#corrodedcoffinfest: year two

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

You Look Pretty Under These Lights

Prompt #22 - Friday Night Lights | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Corroded Coffin Gig, Meet-Cute

Gareth is walking down the center aisle of the venue, coffee cup in his hand. He's late to soundcheck, but Jeff and Goodie are even later, so Eddie says nothing. It's Friday, and they're all moving a little slow from the week of shows they've already played. It's not like Eddie to be the first one ready to go, though. They should probably make note of this momentous occasion.

Approaching the stage, Gareth pauses, staring at Eddie.

"What?"

"Nothing. You look pretty under these lights," Gareth says, and Eddie quirks an eyebrow, amused. Okay. That was out of the blue and random.

"Well, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Now, tell me, are the stagelights too hot and cooking your brain?"

Gareth laughs, shaking his head.

"I wasn't flirting," Gareth says, hopping onto the stage, not spilling a drop from his cup. 

"No shit," Eddie answers.

"Well, maybe a little," Gareth adds, tapping Eddie on the ass with a drumstick.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

"If you're on the good shit, you gotta share. You know the rules. What's yours is mine."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says, kneeling down to rearrange his kit to his liking. Eddie tried, but nobody, not Eddie, nor any tech on earth can do it exactly how he prefers. "The lighting is just flattering in this place. That's all."

They're used to playing in older venues. Lights are lights in those places a lot of the time, and as long as the crowd can see them, then well, that's okay. Job done. This place is newer, nicer, and apparently the lighting set up is good. 

Eddie looks up. He can't see the lighting without being blinded. But flattering lights is excellent. Maybe the lighting tech in this place needs a raise.

"Something wrong with the lights?" a disembodied voice asks from the control booth.

Eddie waves both hands, yelling, "Nope! Apparently you've made me look pretty! Which I appreciate!"

Eddie preens.

There's a laugh through the sound system, and it warms something in Eddie's belly, "Well, I tried."

Eddie smiles.

"And you're mic'd. No need to yell."

Eddie laughs, of course they are. There's no privacy in venues, ever. So, of course the lightning tech heard all that nonsense. Embarrassing. But Eddie's been embarrassed a lot in his lifetime. The road isn't very forgiving, and this is nothing. 

He turns back to Gareth, "Are we gonna have to fetch those assholes or what?"

"We're here, we're just waiting on you to stop flirting with the eye in the sky," Goodie says, as he walks in next to Jeff.

Eddie's gonna kill him.

Eddie is standing backstage, swaying back forth. Bouncing on the balls of his feet. He's nervous. But he's always nervous. It's just never gone away, no matter how many shows they've played.

"Calm down, it's fine," Jeff says, and Eddie can't just calm down. It doesn't work that way.

A soft blue light comes on overhead. It's subtle. But no coincidence, he's sure. Eddie looks towards the rafters, finding a hanging overhead mic and says, "Thank you, lighting god."

His earpiece crackles to life, "You're welcome."

Jeff doesn't seem to react, so it must just be only on his channel. Eddie takes a step back, flicking on his handheld mic, "Are you lighting the opening act just as pretty? Or am I special?"

The light overhead flickers.

"Wouldn't you like to know." 

"Other people are hearing this, Steve," another voice cuts in, clearly annoyed. Eddie laughs. They aren't as alone as he thought.

Eddie's about to banter back when the lights on the stage shift, hard. Bright and bold as the crowd is screaming. The opening act is done, and the place starts bustling, immediately. The stage is being turned over, reset for them, and Eddie knows the tech is busy.

Doesn't mean he didn't want to keep playing with Steve.

After the show, a stagehand takes his mic and he almost wants to protest. It's stupid. The lightning tech is surely long gone, his job done. 

Eddie will just have to live with the mystery of never knowing anything about the Steve he was flirting with. 

Showered, and bags packed back up, they're led out into the back holding area. There are security guards, which is overkill. Nobody is after them, not really. One shines a flashlight right in Eddie's face, and Eddie shields his eyes. Asshole.

"This lightning's a little less flattering," the guy says, lowering the flashlight and Eddie recognizes that voice. Steve.

He's a little blinded, but he searches for him, desperate to put a face to the voice.

When he lays eyes on him, he nearly chokes on his own tongue. The lighting god is hot.

"Steve," he says, and Steve holds the flashlight under his own chin, like he's telling a ghost story.

What a weirdo.

Eddie's enamored. 

"You moonlight as security?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head, "Nah, I just showed up down here. Brought my own flashlight and everything."

"You don't say," Eddie snarks. The other guards have light wands for traffic control. Steve has a MagLite. 

"Well, lead the way," Eddie says, and Steve grins, walking next to him out to their rented tour bus.

They stop at the door, and Eddie turns to Steve, "You coming in, or what?"

Steve smiles, following him on up into the back of the bus, with only minor complaints echoing from the rest of the band. 

Eddie holds open the door to the only private bedroom in the place, and Steve walks inside. Looking down at the bed, and then up at all the can lights in the ceiling that are lining both sides of the room. 

Steve's hand immediately finds the dimmer dial on the wall, and slowly adjusts the lights down to a low, warm glow.

"There, that's more flattering," Steve says, flopping onto the bed, arms tucked behind his head, like he's always belonged here, like maybe he'll never leave.

Eddie can hope.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt 8: ER | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: none | POV: Steve | Relationships: Steddie, Gareth & Eddie | Light angst, injuries, getting older, Eddie whump, Eddie is an accident prone idiot, Steve still loves him, attempted humour and a small amount of fluff

“Firstly, he’s okay. Mostly.”

Steve’s heart kicks up a notch, though to be fair this isn’t the first time he’s received a call like this from Gareth. But it’s the ‘mostly’ that’s catching his attention.

He holds the phone between his chin and shoulder as he looks for his keys. “What does ‘mostly’ mean?”

“Like… he’s kind of banged up, but he’s awake?”

Well, that’s something. He can work with awake. It’s unconscious that he has a severe aversion to. Steve’s seen Eddie unconscious more than once and he doesn’t want anymore repeats. Eddie makes a big deal out of it when Steve so much as hits his head on a kitchen cabinet, but Eddie’s not far behind him in the head trauma Olympics. Falling off a stage the first time they played anywhere bigger than the Hideout; a motorcycle accident back in 1996 (which was actually terrifying); a bar fight where he’d jumped in to stop Steve getting hit and ended up getting his bell wrung hard enough that he still can’t remember it happening. Eddie’s taken as many blows to the head as Steve has, so ‘awake’ means Steve can take a deep breath and doesn’t have to floor it to the hospital.

“Steve!”

Gareth calls him from across the waiting room and motions him to follow him.

“What happened?”

Gareth winces. “He was playing with the kids. Stacked it on Elliot’s skateboard.

“Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s going to kill him, so it’s just as well Eddie’s in the ER. The idiot has no place being on a skateboard at his age, at any age in all honesty, because he has the balance and finesse of a three legged cow. 

“You said he was mostly okay?”

“Looks like his arm is busted and he’s got some stellar road rash. But he went down hard, has a huge bump on the back of his head. They’re talking about an MRI, just to be on the safe side.”

Fuck, that’s all they need. His priority is Eddie, always, but then it’s going to be medical bills and between them they seem to be racking them up like it’s a shared hobby. Most couples just go bowling, they’re collecting frequent flyer miles from the emergency room.

Gareth steers him toward a door and Steve feels his gut flip. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Gareth, though that fucker will lie for Eddie on command, but he just hates this. Hates seeing his husband hurt, hates seeing him in pain. And Gareth not lying to him is not the same as Gareth not softening the blow to keep him calm. He takes a breath and enters the room.

Eddie’s lying propped up on a bed in the middle of the room. And yeah, Gareth was definitely softening the blow: Eddie’s holding a swollen wrist close to his chest, the road rash spreads from his right temple to his cheek, his hands and knees, his jeans are ripped open and not in the artfully created way they usually are after Eddie has attacked a new pair with scissors and sand paper. 

He looks awful. And Steve’s kind of mad about it.

“Skateboarding? Really?”

It comes out harsher than he had intended. Eddie cracks open an eye before wincing. Steve wants to wrap him up in cotton wool and never let him leave the house ever again.

“I was being a good uncle.”

Steve pulls up a plastic seat beside him.

“Eddie, you’re fifty-eight.”

“So? Tony Hawk is fifty-seven.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you are no Tony Hawk.”

“Don’t be mean to me on my deathbed.”

It’s meant as a joke, Eddie’s a clumsy shit and this won’t be the last time they show up here, but it’s just a little bit too close to the bone for Steve. There was a time when he did see Eddie at deaths door, back in 1986, and the bike accident was another gut punch. But also, they’re getting on in years now and things like this remind Steve of that fact, painfully so. They’re happy, they have a good life and good jobs and Steve doesn’t want to think of the future, of what happens as they age, of ill health.

Of saying goodbye.

He gives himself a little mental slap but Eddie is staring at him, pained doe eyes wide and regretful. He reaches over with his good hand, covered in grit and blood, but Steve takes hold of the offered fingers and slowly kisses each one.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and he means it, Steve can tell. “I was just having fun with Elliot. He’s so cute, I couldn’t deny him.”

“Don’t blame my kid for your idiocy,” Gareth says from the corner of the room. Eddie makes an aborted attempt at flipping him off with grazed fingers.

Steve gently squeezes Eddie’s thigh to get his attention “I know. But you’re kind of precious to me, you know? So I’d prefer it if you could stay in one piece. Please?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

Steve smiles. God he adores this idiot.

“Only if you promise this is your last visit to the ER?”

“Promise.”

Steve leans in and kisses him gently, doing his best to avoid the scrapes on his cheeks.

They break apart and Eddie sighs. “This is going to cost a fortune, huh?”

“Nah, we’ve got a loyalty card for this place, fifth visit is free. Remind me to get it stamped on the way out.” 

A nurse comes in and introduces herself, looking at Eddie’s notes.

“So, can you tell me what happened?”

“I was on my Harley being chased by the cops. Took a corner too fast, hit some gravel and went flying.”

She looks up in time to see Steve rolling his eyes so hard it hurts, then cocks an eyebrow.

“Want to tell me what really happened?”

“Was on my nephews skateboard going downhill and I fell off.”

He’s an idiot, but he’s Steve’s idiot.

This counts as fluff, right?

@the-unforgivenn

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Welcome to the Second Annual Corroded Coffin Fest!

This is a fanworks challenge/event that is all about Corroded Coffin. It will take place from July 1st thru July 31st.

This is our second year of having an full month-long event during the month of July. This year's theme is "Media Mania" and all prompts come from the title of another piece of media. You do not, in any way, have to use the actual source for your work(s). Feel free to take the title and interpret it in any way you feel inspired!

The calendar of prompts is located here:

This year there's a day of the week theme going on:

Sporty Sunday - All prompts are titles of sports films.

Movie Monday - All prompts are the title of a movie.

Television Tuesday - All prompts are the title of a TV show.

Warbling Wednesday - All prompts are the name of a song.

Thirsty Thursday - All prompts are the title of a song about drinking.

Friday Frights - All prompts are the title of a horror film.

Stephen King Saturday - All prompts are the title of Stephen King book.

GUIDELINES:

Ideas for works include: fic, art, gifsets, fanvids, moodboards, edits, playlists, or anything else you can think of to celebrate Corroded Coffin!

For all written word entries, there is a strict word count minimum/maximum of between 300-1000 words. I'll use wordcounter.net to check the word counts before reblogging, so please use that site yourself to double-check your entry before posting to make sure you've stuck to that range! (If you haven't, I'll have to message you to ask you to fix it before it'll be added to the event. So, doing it ahead of time is best for both of us! Thanks!)

You'll get a comment from this blog with a "🦇" when it's passed the wordcounter check and has been added to the queue.

Do one prompt, do them all. Hell, do them all twice! It's totally up to you. You can pick and choose what you're interested in. I'm not going to police how you interpret the prompt. Just use them as a jumping off point to be inspired by the boys of Corroded Coffin, and then share that inspiration with us! (Not everything has to be band related, we encourage you to explore other parts of their lives, too!)

Submissions can absolutely be connected to other prompts from the event, or even past works, but should still be able to stand alone each day.

Every morning a new prompt card will go up, reminding everyone of what that day's prompt will be.

All submissions should include any pairings featured, content rating and any content warnings (CW) and/or tags that you think are appropriate. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well, just to keep things straightforward. A sample could look something like this:

Prompt Day 28: Never Been Kissed | Word Count: 765 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing(s): Steddie | Tags: Eddie's Still Searching For That First Kiss, The Band is Sick of Hearing About It

Also, please put any explicit material under a read more cut, because anything rated E that's not hidden under a cut will not be reblogged.

For the artists! Your art submission must be posted on the same day as the current prompt in order to be reblogged by this blog. Your piece of art (or other creation) must be Corroded Coffin focused, using any combination of the guys, together or solo. Of course, other characters can be included, too! But you need to have at least one of the CC band members in it for it to count for this event. Thank you!

All ships are welcome, as long as they include at least one member of Corroded Coffin: Eddie, Jeff, Gareth & Freak. (Who I look forward to learning the name of from you all, time and time again!)

Please tag us here at @corrodedcoffinfest when you post your entries so we can reblog them! Didn't get reblogged, and I didn't contact you? Double-check that your @ tag is connected to this blog in your posted work! If it's not, I don't get notified that they've been posted. If it looks good on your end, just send this blog a DM and we'll figure it out!

Be respectful of your fellow participants and readers. We're all here to have fun and share the love of all parts of Corroded Coffin.

Definitely feel free to ask me any questions you may have. You can send a message/ask to this blog or reach out to @thisapplepielife.

Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EDT on the day of the prompt in order to not be missed for reblogging.

 If posting on AO3, please feel free to use the collection associated with this event: Corroded Coffin Fest AO3 Collection after your submission has been reblogged by this account.

Most importantly, have fun!

PROMPTS:

JULY 1ST - BAND OF BROTHERS (Television Tuesday)

JULY 2ND - SELLING THE DRAMA (Warbling Wednesday)

JULY 3RD - IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE (Thirsty Thursday)

JULY 4TH - I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (Friday Frights)

JULY 5TH - UNDER THE DOME (Stephen King Saturday)

JULY 6TH - THE CUTTING EDGE (Sporty Sunday)

JULY 7TH - THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY (Movie Monday)

JULY 8TH - ER (Television Tuesday)

JULY 9TH - TEENAGE DIRTBAG (Warbling Wednesday)

JULY 10TH - HAVE A DRINK ON ME (Thirsty Thursday)

JULY 11TH - SCREAM (Friday Frights)

JULY 12TH - DESPERATION (Stephen King Saturday)

JULY 13TH - 8 SECONDS (Sporty Sunday)

JULY 14TH - POETIC JUSTICE (Movie Monday)

JULY 15TH - BREAKING BAD (Television Tuesday)

JULY 16TH - YOU'RE GONNA GO FAR (Warbling Wednesday)

JULY 17TH - DAY DRINKING (Thirsty Thursday)

JULY 18TH - GET OUT (Friday Frights)

JULY 19TH - NEEDFUL THINGS (Stephen King Saturday)

JULY 20TH - WITHOUT LIMITS (Sporty Sunday)

JULY 21ST - CLERKS (Movie Monday)

JULY 22ND - FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS (Television Tuesday)

JULY 23RD - RUNNIN' DOWN A DREAM (Warbling Wednesday)

JULY 24TH - TEN ROUNDS WITH JOSE CUERVO (Thirsty Thursday)

JULY 25TH - POLTERGEIST (Friday Frights)

JULY 26TH - THE OUTSIDER (Stephen King Saturday)

JULY 27TH - BRING IT ON (Sporty Sunday)

JULY 28TH - NEVER BEEN KISSED (Movie Monday)

JULY 29TH - THE OFFICE (Television Tuesday)

JULY 30TH - SIX DAYS ON THE ROAD (Warbling Wednesday)

JULY 31ST - CLOSING TIME (Thirsty Thursday)

SPREADSHEET:

If you'd like a spreadsheet again this year to help you keep track of the prompts and your progress, here's the one for this event. It seemed to go over well last year, so I made another one for this year. If you'd like to use it yourself, just go to File>Make a Copy and you'll get a version you can edit in your own Google Sheets.

Thanks for everyone that's participated in any way during these Corroded Coffin events over the last year! ��️🦇🖤

[runninriot]

Made For Each Other

written for the @corrodedcoffinfest prompt Teenage Dirtbag

wc: 1.000 | rated: T | tags: Jeff & Eddie, Jeff & Steve, friendship, jealousy, feelings realization, pre steddie, meddling, background Gareth, Freak and Steve | also on ao3

Eddie isn't usually the jealous type, but maybe that's only because he never had a reason to be. Hard to be jealous when you're painfully single, but this is almost as bad as watching your significant other flirting with someone else.

Because ever since he made the mistake of inviting his friend Steve to one of their shows, introducing him to the band, jealousy has been eating away at him like a greedy green goblin.

And he knows it's stupid; he wanted them all to get along. But now every time they hang out as a group, it's all Jeff and Steve and Steve and Jeff, like he doesn't exist. They're always attached at the hip, always close, talking amongst themselves and laughing about inside jokes no one else gets.

Gareth and Frank don’t mind, just tag along and mind their own business like they always do. Not like Eddie, who’s deeply annoyed by it.

How do they even have inside jokes? Do they, like, meet outside of their group gatherings? In private? Just the two of them? Without him?

He hates it. Hates that this bothers him so much. It's not like Steve's stealing Jeff away from him - they still spend plenty of time together without him there as distraction. Will always be best friends because nothing can beat 10 plus years of friendship, not even a hot guy with more charisma than he's even aware of, that humble bastard.

Maybe that's it. Maybe Jeff has a big ol' crush on Steve. Not that he's ever voiced a general interest in men before but- there's always a first time, Eddie knows that from experience.

   God, that would be even worse. Because the moment he realises Steve isn't interested, it'll all go to shit, make things awkward between them, force Eddie to choose sides, which would suck big time because he loves Jeff, but he really, really likes Steve, too, and-

Okay, what the hell. Eddie's really getting in over his head about this. He's being stupid. There's nothing to worry about, surely. This is just his dumb brain making up worst case scenarios over nothing.

Even if Jeff secretly has a thing for Steve – which he couldn’t blame him for; Steve’s not only a feast for the eyes, he also a genuinely wonderful person – Eddie’s pretty sure Steve would let him down easy enough not to leave him broken hearted. Not that- not that Jeff isn’t a catch and anyone wouldn’t be lucky to have him as their partner. It’s just that Steve doesn’t seem like the relationship type.

Eddie’s heard enough stories about his many hook-ups to know Steve prefers to keep things casual. He’s a bit of a slut, actually, but like, there’s nothing wrong with that. Eddie would probably be one, too, if his success rate with people wanting to fuck him came anywhere close to Steve’s.

But unfortunately, he isn’t blessed with the same physique, and perfect skin, and soft eyes, and plush lips,... all these attributes that make other people weak in the knees for him.

Where Steve is the personification of some fairy tale Prince Charming, Eddie can be described as Teenage Dirtbag at best. Scruffy, scrawny, long-limbed and socially awkward compared to Steve, who is a literal walking dream of a man.

Wait, what was he on about?

Doesn’t matter.

What matters is, that he’s gotta stop being a petty bitch about his two friends getting along. He should talk to Jeff, tell him how he feels. Maybe he’ll set his head straight; Jeff’s always been good at talking some sense into Eddie.

Jeff listens intently, doesn’t interrupt him once while he pours his heart out, just nods along, lips cracking into a big smile once Eddie’s done.

   “So, what I’m getting from this, is that you’re finally acknowledging that you’re in love with Steve.”

    What?

   “Have you been listening to anything I said?” Eddie asks, appalled at Jeff’s wild and very much untrue accusation.

   “Oh, I have. Been listening to you talk for 20 minutes non-stop about you being jealous about Steve and me being close. I know you, Eddie. You like the guy. Or this wouldn’t bother you.”

   “This- isn’t about Steve. I’m just- I feel left out. You’re my best friend and I-“

Jeff interrupts him with a hand on his shoulder, laughing.

   “Remember when me and Frank went on our little road trip last year without you? You didn’t mind that at all. Or when Gareth and I meet for our monthly movie night and don’t invite you? You never complain.”

   “Well, yeah. Because this is different.”

   “How?”

   “Because-”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, can’t come up with anything to counter Jeff’s claim.

   “Just say that I’m right,” Jeff says, looking at him all self-satisfied and cocky and- shit. Maybe that fucker is right.

   “That- that’s not- ugh.”

He buries his face in his hands and groans, frustrated at himself for being so blind to the obvious.

   “Chin up, champ. You’re lucky.”

Eddie drops his hand to look at him, wondering why the hell Jeff would say that when he’s literally the unluckiest guy on the planet, with the most hopeless crush on the prettiest person he’ll never date.

   “I promised not to say anything, but since I’m your best friend, and because I can’t stand that sad look in your eyes eyes, I’ll let you in on a little secret. You can thank me later.”

He tells Eddie that Steve never shuts up about him. And how two weeks ago, when they were out drinking, he had a little slip of tongue, finally confessing his feelings for Eddie. Telling Jeff that all the stories about his one-night stands were only made up to make him jealous.

   “Because he’s just as stupid as you are,” Jeff concludes.

Eddie should feel attacked by that but he guesses Jeff has a point. They really are both idiots.

   “That’s why you two are made for each other.”

[mrsjellymunson]

Have A Drink On Me

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest’s Media Mayhem event |  Prompt: ‘Have A Drink On Me' | Rating: M | Word count: 1000 | Pairing: Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington; Steddie | CW: alcohol consumption, intoxication, flirting | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, The Hideout, Jeff, Gareth, Doug, wingman!Jeff, Eddie is an incorrigible flirt, future AU, everyone's over 21

Pt2: The Office | Pt 3: Closing Time

Steve left Family Video after Robin moved for college, and if he remembers his earplugs and takes regular breaks, he can manage his shifts at The Hideout without risking a migraine. It's far more exciting than the video store, and Jimmy doesn't have a problem with Steve taking a minute now and then, given that Steve’s good looks and personable demeanour have brought in an entirely new clientele. 

Corroded Coffin aren't complaining either. The larger crowds are obviously welcome, and their frontman is performing even better now that his secret crush is always watching. Jeff suspects the feeling’s mutual, and decides to test the theory on Eddie’s birthday.

Jimmy’s given them the Friday slot in honour of the special day, and before they go on Steve heads backstage with shots. The boys take theirs gratefully, but, Eddie being Eddie, he holds Steve’s gaze as he downs his, then lasciviously licks his long tongue into the glass, garnering every drop. Eddie may not be brave enough to act on his crush, but he's no stranger to gratuitous flirting. Steve’s cheeks flush pink as Gareth queries,

“What's this in aid of, Stevie-boy?”

“Mostly Ed’s birthday, but also you guys make this place fun to work at, so these are on me.”

Jeff doesn't miss the nickname or Steve's change in colour, and spies an opportunity to set Eddie up like never before.

“On you, huh? Whaddaya say, Steve-o? Body shots later?”

Gareth and Doug clap whilst it's Eddie's turn to redden, Steve chuckling nervously. 

After the gig the drinks flow, bought by friends, patrons and even Jimmy - he hasn't seen a Friday like this in years. 

Once most of the crowd’s cleared out, only stragglers and staff left, Jeff yells,

“Get your ass over here, Harrington! Shirt off, we're doing shots!”

He clears their table and motions for Steve to get topless, labouring the point that it's Eddie's birthday and they deserve a special night. Steve, both apprehensive and intrigued, eventually complies.

Lying on the sticky surface, legs dangling, he sees it really is just the guys. He relaxes as much as he can, given the years-long crush he's had on one of those guys, it having arisen in high school when he was forced to watch that goddamn chain swinging around an especially delectable ass.

Jeff appoints himself Distributor of the Shots. He places Gareth's glass on Steve's abs, and it teeters as Steve flinches, new to this. Gareth bends but with all the movement almost fumbles it, catching it between his fingers at the last moment and downing it. The guys cheer anyway, and Steve claps, relieved. 

Jeff balances his own shot at Steve's solar plexus, and after a deliberately dramatic wait, Steve barely breathing, he lifts it with his teeth and tips it back with a flourish, generating a louder yell from the group. 

Jeff places Doug’s on Steve's sternum, clocking Eddie's poorly concealed, envious scowl as he gets close to Steve's pecs. Doug deploys Jeff’s technique and successfully downs his drink too, though with slightly less aplomb. Nevertheless the boys holler their approval. 

Next up, the birthday boy. Now, Jeff’s not known as a devious guy, but these two have been dancing around each other for so long he fears he's gonna be a granddaddy before they do anything about it. So sue him if he wants to… move things along. He grabs Eddie’s shot and holds it above Steve’s chest, signalling for Eddie to be ready, adding,

“You might wanna lean in a little closer there, Eds.”

Eddie regards him curiously, but before he can ask why Jeff tips the glass, pouring Eddie’s shot onto Steve. Steve gasps as Eddie, partly instinctively (he's not one to waste alcohol) and partly from sheer horniness (he'll not forgo this fantastic opportunity either) leans over and, starting at the bottom of the trail of booze that's trickling down beneath Steve’s ribs, licks and sucks his way up Steve's hairy chest, consuming booze and salt and sweat with equal fervour until all the liquor is gone. He doesn't even realise he's closed his eyes and is groaning like an animal with his lips still lightly caressing Steve’s skin until Jeff gently touches his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. He stands, swaying slightly, unsure whether it's from the shot or the realisation that he's just licked Steve's hairy tits. He focuses in time to see the rosy hue gracing Steve's face and torso, his amber-flecked eyes fixated on the ceiling. 

Taking this as their cue, Jeff hustles his drunken bandmates to leave. Doug agrees, waving at Eddie over his shoulder with a slurred,

“Great party, man.”

Gareth initially protests, proclaiming he too wants to lick shots off the hot bartender. But after Jeff gives him a pointed look he complies, blowing a raspberry as Jeff manhandles him out the door.

Everyone else has gone too, and now it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve's swallowing dryly, unable to either sit up or look at Eddie.

Spying an unused shot glass and the mostly-finished bottle, and bolstered by booze and adrenaline, Eddie asks,

“You gonna join me, big boy?”

His confidence soars when Steve shivers, covering it with a nod.

Eddie’s about to tip the shot into his mouth when Steve frowns, finally finding his voice,

“I-isn't that supposed to be mine?” 

Eddie leans over, positioning his mouth directly above Steve's. His eyes sparkle and his lips twitch as he replies,

“Oh yeah, this one's definitely for you. Open up for me, sweetheart…”

Steve’s lips part as Eddie takes the shot but doesn't swallow, parting his own and allowing the aromatic liquid to drizzle out of his mouth and into Steve's. It’s the hottest thing Steve's ever done with clothes on, and he moans as he swallows. 

He stays there as Eddie refills the glass, but this time, when Eddie holds the shot in his mouth, he gets closer, their lips brushing. 

And this time, once Steve's swallowed, he doesn't pull away…

Pt 2: The Office

Pt 3: Closing Time

Thanks so much for reading! Stay tuned for some more parts to this 😉

My masterlist

Tagging my general list, all welcome on and off! (18+) @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @swiftievibez @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @katethetank @justalotoffanfiction @gracieheartspedro

[glassbxttless]

It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1k

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 3: It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere | Eddie’s had a hard day at work— and you spend the day trying to find him.

warnings: alcohol, mechanic!eddie

notes: Submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! I’ve been writing the prompts out of order, but I’ve been having fun with them! This guy is a part of my older mechanic!eddie au! Big thanks to @peachyproserpina for reading this over and editing it!

You called him four times.

Texted twice.

Still nothing.

Not even one of Eddie’s half-assed responses like “still alive” or a blurry picture of the shop floor captioned “vibe.” All you had going tonight was silence. You had really tried not to spiral— maybe his phone had died. Or maybe he left it in the shop when he left. But your gut wasn’t buying any of the excuses your brain conjured up.

You’d even tried to call the auto shop. Roger answered, sounding like he was mid-laugh, but he sobered up fast when you asked about Eddie. “He left a while ago,” Roger said with a sigh. “He didn’t say much. Just kinda stomped out. He looked upset, like he wanted to fight God and lose.”

That was enough for you to grab your keys and clock out from your shift early.

First you try at home, the lights are off, no van in the drive. Then you try the gas station where he sometimes stopped for smokes. Nothing. Then you try the shitty little liquor store he liked with the flickering sign and the good deals on the beer he drinks. Still no sign of him.

You’re about to head home, wait for him to call, but then— there it was. His van, parked outside O’Malley’s, crooked across two spots like he’d rolled in on just fumes.

You sigh as you pull in and park beside the van. O’Malley’s.

The bar was dim. It was all warped wooden floors and worn in booths, lit like it was permanently stuck in a magazine from 1978. There was a faint layer of cigarette smoke that clung to the ceiling and every wall even though smoking inside had been banned years ago. Alan Jackson droned low and lazy from the jukebox. The bartender, some guy with a mustache and his hair slicked back, barely glanced your way.

And then you see him. He’s tucked in the back corner, slumped into a booth like he was trying to disappear from his worries. His shoulders are hunched, curls hiding his face. One hand is wrapped around a half-empty bottle, the other laying limp in his lap. His jacket is bunched up beside him in the booth, grease-streaked and forgotten.

You don’t call out to him. You just walk straight over and slide into the booth across from him.

Eddie looks up then, blinking like he was trying to reboot his brain. His eyes are bloodshot— part tired, part tipsy— and his expression cracks between guilt and surprise.

“Hey,” you say gently.

“Shit,” he sighs. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Yeah, well, you did.”

Your voice isn’t angry with him, it’s just… there. You reach out and pull the almost full bottle away from him before it could become another empty on the table. He doesn’t fight you on it. He just leans back until the wall catches him, head thunking softly against the wood. “Bad day?” you ask quietly.

He huffs out a laugh. “Was a shitshow, babe. Roger got on my ass about a carb job that wasn’t even mine. Then some rich asshole comes in wanting a tire change in ten minutes like I’m in a pit crew at fucking NASCAR. And everyone’s acting like I’m the unreasonable one for not smiling while I’m wrist-deep in someone’s rust bucket.”

You kick at his boot gently under the table. “You could’ve called, Ed. I would’ve told you it was okay to sulk. At home. With less sticky furniture.” You mumble as you tap your knuckles against the table top. 

“I didn’t mean to disappear on you.” He rubs a hand down his face. “I just… I didn’t wanna talk. I didn’t wanna be anyone for a little while.”

You nod, letting a moment pass between you. Letting him sit in that confession without rushing to fill it. “I’m not here to fix anything,” you finally say. “I just didn’t want you alone in the dark with your fourth beer and a jukebox playing old country guys. This isn’t your scene, baby.”

That makes him laugh, just a little. “I was gonna go home,” he says quietly. “Eventually.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I was. I just… I needed to shake it off.”

You look at him then. Really look at him— And your heart aches, the way it always does when you see Eddie like this. Not big and loud and full of the bite you’ve always loved— but worn thin, like a favorite shirt after too many washes. You lean in and rest your arms on the table. “Come home,” you shrug. “You don’t have to be okay. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. I’ll run you a bath. You can drink a beer in there if it’ll help. Or we can put on X-Files and you can fall asleep on my shoulder ten minutes in, like always.”

Eddie looks at you for a long moment. Then he swallows hard, giving you a shaky nod. “You drove around looking for me?” he asks softly.

“‘Course I did,” you smile. “I like you better in my passenger seat.”

He reaches out, not for the beer, but for your hand across the table. His palm is warm, his fingers calloused. He holds onto you like he’s not ready to let go just yet. “Thanks,” he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Next time,” you mumble, brushing your thumb along his knuckles, “I’m calling the fire department to look for you.”

“They probably wouldn’t let me drink in the tub.”

“They also wouldn’t let you fall asleep on my boobs. Perks of dating me.”

He cracks another smile. It’s bigger this time.

You help him to his feet, wrap his jacket around his shoulders, and walk him out with your arm slung low around his back. His weight leans onto you just enough to say everything his mouth didn’t.

And you take him home, some days are just too long to face alone.

tags ;; @thejordiverse @vinecstasy @kripkie101-blog @prettycalla @robinbuckleywife @dancininseptember @the-unforgivenn

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 17: "This One's For You."

Word Count: 1k

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: None

Summary: Snowed in during a blizzard, Eddie’s daughter Eliza proves just how like him she is.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie hasn’t taken many classes in his life, let alone any philosophy ones, but he couldn’t help but ponder one philosophical question these last three days: how long can someone be locked in the same house as two teenage boys and a four-year-old girl before they go absolutely insane?

The blizzard outside had sealed the five of you in the house together for the third straight day now and it’s becoming maddening. There are only so many activities one can do with a four-year-old that will, one, hold their attention, and two, not make you want to tear your hair out after an hour. 

Some of the things you’ve done as a family have been very entertaining, like when you all played Pretty Pretty Princess and somehow Eddie kept winning and Ryan and Luke were having a great time adorning him with the pink plastic jewelry. The pictures you took of that will forever be cherished—as long as you can keep them out of your husband’s hands. 

Having Luke and Ryan try to teach you how to play some of their favorite video games was amusing as well. The boys more so than the game, though. It quickly became apparent to you that your sons do not possess the patience to teach anything to anyone—let alone a first-person shooter game where they expect you to master the use of a dozen buttons on a controller that you’ve never held before. 

“I don’t think this Hollow game is for me,” you say after “Master Chief,” as your kids called him, gets killed for the fourth time.

“It’s Halo!” both boys shout, one on each side of you so you get it in stereo.

It takes all your willpower not to laugh as you press your lips tightly together to suppress a smile. You remembered the name of the game the second time they told you, now you’re just messing with them. 

An afternoon of you and Eliza looking through an old photo album springs to life an idea in her little mind.

“That Daddy?” she asks, pointing to a picture of Eddie in action up on stage. He’s in the middle of headbanging, so his curls are flying wildly around his head.

“That’s Daddy,” you tell her. “Being a rockstar, showing off in front of everyone.” You smile down at your daughter before playfully poking her in the belly. “Reminds me of you.”

Eliza’s eyes light up at the comment and you can’t help but wonder what sparked in that head of hers. 

“Be back!” she shouts as she hops off the couch. Her tiny feet make thunderous booms as she runs down the hallway, calling out for her brothers. “Ryan! Luuuuuke!”

After dinner, the four-year-old instructs you and Eddie to sit on the couch and to stay still and wait for her. Keeping quiet, you and your husband trade amused looks until the door to the pink princess room opens, and Eliza re-emerges, decked out in her Tinker Bell costume from Halloween. On each of her small legs is a black sock that clearly belongs to Ryan. They are also clearly meant to be knee socks, yet they go up the small girl’s thighs. Finishing up her ensemble is her pink Piglet sunglasses. 

Gripped in her tiny fist is the music player with a microphone that she was gifted as a toddler. The way she enters the room with all the gravitas and confidence of a model walking the runway almost makes you think you’re the one who’s dressed unconventionally. 

Behind her, Ryan has a toy guitar that has been passed down through all three children tucked under his arm and Luke carries the gray garbage pail from the bathroom in one hand and a CD in the other. 

While Eliza takes her place front and center before you and Eddie, Ryan positions himself behind her, yielding the spotlight. 

Luke steps over to the stereo and pops in the CD he was holding before following his big brother’s lead and assuming the position behind the star of the show. Ryan tugs an ottoman over to sit on, the toy guitar resting on his knee while Luke sits on the floor and flips the garbage pail over so he can use it as a drum.

“Are you ready?” Eliza asks, mouth right up against the yellow plastic of her microphone.

“Yeah!” you exclaim.

“Woo!” Eddie cheers. 

“Hit it!” Luke says. 

The music begins, notes floating over from the stereo to this impromptu performance space. It takes a moment, but you recognize the song before Eliza starts singing Part of Your World.

The CD turns out to be a compilation of different Disney songs covered by Disney Channel stars, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask you why the hell you bought that for her. 

Ryan and Luke are surprisingly into it, having fun performing while their little sister hams it up. They’re like their own little version of Hanson. 

The instrumentals of the next song drift through the air and Eliza tosses her pink sunglasses aside and points at Eddie.

“This one’s for you!” she shouts, which is very mismatched with the slow, melodic tune that’s playing. 

You rest your head on your husband’s shoulder as your little girl starts to serenade him with her rendition of Go the Distance from Hercules. 

Once she sings the last note (and you hide your wince as best as possible), Eliza lets the yellow microphone fall from her hand. She bends at the waist, bowing so far down that her curls flip over her head and brush the navy carpet. 

It’s your cue, so you and Eddie both clap, cheering for the adorable performance.

Luke stands and takes a bow next, and Ryan figures he might as well follow his lead. 

Eddie whistles and a rare blush tinges Eliza’s cheeks. 

“Thank you!” she calls, arms raised over her head, addressing her crowd.

The true daughter of a rock star. 

“Goodnight!”

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

Prompt: Hate at First Sight | Word Count: 2319 | Rating: G | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie / Steve | CW: N/A | Tags: internalized classism, angst, angst with a happy ending

This is an entry for @corrodedcoffinfest's May Mayhem Bingo.

I know nothing about cars. I can't even drive. But I had some feelings about Steve's s5 truck. Here's the second out of three fics I wrote about it.

ao3 link

The stars on any other car would shine as bright

It was a good practice. One of their best even. Eddie tries to think about that and not about how they're going to get to their next gig. They might have to cancel. His van is in the shop and renting something that can take all of their instruments and themselves to the venue is going to put them straight in the red. His van is ailing again, probably due to age. Eddie tries not to think about how much it's gonna cost to replace whatever it is that's going to need replacing. Maybe it's time for the girl to go out to pasture. But it's not like he's got new van money either.

He feels a little bit like an abandoned puppy as he scans the street outside Gareth's garage for Steve. He said he was coming to pick him up. But Steve's maroon beemer is nowhere in sight. Eddie tries to swallow down the sudden rush of panic. It's not like Steve to be late, not for him. Something might have happened to the kids, or to Steve while he was on his way. He can't remember the last time he changed the batteries in the radio he carries around everywhere with him at Dustin's behest. Shit. What if his radio is out of battery and the kids are frantically calling him right now?! And he can't even get to them even if he knew—

"You're thinking so loud right now dude," Steve says as he appears out of nowhere.

If Eddie had a tail (now that's a thought), he'd be wagging it hard enough to break. "Where were you?" he whines, sexily.

"Uh, here, the entire time," Steve says sheepishly. He points to a big ugly blue truck right in front of them. "Sorry. I know it's a new car but I figured you'd see me inside. But you kinda stood out in front and zoned out."

"Where's the beemer?" Eddie asks, confused. This truck looks like something Wayne might insist on buying. Practical. Lumbering. Ugly as fuck. The inside looks cheap too. It's all grey plastic and fake suede, nothing like the elegant leather of Steve's beemer. "She sick too?"

"Erm," Steve clears his throat and looks away awkwardly. "I err… traded her."

"For what?" Eddie sputters, "not… not for that thing?! You traded your beemer for that thing?!"

Steve mumbles something to the ground and gently wraps long fingers around Eddie's forearm, trying to coax him into the ugly thing. Eddie stomps his feet like a fucking toddler then plants himself. What the fuck.

"You loved that car," Eddie insists, "what happened?! Who did this to you? Was it Nancy? Did she say something about you being too high maintenance or some shit? As if her station wagon is any—"

"It's just a car Eds," Steve says gently, "it just wasn't practical you know?"

"Not practical for what?" Eddie squawks, "and don't fucking lie to me. As if you didn't spend a few hours a week pampering the maroon lady."

"I just… you know, the kids are going to start moving away to college and I want to make sure I can help them move. Maybe Wayne needs help hauling shit."

"Wayne has a truck," Eddie says, eyes narrowing, "and the kids have at least a year or two until college, and they all have parents to drive them."

"So why the fuck would you trade your car in now?" Eddie continues, talking loudly over more protests and lies from Steve, "unless… It's to replace my van isn't it?" Eddie hisses, eyes narrowed.

"No!" Steve says. A deep flush spreads from his forehead down to his neck, probably all the way down to his toes. "I mean… a little bit. A tiny bit. I figured… you have a gig coming up. It'd be easier? Maybe? If you had a truck for your stuff…"

Eddie looks at Steve then at the car then back at Steve. Back in high school, Steve never seemed to wear the same polo twice. He walked around in expensive cologne, head held high, not a worry in the world. Even when he got knocked off his throne by Billy Hargrove and Jonathan Byers, he still maintained an era of untouchability.

Until Eddie came along.

Now Steve's standing in front of him in slacks he wore yesterday, exhausted after a day of dealing with customers on his feet all day. Broke. Chipping away parts of himself to hand over to him. If it weren't for him, he'd be shacking up with some other rich girl right now. He'd be hamming it up in a big house with an upgraded beemer parked behind a pristine white picket fence. He'd have a cushy job and infinite polos and beautiful men to fool around with in secret.

The Munson curse is spreading.

Eddie can't breathe.

He turns around and runs into Gareth's house.

-----

Wayne's probably an hour or two away from forcibly dragging Eddie out of bed. He'd done it before. When he was younger he used to just flip the mattress over. Eddie shifts and buries himself deeper into the cover, breathing carefully so he doesn't have to sniff his own stank. He knows Wayne is worried. He's heard him and Steve talk in low voices outside his bedroom before Steve left. The kids are probably worried to. He's been blowing off his band. Jeff is probably looking for a new guitarist already.

He's ruining everything.

Eddie buries himself deeper into the covers and yearns for the simpler days when all he had to worry about was how they were going to stave off the end of the world.

Someone throws his bedroom door open and marches in. Eddie fruitlessly clutches his covers around himself, burrowing into it like some sort of pathetic dung beetle.

"Get the fuck up Eddie," Chrissy demands.

"Go away," Eddie calls out.

"Ugh, it stinks in here. Get the fuck up," Chrissy says.

She doesn't wait for Eddie to ignore her again. Eddie squawks in protest as she unfurls her arms into multiple strands of strong vines. The vines grasp the edges of the Eddie's blanket shield and yanks. Eddie's left exposed, shivering.

"Eww why are you in your boxers?!" Chrissy squeals, averting her eyes.

"Why the fuck would you just yank my covers off?! What are you doing here anyway?" Eddie protests, throwing an am over his nipple to protect his modesty.

"I came over because if Robin were here, she'd kill you and I don't want my girlfriend to go to jail for killing my friend," Chrissy says, rolling her eyes, "now get up."

"To do what?" Eddie asks.

"To shower? To get your shit together? To apologize to Steve for running off on him?" Chrissy says, her voice getting higher and higher with each exhausting activity. "You know he's fucking devastated right?! And over a car?" She leans against Eddie's bedroom door and surveys him disapprovingly, eyes narrowed. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you weren't just dating Steve for his money. But what the fuck Eddie? What's your problem?!"

"Since when do you cuss this much?" Eddie mutters, trying to change the subject.

"Since I came back from the dead," Chrissy snaps, "I think I earned it."

Her face softens a bit. She sighs. "Eddie. Do you want to break up with Steve?"

"No," Eddie says. He hides behind a greasy handful of his curls.

"I figured," Chrissy says, nodding, "that's why you're hiding right?"

"I would dump me if I were Steve," Eddie says darkly, "he should dump me."

"Why?"

"Because I keep taking shit from him?!" Eddie says disbelievingly, "he loved that car Chrissy. And he gave that up for me."

Chrissy opens her mouth. Eddie barrels on before she can say something devastatingly correct or reasonable. "And it's not just the car!" Eddie says, standing up on his bed, "the car is a symbol of everything wrong with me. Steve's given up the chance to live a normal life, to get out of this town, to have those six kids in an RV, everything he cherished, it's all going away. Don't you see?! I'm a blight! I'm a blight upon his fate and future and everyone is just letting it happen!"

"Have you talked to Steve about this?" Chrissy says with a sigh.

"Yes! Exhaustively! All the time!"

"In those exact words? Did you call yourself a blight?"

"Well no, I have some dignity," Eddie says.

Chrissy gestures at his general state with a bitchy glare that reminds him (heart wrenchingly) of Steve.

"Is whatever hangup or dignity you have more important than Steve?" she asks quietly.

Eddie shakes his head silently.

"It's hard seeing you both like this," Chrissy says with a sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"Say that to Steve. Don't drag this out," Chrissy advises, "Steve's been hanging out at Lover's Lake most nights. You should go. Talk."

----

Steve's favorite cookies? Check. Weed? Check. Wildflower bouquet? (well, more like a corsage, flowers are harder to come by after the Upside Down tore the town apart) Check. Starlight gently shimmering over the lake surface? Check and double check.

All Eddie has left to do now is wait. Something he's really bad at in general. The worst part is that he's not even sure that Steve is going to show up. Chrissy said Steve hangs out at Lover's Lake most nights. Most. Not all. He kind of wants to radio Robin, to see if she knows if Steve's going to show up tonight. But based on what Chrissy said, and based on what he did, he'd be lucky if she doesn't figure out how to shoot a hole through his brain using radio waves.

He's such a fucking asshole.

Eddie chews his lips and stares out at the lake surface. It's a messed up thought, but he kind of misses the time before they defeated Vecna. Sure, it was terrifying and stressful. Sure, he was slowly losing his mind while guarding the Lover's Lake portal all by his lonesome. But it was… simpler. He had a purpose. Now it just feels like he's just dicking around doing fuck all besides hurting the people around him. He hopes, prays, that Steve choosing to mope at Lover's Lake means something. It's where they first confessed their feelings, where they had their first kiss. At least it means something to him.

"You're thinking real loud again," Steve says out of nowhere. Eddie jumps and nearly crushes the wildflower bundle.

Eddie kneels like the olden knights, holding out the bouquet like a… whatever knights offer their kings. He can't stop shaking.

"Thanks," Steve says quietly. He gently pries the flowers out of Eddie's clawed hands and sits down next to him. He leaves some space between them even though he cradles the flowers like they're something precious. Eddie hates how small he looks, how he's trying to scrunch himself into a little bundle.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says.

Steve grunts. Eddie fiddles with the grass as the silence stretches on. Starlight gleams off of Steve's new truck.

"That hurt. A lot. When you…" Steve starts then stops.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says again, feeling like a broken record.

"I just…" Steve sighs then picks up a stone. They watch it skip seven times before sinking. "I feel like I'm constantly disappointing you?"

"What?"

"Like, my job. My house. My clothes. And I guess my car now," Steve huffs sadly into the flowers, "you keep telling me that you love me. Then you get this look on your face sometimes. And it makes me feel…"

Steve trails off and looks away. Eddie can see the corner of his lips quivering. Can see the peach stones on his chin. Eddie scoots over, closing the distance, and puts his hand over Steve's. Steve doesn't protest when Eddie moves Steve's hand onto his laps. The forgiving, loving bastard.

"You're my favorite person," Eddie says earnestly. Steve scoffs. Eddie grabs his chin and forces eye contact. Steve's eyes are bright. His lashes are dark with tears.

Eddie Munson is a fucking asshole.

"Look. You're smart. You're funny. You look devastatingly beautiful at all hours of the day, even when you're hungover after throwing up on my favorite boots," Eddie lists out. He watches a subtle blush form and flow down Steve's neck. He wants to bite it. "I was being a fucking conservative sickwad alright? I'm the problem. I'm the one feeling like I'm holding you back from what you want."

"What do you think I want?" Steve whispers.

"Six kids. A nice big yard for your winnebago for when you're not traveling. Lots of time off. Long vacations…" Eddie trails off, "you know. The dream."

"That's not—" Steve huffs, "fuck man, I wish I'd never said that. That was the heat of the moment alright? Something stupid sentimental I said when I thought I was going to die, and that Nancy Wheeler and her arsenal might be my only option."

"Am I your dream then, Stevie? Little ol' me?" Eddie asks, batting his lashes. He leans in for a kiss.

"Yeah, you asshole," Steve says, gracing Eddie with a chaste little peck. "A little house together for you and me and Robin. A car big enough to help out however. Enough free time to build memories. This. You and me and everyone." Steve grips Eddie by the face and gives it a little shake. Eddie smiles and lets Steve move him around.

"Want to start building memories now?" Eddie asks, waggling his eyebrows. He points at the truck bed. Steve blushes and nods.

Eddie gets up and grabs Steve by the picnic blanket, relishing in the adorable yelp of surprise, ignoring the way the cookies, the flowers, and the other arrangements he'd made gets scattered to the ground. They've got a new truck to defile.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest 2025 - Day 20 - Without Limits

Summary: If Eddie Munson wants to graduate, he has to do the impossible: run a mile.

Word Count: 992

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Boys will be boys, friendship, humor

Note: I know I'm mixing up two movies here but I don't care. It's on theme.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you don’t start on Day 1, you can still join! <3

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

A lot of people speculated why Eddie Munson repeated senior year so many times.

Had he skipped class one too many times? Possibly.

Was he just that bad of a student? He actually got an A in a few subjects. Thank you very much.

Did he fill Principal Higgins car with shaving cream as a senior prank back in '84? Trick question, he actually did that after he found out he was not going to pass.

Truth be told, there were many factors that influenced Eddie's repeated failure, but there was one common denominator:

Eddie Munson Hated P.E. Class.

But could you blame him?

Since he started high school, he always had the most unfortunate placement for P.E. on his schedule. First class of the day? Ruined the whole day of classes by making you sweaty first thing in the morning. Last class of the day? Ruined the afternoon. Class right before lunch? Well, then you were too hungry. Right after lunch? Too full.

There was no good time for P.E. and no one was ever willing to listen to his arguments. And the person who hated the argument the most? Coach Hunt. A big, burly mountain of a man with a bald spot that could land a helicopter and the most nasal voice Eddie had ever heard.

He wasn't even that bad of a guy. Just a stickler for the rules.

"I don't understand why you can't just pass me," Eddie sighed. "I don't want to do this as much as you don't want me to do this."

"I'm not asking you to be the quarterback on the football team here, Munson," Coach sighed. "I'm not even asking you to do the whole Presidential Fitness Test. I just need you to make a mile in 30 minutes to pass. To graduate. Everyone can do it."

"I hate running," Eddie argued.

"Then walk."

"But a mile???"

"Yes," Coach nodded. "A mile. "

"Can I blame Reagan for this?" Eddie asked.

"No."

"But I don't wanna."

"Then I'll see you next year, kid."

There was a drawn out pause before Eddie threw his hands in the air and said, "fine."

But it was not fine.

Eddie complained every step of the way, and his friends were getting sick of it.

"Everyone does it, Eddie," Jeff tried to reason.

"Don't group me in with the plebs, Jeffrey," the super super senior scoffed and threw a pretzel at him. "I am not like everyone. There isn't much I'm not keen to do, you guys. You need me to haul shit around? Move boxes for Bev? Carry an amp up a flight of stairs? I'm your man. But running? I dunno. I'm not built for it. I get hot and sweaty and it feels like my guts are gonna spill out of my body."

"That's just how it is," Dave shrugged. "And you get through it and you pass and you graduate."

"What do you need to get through it?" Gareth questioned. "You can borrow my walkman. Listen to some music to get you hyped up."

"I already asked Hunt," Eddie grumbled, sinking in to his seat. "I need to do it just like everyone else if I wanna pass. No extra time. No music. No exceptions."

So focused on his impending doom, he didn't see the look of determination on his friends faces.

---

The day finally came, and he was not ready.

He dragged his feet into the locker room, changed into his P.E. uniform that was, honestly, a little musty from disuse. Even on the days when he didn't skip, he rarely put the full uniform on. The tshirt over his jeans, or the shorts with one of his band tees and leather jacket. Now he was in full Hawkins High Athletics Department regalia and he felt like he was gonna vomit.

"Full participation points today, Munson," Coach greeted him as he finally joined his classmates, who couldn't care less about the torture that waited for them just beyond the double doors.

Then again, they were probably not dreading this as much as he was.

He trudged along at the back of the class as Coach led them all out to the track, and then when the others ran he simply started walking. Eddie kept his head down, uninterested as he shuffled, preparing himself for another year of failure.

Until the speaker system around the track squeaked to life, and the first notes of Vangelis' Chariots of Fire played on electric guitar wailed over the otherwise calm of the P.E. class.

Eddie's head shot up and he looked around, finally narrowing in on several figures that were set up by the bleachers. Jeff and Dave with their instruments wired up to some device that Dustin--who waved at him--fiddled with. And Gareth with a snare drum and high hat, beating out triples and drumrolls along with them.

"What the heck?" Coach's voice was drowned out by the growing music, and Eddie started to shuffle a little quicker. One foot in front of the other, then faster and faster. Round and round the track, he even passed a few other students as he went, for the first time ever.

He kept his breathing steady, just like he did when he was performing, kept his pacing even, all while his friends played. They even cheered him on every time he passed them.

He kept focus and kept running until...

"Munson!" Coach's arm slammed across his chest. "Stop!"

"What? What the hell?" He shouted, immediately irritated. Coach Asshole was ruining his last chance.. "I was doing it, I was running. I was gonna do it."

"Well, you did it, kid," the older man laughed.

It was a record scratch moment.

He did it.

He, Eddie Munson, ran the mile.

"I'm gonna graduate?" he asked softly, in wonderment. Coach Hunt beamed and nodded. Eddie threw his arms up in the air and shouted. "Fuck yeah!"

Maybe it really was his year after all.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Such a Negotiation

Prompt #21 - Clerks | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Jeff | Relationship(s): None | Tags: Set Pre-S3, The Boys Need Jobs, And a New Mall Has Been Built

The stack of applications they've filled out hoping to get jobs in the new mall is a little ridiculous. Jeff's pretty sure nobody is gonna hire all of them at one place, that'd probably be a catastrophic mistake for any manager to make.

"The movie theater," Jeff says, and they all agree. That's the most likely to have multiple positions open, the biggest staff.

Eddie pushes his application for the theater into the first position. Everybody lays theirs on top. Jeff's pretty sure they can all sell movie tickets and popcorn, maybe even use a broom. And the prospect of seeing free movies? It's clearly the first choice.

"Music store," Gareth says, making the next suggestion. 

"Instruments or records?" Jeff asks, wanting some clarification. There are different options.

"Instruments," Goodie says.

"Records," Gareth says at the same time, and oh boy, here they go.

"You've lost your goddamn mind! I can't work at Sam Goody," Goodie snaps at Gareth, winding up. "The lame jokes I'll be forced to hear. I can't fake laugh. You know the face I'll make."

Jeff watches as Goodie makes the exact face he was picturing in his head. Yeah. He's not sure retail of any kind will be a good fit for Goodie. He has no poker face. What he's thinking, you're gonna see.

"If only there were a way around this problem. Like, I don't know, you could just wear Charles on your nametag. Problem solved," Gareth says, throwing fuel on the fire. "Chuck. Chuckie. Charlie."

Goodie takes a swipe at him, and Jeff puts his arm out, batting Goodie's hand away from Gareth. He shouldn't, Gareth brought this on himself.

Gareth's trying to shove his Sam Goody application to the top of the table, and Goodie's trying to prevent that from happening. It doesn't take long before the paper tears.

"Stop it. There's also Tape World," Jeff offers, trying to broker peace. Maybe it'd be better if they don't all end up in the same place. These two might get them all fired on day one.

Jeff takes the torn application from them, dumping it into the trash. Eddie pushes his application for Sam Goody to the far end of the table, and then over into the trash can. Jeff tosses his as well. Then, he looks at Goodie. Waiting.

"I didn't fill one out, were you not listening?"

Jeff was listening, and he pushes his application to Tape World to the second position. Everybody else lays theirs down on top of it. Jeff never realized this was gonna be such a negotiation.

He puts the one for the Miller's Instruments in the next position, but Jeff is positive they are never gonna hire a bunch of teenagers to be in charge of selling their expensive instruments and equipment. It won't hurt to try though.

"Spencer's!" Gareth yells, pushing his application for it across the table. Nobody argues. 

Jeff knows Eddie and him have both filled out applications to both bookstores. Jeff thinks that'd be nice, actually. Quiet. 

"Bookstore?" Jeff asks.

Eddie immediately slides both of his into position. Nobody seems to balk, and they all follow suit.

"Scoops Ahoy?" Jeff asks.

"Over my dead body. I'm not wearing a sailor suit," Goodie says, and well. Fair enough. 

Gareth and him are the only two that filled out applications there, it looks like. They stack them together, just in case. Maybe they'll be able to get hired in twos more easily than all four of them.

After they've finished sorting them, Jeff looks at them. Now they just need to drop them off tomorrow at the mall job fair. He wonders how many people will be there trying to get hired.

When the job offers come in, they have nothing in common. Nothing. Not one place offered anything to all four of them. Nobody even offered anything to pairs of them. This sucks. But at least they'll all still be working in the same building, he guesses.

"RadioShack," Goodie says. It's a good choice. Goodie will be good at it, and Jeff would rather work at RadioShack than Hot Dog on a Stick, totally.

"KB Toys," Gareth says, and they all laugh. "What? You think I'm better off at Hot Sam Pretzels?"

No, not at all.

"B. Dalton," Jeff says. They have a pretty good RPG section, and he's excited at the prospect of using his employee discount. They'll all be able to get new books cheaper.

Eddie laughs, "Sorry, Goods. Sam Goody."

Goodie huffs, "I thought you threw that away."

Eddie just shrugs. 

"I can't believe we're gonna do this. Retail clerks. That's where we are," Goodie says, and Eddie squeezes him on the shoulder.

"We're gonna save. We're gonna get the money to record an album and we're gonna get the fuck out of this town."

The mall burns down on the Fourth of July.

"Well fuck," Eddie says.

Jeffs agrees. Fuck is right. A few weeks, that's all they got. They are gonna have to start from square one, and it's not like Hawkins has a wealth of job opportunities.

"Do you think the RadioShack will reopen by Melvald's?" Goodie asks, and Jeff doesn't know. Hawkins just may have lost it forever.

"Maybe," Jeff says, even if he's not convinced that's true. 

"Family Video is hiring," Goodie suggests.

"Keith hates me," Gareth says. 

"Keith needs to get off his high horse. He's managed a video store and an arcade. That doesn't make him hot shit," Goodie answers.

"Don't forget the bowling alley. Wayne hates him and Wayne doesn't hate anyone," Eddie says.

"I put my application in at The Hawk this morning," Gareth tells them.

"Me too," Jeff says.

"Me three," Eddie admits.

They had the same thought. 

Well, not all of them.

"Way to tell me, guys," Goodie complains, and Jeff laughs. 

He'll drive him over to drop his application off later. They'll all find something, and they'll get that album made, no matter what.

Jeff knows they will.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[dreamwatch]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt 1: Band of Brothers | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: death of a parent, grief | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Steddie | Angst, funerals, protective Steve, because Steve is his rock always and forever, best friends being there for each other in their time of need

Wayne dies on a Monday in October. Eddie doesn’t remember much after that.

It’s not unexpected, not entirely, Wayne had been sick for months, but still it felt like the world shifted sharply to left, tipping him off the steady path of his ordinary life into a sinkhole he couldn’t see out of. He got the call and then he just… stopped.

Since then it’s been a steady stream of condolences and casseroles; he’s never eaten a fucking casserole in his life and he has a freezer full of them now. In the months leading up to that Monday in October Eddie had tested the mental waters in what it would be like if (when) Wayne left him. He’d be stoic, he’d be organised, he had Wayne’s wishes written down all carefully detailed, from the music to the readings, to which funeral home would be handling the arrangements. Wayne had done everything he could in life to ensure Eddie had to think as little as possible after his death. And still Eddie imploded.

He was useless. Stupid and pathetic and weak. Wayne deserved better. He had always deserved better than Eddie.

When he made the mistake of saying that to Steve he had been firmly corrected.

Soft fingers took him by the chin turning his face so that he couldn’t hide from Steve’s gaze.

“You were everything to him. You are everything to me.”

He fell asleep in Steve’s arms that night, curled safely into him, praying for the world to right itself by the morning. But it didn’t.

In his daze he hadn’t noticed people were arriving back in Hawkins for the funeral because Steve had taken care of that too. It wasn’t until a familiar figure had wandered into his room and sat on the end of the bed that it clicked for him. Steve had taken care of everything, including bringing the band back to Hawkins.

He felt the soft touch of Gareth’s hands on the back of his calf.

“Hey. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

Eddie wants to speak, he wants to tell him it’s okay, of course it’s okay, Gareth has kids and a job and he can’t drop everything just because Eddie’s old man passed away. But his mouth has been sealed shut since that Monday. No words seem adequate, they don’t feel enough. And he’s too tired to pick through them, too exhausted to his bones to even want to speak. What’s the point, honestly?

So instead he nods, mute and paralysed with grief and Gareth climbs onto the bed behind him and pulls him tight to his chest. Eddie’s hands find Gareth’s and they lie like that until the sun drops behind the trees and Eddie finally falls asleep.

“And who are your pallbearers?”

Eddie’s laggy, still three questions back thinking about the list of songs he’s handed over, but Steve is speaking before the question even registers. Familiar name after familiar name, all taken care of.

“Mike said he’ll step in if you’re not up to it,” Steve tells him with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

So not just names, but back ups, reserves so that no matter what he wants it’s covered. Is it wrong that he’s so grateful for this? To be allowed to check out and not have to think, just let Steve point him in the right direction, tell him what he needs to know, and only what he needs to know right now, not giving him anything more than he can absorb in that moment? It feels wrong. It feels like he’s letting Wayne down.

Matty and Jeff arrive the day after Gareth, and they all hug silently because they know there is nothing to be said. There’s always someone at the house with him, but he’s grateful for it because it’s not just him that needs the support. Steve is juggling everything alone and he loved Wayne just as much, feels the grief just as much. Who is sheltering him while he shelters Eddie? But with everyone home Eddie breathes a little easier for it, he can see that Steve does too. There’s no casseroles coming from Corroded Coffin, just good old fashioned love.

Corroded Casseroles. He laughs to himself and then instantly feels guilty for it.

He sits on the side of the bed, shirt and tie on, shoes… somewhere, trying to decide whether or not to tie his hair back. People still judge him in Hawkins, would they be pointing their fingers at him for that? Probably. He grabs the hair tie and scrapes his hair back, combing it with his fingers as neatly as he ever has.

The bedroom door swings open and Steve walks in, suited and booted, looking so elegant, and Eddie is so in love, so proud to have this man at his side. Eddie’s been good at keeping it together this last week, or he thinks he has anyway, but it hits him suddenly that this is it. This is the end. This is goodbye. So he lets himself cry this time, doesn’t try and hold it back because it’s just the two of them.

Steve sits beside him, wipes his tears away and then pulls his hair out of the hair band, letting Eddie’s curls loose.

“He’d be pissed if you started worrying about appearances now.”

A wet laugh escapes him because yeah, Wayne’s always been a ‘fuck the neighbours’ kind of guy. Hair down it is.

He glides his hand over the top of the mahogany coffin before grabbing the handle, Steve on the opposite side of him. Gareth stands behind him, Dustin his opposite, and Jeff and Matty at the back. He was so close to asking Mike to step in for him but in the end it felt too much like running away, too close to cowardice and he’s been done with that shit for years. This he can do for Wayne. It pales in comparison to everything Wayne did for him.

I'm sorry, don't come for me!

Boring A/N: I had decided to sit this event out because I'm just cooked to be honest with you, just exhausted and burned out and my brain is not in the game for lot's of boring reasons. But I saw some entries today and it inspired me so here we are, Dream back on her bullshit, killing Wayne and making Eddie suffer. I'm sorry! I'm not sure how many more I'll be able to do, but if I do manage another one I will do my best not to kill anyone. Scouts honour... maybe...

@the-unforgivenn

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Week Two: Masterlist

Look at you all go! During week two we covered 7 prompts, and there were 43 total entries: 42 Fics Written, 1 Pieces of Art & 0 Other Works.

Color-Coded Ratings Key: General, Teen, Mature, Explicit, Not Rated.

Day Six: The Cutting Edge

JULY 6: The Cutting Edge by @the-unforgivenn | WC: 990 | Rating: E | Pairing(s): Rockstar!Gareth Emerson x Romance!Author!Wife!Reader | CW: Suggestive/explicit language, Allusions to a naughty lil threesome and reverse harem. Gareth Emerson, even married, is a horny little perv. | Tags: Rockstar Gareth Emerson, Modern!AU, Husband!Gareth, Wife!Reader, Gareth Emerson is a perpetually horny little perv but damn it if he doesn't have our best interests at heart.

the necklace by @steddieas-shegoes | WC: 983 | Rating: M | CW: implied/referenced drug use, implied sexual content | Tags: rock star eddie, famous corroded coffin, figure skater steve, flirting

The “Grinding” Edge by @glassbxttless | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated | Pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader | CW: Scantily dressed ladies— it’s a rockstar’s music video babes, Bats is jealous, Gareth’s having the time of his life lookin at boobies

Build Up the Energy by @thisapplepielife | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Jeff | Pairing: Jeff & Eddie (or pre Jeff/Eddie) | Tags: Corroded Coffin On the Road, Trying to Make It, Writing a Setlist

A cut above by @steddie-island | WC: 884 | Rating: G | Tags: Post- Vecna, Eddie Munson lives

Day Seven: The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

JULY 7: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly by @the-unforgivenn | WC: 953 | Rating: M | Pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson | CW: Gun violence, murder, brief mentions of bribery and turf war. Shit gets real in Harlan County | Tags: Justified!AU, Modern!AU, Outlaw!Billy Hargrove, Outlaw!Eddie Munson, Deputy US Marshal Steve Harrington, Corroded Coffin & The Party, and one brief mention of Tommy Hagan and Brenner

good or bad by @steddieas-shegoes | WC: 903 | Rating: M | CW: referenced past drug use/abuse | Tags: established relationships, therapy, marriage

What They'd Do by @glassbxttless | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated | Pairing(s): eddie munson x gareth emerson | CW: It’s boys lovin boys in Oklahoma in the 1980’s, Eddie’s scared of being found out

just a little misplaced by @thisapplepielife | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, A Bit of Grave Robbing | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie & Corroded Coffin, Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Hawkins Just Doesn't Know That

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly by @dreamwatch | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Gareth | Relationships: Pre-Steddie | Corroded Coffin, Wayne Munson, Light Angst, Eddie lives, best friends doing what best friends do, concerts

Here I Go Again (On My Own) by @steddie-island | WC: 989 | Rating: G | Tags: Angst, pre-Steddie, time loop, temporary character death, ambiguous/ open ending

Day Eight: ER

ER by @glassbxttless | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated | Pairing(s): gareth emerson x nurse!fem!reader | CW: Burns, General ER stuff

JULY 8: ER by @the-unforgivenn | WC: 998 | Rating: M | Pairing(s): Eddie Munson & his delusions, Dr. Hall makes an appearance | CW: Blood, injury - and yes, another ER visit | Tags: Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin, head wounds, ER visit, Dr. Hall, poor Jeff gets his forehead stitched, questionably!subby!Eddie Munson

nine fingers by @steddieas-shegoes | WC: 968 | Rating: T | CW: injury, blood, hospitals | Tags: famous corroded coffin, band manager steve, established steddie, everything is fine eddie's just dramatic, protective steve

Like a Bloodhound by @thisapplepielife | WC: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Bar Hookup, Eddie is a Horny Size Queen Gremlin, Enter Stage Left: Steve "Big Dick" Harrington

Angel by @runninriot | WC: 1000 | Rating: M | POV: Steve | Tags: blood and injury, criminal assault, Eddie & Gareth & Jeff & Freak friendship, famous Corroded Coffin, pre steddie, meet ugly

ER by @dreamwatch | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: none | POV: Steve | Relationships: Steddie, Gareth & Eddie | Light angst, injuries, getting older, Eddie whump, Eddie is an accident prone idiot, Steve still loves him, attempted humour and a small amount of fluff

Day Nine: Teenage Dirtbag

JULY 9: Teenage Dirtbag by @the-unforgivenn | WC: 997 | Rating: T | Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x You | CW: Lots of livestock talk. Some banter. Eddie accidentally body-shames a yearling ewe. But other than that, nothing. | Tags: Eddie Munson, Fem!Reader, Livestock life, Indiana State Fair, Smut in the next part

Two Tickets to Iron Maiden by @glassbxttless | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated | Pairing(s): grant (freak) x fem!reader | CW: kissing, alcohol is mentioned, grant may be a little bit of a smartass lmao

i've got two tickets to iron maiden baby by @steddieas-shegoes | WC: 704 | Rating: T | CW: none | Tags: corroded boys friendship, college au, first date, steddie getting together

Made For Each Other by @runninriot | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Tags: Jeff & Eddie, Jeff & Steve, friendship, jealousy, feelings realization, pre steddie, meddling, background Gareth, Freak and Steve

lo and behold by @thisapplepielife | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Temporary Character Death | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Eddie & Gareth, Background Steddie | Tags: Time Jumps, Gareth & Eddie Have a Tradition, And Then Spring Break Happens

Fighting Dirty by @steddie-island | WC: 994 | Rating: E | Tags: Season 2, canon-typical violence, mild blood play, biting, dry humping

Day Ten: Have a Drink on Me

JULY 10: Have a Drink on Me by @the-unforgivenn | WC: 994 | Rating: E | Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x You | CW: Oral - fem receiving, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, a small amount of alcohol consumption | Tags: Smut - oral, fem receiving, p in v sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, Eddie Munson, Fem!Reader, Livestock life, Indiana State Fair

Wingman of the Year by @glassbxttless | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated | Pairing(s): jeff x fem!reader (bits of gareth emerson x eddie munson) | CW: there’s a little bit of gare and ed in there, alcohol, they’re in a bar

when i get to drinkin' by @steddieas-shegoes | WC: 720 | Rating: E | CW: alcohol | Tags: friends with benefits, shower sex, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, these birds are in love but won't say it, jeff and gareth might be my crack ship of all time actually

Have a Drink on Me by @mrsjellymunson | WC: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: alcohol consumption, intoxication, flirting | POV: Steve | Pairing: Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington; Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, The Hideout, Jeff, Gareth, Doug, wingman!Jeff, Eddie is an incorrigible flirt, future AU, everyone's over 21

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is by @thisapplepielife | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Goodie (Freak) | Pairing: Goodie & OFC, Goodie & Gareth (and Corroded Coffin) | Tags: Bar Band Corroded Coffin, Friendship, When Paths Cross, When Dreams Change

Have a Drink on Me by @dreamwatch | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Matt (Unnamed Freak) | Relationships: Matt/Original Female Character | Tags: Fluff, minor fatphobia, mentions of weight and diets, Matt is in love, totally gone on this girl, it's over for him.

Day Eleven: Scream

SCREAM by @mrsjellymunson | WC: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: alcohol consumption, oral (m rec) | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie Munson x Gareth Emerson | Tags: on tour, confident bisexual!Gareth Emerson, bisexual disaster!Eddie Munson, implied fuckboys!Corroded Coffin 

JULY 11: Scream by @the-unforgivenn | WC: 969 | Rating: E | Pairing(s): Rockstar!Husband!Gareth Emerson x Author!Wife! Fem!Reader, Gareth x Eddie x Reader with a surprise at the end | CW: Pure filth. It -- it's just straight smut. | Tags: MMF, multiple partners, oral sex, p in v sex, threesome, spouse sharing, female reader, wife reader, husband Gareth Emerson, Rockstar Eddie Munson, famous Corroded Coffin

all nightmare long by @steddieas-shegoes | WC: 608 | Rating: T | CW: nightmares | Tags: established steddie, famous corroded coffin, hurt/comfort

The Ghostface Mask by @glassbxttless | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated | Pairing(s): older mechanic!eddie munson x fem!reader | CW: Mentions of roleplay, An Idea of wearing the Ghostface mask during sex, nothing explicit— there’s no smut. Just talkin about it and buyin a mask.

To Make a House a Home by @thisapplepielife | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Lands at Steve's House, And Fills All the Blank Spaces, Time Hops, An Evolving Relationship

Wrong Number by @tedewitt | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated |CW: None | POV: Steve | Pairing(s): Steddie | Tags: Murder Band, Stalking, Harassment

Day 11 : Scream - CaliDrumCheer - CaliDrum as BillyStu taunting Chrissy as Sidney by @alicetallula | Medium: Art | Characters: Gareth as Billy Loomis, Billy as Stu Macher and Chrissy as Sidney Prescott | Details: Done using ink pens, alcohol markers, acrylic paint pens and Photoshop for the background and blur effect

Scream Your Sorrows by @shelleyminx | WC: 942 | Rating: G | CW: None | POV: Jeff | Pairing(s): None | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Frontman Jeff, Manager Chrissy Cunningham, Everybody Lives, set in the 90s

Scream by @dreamwatch | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: mental health issues | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Steddie, Gareth & Eddie, Gareth & Steve | Angst, post S4, Eddie has trauma, Steve and Gareth are begrudging roomies, selective mutism, anxiety, hopeful ending

Day Twelve: Desperation

JULY 12: Desperation by @the-unforgivenn | WC: 997 | Rating: E | Pairing(s):Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader, Gareth x You | CW: Bullying, some sulky Gareth, that's about it for this part - next parts will be appropriately tagged | Tags: Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader, College!AU, Modern!AU, Multi-part work (1 of 5)

desperate for sex, desperate for love by @steddieas-shegoes | WC: 704 | Rating: E | CW: none | Tags: complicated relationships, steddie/gareth threesome, anal sex, blowjob, allusion to subspace but barely, love confessions

hide nor hair by @thisapplepielife | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth & Dustin, Background Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Somewhere Out There, Dustin Henderson is a Dog With a Bone, Time Jump

Dying Ain’t Worth Gold by @glassbxttless | WC: 1000 | Rating: Not Rated | Pairing(s): gareth emerson x eddie munson | CW: Gareth took a hard hit right before the events of this story start, Eddie is scared, some comments of being afraid of death, some comments of Eddie being worried about not being seen as Gareth’s partner if anything were to happen

This time we're through by @shelleyminx | WC: 971 | Rating: G | CW: Grief, Funeral, Heart Attack | POV: Eddie | Pairing(s): Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson & Gareth | Tags: Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Good uncle Wayne Munson, Grief/Mourning, Bittersweet ending, Wayne loves Abba

Big thank you to everyone who submitted for week two! I hope to see you again for week three! 🦇

[steddieas-shegoes]

not signing on the dotted line

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'get out'

rated m | 800 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: famous corroded coffin, band manager steve, band contracts, established steddie

also on ao3

📃📃📃📃📃📃📃📃📃📃📃📃📃

The contract sucks, plain and simple. Steve’s not a lawyer, and he’s damn sure not the smartest guy around, but even he can see this is an insult to all of them.

Less than 10% will go to the band, and once it’s split between the four of them, they’d almost be better off just booking random festivals and appearances. Steve doesn’t even see his cut listed here. Are they expecting the guys to give part of their already desolate portions to him?

“No.” Everyone looks up from their copies of the contract with a frown.

“No?” Jeff asks. He’s only on page two, clearly taking his time so he doesn’t miss anything.

“Not a chance in hell. I wouldn’t even send this to Nancy. They can do better,” Steve sets the packet on the table in front of him. They rented a conference room at the hotel to go over everything together, but he’s cutting this meeting short. It’s not even worth discussing. “I’ll call them and tell them to do better or we walk.”

“Why? It’s the best one we’ve gotten so far,” Gareth whines. He hates all the business shit involved with being a band. Steve doesn’t blame him, but unfortunately, it’s necessary if they want to keep performing at this level. “It’s better than the last one we had.”

“It’s only better because it’s longer and free studio time. It’s giving you less money upfront, less money on the back end, and you won’t own any of your music outright.” Steve shakes his head. “They can do better or someone else will.”

“How do you know?” Frankie asks, setting the contract down. He already agrees with Steve, he’s just being difficult.

“Because they broke down percentages on page six and none of you will even break even on what it’s cost for us to be here. If you really want me to send it to Nance, I will, but she’s gonna cause a scene at the label if I do. This is insulting,” Steve explains. “You guys have been one of their best groups for two years. They got away with screwing you over on your first real contract because you were still new and they didn’t know how you’d do. Now they have numbers to back up a better contract and it’s shitty.”

Steve stands and starts pacing. “And you guys have interest from other labels! We can easily get out of this one if you want. We can see what someone else is offering.”

“Everyone agree with Steve?” Jeff asks. Frankie and Gareth are quick to say yes, but Eddie doesn’t answer. “Eddie?”

“Sorry. He’s just never been hotter to me,” Eddie shakes himself out of it, and rolls his eyes when everyone groans. “Of course I agree with Steve.”

“So we tell them no and then what? What if they don’t offer anything better?” Gareth asks.

It’s a fair question, and there’s always that chance they don’t think the guys are actually worth more than this. Steve’s seen it happen to other bands they got close with during their first tour. Labels can move onto the next big thing faster than you can blink. Why waste time negotiating when someone will undoubtedly fall for your shitty contract without the hassle?

“If they don’t give us better, we’ll find something better. You guys have proven you’re good and that there’s demand for your music. You’re not in the same place you were last time.”

“Desperate, you mean.”

Everyone laughs at Frankie’s words. They were desperate before. They signed the first contract they were offered with no hesitation.

“So everyone agrees?” Steve asks again to be sure.

“Fuck this contract!” Eddie yells. It’s probably too loud, but all of them are used to drawing attention. At least the door is closed.

Steve tells everyone to get some rest before their show tonight and he gathers everyone’s copies of the contract as they leave the room. Eddie lingers, but Steve expected him to.

“Does that door lock?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks over and notices that it doesn’t. There’s also a window next to it that doesn’t have any way to block someone from looking in.

“We’re not fucking in this room. We have a room upstairs.”

“But this table is asking for you to be fucked on it. Look at how big it is.” Eddie spreads his arms out and grins. “I can be quick. No one will even see.”

“Yeah, right. I have to call the label and you need to go drink water so you don’t pass out on stage later,” Steve kisses his forehead. “Love your enthusiasm, though.”

Eddie pouts in his chair for a minute before he heads upstairs to come up with a new plan to seduce Steve before the concert.

[rocknrollsalad]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles fourth of july "fireworks" prompt, @corrodedcoffinfest's "I know what you did last summer" prompt, AND @steddiebingo's prompt "starcourt mall" is that too many things in one? probably but it worked too perfectly (albeit loosely)

No Pressure

Word Count: 995 Rating: general audiences Tags: post vecna, everyone is alive and well and getting along, ptsd, mentions of russian torture, talk of stage fright/nerves, hints at medical issues/healing from injuries, pre-steddie, probably no obvious enough crushes, the word count really got me here AO3: coming soon

-

Hawkins had entered this period of rebirth. Some lame, middle of nowhere Phoenix that rose from the ashes of something that should have stayed dead. Eddie’s only hope was it got better. That the demons chased away the losers and left nothing but cool people. It wasn’t realistic but Eddie was trying.

Nothing revitalized an area more than capitalism though so the city planners started with Starcourt Mall. No one had a place to live but at least they’ll be able to spend the measly checks the government gave them all to “recover”.

Eddie had given private speech after private speech on the subject because it felt so tone deaf and backwards that he couldn’t be quiet. Any willing ear got to hear all about how bad of an idea this was. Wayne heard it several times.

Until they asked local-killer-turned-hero Eddie Munson to perform at the “ground breaking” ceremony. Then it was the greatest thing to ever happen to Hawkins. They weren’t going to know what to do. Especially after all the recovery and healing they’d gone through only to have Corroded Coffin melt their faces off.

Unfortunately, his own healing wasn’t far enough along to play guitar at the level he needed to. They’d either have to dial down the face melting or bring in a ringer. Eddie was open to either but first he needed to get Gareth and Freak back to the area.

Both had moved with their families before Eddie momentarily died and didn’t return after everything was deemed safe. It made the place kind of weird but what wasn’t weird after learning about other dimensions and losing friends?

After a bit of pressure, they agreed to come spend the week in Hawkins. Everyone could hang out, practice a bit, and then play a show. For a few days, life could feel normal again. Except the performing at a mall part. That was weird.

It’d be “selling out” were they on some stage by the food court but the mall wasn’t built so they’d be in the parking lot. The background would be piles of exploded consumerism and Orange Juliuses. One day it’d be filled with popular kids insulting freaks but before that, it was all Corroded Coffin’s.

The actual lame part came when they told Eddie and Jeff, the only two local enough to show up to planning meetings, that it would be on the Fourth of July. Something about reclaiming the date in the mall’s history or whatever.

Eddie didn’t hear them. He was too busy thinking about how it would decrease the crowd size. There wasn’t going to be a fair put on by the city this year, recovery was a long way from that, so this was going to make do for those who cared. The rest would be having family get togethers, going to nearby lakes, or camping. It was a busy weekend for people.

Yet when the day (finally) came, it didn’t look like the event organizers shared Eddie’s assumptions on attendance. There were folding chairs as far as the eye could see. Hopefully no one needed them but it was twice the crowd Eddie had been visualizing.

Eddie almost hoped he was right. Not that he’d voice that but looking out on all those chairs? Five hundred times what they normally played for, it was a little intimidating. Nothing he couldn’t handle, even with that sinking feeling in his stomach.

More intimidating than the show to come was the blending of two worlds in a way that hadn’t happened yet. Steve, Robin, Nancy, all of them welcomed Jeff in like he was one of their own, even if it was occasionally awkward when someone too casually mentioned what brought them together. Now it’d be all of them.

It’d be Corroded Coffin in all their we’ve-seen-Eddie-at-his-worst glory mixed with the we’ve-fought-bled-and-died-together magic of his new friends. It could go great or each one of his friendships could look like the mall behind him.

The band had been roaming the scene for an hour, familiarizing themselves with the stage, their plans, and how to deny they were experiencing stage fright. Steve and Robin were the first to show up and offer a distraction. Not surprising given Eddie practically lived at Steve’s these days but there’s always that part of Eddie that believed a little too hard that no one was coming.

“We had to come early,” Robin said, already annoyed.

Not a great start. It’s a bit more than the kind she usually turned on Steve and Eddie. This feels like his alone and he’s not sure why he’s to blame but he didn’t need this today so he ignored it.

“We didn’t have to,” Steve mocks.

Worse than recognizing Robin’s variety of annoyances was catching Steve’s whole thing where he doesn’t want anyone doing anything special for him. Unfortunately, that also meant this was the first Eddie was learning of the problem.

If Robin’s attitude was anything to go by, it’s Eddie’s fault that Steve felt this way. Maybe it’s his birthday. Surely that would have come up by now. The irony of a one time All-American good boy being born on the Fourth was too much for Eddie to accept, though.

“No, we definitely did.” Robin said and then with the comfort that came in the years since defeating Vecna, she turned to Eddie. “We were tortured here–”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Steve said, eyes flashing wide for a second.

“It’s definitely putting it mildly but it’s a weird place and a weird anniversary. Not one we like to relive.”

“True,” Steve sighed.

“So don’t blow it,” Robin said, ending the conversation as she walked away, Steve in tow.

“Shit.” Eddie dropped his head back. “No pressure, huh?”

Neither of them acknowledged it if they’d heard him but they didn’t need to. Eddie ran the opposite direction in hopes one of the other guys knew some vocal warm ups. He couldn’t blow this.

[mrsjellymunson]

YELLOW (1)

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up event Somewhere Over the Rainbow (Happy Pride, everyone!) | Prompt: Yellow | Song: [redacted spoiler - revealed at the end] | Word Count: ~950 | Rating: T | Characters: Corroded Coffin, Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff, Doug, Fluffy | CW: Crack fic (almost literally), slightly lewd language, pure unadulterated nonsense | Tags: Corroded Coffin, on tour, Eddie has a crisis | Summary: Eddie’s no slouch when it comes to dressing up on stage, but this time even he thinks he may have taken things too far…

My masterlist

It’s the first night of Corroded Coffin’s new tour, and, true to form, Eddie’s having some kind of crisis. Tonight, it’s about his outfit.

“Look, I know the low slung red rubber trousers went a bit far. And that studded harness was a health and safety nightmare…”

Gareth scoffs, grinning,

“You’re telling me, when I tried to hug you after the gig you almost pierced a lung!”

Eddie winces. He really should’ve considered the practicalities of that one a little more. He adjusts a strap and continues his machinations.

“And that Lurex jumpsuit was great, but I kept getting the flares caught in the cabling… I almost fell off the stage way too many times, and I thought I was gonna strangle and die at one point.”

He looks sideways at himself in the dresser.

“But, this new thing… Are you sure it’s not… too much?”

Eddie turns so he’s fully facing the mirror. Tonight, he’s in a mesh bodysuit, the wide neckline allowing him to pull it down around his shoulders, and his favourite high black leather boots. He’s strapped his torso into a new harness, one with somewhat smaller and less… aggressive studs. The steel through his nipples glitters under the lights, and his dark tattoos are brought into perfect relief against his pale skin, peeping through the gaps in the harness and the netting. He knows he looks good, and ordinarily he’d just add some PVC hotpants and maybe a leather codpiece and be good to go. But tonight, overtop, there’s a special new addition that even he’s nervous about showing off.

Jeff assuages his fears, knowing a confident Eddie is a rockstar god Eddie.

“Nah, man. You can totally carry it off.”

Gareth agrees.

“Yeah, do it!”

Doug adds, spreading his arms wide for emphasis,

“Fuck it, man. YOLO, right?”

Eddie remains unconvinced.

“I dunno… It’s pretty revealing. And it’s also a little… snug. In certain… areas. Especially when I’m holding Sweetheart...”

It’s late. They’re due on stage any minute. They all know that if Eddie has to figure out a whole new look they’re gonna fuck up the schedule… So, Jeff seals the deal.

“Okay, how about this. If you wear it for tonight’s gig, I’ll donate my cut to that dog charity that helped us so much with Fluffy when we toured the UK, and I’ll wear one of their pins for the whole tour. Their awareness colour is yellow, right?”

On hearing her name Fluffy, the fully baptised fifth member of Corroded Coffin, stirs. She looks up, intrigued, as her tongue flops out the side of her wide Staffie grin and her tail thumps heavily a couple of times against her comfy, monogrammed bed. After concluding the anticipated treats aren’t on the immediate horizon, she snuggles back down, her yellow bandana shifting around her thick neck - still her signature style even if she doesn’t need it nearly as much as she used to.

There’s a low clamour in the room as everyone else concurs, searching their bags for the souvenir enamels that they all purchased last year. Eddie still doesn’t seem entirely comfortable, but with an offer like this on the table, for his favourite girl? He can’t help but agree…

🎶🎵 Bop bop bop bop, ba-dop-pop-pop-pop-pop 🎵🎶

He was afraid to come out of the green room

He was as nervous as he could be

He didn’t want to come out of the green room

He was too scared that somebody would see

🎶 Two, three, four, tell the people what he wore 🎶

It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, yellow, polka dot mankini

That he wore for the first time tonight

An itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, yellow, polka dot mankini

So, in the green room, he trembled with fright

🎶 Two, three, four, stick around we'll tell you more 🎶

He didn’t want to come out in the open

And so behind Gareth’s drumkit he sat

He was too scared to come out in the open

And so he squatted behind the high hat

🎶Two, three, four, tell the people what he wore 🎶

It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, yellow, polka dot mankini

That he wore for the first time tonight

An itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, yellow, polka dot mankini

So, by the drumkit, he stayed out of sight

🎶 Two, three, four, stick around we'll tell you more 🎶

Now he’s afraid to remove his guita-ar

And they wonder what he’s gonna do

He doesn’t want to take off his guita-ar

Though his poor little balls have turned blue

🎶 Two, three, four, tell the people what he wore 🎶

It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, yellow, polka dot mankini

That he wore for the first time tonight

An itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, yellow, polka dot mankini…

Then he said, “Fuck it!” and strutted all night!

[SOCIAL MEDIA INTERLUDE]

Corroded Coffin’s frontman Eddie Munson WOWS crowds with daring new look!

Mankini sales soar as rockstar Munson brings back the iconic garment

Pantone announces Mankini Yellow as next year’s colour of the year

UK changes Union flag to Yellow, White and Blue

Vogue ditches supermodel cover to feature scantily yellow-clad metal band

Coldplay frontman Chris Martin reveals that Yellow was actually about Eddie’s banana hammock all along

Fluffy launches designer pet wear range - yellow bandanas a top seller!

Donations to charities for nervous dogs reach an all time high - one says they can keep going for a decade on recent contributions alone

🎶 From the green room to the drumkit

From his guitar to the stage

Eddie Munson’s a new icon

His mankini’s all the rage! 🎶

🎶🎵 Bop pop pop 🎵🎶

[Song used: Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini by Brian Hyland]

Thanks so much for reading! 😃

A/N: Yellow Dog UK is a real charity that promotes awareness and understanding of “yellow dogs”, who may be nervous, in training, recovering from an injury or illness, being rehabilitated or simply prefer to keep their distance from people and other dogs. Yellow ribbons, leads, harnesses or bandanas can indicate that a dog may be anxious or in need of space. It signals to others to be gentle, give room, and avoid sudden or intrusive approaches.

A/N2: This might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written and I AM NOT SORRY

My masterlist

General taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @katethetank @justalotoffanfiction

[glassbxttless]

A Pretty Butterfly Clip

marching band!gareth emerson x cheerleader!fem!reader

word count: 1k

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 22: Friday Night Lights | You’re doomed. Another game passes, and you’re still in love with the prettiest blue eyes in Notre Dame’s drum line.

warnings: none really! fluff, a bit of nervous jitters are talked about!

notes: Submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! These little tiny fics have been really hard to keep the word count for. But it’s been a fun challenge. Here’s a little tidbit from your POV in the college!gareth au! Big thanks to @iitsmandii and @robinbuckleywife for reading this over for me! And to @peachyproserpina for editing and telling me what to cut out! I appreciate you guys so much!

You don’t think Gareth Emerson really knows your name at all.

Which might be a little ridiculous, considering you’ve cheered at nearly every game he’s played in for the past two years. You’ve stood ten feet away from him in the tunnel before every kickoff. He tossed you his water bottle when you dropped yours freshman year. Once, you sat two rows behind him in Music History, though he never turned to look back. And okay, maybe you’ve kind of been quietly, miserably in love with him since your first game day two fucking years ago— when he had grinned across the field at one of his bandmates. He twirled a drumstick between his fingers like it was some kind of party trick, his dark blonde ringlets shaking beneath that ridiculous marching band hat. 

But it’s fine. You’re shy. You always had been and he’s… well… he’s Gareth. He’s funny, and loud, and apparently always teasing someone in the drumline. And unfortunately for you, you’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time watching him from the sidelines, wondering what it would be like if he ever just spared a look your way.

And today, he fucking did. It happens right after cheer practice. Your team is heading off the field while the band is still packing up. You’re half-tuned out reaching up to fix your ponytail, sweat sticking to the back of your neck. Your butterfly clip— a lavender purple plastic one you’ve had since high school— slips from your fingers and clatters to the rubber of the track beneath you.

You bend to grab it at the same time as someone else has the same idea. Your fingers brush against theirs just as they wrap their hand around it. “Oh, sorry, I—” eyes flicking upward— and there he is. 

Gareth. 

 Standing there holding your butterfly clip like it’s precious. Then he looks up, that hat tucked under his opposite arm as he holds the clip out. His sandy curls flopping over one eye, and something weird happens in your stomach as soon as you catch a glimpse of the metallic glint of his nose ring. 

“Hey,” he says softly, like you talk all the time. Like your name is definitely not the thing he’s been mumbling into his pillow for two years. “This is yours, yeah?”

You nod, his words pulling you from your thoughts. You can hardly breathe.

He turns the clip over in his hand, his eyes falling down to it, and for some reason, his voice drops an octave. “It’s pretty.”

You blink, trying to wrap your head around the words like he’s speaking a foreign language. You’re almost sure he can see your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Uh— thanks,” you smile nervously. It comes out quieter than you mean it to. “It’s… old.”

“I like it,” Gareth chuckles, letting his fingers curl around it. He’s still not handing it back. “Makes you look like one of those little forest fairies. Y’know… if they did backflips and spirit chants.”

You can feel the heat blooming from your chest outward, and you’re sure that it’s evident all the way up to the tips of your ears. He’s teasing you— but it’s not really in a mean way. It’s in a Gareth way.

He lets out a breath and finally holds out the clip to you, and you take it with careful fingers. Avoiding the brush of your fingertips against his palm.

“Thank you,” you mumble softly. You’re not sure what to do now. Do you flee? Melt right into the track? Fall dramatically into the turf and pretend to faint?

But Gareth nods and then shifts his drum bag higher on his shoulder and says, “I’ve, uhm… I’ve seen you cheer before. At the games.”

You try not to look like you might combust as your lip catches between your teeth. “Yeah?”

He shrugs like the words didn’t really mean anything to him, but now he’s the one blushing, just a faint dusting of red over that freckled nose. “You’re kinda hard to miss out there. You’ve got this… thing. Like you’re nervous every time. But still out there anyway. It’s pretty cool. You’re braver than you think you are, I bet.”

You look down at your shoes, a smile tugging at your lips. “I do get really nervous,” you admit softly, like it was a secret that had been clawing at your chest since your first tryout. “But I like it. It’s nice… being a part of something.”

Gareth nods, watching you like he wants to memorize every little microexpression you make. “I know what you mean.” There’s a pause. Then he lets out a breath, trying to not lose his courage as he says, “Hey— so… would you wanna maybe grab a sandwich sometime? Like, not in a weird way. Just… I dunno. I’d like to hang out. Like with you.”

Your heart is doing its own best impression of one of his fucking drum solos.

You finally look up, glancing at him through your lashes. “Like a date?”

Gareth laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is a date.” Then he shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t do this much. I’m not exactly smooth.”

You smile softly, eyes drifting to your hand. “I like that about you.”

He looks genuinely startled at that. “You like something about me?”

Your giggle in response, “I think I like a lot of things about you, actually.”

He stares at you like you quietly for just a moment, trying to figure out what to say, before he shakes his head again. “Shit,” he laughs, grinning wide now. “That’s… yeah. Okay. That’s the best thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

You hold up your butterfly clip, suddenly feeling a bit braver than usual. “Good thing you picked this up, huh?” There’s a grin on your face as you gather your hair back into a pony, clipping it in place with the butterfly.

“Best rescue of my student career.”

tags ;; @robinbuckleywife @djomorelikedelulu @peachyproserpina @punkrockmlchael @the-unforgivenn