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#and Eddie has already almost died 3 times so
solarmorrigan · 6 months
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TW: Discussion of suicide, suicidal ideation, child neglect. Nothing happens in the fic (all hurt/comfort, I promise), but it's very frankly talked about, so please proceed with care <3
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It takes three weeks.
(In reality, it takes longer than that. It takes until after Steve realizes he’s spending more time at Eddie and Wayne’s new place than he is at his own house. It takes until after Eddie has asked Steve to just move in with them already. It takes until after Steve has packed his things up, and carefully cleaned up the house, and set the thermostat, and informed the pool cleaners, and paid a neighbor to check the mail every few days, and – he hadn’t felt right, just leaving, even though Eddie had repeatedly told him he didn’t owe anyone anything. But it had taken until after all of that, and then–)
Steve had left them a note, a new number where he could be reached, and it had taken three weeks before they came looking. Before they even noticed.
It isn’t a fight, in the end.
His parents are angry that he’d just up and left the house, but they’re much less so when he explains everything he’d set in place before he’d gone.
They want to know if he’ll be asking them for anything else after this (not if he’s safe, not if he’s happy, just if he’s going to keep being a burden).
He tells them no.
And that’s– that’s it.
That’s it.
His mom tells him they’ll call him around Christmas, let him know if they’ll be in town, and then his parents just let him go.
They get up and they leave his living room and they leave his home and they leave Steve’s life and they leave and they don’t look back and they– well, they’d left a long time ago, hadn’t they? A long, long time ago.
Steve is sitting at the end of Eddie’s bed (his and Eddie’s bed, now, their bed; Steve’s still getting used to that, but in a good way), feeling the sort of empty he hasn’t felt since he was seventeen. He’s just sort of staring at the carpet, and then he’s staring at Eddie’s ridiculous polka dot socks as Eddie steps in front of him.
“Hey,” Eddie says softly. “You, uh… okay?”
It’s kind of a ridiculous question – the answer is obvious, and Eddie clearly knows that, but it’s a way to start a conversation without shouting, “Your parents are ungrateful pieces of shit who never appreciated you,” like he probably wants to (and has before), and Steve appreciates his restraint.
He nods a little, stops, shrugs.
“I kind of thought I was over this,” he says. “Over feeling… left behind by them. Shouldn’t still hurt, right?”
“It’s– it’s okay if it does. It’s shit, Steve. They’re shit,” Eddie says (yep, Steve called it). “You’re allowed to be hurt.”
Steve shrugs again.
“It’s funny,” he says, even though it isn’t, “but I used to wonder how long it would take them to notice if I died.”
He’d never had an active plan, really, though there had been plenty of ways around the house to accomplish the task. He’d never really even looked at it as being suicidal, just angry and bitter and lonely. He hadn’t felt miserable all the time, hadn’t felt like there was nothing in the world worth living for – it’s not like he’d been depressed, it had just been a wild, almost satisfying thought that occurred from time to time. The ultimate way to prove a point. To make them see.
And if the urge got too strong, and his head got too full, and his chest felt too hollow, and the house felt too empty, he’d just go out and find something to do. Simple as that.
“I wondered if it would only be a day or two, or if they would come home, like, weeks later and find what was left of me just… floating in the pool or rotting in the bathtub or some shit. And I guess I just got my answer.” He laughs, managing to sound completely humorless even in the attempt, and glances up at Eddie. “Three weeks. How decomposed do you think I’d be by now?”
Except Eddie doesn’t pick up the bit. He’s just staring at Steve, wide-eyed, cheeks a little red, eyes a little wet, and – shit.
“Shit, Ed, I didn’t–”
“Don’t,” Eddie cuts in, voice thick with a shaking kind of intensity, “say shit like that. Fucking don’t ever– Steve–”
“No, Eddie, I’m sorry, I haven’t thought about that in years, this whole thing with my parents, it just… it reminded me, that’s all,” Steve says, even if that isn’t strictly true.
He’s thought about it plenty, he just hasn’t really had the urge to follow through since the first time he took a bat to a demogorgon’s head. He’d traded that empty feeling for one of purpose, of knowing he was needed, and had readily put himself between everyone else and the danger they were facing, because at least that way he filled a space.
(Maybe he’d traded it a little too easily. Maybe there isn’t a lot of difference between using yourself as bait to lure in a demodog and thinking about where all the sharp things are in the house. Maybe that’s something Steve doesn’t need to unpack right now.)
Eddie stumbles forwards, reaching out and cupping Steve’s face in his hands, angling him upwards so Eddie fills his field of vision.
“I would notice,” Eddie says firmly. “I would notice.”
“I– I know you would, Eddie. I told you–”
“Robin would notice. Dustin – all those little shits we hang out with, both Wheelers, Wayne, fuckin’ Byers– we would notice right away, Steve, I swear to fuck, we would,” Eddie goes on, and something is suddenly sticking in Steve’s throat.
“I– I know,” Steve manages to choke out, and shit, why are his eyes wet now? He’s never cried over this feeling before, and it should be too fucking late to start now – except with everything happening, with his parents, with the way Eddie is staring at him like he’s about to disappear–
Eddie bends one leg up until he’s got a knee to one side of Steve’s hip, half-kneeling over him without boxing him in because he knows Steve can’t stand that, and he rests his weight there so he can lean in and press his lips to Steve’s forehead, kissing him, murmuring against the skin like he’s praying.
“We see you, baby.”
And that one hurts.
It fucking aches, like Eddie has somehow managed to reach back four years and jam a thumb into the bruise seventeen-year-old Steve had constantly been carrying under his ribs, and Steve of right now reaches out and grabs Eddie’s shirt and thinks for a moment that he wants to shove him away, but his next breath heaves out like a sob and he can only pull Eddie closer.
“We see you,” Eddie says again, soft but unignorable, before he presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead.
Yeah, Steve thinks, you see right through me.
It’s a terrifying feeling, and Steve wants to swallow it up and keep inside of him where he can feel it forever. He nods against Eddie’s lips, sucking in a sharp breath so he can speak again.
“Okay,” Steve says, clutching more tightly to Eddie’s shirt. “Okay.”
He closes his eyes against the unwanted tears and lets himself feel, instead – the warmth of Eddie over and around him, the near bruising grip Eddie still has on his jaw, the softness of his lips against his forehead, and he thinks that this is what he’d been searching for, all those years ago.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this wanted, and somehow he doubts he’ll ever have to worry about going without it again.
[Prompt: Forehead kisses]
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blushweddinggowns · 1 year
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Part 1 Part 3
It was an easy decision, proposing to Steve. Party because Eddie has been daydreaming about it since they got together, but mostly because he knew there was no way Steve would say no.
No, when a guy almost dies for you twice, chooses to move into a shitty apartment with you vs maintain financial security with his rich parents, and literally says he wants to be with you forever, it's a pretty safe bet that he's not going to say no to the idea of marriage.
All Eddie needed to do was get a ring. Easy.
Except it was anything but.
At the rate he was going, the proposal was never going to happen. He had gone through four jewelry stores in a span of three days, and he hadn’t found shit. They were all…wrong. Either too big and fancy, or too plain and generic. Nothing that Eddie could see his Steve wearing everyday.
In general, Steve just wasn’t a jewelry kind of guy. The one time he tried out Eddie’s rings for fun, he hated them. He was too hands on for anything clunky, and it was actually impressive how often he got them caught on his clothes in a twenty-four hour period.
But the simple bands weren’t right either. Maybe Eddie was just an obsessive sap, but…they weren’t special enough for someone as wonderful as Steve, and Eddie was running out of ideas.
So he called who he always did when he was stuck. He picked up on the third ring, and Eddie went straight into it, “Waaaaayne, I need help. And I needed it like yesterday.”
Wayne chuckled on the other end, the sound automatically bringing a smile to Eddie’s face, “What have you done now?”
“I’m in ring hell. I’m trying to ask Steve to marry me but-”
“Don’t tell me you already bought one.” Wayne interrupted, voice stern, “Did you?”
Eddie frowned, confused. He didn’t…he didn’t think Wayne would disapprove, not after all this time. Eddie swallowed, trying to hide the hurt in his voice, “Why Wayne, is that disapproval I hear? And no, I haven’t bought anything yet.”
Wayne sighed, catching onto it anyway, “Son, I don’t give a shit about what you two decide to do. If anything, you should have locked him down years ago.”
The knot in his stomach instantly disappeared, Eddie grinned, relieved, “Okay, first of all, rude. Second, if you don’t care, why shouldn't I buy a ring?”
“Because I have one already.”
Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping the phone, “Huh?”
“Eddie, I know you, and I know Steve. I knew this day was coming and…I’ve been ready for it. It was my grandmother’s, but it’s from the 30s so don’t worry. It’s not too flowerly or anything like that.”
Jesus, Eddie was tearing up. He hadn’t expected that. It’s not like Wayne had ever had a problem with their relationship, he was beyond supportive. But Eddie hadn’t realized just how deep that support went, “I-I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t gotta say anything. I’ll send it to you and if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But I think he’d like it.”
Eddie nodded, forgetting that Wayne couldn’t see him,“Y-yeah, sounds good. Sounds perfect.”
“Good, I’ll send it tonight. And you’ll tell me how it all turns out after, right?”
“Of course. And um, hey Wayne?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you man.”
He couldn’t see it, but Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, “I love you too kiddo.”
Eddie hung the phone up on the high, nervously excited to see thing. He watched the mail like a hawke for the next week, grateful that Steve was out when it finally arrived. He tore into the small package, like a kid on Christmas morning. Rose gold and engraved, and already re-sized. Wayne really had thought of everything.
It was the exact kind of ring that Eddie hadn’t been able to find anywhere. Pretty but subtle, perfect for his Steve. He loved it, and he was almost sure Steve would love it too. And he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, because he was going to do it the second he saw him.
Eddie didn’t care if it was corny, he was going to be on one knee the moment Steve opened the door. He sat infront of it, his stomach doing flips as he waited. There was really no reason to be nervous, Steve couldn’t have made it clearer that he was going to get a yes, but he still was.
Steve just had that effect on him.
An hour later, the tell-tale sound of keys in the door hit him. He scrambled into position, heart racing, as he waited, stuck between being intensely excited and vaguely wanting to throw up.
“I’m home- what are you doing?” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide at the sight of Eddie kneeling on the floor, ring in hand.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Eddie laughed, nervous as he watched the emotions flash across his face. He had a hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling as he looked down at Eddie, waiting for him to continue.
Words, right. He had those. Eddie took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his staring to speak,
"Stevie, you are my whole world. And I don’t go a day without thanking the universe for letting you in my life, because you made it complete. I…I never thought I would ever be as happy as you make me. You were my first love. And I want- no, I need you to be my last because there is no one else in this world that I want to be with. So…baby will you marry me?”
Eddie should have seen it coming, but that didn’t stop the surprised oomf he made when Steve tackled him to the ground. The next thing he knew he was being kissed all over his face, a manically thrilled Steve on top of him.
He grinned down at him, happy tears already falling, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
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kissitbttr · 2 years
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how about mean!cheerleader having her first fight with eddie? i need a little something angsty soooo bad:(
ask and you shall receive baby! this is quite short. hope you don’t mind that<3
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eddie and mean!cheerleader have their first fight
the anger that burns inside of her still hasn’t died down and she doesn’t want to do anything she’d regret later, but it’s so difficult when eddie is being a downright prick to her. it’s like he has no idea how to control his choice of words. yet, she’s trying so hard to keep her cool because she doesn’t want him to get hurt.
“oh so now you’re not talking to me? you were having fun chewing my goddamn ear off just earlier!” he sarcastically says, looking at her who refuses to do the same.
“yeah, cause you were being a dick” she mutters, furiously flip through her magazine, trying to shake his rude tone off her mind. “you didn’t get what i mean. so why don’t we just call it.”
he laughs humorlessly, running his hands through his hair frustratedly. “what did i not fucking get, y/n? you were overreacting, there was nothing going on between me and rebecca! her nose was this close to bleeding, thanks to you!”
she slams the magazine down, raising up to her feet so she can now look at him dead in the eye,
“that bitch had her hands all over you, twirling your hair and shit, ignoring me as if i wasn’t there. as if i wasn’t even your girlfriend!” she angrily responds, only to hear him scoff
it’s s good thing that there aren’t a lot of people at the bleachers, or else she would be giving them a show for the third time,
“you didn’t even do anything about it! just laughed and enjoyed the attention she gave you. i tried telling you but you brushed me off! and fuck, do you know how hard it was for me to not knock that bitch out?”
“oh? well why didn’t you, huh princess? it’s what you’re good at right?”
the way he says it… god he makes it sound like she’s a terrible person.
he implies that violence is the only thing she knows how to do in terms of solving things. it hurts her. because she knows damn well that’s not true. she doesn’t like hurting people. that’s not who she is entirely
“no, smartass! not at all! because i have actually been trying to fix that. it’s hard but I’m trying! i just- when it comes to the people that i love, i have to do whatever it takes to not lose them. and i love you, so i got scared okay! I’ve told you million times about this already.”
he’s quick to shake his head, scoffing at her. finding it hard to believe that his girlfriend is trying to find a way to justify her actions. “no-just—you do not get to play that card with me. you almost broke her nose, y/n. if it wasn’t for me, she’d be at the nurse’s office by now.”
“oh, what, you’re her knight in shining armor, now?” she tilts her head curiously, arms crossed. “her fucking prince, is that it? maybe i should’ve broken her nose. or her arm. how about that?”
“god you’re unbelievable” he breathes out a tired sigh, putting his hands on his hips. “i had know fucking idea you’d be like this.”
“be like what?” she pushes, challenging him as she steps closer. his eyes are filled with rage, she can tell. and she dares him to say it. “you can’t even say it, can you?”
“no because it’s not worth it anymore.”
“uhm yes it is! she’s the reason why we have this fight in the first place! because you picked her side over mine!”
“i didn’t pick her side, stop putting words on my mouth!”
“you did!” she argues, “if you didn’t, i wouldn’t call out on your shit! she likes you eddie, why can’t you see that? she wants you, she wants my boyfriend! how the fuck are you so damn clueless?!”
“jesus h christ, y/n! you need to drop this insecure shit you have going on! it’s not cute! just because I’m dating you doesn’t mean that other girls can’t talk to me!” he yells, eyes wide in anger because he can no longer hear anymore of her complains, it’s tiring. “no wonder your exes are fed up”
her body soon freezes momentarily. as he draws a few steps away from her, she feels the beat of her heart begins to slow down, as if there’s no air left for her to breathe.
so many things he had said was just plain wrong and she has no idea where to start.
oh, eddie… why did you have to say that?
“w-what?” she feels small as she chokes out, eyes turning glossy, “insecure?”
when eddie looks back at his girl, he immediately realizes what words were spewed from his mouth. to see her trembling and looking like a kicked puppy just makes him want to punch himself in the stomach.
what has he done?
“wait.. n-no baby i didn’t mean that, i was just-“
“you’re the only person who never calls me that” she then breaks into a full sob before walking away from him. she can’t be in the same room with him now. anywhere but here. she needs to clear her mind,
“y/n, no, princess please I’m-i’m sorry.” he begs, running after her. “i didn’t-“
“don’t!” she immediately stops him. “i don’t want to talk nor see you right now. don’t even bother, eddie.” with that she continues to walk off, wiping her tears away with her palms,
his heart chips away piece by piece when her cold tone appears, especially after hearing her call him by the first name. he’s always been eds, puddin or neddy. it was never a first name. and that’s when he knows he’s fucked. he has hurt her. it pains him to watch her cry like that in front of him. it just kills him. especially since he promised that he’s not going to do it, because he doesn’t want to be like all of her former boyfriends. he promised to treat her better.
but he just feels like he has become one of them. hurting her. his girl.
“f-fuck” he has his hands in the back of his head, hanging low with his eyes shut. “munson you stupid. fucking. freak. what the fuck have you done.”
-
pt.2
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luvrsbian · 1 year
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𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄
A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)
MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO
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Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 
He really liked his job. 
Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  
But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  
Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 
He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 
There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  
The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 
It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  
Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  
He couldn’t wait. 
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Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  
He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  
He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  
This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  
Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  
Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 
He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  
There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 
Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 
“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 
The footsteps stop. 
“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 
That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 
Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 
“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 
“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 
“Where’s Virginia?” 
Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  
“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  
“Why?” 
You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 
“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 
You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 
Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 
“Who are you?” 
Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 
He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 
“You must be Edward, right?” 
He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 
Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 
“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 
“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 
You smile. He smiles back. 
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Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  
It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  
You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  
Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  
The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  
Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  
Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 
He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 
“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 
You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 
“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 
“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 
Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 
“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  
“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 
He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 
“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  
“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  
He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 
“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 
Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  
Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  
You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  
Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 
“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 
“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 
“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 
He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  
“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 
Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  
“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 
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the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3
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brbsoulnomming · 8 months
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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 5
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3
-----
Around the fourth of July, when Eddie's finally resigned himself to a third senior year at high school - his last one, his last chance, because he knows damn well they're going to stop letting him stubbornly try again at some point - he gets a series of lies that fill him with more dread than even the bit about the hospital.
I don't know, I don't know anything!
There's nobody else out there, swear to God!
My delivery didn't come, and my friend and I, we thought that it was left at the loading dock, so we went in the room.
But I swear to God, nobody knows about us, nobody saw us.
And I'm not gonna tell anybody about this, okay?
Come on, I told you everything I know!
Eddie panics.
He knows what an interrogation looks like, and it's pretty damn clear that his soulmate is lying to protect someone - multiple someones? His organization? Shit, is his soulmate like actually a spy, or is he just a dumb kid who stumbled into the back of a mafia run organization or something?
Whatever it is, Eddie doesn't want to leave him alone to it, but - Uncle Wayne already left for his shift, and he can't call him at work, and on top of that, Eddie's a little afraid that whatever he says will get picked up by the interrogators or throw his soulmate off.
So he waits, tense and on edge and every moment cracking him open wider and wider.
And then, after hours of nothing that leave Eddie checking over and over again to make sure the words on his skin are still stark and bold, that they haven't gone all faded the way they do when your soulmate dies -
I'm fine, they're hurt worse than me, they need it more.
He lets out a shaky, relieved sigh, even though he's beyond furious at his stupid soulmate who keeps getting himself hurt, and there's a pit at the bottom of his stomach that makes him wonder what the hell his soulmate has gotten himself involved with.
This time, he's not going to let him get away with insisting he doesn't need medical attention. Uncle Wayne may still be at work, but he's got other options.
Eddie calls Jeff.
"I think you have to go to the hospital," he says when Jeff answers, slow and deliberate and sincere.
There's a few moments of confused silence, then Jeff asks, "What the fuck, dude?"
Eddie waits for just a little bit longer before saying, "When you see what I've got for this next campaign, I think you're going to have to go to the hospital."
Jeff laughs, and they talk for a little bit about what the campaign's going to be like, what character Jeff's thinking about for it, what he'd like to do with his character and how it can fit with some of the stuff Eddie's working up, how Eddie better not kill this one damn it.
"You know all I care about is you and your safety," Eddie says before they hang up, once again making it as genuine as possible so it'll get picked up as a lie.
Jeff laughs at him again and hangs up on him, leaving Eddie all alone and jittery.
He doesn't know if his soulmate will even see it any time soon, let alone respond, but - at least he did it, at least he said something.
So he's a little surprised when he feels the sting of a new lie getting written on his shoulder later that night, so late that it's already almost morning.
I went to the hospital, but I didn't get medical attention, it says. I'm not safe now.
The last of the panic he'd felt drains out of him, and he's reluctantly but fiercely grateful that his soulmate decided to break their silence to reassure him. He's not expecting anything else, but a few minutes later he feels something else being written on the inside of his thigh.
I don't care about my soulmate, too, and I won't do anything to keep them safe. That isn't why we can't talk again yet.
Oh.
Eddie kind of wants to be stubborn, and insist on talking to him again anyway, but -
But his soulmate said them, not her, like he's open to the possibility that Eddie might be a guy. But his soulmate said yet, not never. But his soulmate said he'd do anything to keep Eddie safe, and Eddie's pretty sure he just got a little glimpse into what anything might be, and he -
Things have changed. His soulmate's probably graduated, Eddie realizes, and he's clearly found at least one person who's a different kind of friend, considering the lies he just said are no longer stilted and obscured, and all that's aside from whatever he's gotten involved with that might mean Eddie isn't safe if they talk again.
So for now, he'll listen.
Later that month, Eddie's in the back of Hawkins' one and only comic-slash-games shop, crouched down and hunting through their meager supply of miniatures. He's so focused on his search for one that he a, hasn't used a lot, and b, can modify enough to suit his latest campaign, that he doesn't notice someone's come up and is standing by him until he hears the rustling and clack of merchandise on the shelf above him.
He rocks back on his heels, looking over and up to who's joined him - and nearly falls over when he sees Steve Harrington standing there.
"Seriously?" he demands, because Jesus Christ, they're coming to find him in his own territory now? Then, in almost the same breath as the state of Hawkins High's recently graduated golden boy hits him, "Wait, what the hell happened to you?"
Harrington squints down at him, looking incredibly unimpressed. Eddie's not actually sure how someone can pull off looking that irritated when one eye can only barely open, but somehow, he manages it.
"I was captured by Russians who didn't like my attitude," he responds, dry and sarcastic.
Fuck him then, Eddie decides, turning to glare back at his miniatures. "Right, heaven forbid the peasantry rise above their station and show concern to the royalty."
There's an awkward silence, but Harrington doesn't leave, and when Eddie glances back up, he looks - softer, somehow. It makes his injuries look even worse, and Eddie swallows roughly.
"I was at Starcourt," Harrington says, as if that should explain it all, which -
Actually, yeah, it should. It's not like Eddie's unaware of the fact that the mall kind of spectacularly burned to the ground. It's all that's been in the papers for the last few weeks. He hasn't read many of them himself, but he couldn't avoid remembering some of the headlines - Hero Cop Dies Saving Children and Scoop Slinging Teens Save Lives and Hawkins Mourns Loss of Promising Teen Couple.
He'd been irritated at seeing Harrington and Hargrove's faces everywhere, in a strange, gut clenching way that he doesn't really want to look too closely at, considering one of them is now dead and the other apparently saves lives. In retrospect, he should have put it together, but Harrington's picture had always been him in his varsity jacket, or his tux and crown at prom, or once in the sailor outfit of his summer job. Never of his injuries, and even now, looking at him, it looks so much more like he got in another fight than he was injured in a fire.
"Is it true, then?" Eddie asks, because he can feel the most recent lies from his soulmate burning as though they're being written all over, and he still really doesn't want this asshole to be it. "Little sailor boy saving lives?"
Harrington makes a face that has to hurt, but apparently looking bitchy is more important than physical comfort. Then he shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah, I guess, I helped. But it wasn't just me. I wasn't even the MVP."
Eddie snorts. "False modesty doesn't become you."
Harrington just mutters, "Whatever, man, you asked," and goes back to looking at the shelves like Eddie isn't even there.
Which tracks, really, with how Harrington had treated almost everyone in high school, and Eddie rolls his eyes.
"What are you even doing here?" he asks.
Harrington looks back down at him. "The Hopper-Byers are moving to California."
"Did not know that." Eddie's kind of surprised that Harrington does, actually, unless he's been keeping tabs on his ex's current boyfriend, just waiting to swoop in. Sucks for the Byers, though - baby Byers will be okay, he thinks, but he knows Jonathan's heading into his senior year, and that's a rough time to - "Wait, Hopper-Byers?"
"Yeah." Harrington's expression has gone all closed off, now, like he'd rather be anywhere but here talking to Eddie.
Feeling's fucking mutual, Eddie decides.
"El - Hop's adopted daughter - she's going with the Byers."
Eddie didn't know Hopper had an adopted daughter. But then, with Harrington's parents, he's not surprised the guy's cozy enough with the chief of police to have a dumb little nickname for him and be friends with his adopted daughter.
Former chief of police, and that makes Eddie feel just a little bit guilty. Not enough to stop poking at Harrington, though.
"And that brought you here because…."
"There's a going away party, and I'm not showing up empty handed." Harrington gestures at the shelves. "Will likes all this weird shit."
Goddamn. Even when Harrington is doing something nice for someone, he's still a huge dick about it. Eddie wonders if it's hurting what counts for a brain under all that hair to be this thoughtful about an obligatory going away present for some nerd.
Harrington lets out a frustrated huff of air, pushing his fingers through his hair. "Help a guy out, man? He's leaving his party behind, so I don't want to get him something for, you know, game play or whatever, but maybe something to remember it?"
If Eddie was feeling charitable, he might think it was sweet, how much the guy was thinking about this. But, well.
It's Steve Harrington, and even if Eddie's never really interacted with the guy before, he knows enough to know he's exactly the kind of rich, popular jackass that makes life for people like Eddie miserable.
So Eddie snorts, thinks that of fucking course the guy is trying to outsource gift buying onto him, that he can't even put in the effort to pick it out himself and instead is just trying to find someone else to do it for him.
Still, he doesn't want Byers the younger to end up with a crappy gift. He might not be coming into freshman year at Hawkins High with the rest of his apparently D&D playing friends, but Eddie can still look out for him a little.
"There's some t-shirts and posters next aisle over. Couple of choose your own adventure comic books, some art books towards the back," Eddie offers.
Harrington makes a face. "Yeah, definitely not getting him a t-shirt, hopefully he can at least have a chance at his new high school."
Oh, fuck this guy and his judgemental, holier-than-thou attitude.
"He's an artist, though, his stuff is really good," Harrington continues. "I already got him a sketchbook and some paints, so maybe the art books? I'll take a look."
Harrington is moving before Eddie can get a word in edgewise, pausing only to clasp his shoulder and give it a squeeze.
"Thanks, Munson," he says, easy as anything, and then he's gone.
I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone whose commented/reblogged/liked this - I'm a little bit blown away by the response, and I'm so so glad people are enjoying this!! We'll be heading into season 4 with the next part, and they're probably going to start getting longer because this is turning into such a monster. I'm having so much fun writing these dumb boys!
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Part 6
Taglist (if I missed you please let me know, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n
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writinginthetwilight · 2 months
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You Look Good in Green.
Eddie Munson x Bartender!Fem!Reader.
>>Summery: Between a deli and a laundromat in down town Indianapolis, a bar sits unassuming. Almost derelict looking from the outside, to the untrained eye. But by night shes a different beast
>>Author note: A day early because I have no self control. Thank you for to anyone who read, commented or reblogged the last chapter your all beautiful humans. This chapter has in it one of the first scenes I imagined when this story first invaded my every thought, I'll let you guess which one. Enjoy 💚.
>> Chapter warnings: 18+ only, eventual smut, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, excessive alcohol consumption, mention of vomit, smoking, strong language, broken glass wear.
MASTERLIST
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Chapter 3 - Recovery Position.
MARCH 1988
Desolate is the word that springs to mind as he slams the van door closed. The sound echoes around him before it's swallowed into the shadows where the street lights can't reach, their orange light hanging listly over parked cars and reflecting back at him in the dark windows of closed stores.
This was a stupid idea.
A mantra that's been on a loop in his head since he took the exit for the city, only becoming louder the longer he drove, trapped within the confines of his own head no matter how loud he blared the stereo.
Bitter cold air bites and nips at any exposed skin forcing him to move, fingers already numbing around the handle of the guitar case. He makes short work of the small journey down the sidewalk, but by the time he reaches the familiar soft yellow light spilling from the 24-hour laundromat, he slows to a halt despite how his lungs ache from the cold.
The familiarity of the street dies beyond the threshold of that soft light. No people are lingering in a haze of smoke, no laughter or boisterous voices, mingling along with the low hum of the base that blares intermittently as people ferry in and out the door.
He stands surrounded by his own hot breath that lingers in the air, maybe Angie had gotten the days mixed up in her over-eager conviction to get him to play.
‘I know that guitar I sold Wayne ain't just sat for decoration’, he mouths in a taunting mimic to himself as he finally makes his way up to the door.
The lights are on, he can see that much through the small steamed up window in the door, crooked open sign burning a luminous cherry red to his right.
If he was honest with himself, he knows it's the right night, the damn date stuck to his refrigerator in Angie's looped cursive had all but destroyed his appetite for the past week.
But the idea that she's wrong is an easy distraction from where the doubts really lie.
Gigs had been sparse the past few years, with Jeff away at college, Grant’s dad working him to exhaustion at the shop and Gareth not even old enough to get into half the places they wanted to play. The idea of playing live again started to sound like a good idea, no matter the capacity.
That's how she got him.
The acoustic had seen more action in the past three years than it had since he was in middle school and between the pages of the notebook, which currently sits like a dead weight in his back pocket, are songs never played to anyone but the thin walls of the trailer.
The dawning reality of it being just him, dampening any enthusiasm before it could start.
He was good at leading, building people up; the band, his sheep. Once upon a time himself, not so much lately.
The door swings open making him stumble back as the bouncer almost steps on him. Staring at Eddie, face void of all emotion for a moment his eyes flick down to the guitar then back up.
“Card”
His voice is monotone and the momentary wide eyed hesitation on Eddie's part seems to irritate him as his brows pull in, a grunt leaving him as he shoves an open hand out, that Eddie’s sure could crush his skull.
Not wanting a witness to him hightailing it away from an open mic night of all things, he drops his guitar and scrambles for his wallet, watching as the angry giant stares at it for a little too long before abruptly opening the door and ushering him in. Left cradling his guitar to his chest he winces at the sudden change in light.
This wasn’t just a stupid idea, this was a fucking mistake.
It's like he’s back in high school, stood at the edge of a sea of pastel colour and quaffed hair, quick looks drag up and down as he enters, snap judgements made at a glance.
There's none of the usual reprieve here that he's gotten in the past, the weight that usually lifts as he walks in for a weekend gig now threatening to suffocate him.
Amour built over a lifetime rises, only to be knocked from his shoulders as cold air rushes in from behind him, a grunt and the presence of a large frame forcing him further into the building.
I don't need to play, he reasons laying his guitar across the stools beside him, I can just grab a drink, settle in, and watch. His fingers ache from the lingering cold as he anxiously drums a beat out against the wood.
“Hey, can I help? ”
Your voice startles him a little and the sight of your eager smile makes his throat dry up.
You're Jazz. When Angie mentioned it was your night he assumed it was someone older, he's not entirely sure why, your name only ever mentioned in passing when he hung out at the record store.
But he’s seen you before, hell he's been served by you before.
Always a quick exchange, between a crush of bodies on blurry nights, where he's woken up in an unfamiliar bed or the back of his van. Unsure of how he got there and with an ache in his neck that makes him question if, one of these days, he was going to give himself whiplash.
But you were just the cute bartender; he never got your name.
He hasn’t spoken in a good 10 seconds and your eyes move to the guitar case lay over the stools next to him, eyes lighting up “You here for the open mic night.”
Shit.
He couldn’t say no now, not when you were looking at him like that, all excited and eager, so with resignation he nods, flashing you a tight smile.
“Awsome, okay, just a minute” You scamper away and his face falls as soon as you're gone. Eyes scanning the room he searches faces to see if anyone stands out as familiar, shrugging off his leather and pulling at the neck of his shirt. Desperately trying to bring up the bravado that carries him through most days.
You arrive back, red notebook in hand and flicker forward a couple of pages.
“Name?”
“Eddie. Munson.” The question makes his hackles immediately go up, subconsciously waiting for a snide remark, but you only give him that bright smile again.
“Okay Eddie you're on third, a few people don't look like they're showing up” a humourless laugh passed your lips “I just need you to sign this.”
He eyes the form wearily for a second, “What is it?”
“It’s like a liability form, basically just agreeing you're responsible for your instruments” You let out an exasperated sigh eyes rolling “The owner's kind of a control freak, he’s not here, so we have this.” You confess holding a pen out to him.
“Sure. Okay.” The tremor in his hand makes him clench his teeth as he signs, willing himself to get it the fuck together and he tries to casually flip the pen for you to take but his clammy hand slip against the smooth case sending it clattering to the floor beneath him.
“Shit” he mumbles, quickly bending awkwardly between stool legs to retrieve it. You're making a poor attempt at hiding your amusement as he comes back up and he can't help but feel like he just signed away the last of his dignity as you store away the complete form into a binder.
“Nice shirt” you say without looking up and his eyes flicker down to his Megadeath tee and then back to you, “be nice to have somebody here that plans on singing something other than Madonna. Unless?” you look up at him eyebrows raised and he lets out a huff of a laugh.
“More of a Duran Duran man myself.” Looking out across the room he spins a ring on his finger. “Wasn’t exactly the crowd I was expecting.”
“It's taken almost two months for people to realise it isn't Karaoke. Anyone says shit to you, they're out.”
When he looks at you your face is dead serious.
“You want a drink?”
His full body sags into the bar, hands pressed flat against the wood.
“Please.”
*****
Gus calls it the void.
A space that exists between the sleepy dark building which greets you in the day, with low murmurs of the jukebox and quiet conversation, and the static chaos which she turns into at night, senses soaked in hazes of beer and speakers that vibrate your chest on an inhale.
The void comes when the bodies clear, main lights illuminating the corners once filled by bodies and a cacophony of nameless voices.
It's surreal, usually only seen through a fog of fatigue, as aching footsteps spot mop and clean broken glass, the walls seeming to stretch out and close in at the same time.
Tonight though the void crowds one remaining table, one too small for the number of bodies surrounding it.
You smile fondly from your place behind the bar as the newest members of the family laugh loudly with the oldest. The guys had killed it, the crowd loved it and the buzz of the room carried you through the night.
But the numbers on the calculator are starting to blur as you desperately try to finish cashing up. Eyes warm with an exhaustion that can only come with a day spent staving off panic, and a night caught in the adrenaline of that panic being completely unfounded.
You scrub your hands over your face, cursing yourself as soon as you do knowing the makeup that was once neatly placed there was likely smudged around your eyes now.
A soft clink of bottles and glasses being placed on the bar draws your attention and you look up expecting to see Jay or Charlie there but instead, big brown eyes look sympathetically down at you. You straighten slowly from where you were hunched over, tired bones and gravity having drawn you down.
“Same again?” you glance over at where Gus is loudly telling a story you can't quite distinguish over the cackle of Angie's laugh. Drunker than you'd seen them between these walls in a long time, and in good company if the way Gareth is swaying on his chair as he drunkenly flirts with a very pink Charlie is anything to go by.
“A couple of glasses of water too,” he says as Gareth tries to lean on the edge of the table, almost head butting the subject of his drunken affection when he misses by a mile.
You grimace with wide eyes and he grins back at you “coming up”
You can hear his rings tap against the wood of the bar behind you as he drums an uneven beat.
“I'll fetch them over.” he scoffs from behind and you send him an acusationary look over your shoulder.
“You've been running ‘round all night.” a small frown sits on his face as he tips his head towards you. You arrange the drinks on the small circular tray in front of him silently, the glasses and bottles clinking gently against each other as you softly nudge it towards him.
He looks smug for a moment and you can't help the laugh that comes out when it shifts to panic as he picks up the tray too harshly and the whole tray rattles aggressively.
He gives you an angry glance with no malice behind it and you watch his tongue peek out in concentration as he lifts it. Carefully, he makes his way over to the table, leaning your head on your fist you watch as he walks with slow strides, gangly and unsure looking like a baby deer, stopping every few steps.
The whole table stopped to watch, jibes and laughter turning to a cheer as he finally places the tray down, with a quick turn he bows at you as you give him him a slow clap.
“Come sit down Jazz, grab a drink” Gus yells across at you words running together a little, southern accent more prominent as he roughly pulls a chair over.
You cringe at the screech and look around at the unfinished tasks, but the promise of relief from the ache in your legs is too good to pass up, so you pour a generous glug of Jamesons into a steaming cup of coffee with too many sugars and join them.
You lean your head heavily on Angie's shoulder and she rests hers a top of yours, the smell of musky perfume and the red wine she's been drinking all night surrounding you.
“You did good darlin’” she says as they all chatter around you and you smile to yourself looking over at the band. “Yeah.”
Charlie makes herself scarce soon after when her dime store Matt Dillon boyfriend comes to collect her, much to Gareth's disdain. He asks every few minutes where she's gone and you have to gently remind him she's gone, his shoulders slumping every time.
You finally drag yourself from Angie humming to yourself as the coffee and whisky warm you, curling your knee up to your chest you tune in halfway through an argument Jeff and Eddie are having.
You've missed the start but as Eddie gets louder and Jeff snickers you realise Eddie has fallen for some kind of bate as he passionately rants and gesticulates wildly.
Jay laughs loudly from beside you catching everyone's attention, as Gareth becomes increasingly defensive at the story of George carding him when he came back in from packing up the van.
Grant quickly swipes his wallet and passes his licence over, Jay cooes instantly and you sneak a look at the picture. The frown on his face is like for like with the one he's wearing as he angrily grabs the card back.
Grant throws his arm around the younger guy's shoulders, and they all fall back into laughter and animated conversations in a way that only people who've known each other for half their lives can. A pang of jealousy runs through you that you push down quickly.
“You ready to admit you were wrong?” you say taking a sip from the hot sweet drink, head falling heavily to the side to look at Gus’s flushed face.
“Cold day in hell,” Angie murmurs to her glass, red wine clinging to the creases on her lips, lipstick long gone and spread down Gus’s neck.
“We’ll see,” he says eyeing the guys and throwing an arm around Angie's shoulders, you don't miss the small smile that twitches the corner of his mouth as he watches them.
“Okay house rules” he says loudly hand slamming on the table making you grimace.
The boys all fall silent, the timbre of his voice still commanding a presence with them that you remember from the early days of knowing him.
“Rule 1. No fighting, I see you throwing punches, you're out. Anybody tries anything you let George deal with it.” They all glance at the silent man who sits sipping a gin and tonic as he simply nods.
“Rule 2. Nobody goes behind the bar, you want a drink, you ask. If it's busy you wait your damn turn got it? They all nod turning to each other with murmurs of agreement.
“Rule 3. 10 dollars between you for playing, we’ll set up a tip jar and you can sell any other stuff you want tapes shirts whatever. And Rule 4."
he leans forward giving you a pointed look and you feel your gut drop as everyone looks at you.
He wouldn't.
"No fucking on the premises.”
Jay snickers and you smack him hard in the arm. “I didn't fuck him" you hiss rising quickly to your feet.
“Found them in the back. Trousers around his ankles,” he says leaning towards the boys who all grin at you.
“They were not around his ankles, he got to second base tops!” Jay cackles from beside you and you spin to face him “You can stop laughing, the bathroom's the premises and we all know what you and Paul do in there when they play.”
“Excuse me?” Gus says leaning forward heavily towards Jay as he splutters, the band all stare at you with various looks of glee.
You grab your jacket “As lovely as this has been, if we're finished reminiscing about my failed sexual encounters, my bus is leaving soon so if we can all finish up.”
“You're getting the bus?” Jeff says face dropping as he looks at you.
“Is that an issue?” exhaustion making you bite out the words as you collect the few remaining glasses on the table and walk them back to the bar.
“It's late,” Grant yells over the room as you dip inside the office to collect the rest of your things.
“I'm a big girl” you sing song “ and I have mace, I think I'll be fine.” you check your bag, and hang it heavily over your shoulder, locking up the cash and turning of the lights.
"I'll drive you,” Eddie says as you reappear arms crossed over his chest, all members leaning back into their seats, obviously having had a conversation you weren't privy to
“I told you he was a good boy,” Angie whispers loudly into Gus's ear and Eddie gives her a wink.
Your surprised your eyes don't roll out your head.
“You've all been drinking.” you gesture to Gareth to illustrate your point as he's about to fall asleep at any second, head leaning heavily against a less than impressed looking Grant.
“I've had two beers all night.”
You blink, looking down to the tap water in front of him and sigh, nerves starting to fray as the ache in your feet pulse and shoulders protest the extra weight of your belongings.
“ I just want to get home.” it comes out in a whine, but you're too tired to care.
“We'll close up.” Angie’s voice is slurred and a little muffled from the way she's pressed up against Gus's side, and you glance down to see her long nails raking down his leg under the table.
You look at them suspiciously “Yeah?”
“Done most of it for us, get away darlin’” he says never looking away from Angie.
Christ.
You look back over and Eddie raises his brows at you expectantly.
“Okay. But can we leave now?”
*****
March 1988
You fumble over your words, heart hammering and instantly regret asking Gus to fix the lights so you can see the audience better.
The idea that somebody might be smiling beyond the glare to make this less painful is quashed by a mixture of confused and vaguely interested faces. At least when half the crowd thought it was karaoke there was a pack of drunken friends cheering.
You welcome Eddie on stage, hoping to God that the crowd at least cracks a smile.
A couple of beers had brought him around a little, the deer in headlights look fading as you watched the first two acts and made small talk, but as you turn to wave him on and he appears into the light he looks like you're leading him to the slaughter.
You hope you're not, but the urge to get off stage and away from vacant stares has you scrambling back behind the bar.
“Hey”
His voice sounds small even amplified by the mic and you grin widely at him when he catches your eye.
“ I usually play with a band,” the crowd is silent as he unclips his guitar case and pulls the acoustic onto his lap, your body leaning forward a little as you squint at the words scrawled over the body.
“But thought I'd give this a go” he strums a couple of cords looking up and glancing around the crowd. He holds himself taller, an easy grin on his face but the bob in his throat as he swallows gives him away.
His songs aren't anything like you expected.
You'd readied yourself for something more a tune to the sounds that usually vibrate the walls, it's heavy but the chords progression is almost folky and he has a gravel in his voice that makes your stomach flip. Lyrics angry and funny in equal measure, with a disdain for the work week and the world.
The crowd's response is a mixed bag, no heckles, but your applauds are by far the loudest and he smiles over at you every time a line has you laughing.
He doesn't leave after his set and his demeanour completely changes. Flirty and confident with easy flowing conversation about music, life and the story of his guitar.
He's what you wanted from this night filled with music and laughter and he promises to be back leaving with a wink.
******
It was inevitable, you'd seen it a thousand times before. People walk out into the night air giggling and tipsy and walk back in hazy-eyed and stumbling.
Gareth was already stumbling.
“Shotgun!”
You wince at the rate Gareth falls out through the door, and peek over Grant and Jeff's shoulder as they watch him lay on the sidewalk arms spread and laughing.
Eddie steps out behind you as the others haul him up, pulling out a pack of smokes and offering you one.
“You don't have shotgun we're not animals. Jazz gets shotgun,” he says mumbling around the cigarette hanging from his mouth as he pats himself down.
“That's bullshit.” Gareth sways back a couple of steps taking Grant and Jeff with him and Eddie rolls his eyes.
“I really don't mind,” you say quickly, the gesture was nice but you've seen enough innocuous disagreements sour to risk it.
Eddie scoffs lighting his cigarette “You've been on your feet for what 12 hours?” you try to recall the morning which seems like a lifetime ago.
“14 hours?"
“14 hours? Christ. Yeah, you have shotgun.”
“No.”
You turn away catching the beginning of an objection but cut him off. “Gareth you're good I can sit in the back”
“Fucking aye” his face lights up and he lurches forward dragging Jeff with him, Grant joining you both to watch the pair sway away before you slowly follow.
“If he can't fucking hold his drink-” Eddie grumbles from beside you.
“Come on you remember being 21, give him a break.”
“Can you remember being 21?” Grant says chin lifted.
He leans into you conspirationaly “He's a massive lightweight.” you turn with a smirk to see Eddie glowering at his friend. “In his defence, he'd just graduated, took him long en-“
“No.” Eddie says sternly as you look between the pair, throwing Grant the keys who catches them easily in one hand.
“I'm not getting him in the van.” He gives him a warning look and Jeff and Grant groan.
The brick is cold enough to feel your jacket as you come to rest against the wall beside Eddie. Silently smoking as you watch them try to fit a squirming Gareth in through the door in the barely lit van, their voices bouncing around the empty street.
“Thanks for the ride,” you say breaking the silence, hugging yourself a little as the cool air clings to you.
He gives you a dismissive shake of his head. “Not letting you ride the bus home,”
“The 11.35 is a breeze, 3 am's when it gets interesting, extra sticky.” he frowns at you, dark shadows extenuating the lines of his face and you laugh “It's fine, like I said I've got mace and I know all the drivers by now.”
He hums unconvinced and takes a drag of his cigarette amber glow illuminating him for a second before he lets it hang from his mouth.
“Well consider us your Thursday night ride.” he opens his arms wide towards the rest of the band as they try to buckle Gareth in.
“I appreciate it really, but it going to be midnight at the earliest before I get off, I only managed this because Angie and Gus wanted to fuck on stage.”
He chokes on an inhale, a plume of smoke coming out as he looks at you wide-eyed, nose wrinkling.
“No.”
“Yep,” you ash your cigarette under your boot and lean away from the wall “Rule number 4 does not apply to the owners.”
You head to join the other two boys in watching Gareth's drooling face pressed up against the glass and feel Eddie come up behind you
“We got him in the van, you have to get him up the stairs,” Grant says walking away without a glance.
You chuckle to yourself and follow leaving Jeff and Eddie still softly frowning at their unconscious friend. Jeffs pats his arm nodding to himself as Gareth mutely stirs behind the glass, lips smacking.
“He's gonna puke in your van.”
****
The ride back to your apartment was filled with a mixture of laughter and you hanging on for dear life as Eddie navigated the streets, two emergency stops for Gareth to puke his guts up and ended with you running back to the van and making Eddie promise to lay him on his side.
You'd chewed Jay out the next night for serving him after you had told him to stop and worried the rest of the weekend as it went on in its usual orchestrated chaos. You slept Sunday away and by Tuesday, watching the boys play felt like a dream.
The boombox blares a new mix tape you'd made as ypu clear up ready to settle into the weekly wait to see if Bill shows, the small room humid and smelling strongly of detergent as the dishwasher cycle ends.
You don't hear the front door open or the greeting that's yelled out over the volume of the music, your singing distracts you from the body settling into Bill's chair.
The song changes and the start of ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ starts and you spin, volume of your voice rising as you pull open the dishwasher taking out glasses and putting them into a crate to the beat. Ready to be dried and polished still cloudy with heat, the chorus comes in and you yell it out as you round the corner.
“Hey,”
Eddie says with a smirk from his place on Bill's chair raising his hand in greeting, a bolt of adrenaline runs through you tingling your fingers making you screech. The crate slips from your hands and the glasses explode into shards which fly off in all directions.
“Oh shit” Eddie rises immediately rounding the bar quickly and you brandish a broom at him before he can make his way behind, slapping off the boom box.
“What are you doing here?! “You splutter confusion and panic creasing your features, your heartbeat still thudding in your ears.
His eyes are wide and he takes a step back.
“A. Are you not open? The signs on.”
You gape at him looking between him and the door “Yes but nobody.” the worry on his face, makes you hesitate and you lower the broom leaning it against the side so you can cover your face with your hands, taking a deep inhale.
“I didn't mean to scare you, I can help."
“No. No, it's my own fault.” you look around and grab the broom “shit”. This was going to cost you, Gus would let a couple of broken glasses slide but this was definitely coming out of your paycheck.
Glass crunches under your feet as you try to get the worst of it and he tentatively goes to sit back down.
“Not there.” he stops hovering over Bill's chair and you point to the stool next to it.
“Expecting someone.”
“Yes”
“Not me.” A small smirk pops one of his dimples and it aggrivates you how cute it is.
“What do you need Eddie.” You stress coming over to stand in front of him.
“Can't a guy get a drink.”
The joke doesn't land and he looks sheepish as you watch him pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper from his bag pushing it over to you.
“New set for this week.”
“New?” You say, tentatively taking it “Not just rearranged?
“Nope.”
You can feel him watching you as your eyes run over the list, and you can't help but smile at the slower songs at the start, a few sticking out as unfamiliar.
“Are these originals?”
“I mean yeah, we thought we could try some songs out early on, and play more familiar stuff later. If that's cool?”
“You a cover band?”
He scoffs “No.”
“Then it's fine.” you laugh “It looks great.”
The look on his face makes him look boyish as he smiles to himself tucking the paper back away and you resume cleaning.
“So. Could I still get that drink?”
You chat about the next gig and are filled in on Gareth's monumental hangover which lingered over two full days as he ripped the label from his bottle into small piles and he agrees to one more before he should probably get going.
“You know. Thursday wasn't the first time I've played here.”
“Yeah?” you say twisting the cap off his bottle and sliding the beer over to him “You played with a different band?”
“No, uh.” he spins the bottle before taking a sip “Just me. At the open mic.”
“What? When?”
He chuckles, tipping his head slowly from side to side curls swaying with the movement “Like March last year.”
You squint at him trying to find something you recognise and as he stares back at you eyebrows raised, you realise then what that familiarity had been in his eyes and instantly feel awful. “Eddie I'm sorry, there's been so many people I don't remember half the people who come in anymore unless they play every week and even then. “
He waves you off “It's good, it was a one time thing, I was kind of worried to come back to be honest. The crowd wasn't exactly enthusiastic.” he scrunches his nose and you sigh leaning to prop your head up on your hand.
“God those first few months were painful they all thought it was-.”
“Karaoke.”
You stand upright looking down to the Wasp tee he's wearing and back up, searching his face again you trying to find any kind of memory of him that's been lost.
That familiarity is there again flickering behind big Bambi eyes again as he looks at you with a tight smile.
Then it clicks.
“Oh my god!” you point at him. “Guthrie.”
He grins, teeth fully on show now and knocks his knuckles against the bar top.
“This machine slays dragons." astonishment that he's here, that's you'd forgotten him, he was one of the first people to make you feel like the night as a whole could work." Oh my god.”
He nods, laughing into his beer the sound of his exhale loud inside the glass.
The memory of him and his songs and chatting all come rushing back and then you pause, face falling slightly as your shock and enthusiasm dwindles a little.
“You never came back.”
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sadboislovebeans · 6 months
Text
Moonlight - part 2
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Werewolf!Steve Harrington x vampire!Eddie Munson
a teeeeny tiny bit of angst but don't worry
A little bit shorter than I'd like and I'm realizing this might have more parts than I bargained for (also not proofread if you see mistakes no you don't)
Part 1 :)
They avoid each other like the plague. Well, it's mostly Steve avoiding Eddie a little more than usual. He even starts sending Tommy to buy weed instead of just getting it himself, which means that no, that was not in fact a weird ass dream and Steve most definitely is a werewolf. And Eddie called him a good boy. He doesn't know which is more embarrassing, the fact that he cuddled with him like he was a dog or the fact he kind of misses that. Eddie doesn't even attempt to talk to him. He didn't before, why would he now?
But the next full moon has Eddie wanting to go back to those woods. As he hears those cries and howls, he feels the strange need to go back out and help Steve again. So what does he do? He grabs the now cold McDonald's burger he was about to eat and his bag, as well as a pet brush because he doesn't want his fingers getting caught in Steve's matted fur again, walking briskly back to those woods. Just as last time, when Eddie peeks through the trees, he sees the big brown wolf curled up and whining, clearly still in a little bit of pain. "Steve?" Eddie asks tentatively. Steve's head perks up, looking around before his familiar burnt caramel eyes land on Eddie. He jumps up, bounding over to Eddie and tackling him to the ground.
Oh. Great. Eddie's dying now. His throat is gonna be ripped out and Steve is only licking his face to get a taste of Eddie before he absolutely devours him and- okay now why is that making him think about human Steve sucking his- anyways back to Eddie about to die. Which.. isn't happening. Steve hops off of Eddie, tail wagging as he digs his nose into Eddie's bag, fishing out the burger and finishing it off in a single bite, not even chewing once. "Steve.. hey. Uh.." Eddie stammers, sitting up and scooting back a bit. Steve is a lot more affectionate in this form, and Eddie just assumes that Steve doesn't remember shit because in what world would Steve Harrington want anything to do with Eddie Munson? Especially since... well, they have reasons for calling him a "freak" that aren't just about his looks. The one time he tried his hand at asking out a guy, it backfired horribly, and now practically everyone in Hawkins knows he's- that he's...
Different.
He was young. Tried to prove everyone "wrong" by asking out a girl he kind of liked, just to get people to think the rumors weren't true. But it only worsened things somehow, making him eternally damned to be "the freak". Why did life put him here? It's just his luck to be practically tortured his whole life then be told he's going to hell as if he's not already there. Maybe he has died. Maybe this is hell. He's only having this nice moment with Steve as he lays his head on Eddie's lap because it's a way for him to get his hopes up, for him to be happy for at least a few moments before it all comes crashing down again before he even gets the chance to savor it.
He's tired of it. He's tired of getting his hopes up, of crying, of dealing with.. everything. He's just. So. Tired.
Eddie looks back down at the werewolf lying in his lap when he feels Steve's wet nose nudge against his hand, big brown eyes looking right back up at him with a look that almost appears to be worry in his eyes. "Hey, Steve." He says quietly, running his ringed fingers through the light brown fur of the large animal. It's like a sliver of light, a shot of caffeine to wake him up. He feels a little more okay like this, even if his chest aches knowing Steve will only avoid him further by tomorrow. But tonight, he'll savor this tonight.
Before life rips it all away from Eddie, he'll savor this.
part 3
Tag list: @manda-panda-monium (that's it, you can totally ask to be on the tag list if you want, I'll add you no hesitation)
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silentiumdelirium · 2 months
Text
Part 1 | Part 2
***
It‘s Dustin. Of course it is. This kid has been cockblocking him since he met him. Although Dustin hadn‘t really cockedblocked him right now had he? I mean Steve didn‘t want to go any further with Eddie, the kiss was just an experiment right? And well the feeling he just had was proof to his theorey, that it doesn‘t matter who‘s gender it is, kissing is kissing. And Steve likes kissing so of course it also felt good with Eddie. He apparently also likes when someone grabs his ass which he hadn‘t know until yet. No girl has ever done that. Also if Dustins knocking hadn‘t interrupted him he would‘ve kept kissing Eddie. But that doesn‘t mean anything it just proofs that Eddie is a good kisser and his mouth is like any mouth right? Oh god why has Steve done this? He feels like he hadn‘t proofed anything to Robin but maybe she has to him?
‚Steve?‘ He lifts his head from his hand and looks up to see Dustin‘s excited face. ‚Oh my god you guys keep hanging out without me! I told you you have to invite me next time‘ Dustin screams and Steve rolls his eyes. He has been a bit clingy since the whole upside down thing happenend again which is probably fair because Eddie almost died in his arms.
‚Nightmare 3 is finally out on video so we‘re gonna make a horror movie night! And i‘m just here to invite Eddie and oh Steve can we use your house? You‘re obviously also invited!‘
‚Oh thank you what an honor to be invited to a movie night which also happens at my house. I guess I also have to provide the movies since I work at the video store?‘
‚Yes exactly thank you‘ Dustins grins ignoring Steve‘s sarcastic tone.
Eddie grins as well. ‚well thank you for inviting me kid! I would be honored to join.‘
Steve rolls his eyes and puts his hand to his hips in the typical babysitter (or mum like Max always says) way.
‚But I‘m not gonna give them to you if they‘re too dark okay? You lot already have enough stuff to fill your nightmares with we don‘t have to add more!‘
Dustin groans and says: ,Relax Steve it‘s not that dark it‘s funny and we‘re sixteen now so we are legally allowed to watch it!‘
Right Steve forgot that they are already fucking sixteen now! Soon they‘re gonna go to party, drink, smoke weed…wait maybe they already doing that? Oh my god what if Eddie and the whole hellfire club is bad influence? I mean Eddie sells drugs so what if he also solds to Dustin and the others? He had to ask Eddie as soon as they were alone again. But as long as they are doing stuff at Steve‘s house he could at least watch them not do anything too stupid.
‚Alright alright you can do your stupid horrormovie night at my house but you have to provide the snacks and everything, I will only provide the videos.‘
‚Yes!‘ Dustins screams triumphant and high fives Eddie. ‚Can you also drive me to Mike now Steve? I mean you have to drive to work anyway right?‘ Dustin asks and Steve looks at his watch. Right work he had to go now so he wouldn‘t be late. He sighs ‚Jesus alright but hurry up don‘t want to be late again!‘ Dustin is already half out the door when Steve looks to Eddie who is standing at the kitchen counter again. Right where they were kissing just minutes ago. ‚Right so I see you tomorrow?‘ Steve asks suddenly very uncomfortable with the whole sitaution. Eddie smiles nervously and avoids looking at him. ‚Sure man see ya.‘ Steve grabs his jackets and moves to the door with one final glance to Eddie who is fidgeting with his rings. Steve tries not to think about how those hands with the rings had felt on his ass and quickly leaves out the door. He definitely has to discuss what just happenend with Robin!
***
Yay managed to write a next part so now you know who‘s at the door @stevesbipanic also you‘re username fits very well here because Steve Bi panic is incoming!!!
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rainbow-nerdss · 3 months
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Fic Writing review 2023!
I was tagged by: @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @aidaronan @exhuastedpigeon @jamespearce9-1-1 @theotherbuckley @aspecbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 (And possibly others, i may have missed one or two, sorry if i did!)
I can't believe 2023 is over, honestly. This year has had some ups and downs for sure but overall I'm so proud of what I've achieved. I started the year mainly writing Stranger Things fics, and while I still love that fandom and all of the wonderful people I met there, my inspiration for writing it was beginning to fade.
And along came 9-1-1. I am so happy with where I've ended up, and for all the new friends I've made since I found this show back in April!
Here's an overview of my year in fic:
Words posted to ao3: 235,060
Words written: 250,465
Works posted: 38
Fandoms posted for: 3 (Stranger Things, 9-1-1, MCU/Captain America)
Specifics and tags are under the cut!
Longest fic:
Crawling on Back to You 109k words, 30 chapters Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, Rated E
Shortest fic:
Keep on Walkin' and don't look back 521 words Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, Rated T
Top 5 by kudos:
1. Right in front of your eyes
9-1-1, Buddie, 15k
He and Chris, and Buck. They work, they’re a unit. Why should it matter that he’s single? Buck is watching him, like he’s reading every thought on his face. “You’re already planning to lie about the date. Why don’t you just tell her you met someone yourself?” Eddie shrugs and tilts his head to the side, squinting in thought. “She won’t set me up on dates if she thinks I’ve got someone,” he muses. “But she’ll want to meet whoever it is.” “So... Introduce them?” Or: Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.
2. Pinky Promise
9-1-1, Buddie, 1k
Christopher Diaz doesn't mind that his dad's dating someone new. He's not dumb, he knows there's someone. The way his dad has been smiling lately, the way Chris catches him staring at his coffee, daydreaming like he isn't a grown man. The sleepovers Chris is suddenly allowed to go to on almost a weekly basis. Chris is happy for him, really he is. He’s just not planning to let himself get attached to whoever it turns out to be, just in case. He doesn't need a step-parent, because he has Dad, and he has Buck, and that’s enough. Whoever his dad dates, well. They'll probably leave, eventually. Chris doesn’t need to worry about them. Or: Eddie and Buck come to Chris with some news, and he doesn't take it very well at all.
3. Peek-A-Boo
Stranger Things, Steddie, 1k
Eddie tried not to stare. He really tried. He didn't notice at first, too preoccupied with the tub of pringles he'd been making his way through while talking about Corroded Coffin's last gig. Sure, he'd noticed the shorts. The ridiculous amount of leg Steve was showing, the way they hugged his ass, but it wasn't until Steve moved, lifted one foot to rest on the cushion, knees spread, that Eddie noticed another feature of the shorts. Or: Steve puts on a bit of an accidental show.
4. Definition
9-1-1, Buddie, 2k
It keeps happening, time and time again. People get it wrong. Whatever people say, it feels wrong and they don't know how to set the record straight, until Chris takes it into his own hands. or: 5 times people get Buck's role in Chris's life wrong, and 1 time they set the record straight
5. take my hand (knot your fingers through mine)
9-1-1, Buddie, 4k, written with @pock-o-pea
At least Buck’s okay. He’s outside, safe, doing his job. Buck’s okay, which means no matter what happens inside this van, If the crushing weight of the fridge takes him before Buck can get to him, if the van pancakes or flips or any number of likely disasters occur, if Eddie dies in here, alone, and in pain, then… He thinks of Mallory, of Jo. How they’d called out for each other. His eyes shut briefly as Mallory’s words echo in his head. “She’s not my daughter. Jo’s mother was my best friend… she saved me so many times.” Or: what 6x18 could've been
2023 Events I've participated in: AUgust, Fandom Trumps Hate
Current works in progress:
The bodyguard fic (somebody to someone) -One chapter posted, 3 more written and (almost) ready to post!
Steve time travelling in the upside down (of moments and unmoments (of time lost)) -One posted, two more in the drafts 😁
The break-up fic (you were my town) - Two posted, the third almost ready to post
Season 7 fic: 10 chapters, currently being edited to post
and then a bunch of isolated oneshots I've yet to figure out an ending for: 5+1 times Eddie sees buck with kids that aren't his, friends with benefits, secret relationship, Teacher!Buck, Buckley siblings kiss of death, Buck in the stairs (just started this one last night!)
Goals for 2024:
I want to finish posting all of the WIPs which are already on ao3, post my s7 fic before March 14, keep working on all the WIPs I have in my docs and of course write more and keep sharing!
Most of all I want to keep participating in this wonderful fandom I've found on here, I have had *such* a good time over the past year in fandom 🥰🥰
No pressure tags (sorry if you've already done this and I missed it!)
@hellwrites @the-emdash @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @911-on-abc @bittersweet-in-boston @kwills91 @trenchcoatsandtimetravel @spotsandsocks @devirnis @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @mojowitchcraft @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @sunflowerdiaiz @cardamomsage @velvetjinx
Also tagging anyone else who might want to look back at the year and I've accidentally missed!
Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.
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hoffmannwrites · 1 year
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On My List
1  - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist
Author’s Note: Look at me! New fic, new fandom, new style, ouhhh! So new, so shiny! Anywho, this is a 5+1 fic based off THIS text post which has been rattling around in my brain for weeks. Thank you @stevietruther for the insufferable thoughts in my brain.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson
Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.
Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, being inebriated (the gang is drunk here but nothing too bad, just in a fun way), uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, let me know if I missed anything?
You Spin Me Right Round
One
The first time Steve and Eddie kiss is also the first time Steve kisses Robin and Eddie kisses Argyle. It’s just the older members of the party and a few random acquaintances that tag along, and there ain’t shit to do but get high and drunk and play party games. Later into the night, when everyone is inebriated enough to feel comfortable around each other and they have managed to lose both beer pong balls, Vicki suddenly perks up, chest a blotchy bright red under her button up. “We should play spin the bottle,” she announces, feigning bravery with a hopeful glance in Robin’s direction. 
“Oh fuck, seriously?” complains Steve, who is already doing a mental inventory of the people there and how terrible it would be to kiss all of them. Well, most of them, at least.
“What? You afraid someone’s gonna realize that Big Bad Sex God Harrington isn’t actually all he’s cracked up to be?” teases Eddie, pushing his shoulder into Steve’s with a huge smile on his face. 
“No- that’s not- I just…the ratio is off!” Steve sputters, going hot under the collar. He knows that at least one of the girls is a lesbian and the other is his ex girlfriend and the OTHER is the girl his best friend has a crush on. And as he has this thought, his eyes shift to Robin who is wringing her hands in her lap, not looking anyone in the eye. Oh. Oh. This is her chance. To kiss Vickie without any one thinking too much about it. To see if Vickie is as into her as she is. To see if there are sparks, without any pressure. Because it’s just a drunken game. 
“We’re actually gonna motor,” says Jeff, getting up off the floor and pointing to the two Hellfire members behind him. “As much as I would LOVE to stay and lock lips with Munson, some of us have actual jobs in the morning. And Gareth is 1 beer away from ralphing on Harrington’s front lawn.” Gareth just shrugs, knowing he is notorious for over imbibing. 
The three Hellfire boys make their way out the door, leaving just the usual suspects and, of course, Vicki. 
“See? Almost even now, Harrington. Pass me that empty Seagram’s,” says Eddie, oblivious to the fact that this is, by all accounts, a horrible idea. 
“You go first if you’re so intent on planting one on all of us, Eds,” Steve replies, determined to call the older man’s bluff. 
“Gladly.” And with that, Eddie spins the empty bottle and watches smugly as it settles on Argyle. 
“Oh, come to Daddy, Surfer Boy!” Eddie exclaims, shooting his eyes from the bottle up to Argyle, who had already leaned over the bottle towards Eddie expectantly. 
“Dude. I’m expecting greatness. Lay it on me, bro!” Argyle says so seriously it was startling and puckers his lips in the most cartoonish way possible. Eddie grabs his face with both hands and lays one quick and dramatic kiss directly to the other boy’s lips, complete with a loud “Mwah!” Sound effect added. Everyone chuckled at the display, all relaxing slightly due to the fact that the first victims of the game were the two must unserious people of the group, who had no problem breaking the ice.
The game continues, with Jonathan landing on Vickie. He decides to chivalrously go for a kiss on the hand, as he previously declared his loyalty to Nancy. Nancy lands on Robin and kisses her softly on the cheek, sighting the same reason as Jonathan. Argyle goes next and ends up landing on Jonathan. He kisses the photographer lightly on his forehead and pets his hair, which left Jonathan furrowing his brow, but laughing nonetheless. Vickie goes next. Robin holds her breath as the bottle spins and spins and spins for what feels like a lifetime until it lands on…Robin. The girls lock eyes immediately and Vickie subconsciously ducks her head and pushes a piece of hair behind her ear. They turn to each other and just kiss. No preamble or bullshit explanations or disclaimers. They just kiss softly and sweetly for a few moments before breaking away. Neither girl says anything, but Robin is noticeably redder in the face and Vickie seems to lean into her just slightly for the rest of the night.
Next is Robin’s turn and although she prays to whatever high power she can think of for the bottle to land on Vicki again, it lands on Steve. “Ugh man, no! Gross!” Robin whines. “Dems da rules, sugar plum,” Eddie smirks and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Fuck. Fine! But Capital P, guys. I’m so serious,” she warns everyone before turning to Steve. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best not to woo you with my masculine charms,” Steve says before kissing her so quickly that if anyone blinked they would have missed it.
“Ew,” she states simply when it’s over and wipes off her lips dramatically, like a petulant child wiping away a kiss from their mother. Steve silently takes the bottle and spins it, just begging that it lands on anyone except his ex girlfriend. Anyone! Anyone at all even…Eddie. It stops on Eddie and Steve looks at him, like a big brown eyed idiot in headlights, all that previous confidence gone. Eddie clears his throat, shuffles almost uncomfortably. “So, you gonna show me what Hawkins’s Most Eligible has to offer?” he asks, trying so hard to look like he’s not sweating bullets. 
And Steve is just drunk enough that he’s got the balls to shut Eddie up the way he’s been thinking about for months, since he was called “big boy” in that stupid trailer when the world was ending.  Suddenly, Steve is all siren-eyes and sex appeal, letting his voice drop just a little when he almost whispers “Get ready, big boy,” and grabs Eddie by the back of the neck. Steve tilts Eddie up just enough and takes his sweet time leaning in and ghosting over Eddie’s lips, just enough to make him shiver a little, but not enough for anyone to notice. They share each others air for a fraction of a second before Steve leans in the rest of the way and kisses Eddie, really kisses him, the way he’s been doing to girls for years. And Eddie kisses back, just enough that somewhere in the back of the rockers head, red flags and sirens are going off. But he doesn’t notice, too lost in the feeling of Steve on him to register anything else. They separate after what feels like entirely too long for a kiss during spin the bottle, and wait with bated breath. What for, they’re not sure. But no one says anything and the air feels like it’ll shatter is if they do. And then the moment is gone, because the doorbell rings and Argyle jumps up, chanting “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!” And suddenly they’re all too hungry to focus on that moment that felt just a little too charged. The rest of the night, Eddie and Steve take turns sneaking glances at each other, like they’re really noticing each other for the first time. But come the morning, everyone is too hazy on the night before to read into it. They all remember the nights activities, but no one thinks to question the tension, chalking it up to being cross faded. Except Eddie suddenly pays a lot more attention to Steve. 
A/N: Fun fact! Wine coolers came out in the early 80s and have only gotten better tasting and more hangover inducing since! 
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king-zacharyy · 1 month
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Here)
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"Oh, Maxie.." Steve breathed, pained, as his eyes landed on the prone teen.
"Steve! You should be resting." El said, not getting up from her spot at Max's bedside. Lucas was on her other side, and they were both holding Max's hands.
"Ellie," Steve said on a sigh. Robin wheeled him over to her, and he took her unoccupied hand. "I'm tired of resting. I needed to see my girls. How have you been, kiddo?"
Ellie's head dropped to his shoulder, and she squeezed his hand, practically sagging against him. "Tired. I missed you. I was not happy when I found out you were hurt. Again."
He winced, apologizing, and looked at Lucas. "Lu." He looked up from Max's hand, and Steve could see the tears gathering in his red eyes. "C'mere." He raised his free arm, and Lucas reluctantly let go of Max to tuck into Steve's side.
"She's going to be okay." And he believed that. Max was a fighter, and she had people to return to. "She's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."
Steve took a moment to look around the room, taking note that only Robin, Hopper, and Erica had joined them. It was then that he noticed the lack of one Susan Mayfield.
"Where’s her mom?" Steve asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.
"We don't know. No one has been able to get in contact with Ms. Mayfield since the earthquake. We're not even sure if she's alive." His dad's answer was enough confirmation in Steve's mind, though.
Susan wasn't doing good after Billy's death, and when Neil Hargrove up and left, she just got worse. She was drinking, he knew, and working all the time, but she loved Max. He knew she did. He could see it every time he talked to her about Max. If she was alive, she'd be here.
He nods and finally takes her in. Her right arm is wrapped in a cast. Little drawings, as well as The Party's names, are all over it in different colored sharpie. It draws a smile out of him. Both of her legs are also in casts, elevated by pillows, and also decorated. The air punched out of his lungs as he took in her face. She had an oxygen mask on, and her skin was pale. Her fire red hair was in two braids, and she looked– small.
Max was never small. Even when face-to-face with a demodog, she never shrank. Even in the face of Billy Hargrove threatening her friends and beating Steve's face in, she stood her ground.
Steve had to choke back a sob, guilt and despair clawing at his throat. This was his fault. It was his fault she got hurt. It was his fault Erica and Lucas got hurt. It was his fault Dustin got hurt. It was his fault Eddie almost died.
He was their protector. He was the one who took the hits. The kids weren't supposed to get hurt. That was his job. What good was he if he couldn't even do that? What reason would everyone have for sticking around if he was so useless?
Maybe it would be better if he had been taken instead of Barb back in '83. Then Nancy would have her best friend, Robin and Erica never would've been dragged into all of this, and Max and Eddie wouldn't be hospitalized right now.
"I can hear your self-deprication from here, Dingus. It's not your fault." Robin's voice snapped him out of his spiral, and he cut her a glare, without any heat behind it.
"It’s no one's fault but Vecna's. And Jason's." Lucas said into his shoulder, and Steve kissed the top of his head in thanks and acknowledgment.
It would probably take a while for him to genuinely believe them, but for now, he pushed the negative thoughts aside. No matter what, he wasn't letting any of the kids get hurt again on his watch. When Max woke up, and she would wake up, he would be there for her.
"Okay, kiddies. I've gotta go check on Eddie and Mike, but I'll be back in here when Robin next allows it. I love you both." He pressed a kiss to both El and Lucas' heads, squeezed them goodbye, and detangled from them with a not-small amount of reluctance.
Robin wheeled him to Max's head so he could press a kiss to her temple and whisper an, "I love you, Maxie. Get better soon, my little zoomer." With that sentiment, he was wheeled out of the room and towards Eddie's room.
"Where'd everyone else go?" He asked Hopper. Erica stayed with her brother, so it was just Robbie and his dad with him now.
"The Byers left to find a place to stay for the night, the Wheelers went with them, and Henderson said he was going to Munson's room."
"Eddie hasn't woken up yet. The doctor said that it might be a while before that happens because of how much blood he lost and the extent of his wounds. Mike was with him, but he was in your room a bit before you woke up. That's all I know so far, though, because I've mostly been with you." Robin added, and Steve's stomach dropped a bit with the news about Eddie.
Before Steve could comment or question further, they reached the room. He felt the last of the tension in his shoulders unwind at the sound of Eddie's heart monitor, secure in the knowledge that everyone in the party was alive.
"Hey, Dust." Robin parked him next to Dustin, where he was sitting in a chair by the bed. The boy immediately sagged into his side, and Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"I'm going to go talk to your doctor and try to find Joyce." His dad said, ruffling his hair and leaving the room. Robin pulled up a seat on his right and clasped his hand in hers.
"So... Are we gonna talk about how you called Hopper 'Dad'?" Steve suppressed the blush that wanted to spread on his cheeks at Dustin's question, and ruffled his hair.
"What’s there to talk about? We're all aware my parents are shit, and over the last year, Hop's been more of Dad than my actual father. He is my dad. In all the ways that matter. And I refuse to be embarrassed about that."
Dustin gave him an analyzing look before nodding and resting his head back on Steve's shoulder.
Steve took a minute to take in Eddie's state and felt the same strangeness as he had with Max earlier.
Throughout the time that Steve had known him– both in school and over the past week– Eddie was in constant motion. From pacing to walking on tables to a bouncing leg to fidling with his rings to restless hands while talking. But he was never still.
Now he was– save for the rise and fall of his chest– motionless. And the last time Steve had seen him motionless was–
Steve's breath caught in his chest, a lump caught in his throat blocking his airway, and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't–
Steve felt this urgent, all-consuming need to feel Eddie's heartbeat, then. As though his own heart would stop beating if he didn't.
It was irrational, he knew. Steve could hear the drumming of his heart in his ears, and the EKG Eddie was hooked up to was beeping without a hitch to be seen or heard, but–
His fingers wrapped around a pale wrist– and when did he let go of Robin's hand?– thumb pressed to the pulse point there and waiting, waiting, waiting until–
Thump ... Thump ... Thump
The roaring in Steve's ears dissipated as his heart slowed to a matching beat, and he could finally breathe, almost like nothing had ever been wrong in the first place.
It should have been surprising, scary even, the speed at which Steve fell for the other man, but in reality? Well, he had known he liked both for a long while, and Steve had always loved hard and fast. Always gave his heart out as easily as someone handed out candy on Halloween. He always gave more than he received, and it always backfired.
(Well– that's not entirely true. It wasn't that way with Robin, but Robin had always been different. Robin was the first– and only– person where the give-and-take was equal. She was his best friend, his sister, his other half, the platonic love of his life. His soulmate. (With a capital P as they always emphasized) His Robbie.)
But– it wasn't like he could help it. No matter how many times his heart got stomped on, no matter how many people did the stomping, he couldn't stop giving his love. Even if he– and said love– was just bullshit.
This time would be different though, he promised. This time, he'd hold his love close to his chest. He'll feel it, but it won't be given. Steve was barely friends with Eddie, and honestly? If that was all he got? Steve thinks he could live. He thinks he could be content. As long as he has Eddie, even if he isn't his.
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Well, after some sever hiccups in the writing process as well as some writers block and lack of motivation, here is part 3! Don't worry, this is certainly not the last part, I only do Happy endings, nothing sad or hopeful.
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@thespaceantwhowrites @child-of-cthulhu @plantzzsandpencilzzs @thebadasshistorian @stevesbipanic @daeb820 @flocon-tourne-en-rond @melonmochi
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deluweil · 2 months
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I know it's been a while, but with the new 911 season coming up ( I will not be watching,probably check in every now and again) I wanted to share my own self check of how I view relationships on tv.
After S6 finale, I was like lost and furious, I mean, I wanted and still do want the last 6 years of my life back from 911. (Well three because they didn't always suck).
But I went back to watching normal TV, you know, the kind that portray relationships and are being clear of the direction.
I watched Good Omens, so rooting for that pair, they are the best! And with that cast of unbelievably talented actors, I enjoyed every minute of it. Point is I didn't allow myself to see that friendship as a ship because of how damaged my perception of on screen relationships became after 911 displaying all the right signals, then taking a hard left into a tree at the end of the seasons.
I am not even going to to touch the First Prince of RW&RB, which is essentially a buddie storyline that was followed through to its logical conclusion.
I also thought, maybe I just can't enjoy straight on screen relationships anymore and I'm looking for more.
My sister sat me to watch Bridgerton for the very first time (just S1 for now) I can say with absolute certainty that it dis-abused me of that theory as well, because I rooted and got excited for Daphne and Simon at first sight.
Such a wonderful love story told right!
These are the two prominent tv shows that cemented my belief that it is in fact not on me.
Going back in my head I remember rooting for Catherine and Steve, and almost every one of Danny's gfs (except Rachel, it was clear she'd break his heart again.) In H50.
I wanted Gibson to end up with Andy in Station 19. Never wanted her to end up with Maya or him with Miller.
And even though it didn't need to be said, but was said in a humorous fashion, the writers also made clear that Gibson prefer women.
So it is in fact the flawed 911 writing that got me to give up on all forms of logic of reading tv relationships right.
That I gave up on tv for a while.
But, that being said, I can say I was always attracted to Ryan, but Eddie always got my gaydar to go off. And Oliver is not my type, but Buck is a hot bi firefighter - and that is a thing I already thought in S1, way before Eddie arrived.
So either the writers has no clue what they're doing, or they did and chickened out last minute.
And I finally reached the point where, I throw in the towel, wish you all well and move on.
It is not just about buddie, it is just a buddie post.
If anyone is interested, I can make a whole post involving the "development" of the rest of the og characters, where I say enough is enough.
Either make them interesting again, or bring in new blood that hasn't been first a piece of ass to further Buck's questionable development.
Let me know if you are interested.
The blinders are off and I am not keeping quiet for the sake of followers anymore.
9-1-1 was a great show, 3 seasons ago. They had sparks every now and again in between, but those were few and always demolished in some way by horrible writing choices.
Thank you for a great time, this fandom has been a place to come to whenever I needed to escape reality, I love you all. ❤️
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sn4pozu · 10 months
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my headcanons of Eddie Gluskin if he had a twitter :
he'd repost those RETVRN incel trad memes where its like a woman doing house chores & man doing job stuff
would get into arguments with a woman and subscribe to her onlyfans at the same time (gets mad when blocked)
tries to be professional and a know-it-all but also his entire likes tab is porn (he doesnt know it shows publicly)
calls someone a whore & drops a bible verse in the same thread arguing with them
idk if he'd be delighted with minion memes or viscerally hate them
USES DISNEY REACTION GIFS WITH NO SHAME , USES A CRYING STITCH GIF AT A DODO VIDEO OF A DOG DYING
If twitter bans his account mid argument he'd flip the fuck out and make 3 gmails & alts at the same hour
100% posts creepy comments under peoples post and gets upset if it gets hidden
flirts so much you'd think hes a bot but no he's just sending random women his number (does he care if they're married or not is completely dependant on his mood)
uses the nice guy card whenever shit starts going south
he gets doxxed he goes like "that's not me" (lies, is scared)
either that or he lashes out and start sending them death threats who knows
menace with the twitter Voice Note feature
not even a mutual KYS no hes going to write out his whole murder fantasy in a person's DMs and blocks them before they could respond
gets IP banned on twitter like, weekly, he just figures out VPN apps and finds a way to harrass people constantly
media tab is his breakfast and someones mutilated genitals, bi-weekly photo updates maybe
im not saying he would complain about hairloss but he would complain about hairloss
"i got declined by the pharmacist for asthma medication, fucking bitch *insert something mysogonistic*"
thinks bitcoin is stupid and not a real "manly job" so he dogs on them pretty horribly
thinks tech jobs are for NERDS and says it outloud whenever them NFT bros are commenting under his shit attacking him for calling them nerds
Cracked phone screen with blood in the cracks (he tried to clean it with soapy water on a towel but it just ruined the lcd now its forever stained yellow) ((free bluescreen eye protector mode ?)) (((also has to violently tap the home button because its already broken & that part of the screen died))) ((((has an odd smell))))
he wishes he'd have glasses for the phone screen but all he does is squint
would post dress updates though <3 maybe retweets sewing patterns and videos of old women knitting and go "my grandmother used to do that pattern, ❤️ Wow."
goes back to shitting on women
*posts black coffee with 2 fruitflies in it* "A Good Way To Start A Morning ☕"
posts half eaten food and the dirty plate and would be like "Delicious food today 😋 i almost forgot to pots." -- deletes & reposts because of the typo. PEOPLE CANNOT THINK HE'S WEAK.
His vest would 100% be posted on those gimmick accounts and gets picked on for it being crusty & grody 😔
DMs like multiple women at the same time and either gets immediately blocked or ghosted after a face reveal
he Has cried because of twitter comments before, never again......
has twitter warning threads made of him and has tried to draw a stupid fucking wojack on paper with pencil & pen because he doesnt know how to edit photos but he still wants to own the haters
posts gore to own the haters as well and then got mass reported to death when people found 0 similar images of the gore he posted
'A Thread On @/Eddie287367927 TW: Gore, Mutilation, Harassment, Transphobia, Misogyny'
probably had a youtube documentary made about his twitter acc and all the drama he got himself into (either by accident or for fun)
ok this idea kinda came up to me after i saw a trad meme come up on my tl and i just HAD to dump this all out somewhere
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medusapelagia · 26 days
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writing patterns 👁️
rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!
Was I tagged by someone? No! But I saw this on @cranberrymoons Tumblr and I thought it was fun so I just jumped in (sorry XD)
1 It’s not the first time that Geralt has been hurt, but it’s the first time he almost died on Jaskier's watch. (Family Dinner, Jeraskier)
2 Steve Harrington is the most booked runway model in the world.  (Separate Ways, Harringrove)
3 Billy doesn’t know why he accepted to go to this stupid club, and now that he is sitting on the sticky couch in faux leather he wonders once more how Steve convinced him to join him and Robin. (Wednesday, Harringrove)
4 Steve has trained for this all his life, but when his father gives him the order he hesitates. (I'll make you proud, Steddie)
5 Steve sighs in his dressing room while getting ready to shot, Robin, his personal assistant, got everything ready for him: his favorite snacks, some mango-flavored water, and even his lucky charm, but Steve knew that this movie was going to be the hardest he ever shot. (The scorpion and the frog, Harringrove)
6 “Fuck!” Billy yells, slamming the car door so hard that the entire car trembles for a moment. (Love is a battlefield, Harringrove)
7 Eddie sighs, looking at the boy at his side who is avoiding him as much as he can, which is quite hard given the fact they are sitting so close next to each other. (Black and Gold, Steddie)
8 Eddie sighs, looking at the white blanket around the chalet that Steve booked for their first holiday together. (Running From The Daylight, Steddie)
9 Eddie is kneeling in the mud, shaking like a leaf while Wayne runs toward him: there is a bullet hole in the trailer's wall just a few inches from his head and skid marks on the ground a few feet away. (Let the world around us just fall apart, Steddie)
10 It all started during The Masters: just a big misunderstanding that could have been clarified easily, but the other golf player decided that he could not forgive him and since that day Eddie Munson has tried to piss off Steve anytime he had the occasion. (The Caddie, Steddie)
So the main pattern is that I love to start with a name and that my characters sigh a lot because they already know that I'm going to torture them!
This are my no pressure tags because I think this is so fun!!! @kallisto-k, @spaceofentropy, @romeren, @rindecisions, @lorifragolina, @soaringornithopter, @slippy-slip, @cxwzkeys, @whataboutthefish, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation and everyone else who wants to join!
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maggotpuke · 19 days
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Demo-creature Billy(specifically the demo-blossoms from the dice game), Demo Eddie, Human Steve. Self harm & destructive behaviors, description of blood + injury, Steve gets hurt too, toxic pollen
Demoblossom Billy is toxic when he's blooming, he's not always flowering- there's a difference between the fleshy, faux flowers that he is always stuck with decorating him and the flowers that bloom from him. When he blooms, he gains this crown of flowers around his head, and two little flowers bloom where his jaw unhinges. Sometimes they bloom on his body- on his joints, on his scars, sometimes somewhere random.
It's not.. completely random when he blooms, every 3 or so months, and he can always see the buds on his jaw when they come in. He can call Eddie, Eddie who's fucked up like him, Eddie who gets aggressive and sprouts wings and- and then he's fine, just Eddie again.
Billy sees the first bud, it popped up over his wrist bone, he plucks it with a hiss- then realizes what he had done as he watches the spot bleed, dripping down his arm. He can.. he can pluck them, it hurts like a bitch but he can pluck them. He goes to the bathroom and- the ones on his jaw haven't shown up yet, he can't find any in his hair- he sleeps in his own bed that night, one of the many rooms they redecorated when Steve got the house.
He doesn't tell Steve it's because he's budding, just tells him he feels sick and wants to be alone and locks the door.
By morning he's.. he's not covered in buds, he's fully bloomed, he's got a flower on one wrist and a scab on the other. He can feel the flowers on his jaw and it makes it uncomfortable to move his face and hard to speak. He knows he has his crown and the bed is covered in yellow pollen. He'll continue to spread it for the few days it lasts-
Billy grabs the flower on his wrist and pulls, it's harder than the bud was, more solid and stuck to him. He tears the flower out of himself anyway and holds it in his hand, blood is trickling down his wrist. He can.. he can just get rid of them, clean the house, doesn't have to be this.
He leaves his room, Steve has already gone to work and so he goes to the bathroom. He grabs one of the flowers on his jaw and yanks. He yelps at the feeling, blinks away tears and watches as the blood trickles down his neck.
It.. It hurts and Billy is almost rethinking his decision when he spots the pollen laying in the sink, mixing with the blood dripping down from his jaw.
Billy grabs the other flower on his jaw and rips it out, clenching his teeth tight. He doesn't even blink away the tears this time, grabs one of the flowers in his hair and starts on the crown that Eddie and Steve both say is so beautiful. Steve's seen it, from a distance, and from before they knew he was toxic.
He hates thinking about it, how a few hours later Steve was hacking up something gross, blood mixed with saliva mixed with yellow. He was sick for a week, bed bound and Billy was quarantined for the first time.
All Billy can think about is how much he hates his flowers, how much he loves his boyfriends, how much he loves Steve and doesn't want to risk hurting him ever again. He'll pluck every flower again and again, every time he blooms. His crown of flowers becomes a crown of blood in his hair, slowly saturating his golden curls and dripping down his face. Billy has to blink through the tears and blood to make sure every flower is gone, to make sure he is no longer dangerous.
He's dizzy, scooping the flowers from the sink and shoving them into the little trash can, tying off the bag and making his way downstairs, outside, and shoving it deep into the larger can.
Billy's shaking and he's still crying as he makes his way back inside and practically crawls up the stairs. Can a fucked up demo creature die from blood loss? He doesn't think it's that much, it's probably just a loss of adrenaline. Yeah, definitely.
Billy flops onto his bed, coating it in blood, mixing with the pollen on him. He hopes he didn't track what was left on him around the house because he's tired and can't risk Steve kicking it up, because shit he needs to nap.
Steve comes home to pollen and blood tracking through the house, finding Billy asleep- totally passed out in his bed, covered in pollen and blood. He doesn't care about his own safety, doesn't care he can end up bed ridden and hacking up blood, he's running up to Billy, kneeling on the bed and patting his cheek.
Billy is blinking up at him, dazed, and groans out this weak little sound that makes Steve wanna hold him so fucking close and never let go. He carries Billy to the bathroom to get him cleaned up and is surprised again at the carnage- there are a few petals Billy missed in the sink, blood and pollen spread along the sink and the floor and on the fucking trash can.
He gets billy in the bathtub, turns on the water and starts to clean his poor boy off. It takes a bit but Billy is clean- Steve leaves for just a second to call Eddie, ask for assistance to clean, to watch over Billy and of course Eddie agrees because he doesn't really have much else to do but come over and help take care of his boyfriend and definitely soon Steve.
Steve's lungs are aching, he's kicked up enough pollen, touched pollen that was stuck to Billy's blood and clothes. He's still watching over Billy in the bathtub when Eddie shows up and starts cleaning- Steve cleans too, doesn't care about it because he's already inhaled so much. He thinks it's gotten more potent, there's definitely more than when Billy first started blooming.
They get Billy into Steve's bed, what is meant to be their bed, and Steve curls up around him. Billy is weak and soon they all know Steve is gonna start reacting to what he's breathed in. Luckily Eddie knows how to deal with it, knows how to take care of them both. He kisses them both on the head, tells them he loves them, and that he'll be there.
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extasiswings · 11 months
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I have been noticing things, and I don't know what to make of them, so I am bringing them to you, because you have been blessed/cursed by Apollo's dodgeball and are also great at connecting dots. I apologise.
I am worried about Buck's lungs. His sats dropped when he was in a coma, to the point of needing ECMO, but during his recovery we only saw him see a cardiologist, no respiratory rehab was mentioned. Now his PT scores are down. The show has also been weirdly pointed about focusing on sats monitors being put on people's fingers during calls. They've done it on at least 3 of the calls since Buck's been back, and at no point have the people's sats been mentioned - even the woman face down in dough, who was started on oxygen. That in itself isn't a big deal - they're a quick way of getting a heartrate, and its standard practice to put one on. But why keep showing them? Then this week, Maddie had the call with the kid where she had to remind him how to breathe.
So, what do you think? Is there anything there, or am I projecting because I'm having to have respiratory physio after covid?
Just when I thought I couldn't get any more unhinged! No, there is DEFINITELY something there and I'm not gonna be normal about it. There are a couple of different places my mind went to (because it's not just Buck, Eddie's in this too) so apologies if this is scattered:
Buck + Death is the big overarching theme looming over Buck's healing journey. Buck's life has been about Death since before he was even born, when he was conceived to be a savior baby...and was a match...but Daniel still died anyway. And Buck has been running towards Death ever since, seeking it out, courting it like a lover without even realizing why, never knowing that Daniel's ghost was haunting him. He has internalized so completely this idea that his value is entirely dependent on what he can do for others, on how much he can sacrifice, can give, up to and including his own life. The fact that the problem was Buck's lungs in the episode where he was reckoning with Daniel for the first time while trapped in his subconscious mind was inspired and a huge callback to Buck Begins, after Buck first learned about Daniel, with Buck in the warehouse fire taking off his mask and telling the guy he was trying to save that he would just hold his breath. And Buck's been holding his breath in a sense ever since. Spiraling. Stagnating. Regressing. He quit therapy. He trapped himself for a year in a soulless relationship because he was already depressed but then the shooting happened and Eddie basically told him he wasn't allowed to keep trying to kill himself, taking away one of his main self-harming coping mechanisms (passive suicidality brushed off by telling himself he's actually helping people), all of that.
There are also the crush injuries surrounding him (which I wrote about in 6A as being super sus). Thomas and Mitchell and a car accident crush injury, the first call where Buck begins explicitly associating romantic love with death. Buck being crushed under the ladder truck, which ultimately led to the blood clots and a pulmonary embolism because he wouldn't let himself rest and recover, wouldn't let himself heal or slow down, because he was too focused on getting back to work where he could (in his mind) be useful, be worth something, could save lives. And he admitted then that he didn't know what/who he was without the job, and ironically almost torched all of his relationships with the people who love him regardless in order to get back to it. And then of course there's also Lev. Lev trying to find the secrets to happiness but instead being crushed to death by a walkway that collapsed because the hotel identified the problem but never made the repairs. And it was through him that Buck started thinking that he could find all the answers he's been looking for in death.
But...Buck died. Actually died. And despite his joke about his math powers and being the guy with the answers, he doesn't have them all.
At the end of 6x11, he took a breath. He took a step. He allowed himself a little bit of self-awareness, of self-reflection, he dipped his toe into the water of the root trauma that has led him to all the others. But he's awake now, and what has he done? By all accounts it looks like exactly what he's done every other time/like he's falling back into the same bad habits. He let his mom steamroll him into getting him a couch that he didn't want. He threw himself back into work as soon as he could and keeps trying to brush off the fact that he went through a serious trauma (physical/mental/emotional) to the point that the people who love him have to keep reminding him that he literally died. He has the tools he needs to heal, but isn't actually taking the steps to get there. And, as you point out, they're potentially foreshadowing that there are still problems with his lungs that may still get worse.
Because Buck is, at heart, one big crush injury. He has been suffocating under the weight of trauma after trauma since he was born, conceived in grief and then discarded. He has been suffocating under the weight of hiding his true feelings from others (up to and including hiding them from himself) and leaving so many necessary things unsaid. But it also makes me think about Eddie and Home Invasion and the call at Marisol's and everything that I've been saying about insulation as protection but too much protection stifling you so much that you can't breathe. Buck being "the settler" in romantic relationships because he can't get hurt (at least not as badly) if he's not actually attached to the relationship, never going after/asking for what he really wants. Eddie being his own variation on "the fugitive" always running from the things that he's most afraid of. Both of them trying desperately to protect their hearts from getting broken and instead ending up in a place where they are both always dying...
Idk, there's something about Buck + Death and Eddie + Fear and Buck constantly suffocating vs. Eddie drowning, and Buck starting the season not wanting to make the same mistakes but also possibly "misunderstanding the assignment" with this death doula, and water finding its level...yeah...yeah...
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