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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER TEN: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

DID YOU EVER HEAR ABOUT THE GIRL WHO GOT FROZEN? TIME WENT ON FOR EVERYBODY ELSE - SHE WON'T KNOW IT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.9K+

☆ A/N: lyrics used towards end of the chapter belong to the following sleep token songs (in order of appearance) - chokehold, ascensionism, and take me back to eden. 10/10 recommends listening to them <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

When you wake up, you’re shocked to find cold sheets beside you.

Your hand stretches out on instinct, joints cracking as you barely slip into consciousness, and it’s the one thing capable of jolting you awake. These aren’t your sheets (they’re too nice to be your sheets), this isn’t your bed (there’s a cologne across the fabric that no longer stains your own mattress), and the bed is cold. Not even whispering of the warmth of who should be in bed with you, no trace of him having been tangled up with you the entire night to be found.

Eddie had been here. You know he had been here. Last night couldn’t have possibly been a dream, or a hallucination, or some cruel twisting of reality done by your brain out of the terrible yearning that is bubbling back up to the surface of your chest.

He had been here. And now, he’s gone.

It reminds you too much of those mornings you’d awake while he was on tour. The mornings you’d roll over in a shared bed, only to find the other owner was still a country away. Mornings where you took your coffee cold and alone, and took your updates from some online source posting blurry photographs of the man you were waiting up on rather than from his own two lips.

Bile almost rises in your throat until you properly sit up, and you properly remember.

Eddie. Kisses. His guitar. His song. Whispered falsetto of taking aim, painful words about the way love is a weapon.

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dense. And Eddie Munson was a rockstar, not an actor.

The room is still dreary, faintly lit with the wisps of daylight peering through the curtains over the window. You can’t tell if it’s stormy out, or it’s early out, but neither really matters. Neither really explains why you’ve woken up in a bed alone, after a night of playing pretend.

Eddie’s lips, trailing down your skin. Eddie’s hands, bruising your hips and holding you to him in all the ways you begged him to. Eddie’s legs, entangling with yours beneath sheets he used to not be able to afford and blankets that kept the rest of the world as far away from the two of you as possible through the night.

You swear, for just a moment, your back is still warm with the imprint of his chest curling against you.

With every movement you make, you wait for Eddie to magically appear out of thin air. To jump up in front of you, to smile at you with that toothy grin and greet you with some ridiculous good morning. You keep waiting as you kick off the covers, and as your feet meet his cold floors, and as you make your way to the unfamiliar bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You sort of fucking hate waiting. Especially when it came to Eddie.

There’s no sign of him in the apartment. It becomes clear once you’ve brushed your teeth, almost hesitating to use the toothbrush available until you realize how ridiculous that would be. He had his tongue down your throat last night, amongst other places – he could bare for you to borrow his toothbrush just this once. You make your way out of the room, down the hallway, to the kitchen.

Nothing. No Eddie. No breakfast. No reminders to call Matt and no ambulances on speed dial.

You feel like a fool.

“Talk about karma, hm?” you mumble to yourself as you lean against his kitchen island, staring at the fridge, weighing your choices.

You could stay, make yourself breakfast, enjoy the luxuries at your disposal.

Or you could leave. You could get out now while he’s not here to stop you, erase the night from your skin and memory. There’s still time to pretend that none of it ever happened. There’s still time to scrub the stain he’s once again left across not just your skin, not just your mind, but your entire existence. A newly reopened wound, and you still had time to make amends and stitch it right back up. No blood stains necessary this time around. And things were always easier the second time around, right?

Wrong.

Something keeps you rooted in spot. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, wrapping its way up around your bones. Maybe it's the wishful thinking, the smallest of hopes that Eddie will eventually burst through the front door and wash away the doubts.

Or maybe it’s the post-it note that you’d initially missed, barely clinging to the surface of the fridge as it leaves behind a sticky residue.

Went to the studio, I’m in trouble with Matt :( Help yourself to anything in the apartment. If you leave, just make sure to lock up behind you. I’ll text once I’m done.

It’s written in messy penmanship, the font of someone in a rush. The phrase ‘if you leave’ is only slightly neater, as if written slowly and given more thought than anything else said.

As if Eddie might have hesitated, for just a moment, at the thought of you leaving once more.

You’re probably imagining things. You’re probably making up that difference in your mind, projecting onto what you want him to feel so desperately. It shouldn’t make a difference in if you stay or if you go. It shouldn’t.

And yet, it does.

The hours pass by slowly. Morning bleeds into the afternoon as you keep yourself entertained and take Eddie’s encouragement in full stride; you make yourself a decent enough breakfast from what food he does have in the fridge, and you almost make a note of scolding him for having little to nothing in there. But then you remember that it isn’t your place anymore, and your toast is nearly burning, and so the mental note of any slaps on the wrist is pushed away. You wander about the living room, taking in what photos he does have displayed. There’s not much – a few awards, some nice recounts of the band’s successes, but nothing that is Eddie. No photos of Hawkins. No photos of friends. No photos of Wayne. You hadn’t realized just how empty, how vacant, the place had felt until you properly inspected it all.

There’s only one trace left behind of Eddie. The man you once knew and loved, not Eddie the Rockstar. Eddie, the caring best friend. Eddie, the doting boyfriend. Eddie, the one you’d once spent all your days weaving a future with, threads intertwined and dreams perfectly aligned.

A single photograph of just him and Gareth. Or at least, what’s been framed to appear to be of just him and Gareth.

Eddie, front and center. Gareth to his left. At a quick glance, it seems like one more homage to the band, maybe even to his friends.

It’s more than that, though.

Your hands can’t work fast enough as they grab the frame, not even thinking clearly about how Eddie might feel if you rip the back off the nice piece of memoriam. Your heart is racing out your chest, breaths starting to come out in harsher and harsher puffs as you struggle to flip the clips and remove the backing cardboard.

You find exactly what you knew you’d find. Exactly what you’d dreaded you’d find.

Yourself, staring back at you.

Creased over so purposefully, the section of the photo containing you has been prestigiously folded to appear as though you’d never existed. You, with a fool’s grin and eyes squinted out of appearance. You, hand on Eddie’s shoulder as you’d lifted yourself up dramatically on your tippy toes, body full of pride beyond the point of containment.

A version of you that you can remember crystal clearly.

“Wait, wait!” you had squealed, the stick of beer on concrete floors meeting the rubber sole of your shoes audible as you’d ran across the bar, “Don’t you dare take that photo without me, assholes!”

You’d nearly slipped in a puddle of only God-knows-what as you’d made it to where the boys were gathering, but Eddie’s hands had already been there to catch you before you’d met an untimely demise.

“Woah, woah, woah,” his face twitched with concern, but his smile wasn’t fading, “Trying to kill yourself there, Sugar?”

“No, I’m trying to get into the photo with my favorite people,” you’d corrected, looking around Eddie to shoot a smile Gareth’s way, “Gotta make sure they don’t forget me in the history books in ten years, when they put you guys’ into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.”

Gareth snorted immediately, shaking his head, his own head of curls bouncing with the movement, “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Eddie’s hands left your waist, leaving you to bounce on the balls of your feet as you looked back to Jeff still poised with a camera. “Don’t be such a pessimist, Gar.”

“Don’t call me Gar.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I use the full nickname? Would you prefer Gare-Bea-”

“Okay,” Eddie cut you off with impeccable timing, putting his hands out between the two of you, “Can we not kill each other after we’ve just played our biggest show yet?”

Biggest show yet, indeed. Everyone had come out to show love to the boys you’d been rooting on from the hot floors of garages for several months at that point. More than just a few drunks being forced to listen to the live band playing at their favorite joint, and more than just a few friends who’d spared their evening to show support.

Everyone was there. The bar had even made an exception for a few of the boys in Eddie’s Hellfire club, and that alone had already gone to Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler’s heads.

“She’s right!” Dustin added without any prompting, standing to the side and looking just as giddy as you did, “You guys are gonna be goddamn rockstars!”

“Language, Henderson!” Steve Harrington scolded, scowling at the younger boy, “Jesus, we let you guys come to a bar one time to support Eddie, and you immediately start acting up-”

“Can we please just take the photo?” Jeff waved the camera as he looked between you, Eddie, and Gareth, “Please?”

Surprisingly, every single person listened.

Gareth resumed his cool-guy position, clearly trying to not show just how excited he was. Arms crossed as he didn’t move any closer to be more fully in the photo, offering the limited effort of leaning in.

You knew he was just playing it cool. You’d seen the smile light up his face, even behind the drumset, the moment the boys had seen how large of a crowd they’d garnered.

Dustin jumping up and down beside you, waving his hand, trying to just get a glimpse of his blurry palm in the shot.

No one could even be mad at him, the air was too thick with excitement. He was only exerting it the way all of you craved to do so badly, guided by his youth and genuine love for his friends – his mentors.

And then there was you and Eddie. Eddie wasn’t hiding his joy at all, those dimples you so adored in full throttle as he looked at the camera with starry eyes. All that hard work, all those late nights, finally beginning to come to fruition. He didn’t have to say it – you knew. You knew he was beginning to see the shape of a rockstar forming that you’d always been able to view. Seeing himself in the spotlight that you’d always shone on him, blind faith and all.

He was proud, and you were prouder.

On your tippy toes, hand curling around Eddie’s shoulder like an anchor as your chin tilted up and your teeth flashed to the camera. You probably looked ridiculous – you felt ridiculous. But there was no time for some elegant pose or faux cool act like Gareth or Jeff. You were bleeding out all your pride and all your happiness, and it was all for the warm body beneath your palm. The boy you’d be holding dearly when it was all said and done at the end of the night, letting him collapse into your solace as he giggled and muttered his disbelief at how well the night went once you were both safely back in his bed.

“Say cheese!”

Jeff was all but ignored, only Gareth loudly proclaiming the word through gritted teeth.

You squeezed Eddie’s shoulder a bit tighter, and he smiled a bit wider as you whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Rockstar.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the first tear drops onto the photo, narrowly missing your overly exuberant face and landing instead on the back of the part of the photo unseen from this point of view.

The part that was on display. The part that Eddie would let the world see.

The tears can’t become more; you can’t let them. You weren’t going to break down in sobs in the middle of Eddie’s apartment. Not after the night before, not after what felt like the precipice of progress. Not after the beginning of what felt like a peace offering.

Closure. You were both so close to closure, and yet had never felt further.

Instead of putting back the backing of the frame like you should, you pull out the entire photograph, slowly unsticking it from the glass so you can unfold it to witness the entire picture. You thought it might feel wrong to see this version of you standing beside that version of Eddie, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the burn of nostalgia worse.

The night before, Eddie had asked you a question.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?”

And you didn’t know. You never found out, never bothered to ask him for the answer. But you couldn’t but wonder if he knew how many times you’d played moments like the one in this photograph back, over and over in your mind, until it drove you to madness. Just how many late nights in that lonesome apartment, haunted by the memories, it had finally taken before you’d had no choice but to move. How many breakdowns had been spurred on in public when you’d heard his song playing in a gas station, or you’d seen a magazine that he’d occupied the smallest corner of the cover of.

How many times, during those moments, you’d thought back to nights like the one in this picture, and wished you could go back.

Even now, even with progress on the horizon, you want to go back. Everything in you screams for this time rather than the present. You want small crowds in the Hideout and an overly hyper Dustin Henderson to annoy you all. You want Eddie kissing you in the bar’s bathrooms, everything reeking of stale beer, and you want the only interruption to be the others banging on the door to let you know it was time to go, not Eddie’s cell phone ringing with a call from his agent.

You want, and you want, and you want.

For an innocence neither of you can return to. For a life both of you left behind in ashes. For a love that had seemed so infinite, not as though it might be a momentary time bomb waiting to blow.

You want to take past you by the shoulders, and shake her so hard that there’s a chance she’ll listen to you when you demand she just enjoy it.

Enjoy all the late nights spent in diner booths with all the boys, none of them witness to the pathway of a heart that Eddie’s thumb is drawing on top of your hand. Enjoy all the grand firsts, and enjoy how everything feels like the ends and beginnings of your world when you’re that young. Enjoy Eddie while you can, even when he annoys you, even when he finds a way to get perfectly on your very last nerve. Enjoy it.

Because one day, it would all be gone, and you’d be crying over a photograph in the apartment of the man you once thought you were going to marry.

Now is the time to stop. Now is the time to put the photo back, gather your things, then leave. Put away the shovel and walk away from the grave of the past.

You can’t do it.

It turns into some wild scavenger hunt, lacking in guidelines and etiquette as you search through the rest of the apartment. Not truly snooping, but certainly scouring every corner for any other possible remnants of you. Small markings, brutal stains. Proof you weren’t the only one left maimed at the end of the day. Proof you weren’t the only one stained.

Nothing else is found, because nothing else in the apartment is seemingly as personal as that one photograph.

You’d noticed the apartment was barren, but hadn’t taken the time to see just how far the emptiness went. His living room, his kitchen, his bedroom – not a single sign of the Eddie you once knew. Only the new Eddie. The Eddie with awards, with a reputation, with adoring fans.

The Eddie that you couldn’t tell if you really cared for all that much.

The first sign of life only creeps into your vision when you crack back open that door to his makeshift studio. Guitars he once only spoke of owning, a keyboard that tells you he’d finally taught himself how to play piano rather than only speaking about it as a one-day, notebooks and loose-leaf pages scattered across the coffee table that’s situated in front of the comfortable couch.

It reminds you of the coffee table back in the Munson trailer. Of his desk, back in Hawkins.

There’s no sporadic Hellfire campaigns across the pages, though. No small doodles in the corners of the crumbled pages.

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you take the same seat you’d occupied the night before (or technically, the earlier morning). No guitar fills your lap – only the weight of the first notebook you could get your hands on. He’d told you to help yourself to anything in the apartment, and he’d never said that the studio was explicitly off-limits.

There’s rings of coffee stains across the front of the notebook, half the pages visibly used from the side while the rest stay pristine and uniform. Before you can overthink it, you’re flipping the cover of the spiral notebook open, holding your breath as you read across the first line of penned words that you find.

When we were made, it was no accident.

Lyrics. They’re clearly lyrics. You keep reading, out of order as your eager eyes drink it all in.

I’d turn my walls to gold to bring you home again.

You turn the page. You refuse to linger. You refuse to over analyze.

MAKE IT REAL. ‘Cause anything’s better than the way I feel right now.

The first three words are angry, aggressive, large. Screaming off of the page. And the remaining ones are small, almost cursive as they flow together like a whisper. Like the writer couldn’t handle telling the world something so vulnerable, so loudly as he had his demand.

Below, a phrase takes up an unexpected amount of space, circled around several times, a few stray question marks penned around the edges.

Diamonds in the trees, pentagrams in the night sky.

You recall all of Eddie’s doubt when you’d interrupted him writing a song last night. The muttering to himself, questioning what the words might even mean. It seems that was not an occurrence saved solely for you – it seems, when he’s been left to his own devices, the process always remains.

You turn the page again.

This time, you’re met with the largest conglomerates of lyrics yet. Spreading across the available lines preset for him, but also spiraling about the page. Written in the margins, forced to fill the gaps between the lines. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut before you even read the lyrics, based on the title alone – Take Me Back to Eden.

I dream in phosphoresces, bleed through spaces. See you drifting past the fog.

You’re holding your breath again.

I’m a winged insect, you’re a funeral pyre.

Your eyes wander further down the page.

I need you to see me for what I have become.

The word become is angrily underlined, over and over, until the pen had torn through the page in the slightest.

Something rises up within you, and in a panic, you jump to the bottom of the page.

I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it.

The first fatal blow – you can practically hear Eddie’s voice singing the line to you.

And no amount of love will keep it around, if we don’t choose it.

Another blow. Flashes of simpler times. Times when Eddie was yours, when the world didn’t lay claim to him the same way your own shaking palms would.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence.

It doesn’t matter how small he’s written it. No matter how tiny and insignificant he attempted to make the line, it cuts deeper than any knives that have ever passed through your flesh before. Deeper than the knife of losing him, so terribly slow. Deeper than the knife of hearing Corroded Coffin in public for the first time, playing out of someone’s car on the street as they listened to the Alternative Rock station. Deeper than the knife of burying his mother’s ring at the back of your closet, no longer yours to wear but somehow still yours to keep. Deeper than the knife of seeing him sitting there, in your office, completely unaware for the first time in two years.

You slam the notebook shut before you can end up bleeding all over the pages, tears gathering once more and wounds all ripped back open mercilessly.

The glory of innocence.

All the reels of memories that had hit you as you’d held the photo in the living room come barreling back, striking you down, hitting you exactly where it hurts.

Because he had felt it too. He had experienced it too.

The nostalgia, the want for the past, the need to go back in time when things were simple – innocent. When the stakes were low and love was more than just a ghost wandering through your graveyard in passing.

Self-sought fury.

All the headlines, all the self-destruction. Every news article that had chipped away at the great Rockstar’s reputation. It hadn’t been the Eddie you’d known, just as you’d immediately thought; it was a new version of him, a new shell of him, seeking out damage wherever his furious hands could grasp it.

But you’d never self-imploded. You’d never gotten your fury out, never got to kiss strangers in bars or destroy hotel rooms to move past all that you had lost. You’d been sitting in silence, a brewing pique that you’d let fester for far too long. All the hurt, all the fury, all the heartbreak.

You didn’t have songs to write about all that. You didn’t have notebooks filled to the brim with those emotions.

All you had was a shovel, and a deep hole inside yourself that you never thought you’d excavate again. Deep, russet brown eyes that had once lit the pavement for your future, now patronizing your past from the grave.

A grave you hadn’t been digging alone, apparently. Worlds apart, and you two still had been seemingly in sync with the murder of who Eddie Munson once was.

But the grave is excavated now, and you don’t think too much as you all but sprint out of the room, a clear destination in mind, that damn notebook in hand.

—

Google is your greatest friend, your greatest tool, in the end.

You don’t have the right connections at first. No numbers saved in your phone that you could call for the information, no emails beyond Matt to reach out to. And if there’s anything you’ve learned in working in a business where emails were the sole form of communication, it’s that no one would reply to you as quickly as Eddie had been.

You didn’t have time. So you decided you’d already crossed a line, and you’d scoured the address of the recording studio that Corroded Coffin uses.

You’d almost lost hope until you’d seen a paparazzi photo of him leaving said studio. Most news outlets had clearly been paid to keep hush about the location, but some were still the scum of the Earth, and some had left behind evidence. It took more effort on your part than expected, and more scrolling through fan forums than you were proud of, but you’d found it.

You’d found the address where you would find Eddie Munson.

Hell hath no self-sought fury like a muse scorned, you suppose.

That’s what had hurt the most. In hindsight, you’d always known he’d write about you one day. He was an artist, and he had always pulled inspiration from his real life experiences. You’d just always been under the assumption that when the day came, the words on the page may be a happier tune. Something softer, something less hurtful.

He wasn’t even insulting you, but it certainly felt like he was mocking you.

You’re blinded by pain as you storm through the front door of the surprisingly small studio, finally feeling the need to lash out after two long years. Two long years of silent misery, silent suffering. You’re no longer the same person who had taken the cowardly way out. There is no instinctive running away from this, no gathering up your existence and disappearing from his life.

This time, you want to fight. You want to scream at him all that you had felt as well. You wanted him to know the damage done, whether it was the right response or not.

It probably wasn’t. And there was probably something to be said about the fact that this time, you were willing to fight with him over it.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a young receptionist greets you from the front desk, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Nope.”

She doesn’t deserve your venom, but she’s getting it straight out of your clipped tone regardless. You’re not here to play niceties with her – you’re here to see Eddie.

She’s clearly taken back from your straight-forward answer, “Oh, I see. Unfortunately, the studio is currently occupied, but we can-”

“I know the studio’s occupied,” you reply blandly, eyes looking for the elevator, “I’m here to see the bastard currently occupying it.”

“I- excuse me?”

You spot the elevator, feet working faster than your mouth as you start to walk over to it, “I said, I’m here to see Eddie Munson. I know he’s in the studio currently, I know him-”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not really in the business of letting me do anything-”

“Ma’am.”

You hadn’t noticed the security guard until his hand comes down on your shoulder. The receptionist girl is wide-eyed, looking nervous enough that if you weren’t in the middle of your own spiral, you might feel bad.

“Let go of me,” you shakily demand, standing still under his hold, “I just need to speak with Ed-”

“No one goes in there without permission from the band or their management,” the man gruffly replies. He may have a good foot on you in height, and the stretch of his muscles beneath the plain black t-shirt might be impressive, but you’re almost convinced by the adrenaline racing through your veins that you could take him. One swift kick of the legs, and you could get to the elevator – you could get to Eddie.

Fight with Eddie. Call Eddie out for all the pain he’d let fester within you for far too long. Probably not even realizing you were calling yourself out in the same breath.

“Then fucking call them,” you snap, reaching up to swat away his hand, “Call them, and tell them my name-”

“We’ve been given strict instructions to not interrupt them-”

“I could give two shits if we’re interrupting!” you finally yell, fulling tearing yourself away from the strange man’s grasp, “Fucking call Eddie, and tell him-”

It’s the sudden call of your name that breaks the tense moment entirely. Not Eddie’s voice, not even Matt’s voice, but a different voice from your past that has hardly changed.

Standing before you is Gareth Emerson, almost looking entertained at the current exchange happening.

“She’s with us, man,” he chokes out, clearly holding back laughter as he locks eyes with you, “I can take her back up.”

“Are you sure?” the security guard presses, looking at you with narrowed eyes, “If this is some insane groupie, Matt will kill me if-”

“I’m not a fucking groupie!”

You have no reason to be so angry, so defensive. But you’re already a wounded animal, and you’re primed to bite at the slightest inconvenience.

The wounds of the past are gushing, and being reduced to nothing more than an insane groupie is salt in the blood. Callous, burning, hurtful.

You’re not just a groupie.

“She’s not a groupie,” Gareth echoes after you, and his words are far more effective. The guard takes a step back, and Gareth finally lets out a snort that he tries to cover with a cough, “C’mon, Hellfire. Let’s take you upstairs before you burn this whole place to the ground.”

You swallow down any shock at the old nickname, and you rush to join Gareth’s side, being sure to knock an elbow into his side on your way past him.

“No one even calls me that anymore,” you mutter, still half-angry, guns still ready to begin blazing in Eddie’s direction once he’s in your sight.

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t been around the only people that did call you that,” he points out, tone entirely unaffected by your elbow.

“You guys didn’t trademark Hellfire.”

“No, but we sure as Hell made a name for it back in Hawkins.”

You two stop in front of the elevator, and neither of you make a move to press the call button. You’re all deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as Gareth continues to stare at you.

“You haven’t changed one bit, you know.”

His words have you looking up sharply, brows crinkling as you let them sink in, “Excuse me?”

“I thought you might have changed,” he says, face softening, “You know, the years and city changed you or something. But you’re still… still that same girl we knew. All fiery, always ready for a fight.”

His last sentence is laced with a bit of sarcasm, some light-hearted joking you hadn’t realized you missed until you’re face to face with it.

You swallow hard, and you know your own face melts to match his, “That… I… I have changed. That guard was just being a dick.”

“He was doing his job.”

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, feeling the wisps of fury slip out of your grasps. You almost feel like a toddler, prepared to stomp your foot just to emphasize a losing argument. “He should do his job worse.”

“And you say you’ve changed,” Gareth teases, bumping his shoulder to yours, “Bullshit, Hellfire. You just let the suits at your job get to you. Maybe you should stick around this time, remember who you were.”

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten, but they do.

Who you were.

Leaving behind Eddie meant more than just leaving behind a failed relationship. It meant leaving everyone. And that included Gareth. That included the version of you that you’ve missed so terribly today that you’ve gone grave-digging, pulling back all emotions to the service. It’s not just anger, it’s not just nostalgia. It’s something deeper and something you can’t erase. A stain on the deepest parts of you that you can’t rid yourself of, even if you’d wanted to.

Neither of you have pressed the elevator button yet.

It’s impulsive, but there’s a decision to be made that you won’t overthink. You’re brimming with impulsivity anyways, “Give me your phone number.”

“What?”

“Give me your number,” you repeat yourself, already digging out your cell phone as you balance Eddie’s notebook in your other hand, “And I’ll stick around this time.”

You don’t necessarily mean it in the same way he implies, but you mean it in the way that counts.

You hand your phone over to his waiting palm, and for a moment, it feels like a weight has lifted.

Even if it all burns down with Eddie. Even if you find the closure you’ve been so desperately seeking out with him, it doesn’t mean you have to leave the others behind. People like Gareth, like Grant, like Jeff – there’s still room for them, somewhere in your new life. You had grown up together practically, at least during the years that had counted, and there was no need to erase them from your history.

You could find a way. You had to find a way.

Compartmentalize, rationalize. Justifications and explanations were plentiful. You would find a way to meet the you that once existed and the you that was left behind in the rubble, somehow, someway.

When Gareth hands you back the phone, there’s a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, “We should meet up for dinner sometime. I know the rest of the guys, Jeff and Grant, they miss you. And we know this killer pizza place.”

You don’t fight your returning smile, “Yeah. We should. I think I’d really like that.”

“Right,” he claps, looking around to clearly see if the guard and receptionist are still watching. They’re momentarily distracted, it seems, by some sort of delivery driver, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Our studio’s on the third floor.”

“Wait,” his finger has already jabbed at the call button, the sounds of an elevator creaking on its quick descent to you sounding from behind the metal doors, “Aren’t you coming back up with me?”

“Oh, God, no,” Gareth’s nose scrunches, and his overgrown hair bounces as he shakes his head, “I think I’ve had just about enough of Eddie for the day. The rest of the guys left about an hour ago, anyways, and I’m guessing you two might want some privacy?” You nod at his questioning tone, “Perfect. Then, in that case – third floor, like I said.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” you blurt out, fighting down all the nostalgia. Part of you is aching – part of you just wants to see the other boys again, no longer needing the fight with Eddie, “I- I missed you guys too, for what it’s worth.”

“We know,” he jokes back, although there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think that maybe they didn’t know that. He finally glances at the notebook in your hands that you’d nearly forgotten about, lively eyes turned simply sad. “Just go and give him Hell, yeah? You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.”

There’s no chance to ask what Gareth might mean as a ding sounds and the doors slide open. The boy that you have genuinely and sincerely missed nods his head, signaling for you to get in, and you do just that. Mentally preparing yourself with one last gulp of air, one last look at Gareth, before you ready your boxing gloves once more.

You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.

The doors slide shut, and you punch the button for the third floor.

eddie's taglist:@capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

#ghost's stories #maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #side note: i fucking love gareth #im so excited to write the next chapter AAAAH #if i could i'd go back and make past ghost make all reader chapters taylor songs and all EDDIE CHAPTERS SLEEP TOKEN SONGS #that would have really hurt my feelings mainly to see the comparison #s.t. and t.s. always #we got all the t's and s's in these parts

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seatnights · 8 months

Note

Who are some of your favorite fan fiction writers?

i spent hours to collect usernames of authors i enjoyed reading from, and i’m sure i missed some, but i tried.

are u ready for this?

authors you SHOULD support:

oneforthemunny / icallhimjoey / jamdoughnutmagician / rosebudsgarden / willowsgri / joequinnisgod / eddiemunsons80sbaby / chrrymunson / eddiemunsonswhxre / lonelysatellites / loveshotzz / usedtobecooler / carolmunson / upsidedownwithsteve / sherifftillman / spicysix / emsgoodthinkin / retrobutterflies / tiannasfanfic / athena-writes-i-guess / shesinchargeareyoukidding / cooliestghouliest / singularattitudeofasafetypin / babybluebex / quinnyfairy / moonchildquinn / i-me-mine / luveline / myosotisa / silent-stories / blueywrites / steviesbicrisis / munson-blurbs / ficsbypix / lovejosephquinn / eddieschains / prettyboyeddiemunson / eddieandbird /pleasantlycrazyworld / corroded-hellfire / trashmouth-richie / justmeinadaze / mopeymopeymouse / munsonslilbunnie / keeponquinning / gatorstillman / allthingsjoeq / jadeylovesmarvelxo / mysticmunson / sugarsblurbs / taintedcigs / gag-me-munson / gravedigginbbydoll / ratskcoreddie / andvys / manicpixiedreamcurl / thruheavenandhighwater / joejoequinnquinn / munsonsreputation / upsidedownmvnson / hellfiresmaster / elightysixbaby / eddiessluttywaist / littledemondani / choke-me-eddie / eddiemunsonsmum / eddiemunsonfuxks / pinkrelish / hllfireclb / indulgence-be-thy-name / wheels-of-despair / hellfiremunsonn / filthyjoetini / ghost-proofbaby / havecourage-darling / forever-rogue / queenimmadolla / josephfakingquinn / roanniom / bimbobaggins69 / songforeddiemunson / munsons-hellfire / honey-flustered / eddie-van-munson / storiesbyrhi / lovebugism / neonghostlights / harrywavycurly / chestylarouxx / courtingchaos / galaxy-siren / harringtons-cupid / hard-candy-writing / wroteclassicaly / raccoonboywrites / dr-aculaaa / palomahasenteredthechat / palomahasenteredthechat / forevermoreharrington / corrodedcorpses / strangerquinns / sunnythevampireslayer / lesservillain / stevenose / eddiesxangel / stveharringtn / spookysteddie / keeksandgigz / darlingsfandom / her-power / idkidknemore / francisquinn / inkluvs / ashwhowrites / hellfire--cult / succubusmunson / v8mpstamp / stevieswhore / munsons-maiden / rustboxstarr / corrodedseraphine / reidsbtch / lexlec / katiemcrae / the-unforgivenn / keerysfolklore / appocalipse / familyvideowithsteve / tiannamortis / joekeeryswife / bettyfrommars / cinemamunson / munson-mjstan / teddyeyeseddie / lofaewrites / mediocredreams / leasstories

OK SO

here we have 137 authors, i didn’t tag anyone cuz i would probably have disturbed half of the fandom, sorry if it’s more difficult this way, but i hope i could help you a bit.

obviously, there’s no order of preference of any kind, and i tried to put as many authors as i could but i know i’ve missed someone. if i did, i’m deeply sorry, it wasn’t on purpose and i have nothing against you! if you wish you can message me or slide in my ask and ill add you immediately!

now, i’m a bit tired after all of this, and my hand hurts but:

DON’T FORGET TO SUPPORT THE AUTHORS!!!

they put their works for free!!! everyone can enjoy media and content for free thanks to them! and it cost you nothing to reblog and share their work.

thank you for every creators / writers/ artist out there to make every single works of yours and sharing them with the world. all of you deserve so much, and thanks to you for so many people the day gets better, it’s like having a sweet little treat, like taking care of yourself, like finding a place where you are understood. so, thank you infinitely. keep it up cause you’re doing amazing!

-🤍🌻🌱

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kitchen-spoon · 5 months

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Steddie Slice of life

A little sneaky Peaky of a new 5k Steddie slice of life fic I'll be posting on AO3 soon :)

Eddie was back a minute later, Tuna back in his arms as he crawled into bed. She settled in the divot between their legs, her head resting on Eddie’s thigh. He petted at her back looking up at Steve. “Can I bring tuna to the game?” He asked with a megawatt smile, there was mischief and determination behind his eyes that let Steve know he would be losing this battle.

“People will think we’re crazy,” Steve tried anyway despite knowing better.

“People already think I’m a woman until I turn around. What's a little more misdirection with a cat and a baby stroller?” Eddie grinned, waggling his brows at Steve, that big smile still on his face.

“You want to bring her in a baby stroller?” Steve asked in disbelief, he honestly shouldn’t be surprised though. Eddie was as chaotic as they come.

“It's the most safe and convenient way.” Eddie nodded seriously. “Plus little Miss deserves the princess treatment.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that but relented. “You spoil her too much but, fine. You have to find a baby stroller that isn’t hundreds of dollars and cat proof it though.” He pointed at Eddie sternly.

“You know, I’m the king of the thrift baby, I’ll make it happen.” Eddie assured with a cocky grin. Despite his eye rolls, Steve couldn’t deny it, considering he was laying on a mattress sitting in a brass bed frame Eddie found for them at the thrift store with two matching oak side tables to go with it.

“You have until next weekend, if it isn’t done she stays home.” Steve warned.

Eddie just smiled even wider, leaning in to give Steve a wet kiss. “Of course baby.” He began peppering kisses all over Steve’s face. “I love youuuu.” He sang.

“I love you too.” Steve finally cracked and dropped his grumpy facade. If it made Eddie happy he didn’t care. “Now go to bed.” He chuckled and pushed Eddie away when the kisses began to tickle

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veryvaughnny · 2 years

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Ever read a fic so good you had to put down your phone in the middle of it and walk away for a few minutes just to collect yourself

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bound-vivisection · 1 year

Note

dom Eddie calling sub Steve daddy pokes my brain

No wait this is actually great.

Eddies very existence seems to question the norms. Finding people that are into his specific brand of weird was difficult to say the least. He had given up hope of ever truly finding someone to scratch those itches with him.

And then came along Steve, pretty puppy dog Steve. He was so eager to please and be praised. Years of barely surviving making him desperate for the feeling of safety. Eddie thought that Nancy must have been the dumbest girl to waste such a precious boy.

The first time Eddie calls Steve “Daddy” isn’t even a sexual encounter. Robin and Steve had been retelling the story of the time the duo had stolen a ridiculously nice care from Star Court.

“No you had to have been there Eds, he was acting so stupid. He literally said “Steve’s her Daddy now” Robin told the story between gasps of air, heard words broken up by bouts if laughter.

Eddie’s lips quirked up in the corners as his gaze flickered over to Steve’s blushing face. “Wanna be Daddy so bad huh, big boy?”

Eddie had meant it as a playful jab, but his eyes took in the way Steve evaded his. How his blush deepened and he took in a deep breath.

Oh… oh yeah he could work with that.

#i actually love this idea #it pets my brain nicely #steddie #steve x eddie #sub!steve harrington #dom!eddie munson #24/7 d/s steddie

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californiaboytoybilly · 11 months

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-> “Got the music in you baby… tell me why. You’ve been trapped in here forever and you just can’t say goodbye.”

#billy hargrove #eddie munson #billy antis dni #mungrove #eddie x billy #billy x eddie #song: apocalypse by cigarettes after sex #🌌 — a s t e r #🌌 — e d i t s

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skeliiix · 2 years

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Party Tattoos By Dodie

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things #you guys have no idea how long this took so p l e a s e enjoy #I adore them with my entire being #el’s art

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hairmetal666 · 10 months

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The high summer sun glints off the lake, illuminating Eddie's dark curls in a golden shine. He plays Hopper's old acoustic, just noodling around with notes and melodies, while Steve watches, transfixed.

He's so beautiful, Steve thinks, before shaking the thought away. He turns from the man at the end of the dock, looking across the yard of Joyce and Hop's lake house. His two kids tumble across the grass with Max and Lucas's toddler on their heels. Max and El weave flower crowns--well, El weaves and Max makes a mess of petals and leaves. Dustin, Erica, Mike, and Lucas cluster around the solid wood picnic table Hop built, arguing about a new d&d update, while Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan sip glasses of lemonade on the porch. Through the wide, plate glass windows that line the back of the house, Steve watches his wife, Joyce, and Argyle bob and weave through the kitchen, while Hop mans the grill a few feet away on the patio.

He looks back to Eddie, whose fingers have stilled on the guitar strings.

"What's up?" Steve asks. It's been twelve years since Eddie almost died saving the world, and he still goes distant. Still slips out of time to another place, another world, that can be hard for the others to reach.

Not this time, though. Eddie glances up, soft smile on his face, one that's rare enough it makes Steve's heart trip. "Working out how to play something," he says.

There's yelling now, from the picnic table, an actual fight broken out, and Steve laughs. "Think we should get up there before someone gets punched?"

Eddie isn't paying attention, though. His head bent intently over the guitar as he strums out a familiar melody that Steve can't quite place. It's slower, he thinks, than the original.

It's so familiar, watching Eddie play. Back when they lived together in Indy, he used to lose entire afternoons to a shared joint and Eddie practicing. It's always transfixing, the movements of his fingers, the light glinting off the shine of his rings; his intensity and precision.

It hits Steve then, what the song is, isn't something he expected Eddie to ever know. Assumed his interest in any member of Nirvana ended in 1994, that he'd find the Foo Fighters hopelessly lame, but Eddie's eyes flash up to catch Steve's as he starts the chorus.

"And I wonder, when I sing along with you, if everything could ever feel this real forever; if anything could be this good again"

The sun is lower in the sky, casting Eddie in bronze, and god, god he's the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen. His stomach twists, goosebumps spreading along his arms.

"The only thing I'll ever ask of you, you've got to promise not to stop when I say when, he sang"

The deep chocolate of Eddie's eyes sparkle with softness and care and, and--

Realization hits.

Steve loves him.

"Breath out, so I can breath you in, hold you in"

Has always loved him. Every second, every moment.

His heart trips, doubles. He doesn't understand how he missed it, that it's always been Eddie.

It crashes over him, a cascade of understanding, of unquestioned longing. Years, years have gone by without him recognizing the feelings for what they are. And now, now--

His wife is in the kitchen with Joyce and Argyle, and their two kids play on the lawn with Max and Lucas's toddler.

And he's been hopelessly in love with his best friend since 1986, when he first realized his entire world revolved around Eddie Munson's laugh, the specific smile he gave that brought out his deep set dimples, the softness of his voice at 3am when nightmares drove them both out of bed.

Eddie blinks a few times, looks down, eyelashes casting long shadows against his cheeks. His playing slows, and he ends the song with a crack in his voice as he sings.

"Hello, I've waited here for you, everlong"

The only thing Steve can hear is the pounding of his own heart. He wants--he wants--

The shrieking delight of his children carries down to the lake, his wife's wind chime laugh tinkling just behind.

He doesn't know what to do, what to say, can't stop hearing the way Eddie's voice broke on the last line that wasn't even in the original song, and--

Hopper calls out, "alright you animals, come and get it."

His wife yells, "Steve, come help with the kids?"

He shoves to his feet, yells back, "be right there."

Steve doesn't know what to do, what to say, how to process any of this.

He walks away from Eddie without glancing back.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #no happy ending #feelings realization #mutual pining #wrong time #1990's au #married steve harrington #musican eddie munson #found family #everlong #i had the idea for this while doing a peloton ride to the acoustic version of everlong #i could not get eddie singing it to steve out of my head #it's been in my drafts forever #haven't posted a ficlet in months sorry it's a bummer

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prettybabybaby · 2 years

Note

Step bro Eddie finding out that male reader is still a virgin and making sure to change that ahhh

"sh," he coos, "it only hurts the first time, sh."

you tremble, hands reaching for anything to hold on to as he rolls his hips, moaning at the feel of you. you shake your head, "no, no more. hurts too bad."

"well i can't pull out now," you can sense the roll of his eyes. "m'hard because of you. you're so ungrateful, y'know. i'm trying to help you."

"it's not like you'd let me anyway with the way you're squeezing me."

#tw dubcon #s male!reader monday i guess #belle’s mail !#eddie munson (belle’s version)#stepbro!eddie #eddie munson x male!reader #eddie munson x reader #male!reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things eddie #stranger things #eddie munson

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 1 year

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This is me and modern!Eddie no one can change my mind.😌✌🏽

#modern!eddie #me core #eddie munson x reader #that’s literally us #Dolly x Eddie sitting in a tree #k i s s i n g

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kitchen-spoon · 1 year

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Rockstar Eddie 90’s Drabble {steddie}

Steddie I 2.7k I 1/1

Sorry for any spelling mistakes etc..

Its 1992 and corroded coffin has made it big. Eddie and the band are famous now, selling out stadiums and living their dreams. He is one of the most talked about metal musicians of the era. And to make it even better Steve has been there for all of it since 1987 technically earlier but it took them awhile to get their shit together.

Being famous means getting to live with luxuries and Eddie loves spoiling Steve with them. Going to the spa was a big hit. Eddie was nervous at first but knowing Steve and his penchant for self care especially hair care he should have know it would soon become one of Steve’s favourite indulgences. Which is exactly why Eddie was suggesting it for their current situation.

As time went on all the upside down action began to catch up with everyone in the party but Steve especially. Chronic migraines, memory issues and random bouts of nausea just being the start of it. When they moved to California it was Gareth that brought up the idea of using marijuana medicinally, siting his uncle who had been using it for his arthritis for years.

Steve was hesitant at first, ever since star-court he had stayed away from anything stronger cigarettes but as time went on things were only going to get worse so he gave it a chance. As predicted it did not go well at first. Steve was already an anxious hyper vigilant person and the weed just heightened that, making him extra paranoid. But with work and a lot of patience from Eddie they found a way to make it work. They made a routine and stuck to it every-time which was why Steve was so thrown for a loop when Eddie suggested he take some edibles before they hit up a spa in the city.

“I know its scary baby but think of it as a trial run for Europe.” Eddie took Steve’s hands in his own, ducking his head down to catch his boyfriends eyes. “The tour starts in a month, and you know how flying affects your migraines, especially long flights.”

Steve bit his lip, “It does get really bad.” He sighed. “But I don’t know, I got so freaked out with just you and the guys around. I don’t think being in public is gonna go better than that.”

“Then I’ll rent out the spa.” Eddie said immediately like it was the easiest thing in the world and not a thousands of dollar decision. For Eddie though spoiling Steve was the easiest thing in the world money truly was no object and would never be enough to show his gratitude for how fiercely Steve stuck by his side during his and the band’s rocky climb to fame.

“Eddie no.” Steve shook his head, unable to hold back his smile.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile back “Fine what if we go somewhere more exclusive, less people.” He raised his eyebrows. “Less chance of being recognized too, everyone there will be so rich and up their own ass they won’t care about lil ‘ol me.”

“I’ll consider it. But we also need to outline a plan and have a quick evacuation set up.” Steve tried to sound stern but he knew he was already going to give in to his boyfriend’s plan.

“Consider it done Stevie.” Eddie squeezed Steve’s hands as he got up. “I’ll take good care of you baby don’t worry.” He leaned down and gave his boyfriend’s forehead a kiss before disappearing off into his office.

***

Eddie’s new plan consisted of them driving out 2 hours to Joshua Tree where he had an emergency hotel booked and one of their regular drivers on stand by incase they needed to make a hasty exit. He also got the edibles from their regular source and was sure to check the dosage 3 times over before letting Steve even look at them.

About 30 minutes away from the Spa Steve ate the gummy’s. That ensured he was still be sober during their check in which he insisted and gave him 30 minutes to acclimatize to the environment before they started to kick in.

Steve began to feel it as he and Eddie walked on the warm stone path outside the spa building, fluffy white robes on, pinkies linked. They were making their way to the heated pool to loosen up before their couples massage. Then they were getting facials and sitting in a mud bath then getting scalp treatments at Eddie’s request. The day’s itinerary was planned by Steve with special consideration of him being high. It also gave him reassurance that there was a structure he knew they’d be following. When Eddie first started getting money and in turn started spoiling Steve, Steve felt guilty. He always tried to hold back, having to be pushed by Eddie to actually get what he wanted, to ask for the cucumber in his water, to book the facials and the mud bath. Now though Steve knew Eddie enjoyed it as much as he did because he knew it made Steve happy. It also kept him looking young so he couldn’t complain too much.

“Baby.” Steve barley whispered, his palm sliding into Eddie’s so he could squeeze his boyfriend’s hand.

Eddie glanced over at him, a calm smile on his lips. “Its okay sweetheart I got you. Its still early only 2 other people are here and they are on the other side of the spa.” Eddie kept his hand in Steve’s guiding him over to the warm salt water pool.

Steve slowly waded into the water with the help of his boyfriend, settling against Eddies side in the far corner of the pool. He took a deep breath embracing the light headed floaty feeling washing over him.

“Feeling okay sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice made him jolt, momentarily forgetting where he was. Steve moved to sit up but Eddie settled a hand around his shoulder, his musician fingers sliding slowly over Steve’s bicep. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you. You just look very content, its Sexy.” Eddie leaned in closer his lips brushing Steve’s ear.

Steve giggled, twisting his head away from Eddie to avoid the ticklish light touches. It made the water splash around them making Steve giggle more, he opened his eyes gasping and slapping a hand over his mouth. “Sorry” he whispered but Eddie was already shaking his head.

“Don’t be, nobody is around you’re all good.” Eddie smiled, brushing Steve’s hair back. “You’re enjoying yourself its what you’re supposed to do.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed easily with a nod. He leaned his face into Eddie’s hand and closed his eyes letting out a pleased hum when Eddie began scratching his nails over his scalp.

They stayed like that for another 15 minutes before making their way back inside the spa building for their massages. Eddie kept an arm wrapped around Steve the entire way, his fingers continuing to brush Steve’s shoulder when he felt his boyfriend get tense at the sight of other people.

“Hello, for Eddie and Steve?” A woman wearing what looked like scrubs asked them.

Steve stayed silent but gave her a nod trying his best to keep his face neutral. Most of his paranoia when high was with other people and having to interact with them. He was always afraid they could tell and were judging him. He always feared he was acting weirdly but couldn’t tell and nobody was saying anything and he unknowingly embarrassed himself or even Eddie. Because he was openly associated with Eddie his actions impacted his boyfriend’s reputation and he would never want to do anything to tarnish it.

“Okay Stevie c’mon time to relax.” Eddie’s voice made Steve blink, not even realizing he had zoned out. He looked around and both massage therapists were gone. “Lets get you undressed honey, that okay? Can I take this off?” Eddie’s fingers were wrapped around the belt of Steve’s robe but were still, waiting for his reply.

“Wha- yeah, yeah of course.” Steve said, his eyes focused back on Eddie’s face and he was met with a fond smile.

Eddie undid the belt of Steve’s robe then brought his hands up sliding them along Steve’s collarbones then over his shoulders, his arms catching on the robe and dragging it along as his hands continued to move across Steve’s body. Once the robe was off he hung it on the back of one of the chairs then made his way back to Steve.

“Arms up here big boy.” Eddie patted his own shoulders.

Steve giggled, his face turning pink as he followed Eddie’s instructions.

“These okay to come off too?” Eddie’s hands rested at Steve’s hips, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of Steve’s swim shorts.

Steve bit his lip, his cheeks still burning, “mhmm” he nodded.

Eddie smirked back at him slowly dragging the shorts down until he was crouched. He tapped Steve’s ankles getting his boyfriend to step out of his swimsuit one foot at a time.

“Good job baby, now go lay down I’ll be right there.” Eddie took Steve by the shoulders and faced him towards the beds.

He folded Steve’s swim shorts up and placed them on the same chair as the robe. He then worked to undress himself, folding and hanging his own swim trunks and robe. He made his way over to the two beds smiling at Steve’s who was laying face down with his head turned to the side so he could watch Eddie.

“Want me to cover you?” Steve shifted up onto his elbows as Eddie got closer.

“I’m all good sweetheart don’t you worry.” Eddie gave Steve a quick peck then moved to cover his boyfriend up before worrying about himself.

A few minutes later there was a light knock on the door and the massage therapists were back. Soothing spa music began playing through the speakers, and oil was poured on their backs. Steve let Eddie’s pinky slip away from where it was wrapped around his own, turning his head into the rest and closing his eyes.

The massage felt amazing, it was like Steve could feel each individual line of his muscles being untangled and smoothed out. It created a low level hum throughout his entire body, like every single nerve ending was being stimulated all at once. He could hear groans come from Eddie every once and awhile and hoped he wasn’t being to loud either. Steve was glad Eddie was feeling good though, he knew his boyfriend’s back had been giving him issues lately.

Eventually the hands left his skin and he heard the door close once again. Steve kept his eyes closed for a little longer, breathing until the buzzing in his body calmed down enough that he felt he could stand up without bucking at the knee. He still moved a little too quickly though, feeling a little light headed as he sat up. Steve kept his eyes closed, focusing on the sounds of Eddie’s light snoring as he got his bearings. Once he was able to move again he made his way over to Eddie’s table, smoothing his hands through his boyfriend’s hair. Steve got a bit caught up in the motion, his heart jumping a little when Eddie snuffled awake, turning his head and kissing Steve’s palm.

“Morning sweetheart.” He reached a hand out, wrapping it around Steve’s bare waist and pulling him closer. “Ready for the rest of our pampering?”

“Yeah, c’mon”. Steve took the hand from his waist into his own, attempting to tug Eddie up. He ended up stumbling back into his own table, catching himself before falling on his bare ass.

“Alright stumerella, lets go.” Eddie chuckled as he pushed himself up off his bed.

Steve giggled at the nickname even though he didn’t quiet get it. He accepted Eddie’s help getting re-dressed, only smacking suggestive wandering hands away once. Maybe if he was sober he told Eddie who just wiggled his brows and moved on.

The kept their swimsuits on in the mud bath, laying side by side with their heads tilted back and hands intertwined beneath the mud as 2 aestheticians applied masks to their faces and cucumbers over their eyes.

“How you feeling baby?” Eddie asked once the women left the room. They’d be back in 20 minutes to wash the masks off and scrub them down on a wet table.

“Really good.” Steve sighed, his hand squeezing Eddie’s. “I think I could do this again…if you were with me.”

“Hmm sounds great to me, I don’t think I’ve ever been pampered this much.” Eddie tried to smile but his mask pulled and cracked.

“We’re gonna be glowing after all this, like…like glazed donuts or something.” Steve giggled.

“We’re gonna be krispy kreme level glazed…god I wish we had one here.” Eddie sighed.

“God me too, I could eat a whole dozen to myself right now I think.” Steve agreed.

“I’ll get some when we tour the US again, you’ll have to come to every show in a state that has one.”

“Hmm deal if I get a dozen every time.” Steve nodded lazily. “Now I’m so hungry.”

Eddie chuckled, “the munchies are upon us, took longer than I thought.”

“Hey!” Steve pouted.

“Hey! Nothing, I’ve watched you eat an entire tub of ice cream then throw basically all of it up because it gave you a stomach ache.” Eddie was laughing now.

“Whatever, you thought you had jaundice that one time because you and the band smoked for hours while trying to write for the album and you didn’t leave the studio for so long everything had a yellow tinge.” It was Steve’s turn to laugh.

“That was for the sake of creative process!” Eddie defended. “You are so lucky I don’t wanna mess up this mask or I’d mud wrestle you right here right now.”

Steve burst into laughter, just as the door opened again and the aestheticians returned. His teeth clacked as he snapped his mouth closed. They said nothing and Eddie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The mud mask was wiped away with warm cloths and a bunch of serums and oils were rubbed into their faces. Then they made their ways over to the wet room where they were wrapped in seaweed then scrubbed down with a giant natural sponge. They both opted for the lotion after and were thankful for it as it was basically a second massage.

All that was left was the scalp massage which was what Steve was looking forward to the most. He and Eddie kept their pinkies linked as they laid on their backs, heads tilted back into water basins. Two new aestheticians came in and steamed their scalps, then it was a dry brush through, shampoo with a scalp massage, rinse, hair mask with a neck and shoulder massage while it sat, rinse, conditioner.

Once they were alone again Steve was the first to speak. “You’re curls are going to look amazing baby, like a like a shampoo commercial or something.”

“Hmm not as good as when you do them for me though, you have magic hands baby.” Eddie replied.

“Its why I’m a hairdresser…wait that was an innuendo wasn’t it.”

“It was but it doesn’t matter, i’m the only one who gets both types of magic,” Eddie tugged Steve’s hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on Steve’s knuckles.

Steve rolled his eyes but his cheeks still turned pink “Can we go eat now?” He asked as he sat up. “I’m pretty sure it wore off now so i’ll be okay to be in a restaurant.”

“Sure sweetheart whatever you want.” Eddie sat up as well, pulling Steve over to him.

Steve went over easily, standing between Eddies legs allowing his boyfriend to koala wrap himself around Steve. Steve rested his head on top of Eddie’s his own hands wrapping around Eddie’s upper body.

“Thanks for today.” Steve whispered into Eddie’s damp hair. He played with it idly, fingers wrapping around random strands of hair to define their curl.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Eddie’s hands tightened around Steve’s waist. “I love spoiling you and am so happy I found another way to do that.” He moved back so he could look at Steve.

“I love you.” Steve smiled shyly.

“I love you too.” Eddie grinned, he leaned up pressing his lip’s against Steve’s for a sweet kiss.

As they pulled back Steve’s stomach made a loud grumble causing them both to burst out in a fit of giggles.

“Lets get you to that restaurant sweetheart.”

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badpancakelol · 1 year

Text

“Have a nice day!”

Eddie doesn’t hope he has a nice day. The guy was a dick and tried to short him on credits, despite being so obviously well off. Like, c’mon, man. Not even trying to hide the Nabooian silk robes? Or the Coruscanti accent? Offhandedly mentioning that his girlfriend was a senator? Just because he works in the middle of a shit ship-port on Tatooine doesn’t mean he’s thick. He wipes the grease off his hands onto the already-dirty rag, but there’s no use in using precious water on a midday clean. Instead, Eddie dabs the sweat from his brow, and contemplates buzzing his hair short again.

Nabooian. Silk. Thousand threaded, cool-to-the-touch, Eddie’s-favourite-colour, Nabooian silk. The guy had to be taunting him. Had to be. In this heat? In Eddie’s port? With his favourite colour?

(Does it matter that it wasn’t his favourite colour until a certain someone had shown him in-colour holos of the fields? No. No it does not).

And then he had some wannabe bounty hunter from his block try and threaten him to fix his ship, which? Hello? Does Mr Blonde Mullet really think that threatening Eddie is gonna make him want to fix his shit faster? I’ll break your hand if you so much as put a scratch on her. It’s not like he can even do anything to hurt Eddie. A broken hand slows down the work, as does a fractured leg, or a black eye, or a concussion, or a blaster burn, or a vibro-wound, or a—

Ah. You get the point. All bark and no bite, and, dank farrik did he have a stupid amount of bark. Enough bark to fill the entire four hours it took to fix his hunk of junk.

So, really, you can’t blame him for the mood that he’s been in all day (or, you could try, but if your engine takes a little bit longer to retune, or your fuel is a little more expensive than normal, well. Have fun trying to trek your way into the shitshow of the other side of town), when he turns to find the stupidly shiny Naboo royal starship spluttering its way in. Because, seriously? What the hell has he done to the people of Naboo to deserve this?

Eddie thumps his head against the makeshift table, shouts before the ramp has even extended to let whoever-the-fuck out of the rich ship, “We’re closed!”

The sharp click of heeled boots grate on Eddie’s brain, and is only dulled when he watches the way they sink slightly into the ground through his curtain of hair.

“I don’t need any work done.” Rich Naboo Man says, and—

He knows that voice.

“I just need a place to park for a little while — I’m visiting a friend around here, actually.”

Eddie lifts his head, peeks up at the person in front of him. The person who is very much Naboo royalty, who is wearing those stupid bright red robes, and the stupid headpiece that he said was too heavy and impractical, with makeup that he said highlighted his broken nose too much, is shuffling out of the starship. His head is held high, and there’s a crease in his brow that’s been the same since they were stupid foundlings with Eddie reading out the aurebesh on the flimsi that their teachers handed them.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Steve?”

“Eddie?” His head moves so fast that the jewels dangling from the headpiece almost whip him in the face. And then Steve is shuffling forwards, back straight and face smoothed to a soothing smile, before he’s already apologising. “I’m sorry that I didn’t make it on time. There were duties that I had to attend to, and they ran longer than—”

He bolts from his seat, taking long strides in his ratty grey jumpsuit before he’s caught Steve around the middle twirling them around, because he’s waiting fifty-seven rotations for this. Fifty-seven. If Steve says one more damned apology Eddie is quite literally going to explode. The laugh that Steve lets out is so hearty and so full — warmer than both of Tattoooine’s suns — and, Force, if Eddie has to go another almost-two-months without seeing him, he is quite literally going to overthrow Naboo.

“Hey! It’s okay, Hop. You can put the blaster down.” Steve places his hands onto Eddie’s shoulders and— did he hear that right?

“King Harrington—”

“—Please, Hop, not while I’m off-duty—”

“Steve, the guy ran at you and hauled you up.”

Steve turns around, and Eddie feels like, then. His royal robes create a silhouette of patience and strength, and tower over Eddie, if you count in the headpiece. There is a part of Eddie that whispers how he should very much be letting go of Steve, because his guard still has his blaster aimed at the only bits of him that stick out from behind Steve’s ornate dress. But it’s been so long, and there’s a larger part of his soul that says that he never wants to let go.

“Hopper,” Steve says, and Eddie can just feel the commanding tone of voice bleed through his usual casualness. “This is who I was meeting.”

Eddie lifts his head over Steve’s shoulder, and ignores the small huff he gets in return for the grease he undoubtedly just smeared across Steve’s very expensive, thousand thread Nabooian silk robes. Maybe it’ll finally give him a reason to change out of them. Hopper lowers his blaster, shoves it into the holster with too much and too little force without-a-capital-F all at once. If Eddie was a lesser man he would have snorted. Or, if Eddie was a lesser man he would have let the guard hear his snort.

“This is the guy you’re courting?” “Force, you make us sound old.” Eddie sighs at the same time Steve full-heartedly responds “Yes.”

The guard — Hopper — just pinches his brow and adjusts the hat on his head. “Well, I can’t say anything for your taste in men, but at least he has a respectable job. And he gets paid.”

“Stevie’s still dealing with the Naboo’s Royal Pocket Money?”

“Don’t remind me.” Steve says, moving a swift motion so that he holds Eddie’s hand underneath one of the long red sleeves of his gown.

When Eddie turns to look at Steve, he’s already turned. There’s a mellowed out look on his face that Eddie reads as is your work finished? Let’s clean up and lie around and do nothing but be near each other. And who is Eddie to deny such a request?

“Well,” Eddie says, in all the hospitality that a man from Tatooine can muster, “We best not keep you any longer.”

Hop hums in the way that Wayne used to when he knew that Eddie was just trying to weasel his way out of things. Maybe it was just one of those sixth senses that fathers-who-aren’t-biologically-fathers gain when their children start dating. Or maybe Eddie’s just obvious.

“I can give you a rundown of your ship in the morning. I think you’ve dislodged something in your engine — I could hear it rattling before you even landed.”

Steve tugs on Eddie’s arm, lip quirked up at the corners, and crows feet showing through ornate red and white makeup. “Eds, there’s nothing wrong—”

“Stevie, I love you, but you’re terrible at lying.”

#stranger things april aus #pov the only thing i take from the 1st april tradesperson au prompt is that eddie is a mechanic #welcome to the start of my star wars steddie miniseries that follows @designatedgrape 's april aus #yes. steve is basically padme.#no eddie is not anakin #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie #eddie x steve #steveddie #stranger things #if you saw me accidentally post this three times no you didnt

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