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madelynraemunson · 3 months

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 018: Murphy's Law

You’re only against a handful of things. Of course, the one time you go to bed angry, shit hits the fan.

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

author's note: 2/23/2024 — i don't want you guys to suffer too much, so the last two chapters will be released tomorrow 2/24/2024. i love you guys, thank you for tuning in ♥️

CW: i don't wanna spoil anything, so this whole chapter is a trigger warning. please be mindful of this before reading; ps thank you to @freckledjoes for letting me use this picture of barron/"steve"

word count: 1.3k words

♡

“I’m Natalia, who are you?”

“I’m...Shy Girl,” you narrow your eyes. “My boyfriend Eddie lives here.”

You've never been good at math. But it doesn't take putting 2 and 2 together to realize that — the car in Eddie's spot this morning — belongs to the Nancy look-alike in front of you.

And if you looked too fast, you would've thought that she WAS Nancy. But the strapless tube top, lettuce-trim booty shorts, and lacy black tights on a cold December morning rule out that possibility.

Your eyes trail over to Steve in the background, frantic and sweaty, hairy chest out on display as he shuffles around to find a shirt to throw on. You clear your throat, meeting Natalia’s blue eyes one more time before speaking again.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh no girl, you're fine!" the busty brunette chirps, when she realizes you're no longer a threat to her. "I was just heading out. I guess his roomie is going to be back any second now."

Doing your best to conceal your laughter, you step off to the side to allow Steve's booty call to get her things and scoot out the door. Steve watches awkwardly, leaning against the doorway and flashing Natalia a smile as he watches her get to her car safely.

You wait until she’s out of earshot to speak to him.

“Natalia.” you sing with a smirk. “Really?”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’re making right now, Hargrove. Don’t start.”

Your eyes venture down to the faint bite marks on Steve’s neck. You turn around to look at the doppelgänger one last time, giving her a wave as she drives away.

“Not starting anything,” you insist. “I just think it’s funny.”

He knows what you’re thinking and it doesn’t help his case. Steve steps off to the side, inviting you in. After closing the door behind you, Harrington gestures towards the box in your hand.

“Whatchu got there?”

“Apology cupcakes for Eddie,” you explain. “I was a real bitch to him yesterday so I decided to bake him something to compensate.”

You spent all night guilt-baking, hoping to win Eddie back with the cute vanilla cupcakes topped with sad red frowns on them, followed by a homemade card that reads, "I'm sorry for pushing you against the wall". Expecting Steve to find it adorable, he offers you a rather confused reaction instead.

"…Eddie didn’t stay over last night?” he asks with a cocked brow.

Your heart sinks.

“No… I thought he came straight here after Wayne’s.”

“Well obviously he didn’t,” Steve says. “Hence why I had Nat spend the night.”

“Well do you think he’s at Dustin’s?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to the guy since yesterday morning.”

Something's off. Immediately rushing to the living room, you set the cupcakes down so you can call Wayne. It rings a few times but Eddie's uncle doesn’t pick up.

"Wayne's not picking up."

“That’s odd,” Steve gulps. “He almost always does.”

So you go to message Eddie. It's a simple text, Where are you? Straight to the point. To your complete shock, your usual blue text bubbles turn green. Eddie's phone is off. What the hell?

So you go to call him next. It doesn't hurt to try. But then your knees start to buckle when you're immediately directed to an automated voicemail box.

“We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again later.”

The room is as frostbitten as the air outside. Steve senses abrupt energy shift.

You scroll nervously through your phone. The next person to contact is Dustin. Outside of his friendship with Steve, he is the next person closest to Eddie. But Curly doesn't pick up either.

"Oh god," you feel the color rushing from your face.

"Hargrove, i-it's okay," Steve attempts. "He's probably with Jeff or Gareth or Grant or somethin', o-okay? Let's not jump to conclusions."

He rests a warm hand atop your arm, grounding you back down to earth. You turn to him with worry. He rubs your back to comfort you.

"Eddie would never do anything to hurt himself on purpose," Steve assures you. "I can promise you that much. Don't let your mind go there."

"Okay," you exhale.

"But he is stupid though," Steve adds. "So, to be safe, we should probably check the hospital. Or urgent care. Dude probably cucked his ankle again."

And with that, you two set off to Hawkins Memorial on the other side of town.

The icy roads seem to draw on for miles as Steve drives. And you had no desire to explore the vastness of Roane County, for as long as Eddie isn’t there waiting for you at whatever coordinate the wind blows you to next.

Tapping your feet anxiously on the floor, you click your phone on and off again to see whether or not a message from Eddie pops up. It’s the same outcome every time.

Steve’s gentle hand rests on top of your trembling ones once again. He gives you a soft pat.

“It’ll all be okay, Shy Girl,” he says to you. “Promise.”

Thankfully, hospital parking is almost immediate. Booking it to the emergency department now, you and Steve rush to get to the front of the line to speak to the receptionist. When it's finally your turn, she greets you rather stoically.

“Can I help you?”

Without violating HIPAA?

“I sure hope so,” you sigh. “This is a wellness check. Do you guys maybe have a Munson admitted here?”

“Munson…” the last name marinates on the lady’s tongue almost as if she’s familiar with it. You wouldn’t doubt it. Wayne’s a frequent flyer due to the cancer and Hawkins is quite literally a speck of dust on the map.

You try to help her. “Maybe an Eddie…Edward… or quite possibly a Wayne…”

“Quite possibly a Wayne?” the lukewarm secretary echos you.

“Yes!” you hiss urgently. “Or maybe a John Doe? A guy in his late twenties, early thirties... This person most likely came in yesterday afternoon, night, or maybe even this morning. He has brown hai-"

“Shy Girl…” comes a voice behind you.

It’s one of the Munsons you’re looking for. But to your surprise, not the one you were expecting.

"Wayne..." you breathe.

In front of you is Eddie's uncle, sitting in his wheelchair evidently a bawling mess. If he’s here and Eddie’s not, it can only mean one thing.

Your throat tightens and you struggle to speak. A thin veil of tears gloss over your eyes, your fingertips essentially frozen now as the sterile white building closes up around you.

“Wayne…” you say again. “What happened?”

His uncle sniffs, drawing out uneven breaths as he tries to calm down, nose an irritable red to match his glassy, sleep-deprived eyes.

“There’s... been an accident,” he chokes. “They T-boned him. Van is totaled.”

That van. That stupid fucking van you’ve told Eddie time and time again to get rid of.

“Wayne," Steve interrogates. "Who drove you here?”

“The Henderson boy.”

You can't take it anymore.

“Where is he?!” you demand. “And why aren’t you with him, Wayne?! WHERE IS EDDIE?”

“Doctors won’t tell me nothin'!” Wayne blubbers, his voice cracking like a helpless child. “But as someone whose second home is the hospital, I know what that means.”

The three of you take this time to cry. You instantly collapse into Steve's arms. He embraces you tight, dragging you off to the side so the people who were waiting behind you could be helped next.

Nothing matters anymore, you think to yourself. This is what you get for going to bed angry. The one time. The one time. And as the three of you start to gather yourselves again — rather slowly — Wayne speaks once more... uttering a belief that you've already come to terms with. Something that you already know.

“It’s not looking good for Eddie.”

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

oh yeah, song of the chapter is...

side note: s/o to DR. bridgit mendler, the irl barbie

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #strip club owner!eddie #stripper!reader #eddie munson angst #boyfriend!eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #joseph quinn #joe quinn #Spotify

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formosusiniquis · 14 days

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have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another.

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow.

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?"

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy.

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious.

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.” He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks.

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there.

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

#steddie #steddie fic #implied past stomarol #Baker Steve Harrington #my fic #tommy x carol #tomarol #genuinely don't know what their ship name is I'm sorry #future fic #the author is experiencing some complicated emotions about their 10 year reunion and this is now the second fic I've posted this year-#-that's mentioned one so clearly forcing fictional characters to emote about it for me is not working #the terrible trio do own every business in the little storefront Tommy mentions and they employ the kids who they have a stable income-#-while they work on their passion projects

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lilmeowchow · 7 months

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MY TWILIGHT FANCAST!!!

(Btw all actors were chosen while keeping their younger selves in mind)

Michelle Trachtenberg as Bella Swan

This is basically how I've always pictured Bella, minus the blue eyes. She's got the full lips, heart-shaped face, and super pale skin (you can't really tell in this photo but she's as white as a ghost).

Cillian Murphy as Edward Cullen

What do you want me to say? Imagining Edward as Cillian Murphy isn't the most hilarious shit ever? Cause it is. I think what really gets me is that nothing about how Edward is described goes against the idea that he's a Cillian Murphy lookalike (except his green eyes). Don't care if it's silly, it's MY silly little rabbit. If you don't like having fun then I GUESS...

Jeff Ward as Edward Cullen

Are you happy now?

Eddie Spears as Jacob Black

He could turn up the bitchiness to 11 and I'd love every minute of it. His annoyed expressions would be great for Jacob Black. He also has a large frame and would be able to become big like Jacob did. Really fun actor to watch.

Sarah Gadon as Rosalie Hale

While she isn't very tall, she has the elegant and untouchable look I've always imagined Rosalie to have. She's undoubtedly beautiful and glamorous in a more subtle way than people usually expect when they picture Rosalie.

Tom Welling as Emmett Cullen

I think he's a great fit for Emmett. It's said that Emmett has a boyish face but a muscular body and that's literally what Tom Welling is. He's surprising super buff, like he has massive gains, but still has a youthful face. I even think he'd do a good job at portraying Emmett's personality.

Rachel Leigh Cook as Alice Cullen

Whenever I think of girls with big eyes, I think of Rachel Leigh Cook. I don't think that young Winona Ryder is a bad fit but I've always seen her as more of a tomboy while Cook looks very cutesy even when she had a pixie cut. I also see Cook as a better fit for the energy Alice has. She's really small too which helps.

Alex Pettyfer as Jasper Hale

The main reason I chose him is because he fits the two things I think of when I think of Jasper, good looking and unapproachable. There's a lot of young handsome blond actors but not all of them call pull off the RBF required to play Jasper. He doesn't really have that hardened by war look but he does what he can.

Brittany Murphy as Esme Cullen

This one is a little crazy but hear me out. I think that Brittany could bring a lot of Esme's character that we don't really see to the surface. Esme is borderline unhinged (shes an immortal being and spends her time as a housewife making food no one will ever eat) and seems like the type of woman who's soft and warm hearted but has a bit of a depressing air to her. Brittany could portray this special flavor of despondent very well. I almost didn't choose her because it's suggested that Esme basically has chubby cheeks but Brittany's face is also heart shaped so yolo.

Jude Law as Carlisle Cullen

I've always imagined that Carlisle is the kind of guy who looks older than he actually is. When he pretends he's in his thirties it's still a stretch cause he looks like he could be 27 max but it's not as shocking as if he was a 23 year old with baby face. Jude Law is a pretty handsome guy and I do imagine he would distract nurses at the hospital if he were a doctor. I also think he's handsome enough to be "better looking than any moviestar" Bella has ever seen. Jude Law is an amazing actor and would do a great job too I just know it.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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Murphy's 500 Followers Celebration!!

masterlist.

in honour of this very exciting milestone, I thought I'd have a little celebration. i'm going to be writing short drabbles of your choosing!! i've created a prompt list, but I am absolutely encouraging your own ideas x

how to request -

pick a category - fluff, angst or smut

pick a character - there is a list below, but I am open to more suggestions!!

pick a dialogue prompt and/or a scenario prompt - there is a list below - feel free to choose multiple!!

then, send it in to me!! use the button at the top of my page, or request here !!

I'm gonna start writing next week, on 22/04. maybe earlier if I have the time. feel free to request multiple drabbles- the more I get sent, the more fun we'll have!!

Categories -

☀️ Fluff

🌧️ Angst

🔥 Smut

Characters -

Top Gun Maverick

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Robert "Bob" Floyd

✦

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Tommy Miller

✦

Marvel

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Stucky

Sam Wilson

Matt Murdock

Frank Castle

✦

Succession

Stewy Hosseini

Kendall Roy

✦

Triple Frontier

Will Miller

Frankie Morales

Benny Miller

Santiago Garcia

✦

Narcos

Javier Peña

Steve Murphy

Colonel Carrillo

✦

The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

✦

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

✦

9-1-1

Eddie Diaz

Evan Buckley

✦

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Luke Alvez

Derek Morgan

✦

Dialogue Prompts -

1. "You love me?"

2. "Don't go on that date."

3. "Will you let me cut your hair?"

4. "Marry me."

5. "It's always been you."

6. "You're my best friend."

7. "You were my first love."

8. "I had a dream about you."

9. "I saw this and it reminded me of you."

10. "I have something to tell you."

11. "I thought you hated me."

12. "Is that all you got?"

13. "In your dreams."

14. "I don't deserve you."

15. "Talk to me."

16. "Is that my shirt?"

17. "I would choose you over anyone."

18. "You look so pretty like this."

19. "Most beautiful sound I've ever heard."

20. "You're killing me." / "You're gonna be the death of me."

21. "Just like that."

22. "Use your words."

23. "Good girl." / "Perfect girl."

24. "You like it when I'm mean to you?"

25. "Let's get out of here."

26. "You don't want them to hear, do you?"

27. "I need you."

28. "Let me see those eyes." / "Keep your eyes on me."

29. "Tell me what you want."

30. "I can't get enough of you."

31. "Wanted this for so long."

32. "Can I touch you?"

33. "Been thinking about you all day."

34. "You look so pretty on your knees."

35. "Better than I ever imagined."

36. "Let him watch."

37. "Let me hear you."

38. "Tell me you're mine."

39. "I'm yours."

40. "I love you."

41. "Don't you dare walk away from me."

42. "I can't do this anymore."

43. "You don't deserve me." / "I deserve better."

44. "Was any of this even real?"

45. "How stupid do you think I am?"

46. "Please don't leave me."

47. "I wish you were here."

48. "Do not raise your voice at me."

49. "Stay. Please."

50. "Don't tell me to calm down."

Scenario Prompts -

a. Kissing in the rain

b. First kiss

c. Electricity blackout

d. Camping

e. Heatwave

f. Childhood best friends

g. Grumpy / sunshine

h. Fake dating

i. Only one bed

j. Moving in together

k. Finding out you're pregnant

l. Catching eyes in a crowded room

m. Keeping the relationship a secret

n. Blind date

o. Reunion

p. Meet cute

q. Cheesy pick up lines

r. Exes

s. College friends / lovers

t. Roommates

u. Coming home drunk

v. Singing together / dancing together

w. An accidental kiss

x. A bet

y. Brothers best friend / best friends brother

z. Reading to each other

✦

these are just suggestions / jumping off points!! if you have an idea you'd like me to write a drabble for, just send it over. can't wait to see what you lovely people come up with. excited!! as always, so much love x

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

love me softly p18

part 17

Eddie shoves an old worksheet between some books in his pocket messily, inhaling sharply when the paper cuts his finger. He sucks on the cut, furrowing his brows as he tries to sort his locker out one-handed, but he’s interrupted by a gentle rapping on his locker door.

He swings it shut a little bit, still sucking on the cut.

“Hi,” Steve says quietly.

He’s leaning against the locker next to Eddie’s, and Eddie’s eyes widen. He looks past Steve, around the hallway, finding Tommy and a few others hanging out next to a closed classroom door. Eddie’s hand falls from his mouth.

“Hi,” he says softly. “What… What are you doing?”

“Uhm.” Steve hesitates, and Eddie leans against his locker door. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says earnestly. When Eddie shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, Steve interrupts with, “Just… Let me.”

“…Okay.”

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie intently, and he slides his tongue across his lip, and Eddie remembers suddenly that they’re in the hallway. That people can see them here, at Eddie’s locker, talking to each other.

“When my parents are in town, I…” Steve takes a breath. “I feel like shit. All the time. And I— I tend to take it out on other people, and I don’t— I don’t wanna. Especially to you.”

Eddie smiles softly, and his arms ache. He wants to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve finishes quietly.

“I forgive you,” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles.

“They’re leaving on Monday,” Steve says after a moment. “That’s their plan right now.”

“That’s good,” Eddie says earnestly. “They say where they’re going?”

“Who gives a shit?” Steve says, shrugging, and Eddie laughs softly.

They stare at each other for another moment. Eddie wants to touch him. To hold his hand. To shove him against the lockers and kiss him so hard they both get headaches.

“Steve!”

Steve hesitates before he looks over his shoulder at his friends. One girl (Carol?) is giving him a look, waving her hand. Tommy looks uncomfortable.

Steve looks back at Eddie, hesitating.

“Can I… go to yours after school?”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers. “You can come over whenever you want, Stevie. You could move in without warning and we wouldn’t mind.”

Steve smiles. His eyes are shining.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you later,” Eddie says softly, wishing he could lean over and kiss his cheek. Steve nods.

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and then pulls out a folded piece of paper, suppressing a smile as he leans around the door of Eddie’s locker and tosses the paper in. It lands on top of his books.

Eddie looks at him, pressing his lips together and watching him step backward toward his friends. Steve winks.

Eddie looks at the paper as Steve walks away with his friends. He smiles when he sees Steve’s pretty handwriting.

i love you ♡

He leans into his locker and unfolds it, finding a messy sketch of two figures sitting side by side, one of them leaning against the other. It’s done in pen, and some of it is smudged, like Steve didn’t let it dry before adding to it.

He closes his eyes and waits there for a moment, just breathing, just pausing, because he’s aching. Because he wants to kiss Steve so badly he feels like he’s dying. But he can wait.

He carefully smooths the drawing in his backpack as he’s searching for his homework, Murphy standing next to his desk, arms crossed, head tilted.

“I swear to God,” Eddie says adamantly, rummaging through his bag. “I did it.”

“Watch your mouth, Mr Munson.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles.

“I’d like proof that you did it. In the form of the completed worksheet in my hand.”

“I’m looking.”

He huffs after a moment, grabbing his bag and dumping it on his desk.

“I know I did it,” he insists. Someone snickers at the front of the class, but he can’t even bring himself to send them a glare, rummaging desperately through his notebooks and textbooks for it. “God—”

He cuts himself off.

When he can’t find it, he looks up at Murphy desperately.

“I know I did it,” he says again.

“Do you,” Murphy says dryly.

“Yes. Number seven was thirteen point four, and I know that because it took me like an hour to solve it.”

Someone snorts, and he suddenly wishes Murphy had waited until the end of class so he could have kept searching while everyone left, so no one could hear him admit how long it took him.

Murphy just looks at him. Eddie hates him.

“Come on, Mr Murphy,” he pleads.

“This is the third time, Eddie,” he says.

“I’ll bring it in tomorrow,” Eddie says. “I’ll come in before school starts, I swear.”

Murphy might as well roll his eyes.

“Please, Mr Murphy,” Eddie begs as Murphy stalks back to his desk. “Don’t do this to me.”

The other students are laughing, giggling to themselves as Eddie groans obnoxiously and drops his head to his desk. He doesn’t look up when he hears Murphy approach his desk and set a detention slip next to him.

“Clean up your desk. Stop being disruptive.”

Eddie sits up, staring at the pink slip of paper before he sighs heavily and starts sorting his notebooks. He checks that Steve’s drawing is still smooth.

“What, did you have plans tonight?” the boy next to him, James, teases quietly as Murphy starts writing on the chalkboard.

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbles, “actually, I did.”

“What plans?” James asks, and Eddie scoffs.

“What, are you a cop? Mind your business.” He looks up just to watch James’s face flush red as Eddie says, “Tell your mother we’ll have to reschedule.”

“Asshole.”

Eddie flips him off and turns back to his desk.

Steve catches his eye in the hallway as they’re all headed to lunch, and Eddie holds up the detention slip with two fingers. Steve suppresses a smile, saying something to Tommy, who glances at Eddie, and rolls his eyes, nodding.

“What’d you do?” Steve asks, leaning against the wall in front of Eddie.

“I was a fucking idiot,” Eddie says. Steve’s brows furrow. “I forgot a fucking worksheet, the one I spent hours on last night. Fucking pointless, because I left it behind, and Murphy doesn’t give a shit that I did it.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. Eddie sighs, leaning against the wall. Some students walk past them. Steve doesn’t even glance at them. “You’re not an idiot. You forgot your homework.”

Eddie sighs heavily, closing his eyes and turning to press his face against the wall.

“I have to go to detention today,” he says, groaning quietly. Steve laughs softly.

“That’s okay.”

“But you were gonna…” He trails off, turning to press his cheek to the wall, looking at Steve, who tilts his head like a puppy.

“Look.” He speaks quietly, but Eddie can still hear him over the echoey clammer of the hallway. “I’ll hang out with Tommy for a while. Finish your homework in detention. And then you don’t have to do any homework while I’m over.”

Eddie exhales, his eyes flicking across Steve’s face, from his eyes to his lips and back up. His whole body feels sore.

He groans quietly again, squeezing his eyes shut and face the wall.

“Love you,” he breathes.

He grins when he feels Steve’s finger poke his cheek, cutting his eyes over to him. Steve’s cheeks are pink, and he drops his hand.

“You too,” he says quietly.

It’s different when they touch at school. At home, Eddie’s or Steve’s, they’re always all over each other, holding each other close, leaning against each other, draped over each other, but in school, even the slightest brush of their fingers (or Steve’s finger jabbing Eddie in the face) feels so forbidden, so explicit and obvious and public, that it feels electric.

Steve must feel it too.

When Eddie’s face is back against the wall, hidden, Steve’s fingers brush the side of his hand. Eddie can feel flames engulf his whole arm. His fingers twitch to meet Steve’s, and they lace for just a second before they both pull their hands away.

“I’ll see you at yours?” Steve says quietly. Eddie nods, finally looking at him. “Make sure you finish your homework.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve smiles, scrunching his nose in a way that makes Eddie want to kiss it. His cheeks flush.

“Alright, get outta here.”

He watches him go. His eyes catch on Tommy, who looks like he’s arguing with that girl Carol (Eddie asumes that’s her name), talking with his hands, exasperated. When Steve approaches, Carol glares up at him, tossing a hand up dismissively at Tommy before she leaves.

Eddie watches, raising an eyebrow, and Steve sighs heavily, watching Carol go before he pats Tommy’s back reassuringly, muttering something that makes Tommy crack a smile.

Eddie doesn’t see them again until the end of the day, when he’s headed to the detention hall. Tommy is ranting to Steve passionately, and Steve is listening, but Eddie can’t hear him. When Steve’s eyes catch Eddie’s, his face lights up a little bit, and he blows him a small, subtle kiss. Eddie could swoon.

Eddie hates detention.

It’s too quiet. He can hear every single sound, every chair creaking, every pencil scratching, every cough and yawn and sigh. He works slowly through his homework, singing Shoot to Thrill in his head and bobbing his head in time with it, wishing he was working at home so he could be wandering back and forth in the living room while he works. He kicks his legs under the table trying to avoid touching the floor so the rubber soles of his shoes don’t scuff it loudly.

He manages to finish everything except his statistics homework. (Maybe he’ll ask Tommy for help with it tomorrow.)

Wayne is in the living room when he gets home. He’s watching a baseball game, sipping at tea from his favourite mug (a second-hand University of Indianapolis mug he’s had since before Eddie moved in with him).

“I don’t suppose you’re any good at statistics,” Eddie says as he’s kicking his shoes off, stumbling backwards into the kitchen and reaching for a glass.

“I don’t watch baseball for the numbers.”

Eddie pauses as he fills the glass with water from the sink.

“That is the gayest thing I’ve every heard you say.”

A laugh bursts out of Wayne, and Eddie grins while he downs the water.

“What’s going on with statistics?” he asks as Eddie joins him on the sofa, laying his head on Wayne’s leg.

“Murphy is ass at teaching, and it takes me like an hour to solve one question.”

“You got any friends that could help?” Wayne asks, his voice echoing in his mug.

“Probably Tommy.”

“He in Hellfire?”

Eddie scoffs, smiling at the ceiling.

“No, he’s Steve’s best friend.”

“Ah.”

When sets his arm over Eddie’s face obnoxiously, and Eddie closes his eyes.

“I will bite you,” he says, his voice muffled by Wayne’s shirt.

“Don’t.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He waits there for a while, listening to the crackly voice of the commentator from the television, until there’s a knock at the door. Eddie scrambles up, shoving Wayne’s arm away and stumbling as he heads to swing the door open.

“Hey,” he says, smiling when his eyes meet Steve’s, and he steps back, letting Steve in and shutting the door. Steve doesn’t say anything, instead leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to Eddie’s lips. His hand slides over Eddie’s neck, into his hair, and Eddie sighs, his shoulders falling as he kisses him back. Steve presses one more chaste kiss to his mouth before he pulls away and looks at him.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi, Steve,” Wayne says from the sofa, and Steve startled violently, jumping with a loud “Oh my god.”

“Hi,” Steve says breathlessly, his cheeks bright red, and he lets go of Eddie, rubbing his face as he looks at Wayne, who’s watching the game again, smiling. “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” Wayne says dismissively, waving a hand, sipping his tea. “You kiss your boy all you want.”

Steve looks at Eddie, bashful, blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, and Wayne looks over again.

“How’re you?” he says, and Steve looks back at him. Eddie can practically see the armour of King Steve fall away right in front of him.

“My parents are in town,” Steve says, grabbing the strap of his backpack that’s hanging from one shoulder, his other hand reaching for Eddie’s. “I don’t like them very much.”

Wayne’s eyes flash with a concern that Eddie recognizes, that makes Eddie’s own chest ache, and he frowns.

“You stay here as long as you need,” he says, demanding it gently.

Steve cracks a weak smile before he looks at Eddie, his hand squeezing Eddie’s so gently it’s like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

“Uh, I told my parents I’m spending the night at Tommy’s,” he says says hesitantly. “If that’s okay?” he adds nervously, looking at Wayne, who seems to understand that Tommy’s is code for home.

“‘Course,” Wayne says. “If you both get to school on time tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Steve says, smiling, looking back at Eddie.

“Did you tell Tommy?” Eddie teases, and Steve makes a face with a sassy, “Yes.”

“Did you finish your homework?” Steve asks in the same tone, raising his eyebrows when Eddie hesitates.

“Everything except stats,” Eddie says. “I was gonna ask Tommy for help tomorrow.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

He says it too softly. It goes with whatever is behind his eyes right now, something that Eddie can’t really read. (He hopes he’ll learn to someday.) Eddie squeezes his hand. Steve squeezes back.

Eddie tugs at his hand, stepping backward down the hall.

“We’re going to my room,” he tells Wayne.

“I’m going to work,” Wayne says, draining his mug.

Steve’s face flushes pink, and he turns to face Wayne, letting Eddie drag him away.

“Bye, Mr Munson.”

“Don’t call me that!” Wayne calls back, sounding horrified, but Eddie can hear the smile in his voice.

“Love you!” Eddie shouts before he closes the door and looks at Steve, who’s smiling at him, their fingers tangled. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi,” Steve says quietly, dropping his bag to the floor. That thing is still behind his eyes, shining dimly like an old lightbulb, and Eddie’s heart twists, and he tugs at Steve’s hand. Steve falls forward against him easily as the front door of the trailer shuts, and he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, holding him tightly. Eddie’s wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him so close they’re pressed completely together.

Steve inhales deeply, slowly, before he exhales against Eddie’s neck.

And then he does it again, taking a slow deep breath, and Eddie opens his eyes, running a hand up Steve’s spine. He furrows his brows when Steve takes another deep breath, slow and intentional.

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, moving a hand to touch Steve’s cheek, shifting to press their foreheads together. “I got you.”

Steve sighs shakily, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s hair, holding the back of his head.

Eddie closes his eyes again, waiting.

When Steve is breathing normally, Eddie says, “Tell me.”

Steve sighs, combing through Eddie’s hair gently.

“I hate them.”

Eddie nods, gently untucking Steve’s shirt and putting a hand under it so his rings slide over Steve’s warm skin.

“They suck the life out of everything,” Steve says softly, his breath on Eddie’s face. “I mean…” He swallows, taking a breath. “I swear everything looks greyer when they’re around. And I…”

Eddie prompts his with a gentle nudge against his nose. Steve kisses him softly before speaking again.

“I feel like shit. But not even, like… Like normal… shit. Not like— like sad or irritable or— I just…”

He exhales. Eddie runs his hand up his spine again, his other hand set firmly on the small of his back.

“They suck the life out of me too,” Steve says softly. “I’m so fucking empty, Eddie, there’s nothing inside of me.”

Eddie lifts his head, looking at him as his heart splits a little bit, like the seams are too worn, too thin. And Steve looks back, his eyes distraught, like he knows exactly what Eddie’s feeling. Like he feels bad for it.

Eddie pulls a hand away from his back and manoeuvres it under Steve’s arm to press it to his chest, looking down. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks at Eddie curiously, waiting until Eddie speaks quietly, almost whispering.

“Can feel your heart beating.”

He looks into Steve’s eyes. Steve’s lip quivers.

“You’re not empty, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs. “You got… Like. A whole fucking universe in your chest.” He presses his hand against his chest more firmly, and Steve’s eyes flutter shut. “And you got all these secret galleries inside your skull,” Eddie adds softly, rising to his tiptoes and lifting his chin to kiss Steve’s forehead. “No one’s seen ‘em yet.”

Steve’s hands tighten on his hair and he pulls him into a hard kiss without opening his eyes. His lips don’t land square on Eddie’s, but neither of them really care.

Eddie’s hand slides up to Steve’s neck, holding him tenderly. He can feel his pulse beneath his skin.

He tilts his head as Steve kisses him deeper, slower, holding Eddie’s head like he’s holding him in place, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, touching Steve’s cheek. He’s always so warm.

“God,” Steve gasps when they part. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Eddie whispers.

He opens his eyes and looks at Steve, touching his cheek, tracing his moles and looking at his shining eyes.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Eddie breathes. “My pretty boy.”

Steve smiles and tucks his face back into Eddie’s neck with a small groan. Eddie hugs him again, laughing softly and swaying as Steve relaxes against him him, heavy and boneless, stepping side to side.

“We gonna dance again?” Eddie asks, smiling.

“Don’t have Toto,” Steve mumbles into his neck.

“Mm. Could turn on some Anthrax.”

Steve laughs softly, kissing his neck.

“You wanna hang your drawing up on your wall?”

“My wall?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve lifts his head.

“Okay.” He’s smiling.

He keeps smiling as Eddie gets the drawing for him, smooths out the creases Steve folded into it, and hands it to him with a thumbtack, and he keeps smiling as he pins it under a colourful drawing he did a while ago of a window Eddie recognized from Ms Malcolm’s classroom, the lines paper covered in scribbly green and blue highlighter and ballpoint pen.

Steve is still smiling when he steps away from the wall, looking almost proud, and it occurs to Eddie that Steve’s never seen his art up on a wall, displayed, unhidden.

Eddie tackles him, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him up with a loud noise as Steve squeals Eddie’s name, kicking.

He’s clutching at Eddie’s forearms, laughing and screaming, and Eddie manages to toss him onto the bed, jumping on after him and trying to hold his wriggling body down. But Steve is an athlete, which Eddie obviously never forgets, and he overpowers Eddie after he giggles for another minute.

Steve pins him down, straddling his waist and gripping his wrists, and Eddie finally stops fighting after seeing his face, flushed and beaming so brightly Eddie doesn’t think they even need the light on. His hair is tousled, wild and falling around his face as he leans over Eddie, panting.

“I win,” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. “I let you.”

“Oh, did you?” Steve laughs, sliding his hands into Eddie’s and lacing their fingers, pressing Eddie’s hands into the mattress.

“Mhmm.”

Steve giggles again, leaning close enough that their noses brush, and Eddie closes his eyes, waiting until Steve kisses him.

God, he loves kissing Steve. He’s always so soft, always playing with Eddie’s hair gently and tracing lines over the side of his neck (which always tickles in the best way), always making these sweet, sweet sounds.

When they finally part, Eddie has rolled on top of him, a hand pressed under his shirt to press to his warm skin. Steve’s fingers are holding Eddie’s hair out of the way.

Their lips are shining and bitten red, their cheeks flushed, and Eddie can’t stop smiling.

“So anyway, how was your day?” he says, and Steve bursts into laughter.

He talks to Eddie as Eddie pulls him out of bed and to the kitchen, and he leans against the laundry machine as Eddie rummages through the fridge for leftovers. When Eddie gives Steve a plate, the food steaming hot, Steve says, “Thank you, baby,” softly, and Eddie suddenly realises how badly he wants to marry him. To have this every day, this domestic bliss. To come home from work and make dinner while they tell each other about their day.

They eat together right there in the kitchen, talking and laughing and teasing, and Eddie falls in love with him all over again. His hair is still messy, his shirt untucked and wrinkled, and he looks so… at ease. Comfortable in Eddie’s kitchen, leaning against the laundry machine with his ankles crossed. (Eddie's noticed he leans a lot. He likes it.)

They end up laying in bed side by side later, Steve’s legs sprawled over Eddie’s. They’re both looking at the ceiling, and Steve is playing with Eddie’s hands, tracing his veins, his rings, his nails. He tells Eddie about his day, about some kids fucking around in class and almost getting everyone extra homework, about him and Tommy doing their homework together after school, about Tommy’s obnoxious I’m so bo-o-ored! that he repeated about every five minutes.

Eddie tugs his hand over a few times as he talks, just to kiss his knuckles.

After a while Steve’s voice falls quieter, slower, softer, and he shifts to face Eddie, sliding his hand to hold onto his arm. He squeezes gently, sighing.

Eddie stops talking. He’s looking at the ceiling, smiling when Steve’s fingers tighten around his arm. He can hear Steve breathing, and he can hear him fall asleep. His breathes become heavy, slow and even and steady, and Eddie smiles before he rolls his head to look at him.

Steve’s sleeping face is different from his resting face. It’s… calmer. He looks almost happy when he’s asleep, content. Light and relaxed, faint traces of a smile gracing his beautiful face.

Eddie gazes at him.

The sun is almost down outside, and Eddie strains to see him after a while, so he closes his eyes.

It’s almost pitch dark when he wakes up, but he isn’t really awake. He’s uncomfortable, holding onto Steve but still wearing his jeans and rings. There’s a chain digging into his leg.

He inhales deeply, shifting and furrowing his brows before he cracks his eyes open. The moonlight is silver, dim, and he can just barely see. Steve shifts at the same time, groaning quietly, and Eddie watches as he does the same, squeezing his eyes shut and squinting.

Silently, they detach from one another, closing their eyes again as they reach down and unbutton and unzip their jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed. Eddie rolls over and blindly pulls off his rings, setting them on his bedside table. When he rolls back over he opens his eyes weakly and finds Steve tugging his shirt over his head, so he does the same. Steve pulls the blankets up and waits until Eddie tosses the shirt away.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, his voice rough, laying back down. Steve moves closer, laying across Eddie’s chest and sighing as Eddie takes the blanket, draping it over their bodies. He wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him closer. “Love you,” he mumbles.

Steve’s legs twine with his under the blankets, and Eddie is half asleep. Every touch feels muffled and quiet, Steve’s skin soft on Eddie’s.

Steve hums weakly and nuzzles into his neck.

part 19 read the whole thing on ao3

tagging @thehumblefigtree <3 comment to be tagged in part 19 :)

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paisholotus · 9 months

Text

Judging by the cover/A friend is Coming

Season one

-Narrative-

khadijah walks into her office towards her desk, turns to check on Synclaire, but stops when the phone rings. Synclaire answers the phone with the most horrible British accent, "Hello, this is Flava Magazine. How can I help you, Love?" Synclaire asks cheerfully.

Khadijah scrunches up her face, "Synclaire, what are you doing?" Synclaire covers the end of the phone and whispers, "I'm making them think we're international." Khadijah bended down and said, "make them think we need some money." Bending back up, taking papers from off the desk. "And keep in mind, this is a grassroots publication." She said sternly. Synclaire nodded, returning back to the phone. "Got it. Yo, yo, yo! How could I hook you up, G?" Synclaire yelled through the phone.

Khadijah shakes her and looks to the elevator when no other than Regine, walking out. "Hello, ladies. I've got good news, and I couldn't wait till you got home to rub your noses in it." She said, smiling at Khadijah.

Khadijah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Well, if it isn't her royal heinie." Regine at the window turns around and smirks, "Look outside. What is Long, Black, and at the curb?" She said, pointing at the window. "I ain't touching." Khadijah said, walking back to her desk. Regine walks over as Synclaire runs to the window to be nosey. "Honey, it's a stretch limo." Regine said. "Well, good, it'll go with your stretchmarks." Khadijah said teasingly.

Regine scoffs, taking a deep breath side, eyeing khadijah. Synclaire walks up to the two, putting both arms on their shoulders. "Is it me, or do I sense a little tension here?" She asks. Regine and Khadijah look at Synclaire and roll their eyes. "Now, I know your Aries rising is constantly conflicting with her Taurus Moon, but can't we all get along?" She asked them nicely. Regine rolled her eyes again and huffed. "Well, look, you all can do whatever you like. I just came by to tell you that the limo outside happens to belong to my new boyfriend, Brad." She said, smiling dreamily.

Khadijah stood up, pushing Regine to the elevator, "If we didn't have so much work to do here, we'd love to hear more about your latest Canine Catch." She said, with a snide attitude.

Regine sits on Synclaire's desk, "Oh, would you?" She said. Patting khadijah on the arm. "Well, Brad and I were on our way to lunch, but we never made it out of the limo." She said, smirking. Synclaire gave her a dopey smile, while khadijah put her hand on her hip, not looking surprised. "He ate caviar from my cleavage, and we drank champagne from my shoe--ah!" Throwing her head back, laughing. "With them big old feet of yours, y'all must have been crazy drunk." Khadijah remarked, looking down at Regine's feet.

Regine waved her off and continued with her story. "I'm telling you, Brad, now, he could be the one. He is fine, educated, and wealthy. And has a butt that's dented on the sides, with the promise of power." Regine said. Fanning herself, giving the two women full imagery.

"We'll see how long this lasts." Khadijah said, shaking her head. Walking again to her desk. Regine frowned and got off the desk, walking to khadijah. "Wait a minute. What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, crossing her arms. Khadijah swung around, giving Regine a pointed look. "Men dump you like Eddie Murphy albums." Offended Regine looks away from Khadijah. "Look, Regine, if you want to have a lasting relationship, you need to start looking beyond man's wallet." She said, seriously.

"Eddie Murphy makes albums?" Synclaire asked, confused. Khadijah and Regine looked Synclaire with 'really' faces. "Synclaire, do your job, please." Khadijah told her. Synclaire nodded, going back to putting people on hold and reading her magazine. Khadijah snatched the magazine and threw it on her desk, causing Synclaire to pout.

Returning back to their conversation, Regine again gives khadijah an offended look. "Wait, are you saying I'm shallow?" Khadijah pretends to think for a second and eagerly nods. "As a kiddy pool." Regine makes an exaggerated gasp. "Mmct." She said, walking towards the elevator.

"I will see you at home, Synclaire. And by to you long neck Dinosaur." She said. Letting out her loud signature laughs, that could be heard from down the street.

Khadijah rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Going back to her papers, when the phone rings. "FlavaMagazine. Oh, hi, mommy." Khadijah said, smiling. Khadijah scrunches up her face in confusion, "who?" She asked. Khadijah smiled and signed, "You know ion like surprises." Khadijah told her. "Alright, I'll talk to you later, Ma, love you." She hung up the phone looking towards Synclaire.

"My mom said there was someone coming to visit. She said it was one of my best friends. But I wouldn't tell you because it's a surprise." Synclaire frowned in confusion, playing with a hair pink haired troll.

"Who do you think it is?" Synclaire asked. Khadijah shrugged, grabbing her bag and coat, "I don't know. But I know I'm hungry. Let's go." Synclaire rushed out the chair, grabbing her things, "don't have to tell me twice."

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metalheadcowboy · 2 years

Text

Billy would be lying if he said he'd never noticed Eddie Munson, of course he had. How was he supposed to ignore one of the loudest, most opinionated mouths in Hawkins?

Whether it was spewing his later DnD plans to his little group of nerds at lunch, practically vomiting alphabet soup to whoever he could get to listen to his wild ideas, or politically correcting their strictly republican history teacher Dr. Murphy, which, he would never admit, but Billy actually found quite amusing, the guy always had something to say.

But he'd never noticed him like this.

You see, a few days prior, Eddie had transferred into his and Steve's gym class after being moved out of Ms. Elliots class due to "complications" as the shaggy haired teen had called it in an overheard conversation. And when Billy first head the news he was dreading it to say the least, dealing with the guy two class periods was more than enough, but three? Just kill him already.

Or that's what he was thinking until he saw Eddie in his gym uniform, those same stupid green shorts that got him all googly eyes over Harrington were working their magic again and he hated it. He was supposed to hate this guy, he wanted to hate hate him, but how could he?

Sure Eddie wasn't built quite as well as him or Steve, but that didn't mean he was out of shape by any means, at least not as much as Billy was expecting him to be. The blonde was genuinely surprised how well the guy could handle his own on the court, sure he wasn't a good shot, maybe not even a mediocre shot, but he was pretty damn good at rebounds.

And what he lacked in physique he made up for well in tattoos. Of course everybody knew of the bats on the top of his forearm or the puppet master tattoo on the opposite side just below the jut of his elbow, but the shorts reveled new ones he never knew existed. Barbed wire circling around his right knee, a spiderweb type design circling the left, and a large flaming skull covering what had to be more than a dozen razor thin, pin straight scars on his left thigh with a snake trailing out of its left eye and up under the hem of Eddie's shorts. And Billy would be nothing but a liar if he said he didn't want to know just how far up that snake truly slithered.

"C'mon, Hargrove!"

"What the hell, dude!"

Suddenly Billy was snapped back into the harsh reality of the game, Steve stealing a three pointer while he was in his daze, and yet all he could focus on was the strange jealousy that coiled in his gut when Eddie gave Steve a celebratory smack between his shoulder blades.

"Shit, sorry," he apologized, scrubbing a quick hand over his face before running to get a quick sip of water from his bottle lying on the bench.

What the hell was wrong with him? he wondered as he chugged every last drop of water, half hoping to drown his thought in it.

"Distracted, Hargrove?"

Billy huffed, pulling the bottle from his lips, a few drops of water slipping down his chin, "Wouldn't you like to know, Harrington," he sneered, placing his water back down and rubbing the excess off of his hand and onto his shorts.

Steve just chucked and shook his head, looking on to where they continued the game without him, "Pretty cute, huh?" he commented after a few beats of silence between them.

Billy's mouth went cotton dry, all words he had queued in his brain dying in his throat, "No- I just- what?"

Steve smirked knowingly, "Don't play dumb, I see the way you look at him," he explained, looking back to Billy, smirk forming into a more genuine smile, "Like he's a piece of meat and you haven't eaten is days, man."

The younger teen didn't even know what to say, defensive anger building up like a volcano ready to explode, "The fuck are you implying?" he grit, never having been in this situation before and half scared out of his mind.

"Y'know you used to look at me like that," Steve sighed, looking back out onto the court, or rather to where Eddie was doing a strange victory dance having made his first ever basket, "Maybe I should be a little jealous, huh, Billy?"

Billy really felt like he was past his limit now, hands balling up into fists. He told himself that after last time he'd never do it again, but damn if Steve didn't love testing his limits. He let out a soft breath, trying to calm down, "Just piss off," he finally mumbled, about to walk away when suddenly his wrist was in Steve's grasp.

Just as he was about to blow his fuse once and for all Steve stepped close enough, so close that if Steve hadn't leaned in to whisper in his ear Billy would have thought he was going in for something else, "You should come to Eddie's trailer some time, see how much of a freak he really is," Billy's breathing hitched both at the words and Steve's hot breath brushing against his ear, "We'll make it worth your while, I promise."

And with that Steve pulled away, staring into his eyes, only for a moment before pulling away with a final squeeze to his wrist, joining Eddie back on the court, leaving Billy more confused and turned on than he'd ever been in his entire life.

#Billy Hargrove #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Stranger Things #do they all have a ship name???#idk #self harm tw #not really but like I am implying that the scars on Eddie's thigh were self inflicted #WHO WAS IT THAT SAID EDDIE WITH THIGH TATTOOS #I DONT REMEMBER BUT THIS GOES OUT TO YOU #AND YOU ONLY

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 1 year

Note

How’s the 911 of it all going

It's going well. I've been binging (because I do not know how to watch a show normally rip) for most of yesterday and today and just finished 2x10. First impressions are as follows:

Abby was my favourite and the most relatable (as someone who is also a carer to their mother) character of season 1 and I miss her dearly. Idk if this is unpopular but I am surprised (derogatory) that the Abby/Buck story gone on as long as it has. I think it started well as a 'they were both looking for something that the other encompassed in theory but not necessarily looking for each other in reality' story but I really thought that after a bit it was going to end up with them realising they worked better as friends and then having Abby leave for her adventure.

Athena is the character that has grown most on me. While obviously it was rough for her and I sympathise with that, it took a bit to get over feeling like she was making Michael's coming out about herself while trying to say that it was for the family, even long after the children had accepted it. But that is coming from a spot where myself and a lot of queer people I know had our coming out either delayed or otherwise altered by others making it about themselves so I understand that that is in part a me problem. Her trying to solve all of the cold cases because of that little girl that went missing when she was a child is so interesting and I imagine that will come back later in the series which I'm excited for.

On the note of Athena and Michael, I understand that Bobby is a main character but I do wish they'd put as much, or at least more, focus on Michael's relationship. Like even with the homecoming photos, they got Michael's partner to take the photo so Bobby could be in it rather than someone else so they both could be.

I was surprised Eddie didn't show up until season 2. It's also lowkey hilarious that he acted like he had an 'affair' with his wife. Like I get that they were estranged but yeah it was just funny. Overall I think he's my favourite male character and I love the family dynamic between him, his aunt, his grandmother and Christopher.

It was also hilarious that I thought we were getting a rivals/enemies to lovers story for all of about 2 seconds with Buck/Eddie before Buck was p much like "actually no I am in love with this man" (Maddie saying "does this mancrush mean that you're over Abby?" took me out because older sisters always know lmao).

I want to wrap Maddie up in a bubble and never let anyone touch her again. Like I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable but as someone who came from a background of domestic violence and has had to escape another (friendship) situation of abuse, god she is so relatable and I just love her. Like I would go to war for any of these characters but especially her.

As a whole, I was wary about starting this show knowing that it was a Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk project because the last thing I watched of theirs was Glee and well... let's just leave it with we all know how off the rails that went. But so far this feels fairly stable. I was surprised to find as a whole it wasn't one fire/crime/emergency of the week but typically 3. I think this has its pros and cons and admittedly I do think it works best when they all intertwine like the earthquake episode did, but it's something different and I applaud them for that. I also feel like everything has good setup, even the 'little' things. Like sure at face value May saying "Everyone at school will know" when Michael comes out can be seen as her making it about herself and being worried about the unrealised potential of bullying but when you find out that it's just another thing she can be bullied over and that the bullying already was that bad, it makes total sense that that's where mind went.

Anyway this has become super long but the TLDR is that I'm enjoying it and interested in where it could go.

#911 #911 spoilers #(to be safe. i know s1 and 2 have been out for a while but i'm sure there's people on my dash who haven't seen it lmao)

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younganonymus · 9 months

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29,30,31,32

3, 5, 6, 7, 11, 12, 25, 29, 30, 31, 32, 46, 72, 78, 90, 91?

3, One activity I hate: being around my father, "talking" with him.

5, Disgusting meal: everything with spinach or cooked vegetables in general. I prefer fruits and vegetables raw much more.

6, idols of mine: Jackie Chan, Vin Diesel as real life people

7, person I really hate: my father, one ex-girlfriend

11: Afraid of might not be the correct word for it, but I do not like ants. They are chill as long as they stay away from me. 0,0

12, people I hate: stubborn, narcotic, self-loving or overly self-esteemed people. Like no matter how much you scientifically know and proof them wrong, they do not care about you or your opinion. You may have spent your whole life doing nothing but this one thing and they still tell you you have no idea.

25, dances I know or want to know: by far I am not an expert, but I enjoy Tango, Salsa, line dance and classic (like Waltzer for example). And of course would love to have real lessons in it!!! (Hopefully not alone though…)

29, good childhood memory: camping iutside, getting awake by the warmth of sunlight on your face, staying up late near a camp fire, … I would love to have more of these…

30, happy with my life: HAHAHAHAHA, ABSOLUTELY not!!!!! I literally tried to end it last weekend and still somehow made it through the night, not walking straight or even in a line for two days.

31, something I regret/wish I had done different: Punching that knife through my throat/Shutting of my phone on new year’s eve from 2017 tp 2018. Literally ten seconds would have made a BIG difference, but nope, here I still am… -_-

32, seven years ago did I picture my life being like this: i did not really thought it would be that bad, but I am also not surprised. So yes, I knew my life would be shitty, but damn was I a fool…

33, from now in seven years: HOPEFULLY, hopefully dead long ago, or but more unrealistic, finally settled in life. (solid work, good/enough income, happy wife, happy kids, …)

34, yes, I am thankful for pretty every experience I made. Of course some painful less would not be bad but after all those are the moments that form us the most. How could we be thankful for food on our plate if not knowing what hunger feels like?

35, any ability to gain and one to tribute: reading minds would help a LOT but simultaneously would be manipulative, so I would love to be able to fly and give up the ability to speak, if that’s what it takes. (Just imagine the wonderful sceneries you can gasp on above or amongst the clouds, how many wonderful sunrises you could see above water, how beautiful the night sky is in different countries, …)

36, bad habit of mine: never shutting up. Too many times I have unwillingly told sad stories of mine just to avoid that awkward silence…

40, The movie “The haunted mansion” with Eddie Murphy left quite a mark on me, even though it is a good movie.

41, movie scenes with reflections in a dark setting, like in “The haunted mansion”, where a character looks up in a mirror and sees himself as a bloody, dead self or some other evil creatures.

42, childish behaviour of mine: the urge to try out playgrounds when passing by or balancing on small edges whenever possible.

46, I am ABSOLUTELY an animal person!!! I do not care what you think of me (as long as I don’t know you) as long as I can play with that big doggo or play around with that kitty or watch those bunnies hop around and around.

54, at school I was the one being joked about and untaken from primary school to the finals. (Although the last two years were much less bullying and outcasting.)

55, I do NOT like my hometown at all! Sure, it’s good living here and you get everywhere easily, but I prefer rural areas much more than metropolitan.

61, stand-alone movies or rows: I rarily watch movies but if, then most of times a whole collection in a row. Like Pirates of the Caribean or Lord of the rings, Star Wars, Hunger games, Rush Hour, … I may not watch one after another instantly, but still try to finish the series in a short time.

62, something afraid of telling a new girlfriend: my weird quirks/faults (which she would find out sooner or later anyway) and my weird kinks. (Nothing harmful but still weird.)

72, am I attractive in some way: Well, to be honest, many people (women and men) told me I have quite a sexy or athletic body, but that’s it I guess. I may be a lot funny, but stupid, open hearted yet mentally broken, caring but ugly, soooo… Maybe I am attractive for just the first glimpse???

78, when is a relationship official: As soon as you kiss one another frequently/regularly. Doesn’t even need to be the mouth, but Gentleman-like on the woman’s hand as a greeting and goodbye is pretty much solid proof one is interested and the other not neglecting.

79, I am absolutely and always honest, so do not mind asking me anything.

80, I HATE the way I look!!! I could be stronger, could be taller, skinnier/thinner, better face, better hair, …

81, three wishes: to finally be dead, (secret) and/or live the dream of my life (happy family of my own, own yard and house, few animals of our oen, …)

82, I ALWAYS wanted to have younger siblings to take care of, which lateron turned into having my own kids, yes.

90, IF that person has time and I KNOW it, I call them most-probably on my way there. But since apparently no one on this planet (amongst my generation and younger) seems to accept calls or even visits, I text people.

91, In my opinion you do not need a certain date or anniversary to celebrate your relationship. If you feel like going on a date together, ligthing the room with candles, prepare a lovely bathroom for her, sending her flowers, then do so! I hate it when people only focus on certain dates! Like why only call me on my birthday if you know I want to see you more often? Why acting like we love our family if we talk bad about each other through the whole year???

#questions #hate my life #hate myself #father #relationship

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scoops-ahoy-fics · 2 years

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I have a request for dustin where they met at camp and they started dating and she is the next target of vecna and but she survives can the song for that is her favorite is party all the time by eddie murphy

party all the time || dustin henderson x reader oneshot

my girl wants to party all the time, party all the time, party all the time!

reader: gender neutral

characters: dustin henderson (minor characters: steve harrington, max mayfield, robin buckley, nancy wheeler, and lucas sinclair)

genre: a mix of heavy angst and fluff

spoiler warning?: if you haven't finished season four, do not read.

severe trigger warning: topics of death, panic attacks, and verbal abuse

notes: @pwin098 i love this prompt!! honestly i think this may be one of the best things ive ever written, im pretty mf proud of this lmao. but here you go! i really hope you enjoy! <3

As the clock chimed, you thought your heart was going to stop. You were sitting on Dustin's couch, his mom out of town for spring break. It was supposed to be a fun get together, but then Vecna started attacking. You knew all about it, you were all trying to prevent it, but you felt a bit hopeless to it all.

And when the clock chimed four times, you knew you were next.

You jumped up, looking around the room for a clock, but you didn't see one. Carefully, you opened the door to see one sitting on the front porch. You stomach sank, tears filling your eyes as they actually opened. Your mind was manipulated. Vecna was attacking.

Panic filled you from head to toe. Looking to your side, you found a worried Dustin, gently cupping your face. “Honeybun, please ... please tell me that wasn't ... you're okay, right? Please just ... please tell me you're okay ..”

You buried your head in Dustin's chest and held onto him as though your life depended on it. You were on the verge of tears, and you could hear his heartbeat. He wasn't doing so well himself. He took you to the couch and held you for a little while as he tried to figure out what was going to happen now.

Max was supposed to get attacked today, if the team's hypothesis is correct. That means you're going to be attacked tomorrow. Nancy and Robin were already interrogating Victor Kreel, and Steve, Lucas, and Max were at Max's trailer. Dustin had asked to drop you guys off at home to get some supplies.

As Steve picked you two back up and you revealed what had happened, everybody was stunned. The anxiety that had creeped in because of Max only deepened. You were next, and you were terrified.

Your mind was racing. Should you write letters like Max did? Should you start saying your final goodbyes? What would the world look like without you?

Dustin rested his hand on yours, pressing a gentle kiss onto your cheek. “Sweet pea, you're gonna be okay, I promise we're gonna get you back to normal,” he whispered into your ear, although a small part of you doubted it.

You gently laid your head on Dustin's shoulder, closing your eyes. “Whatever you say, Dusty-bun.”

The car was quiet as you all watched Max talked to Billy's grave. Until Steve knew something was wrong. Dustin grabbed the walkie talkie, screaming into it to Robin and Nance, as they screamed back. Music.

It all happened to fast, Lucas grabbing her walkman, playing Running Up That Hill. You all were crying, screaming, hoping. Terrified.

Then, she was back on the ground, wrapped in Lucas's arms. Relief cascaded among you all for the time being, there was a way out. Everything might be okay.

So you all headed back to Dustin's house, deciding to make that the hideout. It's been a long day, you needed rest. Dustin and Lucas were taking shifts watching you and Max, making sure nothing was going to happen to either of you. You stayed snuggled into Dustin's chest the whole night, hanging onto him for dear life.

Eventually, you and Dustin woke up before anyone else, aside from Lucas, who was on Max duty. Dustin gently took your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Good morning, my dearest,” he said with a goofy smile. “Wanna go upstairs? We can look through all the records and tapes in there, find something that might work for you today? If not, we can go buy something.”

You nodded gently, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “I love you so much,” you said with a soft giggle. You two went to his room, your hands intertwined as you sat on his bed.

“Let me get these records, but first!” Dustin said, planting a kiss onto your lips before happily walking over to the closet. He hauled a huge basket of records over to you, smiling happily. “Take you pick! I got quite the selection, I pride myself on liking most music,” he laughed softly, sitting beside you and watching you carefully.

You leaned against his shoulder as you looked through the records, your eyes lighting up a little bit. It was a single. Party All The Time by Eddie Murphy. You were a tiny bit embarrassed to say it, but you cleared your throat a little. “I think this one should work!”

Dustin let out a gentle laugh, not a judgemental one. “Never thought you'd be the type to like Eddie Murphy,” he teased.

Your face flushed, darkening a few shades. “Oh hush! I could out you to everyone downstairs about half of the stuff in here!” you retorted, a mischievous smile across your face.

He laughed, gently cupping your face. “It's so nice to see that gorgeous smile again,” he said happily. He kissed your lips tenderly, before pulling back and taking the record. “Alright, I'll put my record player and this ole thing in a duffle bag to carry around with us. We have to stay around an electrical outlet, no matter what we do,” he said, grabbing a bag and slipping the items into it.

Your face was as bright as could be, you loved when Dustin was romantic. It filled your stomach with butterflies, you couldn't believe you found each other. You certainly don't know what you'd do without him.

“I love you so much, Dustin. And every single thing you do for me, I appreciate it. I don't think I could ever say it enough,” you said softly, taking his hand and squeezing it.

He stared into your eyes before kissing your forehead. “Don't worry about it, sweetie. You're the love of my life, why wouldn't I do everything I can for you?”

That's when the door opened, Steve ruining the moment. Of course. “What did I say about going somewhere alone?! No! Out to the main room, now. Not takin' ANY chances here!” he said, his hands situated on his hips like an overprotective mother.

“Yes sir,” you both teased in unison, high-fiving before walking downstairs together. Soft, sweet moments like those almost make all of this worth it.

As you made it downstairs, you all decided to come up with a plan to hopefully infiltrate the upside down. With Max's information, you all learned a lot, but with each detail, you got more and more afraid. You couldn't avoid what was coming next, but you could stop it. Dustin was going to stop it, no matter what.

Gripping Dustin's hand tightly, you looked towards Max and attempted to ask questions about what you were to experience. “... was it hard to get out? Do you think ... do you think he'll try to make it harder for me to get out?”

Max looked off to the side, fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket. “I'm sorry to say it, but probably. That asshole is smart, he already knows that we figured out a way out. So he's probably got reinforcements. I'm not exactly looking forward to what he has in store for you.”

You laughed nervously, putting your head in your hands. “Oh that's absolutely fucking fantastic, am I right guys?” you groaned, your leg bouncing faster and faster until Dustin carefully rested his hand on your knee.

“Nothing's gonna happen, sweetheart. Nothing. Do you hear me? Noth-ing,” he said, attempting to make his point as clear as possible.

You stood up, tears filling your eyes. “What if it's not?! What if I die, what if my bones start cracking, and I'll never live to see the light of day again?! I won't get to see the future, I won't get to see our future! I'll be six foot deep in the fucking ground, if I can even fit into the casket, and then- then- then- ... you'd be so ... so sad, and- ... what if you don't move on? What if you just ... end up just as dead as I am? I-I can't let that happen, I-”

You broke. Your feelings were a bit more towards the surface than Max's. You were trying to hold it in, but sometimes it's healthy to break in a situation like this.

The whole room was silent aside from your sobs. Standing in the middle of the room, you held your face and attempted to wipe the tears from your face although they just kept coming. Why won't they stop?

Dustin was the first to move. He carefully stood up and rested his hand on your waist, the other taking one of your hands and intertwining your fingers. “You're strong, honey. I know you, and I know you can get out of this. You can doubt yourself all you want, but we won't. I'll try not to let you get hurt, but if you do, I'll stay right by your side. Please just ... believe me.”

The others were signalled out of the room by Steve, “Leave 'em be, let's get some breakfast.” You both shot him a thankful glance before returning to each other.

You hadn't even noticed Dustin's teary eyes. “'m sorry, I couldn't hold it in anymore ...” you buried your head into his chest, your arms right around his torso.

“I can't believe you're such a crybaby. Jeez, just fucking suck it up,” Dustin said to you, backing away. His eyes turned from a comforting gaze to a hateful glare. You never wanted anyone to look at you like that, especially not him.

“I-I'm sorry, forgive me, please- I'll be better-”

“No, I'm done with you. With everything about you. I took pity on you at camp. Who wanted to hang out with a random weirdo like you? And why would I fall in love with you? You're a fucking idiot, you know that?” he said, walking towards you and shoving his index finger into your chest. It hurt. It hurt so much, physically and mentally. Why would he say such things?

His fingers started to change, forming sharp knives that cut at your chest. You tried to run away, but you hit the back wall. Fear crawled all over your body, as his face contorted. His jaw was extended far, almost to the floor, as though it was jelly. The skin on his cheeks seemed to deteriorate, and his nose seemed to break. You hated horror movies like that, and that's when you realized.

It wasn't real. It was Vecna.

“It's okay, it's okay, you better not apologize, my dearest. Let's sit down, okay?” Dustin said with a gentle smile.

You didn't say anything.

“Honey?”

Your arms slipped off of him as he stepped back, nothing in your eyes anymore.

“Baby ... oh fuck. Oh shit! EVERYBODY GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY!" Dustin screamed to the top of his lungs, his hands beginning to shake as he looked around for his duffle bag. He couldn't find it.

“What?! What is- fuck!” Steve said, looking at you before back at Dustin. “You know her favorite song, right?! Goddamnit- I didn't think it'd be this soon!”

“YES, WHERE THE FUCK IS THE DUFFLE BAG?!”

“STOP SCREAMING!” Robin yelled back, a bit confused.

“It's behind the couch! Where you put it!” Nancy said in a softer tone, rolling her eyes at Dustin's dramatics.

Dustin practically jumped over the couch, grabbing the record player and shoving it towards the wall. He plugged it in before shakily resting the record against it. He put the needle on it, looking up at you.

“Please, honey, please be strong ...” he whispered to himself, tears falling from his eyes. Everyone waited tensely, surrounding your now floating body.

You were now tied against something, but you couldn't help but look around and see Chrissy and Fred's bodies tied against similar pillars. This was your final stop. Your final chance to get out.

“It's time to go, and you ready?” Vecna said, his hand slowly making it's way above your head.

Please just play the record Dustin, please ...

“Girl, I can't understand it, why you wanna hurt me,

After all the things I've done for you.”

Vecna looked at you for a moment, trying to speed up the process. You had to get out of his grip somehow, and the portal opening in front of you gave you motivation. You slammed your head against his, Vecna falling backwards and you restraints falling to the floor.

“I buy you champagne and roses and diamonds on your finger,

Diamonds on your finger,”

You ran for it, you were terrified. You've never ran this fast in your life. Your legs moved faster than your mind, and then all of the sudden, the were swept out from beneath your feet by Vecna's tentacles.

“Still you hang out all night, what am I to do?”

You began to punch at the tentacle, trying to get it to come loose. You then remembered something. A rock was in your pocket, and a pretty sharp one too. Dustin gave it to you at camp, saying that he couldn't get you anything better, but he wanted to give you something. It was a sweet memory, one that empowered you. You grabbed it out of your pocket and attempted to hack at the tentacle.

“My girl wants to party all the time, party all the time, party all the time.

My girl wants to party all the time,

Party all the time.”

Eventually, you had cut yourself out of there, quickly pulling yourself out of the deep red ground below you and racing towards the portal. You saw Dustin, staring up at you and whispering to himself. The fear in his eyes stung in your heart, you wanted to hold him and tell him everything was okay. You had to get back to him.

“She parties all the time, party all the time,

She likes to party all the time, party all the time, party all the time.”

You practically threw yourself into the portal, almost hitting the floor before you felt Dustin's arms around you. You buried your head in his chest, sobbing harshly into it.

He held you close to his chest, pressing soft kisses against your forehead as he rubbed your back. “Take your time, sweetie, you're okay now ... nothing's gonna hurt you, not while we're around, honey ...”

“... okay Party All The Time? Really?” Steve laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

You laughed softly, looking up at him and sniffing. “Y-Yeah, shut up! You gotta admit, it's amazing!” you laughed, basically sitting in Dustin's lap.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself. Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Steve said, sitting beside you and looking you over for any wounds.

“I think I'm okay, I just need to calm down ...” you mumbled softly, snuggling your head into Dustin's neck.

“That's my job, ladies and gentlemen!” Dustin said with a goofy smile, holding you close. You were in good hands, and you knew it. You were going to be okay, as long as Dusty-bun was around.

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #dustin henderson #dustin henderson x reader #dustin x reader #steve harrington #max mayfield #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #lucas sinclair #vecna #angst #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things headcannons #dustin henderson headcannons #dustin stranger things #dustin stranger things x reader

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watching-pictures-move · 9 months

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Movie Review | House of Wax (Collet-Serra, 2005)

Watching this in 2023, this feels very much like a blast from a the past, a snapshot of what the horror genre was like in the mid-2000s. At the time, you started to get the remakes of beloved classics, with the Platinum Dunes Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead having come out before this one. (I hated the former when I saw it years ago but consider the latter one of the better horror movies of the decade and an interesting Bush era document to boot.) I haven't seen the original House of Wax (but probably should as it stars Vincent Price) or Mystery of the Wax Museum which I understand originates some of the story ideas here (but probably should as it's directed by Michael Curtiz) and doubt this one has too much in common with the earlier films, but I suppose the name is a cheap enough way for the studio to milk more money out of an existing IP.

You also had the found footage boom more or less kicked off by The Blair Witch Project. This is not a found footage movie, but it does have sequences shot on camcorders, which are supposed to capture the characters having a good time, but have the effect of a last known photo, especially with the lo-fi image. There is also imagery here, like a hot wax needle contraption that a character gets strapped to, and the forcible restraining of a child to a rusty chair, that brings to mind the torture porn wave, but the movie is generally indebted to the resurgence in "mean" horror, with the work of Rob Zombie and Eli Roth and some of the more violent entries in the remake wave. For whatever reason I'd mistakenly assumed that this was rated PG-13, and was caught off guard by the gnarlier acts of violence: slashed tendon, lopped off finger, impaled head. And while I likely wouldn't have appreciated it at the time, I did find the jaundiced texture of the movie, which is probably easier to pull off when shooting on film with its tactility than with digital smoothness. And the wax figures that populate the movie lend to the atmosphere of decay and allow things to get nice and goopy when things start melting in the climax, although I should note that the wax figures of colour bear an unfortunate resemblance to C. Thomas Howell's character in Soul Man but that the wax figures of Caucasian descent sadly do not resemble Eddie Murphy in "White Like Me".

Anyway, I doubt this is anybody's favourite movie from the era, but I had a pretty good time. On top of the gruesome violence and the atmosphere, there are some pretty suspenseful sequences, particularly one where the heroine tries to evade detection in a theatre playing Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? I watched this the same night as Cabin Fever, and while both movies play on anxieties about backwoods folk in a very Bush era way, I appreciated how much more tolerable the characters were in this, even if the cast members all look like they're from a CW show. Elisha Cuthbert I'd known at the time as the girl from Popular Mechanics for Kids, and she's a perfectly capable horror heroine here. The guy from Supernatural (not the guy everybody likes, the other guy) is fine too. Maybe Chad Michael Murray is a bit bland, but not offensively so. Apparently he's doing geezer teasers now? If he's playing the geezers, he's likely grown his range.

And I remember this being heavily marketed on the basis of Paris Hilton's role, and people playing up how bad she's supposed to be. Maybe because I avoided engaging with anything she was in at the time (which sounds like it could have been hard given how popular her show was, but one should not underestimate how good I was at putting in zero effort to keep up with current pop culture, something which still holds for anything outside cinema) and thus bear little contempt toward her, but I thought she was perfectly adequate, and I appreciate that both she and the movie treat each other with a baseline of seriousness. There could have been much more obnoxious versions of the movie, where either she phones it in or the movie uses her as a punchline. Anyway, I think Ebert describes her performance best: "The early reviewers have been harsh with Miss Hilton ('so bad she steals the show,' says The Hollywood Reporter), but actually she is no better or worse than the typical Dead Post-Teenager, and does exactly what she is required to do in a movie like this, with all the skill, admittedly finite, that is required."

#film #movie review #house of wax #jaume collet serra

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fandommissingmoments · 2 years

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Hellfire Finds a Home (Eddie Munson)

‘An hour?’ Eddie asked, following Mr. Robins, the music teacher, closely; he was trying to put all the guitars back in place, but that was a job made more difficult by Eddie’s presence. He supposed he should feel bad, and he did a little, but that didn’t stop him from wanting answers.

‘Yes, Eddie, that’s all I can give,’ Mr. Robins said, exasperation behind his voice. ‘Band practice in here every other day. Then there’s general practice Tuesdays. I’ve got meetings Thursdays. The best I can do is an hour before band on Wednesday.’ He turned, only to come face-to-face with Eddie who stepped aside at the raised eyebrow.

‘How about band takes lunches?’

‘You know I can’t do that,’ Mr. Robins said, moving towards his desk. ‘Have you tried your home room?’

Eddie scoffed. ‘It’s too bright, there’s no atmosphere.’

‘English?’

Eddie merely raised an incredulous eyebrow.

Mr. Robins heaved a deep breath, carefully taking his seat behind his desk. At least he was offering something, though. The other teachers Eddie had approached, knowing that he needed space for Hellfire to become a proper club, had all made up pathetic excuses. One had even admitted to him that they didn’t want that kind of devil worship happening in the school, let alone her room.

Mr. Robins had barely been sat a moment, not even enough time for Eddie to open his mouth and try encouraging him to change his mind, before he jumped up again. It made Eddie’s enthusiastic actions almost pale in comparison.

‘Wait here,’ he said, before hurrying out of the classroom.

Eddie’s brow furrowed as he watched the teacher’s fleeing back. Not knowing how long he’d be, Eddie idly strummed on the nearest guitar. If he had to sell his soul by offering to teach guitar or something for a few extra hours, he was beginning to think it might actually be worth it. Sure, people probably wouldn’t turn up, but the offer might be enough to sway the odds in his favour. The only reason he hadn’t come to Mr. Robins before, who despite only being a new teacher was already one of Eddie’s favourites, was because of how frequently the band room was used.

The minutes dragged, and Eddie was about ready to cut his losses and leave, when Mr. Robins returned, a small smile on his face.

‘I might’ve found somewhere. Come on,’ he said, motioning down the corridor.

Eddie carefully put the guitar back in place and followed. The twists of the corridor didn’t seem familiar to him, but he knew he’d been to this part of the school before. He must not have paid too much attention.

‘And voila,’ Mr. Robins said, throwing open a little door.

Eddie stepped into the room and didn’t know where to look first. The place was cluttered with old pieces of set and costume from the drama department. The ceiling was littered with lights, different colours and things Eddie was already trying to figure out how to use.

‘Miss Murphy said you can have it whenever, just make sure you tidy up after yourselves. The only times she’s going to need you to book, essentially, are when the shows are on and they need rehearsal space. Also,’ the music teacher said, hurrying on as Eddie turned excitedly towards him, ‘drama students always take precedence. If they decide they need rehearsal space and come to kick you out, you guys leave without argument. So, what’d you think?’

‘It’s perfect,’ said Eddie, turning in a little circle to get another good look at the room. It would have to be tidied a little, but he was sure between all of them they could do it.

‘Excellent. Just speak to Miss Murphy - she’s in the staff room now, but try catching up with her after school, and you can figure out the details.’

‘Thanks, Sir,’ said Eddie, grinning at him.

The man shrugged modestly before motioning him out of the room.

Eddie beamed as he left, glad that he might actually have some good news to share with the others. Hellfire was officially in business, and he couldn’t wait to get started; couldn’t wait to make sure it was ready for their next campaign.

#Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson Missing Moments #Eddie Munson Headcanons #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Stranger Things Missing Moments #Stranger Things Headcanons #Stranger Things #Additional Character: Mr. Robins

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formosusiniquis · 7 months

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today is a new day to find you - ch 3

Steve Harrington is on his picnic bench.

“Oh good, you did stop by your locker.” It’s a sentence that luckily requires no comment since Eddie doesn’t know what he’d say anyway.

“Listen-”

“I haven’t figured out your schedule yet. It’s like everything I do to figure you out changes things. I tried taking notes, but,” He is laying flat on his back on the bench saying these batshit fucking statements to the sky. The wind rustles the trees as he blows a raspberry to punctuate his trailing thought. Maybe the wind and the sky have settled into something that suits the strange mood Harrington is setting.

“Are you stalking me, Harrington?” It doesn’t come out as a joke. It sounds just left of scared. He’s the teen in the horror movie about to realize the pretty boy isn’t a friend.

And Harrington laughs. A crack sounds in the woods, branches rustling, a deer with better sense taking off to safety. Fright. It makes the bubbling laughter all the more manic. Eddie knows manic. “Shit,” he says it on an exhale, struggling for breath. “I guess I am this time.”

This time, deja vu. He’s embarrassed and upset, screaming at Harrington in the hallway.

But Harrington hadn’t even been in Murphy’s class today, and Eddie’s homework had made it zipped up in his backpack all semester except today. A month of classes and no good will.

There’s probably bird shit on the benchseat Harrington is sprawled across. His gray rich boy jacket pillows his head and protects his perfect mane. Is this where he’s been all day? With legs spread, straddling either side of a seat he’s too long for. Waiting for… Waiting for Eddie Munson of all people?

“It’s not creepy,” he insists and really he must. Cause from where Eddie is standing -- five feet away, ready to make a quick getaway lest he get pinned to a tree with a comically long hunting knife; gasping for a last breath and looking for answers from a silent killer as a bloody title screen fades in -- it looks pretty creepy.

“You know what a time loop is, Munson?” he asks. The segue intriguing enough that Eddie creeps closer. The early fall dead, his fated brethren, crunch on the ground beneath him. There is no stealth to his approach. Harrington is a haunted thing, something not of this world and Eddie is…

Eddie is afraid.

He is a coward by trade. He knows it’s far from desirable as traits go. But it’s what he is when the devil’s in the doorway. Eddie is a runner.

Harrington can sense him and Eddie is curious and afraid. So he approaches with uneasy feet; and, at that table with no one around but the wind and the trees and any critters brave enough to listen to Steve Harrington’s half mad cackle, he sits. As far as he can from what once was a boy he went to class with.

“Didn’t think Steeve Harrington would be a fan of sci-fi,” he lets his mouth drag out the name, lets himself relish in the feel of it. Maybe if he changes the shape enough it will all fit again.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Well, I’m familiar with many a concept, your majesty; but why don’t you surprise me again and tell me what you think a time loop is.”

He can just make out Harrington’s face, just past the softening boundary of the weather worn table. He pulls a face at the sky, more disbelief than scorn, and continues to make no move to sit up. To face Eddie.

“It’s a loop of time, Munson. Thought you were into this shit. I know you aren’t a super senior because you’re dumb.”

The backhanded compliment catches him across the jaw. “Maybe I wanted your astute observations on the subject, Harrington. Someone should give you a chance to be more than all that hair.”

“You’ve got a real gift for being a dickhead, anyone ever tell you that?”

“I’ve heard something along the lines.”

The belabored sigh he gets in return is fitting a prize lapdog, “Here’s the thing inquiring minds wanna know,” he finally says, “you’re stuck because of antimatter or sunspots or cause a groundhog cast a magic spell-”

“A groundhog?” It sputters out in a laugh.

“That’s my personal guess, I couldn’t remember what you said last time.” He blows right past that particularly confusing statement into, “What are you going to do -- specifically -- none of that whatever I want shit.”

“Why is that shit?” The fall afternoon sun cuts through the canopy for just a second. Finding a break in the rain heavy clouds to lay a golden hand on Steve Harrington.

“In my experience, it’s a lot harder to do whatever you want than it looks.” The sun is smothered again, and the absence of the dappled gold leaves a gray faced kid behind.

Eddie can feel the splintery wood grain threatening to send slivers beneath his fingernails, it doesn’t stop the arrhythmic beat he taps the table with. What does Steve Harrington have to be sad about? What on this Earth is there that he might want and can’t have.

“Maybe you just don’t know what you want?” It comes out as a question. A softening of an accusation though he hasn’t softened anything about himself in years. Except for his sheepies. And even then it’s a provisional softness.

“What do you want?”

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Babysitter (ch. 1) || E. Munson x female!oc

pairing: Eddie Munson x female oc words: 1,923 introduction oc Name: Ramona Murphy age: 20 (1966) gender: female height: 5"6 (167cm) eye color: grey hair color: light brown

synopsis: Ramona Murphy is Robin's best friend. She kidnapped her and then begged her to keep an eye on Eddie "the Freak" Munson, who supposedly killed Chrissy Cunningham at Reefer Rick's residence at Lover's Lake.

a/n: I actually wanted to go for y/n, but i decided on an own character as "y/n" since it feels more natural to me to use a name instead of "y/n y/l/n". you're of course 100% free to use your own name, pronouns, and visual appearance as Ramona Murphy if you want to. also, since i've already written nearly 2k words, i decided on an actual ff with multiple chapters. I'm always open for feedback or any suggestion for improvement enjoy :> toni

Ramona POV.

Finally home! After giving what felt like dozens of hours of private lessons I finally arrived home and laid down on my bed. Soon after the phone started ringing.

"Hello?" I ask as I answer the phone. "Hey Ramona, Robin here. Would you mind coming to Family Video? I really need you to do me a favor!" Robin burst out as soon as she heard your voice.

"Well, I-" I respond before getting cut off by my best friend. "Great! See you in 10!" she said and hung up. "Curse you Robin Buckley for exactly knowing my address!" I yell through the house before getting my jacket and driving to Robin's workplace in the deep of the night.

narrator POV.

Ramona arrived at Family Video in exactly 10 minutes, just like Robin said. She turned off the engine and went into the shop soon after.

"Great that you're here." the girl heard both Robin and her co-worker Steve, with whom Ramona had algebra in sophomore year, say before they pulled the young adult out of the store and into the back of Steve's car.

"Yo, what the fuck is that supposed to be, you know my car is still in front of Family Video's, don't you?" Ramona asked angrily since she basically has got kidnapped. "Don't worry about that Ramona, just... trust us," Robin said stressed out. "You saying this that way surely doesn't make me trust you! Why can't I just follow you in my own car instead of you kidnapping me or something?"

"It's more save this way. Steve will bring you your car as soon as possible, okay?" Robin tried to explain what stressed Ramona out even more.

"I STILL FEEL LIKE YOU'RE KIDNAPPING ME SO I'M NOT SURE IF I WANT MY KIDNAPPER TO DRIVE MY CAR" she yelled at Robin in stress. "Listen, Ramona. You've known me ever since I first shat my pants. Do you really think I would kidnap y-" Robin tried to calm Ramona down, but she cut her off: "I mean, you never know–"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" she yelled annoyed, quieting down everyone, even the radio. "The point is, you're the only one I trust, without having to worry it might go wrong." Robin continued and Ramona finally agreed on being kidnapped.

"Wow, Robin. I've never expected you to love me this much, I think I'm gonna faint!" she replied teasingly, acting as if she was about to faint, soon after Robin calmed down a bit to annoy her even more. Steve and Robin looked at themself and Robin said "See... it'll be fun" smiling at Steve

"Wait, what will be fun? Hello? Talk to me! Where are we driving?!" Ramona started yelling again stressfully. "Jeez, Ramona! You'll know when we're there! She's worse than all the kids combined." Steve said in annoyance.

"Listen Harrington, if you got kidnapped and didn't know where the fuck you're going, would you stay all calm and goofy and chill?" Ramona asked the male, leaning over to directly look at him from the side. Steve didn't say anything at first until a quiet "good point" left his mouth and he turned left into the woods.

"Oh wow. Now we're heading into the woods... and you still want to tell me this is no kidnapping?" she asked again stressfully. No one answered so she decided to look out of the window, hopefully spotting something familiar (which was harder than it sounds since it was in the middle of the night).

"Wait, are you driving me to Reefer Rick's place? What the fuck is going on here?" she asked as soon as she recognized the way. "Is she always talking this much?" Steve asked Ramona's best friend. "Nope, only when she's very, like very, stressed out"

Steve stopped the car and the three of them went outside. They were at Lover's Lake, in front of them; Reefer Rick's residence. "I knew you were dragging me to Reefer Rick's, but... why are we here?" Ramona asked. "Just follow us!" Robin said, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her to the shack directly at the lake.

She opened the door fastly and everyone inside flinched as if their lives were about to end. Ramona took a closer look at who was there and noticed Max Mayfield, her neighbor Dustin Henderson and Eddie "the Freak" Munson. She started chuckling. "What the fuck am I doing here?" she asked herself. "Robin? Why am I here?" Ramona asked her best friend looking at her in slight disbelieve as if she was about to cry.

She started to explain everything to her from the Upside Down and what it is, to all the monsters, to Chrissy and Vecna. "And that's where you join the game. Could you please, please, please, please, please stay here with Eddie?" Robin asked and did the best puppy eyes Ramona as ever seen on her.

Ramona's chuckle turned into a laugh. "What am I supposed to do? Play the babysitter for Eddie "the Freak" Munson?"

"No, Ramona, just... accompany him. You know, in case something happens." Max stood up and made her way to the young adult. "Jeez, fine, but I can't guarantee for anything." she finally capitulated after basically everyone begged her to stay.

As they all left to... actually, no idea why they left... do... spooky stuff? Anyway, Ramona turned around on their heel to face Eddie. As the two of them looked at each other the whole shack was filled with silence. "You know, you don't have to be here if you don't want to, Murphy." Eddie suddenly said.

"No, Robin asked me to do it, so I'll do it. Also, my car is still at Family Video and I really don't want to go there alone in the middle of the night." Ramona replied stubbornly and leaned against one of the tables.

"What are you scared of ghosts?" Eddie laughed, making fun of the girl.

"If you're so brave Munson, how about you go get my car? Don't forget to say hi to that Vecna dude from me!" Ramona replied teasingly with a sarcastic smile on her face and threw her keys to him. "Witty... I like that," he said with a grin on his lips as he put the keys into his pocket.

And then silence again. Ramona walked around the shack to take a look at what she had to deal with for god knows how long. "So, uhm? What do you usually do around here?" she asked while she inspected the dirty shack with disgust. "You know, hide.." Eddie started and chuckled. His chuckle faded away as soon as he noticed that Ramona surely wasn't amused. "Okay, Captain Obvious, what else?" she asked again. This will be... interesting.

"No need to be passive-aggressive. You know, I can't do much around here since going out isn't really an option, but I play my favorite songs" he continued as he jumped towards some strings on the other side of the shack and started using them like guitar strings and hum a song that sounded very familiar to Ramona.

"Creeping Death Metallica," Ramona said with a smile on her face and left Eddie shook. "You listen to Metallica?" he asked in disbelief. Ramona nodded and Eddie faked a heart attack which frightened the female. He stood up fastly and started laughing. "Jesus, Eddie! Do that again and the next heart attack won't be faked," she said, supporting herself with the column next to her, but laughing as well.

"Sorry, I just don't believe you listen to Metal," he said, looking her straight in the eyes, still in disbelief. "I do indeed. There's much no one knows about me," she answered with a smirk on her lips. "Wow, I. That's like super cool, Ramona. You don't seem like that at all."

"Don't judge a book by its cover" Ramona said and Eddie repeated it shortly after.

The two of them continued talking a bit about basically nothing, but for them, it was everything. They sat on the ground facing each other. "How come I've never noticed you?" Eddie asked in suspicion. "I can't tell you because everyone has noticed me at least once," Ramona replied and both of them started chuckling.

Ramona looked at her watch. "Holy shit, it's already 2am. We should go to sleep," she said, stood up, and looked for a place to sleep. "You got a key to Reefer Rick's house or do we have to sleep in here?" the girl asked with a disgusted expression. "Nope, no key. But i can try to break in." Eddie suggested and the two made their way up to the backdoor

Eddie crawled onto his knees to exactly face the keyhole, asked Ramona if she got a hairpin, shoved it into there, and moved it around a bit until the door was open. "m'lady," He said as he held the door open for Ramona to enter. "m'lord, she replied and made him a curtsey before going in.

It was as dirty in there as it was inside the shack, but at least it was warmer and safer. Ramona looked around to get to know the environment. "Okay, there is a bed upstairs and the couch down here, where do you want to sleep?" she asked when she came down from her inspection, only to find Eddie in the kitchen eating something that was either expired or simply disgusting. Still, Ramona was slightly hungry as well. "Yo! Eating without me? How fucking dare you!" she said, walking towards the male and taking a look at what Eddie was eating. "Oh ew... never mind."

"Fuck you, it tastes better than it looks!" he said to justify himself. Ramona took a look through the kitchen; dirty dishes everywhere, half-eaten cans on the dining table, and not a single kitchen counter was usable. "Ew... this needs to be cleaned up..." Ramona said after a while with the same disgusted face she had looking around the shack. "Okay princess, not everyone cleans their house so that you can eat off the floor," Eddie said with his mouth half full with whatever canned food he was eating. "Well, they should be. Also, it's disgusting to talk with food in your mouth," she replied in disgust as to what Eddie decided to mimic her, which resulted in him getting Ramona's jacket thrown at him. They both started to laugh.

"So, Eddie..." Ramona started. "Where do you want to sleep? Upstairs or downstairs?" she asked while letting down the curtains.

"You decide," he said before continuing to eat. "I don't care, actually." she did care actually. She hoped she could sleep on the bed since it was more comfortable than the couch.

Then suddenly, Eddie remembered something. "Weren't you supposed to watch after me?" he asked with a teasing smile. "I'm not here to please your mommy issues, Munson," Ramona replied wittily. Eddie chuckled. "But what if someone breaks in when we sleep and kills me... or sacrifices me to the devil," he suggested sarcastically, hoping that Ramona agrees with sleeping in the same room. Now was her time to chuckle.

"Jesus, fine. I will come with you." she gave in because she was that tired, she couldn't even look straight anymore. "But if we both get sacrificed at a satanic ritual then, I'll haunt you in hell and torture you for the end of all days," Ramona added, waiting for Eddie at the stairs. He finished his midnight snack and rushed to the stairs.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things season 4 #netflix series #netflix #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things season four #stranger things s4

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