fuctacles

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Wip rockstar eddie mugler runway show

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A slice of purple.

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Might as well write this post while I wait on the bus

“What the hell do you need photos of the inside of a van for” -my roommate, one month ago

Also colors for this one were picked from the palette of this song’s album cover

[fuctacles]

Making a Splash

Rated T | 1.5k words | Ao3 link

Part 1 of this waterpark 90's AU that fulfills the "sapphic" and "Atlantis" Mermay Bingo fills for @stmonstercalendar

[Buckingham Fic] | Steddie Fic

Tags: pre-Chrissy/Robin, College/90's/no UD AU, Amusement parks, Lifeguard Chrissy, Pirate Robin, Robin & Steve friendship, Chrissy & Eddie friendship, Meet-cute, feelings realization, lesbians Robin and Chrissy, no one except Chrissy is safe from silly themed outfits in this AU, indirect mentions of eating disorder (chrissy is getting better)

Author's notes and bingo card are under the cut!

Chrissy sighed. Well, she imagined sighing anyway. Anyone looking up at the lifeguard tower as they sloooowly passed by on the lazy river wouldn't have seen her shoulders move in the slightest. Because even with two states and hundreds of miles of distance between them, Chrissy knew her mother would somehow sense her "losing her composure in public" and add another lecture to their weekly phone call.

Not that she wasn't forever grateful that she'd managed to find a job near her college campus instead of going back to Indiana for the summer. At least here, Chrissy didn't have to face any of her old friends, or ex-boyfriend, or her mother's bible group. They all expected her to slip into her former role as "Queen of Hawkins High" without issue on every visit. And like her old cheer uniform, she couldn't stand to squeeze into it for very long anymore. It had always been a size too small anyway.

But the lazy river was just that: lazy. Aside from the occasional kid waving at her as they passed by, Chrissy hadn’t interacted with anyone since her shift started hours ago. She envied Eddie, giving tours through the whole park all day, talking to people. Plus he got to see the penguin show all the time, Chrissy pouted to herself. She was still kind of sad they didn’t let the college hires work the animal shows, she wanted to hug a cute bird!

“Get your cockles, pirate’s booty, and mermaid’s purses!” A voice shouted from the “jungle”. (“Bamboo doesn’t even make sense for the Caribbean!” Eddie wailed in her head).

Chrissy blinked and rubbed her eyes, making sure she wasn’t completely losing it as a lady dressed up like a pirate complete with eyepatch emerged from the bamboo and started walking along the river. Hanging from her shoulders was a tray stacked high with the park’s themed snacks. The wobbling fake parrot on her shoulder looked like it was seconds away from taking a flight straight into the dirt.

Um. Okay then. How had the pirate lady missed that she’d left the lagoon, where the food stalls all were?

“Fresh fluffy clamshell madeleines! Try your luck, if you bite into one and find a pearl inside, win tickets to sit in the splash zone for the Atlantis Mermaid Spectacular, 7pm tonight! And a trip to the dentist.” Pirate Lady muttered the last bit to herself.

Chrissy blew her whistle to get her attention. She expected this lost pirate to calmly look in the direction of the sound and see Chrissy’s lifeguard tower. Chrissy would point in the right direction leading back to the food court and wave goodbye. The high of that thirty second interaction would carry her through the rest of her shift, then she would go home with Eddie and maybe actually eat two full slices of pizza for dinner this time.

Pirate Lady did not react the way Chrissy expected her to.

She let out an awful screech and jumped nearly a foot in the air before trying to run away, pastries flying everywhere. Her escape attempt was cut a bit short though. Maybe three steps into running, she tripped over a fake rock and fell straight into the river.

Shoot.

For the first time all summer, Chrissy dove into the lazy river’s chlorine-filled water for a reason besides deflated tubes or safety training.

Pirate Lady was busy sputtering and coughing as Chrissy swam up beside her.

“I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.” Pirate Lady blushed as soon as Chrissy took her arm and guided the two of them to the bank.

“It’s okay! I didn’t see you, at all , and I have two left feet normally, but the eyepatch always throws me off and —” Pirate Lady cut herself off with some coughing.

“Is swallowing chlorine bad for you?” she asked frantically once she caught her breath. “Because I swallowed a lot of chlorine just now.”

“I think it’s okay, none of it got in your lungs right?”

“No. But are you sure you don’t need to perform CPR?” As soon as the words left Pirate Lady’s mouth she blushed even more.

“Oh! No, I’d probably break your ribs if I did that, Miss Pirate Lady.” Neither of them said anything for a minute. The fake parrot floated downriver slowly.

“I’m Robin. I work at the food court. I’m not actually a pirate, I promise!” Pirate Lady, Robin , blurted out.

“I figured with the whole costume and desserts.” Chrissy gestured at the soggy pastries sinking to the bottom. “I’m Chrissy, one of the lifeguards. You got a little lost, huh.” At that Robin scowled.

“The guys at the food court keep asking to see my ‘booty’, figured it was either wander to another part of the park or get fired for attacking someone with a cream puff.”

Chrissy giggled. That blush sure did bring out Robin’s freckles. They went so nicely with her bright blue eyes too. She wondered if asked nicely would Robin let her do her makeup all colorful and fun, like the mermaid actors? A nice dark red lipstick would make her lips stand out, all big and kissable and…

Oh.

Chrissy wanted to kiss the pretty girl in front of her.

For the first time ever, something in her life slotted into the place it had meant to. She’d never felt that swooping feeling in her stomach when she kissed her high school boyfriend. But the thought of kissing Robin was exciting. And terrifying. Also wonderful. Best of all, the thought of kissing Robin fit.

“Oh no, Steve!” Oblivious to Chrissy’s world shattering realization, Robin waded after her parrot and scooped up the very soggy bird. “They told us the birds shouldn't get rained on and wow , they were right. He looks so sad now. I uh, should probably get back and change out of this and try to bring Steve here back to life.”

“You won’t get in trouble for the tray, will you? I won’t tell, promise,” Chrissy asked anxiously. She’d just met Robin, she didn’t want to never see her again, not after knowing something could feel right . Robin shrugged in response.

“I know the guys in the kitchen, Argyle and Jon won’t mind covering for me so long as I cover for them when they want to go smoke. But umm, thanks. Glad you can keep secrets.”

Robin smiled again at her, this time with a little more unease. Shoot, could Robin tell Chrissy wanted to kiss her silly? She made her mouth move, falling back on midwestern politeness:

“You’re welcome! I hope that goes okay.”

Chrissy waved Robin off then returned to her perch in a daze. So this is what Eddie meant by “wretched gay longing.”

Shoot.

“Hey!” Robin burst out of the bamboo again, skidding to a halt right before she took another nosedive into the lazy river. “I know we just met but my best friend Steve-human Steve, not the parrot, well most of the day he’s a mermaid in the show but underneath that he’s got legs and none of that’s important I guess.”

Chrissy blinked but Robin continued rambling:

“Anyway he gets free tickets to the Atlantis Mermaid Spectacular and since he’s in the show he can’t use them. And you probably haven’t ever seen it since the waterpark closes before then right?” Chrissy nodded in confusion.

“Do you want to see it maybe? With me? Uh-unless you have a boyfriend! Because totally understand not wanting to ruin date night!” There was that blush again. Chrissy’s heart started beating faster. Maybe she didn’t have to be like Eddie, cursed to pine for the rest of her life.

“No boyfriend, no date nights. I haven’t explored much around Sand Beach after work either.” If anything, Robin got even redder.

“Oh! Well, Steve and I have lived here our whole lives so we could show —I mean, I could show you around too! If you want. There’s a drive-in that plays weird foreign films, oh and old lady O’Donnell’s dog just had puppies!

Chrissy broke out into a grin, the kind her mom would have chastised her for ‘calling attention’ to her big buck teeth. Robin didn’t seem to care though.

“I wouldn’t mind playing with some cute puppies. My next day off is Thursday.”

“Great! Thursday is my day off too! Okay, cool, it’s a... hang out , then! I’ll uh, leave my number in your locker, so you can call if you want?” Chrissy got the feeling this might be new for Robin too.

“Yeah, I’ll give you a call tonight, set it up.”

Robin gave a very uncoordinated wave then set off again. Watching her leave, Chrissy let herself have one excited shiver. She could smile and show her teeth, eat two slices of pizza, see the Atlantis Mermaid Spectacular. She could even kiss a pretty girl one day. The world wouldn’t end, and maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found a place for herself after all.

Thank you to @strangergraphics for the divider!

Author's notes

-This park is an unholy combination of a bunch of different parks, but takes place where Hershey's amusement park in Hershey, PA is. Sorry I made Robin and Steve from Pennsylvania instead of from Indiana haha, wanted them to be locals

-In this AU, Chrissy goes to Penn State for college. There she's outside of her mom's direct control and starting to figure out who she is as a person. Her and Eddie befriended each other after she has a panic attack trying weed for the first time. The two of them applied to Pirate's World: Blackbeard's Adventure because in part it was a way for Chrissy to continue to be free of her mom and in part truly because Chrissy fell in love with the zoo portion of the park

[fuctacles]

michael warmup

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Steddie loosely inspired by Aragorn and Arwen

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adios, motherfucker

@steddiebingo prompt: anniversary | 3.5k words | T/M | ao3 |

Steve got himself all dolled up just to sit and wait here at this table in this stupid fancy restaurant for an hour by himself. The waiters and waitresses have long started giving him awkward and/or sympathetic glances as they pass by. 

“Are you sure you don't want to order anything yet?” a waitress asks again hesitantly on her next pass. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. He checks his watch. “Actually-” He's over this. He stands up and raps his knuckles lightly against a table. “Just give my table to some happy couple, alright? Someone in love.” 

“Oh-” The waitress nods, still a little awkwardly. “Yeah, alright.”

Steve nods back in acknowledgment before taking a deep breath, running his hands through his hair, and striding on out of there as if he hasn't just been stood up by his own boyfriend. 

He walks a whole block down to some shitty dive bar on a street corner and plops himself down on an empty barstool, waving down the nearest bartender. “Get me something strong that doesn't taste like shit,” he says. 

A man about his age with curly dark hair leans against the counter in front of him. “Sure.” He grins, taking four bottles of alcohol—two in each hand, ringed fingers curled expertly around the bottlenecks—and tipping them into a glass filled with ice. “Rough night?” 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, just a bit bitterly, “definitely not my best, that's for sure.” 

“Hmm,” the bartender hums sympathetically, although his grin doesn’t fade. He pours in a bit of two more bottles, sprays a soda gun on top, and then slides the completed bright blue drink across the counter. “Mind if I guess?” 

Steve scoffs out another laugh and waves his left hand as he grabs the drink with his right. “Knock yourself out,” he says, glad at least someone is having fun with his misery. Amusement looks good on this bartender anyways, cheeks full and brown eyes crinkled. 

“Fancy dinner date didn't go well,” the bartender guesses, then holds up a hand. “Wait, no,” he amends almost immediately, looking Steve up and down, “fancy dinner date stood you up.” 

“Bingo,” Steve mutters around his straw, sipping steadily at his drink—which hardly tastes like alcohol at all despite the fact that he literally saw the guy grab at least four different types of straight spirits while making it. “How did you know?” 

The bartender rests his elbows on the bartop, settling his weight onto his inked-up forearms and gesturing with little flicks of his fingers as he elaborates, “You’re dressed up nice, far too nice for this shitty place to be where you meant to end up tonight, and I happen to know that there’s a fancy restaurant just down the street from here. Could’ve been a business meeting or a family dinner, but the tight shirt, cologne, and hair gel scream date—and yet you’re here alone, so, something went wrong. You’re upset, but not devastated, so no one died or got broken up with, and there’s not quite enough anger in your eyes for there to have been a fight or some huge betrayal, but there is enough that you were clearly wronged in some way. Your expression is more hurt and disappointed than anything, and your shoulders are hunched and a bit tense like you’re very aware of the fact that you’re here alone and you’re not happy about it. So, put all that together and there you have it: fancy dinner date stood you up.” 

“Holy shit,” Steve says. “You’re Sherlock Holmes.”

“Nah,” the bartender laughs, deep and musical. “I’ve just been doing this a long time, gotten real good at reading people. It’s kind of my job.”

Steve can't help but smile a little at the sound of this guy's laugh. He blames the alcohol, however much he's had so far clearly already beginning to work its magic fuzzing out the edges of his mind and making everything seem lovelier. “Well, I'm impressed,” he says. He takes another several long sips of his drink, hoping to alleviate a bit more of the bitterness still festering in his heart. “Although you did miss a few details. It wasn't just some random date who stood me up-”

“It was your girlfriend,” the bartender says, like he's so sure he already knows. 

“Boyfriend,” Steve corrects. 

“Ah.” The bartender barely even blinks and his smug smile doesn't falter. “Close enough.” He goes right back to showing off, leaning forward and tapping his fingers against the counter as those dark, discerning eyes attempt to glean even more clues from Steve’s appearance. “And it was a special occasion, wasn't it? The fancy dinner was meant to be a celebration,” he says. “A birthday?” 

“Anniversary,” Steve tells him. “One year.” 

“Oof.” The bartender leans back, sucking in air through his teeth and grimacing sympathetically. “Yeah, okay, that's worse.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah.” He stabs his straw idly at the ice in his glass. It's nearly empty already (has he really had that much that fast?). “Our relationship hasn't been the most solid lately and I was hoping I could try to fix that tonight—rekindle it or patch things up or whatever,” he mutters in unnecessary explanation, just to say it, really, as if talking about it might make it feel less shitty. He shakes his head and sighs. “But I guess not.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I think your boyfriend’s a fucking idiot,” the bartender says bluntly. He gives a grin that's equal parts friendly solidarity and casual flirtation as he presses a hand dramatically to his chest and adds, “If I had gotten lucky enough to bag a decent and devastatingly gorgeous guy like you, I don't think I'd ever leave his side.” 

Steve laughs and his heart feels lighter. “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” He finishes off the last sip of his drink, only just now beginning to become aware of the buzz of it in his veins. “I’m Steve, by the way.” 

“Eddie.” The bartender—Eddie—clears Steve's empty glass off the counter. “Are you starting a tab, Steve?” 

“Yeah.” Steve nods. “Can I have another one of the same thing?”

“‘Course you can.” Eddie's smile has turned amused again, if not just a touch concerned. “But you might want to start slowing down a bit there, big boy. That drink you just downed is gonna hit you like a truck in a minute; they don't call it an ‘Adios, Motherfucker’ for nothing.” 

Steve exhales a short puff of laughter. “It's called a what?” 

Eddie grins. “An Adios, Motherfucker,” he repeats as he starts pouring the drink. “Well, colloquially, at least. I think fancier bars’ll name it, like, Electric Iced Tea or Blue Motorcycle or something, but yeah, pretty much everyone just calls it an Adios.” He looks at Steve now with a slightly more serious edge to his eyes, raising his eyebrows. “So take it easy, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve agrees, still chuckling at the drink name. “I’ll drink this one slower, I promise.” 

“Good.” Eddie nods in satisfaction, all charm and easy smiles again. 

The bar is getting busier—an after dinner rush, probably—and Eddie receives a not-so-subtle hip check from one of his fellow bartenders in an obvious nudge to quit lingering on Steve and start helping some other customers. 

“Sorry, duty calls,” Eddie says, and he really does sound reluctant about it. He pushes the drink across the counter towards Steve. “Adios, motherfucker,” he signs off with a smirk and a little two-finger salute before he slides down the bar to serve someone else. 

Steve smiles, straw caught mindlessly between his teeth as his eyes follow Eddie. He watches him flash that bright grin at more customers, laughing with a group of girls as he pours them shots. Watches him grab someone a beer, pulling a bottle opener from his back pocket, spinning it around his finger into his palm, and cracking the bottle cap off all in one fluid motion. Watches him reach up for liquor on the top shelf, fitted black shirt riding up to give a glimpse of smooth white skin and a tattoo snaking across his hip. 

It's enough to make Steve’s cheeks flush and his blood run hotter—even without the extra heat from the alcohol that is hitting him, as Eddie said, like a truck. If he didn't feel so fuzzy, giddy, drunk, maybe he'd feel a bit guilty for the way he's staring at this other man while he's still in a relationship. But it's not like Steve would ever actually do anything, and a stare alone is not an infidelity. There’s no harm in looking. 

Besides, Eddie's eyes were all over him too, even now stealing glances just as Steve is. And that feels good too. It's nice to be looked at, to feel desirable, wanted. God knows he hasn't been getting that from his own boyfriend lately. He can hardly remember the last time he was looked at as anything other than a nuisance or a chore, touched out of anything more than obligation or a means of placation, loved in a way that burned. It had been there once, desire and warmth, but somewhere down the line it’d been lost. Steve had almost forgotten what it felt like, how much he’s missed it. 

So Steve lets himself indulge in looking and being looked at, and that's all that it will ever be. Whatever fire he feels for this random hot bartender is for himself and himself only, whatever lustful thoughts he has about Eddie’s lips or hands or hips locked away firmly in the realm of imagination and fantasy, never to enter reality. Because even like this, drunk and jilted, the idea of cheating is unfathomable to Steve. 

“You look very pensive,” Eddie comments when he makes his way back around to Steve, and his voice distracts him. 

Steve blinks. “What?” 

“Deep in thought,” Eddie clarifies. He leans against the bar and raises his eyebrows, another little smirk playing on those pretty lips. “You contemplating breaking up with your dumbass boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Steve matches his expression without missing a beat. There’s no harm in flirting either. 

“Yeah, I would.” Eddie’s grin widens and he shrugs innocently. “He sounds like a piece of shit, taking you for granted and ditching you on your anniversary. I got a feeling you probably deserve a whole lot better than that.”

Those words, though said light and casual, land with more impact than Eddie likely intended. It thuds solidly into Steve’s chest, the realization that yeah, actually, maybe he kind of does deserve better. It's funny, up until now the idea of leaving had seemed unfathomable to him too. He ducks his head, taking a thoughtful sip of his drink. “Yeah, I think you're probably right.” 

“‘Course I’m right, sweetheart,” Eddie says confidently. “I told you, I'm good at reading people.”  

Steve unsuccessfully bites back a smile at the pet name, eyes slow and wandering as he looks back up at Eddie. “Do you think-” 

“Fucking hell, Steve, there you are!” a familiar and pissed off voice interrupts what he was about to say. Steve turns around to find his boyfriend marching over to him in a huff. “I went to the restaurant but they told me you already gave our table away.” 

Steve stares at him, more shocked and bewildered than anything. “Our reservation was two hours ago, Tommy.” 

Tommy stops in front of Steve with his arms crossed. “Okay, so I'm a little bit late-” 

“Two hours is not a little-”

“I’m a little bit late and I have to find you here in this shitty bar already practically eye-fucking some grungy-ass bartender!”

“I was not-”

“Are you actually fucking him too? Is that why you just couldn't wait to run off here?” 

“Oh my god.” Steve laughs incredulously, grabbing his drink and gulping down nearly half of what's left—because fuck taking it slow, he needs all the help that alcohol can give him right now. He shakes his head. “Do you even know how insane you sound right now?”

Tommy scoffs. “Oh, right, so you can accuse me of cheating like every other week, but when I turn it back on you suddenly I’m the crazy one?” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah. Because I wouldn't—I haven't, but you have. I know you have!” His voice rises with anger and emotion, loud enough to get the whole bar turning to stare at them. “You come home fucking smelling like it!” 

“Jesus, Steve, you really wanna do this now?” Tommy says, sighing wearily as if he's not the one who started the damn argument in the first place. “It's our anniversary.” 

“Yeah, it is.” Another laugh shudders out of him; Steve can't help it; he can't fucking believe this. “It's our fucking anniversary, and you know what? I think it's the last one we're ever gonna have. I can't do this anymore, Tommy. I’m done—we're done.”

Tommy seems taken aback for a second, like the idea of Steve leaving had been unfathomable to him as well, but then he blinks and shakes his head, dismissive as always. “You're drunk, babe. You don't know what you're saying.” 

“Yes, I do-” 

“No, you don't.” Tommy grabs Steve's arm, fingers pressing hard into his bicep as he tries to tug him from his seat. “Come on, let's go home. We can still-” 

Steve recoils, yanks his arm out of Tommy's grasp. “Don't fucking touch me.” 

Tommy reaches for him again. “Steve-” 

“Hey!” Eddie intervenes then, tone sharp and dangerous enough that it makes Tommy stop before he can get another grip on Steve. “Let’s keep our hands to ourselves, alright?” 

Tommy turns his ire onto the bartender, sneering, “Stay out of this, freak.” 

“Get out of my bar, dickwad,” Eddie retorts. 

“That's exactly what I'm trying to do,” Tommy snaps. He rolls his eyes irritably and levels a stern glare back on Steve. “Steve, let's go. You're making a scene.” 

“You're making a scene,” Steve protests. He feels like he's going crazy, unsolid in his body and dizzy from the emotional rollercoaster of this argument. “You're the one who came in here shouting at me first! God-” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair like that might help ground him a little. “I can't believe I was going to try to fix us tonight. I'm not your fucking dog on a leash, Tommy, not anymore. I meant it when I said I’m done. So just leave- just leave me alone.” 

A muscle jumps in Tommy’s jaw and he seethes like he wants to keep fighting, but between Eddie’s warning glare and the giant security guard slowly shifting closer at the bartender’s subtle gesturing, he seems to come to the conclusion that Steve isn’t worth all that trouble. “Fine.” Tommy throws up his hands and takes a step back. “Suit yourself. You can go shack up with that loser bartender now, you fucking slut, see if I care. We’ll just see how long it takes for you to come crawling back once you sober up and realize that you're nothing without me,” he snarls before finally turning on his heel to leave. 

Steve takes a swig of his drink. “Adios, motherfucker,” he retorts to Tommy’s retreating back. He watches until his now-ex-boyfriend is completely gone and then looks around, flinging an arm out as if to dismiss all the nosy onlookers still staring at him. “Show’s over!” He turns back to the bar and slumps against it, dropping his head heavily into his hands, fingers curling in his hair. “Fuck.” 

“You okay, man?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah.” Steve sighs and lifts his head. 

“You don't live with that bastard, do you?” 

“Yeah. Shit.” 

“Have you got anywhere else you can go, someone else you can stay with?” 

Steve shakes his head. His best friend, Robin, is out of town with her girlfriend this weekend (because she's actually in a normal healthy relationship with a partner who adores her—and no, Steve's not jealous or bitter, what are you talking about?) and she's the only one he could even think to call right now. His family doesn't really speak to him anymore and most of his other friends are friends of Tommy’s. Fuck. Maybe Tommy was right, Steve really doesn't have much left without him. He swallows down how thoroughly miserable that makes him feel. “No, I’ll, uh- I can just sleep in my car tonight probably, and I'll figure something else out tomorrow.” 

Eddie considers him for a moment with a little scrunched up frown. “Yeah, I can't in good conscience let you do that,” he decides. “Look, um—not to be weird, because I know I’m a total stranger, and please don't take this the wrong way—but my place is just around the corner from here and I've got a pull-out couch you can crash on if you need to,” he offers. He gives a small smile and raises his hands in good faith, making things light though still just as genuine. “I promise I won't try to kill you in your sleep or take advantage of you or anything.” 

Steve licks his teeth, tilting his head. “What if I want you to?” 

“You want me to kill you in your sleep?” Eddie lifts an eyebrow, teasing, deflecting. 

“No, I meant—” Steve shakes his head, bites his lip. “What if I want you to take advantage of me? What if…I don't want to be alone tonight?” 

“You just ended a year-long relationship, sweetheart, give yourself a minute.” 

“Yeah, no, but I'm fine. That’d been falling apart for a while now—tonight just made it official, but I’ve already had time. I’m over it, I’m okay.” 

“Steve.” Eddie leans forward and reaches a hand up to Steve's face, a brief and featherlight touch as he brushes his thumb across Steve's cheek. “You're crying.” 

“What- no, I’m-” Steve pulls back and wipes at his eyes. His fingers come away wet. “Shit.” He must be drunker than he thought if he couldn't even feel his own tears running down his face. He must be a lot sadder than he thought, too. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles sympathetically, soft and kind. “So I'm not gonna sleep with you, man, not tonight, but I can give you a safe place to rest if you want it.” 

Steve nods. “Okay, yeah.” He hates the way his voice sounds, rough and cracked and pathetic, still rubbing furiously at his eyes trying to get them to quit welling up. Now that he's aware of his tears he can't seem to make them fucking stop. He's stronger than this, he knows he is. God, no wonder Eddie doesn't want to fuck him. Steve’s a mess. 

Finishing his drink helps, and so does simply taking a few minutes to hide in his hands and suck in several deep, measured breaths. Over the next hour or so, as Steve waits for Eddie’s shift to be over, slowly his eyes become drier and he sits a little straighter. He lets his gaze follow Eddie again, something to focus on—not quite as lustfully as before, just watching him work. That helps too. 

By the time they walk to Eddie's apartment and get the couch set up, Steve has pulled himself together enough to feel like he more or less at least bears a resemblance to his usual self again. As Eddie bids him goodnight and turns to leave for his own room, Steve ventures one last attempt at seduction, taking Eddie by the hand and asking, “Are you sure I can't tempt you?”

Eddie just smiles and shakes his head. “Another time,” he says, and it sounds like a promise, squeezing Steve's hand. “Besides, it's better this way. Wouldn't want our anniversary to be on the same day as your douchebag ex anyways.” 

“Yeah…” Steve agrees, managing a small smile in return and letting go. 

While it’s still hard not to feel rejected, he knows that Eddie’s refusal isn't something cruel, it's sweet. Eddie’s not saying ‘never’, he’s just saying ‘not tonight’, allowing Steve the space and time to fully untangle himself from Tommy first; for now only wanting to make sure that Steve's safe and asking nothing in return. Leaving it open so that maybe one day, when Steve has settled back on his own two feet, if he still wants to come back and seek Eddie out again, maybe then they could start something real, something more than just one night of meaningless sex borne out of a sad and lonely boy’s desperation to be loved. And there’s a type of love in that too, isn't there—the kindness of a stranger? It’s not quite the love Steve had hoped for from today, but maybe it's exactly the love he needed. 

So he doesn't push it, doesn't argue or insist or continue to throw himself at him. Steve just kisses Eddie quickly on the cheek instead and tells him, “Thank you.” 

[fuctacles]

Tagged by @talanashta <3 <3 please go and ask them too!!

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP. No limits to the amount of emojis you can request, please feel free to send multiple!

Art too! 5 minutes doing some wip and I will show you part of it!

🍑Chrissy living her 🌶️life: It is a Chrissy x Nancy x Robin fic I'm working around. With a lot of Johnny & Chrissy, Eddie & Chrissy <3

👁️What a wonferful li(f)e - Steddie 2025 BigBang project [info here]

⌚5+1 Eddie and his top surgery money (for the @genderthings bingo): It is polyship (Steddie + 2OCs) and has some kiddos around

🪢Dom Steve for the @domstevemonth: It has some mtf Eddie Munson + OCs as well soooo (this one is spicy)

🌈Pride Portraits (send it with the name: Eddie, Steve, Nancy, Robin, Chrissy, Johnny or Luke)

🐰Steddie spicy comic [based in this fanart]

Tags and snippet for 🪢Dom Steve down the cut!

@starrystevie @midsummer-semantics @little-annie @bellandora

“I'm so terrible for leaving a goddess like you, all by your own.”

Amelia chuckled at this, trying not to look directly at him. 

“Just imagine, you are the most gorgeous woman in the whole party. How many men would be dying to be this close to you?” Steve sighed. “You should show them.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Show them you are the best dream they want to have. But only that.” Steve smiled. “I want you to flirt, to have them eating on the palm of your hand. But only when I can see it.”

“And why, may I ask?” 

“You shouldn't be asking, just do what I say.” Steve used a harder tone. “Remember?” 

“Yes, of course.” Amelia looked down at his lips.

“Well.” Steve smiled again, taking more space. “As I say. Enjoy the party. Make the party enjoyable for you.”

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Prompt: If I can't fix them, I'll just make them worse| Word Count: 623 | Rating: G | POV: Eddie | Relationships: N/A | CW: N/A | Tags: kinda-famous corroded coffin, making songs, Dog fic

this is a prompt fill for @corrodedcoffinfest

ao3 link

Four Chords

"I thought they signed us because they liked our sound," Eddie grumbles.

"We should never have taken that stupid advance," Jeff groans and kicks out a little, "fuckers. What were we thinking? Trusting a label?!"

"We were thinking that your roof needs fixing and that I'm in between jobs," Gareth says flatly. "It's just one fucking song right? We'll shit something out and hand it to them."

"And our fans will revolt at how fast we sold out! We'll lose them all for a shitty song no one even likes, then I'll be out on the streets selling my beautiful body for cans of beans!" Eddie exclaims.

Doug rolls his eyes. "Dude. I keep telling you. Threaten to break the NDA. I bet they'd actually set you up for life. You more than deserve it."

"More like they'll set me up for life in some fucking lab," Eddie mutters, "I'm barely beating the murder allegations as is. I don't want to push it by revealing I have actual claws and fur."

"So we'll just have to write the stupid song then," Jeff sighs. He pulls his guitar on his laps and starts to strum the pop song four chords. Eddie bristles. He has grown past his music snob phase, mostly thanks to Steve's loving bullying, but he didn't want to make basic slop himself. There's other, less principled artists for that. But here they are, shitting out a basic 4 chord song without too much screaming or complicated riffs or sudden discordant clanging all because the label can't trust that the band they signed knows what they're doing.

Jeff strums and strums until they get something that's kind of tolerable. Eddie hums along, trying to find the lyrics. But all he can feel right now is righteous rage, which really isn't conducive to shitting out a approachable (those approachable fuckers can go fuck themselves) easy listening summer song.

"The label told me to write a love song," Eddie starts. "But not for you baby, not for you,"

Jeff raises an eyebrow. But he lets Eddie keep going. They have a process.

"The label told me to write someone a love song," Eddie continues, "someone without scars, someone without folds, someone flat in a bottle for me to gift wrap and hold, and baby baby I guess at the end of the day, I'm just a sellout with bills to paaaaaay," Eddie screams out.

"Owwwww" Eowyn howls from the floor.

Huh, it… sounds terrible. Obviously. Eowyn has lungs and she gleefully uses that to inflict sonic horrors. But it's so terrible it's kind of coming back to compelling.

"Jeff, play that part again when I was singing about bills to pay," Eddie says. Eowyn's ears perk up. Jeff restarts the chord.

"Bills to pay," Eddie tries. Nothing

"Bills to paaaaaaaaay," Eddie tries again, drawing out the word in a rhythmic howl.

"Owwwyweeeswwe," Eowyn howls with gusto. The rest of the guys crack up. She sits up, grinning, tongue lolling out.

"Is it the yowling?" Gareth wonders, "Jeff, try that riff. Doug. Add the bass."

"I do not yowl!" Eddie protests. He goes to pick up his guitar as well. The guys take turns making different sounds, different pitches. Eowyn definitely has a preference for an "Oooooo" or "Aeeeeee" sound. The chorus comes easily.

"And baby, baby I was gonna sell out, but it's making my dog gooooo," the guys sing out, yell out, howling out the gooooo.

"Oweeeeeeeewww," Eowyn delivers her ear-splitting banshee scream with a grin.

They're done in about two hours. Most of that time was on figuring out what combination of sounds really got Eowyn's gears going.

"Oh they're going to hate this," Eddie cackles as they play back the tapes.

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finished

Lazy Summer days With Eddie <3

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Fisherman x Mermaid -> enemies to lovers?

long time enemies finally duke it out only to realize that maybe their enemy status is an effect of miscommunication and... yearning...

lil mermaid au for my fave ocs hehe, happy mermay everyone!

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patch pants update [they have already changed since i took this picture]

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transfem Steve, age gap

| 1 | 2 | 3 | main story |

Stevie ver. | Ao3

The windows of Wayne's flat face the playground below. An infuriating thing, considering the ruckus they would do after school hours. Eddie's forever thankful for the invention of headphones.

He still thinks playgrounds should be somewhere they don't disturb the peace. Somewhere weird people can't sit on their balconies watching down on their neighbours and their kids like vultures.

Like Eddie is right now.

Usually he doesn't care, but today there's a very special spectacle happening.

Stephanie Harrington is outside, standing on the patch of grass next to the fence keeping her safe from feral children.

And she's not alone.

No, there's an orange, furry blob standing out like a sore thumb in the greenery. And so does its neon green harness.

Steph set out on the impossible task of walking one of her cats. And not just any cat.

"Garf, come on!"

She would probably have more luck with Dart, but Eddie knows Garfield is her favorite.

"Two steps, for mommy?"

She tugs gently on the leash, but all it does is make the cat topple on his side like a rag doll.

Eddie knows she has given up on the battle from the drop of her shoulders. She drops down to sit next to her cat on the trimmed grass, and gives him an annoyed scratch.

"You'll wish you went along with it when I cut down on your food. Fatass."

She closes her eyes and turns her face towards the sun to get at least something out of the unsuccessful outing.

Eddie's about to leave his balcony porch, feeling weird just watching his neighbour enjoy the sun, when her eyes open and she blinks rapidly to adjust them back to the brightness.

Her gaze lands on him like she knew she was being watched, but he reasons with himself that she just knows where Wayne's flat is.

She, of course, spots him and smiles, giving him a small wave. He waves back but doesn't want to push his luck, so he gives her a salute and retreats inside.

He closes the balcony door with a dreamy sigh and a clutch of his chest.

She's so cute when she's doing something dumb.

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someone on twt wanted to see steve in a letterman jacket so i edited him in one. was a lot of work, but i think it looks pretty neat?? anywho, figured i'd share it on here as well :))

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Eyes of the forest. Aspen trees

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this pose feels familiar 🤔

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steddie 🤝 spideypool