#the rainbow between robin and eddie

[lovelylittlegrim]

Paint it Black

Steddie (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson)

pre-relationship - 1.4K words - no warnings

———————————————————————

“I like when you paint your nails.”

Eddie startles at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice, even with how softly he spoke. It’s been quiet for a while between them, a movie playing in the background that they’ve both seen before, the voices just muffled ambiance.

He looks up to find Steve staring at him. “What?”

“Your nails.” Steve holds up his own hand, wiggling his fingers like maybe Eddie will understand better if he sees what Steve’s talking about. “I like when you paint them.”

Eddie looks down at where he’s been steadfastly applying black nail polish to his right hand, it’s harder than doing his left but he’s had a lot of practice and he’s damn near perfect at it these days. The layer is even, glossy, not a smudge to be seen.

“Uh, thanks,” he says slowly, unsure what else there is to say. He peeks back at Steve through his bangs.

Steve hums and drops his hand back to the couch, he continues to watch Eddie even though Eddie’s finished.

“Do you want me to paint yours?” Eddie doesn’t know why he’s asking. He’s never seen Steve with painted nails before and… he can’t imagine it when he thinks about it. Steve in his crisp blue jeans and his clean polos, black on his nails. It would look so out of place. Like some dirty part of Eddie rubbed off on him. Tainted him.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“You can paint them, it’s not like anyone else will see.” Steve slides off the couch, joining Eddie on the floor at the coffee table. He drops his hands on the stained wood and splays his fingers. “I’ll take it off before my shift Thursday.”

“You’re serious?”

“Why not?” Steve gives a single shoulder shrug, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “It’s not the first time my nails have been painted.”

That makes Eddie pause. “It’s not?”

“Robin paints my toes whenever she sleeps over. They’re probably still purple actually, I haven’t bothered to take it off, not like anyone sees my feet.”

“Oh,” Eddie huffs at the mental image of Steve with his face coated in a face mask and lotion, his bangs pulled up in a little rubber band and Robin painting his toenails every color of the rainbow.

Actually, it’s kind of cute. He wants to see Steve like that.

“So,” Steve drums his fingers on the table. “You gonna paint them?”

“Yeah,” Eddie pulls lightly on one of Steve's hands, drawing it closer to himself. “Don’t move.”

Steve doesn’t. He sits quiet and still, watching Eddie work without complaint. When Eddie’s done he leans back to inspect all of the nails, wiping at an edge here and there to clean it up, uncaring that he’s staining his own thumbs. When he’s satisfied he leans back in and lightly blows at the paint.

Somewhere above him, Steve’s throat clicks, and Eddie glances up at him through his lashes curiously.

“You’re much better at it than Robin,” Steve says after a beat. “She gets it all over my skin, doesn’t even try to clean it up.”

Eddie laughs, air puffing right out of his lungs. “I’ve met Robin so I’m really not surprised.”

He picks up one of Steve’s hands, turns it left and right to make sure he sees the paint from every angle, and makes sure there are no rough patches or opaque spots he needs to go over. He doesn’t know why he cares so much about it looking good, Steve’s just going to take it off in less than twenty four hours.

He drags his thrums lightly over one of Steve’s knuckles and then lets go, his fingers curling in on themself. “All done.”

Steve holds his hands up, fingers spread to see Eddie’s work. “It looks great.”

And it does.

Eddie grins as he twists the polish closed tightly and stuffs it back into his bag. He watches with something close to fond amusement as Steve very carefully settles back against the couch, hands on his knees so he doesn’t touch anything until the paint is well and truly dry. Eddie settles next to him, his own hands already dry enough to not cause a problem but he mirrors Steve and they watch the rest of the movie, making snide little comments about the acting and the plot.

He doesn’t let himself think about the feeling of Steve’s warm hand in his or the feeling of Steve’s eyes watching him so intently.

It’s not good for his health.

—

It’s two days later before he finally sees Steve again, the movies in Eddie hand already grievously late. Robin will chew him out but he knows Steve will waive the late fees with a stern waggle of his finger like a disapproving parent and tell him to do better next time. He’s so dorky, Eddie doesn’t know how the guy was ever cool in highschool except… Well, he does, because even now Steve is annoyingly good looking, better looking in Eddie’s opinion. More rugged even though he’s still so put together, confident in different ways and funny.

The bell jangles loudly when Eddie enters family video.

Robin looks up, eyes narrowing instantly. “You're late, Munson.”

Eddie winces. “Please accept my most humble apology, I was otherwise inconvenienced on the eve of these returns.”

“You mean you forgot until Wayne told you this morning.”

“Yeah.”

She snorts and holds her hands out for the videos. When Eddie gives them to her she says, “I better not have to rewind them.”

Eddie thanks Wayne over and over in his head for having the forethought to do that before forcing Eddie into Robin's clutches. “They are.”

“They better be.”

Eddie takes his time browsing the stacks of tapes. He knows what’s here, he spends most of his time bothering Steve and Robin but Steve’s on break in the back and he wants the chance of seeing him before he leaves.

It’s another ten minutes of staring at Night of the Comet before the door to the back opens and Steve strolls out. He spots Eddie instantly and Eddie grabs the movie he’d been stalking with and heads for the counter.

“Hey,” Steve grins. “You finally returned your movies.”

He holds his hand out for the new tapes and Eddie goes still. His eyes wide as he takes in Steve’s hand.

“Your nails,” Eddie says, ignoring all semblance of a greeting. “They’re still painted.”

Steve glances down at his hands, laughs a little quiet and awkward. “Yeah, does it look weird on me?”

“No.” Eddie thought that it would. That Steve, perfectly put together Steve Harrrington, would look tarnished and sullied by Eddie with the black paint. That he would look tainted by all that Eddie is but… “I like it.”

“Oh,” Steve grins, drags Eddie movie choices closer to ring them up. “Me too, it’s kinda like having you around even when you’re not here.”

Eddie swallows hard. “Yeah.”

It’s just a little splash of black paint, but it makes Eddie want impossible things just to see it still there. He wants more of himself on Steve. His clothes, his rings, himself. He wants to cover Steve in the things that he loves, show everyone that this pretty and perfect boy is something that Eddie Munson treasures.

“Will you paint them again?” Steve asks without looking at him.

“I’ll paint them anytime you want,” Eddie says honestly. He hands over a few crumpled bills to pay as he remembers how easy the moment between them had been. How quiet and perfect. He would probably do anything for Steve Harrington and he’s not even embarrassed to admit that.

Steve’s smile is soft.

“Thanks,” he says and then holds the tapes out to Eddie. He glances over his shoulder at Robin who is doing her best to pretend she’s not watching them. Steve huffs and turns back to Eddie, lowers his voice and leans a little across the counter. “How about tonight?”

Eddie glances back down at Steve’s still perfect nails then up to Steve’s face, his dark eyes watching Eddie just as intently as they had two days ago. His nails don’t need to be touched up yet. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Great,” Steve says, hand brushing Eddie’s as he hands over a receipt. “I'll see you later?”

“Yeah, yes, I’ll be there,” Eddie stumbles over the words.

When Eddie leaves his head is a mess of want and confusion and hope. So much hope.

[lady-lostmind]

TASTE THE RAINBOW

Written for @steddiebingo Get Lucky Prompt: Rainbow

Rating: T | WC: 609

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie leans over the counter at Family video and snatches the bag of candy Steve is holding out of his hand. 

“Hey! Those are mine.”

Eddie fixes him with a stare as he slowly brings the bag up to his lips and tips a bunch into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.

Steve’s face scrunches in disgust. “Ew! You just mixed all the colors.”

Eddie shrugs. “They’re all the same.”

Steve scoffs, trying to snatch them back. “They are NOT the same.”

He finally grabs the bag and turns it so he can point at the list of flavors, jabbing his finger on each one as he goes. “Strawberry–Grape–Orange–Lemon–Lime”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “They’re just fruit flavored. It’s all the same.”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re nuts. That’s disgusting. You can’t be eating grape and lime in the same bite and think, ‘Yeah this is fine. I like these.’” 

Eddie’s mouth pulls up on the side, his dimple popping. “You’re getting very worked up about skittles, Stevie.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, man. This is not okay. This is worse than your weird milkshake combinations. This is worse than the chili with peanut butter crackers. This is worse than all your other disgusting eating habits combined, okay? This is disgraceful. I’m–” Steve’s eyes go wide and he stares at Eddie in disbelief. “I’m actually offended.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh and leans against the counter. “It’s just candy.” 

Steve shakes his head again. “No. Here–” He digs his fingers into the bag and pulls out a single skittle. Red. “Eat just this one.”

Eddie sighs and holds out his hand so Steve can drop the skittle on his palm. He pops it in his mouth and chews slowly, staring at Steve like he doesn’t understand what this is supposed to be proving. 

He swallows and Steve raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

Eddie shrugs. “Well, what? It tastes like fruity candy.”

Steve rolls his eyes and digs out another skittle. Orange. “Here–”

They repeat the process and Eddie shrugs again when he swallows. “It tastes the same.”

Steve groans and shakes his head. “NO! It doesn’t!” 

He digs around, looking for something specific this time. Green. He shoves it in Eddie’s hand. “There’s no way you can think this is the same.”

Eddie stares at him and eats the lime skittle, sighing as he swallows. “You’re not going to like my answer.” 

Steve shakes his head. “This is ridiculous.” He sticks the bag of skittles under the counter, away from Eddie’s grabby hands. “You’ve lost candy privileges. No more skittles for you. Ever.”

Eddie gasps and tries to reach behind the counter to steal the bag back. “Come on!”

Steve swats his hands away. “No. You don’t eat them right, you don’t get them at all.”

Robin wanders in from the breakroom, looking at them with wide eyes as the slap at each other’s arms. “Is this some kind of weird foreplay?” Her face scrunches. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” She leans in front of Steve, craning her head away from their flailing hands and grabs the bag of skittles, bringing them to her mouth and dumping a bunch in. 

Steve and Eddie freeze, staring open mouthed at her, arms still tangled together in their slap battle. 

Robin looks between the two of them, chewing slowly and talking with her mouth full. “What’s happening right now?”

Eddie throws his head back and cackles, pointing at her and bouncing on his heels. 

Steve snatches his candy back from her. “You’re both feral. I can’t believe this.” He stomps off toward the breakroom, ignoring the building wave of giggles behind him.

[acowardinmordor]

Found this is in my drafts when I went to reopen a a different continuation of this. It ends where it ends. At least its not mid-sentence. if it prompts you to something, have fun with it but I'm gonna continue the other one bc I have no memory of what I was going to do with this.

Sort of a second part of this. It is Not Complete, and I'm posting exactly what I found in my drafts:

Idk if this is going to become something usable. But I’m at the best point of an edible, so let’s do this.

Murray and Nancy and Hop working together are only able to confirm the church group that the Harringtons made a recent donation to. Yeah, that’s gotta be where Steve is, but every single lead they chase says that the group doesn’t have anything that could even possibly be “help” for a queer kid.

The Harringtons havent made their son part of their public image since he was 10 years old and cute enough to be useful. It doesn’t stand out that they don’t mention him after they return to DC. Summer goes on, harvesting starts, the kids return to high school, now with El and Will back. No one likes to say it’s because they’re worried the UD is still a threat, but yeah, that anxiety is part of it. Steve is the other part.

Will only got to have one conversation with Steve about the alibi before Steve vanished. He won’t tell anyone what they talked about, and he’s viscerally, constantly scared by where he thinks Steve is. Lucas and Mike are pretty good at acting like they’re not worried. Erica rages. Dustin flips between furious at the Harringtons, furious at Steve, and furious at Eddie. Max hobbles out of the room if anyone tries to mention Steve in her presence.

Robin defers college for a year. She knows she would flunk out if she tried right now. Eddie, on the good days, teases her that if she didn’t flunk out, she’d panic-study and graduate cum laude with six new languages and two degrees. On the bad days they don’t say much at all.

They do start working with a very small group of activists in Indianapolis. Nancy found them on accident while investigating the places Steve could be. They’re the opposite of what she was looking for. A group has started a tiny version of a rainbow railroad, leaving flyers and messages with their information. All of it subtle enough to hide. If they need to get out, get somewhere safe, they can contact, and the railroad will help.

Robin helps with a bit of the research and writing they need. Eddie does some of the follow up calls, using a dozen strange voices to be a dozen random businesses calling to reach whoever asked for help, without raising suspicion.

It doesn’t help Steve. They can’t help Steve. They can’t even find him.

And you’d think that eventually Steve would call the hotline and ask for help, so Eddie could return the favor and save him. No.

Dustin wakes up to a loud noise a few hours after midnight, during a heavy snow storm. It’s in that dead week between Christmas and New Year when Steve comes back. And he goes first to Dustin.

[katethetank]

The Dungeon - Chapter 6

Rating: 18+, minors gtfo Chapter Summary: They boys have their second date, Eddie learns more about The Party, things start to get a little heated CW: Discussions about coming out, smooching, just a smidge of dry humping, hinting at a daddy kink Pairing: Rock Star!Eddie x Counselor!Steve Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter 5<<Masterlist>>Chapter 7

The next few weeks managed to fly by. Steve has been texting, or calling, or FaceTiming with Eddie practically every day. When he sent him his address for the date, he wasn’t at all expecting gifts to arrive. He had a particularly hard day at work and when he texted Eddie that he was too exhausted to make himself dinner, he was beyond shocked when he heard a knock on his door and opened it to find an Uber Eats guy standing there with takeout from the Thai place in his neighborhood.

He also got a Muppets postcard in the mail from Greenville, MS - birthplace of Jim Henson - with a note from Eddie saying “Can’t wait to have my own Rainbow Connection with you soon! Are any of the muppets gay? I bet Animal is pan. Janice is definitely a lesbian, and Gonzo is some flavor of queer. See you soon sweetheart! xoxo E.M.”

Then he got a delivery of like, 4 dozen donuts with a note to share them with the kids at the center. He will neither confirm nor deny if that made him burst into tears.

Robin has been super supportive, but the kids have been relentless. After his first date with Eddie, their group text had blown up. 

Dustybuns: STEVE are you gonna tell us anything? Don’t you love us anymore?

🏀Lucas🏀: Yeah what’s going on man? Did you totally blow it?

Mad Max: I bet he blew something 👀

Mike Fucking Wheeler: Dude gross, don’t put that image in my head!

😇 El 😇: Why are you imaging that Micheal?

Mad Max: 💀

🧙Will the Wise🧙: Come on Steve, give us something! We’re dying here!

Mad Max: Is Eddie gonna be our new dad?

Assholes.

Between work, talking to Eddie, and dodging the kids, Steve has been trying to plan the perfect second date. Food has been kind of a love language for him. He wants to show off a bit, but also make something that’s a crowd-pleaser. He had a movie night with Robin recently where they had their eureka moment. 

They were cuddled up on his couch watching Chef for the gazillionth time. It got to the scene where Jon Favreau was cooking for Scarlette Johanssen and they both shot up at the same time shouting, “Sexy Pasta!!!” They’ve made it before together, in a much less sexy way, and it’s become one of their favorite meals.

Once the food was figured out, they made their way to his closet to dissect his entire wardrobe. He needed something comfortable for an at-home date, but sexy enough to highlight his best features. They landed on a pair of dark jeans that were flattering in all the right places and really hugged his ass because it’s your best feature besides your hair, Steve! You gotta show that thing off! They paired that with a plain white undershirt and a short sleeve light wash denim shirt. It kinda had a classic greaser vibe, and really made his arms look nice.

Cut to now, where Steve is in his kitchen, cooking up a storm. He spent the day making sure his apartment was company-ready. Vacuuming, dusting, cleaning every window in the place, scrubbing the toilet, he even made a dessert for later: Oreo brownies. It’s something he’s made for the kids for years and they always beg him to make it for their birthdays. Dutch chocolate brownie batter, with chopped Oreos mixed in, and he tops it with cookies and cream buttercream, more chopped Oreos, and a chocolate ganache drizzle. It’s fucking good.

He’s got an arugula salad on the table ready to go with a lemon vinaigrette. Lights dimmed. Candles lit. Garlic bread prepped. Lemon herb chicken roasting in the oven. Pot of salted water almost ready to boil. A pool of olive oil ready in a pan on the stove. Like twenty garlic cloves thinly sliced. A pile of freshly chopped parsley. Red pepper flakes and sliced lemons next to the pan. All of the prep has helped keep his nerves at bay.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. 

He takes a steadying breath and makes his way over. All of the calls, all of the texts, all of the flirting and planning couldn’t prepare him for what waits on the other side. There stands Eddie, wearing tight black jeans, Chelsea boots, a blood red button down with half of the buttons undone to show off his tattoos. He’s holding his hands behind his back, but Steve can see he’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing his slutty forearms. Hair tied up and wavy tendrils framing his face. His beautiful face that has the most stunning smile and dimples for miles.

“Eddie.”

“Hi Stevie.” Eddie brings his hands out from behind him, and he’s holding a bouquet of huge sunflowers. “It’s so good to see you sweetheart.”

He hands over the flowers and Steve is stunned speechless. He wordlessly takes them and steps aside gesturing Eddie in. He closes the door behind him while Eddie slowly spins in a circle taking in his space. 

“Nice place you got here Stevie. It’s really cute. Very…you. Are the flowers ok? I didn’t go overboard, did I?”

Steve’s brain finally comes back online. “They’re gorgeous! Nobody’s ever given me flowers before…I love them.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles. “It’s the least I could do. I wanted to get you something, and I wasn’t sure what kind you liked. These reminded me of you.”

“That’s really sweet. Thank you, Eddie. Come on in! Let me get these into some water, and I can finish cooking.”

Eddie follows him into the kitchen, his head on a swivel taking in his surroundings. Steve doesn’t have any vases, because ya know, he’s never been given flowers before. But he fishes out a glass pitcher from his cabinet that he usually uses for margaritas, fills it with water and settles the flowers inside. He’s all smiles as he carries them to the table to join the candles. It’s the perfect addition.

“It smells amazing in here. Whatcha got cookin’ good lookin’?”

“Oh my god, no. That was ridiculous!”

“What!” Eddie laughs. “That wasn’t that bad! I’ve definitely said worse. Besides, it’s not just a line. You look amazing.”

Steve scoffs. “Me? What about you! I feel like a schlub when you show up looking like that!” 

“Oh, this old thing? I only wear it when I don’t care how I look!”

Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “Did you just quote It’s a Wonderful Life at me?”

“Goddamn…handsome, funny, sweet, and he gets 1940’s movie references? What can’t he do?!”

“Cook dinner while you distract me with your flirting! Now take a seat and let me work my magic. There’s some sparkling cider on the table, help yourself while I finish this up.”

Eddie dutifully settles himself in a chair and pours himself a glass while Steve gets the pan heating up. They make small talk while he slowly sautées the garlic and drops the spaghetti into the boiling water. The chicken is ready to pull out and rest, and he pops the garlic bread into the oven. Red pepper flakes join the garlic, and the pasta is drained. He adds that to the pan with a sprinkle of salt, the mound of fresh parsley, and squeezes the lemon over the top. It’s when he’s tossing the pasta in the pan that he realizes Eddie’s gone quiet. He looks over his shoulder to find the man dreamily staring at him. Sexy pasta indeed. Thank you Jon Favreau. 

“You ok over there?”

Eddie seems to snap out of it and replies, “Never been better! It’s kind of mesmerizing watching you. Other than Wayne, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone cook for me like this.”

“Well, it’s my pleasure. I really like making food for people. There’s something therapeutic about it I guess? It’s really satisfying taking all these pieces and putting them together into something that everyone can enjoy.”

Eddie’s all dimpled smiles as he talks. “Well I feel bad just sitting here. Is there anything I can help with?”

“Um…Yeah, you wanna cut up the garlic bread?”

Steve pulls it out of the oven as Eddie gets up and makes his way over. Steve hands him a cutting board and bread knife. Eddie gets to work and Steve pulls out a couple plates from the cabinet and starts dishing up the chicken and pasta. He carries the plates over to the table and Eddie follows with the garlic bread. They settle into their seats across the table from each other and Steve is delighted to see that Eddie already poured him a glass of sparkling cider.

“Stevie darling, this looks amazing.” He picks up his glass and holds it out.

Steve copies the motion and before they clink their glasses Eddie toasts, “To another perfect date. And hopefully many more.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Steve whispers as they both take a sip.

Their meal is devoured as they catch up on the little they haven’t already discussed over calls and texts in their time apart. Eddie devours everything, but has a special appreciation for the pasta. The moans he lets out are enough to make Steve squirm in his seat. 

“Stevie, I don’t know what kind of witchcraft you worked in that kitchen, but I am grateful. That’s the best meal I’ve had in a long goddamn time.”

They’re holding hands across the table again, eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “I’m really glad you liked it. It’s one of my favorite dishes. Something Robin and I make together all the time.”

“Well I’m honored that you shared it with me. Everything was perfect. The only thing that will make it better, is if you let me clean up.”

Appalled, Steve tells him, “Absolutely not! This is my mess, I’ll clean it up!”

“Nope. Wayne and I had a deal when I used to live with him. A little rule called ‘I cook, you clean.’ Makes things equal.”

“Yeah, well, Wayne’s not here is he? So that rule doesn’t apply!”

Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Oh, do you want me to call him and invite him over? Have him give you one of his stern talking-to’s?”

“Oh my god no! Stop! Fine, you can help clean up. But I’m doing it with you!”

Eddie’s smile turns wolfish. “And here I thought you wanted to take things slow.”

“Get out. That was the worst one yet.”

Eddie cackles as he stands and takes their plates. They get the kitchen cleaned up pretty quickly, four hands working better than two, and Steve leads them into the living room. Eddie’s attention is drawn to a picture on the wall of Steve and The Party at their high school graduation.

“Alright, I’ve heard a bit about these troublemakers, now I need you to tell me who’s who.”

Steve smiles like a proud mom (yeah ok, he’s the mom, fine) and starts to point them out. “This is Dustin. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother and a total pain in my ass. Super smart, and he knows it too, which gives him a huge ego. But he’s one of the most loyal people I’ve ever known.

“And this guy is Lucas. He’s the only one of The Party who has any interest in sports. When he was in high school I helped him train to get on the basketball team. Made varsity his Sophomore year!”

Steve can see the lack of understanding on Eddie’s face.

“That’s a good thing. Really good. He’s a great athlete and helps out sometimes when I’m coaching at the center.

“The red head here is Max. She and Lucas met in middle school, started dating seriously in high school and they’re pretty much inseparable. She comes off as a hardass but goes pretty soft for Lucas. And only him. Honestly, she can scare the shit out of me sometimes. But she’s like a little sister to me. She had this step brother who was a total asshole. Real pompous dickhead, and a fucking racist to boot. When he found out they were dating he lost it. Thankfully I was there to step in. Took a plate to the head, but it was worth it to keep them safe.”

Eddie, looking horrified, asks, “Did you just say ‘plate to the head’? Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah. He was a total psycho. Got the reminder of it right here.” Steve lifts up his hair right by his temple where the scar is.

Eddie reaches out to run his finger along the mark. “You’re fucking unbelievable Steve. Of course they call you ‘mom’ with how you protect them.”

“Yeah, well…they’re a pretty great group of kids. This one here? That’s Will. He’s an amazing artist. He actually did all the walls at The Dungeon! I’m not really into the game they play, but I gotta say, it looks incredible. He did a really good job.”

“Woah, wait a second! He did all that? When I was looking for a coffee shop I saw it online and the pictures of the interior is what drew me into that place. It looked like a D&D game come to life, or a fucking tavern out of Tolkien novel.”

Nodding his head Steve replies, “Yeah, that’s all Will! It took him weeks to get it all done. I’m so fucking proud of him. He helps out sometimes at the center too. Does art projects with preschool kids, or sits in with Rainbow Connection. He really struggled before he came out in high school. Was totally withdrawn and just a shell of who he was. When he finally found the bravery to tell The Party that he was gay, it was like the light inside him turned back on again. They were all super supportive.

“He was the one who actually made me realize I didn’t need to hide anything. I came out as bi not too long after, and stood by him when he told his family. His mom, Joyce, she’s the best. She had him wrapped up in a hug before he could even finish talking! And his step dad Jim is this strong silent type, right? Big guy, retired cop. He had tears in his eyes and told him that no matter what, he’ll always be there for him…”

Steve’s eyes are starting to water and he attempts to sniffle it back in. Joyce and Hop have been such strong allies for him and Will. They basically unofficially adopted him when they figured out how absent his own parents were. 

A strong hand rubs circles on his back. “You ok there Stevie?”

Steve’s shining eyes meet Eddie’s and he smiles and nods, “Yeah. Yeah I’m ok.”

“What about the other rugrats? That’s the one I saw snapping at you that first day, right?” Eddie asks while pointing to a scowling Mike Wheeler.

“Ha! Yeah, that’s Mike. He’s a little shit. I used to date his sister Nancy in high school and he never forgave me. Takes any opportunity he can to roast me. He’s a good kid though. Smart, creative, fiercely protective of The Party. And he’s dating El, this one here. She’s actually Jim’s adopted daughter and Will’s step sister. She’s a fucking angel. So sweet and empathetic. She really balances him out.”

“Damn honey, seems like you got yourself a nice little family here.”

Steve smiles wide. “I do. I really, really do…So! Movie! What do you wanna watch?”

He leads Eddie over to his dvd collection and lets him peruse the options. He became a bit of a movie buff when he was working at the video rental place with Robin years ago and swears by keeping discs instead of just streaming everything. You never know when Netflix or whoever are going to drop a title.

“Nice selection you got here! I haven’t even heard of some of these. What’s…Velvet Goldmine?”

Steve gasps. “Have you never seen it before?! It’s a queer cult classic! Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Christian Bale, Ewan McGregor-“

“SOLD! Put it on!”

Steve laughs as he pulls the case out and sets up the movie. “And here I was, ready to convince you by saying that you get to see Ewan McGregor dance around naked covered in glitter.”

“You’re not messing with me, are you? Don’t joke about something like that.”

Steve puts his hand on his chest and says, “I would never.”

They settle themselves on opposite ends on the couch  and start the movie. Steve is nervously tapping his foot and keeps stealing glances at Eddie. His beautiful profile lit up by the light from the tv. “You um…you can sit closer if you want.”

Eddie’s attention turns to Steve and he quietly says, “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. You said you wanted to take things slow, so I’m trying to make good on my promise of being a gentleman.”

He can feel his cheeks flush. “I appreciate that Eds. But it’s ok. Get over here.”

They both scoot over and meet in the middle, thighs and shoulders touching. Eddie lifts his arm and drapes it over the back of the couch. “Is this ok?”

Eddie’s just a little taller than him, and he feels small when he looks up at him, tucked under his arm. “More than ok.”

They share a small smile and turn their attention back to the movie. As they get more comfortable in each other's proximity they begin to relax more. Steve leans into Eddie’s side and rests his hand on his knee. Eddie’s arm falls from the back of the couch and settles around his shoulders. His ringed fingers rubbing small circles on his arm. It feels so nice. It feels right.

About halfway through the movie Steve remembers that his brownies are waiting on the kitchen counter. He reaches for the remote and presses pause. “I totally forgot I made us dessert! Do you want some?”

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Stevie, you spoil me! I’d love some.”

He gets up, plates two big squares, and brings them back to the living room. He hands Eddie his plate and starts the movie back up again.

“Sweetheart this looks insane. What did you make?”

“Oreo brownies. They’re a hit with the kids, they have me make it for all of their birthdays. Thought it would be good for tonight.”

Eddie scoops up a forkful and eagerly takes a bite. The moan that leaves his mouth is doing things for Steve. “Holy shit, this is amazing! You made this??”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Honey, I love it. This is so fucking good I could lick the plate clean.”

That doesn’t help the desire forming in Steve’s gut, imagining Eddie’s tongue licking other things. 

Down boy.

They finish their brownies, set the plates on the coffee table, and settle back into their previous position. Eddie’s arm feels like it’s at home wrapped around him. Steve’s heart swells and he can’t help but think I could get used to this. It’s a dangerous thought and he has to remind himself that he’s taking this slow for a reason. Eddie has been nothing but wonderful this whole time, but he’s not quite ready to let his guard down yet.

The movie comes to a close and Steve turns to Eddie to ask, “So, what did you think? Super weird right? Kind of an acquired taste I guess, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“Oh absolutely, it was weird as fuck, but that’s what I loved about it. Totally unconventional, and the music choices were-“ he lifts his hand to his mouth and does a dramatic chef kiss. “This has been a really great night Stevie. Thank you.”

“Of course Eds, I’m glad you’ve had a good time. I’m…I’m glad you’re here.”

They’re both quiet as they take each other in. The dim lighting of the living room casting shadows along their faces. The light from the tv making Eddie’s eyes sparkle. They keep glancing down at each other’s lips and Steve can feel his heart beating in his ears. He wants nothing more than for Eddie to lean in, but true to his word, he’s being a gentleman and not making any move.

Steve takes a deep breath and just above a whisper he says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Eddie whispers back.

“Will you kiss me?”

Those dimples of his make a reappearance as Eddie smiles and asks, “I’d love to. But are you sure?”

Steve nods and slowly begins to tip his head towards Eddie. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Eddie’s free hand comes up and caresses Steve’s cheek. A gentle little touch, featherlight like Steve is something delicate. He’s never felt so held, so adored. Eddie slowly leans in, nuzzles his nose with Steve’s, and finally closes the distance. 

This kiss is a light, tentative thing. Eddie’s lips are so pillowy and soft and gentle. He pulls back slightly to look Steve in the eye. Asking the question without needing words, is this ok? Should we keep going?

Steve then takes the lead, leaning back in and kissing Eddie with a little more force, a little more intent, but still soft and slow. All Steve can hear is the pounding of his heart and the clicking sounds their lips are making and they exchange chaste, sweet kisses. He wants more. Needs more. Needs to know what Eddie tastes like and how his tongue feels in his mouth.

He deepens the kiss, opening his mouth and capturing Eddie’s plump bottom lip, giving it a gentle suck. Eddie lets out a soft moan and opens his mouth in return. Steve tentatively licks at his upper lip and Eddie receives the message, his tongue slowly lapping into Steve’s mouth. He tastes like chocolate.

As the kissing intensifies, Steve reaches up and slides his hands into Eddie’s hair, being careful not to tug it out of his bun. Eddie’s hand that was resting on his cheek moves down and grips his hip. They’re both panting and moaning as their tongues caress and chase each other. The hand on Steve’s hip tightens and instinctively, without breaking the kiss, he lifts himself up and settles on Eddie’s lap. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and their kisses get deeper, firmer, hungrier. 

Steve is getting hard fast, and if he’s not mistaken, Eddie is too by the firmness he can feel under him. He sucks on Steve’s tongue and it sends fireworks right down to his dick. Like he can’t even control his own body, he rocks his hips down into Eddie and they both let out a groan as their cocks meet. Immediately Robin’s voice echoes in his mind, just don’t jump in dick first, and suddenly he snaps back into rationality and breaks the kiss.

Panting and wide-eyed, Eddie looks up at him with concern written all over his face. “You ok? Should we stop?”

Steve is trying to catch his breath and reign his dick in. He nods, “Yeah. Yeah I think we should slow down. That got really intense really fast.”

Eddie rubs his back reassuringly. “Of course honey. I’m sorry if I took that too far-“

“No, no! Don’t be sorry. That was amazing. You’re amazing. Jesus, I haven’t been kissed like that…maybe ever.” Steve runs his hand through his hair and sits back on Eddie’s lap, putting some space between their flagging dicks. “It was just getting a little too good, and I meant what I said. I wanna take this slow.”

“Anything you want. It’s yours.”

And the sincerity of those words makes Steve melt. He drapes his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and rests their foreheads together. “I want to keep kissing you. You feel incredible. I’m just afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

Eddie tilts his head up to kiss the tip of Steve’s nose. “We can keep kissing if you want. Keep it PG. You just gotta back that juicy ass up and leave some room for the Holy Spirit!”

Steve cracks up and swats at Eddie’s chest. ”What are you, a middle school priest?”

“I suppose you could call me Father Eddie, but I’d prefer Daddy,” he says with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Oh my god!” They both dissolve into giggles, that turn into giddy kisses, that turn into playful wrestling, and soon they find themselves lying down down on the couch - Eddie tucked into the back cushions and Steve snuggled up to his chest. 

Steve lets out a content sigh, relishing in their arms and legs entwined around each other like a couple of octopuses. “This is nice. It’s really good to have you back in town, Eds. Do you think…maybe we could see each other again soon?”

Eddie kisses the top of his head and breathes him in. “You’re gonna have a hard time trying to get rid of me, sweetheart. I’ll come see you every day if you let me. And since you asked the last two times, now it’s my turn! Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Hmmmm…I don’t know. Do we get to trauma dump on each other? That’s the third date milestone, right?” 

Steve’s head bounces on Eddie’s chest as he giggles. “Oh absolutely. We’ll bare our souls and tell the most appalling secrets.”

Steve slowly lifts his head and stares at Eddie. “Did you just quote Little Women at me?”

“I sure did.”

“Amazing. The Winona Ryder one is the best. It’s weird, she kinda looks like Joyce.”

“Hot.”

“Ew that’s basically my mom.”

“Well, then, your mom is hot.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah I think you kinda like me.”

Steve feels heat in his cheeks again. “Maybe I do. We should probably kiss about it.”

He tilts his head up and Eddie smiles into the kiss. Time escapes them as they slowly make out on the couch. It’s less intense than earlier, but just as eager as they explore each other with their lips and tongues and hands. 

They finally stop when Steve breaks the kiss to hold back a yawn.

“You tired honey?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I don’t want to stop but I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Why don’t I take off and you can get some sleep? I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mmm…that sounds good. I had a really great time, Eds. Thanks for coming over.”

“Sweetheart, I should be thanking you. That dinner was amazing, I don’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal that good. And those brownies? Holy shit.”

Steve’s chest swells with pride. “Let me box some up for you to take home.”

They untangle themselves from each other and head to the kitchen. Steve packs up some brownies and walks Eddie to the door. ”Thank you for the flowers Eddie. That was really sweet.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from Stevie. Just wait. I’m gonna spoil you rotten.” He leans in for one last lingering kiss and whispers to Steve’s lips, “Goodnight sweetheart.”

“Goodnight Eds.”

He closes the door after watching Eddie walk away and slumps against it. That was perfect. Every moment, every look, every touch. 

Perfect.

Chapter 5<<Masterlist>>Chapter 7

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@annachronisme @mrsjellymunson @kozuuji

[atimeofyourlife]

As soon as the team was asked for volunteers, Steve was the first to sign up. He usually hated working events, but this was different. This was the first event when they'd get to be themself. He'd been to pride only once before, getting dragged along with Robin the year before, and it had ended up being a world of discovery.

Sure, he couldn't be decked out in rainbows and flags, having to wear their EMT uniform. But their boss had approved pins and bracelets as long as it didn't interfere with the duty. So his uniform had their pronoun of the day pins (They/He), their updated name badge showing his choice of names (Steve/Evie), pins and bracelets of the trans, non-binary, genderfluid, and bi pride flags. And Robin had braided bi pride ribbons into his hair before he tied it back when getting ready. It was going to be a good day.

He was kept busy, like the rest of the first aid team. And being one of the highest trained on duty, one of two AEMTs and in training to become a paramedic, he was tending to deal with the worst injuries and illnesses, and having to triage for if anyone needed to be transferred to the hospital. Robin stopped by a few times, to check in, and to give them snacks. It helped break up the day as he wouldn't get a long break.

They'd had to spend some of the day hurrying around the site whenever the radio buzzed for first-aid assistance at various points around the site. He was making his way back to the first-aid tent after one call, when their eye was caught by the band on the second stage. In particular, the long-haired guitarist. Steve couldn't help watching them as he walked by, until he stumbled and nearly fell into someone. They shook their head, and dragged their eyes away to make his way back to the tent. He was there to do his job, not make eyes at a pretty guitarist. They tried to put it out of their mind, but he couldn't help looking out for the guitarist as the day passed. Not letting it get in the way of their job, but whenever they had a second free.

Late in the afternoon, they were alerted to a group of people making their way to the tent. Two guys supporting a third, with another guy ahead of them to clear the way. Steve pulled fresh gloves on and hurried down to help. As he reached the group, he realized that the guy being supported was the pretty guitarist. They tried to not think about it, needing to remain professional.

"What seems to be the problem?" Steve asked, swapping places with one of the guys supporting the guitarist.

"He nearly passed out on us." One of them responded.

"Right. Come on, we'll get you all checked out." Steve replied, guiding them into the tent.

"You can check me out anytime, sweetheart." The guitarist replied, leaving Steve fighting back a blush.

"Eddie, shut up." The guy in front snapped, before glancing at Steve. "Sorry about him."

"But he's pretty." The guitarist- Eddie- whined.

"Okay, just set him down here." Steve helped Eddie onto the bed at one end of the tent, before turning to the other guys. "Only one of you can stay in here with him because of the space, so if the other two can just wait outside?"

The other three guys looked between them, silently deciding that the shorter, curly haired guy would be the one to stay behind.

"Gare-bear, where they going?" Eddie asked.

"They're waiting outside for you, asshole."

Steve coughed a little to hide the laugh that threatened to burst out, the conversation reminding them too much of dealing with a drunk Robin, or worse, the kids while they were crossfaded for the first time.

"Okay, can I just pop this on your finger for a reading?" Steve asked, waiting for Eddie to hold his hand out so he could fix the pulse ox monitor. They then grabbed a clipboard and a blank paperwork sheet. "And while we wait for that, just a few questions. Can we start with your name?"

"Eddie Munson." The other guy, Gare? replied.

"You can take my last name, angel." Eddie said, which Steve ignored.

"Thank you, and the date of birth?"

The other guy reeled it off, as Steve wrote it down.

"And Gare, was it?"

"Gareth."

"Gareth, sorry. Can you tell me what, exactly, happened? The other guy said he nearly passed out?"

"Yeah. Uh, we were performing earlier. We're in a band. He was fine then. But in the last thirty minutes or so, he's been complaining about not feeling so good, and then he nearly passed out."

"Okay." Steve wrote down all the information, then copied down the numbers from the pulse ox. "I just need to get the rest of your vitals, okay, Eddie?"

"Anything you want. He's so beautiful, isn't he Gare?"

"Anything you say, Eds."

Steve set to taking the vitals, making sure everything was normal, but kept asking questions to get to the bottom of it.

"Any medical conditions?"

"No."

"Do you know if he's taken anything in the last twenty four hours? Any prescription meds, or over the counter, or any other substance?"

"Shhh. Gare, you can't tell him."

"Dude, I'm not a cop. I just need to know if it could be what you've taken, or so if you need any medication it won't react to it."

"He smokes, and we were smoking weed last night. But he smokes weed most weeks and has never reacted like this." Gareth explained.

"Uh-huh." Steve continued to make notes, both the answers to the questions and Eddie's vitals. "Any alcohol?"

"A couple of beers."

"When was the last time he ate?" Steve asked, frowning when they noticed that Eddie's blood sugar was on the low side.

"Wait, I think that was-" Gareth broke off for a moment. "Eddie, you certifiable moron."

"Not eaten much today?" Steve guessed.

"Not eaten at all today. He doesn't eat breakfast, ever, and he felt sick before we went on so he didn't eat lunch. And after he still didn't want anything."

"That pretty much explains everything. Plus drinking on an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster. I'll grab some water and something small so you'll feel less like passing out." Steve crossed the tent to find a bottle of water and the emergency snacks they kept, usually for diabetics.

"Here. Drink some water, and eat these. I know they're not the most exciting snacks, but you should feel better after." Steve handed it over to Eddie, a mini bag of fruit gummies, and a small pack of crackers.

Steve kept a check on Eddie as he ate the snacks. He seemed to be doing better, which put Steve's mind at ease. And kept trying to flirt, which left them fighting to remain professional.

"How are you feeling now, Eddie?" Steve asked after a few minutes, hoping that it wouldn't be too much longer before they could have a moment to freak out, preferably with Robin.

"Better. But you could make me feel incredible, big boy." Eddie said, a clear flirty tone in his voice.

"Not while I'm on duty," Steve replied slightly absently as he made a note on Eddie's sheet. Then, realizing what they'd said, fought to figure out how to backtrack without offending Eddie. "I mean, it's good that you're feeling better. I would recommend you try to get a balanced meal soon, something with carbs, protein, fibre, fats. That will help keep you feeling better, and keep you from feeling like you're going to pass out again. And it might be best if you stay off the alcohol for today."

"Does that mean- ow." Eddie started to ask something, but cut off. Steve looked up from the clipboard, and it was obvious that Gareth had elbowed Eddie to get him to shut up.

"This is your copy of the paperwork, it just has your vitals, and what's happened. If you still feel unwell later, and you need to come back here, or you seek medical attention somewhere else, you can show this, so whoever you see has some background for what has happened today." Steve explained, handing the sheet over to Eddie.

"Thanks," Eddie replied, starting to stand up.

"You're welcome, enjoy the rest of your day." Steve turned to start sanitising and packing away the equipment used, so the space would be tidy for the next person to need it. He could hear a brief, whispered conversation behind him, but ignored it. Until they felt a tap on their shoulder, and turned back to Eddie.

"For you," Eddie said, thrusting a small piece of paper into Steve's hands before leaving the tent with Gareth.

Steve unfolded it, and read the note. 'What about when you're off duty?' followed by a phone number. He blushed a little as he shoved it into his pocket. God, they needed to talk to Robin.

Later, once he was home, he finally had the chance. Not that she was much help.

"You're telling me you nearly fell over yourself because you were staring at this guy, kept looking out for him because you hoped to see him after, he shows up to the tent and is flirting with you, and gave you his number. And you haven't called him?"

"That is missing the point entirely? He wasn't well when he came to the tent, and it kinda feels like I was taking advantage of him to end up with his number after that. I should have given him to one of the others. I shouldn't have let him give me his number." Steve protested, feeling unsure if they had handled everything in the best way.

"You are the only person I have ever met who thinks that getting the number of someone you find attractive is somehow a bad thing. This is why you're still single."

Basically giving Steve my gender here. In this he's genderfluid and uses various combinations of They/He/She pronouns, depending on the day I was at pride today (well, yesterday as it's now after midnight here), and this idea came to me on the way home. Also, idk how first aid services at events work in the US, so this is vaguely based off what I know from what I've seen in the UK.

[scoops-aboy86]

Your mission,if you choose to accept it:

Steddie prompt: Steve and Eddie are separate blind dates. Horrible blind dates. They decide to ditch their dates and go on a date together ❤️

I’m not sure I delivered on both dates being entirely horrible—Steve’s is mostly okay, just, not as good as it would have been with his secret crush who just happens to be on a date in the same restaurant. Anyway, here’s this! 4183 words. Sorry it’s been sitting in my ask box since July!

~

Steve walks into the restaurant and immediately perks up upon seeing a familiar curly head of hair by the hostess stand. “Eds, man, what are you doing here?”

As soon as he says it, he experiences a mental vertigo—Robin had sent him to this address to meet “a friend” of hers for a date, something to get him out of his usual social rut and test run his recently realized bisexuality like he keeps talking about but never actually pulling the trigger on. But… she would have told him if it was a friend they both knew, right? Surely, if she set him up with Eddie, she’d tell him… right?

Turning, Eddie blinks and then grins at him, oblivious to Steve’s sudden mental tailspin. “Stevie, it’s been forever!” He walks over, as always with a slight limp even after all the physical therapy, and a faded scar still pulling at one side of his smile. Claps Steve on the shoulder, hand warm and giving one quick squeeze before letting go. 

And the thing is, it has been several weeks. A whole month, at least. Steve blames his schedule… and refuses to acknowledge that he’s felt too self-conscious to seek Eddie out now that he’s realized some, uh, things. Like how Eddie’s smile makes his stomach swoop and not just a weird coincidence every time they hang out. So he’s a little surprised to see that Eddie has put on some weight since they’d last hung out. Not that it looks bad on him, far from it, it’s just that Eddie had always laughed over how he could eat whatever and it never showed, something about trailer park rations and a metabolism that moved even faster than his silver tongue. 

Now it shows. The rounded cheeks make his dimples pop even more when he smiles, and Steve has never seen a more grabable waist in his life. Love handles; who knew?

“Ronnie has sent me on a mission,” Eddie continues, sounding serious but with an amused twinkle in his eye that Steve hangs on like a planet circling a star. “I’m to entertain a friend of hers with my masculine wiles for the evening. Pray tell, have you seen any tall dark and handsomes roving about with a rainbow pin on his lapel?”

Something in Steve sinks all the way down to the soles of his shoes. So Eddie is here on a blind date too, but not with him. Of course not with him, it’s not like he’s told Robin who the catalyst for his realization was. (And she’d said something about it being a friend from her Shakespeare class anyway; Eddie isn’t a college kind of guy.) It’s not like he could ever be Eddie’s type, completely devoid of leather and chains and metal band memorabilia, and way too reppy. Too much of a jock, the type of guy who made Eddie’s terrible high school experience even worse—was that kind of guy for a little bit, between the popularity of being captain of various sports teams getting to his head and a whole mess of adolescent bullshit that had taken him a while to wade through. 

Steve is long over all that now, but it left a stain on him that people like Eddie can probably still sense. Wouldn’t be fair to up and ask him to overlook it, just because Steve went and caught feelings.  

So nothing is going to happen between them, not ever, and that’s his new thing to wade through. Someday he’ll make it out the other side and be a better person for it, and still have Eddie as a friend. That’s… just how it’s going to have to be.

Still, there’s a scratch in his voice when he replies, “Sorry, haven’t seen anyone like that.” Not a lie, because he hadn’t been looking for it and probably wouldn’t notice otherwise. Steve coughs, clears his throat a little. “Robin’s set me up with someone too. I’m supposed to be looking for a ridiculously long striped scarf. Like, thirteen feet long, I think she said? Which seems weirdly specific, but…”

The twinkle in Eddie’s eyes intensifies. “A Doctor Who scarf, eh? Good for you, expanding your horizons to include more nerds. I’ll help you look, can’t be too hard to spot a girl sporting that.”

“Um,” Steve says, face flushing. Right. Eddie… doesn’t have any way of knowing that Steve’s blind date is supposed to be a guy, because the only person in their friend group that he’s come out to so far is Robin.  

He’s saved from having to put it into words by a tap on his shoulder, and it’s a young man with wavy black hair that falls just past his shoulders and square-ish glasses. The scarf around his neck is a morse code of greens and yellows and reds and purples and warm grays, looped multiple times so both ends don’t drag on the floor. 

“Hi, um, Steve? Robin said to look for a red sweater and ‘the tallest hair known to man and Farrah Fawcett’...”

Steve glances at Eddie, whose jaw has dropped approximately to China, then back. “Yeah, of course she did. That’s me.” He wiggles his fingers in a little wave. “Jacob, right?”

The guy nods enthusiastically, blushing. “Yeah!” And then he peers around to look at Eddie. 

“Oh, this is my friend Eddie, we just ran into each other,” Steve explains. “He’s on a blind date too! Uh, with someone else, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Eddie parrots back, a little wide-eyed but clearly pulling himself together from the brink of shock, because he’s good at thinking on his feet like that. (Better than Steve anyway, blurting out Eddie’s business as if Robin might have set all three of them up at once without happening to mention it. Jesus Christ.) “And of course it would be weird to suggest making it a double date, seeing as how it’s blind all around, that would just give Stevie and me here an unfair advantage, ha! Anyway, I think it looks like my table is ready now, so I’ll just—yeah.”

The hostess is approaching with two menus in hand and doesn’t seem thrown off by the way Eddie speed walks to head her off, so maybe it’s just that. Steve follows their progress through the dining area with his eyes for a beat too long, a faint crease forming between his brows because that was abrupt, a little weird even for Eddie. 

But then he turns back to Jacob, his actual date. Brings out the ol’ Harrington charm, because he’s good at this—or used to be, with girls. Maybe it’s not so different with guys after all, because Jacob smiles back with a bashful little duck of his head. 

They end up at the bar while waiting for a table of their own, and the first sour note of the evening comes when Jacob turns out to be a bit of a wine snob. 

“I mean, how hard is it to know something about a bottle besides what’s printed on the label?” he’s saying, nose still upturned at the now distant bartender who’s sticking pretty pointedly to the other end of the bar. “Anything beyond the varietal at least, anyone can tell that just by reading.”

Steve winces internally, trying very hard not to think of his mother’s delicate sneer over the rim of a wine glass right now. It’s not like Robin, who doesn’t drink much, would know or even have much opportunity to screen for this sort of thing. He can get past it, without letting it dominate the first impression, really  

“I, uh, think this place is better known for its cocktails than the wine list,” he says, an attempt at neutrality. “Anyway, what were you saying about that math guy, um… Boris? With the library?”

Jacob brightens immediately. “Jorge Luis Borges, yes—”

A waiter interrupts to lead them to a table, and Steve finishes off his Cosmo before leaving the glass and a covert tip at the bar. The thread of earlier conversation is lost again—Steve hadn’t really gotten much out of it anyway, beyond the vague sense of a labyrinthine universe made entirely of library rooms which, kind of boring maybe, but still better than the universe full of sentient vines and eyeless creatures with too many teeth. 

They look over their menus and place their orders. Steve just gets another cocktail to go with his entree, and while Jacob fusses over wine pairings again he finds his eyes drifting around the room, trying to find… 

Eddie, chatting away with some guy that Steve is only able to see the back of at this angle. He seems in good enough spirits after that weird departure, and happily not stood up or anything, but.

There’s a moment where his gaze flickers just enough to catch Steve looking straight at him, and Eddie visibly stumbles over whatever he’d been saying. It’s too far away to hear and Steve can’t read lips worth a damn—despite the slight loss of hearing in his left ear after that bullshit with the Russians that one summer, no matter what Dustin had assured him at the time about his other senses compensating for it or something. Steve takes a deep breath and returns his attention to his own date, feeling guilty for whatever awkward word pile-up he’d inadvertently caused. 

“So what do you do?” Jacob asks with a smile. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned it yet.”

It’s maybe the second sour note, realizing that he hasn’t represented himself very well so far in the first half hour of their date, but Steve’s just distracted enough worrying about Eddie to not fully register it. 

~

By the time dessert lands on the table—chocolate cheesecake with raspberry coulis and two forks, one of Steve’s signature Moves™—he’s almost managed to put Eddie out of his mind. There were a few hiccups here and there, but from the looks Jacob is giving him over the shared dessert it seems pretty certain that they’re going home together after this. Steve is even looking forward to it, because a few hurried handjobs in club bathrooms is one thing but this feels like a Big Deal, a true comparison of his past dating history and what it would feel like to be with a man. 

He lives for this part, the tingle of anticipation in every shared look and knock of their feet under the table, all smiles and bitten lips and something electric in the air. 

And then Steve’s eyes land on Eddie again, as they have every now and then throughout the night. It’s like he can’t help himself, attention flitting back occasionally like a moth seeking light, as if just the fleeting reminder of Eddie’s glow is enough to keep him steady— Only this time, something’s wrong. The chair across from Eddie is empty and he’s slumped forward, elbow on the table as he glumly pulls an abandoned plate of apple pie ala mode closer to him, alongside two empty, stacked plates that must have been his own. 

The shock of seeing Eddie apparently abandoned throws Steve for a loop. Had something happened? Maybe the guy had been called away for an emergency, like a relative falling off a ladder or his apartment catching on fire. Maybe he was a doctor and had gotten a page from the hospital. Or does Eddie seem sadder, more defeated than that?

“I, um,” Steve finds himself saying when Jacob asks if he’d like to come back to his place. “I just remembered, I’ve actually got kind of an early day tomorrow? Some other time though, for sure, I’d love to. Just, tonight is, you know… no bueno…”

What the fuck. He’d taken the required years of Spanish classes for the credit to graduate high school, and this is, for some godawful reason, the first time since then that he’s ever even attempted to whip any of it out. 

This is definitely going to be a tally in the You Suck column, he knows, as Jacob’s expression shutters in disappointment. He’ll still tell Robin about it himself, though, since she’ll probably find out eventually anyway, but damn. Why did he say that?

And why, after the bill has been settled and his date has left the restaurant alone and probably feeling led on, does he stand and slowly make his way over to Eddie’s table?

Steve arrives and stands there stupidly for a second, because Eddie doesn’t look up from the last bites of his pilfered dessert. “Uh… hey. Mind if I sit?”

Eddie just shrugs listlessly, and that’s so wrong. He’s always such a vibrant guy, movement never ceasing and energy always thrumming beneath his skin, even when it’s the nervous kind. So Steve sits, but it’s with a sinking feeling that he can’t put his finger on. 

Or maybe it’s guilt, again, but he can’t really think of anything he’s done. It’s not like he drove Eddie’s date away. He’d only distracted Eddie the one time, as far as he’s aware, and that shouldn’t have been enough to disrupt the evening on its own. 

“If you’re going to ask, just go ahead,” Eddie mutters around a mouthful. 

Steve only hesitates another second or two, because maybe that means Eddie wants to talk about it. “Did your date have to leave early?”

A thin, very un-Eddie-like smile appears on Eddie’s face. “You could say that, Steve. You could say that… He, actually, made a comment about how I probably didn’t need dessert after two appetizers and one of the bigger entrees, and when I told him so what if I like my food and he could fuck off with that kind of attitude, he, uh. Took me up on that. Stuck me with the check too, so, you know, fuck it.” He jams the last bite into his mouth and adds around ice cream-soaked pastry, “I’m taking his leftovers home too. Fucking asshole.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s dating 101 not to comment on how much your date does or doesn’t eat—at least, it always had been with girls. Maybe there’s some sort of gay memo that he, as a bisexual, has never received, but damn. 

“He’s an idiot,” he tells Eddie with absolute certainty. “That’s such bullshit, talking to you like that. If he were still here I’d kick his ass for you, man. I mean it.”

Eddie doesn’t look up at him, trying to scrape the last of the melted ice cream up with his fork. “Oh come on, who’re you kidding. He’s right, Steve. I ate two appetizers and an entire pizza all by myself, no to-go box. And three desserts. And I’m planning on finishing off his leftovers as soon as I get home, pity-party style, because I’ve just blown the first date I’ve bothered to go on in a month. I mean, look at me!”

Finally, Eddie makes eye contact with him, but it’s a dull and self-pitying look that makes Steve want to gather him up in a hug until he feels better. He hasn’t seen Eddie look like that since the summer of ‘86, after the bat-attack induced coma had worn off and someone (Steve) had had to tell him that his uncle had moved away while, in the aftermath of the ‘earthquake,’ the general public had briefly assumed Eddie was dead. 

(That, at least, had turned out all right. Steve had personally driven him all the way out and knocked on Wayne Munson’s new door while Eddie had still been physically weak and too pessimistic to do it himself. The reunion had involved an undignified amount of tears—but Steve had ended up drawn into some of the hugs too, and Wayne had clapped him gruffly on the back and called him a good man after Eddie explained who had carried him out of hell, and, really, some of that runny-nosed sniffling had been his.)

Now, if possible, Eddie looks even more resigned. When he looks back down at the scattering of empty plates before him, Steve notices the gentle swell beneath his jaw, the start of a double chin. 

“Nobody wants the fat guy. Tonight’s made that crystal fucking clear.”

“Bullshit.”

It takes a second for Steve to realize that he’s the one who said that. His mouth working faster than his brain again—hur hur, dumb ol’ Steve, what else would anyone expect when he’s known more for his hair and his past than anything else. 

But, fuck it, he really means it. So he continues, “I haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night, man. I just turned down my first real time in bed with a guy because… because you looked so upset over here, alone, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Which, you’re obviously not, because that’s a fucked up thing to say about yourself. About no one wanting you,” he adds quickly, when Eddie’s mouth opens to rebut. 

It’s enough that Eddie hesitates, licks his lips, pauses for a drink of what’s left in his glass and clears his throat. “You… You never even told me you like guys. You’re…?”

“Bisexual,” Steve fills in. He looks down at his hands where they rest stupidly in his lap. 

“Right. Are we… not close enough for you to tell me that?”

The suggestion stabs right through his heart, and shit, there’s no escaping the moment of truth coming up, is there? Steve wishes he had his own drink to clear out the sudden dryness in his mouth, but there’s nothing on this side of the table that Eddie’s date probably hasn’t put his mouth on first, and. Ew.

“I was… nervous,” Steve says carefully, wringing his hands out of sight beneath the table. “We are that close, but I, or—too close, maybe? I didn’t want you to, like, see. How I… feel about you, so… So I backed off a little.”

“A little?” Eddie repeats, incredulous. “We used to hang out every day, man. But this is the first time I’ve seen you in, what, a whole damn month?”

Steve is still staring down at his hands, at the little smudge of sky blue in the corner of his thumbnail he’d missed when cleaning up after the last time Robin had done his nails. 

“I thought I did something to push you away. I thought you’d seen right through me, how I feel about y-you.” It’s terrible, the way Eddie’s voice cracks over some of those words. “I put on twenty fucking pounds because I’ve been so stressed out.”

“It doesn’t look bad,” Steve blurts out. His face is so hot, he could probably cook a whole new dinner for them. Christ, but the idea that the new weight is there because of him is doing something really unexpected for him… Sending little jolts of possessiveness through his heart with each beat. 

How I feel about you, Eddie had said. How I feel about you. 

How I feel. 

About you. 

He’d give Eddie anything, everything, if he lets him. 

Eddie scoffs, and Steve can’t help the way his head snaps up. 

“No, I, I’m serious,” he stammers. “You want me to get you anything else? I’ll do it, Eds. I—I fucked up, must’ve if you could possibly think I don’t want you around. I stayed away because I felt transparent as hell, every time I looked at you, and I figured there was no way I’d be your type, because I’m not exactly—”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts. “Did you spend the whole night looking over here and not even notice that my date was wearing a polo shirt and had the second most fantastic head of hair I’ve ever seen on a man? That he has certified muscles from working out at the gym, just like you do? Ronnie knows my type, man, and it is you. Everyone else is just a cheap imitation at best!”

“… Oh,” Steve says dumbly. Because he hadn’t noticed that; he had only been looking at Eddie. And then he considers for a moment. “I… don’t even think I bothered to get Jacob’s number. He was… okay, but not, um. Not you.”

He wills Eddie to hear the rest of it, the parts he’s still kind of terrified to say out loud, worried that it would be too much, like he’s always been. Nothing compared to you, he can’t say yet. Couldn’t even hold a candle. Never stood a chance in the long run, really, from the moment we both ended up at this same restaurant. 

There’s a pause, during which Eddie’s waiter turns up with the check, a large box already tucked into a plastic bag, and a puzzled look at Steve. 

Eddie hands over his credit card and shoos the waiter away without even looking, something like hope dawning bright in his expression. “Do you, um. Want to get out of here, Stevie?”

Steve beans at him, giddy. “Sure. If you’re still hungry I know an ice cream place we could walk to from here.”

The look Eddie gives him is one part shrewd, twelve parts delighted. “You might be more of a freak than I realized. Which is a compliment, by the way.”

“I know,” Steve replies with a wink. He can’t quite believe this is happening, but it’s happening—and he honestly can’t think of a better compliment than being called freak by Eddie Munson while that twinkle is there in his eyes. Steve’s a sucker for that twinkle, and the dimpled smile he gets in response. 

~

They do end up going on that stroll for ice cream. Steve lets Eddie’s eyes be what he thinks is bigger than his stomach, then cheers him on as Eddie does actually manage to finish the entire banana split with minimal assistance. He kisses the chocolate sauce from Eddie’s lips in a dark spot outside the parlor, touching the new love handles that he’d noticed before and noticing, too, the way Eddie’s tight jeans are squeezing his softness into two separate rolls. 

“Let me?” he murmurs, and at Eddie’s eager nod he lets his fingers travel beneath the oversized shirt that hides his straining waistband. With a little sucking in, it’s just possible to get the button undone—Eddie moans prettily against his mouth at the release, his full belly rounding out into a smooth dome under Steve’s soothing hands. The shirt is still long enough to cover the fact that his jeans end up completely unzipped, the open flaps stretching wide as Steve helps him resettle in them to be more comfortable, with his belly hanging out and over. 

Steve doesn’t know what twenty extra pounds looks like, exactly; he has no idea if that’s an accurate number or an approximation. But Eddie feels big in a way that makes his pulse speed up, same as when he drops his hands a little lower and feels Eddie’s cock react to his touch through the denim, growing thick and heavy there too. 

It doesn’t even feel strange, going from friends to fervently making out in a darkened alcove. Going from there to Steve’s car, which he helps Eddie into because his full stomach gets in the way and bending over forces out these endearing little hiccupy burps, helps crank the seat back to make it more comfortable for him. Going back to Steve’s place because Robin is out at her girlfriend’s for the night and Eddie rooms with all three of his bandmates. 

Going to bed, where they see all of each other for the first time. The contrast of Steve’s scars on his lean sides and the way they pucker and stretch over Eddie’s recent gains—Steve kisses every inch of them, because it’s Eddie, tears in his eyes from how much he’s wanted this. Years out from all the trauma of it but still wearing matching reminders that will forever bind them together, make them feel whole, together, in a way no one else could ever really quite reach. 

They finish the leftovers in bed together, as a post-sex snack. Eddie can barely keep his eyes open, can’t take his hands away from his packed-full belly, but still whimpers for Steve to press more little tidbits between his lips and sucks sweetly on each fingertip before letting go. Breaths that sound more like moans, getting Steve just a little riled up again despite the fact that he’s tired too. Snickering together over long-shared jokes from their years of friendship and new little things to tease each other over from tonight. Savory-sweet kisses shared in their drowsy cocoon of blankets, Steve pressed against Eddie’s plush backside and providing slow and steady belly rubs that make his new boyfriend (boyfriend!!) curl his toes with happy, satisfied sighs. 

Tomorrow, they’ll each tell their best friends that it was the best blind date night ever, even though they’ll never talk to the guys they were set up with ever again. Tonight, they fall asleep in a cozy universe built for two, soft and warm and hearts full to bursting. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added or removed): @hotluncheddie @hiei-harringtonmunson @sofadofax @victorclays @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

@ape31

[after-the-end-times]

Dyed Key Lime Green

Prompt: Green 💚Song: The Last Great American Dynasty 💚 Word Count: 1,234 💚 Rating: T 💚 POV: Steve 💚 Relationships: Established Steddie 💚 Tags: Prank gone wrong in Eddie's ongoing feud with an 80yo neighbor, Dog is dyed green (gonna assume safe dye), Long suffering Steve in dealing with their elder feuds, Dustin's a little shit, Vampire Corroded Coffin, Immortal Steve (adult in 1920s) 💚 For @corrodedcoffinfest Somewhere Over the Rainbow: Green Ao3 Previous Parts: Red Orange Yellow

Steve dreamed the phone was ringing, looking for it, but not finding it anywhere. The dream swirled away from him and he heard the phone ringing in his bedroom. He snuffled into his pillow, vaguely wondering if he needed to answer it. A knee jabbed into his side and a body collapsed over his back, the phone fell off the side table. The pressure on his back increased and Steve couldn’t really breath, but that didn’t seem so important as staying asleep.

“What,” Robin croaked, half asleep, head and arms still hanging off the bed. “Mmmhmm.”

She clambered back over Steve, jabbing him in the kidney again, flopping back on her side, dropping the corded phone against his arm. “Phone.”

He hummed, moving his hand enough to slide the phone against his ear. “Hmm?”

“Stevie? You gotta help.” Eddie, whispering harshly into the phone, clearly trying to stay calm. “We messed up.”

Steve twisted, sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face. “What happened. Are you okay? Where are you?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, letting it out shakily. “Your kitchen. Can you come down?”

“Coming,” he said, hanging up.

Robin sat up, “What’s going on?”

Steve threw the blankets off. “I don’t know. Eddie just called from the other line in the kitchen. He sounded really upset.”

Robin sighed, heavy and put out about having to get up at 3:30 in the morning. They thudded down the stairs. All the lights were still off. Steve frowned, looking for evidence there was someone in the house.

“Eddie?”

They froze, suddenly alert with adrenaline, when sounds came from the dark kitchen. Clicks tapping on tile. A whining snuffle. A chair scraping across the floor.

Steve stepped half in front of Robin. Sliding to the side, he reached a hand around the doorway, flicking the light switch on, eliciting screeches at the bright light. Robin shoved past Steve, stomping into the kitchen when the screams sounded suspiciously like their favorite pack of vampires.

“What are you doing creeping around in the dark at three thirty in the morning,” she growled, the guys standing around the room in various states of feigned casualness, undermined by their deer-in-the-headlights expressions.

Steve took in the scene; Eddie’s hair in a rat’s nest of a bun, green grass stains down Gareth’s shirt and, somehow, Freak’s hands. He walked toward Eddie who was, for some reason, keeping the island between them.

“Ok, Eddie, what’s going o- ahhhhn!” he stumbled back, throwing an arm in front of Robin, pushing her back from the giant shaggy green monster in his kitchen. “Eddie! What is that?!”

It looked like a dog, but Steve had seen creatures that were dog shaped not-dogs before, so he wasn’t taking chances. The dog creature panted, tongue lolling, and walked up to Steve, snuffling at his sleep pants. Steve held very still.

Robin, however, shoved past his arm, dropping to a knee in front of it. She took its face in her hands and started cooing in a way Steve had never seen her do before. “Awww puppers, what happened to you? Did some big mean vampires dye you green?”

Steve looked up at Eddie whose eyes were wide, brows tipped up in worry. Steve deliberately crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one leg to pop a hip, and slowly raised a single eyebrow. “Eddie.”

Eddie gulped, “Yeah, baby?”

“Who’s dog is this?”

Eddie plastered on a big smile, getting ready to regale them with a tale so outlandish, they’d get lost in it. Steve didn’t look away from Eddie. “Gareth. The dog?”

Eddie whipped around to look at the others who had been inching backwards toward the door. “Gareth,” Eddie tried to say menacingly.

“Eddie! Come on!” Gareth flung his arms out, marched back to the center of the kitchen, the green dog turning to jump up on him, huge paws resting solidly on his shoulders. “We have to do something with him at some point! What, are we just gonna leave him here forever and hope Old Lady Rawlins just never puts up lost dog posters? Or worse, goes to the cops and points her bony finger at us, because you two started some weird feud!”

Steve’s head fell back and pinching the bridge of his nose, he heaved a sigh deeper than the Mariana trench. He looked over at Jeff and Freak, still creeping toward the door, “Please tell me this is washable dye.”

They looked at each other, looked at Steve, and shook their heads.

“Well, ain’t that just the cat’s pajamas,” Steve sighed, it was too early, or too late, to deal with this ongoing two sided feud between Eddie and his old lady neighbor who lived in the farmhouse a quarter mile down the road. The dog had flopped to the floor, fluffy tail sweeping the tile. Robin and Gareth sat on the floor rubbing his ears and belly and quietly baby talking the green monstrosity.

Steve turned away, heading back up to his room. He grabbed the walkie, hoping Dustin had it turned up enough to hear in his sleep, and stomped back down to the kitchen. Eddie sat in a chair, looking so lost and tired.

“Eddie.” Eddie’s head popped up, eyes lighting up at Steve’s return. “Here’s the plan.”

Hours later, with Robin back in bed and Gareth, Jeff, and Freak back home, Eddie and Steve cuddled up on the couch waiting for an update. Steve buried his face in Eddie’s curls where his head rested against Steve’s shoulder. He wanted to let sleep take him swiftly into its depths, but he couldn’t quite yet. Dustin should be back any second.

Knock knock knock!

Dustin!

Steve gently shook Eddie’s shoulder. “Babe, Dustin’s back.”

Eddie rubbed his face on Steve’s shoulder as Steve shifted forward. Steve got up, let Dustin in, and sat back next to Eddie. “So? How’d it go? No problems?”

“She gave me twenty bucks!” Dustin whipped out the $20 bill, showing it off, smug smile splitting his face. “And she totally bought that ‘rolled around in freshly cut grass’ bull you had me spout. There’s about five different reasons that doesn’t make sense, but old people, I guess. So, congratulations, you’re off the hook. Now, I think this money calls for an arcade day. Eddie? I’ll see you at eleven. You can take us to lunch before driving us to the arcade.”

He spun around and left, slamming the door way too loud for 7am on his way out.

Eddie looked over at Steve. “When he said ‘us’, you don’t think he means all the pipsqueaks, do you?”

“I’m afraid so, baby.” Steve nodded, smiling with faux pity. “Think he owns your ass for the day. Have fun with that.”

He stood up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “Welp, I’m to bed. I’ll see you tonight?”

Eddie looked up him, eyes so wide and lovely. “What’s tonight?”

Steve leaned down, brushing a kiss across his lips once, twice, three times before deepening it, licking into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie gripped his hips and tried to pull him down to his lap. Steve pulled back, sashaying backwards to the stairs.

“Tonight’s when I own your ass, baby love.” he smirked, spinning to take a step up the stairs. He flicked a wave over his shoulder. “Have fun with the kiddies today, don’t wear yourself out. I have plans.”

The Last Great American Dynasty - Taylor Swift And in a feud with her neighbor She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green

🫶

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 16

Hello, darlings! I wanted to get this to you before I got too busy and forgot. My birthday is on Monday and I'm having a party on Saturday that I'm preparing for today, tomorrow, and most the day Saturday. I hope to get something out during that time, but I might not be able to get it up until Sunday.

Also I found out I was accidentally tagging @chaoticlovingdreamer twice! I don't think it did anything, but it was funny it took me this long to catch on!

Speaking of tagging, it used to be easy to tag from a copied list, just click on name, select drop down, move on to the next. But for some stupid reason I can't anymore and have to delete the last character in their username to get it to pop up. Is anyone else having this problem or is it just my life deciding to make it more difficult again?

Today for your enjoyment: communication, drunk Robin, and soulmate bonding!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Eddie crowed inside when Steve blushed at his comment. “And for record, sweetheart, I could see us tangled in your sheets. Not just the hot sex but everything before and after. All I’m asking is to take it slow.”

Steve gulped. “I’ll go at whatever speed you need, Eds. Honest. You set the pace.” He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “And if you change your mind tomorrow, I’m down for that, too. If you decide we’re better as friends, I’ll be your best friend, okay?”

Eddie smiled. “I think Jeff and Robin might take offense to that.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, nah, Robin is my platonic soulmate, that’s separate from best friend.”

Eddie grinned. “I guess Jeff is more like family then a best friend. All the guys are.”

“There you have it,” Steve said smiling at him, merriment sparkling in his eyes.

They walked hand in hand all the way the way to the Rainbow High Club. They were forced to let go to flash their IDs, but they stayed close to each other, blushing and smiling at each other every time they caught the other’s eyes.

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “How have I never heard of this place?” she asked, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could all at once. “It’s amazing.”

“Who’re the DDs tonight?” Robin asked, gleefully rubbing her hands together.

Steve, Gareth and Mandy all raise their hands. Eddie pouted.

“Stevie, you’re not drinking tonight?” he whined.

Steve laughed. “I’m working on your tattoo tomorrow, sunshine. I am not working on you hung over.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

*

Now that Eddie and Steve knew where they stood with each other, that last barrier of tension vanished between them. They were laughing more freely. Touching more readily. Just having a blast knowing the potential for more was there waiting for them when they were willing to take that step.

Steve knew where the line in the sand was now and cranked up the charm to eleven. Just being a gentleman.

Eddie ate up the attention like a sunflower in summer following the sun. He felt that last bit of worry just clatter to floor like a chain coming off of a worn gate after so many years being locked away.

Jeff and Mandy ate it up on the dance floor, pulling Gareth with them as they got the shyer man to come out of his shell a little bit.

Brian even managed to get the DJ to play a little metal. Steve sipped on a Coke and laughed as he watched his friends get silly on the dance. He had barely finished his drink when Robin grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He cussed her out but she just kissed his cheek and told him to move his hips for fuck’s sake.

His dancing was terrible, but he let himself join the crowd and sway to the beat.

Eddie said in his ear, “You know in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ being a bad dancer meant you were bad at sex.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “So you know I’ve got to ask...”

“No, trust me when I say I tango better in bed than out of it,” Steve said with a giggle.

“You got receipts for that, big boy?” Eddie asked, dropping his voice low, startling a gasp out of Steve.

His giggle turned into a full on laugh. “You want a list of my very satisfied exes?”

“And their phone number,” Eddie teased back. “If you’re going to win me over Casanova, I’m gonna need references.”

“I think I can handle that,” Steve said in total seriousness.

Eddie pushed him away, a laugh stuttering out of him. “Get off, you menace. Jeez!”

Steve backed up, giving him the space. “You started it.”

“Sorry I forgot you were Mr Charm Everyone’s Panties Off in high school,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “I’ve still got it, I just don’t date much because I have to run a shop.”

Eddie leaned back in. “And honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve grinned.

*

At the bar a blond man with legs for days and a cocky grin leaned against the edge of the bartop with his elbows. Ink peaked out of the black tank top he was wearing and he had piercings in both ears and a snakebite piercing on his lower lip. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched Eddie and Steve on the dance floor. His bright blue eyes glittered with malice, the grin never leaving his face.

*

Steve got a giggling Robin up the stairs to their apartment and into her bed. He pulled off her jacket and shoes and rolled her under the covers. She made grabby hands at him when he stood back up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She pouted, but let him go.

Steve made a mad dash to his room, where he threw on his pajama pants and a faded band tee and rushed back to Robin’s room.

“Where you go?” she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and climbed into bed with her. She immediately latched to him like some kind of possessive sea creature. Like a an octopus or a barnacle.

“Why did you surround me with pretty girls?” she wailed. “All the pretty girls all at once.”

Steve snorted. Mandy and Chrissy were not ‘all’ by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

“Mandy has a boyfriend,” he gently reminded her.

“Did you know she did ballet?” Robin whisper-yelled. “That’s why she has such long legs and great tits.”

“Yes, I was there when she told us,” Steve soothed.

“And Chrissy was athletic, too!” Robin continued. “Cheerleading is scary hot.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“The...” she made a weird motion with her hands, “and the woo...” she threw her arms in the air, “and the ‘yay!’ That’s scary.”

He rolled his eyes. “The tumbling?”

Robin hit his arm over and over. “That, that! Yes. And the hot is the uniform. Have you seen the uniform?” she growled.

Steve laughed. “I was in basketball, yes. You know one of the two sports that has cheerleaders?”

“The skirt is itty-bitty,” she slurred, putting her hands together as close as they would go without touching. “And no sleeves! Bare midriffs too. And and the cute little socks!”

“Can’t forget the cute little socks,” he agreed.

She slapped his arm again, this time harder. “And don’t you dare try to change the subject. I see you.” She pointed at her eyes and then at him, nearly poking his eye out.

“I didn’t change anything,” he muttered, “you started talking and haven’t stopped.”

“I saw you run the bathroom after the concert, gig, thingy...” she frowned. “What is it called the every day one not the tour-y one?”

“Gig,” Steve said gently.

Robin slapped his arm again. “Don’t change the subject!” she hissed. “You got hella horny watching your boy sing!” She threw out her arms and did hit him in the face that time.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be better prepared next time we go.”

“You have the hots for Eddie,” she said leaning in close.

But before Steve could answer, Robin was out cold. Her low tolerance for alcohol knocking her out at last. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace knowing that her drunken snoring would be like a buzzsaw in his ear if he slept in her room.

He pulled his shirt off and slipped into his own covers a smile on his face.

*

The next morning he had coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich he could find ready for his platonic soulmate when she staggered out of bed and into the kitchen. He handed her a small glass of water and painkillers, which she took under his watchful eye.

“I feel like I should hate for this,” she muttered into her steaming styrofoam cup.

Steve grinned, knowing full well that if laughed, she would straight on murder him and he really didn’t want to go yet.

“Also, don’t think you dodged the talk about you rushing to the bathroom after the show,” she grumped. “Because that was a bit pervy even for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he chowed down on his own less greasy sandwich. “I was totally unprepared for how hot he was that close up,” he snarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He did seem particularly out to get you with that little number he was wearing last night.”

“Seriously,” he agreed. “But I’ll know better next time, plan ahead, sit behind the table.”

She giggled.

He propped his head on his hands, elbows planted on their counter. “But enough about that. I want to talk about two lovely blondes making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

She pushed his arm causing him to almost smack his face into the counter as he lost the support.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed. “She did not make goo-goo eyes at me all night. I would have noticed.”

Steve laughed. “I noticed you didn’t deny making goo-goo eyes at her.”

She blushed, and took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “She’s so pretty and smart and how I am suppose to win her over when she so far out of my league.”

Steve came over and grabbed both of her cheeks in his hands. “Robin Eloise Buckley you are just as beautiful and smart and talented as she is. Just in a different way. I know right now you’re feeling morose because you have a hangover. So trust me in this moment, you are every bit as awesome as she is and if she doesn’t see that then we say?”

“Fuck that?” she whispered.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he said cocking the side of his head so he could tilt his right ear her direction.

“Fuck that,” Robin said with more conviction.

“There you go,” he said and gave her a fierce kiss on the forehead. “Now what I want you to do while I’m gone is watch the ‘Pride & Prejudice’ mini-series with that tub of Ben & Jerry’s I know you’ve been saving and when I’m done I’ll grab Chinese from that favorite shop on the corner, okay?”

She set the coffee down and gave him a fierce hug. “You’re the best soulmate a girl could ask for.”

Steve squeezed her back. “Hard same.”

She laughed. “You are such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

***

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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[chaosgremlinmunson]

Rocker Stevie

Might be part one.

Diane: So let's set the scene, it's 1988, you're newly 21. You are top of the charts bubblegum pop princess Stevie Hendrix. You're married to top selling actor Tommy Hagan known for his action films and beach body. You just won two Grammys that year, and then, what happened?

Stevie: So, like you said. I was newly 21, I married my highschool sweetheart who'd reached stardom right alongside me as an actor instead of in music, which, honestly Diane, thank God for that. The man has no idea how to hold a tune, he'd likely make a dying cat sound like a siren. Laugh No, really! It's that bad! Anyway, I was fresh off my latest tour for Rainbows and Leather and came home to see my darling husband. I was so excited I'd been missing him, you know. Well, I walked into the house and what did I find? My husband, in bed butt naked with my Best friend and his personal assistant at my behest, Carol Perkins. To tell you the fallout from that was anything less than apocalyptic would be selling it short.

Diane: So after the absolutely dramatic divorce, you decided to change genres? Why Rock?

Stevie: Rock spoke to my soul, I wrote ‘I wanna ghost myself’ one night drunk on apple spritzers with my sister Robin, and her best friend Eddie. They'd been in my corner from the start, but Eddie and I always nipped at each other about our music tastes, then that night he picked up his guitar and started playing and ‘I wanna ghost myself' just flowed out. I was laid out on the floor by the ending between lighter and tears, and just felt so free. So like myself. And that was it, Stevie hung up her rainbows and sunshine and embraced her chaos and revenge.

Diane: So where did the lyrics 'think I'll take my heart and throw it off a cliff, yeah I have a feeling that it won't be missed” come from?

Stevie: You have to understand, I was devastated by what Tommy did. I had only ever been with him to that point in my life, he'd made me believe he was the only one for me. That without him my life would feel meaningless because up to that point every moment together he showered me in affection and praise. He was the ideal husband on the surface, and then I found out he'd been having an affair with Carol for literal years. Everyone knew except for me, and I was crushed. ‘Think I'll take my heart and throw it off a cliff’ was me almost literally saying my heart is broken and I don't want to feel anymore. I became wild and lost myself to the music. Eddie wrapped me in leather and lace and asked me to be the front woman for his band. I was shocked, because honestly was I going to make it delving into a whole new genre? I'd already come to the end of my contract with Upside Down records, so I wasn't concerned about what my team thought. However, my fan base? Would they still love me the same, would I make it? I was scared, and then we had our first show. It was small, and it was a test for me to see if I could do this. The world caught fire for me that night, and I never looked back.

Diane: So let's fast forward, finally Devil's Prey became a household name, and Stevie Hendrix was a sensation. What happened the night of the music awards, in your own words.

Stevie: So, for years I'd gone by Stevie Hendrix so no one would know who I was. It was mid set for ‘Bulletproof’ and as I turned the lights cut out and a picture lit up the screen. It was a photo of me on my wedding day, my eyes crossed out and ‘Stefania Harrington the Whore’ written across my body as I stood between Tommy, his old friend Billy, and Jason Carver. I screamed, and looked back at the audience just as Eddie tackled me to the ground and a shot whipped past my head.

Diane: So Eddie Munson saved you that day?

Stevie: Yes, he did. He held me while I sobbed in the green room. I never knew someone could be so hateful just because my songs brought what they'd done to light, but there I was running for my life while the security detail searched for the gunman. Eddie was furious, he held onto me and told me we were going to my place with his security, to pack up my things and come to his. See, Eddie lived in a damn near impenetrable home, there was no way anyone could get to me there. Of course I wanted to fight him on it, but I'm just a girl at the end of the day, and Eddie Munson has an energy you just don't fight when it's directed at you.

Diane: So you moved in that night?

Stevie: Yes. Eddie was my shadow for days, I barely could use the restroom without him following me around. It was aggravating at times, but I saw how scared he was when he wasn't in the spot he could see me.

Diane: He was traumatized.

Stevie: He was traumatized and he was ready to follow me to hell if he needed just to make sure I was safe. I never knew what love was until I was met with the force of Eddie Munson’s protection. He woke my dead heart up again, and I was doomed from the start.

Diane: So eventually the agents you had investigating the shooting found out who shot that gun, and who hired him.

Stevie: I need a minute before we talk about this. Let me just grab a water and ask Eddie to come sit with me.

Diane: Take your time.

Stevie and Eddie walk back in, they're holding hands and Eddie is murmuring to Stevie who's looking like she may just pass out from nerves. She squeezes Eddie's hand and takes a seat, Eddie sits beside her his fingers laced with hers.

Stevie: Okay, I'm ready. Breathes in deeply So Jim Hopper was the head agent on the investigative team. He had become something like a father figure to Robin and I over the years after my parents’ accident. When Jim came into Eddie's house his face was drawn, and I knew then that the people who had attacked me knew me. He sat me down and told me as gently as possible that Tommy had asked Billy to do the job. He was furious at my songs, and apparently the fan base put two and two together and his career began to tank. People were boycotting his movies. I didn't know, I swear, I just wanted my freedom and an outlet for all my pain. I deserve to have that without someone threatening me, you know? Tommy had hired Jason who was in tech support to upload the photo in the middle of our set. It was this whole plot. Make me pay in the most public way possible.

Eddie: I wanted to rip them apart. Stevie was distraught, she is such a good person. And if I could take her pain away I would, happily.

Stevie: I know you would, but you going to prison wouldn't have helped me. I need you here Eddie.

Eddie: I'm not leaving, not ever.

Stevie: So the trial came and went. They'd found loads of evidence in Tommy's apartment, through the baking records, phone records. I mean they pretty much wrote out in neon lights that they planned to kill me. Laughs incredulously All because Tommy couldn't handle the consequences of being a shitty husband?

Eddie: He never deserved you, Stevie.

Stevie: blushes and ducks her head Oh hush you big sap.

Diane: So the bad guys are caught, you're safe now, what does the future hold for Stevie Hendrix?

Stevie: More Rock and Roll obviously, but therapy to deal with the trauma. Mandatory family nights. Just things to help me feel back to myself.

Eddie: Hopefully a wedding soon, too. That is if you say yes. Eddie Munson sank to one knee reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring. Stevie stared at him, her eyes glassy before grabbing him by his curls and kissing him, she giggled a yes, and he slipped the ring on her finger. She said yes!

Stevie: I said yes. I love you Eddie Munson.

Diane: I'm so happy for you both!

Eddie: I love you Stevie Hendrix, I can't wait to be Mr. Hendrix!

Diane: Well, It was lovely sitting with you for this interview. Thank you for agreeing to be on my show, and I can't wait to see the wedding photos one day.

Stevie: See the photos? Diane, you're invited to the wedding!

Diane: Oh wow! I'd be honored.

Stevie and Eddie stood and walked off the stage where Robin stood, her face lit in a blinding grin, she embraced her sister letting out a laugh and they both turned to wave to Diane who smiled and waved back. The show was over, but Stevie’s life was only just beginning.

[feralwritings]

dissonance

part four

words: 5.7k

It’s so perfect it's stupid, so perfectly tailored to Nancy and Robin as a couple that it's true serendipity that they ended up here, tonight, walking around Vegas together and finding this hidden gem, and there’s a part of it all, something that sticks in Reader’s mind as she runs to them once the ceremony is over, throwing herself into their arms, that despite her hesitancy about this tour, her reservations, her anxiety, that no matter what has happened, or what will, it was worth it to be here, now, with them.

masterpost

taglist: @cam-peggio @mewchiili

Las Vegas

When Eddie sees her and Chrissy power walking through the casino, obviously having come from their rooms, looking perturbed, clad in only their pajamas, he’s immediately worried. They’ve only been here for a few days, the show is this weekend, there is no possible way that something went wrong already. 

“Fold,” he says to the dealer at the poker table, and without a second thought to his chips or what may happen to them, he gets up to follow them.

Once he catches up to them, Reader’s bent over her phone, thumbs typing rapidly across the screen as Chrissy watches anxiously. It’s clear that she was interrupted during her skincare routine, with a fluffy headband still on her head and a few streaks of a face mask on her jaw. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, and they startle so bad that they nearly jump out of their slippers.

“Jesus Christ!” Reader squeaks, hand flying to press against her chest, “Fuck, warn me next time.”

“Sorry,” He amends quickly, searching her face, “What’s going on, though? You look worried.”

She fixes him with a long look before extricating her phone, showing it to him, “Robin and Nance dropped a pin and told me to come get them, which is, like, really terrifying considering they stopped responding ten minutes ago. So, we’re heading out now.”

Eddie nods, “I’ll go with you-”

Chrissy stiffens, “Oh, you don’t have to do that, I’m sure everything’s fine-”

Eddie looks at her, “I’m not letting you go alone.”

Reader rolls her eyes, “We don’t have time to argue about this. I’ve already called the Uber, it's out front.”

Together, the three of them march out of the casino doors, searching wildly for a black sedan driven by a guy named Tony. The problem is, there’s nothing but black sedans in front of the casino, and so they jog to several in turn before finding Tony, a white guy in his 80s whose car smells like lemons.

One after another, they pile in, Reader squished between Eddie and Chrissy, leaning forward to talk to Tony.

“Hi,” She holds out her phone, “Do you know where this is?”

Tony leans back from the phone, looking at it through the bottom of his bifocals, before having to pull out his readers.

“Oh, yes, I know where that is. Just send the address to the app, I’ll get ya there, Sugar, no problem.”

Reader sighs in relief, typing the info into the app and resting back against the seat, “Okay, thank you so much.”

She’s texting Robin again, all caps lock WHERE ARE YOU ARE YOU OKAY WHAT’S GOING ON and her leg is bouncing so rapidly that the entire car shakes with it. Chrissy’s in conversation with Tony, and Eddie’s looking out of the window, hoping to ascertain any sort of information based solely on landmarks. 

They’re about a mile off the strip when the ride comes to an end, Tony stopping the car near some nondescript curb.

Eddie sees it first, and the knot in his chest dissipates entirely.

“Oh, my God,” He laughs, the neon lights from the building reflecting off of his face, bathing it in hues of rainbow.

“What?” Reader asks, leaning across him to look out of the window. She sees it too, she lets her head fall against the window, closing her eyes and shaking with relief.

It’s a chapel.

Robin and Nancy are standing in the ornate walkway, holding hands and giggling madly as everyone disembarks the car.

“Surprise!” Robin giggles, “Sorry, but we wanted it to be a surprise so we couldn’t give you much information-”

“You bitches,” Reader sighs, throwing her arms around them both, “I thought you guys were being kidnapped or trafficked or held hostage or something.”

Chrissy has joined the hug, and all four girls have descended into giggles and conversation, while Eddie stands awkwardly off to the side, waiting to be noticed. Tony hasn’t even left yet, his window is rolled down and he’s watching the entire exchange rather warmly.

Robin finally spots Eddie, and raises an eyebrow, “Oh, hi.”

Eddie waves, and Reader glances over her shoulder, “It’s cool, he came with us to be the macho protective man of the situation in case shit was going south.”

Nancy snorts, “The more the merrier. The rest of the guys can come, if you want. We should probably get our money’s worth, since we…spent a lot of it.”

“How much?” Chrissy asks, glancing at the chapel. It’s not huge but isn’t too little, a nice little area for outdoor weddings off to the side of the building, several rows of chairs on either side of the aisle. The building itself is decked out in pride decor, various gay icons etched in colorful chalk on the brick that faces towards the street.

“Well, we sprung for the deluxe package,” Robin says, whipping out a little pamphlet and explaining the various amenities to everyone.

Eddie’s already texted the rest of the boys and Steve, but soon enough Chrissy’s got him by the hand and is tugging him inside with everyone else.

He’s really the only guest that’s dressed appropriately, black blazer over top of a black mesh top, his black nice jeans and his nicest pair of boots, the Panaroot Dunes that he spent several pretty pennies on when he last went shopping with the band’s stylist.

This fact becomes obvious in a second when Chrissy and Reader look at each other, horrorstruck.

Chrissy could pass - she’s in a silk nighty that flares out prettily around her thighs, but it’s white, and despite Robin and Nancy’s repeated assurances that Chrissy can indeed wear white to their wedding, she emphatically disagrees.

Reader, however, is really in the shit, flannel pajama shorts and an old band tee, fluffy slippers, hair a complete mess.

Hearing this commotion, several drag queens descend upon them.

“Come on, baby,” Tina Turner says to Reader, taking her hand and leading her to somewhere in the back, “We’ll get ya fixed up.”

Cher takes Chrissy’s hand and whisks her away as well, leaving Eddie standing with Robin and Nancy.

“So,” Eddie tries hesitantly, “Getting hitched, huh?”

Things are still a touch awkward. Eddie’s going to have to earn their trust and respect, something that he’s been needing more and more, not really sure as to why.

Nancy smiles at Robin affectionately, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “Yeah, we’ve been together forever, figured that now was as good a time as any.”

Robin nods, “Plus, we were just walking and saw this place and it just…felt right?”

Nancy nods, waving the rest of Corroded Coffin over as they walk into the chapel.

They’ve cleaned up reasonably well on such short notice, though Eddie cringes to think about the state of their hotel rooms when they return, knowing that the ‘nice clothes’ were at the bottom of everyone’s suitcases. Joey’s gone all out, dressed in his tux, complete with his bowtie, taking Eddie’s instruction of ‘meet us here and dress nice’ a little too seriously. Gareth’s shed his usual flannel for a white button up and his dress pants, and Jeff’s tying his tie as he walks in.

“So,” Gareth glances all around the room, vague interest on his face, “What’s happening?”

Eddie jerks a thumb over his shoulder at Nancy and Robin, who are in the process of doing some paperwork, pom-poms swaying to and fro on top of their pens, “They’re getting married.”

“Oh shit!” Joey exclaims, before clapping a hand over his mouth, “Wait, am I allowed to swear? Is this holy ground?”

“I don’t think they care, dude. If it was truly holy ground each one of us would’ve burst into flames the second we crossed the threshold, on account of our various sins.”

Joey nods, “Gay,” he points to himself, “Whore,” he points at Eddie, “Crypto-bro,” he points at Jeff, “Short.” He points at Gareth, who smacks him on the back of the head, even if he has to stand on tiptoe to do it.

Just as Eddie’s about to retort, he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder, and turns.

At first, he’s face to face with a pair of huge fake breasts - actual fake breasts - he can just barely see the seam of the chest piece where it’s blended into the queen’s skin, and he adjusts his gaze, tilting his head back to look into her face.

Dolly Parton stares down at him, “Excuse me, darlin’,” She says, in what is a very close impression of Dolly’s voice, though the accent drops away for a half second when the queen’s eyes widen underneath her lashes, and a distinctly New Jersey accent slips out as she says “Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous-” She clears her throat, adopting Dolly’s twang once more, “I need your jacket.”

“Why?” Eddie asks, but he’s already shucking it off and handing it to her.

“I just need it,” She says again, dropping Dolly’s accent again. She takes it and scurries away, heels clicking against the floor as she does, muttering something about oh my god he’s so hot I’m going to die.

Eddie smiles to himself, glancing towards where Nancy and Robin were, but they’re gone too, so he supposes that they went to change as well.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, the buzz of the chapel around them, music playing from somewhere.

Then, Eddie hears a smattering of female voices, and turns.

Chrissy’s coming down the hallway to the left, hair in loose waves, all remnants of the face mask gone. She’s in a pink baby doll dress, sleeves puffing out around her shoulders. She looks incredibly adorable, and a quick glance in Gareth’s direction tells Eddie all he needs to know about what he’d been suspecting since San Diego.

Reader is not far behind, and it’s Eddie’s turn to blush.

She’s got his blazer on, unbuttoned, with nothing underneath, a wide strip of her chest and tummy exposed. She’s wearing a pair of tight black leather slacks that cling to her like a second skin, smoothing along the contours of her body in a way that makes his mouth water. 

He can’t speak. Can’t think. 

There’s a delicate silver body chain glittering between the insides of her breasts, which are tucked apart underneath the blazer. Her hair is in a low, slicked back ponytail, and it makes the angles of her face all sharp and with the smoky wings of black eyeliner, she looks almost cat-like, regal, her eyes shining beneath her lashes as she looks up at him.

“This okay? Dolly came back with this and they all thought that it looked pretty good?”

Eddie just stares, because that’s all he can do, and she cocks an eyebrow at him, “I mean, I can find something else if you want your jacket back-”

“No,” Eddie squeaks, clearing his throat to rid his voice of that noise that just came out of it, “No, don’t, it’s fine. You look good.”

She nods slowly, still looking confused, and seems as though she’s about to say something, but as she opens her mouth, they’re beckoned by a drag queen in front of a pair of double doors, and they all hurry to take their seats. By sheer coincidence, Eddie and Reader end up next to one another.

Robin’s standing at the altar, decked out in a poorly fitted imitation of an old mobster suit. It’s too big in certain ways, and the very tips of her fingers poke out from the sleeves of the jacket. The dress shirt underneath fits, the tie is a bit too loose and the slacks lead down to a set of shiny Doc Martens, which is the only part of the ensemble that actually belongs to her. Regardless of the fit, she looks good, radiant in a way that brides usually are, all anxiety wiping from her face the moment the music starts, the lights dim, and the guests (all seven of them, including Tony) are instructed to stand. 

They turn their attention towards the back of the aisle, where Nancy is standing, clad in a white flapper dress. 

Reader giggles a little, the last minute outfit coordination has done the job and everyone starts to laugh along with her, at the sweetness of it all, and at the speed and accuracy of which Robin and Nancy were able to pull this all together.

Eddie can’t quite place the song that Nancy’s walking down the aisle to, too busy watching the adoring, tearful expression on Reader’s face as she watches Nancy. She’s got her hands clasped in front of her mouth, covering her trembling lips, and as Eddie stares, a single, glistening tear courses its way down her cheek.

Without thinking, he reaches up to brush it away.

The feeling of love in the air has clearly had an effect on her, all manner of vitriol gone as she looks up at him and smiles, bumping his shoulder with hers when they’re instructed to sit down. 

The music dims, and so do the lights, and a door behind the ornate altar splits open, and everyone watches in fascination (and maybe a little bit of fear) as fog billows through it, backlit by a blue-white light from beyond the door. Then, a shadow steps into the fog, and Eddie thinks he can tell, by the spiky hair, the general silhouette, who it might be. 

There’s a sharp whine of an electric guitar that comes through the speakers, and a drag queen dressed as Joan Jett steps into the light, the fog billowing around her, licking up the curves of her body and twisting around the spikes in her hair.

Everyone starts nudging each other, excited laughter moving through the guests as Robin and Nancy barely keep it together on the altar, Robin is staring up at Joan, starstruck and Nancy is giggling wildly behind her hands.

Joan spreads her arms wide, and begins the ceremony.

It’s so perfect it's stupid, so perfectly tailored to Nancy and Robin as a couple that it's true serendipity that they ended up here, tonight, walking around Vegas together and finding this hidden gem, and there’s a part of it all, something that sticks in Reader’s mind as she runs to them once the ceremony is over, throwing herself into their arms, that despite her hesitancy about this tour, her reservations, her anxiety, that no matter what has happened, or what will, it was worth it to be here, now, with them.

It all dissolves into a party after that, Steve shows up fashionably to congratulate the girls, dances with Chrissy and Reader and Joey, and generally seems happier than he has this whole tour. He doesn’t fold into himself at all, sinking into the shadows like he does these days.

He’s dancing with Reader again, hands wound around her waist as she looks up at him, analytical, “Are you okay?”

He studies her for a moment before shrugging, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She narrows her eyes at him, not in a knowing way but in a genuinely suspicious way, “You’ve just- you’re not-”

She struggles to find the words for a few moments, “You hear rumors, you hear stories in this industry, and I guess you’re not what I expected.”

He purses his lips, eyebrow cocking, “Oh, I can’t wait to hear the rest of this.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes, “There’s stories about how…involved you are, with the tours. How much you go out and you have fun… I think this is the first time that we’ve all been together on an outing, and I just wonder…is it because of me? Because of what happened between Daisy Chain and Corroded Coffin?”

Steve’s eyes grow wide, and he becomes instantly apologetic, pulling her into a hug, “No! No, it’s not you at all. You or Eddie, you’re both fine, it’s just-”

He pulls back, looking into her face again, “It’s just…I guess some things change over time. People change. I can’t party the way I used to, I guess.”

Reader nods, “I understand. It can get overstimulating.”

Steve nods, and heaves a deep sigh, “You have no idea.”

Robin and Nancy cut in shortly after that, and it’s a blur of laughter, lots of hugging, queens half out of drag as everyone sinks sleepily onto couches and chairs around the three am mark as Dolly hands out Tylenol and mini bottles of water.

They don’t mean to crash out, all arguing about who’s going to order the uber to get them back to the hotel, but one pair of eyes closes, then another, then another, and soon the chapel has a pile of rockstars sleeping on top of each other. Nancy and Robin are curled around each other on a loveseat, Chrissy has dozed off on Gareth’s shoulder as his head lolls onto the back of the couch, Joey and Jeff are spooning, Eddie’s head is in Steve’s lap and Reader has her cheek smushed against Eddie’s chest, with Steve’s hand draped across the whole of her face, so when the sun shines through the window a few hours later and burns into her eyelids, she sputters and flaps wildly at her face until his hand is gone, and tries to sit up but finds that she can’t.

Eddie’s arms are wrapped around her, tightly enough that it would definitely rouse him if she moved. She is able to lift her head to look around, confusion muddling its way to the surface through her gnarly hangover, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and as her surroundings swim into focus, she becomes aware of many things, all at once.

One, her cheek kinda hurts, and when she raises the hand that’s pinned between hers and Eddie’s chests, she feels the impression of the mesh from his top is pressed into the flesh there. Two, there’s coffee brewing somewhere, and three, she’s not in her hotel room.

The panic dissipates as soon as it starts, as soon as her eyes land on Nancy and Robin and the memories start rushing back like rapidly flipping through a stack of polaroids, a hand at the small of her waist as she dips back, hair slipping past her shoulders and cascading into open air, the hand that holds hers against her chest tightening when she’s pulled back up, her eyes meeting a pair of onyx ones, soft, curly black hair framing them before she’s twirled, back to his chest as he sings softly along with the music against the shell of her ear. 

Aching feet from the high heeled boots that are still strapped to her, peals of laughter and the taste of cheap champagne bubbling across her taste buds, strawberry lip gloss sticky and shiny on her cheek, being tossed over a tall shoulder, feet kicking wildly as laughter burns through her, fingers scraping bluntly across the starchy fabric of a suit jacket that needs to be washed, the glow of a cigarette in the inky blue night before her lips slot around the dent made in the filter made by his lips, the inhale throwing an orange flash across her face that his eyes track with a hunger that sends goosebumps careening across her flesh.

She squeezes her eyes shut against the onslaught of memories, tries and fails to push down the swell of affection in her chest when she remembers whose arms she’s in.

Skillfully, she maneuvers herself off of him, slipping from underneath his arms and crawling off of the couch, stepping over the bodies before her feet hit open floor, looking around the quiet chapel, looking hide or hair or leather or fur of one of the queens that were here last night.

She finds a little kitchen, with a man sitting quietly at a wooden table, sipping green tea and reading a newspaper. He’s bald, small silver earrings hanging delicately from his lobes, remnants of makeup still on his face, black on his waterline and a distinct red stain on his plump lips.

He looks up when she pads in, smiling gently at her, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she croaks, “I’m so sorry we fell asleep here - this is a chapel and not a hotel, and I’m totally willing to pay extra for us and our -”

He holds up a hand, “It’s fine, sweetie, we don’t mind. We’re just glad y’all had fun.”

She nods, arms folding around herself, she’s a bit cold without the warmth of Eddie around her, and she sighs, “Thanks, we’re probably still gonna cut y’all a check, for, ya know, room and board.”

He shrugs noncommittally, a warm smile crossing his face before he stands and pours her a cup of tea, glancing at her over his shoulder, “How do you take it?”

“Couple spoons of sugar. Honey, usually, but I dunno if you have it.”

He produces a jar of it from somewhere, and she watches as it drips into the cup, twirling and melting into the heat.

“Thanks,” She says as she takes a sip, sore throat soothed by the herbs, and she closes her eyes, sighing through her nose.

Everyone stirs soon after that, voices traveling down the hall in search of her, before they’re all crowding around the doorway, eight pairs of eyes looking at her apologetically, and she remembers in an instant that they have a show tonight.

The clock on the microwave reads just past nine, and so they say their goodbyes, a stack of Instax pictures being shoved into their hands, blown out and blurry, Steve and Reader both writing individual checks, and soon, they’re back in the oppressive heat of Las Vegas, squinting against the harsh sunlight as they pile into a couple of Ubers.

On the drive back to the casino, it’s quiet, everyone too sleepy and too nauseous to talk too much, and she becomes aware of the pile of pictures still clutched in one of her hands, and she slowly starts to sort through them, Robin and Nancy in one hand, everyone else in the other, and she finds one that makes her heart stop in her chest, and as she stares a little longer, her throat feels like it's closing.

Eddie’s got her in his arms, chin hooked over her shoulder as his hands rest on top of hers where they cross over her stomach. Their figures are blurry from the motion, but this is concrete evidence that the clearest memory she has from last night actually happened, and it wasn’t some fantasy her sleep-addled brain had concocted while she slept in his arms, breathing in the scent of his cologne, in deep, slow, consuming breaths. She stows it away from the prying eyes of others and tries to justify it in her mind.

She was drunk. He was drunk, they were drunk and so she can sit here, look pretty and pretend it never happened. Unless he remembers it too, which is a looming possibility that casts her into a chilly shadow. It’s not like anything more happened, but the tenderness of it is what gets her, something that she’s not used to, something that is so foreign that her body, once cognisant, completely rejects.

It was the setting, she thinks, the setting. A wedding, a declaration of love between two people that seeped across the floor like water and brushed the toes of everyone there, a contagion that is affecting no one else but maybe Chrissy and Gareth, but that’s for another day.

She rests her forehead against the cool window, the air conditioning blowing directly on her face from a vent above, and she breathes away the feelings until she feels numb again, until her toes are securely on baseline.

***

The arena glitters at her as she laughs into the microphone, “So,” she says, lips brushing against the mesh, “Something pretty cool happened last night.”

She can hear Robin laughing from upstage as a photo flashes across the screens on either side of the stage, poorly taken from an iPhone camera, but nevertheless showing the moment that Nancy and Robin had sealed their union with a kiss, a corny graphic of pink bubble letters announcing their marriage glinting at the bottom of the screen.

“So, in honor of this most special occasion,” Reader grins at Nancy, “I’m going to perform the first song that Nancy ever learned to play, which, well…you’ll see.” 

She switches guitars with Danny, who takes her electric and gives her the acoustic, and as Robin descends from her platform to stand next to Nancy, arms twisting around each other as Gareth takes Robin’s place at the drums, and Eddie is slinging Nancy’s bass around his shoulders, with Joey, Jeff and Steve coming out to spectate, to raucous applause from the crowd.

She tunes the strings a bit, and then is plucking out a tune on the strings that no one seems to recognize at first, but as soon as she’s sidling up to the microphone and crooning out the first few lyrics, Nancy claps a hand over her mouth.

“Please baby, can't you see, my mind’s a burning hell. I’ve got razors a rippin’ and tearin’ and strippin’ my heart apart as well.”

As people start to recognize and sing along, she can feel the vibration of the bass in her feet and takes a glance over at Eddie, teeth worrying into his bottom lip as he plucks out the bassline, shining rings catching the stage lights every so often and blinding her as she watches, and it’s with a great effort that she tears her eyes away, eyes landing back on Nancy and Robin as she moves into the second verse. She’s split in two, hyper aware of Eddie moving on the stage next to her, hyper aware of Nancy and Robin in front of her, glowing, laughing faces and when she focuses solely on them, the ache eases, but it comes right back around when the final chorus comes.

“It’s only fear that makes you run, the demons that you’re hiding from,” She sings, eyes meeting Eddie’s for a half second before she’s turning away again, strumming out a flourish on the acoustic as the song concludes.

She feels a bit breathless as Danny comes back out to give her the electric, and she turns to find Eddie’s eyes on hers as he presses a chaste kiss to both Robin and Nancy’s cheeks, quietly congratulating them before waving to the crowd as he exits stage right.

***

Syrupy air fills her lungs with each breath. She meanders through the crowd, sweating glass in one hand, the other hanging limply at her side. 

Her head feels light on her shoulders, her constantly stiff muscles finally relaxing a little bit. She moves to the music, slowly, allowing herself to move with the ebb and flow of the crowd. 

She’s drunk enough not to care about the way her head is starting to hurt, how her eardrums rattle from the impact of the bass. She closes her eyes against the multicolored lights, tilting her head upward towards the ceiling. 

She doesn’t know where her bandmates are. She doesn’t really know where she is, entirely. She knows she’s in Vegas, she knows she’s at a club, with the pounding music and the many bodies pressed up against her, but the finer details fall away. 

When she opens her eyes, her vision tunnels to a familiar face. Eddie, standing some ten feet away, hands on a girl's hips as she presses her back against his chest, blissed out expression lolling along the contours of his shoulder as he bends to press his face into the sweaty column of her neck. 

There’s a strip of skin exposed just above her belly button, and that’s where Eddie’s hands lay, perilously close to several places where she might want him later. 

Something stirs within Reader. It’s not jealousy, it’s fascination. As she watches, she can’t quite figure out why she can’t look away. There is a tiny tinge of envy, but she doesn’t know who it’s for - Eddie, or the girl. 

She’s beautiful, curvy, dark skin absorbing the lights and turning them rich against her body. Her hair is auburn, a soft curly cloud that haloes the fine contours of her face, her full lips shining with gloss, her slender hand coming up to run through Eddie’s hair as he presses closer. 

The stark contrast of her deep brown skin against his pale, tattooed visage is something that makes the whole scene even harder to look away from, his hands flexing against the flesh of her waist, his nose pressed against her cheek as he says something into her ear. 

Reader would have gladly stood there, swaying a little on her feet as she watched them, but soon, there was another body pressing against hers and she was whisked away, hands on her hips, breasts that brush against hers, strong hands and broad shoulders, a confusing mix of bodies, of people, of skin, until minutes or hours pass and she finds herself face to face, chest to chest, with Eddie. 

It doesn’t immediately register. How could it? She’s spent an indeterminate amount of time with hands that aren’t his holding hers, eyes that aren’t his looking down into her face, lips that aren’t his pressing into the shell of her ear, the side of her neck, against her own, moving clumsily and fervently, in and out of beat with the music, in and out of waves of needless, misplaced desire. 

She sobers a little, taking in his appearance. About three different shades of lipstick are smeared across his mouth, his hair is an absolute mess, half up, half down, curly ringlets dissipating from the sweat, eyes dark, so dark, so- 

The glass in her hand is dripping with condensation, the drink gone and the ice almost gone with it, so there’s no use in her holding it anymore. Yet she clings, the coolness, the smoothness of the glass and the steady weight of it in her palm, because it’s really the only thing she’s sure of. 

Everything else swirls around her. She’s far too drunk, and there’s a distant ping in the back of her head about this, and all at once, under Eddie’s gaze, in the muggy air of the club, she wants to go back to the hotel. 

She mumbles something of the sort, the music too loud, swallowing her words, but Eddie seems to understand anyway, plucking the glass from her hand and setting it who knows where, before replacing it with his cold fingers, and by the hand, he leads her out of the club and back onto the strip. 

September in Vegas doesn’t adhere to typical fall weather, so it’s still oppressively warm, but she sucks in lungfuls of the fresh air as Eddie leads her back to the hotel. The grip on her hand is so gentle, barely there, but for each of his long strides she has to take a couple, so soon enough, she’s tugging him back beside her. 

So, he falls into step next to her, allowing her to wind her arms around his bicep, her head slumping sleepily onto his shoulder. He ignores the heat that rises to his cheeks, looking down at her fondly. To anyone else, they’d look like a normal couple in Vegas, maybe a tad too drunk, but in love all the same. 

Except they’re not in love. The only reason she’s even acting this way is because she’s drunk and overstimulated, both things sapping her of her usual spunk and all of her energy. Even so, Eddie revels in the moment, knowing that it’ll be the last.

When they get back to the casino they’re staying in, she flinches a little from the loud noise in the confined space, so he leads her to the elevators.

“Where’s your room?” He asks her, waiting to press the button on the elevator.

“305,” She tells him through a yawn.

He presses the corresponding button on the elevator. The doors slide to a close, and she suddenly seems to become very aware of her body and what it’s doing. She pulls her arms away from his and stands as straight as she can, though she sways a bit with the movement of the elevator.

Eddie wonders why she keeps doing that. Pulling away from him, constantly. On stage in Phoenix, in the green room in Santa Fe, even on the road, when both buses were at the rest stop and when he’d brush against her accidentally in the aisles of a convenience store, not even trying to be in her space. He’d think it was something else, something he did, something genuinely wrong but he would find her looking at him, the performative distaste falling from her face for a moment, replaced by something he can’t decipher, can’t name.

It’s driving him crazy. How unreadable she is. How she’s okay with him near one moment and then is shrinking away the next, like she’s trying to not exist too much, or too loudly.

The elevator door opens and she starts through it, fishing in her pocket for the room key. He knows that she shares this room with Chrissy, having given the bigger one to the newlyweds, and despite knowing that the journey from the elevator to her room won’t be treacherous, he follows her anyway, bending to catch her when she slumps against the wall.

“‘M fine,” She mutters, standing a little straighter, checking all of her pockets for the key, “Just can’t find this damn key.”

Eventually, she finds it in her bra, holding it triumphantly over her head as she starts towards her room again.

He knows that she’ll be okay, yet he falls into step next to her, until the silver numbers 305 glitter at him from her hotel room door.

She’s halfway inside before she turns, looking up at him. Her eyes are impossibly soft, and somehow he knows it’s not from the liquor. She runs a nervous hand through her hair, a tick that she’s picked up from being around him, before she steps back over the threshold to stand on tiptoe and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks,” She says, face lingering in front of his for half a second before she disappears behind the door, leaving him leaning into open air, arm braced against the door frame, staring at silver numbers.

[ahoystevee]

The Sweetest Torture One Could Bear | Part 1 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It’s 1990. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are forced to confront their shared past and shifting dynamics under the ever changing hues of a gay club in Indianapolis. Eddie, exuding confidence and embracing his sexuality offers a helping hand to Steve who is buckling under the weight of societal pressures.

OR: Steve wants to sleep with a guy for the first time and Eddie reluctantly helps against his better judgement.

Indianapolis, 1990

Eddie leant back on his elbows against the metal topped bar of the club, eyes squinting as he delicately held the rim of his glass between his fingers.

It was a Saturday night which meant that it was nothing short of a a visual feast for the senses.

The music pulsated through his body, situating itself in his spine as he squinted out at the vast expanse of potential conquests through the smoky haze.

The multi-colored lights above bathed the adumbrate dancers in an ever-changing rainbow of hues. The walls were adorned with mirrors, reflecting the dancers and amplifying the feeling of being part of something larger than oneself. Giant video screens played music videos and club scene footage, immersing them all in a world of pure hedonism.

Of course, Eddie couldn't deny that a majority of the time the clientele were just as visually stunning as their surroundings. Dancing bodies adorned in leather, lace, and sequins were all in abundance, as per usual.

But something was different. He didn't have the usual feeling that anything was possible in there tonight.

Something was missing.

"What about that guy?" Robin asked; voice elevated so it could carry over the bass of the music as she leaned across from behind the bar on her tiptoes to point out across the room to a guy with spiky blonde hair in a tank top.

“Nah - had him already. He's boring." Eddie said cavalierly.

"Boring?" She reiterated, busying herself with wiping the rims of highball glasses with a dish towel.

"He sucked dick like he was working a nine to five." He scoffed a laugh, taking a sip of his drink.

"Okay, fine." She shrugged, neck craned as she scoured their surroundings.

"Him?"

"Nah - too - muscly." Eddie grimaced, immediately glancing away without wasting a second.

"I thought you liked that?" She asked, looking up at him beneath furrowed brows.

"I like 'em toned, like a subtle 'yeah I work out but it's not my entire personality.' I don't want someone who looks like they're the face for sports steroids advertisements." Eddie said firmly.

"God you're so picky, you're looking for a hook up not a husband." Robin clarified, rolling her eyes.

"There's just nobody new and exciting. It's the same faces, same music, same routine. It's exhausting." He said, staring out ahead of him as he kissed his lips between his teeth.

"Yeah, I forgot that getting your dick sucked could be so tedious." She said in jest as Eddie chose not to respond.

"You know, maybe you're just not as into it as you used to be. That's fine, you know. To grow up and get a life outside of hooking up with people. Maybe settle down, get a boyfriend or something."

Eddie narrowed his eyes, pretending to be in deep pensive thought.

"Nah, that doesn't sound like something I'd do." He eventually said, lips breaking out into a devilish grin as Robin glared across at him.

He allowed his eyes to glaze back over the crowds of people.

His vision fixated on a lone guy with lightly tousled brown hair leaning against the metal bars of the balcony, facing away from him. It was long, layered. Purposely messy? Eddie couldn't decide. But he loved how it curled around his neck from the length.

He was wearing camel coloured chinos and a navy blue T-shirt. Fingers tapping against his crossed arms as he continued to look out at the vastness ahead of him.

Two go-go boys dressed in nothing but tight fitting, metallic shorts and pairs of cheap angel wings that were most likely bought from a Spirit Halloween store were either side of him.

They were elevated from the floor, encased in metal caging with dollar bills hanging limp from their waistbands.

It was an ethereal sight given the circumstances. If he believed in that kind of la-di-da butterfly effect bullshit he would have assumed that the universe had placed him in his line of sight for a reason.

Eddie's eyes scanned the length of his body.

He couldn't help but admire the curvature of his ass; how it was packed so tightly into the material it almost made them look as though they were painted on with the way they hugged his hips and thighs.

"Him." He said firmly, not breaking his gaze.

"What?" Robin asked.

"Him, over there." Eddie said, clicking his fingers with an outstretched arm to draw her in to his line of sight.

"The guy in the chinos?"

"Yeah. I want him."

"You haven't even seen his face yet." She warranted.

"Don't need to. He's got an ass that goes for miles. He could be the ugliest fucker in the world for all I care. I'll just go behind, don't have to look at him." He clarified, biting down against the flesh of his lower lip.

"Here I was thinking you were shallow." She shot back, voice tainted with sarcasm as she slung the dish towel over her shoulder.

"I'm going over." He affirmed - voice low as he downed the remainder of his drink, reaching around to place the empty glass behind himself on the bar.

"Okay, have fun. Be good." Robin called out after him as he brushed down the front of his black tee.

"Never. Don't miss me too much." He shot back, teasingly as he ran his fingers through his bangs to ensure they were placed in the perfect divide between careless and purposeful.

The thing with Eddie is that he didn't get rejected. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he got rejected.

He read an article that stated that statistically speaking, men think about sex on average around 19 times a day. This was one of those times that Eddie was happy to be branded as above average.

Of course, these statistics were based solely on straight men. Go figure.

When Eddie wasn't having sex, he was thinking about having sex. And the second he was finished having sex with the most beautiful man who ever lived, he was thinking about the next beautiful man who ever lived that he'd meet the next night.

And luckily for this guy, he was right on his radar.

He sauntered through the throngs of people, skin prickling in anticipation as he approached him. It was almost exhilarating, reaching the apex of a desired conquest.

"Hey, had a busy night?" Eddie asked, slinking an arm around the guys waist as he whipped round to face him.

He had hoped his gaze would be met with the same inquisitive eagerness. Instead, he was met with brown forlorn eyes and furrowed brows with a sinister familiarity to them.

The chiselled jawline, the mole on the side of his neck beneath the stubble, the irate demeanour.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Eddie announced, retracting his hand with the same speed you would if you caught it on the side of a hot teakettle.

"Oh God." The other breathed out, eyes darting maniacally across his face as Eddie watched the muscles of his neck contract with a deep swallow.

"Steve?" Eddie asked, biting back a laugh as his jaw slacked in awe.

"No." He said hastily, shaking his head as he darted around at his surroundings for a quick escape.

"Oh my God, it is you. Steve Harrington. From Hawkins High." Eddie pressed as he watched him back away, hand gripping the metal of the balcony for stability.

King Steve. Hawkins High maverick, belligerent basketball captain, disciples at his heels. He sounded like a cliche.

He was a cliche.

The man was a planet who carried his own gravity.

Continue reading on AO3:

[rebelspykatie]

Rushin’ through me like a fire Part 3

A Steddie Club AU

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

“You bought a bar, but you don’t like people?” Steve tilts his head curiously. 

“I’m an enigma, I know.” He flaps his hands around. “My Uncle Wayne always told me I’m as crazy as a rainbow trout in a car wash.” He laughs at the face Steve makes and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, I never really understood what that meant either until I bought this place. Got in over my head with it all and it takes a lot of work to keep it running. Should’ve known better than to buy a bar when I barely graduated high school.”

“Seems like it all worked out for you, though,” Steve looks around appreciatively, as if he’s not already well acquainted with these fours walls. “Robin and I love coming here. It’s our favorite place. Unless we count our house.” 

Eddie cheeks flush a pretty pink color that looks delicious under the twinkling lights. “Such high praise from one of my best customers.” 

Now Steve’s blushing, ducking his head to hide his smile. He swirls his drink around in the glass. Deciding to be a bit bold, he says, “If I had known you were out here on slow nights, maybe I would’ve come in earlier in the week.” He takes a sip of his drink to stop himself from saying more.

“Are you saying little old me is enough to bring you in on a slow night?” Eddie leans forward, closing some of the space between them. It feels wholly different from when Austin did it, butterflies kicking up in his stomach and palms perspiring, instead of cold dread. The people sitting around the bar or dancing behind him have completely disappeared, his focus only on Eddie and the adorable way he’s biting his lip, playing up being coy but still looking secretly pleased at Steve’s attention. 

“I think you’d be enough to bring me in any night.” And Steve gets to watch his cheeks blossom a bright cherry red as a delighted zing of pleasure wraps itself around his heart. Perhaps he hasn’t lost his touch after all. 

“Aren’t you just a charmer?”

“Guess my lines do work, then, huh?” Steve asks, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. Pushing his luck, he asks, “Is the owner allowed to dance, or are you too busy?”

Before Eddie has a chance to answer, Gareth leans over his shoulder and says, “He’s not too busy.” Eddie elbows Gareth in the ribs. Gareth ignores him. “Go on, boss. Have fun for once.” 

Steve hesitantly adds, “It’s ok if you don’t want to. The rejection won’t crush me or anything.” And so what if he’s lying through his teeth and it would definitely crush him completely if Eddie backed away from him after all the electricity he felt between them? He’ll keep that to himself.

“No rejection here, sweetheart,” Eddie sheepishly grins. He drags Gareth away with him by the arm, both of them whispering feverishly to each other as Eddie rounds the end of the bar. The hairs on his neck stand at attention knowing that they’re definitely talking about him, but he tries to stay focused on Eddie agreeing to dance with him. 

With one last exasperated look, Gareth turns Eddie around by the shoulders and frog marches him over to Steve, who has hopped down from the bar stool to wait patiently along the edge of the dance floor. 

“He’s all yours, Steve,” Gareth smirks and pushes Eddie forward with a little shove, then runs back behind the bar to continue helping customers. 

“We really don’t have to, if you’re that uncomfortable,” Steve says once more, making sure that Eddie doesn’t feel pressured into anything. 

“It’s not you,” Eddie glances at the dance floor, eyes nervously darting around. “I wasn’t kidding before. People make me nervous. I’m not used to anyone touching me unless they’ve known me since I was in diapers.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I won’t be very good at all of that.” He gestures towards the bodies moving together. 

“It’s not really about being a good dancer. At least, not for me,” Steve shrugs. “I like the release I get when I just let the music take over and it drains all of the stress out of my body.” 

Eddie has turned away from the crowd, staring intently at Steve’s face. “You’re still a good dancer, though.” 

“Are you admitting that you’ve watched me on those cameras of yours?” Steve can’t help the way his heart races at the thought. He wants to be the center of Eddie’s attention.

“I saw you earlier with that idiot,” Eddie tries to argue, but his cheeks are rosy and he looks a little skittish. Hard to tell if that’s a lie or if he really is that nervous. 

Steve reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand, keeping eye contact and hesitating for a second, waiting on Eddie to give him an approving nod. He wraps a hand around Eddie’s and takes a step closer. “You know what else I love about dancing?” 

It’s almost too dark to catch, but Eddie’s eyes flick down to his mouth. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and Eddie’s eyes track the movement, giving Steve a rush of confidence. 

“What?” Eddie asks, a bit dazed, like he barely heard Steve. 

“How it lets you get close to someone.” He takes another step closer. “You can feel heat passing between bodies.” Another step. “The way the beat runs through your veins down to your hips.” He places a hand on Eddie’s hip and can actually see the full body shudder run through Eddie. “You can pretend like there’s no one else in the room.”

Eddie nods along, eyes glazed over and focused on Steve’s mouth, like he’s hanging on every word.

As the song changes, the beat switches to something softer, a little slower. A sensual jazzy undertone that makes him want to turn off the lights and move his body in time with someone else. It’s exactly the opening Steve needs.

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

[steddieunderdogfics]

For Challenge Monday-Colors in the Title, I have these in my bookmarks so I thought I'd share:

Rainbow in the Dark by etlagiapet:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40619730

my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue [Series] by LexiRoseWrites

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3460981

Red Touches Black - Daemon AU [Series] by Sparkle_Fiend

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3226062

harlow gold by

MacksDramaticShenanigans

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40451553

Rainbow In The Dark by etlagiapet

@etlagiapet

Rating: Mature

23,388 words, 5/5 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Post-Season/Series 04, POV Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Lives, Post-Canon Fix-It, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Soft Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson's Vest, Gay Eddie Munson, mixtapes, Possibly Unrequited Love, Steve Harrington Makes Life Harder for Himself, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Miscommunication, Requited Unrequited Love, No beta we die like Barb

Summary:

Steve doesn’t get a word in before there’s another splash. Robin squeals. He tears his gaze from the demobats, which dip and dodge around each other in a strangely graceful, hypnotizing dance, and looks at the water again because how the fuck many are there? He was sure they’d all been killed. He didn’t think there were any left. This was supposed to be over. But it’s not another demobat. It’s not a demogorgon, or Vecna, or any of the other insane shit they’ve seen over the last few years. It’s not even a fish. It’s a person breaking the surface of the water, sputtering and gasping with dark hair plastered over pale skin, and when they reach up to clear their vision, silver rings glint in the waning sunlight. Or: Against all odds, Eddie is alive, complete with two new demobat pals. Which means Steve is forced to face some feelings he threw onto a mixtape and then ignored because those feelings were wrapped up in too much grief and it was easier to just erase Eddie Munson from the equation of Steve Harrington’s Big Bisexual Crisis.

Red Touches Black by Sparkle_Fiend

@sparkle-fiend

Rating: Mature

39,324 words, 6/6 chapters

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, POV Eddie Munson, Post-Season/Series 04, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Steve Harrington, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jason Carver Being an Asshole

Summary:

"Red touches black, poison lack. Red touches yellow, kill a fellow." A silly rhyme, to help remember the difference between a harmless kingsnake and a deadly coral snake. Wayne taught it to him when he was fourteen, and Calpurnia settled in the form of a scarlet kingsnake. Given the way people recoil when they see his daemon, he's pretty sure no one else in Hawkins has ever heard it before. Or maybe it doesn't matter - maybe Eddie is the one they think is toxic. **** Vecna is defeated, Max is saved, and Eddie's name has been cleared. All should be right in the world of Hawkins, and Eddie's only concern should be his inconvenient crush on Steve Harrington. But there are people who still think Eddie is guilty of murder, and they're not willing to let it go.

Thanks for the recs!

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[duck-in-a-thrift-store]

Onto the ground/first floor of the house (technically it's only the ground floor in the front bc the house is nestled up against the side of a hill, so the ground comes up to this floor in the front but doesn't in the back)

(image credits to/designs made using the app HomeByMe from Dassault Systèmes SE)

The ground floor: mostly bedrooms and bathrooms, plus the foyer, den, and mud room

The bottom right corner bedroom is Jonathan & Argyle's, top right corner is Mike & Will's room, top left is Max & El, and bottom left is Nancy & Robin

The two bedrooms on each side share a bathroom between them (I wasn't going to have eight people sleeping on one floor and only give them one bathroom let's be real)

There's the front porch and the foyer, not much to say about either of those tbh except that the crew that lives here barely uses them; they're more likely to come in from the back, either through the deck or through the basement, since that's where they park the car and it's less formal (I guess this is somewhat based on how we do things at my house- coming in through the garage rather than the front door- but I feel like that's a pretty common experience)

The back deck can be accessed from inside or from a staircase attached to the outside of the house (you'll see that when I post the basement level), it's got a covered bench/swing (the rainbow stripe thing), and it's mostly used by the boys to take smoke breaks (by the boys of course I mean Jon Argyle Steve and Eddie, not the children lol) or by anybody coming in with muddy shoes so they don't track it up the inside stairs

The mud room is pretty much just a place to stop between outside and inside to sit down and take off your shoes/coat if necessary; it's also the landing between the basement-first floor stairs and the first floor-second floor stairs

The den is a more casual/informal (compared to the living room, which will be in the next post) place to gather and chill and have company, like if one of the kids was having friends over or if a neighbor came in to chat

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Stranger things time travel AU

Prologue: the Slingshot

(The end is near. They can’t go forward… so why can’t they go back? OR: the UpsideDown Gang goes back to September of 1979, and start over again.)

The group gathered around Jane’s bed, the girl too weak from another fight with Vecna to stand. In this timeline, what she was about to do would drain her of all her powers, but when they went back, she would recover them and be twice as strong.

Her siblings stood around her, and the group encircled them from there. Sara and Will clasped her hands, and Aricka and Jonathan stood behind her with their hands on her shoulders. They all had so much faith in her abilities. She couldn’t let them down. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’m ready.” She takes one last look at them, even though she knows she’ll see them soon if this works. “I love you all.”

“We love you too,” came the soft responses. She smiles and takes a deep breath. “Okay.” Aricka wraps the blindfold around her sister’s eyes, and Jonathan plays some static on the television. She focuses hard on her intentions- of wanting to protect her family, to send them back. To start over from scratch. She focused hard on the year- 1979- and how she wanted them to keep their current memories.

Aricka Munson and Billy pressed close to each other, Aricka’s head on Billy’s shoulder. Steve and Aricka H- Jane’s sister- cling to each other, Robin holding Steve’s other hand. Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will were in a line gripping hands. Jim and Joyce were behind Jane, their hands on her shoulders. Eddie was holding his sister’s other hand, Dori clinging to his other arm. Chrissy was between Dori and Nancy, who was by Jonathan, and Argyle was on the other side of Jonathan.

Everyone she loved was there. She could do this- for them.

A loud rumbling. White noise. Static. White light. And then- silence.

Jane opened her eyes- and wanted to scream. Gone was the gray walls of Murray’s bunker- she was now once again face to face with a familiar rainbow room, and when she looked down, she was covered in blood.

She was back in the lab. She had survived the massacre.

Now she just needed to find Sara; and get to the forest.

The road had only begun. They had a long way to go before they could claim victory over Vecna.

——————————

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @callsign-revenge

[peterthepark]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one. 

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door. 

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does. 

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.” 

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard. 

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.” 

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too. 

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive. 

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks. 

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.” 

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows. 

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats. 

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved? 

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites. 

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again. 

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all. 

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches. 

Summer has never felt so long. 

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares? 

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful. 

You’re completely devastating. 

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?” 

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to. 

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes. 

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration. 

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him. 

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?” 

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter. 

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest. 

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation. 

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it. 

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin. 

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.” 

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it. 

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven. 

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it. 

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks. 

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’  before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex. 

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers. 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him. 

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin. 

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath. 

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.” 

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls. 

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you. 

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.  

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more. 

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know. 

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away. 

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive. 

He’s milked. Spent. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick. 

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke. 

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces. 

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with. 

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs. 

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning. 

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door. 

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night. 

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood. 

God forbid they have coyotes, right? 

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.