#mutual heartbreak

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

masterlist | playlist | pin board | chapter X

Chapter XI: Consider This The Slip

summary: the aftermath of a rough night is surprisingly calm. things might be a mess, but you’re handling it as well as you possibly could. for now, at least, things are going to be okay.

tags: angst!!!!! hurt/comfort, flirting, forced proximity, slow burn, mutual pining, fake dating, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!gn!reader, bff!robin and bff!steve

a/n: HIIIIII i’m really proud of how this turned out, very excited to get to the midwest leg of the tour soon! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

December 1985

He wakes up first, the sunlight peeking through your open blinds hitting the bed. You’re still asleep, regardless of the rays hitting your entire body, and Eddie can’t help but stare. Your back is to him, the covers thrown from your body in your sleep, leaving your entire backside exposed. He traces your silhouette first with his eyes, letting them roam freely over your neck that still has remnants of his teeth, your shoulders, down your back, to your hips, and over your ass where the comforter barely covers you. Without thinking, Eddie traces the muscles on your back with a lazy finger, committing every inch to his memory.

He lets his mind wander, mostly to how unbelievable this whole situation is. To have someone to wake up to, that trusts him enough to let him sleep in their bed, that loves him, is something he never could have counted on. In a way, it terrifies him, that it’s all too good to be true. One day, he’s sure you’ll wake up and realize what a mistake you’ve made. He shakes his head at himself, ridding the thought from his mind. You’ve given him no reason to worry, he’s doing this to himself.

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

Your new look is, well, interesting to say the least. He does a double take when you get on stage, a hand flying to cover his gaping mouth. He looks from the stage, to Steve, then back to the stage.

Steve shakes his head, mouthing I don’t fuckin’ know! And Eddie snorts. You’re definitely going through something, but that doesn’t mean the haircut itself isnt fucking hilarious.

After what feels like forever, you finish your last song and exit the stage. Eddie is quick to follow you, catching up with your angry stomping. “Nice ‘do.” He nudges you as he falls in step. “Where can I get me one of those. What’s it called? The ‘Stuck In The Blender’?”

“It’s actually called leave me the fuck alone, Eddie.” You spit back, trying to speed walk away, but he keeps your pace.

“Why’d you do that?” He makes a point to sound genuine, because despite himself, he still worries about you.

You shrug. “Felt like it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, what’s buggin’ you?

“Honestly?” You halt, making Eddie stop short and trip on his own feet. “You. You’re bugging me.”

It’s a jab to his ego, and he feels an ache in his chest. “Me?”

You nod, growing frantic. “You! You keep, y’know, showing up.” You wave your hands around as you speak, as if it’ll get your point across.

“I- I’m sorry, I think? I can’t really help that. We are stuck on tour together, we kinda have no choice but to show up.” His brain works quickly, trying to make sense of your words. “Is this about the song? Earlier? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, it came out wrong. I want to write the song with you, even if we don’t-“

You wave your hand to stop him, and he does. “No, no. It’s not just that. It’s me. I’m stressed out, I don’t like that my label wants us to date. I don’t like that we’re touring together. I don’t like that I-“ You cut yourself off. “Never mind.”

“What? You don’t like when you what? Whatever it is, I won’t judge, I won’t even say a word.”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes on the sticky club floor. “Nothing.”

“Y/n.” Eddie fights the urge to reach for you, to pull you in and wrap his arms around you. He forgets what it even feels like to hold you now, what your warmth feels like.

“Eddie, really. Nothing.” And that’s final. The two of you don’t say anything until you reach the dressing room, where Eddie bids you goodnight, and is meant with a grunt as you close the door in his face.

He doesn’t have long to collect his thoughts before Robin’s behind him. “What did you do?”

He pivots, groaning. “Nothing! I- I don’t know! They won’t tell me!”

She crosses her arm, waiting for him to finish yammering. “Uh huh. Now use your tiny little boy brain.” Eddie looks for clues on her face, but gets nothing from her irritated expression. He shrugs, exasperated and defeated. “I’ll give you a teeny, tiny hint. Think about it. Why did they never tell you they got signed? Why did they never ask you for help when it came to video shoots or recording, or anything like that? Why were they so fine not coming to shows with you while you were dating?”

It takes him a second, but he gets there “Oh.” You don’t want your success to be credited to him. You want to make your own name, your own art, without being associated with Eddie. You don’t want people believing you slept your way to the top.

“Yeah, oh. You’re still so blind to how they feel, Ed, it is so irritating to watch. And before you even think about it, don’t ask me for advice. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know. Now, if you would get out of my way, I have a friend to comfort.” She nudges Eddie with her shoulder, entering the dressing room and slamming the door behind her.

—

Your POV

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would I do that? Why am I being so fucking embarrassing?

You’re aggressively splashing your warm face with cool water when Robin knocks on the bathroom door. “Occupied!” You flinch when you hear the sound of your strained voice, sounding how you feared it would: like you’d been crying.

“It’s me,” Robin’s voice is low, but you crack the door enough to peer out and see her standing there. “Can I come in?” You nod, and open the door just enough to let her squeeze inside. You turn the faucet back on to drown your voices out. You’ve finished crying, your face red and your eyes puffy. You sniffle, and Robin takes you in as you try to disappear. “Can you please, please tell me what’s actually going on? You can’t keep walking around like you’re fine and then pull a stunt like this. We worry.”

You cross your arms, taking in her words to heart as you try to breathe evenly. “This doesn’t leave the room.” She nods. “Not even to Steve.” You clarify, and she only keeps nodding. You want to believe her, so you do. “I’ve been worse, lately. Not sleeping, not feeling like myself. I wanted to do something drastic, so I chose to do this,” you gesture to your horrible haircut, “instead of something… bad.”

Robin makes a noise like she understands. She doesn’t, not really, but you don’t feel like giving her the gory details. “Okay, so how are we gonna fix it?”

You turn to face the mirror. One side is longer than the other, making you look like you’ve got a permanent kink in your neck. Your bangs are choppy, and the ends are cut bluntly, like you sawed them off. “I figure Harley’s seen the damage, or at least heard by now. Maybe she’ll forgive me and fix it. I don’t know if I wanna face her wrath, though.” You feel a burning in your throat, and you stifle an ugly sob as you take in your appearance.

“I may have an idea. You gotta trust me, though.” Robin’s eyes meet yours in the mirror. You’ve trusted her with your life, so you don’t see a reason you can’t trust her with your hair. “We have to wait for Eddie, though.”

Ah, fuck.

—

Eddie’s POV

He walks offstage, waving to the audience still screaming his name. He tosses his sweat soaked shirt over his shoulder, and follows the rest of the band to their dressing room. When he gets close enough, he notices you and Robin waiting outside, having a hushed discussion when he approaches.

“Eddie!” Robin greets, far too cheerfully for the way she’s been acting toward him lately. “We need your help.” Her tone suggests it’s not a question.

Eddie leans against the wall, fighting the urge to light a cigarette already. “With?” Robin motions to your hair, and he snorts. “You want me to… what, exactly?”

“Fix it. I want you to fix it.” You say meekly. “Please?” You add, looking up finally. Of course he’s gonna do it, even with that haircut he’d do anything you asked him to. “I have a feeling Harley’s gonna kill me if she gets to it first.”

Eddie chuckles, and he thinks he catches the beginning of your smile twitching on your face. “Okay, yeah. I’ll fix it. But I need something from you.”

“Depends what it is.” You cross your arms over your chest, defensive.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be negotiating, sweetheart.” He bites his lip as soon as he says it, the old nickname slipping out like a bad habit. “Sorry.”

You don’t respond, but you enter the room like he’s invited you, and Robin follows closely. Before Eddie can enter, though, she turns around. “Go easy. They’re not in a good place right now. They need gentle hands.”

Eddie nods. “I can be gentle.”

Robin only nods in response. “Alright, I’ll leave you guys to it. I’m gonna take a nap before we get on the road. Have fun!”

“You aren’t staying?” You call out to Robin, and Eddie’s heart sinks. You still don’t want to be alone with him.

“You’ll be okay! Scream if you need me!” Robin exits the dressing room, waving on her way.

Eddie turns his radio down, lowering the blasting of R.E.M.’s Losing My Religion to a dull hum. He turns to you, standing in the middle of the dressing room while the guys gather their things to pack the bus. Eddie fills them in, apologizing for not helping them load.

“It’s fine, man. Y/n needs you more right now, I think.” Gareth says, and not with any malice. He glances at you, then back to Eddie. “How are you gonna fix that?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I have maybe one semi decent idea.” Gareth nods, and follows his band out the door.

“Okay,” Eddie turns back to you, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see what we got here. Go ahead and sit down.” Eddie motions to the vanity mirror, and you take a seat in his chair. The lights are bright on your face, and Eddie does everything he can not to stare. Your eyes are bloodshot, your cheeks red and puffy. He sees the tear stains and red nose, the giveaways that you’ve been crying. He knows you don’t usually care this much about your appearance. Something else is doing this to you, and he’s determined to figure out what it is.

He grabs a towel from his suitcase and drapes it over your front, a makeshift smock, knotting it together in the back with a stray hair tie. He’s nervous, being so close to you like this, while you put your trust in his abilities. He grabs his scissors and a comb in shaky hands, and forces himself to relax.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know.” You say quietly, almost a whisper.

“I wanna help. If you’re okay with it.” He looks at you in the mirror, meeting your eyes a second before you look away.

“Okay. Sorry, it’s really bad.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing we can’t fix.” He’s not sure that’s true, but he’ll be damned if he upsets you further. He gets to work, snipping longer pieces and evening out the back. As he does, he becomes less nervous about how it will come out. It’ll be much shorter, sure, but at least it won’t look like you cut it with a weedwacker.

The silence starts to get to him. “Why’d you do it, really?” Eddie asks, not meeting your eyes.

“I wanted to feel in control.” Your answer surprises him.

“Are you feeling out of control?”

You scoff. “Yeah, very. Are you not?”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve never felt in control. It’s never bothered me.” He likes the chaos, the unpredictability.

“I dunno. Maybe it’s tour fatigue. Sleeping on a bus, being up all the time. Can’t be too good for me.”

“How are you sleeping?” He asks, not thinking of how it must sound.

“Not well, not since tour started.”

Eddie nods. “Buses aren’t ideal, but you get used to it.” He makes a few more cuts, then stands back to admire his work. “Voila!”

You inspect your new hair in the mirror. It’s short, resting just below your jaw in choppy layers. Your bangs are still short, but they fall evenly across your forehead. You look fantastic, but Eddie already knows you can pull any hairstyle off.

“Wow. I did not know you could do that.” You turn your head to inspect the side view. “Thank you. So, so much.”

Eddie unties the towel from around your neck. “Anytime.”

“What did you want for it?” You ask, standing up to face him.

“What? Oh,” He’d forgotten he said he needed anything from you. “I uh, I want help with my makeup.”

—

Your POV

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Eddie nods, blushing. “I can’t put eyeliner on to save my life. All the rockstars do it, and I think it looks sick. But I don’t even know where to start.”

You nod, choosing not to take the opportunity to poke fun at him. He did just save your hair, after all. “Okay. Do you have any?”

“Yeah,” He grabs the toiletry back off the vanity and pulls out a black pencil with no cap. You pluck it from his fingers and motion for him to sit in the chair. He does, but his head isn’t close enough to you, so you shake your head.

“Here, sit on the counter,” you pat the top of the vanity, and he repositions himself. Sitting here, he’s about exactly your height, eyes level with yours. You take a step closer, closing the gap between you and him almost completely. You repeat a prayer in your head, not to lose your cool being so close to his face, his eyes, his lips.

You clear your throat to break the silence. “So, I have a trick,” you dig around in your pockets until you locate your lighter. “I melt the tip to make it easier to apply. Like this,” You flick the lighter, and hold the tip of the pencil to the flame for barely a few seconds. “But don’t, like, apply it right away. Don’t wanna blind yourself.” You blow on the pencil to cool it down just enough to use. “Look up, but with your eyes not your head.” Eddie tilts his head up, and immediately realizes his mistake. You giggle as he readjusts. “Good. Stay still.” Here comes the hard part. The part where you have to touch his face. You place your thumb under his eye, pulling the bottom lid open just slightly to gain access to his waterline. You take the pencil and drag it across, trying to go quickly so this torture can be over for both of you.

“How do you do this every night? This shit sucks.” Eddie talks as you focus, and you can feel his face moving under your hand.

“Beauty is pain.” You reply, switching to his other eye.

“This isn’t beauty, it’s metal.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Of course. Mean and scary.” You wipe a bit of excess eyeliner from under his eye. “Tada!”

Eddie turns around in his seat to look into the mirror. “Oh, I look sexy!” He exclaims, and you have to bite so hard on your tongue to keep from responding. The feeling in your stomach is back, like a flock of birds banging around in your intestines. Eddie turns back to look at you. “Thank you.”

You nod, still too close to his face. “Anytime.” The silence after is deafening. Your ears are ringing and you’re not sure whether it’s from the show or from the quiet between you two.

Eddie clears his throat after what feels like forever. “I gotta, uh,” He motions vaguely to the door.

You realize you’ve planted yourself between his legs, and clumsily back away from him. “Sorry! Sorry. Yeah, I should probably get going too. I’ll uh, see you later? When we leave together to please the public?”

Eddie nods, and you turn on your heel and speed walk the fuck out of there.

—

Eddie’s POV

He’s fucked. He’s fucked so bad, and he can’t do anything about it. He can still smell your perfume, mixed with the slightest amount of sweat after performing, and a little like beer that probably spilled onstage. He feels your hand caressing his face gently, and your warm breath against his skin as you concentrate. If he closes his eyes, you’re back again, leaning into him, lips closing in on his.

“You ready?” Gareth comes back in, but stops short when Eddie opens his eyes. “Shit, man, you look good! You do that?” He wiggles a finger, gesturing to Eddie’s eyes.

“Nah, uh, Y/n helped me out.”

“Oh?” His tone is teasing. “Glad you guys are still getting along. Speaking of, I just saw them. Nice job on the hair.”

Eddie grins. “Thanks, man.”

“Let’s get goin’, yeah? Washington tomorrow’s gonna be insane. You need the rest.”

Eddie nods. “I’ll catch up, I got a few things to grab first.” Gareth nods, and leaves the dressing room.

—

You’re waiting by the stage door when Eddie approaches. “You still got it on, huh?” You smile up at him, and his heart rate quickens.

“I gotta show it off while I can, there’s no way I’ll be able to do it this well.” He holds out his hand, already feeling it sweat. “Shall we?”

You grab his hand after half a beat of hesitation, entwining your fingers with his. It’s the most natural feeling in the world, your skin against his. He squeezes it gently, and feels you squeeze back, a silent exchange of reassurance.

Steve flings the door open, and Eddie’s immediately blinded by the camera flashes. Crowds of fans and paparazzi alike start shouting, crude comments and questions alike.

“Do you need a third?!” “How long have you been dating?!” “Is this a rekindled love?!” “Over here, over here!”

Eddie does his gentlemanly duty, shielding you as best as he can with his body, opening his jacket to block the view of the cameras. You’re hurried into the bus by Steve, who slams the door behind him and heaves a deep breath like he’s just run a marathon.

“Thanks, big guy.” Eddie pats Steve on the back.

“So, uh,” You let go of Eddie’s hand, and he bites back his disappointment. “How do I get back on my own bus?”

Steve checks his watch. “We’ll probably stop to get food in a bit. You can reunite on your bus in a few hours.”

Eddie whips his head to look at Steve. “A few hours?”

Steve shrugs. “It would look weird if Y/n were to just walk back out now. There’s no point in stopping until we get food, and everyone’s too hungry to wait for you guys to sort your shit. Get comfy, Y/n. Welcome to the Coffin.” Steve pushes past you both grumpily, and Eddie watches you follow.

—

Your POV

“Hey.” You tap Steve’s shoulder once you’ve caught up to him by the bunks. “What’s your deal?”

Steve grunts. “Tired. And irritated.”

“Why?”

“I'm sick of being out of the loop. I have no idea what’s going on with you two. First your hair’s all fucked up, now Eddie’s wearing makeup and you look like a rockstar again. What the hell did I miss?”

You shrug, fighting the urge to tell him everything. “Bad night, gave myself a makeunder. Eddie helped me fix it to avoid Harley’s fury. I showed him how to do his eyeliner in return. No biggie.”

Steve sighs. “Okay,” he says, clearly dissatisfied. “As long as I'm not missing anything important.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

“Like you falling back into love or something. Because I'm still betting on you two.”

“Okay, enough! I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me when we’re getting food.” You go to enter an empty bunk.

Steve stops you with a grunt. “Those are taken. Eddie’s room’s back there,” he points to the sliding door behind him.

“I’d rather sleep on the roof.”

“Sorry, I can’t allow that. Eddie has room for a second person, not that he’s used it.” You try to decode Steve’s cryptism to no avail. Why would you care if he’s used the extra space? Defeated, you shuffle off to Eddie’s tiny room, curling up against the wall in the uncomfortable twin bed. It doesn’t take long before you’re unconscious.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Alright, I’m tapping out.” Eddie puts his hand on the table of the tiny booth. “Gonna rest up before we get to Seattle. G’night.” The guys wave him off, and Eddie slides the door open to his bed. Behind it, you’re sprawled on the tiny bed, laying on your stomach with an arm up on either side of your head. Your mouth hangs open as you snore softly, mumbling every few seconds something incoherent.

The last thing he wants to do is wake you up. Instead, he slides the door closed again and pivots to face Steve. “They’re in my bed.”

Steve mumbles something before flipping over to face Eddie. “So wake them up.”

“They had a rough day, I wanna let them sleep.”

“Then fuckin’ sleep somewhere else. Leave me out of it, like you do everything else.” Steve flips back over to face the wall after yanking the curtain shut. Eddie huffs in annoyance, and opens his bedroom door again.

You’ve moved, now on your side facing the wall. There’s a sliver of floor next to the bed, barely wide enough to fit a person, but it’ll have to do for now. His bones ache with fatigue, and his head is starting to hurt. As he goes to pull a pillow from the bed, he hears you. He can’t tell if you’re awake, so he waits a beat. You repeat yourself, “Just get in.”

“What?” Eddie whispers, in case you’re sleep talking again.

You roll over, your eyes wide open. “Lie down. It’s only an hour or two until we stop and I can get off. You’re tired, I’m tired. Not a big deal.”

Before he can respond, you’ve turned around again, pulling the blanket up to your chin. The bed is small, leaving no way for Eddie to lie next to you without touching you. He winces as his chest brushes against your back, but he lowers himself into the bed anyway. He lay stiffly, careful not to disturb you again, but you stir slightly, pressing into his chest. It takes all of his reserve not to throw his arm around your waist and drag you closer, but he rests his hand on his leg instead. Your warmth lulls him to sleep in minutes.

—

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[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[annabethpursuit]

i need them back real bad i need season three in particular to be announced right NEOWWW

[incorrect-play-it-by-ear]

Me and the mutuals

[iniyaas]

I genuinely don't understand what Ness is expecting of Kaiser anymore?

See, Kaiser is actually praising(?) Ness here:

He is warning Rin that he is gonna get bitten by Yoichi and the stray dog- Ness. which yes, Rin did overlook Ness gaining on him and does lose the ball.

And yet, Ness' reaction is: "What do you think of my press, Kaiser?!"

Whereas Kaiser never said that his presses or passes were bad or anything? In fact, I am pretty sure he has been watching Ness' moves; cuz he noticed Ness pressing in before Rin or Isagi. all he said was that they won't maintain their one-to-one coordination anymore.

Leaving 'find your new master' and all the edgy teenager talk aside, the so-called "Kainess breakup" boils down to this, right? Kaiser wants to open up his options and include the other players into his play style--which is not necessarily a bad thing? Soccer is, yes, a team sport; how are they going to play a team sport with just two people? In fact, won't Ness, being a midfielder, have more scope for performance too, if he passes to others, not just Kaiser? idk.

Okay, but what is super funny to me in this whole "breakup" is: Kaiser really thought he took in a dog, made him his pet, but now he has abandoned him on the streets again -> Status Updated: my dog is a stray dog again/ UP for sale lmao

poor Ness is so in the habit of being patted and praised "Good boy, Ness" after every pass or smth; so he goes to Kaiser for the same but gets this:

Find a new master who'd pat (squeeze? crush?) his head and go Good Boy, Ness! I am sad for you, Ness--but I guess I can't relate to being so obedient to someone your age?? Love is one thing, admiration is another; but this is ??? what exactly?? obsession maybe? praise kink?

adding: this post by @/riririnnnn [I wonder if Ness is still going to blame Isagi for everything.]

something else I am curious about, and don't understand is this:

See, Ness is super happy for Kaiser getting an offer from Re Al!

When Kaiser was cartoon-villain-monologuing about Isagi (so cringey it was reidiculous, Kaiser what the fuck was that), Ness got frustrated that Kaiser is looking at someone else, not him??

And yet, if Kaiser does accept Re Al offer and leaves for that club, Ness will be left behind alone at Basmun? if Kaiser leaves for Re Al, he will obviously form new partnerships there, and never look back at Ness anymore? So, where does that leave Ness? Is he not thinking that far, or does he believe Re Al will extend the offer to him as well? They have Sae already-the best midfielder in U-20! Why would they take in Ness? this is not an extra buy-one-get-one-free package with Kaiser?!

What would Ness do if Kaiser actually left for Re Al?!!!

That's why I want Ness to stop searching for yet another master and live as a stray dog who is loyal to no one.

Of course, it'd be super difficuly to change his style after passing to one striker all along, but it's not too late. he can change if he tries, he has more than enough specs to do it.

After all, even on their first meeting, Kaiser commented:

[dsm--v]

im not a homosexual but sure dracula.

[siya-sayani]

Ever heard of one night love??? Yeah I reckon I just had my first one night love. So painful, my limbs are giving up. Can't talk about it, cry about it, bcos it was just for one day. And now he's gone, and suddenly everything has red in it, and it's worthless all again. (One night love is not sex... it's just two people confessing and loving each other for just one night).

[baz-airlines]

I’ve got this headcanon that has been rattling around in my head for a while. I feel like Jon and Sasha went to school or uni together, or something like that.

Cause if Sasha used to work in artifact storage, whereas Jon and Tim in research. I always wondered how he would have known her well enough to request her. Even if he’s just heard about her (as Gertrude might have seeing as she was hoping that she would be the next archivist) whenever we get a smidgen of Jon and Sasha interacting it’s very friendly. More than Jon and Tim imo. Even then, I genuinely doubt there’s that much communication or collaboration between the departments. Seeing as Jon seemed to have never heard of Martin. And other than the one fluff episode, no one in any other department has even been mentioned. (Especially with the worm infestation, if you were friends with your co workers wouldn’t you talk to them about that sort of thing?)

But all of that has always bugged me. Because why would Jon specifically request Sasha if he barely knew her? It’s not like Tim was the only coworker he ever interacted with. Hence, they must have known each other outside of the institute.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Wait, fuck, hold on-

THEY CAN'T FUCKING BRING OUT AN ANTI-HERO ARTEMIS WHEN I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF STUDYING FOR FINALS!!

WHAT THE FUCK, DC?!? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FOCUS?!?

oh i am so excited holy shit. am i the only one getting slade vibes from her?? because im getting massive slade/rose wilson vibes from the single eye cover and im wondering if artemis is a plant, someone unconnected from slade who wouldn't be considered a threat, to go undercover and get close to the titans. this is also like, high-key a chance to make jade and artemis sisters and/or half-sisters in canon which would be neat. i know comics fans aren't huge on changes to the canon based on outside things but making them half sisters doesn't really change jades backstory, nor artemis'.

[sweetfreedom2107]

Many have fallen for my body but will you fall for my soul? Will you fall for my personality before you violate my body just to fulfill your fantasies and then call *me* a whore? Will you show me the respect I have only ever dreamed of? Am I a fool to dream of being loved? Am I naive to dream of being loved?

[heartstopper-0bsessed]

RAHH I NEED MORE MOOTS !! if you’re a minor (preferably, or at least near it) and share any of my interests pleaseeee text me !! 😭🤍.

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter IX: In The Morning You’ll Be Gone

masterlist | playlist | chapter viii

summary: Friends is a heavy word for you and eddie. things are off to a weird start as you spend some time reconnecting after your show in vegas.

tags/warnings: slow burn, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, gn!reader, angst is slightly lighter this time, but obviously still there!! these two are horrible at feelings btw if that wasn’t obvious.

a/n: let me know what you think! i have a loooot of ideas swimming around right now, but i wanna hear ur input! love u guys sm, thank u for reading! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

——

September 1987

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie kicks the door to your shared apartment open, the old wood creaking under his heavy boots.

The ruckus summons you to the entryway. You speed walk from your master bedroom, where you’ve been spending your nights without your boyfriend. The house already feels warmer with him inside. “Hi, baby!” You squeal, running into his arms. He lifts you into the air, spinning you around like a husband home from war.

When he places you back in front of him, you refuse to let go. You lock your hands around his neck, and pull his face into yours to connect your lips. He relaxes against your touch, finally settling the yearning in his stomach. It’s been two long months of Eddie on tour, and you had refused to come because you didn’t want to be his “groupie.” You still haven’t told him how stupid that decision was. Regardless, it doesn’t matter now. He’s home, and he’s in your arms, exactly where he’s supposed to be.

“How are you, love of mine?”

“Never better, now that you’re home.”

—

Eddie’s POV

It’s probably the best he's ever performed, much to his own surprise. He's played Las Vegas before, but something about his own energy has brought the best out of the crowd. By the end of the set, Eddie’s shirtless, drenched in sweat, and practically deaf, but the excitement roaring through him makes it all worth it. He’d caught you watching too, standing on the side of the stage right up against the barricade like you’d used to when you were dating. He couldn’t help stealing glances throughout the show, catching you singing and dancing along like you were still his biggest fan.

Back in the band’s dressing room, Corroded Coffin light cigarettes and joints while beer bottles are cracked open, an atmosphere of relaxation settling in after what feels like years of being on edge. Much of that probably has to do with their frontman being in a good mood. Eddie sips his beer as he chats with Gareth, who’s puffing on a joint dangerously close to frying his hair.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, huh?” Gareth jokes, nudging Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “You finally get laid or something?” Eddie snorts in response, ignoring the question. “C’mon, you gotta let me know what’s got you performing like that again. I haven’t seen you this in-the-zone since— “ Gareth stops himself, but Eddie knows where he’s going. He hasn’t performed like that since you broke up with him. Gareth doesn’t push him, but his eyes communicate his question.

“We aren’t back together, don’t freak out like that.” Eddie answers the unspoken inquiry, indulging his friend. “But we talked. Amicably, even. We decided we’re gonna try the whole friend thing. For real, this time.”

“And you’re okay with that? Just being friends?” Gareth’s concern is written on his face, and for good reason. You and Eddie tried being friends after breaking up, but it was always falling apart, probably due to not giving yourselves time to heal.

Eddie nods. “I am. It’s bound to be better than not having them in my life at all. I know it’s gonna be difficult, but I’m selfish. I don’t wanna be without them again.”

Gareth nods, taking another swig of his beer. “Good luck, man. Seriously. They were so good for you, I just hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

He has, he’s almost sure of it. If given the chance, Eddie’s gonna show you just how grateful he is for you, just how much he cherishes you. He fucked up, badly, when you were together, but now that he knows what life without you is like, he’s sure he never wants to experience it again.

He's pulled from his thoughts when the dressing room door opens, and you enter with Steve and your band, dressed down from your set. You’re wearing sweatpants and, what Eddie is almost sure, is his old Metallica t-shirt. It’s faded, worn beyond recognition even when he had possession of it, but you still look incredible. Your hair is piled on top of your head, with little stray pieces hanging in front of your face. You catch him looking at you, and give him the smallest of smiles. He returns it with a gleaming grin, one that makes his cheeks ache, but he doesn’t care. You’re here, willingly, in his dressing room, hanging out with him and his band. Almost like nothing has changed in the last two years, even though you’re on your way to being one of the biggest bands in the world. Bigger than CC, even.

You shuffle further into the crowded room while Steve corrals the stragglers standing out in the hall. He’s about to give another rousing Manager Speech, so Eddie kicks his feet up on the small table in front of the couch as you place yourself on the arm closest to him. Your bandmates make themselves comfortable, and he dares to look at Robin, who lets a smile slip from her lips, and it’s like the weight of the world lifts from his shoulders. You must have filled her in by now. Maybe he has a chance to get all of his friends back.

Steve finally approaches the rest of you, standing in the middle of the room while the excitement dies down. “Alright!” He claps his hands together, summoning everyone’s attention finally. “We’re hitting the road for Oregon shortly, I need everyone back on their bus by 2AM. You guys were incredible tonight, I’m so proud of all of you.” Steve looks to Eddie, then you as he says this, his praise directly targeted at his front people. “Til then, do as you please, and call me if things get out of hand. Thank you!” The room erupts in chatter as Steve approaches the couch, followed closely by Robin. “I would love an explanation for this, by the way.” Steve wags his finger between you two, still sitting close enough to touch, without actually touching. “Whenever you feel like telling me.” He looks to Eddie, who bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing. He almost breaks until he feels a hand on him. Your hand, gentle and warm, rests atop his bare shoulder, like the most casual thing in the world, and he can’t bring himself to move, worrying the moment would be broken.

“Don’t worry about us, Stevie. We’re being good.” Your voice is teasing, and clearly worn from your set. Eddie fights the urge to look up at you, knowing one glance will break his fragile composure. Your fingers tap against his clavicle, sticking to him slightly due to the sweat. He clears his throat as quietly as he can, trying his best not to let your touch send him into a spiral.

Steve shrugs. “Alright! Be back by two, please.” With that, Steve leaves the dressing room.

—

Your POV

By now the room is empty, save for you, Eddie, and Robin. You desperately hope they can’t see through your confident facade. Inside, you’re shaking, having felt Eddie’s skin on yours for the second time today. Everything is confusing, you have no idea where the two of you are headed. It feels new and exciting now, getting Eddie back, but it also feels fragile. One wrong move will send you back to square one, and you’re not willing to start over again.

It’s Robin who breaks the silence first. “So, we goin’ out tonight? Or do you two forget how to party together?”

You squint your eyes at her joke, and turn to finally look at Eddie. “You wanna party?” You hope desperately that this isn’t the worst idea ever.

Eddie nods, beaming. You get off the arm of the couch, stumbling less than gracefully to your feet. “Awesome. I’m gonna go change, meet us in the back in like, twenty minutes!” You and Robin scurry out of the dressing room, giggling to yourselves.

“So,” Robin starts as you rush to your dressing room, where Sylvie and Lilith sit chatting on the couch, the small TV providing background noise. “You gonna tell Steve about you and Ed?” Her question silences the rest of the band.

“You better tell us first!” Sylvie shrieks, getting to their feet. “What the hell was all that, even?”

Lilith joins them, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you two were almost being friendly in there.”

You lift your, well Eddie’s, t-shirt over your head, swapping it for a tighter, smaller black one, and change out of your sweats and into some light wash, baggy jeans. “There’s nothing to explain, really.” You turn to face your friends. “We talked about what he said. He apologized, and we’re trying the friend thing.” Lilith rolls her eyes, and Sylvie shakes their head. “What?” you ask, exasperated.

Robin speaks for them. “We just know how that’s gonna go, babes. One of you is gonna… I dunno, slip up? Like last time?” When you don’t offer her an answer, Robin continues, pouring both of you a pre game drink. “You guys just aren’t meant to be friends. You’d tear each other apart before you could get to genuine, platonic friendship. You’re not, well, Steve and I.” The last bit is meant as a joke, you know, but it stings a little. You hope they’re not right, that you can be friends with Eddie without destroying you both.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” You shrug, and yank your boots on. “For now, I just wanna drink.” You take your vodka soda from Robin and throw it down your throat, as if to emphasize your desperation.

—

You, Robin, Eddie, and Steve pile into the back of a cab, all of you already tipsy. Steve’s decided to chaperone, and you can’t really argue considering the circumstances. He sits between you and Eddie, a knee against one of each of yours. The four of you are in casual attire, on your way to a club on the Strip you’ve never heard of. It feels like high school, almost, minus the whole “being in a band touring with a household name” thing. It feels comfortable, sitting between Steve and Robin, with Eddie on Steve’s other side, on your way to get drinks and finally just hang out. No drama, no worries, no screaming fans. A break.

When the car pulls up, Robin climbs out and holds the door for the rest of you. You link your arm through hers, and she links her other arm with Steve. You look at Eddie, standing next to you with his arms firmly at his sides, and offer your free arm. His lips split into a smile, and he links his arm with yours, causing your heart to surge. Friends.

There’s some truth to Robin’s words. You know you’ll probably love Eddie forever, way more than you just would a friend, but you can’t force yourself back into that relationship. You don’t know what your feelings for him are anymore, you just know you have them. And having them is dangerous, especially now that you’re both terribly successful and there’s no way you two could ever work it out.

—

Eddie’s POV

All he’s aware of is your shoulder against his as the four of you squeeze through the dark nightclub. The music is deafening, Jump Around by House of Pain shaking the whole building. He wants a drink. Really, he wants to leave, and go watch a bad movie on the bus, or reread The Hobbit for the fifth time this year. But those things don’t have you in a really tight t-shirt, so instead he’s waddling uncomfortably between sweaty bodies, following closely behind you as you make your way to the bar.

“What’re you having?” He reads your lips more than hears you, squinting to make out what you’re saying in the dark room.

“I’ll take a beer, whatever they have.” Eddie feels his voice rasp as he shouts over the music, but you nod like you’ve heard him anyway. He watches as you order, leaning on the bar so the tender; a good looking dude with salt and pepper hair, a good body, and tight fitting clothes, can hear you over the ruckus. You flirt with your posture, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as you lean in to speak to him. He nods, winking at you before walking away to retrieve your drinks. Eddie can't help the burning in his chest as he watches the interaction, fighting every urge to jump over the counter and beat the guy senseless. Not that he’d be able to, the dude is jacked.

It takes almost no time for you to turn around, coming face to face with Eddie, your nose far too close to his chest. “Here,” you hand him his bottle, and he reads the label.

“They had Red Stripe?” Still his favorite, and only ever found in the crevices of the dingiest liquor stores.

You shrug. “Vegas has everything! C’mon, let’s go find the others.” You take his hand, and Eddie looks at it, a fraction of a second too long before taking it.Despite his hesitation, holding your hand still feels right.

The two of you finally find Robin and Steve, drunkenly grooving on the dance floor, both with a drink in hand. Eddie scoffs at their shamelessness, and looks at you. He’s on edge, unsure of what your next suggestion will be.

“You wanna dance?” Is the last thing he’s expecting.

—

Your POV

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but it doesn’t deter you from slapping a hand over your mouth.

Eddie’s head whips in your direction, like you’ve startled him. “What?” This is your chance, your way out. Say something else, say anything else. “Do you wanna dance?” Shit! You watch as a smile threatens his tight lipped expression, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards despite his hold on them.

“Sure.” Sure?! Guess we’re doing this! You realize neither of you have let go of the other’s hand. You look from your clasped fingers, to his face, and back again before exhaling, and dragging your ex boyfriend to the dance floor. Robin and Steve see you and wave you over. The walk to them is dreadfully long, your hand sticking to Eddie’s with your sweat. Gross.

“Look who decided to join us!” Steve slurs as he twirls Robin under his arm.

“Steve, I thought you were chaperoning?” You tease, rolling your eyes as you feel Eddie’s fingers let go of yours. Your hand feels cold again.

“Chaperones can have fun too, y’know!” He pokes your arm jokingly, like he’s trying to tip you over. “And if chaperones can’t have fun, so can the, uh,”

“Chaperonees!” Robin interrupts, helpfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Chaperonees! Now, would ya not look so miserable? You know I worry!” Steve drapes an arm around your shoulder as you laugh, enjoying his mood.

“I am having fun!” You exclaim, taking another gulp of your cocktail.

Eddie sips his beer, as if in solidarity. “C’mon, let these two dorks compete to see who can be the worst dancer here.” He takes your hand in his again, this time without the weird tiptoeing around it, and you turn to face him. The song has changed to Def Leppard’s Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad, drastically changing the vibe. Robin and Steve continue to spin and jive aimlessly, but they blur in comparison to Eddie, standing right in front of you.

The drinks flowing through you do their job, lowering your inhibitions and giving you courage. You gently rest your arms around Eddie’s neck, and feel him tense at your touch before fully relaxing. His hands are still by his sides though, so you look from his eyes, to where they hang uselessly. “You’re not gonna melt, y’know.” You joke, but Eddie doesn’t laugh.

“Honestly, I might.” The words shoot through you, and you can feel your cheeks blush. It seems to rouse him from his anxiety, though, as he slowly lifts his arms to rest a hand on either side of your waist. Maybe he won’t melt, but you’re almost sure you will.

—

Eddie’s POV

There is no way he’s surviving tonight. He is one hundred percent certain you will be his cause of death, and that it will be painful, unbearable even. He lets himself look into your eyes, just for a second. They shine as you look back into his, narrowing the way they do when you smile. Eddie hasn’t received a smile from you like that in what feels like a lifetime.

As he’s losing himself in the way your hands rest around him, clasped together at the nape of his neck, he’s brought back down to earth. A bright, sudden light comes from behind him, illuminating your features for a split second. Your eyes widen, and your arms fall back to your sides.

“Eddie! Y/n! Over here!” Eddie whips his head around in time to catch a second flash, temporarily blinding him. He recognizes the culprit, a local paparazzo hell bent on torturing the members of the metal scene.

“Gale,” Eddie tries to remain calm, his heart rate skyrocketing as worst case scenarios flip through his head. “You can’t sell that.”

“I can do whatever I please, Munson!” Gale is slimy, never once giving his subjects a break. Because “he has to eat too.”

Your voice startles Eddie as you speak. “What do you plan on doing with that?”

Gale shrugs, “Sell it, make a quick buck. If I’m lucky, they’ll use it when they speculate on your love life.” He chuckles to himself, waggling his eyebrows. Before anyone can stop him, Gale lifts the camera a third time. “Smile big!” Flash.

Regardless of how badly Eddie wants to rip that camera out of his hands and throw it across the club, he doesn’t. That look doesn’t suit him, especially in front of you, and he’s not in the mood to catch a charge. Instead he pivots back to you. “What do you wanna do about this?”

You don’t seem bothered, in fact you’re uncharacteristically calm about the situation. “Whatever you want, it doesn’t bother me that much. There are worse rumors that could spread. Plus, you and I know the truth, right?”

Eddie only blinks, hoping his thoughts will catch up with his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I can call a guy. Get that picture wiped off the face of the earth.”

“If you want. Don’t stress on my account, though.” You go so far as to replace your hands around him, and Eddie’s breath catches, holding it for a millisecond too long. “It isn’t the end of the world.”

Eddie gingerly places his hands back on your waist, but neither of you dance as the song is replaced with Metallica’s Don’t Tread On Me. His brain is sprinting, trying to catch up with what’s happening.

“You’re not embarrassed?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I mean, not by you, but-“ He stops himself. But what? You’re waiting for him to continue, staring at him unblinkingly. “I asked you first.”

You look at your feet, concentrating on the ground between you two. Eddie’s heart sinks, of course you’re embarrassed. There’s a reason you’re not together anymore. “I mean, this is what fame is, right? Rumors being spread about you? Untrue things being said? It’s not really any different than high school.” You laugh sadly, still not meeting his gaze.

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it.” Eddie lowers his voice, leaning to speak into your ear. He thinks he catches you stiffen, startled by his sudden closeness.

Finally, you shake your head. “I’m not. You don’t embarrass me, Eddie. Not lately, anyway.” This time your chuckle sounds more like you, and Eddie lets one slip through his own teeth.

“Alright. I’ll leave it, then.”

“So you’re not-“

“No, I’m not fuckin’ embarrassed. I'd tell everyone that rumor if I could.” He catches himself by surprise with his answer, but he doesn’t backpedal.

You look at him, finally. “What?”

Eddie shrugs. “Worse things have been said than that I’m dating my cowork— I mean, my friend.” He shows his teeth despite his nerves, trying to reassure you that this won’t be a big deal. “Even if that does happen, by the way, no one’s gonna believe it. You’re too good for that.”

—

Your POV

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re quickly interrupted. “We need to go. Now.” Steve and Robin are stumbling all over each other as they approach you, their fingers interlaced as if holding onto dumb or dumber will somehow save them from tripping.

“What? Why?” Your voice breaks with panic, whether from this current event or the one shortly before, you’re not sure.

“We kind of uh, knocked an entire tray of booze over while we were dancing.” Robin can’t get her sentence out without giggling hysterically.

“Turns out some big wig is here, and he’s pissed.” Steve adds, snickering between shallow breaths. “Guy’s a douche anyway, but he wants us gone. Security’s lookin’ for us.”

“For once, I'm not the one to get us kicked out!” Eddie cheers, and grabs your hand. “Let’s go!” The four of you haul ass through the club. You don’t know how drastic the measures are, but your heart still races. The night air hits you as the club door swings open, your ride already idling against the curb. The four of you pile in, borderline maniacal laughter erupting from each of you.

“You fucking assholes!” You shriek, but your tone remains playful. “I was having a good time!”

Eddie looks to you then, and you share a quiet acknowledgement with him. You aren’t lying, you were having fun. By the looks of if, he was too.

“Well, we’re sorry. We have three whole months of fun ahead of us. I’m sure you’ll make up for this time.” Steve lets his head fall onto your shoulder, and You pat his cheek with your free hand. The other still hangs onto Eddie’s, his thumb stroking the top of it idly.

“I forgive you, Stevie.”

—

Eddie’s POV

It takes less than 24 hours for the story to break. He’s on the bus, half asleep as his bandmates circle his tiny bed the best they can. “What the hell?” He sits up, rubbing his eyes as the men before him come into focus. “What’s going on?”

“You tell us, player.” Jeff tosses something onto Eddie’s stomach, and it lands with a slap against his bare skin. He grabs it, and investigates the cover of what looks like a knock off National Inquirer. The headline reads, in big obnoxious font, MUNSON’S NEW BOO? Underneath the text is the picture from last night. His back is to the photographer, but you can still tell it’s him. He’s wearing a denim vest and black jeans, his hair sticking up like it tends to do. Over his shoulder, he can make out your features. Your sparkly eyes, freckled cheeks, and pouty lips. You’re looking at him like you love him, your hands around his neck, his resting on your hips.

“This is not what it looks like.” His voice doesn’t waver. Eddie thinks about what you said. You’re not embarrassed by him, so why would he be embarrassed by you?

Gareth shrugs. “It’s okay if it is, y’know. As long as you’re gonna do it right this time.” Jeff nods in agreement.

“Nothing is going on! We’re friends!”

“Right, right. Because that totally just looks like two friends.”

Eddie looks at the picture again. It’s a good picture of you, and he selfishly wants to tear it out of the magazine and stuff it into his wallet. He wants to keep it close to him. Gareth is right, but that doesn’t change the facts. Friends are all you are.

“Does Y/N know?” Jeff interrupts Eddie’s train of thought.

“I mean, I just found out.”

“Yes, but you sleep like the dead. We’ve been in Portland for three hours.”

“They know the picture was taken. I’m sure they’re expecting this.”

“Alright, man. Now get your ass up, soundcheck in an hour.”

—

Your POV

You read the words over and over again, begging them to make sense. “Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin, spotted snuggling up to Death Dance Approximately vocalist Y/n L/n. The two are currently on a cross country tour together, playing clubs and amphitheaters in North America.”

“What are you gonna do?” Lilith sticks another home fry in her mouth, keeping her eyes on you.

You shrug, tossing the magazine back onto the table. “Nothing I can really do about it now, I'm not too concerned.”

“They’re not concerned because they wish it was true!” Robin interjects, sliding into the booth next to you, a fresh coffee in her hands.

“Excuse you?”

“Please, since the day I met you, Eddie Munson has been the only guy for you. Ever. Don’t tell me that’s changed now.” You don’t look at her, and that gives her your answer. “So, we leave it, and we make sure it’s a prophecy we can fulfill!” She slurps a sip of her drink, and you scoff.

“We just got to friends. Give it a rest!”

“Okay!” Robin throws up her hands. “But I’m calling it now, you’ll be in his pants before we hit the east coast.”

You roll your eyes, and turn back to your breakfast. “Whatever.”

—

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

[pviscelle]

Your Devil: A Doomed Catastrophe | MasterPost

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Character x Jimin

Genre/Tags: Dark, Mystery-Thriller, Love Triangle

Word Count: 39k

Status: Ongoing

Rating: Explicit

Content Warning: Explicit sexual content, graphic depiction of violence, mental health issues, character death, LGBT characters, mutual pining, and angst.

Synopsis: ❛Ours isn't a fairytale love, baby.❜

━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━

New Year's or no New Year's, the infamous Jungkook had somehow found his way onto everybody's lips again. He always did.

But this time, it wasn't because of his usual indifference or cold, vampire-like vibes. This was different. Anyone could tell, even the new employees.

Aera might have something to say about this difference too, something that shouldn't concern her but left her feeling unnerved nonetheless.

━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━

After eleven years since the haunting night at Winter Fest, fate once again weaves the story of Han Aera with that of Jeon Jungkook, an interior architect at Kim Enterprises. As lingering mysteries strain to emerge, their lives are upended when their past catches up, intertwining with the present and risking their future.

Read Here

[hairmetal666]

Bing Crosby's voice warbles from a portable stereo propped up near the sink, singing about a white Christmas; red-ribboned garland lines the windows and door frame; small wreathes bedeck the cabinet doors; and Steve Harrington stands at the kitchen island.

He turns when he hears the slip of Eddie's socks on the tile, grin already blossoming across his face, and they're hugging before he really processes it happening. Steve mumbles, "it's good to see you, Ed," in his ear.

The hug is too tight and too long for what they are to each other now.

They break apart, Steve immediately turning back to the baked sugar cookies spread out on the island.

"Wanna help?" He asks.

Eddie sticks his hands in his back pocket, walks to stand next to his ex, his best friend, his--everything in the world that matters. "What are we making, Stevie?"

"Frosting sugar cookies. Think you can handle it?" He wiggles a pipping bag in Eddie's face.

"No way," Eddie says.

"Yeah, c'mon, you're a good artist."

"With like, pencils and shit. Not icing."

"You'll do great."

"You sure about that? Remember when--"

Steve snorts. "Oh, you mean the last time you tried to bake, and I had to mop chocolate batter off my ceiling? And I found dried splatters of it for months? Yeah. I remember."

Eddie hides his laugh in a cough. "Sorry?"

He wanted to bake a cake for Steve's birthday, back when they were together, made a mess instead. Steve had just laughed and kissed him, started cleaning.

Their relationship started out hot and heavy in the months after Vecna. They got caught up in it, threw themselves headfirst into the kind of love that sucks you under, turns you inside out, leaves you with nothing. It ended, like it was always going to, when Eddie couldn't get out from under the shadow of his own self-loathing. Terrified he was fucking everything up, he packed his bags and left in the dead of night.

They're older now, though. More settled. The trauma softened by time.

"Coffee?" Steve asks.

"Please."

Steve gets it brewing, pours a couple mugs, adds the cream and sugar just like Eddie likes. Of course.

They ice cookies--and okay, Eddie's not so bad at it--and they chat and it's good. Nice. Two old friends catching up.

"Hey," Steve says.

Eddie looks over, would never not when it's Steve asking. The man in questions smiles at him, big and guileless, which is all the warning Eddie needs. He doesn't quite manage to duck in time, and Steve swipes frosting covered fingers across his face. He makes a pained noise, an injured little squeak, that has Steve in hysterics.

"Steve!" He shrieks.

The culprit is doubled-over, clinging to the countertop to stay on his feet, shaking with laughter.

"You--you," Steve half-sobs. "The look on your face!"

Eddie grabs a mostly fully piping bag. "You're gonna get it, Harrington."

"No--no," Steve darts sideways. "This sweater is dry clean only!"

"Should have thought of that." Eddie manages to smear frosting across Steve's wrist. "No one actually uses the dry cleaner, anyway."

They tussle around the island, giggling and shouting. He finally manages to catch Steve, drawing lines of icing over his face to the sounds of spasming giggles.

"Okay, okay," Steve says. His chest visibly heaves from exertion. "We should clean up."

Eddie shrugs. "You brought it on yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. Here." Steve hands him a wet towel and they spend the next few minutes smearing frosting off their faces.

He tosses his red and green smeared towel into the sink. "Happy with yourself?"

"Uh-huh, yeah--Oh, you've got a little--" Steve points towards Eddie's chin.

"Here?" Eddie wipes haphazardly at his face.

"No, it's--Can I?"

Eddie nods and then Steve is pressing his index finger to the corner of Eddie's bottom lip, gently swiping. Their eyes lock and there's nothing else in the room.

"Got it," Steve whispers. He doesn't pull his finger away.

"Thank you." Eddie's not sure anything but air comes out.

Steve's eyes dip down, fixing on Eddie's mouth and the spot his own fingers rest.

Eddie thinks he might die.

On the other side of the house, there's the sound of a door closing, the thud of approaching feet.

Steve pushes away, grabs a cookie and a piping bag.

Eddie has a few seconds to settle himself, figure out how to breathe. He's barely calm when Mark's deep voice rumbles through the kitchen, "Hey, babe. How's the baking?"

"Good," Steve says. "Work okay?"

He can't be rude, has toacknowledge that Mark is here, in the room, co-owner of the house.

"The usual." Steve and Mark smile at each other, soft and intimate.

When they kiss, Eddie drops his eyes.

"Eddie! Good to see you, my man!" Mark says, wrapping him in a loose hug.

Eddie pats his back, says, "Been awhile."

"Yeah, you should come around more often. Know Steve here would love to see you. Guess LA is keeping you busy."

"Guess so," Eddie agrees.

He's desperate to get out of here, dying for a break, to blot their easy intimacy out of his brain. "I--uh, think I need a cigarette break. I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't take too long," Steve says. He doesn't look away from Mark, so Eddie doesn't bother answering.

He steps out the back, cigarette and Bic already in his hands, lights it before the door is back in the frame.

--

Hours later, he slips out to the front porch, this time for a second to breathe. Even outside, he can hear Mike and Dustin yelling, the girls chiming in, Joyce and Hopper and Wayne laughing, "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree" blasting.

He walks to the side of the house, steps stuttering in the snow when he sees the glowing ember of a lit cigarette.

"Eddie?" Steve asks. "Need a smoke?"

"Nope, just wanted to clear my head." His heart thuds loud enough he's sure Steve can hear.

There's a beat, only a second or two, before the cigarette falls to the snow with a soft sizzle and Steve's hands are bunched in his shirt.

The kiss is hot, hard, desperate. His fingers dig into Steve's hair, pulling tight.

"Baby, baby," Steve murmurs, their mouths not even parted. "I missed you so much."

Eddie whimpers, clings tighter. "I know, sweetheart. I know, but we promised--"

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I just--"

"Stevie." His thumbs caress the planes of Steve's face. "I can't do this anymore. We said--"

"I know, I know. But I can't stop thinking about you. It's all the time. I miss you so bad that it hurts. Right here in my chest. And fuck--I lo--"

"You don't," Eddie says. Vision obscured with tears.

"I do," Steve's fingers grip around him tighter. "I always have. I never stopped. I thought you--I thought--"

"Steve?" Robin's voice calls into the night.

They let their hands drop away from each other, step apart so they're no longer entwined.

"Be right there, Rob," Steve says.

Eddie lights another cigarette. "You should go in," he says.

"Yeah." Steve nods, won't look in Eddie's direction. "Merry Christmas," he says, walks back toward the house.

He thunks his head against the red-brick of the house, staring up at the gleaming white lights lining the edge of the roof, finally letting the tears fall.

"Merry-fucking-Christmas," he echoes.

[butchniqabi]

i fell asleep after crying, hoping that when i woke up i would find out that it was a mistake and yū was still alive. but it doesnt appear to be so

[thegreatimpersonator]

from the song description on youtube…

oh god, just saw their insta post it's in the caption too