#eddie’s first karaoke song would be this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eddiesghxst · 5 months

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PRICE OF FAME (PART 10/12)

helloooo, here are these two messy cuties once again, i hope you enjoyyy

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: time is almost up but who could deny a good karaoke session?

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, sexual themes, slight angst, those awkward/cringey scenes where they're singing (i apologize in advance), and lots of mixed feelings <3

word count: 3.9k

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song inspo for this chappy hehe:

Steve and Robin love karaoke.

Nancy had warned you that the friendly pair practically fiend for a good karaoke sesh, but you hadn’t expected them to be as enthusiastic as they turned out to be.

For some odd reason, the city seems less busy today, so you, Eddie, and Eddie's friends can take up as much room as you’d like on the sidewalk.

In front of you, Robin and Steve are seriously debating what the first song on the queue will be. Walking just a few paces behind them is Nancy, who’s quietly taking in the city's bright lights; and next to you, palm burning a hole through your hand with his addicting touch, is Eddie.

It’s stupid, you think. The way Eddie has seen you stripped down and bare, whining and quivering for him at what could arguably be your most vulnerable state, yet you still find your heart racing 100 miles a minute with this soft gesture of holding hands.

Sure, you’ve held his hand before, but not for this long. Not in public when it’s not the heat of the moment and you’re simply walking around. It’s weird and new, and it makes your stomach twist in a good way, but fuck— you chicken out when Robin and Steve turn to face you, Nancy, and Eddie.

“Steve wants to start karaoke with Queen— like any karaoke amateur would.” Robin huffs as Steve rolls his eyes. You slip your hand from Eddie’s hold before either of them can clock the gesture, and you avoid looking at Eddie when he clears his throat.

“Because it’s the perfect opener!” Steve stresses. “Everybody always does, Queen, Steve! Plus, I’m not even sure I can physically pull through with how long their songs are.” Robin argues.

Steve’s jaw dropped as if Robin had just said the most foul thing he’d ever heard, “Their songs are not that long. And even if they are, they’re fucking amazing, so what’s your point.” “My point is we’re not starting the night with Queen.”

They’re an interesting group of friends, you’ll admit. Interesting in the sense that you swear they could be a part of some sitcom with how funny and unpredictable their conversations and interactions are.

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, Steve and Robin have an entire list of songs mentally queued up, and they make a beeline to the DJ operating the music as you and Nancy snag a table towards the middle of the room. The bar is to one side of the room while the stage is at the front, and the DJ booth is at the back; the rest of the room is full of tables where people chatter, laugh over drinks, and sing along with whoever is currently doing their performance. Eddie had split off to get drinks the second you entered the bar, so it’s just you and Nancy as you settle at the wooden table.

“Are you going to sing?” Nancy questions from the other side of the table. You pull a face, shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, “I’m not sure, maybe once I get a few drinks in me. How about you?” Nancy softly laughs with a playful roll of her eyes, “Unfortunately, I doubt Robin will let me escape this one.”

As if summoned, Robin slides into the seat right next to Nancy. “I put you down together, but there’s a few people ahead, so start thinking of the song you’ll sing.” She gestures between you and Nancy. You shrug, accepting defeat, and before you can pitch an idea for a song to Nancy, Robin is leaning her elbows against the table and blinking at you, “So, let’s cut to the chase. What’s going on between you and Eddie?” She asks.

Nancy’s eyes widen as she instinctively jabs her elbow into Robin’s ribs, “Ow!” “Rob, you can’t just ask people that— god.” You softly laugh as Robin rubs at her sore side. “Sorry if I’m interested in keeping tabs on my friend!” Robin sarcastically argued.

Nancy rolls her eyes and sends you an apologetic look. “Look, I’m just guessing— based on the fact that you two were in the back of a fancy restaurant— that something is going on. Oh— unless this is, like, a business thing, then you can totally ignore me.” Robin rambles.

“Robin,” Nancy stresses. Your cheeks seem to ache from the amused expression on your face as Nancy turns to you, “You don’t have to answer either way since it’s none of our business.” She says, voice raising near the end as she glares at Robin. Robin rolls her eyes, and you laugh with a shake of your head as you shift in your seat. “No, it’s fine, I understand, but um,” You shrug, “It’s just a business thing.” You finally answer.

And, technically, you’re not wrong. There is a business transaction going on between you and Eddie… and the rest of the band, which is primarily the basis of your relationship, but you’re not sure how appropriate it would be to say, ‘Yeah, I mean, Eddie hated me, but now he doesn’t, so then we fucked yesterday but then his manager basically told us to squash whatever that was, so now we’re kind of in a weird spot because we don’t hate each other but we can’t like each other. Oh yeah, and here’s the kicker, Eddie’s been a total asshole this entire time, and it’s fucked with my head a bit. But apparently, he wants to change!’

It’s a colorful mess of loopholes and twists and turns that probably nobody will fully understand aside from you and Eddie, so…. business thing it is.

Robin seems to take that as an answer, but Nancy is now intrigued by your tone, “That didn’t sound very sure.” She playfully raises a suggestive eyebrow. Robin hums, “What happened to it being none of our business?” She points out, to which Nancy just waves a dismissive hand in response. “It’s a business thing, but…” Nancy prods. Your face warms as you lift your shoulders in a shrug, “I mean, it’s… it’s complicated.”

Nancy nods with a shrug as she shifts in her seat, “So, how did you two meet?”

You take a deep breath as you lean to rest your elbows on the table, “Well, I’m a writer for Rolling Stone magazine—” Robin gasps, grabbing your attention, “No shit? Nancy’s a journalist too— ow!” She turns to look at Nancy with a disgruntled look as she rubs her thigh, “Would you stop bullying me?” She frowns.

Before either of them can get far into bickering, Eddie and Steve come waltzing back to the table with drinks in their hands. Eddie snags a seat beside you and passes a drink to you; you smile as you gratefully take the glass and softly thank him. Steve plops down next to Robin, sliding her and Nancy their drinks as he says, “Alright, I hope everyone has their songs picked out because I plan on battling each and every one of you.”

Although the weather outside is on the more chilly side of summer days, you find your body warm with liquor and laughter as you, Nancy, and Eddie watch a tipsy pair of Steve and Robin sing a surprisingly good rendition of Huey Lewis’ Heart and Soul. You’ve shrugged off your sweater and tossed it over the back of your chair— and you’re thankful to have thrown on a tank top underneath because, most of the time, you hardly bother to wear anything beneath sweaters.

It’s their fourth song of the night, Eddie and Nancy have both gone up at least once, but you’ve been on the observant side mostly, enjoying the ongoing conversations you’ve had with Nancy. There’s a bowl of chips and salsa in the middle of the table, and Eddie’s arm is draped across the back of your chair, heat pouring from him and seeping all around to wrap you up in an Eddie-scented bubble— it’s nicer than you’d care or like to admit.

Nancy has turned around to watch and cheer on the performance; she’s become more animated and loose after a few drinks, and you laugh as Robin practically serenades her from the stage. You lean back in your chair, softly giggling as you slightly lean into Eddie, “So,” you grab your drink and glance at the boy on your side, “What’s the dynamic here?” You ask with a jut of your chin towards his friends.

Eddie hums, leaning further into his chair, and in turn, pressing himself closer to you. His breath is warm against your ear and cheek, curly strands brushing against your skin as he speaks, “So basically,” He dramatically sighs, and you smile at his dramatics as he gestures between his friends, “Nancy and Steve are exes from high school and Robin and Steve are best friends.” You nod, gaze darting between the friends as you connect the dots. “But,” He raises a finger over his glass, “Robin and Nancy are dating now.” Your eyebrows raise at the full circle of events, but you nod as your suspicions are finally confirmed.

Eddie leans closer, voice dropping to a lower volume, “But at this rate, it’s safe to say Nancy’s playing third wheel for Steve and Rob since they practically share one brain cell.” You tilt your head, “Okay, I see it now.”

Nancy glances over her shoulder to glare at you and Eddie from her seat, “I heard that, assholes… you’re not wrong.” She grumbles. You and Eddie laugh as she turns back to face you both now that Steve and Robin are hopping off the stage.

“Steve’s actually seeing a girl now; she’s in nursing school.” Nancy pipes up, grabs a chip, and pops it into her mouth. Eddie leans forward at that, keeping his arm on your chair as he uses the other to grab a chip for himself, “Nursing school?”

Nancy nods as she sips her drink, “He goes down to see her like every other weekend. And they run our phone bill up like hell.”

Robin plops down into her seat, “What are we talking about? Steve’s hot nurse babe?” She asks, humming when Nancy nods. Robin scoffs as she turns to Eddie, “Can you believe they’ve been dating for, like, four months, and we have yet to even see a picture of her? They see each other every week!”

Eddie snorts, “Then who’s he talking to on the phone?” Robin shrugs, “Who knows at this point.”

Steve returns as if on cue, sitting down with a sigh as he glances at the table, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, just talking about your imaginary girlfriend.” Robin teases.

Steve groans, eyes rolling before glaring at his giggling friends— your cheeks hurt from smiling. “She’s real, okay? She’s real, and her name is Cassie, and the only reason you haven’t met her yet is because she’s literally in nursing school— she has a busy schedule!”

And although you wish Eddie and you had been able to finish your discussion without the abrupt interruption, you find yourself growing fond of this shade of Eddie— sure, you’ve seen him having fun and being unapologetically himself with Gareth and Jeff and even on stage, but this side of Eddie is softer— kinder, brighter— homey.

You realize as you watch him singing his heart out to some mainstream pop song that Steve somehow talked him into doing. You’re more surprised that Eddie knows the lyrics, but you’re too tipsy to dwell on it because Nancy’s scooting onto the chair beside you and asking what song you two should sing because, “We have to outsing them, obviously.”

And, well, you hardly have the time to stop your lips before you lean in and tell her the song you’d like to sing. Nancy snickers, giggling at the obvious undertone of the chosen song, and she eagerly agrees because “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You go back and forth on who will take which role— who will sing Tom Petty’s key, and who will sing Stevie Nicks's key— but then you eventually land on just singing together for the entirety of the song. When the boys finish their song, Nancy drags you up to the DJ to request the song and magically persuades him to let you skip the queue of people to go next. She’s a good flirt, that’s indisputable.

You should probably thank Nancy at some point for agreeing to this song regardless of how little information she has about your situationship with Eddie, but before you even get the chance to, you and Nancy are already singing the first line of the song— Baby, you'll come knocking on my front door. Same old line you used to use before— and well, Eddie’s head has never turned his head faster, but you avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

And you’re doing good; you’re doing so good, and then you get to the second chorus and lock eyes with Eddie as you sing along to the track with Nancy— Baby, you could never look me in the eye. Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the world. Stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my heart around— and, well… you think you made your point clear.

You and Nancy have a blast singing to Nicks and Petty, and when the song ends, the bar claps and cheers as they do after every performance, and you’re all smiles as you waltz back to the table, sitting next to the fidgeting boy you’d just indirectly serenaded. Steve and Robin are telling you and Nancy how well you did and teasing each other over specific parts of the performance, and they’re all so caught up in one another that they hardly notice as Eddie leans into your space, voice low and gravely as he speaks, “That was cruel, princess.”

You look at him, eyes falling to the ghost of a smirk that dances across his lips before you reach forward to grab your drink, wrapping your lips around the thin, black straw, maintaining eye contact as you shrug, “Did you get the hint?” You tease.

Eddie huffs around a laugh, shifting in his seat, left arm back to barricading the back of your chair, and you don’t fail to notice the tent in the crotch of his jeans. He rolls his tongue over his teeth, snickering when you raise an eyebrow, “Yeah… Yeah, I got the hint.” He nods, and you think you might see a pink tint dusting across his cheeks.

You smile, liquor making you bold as you blink up at him, “Good.”

It’s a long trip to the hotel with a pair of drunk best friends.

They ramble a lot— Steve and Robin— you come to find out, and Nancy and Eddie have become experts at handling them with ease. You realize this as you watch them get their friends tucked into bed. Nancy is tipsy, but Eddie informed you that she has a weird thing with tequila where she becomes highly functioning, so she’s moving about the room with grace and precision.

When the drunk pair is finally tucked into bed, Nancy walks you and Eddie to the door of the hotel room, thanking you for taking the time to make sure they got in safe. “I would say see you at breakfast, but I doubt these two will have crawled from the grave by then.” Nancy gestures back to Robin and Steve.

You don’t blame them; they’re basically on holiday, and you would do the same.

Your and Eddie’s rooms are on a different floor, and it’s a long ride up to the top, especially with the burning desire for one of you to say something— what, you’re not sure.

“I like your friends.”

That was you talking, you realize when Eddie turns to you with a smirk, “Yeah? They didn’t scare you off with their incessant shithead behavior?” He jokingly questions. You hum with a laugh, “I’ve dealt with worse.” You tease.

Eddie walks you to your room, his intoxicating smell and presence hovering around you as you unlock the door before stepping in. You turn around, hand resting on the edge of the door as you look at the curly-haired boy, “Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie hums, leaning against the door frame, eyes flickering to the twist of your mouth before reaching your eyes again, “Not gonna finish our conversation?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I hardly believe you’d be doing much talking if I let you in right now.” And you don’t think you’re ready to travel down that path again. Not so soon when you have the events of tonight to digest, not to mention the gift sitting in your bag.

Eddie shrugs with a small smirk, “I can multitask.”

His gentle smile is beautiful. Alluring and unique, and his eyes are taking you with such an intensity that you think you might melt if you stay a minute longer. “I didn’t choose that song for the hell of it, you know?” You ask. “Stevie’s got a mean fucking range. Lord knows if I’ll be covering her again.” You grumble. And really, how high can the woman go with her rasp?

Eddie laughs, turning his head and glancing at the empty hallway before looking back to you, “Yeah, I know,” He softly replies.

You nod and he takes a deep breath, nodding towards your bag slung over your shoulder, “Listen to the tape.” He reminds you.

You tilt your head, clenching the strap of your bag before speaking, “Are you under the impression that this would make up for everything?” You ask.

And you don’t mean for it to sound harsh or hurt his feelings, but you have to let him know that if that’s what he’s hoping, then he’s wrong. This doesn’t fix everything. This doesn’t fix the confused feelings and the harsh words. It’s a start, but it’s not a finish as well.

And although Eddie’s expression falters, he shakes his head, “No. But I still want you to listen.”

You nod quietly, gazing at each other and wishing you could start on a different foot. You clear your throat, straighten your stance, and step back. “Good night, Eddie.” You softly say.

By the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, the only thing running on your mind is the pending need to sleep. The maids had changed out the seats so they’re not doused with the ghost of Eddie’s cologne and shampoo— but you don’t go long with Eddie out of your mind because there’s a hard object that pokes into your arm when you settle into the bed.

You groan, twisting your arm around your frame to dig out the small object from below you, and when your fingers wrap around the plastic case, you immediately remember the task you’d had for tonight— listen to the tape.

The sleep that weighed down on your body is suddenly gone as you sit up to grab your walkman and headphones before settling back into the comfy sheets.

You try your best to ignore the swirling feeling of nerves and excitement in your gut as you put on your headphones and slip the tape in, but you find yourself nipping at the skin of your nails as the tape winds either way.

It’s silent for a moment, the sound of shuffling and the soft thud of what you think might be someone setting a glass down. There’s a clearing of a throat— it’s Eddie, you can tell— and your stomach twists in anticipation at the first ring of a piano chord.

The beginning chords are soft and slow, gentle enough to lull you to sleep if you sink into it, and the recording is so vivid that you can hear the dull thud of each key beneath the press of his fingers.

Your heart races when Eddie’s voice seeps into the melody. It’s a ballad, something Corroded Coffin doesn’t have much of, and you wonder why because the softness of Eddie’s voice is arguably one of the most heavenly sounds to have ever touched your ears.

I'm feeling a way, off some kinda drug

Maybe it's lust, maybe it's love

I know I said I'd straighten out a week ago

I'm fiending though, 'bout to reach my peak, you know

The city's got me falling now

It’s… fuck, it’s fucking good, and you haven’t even gotten to the chorus, but god, your heart skips a beat at the following line because it’s a direct callout to you.

I'm fading away, I'm losing my head

I know you said leave, but fuck what you said

As much as you wish you could say you hate it… you don’t.

Even though the song is about you and your twisted relationship with Eddie— which definitely aids to your feelings towards the track— it’s genuinely a good song. Which, okay, is slightly annoying, but you can’t find it in yourself to care as the song carries on.

The future's never looked so bright, it's blinding me

It's hard to see, I'm swimming through dopamine

Your body looks like heaven and

I wanna give up, I just wanna leave

I'm floating away, I'm caught in the breeze

The outro of the song comes and slows down, a softer sound than before filling your ears, and shit— you’re at the edge of your seat now because Eddie is singing so gently, and it has your mind swirling.

I can't believe this is happening

What did I do? What did she do to me?

…

Mending my brain again

Please don't give up on me

This hurts tremendously

How will this end for me?

When the song dies off, you can hear shuffling again before the track ends, and you’re left with spinning thoughts as you take your headphones off and let the silent and dark room envelope you.

You have to take a moment, yanking the string of the bedside lamp to light up the room so you can see your thoughts more clearly because— how do you feel? You’re not sure, honestly, and the thud of your heart beating in your chest only clouds your judgment even more because— isn’t this what you asked for? For Eddie to be open and honest with you, to tell you his true feelings and where he’s at when it comes to you. And is it enough?

Would it ever be enough for Eddie to give you one simple, stripped-down track to allow him the chance to mend what he’d ruined?

Your heart wants it to be enough, but realistically, it’s not. Eddie has only just begun his journey to forgiveness, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not wrong to be hesitant to let him in, neither is it bad for you to want him as badly as you do. You’re both learning, and you’re both trying to fix the damage that’s been done, and it might take time, but if you both want it— if Eddie really wants you— then the time and work it takes to fix things won’t be a bother.

You listen to the song two more times, maybe more than twice, and you let the words sink into your bones until you practically have it engraved into your mind, lulling yourself to sleep with the haunting echo of Eddie’s voice and words bouncing in the walls of your skull.

And in your dreams, you meet Eddie, and for the split second you have with him there, everything is perfect— and by the time you wake up, the ticking time bomb to make your choice is now louder than it’s ever been before.

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part eleven

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a/n: OMG HIII, you made it to the end again !!! i would just like to specify that the song eddie has written and sang for birdie in this chappy (23 x chase atlantic) is not entirely a nod towards their relationship! reader is not specifically 23 years old nor is she struggling with any type of substance abuse, the lines that were used in this chapter are the lines that actually adhere to them imo, OKAY I THINK U GET IT I'LL SHUT UP NOW.

also, this is not the last of the songs that eddie has written abt birdie btw🫣

i hope u enjoyed and i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 AND AS ALWAYS, TY FOR READING, I LOVE U SO BIG MWAH <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

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quixoticall · 2 months

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This Could Get Ugly Track 5: The Beginning of the End

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! If you've been following me at all, you know I've had a rough month. I really, truly appreciate every single one of you who has reached out and checked in! I appreciate you! This chapter is extra long to make up for lost time and it contains smut. It's my first time writing smut, so hopefully, I did not disappoint.

wc: 11.2K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

APRIL 28th, 1984 PHILADELPHIA , PA—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

If you wanted to be technical about it, the whole thing started with Argyle.

The two of you were backstage, sitting outside the dressing rooms killing time during the opener—some local band that you weren’t previously familiar with.

You had always appreciated Argyle’s ability to be friendly with everyone and float above the tensions, that was the case especially now when things with the others seemed to have fallen apart a little.

You were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against the wall, as you were running him through some of the songs that had made the preliminary list for the next album and asking for his input while he threw a bouncy ball against the opposite wall. You liked working with Argyle, he was out of the box, creative, and one of the most technically skilled band members. You had been sitting with him for only 30 minutes and he had already made one of your songs infinitely better.

“What’s the move tonight, dude?” he asks you, nonchalantly as you scribbled down some of his suggested changes.

You shrug in response, “I dunno, I might just go home and sleep after this, maybe work on the arrangements for this—” You wave your beat-up notebook in the air, and he scoffs.

“You like never come out with us anymore,” he exclaims, “I miss when we all used to party together, dude. Now you are all dropping like flies and it’s not as fun anymore!”

It was your turn to scoff at him, “Please, I was never the life of the party, Argyle, c’mon.”

“Are you kidding, dude? People would always show up in droves to see you. Plus, you’re like totally fun. Remember when you and Steve did karaoke in Austin and you both got on the bar? That was totally cool.”

You chuckle at the memory and concede, “Yeah, that was pretty fun, but you still have everyone else!”

“Well, you took my dude Eddie too,” he points out without malice.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t come out since St. Louis—keeps saying he’s gonna stay in just in case you want to write with him.”

Of course, this is news to you. You hadn’t taken up Eddie’s offer to write together since he had spurned you in Missouri (and since he starred in a very vivid dream of yours). It wasn’t that you didn’t accept his apology (presented in the form of a ridiculously large flower bouquet) it was that thing would have been far too awkward at this point.

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him necessarily, you were pretty sure that mantle was still taken up by Steve to some extent, it was more that there was an undeniable sexual something between the two of you below the surface that your dreams had made obvious and you didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with him without wanting to rip his clothes off.

Obviously, giving in to your desires was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons but chiefly, because:

a. It would wreak havoc on the band.

b. You were certain Eddie wouldn’t reciprocate your advances.

But then… you had heard what Argyle had said.

“Wait, are you saying Eddie has been hanging out after shows just on the off chance that I may call him?” You confirm incredulously.

Argyle nods in response, “Yeah. Did you put a spell on him or something?”

“No,” you respond wryly, “I’m not that type of witch, I’m the bad kind of witch.”

“Well, you definitely did something to the dude, he’s been obsessing over whether or not you hate him and keeps trying to get me to ask.”

This takes you aback completely. Eddie caring so much what you thought of him that he’d be willing to ask Argyle, of all people to discreetly scope that out seems improbable so you continue to probe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he obviously thinks you’re pretty and he’s just been waiting around for you to call him up, and he cares a lot about what you think of him, which is weird because last time I checked he kinda hated you—no offense.”

“How do you know all this?” You ask, ignoring the offense.

“He told me, duh.”

“Have you told anyone else this?”

“No one else has asked,” Argyle says plaintively.

“Well, how about we keep all of this between the three of us, then?” You propose.

Before the drummer can confirm, the thundering applause signaling that the opening act had wrapped up cut the conversation off.

Neither of you has the chance to continue the discussion before being rushed onto stage by a harried and high-strung stage manager.

Without knowing, Argyle had invertedly changed the course of everything.

***

EDDIE: We were in Philly. It was a great show—probably one of the best of that tour. The audience was feeling us the opener was sick and we were just gelling for what felt like probably the first time. It was like we were all finally on the same wavelength if that makes sense. No more guessing what the next move was or fighting to keep up. It was like we were finally learning to trust each other.

***

The Philly show was electric, all the elements had come together perfectly. You and Steve were particularly reveling in it. You spent most of the night singing into the same microphone, lips inches from one another, your hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair, and eye contact unbreaking. At one point, you were certain by the way he had captured your bottom lip under the meat of his thumb, that he was going to lean in and kiss you on the mouth, a barrier that the two of you had managed to maintain this whole time.

The audience must have had a similar thought by the sounds of their cheers—a sound that seemed to have shaken both you and Steve from whatever spell you had been under because the next thing you know the pressure of his thumb was gone and his eyes were turned away from you and towards the crowd.

The rest of the show was spent similarly—the two of you toeing the line and the audience following your every move. It was easy to get addicted both to the applause and the intimacy.

After the encores were sung and the last bows were taken, though, Steve was back to barely being able to look at you.

The only time his gaze does flit to you, ever-briefly, is when you politely decline Argyle’s invitation to go out after the show.

“Come on dude, you said you would come if I looked at your song,” the drummer gives a half-hearted attempt at bargaining which only makes you giggle.

“I never said that Argyle,” and truly you hadn’t, “I said that I couldn’t go out because I had to make those changes you suggested.”

In response, Argyle begins to boo you, loudly and the others join in eagerly.

You roll your eyes playfully and bid goodbye to Argyle and the rest of the band when you part ways for the night and you notice that other than yourself, Eddie is the only one missing from the boisterous group but you try not to think too much on it.

Your efforts to push all thoughts of Eddie out of your mind seemed to have the opposite effect and it was like the thoughts themselves were digging their heels in and had found your mind to be a welcoming home.

You had made the song changes you had told Argyle you would and even tried to make some progress on your plethora of unfinished songs. As it turned out, you worked slower when you wrote alone.

You knew that as the remaining tour dates dwindled and the band’s return to LA drew closer, you eventually would have to approach Eddie again to write together. It was indisputable that whatever the two of you produced together was almost always better than what you accomplished alone.

How could you possibly approach him when you could barely look at him without dying of mortification? With Steve, at least, you could get some of the sexual energy out on stage, but with Eddie you didn’t have the same luxury and it stayed bottled up.

All of this, along with Argyle’s words from earlier in the evening made focusing nearly impossible and you gave up on writing all together, deciding to call it a night and head to bed. To your chagrin, the better part of the night was spent tossing and turning trying to evict the thoughts and ideas that had begun to formulate in your mind fueled by a lack of sleep, stress and desperation. And suddenly, you had an idea.

Admittedly, it was not a very good idea. It was actually probably a very bad idea. A ruinous idea even. And yet, you found yourself pulling the covers off yourself and stumbling into a pair of slippers, perplexed by your actions. You wondered, as you blearily shuffled down the identical hotel halls why you weren’t trying to talk yourself out of this idea—one that you were certain was going to change everything. Perhaps you were itching for a new thrill. Or maybe you were as selfish as everyone seemed to believe. Maybe it was the poison that had settled in your heart before you were old enough to know better, insisting that there was no other option for you. Or maybe you were giving yourself far too much credit and you were simply horny.

Whatever the reason, it brought you directly to Eddie Munson’s door.

***

EDDIE: I swear I thought I was dreaming when I saw her there, standing outside my door in this tiny pajama top and even tinier short. They had little cherries on them. I remember thinking they were so cute. Her hair was all a mess. I thought that was cute too.

After probably 5 minutes of us standing there in the doorway, I finally got my brain to work enough to invite her in. She seemed nervous at first. Sort of paced around the room, not saying anything for a while and then—I swear to God—she asks, “Do you want to sleep with me?” out of fucking nowhere. If I hadn’t been there myself, I would’ve never believed it. Hell, even telling you now, part of me thinks I made it up.

My brain short-circuited because I couldn’t even respond. I just stared at her with my jaw on the fucking floor, trying to remember what the signs of a stroke were.

***

“Are you serious?” Eddie spits out, voice hoarse with shock at your overly-direct question.

You nod, wordlessly, trying to ignore the panic that has begun to set in.

“Why?” he presses.

You shrug, which he doesn’t find sufficient because he nods along, trying to draw the reasons from you.

“We both like sex,” you explain, clumsily, “and I find you attractive and I think you find me attractive, too—” he nods feverishly at this—“so why not have some fun?”

You try to say this last part enticingly but aren’t sure you pulled it off until you see a flush play itself across his pretty features.

“Why me? Why not Harrington?”

Even though you had anticipated the question, you can’t help but steel yourself as you respond, “Because we like each other enough for it to be fun but not enough for either of us to get attached.”

You watched, with bated breath as the thoughts played out over Eddie’s features and when you see a flash of what could be hurt you entertain for the briefest moment, the idea that maybe someone could get hurt but the thought is pushed away as a lazy grin begins to spread over his face and a newfound cockiness color his features.

Suddenly, he is much closer, and the space between your two bodies draws thin.

“Now?” he asks.

“Yes, now,” you squeak out as he encroaches in on you, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your hips.

You take a step towards him, moving to stand flush against his hip, invitingly and weave a hand through his unruly bed head curls. You want him to know how much you want this—how much you’ve wanted this. It was inevitable really, there had always been a tension between the two of you. Whether it was the hot friction of dislike , the bold spark of creative partnership or the hot embers of sexual tension, the two of you burned for one another just the same.

He leans in for a kiss when your impatience gets the best of you and you rush to meet him halfway.

He tastes like cigarettes and cherries, a taste you revel in as his lips move languidly over yours. Suddenly, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugs, and a moan tumbles out of you.

“We can’t tell anyone,” you mutter into the kiss and it goes unacknowledged.

The cold of his rings meets your nipples through the thin fabric of your strappy pajama top and your body arches in response.

The kiss is broken you are left gasping for air. Eddie wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, his tongue tracing over your collarbone hotly.

The straps of your top are shucked of your shoulders and the fabric bunched down towards your middle and a trail of kisses following in its wake.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and the hands in your waist guide you down in a fluid motion.

Your eyes flutter as wet kisses are peppered over your breasts.

“Come on princess, let me hear those pretty noises,” Eddie murmurs into your skin, his hot breath covering you in goosebumps.

A heady moan escapes you, almost on command. It would’ve embarrassed you if you still had the decency to care.

A trail of kisses and suddenly Eddie is thumbing at the waistband of your shorts. You nod fervently when his eyes suddenly trail up to find you, but that’s not enough for him.

“Come on, baby,” he teases, “tell me what you want.”

You throw your head back in frustration and want and Eddie takes this lapse in response to run his hand sloppily over your clothed core.

“So wet,” he murmured, “so pretty.”

You let out a desperate laugh at this and his eyes are back on you, expectantly and any resistant you have dissipates.

“Touch me, please,” you sigh, half plea, half demand.

It’s not a hard sell because your shorts and underwear are gone in a flash and cold rings are pulling your thighs wide open.

You reach out towards Eddie’s curls for purchase, gently tugging him closer to your core, hoping he’d get the message.

A moment of clarity cuts through your haze and suddenly you’re pulling him up by his hair, forcing eye contact.

“No one can know,” you insists.

He’s all half-lidded eyes and dazed smile when he’s looking at you.

Leaning in to grab his jaw in your palm, you pull him close. This is important.

“Eddie, no one can know. Promise me,” you repeat again.

He nods in agreement, even though his expression leads you to believe you could’ve asked anything in that moment and he would’ve readily acquiesced.

“No one can know,” he affirms before hitching your body closer with a harsh tug on your thighs and disappearing in between your legs, mouth latching hotly to where you need him the most.

***

EDDIE: We started sleeping together that night. A no strings attached type thing. We had to keep it a secret. She didn’t want to hurt Harrington’s feelings which I understood. He was a good guy and anyone could tell he was head over heels for her.

And she was just… well, I guess she was just afraid. We were kind of the same in that way. Couldn’t hold onto anything without crushing it into dust.

***

MAY 1st, 1984–STATEN ISLAND, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

Eddie’s hands are curled around your thighs, keeping your body balanced on the flimsy tour bus bathroom sink. His silver rings dig into the soft flesh of your thigh in a way that you are certain will leave bruises in their wake.

You have to be quiet, you know that. Even if the rest of the band had taken a quick pit stop between Philly and New York to explore the Staten Island Zoo and the likelihood of them coming back this early was low, it wasn’t non-existent . This left you stifling your own moans into the back of your hand as Eddie rocked into you languidly and delicious.

Your hand moved to steady itself behind you as he lets go of your left thigh and places the pad of his thumb on the soft flesh of your clit, causing you to forget nearly everything.

He seems to anticipate your next move though, because his mouth is quickly on yours, tongue gliding over your bottom lip and effectively keeping you quiet.

The angle of his hips meeting your core and his nimble fingers worked together to bring you closer to your release.

“I can feel it, baby, you’re close aren’t you?”

You nod feverishly, eyes screwed shut, “Yes, so good Eds. I’m gonna cum,” you manage to squeak out.

“C’mon pretty girl, look at me,” Eddie instructs firmly, but you can tell by the strain in his voice that he’s not too far behind, “wanna see you when you cum.”

You force your eyes open and he rewards you by pressing his unoccupied thumb into your bottom lip which you greedily take into your mouth.

Your release washes over you in a wave and you watch moments later as Eddie finds his own.

The two of you are left panting for a few moments as you try to steady yourselves. Once you find your bearings, you lower yourself from the sink and adjust the sundress that was so carelessly shucked to your hips and Eddie busies himself with disposing of the condom discreetly.

Turning to the bathroom mirror, you make an attempt at taming your haphazard hair and fixing your smudged lipstick before making a move for the door.

“Well, that was nice,” you offer before spilling into the tour bus’s common space.

“Wait,” Eddie cries out as he’s still adjusting his belt, “where are you going?”

You shrug nonchalantly in response but don’t turn around, “Back to the girls’ bus.”

“You don’t want to… you don’t want to stick around maybe? We could do some writing?” Eddie sounds out of breath when he asks but you chalk it up to the sex.

“Better not. It might look suspicious,” you explain as you take the stops down from the bus, two at a time.

“Right, wouldn’t want that,” Eddie squeaks out and you smile back at him, grateful for his understanding.

“See you later, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything back, but when you look back after having boarded your own bus, he’s still standing on the bottom step, eyes still on you.

***

EDDIE: Let’s get the record straight about something though, I didn’t steal her away from anyone. She is her own person first of all, not some thing to be stolen. And second of all, she came to me first. Not the other way around. And! She and Harrington weren’t even really seeing each other. So, other than the lying, it truthfully wasn’t that bad.

But then again, does the truth even matter? Especially now? After everything?

INTERVIEWER: It does to me and to you too, I think, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

EDDIE: Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?

***

MAY 3rd, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

It was easy, really, to keep your fling with Eddie a secret from the rest of the band. Most of them were barely paying attention to what you were doing anyway.

Nancy and Jonathan were once again preoccupied with waiting by the phone to hear from Jonathan’s mother, Joyce. Will’s condition had once again worsen and the two were on high alert.

Robin and Steve were busy sightseeing and pointedly only talking to you when necessary. They weren’t hostile, per se, (or at least, Steve wasn’t) but they also made a point to not invite you to their outing. You want to tell them to be wary of the paps since the city is crawling with them in a matter akin to cockroaches but you know better than to try to tell Robin what to do.

Argyle, for his part, is in his own world.

The two of you were essentially in the clear barring rehearsals, shows and any stray public appearance. Still, you couldn’t help but want to take precautions.

***

EDDIE: She would never sleep over. You know, after. She was too worried about what would happen if Steve or anyone else went looking for her.

It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, she—we had made it very clear that this was a purely physical thing but, well, between you and me kid, I always knew it was never gonna be like that. At least not for me. I was in deep for way longer than I had realized.

***

Long, skilled fingers trace patterns along your naked spine. The movements are comforting, calming, you almost find yourself lulled to sleep. Except you know you shouldn’t—that you can’t.

Your eyes flutter open as you fight against the sleep that sets in. This isn’t your bed, you remind yourself, and you feel that in the brush of the sheets against your naked body that definitively do not feel like the sheets of your bed merely a few doors down. It’s a silly thought, truly, these sheets are probably the exact same as the ones on your bed and more so, you haven’t slept in your bed, a bed that is truly, strictly your own in years . Still, this does not feel quite right.

You will your body to stir, working actively against every nerve that is telling you not to move from the warm, comfortable haven you had found and the warm body next to you but you know better. This is a dance you’re familiar with: they ask you to stay but don’t really mean it and if they do it’s only to squeeze another quick fuck in.

“Why don’t you stay?” Eddie grumbles into your shoulder even though both of you already know the answer.

“What if someone comes looking for me, huh?” A question for a question, “it’ll be hard to explain to Hopper why I’m naked in your bed.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the only ones Hopper doesn’t have to keep tabs on,” Eddie’s only partially playful in saying this.

“I miss my bed,” you rebut, plainly and the guitarist pouts in response.

“This is like the same bed, dude.”

“ ‘Dude’? You’ve been hanging out with Argyle way too much.”

“Whatever,” Eddie dismisses as his hand travels down along your spine to circle around the rise of your hip to the front of your body to pull you closer against his chest and you squeal.

His skilled fingers travel down to the apex of your legs and two of them swipe through your still-wet heat making you jolt. You’re still sensitive from earlier in the night and Eddie is using that to his advantage as he swipes over your clit.

You moan at the contact and your hips canter forward embarrassingly quickly.

“Don’t want to leave now, do you?” Eddie teases as he moves away from your clit to tease your entrance and you mewl in response. Before you know it a pair of lips are attached to your neck and two fingers are slowly, deliciously rocking in and out of your core. A hand moves up to grip Eddie by the hair as you moan.

“Just like that, please keep going.”

You feel Eddie’s length begin to harden against your back as his pace quickens and his thumb circles your clit bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night.

“No fair,” you pant, as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach. “You can’t keep me around by giving me orgasms.”

He laughs at this, full-blown guffaws. “There’s no rule against it,” he says as his tongue slides over the shell of your ear. His fingers curl inside you and you gasp at the sudden pressure before succumbing to the feeling. Your release washes over you, unexpectedly and you cry out.

A few seconds reprieve give you a moment to come back to earth. You sigh contently feeling Eddie’s harden length against the swell of you ass.

It would be impolite to leave him hanging.

***

EDDIE: Not that I could complain about our arrangement.

***

You had fallen asleep. Accidentally, of course, but erroneously still. You realize this far too late as the harsh red numbers of the hotel room alarm clock blare at you angrily: 11:52 AM.

You scramble out of bed, covers flung in the process and you make a grab for your clothes that litter the floor. The sudden, frantic movement had inadvertently awoken the man sleeping next to you and you could hear the sleep in his voice as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Woah, woah where’s the fire, princess?”

“It’s nearly noon!” you respond, panic clear in your voice. “I accidentally fell asleep and now it’s almost noon!”

Your mind is overcome with worst case scenarios and conclusions that are easily jumped to as you imagine how this late morning can turn into your downfall.

Eddie tries valiantly to calm you down to no avail. You had done the one thing you said you never would: you stayed the night and now you didn’t know what to do with that other than panic and rush out the door half dressed and fully angered with yourself throwing a paltry goodbye to a very disoriented Eddie over your shoulder as you did so.

You try to fix your hair in the elevator along with your harried breath. Most of the band wake up late into the day, you try to remind yourself, especially after a night out.

It was not unusual to be walking the halls of your hotel room at this time, but you still felt overwhelmingly nervous walking back to your room in a way that you felt obviously gave away that you were coming back from a night of raunchy sex.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the elevator doors slid open to reveal Steve Harrington waiting outside your door. This is what you were afraid of. Certainly one look at you and he’d know exactly what you were doing and probably with who and that would spell the end of the Downsides, you were sure of it.

You didn’t say anything as you exited the elevator and slowly made your way over, hoping to prolong the moment before everything came crumbling down as much as you could.

A few steps in and you had caught Steve’s attention. When he looked at you though, it wasn’t with anger or disappointment but with nerves.

***

STEVE: My parents moved around a lot after I left home. Indianapolis, Chicago, Phoenix in the winter and Bridgeport in the summer, you know, regular rich folks shit.

It’s not like I could ever go back home but when they heard the band was planning on making the stop they wanted me to visit them and they wanted me to bring my girlfriend to meet them. I hadn’t wanted to ask then, things were kind of awkward between the two of us, but they kept insisting. It’s like they didn’t believe I could’ve bagged a girl like her and they were willing to call me on it. So, I had no other choice but to ask.

***

You understood where Steve was coming from, truly, your own parents were rich and demanding. Plus, something about seeing your fake boyfriend waiting at your door after a night sleeping with someone else really made you susceptible to his request.

And really, there wasn’t a universe where you would say no to a request from Steve Harrington, so of course you were going to meet his parents.

***

MAY 6th, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—30 ROCKEFELLER PLAZA

“So I heard you’re meeting the in-laws,” Eddie plops down in the makeup seat next to you

You’re backstage at The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer, getting ready for one of the few media appearances Hopper had managed to schedule during the band’s short stint in the city.

You can tell by the pinching between Eddie’s eyes and the snarl in his tone that he’s not in a good mood. You chock up his demeanor to the same thing that has dampened yours: the upcoming interview.

The lack of media appearances had been a welcomed change during the band’s time on the road and the adjustment back to them have been rocky. You, for one, are on edge at the idea of having to sit down with the smarmy, sexist, Chris Palmer who, on his late night show, had already taken a few swings at you for laughs and the thought of him having the chance to do so to your face, made you sick.

Which was why you barely responded to Eddie’s attempt t goading you and instead, shrug in response, tightly, “I guess.”

His eyes flit over you and his demeanor shift to one approximating concern. “Hey, you doing okay?” He moves closer, but not enough for it to be noticeable to anyone but you.

“Yeah,” you try to smile but it comes out a grimace, “just out of practice I guess.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I have an extra copy of Baldwin that I brought on accident if you want a distraction,” the book flashes in your periphery and this time your smile comes out genuine and unprompted.

While you can’t be one hundred percent certain, you’re familiar enough with the guitarist’s ways to know that this was no accident—he brought the book with you in mind.

You make a grab for it but have to keep yourself from leaning in for a hug at the risk of the others’ scrutiny and your makeup artist’s ire. Not knowing how else to communicate your appreciation, you give his shirt a quick—and hopefully discreet—tug. He seems to catch your drift because his fingers graze yours purposefully as you move your hand away.

The brief touch shoots electricity through you.

“Thanks,” you murmur before watching him jaunt away to his spot between Argyle and Jonathan, both of your moods seemingly lifted, if only for a moment.

You’re grateful for the distraction although it barely keeps your attention and instead end up thumbing through the pages anxiously to the chagrin of your makeup artist who is clearly relieved to pass you onto hair once the final touches of lipstick are applied.

You thank her profusely before moving next door where, to the surprise of exactly no one, you’re sat next to Steve. Or at least you think it’s Steve you’re sat next to given how little you can see through the thick mass of hairspray clouding the air.

“They don’t call me ‘The Hair’ for nothing, right?” He says when you catch his eye through the fumes.

His hair stylists laughs a little too hard for your taste and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I thought you hated that nickname,” you say, settling into your chair, ready to play your part as the doting girlfriend.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “there are worst things to be called.”

You scoff in response, your previous concerns regarding tonight’s host bubbling up again, “I am sure there are.”

Steve turns to you fully now, offering a charming apology to his stylist that leaves her a giggling puddle, and you can feel his eyes scanning you in assessment.

He suddenly reaches over to the vanity in front of him, “The vending machine in the hall is totally broke, it gave me four candy bars. Do you want one?”

You look over at the bars in his hand which he has fanned evenly and is waving as if they’re a wad of cash and you grab one out of his reach.

“These are my favorite,” you point out as you smooth a hand over the wrapper, remembering all the times you would raid the vending machines at venues or backstage before an interview for them.

“I know,” he says, impishly.

“Harrington, be straight with me, is the machine really broken or did you get me my favorite candy bar just to butter me up?”

He nods, self-satisfied, like a little kid happy to be caught doing something that they’ll know they’ll get away with. Your joint hairstylists coo in adoration at your dotting “boyfriend” and you can’t help but roll your eyes affectionately.

“You seem a bit nervous,” he explains, “and candy usually helps.”

You exhale a laugh at this and admit that he’s right, “candy usually does help,” before nibbling on the bar carefully for the sake of your lipstick.

“So, what’s up?” He asks after a beat, while the hairstylists are preoccupied cleaning their tools, “are you nervous about doing our thing again?”

He says the last part with an overly-dramatic eyebrow waggle and you giggle.

What do you mean?” You ask, avoiding his glance.

He almost rolls his eyes at this but catches himself, knowing better.

“You just seem off, like nervous almost? But not in the usual way you are nervous about interview, but like different. Normally you’re just nervous because you overthink it but now it’s like you’re dreading it.”

You snort at the way he saw right through you.

“It’s stupid but, Chris Palmer has made jokes about me in the past, you know, about my dating history and things like that and I’m not really looking forward to hearing what he has to say tonight,” you explain, bashfully.

“What do you mean? Do you and Chris know each other?”

“No,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “he just is, you know, one of those comedians who pokes fun at celebrities and he loves making fun of women who ‘get around’ or whatever and well, that was my reputation before you… and the band.”

You see realization dawn on Steve’s features, it’s almost like he doesn’t believe anyone could ever be mean to you. Realization quickly turns to anger.

“And you think he’ll make fun of you tonight in the same way? In front of everyone?”

You shrug at this, “maybe, he’s not exactly known for taking it easy on his guests, but I’m used to it, it’s annoying though.”

Steve shakes his head aggressively at your dismissal and bolts up from his char, “No, I’m going to go talk to Hopper or something, have him tell Palmer’s people he needs to cool it or we won’t perform.”

He’s marching down the hall now, purposeful and quick. You make a beeline after him running ahead to cut him off.

“Woah, hey, Steve, you do not need to do that.” The last thing you want is the band being labeled as difficult to work with this early on.

Standing in front of him with your hands flat on his chest, you suddenly become very aware of all the eyes peaking out of the different green rooms to watch the exchange curiously, band mates and crew alike.

Steve grabs one of your hands lightly in his and gives it a tepid squeeze.

“I’m sorry but I am not sitting up there tonight and listening to anyone say anything bad about you. That’s just not going to happen, okay? Please trust me, I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll just talk to Hopper and we’ll figure this out. I have your back, remember?”

You study his face as he says this and are caught up in the earnestness etched into every corner of it.

“Okay,” you finally say, softly and back away from his path, “thanks.”

And you watch him go.

***

STEVE: Hopper hadn’t known about the Palmer thing. He wouldn’t have booked us if he did. When I told him, he was pretty peeved and we immediately went to go talk to the stage manager—some smarmy guy whose name I don’t remember.

Told us essentially, that it was no use, that Palmer wrote his own material fresh before each show.

Well, after that, Hopper and I track down Palmer in his dressing room and, you know, we give him a shake down. Old school style. Like back when Hopper was on the force. … he did most of the shaking down, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely going to get in there, but he seemed to really enjoy it. Plus I had just gotten my hair done.

***

When Steve reappears in the green room half an hour later, Hopper is trailing him smiling giddily.

Coming up to your side, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans into your hair to murmur, “We took care of it.” The giant grin Hopper is sporting lets you know that they had and you exhale a sigh of relief, curling a hand against his bicep gratefully.

You spring back a few seconds later when you feel Eddie’s heavy gaze from the spot he occupied next to you, eyes boring into all the places your body is touching Steve’s.

You can sense Steve’s confusion at the lost contact but before anything else can be said or done, the stage manager appears to move escort the band to the sound stage saving you from having to navigate the complex social dynamic of interacting with your fake boyfriend who wants to be your real boyfriend and your band rival turned friend-with-benefits. Gratefully, you allow yourself to believe for the first time, that maybe luck would be on your side and tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

***

NANCY: Do I think Chris Palmer had a personal vendetta against her? No, not going into that night, anyway. I think he was just a misogynistic idiot who didn’t know what to do about a talented and beautiful woman who also did whatever she wanted. His mind couldn’t wrap around that.

That was true for a lot of men back then. And now too.

JONATHAN: It felt like Chris had a personal vendetta against her.

***

The first half of the interview went well enough.

The band was welcomed with great fanfare and everyone filed towards the couches in the center of the stage next to the large mahogany desk Chris sat behind. You and Steve were, of course, together at the forefront and you could hear the collective cooing when he helped you down the platform.

The interview started out mild, questions about the tour and being on the road. Thankfully, Steve took the helm for most of them with the band weighing in throughout.

To your surprise, Chris directs his next question to you and Eddie.

“You two are the newest additions to the band, how has the transition been coming from working as a solo artist and from a band of a whole different genre to the Downsides and what made you want to make the change?”

The question was surprisingly insightful which took you a second to process and come up with an answer that wasn’t “Well, Chris, we were forced to join The Downsides at the risk of our careers ending completely.”

Eddie beats you to it, “The royalty checks are better than they are when you’re in a metal band for one—“ it takes the audience a second to realize this is a joke, but when they do the laugh pays off— “but honestly, I like the stability. What they don’t tell you, kids, is that too much rock and roll can be bad for you.” He says this part directly to the camera with a devilish grin.

“What about you?” Chris turns to you once the laughter subside, “do you miss being a free agent?”

You ignore how pointed that feels and smile in response.

“Not at all, the band has been super welcoming and there’s something really rewarding about working together to make something great happen.”

“Don’t miss your old duet partners at all?” The host needles.

“No, not really. At the risk of sounding cheesy Chris, I think I found my forever duet partner,” you punctuate your response with a pointed smile at Steve.

The audience eats your response up but you can tell that Chris is not ready to let it go. Luckily for you, a well-timed commercial break saves you from further questioning.

When the cameras start rolling once more though and the segment is reintroduced, Chris flashes you a wolfish smile.

“So, does this mean you’ve settled down a bit more, now that you’re a one-duet partner type of gal?”

The question makes your throat run dry because you know that there’s another, much tricker question behind it.

“No, not at all. It’s nice to be a part of something,” you respond placidly.

Chris barely lets you finish before launching into, “well the press sure does miss writing about you! Did you know that, in the last year, you were one of the most mentioned stars on Subrosa, popping up a total of 65 times only rivaled by one Evelyn Hugo in 1967.”

You don’t really know what to say or where this is going but the feeling of dread in your stomach grows.

“In fact,” he continues, “why don’t we play a game that we cooked up with the help of your Subrosa mentions?”

Games were something Chris did with his guests pretty frequently and they varied in execution but in nature there was always something a bit embarrassing to them and tonight was no exception. But instead of going after the band as a whole, this game was targeted specifically at you .

It was a guessing game, “Simple enough,” Chris touted as his assistants bring out giant blown up headshots of various male celebrities, guess which of the men you had been involved with according to the media and which ones you hadn’t been. The joke of course was that you had been linked to all the men whose pictures had been provided.

The looks of shock on your bandmates’ faces perfectly countered the one of self-satisfaction painted on Chris’s smarmy face.

You felt Steve stiffen beside you, leg twitching as if he was getting ready to stand up and leave. Or punch Chris. Before he can, you place a stabilizing leg on his thigh and giving a squeeze. You didn’t want this to diverge into a fight and you refuse to let this vile man make a fool of you on live television.

“Well, this won’t do,” you smirk at Chris. “You only have half of my list out here, Chris! You’re missing quite a few other fellas. I thought you wanted to make this difficult.”

“Oh?” The host is clearly not expecting your response but has no choice to lean in since you clearly have the audience’s attention, “and who could we possibly be missing?”

“The crown prince of Monaco, for starters,” you respond, evenly, “and the entire Harlem Globetrotters ‘83 starting lineup—“ the crowd guffaws at your clear exaggeration, “—and most importantly, this guy,” you reach over to grab Steve’s chin and affectionately squeeze his face. At this, laughter turns into applause and from where you are sitting on the shared couch, you see Chris’s jaw tighten.

“Is there anyone who’s hasn’t made the list?” he cries, trying to turn the joke back on you.

“You, for starters,” you respond playfully, and then add before he can say anything, “but who knows? Maybe this band thing doesn’t work out and in a few years time I’ll become washed up and lower my standards and you and I can give it a shot.”

Before Chris can retort, Steve cuts in with an over-exaggerated, faux-jealous, “what about me?” That kicks off a jokey bit of banter between the three of you that takes the show all the way up to comercial.

***

NANCY: There was a second part to the game.

ROBIN: Yeah, that second thing was just mean. It was essentially the same premise as the first guessing game but instead of guessing different men she had been associated with, it was different nicknames she had been given by the media. They were not very nice names either, “Siren of the Strip”, “Heartbreak of Hollywood”, “Pop Music’s Maneater”, you get the gist.

Of course, like with the last “game” the joke was that it had been all is them.

***

The names had been a surprise. You didn’t know how to react and neither did your bandmates although you’re pretty sure you can feel the heat from Eddie’s glare from the other end of the set.

Still, you kept your cool and immediately admitted that all of them seemed familiar and instead turned the conversation into criticisms of each of the names, which was gaining too many laughs for Chris to try to stop it.

“See this one I don’t like at all,” you say, pointing to Malibu Minx that had been professionally printed on a giant poster board in newspaper font.

“Whys that?” The host asked wolfishly.

“Malibu Minx? Are you serious? Anyone with half a brain knows I’m from the Hills, not Malibu. Honestly, it’s a little insulting.”

“Come on, they can’t be that different,” Chris still plays along, even though your comment did not go where he wanted it to.

“Not at all! The Hills is where all the directors and actors live, Malibu is where divorced dads take their kids during their monthly weekend visits. It’s like, here on the east coast… well, I can’t think of an East Coast equivalent. Chris, help me out, where do you take your kids during your monthly visits?”

***

ROBIN: You should’ve seen his face when she said that.

NANCY: His first divorce had just gone public a few weeks prior. Guess it was still a sore spot. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he did, but he wasn’t used to his guests fighting back like that. The rest of the show was… tense and then after the show ended Palmer lost his cool.

STEVE: Honestly, I wanted to punch the guy since he brought out his stupid little games, but I was willing to leave things as they were that night, especially after she had put Palmer in his place, but we get backstage after the show and he starts yelling at her about having “embarrassed” him or something like he hadn’t essentially called her a bunch of names on live tv. Before any of us could even do anything though, Hopper had him pinned against the wall, saying stuff like “I thought we had come to an agreement about the jokes, Palmer.”

He gave him a good shake down, you know how intimidating Hopper can be. Plus Chris looked like he had never been in a fight in his life so he was shaking in his boots immediately. Security had to come to get Hopper off of him and we were all thrown out after that.

ROBIN: Yeah, we were never asked back after that not that we would’ve gone back.It was a shame for him, really, that 1984 episode of The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer was one of the most viewed episodes in the ten years he was on the air.

***

You return to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning, after having gone for celebratory drinks with Hopper and the rest of the band. Everyone had been thoroughly impressed with the way you had held your own against Chris and even previously-icy Robin seemed impressed and warmed by you.

You hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to Eddie throughout the night, something about the undecipherable expression he wore most of the night had left you curious and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe hearing your entire history splayed out like that in front of him and the rest of the world had soured you and he no longer wants anything to do with you.

As you’re getting ready for bed, the ringing coming from the hotel phone jolts you.

“Hello?” You breathe out, harried and confused into the handset.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?” Eddie’s concerned question statics over the line.

“No,” you respond, relief coloring your tone, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, really, I was just thinking how hot it was when you told that dickbag off and I was wondering if you’d be up to me showing you that.”

“Showing me what, exactly?”

“Showing you how hot I think you are. If you’re up for it, of course?”

25 minutes later, with Eddie’s face buried messily in your pussy you’re near inching closer to release when you hear him muttering into the soft skin of your thigh while two of his skilled fingers begin pumping in an out of your tight heat.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, seeing you all hot and desperate to come on my fingers like this would make me think you are a minx.”

Hearing him call you that so low and growly, left you burning all over and you keen into his hands. Knowing his words had the intended effect, Eddie smirks into your thigh and speeds up his fingers.

“Only for you,” you respond once you can find your voice again.

Eddie give a low moan at this and in an instant he clamors up onto the bed and moves to replace his fingers with his dick.

“Say that again,” he challenges as he swipes his tip through your folds and you cry out.

“I’m a minx for you,” you nod along to what you’re saying, hoping that it makes him more eager to stop teasing and finally push inside you.

He does exactly as you hoped and pushes his hips into you hungrily, setting a punishing pace, “Only for me right?”

You nod along, fucked out and on the verge of coming agian, “Yes, only for you, Eddie.”

You don’t make it back to your hotel room that night either.

***

MAY 11TH, 1984–BRIDGEPORT, CT—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

“Are you sure the’d still want to meet me?” You ask Steve one evening, brushing your hair standing in the doorway of the door that separated your hotel room from his.

“Yeah, of course! Why do you keep asking that? Wait… do you not want to meet them anymore? It’s okay if you don’t,” Steve is already trying to hide his disappointment.

“No,” you rush to correct as you follow the sound of his voice to the bathroom, “it’s not that at all it’s just that, well with all the Minx stuff in the news, I worry that maybe they won’t think I’m worthy of the Harrington brood or whatever.”

You’re of course referring to the drama that had followed the band’s appearance on the Chris Palmer show where Chris had given an interview to Subrosa after you had affectively embarrassed him on his own show calling the band talentless and you worthy of every bad name that the press could call you and more.

In response to the interview—and partially inspired by your encounter with Eddie following the interview— you had gotten the word ‘Minx’ embroidered on the back of your favorite suede jacket which you made sure to wear to all of your subsequent interviews and media appearances for the rest of the band’s time in New York.

“First of all,” Steve begins, rubbing shaving cream over his chin “neither of my parents would ever dream of reading a gossip magazine and even if they did, they hate Chris Palmer, always said he was too ‘blue’ whatever that means. Plus, historically, dinners with my parents haven’t been the most enjoyable affairs, so having you there would really mean a lot to me.”

You smile understandingly at him through the mirror and suddenly the whole domesticity of it all strikes you. In another life, the two of you could’ve simply been a couple discussing meeting one another’s parents in the bathroom of a shitty apartment the two of you shared.

The fantasy is interrupted abruptly by a bright cacophony of knocks at your door.

“That must be Eddie,” you explained, “he’s coming over to write.”

(He really was.)

With all the fucking the two of you had been doing, writing music had fallen to the wayside and as the end of the tour was insight and Murray’s quota of songs still not met, which meant you had to get writing.

You scramble over to your door and let Eddie in. He almost leans in for a kiss but catches himself when he notices the open door leading into Steve’s room where he is very much watching the interaction with prying eyes.

The two nod at each other in greeting. You linger in the middle between either sides the awkwardness tangible in the air. You look at Eddie’s urging eyes and then flash back to Steve whose puppy dog gaze and newly received information about his parents make you do something that is surprising even to yourself.

“Do you want to help us write, Steve?”

The situation is awkward at first, especially with the glares Eddie seems to shoot you and Steve’s shy insistence that he’s no good at writing music but eventually, after two bottles of wine, the tension subsides, at least a little.

Eddie and you had presented Steve with a few songs that were very close to done but just needed a bit more work on the melody hoping that maybe he had suggestions.

He scans over a song that Eddie had primarily written, “Wild Ride”. Steve had an idea for a rhythm that could match the song and before long, he and Eddie were fully invested, both of them bent over their guitars trying out the rhythm and shooting notes at each other. Arrangement was definitely not your strong suit, however, you were more than happy to watch the two guitarists work

Steve was fascinatingly somber when it came to writing. He would play the notes over and over again until he found what came next, treating the whole thing like a puzzle that needed to be solved and running his hands through his hair when he was particularly stuck on something. His eyes would close while he was thinking, his lashes fluttering on his cheeks and then blinking open prettily when he had finally thought of a solution.

Eddie was much less delicate and would play around with notes, sometimes scrapping what he had all together and starting new. He tucked a pen behind his ear and was constantly scribbling and crossing out. When he focused on playing, his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth a bit.

They worked well together, never talked over each other, and were always willing to listen to what the other had come up with. As Eddie would write notes down in his notebook, Steve would lean in really close, so they were almost cheek to cheek looking down at the paper together. It almost seemed like they’d forgotten you were there and you were too busy refining some lackluster choruses to notice.

Eventually, they hit a wall in their writing and more drinks were ordered through room service, and soon the three of you are sprawled across your bed, drinking French 75s and watching a late night marathon of “Night Court”.

“Hey Harrington, you excited to see your folks soon?” Eddie asks during a comercial break.

You turn to look and see Steve grimace at the question. You know Eddie means well in asking, but the question ruffles Steve nonetheless.

“Not really. We were never really close on account of them sending me away to boarding school when I was eleven and then when we were together my dad’s favorite pastime was criticizing me and my mom’s was drinking,” Steve says, finally, “seeing them once a year is probably the most I can stand, honestly.”

A beat of silence settles over the group before Eddie finally speaks.

“Sorry to hear that man. If it makes you feel better, my folks weren’t exactly parents of the year either,” Eddie responds.

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, my uncle took me in. He’s a great guy. What about you, Princess? Were your parents the perfect image of love and support?”

You scoff. “Barely. I went back to their house right before the tour started, to get some of my things, and they thought I was breaking in and called the cops.”

“Well,” Eddie bristles, “looks like being a terrible parent can happen across all tax brackets, huh?”

“Yeah, we kinda got fucked over, a bit,” you say and the other two murmur in agreement.

The three of you stay silent for a bit, processing what had been shared and how to possibly move past such a heavy topic.

It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence, “Do you guys think Dan and Christine will ever get together?”

“Oh, yeah.” “Definitely.”

***

“This restaurant is obscenely nice,” you shift uncomfortable in your chair, taking in the surrounds and the unfamiliar unease of being somewhere where you felt out of place. Of course, you had grown up in fine dining establishments in California, but East Coast wealth seemed like a different beast entirely.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Robin huffs next to you, “but what else can you expect from Stan and Carolyn? They’re obsessed with letting everyone know how rich they are.”

She of course, had the advantage of knowing Steve’s parents after over a decade of friendship and it made sense that Steve, wanting as much of a buffer between himself and his parents during this dinner, had invited her along as well. So far, she had only been a little hostile towards you which was a personal victory.

The two of you spot Steve entering the restaurant at the same time along with two middle-aged companions that, based off resemblance alone, you knew were his parents.

Steve’s father had the same starkly defined chin and nose as his son, but none his face didn’t turn up into a natural smile like his son. He stood stately and stern, eyes surveying the room with little interest. His wife, Steve’s mother, was made up of refined, delicate features offset by the bright eyes that were clearly passed on to her son. Her entire outfit was meticulously perfect in a way that almost seemed artificial.

Steve introduces you with fanfare and pride that you don’t consider yourself worthy of but you smile along anyway and graciously shake Mr. Harrington’s hand and exchange dotted cheek kisses with Mrs. Harrington.

You exchange niceties and think to yourself maybe they won’t be so bad.

“Stan, Carolyn, it’s so nice to see you again,” Robin grits out through a tight smile.

Carolyn pats her on the shoulder in response and says,, “Please dear, call us Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. We’re out in public after all.”

***

ROBIN: Yeah, Carolyn and Stan hated me. It was like they could smell the gay on me. Or the poor. From the moment Steve had invited me over to spend spring break with them in the Hamptons they did not like me. They despised the idea of their son’s best friend being some scholarship kid whose parents were public school teachers. However bad they were to me though, they were far worse to Steve, which is why I ever even bothered going to these lunches. I didn’t want him to have to suffer through them alone.

***

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Harrington drawls as the three of them take their seats at the table, “our idiotic son forgot to bring cash for the valet.” His statement is punctuated by a mirthless laugh and you can tell by the matching expressions on Steve and Robin’s faces and the way Mrs. Harrington makes a grab for the bottle of wine on the table that this level of disparagement is normal for the Harrington household. You remember the comment Steve had made a few nights ago about his father’s favorite pastime

“Don’t worry,” you respond with a smooth smile, “we’re so used to having drivers back in LA—“ a lie “—I can see why Steve forgot about valet. Although, I’m sure you both know what that’s like.”

Mr. Harrington stalled. Everyone at the table—including you—knew that the Harringtons were nowhere near wealthy enough to afford personal drivers but if there was one thing insecure men, like Stan Harrington would never do is admit that they couldn’t afford something.

You were familiar with these types of ego games from your youth, although you took no pleasure in them.

Your youth was spent tucked into your mothers skirts during luncheons and tea and fashion fittings, listening as the women would eviscerate each other with laser-edge precision. If there was anything your mother had taught you was how to sow the seeds of insecurity in someone and although it did not come naturally, you could make an exception for Stan Harrington.

***

ROBIN: It was easy to forget most of the time that she came from money but damn, the way she handled Stan that night made me think that some politician was missing out on having her as their cutthroat third wife. It was like watching an artist paint or someone do sleight of hand magic. He would say something mean about Steve and she would just turn it right back around on him but she would be smiling and batting her eyes the entire time. Even with that though, it wasn’t an easy lunch to get through.

***

“It’s so nice that Stevie was able to make something of himself through his little music,” Carolyn fawns. She means well, for the most part, but the four glasses of wine she’s downed during the last twenty minutes makes her words come out just a tad but demeaning.

Her husband sneers in response, “You say that now, Carolyn, but soon he’ll be back here asking for a spot in the firm.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you giggle in response running a hand alongside Steve’s arm, “the studio wants us recording our second album as soon as we get back and then we’ll be touring again and we’ll need him for that.”

“But darling, you can’t possibly expect to do that for the rest of your life,” Mrs. Harrington sighs, “eventually the two of you will want to settle down and have children, live a normal life.”

“Well, yeah Mom, but that’ll be a long time down the road—“

“Making music is our life, we don’t want to ever stop—“

You and Steve halt your explanation once you realize what the other is saying. The two of you exchange blank, confused looks and it’s not until Robin says, “I’m sure that they’ll decide what their next move is when the time comes. We still have plenty of time.” That the two of you jolt back into the conversation.

“Right,” you add, “plus with the royalties deal we just secured on this new album, we will be pretty stable financially.”

The rest of the lunch is spent fielding Mr. Harrington’s questions about financials and Mrs. Harrington’s questions about grandchildren. It’s exhausting but the three of you come out mostly unscathed.

The five of you part ways outside of the restaurant, and not a moment too soon. The wave of relief that washes over the three of you once the Harringtons have been sent on their way in a taxi is palpable.

You and Robin offer to buy Steve a drink for having survived the lunch and Steve offers to buy the two of you a drink as a thank you for playing roles in that. Soon, one drink each turns into multiple rounds of drinks spent recounting all the agonizing points of the lunch.

This leaves the three of you stumbling into your hotel in the early hours of the evening, completely and utterly drunk. You ride the elevator together, a mess of laughter and then bid goodbye to one another in front of Robin’s door. She’s ready to sleep off the drinking and you do not blame her.

This leaves you and Steve to stumble back to your joint rooms together.

“You know, seeing you today having dinner with my parents and my best friend almost made the whole thing feel real,” Steve says lowly, standing in your doorway.

“Steve don’t,” you plea softly.

“I just don’t get it,” he cries in response, “we would be so good together. We are good together: we have so much in common and we just make sense, everyone thinks so except for you. Just… tell me why wouldn’t you give us a shot?”

You’re in your room now, perched on the edge of the bed , teary eyes focused on everything in the room other than the man who stands in front of you.

“Steve that’s not fair. It’s just never going to work, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Steve blurts out, “and I know I may not be your first choice, but if you give me a chance I will prove that I’m good enough—“

“Steve, stop please don’t say that, you’re plenty good enough for anyone,” you stand now, to face him.

“Just not you,” he says devastated.

“No, listen, it’s not like that. I just, I don’t know if I can be with someone in the way that you want me to, okay? You want someone to eventually settle down with and I’m not that girl. I’m the fucking Minx for God’s sake not someone’s future wife. In another life maybe, we could’ve made each other very happy, who knows? But in this one, I can’t be what you want.”

The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Steve moves, walking past you to sit in your vanity chair.

“Is there someone else you have feelings for?” He asks, timidly.

“No, no,” you insist. “I told you, I don’t do that.”

He laughs mirthlessly in response, “I think you’re wrong about that. I think you’ll find someone, maybe not now or in a year or in five years, but eventually you will find someone and they will make you want to try and you will love them and I will have to watch you fall in love with them and we will both realize I was just not worth it.”

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

Taglist: @rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday @buckleyverse

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piratefishmama · 11 months

Note

OK, au where Eddie survived,

Its 1990, Steve hears this song and decides to drunkenly serenade Eddie with it

https://youtu.be/wv-34w8kGPM

Steve had had maybe… four beers, maximum, maybe one little fruity cocktail, and a shot of something that tasted like apple but that was it.

He wasnt even thirty yet and already his alcohol tolerance had gone to shit.

It was new year’s though! They’d hit the big Nine-O! The kids were allowed to be there, to celebrate with them as adults! They’d made it to ADULTHOOD, They’d, against literally all odds, survived the eighties and all the horrors that came with them.He was allowed to get a little white girl wasted in his and Robin’s apartment.

He was allowed to be free and silly in his own space surrounded by only his people.

No strangers to be seen in that apartment. Sure there were a few friends of the family, but he knew them, he knew them well enough that they knew him. The new and improved him, not the douchey high school him they once sort of knew. There were no strangers.

The music was loud, the track list riddled with cheesy pop, glam metal, rock, one or two reasonable metal tracks that the CC boys wouldn’t ridicule because Steve had been adamant that he wanted them (Eddie) to enjoy themselves, a few Madonna tracks, Queen, Bowie, plus, Dustin had brought a karaoke machine, in the hopes that Jonathan would capture something stupid on the fancy video camera Hopper got him for Christmas.

Wasted Steve was happy to accommodate as the something stupid.

Happy to be the first person brave enough, or drunk enough, to turn that silly little machine on because he was the only one just drunk enough to not care about embarrassing himself for fun. He was happy to peruse the list of songs Suzie had managed to acquire for it like a wine list at a fine restaurant, feeling excited eyes drawn to him. It was happening. Someone was going for the Karaoke.

Who better than Steve.

Who better than the King?

Who could switch from kegs to karaoke so seamlessly that it felt effortless, Steve. That’s who.

They had a projector screen for the words, but Steve didn’t need them, he’d been humming that damn song under his breath for weeks, having heard it on the radio driving to work. He related to it is all. Having a stupid crush that wouldn’t go away on someone who clearly didn’t seem to feel the same, but he couldn’t get over it.

He didn’t want anyone else.

Who else could say they’d understand the trauma they’d been through? Who else could be woken up in the middle of the night by screaming nightmares and just get it without having to ask? Who could he even talk to without breaking several NDA’s?

That issue alone had lost him a few partners since ’86. Who wanted to be with someone who couldn’t tell them the truth?

He hadn’t gone through a whole goddamn bisexual crisis in ’88 when he REALISED his crush was an actual sexual sort of crush and not a ‘he’s just pretty Robin, it doesn’t have to mean anything!’ appreciation of another man’s ridiculously pretty face. Honestly what the fuck was up with his big doe eyes, his laugh, those lips, he made facial scars look so damn good, and—

The music was starting, he found Eddie’s eyes from across the room and locked on them, laser focus, go big or go broke! Worst case scenario Eddie punched him, he could probably take Eddie in a fight.

Maybe. Eddie was scrappy. But Steve had back up. At least a fight would probably shut his crush up.

“I love myself, I want you to love me When I'm feelin' down, I want you above me—” Jonathan’s camera was ON him.The kids mortified, like they were watching a train wreck in motion, unable to look away. Eddie was just staring at him, wide eyed and flush cheeked. Or was that his usual big ol doe eyed stare and the alcohol hitting his cheeks? Steve was too drunk to know for sure, but he felt seen. He felt warm, full of liquid courage!

“I search myself, I want you to find me I forget myself, I want you to remind me” Eddie wasn’t moving, so Steve, in his infinite white girl wasted wisdom, decided to take a step from centre stage, to cross that distance and hope those pesky bandmates of Eddie’s didn’t get in the way. They didn’t. they moved out of the way actually. Leaving Eddie to gaze up at him from his seat while onlookers stared in amazement.

And maybe a little horror on the kids part, Dustin especially.

Those were his dads. His male role models. His big brothers. His dudes.

One of which was damn near sensually lowering his pretty self down into the other man’s lap, straddling it as if they were the only two people in the room. They were not. Steve didn’t care. “I don't want anybody else, When I think about you, I touch myse—”

“Alrighty that’s enough of that!” And the music was gone. Leaving Steve to awkwardly look over his shoulder at the culprit who’d turned off his thing. Eddie’s hand had landed on his hip to steady him, which was nice. Warm. Big. Grounding. He liked it.

Didn’t mean he was gonna focus on that instead of the culprit. “Dustin you shit! That was my big MOMENT!”

“That was horrifying beyond anything I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen. Some. Shit. No dry humping our DM at the GROUP New Year’s party! Do that in your own private time! In your own room!” At least he wasn’t saying not to do it. just. Not in public. Got it.

“Boy you have no idea what dry humping is, you’re like twelve.”

“I do TOO!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!!”

Robin chose that moment to turn the normal music back on to drown their bickering out so the party could continue around them. It did. There were no strangers at that party. No matter how surprising Steve Harrington serenading Eddie Munson with a sexy song was, there were no strangers at that party. They were family.

Even the other Corroded Coffin boys were family by association. Nobody would start shit in that apartment.

They’d be outnumbered.

That hand was still on his hip. Squeezing to get his attention back from where Dustin had managed to claim it. Whatever words he’d been yelling in a failed attempt to get over the music dying in his throat when he looked down at the man he was still straddling. He knew that look. Recognised it from days long since passed. Want.

Desire, lust, need, Steve swallowed his own saliva, then licked his lips to dampen the drying skin.

“You touch yourself a lot, Harrington?”

“Mmnhm, I’ve been needing a hand with it actually, you offering, Munson?”

“Bedroom, now.”

Nothing quite like bringing in the new year with one hell of a bang.

#steddie #pirateanswers #piratewrites #the shitpost is strong with this one #THANKS FOR THE ASK THOUGH!

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wally-darling-hyperfixation · 1 year

Text

Karaoke Night Wally x GN reader 400+ Follower Special

This is for all the people who follow me and up till now . I will get to the requests. I just wanna celebrate you

It was karaoke night over at Sally’s house. Sally has a stage so it makes it easier for y’all to karaoke together. Everyone was excitedly talking about their songs which they were going to sing. Well everyone but Wally. You wanted to go over and ask but Julie and Poppy were asking you , your opinion on a song they want to do as a duet. (You have a lot of records and a karaoke machine so you’re able to help). So everyone decided the order y’all would go in . Julie and Poppy, Barnaby, Eddie, Frank , Sally, Howdy, Wally, then it would be your turn. Everyone was so excited all smiles and everything.

So first up was Julie and Poppy. They sang together Respect. And everyone was excited and clapping at how fun they were having. At the end of the song everyone cheered and was wooing . You give them a thumbs up cause it was so good and they looked like they had so much fun. Barnaby was up next and of course he picked out a silly song. He sang the Monster Mash song, and you laughed cause it wasn’t even Halloween time. He was just singing and doing monster dance moves and everyone was laughing at him ,in a good way, just enjoying the night. After the last monster mash chorus, he bowed and got off stage with everyone cheering again. Next up was Eddie. He was red in the cheeks and mumbled that this song was for Frank. The song is called Stop in the Name of love. And he was so red in the face as he sang it looking lovingly at Frank the whole time. Oooooooo it made you so jealous and so happy for them. Who wouldn’t want a love like that. You’ve seen them hold hands on strolls through the neighbor hood and wish one day you have a relationship like theirs. After Eddie finished , he got off and gave Frank a kiss on the cheek telling him it was his turn. Frank being the type of guy who is quite shy, went on the stage and sang the song Close to You. You know like the verse in it “Why do birds suddenly appear? Every time you are near. Just like me they long to be. Close to you.” It was so sweet. You could tell they loved each other very much. You were enjoying karaoke night so much. You didn’t even see the eyes of the puppet who is staring at you the whole time. When Frank finished. He blushes and got off the stage and head towards Eddie , who gave his face a bunch of kisses. So sweet. Only three more left and then it was your turn. Sally picked out Here Comes the Sun. It was so cute and matched her sunny personality. You loved the beatles. Y’all just having so much fun. After Sally was done, it was Howdy’s turn. He sang this song called Busy Bee. You never heard of it before but it sure fit him. It was about a busy bee who worked a lot. It was very Howdy though. So you clapped at the end. Next was Wally.

Wally got on the stage staring back at all of us. He didn’t even let people know what he seeing. He just picks up the mic and starts singing. (I got the lyrics so you can imagine him singing it). “You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

[Verse 2]

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothing else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

[Chorus]

I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night

I love you, baby, trust in me when I say:

Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay

And let me love you, baby, let me love you

[Verse 3]

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

[Chorus]

I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night

I love you, baby, trust in me when I say:

Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay

And let me love you, baby, let me love you

[Chorus]

I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night

I love you, baby, trust in me when I say:

Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay

And let me love you, baby, let me love you”

He was staring at you the whole time as he sang. Your heart beat fast. You don’t really know if he likes you. But it felt like he was singing to you. And everyone else knew it was for you. Everyone knew from how much Wally stared at you. Yet you didn’t really notice until now. So y’all say. They can continue singing songs. You head over to Wally after he finished singing. “Yes neighbor , what can I do for you?” He asks smiling. “Um Wally , do you like me? That song seems to be for me . I feel like it was to me,” you blush feeling a bit silly. “Your right neighbor it was for you,” Wally says bluntly. “I like ya neighbor. I can’t take my eyes off you,” he smirks and kisses your hand smiling at you. You blushed and give him a cheek kiss. “ I like you to Wally. I honestly never thought you’d like me. You didn’t really show ,” you say blushing more . Everyone was watching from inside and cheered. You both finally admitted and may go forward with your feelings and how you feel now.

I hope I did alright. And that you like your 400+ special for my followers. Thank you alll . Please let me know what you think. I was really excited about this idea. I just wanna know if y’all liked it

Edit 1: I picked can’t take my eyes off you because it’s also a pun. He literally always staring at everyone. And everything. So I feel like it’s on par with him. Please comment if you like

#wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home fandom #wally darling #welcome home x reader #welcome home wally #welcome home x y/n #wally darling x self insert #wally x reader #wally x y/n

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undead-supernova · 2 months

Text

HIGH TOLERANCE

Masterlist

important note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! I suppose you could read this first, but I think reading the whole 5-part series first would be more fun hehehehe

plot: when a cute guy with curly hair asks you to be his best friend, how can you say no? how do you look away when your whole life has been altered by this one instance? In other words: This is how Eddie and Weirdo met.

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

warnings: drinking, cigarettes, pure fluff

wc: 3.4k

additional note: this cover of Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)" was a biiiiig help with tone and vibe hehe

“And we'll have Halloween on Christmas.

And in the night, we'll wish this never ends.

We'll wish this never ends."

You swayed around in circles, careful not to let the microphone cord wrap around your block-heeled Mary Janes. The minimal drums and guitar kicked in, with the faded background vocals echoing I miss you. Your pleated black skirt swayed around you, following your lead.

This was your favorite Tuesday Karaoke genre, the emo and pop-punk throwbacks being your jackpot. It was a classic go-to for you, the meme-ification of the song riling you up even further. And you were going to prove it.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” you nearly screamed, too excited to get to your favorite part. You imitated Tom DeLonge’s voice, concentrating on getting it right. Maybe a little bit more than you should’ve, but— “AND I’M SO SORRY! I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight!”

You really thought that the meme of it all would bring the five drunks here together. That you’d earn at least a chuckle from someone other than the bartender. But maybe you’d miscalculated your audience. Because everyone was sitting, mainly ignoring you as they either talked to each other or stared at their phones.

But was that going to stop you? Fuck. No.

“Don’t waste your time on me.

You’re already the voice inside my head.”

“Woo!”

You glanced over at the voice to see some guy standing there. A very attractive some guy, with long curly hair and bangs. A tight t-shirt hidden by a leather jacket with…a denim vest over it? His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but that didn’t stop him from shimmying both his shoulders and swinging his hips around. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he danced.

He was paying attention to you. Why was he of all people paying attention to you?

You couldn’t deny that you liked it, liked the way he moved no matter how stupid it looked. So, you decided to give him a show, pointing at him as you came in for another round.

“Don’t waste your time on me.

You’re already the voice inside my head.”

He pulled his hands out, cupping them around his mouth. His many silver rings and chain bracelets shone in the light, along with sparkly blue nails.

“Do ‘Freebird’!”

That made you laugh harder than you thought you’d ever laughed before, having to pull the mic away from your lips from the sheer volume that erupted from you. And above the sound of the music, you could hear his guffaw of laughter mixing with yours.

When you looked back at him, a huge grin on your lips, you couldn’t help but feel something tingle in your stomach. Like a small fizzle, something resembling a firework that sputtered out almost immediately after being ignited.

“I miss you."

You replaced the mic back on its stand before stepping down from that shitty excuse for a stage. Immediately, you were face-to-face with this pretty guy.

“Hello, it’s amazing to meet you,” he said.

You smiled. “Likewise. Thanks for being my biggest fan.” Gesturing around the nearly empty bar, you added, “Tough crowd tonight.”

“Oh, I gotta get your album autographed. And your mixtape. And the collector’s edition.”

“Oh my god.” You giggled as you shook your head. “You’re too kind.”

You introduced yourself, desperate to put a name to his face.

“I’m Eddie,” he said, sticking his hand out for a handshake. You took it without thought, his palm sticking to yours with a bit of sweat. “You’re not gonna sing ‘Freebird’?”

“I don’t think she’s singing it, dude,” another voice said lightheartedly behind you.

You dropped your hand from Eddie’s nearly immediately, absolutely embarrassed for reasons you couldn’t understand.

As you turned, you saw another guy there, with silky honey hair and warm brown eyes, rocking a post-work look. Popped white button-down, navy slacks with shiny mahogany loafers that clanked against the floor when he walked.

His hands were resting on his hips, showing off a nice watch. One lifted, extending toward you. “I’m Steve.”

Taking it, you noticed that you weren’t as affected by his touch. Maybe it was because his hand wasn’t sweaty.

As you introduced yourself, you were almost trampled by a very cute girl.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said with a harsh breath, arm slung around Steve. “Jeez, they really made me grovel to get off on time and the traffic is hell. Maybe we should go back to—” She noticed you then, straightening her posture. Her hairstyle could barely be considered a ponytail from the way half of her short hair had spilled out. A black button-down now unbuttoned, hanging down her sides with a black tank top underneath. Paired with black jeans and an array of thin rings. God, she was cute. “Hello, new friend. I’m Robin.”

“Hi Robin, I’m new friend.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Steve took over the conversation, asking her about her shift.

You tried to pay attention, but it was brought back to Eddie when he asked, “Can we be best friends?”

You let out a small laugh before nodding. “It’s a done deal,” you responded, earning a high-five.

“Wanna come hang with us?” he asked, pointing his thumb at Steve following Robin to a small table in the back. When had they decided that?

Looking back at Eddie, you weighed your options. You could continue to sit by yourself, reading a book in a bar and listening to them have fun; laugh. Could let yourself wonder what they were talking about. Could take the easy way out, could walk out of there right now and leave yourself wondering what could’ve been with someone like Eddie.

But that wasn’t really the easy route.

And you wanted to take the easy route.

“How could I refuse?”

“So why’re y’all out tonight of all nights?” you asked, placing a napkin under your vodka Redbull to fiddle with something.

Eddie was looking at you, sitting on the opposite side of the table, holding your eye contact in a way that was making you nervous. Because he was lifting his glass to his lips and right on those pretty lips of his was the softest smirk you’d ever seen. And there his dimples were, deepening as he took a sip.

“We’re celebrating,” Robin said, smiling at you.

You turned your attention back to the conversation at hand, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Steve nodded. “We moved here five months ago today.”

“Hell fucking yeah we did!” Eddie exclaimed, raising his glass before clinking it with Steve and Robin’s. You were surprised when he faced you, gesturing towards your drink.

As you lightly tapped your drink to his, you couldn’t help but notice the way he was looking at you now. Like you were already something to him.

“Well, congratulations,” you said, still making eye contact. “Do y’all like it here?”

“It’s pretty different from the world we’re from,” Eddie said with a nod.

“Feels very, uh,” Steve stumbled, snapping his fingers. “Can’t think of it…”

“Upside down?” Robin offered.

Snap. “Yes, that. Exactly. Upside down,” Steve said, pointing at her.

“What about you?” Eddie asked.

Your eyes widened. “Me?” All three nodded. “Oh, I’m from Tennessee. I came here for college and then ended up staying.”

Eddie nodded along as you spoke. “You like it here?”

“Yeah, I actually do,” you said. “It’s the first place that’s started to feel like home.’”

Steve smiled. “I hope we all start feeling that way.”

“Oh, I think I’m already there,” Eddie said, shamelessly holding your stare as he lifted his drink back up to his lips again. It was soft, sweet—something that he wasn’t currently sharing with the other two.

No, it was just you.

God, he was hot.

When you looked back at Steve and Robin, you noticed Robin tilting her head at you, like she was observing you or something. Watching you. Studying you. Whatever the right word for it was, she was doing it.

“Rob, we should get up there,” Steve said, nudging her.

She returned his nudge with a more forceful one. “And sing what, dingus?”

“‘Livin’ on a Prayer’!” Steve exclaimed.

“Are you kidding me?” Robin asked. “I’m not singing ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’.”

“Woah-oh, we’re halfway there!” Steve shouted.

“Wo-ah, we’re livin’ on a prayer!” Robin shouted back.

You and Eddie were sitting at the bar, laughing as you watched the two go back and forth. It had started as a field trip to get another drink and then ended with you sitting on the stools. Eddie had followed your lead wordlessly.

“They’re incredible,” you said and really meant it. How they convinced Craig to let them sing a song outside of the theme was astonishing. Maybe Steve gave him heart eyes. Craig was such a sucker for a pretty face.

“I have not seen Robin this drunk in a while,” Eddie commented. “She’s something else.”

“Are you gonna sing?” you asked, turning your attention back to him.

He chuckled. “No, maybe next time.”

“Not a singer?”

“I am, actually,” he replied with that special smile he’d given you earlier. “I just convinced my bandmates to move down here after they graduate back home.”

“Oh, that’s really cool! What’s the name?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

“Metal?” you questioned.

“How’d you guess?”

You shrugged. “A hunch.”

That is the most metal band name I’ve ever heard, you thought to yourself.

“You listen to metal?”

Laughing, you pointed at your outfit. “Clearly.”

His eyes seemed to spark up. “Really?”

“You make that seem like it’s such a big deal,” you said. “Or are you one of those guys that’s all ‘Women don’t even know real music. Name six of their albums.’”

Eddie took a sip of his whiskey, all the while shaking his head. “Nah, I think those guys are assholes. It’s not like women aren’t making the same music about more important shit anyways.”

“Correct answer,” you said, pointing at him before taking another swig of your drink.

He shrugged, scratching the top of his head. “I think it’s wild just ‘cause I come from a small town where the mere idea of liking that genre is, like, unheard of.”

You snorted. “Where are you from?”

“Hawkins, Indiana.”

“That sounds fake, I’m so sorry.” He laughed. “But, to be fair, I don’t know much about Indiana.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Fuck, I wouldn’t wish it on you, either.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky. There’s lots of people in Atlanta who like metal. But beware of the weird Republican-looking guys who listen to butt rock. Oh, and the skinheads. I made that mistake once and I’ll never be the same.”

“Seriously?”

Trying to get the flashback out of your head, you stated plainly, “You’d be surprised how easy it is to think you’re around like-minded people before you realize where you are.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Was it like Green Room?”

“Kinda, just with less death,” you said before pausing. “Or maybe I didn’t stay around long enough to find out.”

“Shit. Makes sense,” he said. “So, are you waiting for someone? A boyfriend…or girlfriend? Partner?” Eddie sighed when you laughed, putting a hand over his face before waving it around. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to being in a cool place like this. I don’t know why I thought anyone would be straight here, least of all you.”

You started laughing harder as he gestured to your outfit. With your skirt and Mary Jane’s, you had a simple black crop top on and spike bracelets. Almost as many rings as him. A simple tattoo choker. You were a blatant neon sign with GAY written in cursive and an arrow flashing at you.

“No, it’s alright. I’m a raging semi-goth bisexual.”

“No way, same here just with metal. And my buddy Steve is bi, too.”

The two of you looked over at Steve who was doing some variation of a hip thrust and pretending to play the guitar at the same time.

“Is he dating your other friend? They seem close.”

Robin whipped her head around as she pretended to play the drums before her head collided with Steve’s and they paused to have a bickering match.

“Robin? Nah. They’re kinda a package deal but they’re platonic with a capital P, as she likes to say. And she’s only into girls.”

“Right, of course.” Some part of you felt an itch that you couldn’t help but scratch. “Uh, are you dating Steve?”

That made Eddie cackle so loudly that even Steve and Robin looked over.

“No, absolutely not,” he finally said. “I’m not dating anyone, least of all Steve.”

You let out a hum. “A gaggle of queers.”

“Got your own gaggle of queers, then?”

You shook your head, watching his smile fall. “Lost all my friends a few months ago,” you explained. “Some my fault, others not.”

You couldn’t help but shrug, trying not to go back to all the shit talking and the fights and the blocking and the tears and the loss. The late nights wondering how you were so blind to the manipulation. The games. The accusations you made against the innocent. The moment you fell to the ground when you realized that you were just the pawn in a game made to humiliate someone else. Someone you considered a close friend.

You’d burned your bridges with the assailants but lost your best friend in the end.

Senior year of college was not what you’d expected it to be.

“Sometimes you trust the wrong people and end up hurting the right ones. Either way, you get burned from a flaming double-edged sword. And then you graduate all alone.”

“That sucks,” Eddie said, his tone changing. “I hate that that happened to you.” He paused, giving you a glance before putting his shoulders back and pretending to wield a sword. “Fear not!” he said in a low voice. “For I am here to lead you from the realm of darkness and into the world of victory!”

You giggled, shaking your head before clearing your throat. Mimicking his posture, you said, “I would be more than honored, my lord!”

As you fell into fits of laughter, your smile fell. “Sorry, I don’t mean to dump all that on you. Sometimes I just have no filter and—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I don’t either. It’s alright. I kinda like talking to you about—”

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve said, approaching you two. “Rob and I are thinking of heading out. Are you coming?”

You watched Eddie’s eyes flicker from Steve to you before he shook his head. “Nah, I think I’m gonna stay out for a little longer.”

For some reason, that made you feel all bubbly inside.

Despite hiding your smile, you caught Robin’s eyes on you again, eyebrows raised at you with some kind of crooked smile on her face.

“Have fun,” she said, glancing between you and Eddie before taking Steve’s arm and dragging him out of the bar.

When the door shut behind them, you turned back to face Eddie.

“You’re staying,” you stated with a playful tone.

“Uh, yeah. I’m talking to my new best friend.”

“You’re telling me that the only time you watched Lord of the Rings was at the beach?” Eddie looked at you like you were crazy, causing you to giggle. “What about the beach says, Let’s go to Mordor, shall we?”

“Listen!” you exclaimed. “My mom and my sister would go to a DVD rental place by one of the grocery stores. Well, then Redbox after video stores closed. But, anyways, every year they had Lord of the Rings on display first. So, they decided that that was that.”

Walking side by side, you and Eddie headed to your cars, sharing the last cigarette in his pack. The bar had closed, the first time you’d ever been kicked out of one. But you and Eddie weren’t done talking.

“And those were the only movies you watched?”

You shrugged. “Basically. Unless you count the time I rented Saw and nearly shat my pants.”

Eddie paused at his car, a rather creepy looking van, looking like he was considering something before he ran around the car. Without any hesitation, you tried to beat him to the other side. But he faked you out, coming back around and scaring you.

“I’d like to play a game,” he growled. You squealed involuntarily, jumping back to escape him. But he continued to chase you around his van. “What’s your name?”

You smirked, surprising him by turning around and pushing him back. “My name is Very Fucking Confused, what’s your name!”

Giggles spilled from your lips, colliding with his in some kind of harmony. It was so natural, the way you fell into tandem with one another. The way you were leaning into one another already, laughter mixing with labored breaths as you tried to catch them.

You couldn’t believe just how easy it was with Eddie, especially after months and months of loneliness. There was a part of you that had given up on any form of friendship. A little voice that told you that no one would be willing to listen when you spoke. No one who could be as goofy as you were. Readily give back what you put out.

And it was something that you really hoped you wouldn’t lose.

“This was really fun,” you said. “You’re really cool.” Before you sounded stupid, you added, “Y’all seem really fun.”

Eddie held a soft smile, reaching his hand out to you. “Here, give me your phone. I’ll give you my number.” You handed it over without any protest. “Let’s hang out in the next few weeks.”

“I’d love that.”

Your smile was slipping. That was just something people said. Nothing ever followed through and you knew that all too well. Any date you tried to go on. Any new interaction with coworkers in passing. Anyone you casually talked to at Go Ask Mary.

“What about next Thursday?” he asked, handing your phone back to you. “Are you free?”

A smile made its way to your face as you stared in shock. “Yeah, I have that day off.”

“Same. I’ll jot it down in my calendar,” he responded with a growing smile before unlocking the door and jumping into his van.

“Welcome to Atlanta, Eddie,” you said, looking up at him.

Leaning down, he gave you a final handshake. You took it, noticing that it was a lot less sweaty than before.

“I’m really starting to like it here,” he said.

And you gazed at each other for a moment, continuing to hold each other’s palms, a special look in your eyes that was reserved for each other. Like this look was going to be a continual thing. Like this was just the start of something. You just couldn’t figure out what exactly that something was.

Then Eddie seemingly flinched, pulling his hand away.

“Thanks for being my new best friend,” he said finally, scratching his cheek before placing it back on the steering wheel.

A lump in your throat formed as you took a step back. Put your hands together behind your back. Squeezed for some kind of comfort to satiate the ache in your palm.

“Thanks for asking,” you replied.

“See you next Thursday?”

“See you next Thursday.”

He shut his door then, leaving you to turn on your heels to trudge towards your own. You noticed that he waited to back out until you got in your car, giving you a wave before driving off.

And you watched his van go, taking him farther away from you. Though you knew you’d see him again in just a week, you really wished it had been now.

Maybe you should’ve known then, should’ve understood what that was going to mean in the future. But hindsight is 20/20 and you’ve never been sure what that even meant. Perhaps it would’ve saved you a lot of distress. A lot of jealousy. A lot of insecurity. If things had transpired differently, maybe you could’ve avoided everything that came to fruition.

But instead, you drove home. Picked out your clothes for work the next day. Brushed your teeth. Got into bed. Turned some YouTube video on. Let the darkness fill your room. All the normal parts of your routine.

Except for the buzz of your phone, a sound that you were still startled by after months of near silence.

It was from Eddie.

can’t wait for next week!

With a smile and droopy eyes, you sent a reply.

Me neither.

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader #I love these two too much not to continue

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clusterbuck · 1 year

Note

✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!] if you feel like it <3

gonna combine this with ⌫ lullaby which @octobertulip sent in<3

eddie twists in the sheets, half-awake, trying to free his tangled leg. it’s too hot, far too hot, and the thin cotton sheet covering him feels like it’s suffocating him. but he can’t figure out how to extract himself. it’s like any way he turns, all he does is get more entangled.

he tries to wrench his way out, and ends up banging his elbow into the bedside table. tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and he sighs and drags an arm across his face and blinks them away.

the door opens, like he’d known it would the second his elbow had connected with the table and made a noise. “eddie?” buck asks, peering into the room. “are you—?”

“‘m fine,” eddie says, but the words come out much less clear than they’d sounded in his head. much less convincing.

“i heard—” buck starts, then trails off like he’s unsure exactly what he heard.

“hit my hand,” eddie says. “nightstand.”

buck glances between eddie and the nightstand, like he’s trying to understand the mechanics of it. “why?”

“accident,” eddie says, trying to glare at buck. “i was trying to—” he tugs at the sheets again. “‘s too hot.”

“that means your fever’s breaking,” buck murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed. “uh. i think. that’s what people say, at least.” he untangles eddie’s leg and pushes the sheet to the side, and eddie sighs at the rush of cool air.

“better,” he mumbles. “thanks.”

“anytime,” buck says. he shifts like he’s about to get up, but eddie reaches out for him. his hand doesn’t go as far as he’d intended, splayed out instead on the bed between them.

“buck,” he says, barely more than a mumbled syllable, but buck hears him anyway. “stay.”

“eddie, are you—”

“stay,” he says again, a little firmer this time, and lets his eyelids flutter shut.

“okay,” buck says, soft, soothing, and the mattress creaks as buck settles against the headboard.

eddie drifts somewhere between sleep and wake, neither claiming him fully. he’s aware of buck’s presence beside him, the steady warmth of his body and the cadence of his breathing, and when buck starts to sing, softly at first, he hears that too.

buck starts by humming something, snatches of something that must be stuck in his head. eddie shifts, turning towards him, angling to hear him better. buck must take that as a sign, because he starts singing properly now, full songs from beginning to end.

his voice is surprisingly lovely. eddie doesn’t think he’s ever heard it before—buck doesn’t usually go up for karaoke, and they’re not often in the kind of company that sings along to the radio. buck sings cautiously, like he’s feeling out the notes, and there’s a breathless feeling to it that makes every word he sings sound sincere.

then eddie listens to the words. to the songs that buck has been singing to him. can’t fight this feeling. i don’t wanna miss a thing. can’t help falling in love.

and in the cotton wool haze of his feverish brain, it makes perfect sense. he doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t have to wonder whether buck truly means it or if he’s overthinking or if he’s dreamt the entire situation. none of that matters. it just makes sense.

buck’s started a new song now, one eddie remembers his sisters playing on repeat when it first came out.

well, you done done me and you bet i felt it…

eddie listens to the song, and when buck’s voice starts to trail off at the end, he reaches across to grab the nearest part of buck he can reach. it feels important, somehow, to be touching him for this. “buck,” he murmurs, closing his hand around buck’s knee.

“yeah?” buck asks, and in the wake of the word, devoid of buck’s singing, the room feels almost too silent.

“i’m yours,” eddie says, squeezing buck’s knee.

“yeah,” buck says slowly. “i just did that one.”

“no,” eddie groans. “i mean—me. i’m yours.”

“i—oh,” buck says. “eddie.”

he can’t see buck’s face, but eddie can read buck’s tone like an open book. buck’s flustered, he thinks, but wondrous, too.

“just wanted you to know,” eddie mumbles, and tips over the edge into sleep just as buck’s hand finds his.

it’s only the start of the conversation, but it’s okay. eddie will sleep, and they can talk when he wakes up. buck will still be there.

because eddie is buck’s, and buck, in turn, is his.

whump prompts 🚑

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #tphivo #ask emma #emma writes #this is unbelievably cheesy forgive me

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babygirl-diaz · 2 months

Text

My Emotions Are Naked Chapter 2 (Buddie Fanfic)

“It’s a queer club,” Eddie grumbled leaning against the door and resting his head on the cold window. “That’s what Nick called it.”

“Who the hell is Nick now?” Buck asked

“The bartender,” Eddie replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his head to rest it on the headrest and watched Buck. Buck was so beautiful. Eddie had a strong urge to lean in and kiss his adorable birthmark.

“Eddie,” Buck sighed. “You still haven’t told me what you were doing at this queer club.”

“I was getting drunk and hanging out with Alex,” Eddie replied.

“Alex. Right.” There it was—that tone of voice again. “Have you met Alex before?”

Eddie reached out to play with the radio. “No, I met him today but it feels like I’ve known him forever.” He stopped when he heard a station playing “I Want It That Way” and smiled. “Hey! That’s Alex’s song!”

Eddie heard Buck sigh again and he didn’t ask anything else. “How did you know what type of a club it was?” Eddie asked.

“I’ve been there before,” Buck replied.

“Oooooh… You have?” Eddie asked grinning.

“Yes, I came here with Hen and Chimney once during Pride Month,” Buck told him. “We sang karaoke.”

“Oh.” Eddie couldn’t hide the disappointment from his voice. He really thought Buck wasn’t necessarily straight and that’s how he found himself at this club.

They soon reached Eddie’s house and Buck helped Eddie again, taking him inside. Once in his bedroom, Buck let Eddie lie down and took off his shoes and belt. “Oof, buy me dinner first,” Eddie chuckled when Buck started pulling his jeans down.

“I always buy you dinner,” Buck simply told him and helped Eddie into his sweats. He knew Eddie so well. Eddie hated sleeping in jeans.

“That you do, my friend,” Eddie giggled and wiggled around to pull his blanket close to himself. “Stay,” he said reaching for Buck’s hand when Buck started to leave.

“I was gonna go pick up your truck and bring it back here,” Buck told him. “Wouldn’t want it to get broken into overnight.”

“We can do that tomorrow morning,” Eddie whined.

“I won’t be long,” Buck promised.

Eddie pouted as he watched Buck leave. He tried to stay awake for his return and picked up his phone from the nightstand. He was starting to sober up so he managed to unlock it and saw a message from Alex.

-Hope you got home okay-

Eddie smiled when he saw the message and replied -Yeah, I did. What about you?-

-Oh hey! You replied! I didn’t think you would- Alex replied and then sent a second message. -I’m just waiting for my Uber-

-Well I’m glad you’re being responsible, Dr. Williams (;-

A few minutes passed before Eddie got another message. -The funniest thing just happened. The Uber that picked me up dropped off your friend Buck here. I don’t think Buck likes me very much ):-

-He’s like that with new people. You should have seen how he reacted to me when we first met- Eddie replied.

-Well, that does make me feel a little better- Alex texted back. -Anyway, are we still up for this Saturday?-

-I thought you wouldn’t want to after I called you Buck earlier-

-You remember that?- Alex asked -And no, you’re good. I can see why you’re so hung up over him. The guy is cute-

-Are you hitting on Buck?- Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

-No, no, of course not- Alex replied. -I was just being observant.- Before Eddie could reply, there was another text. -So, Saturday?-

-Saturday sounds perfect- Eddie replied. -Are you home yet?-

Instead of a text reply, Eddie got a photo this time with Alex standing in front of a door. -Just got home- the caption read.

Eddie smiled at the picture, and his eyes started to close when he heard his truck outside. Soon the front door opened and closed. A minute or two later, Buck was in the room with a water bottle.

“You’re still awake?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, was just waiting up for you,” Eddie replied and offered him a smile.

Buck came over and set the water bottle on the nightstand before taking a seat next to Eddie. “Feeling better?”

“Well, my head has stopped spinning like a helicopter blade so that’s good,” Eddie joked.

“Here, have some water.” Buck helped Eddie sit up and gave him the water bottle.

Eddie drank the water before lying back down. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” Buck told him and got up.

Eddie caught Buck’s wrist. “Don’t leave. You can sleep in here.”

“It’s okay, Eds, I can sleep on the sofa,” Buck told him.

“Buck, come on, it’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before,” Eddie pointed out.

Buck looked like he wanted to protest again but then he sighed and nodded. “Okay.” He took off his shoes and got into bed.

Read the rest on AO3

(A special thanks to @sarastars for helping me out with this fic)

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #original character #buddie #911 abc #fanfiction #my emotions are naked #chapter 2

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 11 Prompt: Pop/Alt Holiday Songs

Tags: Alcohol Consumption, Established Relationship, Santa Con, Karaoke, Steve Harrington Is A Tease

wc: 1596 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Eddie’s had his fair share of wild nights bar hopping in Seattle. Sometimes with Steve, sometimes with the Corroded Coffin boys, sometimes alone desperate to break out of the deep-seated loneness that overtakes him every few years.

But he’s never experienced anything quite like this.

After a night of endless hopping, they find themselves at a karaoke bar in the heart of Downtown Boston packed with college students and young adults all dressed in their best Santa suits like them. Miraculously, they find an empty booth in the corner and stake their claim.

Robin and Nancy collapse into each other, shedding their red coats over the worn edge as they do so. Jonathan and Argyle aren’t far behind, though Argyle stays fully in costume. (“I really think I should grow a beard, my dude,” he slurs for the hundredth time of the night as he shuffles across the cracking vinyl.) Steve goes next, sliding in next to Robin and then Eddie follows, nearly missing the seat entirely as the opening chords of Wham’s “Last Christmas” rips through the small bar from the stage across the room. A pair of best friends laugh their way through the opening words, absolutely massacring the song.

“Oh god,” Steve groans. “They’re disrespecting Wham!”

“That’s the point!” Robin giggles, moving to rest her head on his shoulder. “No one is supposed to sing good at karaoke! S’why we’re all here!”

“We are not singing karaoke!”

“You better turn that Grinch face of yours around because we absolutely are! Nance and I signed us all up weeks ago.”

“You devious lesbians,” Eddie laughs before leaning around Steve to place a slobbery kiss on Robin’s head. “I owe you so much for this one.”

“Buy us drinks and we’ll call it even!”

It’s a fair deal as far as Eddie’s concerned so he quickly gets himself back on his feet and wades through the hoards of Santas until he gets to the bar. It’s just like any other dive bar he’s been in. Sticky countertops, shelves, and shelves of liquor, charming but overworked bartenders working and flirting their asses off for tips. He knows exactly what it’s like bartending and he doesn’t miss it.

Though maybe he would have had more fun if the places he worked had events like this. At least he’d have people to make fun of beyond the sad drunks that became his regulars.

Eddie returns five minutes later with a tray of mixed drinks and shots. If he’s being totally straight with himself, he’s not sure what he ordered. They look pretty though and judging by the puckered face on Robin and Jonathan’s faces, they must be mixed well. Lightweights the both of them.

Needing the least bit of persuading, Eddie takes the stage first, serenading the crowd in a rock and roll rendition of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas” that goes off the rails given he sings it at double the speed. Argyle drags Jonathan up next, the two stumbling their way through “Feliz Navidad” — Argyle carries the Spanish sections while Jonathan squints at the teleprompter during the English bits. It’s a hilarious disaster that has the entire bar cheering them on.

Nancy and Robin’s rendition of “Last Christmas” gets everyone going and suddenly a complimentary round of drinks ends up on their table as they belt out the final line. A few groups of strangers take the stage next. They’re decent but nowhere as entertaining as any of them. They’re only half watching at this point, too engrossed with their own conversations and carry-over argument over who the best-dressed Santa of the bunch is.

(“Obviously s’not Eddie,” Nancy giggles.

“You wound me, Wheeler,” Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his jet-black fur coat. “Gothic Santa would have killed it in Seattle. You Bostonians don’t understand culture.”)

Another round of drinks materializes on their table and then they’re back in the karaoke rotation again. By the time Steve’s name is being called by the poor bar employee tasked with keeping things running smoothly, he’s the perfect amount of drunk that he doesn’t protest Eddie’s careful tugging. He doesn’t go willingly, but he’s sporting that crooked smile of his that tells Eddie he’s not exactly mad about the events transpiring in front of him.

“See sweetheart,” Eddie croons, leaning into his space as he passes him the mic. “Just needed a little liquid courage. Now show the world how great of a singer you are.”

“S’gonna be a disaster.”

“Oh, definitely,” Eddie smiles, pecking his cheek. “But that’s the point!”

Eddie doesn’t give Steve time to reach out and instead retreats to the booth. He slides in next to a giddy Robin as they both wait with bated breath for Steve to choose a song. A minute or two of silence passes before Steve looks up from the machine. The old stage lights cast a beautiful shadow over him. Eyes sparkling in the harsh fluorescents. Usually, Steve would be complaining about the godawful lights, but right now he’s winking at Eddie and practically skipping to the center of the stage.

Another moment of silence passes before the bright cheery guitar of Britney Spears’s My Only Wish (This Year) floods the place. Steve starts rocking his hips to the beat, hand gripping the microphone tight enough that Eddie can see his knuckles turning white. The nerves evaporate from his body the minute he starts singing, though. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d think Steve has been possessed by the spirit of the Princess of Pop.

“I signed my letter that I sealed with a kiss,” Steve sings, throwing a hand over his lips before blowing a sloppy kiss in Eddie’s direction. And then he’s moving again, skipping around the stage as his Santa coat glides around behind him.

By the time the second verse hits, Steve’s shimming out of the coat, putting on a show for the group of girls sitting at the front tables. Eddie wants to scream. Wants to stalk over to the girls and tell them to back the fuck up, but he’s held steady in his seat by Jonathan’s comforting hand and Steve’s unwavering gaze as he locks eyes with him across the hoards of people.

“I want my baby, baby,” Steve scream sings, already losing the beat as his hips continue to sway.

“Someone to love me, someone to hold!” Eddie shouts along with him as the rest of the table eggs him on.

It’s chaos after that. Steve throws his Santa hat into the crowd, Robin’s on the table filming the entire thing on her ancient iPhone. “That’s your man, Munson,” Nancy wheezes, nudging Eddie’s ribs every time Steve turns to shake his ass for the excited crowd.

Eddie’s absolutely captivated by the performance. When he first met Steve years ago he was uptight and reserved. It didn’t matter how much effort Eddie put into his conversations, it was like trying to pry open a bank vault. But when he finally cracked the code, Steve sparkled in a way Eddie couldn’t even dream about.

Steve’s better now, more open with himself and who is he. Fully embraces the fun that life has to offer, but Eddie can tell there are moments when he retreats to that small boy who never got the attention he deserved. It’s what makes moments like this so much more amazing. Seeing Steve shine and live his best life, free from judgment is the best gift Eddie’s ever received. And he’s not about to miss a damn minute of it.

When the bridge drops, Steve prances around the stage like one of Santa’s reindeer. He’s sporting a reindeer headband that someone threw up there and there are a handful of dollar bills crumpled up on the edge of the stage. Somehow it’s gone from a karaoke show to some erotic dance number as Steve shimmies around and tries to keep up with the words.

Eddie’s never been more in love in his entire life.

“Santa, that’s my only wish this year,” Steve sings the final line, holding out the note like he’s the Princess of Pop herself instead of some high school teacher.

A standing ovation follows, but Eddie doesn’t have time to bask in the affection being thrown at his boyfriend because he’s moving through the crowd faster than he’s ever moved in his life. When he gets to the end of the stage, Steve practically dives into his arms. He wraps himself around Eddie, legs around his waist, arms around his neck and smiles that perfect, beautiful smile of his. His cheeks are flushed pink from the performance and the amount of liquor coursing through his veins and his eyes are big and bright.

“What’d think? S’Santa gonna grant my wish?” Steve asks.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie coos, ducking his head to get his lips on Steve’s. “You know I’ll be waiting for you under the tree in a big red bow.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fan fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #dani writes

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mydearzero · 2 years

Text

Tokyo Machine

Karaoke is the newest 80's rage from overseas, and the Wheeler's got themselves one of those machines. Time to get drunk and accidentally(?) confess your undying love for Edward Munson.

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

MASTERLIST

Pure fluff, I promise you'll get a toothache

1.2K words

After the past weeks' events, Hawkins's people seemed to be more relaxed than ever. It was strange, really. A lot of people had died, gone missing. People were traumatised, yet the public seemed serene. The chaos had reminded them of how little time there was, and the time there was, had to be enjoyed.

The world was burning, so might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Eddie's recovery had gone by faster than expected. The bats had left some gnarly-looking scars scattered over his body, but they made him look even more badass. Even sexier.

Your feelings for Eddie were a recent development, as far as you were aware. You supposed they'd always been present, lingering in the back of your mind. But him nearly dying was what'd ignited the spark that made you realise you viewed him differently from your other friends.

So you were here, living in the present. There might not be a tomorrow.

Robin's fingers waved in front of your face, and you snapped out of your Eddie-induced trance. Once the realisation had been made, you found yourself staring. At first, the looks had been fleeting, but they'd turned into full-blown stares as time passed. Robin laughed at your panicked expression. You shoved her with a glare.

"Man, you've got it bad." She laughed as she reached for a beer.

The elder teens had gathered for a night of relaxation and fun. The Wheeler's recently bought a Karaoke Machine, imported straight from Tokyo, Japan. Karaoke seemed to be the newest rage across the US. It was about time you all had a go.

When Steve finally got the machine up and running, he took the first turn. If anybody had told you 3 years ago, you'd be in Nancy Wheeler's basement, watching Steve Harrington sing 1985's Take On Me by a-ha, along with Robin Buckley and Eddie Munson, you'd laugh in their face.

You were laughing now too, but for a whole different reason. Steve's drunken face, as he tried to hit the high notes, was indescribable.

"Maybe squeeze your balls a little, Harrington. That'll help you hit those notes!" Eddie piped up. Nancy cackled as Steve flipped him the bird.

Steve sank to his knees at the end of the song like a true rockstar. You all hollered and cheered for the phenomenal performance.

"Your turn, Wheeler." Was all he said before he handed Nancy the mic and plopped back down on the couch.

Nancy's pick of the night was 'Live To Tell', Madonna's newest hit. The ballad suited her well. You smiled as you took another gulp. Nancy got lost in the song, and it was obvious she'd practised this routine with her hairbrush at least a dozen times.

As the song continued, you noticed how intoxicated you felt. Everything was fuzzy. You were happy. You were surrounded by your friends. Your friends who survived with you. Eddie was here. Eddie was laughing.

'Oh, c'mon, Wheeler. Boring. No more ballads tonight, people! Now give me that mic.' Eddie shot out of the armchair and snatched the microphone from Nancy as soon as she'd finished.

You glanced over Eddie's shoulder to try and see which song he would pick but to no avail. When the intro started, however, all jaws dropped. You all expected him to pick some metal song to scream his lungs out to and wake the neighbours.

He did not just pick Kiss by Prince.

But sure enough.

You don't have to be beautiful

To turn me on

I just need your body, baby

From dusk 'til dawn

You don't need experience

To turn me out

You just leave it all up to me

I'm gonna show you what it's all about

You didn't know his voice could even go that high. You laughed in disbelief as he continued singing the song, entirely unbothered by the giggles of his friends.

I want to be your fantasy

Maybe you could be mine

You just leave it all up to me

We could have a good time, uh

His eyes caught yours, a big grin on his face. While Nancy's performance had looked practised, this definitely wasn't the first time Eddie had sung this song.

You were a goner. This man was it for you. You could see it now. Long road trips, just the two of you. You and Eddie. Riding in his van, singing all your favourite songs with the windows all the way down. The wind in your hair. Eddie grinning as you got lost in the song. You and him against the world.

Ain't no particular sign

I'm more compatible with

I just want your extra time and your

Kiss

Eddie blew you all a kiss as he sat back down. Jaws had yet to be picked up from the floor. "Didn't know you had it in you, Eddie." Nancy laughed.

Your smile was quickly wiped from your face as Robin pushed you towards the machine. You sighed as you made up your mind. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you picked a new song. You'd wanted to sing a Cindy Lauper song, but the new choice seemed more appropriate.

"I'm gonna be singing a bit of an older song if you don't mind." You spoke with your back to the group, trying to find the song you'd set your mind on.

As the intro started, Eddie's eyes bulged out of his head. The melody was an all too familiar one. His mom used to sing it to him all the time. Robin was the only other one to immediately recognise the song, a look of disbelief, almost pride, spreading across her face.

Eddie my love, I love you so

How I've waited for you you'll never know

Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long

Steve was about to burst out laughing, watching Eddie's lovesick gaze. Nancy quickly slapped her hand over his mouth to not ruin the moment.

You didn't know if you'd perhaps misread the situation, but your inhibitions weren't the same as they were when you were sober. You continued singing with your eyes closed. You poured your heart into the song as the rest sat and listened.

Eddie Eddie, I love you so

Eddie, please write me one line

Tell me your love is still only mine

Please Eddie don't make me wait too long

You couldn't help but smile as you sang. You'd hummed the tune to yourself a couple of times but never dared to dream this would be how you'd confess your feelings.

The song quickly came to an end, only lasting about 2 minutes.

As you were about to sing the last lines, you felt arms wrap around you and a head rest on your shoulder. Eddie swayed you as he laughed. When you didn't sing the next line due to shock and butterflies, he nudged you to continue singing.

Eddie my love

I love you so

You couldn't contain your laughter as Eddie spun you around in his arms, rapidly planting kisses all over your face. Lastly, he placed one long, lingering kiss on your lips, his hands leaving your waist to gently place them on your cheeks.

"About damn time," Steve uttered as he swung his arm over Nancy's shoulder, pulling her close.

Yeah, the world might be ending, but you were right where you needed to be. Surrounded by your friends, with Eddie by your side.

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic

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moonchildquinn · 1 year

Text

okay it’s finally done! this one is for @corneliuswatkins enjoy babe!

summary: you’ve liked Steve for as long as you could remember. Steve swears up and down you like Eddie. Robin, Nancy and Eddie are fed up with knowing the truth and make a plan

warnings: just some pure fluff for my sweet Stevie boy babes <3

Karaoke Anyone? - Steve Harrington

“Oh come on Steve it’ll be fun.” You beg Steve.

“I don’t do Karaoke.” He says.

“Is it not cool enough for you dingus?” Robin asked Steve making you laugh. She sends you a smile and Steve rolls his eyes.

“No it’s just not fun.” He says.

“Well Robin, Eddie and I disagree.” You say.

“Wait Eddie is going?” Steve asked.

“Yes, he said he would love to come.” You say. Steve goes silent and you try to study his face but you can’t.

“I’m in.” He says and you smile.

“All because Eddie is going to be there.” Robin says rolling her eyes.

“That’s not true I don’t care if Munson is there.” Steve sasses.

“Sure Steve.” You say. He gives you a look and you just smile at him. “Speaking of Eddie though I have to go pick him up from Hellfire right now.”

“What’s wrong with his van?” Steve asked.

“Broke down this morning.” You say.

“He should fix it then.” Steve mumbles to himself. You hear him but you say nothing.

“I’ll see you guys tonight.” You say waving goodbye and walking out of Family Video.

“Clearly I need a whiteboard again.” Robin says.

“For what?” Steve says.

“Tally up again, because uh once again you suck. Why won’t you just tell her you like her?” She asked him.

“She doesn’t like me Robin, I’m pretty sure she likes Eddie. Is it his hair? Do I need do something different?” Steve asked glancing up at his hair, reaching up and fixing it a little.

“Yes because Steve the hair Harrington needs to change his hair, I’ve told you time and time again dingus she likes you.” Robin says. Steve looks at Robin and rolls his eyes.

“Doubt that.” He says and Robin just sighs.

“So have you told Harrington how you feel?” Eddie asked you when he got in your car.

“Absolutely not, seatbelt.” You say not starting the car until he put it on. He looks at you for a moment and you give him a look and he rolls his eyes putting his seatbelt on.

“And the reason is?” He asked you as you finally drove off.

“Eds I told you already he doesn’t like me that way.” You say.

“And I’m telling you that he gets all googley eyes when he sees you. And he drools.” He says.

“He does not shut up.” You say.

“It’s true! You’re oblivious!” He says.

“Hey! That’s not nice.” You say.

“I’m speaking facts sweetheart, don’t take it to heart.” He says placing his hands over his heart.

“Well I’m not getting my hopes up.” You say.

“You’re really stubborn you know that?” He asked you.

“And you’re dramatic.” You say.

“You wound me!” Eddie says again clutching as his heart more dramatically this time and throwing himself back smacking the back of his head in the process, wincing out.

“That’s what you get.” You say.

“Now look who’s not being nice.” He says. You glance at him and he’s rubbin the back of his head.

“You knew what would happen being dramatic in a small space.” You say.

“Shut up.” He says and you laugh.

You, Nancy, and Robin sit in your seats, laughing to yourselves watching Eddie and Steve argue about who was going to go first.

“Harrington, who’s the singer here?” Eddie asked Steve.

“This isn’t about professionalism Munson this is about having fun, this isn’t one of your silly little games where you need to be competitive.” Steve says.

“Don’t you dare bring Hellfire into this.” Eddie says.

“Okay ladies calm it down.” Robin says.

“Will you get him.” Eddie says looking at you.

“How about I go first.” You get up and the boys look at you with their jaw dropped.

“Finally that’s settled.” Nancy says.

“I’m choosing the song though.” Robin says getting up.

“Uh okay.” You say. You look at Nancy and you can tell she knows something. Soon the beat to Hungry Eyes come on.

“Get up there Stevie boy.” Eddie says pushing him.

“It’s not a duet.” Steve says confused.

“So? Who cares sing it up you two.” Robin says. Steve and you look at each other confused. He grabs a mic and you both just start singing anyway since everyone was staring you two down. This truly made no sense but you wanted to have fun. Once the song was done you both got off the Stage and Eddie jumps up and hops on the stage picking his song. Of course he chose Iron Man.

“Black Sabbath, predictable.” You joke.

“Shut it.” Eddie says before he starts getting into the zone. Everyone had their turns and when it came to you again Nancy chose the song and once again Eddie shove Steve on stage.

“What are you guys doing?” You finally ask.

“Look I can’t take this anymore, I’m telling them.” Robin says but Eddie and Nancy protest. “You two have to be the most oblivious people I have ever met in my life! You guys both clearly are head over heals for each other but swear up and down the other doesn’t like you. But guess what? You like each other.” You and Steve look at each other in shock.

“Is that true Stevie?” You ask him.

“Okay yes, it’s true. But you like Eddie so what does it matter?” He asked you.

“Ew, you think she likes me Harrington? She’s like my sister, she calls Wayne her uncle.” Eddie says.

“Okay the ew wasn’t necessary Eds, but he’s right Steve I don’t like Eddie like that. It’s you that I like.” You say.

“You do? You’re not just saying that?” He asked you.

“Of course not.” You say.

“Now kiss each other already!” Nancy says. You turn red and look at Steve again. He steps closer and grabs your face gently.

“May I?” He asked.

“Yes Steve.” He smiles and kisses you and your heart explodes. You pull away and look at him. “Oh Stevie boy how you have my heart.”

“And you have mine.” He says.

“Finally!” Robin says.

“Alright enough out of you, let’s get back to our karaoke.” Steve says as you both get off stage and sit back down.

“Me next!” Robin says jumping up but Eddie does as well.

“No me!” He says and they both fight over the mic. Steve grabs your hand and you look down at your hands intertwined and smile to yourself. Robin and Eddie finally agree to sing a duet, a very awful rendition of I Got You Babe.

“This is dedicated to our two favourite dinguses, who finally realised just how in love with each other they are!” Robin says into the mic.

“Took long enough.” Eddie says. “I thought it would never happen.” Falling back a little, Robin catching him.

“Munson, just sing your song.” Steve says. The song starts and it just was a complete disaster. Steve looks at you, the same grin on your face mirrored on his. He leans in for a kiss, causing the two on stage to break from the song and cheer. You broke apart slightly, both blushing before kissing again. You lightly squeezed Steve’s hand before cuddling it with your other arm, and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #joe keery

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keeponquinning · 1 year

Text

Okay, singer!reader but non-specific to any fic i'm writing. except for this one now!

just fluff, bc i'm feeling it.

You work at a dive bar that sometimes do karaoke, and that's how you and Eddie meet. He's undeniably metal, and you're more rock, though can do pop from time to time, you two sometimes clash with your music tastes, rip on each other, but there's mutual respect and yeah, attraction from the both of you. You never say anything about him being a super senior, you've been out of school for about two, maybe three years, a slightly older woman though not by much, but he'll call you Mrs. Robinson from time to time just to be a little shit.

You finally book a gig, but it's for the senior prom at Hawkins High, your old school, and of course, you can't do your kind of music, just what's approved. Which is mostly soft love songs from the 1950's and onward. It's slightly embarrassing, but you're getting paid actually doing something you love, and you get to wear a pretty dress. It could be worse. So, you make the best of it, singing your heart out, but seeing most just ignore the stage and not even paying attention, so when you're singing Hopelessly Devoted To You, you're kind of phoning it in. You don't mean to, but again, you're discouraged and rethinking your life choices.

And then Eddie Munson comes in, wearing a tux, and your eyes meet and you can't help but smile. The passion that had waned sparking right up, and you're belting it out, "My head is saying, foooool, forget hiiiim. My h e a r t is saying...don't let gooo.... Hold on to the end.... That's what I inteeeeend to dooo... Hopelessly devoted....to yoooou." And you're singing it, right to him, and he smiles wide, watching you as you sing song after song, giving it your all. No one else really seems to care, but he does, and you're singing to him, no one else mattering at that moment.

You get your break and walk off stage and he's waiting with a drink in hand for you. "Nice tux, Munson," you tell him, taking the cup and took a drink,"Mm, spiked, my favorite kinda punch."

"Yeah, well, figure you'd need a little kick to finish the night singing that kind of music. How does it feel, selling out before you even got started?"

"Oh, it'll feel great when I get paid, so..." You scoffed, taking another drink, a cautious eye over him. "Okay, but seriously... I didn't expect to see you here. Like... I thought prom wasn't metal enough for you. Hot date?"

"No, no hot date. And you're right, this place? Definitely not metal enough for anybody. Like, seriously? Under the sea? Had this last year, doesn't anyone get tired of the same old thing, year after year?"

"Honestly.... This looks like my prom which is sad and weird. It's been a few years and it's...the same. It's the same. Except better singing."

He smirked, taking a sip of his drink while his eyes looked over at you, noting your dress, your hair, make up, the works. "Definitely hotter entertainment than last year — I mean, not that I went to that one either. That's a pretty dress, sweetheart."

You didn't want to, but you smiled, feeling a heat at the back of your neck. You blamed it on his tux and how good he looked in it. "So that why you came? For the live entertainment?"

He gave a shrug, his eyes lingering on you still, "Maybe. You kinda make their lame song choices alright to listen through. That's talent. And maybe I wanted to see the dress."

"Is it metal enough for you?"

"Nah. But definitely looking..." He paused a moment, a smile flooding his face. "You look good. Mrs. Robinson."

"Fuck off," you tell him with a laugh. "You look good, too."

"Yeah?" he questioned, his brows raised, though obviously pleased. "Wanna do something about it?" He straightened up, placing his cup down and offered his hand, "Would the lady like to dance with me? Maybe make my first prom memorable?"

A snort left you, looking at him, waiting for him to lower his hand, to tell you he was joking. But he wasn't. It remained just as it was, waiting for your hand to join his. You give a shrug, finishing your drink and putting it aside. "I don't see why not. Would make up for my actual prom, my date had a thing for stepping on my toes."

"I promise, light on my feet, surprisingly." And he was, and it wasn't just one dance, it was several, the slow dances, too. All until you were on stage again, singing and only to him, only to Eddie. Something you both tended to do when you saw each other perform on stage after that night, your dreams of making it into music intertwining with one another, as your relationship grew past the first kiss that very night.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader

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beep-beep-robin · 2 years

Text

the fruity four doing karaoke? the fruity four doing karaoke.

robin probably suggested it?

her and steve start of the night by singing „total eclipse of the heart“ for sentimental reasons, some parts intentionally sound very muppet-like, to nancy and eddie’s confusion

nancy and eddie are highly skeptical anyways and probably can already feel their ears dying

robin starts a solo to some song by blondie (because she‘s seen their poster in nancy‘s room and knows she listens to their music) and pulls nancy up next to her who resists at first but robin keeps singing at her so she just can‘t help herself and joins in

oh and she gets into it. when their duet is done she hesitates for a second but robin looks at her and knows exactly what she‘s thinking about

so robin walks up to steve, pulls him out of his seat and pushes him to stand next to nancy, then sits down next to eddie

steve and nancy sing „africa“ together and eddie and robin cheer them on the whole time

robin and eddie definitely also sing something together. probably something that’s so mainstream that both of them know it but they put their heart and soul into it, put on a whole show. maybe it’s something like „it‘s raining men“. you get the vision

steddie duet. maybe after nancy and steve‘s duet, steve just starts playing some song by tears for fears and starts singing it to eddie and he’s looking at him in such a hopeful way so eddie just has to join in. turns out it kinda backfired on steve because he definitely gets flustered by eddie‘s actually not so bad singing skills

i feel like eddie would also have a solo moment

by now won over by the idea of karaoke, nancy and eddie sing „angeleyes“ by abba together and dedicate it to steve. i imagine them doing the whole mamma mia spiel hahaha

#stranger things #the fruity four #fruity four #steddie #ronance #robin buckley #eddie munson #steve harrington #vanessas headcanons #vanessas writing #nancy wheeler #steve x eddie #steveddie #robin x nancy #robin and steve #robin and eddie #eddie and nancy #steve and nancy #original post

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munsonmaniaonmain · 2 years

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Hopelessly Devoted | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader (though don't think any gender is explicitly stated)

summary: in which the Hideout purchases a karaoke machine to draw in a bigger crowd. 2.4k words

content warnings: alcohol and implied drug use, swearing, possible second-hand embarrassment, a hint of a cheeky comment, lots of italics (perhaps too much)

a/n: this is my first fic so please be nice!!! any comments are welcome :)

“I’m not getting up there,” you snapped viciously, eyes darting around the confines of the Hideout. The bar had gotten much busier as the night faded to black, the newly purchased karaoke machine a big draw for Hawkins’ younger crowd. Some had been there to see Corroded Coffin’s set, though most filtered in as they finished up the encore, more eager to see stumbling drunks sing their hearts out.

It had become tradition in the friend group for at least one of them to get up on stage and sing a drunken rendition of their favorite song (or, as seemed to always be the case for Eddie, whatever annoying pop ballad had wormed its way deep into his brain). In the few months that the Hideout had been using the karaoke machine, Steve had given two passionate performances of Tears for Fears and the Smiths respectively, Robin had sung Africa by Toto at least five times, and even Nancy had taken the stage (though, just once) to sing Total Eclipse of the Heart. Jeff and Gareth joined forces every Tuesday to duet musical numbers, their knowledge of the subject coming as a shock to everyone.

You were the only one who had refrained from taking the stage, and this did not go unnoticed.

Eddie was all but begging you to get up there, big puppy dog eyes pleading as he said, “you sing in the car, you sing in the shower, you sing under your breath when you do homework. This is no different, Y/N! You have a beautiful voice—you need to use it.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “That’s not true and this is way different. You know it, Eds.”

“Okay, so what if it’s different? You’ll do well,” he responded.

“No,” you huffed out, “no. I will choke and die from embarrassment. There’re too many people from school tonight. I can’t do it. I’m sorry, promise I’ll do it next time.”

Steve scoffed. “You say that every week, Y/N. You’ll never get up there at this rate. Don’t you want to say that you at least tried?”

“Not really.”

“Come onnnnnn,” Eddie dragged out as his head fell to rest on your shoulder. “It’s now or never, babe. You gotta do it.”

You shrugged him off. “Why’s this so important to you all? Do you want me to die?”

“Do you think it’s embarrassing when we go up there?” Robin quirked, eyebrow raised just slightly, smirk firm on her lips. She knew she had gotten you; you were always the mediator, never wanting to upset anyone. Robin knew this angle would work on you.

“No,” you mumbled, arms crossed over your chest. “No, it’s fun when you guys do it. I’m not fun, though! That’s the problem.”

“Says who,” Eddie probed.

Robin laughed at your sentiment. “Yeah, you’re like the most fun person here. You’re just making up excuses, and they’re bad ones.”

You tilted your head towards Nancy, your begging eyes pleaded for her to side with you. The thought of getting up on that stage twisted your stomach, as if Eddie’s ringed hand had reached inside your body to ring out your organs like a wet towel. Even Nancy sheepishly smiled at you, a soft, “sorry, Y/N, but even I got up there,” falling from her lips.

You groaned and rested your forehead against your forearm on the table, eyes squeezed shut in frustration. You forced air between your lips in deep breaths as you tried to slow your heartbeat; you were getting worked up at just the thought of even getting up there. You didn’t want to see yourself enter cardiac arrest once actually under the lights.

You only perked up when the familiar clink of shot glasses rang in front of you. An entire tray had been put down and you quickly grabbed two. You eyed them carefully, your friends watching you silently as you knocked each back without as much as a grimace. You sat still in your stool, eyes glued to the stage as the lights danced over your face and dizzied your mind.

Your friends erupted into deep conversation around you, each person’s words nothing but gibberish to your drunk and nervous mind. Your leg bounced furiously against the barstool, your fingers picked at the cracking color on your nails. You counted to ten what had to have been at least a million times, the thunderous thumping of your heartbeat deafening your ears.

“Earth to Y/N,” Steve cooed, hand waving in front of your face. “Thinking so deeply about what you’re going to sing?”

“You can always ask the guy what he has to offer,” Eddie teased, piggybacking off Steve.

You ignored each of them and kept your gaze fixed on the middle of the stage. You were fearful of what would become of you once you stood there, spotlight bright on your face, heat deep in each pore. You weren’t even on stage yet and you could feel the bile rising in your throat, bubbling, blocking any sound from coming out.

And you resented yourself for it. Some part of you, deep in the back, wanted to get up there and pour your heart into some stupid love song. Hell, you had just watched Chem nerd Kim Davies rock out to Pat Benatar. If she could get up there, you thought, why the hell couldn’t you?

Steve’s last words put the flame to the smoking wood of frustration in your chest. “If you don’t get up there soon, I swear I’ll submit your name and pick the song.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve!” You snapped, abruptly jumping out of your stool, a loud thud from the ground behind you as the seat went toppling. “I’m going, alright? I’m going. Jesus fucking Christ, I hope you’re all happy when I die. When I drop dead, which is a guarantee, I hope you know it’s all your fault.” Each hand projected a pointed finger, one in Eddie’s face and the other in Steve’s.

Everyone laughed as you spun on your heels, wobbly legs carrying you across the bar in a zigzag to the karaoke man. You figured there were more than enough substances in your system to drown out any embarrassment you might have felt, though the anxiety—literally—bubbled in your stomach. The cheers from your friends were like daggers in your back, cursing under your breath as you shuffled through the collection of songs available to sing.

“How much are you willing to bet that she throws up?” Robin asked, leaning her elbows on the sticky table.

Eddie snorted. “She won’t.”

The others at the table laughed at Eddie’s confidence. You were visibly swaying as you pushed yourself onto the stage. Eddie’s ego wavered for just a second, stomach flipping as he realized just how drunk you were. He wasn’t convinced that you wouldn’t get sick—anything was possible with the amount of alcohol he had disdainfully watched you consume. You typically abstained from drinking so much, only doing so when you were really bothered by something. Eddie was suddenly guilty at the realization of just how nervous the whole thing made you, wishing he could pull you down from the spotlight and promise that you could wait until next week.

But Eddie knew that you were stubborn. The group had made such a big deal of you getting up there that he was convinced one of two things would happen. One, you would get up there and completely embarrass yourself on purpose (which would be entertaining in itself); or two, you would get up there and absolutely crush it.

You were comfortable enough to sing around him, as you had made sure to do so the dozen times you had forced him to watch Grease with you. It was your favorite “mindless” movie (a term you had coined), your go-to on the nights Eddie had spent comforting you over one thing or the other. Eddie knew you had a good voice—one good enough for the karaoke stage, anyway.

Eddie also knew there was one song you vowed you would never sing. You had always lectured him on how annoying and cliché it was, that it symbolized the patriarchal idea of the woman depending on the man, that you would never be caught dead that in love with anyone who harbored a penis (your words, not his). Eddie would always say he admired your enthusiasm but vehemently disagreed, that it was his favorite song from the whole movie (which he knew more than anything annoyed you, because it was the song least like him in the entire thing). To him, it symbolized how deep love could go—that she could see his flaws, see his faults, and she could still love him. Eddie would always say how much he would die if someone thought to sing that song for him.

So, when the beginning notes to that song--his song from your movie—came blasting out of the speakers, the smirk on his face faltered. Your body vibrated in the center of the stage, the nerves you were feeling physically translating into your voice. You had decided, in your increasingly drunken state, that you would show Eddie what you were capable of. What he had been missing out on.

Your voice started softer than velvet as you effortlessly followed along with the song. You knew that you weren’t outdoing Olivia Newton-John in any way, but you also knew that you sounded lovely singing the chorus to Hopelessly Devoted to You. So, you tried your drunken best to channel all your nervous, pent-up energy into every word. You had known what doing so would do to Eddie, but in your state, you didn’t really care.

You even had the audacity to catch his eye as the words of the title came tumbling out of your mouth. Seeing the smile wiped clean off his face made you smile, beginning to sway with the music. In that moment, you decided to put on a full show. If you were up there, making an embarrassment of yourself, you would at least make it entertaining. You pulled the mic from its stand and started spinning around the stage.

Everyone in the bar was watching you. Chem nerd Kim Davies cheered the loudest, followed by Jeff, Gareth, and the other members of your table. Even the drunk old men slumped over at the bar paid attention to you, cheering when your voice shifted in tone and the lyrics to the first chorus came bellowing out twice as forcefully.

Eddie was at a loss for words—and a loss for feelings. Goosebumps crawled across his skin at the power and control you had over your voice, at how beautiful he never knew you sounded. He knew, then, the voice you had always given him was half-assed, and this bothered him. Eddie was suddenly envious—hurt, even—that you hadn’t shared the angelic noise with him before. And he was slightly annoyed that he would never sound half as good as you, even with all the effort he could muster.

Eddie, though, was mostly furious that you had chosen his song. Furious at himself for not having forced you up there sooner, and furious that he hadn’t realized before just how much he wanted you. And, finally, he was hopeful that the choice of song was intentional, a message for him to decipher.

You caught his eyes a few more times throughout your dramatic performance. You made sure to hold his gaze throughout the second chorus, that alone earning cheers and screams from most of the crowd. Finally, you watched Eddie’s frown completely break into a gorgeous laugh as he joined the cheers of the rest, his voice rising above all. It took all your breathing power not to laugh with him; you did crack a smile as you finished the song with a dramatic twist and sigh.

Once you were done, you gave an over-the-top curtsy and laughed as you clipped the mic back into the stand. You dreaded your approach to the table, fear freezing the prickling sweat at the back of your neck, scared of the judgments of your friends. You were intercepted before you reached them, Jeff and Gareth your saving grace as they lifted and spun you in the air. You squealed with giggles as they all but threw you around the cramped bar.

You were practically passed around the group as Steve swooped in for a monstrous hug next, followed by Robin and Nancy ranting in your face about how good you were and that you had nothing to fear. Other people from school even poked in to give you compliments, your face always scrunching up as you sheepishly accepted. You were almost completely off the adrenaline high by the time Eddie snuck up behind you. Almost.

His hand traced your spine as you whipped around to face him, grinning as you threw your arms around his shoulders. He gratefully pulled you closer, face in your hair as he asked, “where were you hiding that all this time?”

“In the recesses of my mind,” you retorted enthusiastically, drunkenly happy to have him near you. When you pulled away, you twisted one of his curls around your finger, bottom lip pulled between your teeth, literally biting back a smile. You giggled before saying, “thought you might like it.”

Eddie had consumed beer after beer in hopes of finding the words he wanted to say at the bottom of each glass. He was still lost by the time he had worked up the courage to approach you, but in his own drunken stupor, he dipped his head closer to yours and found, “liked? Try loved it, sweetheart.” A finger trailing across your jaw and down your throat as he said, “didn’t know your pipes were capable of that.”

You snorted, pulling him closer by the back of his neck, whispering in his ear, “there’s lots my pipes are capable of that you haven’t seen yet.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the grin from splitting across his face, his eyes back on yours as he asked, “is that so?” You nodded in response, bottom lip back between your teeth, though the smile on your face was poorly hidden. “When can I see?”

“Say the word,” you simply replied, pulling him back to you again, lips pressed softly to the edge of his jaw. “After all, I’m hopelessly devoted to you.”

thank you for reading & please engage if you liked!!!

#eddie munson #my eddie stuff #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb #stranger things fandom

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