#now why am i just realizing jeffs left handed

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 26th:  Corroded Coffin | I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P. | Hopeful a/n: descriptions of anxiety & grounding, rockstar!eddie, supportive!uncle wayne, established steddie. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Corroded Coffin gets its first gig outside of Gareth’s garage on a random Tuesday in October 1985. 

It’s a small place, a true hole in the wall, the exact kind of place Eddie Munson imagines James Hetfield might’ve seen back in Metallica’s earliest days. There are maybe five people in the crowd outside of the bartender and servers, but those are five more people than have ever heard them play before. 

Jeff, Freak, and Gareth are goofing around backstage, tuning instruments, pushing and shoving playfully, the excitement palpable. Eddie wants to join in but his heart and his stomach seem to have swapped places. Nauseous, shaky, and terrified, he can’t bring himself to shake it off with his friends and finds himself sitting in the corner, back to the wall. 

An apt metaphor, really. 

He feels caged, stuck, panicked– a lion trapped in too small of a space if the lion was also secretly afraid of its one and only concrete talent being judged as not good enough by strangers. 

“Alright, Ed, take a breath with me, okay?” Wayne appears out of nowhere, grunting as he sits on the grody floor next to Eddie. 

A familiar, calloused hand gently pulls Eddie’s fingers out of his hair, a position he doesn’t realize he’s in until Wayne pulls him out of it. He turns to face his Uncle and breathes with him the same way he had as an anxious little kid before the talent show, as the new kid in school, as the now fledgling adult who still needs comfort, reputation and appearance be damned. 

Eddie closes his eyes and lets Wayne squeeze his hand to cute inhalation and exhalation. One day, he’ll think to ask him where the fuck he got that from, but not today. Today, he needs to calm down enough to perform with his friends. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

“Feelin’ better?” Wayne asks, patting Eddie’s knee with his free hand. 

Eddie nods and lets his eyes flutter open. It feels like waking up as he adjusts back to the noise and light he’d managed to tune out. “I think so, yeah. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so scared as shit but yeah. Not okay.” 

Wayne scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s your first show, Ed. ‘S alright to be a little keyed up. You’re gonna be fine though, just go out there and have fun with it.” 

“You’ll stay for the show?” Eddie asks, a little more hopeful. Seeing Wayne in the audience during the talent show all those years ago set his nerves at ease. Seeing Wayne in the audience at The Hideout might do the same. 

“Nah, figured I’d just stop by to talk you off the ledge and head on home. Of course I’m stayin’, what kinda Uncle do you think I am?” 

Eddie and Corroded Coffin play their first gig to a crowd of about five drunks and one Uncle Wayne. It’s not perfect– Eddie trips over a microphone wire at least once and they each miss a cue here and there– but they finish to applause. The loudest of which comes from Uncle Wayne. 

—

Over the years, Corroded Coffin ebbs and flows. When Eddie nearly dies, the band does too for a bit but, like Eddie, reanimates after some left dormant. The members stay the same, the name stays the same, the sound stays the same. What changes is the audience. 

Apparently, the metal community is very interested in Eddie’s Lazarus-adjacent story coupled with wrongful accusations and a suburban witch hunt. Interested enough for the band to start getting noticed. The Hideout turns into The Vogue, and then the Old National Centre, and then the TCU Amphitheater. At each one, Eddie feels the same nerves he had at their first gig, and maybe even a bit more so now with his Upside Down injuries always at the back of his mind. 

What if I pull something?

What if my leg gives out?

What if– 

“Hey,” Steve whispers, leaning against the wall next to Eddie. “It’s gonna be okay, you know that, right?” 

Eddie nods and chews on the piece of hair he’s pulled in front of his face. 

He doesn’t know that, actually, but it’s not something he wants to rehash right now. Besides, Steve more than anyone can understand his running monologue more than most. He’d been there, been the one to carry him out, and since they started dating, has been the one to lull him back to sleep when the memories jar him awake. 

But Wayne’s not here yet, probably stuck in traffic after leaving the factory early for the show, and Eddie doesn’t know how to prepare for a show without his guided breathing. 

Every rockstar has a ritual, and that’s his. 

“I know I’m no Wayne but, wanna try breathing with me?” Steve offers with a sheepish smile. 

He nods again, still silent, and breathes. This time, softer hands holding his and cueing his inhalations and exhalations. It’s not the same, but it’s something. Enough to calm his racing heart to the point of words and with a shout from Jeff and a kiss from Steve, he takes the biggest stage he’s played yet. 

Halfway through their set, Eddie sees movement in the corner of his eye and when he dares a glance, he sees Uncle Wayne standing next to Steve in his dusty flannel with a beaming smile. 

The nerves disappear. 

#steddie #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie month prompts #corroded coffin #rockstar eddie munson #myblurbs

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

When Steve awakened the beast inside of Eddie, he felt it all over. He couldn't help but do the things he's done with women in this past and to the cheerleaders who passed him by. Yeah, okay, he has a thing for cheerleaders. They're passionate. He can respect that. Hmm, maybe that's why he hated jocks so much. . .he had been denying a part of himself that he didn't want to admit. Before Jason hunted him down like he was in season, Eddie could admit freely that there had been a little bit of an attraction there but that was before. It was long gone now, though.

In its place was Steve Harrington, who was not only insanely handsome but was also brave, kind, and just. He was a freaking prince with a side of bitchyness, and Eddie could just drown in him. He really couldn't help it when he started doing those things with Steve. He started bowing as he passed, smiling fondly after him with his hands behind his back, and he even opened doors for him. Of course, Steve thought it was because of his King Steve days.

"You know, I'm no longer like that, Eddie, so why are you still treating me like I am?" Steve snapped.

They were in the drama room preparing to set up for DnD, and Steve had volunteered to help. In reality, he just wanted to see Eddie. Meanwhile, Jeff had arrived early before anyone else to find Eddie bowing at Steve and opening the door for him.

"Relax, Steve," Jeff said as he stepped into the room completely. "He only does that shit to women he's attracted to."

Eddie's face said it all in that moment. Jeff looked at him with wide eyes.

"I was going to tell you," Eddie said quickly.

"You're -," Jeff said, and his eyes flickered to Steve’s.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Bisexual," Eddie said.

"Oh. Oh!" Steve exclaimed in realization. "So, all the stuff you've been doing is because - "

"I'm attracted to you. I like you, Steve," Eddie said softly.

"So, all of the things. . . The bowing, the opening doors, the giving me rocks. . .they were all because you like me?" Steve asked.

"I've also been the one leaving flowers on your car. I've been courting you," Eddie said, his hands behind his back as he stepped closer to him.

"I've never been courted before," Steve said bashfully as he bit his lip, and Steve stepped closer to Eddie. "You can keep doing it if you want."

"Even if it makes you feel like a king?" Eddie asked.

"Well, I think I prefer the term fallen king, and you're kind of like a king yourself. . . You're a very handsome one, too. We are both two kings coming together to make one glorious kingdom," Steve said.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered.

"Okay, I think you guys forgot that I'm still here," Jeff said and watched as their lips crashed together. "Yeah, I'm going to go now before you guys start making out against me."

Jeff left and slammed the door behind him. He smiled, happy for his friend. Of course, that's when everyone else decided to show up. It suddenly sounded like someone was being pushed up against the door, and Jeff quickly blocked it before it could open.

"Are Eddie and Steve in there?" Dustin said and frowned. "What are those sounds? Oh, my God! . . . Are they fighting? I thought they were friends!"

"Uh, yeah, they're fighting, but they're working it out. In the meantime, Hellfire is canceled tonight," Jeff said.

"But - " Dustin began to protest.

"Canceled!" Jeff yelled. "Now, go!"

Everyone gave him weird looks but started to shuffle away. Just then, Steve let out a breathy moan that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

"What the hell was that?" Dustin asked.

"Uh . . . I think Eddie just pulled Steve’s hair," Jeff replied quickly.

"Oh. Yeah, Steve hates that. Eddie!" Dustin called out. "You're not fighting very fair!"

It worked on some of them, but not on Gareth and Frank. Lucas and Will also looked a little suspicious.

"Would you fucking go already?!" Jeff snapped.

Jeff finally breathed a sigh of relief when they all left and he could push himself off of the door. He told them to lock the door and finally made the escape for himself. He hoped he never got caught in that situation again.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #bisexual eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #stranger things jeff #poor jeff

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Growing pains

Summary: How did Jeff and Rio feel knowing Miles was sneaking out with a girl?

Jeff's rant became background noise as she lifted the sweater in confusion.

It wasn't Miles, not just because it wasn't his size (she had needed to buy so many new clothes with his growth spur that she would know) but it was...feminine, she could even smell faintly some perfume.

Whoever left it was using it recently.

"-Babe are you backing me up in this one or what?" 

Rio snapped back to reality as she felt her husband's hand on her shoulder, he looked at her still kind of upset yet more curious as to why she hasn't moved from that spot.

"Jeff, where is this from?" She asks immediately, not paying attention to whatever he has been insisting on her.

Arching an eyebrow, he didn't look too much into the item before shrugging with disinterest "I don't know, I normally let him choose whatever he wants as long as the price is okay; a better question is why his room is such a mess, maybe we should ground him an extra month for that-"

"Jeff" She called him again, trying to distract him from his authoritative-dad ideas "This isn't his, it has to belong to a girl."

The moment the word 'girl' came out of her mouth he seemed even more puzzled. Giving an actual look at the item from his wife's hands, he was trying to remember if he has seen it before "Does it belong to one of your nieces maybe?"

"I didn't remember seeing any of them using this, why it would be here anyways? We let the guest put their coats in the entrance, and I don't think either Ana or Camila would just leave this in Miles's bed for no reason."

As they both realized they couldn't recall anyone who could have this sweater, finally the other possible explanation popped into their minds. Not because it wasn't obvious, but more like-

"Is this happening now? It isn't too soon?"

"No, no no no, no way that boy brought a girl to our house, to his room, all while he is grounded." Just as quickly, Jeff was getting worked out again about this outrage.

Miles comes late (again,) with cakes that are falling apart, refuses to talk to them, and now he is hearing how he left his room to be with a girl?

Rio couldn't believe it either.

"This can't be right- He is too young to think of that!" She replied in disbelief.

She felt her husband's gaze rest on her as she stopped looking at the item (who could belong to? Maybe one of Miles's old friends from the neighborhood? As far she knew he stopped hanging out with everyone around here,) and saw the face Jeff always puts when he isn't sure how to tell her something.

"What?"

And her snappier response didn't seem to make him more confident about saying it.

"I mean- Look, don't get me wrong, we are both on the same side here" He prefaces, he needed to reserve all his energy to think how to get to that boy's skull that he couldn't do whatever he wanted, not to mention that when Rio got angry even he got scared. "But, he is fifteen honey."

"Yeah! A baby!"

"Well, not so baby, I mean at his age I was-"

The pointed look of Rio was all the information he needed to know he SHOULDN'T end that sentence.

"What I am trying to say, is that he is getting to a certain age mi amor, we cannot stop that."

Rio's shoulders fell, realizing how tense she was getting and this wasn't even going into how disobedient her son has been getting lately. As she looked towards the room (which was indeed a mess,) she saw the toys laying around, notebooks of old drawings pilled over the new ones that show his progress, she could almost see him as a toddler running around with a cape.

That felt like it was yesterday.

And now she had the sweater of a girl she doesn't know in her hands, in Miles' room.

Where did her little boy go?

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Since the Wip poll won, I decided to post this little thing that was actually, my first fic for this fandom.

I never got to publish it because it was missing two other scenes, but I decided to scrap it since the third one felt a bit too crazy, so I would do that idea for another thing.

So now while this is technically not a wip, I decided to publish it since I don't have any works in progress I can give sneak peaks for now.

Thanks for reading!

#atsv #across the spiderverse #ghostflower #rio morales #jeff morales #fanfics #gwiles

[jamiesfootball]

The Dick String Incident

“Right, new plan for training today! For the awareness bit, we’re gonna tie you fucking knobheads together. Get dressed, tie up, and be out on the pitch in five.” Roy dropped the spools of red string on the bench in the center of the room. He walked out of the room before they could say a word. Jeff was halfway through tying the string around his waist when Colin asked, “Did he say ‘you’ or ‘your’?”

The team froze. As one, the team turned to Jamie, who had stopped lacing up his boots to take the roll from Jeff. Freshly awoken from his between-training nap, he did not look like like a paragon of answers; he looked like someone who was trying to transition from ‘tie boots’ to ‘tie self’ and coming up short. When he realized he was being stared at, he blinked blearily under the attention. “What? Don’t look at me,” he complained. “I’ve been up since four. I wasn’t paying any attention.” Sam rubbed his hands together nervously. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but I heard ‘your.’” “He said ‘get dressed’ first. That implies an order of events he’d like to happen,” Jan argued. “Why would he tell us to get dressed and then tie our penises together?” Moe looked at him shrewdly. “So you admit you heard ‘your’ too.” “You’re all being mental. Why would coach have us do that?” Isaac turned to Jamie. “Back me up, man.” His brow furrowed like he was doing some complicated maths in his head. Finally, he shrugged. “I mean, he tied me to a bike this morning and had me pull him around, so maybe?” Colin snapped his fingers. “Like Rocky?” “Eh?” “Rocky Balboa?” Dani perked up excitedly. “Oh, that is the guy who goes--?” He mimed throwing his arms up and shouting. “That’s the one, boyo.” “Hah! I wish to be like Rocky!” Dani announced, eagerly grabbing the offered string from Jamie. Van Damme nodded beside him in agreement. “Hold on, now, Rocky didn’t go around tying dicks together, bruv.” “That we know of,” Moe retorted.

"Yeah, I haven't seen any of the new ones," said Colin. “Creed was dope,” said Declan. “Michael B. Jordan pulled a plane in that one.” Jan scoffed. “You mean his stuntman pulled it.”

“I don’t like Rocky,” Richard added, though no one had asked. “Guys, we do not have time to argue,” Sam implored. He worried the spool between his hands, turning it about like a puzzle. “We have to be on the pitch soon.” “Sam’s right. We got to make a decision,” Isaac said authoritatively. “What do we think? And it has to be unanimous, it can’t just be a few of us out there with strings tied to our willies.” Everyone looked around the room, waiting for someone to speak first. Jan spoke first by dropping his shorts. “I do not wish to be tied to a bike if we are wrong. It is better to be safe than sorry. Hand me the string.”

---

Beard lowered his sunglasses. “Uh, Coach? You seeing what I’m seeing?” Ted watched in confused awe as the team marched out to the pitch like a clustered, confused, delicate group of tadpoles with red string hanging out of their shorts. “Roy, what the hell did you tell them?” “What?” Roy turned around. He stilled. His body tensed all at once, and every trace of an expression left his face except for his eyes. His eyes blazed with mirth. “The plan,” he answered. He walked away to give himself a moment by the water cooler. The HR write-up better be worth it. Ted turned to Beard. “Am I having a seizure? Was that in the plan?” The world’s carefullest procession was almost upon them. Beard pushed his sunglasses back up. “Best not to ask, Coach.”

---

The HR write-up was worth it.

#I asked my brain ‘why wouldn’t they ask why their dicks were tied together’ and it answered ‘why would Zava write a book about Trent Crimm?’ #idek how to tag this #afc richmond #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #not as many dick jokes as there could've been - i didn't want it to grow too long #ba dum tss

[gucciwins]

spare 🤲 bel and harry la residency

Los Angeles, Night Two 

“I can’t be there tonight,” she winced as she saw his face fall.

“Why not? You’re free in the calendar.” 

Bel frowns, “Emerson forgot to update.” 

Harry stares at her, trying to see if she’s lying, but she’s an actress. There’s no way to tell. “You said all fifteen.” 

“Kind of insane if you think about it,” she giggles as he gasps dramatically. Bel swears he’s going for the Oscar one day. 

“Mitch will be there.”

“Not fair, H. He has to.” Harry grumbles and faces defeat. “But I’m here now.” She reminds him with a smile.

They’re in his dressing room that Harry has made home with all his clothes thrown around and misplayed shoes on the floor. Bel’s well-loved ‘Shakespeare and Company,” that he stole from her, sits on his vanity with his most valuable items inside. 

“You are.” Harry opens his arms for her to sit on his lap, and she doesn’t think twice before accepting. He sighs against her. “Don’t leave me,” he whispers. 

“You big baby, I’ll be in your bed tonight,” she reminds him. 

Harry sighs, kissing Bel’s cheek, “fine, fine. Guess I can part with you for an afternoon.” 

“Good, now kiss me, mi vida.” 

“Lo que tú quieras,” Harry promises. 

//

“Tonight, I promise we’re—” he stops mid-sentence when he spots a familiar face in the VIP section, the family section, to be precise. Next to Jeff is Y/N Belmonte, his lovely girlfriend who had convinced him would not be there tonight.

Jeff nudges her as if she didn’t already notice she was the reason he stopped mid-speech. The cameras zoomed in on her now. Jeff had told them beforehand, so they had the perfect shot of her. The screams are endless as the fans realize she’s in the audience tonight, not knowing she was there last night. Bel waved to Harry, then laughed when he moved to look up at the screen to check it was her. She wore a pale yellow mini-skirt with a matching top. It had a subtle floral pattern embossed throughout, and Bel knew it was one of his favorite outfits of hers as he gave it to her as a gift. There was no misidentifying her. Jeff had asked her if she wanted to play a small prank on Harry, and when Jeff explained it, there was no way she could say no. 

Through the year they have been together, Harry and Bel are more open in sharing their relationship. From the beginning, when she was content keeping him a secret, to now always taking the time to support him at his endless residency shows and the future Love on Tour dates that were set to happen. 

“Sorry, my girlfriend is in the crowd tonight.” 

The screams were deafening as Harry confirmed his special guest of the night, that left him distracted. 

“I know we’re just starting, but you having a good time?” 

She sends him a thumbs up.

“Good, good.” He grins her way. “You like my singing?” 

Bel laughs and nods, beginning to blow him kisses. He pretends to catch a few and places his hand over his heart. Bel feels her face warm at the gesture. 

“You coming home with me tonight?” He asks cheekily. 

Jeff coughs, taking a sip of his drink when Harry asks his suggestive question. 

“Always,” she yells back, not caring how flustered she feels because it was the truth at the end of the day. She would be going home with him as soon as the show finished.

“Good, good. Tonight’s dedicated to you, Bel.” Harry blows Bel a kiss before addressing the audience once more. “I’m a little nervous, my favorite actress in the audience. How lucky am I?” He pretends to geek out with the audience, but Bel knows there’s a bit of honesty in his statement. “Give it up for Y/N Belmonte, everyone.” 

“Did you get that?” Bel asks Tom.

“Yup, even the bit where Jeff chokes.” Bel laughs, watching as Jeff threatens to beat him playfully. She turns her attention back to Harry, who thanks the crowd for attending tonight and hopes they have a fantastic night as he is going to have. 

Yeah, she wouldn’t miss this for the world.

#something sweet to hold you over 🤭 #love on tour series #love on tour asks #harry styles #bel and harry have my heart #fic rec #love on tour series asks #lot: la

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter II: Like A Lover, Not A Dancer

masterlist | playlist | chapter I

summary: Your album release show goes off without a hitch. For you, at least.

tags/warnings: rockstar!reader x rockstar!gn!afab!reader, mention of reader having boobs (feel free to skip that), slow burn, pining, angst, steve is impartial and the bestest best friend forever. mentions of blood/bruises/injury (non specific)

a/n: please don’t hate me i swore i’d make this one a Real slow burn but idk how imma do that without taunting us all. Please reblog to support the author!

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

Eddie’s POV

Pacing the length of his living room, Eddie talks aloud, mostly to himself, while his band mates sit along the couch, unsure how to help him out of his spiral.

“How am I supposed to mentally prepare for this? This is the biggest tour of our lives, and it’s with the one person capable of throwing me off my game. The one person that knows all of my weaknesses, everything that makes me tick. How am I supposed to be the person everyone thinks I am? They’re gonna see right through that shit.” He pivots to face his friends, and none of them can make eye contact. “Suggestions would be super appreciated right now!”

Gareth speaks then, timidly, “Ed, man, they probably feel the same way. You know all there is to know about Y/n. You’re both gonna go to extreme lengths to avoid each other just to realize neither of you have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, my bet is you’ll be talkin’ like old friends within the first week.” Jeff chimes in. The two chuckle, until they see the expression on Eddie’s face. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, his eye twitching slightly as he attempts to keep his composure. “It’s true!” Jeff throws his hands above his head in surrender.

“Don’t get my hopes up like that, man. They broke up with me, ‘member? ‘Course ya do, I slept on your couch for a month when it happened.” His words wipe the smile from his friends’ faces. “I can’t walk around hoping and praying they’ll want anything to do with me. That can’t be who I am.” Eddie flops into the recliner across from them, defeated.

-

Your POV

You land in LA at 2:00PM, and are immediately rushed into a rental car, courtesy of Elektra Records. You’d been to California only once before, when you and Eddie had hit a restless phase and took a road trip to visit Will and El.

Now, though, instead of a big, dirty van, you’re in a sleek town car, on your way to The fucking Roxy to attend your band’s album release party. It feels like every sacrifice you’d made in the last two years finally makes sense! The planets have aligned, and you’re on the right path, or whatever the fuck. So why does your heart still hurt?

Robin grabs your hand, yanking you from your inner monologue. “We’re in LA, baby!” She’s hand in hand with Lilith, and Sylvie’s tucked into your left side. Steve pivots from the front seat to address you. “The party starts at ten tonight, be ready by seven. Call my room if you guys need anything, I’ll call when you have an hour left.”

You have to commend him, he’s got the mom thing down. “Yessir.” You all nod in unison, stifling the very laughter that kids would bite back after a mother’s lecture. But you appreciate him, there’s a reason you wanted him taking care of you. “Your performance is scheduled for ten thirty, we probably have fifteen, twenty minutes of leeway there though.”

Your smile is practically smacked from your face. “Our what?”

Steve looks up from his itinerary, matching your expression. “Did- did no one tell you?”

“I figured you told them!” Sylvie accuses, and Robin nods. You can perform on a whim, far over your stage fright after the hell you’d gone through. Performing has become cathartic, and you love a big audience. But Eddie was going to be in that crowd, and for some reason that scared the shit out of you.

“You’ll be fine! It’s not a full set, just three from the new album, bing bang boom you’re cutting a cake with your face on it.” He slaps his hands together to emphasize his point. As if on cue, the car pulls up to the hotel you’ll be staying at, and the doorman approaches to help with your bags.

-

You and Robin are sharing a room, spending the afternoon letting all your stress out as you prepare for the night.

“I just don’t get it!” You say for what feels like the hundredth time that day. “Why wouldn’t they tell us sooner?”

“My only theory,” Robin begins before blowing on her freshly painted nails, “Is that they know your history, and knew you’d try to back out if they told you. But how would they?”

They wouldn’t, you think, not to your knowledge. You never mention Hawkins, but you know Eddie does. Has he brought you up? You shake your head, shooing the thought away. “Whatever, nothing we can do now!” You pick a few clothing articles out of your suitcase, turning to Robin. “Which one?”

She smirks. “You know Eddie’s gonna be there, right?”

You shrug. “So?”

“So!” She catapults herself off the bed, taking the tight black dress between her fingers. “These will drive him fucking nuts! And I know you know that.”

You feign ignorance. Of course you’d thought about that, but why should it matter? “We’re broken up, Robin. This isn’t about him. Now which one am I gonna ruin tonight?” You hold each one up to you in the full length mirror. “The red one seems like a little too much,” You mumble, “But the black one is super nice on the melons.” You gesture to your chest, snickering.

It pulls a giggle out of Robin. “Definitely the black one, then.” She nods feverishly, and you mimic her movements, a grin stretching your mouth open.

-

Eddie’s POV

The joint burns in his fingers, dangerously close to singeing his hair before he snuffs it out in the ashtray. The California breeze is warm, inviting, but Eddie’s mood can’t be lifted even by the nice weather. He reluctantly returns from the patio, slamming the screen door behind him, causing Gareth to wince. “You alright, man?”

Eddie glares at his friend, who huffs a response. “You gotta get over it, Ed. Be professional, all that shit.” Gareth shrugs his jacket over a red and black flannel. “It’s not a big deal. You’re coworkers.”

“I guess,” Eddie sighs, pulling his boots on, tying the laces tightly. He swipes his hotel key from the bedside table, and follows Gareth to the elevator.

When he reaches the lobby, he stops dead in his tracks. Ten feet in front of him, behind his band mates, you stand with your own. You’re wearing a black dress with a denim jacket layered over it, and heavy black boots. Your hair falls to your shoulders, the color bright and impossible to miss. It takes all of his strength not to turn and run, but somehow he manages to stay put.

Jeff approaches him slowly, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re good, man.” His voice is tired, and it’s only the first night of a very long three months ahead. Eddie nods, ripping his eyes from the back of your head. You don’t turn around, but the tensing of your shoulders tells him you know he’s behind you. He follows behind his bandmates, stalking out of the hotel room and into the car behind the one you enter.

-

Your POV

You can feel his eyes on you even after you get in the car. Sylvie puts a comforting hand on your shoulder as Robin grasps your free hand. You’re so grateful for your support system, you just wish you didn’t need it so much.

You zone out for the drive, trying your best not to think about the events lined up for tonight. More so, you’re trying not to think about how you’ll avoid Eddie all night. At your own party. That he’s attending.

Your legs start to bounce as the driver pulls around the back of The Roxy. The stage manager greets you at the door as Corroded Coffin pulls up behind you. You don’t dare glance over your shoulder, ignoring every urge to look at Eddie, and immediately let your guard down.

Instead, you part ways to your separate green rooms. Even though CC isn’t performing tonight, you assume they need the space to get away from rabid fans. It makes you slightly bitter, watching them get special treatment on a night that’s supposed to belong to you.

Lilith throws herself onto the couch in the corner. “So, I took the liberty of inspecting Eddie’s demeanor so you didn’t have to.” She taunts, crossing one stockinged leg over the other.

You pivot to face your drummer, a look of what you hope is confusion written on your face. “What?” She asks innocently. “You know I’m nosey! Anyway, he was doing everything in his power not to look at you. He caught me once.”

You chuckle. “Maybe he’ll think you’re into him and move on.” You turn back to the mirror, reapplying your blood red lipstick.

“Oh, shut up!” Lilith chucks a bottle cap at you, but it lands short. “I know you’re still into him.”

“I am not!” You really aren’t sure. You haven’t spoken in two years, mostly to make sure you didn’t give back in to him. You didn’t trust your own willpower.

“Five minutes, ladies!” A stagehand peeks her head through the doorway. You and Sylvie exchange an eye roll at her assumption. It doesn’t shake you, or even offend you, being called a lady, or a woman. You know it’s not meant as an insult, but if people would just listen to your music, it’s not that hard to understand.

The DJ set ends, and he plays Sonic Youth’s Kool Thing as your walk out music, and you relish in the way the lyrics resonate: Kool Thing sittin' with a kitty / Now you know you're sure lookin' pretty / Like a lover not a dancer / Superboy take a little chance here / I don't want to, I don't think so / I don't want to, I don't think so. You peek around the corner from backstage, into a crowd of teens and young adults, some wearing your shirts, most of them already sweating.

When the song ends, the house lights dim, and the crowd gets impossibly louder. Robin throws her bass over her head, and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Ready to knock ‘em dead?”

You smile at her, and extend it to the rest of your band. The four of you huddle together.

“Okay, guys. This is it. How we do tonight is an indication of how the tour is gonna go. Now, WHO ARE WE?”

“DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!”

“I SAID, ‘WHO ARE WE?!’”

“DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!”

You chant together, hyping yourselves up, building to an excited babble of voices overlapping. You grab your own guitar from a stagehand, and the four of you walk on to the stage to greet a screaming crowd.

-

Eddie’s POV

His eyes don’t leave you as you make your walk to your microphone. Your dress hugs every dip and curve of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, not that Eddie has to imagine any of it. Your lips are dark, blood red, and your hair glows under the colorful lights. Your boots are thick, platform heels that lift you an extra three inches off the ground, giving the impression that you’d stomp out anyone that crosses you. Your skin is littered with tattoos, plenty more than the last time he saw you. They cover your arms and legs, heavy lines and bright colors. You look like an art piece, one Eddie could spend the rest of his life admiring.

He doesn’t recognize the song you open with, knowing it’s a new one off the album due to be released at midnight. Your voice hooks him in anyway; raspy, sounding angry, hurt, and like you’re singing right to him. Every fight you’d ever had with him, every night you’d wept in his arms, it’s all expelling from you on that stage, and he can’t help swimming in the pain it causes him.

Eddie gets it, the way a show can calm him in an instant, he can get every piece of aggression out of him without hurting anyone else. Watching you perform for the first time since breaking up is hypnotic, making his heart skip around erratically. He turns to the bartender. “Make it a double,” he calls over the music.

“What the fuck is up, LA?!” You scream when you finish your first song, and the crowd responds with shrieks. “We are Death Dance Approximately, and it’s lovely to meet you. Welcome to our album release show!” They scream again. “Please feel free to stick around until we unveil it. This is our first single, it came out last month. It’s called Pretty Boy.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. He never expected you to play the song again, let alone make it a single, but Pretty Boy had become such a staple song for both avid fans and casual listeners. Usually he can’t listen to it, but right now Eddie can’t bring himself to look away from you as you sing the song you wrote for him.

I hadn’t slept in several days, / I hadn’t been warm in weeks, / But after you had met my gaze, / I let my body breathe. / It felt less like a heart attack, / and more like coming home. / I let your body keep me warm, / so I don’t have to sleep alone. / Pretty boy, my heart is yours, / and I hope you’ll say the same, / Cause after all these lonely nights, / I just want to hear you say my name.

It’s crazy to hear the crowd sing with you, adding ambiance to your already angelic voice. Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, and gulps his whiskey down to suffocate it. As you move into the third song, and Eddie’s about to call it a night, he’s approached by a group of what looks to be twenty somethings, girls about Dustin’s age now.

“Holy shit,” the short girl with spiky, purple hair squeaks, shouting over the music. “You’re Eddie Munson!” She covers her mouth, as if she’s spoken something forbidden.

Eddie scratches the back of his head and laughs. “Yeah, that’s me.” It’s a welcome distraction from the self torture of watching you.

“Would you sign my tits?!” a taller girl speaks, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and her barely covered chest.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. It’s not the first time he’s been asked, but it never ceases to weird him out a little. “Uh, sure, got a marker?”

She hands Eddie a sharpie, and he signs her skin, leaning as far away from her as he can while doing so. They shout their thanks, and walk away squealing to each other. When he pivots back to the stage, you’re on your knees, singing right into the faces of the front row. What he’d do to have you that close to him again.

-

Your POV

You finish your third and final song of the night, leaving every ounce of your soul on the floor of The Roxy. When you’ve finished, you’re sweaty, smelly, and covered in glitter. Your makeup is smudged and running down your face, and your hair is tangled and sticking out every which way, but you’ve never felt better.

In the green room, Sylvie pops a bottle of celebratory champagne. “To our first sold out show!” You hold your glass up, and everyone clinks theirs together.

“Fucking awesome, you guys.” Steve praises, sipping his own bubbly. “I’m so proud of you guys.”

“Aw, you big sap.” Robin wraps an arm around his waist. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

You join the hug, and your bandmates follow. “Thank you, Steve.” You say, quietly enough that only he hears you.

“Any fuckin’ time.” He breaks the hug with some minor objections. “Feel free to relax before making an appearance.” He checks his watch. “Just be ready before midnight, you gotta be in there for the cover reveal.”

You feel your heart speed up. The cover. Shit.

-

December 1985

“Whoa, dude, lemme see!” Jonathan and Eddie are examining his wounded hand. Jonathan brings his camera to his face, pointing the lense at Eddie’s clenched fist. “I’ll definitely be sure to get you this pic, might make a sick album cover.”

-

Eddie never did, in fact, get a copy of that picture. You did, though, and you’d made it the album cover of your debut: Tighten Up. And now you had to unveil that album in front of the man whose hand is plastered on it. Fuck.

-

The Roxy is thumping with loud music, now playing Mind Riot from the overhead speakers as fans mingle with each other, drinks in hand. You walk to the long table set up in front of the stage, where plenty of DDA fans grip their tour posters, waiting for you to sign. You’re still not used to the sheer amount of people in front of you, all there because of your music, your words.

“Okay, everyone!” Steve grabs the mic and makes his “I’m In Charge” announcements. “The band will be doing some signings, and copies of the albums are available to purchase. Please, don’t take too much time, I know it’s all very exciting but we have a lot of people to get to. Patience is key! Now, I know Y/n wants to address you before revealing the cover, so lemme pass the mic.” He hands you the mic, and you take a step toward your audience.

“Hey, guys!” You greet, and they respond with their loud, disorganized whoops. “Thank you so much for coming out. We hope we see you again tomorrow for our show with the CORRODED COFFIN!” The name drop gets its own applause, and you’re satisfied with the taunting. “But right now, without further adieu,” You grab the sheet that covers the canvas holding a blown up picture of the album. “TIGHTEN UP IS OUT!” You shout, and yank the cloth. There, in all its glory, is Eddie’s bloodied hand, rings and all, with the album title plastered over it in your chicken scratch. The crowd screams, and you have no time to wonder what Eddie must be thinking right now.

-

Eddie’s POV

What the fuck. He’s not sure if he’s seeing it right. His own hand, clenched in a fist, covered in some jock’s blood, on the cover of your debut album. He catches Gareth’s eyes, and makes an “I don’t know” face, that Gareth only returns with confusion. Eddie isn’t sure how to feel. Will people recognize his rings? Are their fans that crazy?

Before his brain can stop him, he’s walking further into the crowd, towards you. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, if he’ll even say anything. Instead, he watches you for awhile, talking to your fans like they’re your closest friends as you scribble on their posters and CDs, and pose for pictures. You look comfortable, at peace, and there’s no way he’d want to ruin that. He takes a gulp of his new drink, feeling the effects of the alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Hey,” It’s Steve, with a beer in his hand. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t think it was my place. And to be fair, Y/n had no inkling you’d ever see it, especially like this.” He takes a sip, waiting for Eddie’s response.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the clenching in his gut. “Nah, it’s cool. Really cool, actually. Didn’t know they still thought about me that much.”

Steve hands him a copy of the album. “See for yourself.”

Eddie grips the jewel case in his hands, and opens the album. The disc has the same picture printed on it, and the jacket unfolds to reveal the other picture taken that night, the one of his hand on your throat, covered with lyrics to songs titled Indiana, and Underneath Hell. He can make decent guesses as to what they’re about.

“Go say hi.” Steve shoves him a little, more playful than aggressive.

“Are you serious? I don’t wanna ruin their night.”

“You won’t,” He takes another swig, “I think it might make you both feel better. Cut the shit, get it over with. You’re gonna be stuck with each other all spring, might as well.”

Eddie downs the rest of his whiskey, letting the liquid burn his throat as the buzz takes over. Steve offers his hand, and Eddie gives him the glass. “Here goes nothin.’” He huffs, and disappears into the mob of fans. Many turn their heads, giving double takes when they realize who he is. He ignores the shouts to get his attention, not wanting to draw it away from you. Steve is only steps behind, guarding him from being grabbed at as he snakes to the front. Steve reaches the mic stand, and announces that the band is going to take a break, and to enjoy the refreshments. Eddie watches as you look from your manager, to your bandmates, and then to him.

-

Your POV

Eddie doesn’t look away when you meet his eyes. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he’s chewing on his lip nervously. You look to Steve again. “What’s happening right now?”

“Would you just go say hi? Act like you know the guy a little.” He shoulders you, causing you to stumble slightly. “C’mon, the rest of you,” Steve addresses the band, “Go take a break, sit down, have some water.” Steve looks back over his shoulder, and waves Eddie over. “You two, go catch up in the green room or something. I’m not letting you both be fucking weird this entire tour. Mingle.” He’s being serious. He ushers you backstage, and finally separates himself to join your friends, leaving you alone with the only person you probably shouldn’t be alone with.

You crack open a beer and take a large gulp. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

-

chapter III

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

#st #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!reader #gn!reader #new kid fic #fundamental differing #angst #heartbreak #pining #slow burn #strangerthingscentral #st4 #au where eddie lives #90s au

[moosekateer13]

Chapter 5: Clean

Two weeks later.

I've been avoiding seeing Jared in person, unsure of what to do with my predicament. 

As far as he knows I've taken time off to have a much-needed vacation with Em.

I hate lying to him I don’t know what he is going to say. I mean does he even want another kid? He already has three with his first wife Genevive.

A familiar hand on my shoulder stops me in my tracks. I look up in the mirror to see a very confused Jared looking back at me.

Before I can get to it, Jared swipes the test off the counter.

“Y/N is this why you've been avoiding me darlin’?” Jared asked, his face filled with hurt and confusion. He turns me around to look at him.

“I didn't know if you wanted any more kids. I was afraid what your reaction would be.” I replied 

Jared kneels down, so he's at level with my stomach.

“Your mommy is being very silly. Of course, I want to have more kids especially if it is with her. She seems to have forgotten how much I love her.” Jared said.

I feel tears sliding down my face.

Jared stands up and swipes my tears off my face.

It's the first time it's mentioned he loves me.

“I meant every word Y/N. I love you, love Em and I'm already in love with our unborn child. I am in it for the long haul. I don't care what those trolls or the media say. You are far from how they paint you.” Jared said as he pulled me into his arms.

“Thank you, Jared, that means the world to me all of what you said. I love you too.” I replied. 

“Well darling, I think we should go to lunch Mrs. Padalecki to celebrate.” Jared said. He blushes a little realizing what he just said.

We aren't married. He knows I'm not ready for that step or if I'll ever be. Jared and I are good with where we are lovers and partners.

He takes me to a local restaurant and Italian place. The place I've grown to like.

That's where I see her Chelsea.

We were friends for over a decade before we started growing apart. She was there during some of my darkest moments Just like I was there for her. I'll be forever grateful for that. Her graphic designer job sometimes took her to clients out of the country. I had my life here raising Em. I couldn't always see her when she had time. Then one day it was over. I would have loved her to have stayed an aunt to Emery. It was never meant to be. The last time I saw her Em was 8.

She approaches me and is the first one to speak.

“Y/N how long has it been? What 6 years now? It seems like your career is going well. Emery has grown into a beautiful young woman. She is a perfect mix of you and Jeff. I am sorry we lost touch, but it doesn't mean that I haven't followed your career. Congrats Y/N.” Chelsea said.

“Thanks, Chels and yeah it has been. I've been following yours too well. You've done well for yourself too with some big clients. I've seen some of your designs on Billboards. Congrats.” I replied.

“Thanks Y/n We should catch up sometime,” Chelsea said.

“I can't, you left a big hole when our friendship just fizzled out. It took me a long time to heal. I don't want to risk reopening it by opening those stitches.” I replied.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and a look of heartbreak and sadness marred her features. She says nothing else, just simply walks away.

It was really hard to get those words out, but I had to say it. I will not risk all the hard work I've done. With all the trauma I've been through in my life I had to see a therapist. It's better for me this way without her.

Chapter 6:

#Electric Touch #Jared Padalecki x reader #Former Jensen Ackles x reader #Former! Jeffery Dean Morgan x reader #supernatural fanfiction #moosekateer13 #Warnings: Angst #Smut #Mention of Breakup #Unrequited Love #Fluff #Shaming #Cyberbullying #Harrassment

[abbatoirablaze]

Down The Rabbit Hole, Chapter 20

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings:  mentions of alcohol abuse, angst, hospital scenario.

“I can’t believe he did that.”

“Why would he do that?”

The girl’s questions rattled around in your brain.  You wanted desperately to make sense of it all, but it felt like a piece of the puzzle was missing. 

Things had been so good for the two of you.  Especially after Pierce left you your share of his estate.  You and Jeff didn’t’ worry about money in the slightest, and had even started to look at a house that the two of you could settle into. 

He’d been doing well in his job, and you had been doing well in yours.

Things felt like they were good!

“Tawney…”

“Why did he do it?”

“His birthday!” you sighed as you bit your lip; the realization hitting you like a freight train as the thought popped into your mind.  The girls looked at you, and he shifted in his chair.

“Jeff.  It’s Annie.  Do you know where you are!”

“Jeff!”

“Don’t touch me!” he growled drunkenly, pushing her hands away from him, “Go’way.”

He fell out of the chair and his body collapsed to the floor.  The bottle shattered as it fell off the back of the table.  You felt the tears rising up in your eyes, and a twinge in the back of your jaw, “oh god…Jeff…”

“Jeff, it’s Britta!”

“Why would you wear a thong on your arm?” he asked, his eyes flickering open long enough to pull on the bell sleeve of her shirt.

“What is he talking about?” Britta asked.

“He’s got alcohol poisoning!” Annie remarked as she tried to open his eyes, “Tawney did you call an ambulance?”

You nodded, kneeling at your fiance’s feet.  Tapping his thigh, you tried to get him to wake up, “Jeff.  Jeff, you need to stay awake, baby!”

“Jeff, Tawney’s right!” Annie said quickly, using her own attempt to keep him awake by practically trying to pry his eyes open, “JEFF!”

There was a loud knock at the door, and you turned, rushing towards it.  The paramedics burst through when you opened it. 

“Where is he?”

“Through here!” Annie called, pulling their attention, “he drank too much.  I think it’s alcohol poisoning.”

You felt the tears rushing down your cheeks as they rushed around him, starting him on an IV and putting him onto a stretcher.

“I’m coming with you!” you said quickly, rushing up towards his head.

“Who are you?”

“His fiancé!”

They nodded, pulling you along, before you could do much else. 

“You scared me, you know…” Jeff frowned as you took his hand in your own.  Bringing it up to your lips you kissed his knuckles, “I was afraid that you were going to die, Jeff.  When we found you like that…I just-it felt like my world shattered.”

He sighed, his eyes unable to meet yours, “I-I don’t even know why I drank that much.  I just-started thinking about how I’m forty now…and-“

“Do you regret what we’ve made together?” you asked suddenly, “do-do you wish that we weren’t together or something?  I-“  

His eyes went wide, and he shook his head, “what?  No.  Tawney, I love that you’re going to be wife.  I love the life that we have together.  I just-sometimes I feel like I can’t possibly be living up to your expectations.  I mean, you’re twenty-five.  Did you really expect to be marrying a man in his forties at your age? What happens down the road when we have kids, or-“

“Y-you want to have kids with me?” you asked, cutting him off.

He stopped talking.  Jeff bit his lip and looked away from you, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sai-“

“No,” you said quickly, cutting him back off, “I’m glad that you did.  But Jeff…I want you to be able to say these things to me…because sometimes I think about them too.  I just don’t talk about them because I don’t know if you’re interested in them…kids…life after I turn 30.  Sometimes I worry that you’ll do what Alan joked about and trade me in after I pass 28…I didn’t think you’d be interested in a picket fence with a few kids and a dog…”

“What?” he asked, “of course I am.  Tawney, I wasn’t joking when I said that I love you more than any woman I’ve ever met.  I want that future with you.  I want us to be able to buy a house and have some kids.  I wanna have a dog, and annoying neighbors…I want a future with you, but sometimes, when I think about it, I feel like you’re rushing your life because you’re trying to catch up to my age!”

“Jeff, there’s nothing to worry about with that,” you remarked softly, as you stroked his cheek, “we’re both professors at a community college.  We have enough money in the bank to buy a house, and honestly, not really have to work again if we don’t want to.  And as far as kids and a dog…let’s do it.  I’d love for that to happen…maybe not so much the annoying neighbor part, but I want a future with you too.  But I can’t do that if this is happening.  I can’t do that if you’re so worried about your age versus my age that you forget to be here in the present.  I-I can’t try to focus on a future if you are drinking yourself to a grave.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me…”

“Now why would you go and think something silly like that, hmmm?”

He shrugged, “you know how I’m insecure…”

“I love you, Jeffrey Winger.”

He leaned up ever so slightly and your lips met his in a soft kiss.  You sighed when he broke away and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Can you-can we just lay here together?” he asked gently. 

You nodded and he scooted over to his spot on the hospital bed.  You were quick to tuck yourself against his chest.  Your eyes closed as you listened to his heart beating.

“You know…I really was scared that I was going to lose you!”

“I’m sorry, Tawney.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Jeff…”

“You won’t…” he promised, “I’m sorry I overdrank and freaked out because of my birthday.”

“Don’t do it again, Winger!” you warned, “you’re not like us young people.  You can’t drink endlessly and still wake up the next morning without a hangover.”

“I won’t…” he sighed, “speaking of which…do you think maybe the nurses could get me some Tylenol.  I’ve got a killer headache!”

“I’ll check on that…later though…I just want to lay with you if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect, Tawney.”

Chapter 21

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @mckeeee-1

#community #down the rabbit hole #community show #abed community #greendale community college #greendale #jeff winger #buzz hickey #annie edison #shirley bennett #abed nadir #ben chang #britta perry

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Stranger Things Egg Baby AU, The Tale of Eggy Pop

"So what are you going to name it?"

"Well I wanted to name him Eggy Pop but no, that's not good enough for King Steve." Eddie arrived to the Hellfire meeting with his egg baby in hand. Not Eggy Pop sat on a nest made Eddie's bandanas behind his DM screen, away from the prying eyes of his fellow club members.

"Of course you'd get stuck with Harrington." Jeff rolled his die into the table. "Bet he's expecting you to do all the work."

"He better not, we live in a modern society where all parents equally get to suffer from their poor choices." The die knocked into the cardboard screen, knocking it over. Eddie narrowly pulling Not Eggy Pop away just before it could be crushed. "Watch it, you almost squished my hopes at graduating this year."

"Lot of expectations to be forcing on your child so early in life." Gareth watched as Eddie cradled the egg.

"I gotta trade off with him today and pray he doesn't crush our child."

"You might be taking this a little too seriously dude." Jeff laughed.

"Said the man who just rolled a one resulting in the half elf ranger who he's been leveling up for the past semester being eaten by the mimic with no chance for resurrection."

"What? Come on man, you can't be serious."

"These are the rules of the die Jeff. Now you can sit out the rest of this session in the corner making another character and thinking about how you almost killed poor little Eggy Pop."

~~

Steve Harrington did not eat lunch in the bathroom. He was never that kind of a loser. Then again he'd never been a loser at all before. So sitting alone at a lunch table in the corner of the cafeteria was very much a new thing for him. His usual spot at the popular table had been taken over by Billy Hargrove. One of many things the new kid had taken from him. And he might've even been okay with this if he was still with Nancy but now he literally had nothing save a crusty sandwich with what he suspected was bologna wedged between the bread but it was too bland to tell. Cafeteria food always managed to find a way to taste worst when you were having a bad day.

"Hey Harrington!" The former king of Hawkins Highschool looked up to see Eddie Munson sliding into the bench across from him. Setting his tray of food down with a stupid grin on his face. Steve looked around to see people staring at them, just as confused he was.

"What are you doing?"

"Ugh, joining you for lunch?"

"But you already have a table." Steve gestured to the one where the other members of the Hellfire club were sat. "Why are you sitting with me?"

"Cause you looked like a total sad sack all alone over here." Eddie explained as he began to eat. "Sides, you're my baby daddy." He gently patted the breast pocket in his vest where their project sat. Surprisingly still intact. "What kind of dad would I be if I just left partner to flounder."

"I am not your partner."

"Mr. Hooper would say otherwise~" Eddie teased in a sing song voice and Steve glared at the metalhead.

"Don't be weird about this Munson. It's just until next Monday."

"I'll stop being weird about it when you accept that our son's true name is Eggy Pop."

"He's not our son, okay? He's-it's an egg!" Eddie across the table and patted Steve on the shoulder.

"It's okay Harrington. I know you're still upset about your breakup." Eddie grabbed the burger on his tray and began to eat. Showing no signs of leaving, Steve internally winced as he realized that he'd fallen so far down on the highschool food chain that now the only person willing to sit with him was the school freak. "So how'd basketball go?"

"What?"

"You said you had basketball practice last night. How'd it go?"

"Why do you care? You hate basketball. Last week you stood on one of the lunch tables and told us all how we were just compensating by playing with our balls."

"And I meant what I said." Eddie defended himself. "But you like it so I thought I'd ask."

"If you must know, I got my ass handed to me by the new kid."

"New kid?" Eddie looked over at what had once been Steve's table to see the taller blonde boy. Eddie letting out a low whistle as he looked the guy over. "Damn, now I know what the girls in gym class were talking about."

"Are you serious?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow. It was well known that Eddie Munson was different. For multiple reasons but save the metal music and Dungeons and Dorks game he wasn't exactly....interested in girls. Although it was only now Steve noticed how open he was about this.

"What? You're the one who said we weren't partners."

"Pretty sure he'd kick your ass if he saw your staring at him like that." Steve had forgotten his sandwich now as he tried to avoid making eye contact with Hargrove.

"Aw, you worried about me big boy?" Eddie twirled his hair in his fingers. Steve scoffed.

"Please, I'm just worried you'll get Eggbert crushed in the process." Eddie choked on the burger he was eating. Coughing and hacking for a few seconds as he turned to face Steve.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Eggbert. That's what I've decided to name the egg."

"The fuck you are." Eddie slammed his burger on the table. "I refuse to let you sully our son's name with something as dorky as *Eggbert*."

"He can be Eggy Pop for short." Steve shrugged. "That way we both win."

"...fine but you have to watch him Saturday morning so I can perform at my gig."

"Deal."

#Eggy #fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #egg baby au #Eggbert Pop

[skylarstarlight]

VENT

I had the shittiest fucking day yesterday to the point I went to bed and literally thought "I hope I don't fucking wake up in the morning". But I am, in fact, still fucking alive, so here I come to vent on tumblr as if it'll magically fix my problems

First off I had a stiff right arm all fucking day, as well as a stinging feeling in my chest to the point I had to go lie down, and my parents just couldn't help but take the opportunity to lecture me about not studying while I was dying of something that felt like a damn heart attack- I was so lightheaded that even if I had taken their advice and "Gotten off my lazy ass" that I would have just fainted and collapsed then and there

Second, as I'm making food, I get hit by a fucking hot fork to the face which is very funny until you realize it's a second degree burn on my face now and I look like Jeff the Killer on one side with the smile burned in (be it less obvious THANKFULLY), and of course my lovely parents didn't deem it necessary to take me to a doctor because "maybe you'll learn a lesson and not do that again". I ASSURE YOU I WAS NOT TRYING TO GET HIT IN THE FACE THE FIRST TIME EITHER. I couldn't go by myself because the closest doctor is like half an hour away and I don't have a driver license, and even if I had been allowed out of the door by my parents at 9 in the fucking evening, the closest doctor would have been closed and I refuse to ride 2 hours by bus to the closest emergency center looking like that.

Thirdly, there was a whole bunch of drama in a server that I am in on discord that just drained the last bit of energy I had left, with there being confusion about someone about to go off themselves (false alarm thankfully) after leaving and blocking basically every member, and once that had started sinking in I got and actual GENUINE suicide note from a friend and I was like "you know what might as fucking well happen" right as my parents forced me to put my phone away by ripping it from my hands as I was trying to talk them down so yay! I have no clue if they're still alive because timezones, and if they aren't it's my fucking fault because they'll be convinced I don't even fucking care about them because I didn't reply but I care so fucking much I can't fucking do this anymore

I'm so tired of this shit especially with the exams coming up. I just went to bed because I was absolutely drained. And I still woke up to do all that shit again I can't do this anymore.

This is why I don't believe in a merciful fucking God, because he just has it out for me and I can't keep doing this. Woke up and chose violence and I can joke about it all I want but I just feel empty and fucked up I can't even "lmao" through it anymore.

I'm too pussy to try anything and I know I have friends that would be sad and worried and stuff but good fucking god if I didn't watch me jump off the top of my university building they have a nice unprotected balcony on the 5th floor and it's crossed my mind a few too many times.

I'm fine. I'm not going to do anything. I'm just being dramatic like always. Why did I even write this whole thing I feel like an attention whore.

#vent #tw vent #tw suicide

[seemslegitflapjacks]

Laying In Wait.

WARNING! This content could be disturbing and/or triggering to others. As this work contains mentions of violence, descriptive gore/injuries, swearing, and in general things that would give this and R rating. Please monitor yourself, as I am not here babyproof or censor things for those who need it. Enjoy with caution!

It was dark. That’s all that he could tell. If the boy was honest with himself he’d say he was in pain, but he’d never swallow his pride for that. So there he laid, under the bridge, bloody and probably on his deathbed. They’d really fucked him up this time. No amount of bandages would be able to fix this. That’s why he was satisfied, this time they wouldn’t get away with it, this time they’d actually be punished, this time he’d have his justice.

It all came is a fast kaleidoscope of memories. He couldn’t exactly recount what happened, but the beating was quick and relentless. He could feel his jaw throb in a dull pain, taste the blood in his mouth, how his brackets and wires were bent and mangled. His orthodontist was sure to become a billionaire after the damage done to his mouth. A cold sea breeze drifted through the overpass and washed over his exposed gums. His half lidded eyes looked up at the water stained concrete supports above. Now he was met with slight concern, would anyone actually find him? Fuck. No way was he dying like this. Not to that crooked faced wannabe frat boy. That would be so embarrassing.

Just when he was about to make the dangerous decision to crawl for help, he heard a gasp.

“Holy- oh my fucking god is that you Jeff!?” A voice wailed. His brother, Liu.

Panicked footsteps rushed over, the clatter of a phone came from his left. His view of the concrete supports obstructed by that of his near identical brother. In the moment he felt paralyzed, was he paralyzed? Surely they couldn’t have fucked him up that bad.

“Fuck- come on I’m gonna get you to the hospital, I’m gonna call mom and dad.” Liu rambled, his arms moved under his bloodied twin to hoist him up.

All Jeff could do was groan in pain once he was lifted. Now he was aware to the absolute agony he was truly in. The dirty blonde caught an audible choked sob from his twin, now the gravity set in, and it was heavy.

Liu did his best to run as fast as he could down the streets, as he was neither a runner nor a track star. Jeff coughed up what what meant to be a laugh, but all that came out of it was blood and tears in his eyes. ‘Wow, that was painful.’ Was his thought as he went slack in the arms of his twin. Jeff could feel the blood pooling in his throat and dripping rapidly down his face and into his hair. His lugs ached with every breath, sore and likely broken from the harsh kicks he remembered them sustaining.

“Don’t you fucking die on me.” Liu shivered out, before beginning a call with their parents on speakers phone.

That was about the last of what Jeff could remember before he blacked out.

Slowly, his eyes cracked open, everything came in blurs of color, before his eyes finally focused like a camera. Yep. Definitely a hospital, he was still alive thank god. He attempted to yawn, but his jaw refused the movement, panic flashing over as he abruptly sat up. Nearby he felt a set of arms push him back down. The blonde glaring over, but his face softened upon the realization it was his poor mother. The whites of her eyes a irritated red from tears. Her face bare of its makeup, reflecting how raw her nose and eyelids were from the bawling she’d done. His chest aches. He hated seeing his mother so distressed. He wanted to say he was ok, but it would be useless, as all would come out was a few unintelligible grunts and vocalized noises.

“My baby- who did this do you?” She pleaded, her soft hands rattling with tremors on his upper arms.

He wanted to say it, but he couldn’t form sentences, trapped within his own claustrophobic headspace. He hated this, he hated them. They did this to him. They made his mama cry. They’d pay. They’d pay every last penny and more if it meant she’d be happy. But for now all he could do was clamp his arms around her, clinging to his mothers form like a nice fabric. Her hand came up to pet his head, running through his seemingly endless caramel locks. The scent of her heavenly perfume putting his rage to a simmer, allowing him to relax against his mom. They hadn’t hugged in a while, and it sucked a loving maternal embrace had to be wasted on something as terrible as this.

“Don’t squeeze ‘em too hard Marg, detective still needs to come in for him.” His father chimed.

The woman pulled from her son, pushing him back on the hospital bed to calm down. His eyes followed her as she left the room for the hall. He wanted to cry out for her to return, but he knew his father wouldn’t have that. He wasn’t in the particular mood or position to be called a crybaby or wimp, so he opted to stay put.

After some odd long minutes, a few officers entered the room, their radios going off with steadily mumbles of other officers. But all it sounded like to Jeff was the teacher from Charlie Brown, whomp whomp whomp. They shuffled to get comfortable, grabbing clipboards and pens. His father promptly leaving the room.

“Hello Jeff, I’m detective Van Del and I’ll be in your case.” A cop introduced, shaking the boys good hand. “I’m gonna ask you some simple questions, until your jaw heals. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s important we find out who did this to you and why.” She rambled.

Jeff could only nod in response.

Yes an no questions ran on for about half an hour. The detective filling out whatever paper was on her clipboard. The scrawling of the pen kept the room from complete silence when no words were spoken. The dull one sided conversation was driving him crazy. He wanted to spill everything in that moment, pour it on the floor like wax and wood stain, but no, he couldn’t. The blonde had something much more sinister in mind. Something that would keep his tormentors on edge, make them rattle with anxiety at every moment, something that would haunt them like an uncomfortable growing pain.

Thankfully the interview came to a close, and they finally left him alone. He rolled his body to the edge of the hospital bed, raising himself up, being careful of the broken fingers he had. Jeff guided himself to the bathroom, switching on the light.

He was not prepared for the horror that met him in the mirror.

His face. Good god his fucking face. The gnarliest stitched up Glasgow smile ran across his cheek. A piece of his top lip torn out to reveal the top of a tooth. His eyes observed more stitches, one on the bottom of his jaw, over his nose, and under his chin. His lips pulled back to reveal the mechanical metal mess that was his mouth. Everything within was held together by wires and bands. It looked like a trap from the SAW franchise. It made him want to cry. They’d destroyed his face. They mangled him. They made him ugly.

In anger, he barged out of the bathroom, slamming the door as he aggressively turned to his bed and crawled in. He waited a moment in silence. Tears welled in his eyes, his retinas gazing at the dull walls before him. A long, drawn out hoarse cy of anger escaped his throat as he slammed his head back on the pillow.

They’d pay. They’d pay for all of this. Every last fucking penny.

#jeff the killer #jtk #creepypasta #creepypasta jtk #jeff woods #homicidal liu #digital illustration #randy warren #randy jtk #alternate universe #liu woods #my au #alt universe #creepypasta homicidal liu #keith daviss #troy green #troy jtk #Keith jtk

[c-atm]

SQUISH

"God damn it, I knew I should have worn closed-toe shoes."

"Did say we were going to go through some rocky terrain."

"Well, I didn't expect some climbing."

"And you wanted to look cute."

Patricia 'Tricia' Isiah looked at her companion with an arched brow, lips slightly pursed.

"Not saying you aren't." Steven Quartz Universe sheepishly assured, hands raised, "Love the purple nail polish."

"Hmm." She gave him a slight smirk before walking, tapping his stomach with the back of her hand. "Come on, gem boy. They're waiting for us."

Steven nodded with a chuckle as he followed the sassy woman. It was a rare situation being alone with Tricia, despite knowing her for at least half a decade, and it was not like they never talked or weren't friends, far from it. Just that they mainly talked when they were with Connie, Daniel(Danny), Peedee, and Jeff were around.

They were close, though. 

Close enough to be staples in each other's lives. To know each other's favorite color (purple for her and pink for him), tv show (under the knife was his, while she was a fan of a rom-com show called Fighting Flirty), music (Rock and Soul respectively), and a handful of other trivial things.

They were comfortable around each other, but he couldn't help but feel slightly nervous as he followed her up the trail, looking her up and down, taking in the woman she had developed into. While not abandoning her modest fashion and her hijab completely, Tricia did incorporate more flashy and revealing clothing, like what she is wearing now (purple twist Front Tube Top, black maxi skirt with a front slit with buckle details and side zip closure, black ankle booties that have a scalloped opening, lace-up closures, peep toes and back zip closures, along with a brown headwrap and pink headphones on top of her curly hair the flowed to her waistline). It fit her personality, calm, collected, a bit mysterious but playful, dynamic, and sweet. 

"And attractive." He muttered as he watched her climb the steps. It was both an objective and subjective truth.

"Hmm?" Tricia asked as she turned around, stepping up. "Thinking 'bout your berry, gem boy?" 

Steven scoffed at the toothy smug grin," aren't  I always?"

"And here I thought you were talking about me; you broke my heart." She laughed in jest.

"I mean, you are attractive, in your own way." Steven scratched his cheek bashfully.

"In my own way, and what way is that?"

"A strictly platonically and objective way!" 

Tricia blinked, hearing his quick exclamation, before giggling, "What's up...Having not so platonic thoughts?" 

"No...No...just thinking about..."Steven sighed, " You don't feel...nervous being here with just me?"

Tricia blinked, "Nooo...Why should I? Do you?" Seeing Steven's flushed face had Tricia's brows rising, feeling a bit of unsettling heat on her face. "Hey, I'm flattered..but we both-."

"We're close friends, right!?" Steven asked, interrupting her. "I mean...True friends..."

"Steven." Tricia started with a small smile. "What's going on? It almost sounds like you have a crush."

"I..." Steven started rubbing his arms, " I mean..maybe..."

The mental alarms were blaring in Tricia's mind.

"A strictly platonic one..." He added quickly.

"A squish."

"What?"

"A squish." Tricia said with a smug smirk," You have a squish on me." She chuckled before walking down to him.

"Ah... well, if that means wanting to be closer friends." 

"Why Steven Quartz Universe...are you confessing deep camaraderie to me?" She teased fingertips on her chest and palm on her left hip.

"Yes, I am." He puffed up his chest.

"Well, I don't see any confession of friendship."

"What, you want an Olive branch?"

Tricia narrowed her eyes before pressing his nose.

"Hey."

"I want you to realize we ARE close friends, true friends." Tricia smirked," I mean... You helped me get the courage to embrace the more freeing side. You're just as close to me as Connie is." Tricia stated before hugging him.

Steven chuckled, hugging her back, "Thanks, Tricia."

"Hey, don't thank me yet." She smirked. "Definitely, gonna tell everyone you have a Squish on me." Tricia broke from the hug to turn and run up the stairs, only to trip and fall back into Steven's arms as he caught her from around her bare belly.

"Karma." Steven laughed as he sat her down on her feet.

"laugh it up." Tricia playfully sneered before wincing as she took a step and kneeled, rubbing her left ankle.

"You ok?" Steven asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I might have sprained my ankle, is all." Tricia presumed as she unlaced her bootie, "It's swell." She confirmed before pulling the bootie off.

"You want me to Spit on it for you?" 

"UMMM?" Tricia looked a bit apprehensive as her face turned red.

"Healing  saliva, remember?" Steven reminded Tricia.

"Bet it smells like Robitussin," Tricia remarked, making Steven chuckle.

"Healing saliva smell like cookie cats," Steven said, maintaining his smile.

"Okay,  spit on it." Tricia nodded.

"Gross."

"You could have offered to kiss it."

"True, but that would be giving you teasing ammo." Steven mused before spitting on her ankle.

Tricia's eyes widened, feeling a tingling sensation. She looked down at her ankle, looking a bit swollen before shining pink and glowing. She brought her foot up, tapping the tip on the ground, feeling a bit lighter and agile.

"Good as new?" Steven smiled.

"Wow..." Tricia blinked."You really are good at healing." Tricia brought her foot down and leaned over to hug Steven. "Thank you."

Steven smiled, hugging her back, " it was nothing."

"No..." Tricia said, "It's is something... It means a lot to me."

"Tricia," Steven said, breaking from the hug as he sat her down and sat down next to her," I understand where this is coming from, and it's not the ankle." He said before rubbing his brow. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad or awkward; it's just..."

"I know." Tricia nodded, " And I don't feel bad and awkward, Steven. I'm just...surprised." She sighed, "But I'm not mad."

"I'm sorry." He apologized. 

"No, don't be." Tricia stated, " Seriously, I'm not mad, I mean..." She looked at him with a small smile, "You're you, Steven. You're not the most forward, bold or confident person when it comes to humanity and such, but you have a special place in my heart as one of my closest friends." Tricia hugged him, placing her head on his shoulders, "And I'm very, very glad you're in my life, Gem-boy."

Steven, his face in her hair, held her back, "I am too, Tricia."

"For what it's worth." Tricia said, "I'm flattered you hold me in such high regard." She teased as she broke the hug and brushed her hand against Steven's cheek.

"As you should." He responded in a posh tone, rubbing his cheek as she laughed.

"Well, whether you do or not, I hope this will be the start of a beautiful, Platonic friendship," Tricia said before pulling away from him.

"I do too." Steven sighed, "Not that it's not already." He added with a sheepish smile.

"Well, Squish." Tricia smirked, "I'm still going to tease you about that." She laughed, "But I'm glad we hashed this out."

She winced as she slowly got up and put her bootie on.

"You sure you're good to go?" Steven asked.

"Yeah,"

"You want me to carry you to the top?"

"Yeah, that's sweet, but I'll..." Tricia chuckled, seeing him already in the piggyback position, ready to carry her. " Well, how can a girl say no." 

"Right." Steven teased as she climbed on, wrapping her arms around his collar, resting the back of her knees in his palms, and slightly pressed against his back. 

"You ok?" Steven asked.

"Yup, ready when you are." Tricia smiled, " don't drop me, though. I'm a fragile cargo."

Steven laughed," You and Connie are two of the most sturdy women I know."

"Ok, I'm precious cargo."

Steven chuckled, "Yeah...you are, my friend." 

Tricia giggled as she held on a bit tighter as he jogged upstairs, being tickled by his palms.

#steven universe #steven universe future #steven universe fanfiction #older steven #patricia su #developing friendships #older characters #friends #platonic fluff

[n7adam]

I realize I never posted this here, and I really should have. So here's my slender man story.

He's So Tall.

It’s two thirty five in the morning. I’m awake as I usually am at this time, night owl ya know? I’m up just, doing what I tend to. Browsing the web, playing games, watching YouTube videos. But these past few nights, things have been… different The internet has been acting weird. Slow, sometimes just not working at all. So I find myself using my iPad and not even playing my 360. I had been… watching random vids for about ten minutes I suppose, then… then I fell into creepy pasta. Yeah, you’re already thinking, bad idea Adam. Bad, bad idea. But hey, my iPad will load so, what the heck.

Now, I like to hear creepy pasta stories. But no matter what, I always find myself watching… his… videos… reading ‘his’ stories. Yeah, him, Slenderman. Now don’t get me wrong. When I first heard of him and other things like Jeff the Killer, and ect. I didn't care much. Web fads. “Don’t fall into them Adam.” I’d tell myself. Heh, yeah right. But the stories intrigued me. Always have. Myths, legends, Kryptids. All so fascinating, ya know. I read a bunch of stuff about the slender guy, the Tall Man, whatever his name is in German. Thought he was cool and pretty creepy. Then I heard about how he was made up by a kid to win some contest. Lost some of my interest then. But I still checked stuff out from time to time… and tonight was one of those times.

I can’t really say I was ever afraid of ole Slendy. I mean they say you have to believe and be scared for him to get cha. But… anytime I did sit and think, “What if he comes for me?” I’d just snort and figure, “Hell, if he’s real, then everything in my head would be too. And then he wouldn't be able to hurt me with my power!” Yeah, I’d be safe. Don’t have to worry bout it. Stupid way to think. Better safe than sorry.

I’m not the biggest chicken, but… sometimes I get freaked out. Well, I got thirst so I wanted to go down the hall… that… dark… black… abyss of a damned hallway, so I could get a bottle of water. I opened my bed room door and pushed the unlocked baby gate we use to keep dogs out of certain rooms, out of my way and stepped into the hall. All I could see was a little light, from the street light outside, peeking in the window. Must be a small crack in between the curtains in the living room. That calmed me down, some light. Just a little.

I started making my way down the hall, slowly, trying not to focus or think too hard and give myself a headache. I made it about two-thirds of the way to where I could just see into the living room, the kitchen to my right, living room to the left. Why in God’s holy name did I look left? I saw it, a dark figure, tall, slim. Standing, sorta... slouched, too tall for the house. I got goose-bumps up my arse crack but settle myself and rubbed my eyes, shaking my head. Just too much creepy pasta, yeah, too much YouTube. I moved my hands from my eyes and looked back up, waited for them to focus again with the tiny… tiny bit of light. God save me. He was still there! I turned and walked back to my room as fast and quiet as I could. I didn't want to wake my mom up. I went into my room, fully closed the baby gate and my door. Then I locked the door. I don’t know why, it never works when they do it in the damned stories, but I did. I’m on my bed now, writing this out. It’s now three-o-one am…. Took a while to write it but I needed to. I guess he is real, and I can’t shape-shift so. Yeah, heh, needless to say, I’m still thirsty.

#slenderman #slenderverse #creepypasta #horror #fiction #short story #mine

[dyingdreams3]

Dream No. 8 (7-8-23) Experimenting

I use the app BetterSleep when I go to sleep because their meditations are very helpful for me. And on the app, they have a feature where you can "track" your sleep, by track I mean all they do is record and identify sounds through the night. I had the smart idea to say my dreams out loud, so the tracker could pick it and put it down as me "talking". So when I wake up it would be easier for me to remember my dreams.

Unfortunately, this did not go as planned. Out of the, I wanna say, 5 minutes that I spent talking about each dream, it recorded about 5 words total. Luckily for me, however, I still remember small parts of the dreams bc I had to verbally say them out loud. There's nothing interesting about these, just random shit like normal.

I was either at school or work when Charlie Newlin asked me and everybody else there why working was so important. I was the first to raise my hand and he called on me. I responded by saying that work is important because it gives you an allowance and work experience, and allows you to make connections. He said that I was correct and asked who my connections were. I lied on the spot and said that I met a friend whose cousin was Jeff Bezos. He started asking me questions about if I'd ever met him and what I knew about him. I just lied and he became a little suspicious. I remember walking away and trying to fix my hair. It was in an afro but I wanted to put it into a slick low bun. Izzy was behind the register and said that my hair looked bad and looked better in the afro. She said it jokingly but I was offended that she had said that to my face and told her to not say something like that.

Hagrid and I walked to the store to get Irie some pie crust? (This is the only thing I heard from the bettersleep voice tracking thing)

Giana, one other person, and I walked to a store/restaurant and we sit down at the tables inside, a couple seconds later Irie comes in. They sit down at our table and close to me. I greet them and pull them close. I notice that they're pregnant. I wrap my hands around their full belly from behind and rest my head on their shoulder. I talk about how perfect our baby will be and how strong it will be because I'm its father. Irie responds by saying I am not and that Dominick is. I get very offended but don't really mind because I know that we'll still raise it together. (awake now I now realize that I would have been pissed if I was told that)

Giana's grandma was dying and I was the only person that knew, I went to her house and the grandma was giving advice to some lady that need help and was the grandma's patient. I could tell the grandma was experienced and suspected it was because she had the same thing. When the lady left Grandma followed her out the door. But I noticed that she seemed quite unstable so I helped her go to her files. when she did she looked threw the papers and found the right file about the lady's sickness

[unfilteredgrounds]

Place

Whenever it seems like people are about to talk shit about where I live, I automatically get defensive. Because, well, duh, it's my home. I was born and raised on my farm, and once my parents die it will be my farm. Most of the time when people talk shit, they're just being classist assholes who have never taken the time to learn anything more about rural people than what they glean from Jeff Foxworthy specials and the worst of us running rampant on Facebook.

There are drawbacks with living out in the middle of nowhere. It's not like I can just have an aesthetic morning where I do a cute little jaunt to get brunch at one of numerous cafes, hit up the indie bookstore, maybe buy some flowers from a flowershop and go make pottery all in one day. I don't need to go through all that the small towns that are near where I live don't have to offer, because that's literally all other people who have migrated from small towns can ever talk about (the worst are those who do it with a sense of superiority, look, if you really love your town so much, why don't you go sell insurance there, townie-- I'm getting off track here). We do have a cute little cafe run by swedish immigrants, and SO MUCH lush forest life all around.

The plus sides to living in the middle of nowhere mean that I can go outside without my stupid brain reminding me that other people exist, and are probably looking at me. Being able to lay in the grass of whichever pasture I choose, doing whatever I want, is a godsend, and I now know that I'd be miserable without it. I love the animals on my farm, because animals are easy to understand and easy to get along with, and I love just being in the middle of nature, and the ability to pretend I know nothing of what happens outside my farm's borders (the world is on fire).

But it occurred to me, as my partner delicately mentioned the other day that "I think you could do with some time away from... that farm," that no place is simply bad on its own (I'm sure there are exceptions but I'm not here for that), it's the people that make it bad. When the words left his mouth, I immediately felt a sense of hurt, of betrayal-- he knows how much this farm means to me. But, thinking on it later, I realized he was trying not to say what really has had me in this rut. My parents. My lack of reliable social system. Of course he has no ill intent against the gravel roads, or the trees, it's that to an outsider, the people in my life, well, they look kinda shitty.

This realization is one of the reasons I don't talk about what bothers me, because I hate making other people look bad, and I hate looking like someone who only ever talks shit. Most of that is conditioning, but also because two of the most important people to me, my parents, are really bad at being that sometimes, and no kid wants to admit that. I love my parents, and I owe them a lot, so when I talk about the not-so-great things they say and do, I feel so guilty, like a traitor to some big alliance. But then things like my dad getting upset with me because I simply answered a question from mom and she (honestly idk how she managed to get pissed off at him from what I said that woman can make anything personal and insulting) got mad at him ? (he did not explain) happen, and I feel like my parents forget that I am their kid, not some hired hand to help out on the farm who's supposed to pick sides or whatever. At least with Dad, he forgets he's upset as easily as he forgets most other things.

I also felt guilty about even asking to take an extended trip. Which I shouldn't-- I don't often ask for things, and I certainly have done enough to earn it. I never complain when Mom takes me as an accessory to the trips she goes on-- I am once again dreading the trail ride this year because it will just be a lot of me sitting and being ignored while she and her friends hang out, and then get the occasional reprimand for "not being happy" enough even thought I get to come with. And yeah, I like riding, but I also like getting to talk to people who are interested in what I have to say, and every year I've asked to bring a friend, she gives me a scathing look and is like "oh so you don't want to hang out with me?" As if me sitting silently in the back while she and her friends talk about work is "hanging out."

See, if things really were as shiny and great with my parents as I present, I wouldn't have these feelings in the first place, and, as much as I hate to admit when men are right, my partner is right. I need a break from whatever the hell my family dynamic is. Even though our temps are far more bearable, and the pastures are green, mom has been texting and calling every day about rain, heaving dramatic sighs and grumbling when my answer is no. I really want to snap "Will you shut up about the damn rain already??? We're FINE. The sheep are FINE. Can you just relax and be content for fucking once?"

But whatever, it's been nice having a break from the doom hanging over the house when she's home at least, and I can go outside without wanting to die, so, plus for that. And I will have a good time away, regardless of whether other people approve of that or not.

[bonkie-barnes]

Shield Sledding

natasha romanoff x reader (ft. jeff the land shark)

pronouns: not used

word count: 939

A/N: HELLO! i am so sorry for absolutely disappearing from writing. to apologize, here is the overdue jeffuary fic i promised @wolferine . 'tis now a jarch fic. i hope it lives up to your standards.

- - -

Spring was just around the corner. The calendar indicated as such. Even the groundhog from Pennsylvania agreed. Why, then, was there an ungodly amount of snow on the ground outside?

You had been stuck inside all day, slowly going crazy. Natasha was at the compound for meetings, so you, Jeff, and Liho were left to your own devices. There are only so many hours in the day you can spend binge re-watching your favorite show.

Just as your boredom is about to hit its peak, you hear a noise at the door in the kitchen. You look up to see Jeff attempting to sneak out the doggy door you had insisted on installing.

“Jeff, what are you doing?”

He simply looks up at you, letting out a soft MRRR.

You look at him suspiciously for a few seconds before he gives up on sneaking out and goes to lie down in his bed.

Shaking your head, you head back to your spot on the couch to resume your day of doing nothing.

About 5 minutes later, you hear a ruckus at the front door this time. Going to investigate, you see Jeff attempting to reach the door handle.

“Jeff!” you said exasperatedly.

The landshark looked about as guilty as a home invader caught in the act.

You scold him quickly before shooing him towards his bed again.

- - -

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

You realized you hadn’t seen Jeff for a while now. Earlier you saw him and Liho hanging out together, and it looked like they were whispering and conspiring against you. You chalked that up to going insane from boredom.

Even so, you decided to get up and search for the mischievous land shark. You searched high and low, only finding Liho asleep on yours and Nat’s bed. As you pass by the window in the bedroom, you see movement on the hill behind your house. With a second look, you realize the blur of movement is actually Jeff. He seems to be sledding down the hill on an unknown object.

You hastily put on a coat and warm hat and made your way to the bottom of the hill. You stand there, tapping your foot dramatically, waiting for Jeff to reach you. When he finally gets to the bottom, he simply looks up at you.

“Jeff. What did I tell you about going outside?” you ask him, as if he can answer you.

He gives you an indignant MRRRRRR.

You shake your head. “What are you using as a sled, anyway? We don’t own any of our own.”

You reach down and pick up the sled. Turning it over reveals something you never thought you’d have in your hands. Covered in snow, is Captain America’s shield.

“Jeff!”

You were speechless.

Now, if Natasha still lived at the compound, you would understand how he managed to get his little hands on the shield. You and Natasha live a few minutes outside of the compound, however, and Jeff hasn't been to visit in a few days either. You’re absolutely baffled as to where the shield could have come from.

You look down at Jeff. He looks up at you. You both stand there for what feels like hours before you give a half-hearted shrug. Reaching down, you pick the little shark off the ground. He starts to pout, thinking you are taking him back inside.

You turn and start the trek back up the hill, shield in tow. Jeff wiggles happily in your arm as he realizes what’s happening.

When you reach the top, you sit on the shield and place Jeff in your lap.

“Hold on tightly, buddy!” you tell him before you push your hands on the ground.

You and Jeff go a few times down the hill, having too much fun to see a car pull onto the driveway. You also fail to see Natasha get out and enter the house. You’re both climbing the hill as she walks out the back door and towards you.

Jeff happily sits in your lap as you push the sled down the hill at an inappropriately high speed. You both gulp when you see who is waiting for you at the bottom.

When you reach Natasha, she looks upset. She eyes the shield and raises an eyebrow at you. She opens her mouth to scold you, but ultimately cuts herself off when she sees both yours and Jeff’s puppy dog eyes.

“Steve has been looking for that all day,” she informs you. You have the decency to at least look a little guilty. Jeff just looks up at her with a smug look on his face.

Natasha looks at both of you before turning and heading inside. You and Jeff look at each other, confused. About two minutes later, Natasha returns in a cute red beanie, holding a hot pink children's saucer sled.

You let out a laugh before asking, “Where did you even get that?”

“I stole it from Clint last year,” she smirks at you.

You give her a smile, getting lost in the mischievous look in her eyes.

You’re quickly removed from your distracted state when Natasha yells, “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

Both she and Jeff move to sprint up the hill, and all you can do is stand there and laugh. As you start to slowly run up the hill, you think about how lucky you are to have Nat and Jeff in your life. There’s nowhere you’d rather be on a snow day, than sledding down the hill on a stolen shield with the love of your life and your land shark.

- - -

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