to simmer in his anger and frustration. steve follows eddie's career closely, but they don't see each other again for fifteen years. there's still bad blood between them, even after so much time, but eventually they will work their shit out

stepdads

omega!steve/alpha!eddie - steve is a single parent. eddie falls in love. shenanigans ensue. (find more info here)

the things that haunt me (in the middle of the night)

in simplest terms, steve gets vecna'd. he doesn't tell anyone. very angsty with a lot of steve hurt, but a happy comforting ending (find slightly more info here)

alright that's all i have to share right now. there's other things swirling thru my docs but nothing ready for tumblr yet. idk just like send me asks and make me write things. also if you have any ideas to add to any of these, i wouldn't say no. i will answer all of them as quickly as possible, and they will most likely all include some snippet that i write for each one :))

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @maryofdoom! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

@mojowitchcraft recommends the following works by ArgentumCivitas:

Tessellation

Every Time: A Steddie Drabble Collection

Corroded Coffin - Live On Tour - One Night Only

He Carries Me Quietly

Higher Education

Mary is such a talented writer, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by her. She’s an incredible story teller and very generous with brainstorming offering advice. - @mojowitchcraft

Below the cut, @maryofdoom answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

To quote Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, “I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” But for real, though, it's because my bestie and writing partner called me up on Discord one night and said, “Mary, you need to watch the first episode of Season 4 of Stranger Things. Right now. I mean it. I think the show is in love with Eddie.” (…Some, shall we say, substances may have been involved.) However, I stick with it because I love both the boys as characters. I think they're interesting. They have a lot of interesting aspects about them to explore, both singly and together, and I think we're all enjoying that.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual pining! Good God, give me so much pining that I think I’m in the forest. Give me so much pining that I need to use an oil-based paint on them. Give me so much pining that I’ll saw those two boys into planks and repanel my house. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

By far, it's when one of them has a crush on the other and is pissed off about it. There’s so much potential for sparky, interesting dialogue with other characters (and with each other) when the boys find themselves in that situation. And then it leads to interesting moments when they finally turn the corner and realize they’re not actually mad at the other one, they’re in love. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so, so many that I love. But instead of giving you one of the big ones, let me share this gem: Love My Way, by dreamspaces. It’s very short, at only 1,346 words, but sometimes a bite is as good as a meal. 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It might be interesting to do something with “and they were roommates.” I haven’t truly messed around in that space, yet. I also haven’t done a proper enemies-to-lovers, either, mostly because I can’t stand to set up a proper enemy relationship at the beginning…but I am chewing on an idea at the moment that might necessitate that sort of opening relationship between them.

What is your writing process like?

 It tends to follow a very specific order of operations:

Get an idea from somewhere. Possible avenues for ideas include conversations with friends, news stories overheard from NPR, something that hits while I’m listening to music, posts on Reddit, anything that turns up from general blorbo rotation, the works.

Write down the idea in my notes app of choice (I use Evernote)

Begin adding more thoughts and concepts to the idea (sometimes even snips of dialogue, if they hit interesting)

Once the idea has reached a critical enough mass, transfer it to Google Docs and turn it into a draft (if it’s a one-shot idea) or an outline (if it’s a longfic idea)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: begin writing the draft

FOR A LONGFIC: begin writing the outline, according to the outlining method detailed in Tom Lennon and Ben Garant’s Writing Movies for Fun and Profit (this book is half how to make it as a screenwriter in Hollywood and half solid craft advice on how to write a screenplay, and though I don’t want to write screenplays and though I was very skeptical until I tried it out, this is the only method that has worked to get me to finish any actual novel-length works)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: when the draft is done, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, heavily, to make it better

FOR A LONGFIC: once the outline’s done, actually write the thing 

FOR A LONGFIC: once the thing’s written, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, basically rewriting it completely

FOR A LONGFIC: do the same thing again, and then again, pausing in between each iteration for as long as I can

FOR BOTH A ONE-SHOT AND A LONGFIC: once it’s to the point where I don’t hate it, get ahold of my bestie and writing partner and have her read it and crit it and tear it apart

(cry a little because her crit is probably right)

Implement the good changes and ignore the bad ones - sometimes we have a (good-natured) fight about which ones are which

Send it to my other writing friends for their thoughts and comments and incorporate those, in a similar fashion

Revise, again

Once it’s as done as it’s going to be, make a posting schedule (if it’s a longfic)

Get it out there, according to the posting schedule

Begin working on the next thing

Do you have any writing quirks?

I mean, I can sit here and say “Oh no, I definitely don’t,” but I’m sure that I do. I am sure I have a distinctive writing style, just as everyone else does, but I would have to defer to anyone who’s read multiple works I’ve written to pull out any specific “quirks.”I will note that I really try hard to get the characters’ voices down, in their dialogue. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I try.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule, ABSOLUTELY. More power to those of you who post when you’re done writing, but I am the kind of person who needs to have everything DONE and ready to go before I put even a HINT of it up online. You can see this from my writing process. It doesn’t lend itself nicely to just throwing stuff out there as a work in progress. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Oooh, good question. I would have to say it’s a tie between the next two fics on this list. Tessellation, because I worked really hard on it (and because I figured out work skins), and He Carries Me Quietly, because I think it’s beautiful. The way it ends still gets me, even now. Not just because of the action that happens, but because of the words that I chose. I read them and I’m like, “...I wrote that? Damn, girl.”

How did you get the idea for Tessellation?

I mention it a little in its ending note, but I got the idea for Tessellation from a couple of places, one of which was the Steddie fandom itself. I love the idea of every single one of these 25,000+ stories about Steve and Eddie all being true all at once. Even the story of Stranger Things itself, as we see it on our TV screens, is just one possible version of the story that’s happening somewhere. (I truly believe that. I didn’t become an extremely lapsed Catholic for nothing. HECK THE RULES.)

When writing Tessellation, what was something you didn’t expect?

It was surprisingly easy to make connections between the six stories. It wasn’t like I was hunting for places to jam them in—they ended up falling into place very naturally. And I think my favorite one of these is when Steve, in the space story, is describing the spaceship that he pilots as “Rusalka class, she’s a good swimmer,” to Eddie, who presumably understands what this means in the context of the sci-fi world in which they live. 

What inspired He Carries Me Quietly?

It started as something else entirely—a whole established-relationship fic with the kids coming over to Steve and Eddie’s (either house or apartment) to play D&D, with an arc about a blind Max being included as kind of an oracle or super-NPC through Eddie passing her index cards with Braille on them, so she could be part of the game when and if she wanted to be. The whole thing was supposed to be told in flashbacks. I had a whole scene where Steve was figuring out how to bake cookies for everyone with whatever meager ingredients he had on hand. …Then it took a hard left into religious trauma, through some meandering means.  I guess it would be reasonable to say the inspiration, at that point, was seeing a tweet on then-Twitter with some speculation about how Eddie had come to live with Wayne. If it was the common (and unfortunate) queer-kid arc of being disowned by one’s parents. And then I thought, “Let’s go ahead and put Steve through that too, but let’s do it several years after it happens to Eddie, so that Steve has someone to guide him through the whole process.”

What was your favorite part to write from He Carries Me Quietly?

I think it was probably the opening, because of the rhythm of the sentences and how the sounds fit together with one another. I mean, if you choose to check it out, try reading the first few paragraphs out loud. It’s kind of what I think of when people talk about how writing has a cadence, or a musicality to it.  That, and the ending. The ending, starting with, “There’s one more thing that Steve wants to know,” was one of those things that just fell perfectly into place. I can see it so clearly in my mind: the two of them having a conversation, late at night in bed together, after a traumatic day. 

How do/did you feel writing Higher Education?

I love this goofy little story! It was part of a Discord server gift exchange in 2022 and my recipient said “College AUs are my jam,” so this is where my mind went. I wanted to consider a world where Eddie was the frat boy, instead of Steve. But if that were the case, the fraternity would have to be a pretty non-traditional one, wouldn’t it? The fictional Lambda House is based heavily on the fraternity house where I used to hang out in college. (It was at an engineering school and was populated entirely by nerds.)

What was the most difficult part of writing Higher Education?

The actual writing itself, honestly. Winter 2022 was a really difficult time for me, personally, and though I signed up for the fic exchange with all optimism and good wishes, it was a struggle to get everything done in time. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

One that really stands out to me is from Wrong Number, which was a oneshot I wrote based on a short conversation with some Discord friends. Picture it: Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle are all hanging out in the basement, and they’re all extremely high. Argyle, in his own way, can sense that something is wrong with Eddie. In order to get him to confess to whatever’s on his mind, they reference the pact they made that “anything said in the basement stays in the basement. It’s the law of the basement.” That just hits me as something so quintessentially Argyle. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh my, yes! I have two longfics in the pipeline that I hope to be sharing with everyone soon (or, well, as soon as I can get them through my Process). The Music of the Spheres is a Regency AU with a smoldering slow burn and an eventual happily-ever-after, while Home for the Holidays is a genre mashup: Steve’s in a Hallmark Christmas romance and Eddie’s in a psychological thriller. I am also rotating a couple more ideas in my brain that could potentially be longer works as well, but we’ll see how those go.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think the esteemed and prolific two-time-Hugo-Award-nominee Dr. Chuck Tingle puts it very nicely when he says: “CREATE. BUILD. EXPRESS. CONQUER THE LYING VOICE THAT SAYS YOUR TECHNICAL PERFECTION IS BETTER THAN TRUTH OF THE MOMENT. FILL THE VOID WITH ART and do not fear because weve got your back buckaroo. we are ALL creators in our own way so LETS HECKIN CREATE.” Let’s heckin’ create, buckaroos. I’ll see you out there in the word mines.

Thank you to our author, @maryofdoom, and our nominator, @mojowitchcraft! See more of @maryofdoom's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Eddie's awesome and super effective step-by-step plan on how to seduce local pretty boy Steve Harrington:

1. Make a good impression on his kids

That was almost too easy. DnD always gets them all.

2. Mentally prepare yourself to become a parental figure to a fuck-ton of kids

After much contemplation and many basketball games between Sinclair and Steve where the latter sweats and takes off his shirt and pours water over his head, I have decided that I am ready for this huge step. I will be the best stepfather those kids have ever had. Besides Steve, of course

3. Ask him out on a date

Should probably figure out step 4 before I do this one. No, this is NOT STALLING OKAY !!!!!!

4. Take him out (ON A DATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Possible date ideas:

Invite him to one of our shows

Go Are you stupid? Haven't you seen how many times that boy has been hit in the head? and you want to invite him to a place with LOUD MUSIC and FLASHING LIGHTS?!

...God?

No. This is your fbi agent.

Ohhhh. Am I a wanted man? 😏

You are a risk to the public safety after what happened this summer. And after watching you attempt and fail to lick your own elbow for over an hour to prove a point to a kid half your age, and also seeing you fail so miserably while trying to plan a date, I am convinced that that was the correct choice by the US Government.

First of all: I knew that you weren't God be

stop showing me your tongue. I can see you through the camera. Cause he would definitely be a huge Corroded Coffin fan. Second of all, don't fucking inter

You can't stop me, and you are clearly dependent on my help. Rupt me. Asshole. And third: leave my Docs alone?! a) I can think better with lists. b) This is also where I save

most of your music, I know. I fix some verses sometimes to give it a better flow

I KNEW THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG

You're welcome. I don't even ask that you credit me. Now please, calm down. You have time to throw your tantrum later. Right now we have a date to plan. In the time I have gotten to know you, I have become concerningly invested in your relationship with the Harrington boy. And my partner also agrees.

Hello. I am the FBI Agent assigned to our current target Steve Harrington.

Uhm, mister agent. You are aware that I meant take out in the DATING sense and not in the KILLING sense, right?! Wait, you know what, let me go clarify it real quick.

A clarification is not needed.

He's going to do it anyway. He never listens.

Sounds like someone I know. Back to our *romantic* target. I can tell you that Steve Harrington wishes nothing more than to live a domestic life in a comfortable home with the person he loves and a truly impressive amount of kids. And a dog.

HAVE YOU SEEN HOW I FUCKING LIVE?! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BUY HIM A WHOLE-ASS HOUSE?!?!OAJFJWJF

Although I am not technically assigned to you, you and my responsibility spend so much time together, that I have indeed had ample of time to thoroughly inspect your residence, yes.

In fact, me and my partner oftentimes take turns watching over the both of you at once

WHY ARE YOU TELLING HIM THIS. IF BOSS FINDS OUT WE WILL BOTH HAVE TO WORK FULLTIME AGAIN

Calm down, we are already breaking the rules by directly interacting with out target. So, whenever you and Steve watch a movie or cuddle or sleep in the same bed or go to the record shop together even though you both have completely opposite taste in music or s why are you looking like this Eddie.

FUCK WE REALLY DO ALL THAT, DON'T WE?!?!?!

Yes.

Yes.

BUT THESE......THESE ARE ALL.....THESE ARE ALL GREAT DATE ACTIVITIES AREN'T THEY?!?!

Yes, since both of you have a romantic interest in each other I would say that these activities could be considered a date.

Now you understand why we are so invested in your relationship? Aaaaaand he's run off.

But. But he has to delete this document. Nobody can never know of this severe breachment.

Wait true! Fuck! EDDIE MUNSON GET BACK HERE FOR A SECOND

EDDIE MUNSON!!

@weirdandabsurd42

@spicysix

@alliecat523 (ik u don't go here but u did interact with the post so)

[steddiebang]

The Center Cannot Hold

Author: @mashawisotsky l Artist: @boiiko Posting on Monday, November 27

Days after an earthquake rocks Hawkins, Indiana, citizens struggle with how the strange event has impacted their lives. Rising sophomores strain to complete their first year of high school. The Wheeler family pretends everything is fine; Mike remains a member of Hellfire Club while Nancy gets a unique opportunity – intern-at-large in support of an AP crime reporter for the Northern Midwest region. The coverage of the Munson Murders is thick on the ground while the lead suspect is still at large. Lucas and Erica Sinclair have two enemies, the unfair house arrest imposed by their parents and the rising racial hatred as the mid-term elections of '86 rumble with the fractures of the Reagan presidency. Meanwhile, Susan Mayfield can't balance her thankless night job with a daughter in a hospital where no one will answer her questions. Rumors swirl around a Hawkins day-care while former King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington, convalesces at home. One intrepid Roane County prosecutor is convinced the two are linked. Corroded Coffin is no longer playing at The Hideout but one member – the bassist – is certainly signing a tune for county officials. Joyce Byers and her kids return to a town that isn’t sure why they bothered to come back and has no interest in welcoming them. Underneath it all, there is something stirring. What was dead had risen once again

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

He’s bored of being bored. The first while had slipped away under a haze of painkillers and sleep. Mid-week Wayne had driven him back to the hospital to get the lingering stitches removed, the skin healing pink and itching around the black thread. The doc had snipped away the knots and then with tweezers pulled the thread right out of him. Eddie would find himself rubbing the scars and trying to ease the itch on the inside. He prodded the edges of the puffed pink lines and felt the tacky fluid of his body trying to keep itself together. The docs had gone in and manhandled his organs. The morphine was excellent, he remembers. It was like the best of anything he’d ever taken. Nothing bothered him. Everything easy, calm, and warm. The whole world kind and full of comfort. He had never had a sleep that good in his life.

Now at the motel and officially cleared for activity Eddie mourned a little. He’d been forced cold turkey off the booze and the dope; even after the feds had awkwardly returned his paraphernalia it was only the music shit he got back. Nothing he could move. The problem was that he sucked at planning ahead for so-called important shit. Stuff like drafting a campaign, was no effort at all. Burning through Off Season when he finally got his hands on it - not even stopping to eat or take a piss, eyes going dry from staring at the page, not even turning on the light after the sun got low - the usual when he liked a book. Taking all his codeine the first week, leaving him to lay on the bed and grit his teeth and drink whisky to sleep, well. He was predictable. Bucking convention exactly as expected. The refill was still days away.

The issue with drinking to sleep was that it made him have to piss early in the morning, pre-dawn light smearing across the floor, mouth dry and flooded with spit, stumbling into the bathroom and trying to hit the bowl. Everything grey-washed and even standing making him feel like his guts were water. When he had lived with Wayne after the disastrous first-last year of high school he had enough shame to creep around. They gave up the pretence after Wayne caught him in the dark eating a dry cheese sandwich and leaning on the counter, drunk in the witching hour after being drunk in the afternoon after being drunk the day before. Days bleeding one into the other. His dad would have brought out the belt. Would have swung so the buckle hit. 

“Go to your room,” was all Wayne said, and didn’t comment on the pull tabs littering the ground outside like shrapnel.

Getting to the bathroom today almost saw Eddie break his neck. He stepped on something that cracked underfoot but it was too dark to figure it out. The whole cleaning thing for him came in waves. Dirty clothes and books and scrap paper would pile up until it bothered him, then some kind of second wind would catch him around the throat then he’d spend the weekend scraping down to the carpeting and washing two weeks' worth of dishes until ten at night. Then he would feel good - scoured even - and his mind would be quiet. He always fucking himself over. The minute Master of Puppets dropped in his hands everything else fell away. Eddie spent hours listening to the tracks, could pick apart every section and examine it, turning over the riffs in his mind. Meditating on the progression. Sitting there and thinking about the rhythm. Drilling the solos over and over until the calluses were bruised underneath. Despite what the guys said, he wasn’t good. Music wasn’t magic to him, but it was his mother tongue. Some guys could talk Quenya or Conan or whatever, and sure he could do that, but he dreamed music. When he was showering or driving or even taking a shit sometimes a phrase would fall into his head, fully formed. He tried not to let the frustration get to him but playing at Jeff so the guy could play it back at him was always torture. Not to mention fighting with Gareth about, fucking, polyrhythms while Eddie could only say, look, look, like this man, and slap it out on his own thighs. As if he knows what tempo means.  Just listen, that’s all, recreate the noise in his brain out there in the open.

Read more on November 27!

[naranjapetrificada]

What is Exhibit.txt about?!

Yay! Thanks for asking 😊

It's kind of like, a list of significant objects? With notes about circumstances through which they could be discovered, like if they could all be put together in an impossible museum exhibit of the relationship. I started it during one of the many times this fandom has made think about the unfathomable existence of time as a concept.

The "exhibit" is starting to feel more like a memory palace for me as a fic writer though, so idk that it will ever turn into anything I'd post as its own thing? Anyway, objects include:

Discolored red fabric an early naturalist found while dissecting a sea turtle that thought it was about to catch a tasty jellyfish. It was actually two discoveries because he "discovered" the sea turtle species and it was named after him.

A half-finished (for extra devastation) portrait of two figures from the legs down by an unknown artist

A silver spoon so corroded from seawater that it took modern imaging to read the monogram "bSEt"

A brick from a house where a couple of "old sea salts" retired with "a few servants" including "a cook" who made special biscuits to give out to local kids on one "random" day each year (the day was Eid-al-Fitr because I'm a "Roach would have been born to a Muslim family" truther. So would Oluwande in that era tbh!!!!)

...I'm beginning to see where the urge to frame my current longfic WIP with fake academic articles comes from.

There are also scattered notes in the file that make me think I was ruminating over like, historical queer ephemera and how even if we never know details about specific queer forebears we might be able to still "sense" that they came before us or whatever and that makes us feel better about our own existence? Honestly seems like I might have been Going Through Some Stuff. I started it way before season 2.

Let's keep playing! Ask me about any of the cryptically titled docs in my WIP folders!

[miidnightpoet]

Sweetheart (Rockstar!Eddie x MusicStar!Steve)

Steve is new to the music industry, he had worked as a teacher at Hawkins Middle School for six years after Venca, but now he's basically got his name in lights wherever he goes. Everything went by in a flash when it happened, the phone call saying he got the record deal, the congratulations from his friends and moving to New York with Robin. Now he was about to go on his own tour for his album “Sweetheart”, the album he had written for Eddie. (all steves songs are taylor swift songs)

Eddie’s been in the music industry for eight years now, he’s learned the ins and outs and all the ways to work the system. THe only thing is he isn’t exactly “Eddie Munson” in the industry. After everything that happened in Hawkins. The murder accusations, Chrissy’s death, Vecna. He couldn’t handle being Eddie anymore, the doc Hopper had introduced him to had set up an alternative life for Eddie after he reached out three months in Hawkins. Now he had his new band and a new life as Darren Mack. Their band Raining Hellfire was world famous and they were about to go on tour. 

Dear Eddie, With Love... A Collection Of Letters

A collection of letters written to Edward "Eddie" Munson of Corroded Coffin during his 4 month coma in 1986. These letters were written from friends and family when they were struggling with their losses and the fear they would lose Edward as well. This collection was published in 1996 after Edward came out as gay and announced his queer relationship with well known human rights activist Steven "Steve" Harrington.

The Aftermath

A bunch of one-shots that will come together in one holiday party ending

Nancy Is Dead (WIP Name)

Ronance, Steddie, hopper wants to adopt evryone, protective Steve.

Jason beats up robin for being gay and visiting Nancy's grave on their aniverity.

A Bullet Through My Heart (no full description yet)

during season 4, ronance, hinted steddie, mad robin, miscommunication, robin nancy fight, very emotional

Don't Mess With My Best Friend:

When Robin shows up at Steve's door covered in blood and bruises, he panics. His dad never let them keep a first aid kit in the house so he has no way to help his best friend. This leads him to call in a favour from Chief of Police Jim Hopper, who knows that Steve dosen't live in a great environment.

Steve nurses Robin back to health while trying to figure out who beat up this best friend and deals with his own trauma from his problematic father.

Also Nancy is dead :)

Trust Me I Love You:

A collection of our favourite people proving to their favourite people that they love them platonically, romantically and everything in between.

Fuck You Munson (havent started writing)

Steve's about to start his the tour for his first album Sweetheart when Eddie Munson gets brought back into the conversation. Steve still hasnt forgiven him for packing up and leaving in the middle of the night and dosent want to. Steve just wants to enjoy his tour with Robin and his fans.

Eddie's never been one to keep up with new artist but when he hears Steve Harrington said over the radio it pulls him from his current downward spiral. He's stopped smoking, any drop of alcohol is gone from his apartment. Eddie's biggest regret was leaving Steve now he had a chance to fix it.

Everything goes down hill when Steve find out their venue has been double booked and he now has to do a show with Eddie and his new band Raining Hellfire.

[dysiver]

Dys you know what? Dys has bad memories right? It's probably because of your meds?? cause like my brother has been taking meds for nearly a year due to his corroded bones so like he's getting forgetful now and his doc did say that it's one of the side effects from the meds he's taking so maybe most meds just make people forgetful? I know my aunt has MG and the meds she takes make her forgetful too lol.

That's what other anons say so I feel like it's true

[justaboutdead]

ENTITY Mission 1, Expedition 2

(Entity is a solo ttrpg by Peter Scholtz, this story is a log of my play)

>I have now rested since scavenging from that alien ship. I will be heading down into one of the nearby chasms; I require various rare mineral for my constructions, thus they seem like a logical place to start looking. The crumbling walls of the entrance barely support the weight of me and my tethers as I slowly lower myself down. >I find a narrow crevasse through which i cam continue my descent, illuminated by the synthetic beam from my helmet. Down here I am safe from the Pyramid, it cannot watch me. The crawl soon opens into a large room, seemingly built long ago. Familiar technology lines the walls- a robotics lab of sorts, used in some ancient expedition to this place. Its creators long dead, much like the rest of the humans. >I am able to persuade one of the ancient, rust coated arms to pry open a corroded storage box, revealing a collection of old drives and materials, useful for latter. The door on the opposite side gives way after I strike it a few time with my heavy glove, and I am on my way.

>The corridor continues down, revealing at its bottom a brilliant cavern high with crystalized carbon, its sharp geometric forms serving as a prism for light streaming down from below.

>My suit beeps. In the brilliant refracted light, I can barely make out the indicator; there are high levels of radiation here, likely some trace isotope in the crystals. I must move quickly. Some alien robots appear to be scattered among the bases of the crystals. Miners, perhaps. They are similarly organic, like the last. Maybe thats why the lab was down here.

>I approach them and attempt to extract some kind of information from the computer interfaces on their back. I am successful, but i use a lot of energy in the process. I accidentally wake one of them, and it knocks me over, as it heads on its pre determined course. This alien technology seems strangely intuitive, despite its unfamiliarity.

>I follow it back to where its charging doc used to be, although it has been long destroyed. The robot paces around, searching for a place to doc, but I am more interested in the large, miraculously mostly intact fresco above it.

>The fresco seems to depict the pyramid, or at least that’s the most I can make out. Seems I can’t even escape it down here. Strange organic fractal patterns fill the empty space. The mural itself isn’t flat but curved, various details inset against the wall. A large bulkhead lies open beneath it.

>Inside I find strange equipment, a refinery of some sort, left in disarray, as if the works fled, perhaps to their deaths like I observed on the surface above. Nevertheless their refined materials remain, perfect for me to make use of. I find a manageable crate and haul it ip a steep ramp to the surface. There, the evening sky greets me, the thin line of a large comet stretched across the horizon. The mountains in the distance gleam with the fading hues of the day. >I am able to make another trip down to the refinery before I stop for the night, my suit caked in the fine dust that coats the entire facility. I found some other useful bits and pieces, but in the end, I have to get going. I lug the crate back to what I intend to become my de facto base of operations, a small, mostly intact, mostly empty building on the edge of the desert, nestled between two hills. I need to rest before I head out again. >I.A.P. Mikonial Signing Off

(This concludes Mission 1, Expedition 2)

Side note: I’m surprised at how well things have been going for me, I’ve amassed large quantities of resources and data (the game’s 2 big amassed recourses), barely spent any energy, and only taken 2 strain from failures. Today I also got an aspect, the refined materials, one of 4 needed to complete the mission and build the map room. I kinda expected more to go wrong. Hopefully this situation will suddenly reverse on me so I can have some dramatic story moments :)

[superblysubpar]

Stop, I am SOBBING. I love hearing everyone hate Steve and be mad and scream at me about him, cause yeah he totally sucks right now. But you have no idea how much it means to hear your thoughts on these other idiots in this story 💛 To me, this series has definitely not just been about Steve and reader and I hope you continue to see that in the last chapter and epilogue!

I really have loved touching on Robin and reader's friendship, and like you mentioned all those messages from her!!

Eddie is, ugh. Believe me I gotta repeat that same mantra in your tags every time I write cause no, we can't do it. This is about Steve 🙄.

And that's an interesting little connection about Leigh and the costume, are you in my Google Doc?

Also. As far as Eddie's costume, I'd love it to be themed with Steve and Reader or even Nancy and Robin, but I think that takes away from theirs. Eddie needs his own thing! Originally this scene was gonna be way bigger and have corroded coffin playing and he was just gonna be a Rockstar and they were gonna give him shit for it. Maybe he still was?

masterlist | playlist

Chapter Warnings: spoilers for the movie franchise Star Wars | mentions of the holiday Halloween being celebrated by others and reader enjoying it | Leigh is not my character creation, a shared character who @sweetsweetjellybean originally created & I put a little twist on for this story with her permission.

Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

9.4k words | A/N: I can't begin to express my gratitude for those who've read this story & those that helped me get through writing it, especially my beta extraordinaire @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz for helping me break that pesky wall of self doubt and writer's block always. I have a big long A/N on the epilogue that's posting right after these two chapters with more sap. Thanks for being here, I love you immensely if you've made it this far from the beginning or you're just arriving 💛

In the movies, they like to make those big plot twists drag out for the protagonist to let it really sink in. Or maybe it's more for the viewers. Special effects, camera angles, flashbacks, and poignant music playing - all to make seconds feel much longer than they are. 

In your experience, these plot twists are usually predictable. Of course that guy’s the villain, it was the best friend all along, he’s Luke’s father, et cetera, et cetera. You’re utterly baffled every time by a character’s lack of intuition to see it coming. You’ve booed at writing and acting and told yourself that in real life, it’s so different. 

Sure, surprises happen. Reality does not care about predictability, the fragile state of the human heart, or what’s fair. You get that. People cheat, they make mistakes, they die, they lose - and there isn’t some fade-to-black-happy-ending guarantee when they do. There isn’t a countdown on the bottom of a screen letting you know there’s still time left to make it all back from whatever happened, no assurance that it’ll all work out. 

To call something real - something happening directly to you - a plot twist, seems horribly wrong though. Is there another word for it? Those moments that manage to catch you off guard, that come without warning or a build up. Moments that hit you repeatedly like a knife to a chest in a slasher flick. Or feel like the instant demise of oxygen leaving your lungs as a door opens to space. That sucker-punch from a red glove to the jaw when you think you’ve just won the big fight. 

What do you call that shit?

Robin’s voice is an echo, muffled and distorted as if you’re deep underwater. “Oh my god, hi! Wow, you are so much prettier than Steve mentioned.”

Who is with Steve?

Robin keeps going, putting her entire foot in her mouth, oblivious to the way Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours. You only stop staring yourself, after what feels like hours, to finally take in their intertwined hands as Robin babbles. “Wait, I mean…no, see…alright, he told us you were pretty is what I’m trying to say, but like you’re even prettier…”

Who the hell is with Steve?

Her laugh cuts through the fog and your eyes finally focus on the woman attached to the sound. 

She’s pretty, just like Robin keeps saying over and over again.

Dark, shiny hair, piercing eyes that you can see - even from this distance - are a hazel to almost match his. A hypnotizing smile, curves and a confidence radiating off of her… everything you wish you were but aren’t.  

She laughs again, assuring Robin she gets it (in an infuriatingly humble way), introducing herself as Leigh Kensington.

Nancy perks up at the name when Robin gasps and shouts, “Oh my god! Nance!” Robin looks back, waving her over, “Just like Legally Blonde!” Her voice attempts to lower as she sighs to Leigh, “She loves Reese Witherspoon. It is Vivian Kensington right?” The question louder and directed at Nancy again. Robin doesn’t even take a breath to let her answer though, “Which is hilarious because Steve’s mom’s name is Vivian and you’re dating Steve and you work in legal, right? And-“

Emerald glass shatters around your feet as the bottle of beer falls from your hand, the sharp shards scatter quickly, too broken to ever be put back together. Your legs turn to lead and muscles are no longer in communication with your brain as it finally makes the connection to what you’re seeing and hearing and what that means for you. 

“Shit! Jesus, woman-“ Eddie jumps back from you as the glass skirts across the pavement further. 

Robin finally turns in your direction at the commotion, her brows knit together in worry. Face progressively getting more concerned as it tightens. Her hand lets a bean bag fall to the board with an echoing thump. “Hey, you look-“

Not waiting to hear the end of her sentence, you will your legs to work and spin, taking off in search of literally any place that isn’t there. Your feet pound against the pavement, thuds that vibrate through the rubber of your soles all the way up to your eardrums.

It’s seconds, less than a minute, and it’s as if the entire stadium - hell, your entire world - has spun upside down. Roars to your left, the rumbling of fan’s excitement from the nosebleeds down to the field mingle and harmonize with the rapid beating in your chest. As you keep running with no real destination other than away, your shoulders bump stranger’s, meeting their frowns and scoffs with whispered and rushed apologies. The familiar sting behind your eyes forms, eyelashes growing damp as you suck in a sharp breath. No more running, you need somewhere to hide. 

You’re not going to cry about this. You’re not. How could you be so stupid? How could you let this happen?

The familiar long line all women are accustomed to grabs your attention and you’re off again. Disgruntled and shouted annoyance from everyone in line echoes across the dull gray tile as you rush past them, yelling something about an emergency. You slam a turquoise door, sliding the silver latch with shaking fingers as your forehead rests on the cold material of the stall. You focus on breathing through your nose and out your mouth, this is fine. You’re fine. 

A buzz in your pocket once, twice, and then a third time, and you don’t have to pull your phone out to know they’re texts from him. Despite your better judgment, you look:

It buzzes a fourth time and you lock the phone, debating just chucking it into the toilet. 

The sleeve of your sweatshirt presses to your mouth as you clear your throat. No tears are falling for him, not today, not ever. 

You hate Steve Harrington. 

This was always the plan.

You hate Steve Harrington. 

It’s not like you were in love with the guy. 

Even as you think it, the panic turns to defense inside of yourself - scrounging around for rocks and bricks, reinforcing the wall around your heart you had started to let crumble for a boy you thought was worth it. 

“Girl, what the hell?”

A familiar pair of red converse with writing and doodles covering any space they can, mirror your feet at the base of the stall. You step back, fingers hovering over the latch, ready to tell her it’s fine. Robin isn’t an idiot though, and you’re certain that despite your denial, she’ll take one look at you and make you spill your guts. 

Her feet move closer, the familiar clink of rings meeting metal hits your ears, letting you know she’s pressing her palms to the door. Robin’s voice is softer and for one brief, horrible moment, you think she knows. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The guilt that’s hovered over you for months like a storm cloud, releases, engulfing you completely, the promise of sunlight no longer on the horizon. Funny how just hours ago, you were thinking about Robin finally knowing, about how she couldn’t be mad, not when you were both so happy. Your gut twists. You’ve lied to your friend for so long, and for what? 

“Just, um, cramps.” The lies keep on building, pushing at the dam you’ve created to keep it all from her. You’re just buying time now, the pressure is going to reach its breaking point soon and you’re worried your friendship with Robin will be washed away when it does. 

At the mention of cramps, the disgruntled voices of those in line turn to understanding - muted solidarity in the form of tampon and painkiller offerings. 

“Robin, why don’t you grab her some food or something? Maybe a ginger ale? I’ve got stuff in my bag and we’ll meet you all out there,” another familiar voice suggests. 

“But I can-“

“That would be really great, Robs,” you interrupt her protest, pushing out the words to sound as eager as you can. 

A pair of white tennis shoes sneak between Robin’s and the stall door - like Nancy is trying to put space between the two of you, shielding her girlfriend from any more of your lies. 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Robin starts hesitantly, “I saw this gourmet grilled cheese stand thing and-“

“No!” Fingers curling over your mouth at the severity of your interruption, you take a beat before quietly continuing, “Uh, um, actually, just some chips please?”

Your eyes close, willing the memory of your last grilled cheese away. Now is not the time to remember the man you shared it with.

How he looked at you.

How he asked you to open up, how it made you feel when he said he knew you.

How he kissed you.

You hate Steve Harrington.

The initial shock has stopped sizzling and is now a full burn, anger releasing over your frazzled nerves. What else has Steve claimed, what other things could be ruined when all you can do is relate them to him? But as quickly as the anger for him forms, you have to glance down and realize there are three fingers pointing back at yourself.

Why did you give him the opening?

“Roger that, kitten!”

You’re sure she gives a salute to your closed stall door, the red sneakers turning on their heels, her footsteps fading away. The pristine white of Nancy’s twist slightly towards the door. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Can I come in there?”

Clearing your throat once more, you try to brush her off, “Nancy, really, I’m fi-“

“Bullshit.”

Maybe it’s the way she says the word - that a girl you don’t know all that well can see through your lies, be so sure you’re not fine. Maybe it’s because you desperately wish that you could have opened the door for Robin, to leave the football game and go drown in margaritas and dissect every little thing that led to this moment and let her tell you it was all going to be okay and boys are stupid. Or maybe, it’s the fact that you’ll never get to do that, never allowed to tell Robin, that makes you slide the latch unlocked for Nancy Wheeler.

She slips in quickly, her brown curls that are clipped in a half up-do bounce as she tilts her head quizzically at you. Her arms cross over the embroidered team logo on her sweatshirt, her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She’s got this way about looking at you that, without saying anything, makes you want to tell her everything. An energy radiates off of Nancy, a quiet curiosity bubbling under the surface - or perhaps it’s frustration. You’re being studied, a puzzle she can’t crack. 

Her lips twist as she clearly debates her words before she finally settles on a simple, “You didn’t know?”

Nancy’s question makes your stomach drop, solidifying that she not only knows about you and Steve, but that Leigh is not a new or unknown development. Your mind swirls to their argument on the beach, Nancy finding you in the bathroom - how long has Steve been seeing Leigh? 

“No,” your response comes out in a half laugh, trying to cover up any feelings that attempt to sneak out and reveal too much. The toe of your sneaker scuffs at a knick in the tile as you avoid her eyes. 

She tucks a curl behind her ear and sighs. Her face pinches into that quizzical look again, huffing, “He’s an idiot.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. You don’t want to dwell on how she connected the dots about you and Steve or how you’ve all been lying to Robin, and you especially don’t want her pity. “Nancy, I really don’t need you to comfort me. I’m fine. Can we just go?”

At the clamp of Nancy’s mouth shutting and the purse of her lips, you regret the icy tone almost immediately. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try again. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” trailing off because where do you even start? You’re mad, hurt, confused, blind-sided, the list could go on and on and you don’t care to reach the end at this moment. You force a smile, changing the subject all together, “Don’t you want to get out there and hear how incredibly little Robin truly knows about sports?”

Nancy’s lips twitch and her arms drop to her sides with a sigh. “Right, well, if you change your mind, I like to think I’m a pretty good listener if you ever want to talk about anything.”

Sometimes, people say things to say things - like they feel as if they’re supposed to say a certain thing when a certain situation calls for it. One look at the kindness in Nancy’s eyes, the small smile on her lips, and you know that is not the case right now. She genuinely, truly means she’s there to listen if you need it. Despite lying to all of them, despite barely knowing her, and the realization has tears forming behind your eyes for an entirely different reason than earlier. 

“Thanks,” the word leaves you quietly. It feels small and inconsequential in return for a gesture you’re not even sure Nancy realizes the weight of. 

That is, until she turns from the door, her hand hovering over the latch as she faces you again. “I should mention though, that one of you is going to have to tell Robin. Sooner rather than later. And I make no promises it won’t be me, but she should hear it from one of you.”  Her tone is adamant with absolutely no room for arguing.  

Your guilt tugs you down harder now, only able to nod in response. 

Nancy’s head bobs once in return, silently agreeing to drop the subject unless you bring it up again, and she leads the way out of the bathroom. 

You hear Robin before you see them. She’s passionately arguing her case about a new musical group that Eddie is scoffing at. Leigh holds her hand up at Eddie’s argument and begins agreeing with Robin, who beams before sticking her tongue out at him. 

“Hey.”

The word freezes you and Nancy clears her throat as she makes her way towards the others. Steve pushes off from the brick wall as you turn to face him. 

You’ve seen many looks in his eyes before now. When they glint with mischief and charm as he flirts, how they soften as you tell a story. When they’ve turned darker as clothes are shed and they get to roam freely over your body, taking you in like an artwork. How they seem to melt like honey all over you when you’ve found them staring and they don’t care to appear ashamed he’s been caught. 

Now, they’re looking at you with far too much pain behind them that doesn’t seem fair. He shouldn’t get to look at you like that, he shouldn’t get to look sad. 

Steve extends his hand, a green can with beads of condensation running down the sides of it in his palm. You ignore how your fingers touch and they way his try to linger as you take the soda from him.

When you don’t say anything, he pulls the sleeves of his maroon sweater over his fingers, the toe of his boot scuffing the pavement as his brows meet in the middle. Several pieces of hair fall over his forehead that’s wrinkled with concern, letting you know he’s run his hands through it too many times to have already broken whatever products he’s put in it. 

“Can we go somewhere and talk for a sec?”

A sec. 

A quick conversation, one he just wants to get over with. To tell you what? Things you’ve already concluded from his surprise today? That he’s with someone. He wants to stay friends. He never felt the way you were starting to feel for him. This was always the plan. 

You’re not interested in anything Steve has to say any more. 

“Game’s about to start, Harrington, maybe later.” Your tone is clipped and short, smile forced. 

His brows pinch closer together as he tilts his head, the harsh line of his jaw flexing. “Really? Cause the way you ran off and that tone could have fooled me.” 

“I’m fine, I don’t know exactly what you’re hearing, but if you have something you’d like to say, by all means Steve, let’s hear it.” 

Steve closes his eyes and a long breath leaves his nose, “Please-“ his plea is cut off by her. 

“Hi, I’m Leigh. It’s so nice to meet you, Steven’s told me so much about you! I hope everything is okay? Everyone was so worried…”

She reaches forward, arms wrapping around you and your stiffening body. 

She’s fucking hugging you. 

“Uh, yeah, you…too. And yes, thanks, I’m fine. This will help.” Untangling yourself from her, you hold up the can and force another smile. “Thanks Steven.”

Leigh beams at him, grabbing his hand and you just can’t help yourself, turning to him again. “Actually, Steven was just letting me know he had something to tell me, what was so important, buddy?”

Eddie coughs as Steve narrows his eyes. Nancy claps her hands, interrupting the tension filled moment, “Alright, ready guys?”

Robin points towards the bleachers. “I’m ready for tip off! To our seats!”

Nancy gives you a look, some sort of attempt at bringing light to the moment in front of her, before she wraps her hand around Robin’s arm and starts to walk away. “It’s kick off, hun.”

Leigh laughs as Robin lets out a long ‘Oh’, Steve and her following. When Steve glances back over his shoulder at you, the full can of soda meets the trash as you turn towards Eddie. Stealing the fresh beer from his hands, the plastic cup tips to your lips, foam slowing you down as you chug. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy killer.” Eddie tugs on the cup, pulling it from your mouth. “From my understanding, football games are long and we need to pace ourselves. Stevie is not worth a two in the afternoon black out.”

Your mouth opens to protest and he waves his hand in front of your face, “Ah, ah, ah, you can squeeze my fingers or something whenever you feel like punching him instead.”

“Ed-“ you begin, adamant you need another drink (or twenty) to deal with the day you’re about to have. 

He begins to walk away, waving his hand dismissively, “No really, I’m a secret masochist, I’ll love it.”

Your eyes narrow, hating the way your lips fight a smile that wants to meet his mood. Despite everything, you’re grateful for him and Nancy. Unsure of how to even attempt to show them how much you appreciate them. Especially after Nancy’s reminder that someone was going to have to tell Robin eventually, and these two had been lying for the both of you, keeping your secret when they didn’t need to.  

Up ahead, you hear Leigh laugh, catching her head thrown back and his smile, the squeeze of her fingers on his bicep and you gulp. Your feet plant to the ground harder and you tug on Eddie’s wrist. As the group rounds the corner, heading to their seats, he turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

Eddie must see something in your expression because he mumbles, “Such a fucking idiot,” before he turns to the nearest vendor. “Yeah, hi, I need four very large beers. And I’m talking take your idea of large and triple it.”

This time the smile wins just a little. It’s quick to fall though, when Eddie taps his cup to one he hands you and proclaims, “If you can’t date ‘em, drink about ‘em. To the losers who break our hearts.”

“I-“ ready to tell him that’s not it at all, but his look makes your mouth close. 

You don’t say it out loud, you don’t dare to speak it into existence - Eddie is wrong. You’re not broken hearted, you’re just mad Steve didn’t tell you. You’re mad that clearly they all knew, so why not you? That’s all. 

Your cup taps Eddie’s again and you let the beer wash away the bitter taste in your mouth. 

Screw Steve Harrington. 

As the third cup of cheap beer hits your lips, you risk a glance down the line of your row again. Immediately regretting it like you have every other time. Leigh pushes the loose strand of hair on his forehead back and your eyes return to the field quickly.  You’re sure your skin is turning just as green as the artificial turf, the beer making it a little easier to admit to yourself that you are jealous of the intimate moment. Your gut twinges slightly at the remembrance of only a few short weeks ago when you purposely tried to make him feel what you are now. You have no right to be mad at him. 

The players blur as they move in an intricate dance only they know before anyone else. You’ve always liked sports, but today has been a good reminder as to why. Players and teams practice and memorize skills and plays that work - but there’s no guarantees. They need intuition to know when to use certain moves, to have a good defense and follow their gut and deviate from the plan when they think the other team is pulling a new play. 

It’s all predictable, but not at the same time. Risks and playing with the odds, yet revolving around something incredibly low stakes like a ball in a net or getting past a painted line on fake grass. It’s also realistic. Sure, there are once in a lifetime passes like the Minnesota Miracle or a ball sinking into the net from a distance unfathomable as the final buzzer sounds - but most of the time, it’s just about who’s the best that day. Who ran faster, who slipped through someone else’s mistake. You like that the players can pour themselves into it and it’s still not going to be a win every time, because it’s just not sometimes, and that’s okay. They lose and they get up and they do it all over again. They also know that if they win, it doesn’t mean they’ll keep doing so without hard work and dedication. 

Poetic to your circumstances, really. Steve was just better at the game, and you knew the eventual outcome of your deal with each other. So really, is there anyone to be mad at here other than yourself?

Steve’s laugh echoes down the line and your jaw clenches, because maybe Steve was better at the game, but he certainly wasn’t playing fair. 

Yeah, you can still be mad at him. 

Your eye twitches as Robin and Leigh gush over horror movies they both love, a breath you didn’t know you were holding leaving you when they head off together for a bathroom break. 

His eyes actually burn your cheek from the way they stare down the row in your direction now that he doesn’t have her to focus on. Clear to you now that all you are - all you ever were - is an afterthought, something to pass the time. 

Refusing to look his way, you try not to feel bad about the sigh you hear all the way from five seats away. 

Oh, I’m sorry Steve, are you mildly upset that I don’t want to talk to you after you got me to open up just to blindside me?

You’re not surprised when a dark denim leg presses against your shoulder, his large brown boots landing on the open seat next to you as he climbs over. As he sits, you stand, quickly making your way down the row, occupying Robin’s empty seat on the other side of Nancy. 

Steve stands, hands on his hips as he frowns. “Are you being fucking serious right now?”

Turning your attention back to the field, your knees bounce with restless energy, anticipating his next move. An intricate dance just like the players below you. 

Steve climbs back over, and you can’t help but relish a little in his groan and mumbled comment about being twelve under his breath as you shimmy between Eddie and Nancy, shoving Eddie into your old seat, ignoring his grunted protests. Unable to help yourself, you smirk into your beer, watching out of the corner of your eye as Steve’s jaw clenches. Making him irritated seems only fair under the circumstances. 

You’re ready for his next attempt, sure he’s going to make Nancy swap with him or come up behind you. So when he puts his foot on the chair, you move to the edge of your seat. Steve pounces, tumbling over the back of the row in front of you instead. He’s breathless, cheeks flushed pink as his hands land on the armrests of your spot. His arms cage you in as he leans over the back of the blue metal chairs, ignoring the grumbled complaints of those he bumped out of the way in his pursuit. 

His face fills your vision, freckles that dot the sharp slope of his nose, the light scruff he’s let grow more highlight’s the angle of his jaw and the curve of his cupid’s bow. For a second you forget you’re supposed to be mad when you finally meet his eyes. They steal all of your attention and you hate that you can’t look away. 

You hate him. 

“We’re gonna talk,” he huffs, catching his breath.

“You should hit the gym.” A sad attempt to change the subject, to hurt him a little. Your eyes flit down to his lips in a mistake. You can’t look at his eyes again so you settle on his cheek, trying your best to ignore the endearing pair of freckles. 

“I know you’re mad, and if you just let me explain, I-“

“You’ve had plenty of chances to explain before today Steve!”

The hush of the people around you makes your eyes close, taking a moment for a calming breath. Eddie coughs into his fist on your left and squints at the field, Nancy scratches the denim on her thigh and clears her throat on your right. 

Steve’s eyes narrow, his top lip pulls in, tongue licking over it before he lets out a cold laugh, “Jesus Christ, what was I supposed to do, tell you while we’re fucking? Or how about after you told me about your parents? I-“

The beer in your hand splashes across his face as he coughs and sputters. His fingers wipe over his eyes and you stand, pushing past the gawking crowd and down the stairs. 

Nancy and Eddie were right.

Steve Harrington is a fucking idiot. 

You’d rode the train past your stop twice, both your airpods in and a look about you that dared anyone to even glance at you the wrong way. At the sight of the sun sinking past the horizon, you bite down on your cheek, willing your gut to stop twisting as it attaches a thing you love to him. Steve Harrington was not going to ruin sunsets for you, you draw the line at fucking grilled cheese and football. 

The flick of your entryway lamp illuminates your place, the lyrics “You call me strawberry wine…” drift out of your airpod as you remove it from your ear. You’ve had enough of the universe’s poetic irony today. Tossing the case and your keys into their dish as you turn the lock on your door. 

The sunset is the least of your worries, what didn’t he touch here? Your door, the coffee mugs he proclaimed as his favorites, the counter, the fire escape. You reach for the bottle of wine on top of your fridge as you click on the Instagram notification. 

A caption reading ‘We just hope both teams had fun🏈 ’ below her photos. A selfie first, Robin’s bashful face filling the screen, getting her cheek kissed by Nancy. Another, this one with you - she must have caught it during bags - a shot of Eddie and you mid-laugh. The last one clearly taken after you left, the group in the stands, Steve’s sweater gone, replaced by a dry light blue t-shirt. You click your phone locked again and drink straight out of the bottle as you walk down the dark hallway. Old wood floors creak underneath your feet as you make your way to your room. 

Fuck, your room.

It’s a moment that perhaps you should be crying during, do normal people cry when boys like Steve Harrington blindside them? When a man you start to break down for was spooning you fully clothed at the start of the day and getting a beer tossed in his face by the end, shouldn’t some sort of despair come out in the form of dramatic tears? Nothing leaves your eyes though as you strip the sheets off of your bed. Steve’s not worth any. No guy is. 

Tugging harshly at the last corner of the fitted sheet with a frustrated grunt, you throw all of your bedding out into the hallway and slam the door. The flutter of paper on your desk as the door swings closed catches your eye, your chest tightens at the realization of what you left there. 

The glow from the setting sun outside washes over the photobooth strip as you walk towards it, lit up in a perfect square of tangerine. Your thumb brushes the last photo as you pick it up, wondering how it all went so wrong, so fast.

It rips easier than maybe it should have, diminished to something small and as broken as you can make it before you toss it in the trash in your bathroom. Your eyes linger on the shower curtain and then your shampoo. The wine bottle presses to your lips again as you make a mental note, adding those to your list of things to replace tomorrow as well. 

Your phone pings again, the group chat you’ve just been recently added to: 

Your thumb presses the lock after turning it to silent, the dots from Robin appearing letting you know you don’t want to keep reading all of them talk. Your bare mattress stares at you as you drink more wine. They’re home. Together? In his apartment? In his bed?

It doesn’t matter, good for Steve, hope he’s happy. Good fucking riddance, right? 

Opening your bedroom door, you sigh at the pile of bedding, stepping over it and making your way to your couch. Your protective wall is still standing, your armor dusted off and polished once more. It’s time to pick up the pieces, replace what’s broken, and move on from what others like Eddie may want to tell you is heartbreak, but you would argue is just called life. 

And life is pain, and anyone who tells you differently is selling something, right?

Halloween season used to be one of your favorite times of the year. Parties and opportunities to dress up like someone you’re not. Evenings to be a character in a story far different than the one you were living, with lines already planned for you to say, an ending meticulously thought out. Now, however, the red fabric that clings to your body serves only as a reminder of how your life is the furthest thing from picture perfect. 

Originally, when you found the dress thrifting with Robin, it had felt a little like fate. A tiny and gentle nudge from the universe in the right direction - a sign. Now, you’re sure it was actually some twisted joke. Someone, somewhere out there, is laughing it up as they play with you like a plastic doll. Because even meeting Robin, a thing you were positive was divine intervention, is now wrapped around him. Some evil force at work as they had you meet her, then him, while they cackled and said ‘Ha! Watch this! This one’ll be good.’

Your costume now a cruel oxymoron - a girl who resents love dressed as someone who cherishes it. Pretending to be a girl who loved a boy endlessly, so devoted, she claimed to die the day he supposedly did. A girl who-

“You know,” a finger pokes your cheek, “For a princess, your sour look is not very princessey.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at you, hands on her hips, orange fabric of her skirt swishing around her thighs as she turns. Her sparkly red turtleneck and shine of her black mary jane’s glint in the strobe lights that are making sweeps over the room. 

You try to smile, if only for the fact that Nancy actually got her to wear the costume. Crossing your arms, your eyebrows raise as you respond, “Well, you must be a detective or something, Miss Dinkley.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but fights a smile, fiddling with the magnifying glass in her hands. When you don’t say anything more though, her big blue eyes soften as they glance up at you through fake glasses, and she reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, is everything okay? I feel like…” she trails off, shaking her head, at a loss for words it seems - an unusual thing for her. 

The line for the bar shifts forward and you nod, that terrible feeling still sits heavy in your stomach like a bag of rocks - you’re weighed down, to be left at the bottom of your guilt to drown. “I’m fine, Robin,” it slips out when you repeat the words quieter, because maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true, “I’ll be fine.”

“Aha!” She points a finger in your face, “You just said be fine, implying something is in fact not fine currently and-“

“Robin,” your laugh is unconvincing even to yourself. You rub your temples as you face the bar. “Quit being a meddling kid.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out with a little more bite than you intend and her mouth shuts quickly. It’s silent for only a few seconds though, before her shoulder bumps yours. Her question quiet, “How long were you waiting to use that one?”

Your head rests against her shoulder in a silent ‘I’m sorry’, hers against yours in an equally unspoken ‘You’re forgiven’ as you sigh. “Oh, just since you put on the costume.”

She hums and then lifts her head and faces you. “Last thing, and then I’ll drop it, I swear.”

Facing her, you swallow harshly as she stares at you with eyes that feel like they can see everything. Even more so when she says, “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you’re important to me. And if there’s something going on…” she trails off before smiling sadly and continuing, “You can tell me, okay? You can open up and I’ll probably talk too much and offer too much advice, but comes from a place of love and-“

You hug her tightly, Robin wraps her arms around you just as fiercely as her sentence breaks off. Your response sticks in your throat, an alarming hope of ‘what if I told her?’ rising in you that you need to squash down quickly. She can’t know, despite Nancy’s warning that she should. If she did find out, you’re not certain she’d be on your side anyways. It was all your idea to lie to her, it’s selfish of you to ask her to comfort you in this situation. 

Especially after you made her practically drag you to the party tonight. Eventually giving into her puppy dog pout (for a girl who easily falls for it, she has a pretty convincing one herself), your guilt all but consuming you at this point. You could put on a smile, a brave face - you could pretend to be someone you’re not, just tonight, and just for her. 

You haven’t seen Steve since the football game, ignoring any sort of notification related to him in your phone. But in the process of trying to remove anything Steve from your life, you’ve removed Robin from it as well - a packaged deal. Each ignored message, each call you watched ring and left unanswered, every dodged lunch, were just more punches to your gut, pieces of your heart ripped off and stepped on. You missed Robin so much, one night out, forced to make small talk with him, was a fair price to pay for the deceit and lies - if it meant you got to see her again. 

When you break away from the hug, it’s your turn for the bar finally. Both of your eyes widen at the sight of the specialty drink menu. ‘Bootini’s’ and things like a cocktail called ‘Vampire Kiss’ making both of you frown at the dollar signs next to each. You’re suddenly grateful for the tequila that’s still filling your stomach with warmth and Eddie’s insistence on taking the shots before leaving Nancy’s. 

“They do have like, a regular bar, right? Cause your girl is on a budget and…” your sentence trails off as Robin smiles at something, someone, over your shoulder. 

“Well, there isn’t much money in revenge.” 

His voice alone is enough to make your shoulders go up, to cause your stomach to twist, but when you spin to see him, you know it’s not the tequila making the room feel fuzzy and your stomach heave.  

He can’t be serious. 

He is not wearing that. He’s not.

“Come up with that all by yourself, did ya?” Robin pats Steve’s shoulder and before he can reply she’s holding up a hand in front of his face, letting out a low whistle. “Hoolly cooww.” She motions for Leigh to spin who blushes and laughs, but obliges as Robin keeps going, “Miss Morticia Addams, if you wanna ditch Dingus here…”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, an edge to his tone you may have found amusing if it wasn’t because of his best friend hitting on his girlfriend. “Seriously, Robin? Are you being serious right now? Where’s Nancy?”

Robin rolls her eyes at him and Leigh laughs more, squeezing his shoulder. “I should be the one saying holy cow! Look at you two! Y/N, where did you find that dress?”

God, you hate that she’s nice. 

Her dress is phenomenal. The low cut, black fabric that hugs her curves and drapes over her flattering in a way it simply wouldn’t be on you. She’s got the perfect gauzy sleeves, the rings and red lips and nails, she’s even got a rose and scissors in her hand. 

You hate that you want to like this girl. 

Your smile is tense, “I, uh-“

The bartender clears her throat and you point, saved by the bell, turning your back on the group. A name of one of the drinks leaves your lips and you’re vaguely aware of Robin saying something about finding the others and to not order her something with whiskey in it because he remembers what happened last time.  

The deep breathing through your nose is a sad attempt for composure when you get a longer chance to take Steve in. Even with the dim bar lighting, the mirror behind the shelf of various liquors gives you a perfect view. You’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or punch him. 

Steve’s dressed in all black, head to toe, the v-cut of the flowy top revealing quite a bit of his dark chest hair and you swallow, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter. You always hated how Buttercup couldn’t tell it was Westley, in fact, you hate it in any movie when a character has a mask over their eyes and suddenly everyone is unable to tell who they’re dancing with, hell who’s kissing them. If anything, the black band of fabric across his face only makes the lips below and the eyes underneath it stand out more  - the curve of his top lip you can still feel under your tongue. The colors of his iris’ so distinctly Steve that you’d recognize anywhere - instead of a sea after a storm, a forest. He really went all out, even his scruff shaved to have a thin mustache, he’s wearing the black cap pushing down his normally styled and perfectly messy hair, and when you glance down, you’re not surprised to find matching pirate boots standing next to you. 

His hand reaches across your chest with a matte black card - that kind that isn’t glossy like a normal one and you quickly hand the bartender crumpled bills instead, earning a sigh from Steve. 

“You’re not seriously wearing that.” Weeks of no contact, and you hate that your voice doesn’t come out strong and confident when that’s all you can think to say. 

Risking a glance his way, you find his eyes are already on you, his jaw clenching before he asks, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Your inhale is sharp - how can he be this cruel? How can he act like that costume means nothing, or like the last few weeks weren’t awful? Weren’t they awful for him? To go from talking almost every day to nothing?

“Are you fucking kidding me Steve? After everything, after what you said at the game, you’re really gonna stick to not admitting what this is?” Gesturing up and down his body as you ask. He truly can’t be this much of an asshole, he can’t-

Steve shrugs. “I’m just a pirate. I don’t know what your problem is.”

Turns out, he can be. 

Before you can even start to formulate something nasty to respond with, a person walking by shouts out, “Oh nice! As you wish, dudes!” Clapping Steve’s shoulder as they waltz past like it’s the 90’s and people still say ‘dudes’ to strangers. 

Dude did just make your point for you at least, though. 

You hold your hands out to the retreating body in a show of ‘see?’ and then childishly flip Steve off. “The case rests, your honor.”

“It was last minute and I didn’t-”

His weak and pathetic attempts at excuses fall on deaf ears as you push your way through the crowd towards the beacon of red neon announcing an exit for this god forsaken bar. 

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but you don’t think it is - screw Steve Harrington for ruining a fucking bar, for ruining the word dude, for ruining The Princess Bride, for ruining everything. 

Screw everything.

The sting of rejection and the quiet anger that’s been sitting at a simmer since the game rests over an open flame now. Your insides quickly grow to a rapid boil. Apathy and anger rage for the top spot as everything you’ve tried to keep under a lid steams, ready to overflow and burn. 

Ignoring the calls of your name, something still makes it past your seeing red rampage of an exit, connecting the voices, aware of Steve saying something to someone, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care who or what. The cool air hits your body as you push outside, stinging against the damp skin under your eyes. 

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, his voice quiet, “Y/N-“

“Don’t touch me, Steve,” you warn, taking a step backwards after yanking your shoulder from under his fingers. Your hands balled into fists as you spin to look at him. 

He runs a hand through his now uncovered hair, face fully revealed without a mask too. He watches you closely, his voice gentle, as he raises his hands up, “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You can-“

“You don’t get to check on me anymore, or worry about if I’m okay, you’re not my boyfriend,” your tone scathing. 

Steve’s gaze bounces over your face, his jaw hardens as the vein in his forehead dances. Somehow his voice is soft despite the bite to it, “Yeah, I know. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But I am your friend, and I -“

Your laugh causes him to break off. You gesture inside and then to his outfit. “Friends don’t treat each other this way, Steve.”

He drags his palms down his face, his own disbelieving laugh echoes against the brick of the bar. “Are you kidding me? I have been nothing but your friend! I am sorry about what I said at the game, but really, when was I supposed to tell you? And this costume…I…” He shakes his head, licking his lips as he takes a step closer to you. “Look. I should have told you about Leigh sooner, but if you would have given me five minutes to-“

“Five minutes. A sec.” Your hands move in quotation marks as you recall the conversation he wanted to have at the game too. Your face pinches into an irritated scowl as your hands drop in front of you, palms open. Exasperation laced around your words, “What the fuck is there to explain anymore, Harrington? You’re dating her and you didn’t tell me - the story is over.”

Steve stands just in front of you now, that gravitational pull at silent work again, even weeks apart unable to switch it off. Your bodies move with each other, your voices rise in sync, your chests fall with shared breaths. A different sidewalk, that same feeling of flight or fight, but you know that it’s too late this time. Even turning the heat off isn’t going to fix the damage that’s been done. 

Another laugh huffs out of him, “You’d like that, right? That’s it, case closed. Y/N calls the shots and decides everything.” He shakes his head and points to his chest, towering over you, “This is all such total bullshit. You’re mad at me for something that was your idea, because you didn’t get to decide when it was over.” He shrugs, waves of nonchalance carrying his words through the air to hit you hard like a slap across the face. “You’re a spoiled brat who’s mad because you’ve lost a toy.”

Any maturity you attempted to have towards the situation has evaporated. 

“Me? The spoiled brat? Excuse me, Mr. 50th floor and Daddy’s Credit Card. Take a look in the fucking mirror, Steve!”

Your chests almost touch with each ragged breath as his hands run through his hair and he pulls. A frustrated groan at your words, while the volume at which his come out becomes louder, “I’ve got plenty of fucking mirrors, why don’t you take your own advice! You’re a hypocrite. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you didn’t ask me for this arrangement. Tell me that the words ‘no feelings’ and ‘just sex’ didn’t leave your mouth. Tell me what you have to be upset with me for then!”

Your chin quivers at his words, the truth of them daring the tears behind your eyes to fall. 

Steve gulps, his fingers dance on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes shine with his own held back tears, like he regrets how he said it but not that he did. His voice quiets as he pleads, “Tell me.”

He doesn’t get to look at you like that. He doesn’t get to say those things to you and then look at you like that.

What happened last time Steve Harrington asked you to open up and tell him something?

Tequila lingers on your tongue, aiding in the formation of words that are meant to sting - you want to hurt him like he’s hurting you. You bite down on your jaw, the anger and pain ready to fall down your cheeks as you remove yourself from him. 

Your hands press against his chest, “You’re bullshit. This is bullshit.” A small shove as you practically growl the next words, “I’m a hypocrite? How about the fucking bathroom at that party where you told me I couldn’t have it both ways, but then you’re dating someone while getting all jealous?” Another shove, this time his fingers brush your wrists, a halfhearted attempt to get you to stop. “Begging me to open up to you? For fucking what, Steve? This costume? You…” you close your eyes and let your hands drop, letting the words do all the work now, “You’re a liar. You’re an asshole.”

Steve’s head ducks down, his fingers brushing his nose before he rolls his shoulders back. When his mouth opens, you step backwards, shaking your head. 

“Lose my number, Steve.”

His eyes roam over your face, waiting, searching. He only nods once and takes his own step back. 

“As you wish.”

Your breath sucks in sharply, a sob you’ve been holding in since the moment he said the words ‘Sorry we’re late’ threatens to finally crack out of your chest. You wish you had another beer to toss in his face for using those words at this moment. 

It’s not said with the kind of reverence of the movie. There isn’t a narrator to let you know what he actually means by the phrase. But you know. It’s not an ‘I love you’, not like this. No, it’s merely a promise to do as you asked. 

All you can do is turn away from him, hold your chin up and roll your shoulders back as you walk down the sidewalk.

There is no hopeful glance back over your shoulder, no loud smacks against the pavement made by his feet chasing after you like in the movies. 

Like you said, your story is over. 

'One New Voicemail':

“Hey, just thought I’d try ya, I know you’ve been busy. Um, well, Steve and I are heading to the Rocky Horror show tonight and I know he’d love someone to aid in his teasing of how totally into it I get. Right Steve?” 

[muffled sounds of movement and whispers]

“Hm…yeah, I uh-” 

[a clear smack to his shoulder]

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you or we’ve done something just the three of us! Anyways, call me back, text me…beep me if you wanna reach me…ugh, sorry that was so lame, okay bye. Love you!”

If you were surviving before them, you could survive without them. It seemed simple enough. 

You’ve never stayed in one place for long, friendships like Robin, Eddie, and Nancy had been left before. Friendships that were never given a chance to really even start before you were gone. The promise of any relationships packed into boxes and off to the next city. Addresses and phone numbers and notes of ‘Keep in touch’ left to collect dust until forgotten about completely. 

So, it should have been easy to continue to ignore their messages. To ignore the holes in your chest, to ignore the want to call or text one of them when something happened as mundane as a stranger calling another stranger ‘toots’ in your mailroom. If Steve touched things in your life and now caused them to wilt in your memories and sights, the other three made things bloom. They breathed life into you again. 

You weren’t going to let Steve Harrington take something like that away from you. 

Which is why you found yourself curled into your father’s sweater for courage, walking down the sidewalk towards the cemetery with a promise to meet them there.

Orange and brown leaves crinkle underfoot before they blow across the pavement. The moon is full, the sky that deep indigo it seems to only get this time of year. Both a perfect backdrop for the bare trees that dance in the wind and the blocks lined with homes with glowing porch lights. Orange buckets overflowing with candy rush past in a blur, laughter and squeals of children echoing down the street past you. 

As you make it to the black iron fence, your eyes roam the blankets and patrons occupying them in the park next to the cemetery. Apple and brown sugar meet your nose and you take special note of the mini donut booth attached to the scent. Which is where you see Eddie, shoving two in his mouth and rolling his eyes at Nancy. He spots you and grins around the sugary dough, nudging the shoulder to his right and nodding in your direction. 

Robin spins and you see her shoulders visibly fall and a grin spread across her face. She says something to the other two who head in the direction of the blankets and she races through the crowd. Muffled oofs and sorry’s meet your ears as she dodges and spins around people balancing concessions.

You reach the front of the line, a sandwich board proudly displaying the original ‘The Evil Dead’ poster sits next to an older woman on a stool at the gate. She smiles at you, holding a flashlight towards the ground. “Ticket, dear?”

“Rose! Rose, she's my girl!” Robin shouts, breathless as she makes it to the gate. 

“Oh!” The elderly woman smiles wider, ushering you through, “Have fun ladies! Tell Edward I’m still waiting for my hot chocolate.”

“Yes ma’am.” Robin salutes with two fingers and then grabs you in a hug. “Jesus Christ I missed you!” Her voice is loud and she shrinks in your arms as the lights of the booths go out and the crowd surrounding you turns and shushes. Her voice shifts to a whisper, “Whoops. Come on, we’re towards the back and we still have all the commercials to chat without too many nasty looks.”

Robin holds your arm in a death grip, a silent promise to not let you out of her sights and clutches so long as she can help it again it seems. When you reach the blanket, Nancy and Eddie’s conversation stops abruptly and their smiles seem painted on as they look up at you. 

It’s one of those moments, those silences that are too stilted and too abrupt, letting you know exactly what was being discussed just seconds before. You wave a little, ears burning since you have no doubt about who the subject of their interrupted conversation was. 

“Eddie,” Robin begins, huffing as she falls to their cushy spot with extra blankets, trays of drinks, and several bags of sweets littered around them, “Rose is fiending.”

“Oh shit!” Ducking and wincing when someone turns around and glares at him. He grabs one of the cups with a big R on top and squeezes your shoulder as he stands, “Be right back! Glad you came!”

Sitting as Robin pats his now empty spot next to her. “Can I get you anything? We have cocoa and cider, donuts, popcorn, candy corn, caramel corn, basically any kind of corn and-“

“Robin,” Nancy hums, almost singing, as she sips from a cup. She squeezes her fingers. “You have to actually take a breath to let her respond.” 

“I’ll never say no to a cider or donut,” you point to the items with a laugh. 

Robin grabs them and hands it to you. She whacks pillows and squishes around, rolling and frowning and readjusting. 

Eventually, she sighs, content, and grabs Nancy’s hand and then a donut from your bag and knocks it against one in your fingers before taking a bite. 

“Happy?” Nancy asks as Robin hums around the sugar she licks off of her lips. 

“You know it. Only thing that would make tonight better is…” she trails off with a grin.

You take her words as a warning to look around, wondering where he is and mentally preparing yourself. 

Nothing could have prepared you though. 

It happens quickly and yet not at the same time. 

Your head turns to see them walking hand in hand. A swing of fingers as they walk past twinkling lights, the breeze blowing her hair perfectly.  

Nancy says “Shit,” under her breath as she sits up. When you turn to look at her with a frown, she opens her mouth but no words come out. 

The movie starts.

Eddie slows down as he makes his way back towards the blanket, looking at Nancy then over his shoulder then back at you. 

Robin waves her arm too much and you turn to look again, trying to figure out what you’re not getting.

Steve’s eyes meet yours and he stops, tripping over his own shoe.

Leigh waves and something sparkles on her hand in the moonlight.

Robin beams and squeezes your wrist. “Oh my gosh I can’t believe they actually came! I figured with the whole engagement thing they wouldn’t. Now it’s all officially perfect. All my favorite people together on my favorite day.”

Plot twist: Steve Harrington is engaged. 

WCIL taglist:

@loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii

[slashermom]

Oooh poly bo and collector.... I've literally never thought of that before. That is a FANTASTIC idea! I agree with anon. 2 birds 1 stone. Y'all are so fucking smart.

Alright y’all I’m gonna be self-indulgent for a second here.

WARNING for some NSFW stuff about half way down. For some reason this hellsite won’t let me put a ‘Contine Reading’ I’m really sorry.

Okay, let’s be honest, the logistics on this one are a bit fucked.

But let’s just say it was a road trip gone wrong is how it all started.

It took literal months to convince Asa to take some time off and get away with you; but after a close call with a victim and heavy police presence a little too close to home, he agreed begrudgingly.

When you suggested checking out a wax museum as apart of the trip - Asa wasn’t all that much into it.

He always thought they were gimmicky but he could appreciate the art form and effort so he ended up caving.

And the rest is history!

For the sake of the post, let’s say these two didn’t immediately go WWE on each other and you were able to convince them to start a relationship.

It started out rough. Like really rough.

Asa thinks Bo is an unintelligent, dirty hick.

Bo thinks Asa is smug, little gimp.

But they do have one thing in common.

You.

They end up ~tolerateing~ each other for your sake.

Doesn’t mean they don’t go out of their way to inconvenience/piss each other off.

Like Bo taking up as much space as physically possible when laying with you on the couch or making Asa repeat himself multiple times - something, Bo found out very quickly drives him up a wall.

Or Asa casually working in how he had you first into every conversation possible or moving Bo’s cigarettes to a place he would never look.

They eventually realize they have a few things in common - which helps smooth over some of the more rough edges.

They both turned their childhood interest into a career, they both appreciate the black aesthetic and they both have a particular dislike for their fathers.

(Side note: Bo thinks Asa is an absolute wacko for wanting to study bugs. What else do you need to know besides they fly, they buzz and they’re annoying?)

Catch these two having a drink out on the front steps talking about their childhood trauma. Both too proud to share the stuff that really eats them up inside but just enough to relate and have a better understanding of each other.

It wasn’t until a couple rolled into town and got the jump on Bo that Asa realized that his feelings for Bo were more than just primal urges.

Asa and you had just come back from dinner outside of town when you heard the screams of who you could only assume was about to be the latest wax figure and then another deeper growl of pain.

Hastily getting out of the vehicle and running towards the garage door of the service station. You find Bo hunched over, hands on his knees as he spits blood and harshly pushes air out of his nose in an effort to unblock the airway.

“Fuckin’ bitch hit me with a wrench.” Asa’s eyes swept to Bo’s busted face and your worried expression as you snuck your body under one of Bo’s arm and helped him stand up straight by wrapping an arm around his waist and one on his chest.

“Which way did she run?” Bo fixed his gaze on Asa. “I’ll go get her-“ “Which way?” Asa knew Bo was in no shape to chase after this woman and with his brother nowhere in sight, he was their best bet.

“Back towards the pet shop.” He mumbled before he spat another glob of blood on the ground. Asa didn’t say anything before turning his back to the two of you and heading in the direction he was told. But was stopped after only a couple of steps when an unexpected southern tone swept through the air.

“Hey, be careful.” Asa tilted his head over his shoulder in acknowledgment but didn’t reply.

Strange. Asa was nothing if not methodical and careful and Bo knew that. Hell, the brunette gave him shit for taking his time with things. He also doubted this woman was going to be too hard to get his hands around.

And it’s not like Bo seriously cared about Asa’s safety or wellbeing.

Unless...?

Bo likes to rile Asa up.

“You’re lookin’ awfully warm in that turtle neck. What do you think, Y/N? Think he should take it off?”

Thinks it’s attractive to see his jaw twitch and his hands clench.

It usually ends up working out for you and Bo in the long run ;)

Which brings me to my next point.

The sex y’all are having,,, wooo chile

Both of these men FUCK and it’s not something to take lightly.

Sometimes, but not always, it turns into a competition between those two.

Their jealous and possessive nature pushes them to see who can last the longest, fuck the hardest, make you scream the loudest, etc.

Asa takes his time but is by no means gentle.

He make sure you get your fill and then some.

You will be sore by the end of the act. This is a threat.

Bo is all about hard and fast. No time to breathe, no time to think.

Asa and Bo are always more aggressive with each other than they are with you.

It’s the constant build-up of sexual tension between these two and then finally boils over.

Asa thoroughly enjoys sex with the two of you because it’s one of the only times he can get Bo to really shut up.

Whether it be by holding a firm hand against his throat or shoving two thick fingers into his mouth. Asa always makes an effort to use Bo’s silence as a time to be as smug as possible. He makes sure to get in real close and lower his voice,

“Bite me and it’s the last thing you fucking do. Understand, cowboy?”

Or

“Love, he seems to be having some trouble keeping that mouth of his shut. Why don’t you help him out?”

Also, you’re dead wrong if you don’t think Bo doesn’t grab Asa’s ass and hips like no tomorrow.

Any sound of pleasure he can rip from Asa is a win in his book.

“What was that? I thought you said I was a ‘useless redneck’? That you wouldn’t let me touch you with a ten-foot pole? You heard him say that right, darlin’? Well, looks like someone has changed his tune.”

Bo is the first to pass out after sex but he’s got his arm wrapped snug around you. His fingers stretched out to lightly graze Asa’s.

Asa usually takes this time to softly admire you both.

Bo’s strong bone structure and tan skin.

Your beautiful resting features and the curves he’s come to know like the back of his hand.

If Asa would have known a road trip would result in this he would have gone on one sooner.

[sataniquepanique]

Hate Me.

Summary: Your cousin Gareth asks you to be Corroded Coffin's new manager, but you and Eddie can't seem to get along.

Genre: enemies to lovers, smut, angst

Warnings: Smut 18+ ONLY, slight dom/sub situation, unprotected sex, hair pulling, drinking, smoking.

Pairing: Eddie Munson X F/reader

Word Count: 6.1k

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

Tuesday nights at The Hideout were fucking lame. The only people that came to the bar on a weeknight were drunks and degenerates, not the ideal crowd for talent scouts. Gareth and the rest of Corroded Coffin had made a deal with the owners of the place about a year ago, and they were able to play every Tuesday night as long as they were done by 10.

Recently the band had been getting a little restless, and they started talking about branching out and securing better paying gigs. But between school, band practice, and Hellfire Club the guys didn’t have much time to devote to promotion, and honestly they didn’t even know where to start. 

The new school year had begun a few weeks ago, and fall was already underway, painting Hawkins in a warm amber glow. Gareth and the rest of the guys sat on a table outside of Hawkins High, trying to think of some sort of strategy for finding better opportunities for the band. After the 5th dead-end idea, Jeff put his head down on the table and groaned, “This is fucking pointless…”. 

Eddie was quiet and stared at the sky while smoking a cigarette and trying to blow smoke rings into the air. Something clicked in Gareth’s head and his eyes shot over to Eddie, “Wait. Guys. I think I have an idea.” 

Jeff raised his head and met Gareth’s gaze. 

“Ok, hear me out. My cousin just graduated college in May, and has some sort of degree in communications or management or something…” 

“— are they even interested in managing a band?” Eddie interrupted, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah? I don’t see why not? We have the same taste in music and always talk about Corroded Coffin and how it’s going.”

The four of them sit in silence for a few beats, mulling it over. 

“Fuck it, let’s try it…” Eddie threw his cigarette on the ground and stood up from the table, 

“…bring them with you to The Hideout on Tuesday.”

——

The Hideout is gross. The old wooden floor is wet with some mixture of substances causing your Doc Martens to keep sticking when you walk, and it reeks of stale beer and cigarettes. 

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” you think as the bartender hands you a beer in a scuffed up glass. The stage setup is in the corner of the bar, with a few hightop tables scattered around. You take a seat towards the back so that you could observe the entire production without getting in the way, not that there was a huge crowd or anything, this place is fucking dead. 

By 8:00 a few more locals had come in, and filled in some more of the tables near the stage. This made you feel better, as you had begun to get secondhand embarrassment thinking of your cousin’s band playing to an empty club. Gareth walks out and starts setting up his drums, followed by the rest of the band. The two of you were always close growing up even though he is a few years younger than you, and you only lived a few towns over so you spent a lot of time together. Once you had gone away to college though you didn’t see him as much, but still managed to mail him mixtapes of new bands you had discovered when you were in Indianapolis. Job prospects had been slim to none since you had graduated a few months ago. Everyone seemed to want to hire someone with experience, of which you had little, so when Gareth called offering for you to manage Corroded Coffin you jumped at the chance to beef up your resume. They weren’t paying you much, basically just gas money to get to gigs, but you didn’t mind as long as you got the experience. 

Finally, after 20 minutes of set up, Gareth takes his place behind the drum kit and they start playing. No intro, no hello, just metal. You’d never met the other guys in Corroded Coffin before, only hearing stories from your cousin about their D&D conquests and Hideout gigs. Their music wasn’t bad actually, which somewhat surprises you, and makes you a little more confident about your decision to help out. Scanning the bar, it doesn’t seem like anyone else was particularly invested in the live band. Most of the patrons look like regulars, who were already pretty fucked up and oblivious. 

You tap the toe of your boot against the table stand, watching the boys thrash around on stage. The tall one with the guitar catches your attention. Dark curls bouncing as he nods along to the rhythm, plucking wildly at the strings. He moves closer towards your side of the stage, and you can’t help but stare at his hands. How quick and efficient they are, gliding over each string, the rings on his fingers shining under the hazy lights. You wonder what else those fingers could do.  

Ew, gross. He’s in high school, he’s probably like, Gareth’s age. Knock it off. 

You look up at his face to find his dark eyes staring at you, the tip of his tongue poking out in careful concentration, not just on the notes, but on you.

After 30 minutes, Corroded Coffin announces their final song, and you quickly finish your second beer and head outside where you were supposed to meet Gareth. Around the back of the building, you lean against the cold brick wall and light a cigarette, staring up at the stars. The back door slams open and you see the boys start to trickle out, lugging their equipment with them toward a van parked by the back fence. They walk past, not noticing you under the cover of darkness. Gareth meticulously puts his drums away in the van, and turns around to let the other guys add their equipment as well, when he spots you leaning against the building. You give him a little smile pushing yourself off the wall, and start making your way across the parking lot. He pulls you into a tight hug. 

“DUDE! I didn’t even see you in the bar!” He says, squeezing you as tight as he can. You choke out a laugh. 

“You didn’t see me amongst the throngs of eager fans?” You joke as he let you go. He elbows you playfully and walks you over to the van. 

“Hey guys!” He announces, as the other boys turn around, “This is my cousin. She’s our new manager.” 

You give a little wave, “Hey, my names Y/N. It’s nice to meet you all, Gareth has told me a lot about you.” 

Two of the boys introduce themselves, and seem genuinely happy about your investment in Corroded Coffin. The third one with the curly hair you recognize from earlier, seems apprehensive, and frankly standoffish as he eyes you up from the back of the group. 

“This is your cousin?” He points at you incredulously, looking over at Gareth.

“…is there a problem?” You say, becoming agitated by his attitude.

“No, I was just expecting a dude honestly.” He shrugs, “Do you even know anything about managing a metal band?”

“You must be Eddie Munson.” You piece together the bits that Gareth had told you about him. The attitude, the hair, the tattoos. 

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He gives you a dramatic little gesture of a bow.

“Yeah, we’re gonna knock that sexist bullshit off immediately.” You counter, not appreciating the nickname. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow, “Oh, she’s got a mouth on her…” he says sarcastically while he pulls out a beer from the back of the van, cracking it open using a lighter as leverage. 

“Aren’t you still in high school…?” You quip, furrowing your brows at him and motioning towards the bottle in his hand.

“Technically, yes. But I’ve stuck around for an extra two years to keep these guys company.” He gestures to the rest of the band, giving you a shit-eating grin.

You whip around and stare at your cousin. “Gary, you can’t be fucking serious—“

“—GARY?!” Eddie chokes on his beer mid-sip. 

Gareth blushes, “…my family are the only ones that call me Gary…”

“Sorry, Gareth, is this a fucking joke? I’m not going to manage your band if this 20 year old super-senior is going to treat me like an asshole.” You spit, as you turn you head and glare at Eddie. 

“…I’ll talk to him, I promise…” Gareth whispers as he pulls you away towards your car.

“Bye babe! See you at the next gig!” Eddie calls after you sarcastically, smirking. You spin around and give him the finger as you walk away. 

How was it possible to hate someone this much, after just meeting them moments prior? 

——

A few days had passed since you saw Corroded Coffin perform for the first time. After meeting the band, specifically Eddie, you were now regretting this entire undertaking. Nevertheless, you made a promise to Gareth that you would at least try to help. So here you are, making calls and inquiring about booking the band for some gigs other than The Hideout. You haven’t made much progress, but you did book them for something this Saturday at a bar in the next town over. It was more their scene, catering to metalheads and more alternative music. They also offered to keep them on the books for reoccurring dates if they were any good. Feeling slightly accomplished, you call Gareth to tell him the good news. He lets you know the rest of the guys were over for band practice so you’d be able to tell them all at once if you wanted to stop by. You throw on an old Iron Maiden shirt over your jeans, pull on your boots, and run out the door. 

Pulling up to your cousins house, you see the guys practicing in the garage with the door open. You steel your nerves as you sit in your car, trying to calm yourself so you don’t try and punch Eddie Munson in the fucking jaw. 

Finally you get it together enough to hop out and walk up to the garage, the band stops playing as you sit down on one of the amps. 

“Hey Y/N!” Jeff greets you with a friendly smile, which you greatly appreciate. You smile back, as you cross your legs. 

“I have some good news,” you have the boys undivided attention, except for Eddie who is tuning his guitar and refusing to make eye contact. 

“I booked you guys at The Underground this Saturday. It’s only for one night, but the owner said if you’re good he can keep bringing you back. The pay isn’t great, but it’s way better than what the Hideout was giving you.” 

Jeff leans over the drum set to high five Gareth, and then looks over at Eddie who doesn’t seem phased at all. 

“…are you okay with this?” You trail off, breaking the awkward tension between the two of you.

“Sure. Whatever we need to do to get ourselves out there. Now if you don’t mind, I’d love to keep practicing.” Eddie stares at you with a blank expression. His dark eyes make you shift uncomfortably under their gaze.

What is wrong with you? Why are you letting him get to you? 

“Cool…I, uh…I’ll see you guys on Saturday then? 7pm sharp, please.” You give Gareth a wave as you head back to your car. Sliding into the drivers seat you look through your front window at the garage and see that Eddie is staring at you while playing his guitar. The emotion behind his eyes is bizarre. 

Is that hatred or…lust? No. It’s definitely pure loathing, right? 

You shake your head at the thought of Eddie fucking Munson lusting after you, and pull away towards the direction of your apartment. 

——

Saturday came up quickly. Earlier in the week you had created some flyers promoting the band and hung them around town, dropping some off at the venue to distribute as well. You hope this shit brings in more offers, or at least brings in a better crowd than The Hideout. 

You’re nervous about tonight, so you put on some Motley Crue while you get ready, turning it up loud enough to drown out your intrusive thoughts. Since The Underground was a metal club you don’t want to dress too stuffy, so you decide on a short black slip dress, your Docs and a leather jacket. Throwing caution to the wind, you also do your makeup for once, opting for a simple cat eye and a bright red lip to break up all of the black in your outfit. Sighing in the mirror, you silently pray that Eddie doesn’t start shit tonight and head out to your car. 

You pull up to the club and immediately see that there is nowhere to park, and your heart skips a beat. You circle around back and finally see a spot a few feet away from Eddie’s van. Hopping out, Gareth runs up to you and you can feel the excitement radiating from him. 

“Did you see how many people are here?!” He grabs your hand and drags you over to the van. 

Smiling at the rest of the group, you clap your hands together and put on a serious face. “Okay! Obviously this is a much bigger crowd than you’re used to, but don’t let it freak you out. You guys just need to kill it, and we can make this a regular thing—“

“—Oh is that all?” Eddie mocks you.

“How did you get this many people here?” Jeff deflects, unloading some equipment. 

“I printed some flyers, and I sort of just…put them around anywhere I could.” You shrug, pulling out a flyer from your bag and handing it to Jeff. He stares at it, studying your handiwork, until Eddie reaches over and snatches it from him. 

“Did you make this?” He asks, not looking up from the paper.  

“Yeah…it’s just something I came up with. I figured you guys needed a logo or something, so I used what very little art skills I have, and that’s what I came up with.” You blush, becoming suddenly uneasy by Eddie’s tone.

“We already have a logo. I made it when we first formed the band.” Eddie retorts, looking at you with complete disdain. 

“Dude that logo sucks, it looks like a 5th grader drew it.” Jeff scoffs, “I love this new one, maybe we can make shirts!” He looks at you eagerly. 

Eddie crumples up the flyer and throws it in the back of the van, slamming the door shut. “Lets fucking do this then.” He mumbles as he grabs his guitar case and pushes past you. 

Gareth shoots you a sympathetic look, and you roll your eyes and follow them inside. 

The Underground is packed. Standing room only. You walk in with the guys through the back door, and you watch as Eddie’s eyes widen the second he sees the crowd. He looks back at you for a brief second and you give him a half smile, secretly proud of yourself. 

Corroded Coffin isn’t the only band on the line up for the night, there are a few playing afterwards which honestly probably contributed to the big crowd, but hey, any exposure is good exposure. 

At 7:30, the guys go on stage and you find a spot against one of the support pillars on the side of the room. You watch as they flawlessly perform their entire set, but find yourself focusing on Eddie more than you want to. The kid was natural on stage. He has so much charisma and raw talent that it’s….attractive? 

Jesus Christ, what? 

You shake your head, but you can’t pull your eyes away, watching how his ringed fingers glide over the strings of his guitar, the light sheen of sweat making some of his curls stick to the side of his face. He finds you amongst the crowd and meets your eyes. You can feel heat rush into your face and you quickly look down at the floor. 

Why are you getting so worked up? You hate him. You’re also his manager for fucks sake, you can’t act like this. 

You hate him even more for making you feel this way.

Once their set is over, the boys come barreling off the stage to meet you. All of them smiling so big that it’s infectious. Even Eddie grins at you. 

“You guys were amazing! There’s no way they won’t keep you on the roster.” You beam as you hug Gareth. 

“We honestly couldn’t have done it without your help though,” Jeff claps you on the shoulder. 

You look at Eddie, but he’s already picking up his guitar case and heading out to the van. 

You grab some of Gareth’s drum equipment and help carry it out. 

At the van, Eddie is loading in different gear as you walk up. He turns to see you carrying Gareth’s stuff, and quickly takes it from you. 

“I got it…” he says quietly as you let go. You put your hands in your jacket pockets nervously. 

“Hey uh…” he turns around and looks at you “…thank you. For doing this.” 

Shocked at his sudden sincerity, you nod and give him a smile, “You’re welcome. You guys are good, you deserve to have bigger opportunities.”

He shuts the back of the van, and lights a cigarette. 

The sudden silence between you is uncomfortable, so you pull out your own pack and put one between your mouth. 

“Fuck, I lost my lighter…” you think as you pat down your jacket pockets.

Eddie holds his lighter out and clicks it, steadying the flame so you can lean in and light the cigarette perched between your lips. You inhale, and look up to find Eddie staring at you. Before you can say anything, the rest of the guys walk up and throw some shit in the van.

“Hey, if you guys want you’re more than welcome to come back to my apartment to celebrate. I have some beer, and we can order pizza or something.” You offer, scanning their faces for a response. The guys nod eagerly, except for Eddie who is stone faced and fishing his keys out of his vest pocket. 

“Nah, I’m good.” He says nonchalantly as he turns to walk to the drivers side door.

“Oh come on, man.” Gareth pleads.

“I have other things to do. Better things to do.” He says, but he’s not looking at Gareth, he’s looking at you. You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already in the van starting the engine. You shake your head in disbelief and walk to your car with the rest of the guys in tow. 

“What’s his fucking problem?” You blurt out, 4 beers in. You’re sitting on your couch with Gareth, while the other two boys are on the floor eating pizza. The topic of Eddie has come up, and you were tired of hiding the fact that he was royally pissing you off.

“I’m not sure, he’s not usually like this. He’s normally really goofy and fun.” Jeff says with a mouthful of food. 

“Maybe he has a crush on you,” Gareth bats his eyelashes dramatically in your direction. You mimic a gag and stand up. 

“Y’all are more than welcome to sleepover, but I’m going to bed.” 

In your room, you close the door and fall onto your bed exhausted. Rolling over onto your back you stare at the ceiling and find yourself thinking about Eddie while you doze off.

——

The show at The Underground went so well that the owner calls you the next night to offer Corroded Coffin a spot opening for a band called Devil’s Advocate this Friday. They were a big band in the region, and drew a huge crowd wherever they played. You knew the guys would be ecstatic, so you call Gareth to tell him you were coming over and to have the other guys meet you there. 

Eddie was the last one to arrive to Gareth’s house. The rest of you were waiting in the garage, listening to Black Sabbath when he pulled up. Your eyes are closed while you listen, and you move your fingers aimlessly along with the song. The music was so loud you don’t even hear Eddie walk up and sit across from you. 

“So.” He says loudly, getting your attention. Your eyes shoot open, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment that he had caught you playing air guitar. 

You clear your throat and stand up, mentally shaking off your mortification. 

“I called you all here to let you know I booked you for another gig at The Underground.” 

“Ok…? You couldn’t have just told us this over the phone?” Eddie asks, visibly annoyed. 

“Well, it’s kind of a bigger deal.” You say through clenched teeth, trying to not let him see you sweat. “I booked you to open for Devil’s Advocate this Friday.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open slightly, shocked. He quickly shuts it when Jeff yells “No fucking way!”

You look at Eddie and raise your eyebrows, giving him a look that says fuck you for doubting me. He just continues to stare at you, not with hatred or disdain, but with what you read as awe. 

——

The Devil’s Advocate show was all the guys could talk about for the next week. You pick Gareth up from school on Friday afternoon, and drive him back to your apartment to get ready.   After trying on a bunch of outfits, you settle on some black ripped jeans, a black lace camisole, and checkered flannel. Nice and easy. 

You and Gareth meet the others at The Underground, and help them unload their gear from the back of Eddie’s van. You reach in to grab a guitar case when you feel a large hand grab your wrist to stop you. 

“Don’t touch her.” Eddie mumbles in your ear as he takes ahold of the case and maneuvers it around you. 

“Ok touchy…” you roll your eyes. You feel yourself getting annoyed, so you decide to join Gareth inside the bar. 

The guys were nervous, even Eddie. You could tell by the way he wouldn’t stop fidgeting and spinning his rings. 

“You guys got this. You’re gonna kill it, I know it.” You give them all a sympathetic smile when it’s time to go on, eyes lingering on Eddie for a beat longer than the others. 

Eddie scoffs while he throws the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and takes his place on stage, turning on his charm when he gets to the mic. 

The crowd loves them, cheering after every song. A few people in the front are really into it, pressing themselves against the stage, throwing up devil horns during particularly heavy breakdowns. Clutching a gin and tonic to your chest, you bob your head along to the music. You watch as a girl in the rowdy group at the front of the stage reaches her hand up towards Eddie. He sticks his tongue between his teeth and smiles at her, winking. 

Your body runs cold for a second. 

Are you…are you jealous? 

He’s free to do whatever he wants, and whoever he wants. Why are you getting upset?

You choke your feelings down along with the rest of your drink.

When the guys finish their set, they come downstage to greet you as usual. All of them are riding high from their performance, and hug you, except for Eddie. He exits the stage from the opposite side, and you see him walk to the bar, followed by that girl from earlier. The other three boys start to load their gear into the van, and you decide that enough is enough. You were tired of playing this fucking game. 

You make a beeline through the crowd, over to the bar and push up next to Eddie, who was downing a whisky on the rocks. 

“Tequila please,” you ask the bartender politely, “actually, a double.” 

He slides your drink across the wooden bar and you glance over at Eddie, who is looking at you through his peripheral. 

You lift your glass as a small ‘cheers’, and down your shot in one burning gulp. 

Slamming the glass down, you turn to Eddie, “Why do you fucking hate me.” You put your hand on your hip.

“I don’t fucking hate you…” he grumbles, keeping his eyes staring straight ahead, nursing his drink. 

“You barely acknowledge me, and when you do you’re a total dick. All I��ve been trying to do is help you guys, and I’m always met with complete contempt from you.” You blurt out.

Eddie turns to you, shooting the rest of his drink and sliding the glass away. 

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe you were the one that started all of this? That you were the one that acted like a total bitch, even though I was trying to be nice to you—”

“—you talked down to me when I met you! You doubted my abilities as a manager on the sole basis of my gender—“ 

“—that’s not what happened, don’t put words in my mouth—“

“—and then you called me a bunch of pet names, which infuriated me—“

“—BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING FLIRTING WITH YOU, IDIOT.”

You stop arguing and stare at him wide-eyed. 

“Wh-what?” 

“I was fucking flirting with you.” He ran his hand through his hair, “I saw you in the crowd at The Hideout while we were playing, I didn’t know you were Gareth’s cousin and I was completely enamored by you. When he introduced you, I didn’t mean that you couldn’t be our manager because you were a girl, I was just nervous and kept thinking about how bad I wanted to kiss you. And after you opened your mouth and showed me your little attitude problem…” he chuckled, “…I fell completely in love with you. I’ve been trying to distance myself ever since because I knew you didn’t feel the same.”

The bartender came back over and you ordered two more shots. You pass one to Eddie and clink the glasses together, knocking them back at the same time. 

Grimacing as you swallow, you look at Eddie who hasn’t taken his eyes off you. 

“You know that you’re a natural up there right?” Nodding towards the stage. “I see how the girls in the crowd look at you.” You peer over his shoulder to the girl from earlier who is now shooting daggers at you with her eyes.

He laughs, “Yeah I caught you looking during the last show.”

Blushing, you put your hand on Eddie’s arm, nervously playing with a string hanging from his sleeve. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t help it.”

Suddenly, you feel Eddie’s hands grab your face, and he kisses you. The shock makes you pull back slightly, but you quickly melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Time stops, you were no longer in the bar, there was no music playing, no one else was around. Just you and Eddie. All you can feel is your lips moving slowly against his, his hand on your lower back, his body pressed against yours. 

You accidentally let out a small gasp when he pulled away.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” He smirks. 

“Y/N! Eddie!” You turn around to see Gareth making his way through the crowd. You both quickly remove your hands from each other and try your best to act normal.

“Hey, are you guys ready?” Gareth asks.

“Yeah, is it cool if I drive Y/N home?” Eddie looks between you and Gareth.

“You can take my car, I’ll come pick it up tomorrow at your house, ok?” You hand Gareth your keys, as he gives you a suspicious look. 

“You guys…are getting along?” He questions.

“Yeah, we just want to go over some details for the next few shows.” You reassure him.

He raises his eyebrows and gives you both an apprehensive wave as he leaves. 

Once your cousin was out of earshot, Eddie leans down and whispers in your ear, “Wanna come back to my place?”

You dig through Eddie’s cassette tapes in the glove compartment while you wait for him to finish loading his shit into the van. You pop in some Dio right as he hops in the drivers seat and starts the engine. You start to sing along, and he looks over at you, eyebrows raised. You smile and drum your fingers on your thighs. Eddie pulls out of the parking lot and reaches over and places his hand on yours, ceasing your drumming and interlocking your fingers with his. 

——

Inside Eddie’s trailer, you walk around the living room, looking at all of the things on the walls, mugs, hats, plaques. 

“Do you live here alone?” You ask as you dust your finger over a mug on a shelf. 

“With my Uncle Wayne, he works nights so he won’t be home until morning.” He watches you move around the room.

You give him an understanding nod and lean against the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. 

He steps closer to you and brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hair. Your eyes close as you lean into his palm.

He pulls your face closer to his and kisses you, deeper than at the bar, eventually becoming hungrier. 

You grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer into you, feeling him press you into the edge of the counter. He reaches down and pulls you up by the back of your thighs, and sits you on the ledge. You wrap your legs around him and grab a fistful of his hair from the back of his head, pulling on it lightly as he moans into your mouth. 

Eddie grinds his hips against you, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. 

“Jesus, Eddie…so hard for me already?” You tease, as he trails careful bites down your neck. 

“I’ve been hard for you since the moment I saw you, sweetheart. Literally went home and jerked off to the thought of you that night.” He pulls back to look at you, smirking.

“Oh yeah?” You raise your eyebrows, “What did you think about?” You grip your legs around his waist tighter.

His cheeks flush pink, “Mmm…well…you were riding me, and uh…taking charge…”

“Do you want me to be rough with you, Munson?” You gape at him.

He nods quickly. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer to your face, “use your words, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He breathes.

“That’s better,” you coo, pulling him in and kissing him. “Now, be a good boy and take your pants off.”

Eddie grins as he unbuckles his belt and slides his pants down. You palm his dick through his boxers, eliciting a moan from him as he lets his head fall back, closing his eyes. 

You reach inside and wrap your hands around him, making him shudder and grip the sides counter. You start to stroke him as his eyes roll back into his head. 

“Where do you want me to fuck you, Eds?” You whisper, watching his face. 

“Mmmm…doesn’t matter. Wherever you want…” he mumbles distractedly. 

You grip him forcefully, making his eyes shoot open. “I said, where would you like me to fuck you, Eddie. Make. A. Fucking. Decision.” 

“We can…the couch…” he stumbles over his words.

You loosen your grip and push a stray strand of hair off his forehead with your free hand, “good boy.”

Eddie growls and picks you up, gripping your ass and pulling you on top of him onto the couch. He cradles your face in both of his hands and kisses you feverishly while you shed your flannel onto the floor. Pulling back you peel away your camisole and unclasp your bra, throwing them both behind you. 

Eddie stares at your upper body completely exposed, and reaches up to grab your chest. You smack his hand away, “Did I say you could touch, Munson?” 

“No ma’am…” he mutters. 

You stand up, maintaining unwavering eye contact with him while you strip out of your jeans and underwear, and climbing back onto of him. 

“You don’t get to touch until I say so.”

Eddie nods and grips the couch cushion, while you lean down and kiss him, running your tongue along his lips and into his mouth.

You start to trail little kisses down the side of his neck, and feel him tense up, knowing he’s dying to feel you. 

“You can touch me now Eddie…” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe. 

He immediately attaches one hand to your chest while the other snakes around your back to pull your hips down onto him harder. You begin to roll your hips into him, feeling his fingers grip your hip so hard you can already feel bruises starting to form from his rings.

You reach down and begin to stroke him again, urging him to remove his boxers completely, discarding them on the floor next to your bra. Running the head of his cock up and down your folds, you hear him moan in anticipation. 

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you imagined, when you were jerking off to me, alone in your room?” You sneer at him, slipping his head in and out of your entrance a few times to tease him. 

“Fuck….” He groans.

You tease him for a few more minutes, until his noises become begging, and then you finally sink onto him completely. He lets out a guttural moan that sounds more like a growl, and bucks up into you. 

You quickly shoot your hand up and place it on his throat, squeezing lightly, “We will be having none of that. Not unless I say so. Remember who’s in charge here.” You smile sweetly, while he bites his bottom lip.

You start to rock your hips slowly at first, picking up the pace after a few minutes, gripping onto his shoulders for balance. You set a good pace, but it’s not enough, you crave more, needing him to be closer.

“Eddie…” you groan, digging your nails into his shoulders. 

He picks his head up from the back of the couch and looks at you, running his hands along your back, “yes baby…” he whispers back.

“I want you to fuck me…fuck me like you hate me.”

It was all the permission he needed. 

He grabs you and flips you onto the couch, hooking your leg around his hip for a better angle. Thrusting into you at a ruthless pace, causing you to let out the most feral noise from deep in your throat. He laughs darkly as he clamps his hand over your mouth, “Shut the fuck up, I don’t want the neighbors hearing me fucking some whore.”

He pulls his hand away, only to swipe two of his fingers against your lips. You put them both into your mouth and suck them, causing him to groan and his hips start to stutter. “Fuck me…are you close?”

“Mhm…yes Eddie…” you grab onto his bicep as he fucks you hard and fast, chasing his release.

He buries his face in your neck, and you feel him finish inside of you, whispers of fuck, shit, and Jesus Christ filling your ear as you let go of the knot in your lower stomach and clench around him simultaneously.

Eddie collapses on top of you, careful to not put his full weight onto your body. He kisses your neck, and moves up to your cheek, finishing with one soft kiss on your lips. 

“Hey pretty girl.” He smiles. 

“Hi Eddie,” you giggle back. 

After a few minutes of laying intertwined, Eddie mindlessly tracing patterns down your arm, you both get up and get dressed. 

“So,” you break the silence, zipping up your jeans, “are you gonna be nice to me now?” 

He smiles while pulling his shirt on, “Of course, sweetheart.”

“Ok new rule,” you hold a finger up to him, “you can only call me pet names in private, we can’t have the boys thinking you get special attention, I’m still your manager y’know.”

“So they can’t know that you’re also good at managing this dick?” He says with a serious face.

You hit him in the arm, mouth open in fake offense as he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

[dallysnecklace]

Poison Heart

Parings: Eddie Munson x bassist! Musician! Reader

Summary: Eddie first met you at a record store, and bought the album on your shirt. You two connected very quickly. It’s been a year, and you still haven’t met his friends, even thought you two are impeccably close.

Warnings: Nothing really, insecurity if you squint, but mostly fluff.

You and Eddie met at the only record Store in Hawkins. You were working counter when you spotted him walk in.

He was wearing a Mettalica shirt, along with his leather jacket and jean vest. He had rings adjourning his fingers, and a leather bracelet on his left hand. He had a small smile on his face, and was looking around, flipping through records.

You couldn’t stop looking at him. He was just so… pretty? Never in your life would you ever think you would call a man “pretty” but here you are.

You were dressed with your silver dagger earrings, a black skirt and a Ramones t shirt, oversized. You wore your platform beat up docs, that you wear pretty much everyday, and your chain necklace.

Eddie thought you were very pretty, and maybe that’s why he keeps gravitating towards this store when he has nothing to buy. He had seen you before through the window, but finally took the courage to walk in.

He came up to your desk, setting Road To Ruin(the album on your shirt) on the checkout.

You smiled at him, “I love that album.”

He looked into your eyes, and it set your stomach ablaze.

“Yeah, I saw it on your shirt and decided why not give it a listen.” He said, not looking away from you.

“We’ll I really hope you like it.” You said, ringing him up.

“It’ll be 7.98.”

He pulled out his wallet, grabbing a 10 dollar bill. He stuck out his hand with the bill, gesturing you take it. When you reached for the bill, your hands grazed his, making your face burn.

“Here’s you change.” You handed him a few bucks and coins.

“Thanks.” He said, started to turn away then turned back to you, looking you in the eyes.

“I’m Eddie.”

“Y/n.”

“Okay then, Y/n, would you want to go out sometime? With me?” He said, looking at you, with wide eyes.

“Ya-yeah. When?” You said, a blush present on your face.

“Are you free like, tonight? I can pick you up at the end of your shift maybe?” He said.

“I’m free. My shift ends at 5:00.” You said, smiling.

“Okay, uh cool. I’ll be here then.” He said, walking backwards.

“Okay. Bye, Eddie.” You said.

He waved, then tripped over a box on the floor, caught himself, smiled at you, then kept walking out of the store. You giggled, hoping that the date would go well.

It went very well. You two went out and picked up some McDonald’s. Eddie then drove you two out to lovers lake. You two passed back and forth jokes and shared interests as you delved more into yourselfs. You mentioned your love of the bass, and how you play it yourself. Eddie mentioned his band, corroded coffin, and how he played the gutair. He even invited you to come see them the next Tuesday.

Eddie was a lot more goofy than you would think, and genuinely so kind. Eddie thought you were smart, beautiful, and intriguing. He wanted to know you more, as you did him.

Luckily, you’ve been able to do that for the past year.

You’ve shared every part of yourself with him. He was your first everything. You’ve never had a boyfriend before him, but you already think that he could be your last.

He knows everything about you. After spending nights alone on his bed, high and listening to soft rock, you’ve shared things you’ve never told anyone.

He told you things he’s never told anyone else as well. This made you two incredibly close, and the trust shared is so strong.

It felt so freeing being with someone who knew all of your flaws, but still loved you till the ends of the Earth.

But, you’ve been dating for a year at this point, and you still haven’t ever attended one of Eddie’s famous Hellfire Club meetings. Tonight, you decided, that was going to change.

Months ago, you and Eddie had created your own DND character, and he explained the whole game to you. Yet, you haven’t expressed that you had wanted to play with him and his friends.

As he was getting ready to go out, you were sitting on his bed, looking at him.

He was searching around his room, looking for his clean hellfire shirt. You were wearing his other one; it was oversized on you, pilling in your lap.

“Eds?” You said, catching his attention.

He stopped searching and looked at you. He could tell you were nervous by the way you were playing with the seam of his shirt.

“What’s wrong hun?” He said, walking up to you.

“Nothing, I was just wondering,” You paused, “Could I come to hellfire tonight?”

His eyebrows furrowed, confused.

“Sorry, I just kinda wished I met your friends. You talk about them all the time. If you don’t want me to come that’s fine.” You sighed, nervous you crossed a line.

“No, no I want you to come Y/n. I’m just confused why you thought you had to ask. Ive been wanting you to come ever since we made a character for you.” He said, smiling down at you, then sitting next to you.

You smiled at him, relieved. He grabbed your hand, rubbing it with a gentle soothing touch.

“Just throw on some pants and we can go, okay? I like to get there a bit early so I can get ready.” He beamed, kissing your hand.

“Okay.” You said, very pleased.

The two of you made it out the door and into his car quickly, excited you were coming to tonight’s meeting.

Throughout the drive Eddie told you about how excited he was for you to come, and how he’s so happy you’re able to be in this part of his life. Eventually, you pulled into the parking lot, and walked inside, into the theatre room.

As Eddie got set up, you sat oh his lap, reading.

He interrupted your paragraph, “I’ll be right back, I just gotta go grab something, okay? I left my dice in the car.”

“Oh, okay.” You said.

He kissed you quickly, and ran out of the room, getting to his car. At this point, Steve had pulled in, dropping off Dustin. Dustin, curious as to why he saw Eddie digging though his van, walked up to him.

“Hey Eddie.” Dustin, said.

Eddie was not expecting Dustin this early, so he jumped, and turned around to see Dustin.

“Jesus Christ kid, give me a warning next time.” He said, with the dice in his hand.

“Sorry Eddie.” Dustin apologized.

“It’s fine.”

The duo started to walk into the school, when Eddie started to speak.

“Oh, by the way someone very important to me in joining hellfire tonight, so please be nice to her.” Eddie said, seriously.

“Her?? Who is she?” Dustin asked as they stepped up to the door of the theatre room.

“You’ll see.” Eddie answered as he opened the door, revealing you, sitting in his throne, reading the Hobbit.

“Eddie, when is everyone-“ you said, then seeing Dustin.

“Oh, hi!” You beamed, knowing that this was the curly haired Dustin that Eddie talks about.

“Who are you and why are you in Eddie’s chair?” Dustin spouted, rudely.

Your smile faltered, then your eyes met Eddies. His eyes held apology.

“Dustin, this is Y/n. She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for a year now.” He sighed, dissapointed Dustin had not listened to his instruction on being nice.

You closed your book and walked up to the two boys.

“Hey Dustin. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You smiled, hoping now It would go better since he knew who you were.

“Dude, you never told me you had a girlfriend!” Turning his attention to you, he said, “Jesus your way out of his league! You’re so pretty, and like, nice.”

You blushed at the compliment, but was still a bit nervous.

“Oh, thanks. But I’m not. I really love Eddie.” You said, looking up at Eddie. He smiled down at you, and wrapped his hand around your waist.

“Are you kidding me? You’re like the most beautiful person in Hawkins! Eddie you got damn lucky.” Dustin, said, arguing for his opinion.

“Okay, man, calm down. She’s my girlfriend.” Eddie said, looking at Dustin.

“Okay. So, Y/n, where do you go to school?” Dustin asked, curious on what you were pursuing.

“I’m a music major at Hawkins University. I play the bass.” You said, excited to talk more about your interest.

“That’s so cool.” Dustin said, excited for his friend.

Your conversation stopped as the rest of Hellfire walked in. Eddie introduced you, and you started the game.

Throughout the few hours, you really bonded with this group of people. Everyone was so passionate, and Eddie looked like he was having the time of his life.

The smile that lit up on his face as he voiced different characters, and explained the situations you got into made you feel as though you were looking at the sun. He was so bright and full of energy, it was almost blinding. But even though they warn you not to look at the sun, you always do.

Eddie’s friends noticed his lingering gazed upon you, especially when you got excited. They were happy for their older friend, knowing he had someone to express all of his love to.

Eddie was just so at home with this group of people, especially you. He put on even more of a show tonight, due to your appearance. Even though you died before the final boss, you couldn’t help but be excited for Dustin, who was able to kill it. Eddie saw the pure excitement in your eyes and it made his heart swell.

“I’ll see you later guys!” Gareth yelled, and now it was just Eddie and you.

“Bye Gareth! Until next time my fellow adventurer!” You yelled back at him, already missing your new friend.

As soon Gareth disappeared through the doorway, Eddie swept you up in a loving hug.

“Eds? What’s up?” You asked into his ear, pressing a kiss to his neck.

He pulled away from you, looking down into your eyes.

“Thank you for wanting to come.”

“It was my pleasure.” You smiled.

As soon as you two got to Eddies place, you changed into one of his old tank tops and got in bed, waiting for him to join you.

You sat there with your glasses and your sleepytime tea, reading the Hobbit. Eddie recently persuaded you to read it, and you were absolutely loving it.

When he joined you in bed, you put down your book, glasses and empty tea mug, looking at him.

He scooted near you and rolled on top of you, his hands holding himself up on either side of you head.

“You’re so great Y/n. I really mean it. You’ve been so great to my friends and you’ve just kept a wonderful smile on the whole time, which made me so happy. You’re so selfless and just empathetic and I’m so lucky.”

Eddie exhaled after his speech, and kissed you softly on the lips.

You pulled away, “Eddie I’m the one who’s lucky. You’ve been so great and you’re someone who I can be me with. Your friends are amazing, and seeing you tonight made me so happy. You seem so happy. I love you.” You looked up at him, and his face held a bashful smile, that he tried to hide.

“I love you too.” He leaned down to kiss you once again, but you grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you.

Both of you laughed into your kiss, but continued, trying to pour your feeling for the other into it.

Eddie seperated first, “Look I love you, but I’m also really tired and need to sleep.”

You laughed, “Okay Eddie. Sweet Dreams.”

You both laid down, spread in strange positions but your hands stayed connected as you slept, always holding the bond between you two.

[thefiresontheheight]

“Gentlemen, I get it. None of us are interested in settling these habitable worlds the probes send us images of for the sake of some noble love of humanity. Not when we have nearly two dozen settled objects in our system. I won’t sell you extrasolar human exploration on some high minded ideals. I will, however, sell it to you on money.”

-Martin Veck, to the board of Zemco, 2558 Aztlan City.

***

“First time right kid?” Reade asked.

She’d been called forward to medical (a glorified storage locker with a console for the auto doc to tell you how badly you were fucked) by Pemaris, the med tech, who was dosing them all on their hormones that day.

“Yeah,” Qurazon giggled, and it hurt how much Reade loved that sound, “first time in the lead up to cryo. I mean, the rest of the cocktail Pemmy’s doing all makes sense, the contraceptives and rad treatment, but this stuff will slow my heart. And we’ll be on it for ten days. And then we’ll be asleep. For years.”

“Don’t think about it, kid,” she said, cause she couldn’t say their name, couldn’t let herself feel that time and distance. “Thinking about the size of the black or the length of the journey’s a quick way to lose it. We’re all just objects in space.”

“Another shot,” Pemaris said, deftly jabbing the kid as Reade stood.

“Pem,” she said as she stood, not immune to the gravitational pull of nicknames, “why’d I get called away? I was going over the ship’s OS error logs.”

“You two get along,” the stocky Terran, kissing the kid on the cheek as she squeezed passed, and out the door. “Better than me. That’s the last of the first day doses administered. Cryo in nine days.”

Suddenly alone in the space, Reade could not look at the kid. She ran her hand along the edge of an inset light fixture. There was a name carved there. Two names, corroded by time and human skin contact beyond recognition. They were in a heart.

“Just objects in space.”

“What do you mean by that?” the kid asked because of course they did.

“Ships don’t ever get retired you know. Once you’ve built it why rebuild when you can repair? They aren’t cheap. So they just keep getting sent out. This one probably takes all the way back to the original colonial boom in the twenty-six hundreds when it would’ve been carrying tens of thousands of true believers. Unless the reactor blows or it collides with a planet or falls into a sun or something this ship may outlast everything humanity has ever built. And yet when the drive is off it acts just like every other object in space. Just drifting on predictable gravitational paths unless acted upon by an outside force. No retirement date. Just out here until it gets lost.”

She pulled her hand down, shoved the kid away as they tried to embrace her.

“I was just trying to help,” the kid was saying, as something wet and slimy moved across Reade’s face.

“I don’t need your help! Or Aliyah’s or Paiiduino’s or anyone’s!”

“We literally had sex five hours ago.”

She was in the doorway. She was walking away.

“Brief collision. Objects in space.”

Nine days. Then sleep for years, her heart beating once a week. Then drop off the cargo, sleep again. Then back to the Sol system. Rinse and repeat. Be a big girl. No retirement. Objects in space.

"...while these [corporate re-education] programs have shown evidence of marginal positive effects (Meredithe et al.) and continue to be employed (Kine-Veck), they ultimately run into the same limitations as A.I. on interstellar hauls infallibly loyal to those possessing their security codes. That is, once outside effective communication distance companies cannot rely on any positive reinforcement. For this reason, it has been suggested that re-education instead focus on loyalty to the rest of the crew, rather than loyalty to the company." - A Proposal for Use of Romantic/Sexual Re-education on Interstellar Haul Crews, Delivered to the Board of VeckQwenZemco on New Armstrong, Mars, 2998 CE. *** The divorce come down and turn around was brutal. One moment your brain and biochemistry and hormones, all carefully wired by the re-education modules, make you fully believe that you have long been in a deep, committed, passionate relationship with the six to eight other people on the haul. You look at them and even though you know you'll only spend a few weeks of subjective time with them, maybe a month or two on a longer job, only a brief window out of cryo and not lagged by relativity, even though you know what you gave the company your written consent to do, your brain still loves them. Then you pull into orbit over Eridiani, or Luna, or wherever, you probably bang one last time, say your tearful goodbyes, and spend the next few weeks crying like you just lost the love of your life as the chemicals wash out and the deprogramming modules hit. The moment is over. But time spent on a company station meant time wracking up debt for oxygen, water, food. So, still on the come down, Reade looked for a course, signed the wavers, gave her consent, grabbed the meager belongings that had gotten her through seven of these hauls, now dating from over forty years ago given the time lost to cryo and near-light travel. File down to concourse-E. Begin again. "Here for the haul?" the skinny low-g kid of her in the line said. "Um, VeckGreenQwenZemco 3043-28897?" Reade sized them up. New kid. First haul. She could smell it on them. In a few hours she'd probably love them and have her brain inventing all sorts of bullshit justifications for the neurochemical feelings the company would induce in her in order to improve team cohesion and morale trillions of miles away from anyone else. In a few hours she'd love them for their optimism, their smile, their cheery attitude and all the questions. But not yet. Right now, still awash in the last break up, Reade savored the simple joy of being a miserable bitch. "Kid," she said, with a malicious grin, "you're gonna love me in a bit. But you're still gonna remember this so I want you to get a good earful of it before the re-education. I'm fucking hate you and hate that I have to do this and if I could I'd throw you out a fucking airlock." She pulled her headphones on and cranked the volume. It hurt, in her chest, and the least she could do was make someone else hurt with her. That freedom, at least, she had for a few more minutes.